Page 9 of The Lyon Whisperer (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #79)

C hase had stayed once before at the King George Inn, when he’d paid a visit to Copsham to meet with—and replace—the overseer of the Copsham timber mill. He was pleased to see the inn was as well-appointed as his memory held.

Amelia entered the establishment all smiles, sunshine, and roses for the staff. In return, they bent over backwards trying to please her. It was a common dynamic where Amelia was concerned, he was coming to realize.

Then the innkeeper showed them to their suite.

While the man pointed out the chamber’s many features, provided helpful tips concerning mealtimes, and stoked the fires in the two hearths, Chase kept a surreptitious eye on his wife.

She wandered the spacious antechamber, arms linked behind her back, every bit the lady of the manor. She nodded here and there, acknowledging the innkeeper’s steady flow of information. She glanced out the lone window, perused the books in the small bookshelf.

She flicked the briefest glance through the open double doors adjoining the antechamber with the bedchamber. The sole, large, four-post bed stood front and center.

She gave no reaction at all to seeing only one bed in their luxurious suite.

“If there’s nothing else, m’lord, m’lady?”

“There is one thing,” Chase said, his gaze shifting to meet Amelia’s. “Lady Culver and I would like to dine privately tonight, in our chamber.”

Her expression did not alter, but her cheeks stained a delicate pink.

He took a perverse satisfaction in seeing the reaction she had been unable to mask in her customary manner. Obviously the idea of spending the evening sequestered with him affected her. But how, exactly?

Oblivious to the silent interchange, the innkeeper promised to have a very fine meal delivered promptly at eight and let himself out, leaving Chase and Amelia blessedly alone.

A blessing which could prove torturous should the evening not unfold the way he hoped.

“I must leave you for a few hours to meet with the mill overseer. I want to gather preliminary information before digging deeper tomorrow at the fire sights. Perhaps you can visit the nearby shops in my absence. I’m sure the shopkeepers will be delighted to show the future Viscountess of Culver their wares.”

“I’m sure they will.” Her violet gaze turned steely.

He’d seen her in her fierce mode once before—the night she ventured to his house at midnight to lay out her conditions.

“In the meantime, sir, do you mind telling me what you’re about?” She questioned him like a queen interrogating her subject.

Fighting a smile, he sauntered to the bed and dropped onto the edge of the mattress, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle. “I thought I’d explained. I’m here to look into Mr. Bender’s concerns regarding—”

“I think you know my question pertains to another matter entirely.”

He arched a brow.

She threw up her hands, her icy demeanor cracking. “The bed, sir. The bed. The one bed. We had an agreement, if you recall.”

“I certainly do recall. Do you recall that we are man and wife? This village’s future Lord and Lady Culver, Viscount and Viscountess of Everston?”

She looked slightly taken aback. “What does that have to do with our sleeping arrangements?”

“I, for one, do not relish the idea of hearing about how the newly wed Lord and Lady Culver maintained separate chambers a week into their marriage. You know how much I dislike my name being dragged through the gossip mills.”

She bit her lower lip, her expression one of uncertainty.

It didn’t sit right with him. After all, he’d purposely put her in this position.

He shook off the odd prick to his conscience. He’d spoken the plain truth, one she should have considered herself. If averting gossip was not his primary motivation in requesting one bedchamber, well, she was partly to blame for putting him in this lamentable position of hungering after his wife.

She cleared her throat. “I suppose I should have thought things through when you invited me along. Still, my point remains. There is but one bed, and we have an agreement.”

By God, the woman had nerves of steel. Many a soldier under his command would not dare to press him the way she did. He didn’t know whether he admired her tenacity or should take heed. But that was a puzzle for another day.

“I’m aware, and I have no intention of breaking our agreement. However…” He paused, choosing his next words with care. “That does not mean I do not wish for our physical relationship to progress. I wish it, Amelia, very badly.”

“I see.” Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Th-then you are saying—” She gestured to the bed, but further words evidently failed her.

He rose and closed the distance between them. He gripped her shoulders. “Amelia.” His voice sounded low and husky to his own ears, revealing too much of what he felt. “I’m saying I hope to kiss you, and to touch you, and to make you feel exquisite things you never dreamed of, but nothing will happen you don’t want to happen. I give you my word as a gentleman.”

She gazed up at him, her violet eyes glittering with a strong emotion he could not discern, much to his displeasure.

Then her mouth curved in a brilliant smile.

Her smile hit him like a punch to the gut with reverberations all the way to his groin. Hell’s teeth, he was hard as a randy youth, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

He removed his hands from her, pivoting on his heel and striding to the window to hide his inconvenient condition.

“I do have another question.” Her voice, husky and enticing as always, was not helping matters.

He studied the square below, hoping the mundane scenes of villagers moving about their business would distract him from the pulsing need raging through him. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Should we ask for an extra pillow and blanket for you, or do think the request too telling?”

He glanced over his shoulder, amazed to see the light of challenge in her gemstone eyes.

“I’ll be sure to pass on the request on my way out. I’ll tell them how very cold you tend to be.”

She blinked. A moment later, she threw back her head and laughed in a decidedly unladylike manner that, he had to admit, charmed him beyond measure.

Chase glanced over the field of blackened logs. Weeks after the fire that had taken a large chunk of promised inventory, the scent of acrid smoke still permeated the air, burning his nostrils.

“It’s good of ya t’ have made the trip, m’lord, but there was really no need. As I told yer Mr. Bender, I’ve everything in hand, you can be sure o’that.” Mr. Briggs, the Irish-born forester Chase had hired to replace his last overseer roughly a year earlier, spoke in a confident manner, but the wariness in his eyes told a different story.

Chase understood. The man knew well he had no compunction with replacing an overseer when necessary. However, Briggs was not responsible for the recent disasters, whereas Dodd, the last man to hold Briggs’s position, had been an outright thief.

Still, two significant fires in less than a month, one eating up nearly the entire shipment owed to the Liverpool shipyard Chase had contacted with, did not bode well for business.

“I’m sure you do, Mr. Briggs. Mr. Bender assured me you appear to run a tight ship, here. I merely came to apprise myself of the situation. Damages must be assessed, a plan put in action to prevent further accidents, if indeed the fires resulted from a natural occurrence and not sabotage.”

Chase turned and started for his tethered horse. “I’ve seen enough here. Tomorrow I’ll visit the northern perimeter and site of the second fire.”

Briggs followed close on Chase’s heels. “I’m happy to ride out with you, m’lord.”

“I appreciate it.”

The two men mounted up and headed for the main road into town.

Briggs eyed him. “Mr. Bender told me he suspected foul play.”

“And you, Briggs?”

Briggs glanced around, as if he feared an eavesdropper lurked nearby despite the remote location.

They spotted no one. Still, he lowered his voice. “It’s hard to imagine how the logs would have caught fire on their own. Maybe a bolt of lightning struck true. Maybe. But at the time of the first blaze, there weren’t no storm, least not one shooting bolts from the sky. More like a drizzle.”

“As Bender informed me.”

“Then there’s the fire what happened on the perimeter. Seems convenient it sprung up in an area so far out of sight of anyone—and in the wee hours, no less. Again, no storm nor lightning strikes. Where could fire have come from, I ask ye’.”

“I agree,” Chase said.

“Rest assured, m’lord, I’ve assembled patrols, operating on shifts ’round the clock, to keep watch. If another accidental fire should happen, I mean to deal with it before it gets out of hand, and hopefully catch whoever’s behind the shenanigans.”

Chase nodded. “Good man. I also have an idea I’d like you to implement, involving cutting swaths in the forest itself, to prevent a runaway fire.”

“Aye m’lord. I’ll see to it.”

He considered the man standing before him. “Briggs, if—as it appears—an arsonist started the fires, do you have a suspect in mind?” Chase had one—the man he’d fired several months ago when he’d returned from the peninsula to find his uncle’s profits lagging.

It hadn’t taken him much digging to find where the books had been doctored. Meanwhile, investigating Dodd’s finances had showed he’d made several purchases his income did not support. Upon questioning, he’d denied any wrongdoing but had no answer as to where the missing funds had gone, or how the ledger had been so mismanaged.

“Maybe a prank, gone out of hand?” Briggs sounded doubtful.

Chase made no reply, but when they reached the road, fixed Briggs with a steady eye.

The brawny man shifted in his saddle. “It’s no secret Dodd bears a grudge against ye’, m’lord, for letting him go, and again’ me for taking his place.”

Chase snorted. “The ones who bring trouble on themselves rarely see it that way.”

“Truer words, m’lord.”

Chase gestured for them to continue their journey.

“The thing is,” Briggs said in a contemplative tone, “I have a hard time seeing Dodd as behind this.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s got the smarts to plan the thing, but, not the drive, if you take my meaning.”

He did, all too well. In point of fact, Chase himself had come up against the same stumbling block when considering whether Dodd might be the culprit. “Nevertheless, I plan to have a word with him before leaving town.”

Amelia picked up the carafe of wine centered on the rolling cart situated between her and Chase and poured the ruby liquid into twin crystal goblets. Her hand did not tremble in the slightest, despite the flurry of tangled emotions swirling inside her.

I hope to kiss you, and to touch you, and to make you feel exquisite things…

She must have replayed her husband’s words a thousand times in the few hours he was gone.

“Thank you.” He picked up his glass and waited as she did the same.

They clinked glasses, and sipped, eyes locked.

Later in the day, while she chatted with the milliner over which hat she should purchase, and the chandler over her fine soaps and candles on display, and browsed book titles in the book shop, his words echoed relentlessly. Particularly the bit about making her feel exquisite things she had never dreamed of.

She also recalled the forbidden picture book she and the other members of her society had studied while safely ensconced in Lady Harriet’s parlor. She wondered if any of the things he meant to make her feel involved any of those rather interesting activities and positions.

“Did you pass an enjoyable afternoon?” Chase asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She set her wine on the cart. “I explored several of the local shops. You were quite right. The shopkeepers were delighted by my patronage. I made several small purchases, gifts, mostly.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, calling to mind what she imagined a tiger’s purr might sound like.

Her gaze dropped to his hand, taking in his long, tanned fingers, currently engaged in tracing the stem of his wine glass. Up and down, up and down. His languid movement utterly captivated her.

She tore her focus away from his hand when she realized watching his fingers glide over the crystal was doing funny things to her insides.

“And your day, sir? Did you accomplish all you set out to do?”

He released the goblet and leaned back on the sofa, arms spread wide over the seat back. “I learned enough. My instincts tell me Bender is right, someone deliberately set those logs and that stretch of forest ablaze. I don’t know who or why—yet—but I have a line of inquiry to tug at. Tomorrow, I’ll visit the northern perimeter of the forest, the sight of the second fire, to see if it tells me anything. Afterward, I have someone I wish to question. I may be occupied several hours.”

“Oh? I have never toured this area of the country. I should very much like to accompany you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His instant dismissal of her suggestion dimmed her excitement. “Whyever not?”

He arched one regal brow. “For one thing, the terrain includes a steep incline.”

“I’ve told you, I’m an excellent rider.”

“Be that as it may, there’s also the matter of the man I wish to question in connection with the fires.”

She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t she pressed. “What about him?”

“If you must know, I do not expect the interview to proceed in a pleasant fashion.”

This grew more interesting by the minute. “Why? Who is this man?”

Something that might have been irritation glinted in his eyes. She ignored it.

“A man I relieved of his position as head forester several months ago.”

“Oh?”

He sighed. “Suffice it to say, when I noted the profits differed greatly from those I’d anticipated, I looked into the matter. I discovered Mr. Dodd had been systematically pilfering funds.”

“He stole? From you ?” She could not fathom anything more foolhardy.

“From my uncle, technically, as this village, and all its resources are entailed to the viscountcy, but, yes. I understand Dodd made a lot of noise in the village after I let him go.”

“You suspect this man of committing the arson, out of vengeance?”

“Potentially.”

“I see.” She picked up her goblet and sipped the semi-sweet ruby wine. “You expect to find clues in the forest tying him to the fires?”

“I’m hoping to.”

Excitement riffled through her. “I’m quite good at investigating, myself. I could help you.”

His lips twitched. “I think I can handle the exercise. You shall wait here.”

She sniffed. “I can at least ask questions of the villagers, as I’ll be left with nothing to do save another exploration of the town.”

He frowned.

She went on, hoping to stave off the argument she read all over his face. “In the bookstore across the street I also purchased a novel written by one of my favorite authors, which should keep me entertained for several hours.”

His dark eyes narrowed as if he noted her swift change of subject and contemplated the merits of letting the previous subject drop. After a moment he crossed his arms over his chest and his expression shifted to one of polite interest. “An afternoon spent indoors, reading, sounds like a fine idea, Amelia. What novel did you purchase? Perhaps I’ve read it.”

She hopped up and retrieved the small volume from the small table in the corner of the anteroom. “It’s a gothic novel by Mrs. Radly—her latest release. She’s quite talented. Perhaps you have read one of her previous novels?”

Eschewing the armchair she’d vacated, she dropped onto the sofa beside him and extended the book, platter style, toward him.

“I can’t say that I have.”

Rather than take the book, he cupped her hand with his. His palm was warm and dry, and she was aware of every place his skin touched hers.

He’d returned to the hotel sooner than she had anticipated this afternoon. While she yet engaged in shopping, he had obviously washed and shaved. An hour ago, the sight of his smooth skin and damp hair curling over his bright-white cravat when she entered the chamber had stolen her breath.

Now, seated too near him—her own fault—the hint of spicy aftershave and warm male skin had her toes curling in her slippers.

He studied the gold filigree title on the cover. “ Her Mysterious Frenchman ,” he read aloud. His dark gaze slid to meet hers. “What is the novel’s premise?”

“I believe the heroine owns a bookshop specializing in rare tomes. A Frenchman enters her shop in search of a particular work, and soon the two find themselves evading villains, members of a dangerous religious sect, also in search of the book. The dashing hero and brave heroine fall in love, but their romance is seemingly doomed due to their different stations in life, though, in the end, if Mrs. Radley is true to form, true love will conquer all.”

“I see.” He plucked the book from her hand and set it on the table beside him—beyond her reach. “You say you’ve read many books by this author, all written in the same vein?”

“The same vein?”

His black brows shot upward. “Gothic novels featuring socially frowned upon, forbidden romantic alliances?”

She sent him a patient smile, though she felt anything but. “I detect a note of censure, sir. We discussed this. I specifically requested you not attempt to curtail my reading habits, and you agreed.”

“I recall,” he said through set teeth, “you seeking my assurance I would not interfere with your book club’s reading choices—the Ladies’ Literary Society of London, isn’t it?”

She nodded, watching him carefully.

“Do you mean to say such novels are common reading material for your so-called literary society?”

She lifted her chin. “We read many different genres of fiction, as well as poetry and non-fiction works whose subjects range from the scientific, to geographical and political study to—”

“Political,” he cut in. “What on earth for?”

She cleared her throat. “Self-improvement and the betterment of mankind. Father was always very big on bettering tracts for women.”

He heaved a sigh and muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Dear God.”

Without another word, he removed the silver covers from their meals and set them aside.

Amelia stared unhappily at the generous serving of roast beef, boiled potatoes, and bread before her.

Chase unfolded one serviette and placed it on her lap. The gesture seemed unconscionably intimate and gentle, especially considering she had clearly disappointed him.

The feeling was mutual. He did not want her company on his ride tomorrow. Nor did he believe her capable of adding anything useful to his investigation. He may as well have jeered at her book choice. Next, he’d rescind his promise not to censure her reading materials.

She had grown too comfortable with him in the days since their wedding ceremony. She should have known better than to confuse her husband, a man who had much in common with her father, with someone who cared.

He snapped his own serviette onto his lap. “ Bon appetite , my dear.”

“Thank you,” she said, affecting a perky attitude. She refused to reveal how dejected she felt having allowed foolish hope to blossom within her only to have it dashed.

She ought not to have come.

Beside her Chase picked up his cutlery.

She followed suit, forking up a bite of potatoes though she had no desire to eat. It was going to be a long night.