Ariadne's Diadem Page 9

  “The naiad’s.”

  Gervase stared at him. “The what?”

  “Don’t you know what a naiad is?” Sylvanus was shocked.

  “Yes, a water nymph. I’m just startled that you think there’s one here.”

  “Oh, there is. She’s up there somewhere.” Sylvanus pointed up to the next floor, and before Gervase knew what was happening, the faun had hurried up into the shadows of the landing above. Gervase followed as quietly as he could, but it seemed that every floorboard creaked like the shriek of a barn owl, and every door passed might be flung open at any moment.

  Sylvanus’s nose was unerringly accurate, leading him directly to the drawing room, where he found Penelope standing so prettily with her candle tray. Falling hopelessly in love at first sight, the faun moved delightedly around her, examining her from every adorable angle, and reaching out at last to put a tender hand to her cheek.

  Gervase put the lantern down and looked at the room. He recognized the bundle of letters tucked behind the candlestick. Feeling as he did now, he could hardly believe he’d ever put pen to paper in such a way. If ever a man was paying a price for leaping to conclusions, he was. Simply by giving Anne Willowby the benefit of the doubt, he would have avoided rushing off across Europe with Hugh, and thus avoided the predicament he was in now. Oh, the benefit of hindsight. He was so engrossed in his regrets, he didn’t notice Sylvanus suddenly dive behind the curtains at the window, nor did he hear the door swing open. The first he knew of anything was when a blunderbuss jabbed imperatively between his shoulder blades, and a rough male voice addressed him.

  “Who might you be, then? Eh? And why are you here in the middle of the night?”

  It was Joseph, his legs protruding inelegantly beneath his nightshirt, and behind him stood Mrs. Jenkins, her plump face pale and startled in its frame of white-frilled night bonnet.

  “I, er...” Gervase didn’t know who stood behind him and didn’t dare turn around and risk the blunderbuss being fired. He saw the telltale trembling of the curtain that told where Sylvanus had gone, but he also saw the hem of the greatcoat peeping out. If the owner of the blunderbuss should see and investigate, the Lord alone knew what his reaction would be discovering a faun! The seconds hung as his mind raced confusedly.

  Joseph poked him with the blunderbuss. “Your name, before I blow a hole in you!”

  Mrs. Jenkins gasped alarmedly and hurried away calling for Anne.

  The blunderbuss was removed as Joseph stepped back a little, but he kept it aimed at his captive. “Put the lantern on the table and turn around.”

  Gervase obeyed slowly, being careful as he did so to move farther from the window, so the gardener was less likely to notice the greatcoat. “There’s no need to be hasty,” he said in an amiable tone.

  “Don’t think I’m a country bumpkin who can be gulled by a toff,” Joseph growled. “I’m ready to fire this thing right into your rascally hide if need be, so have a care.”

  “I won’t do anything rash, I promise.”

  Female footsteps hurried back along the passage as Mrs. Jenkins returned with Anne, who was still fastening her wrap. Her dark blond curls were tousled, and her green eyes wary as she faced Gervase. For a heart-stopping moment she stared at him as if in half recognition, but then she seemed to dismiss any notion that they’d met before. “Who are you, sir?” she demanded.

  At last he found his wits. “Charles Danby. Your servant, Miss Willowby.”

  He was sure a shadow of disappointment crossed her eyes, but then it was gone. “You know who I am, Mr. er…Danby?”

  “Certes, madam, for I am the junior partner of Messrs. Critchley, Faulkner, Oliver, and Danby,” he bowed, praying she did not ask for proof of identity.

  She was incredulous. “You have been discovered breaking into these premises in the middle of the night, and yet you claim to be a lawyer?”

  “I haven’t broken in, not in the true sense of the phrase, for I’ve been sent to examine the castle accounts prior to the betrothal taking place.” Oh, how thick and fast the untruths came now!

  She was ice-cold. “And what, pray, do my father’s accounts have to do with the betrothal? The forthcoming contract may be a matter of convenience, but it is certainly not one of fortune, and since the duke will be able to examine them himself in a day or so, I would rather you told me the truth.”

  Joseph and Mrs. Jenkins glanced at each other, for this was as close as Anne had ever come to admitting the nature of her match with the duke.

  Gervase’s eyes didn’t flicker at the mention of Hugh’s expected arrival. “The duke knows nothing of accounts, Miss Willowby,” he said.

  Anne continued to hold his gaze. “I still do not believe your story, Mr. Danby—if that is indeed your name.”

  “I swear I am Danby the lawyer, and that my intentions are entirely legal,” he insisted.

  “Since when has it been legal to break into people’s homes, sirrah?” she asked coolly.

  Her poise under such circumstances was truly impressive, Gervase thought admiringly, even as his mind skimmed over a suitably convincing story. “Miss Willowby, I admit I’ve acted foolishly, but in truth I thought there was no one in. I was under the impression that you and your family had gone to Ireland, and I thought to conduct my business during your absence. I’m staying at an inn in Monmouth because I have other business in the area, and I set out in good time to reach here in daylight so that I could explain myself to your servants, but when I dismounted to examine one of my horse’s shoes, the wretched creature bolted and left me stranded in the rain. It was nearer to walk here than to go back, so that is what I did. I arrived a few minutes ago, and rather than awaken everyone, I simply entered to get on with things. I thought it the most prudent, discreet, and practical procedure.”

  Anne’s eyes flashed, and she tossed her hair back. “Oh, did you! Well, sirrah, I would call your actions reprehensible, not prudent, discreet, or practical! How dare you enter my home uninvited, and how dare you presume to examine my father’s accounts without his express permission!”

  “You are right to censure me. Miss Willowby,” he conceded.

  “And how did you know about the visit to Ireland?” she asked suddenly.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “How did you know?”

  His mind went horribly blank, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I, er...”

  “Well, sirrah?” Her eyes followed the unconscious gesture.

  “I believe your father notified Mr. Critchley of his intentions.” He met her gaze squarely.

  She hesitated for the first time. “Well, I suppose that is possible,” she conceded.

  “I have told you the truth. Miss Willowby,” he insisted, conscious that at last he was gaining a little credibility.

  She suddenly made up her mind. “You may lower the blunderbuss, Joseph, before it goes off and sprays not just Mr. Danby but the entire room.”

  Gervase breathed out with relief, for he was out of danger, and had successfully embarked upon his false identity. But it remained to be seen if Anne Willowby’s heart could be as easily won as her trust.

  Chapter Eleven

  Joseph was reluctant to let his prey off the hook. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Miss Anne....”

  “I don’t think Mr. Danby has come here to murder us in our beds,” Anne replied, and then turned to Mrs. Jenkins, who had hovered in the doorway throughout. “Please prepare the south room.”

  The south room was the one kept aired for unexpected guests, so the implication was not lost upon the appalled housekeeper. “Surely you do not mean to offer this man hospitality, Miss Anne?”

  “I can hardly turn him out into the rain.”

  As the housekeeper’s lips parted to give any number of reasons why Mr. Charles Danby should be ejected forthwith, Anne sternly forestalled her. “I feel obliged to offer hospitality, and that is the end of it, Mrs. Jenkins.”

  The unwilling housekeeper hurried
away, and Anne looked at Gervase again. “Since you represent the late duke’s lawyers, you may stay here tonight, but the surrendering of my father’s ledgers is a matter to which I will have to give further thought. I trust you understand?”

  “I do indeed. Miss Willowby, and thank you for your graciousness. I am aware that I do not deserve it.”

  “No, you certainly do not.” She came a little closer suddenly, searching his face in the light from the lantern on the table. “Your face seems very familiar—have we met somewhere before, Mr. Danby?”

  “I don’t believe so, Miss Willowby,” he replied with commendable poise. He could smell her perfume, warm like summer roses.

  She continued to look closely at him. “If you say we have not, then we have not, but it is a fact that I feel I have at least seen you somewhere in passing.” She turned to the gardener. “Please conduct Mr. Danby to his room, Joseph.”

  “As you wish. Miss Anne.”

  Something occurred to her. “Joseph, what can you tell me about the statue in the maze?”

  “There’s no statue in the maze. Miss Anne,” he replied in astonishment.

  “Yes, there is—it’s in the rotunda and I examined it tonight. Maybe Mrs. Jenkins knows something?”

  “If a statue had been taken into the maze, I’d know about it.” Joseph hesitated. “Mayhap you dreamed it. Miss Anne.”

  She shook her head. “I was very much awake. Oh, well, I don’t intend to argue about it now, but tomorrow you and Mrs. Jenkins must see for yourselves.”

  “Yes, Miss Anne.”

  “Now please conduct Mr. Danby to his room.”

  “Miss Anne.”

  Her eyes moved to Gervase for the last time. “Good night, Mr. Danby.”

  “Good night, Miss Willowby.” As he took her hand and raised it to his lips, the physical contact aroused so many echoes of the sweet emotion they’d shared in the barn that he was hard put to quell the instinct to catch her close and kiss her. He saw a soft flush of color enter her cheeks, but as he began to wonder what she was thinking, she lowered her eyes and slowly withdrew her fingers.

  When he had accompanied Joseph from the room, Anne closed her eyes. Her heart was thundering wildly in her breast, and not just from the delayed shock of finding an intruder in the house. The truth was that she thought Mr. Charles Danby the most devastatingly attractive man she’d ever encountered, and for a moment on first seeing him she had hoped he was Hugh Mowbray, who was, after all, expected to call at any moment. Maybe it was unlikely that the Duke of Wroxford would enter Llandower uninvited, but then was it any more likely that his lawyers’ representative should do the same?

  Charles Danby. Everything about him, including his name, rang through her with the clarity of a bell, even the way he’d run his fingers through his hair. He seemed so familiar, so...beloved. Oh, heavens above, this was madness, and yet it was how she felt. She pondered what he thought of her, and then she smiled a little resignedly, for she did not doubt that he considered her a very unlikely and unworthy future Duchess of Wroxford. Her glance moved to the letters on the mantelpiece. It didn’t matter what she thought of Charles Danby, or what he might think of her, for she was to be betrothed to Hugh Mowbray, and nothing could change that. Tears pricked her eyes suddenly, and without further ado she picked up the lantern and left the room.

  Sylvanus immediately peeped from behind the curtains. Satisfied that all was now safe, he came out of hiding. Having observed and correctly assessed the expressions on Anne’s face, he was sure that Gervase was now well on his way to a happy conclusion where she was concerned, which left a certain libidinous faun with a little free time on his hands! The long greatcoat dragged behind him as he hurried over to Penelope, whose delightful wooden curves shone in the faint light from the fire. He was about to take some disgraceful liberties with her person when he paused a little crossly, for it was rather dull sport when she remained immobile. It occurred to him that the power to turn marble to living flesh—and vice versa—might also apply to wood. There was only one way to find out. He said the words.

  For a moment it seemed nothing would happen, but then before his delighted eyes she began to move. The sheen of the beechwood, already palely beautiful, softened to the blush pink of a living woman, and her long silvery hair spilled forward as she lowered her tray to place it on the table next to Anne’s workbox. She was dainty and graceful, her perfect little figure outlined by the clinging but revealing folds of her gauzy gown, but as Sylvanus reached out eagerly to do what came naturally to all fauns, to his astonishment she dealt him a stinging blow to the cheek.

  “Don’t you dare presume!” she breathed furiously, keeping her voice low for fear of being heard elsewhere.

  Rubbing his cheek, he gaped at her. “Why did you do that?” he asked in genuine amazement.

  “No one does that to me unless I wish it!”

  Sylvanus blinked, but then recovered a little. “You’re not supposed to object,” he complained.

  “Well, I do. I’m not here simply to do as you wish.”

  “Yes, you are—it’s what nymphs are for!”

  But as he reached out again, she slapped him a second time, so hard that he stifled a bleat that was half pain, half sheer disbelief. She faced him haughtily. “I have a mind of my own, and I decide who can and cannot touch me!” Her critical glance swept over him. “Besides, have you any idea how ridiculous you look in that huge coat?”

  Sylvanus glowered. “You’d wear it too if you weren’t used to this northern cold.”

  “I doubt it, for I have more pride in my appearance.”

  “More vanity, you mean.” Sylvanus looked her up and down. “You’re not a real nymph at all, are you?”

  “I am a real nymph!” she cried, forgetting to keep her voice down.

  “Shhh!” He looked around uneasily, but as all remained quiet, he returned his attention to her. “What’s your name?”

  She relented sufficiently to reply civilly. “Penelope. What’s yours?”

  “Sylvanus.”

  “How did you get here?”

  He told her everything, and she was intrigued. “So Charles Danby isn’t Charles Danby at all?”

  “No.” He looked at her again. “There’s more than one Penelope—which one are you?”

  “I’m Mercury’s Penelope. At least, I was.” She sighed.

  Sylvanus’s jealousy pricked. “Was? If he deserted you, I’m not surprised. No doubt, your tongue proved too much for him.”

  “As a matter of fact he was burned.” She explained about the unguarded saucepan and her lover’s dreadful fate the day Joseph’s special beeswax mixture had set fire to the kitchen.

  Sylvanus was now well and truly jealous. “Well, your precious Mercury was clearly no more real than you are,” he declared.

  “I’m going to kick your horrible hairy goat legs for saying that!” she cried.

  As she raised a foot to carry out the threat, Sylvanus quickly pronounced the spell. She could do nothing except return to the candleholder, resume her former pose, and harden into wood again. “Can you still hear me?” he asked. There was silence, so he rather ungallantly pinched her arm, but then fauns weren’t known for their manners. There was still no response from the silent naiad. He grinned infuriatingly and planted a very deliberate and insulting kiss on her stiff lips, but as he drew back to survey her again, he was conscious of considerable disappointment. He wanted her to kiss him back, but right now that seemed very unlikely to ever happen. He looked at her in perplexity, for he’d never encountered a nymph quite like this before. He hesitated, and then kissed her again, but much more gently this time. Maybe she had a temper like a Fury, but she was very, very pretty. With a wistful sigh, he hunched himself in the greatcoat and went to find Gervase.

  * * * *

  In London at that moment Kitty was leaving the Theatre Royal in her best lime green silk evening gown and matching cloak. The diadem glittered in her hair, and she looked very styli
sh indeed as she swept grandly out of the stage door to a waiting carriage, for it was the eve of their departure for Llandower, and Hugh was taking her to dinner. As he held a hand out to assist her up into the vehicle, an ominous roll of unseasonable thunder rumbled across the sky. He glanced up in surprise, because heavens that a moment ago had been a flawless vista of stars were now obscured by a thick bank of clouds that billowed above London like a flowing purple cloak.

  A moment later, a strong gust of wind came from nowhere, tugging at Kitty’s clothes and hair. The wind became fiercer still, whisking dust, leaves, and other street debris into the air. Startled, the carriage horses backed without warning, the coachman had no time to apply the brake, and the carriage wheel struck the wooden stand supporting a huge water butt beside the stage door. With a splintering creak, the stand gave way, and the butt tipped slowly over. It shattered on the cobbles, and a deluge of old rainwater drenched both Hugh and Kitty. The wind died abruptly away, the bank of clouds disappeared, and stars twinkled again.

  The couple’s fine evening clothes were spoiled beyond all redemption, and dinner was now out of the question.

  Chapter Twelve

  Had he known, Gervase would have been greatly amused by the ruination of his unworthy cousin’s dinner plans, and by the suspiciously supernatural reason, but he was many miles away, seated comfortably before the fire in the south room at Llandower. He mulled over what had happened since he’d arrived, and his eyes warmed a little as he thought of Anne. Fate was cruel, choosing not only to heat him with desire for the bride he’d expected to loathe, but also making her a breathtaking mixture of passion and high principles. Such was her nature that she was capable of all the fire and wantonness any man could desire, yet at the same time—for her parents’ sake—she would hold loyally to an arranged match, no matter what new love might come her way in the meantime.

  There was a soft tap at the door, and he sat up. “Yes?”

  Sylvanus came in and trotted to stand in front of the fire, parted the back flaps of the greatcoat, and presented his tail to the heat. He was still a little confounded by his experience with Penelope. “I’m not used to counterfeit naiads with waspish tongues,” he declared peevishly, clasping his hands behind him.