The Hidden Heart. Candace Camp
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theft last night.”
“Theft?” Vesey looked blankly at the portly innkeeper. “What are you talking about?”
“Why, at the manor house, my lord. I thought ye knew. I supposed that was why ye was goin’ over there, to make sure the house is safe and all.”
“What happened?” Leona asked. “What did they steal?”
Sims shook his massive head. “That’s just it. They didn’t take much. The safe was broken into, and things inside it were all scattered about, but Pierson didn’t know exactly what the General had in there. Some jewelry’s gone, they think. All the drawers in the old man’s desk were opened, and papers all over—the General’s will, ye know, and all kinds of business papers. Couple of things broken. The place is a right mess, is what me nevvy told me. He were makin’ a delivery there, ye see, and the cook told him about it. He says the butler near had a fit, ye know, seein’ that. What with the General barely cold in his grave.”
He sighed lugubriously. “’Tis a sad, sad thing. No respect for the dead anymore. Ah, well, at least the girl was safe away. Reckon it would have scared her somethin’ awful.”
“Safe away?” Lord Vesey repeated in hollow tones.
“Why, yes.” The man looked at Vesey closely. “Didn’t ye know? The young lady and her governess left yesterday afternoon, after the funeral and all. Gone to her guardian’s, Will says, some duke in Yorkshire. I woulda thought ye’d know all about that.”
“Yes, of course. I was merely distracted by your tale. I do know that. She has gone to Castle Cleybourne.”
“Aye, that’s the place.” The innkeeper nodded. He stepped back from the table, giving Lord Vesey a cheerful grin. “Well, there ye are, my lord. Enjoy your meal.”
“What? Oh, yes, of course.”
“And I’ll tell them to bring up yer carriage.”
“Oh. Uh, yes, do that.”
The innkeeper followed his wife out of the room, closing the door behind him, and Vesey sank with a sigh into his chair. Leona regarded him with a malicious little grin.
“I would say that knocks your plans all cock-a-hoop,” she said with no discernible sympathy.
“Bloody hell! Whatever possessed that girl to go running off to Cleybourne like that?”
“Mmm. Perhaps she suspected what you were planning?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Vesey, who counted himself quite clever, sent his wife a nasty glance. “I didn’t even know it until a few minutes ago. How could she?”
Leona shrugged. “Well, whatever caused it, you certainly won’t be able to lay hold of her now. At least we shall be able to return to London.”
She walked over to the table and looked down at the array of food. Vesey remained in his chair, thoughtfully tugging at his upper lip.
“Perhaps not…” he said after a moment, rising and sauntering over to the table, looking pleased with himself.
“What are you talking about?” Leona asked crossly. “Not return to London? I trust you are not thinking of going to the manor house still.”
“No. Especially not with people popping in and out, taking things. I was thinking more of going to Yorkshire.”
Leona stared. “You can’t be serious. Yorkshire? Cleybourne? You think you can wrest the girl away from the duke?”
“Wrest? Of course not. Don’t be nonsensical. But it would do no harm to ask. I told you—what use does Cleybourne have for the girl? He’d probably love to get rid of her. If we were to go by there on our way to London…”
“A little out of the way, don’t you think?”
Vesey waved this objection aside. “I could offer to take the chit off his hands. Blood relative and all. He might be swayed by the argument.”
“I sincerely doubt it.” Leona had little faith in her husband’s ability to sway anyone. “Cleybourne’s always been an honorable sort—not a prig like Westhampton, of course. He did like to have a little fun back before he married Dev’s sister, but marriage ruined him.”
She paused, looking thoughtful. “But he has been living like a monk ever since Caroline died.”
Vesey looked over at her. “What are you saying?”
“Well…he might not be immune to a little feminine persuasion. What has it been since Caroline’s death—three, four years? That’s a long time. I’ve heard no rumor of his having an affair with anyone, even a light-o’-love, in that time.”
Lord Vesey smiled. “You think he might be ripe for the plucking?”
Leona’s golden eyes were alight with anticipation. “A lonely widower…winter evenings around a cozy fire…that’s almost too easy a target for one with my talents.”
The more she thought about it, the more Leona liked the idea. Cleybourne was a handsome man, tall and broad shouldered, and wealthy. Seducing him into her bed would be no hardship on her, and it would be pleasant to have a new, indulgent lover. She didn’t know whether he would turn the girl over to Vesey, but that was entirely secondary to Leona. Of first importance was the prospect of acquiring an infatuated lover eager—and able—to ply her with expensive gifts.
“I don’t know, Leona,” Vesey warned. “He is quite friendly with the Aincourts, and you know in what esteem they hold you.”
Leona’s eyes flashed. “I don’t care if he is as thick as thieves with the loathesome Lady Westhampton. She is Dev’s own sister, and her opinion of me never kept Devin out of my bed. Trust me, a few hours with Cleybourne and he’ll be panting after me. A few days and he will be willing to give me whatever I want.”
Lord Vesey smiled. “Well, then…eat up, and we’re off to Yorkshire.”
Jessica awoke the next morning in a much improved mood. A good night’s rest was often the best antidote to one’s fears and doubts. Looking out the nursery window at the rolling Yorkshire countryside, washed with the pale light of a wintry sun, she believed the reassuring things she had said last night to Gabriela. This morning, she was sure, the Duke of Cleybourne would follow the honorable course and accept his guardianship of the girl and welcome her into his house. He had simply been caught by surprise last night.
She breakfasted with Gabriela, talking about how they would explore the house today, and later in the morning, when a servant came to the nursery with a summons from the duke, she followed him downstairs with a light step.
The footman ushered her into the same study where she had spoken to Cleybourne the night before, then bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him. The Duke of Cleybourne was seated behind his massive desk, more formally attired in a jacket and snowy cravat than he had been last night. He rose at her entrance and with a gesture indicated a chair in front of his desk.
“Miss Maitland.”
“Your Grace.”
“Please, be seated.”
Looking at his face, some of Jessica’s good mood evaporated. He was by daylight as handsome as he had appeared last night in the dimmer candlelight, but his expression was, if anything, even grimmer. She wondered, briefly, if this man knew how to smile.
“I have given a great deal of thought to this situation,” Cleybourne began in a heavy tone. “And I have come to the conclusion that it would not be in Miss Carstairs’ best interests to be my ward.”
Jessica stiffened, and her hands curled around the arms of her chair, as if to keep herself from vaulting out of it. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I misunderstood you. Are you saying that you are sending us away? Are you going to turn Gabriela over to Vesey?”