Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 41

Chapter 31.

He shook his head. "No, the oddities are real. My only real change since moving here has been this room and the next, and I shouldn't have indulged in those."

"Why not?" she asked. "This is glorious!"

"Only by contrast. I needed some normal rooms, but I did it as cheaply as possible. The furniture here is old stuff from Kerslake Manor, and the rest is simple cloth and paint."

"Is the earldom as penny-pinched as that?"

"Not quite, but back then I wasn't formally the earl so I shouldn't have spent anything at all on indulgences. Thank heavens the executor of the old earl's will saw that even as resident caretaker I deserved some improvements, because my sanity demanded it. The greatest expense was the window."

"Well worth it," Lucy said. "The inward-looking windows aren't the same." She took in the simple, old-fashioned furniture, the pale green walls, and cream-colored cotton hangings. A few paintings hung on the walls, but they were simple ones of no distinction. "What was this room like before?"

"You don't need to know. Yes, I know you think you do, but you don't."

She sent him a look that promised one day, but she said, "It's lovely now."

The light, bright colors were rebellion to the gloom and gray of the ground floor and corridors. As an added touch, someone had stenciled a b.u.t.tercup yellow design around the walls where they met the ceiling. Another bright touch was the multicolored patchwork coverlet on the bed.

"I like this," she said, going to study it, thinking that nothing here was earl or dragon. It was all David.

"Aunt Miriam made one for each of us and included some material from clothes we outwore. That blue was from a sailor's top she made for me when I was mad for Nelson. That faded red is from some curtains in my bedroom at home."

Home. He'd used the word without thinking.

The manor house down in the valley was the home of his heart, but no longer his. They had both lost their homes, but that meant they both must make new ones. Or rather, a new one. If it had to be Crag Wyvern, so be it. This room gave her hope, especially the window to the outside world. Never had panes of gla.s.s seemed such a marvel.

It looked directly out to sea. Not long ago the endless sea had frightened her. From here it seemed a work of art. The arching sky made it blue at the moment, breeze-ripples touched by sunlight, but ever changing as cloud shadows moved over it.

"It's like a living painting," she said.

"Sometimes the picture is dark and stormy. And don't forget the mists. At times I can't even see the cliff edge."

She smiled at the way he was still trying to point out the disadvantages. She knew it wasn't because he wanted to scare her away, but that he wanted her prepared for the worst.

Then a ship sailed into the painting, adding interest.

"Merchantmen come by here?" she asked.

"Not so close. That's a naval frigate, the Taurus. She cruises up and down this stretch of coast."

"Surely smugglers don't operate in the daytime."

"No, so it's intimidation. Every now and then they fire a shot. A blank, of course, but a message."

A threat against people he cared for. She turned away from it, to him, so close, so dear. "Why don't the people give it up? Can't they earn a living an honest way?"

He took her hands, perhaps unconsciously. "Not so easily, but it's more than that. Yes, the Freetrade is illegal, but it's a way of life here and has been for generations. It's as much a part of who they are as harvest time, and they resent the government trying to take that away."

"They," he'd said, but she could tell he also meant "I." He'd been born and raised here and been wounded playing smuggling games. His father had been the smugglers' leader. It wasn't surprising if he still felt some sympathy for the Freetrade.

She didn't like it, she didn't like it at all. She'd work to stop the trade. But in the meantime she could only hope to keep him from taking risks for amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You said you changed two rooms?" she asked.

"A parlor next door." Hands still joined, he took her through an adjoining door.

She paused with pleasure. "You spent more money on this."

It was an exotically rich room. Paneling ran around the lower part of the walls, stained to a russet red. Each main panel had a carved and gilded center. The effect made her think of cordovan leather ornamented with gold.

The walls were painted red to match and a complex cornice was gilded. The upholstery on a sofa and three chairs was of the same rich brown, striped with gold.

"I spent more than I should," he agreed, "though perhaps not as much as you think. The paneling comes from a house not far away."

"It was demolished?"

"Made more stylish. Lopley Hall was owned by a nabob called Joseph Bross. He'd have known all about Indian G.o.ddesses. He was a grand old reprobate, and he brought home exotic tastes of all kinds."

"I see."

He grinned. "I think you do. He held splendid parties. When he died last year a grandson inherited, shuddering at such a barbarous place. When I heard he was having everything stripped out in order to make a pale modern home, I purchased this room from him. He was eager to give the Earl of Wyvern a very low price."

"So, some advantages to your rank?"

She meant it as a tease, but he replied seriously. "Outweighed by the burdens, Lucy. I have no choice. You do."

"My place is at your side. But there's more than that. We should be completely honest now. I'm a waif in the storm."

"What?" he asked with a puzzled smile.

"I'm serious. I have nowhere else to go. I can't endure much longer with Aunt Mary, and though the beau monde can be pleasant I don't feel I belong there. The City should be my home, but it's changed around me. My father's house is ruled by another. My friends are marrying and moving away. I once thought I had roots in the world of trade and could flourish there, but I've had to see the truth. It's a man's world, and my father's no longer willing to help me be accepted there. I could use my money to force my way in and even possibly prosper, though I wonder now how many men would do business with me without my father's support."

"You would succeed. You're a remarkable woman."

"You give me too much credit, love. I don't relish a life-long battle for acceptance in a hostile world."

"This isn't a hostile world? Mists, cliffs, smugglers, perilous countryside?"

"Not with you by my side."

He took her into his arms, as she hoped he would. He said, "I would delight in being your safe harbor," as she hoped he would. But then he added, "I'm not sure I can be."

It hurt, but she said, "Secrets. I remember. We were going to get dressed first."

"Yes," he agreed, letting her go, reluctantly. Because holding her was precious, or because of reluctance to tell her the whole truth? As they stood, he said, "The world might come crashing in at any moment."

"What?" She glanced at the window, at the cannon-bearing warship.

"My family. If they tire of waiting, they'll ascend to learn all about you. I'll go and get your valise."

He left and she missed him, but she also had her moment to retrieve her journal. She looked out into the corridor and found it empty, but she'd lost sense of where she'd been. The windows looked out to sea, but where was the circular room?

She gave up and headed right. Toward the end of the corridor she realized that the normal stairs from the hall rose there. She looked carefully around the corner but didn't see David, so she scampered across the open s.p.a.ce and turned the corner.

Of course, here was the corridor that ran above the entrance. It might have been quicker to go the other way, but there was no point in reversing. She ran along the corridor, but then paused when again she heard voices.

". . . seemed newly confident." That was David.

"Because of the Taurus. Captain Truscott is a fire-eater and as fierce as he for the glory of capturing the whole Horde." The voice had a touch of the local accent, but he spoke almost as an equal. The secretary?

"Lloyd spoke as if he had new knowledge."

"I've sensed the same recently. It could be Saul."

"He'd not be so stupid."

"For enough money Saul Applin would be as stupid as can be. He's a weak link."

"He's a husband and father."

"He drinks and gambles away most of the money he earns, and he cracked Lovey's ribs while you were away. I told him if he did anything like that again I'd break his."

"I'd help you, but this is for later. Did you go down to the manor?"

"As ordered. They're all aflutter to meet your bride-to-be."

There was a slight question to that, but David said, "Yes, you may wish me happy." Lucy wished he sounded it. "I'm to take this up. Did you sort out that matter of Carter's cows?"

"For now. You need an estate manager."

"Later."

Footsteps. Lucy realized David could already be returning to the room. She ran on and around a corner. She found the right room, grabbed her clothing, and kept on her way, past the Saint George room and around another corner, accidentally brushing against the skeleton, causing it to rattle.

David was coming the other way.

"I didn't think my clothes should be left there," she said.

"Clear witted." He came to her and opened the door to his parlor. "But no one was likely to go there and my servants are very discreet."

"I'm sure they are," she said, going in and putting her pile of clothing on a sofa. "How many servants do you have here?"

"Six."

"That's not very many."

"I have few needs. If necessary more come up from the village. My cousin Amelia teases me to host a summer ball."

"She has as vivid an imagination as you." When he looked blank, she said, "Fairy circles?"

He smiled. "We certainly need some here. Amelia sees what she wants to see. It's the Kerslake way. I'll leave you here and come back to see if you need help."

He locked the door to the corridor and then returned to his bedroom.

Lucy shook her head at her tangled world. His family sounded as odd as the Caldrosses, but he loved them, so she must make a good impression. She opened her valise, which contained only two other gowns. Remembering how out of place her fashionable clothing had felt in the City, she'd chosen the simplest ones.

She'd been right, too. The women of the village had been dressed in simple style, and some of the older ones had even worn gowns fitted to the natural waist.

She had a pink-sprigged muslin made in fairly plain style, and the clear blue that she'd balked at altering. She shook it out, suffering some doubts. There wasn't much creasing, but no one could miss that it was years old. It was still one of her favorites, though, and she realized a deeper appeal. It dated back to the old days. To before her mother's death, when her life had seemed fixed in a pleasant pattern.

Yes, a good start to a new and delightful pattern.

She put on clean drawers and a shift. She picked up the simple corset, but the blue really required a better one, which she'd packed.

Could she really ask David to lace up her corset? There were maids here and he said they'd be discreet, but if there was any possibility of keeping their sinful behavior to themselves, she wanted that.

She threaded the laces loosely and put it on over her head and then went to knock at the door.

He appeared, dressed as far as waistcoat, tussled and delicious. He looked at her in the same way, but said, "Stay laces?"

She turned and he set to work.

"Do this often, do you?"

"No," he said, giving the laces a tug.

"Not too tight. I like comfort."

"No need to pinch in your waist?"

"What do you think?"

"Begging for compliments now?"

"Storing them for my cronehood."

He kissed the back of her neck. "You'll be a beautiful crone. There."

She turned, smiling. "As long as we're together I'll be a happy one. Let me put on the gown and you can fasten the back."

He helped her and then fastened the short row of hooks. "I've not seen this before. I like it."