Part 12 (1/2)

”I'm sure he does,” I said, added a brief good-bye to the boys, and rang off.

I sat for a moment to collect my thoughts, then turned to Reginald. ”You think Rob and Will would mind if I burned their riding boots?”

Reginald made no reply, but I knew what he would have said if he'd possessed the power of speech.

”They'd convince Kit to let them ride in sneakers,” I acknowledged wryly, and thanked heaven that my sons had inherited a certain degree of stubbornness from me. They'd never let me smother them, no matter how hard I tried.

I returned the cell phone to my shoulder bag and went to the bathroom to wash my tear-blotched face. I was toweling off when I heard a loud thump on the bedroom door. When I opened the door, I found Simon standing in the corridor, holding a large silver tray laden with covered dishes.

”Sorry to kick the door,” he said, ”but as you can see, my hands are fully occupied.”

”You shouldn't be carrying such a heavy load,” I said.

He ignored my protest and swept past me into the room.

”I come bearing relatively good news,” he announced. ”Nell's injuries do not appear to be life-threatening.”

”Thank G.o.d,” I said, and heaved a quavering sigh of relief.

”I come bearing breakfast as well. Oliver told me you hadn't eaten.” Simon placed the tray on the rosewood table and turned to face me. ”He also told me you'd been weeping. I really can't have that, you know. Come here-but be gentle with me.”

He opened his arms in a gesture that was more brotherly than seductive, so I went to him for a long, comforting hug.

”I know what you were feeling,” he murmured. ”The clutch at the heart . . . You'll think me mad, but I rang my son at Eton, just to hear his voice.”

I tilted my head back to look up at him. ”I did the same thing. You'll never guess where I found my sons.”

When I told him, he responded with a sympathetic groan. ”Poor old thing. I hope you're not planning to lock up their saddles.”

”I briefly considered burning their boots,” I confessed, ”but what would be the point? A life without risk is no life at all.”

Simon's midnight-blue eyes s.h.i.+fted slightly. They seemed to focus inward for a moment, as though my words had struck a chord, then he stepped away from me and said briskly, ”Bill's a tremendous bully. I was deeply impressed. He simply shook the doctors by their stethoscopes until they coughed up a diagnosis. Nell has a dislocated shoulder, a broken collarbone, and mild concussion.”

”Not great,” I said, ”but better than a fractured skull.”

”Indeed,” Simon agreed. ”And now I must fly. I was dispatched to Hailesham to retrieve Bertie, who was left behind in the confusion.”

”Go,” I said, flapping my hands at him. ”And thanks for the food. I think I might be able to find an appet.i.te now.”

When Simon had gone, I uttered a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving, then sat at the writing table and made short work of the breakfast he'd so thoughtfully provided. I was too full of nervous energy to sit around twiddling my thumbs for the rest of the morning, so I grabbed my jacket and headed for the stables, in hopes of finding someone who'd confirm-or contradict-Nell's story about the flea-ridden horse blankets.

It seemed an insignificant detail, in light of what had happened, but after finding the strand of golden hair in the nursery, I needed to know, for my own peace of mind, if Nell had been telling the truth about burning the bundle of kerosene-soaked cloth.

An ominous shroud of gray clouds had covered the sun by the time I crossed the courtyard, and a chill wind s.n.a.t.c.hed at the smoke rising from the workshops' chimneys. A half-dozen horses huddled for warmth in the rolling pasture beyond the greenhouses, but Deacon was not among them.

I found the dappled gray in a loose box in the imposing, neocla.s.sical stone stable. Claudia was there, too, leaning on the box's half-door and gazing intently at Deacon.

”You found him,” I said as I approached.

She glanced at me, then looked back at the horse. ”He found his way here on his own. It's the strangest thing. He seemed . . . frightened.”

”Of what?” I asked, standing beside her.

”Fences, apparently,” she answered tersely. ”He'll never make a hunter. Simon will have to get rid of him.”

I studied the horse as he calmly nibbled the alfalfa pellets in the manger. ”He went over the hurdles pretty willingly the first time Simon tried them.”

”Deacon's headstrong and unreliable,” Claudia declared. ”If he were mine, I'd have him put down.”

”Nell's going to be all right,” I said hastily, and relayed Simon's report on Nell's injuries. I thought Claudia would be pleased by the news, but it only seemed to make her angrier.

”It was a stupid stunt,” she said heatedly. ”The shock could have killed Uncle Edwin. He's already had one heart attack. Another would finish him.”

I gaped at her. ”I'm sorry, Claudia, I had no idea that your uncle was ill. Does Derek know-”

”Derek has made it his business to know as little as possible about his father,” Claudia broke in. ”Uncle Edwin ceased long ago to look to him for either support or sympathy.” She pushed herself away from the half-door and brushed her palms together lightly. ”If you'll excuse me, Lori, I'm going to change. I'm absolutely filthy.”

”Uh, Claudia, wait a minute.” I thought fast, then improvised madly. ”I wanted to ask-is there any part of the stables I should avoid? I heard a rumor that I might run into fleas.”

”Not anymore,” she informed me. ”Nell burnt those dreadful old blankets yesterday. I wouldn't have touched them with a barge pole, but vermin don't faze Nell.” As Claudia strode past me, she added haughtily, ”I hope today's lesson will teach her to be a bit less fearless in future.”

I stood outside of Deacon's loose box, lost in thought, until a gust of warm breath tickled the back of my neck. I turned and found myself face-to-face with the dappled gray. I cautiously raised a hand and stroked his velvet nose. He snuffled his appreciation.

”You don't seem headstrong to me,” I murmured. ”But I don't know much about horses.”

I gave him a final pat, walked into the courtyard, and paused. My gaze traveled from the neatly hedged pasture to the Victorian greenhouses, from the row of humble workshops to the intricate stonework gracing Hailesham's west facade.

Hundreds of country houses were demolished in the last century, Simon had told me. Treasure houses the likes of which will never be seen again. It's a miracle that Hailesham survived, a miracle wrought by succeeding generations of my family. . . .

I knew now, for certain, why the earl had called the cousins home.

The time had come to pa.s.s the torch to the next generation. He wasn't sure how much longer he had to live.

Sixteen.

A sudden cloudburst sent me scrambling into the house. I was about to return to my room via the back staircase when I heard a faint trill of music coming from the drawing room. Someone was playing the grand piano.

Curious, I went to the entrance hall, slung my rain-spattered jacket over the staircase's wrought-iron bal.u.s.trade, and opened the drawing room door. The red-haired maid sprang up from the piano bench, blus.h.i.+ng crimson. I tried my best to appear nonthreatening, but I seemed destined to embarra.s.s every temporary worker on Lord Elstyn's payroll.

”Sorry, madam, it won't happen again, madam, please don't tell Mr. Giddings,” she sputtered.

”I won't breathe a word to Giddings,” I said, ”and there's no need to apologize. You play beautifully.”

The maid fidgeted with her ap.r.o.n. ”I'm only supposed to dust it, madam, but, well, it's such a fine instrument and it gets so little use. . . .”

”I understand,” I told her. ”Your secret's safe with me.”