Page 122 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
Lucilla stood on the porch and, one arm linked with Thomas’s, waved them away. “I’m glad they all came, but I have to confess I’m happy enough to see them go.” Meeting Thomas’s eyes, she saw the questioning lift of his brows, and smiled. “I’m eager to get on establishingourversion of married life.”
He chuckled and bent to kiss her—lightly—then, twining his fingers with hers, he allowed her to tow him back into the house.
The luncheon gong boomed as they entered, so they continued on into the Great Hall. Holding Lucilla’s chair, then subsiding into the one next to it—into his already accustomed place—Thomas looked out over the hall, at those filing in and gathering at the tables in response to the gong’s summons. Not everyone came in for luncheon; regardless, he felt pleased that he could already put a name and occupation to most of those present.
“I’ve been meaning to ask”—Marcus dropped into the chair on Lucilla’s other side—“from whom did Niniver get Eir? She couldn’t be one of the dogs spirited away before Nigel could sell them—she’s too young. So who’s overseeing the breeding now—presumably without Nigel’s knowledge?”
Thomas swallowed a mouthful of rich chicken soup. “I’m not really sure. They’re keeping the pack at old Egan’s place.”
Marcus picked up his soup spoon but didn’t start eating. He frowned. “Could it be Niniver herself? She seemed very capable with the dogs, very competent in handling the pups.”
“I doubt it’s just her, but undoubtedly with her help.” Thomas looked down at his bowl. “Possibly under her direction. I think they have not quite half, but the better half of the original breeders. But whatever you do, don’t mention that to anyone. I assume Nigel saw Eir at the church, but he might not know she was a gift from Niniver, and even if he does, I’m certain he doesn’t know where she got the pup from.”
Marcus was staring out at the hall, but he nodded. “The secret’s safe with me.” He stirred his soup, then added, “Nigel was a fool to sell off the dogs—the litters had always brought in a nice sum to the estate. No one could understand why he did it.”
“I certainly don’t.” Thomas felt his jaw clench, then Lucilla laid a hand on his arm.
Leaning forward, she caught her mother’s eye and proceeded to explain their concerns about Manachan’s health and also, given the decline in his strength, that they feared the problems that had beset the estate might still be unresolved.
Thomas glanced at Richard. “As you know, Manachan hadn’t wanted us to call at Carrick Manor before the wedding, and when we spoke with him yesterday, he insisted that we did nothing but enjoy the day—”
“But he agreed that we could call on him this afternoon.” Lucilla looked at her mother, then transferred her gaze to her father. “We thought it might be helpful if you could accompany us.” She looked back at Catriona. “Both of you.”
Richard considered, then exchanged a glance with Catriona. Then he nodded. “That sounds an eminently sensible idea.” He paused, then added, “There have been a lot of strange decisions taken on the Carrick estate over the last year, and while none of us—the surrounding landowners—would dream of interfering—” He broke off with a short laugh. “Not that Manachan would ever allow us to, but still, we’ve noticed and wondered.”
“Which is to say,” Catriona said, regally gracious, “that your plan is a sound one. We’ll leave immediately luncheon is done.”
* * *
Rather than taking a carriage, they rode, albeit via the road. Both Lucilla’s and Catriona’s mounts bore saddlebags stuffed with herbs and potions; Thomas had felt the bottles as he’d tied Lucilla’s bag to her saddle.
Marcus had wanted to come, but they’d decided that that might make their party look too much like an invasion. Manachan had a long history of taking offense over such minor social nuances.
So the four of them trotted two abreast, Thomas and Lucilla in the lead, Catriona and Richard close behind, up the long drive to Carrick Manor.
They rounded the last curve and the front of the house, sitting beyond the gravel forecourt, came into view. A small figure huddled at the top of the steps. Riding closer, they recognized Niniver’s pale blond hair. Her shoulders were slumped; she looked dejected and forlorn. She was twisting a limp handkerchief in her hands.
The face she raised to them as, alarmed, they reined in, dismounted, and rushed to her, was tear-ravaged, her blue eyes awash, puffy and red-rimmed.
“Oh, my dear.” Catriona sank down beside Niniver and gathered her in. “What is it?”
Leaning against Catriona, Niniver gulped and weakly waved. “He’s gone—Papa. He didn’t wake this morning. Eventually, Edgar—his man—tried to rouse him and realized…” She hiccupped. “He was so set on attending the wedding—we all argued, but he wouldn’t stay at home…and now he’sdead.” She caught her breath on a sob. “And Nigel’s disappeared, too.”
Niniver ducked her head, dabbing at her face with the sodden handkerchief.
Thomas’s face had set. He exchanged a look with Richard. Catriona waved them to go in; leaving Niniver with her, Thomas and Richard climbed the steps and headed for the open front door. Lucilla debated, then followed them.
Halting in the foyer, Thomas looked around and saw no one—no footman, no Ferguson. But a rumble of voices came from the direction of the servants’ hall. Thomas called, “Ferguson!”
A second passed, then heavy footsteps came hurrying along the corridor. Ferguson appeared. He looked at Thomas, Richard, and Lucilla and visibly sagged with relief. “Thank God you’re here, Mr. Thomas, sir—the master’s dead, Mr. Nigel’s disappeared, Mr. Nolan’s refusing to send for the doctor, Mr. Norris is no use to anyone, and Miss Niniver is distraught—and none of us knows what’s best to do.”
Others had followed Ferguson; Sean, Mitch, Fred, Mrs. Kennedy, Gwen, and several maids and footmen crowded into the hall behind the butler. All looked shocked and also incipiently angry.
Sean explained the latter. “Nigel should be here, but he’s gone off, and no one knows to where. What use is that?”
Others murmured darkly in agreement.
Thomas agreed, too, but in Nigel’s absence… “Where’s Nolan?”
