Page 41 of Wicked Wager

"So many shrines," she muttered.

"Still, you cannot deny it would be easier for me to obtain a private audience. And perhaps to persuade her into being... indiscreet."

"I shouldn't wish you to have to do something-distasteful," she retorted, her tone more sarcastic than she would have wished.

"Ah, but I am ready to go to great lengths in the quest for truth," he replied, a naughty twinkle in his eye.

The serious note beneath bis innuendo checked her irritation. "Please, do nothing yet. I'm not sure what I mean to do if we determine that she is involved. Confronting her might arouse her suspicions-and could make her dangerous. Now, I'd better get back. Aunt Hetty is receiving and will think me very rude if I am too tardy to assist her."

Nelthorpe nodded. "If I discover anything, I will send word through Sancha. You will do the same?"

"Agreed. Thank you, Lord Nelthorpe, for standing my friend-in spite of everything."

He looked into her eyes, his expression so intense it sent a shock through her, made it impossible to turn away. "I will always be that. Your servant, my lady."

He waited until the groom had assisted her into the saddle, then remounted himself. Conscious of his gaze following her-always, his gaze on her-she rode away.

Early that evening, Jenna descended the stairs to the parlor where she was to meet Aunt Hetty. Lady Montclare was hosting a musicale, so there was no chance of avoiding the entertainment. As Lady Charlotte and her party, including Colonel Vernier, were pledged to attend another dinner and she could not hope that Nelthorpe would be invited, it promised to be a dull night.

Although she was attempting to continue with her usual activities, as Nelthorpe had predicted, now that she'd been made aware of the possibility of wrongdoing, 'twas very difficult to carry on as though nothing had happened.

She'd found herself watching Aunt Hetty closely today, looking for-what? Signs of uneasiness, guilt, a touch of menace? And finding nothing beyond the somewhat petty, querulous, complaining behavior the woman had exhibited toward her ever since her arrival, behavior that Jenna's instincts told her posed no threat.

Still, all her senses remained heightened, her eyes drawn to sudden flickers of light or movement, her ears registering small household sounds-the muffled closing of a door, the pad of a servant's footsteps in the hallway-with an acuity she hadn't experienced since leaving the battlefields of Spain. An uneasiness, not quite fear but more than caution, had seeped deep into her consciousness.

So that when, as she passed the library on her way to the parlor, Lane Fairchild's voice unexpectedly sounded from behind her, she jumped. She had just a moment to compose her startled features before the library door opened.

"Ah, cousin, I thought that was your step. And how lovely you look."

"Nearly as fine as you," she replied, noting his dark evening wear, striking against his blond good looks.

"Do you accompany us to Lady Montclare's?"

"I shall escort you, but not remain. I am promised elsewhere, I fear."

"Fortunate man," Jenna muttered.

He choked off a laugh, turning it to an unconvincing cough. "Lady Montclare has been a good friend to you, Jenna. I'm sure you are delighted to accept her kind invitation. Besides, there shall doubtless be a horde of friends there to entertain you. First, I have a concern I wished to speak with you about, if you would be so good as to allow me a moment?"

Jenna's sensitized nerves whispered caution, but she saw no reason to refuse. "Of course, cousin," she said, following him into the darkened library. "What did you wish to discuss?"

*CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE*

Lane motioned her to a seat. "Yesterday, I discovered quite by chance from one of the footmen that you paid a call upon the woman who threatened you the day of Garrett's services. Heavens, Jenna, how could you be so reckless?"

Surprised, and not sure how much she wished to divulge to her cousin, Jenna fumbled for words. "I-I am quite safe, as you can see."

"Praise God nothing untoward transpired! But I'm still most upset with you. The woman might have been deranged. If you were still troubled about the incident, why did you not say so? I should have pursued it for you. Whether or not you ever gratify my fondest hopes, you are still family, and I am committed to your protection."

After that ardent vow, a week ago she might have disclosed to him the whole. But that same cautious foreboding that had shadowed her since Nelthorpe's warning made her hold back. Perhaps, she decided, imbued with the grim sense that she could now trust no one, she ought to reveal just enough to gauge his reaction.

"I am touched by your devotion, cousin. It was just that-oh, in the wake of that visit, it seems foolish even to mention it!"

"Mention what?" he demanded.

Watching him from the corner of her eye, she rose to pace before him, as if too agitated to remain in her seat. "I'm sure 'tis naught but the fanciful imaginings of a mind still disordered by grief, but of late I've had vague dreams that perhaps my fall was not an accident. Mrs. Owens did seem to have threatened me, though after hearing her fervent apology yesterday, I no longer believe she intended me any harm.

Do...do you, cousin, know of anyone else who might wish me ill?"

"I can't imagine! What would lead you to believe your fall wasn't accidental?"

He seemed neither truly shocked by her doubts nor dismissive of them. Wishing she knew him well enough to be able to read him better, she replied, "Why would the groom mount me on a slug like Aunt Hetty's old mare and not warn me she abhorred the whip? He knew me to be an intrepid rider. He must have suspected I would urge the beast to a faster pace as soon as we reached the park."

"Jenna, you've just admitted that you've not been thinking rationally of late. Have you discovered anything else that would lead you to believe his omission was more than mere thoughtlessness?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Except this continuing feeling of unease. I-I do feel particularly uncomfortable around Bayard. Much as I shrink from even thinking such a thing, you don't suppose he might have..."

"Bayard wish you harm? No, 'tis preposterous! True, should you have been brought to bed of an heir, it would have displaced him as viscount, but you've seen how little he cares for that. All that matters to him are his cursed experiments. Why, just last week I discovered he spent an enormous sum-on rocks!

Rocks shipped from locations all over the globe, some of them encrusted with shiny minerals, some that, he said, are supposed to glow in the dark. He wishes to persuade them to 'yield up their secrets.'" Lane shook his head in disgust.

"He is rather...odd," Jenna observed.

Lane snorted. "When I took him to task for squandering estate funds on such a thing, he became incensed and cried that nothing could be allowed to block the advance of human knowledge, certainly nothing so trivial as-" He stopped in midphrase, as if suddenly struck. "As money," he concluded soberly.

Jenna guessed where his thoughts were likely leading. "Does Bayard have a large personal income?"

"No," Lane replied shortly. "He, like Aunt Hetty, was happy to respond to Garrett's invitation to live here, as it saved his slender purse the cost of maintaining a separate establishment. Being viscount might mean little to him, but continuing his experiments would mean the world. Not," he added hastily, "that I intend to imply I believe Bayard would ever dream of, much implement, a scheme to insure he retained the title and its wealth."

"You are sure?"

Lane hesitated a moment. "Almost sure. But with your safety at stake, I had better make further inquiries."

Jenna debated telling him about the shot, then decided against it. If he followed this line of argument logically, he should soon realize that if Bayard prized unlimited funds to pursue his experiments, he might well have concluded that the coffers of the estate he now controlled would be considerably enriched by the addition of the fortune that would most likely fall to the Fairchilds at her demise.

"Do you think I'm in danger?" she said instead.

"I am nearly certain you are not. But," he sighed heavily, "as far-fetched as all this seems, I suppose it would be wise to be prudent. I would keep your maid about you. And for the moment, I would recommend you avoid encountering Bayard or his valet."

A sudden memory assailed her-talking with Lane the morning she'd been fired on...with Frankston lurking in the shadows.

She shook off a chill. "I will do so, cousin."

He came over to pat her hand. "I had begun this talk hoping to allay your concerns, not create new ones! But rest assured I shall look into this matter urgently, that I might be able soon to lay all your anxieties at rest."

"You are most kind," she murmured, removing her hand.

"Any assistance I can render you, my dear Jenna, must always give me pleasure."

That subtle reference to his hopes increased her discomfort, and she blessed the fact that he would not be remaining with them at Lady Montclare's this evening. "I must leave now. Aunt Hetty will be beside herself at the possibility of arriving late."

Lane groaned. "So she shall. Tell her I will join you in a trice."

How genuine was Lane's show of concern, Jenna wondered as she continued on to the parlor. The interest in her person that he radiated was real enough to make her uncomfortable. Did that automatically mean he was ignorant of any possible wrongdoing?

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