Lady Avely's Guide to Guile and Peril, page 25
part #3 of Matronly Misadventures Series
Once out of the fort, the lieutenant ushered her towards Custodian House and led her into the sitting room that she had previously occupied with Drumpellier. She sat down with a thump, her heart beating hard. Her imagination followed Dacian to the castle. How would he react? She feared it would not be with equanimity.
Again, she was plied with tea and bread, and Ltn Greene poured out eager questions. She forced herself to address them and give her men a chance to sort themselves out before she returned.
“Yes,” she acknowledged to Ltn Greene, once she had finished half a cup. “I have discovered who killed Sgt Finlay. It is not someone you might expect, I’m afraid: Miss Onslow.”
The lieutenant did not look as taken aback as she might have expected. His shoulders bowed a little, and he lowered his head to stare at the floor. “I feared as much.”
“You did?” Judith choked on her tea, startled. “Why?”
Ltn Greene paused. “Sgt Finlay told me he was going to meet Miss Onslow on the day he died.”
Judith stared; this was pertinent information indeed. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to compromise her reputation.” Ltn Greene looked abashed. “I know it was wrong.”
Judith sighed. “Well, it is bad enough that you protected a murderer. I’m afraid I must tell you that Miss Onslow is also a French spy, and we’ve locked her up.”
Ltn Greene’s eyes widened to a comical degree. “A French spy?”
“Yes, and she has compromised your captain’s plans. I intend to tell him that myself.”
The lieutenant looked shocked. “Certainly! And where have you locked Miss Onslow up?”
“In one of the parlours. She is being closely watched, do not worry.”
Ltn Greene nodded, eyes like saucers. Then he hesitated. “But, ma’am, the captain might not return for days. Do you want to stay at the fort for all that time? Won’t you let me escort you back to Castle Lanyon, instead? Not by gig,” he added hastily. “I’m in charge for the moment, and I can extend you the courtesy of a Travel charm back to the island, though it will require us to, uh, embrace for a moment.”
Judith chewed on her lip. She desperately wanted to rush home, to examine Dacian’s mind and every other part of him, and calm him down if needed—which, she suspected, would be greatly the case. And if she did stay here, she would be left alone, unguarded at Custodian House, and therefore become open to suspicion when the lieutenant discovered Dacian’s absence. That would defeat her whole purpose in coming here in the first place.
Ltn Greene sensed her weakening. “I can send Captain Drumpellier to you as soon as he returns. Really, I don’t think it is wise for you to stay here alone, ma’am.”
Judith could not bring herself to refuse. She had done her duty, after all, and distracted the command while Dacian vanished. Ltn Greene could honourably testify that she had been with him the whole time, especially if he himself escorted her back to Lanyon Castle. She only hoped that Dacian, Perry, and Robert had by now removed themselves from the Blue Drawing Room, as per her strict instructions.
“Very well,” she said, putting down her cup of tea. “Let us go.”
Judith hastily disentangled herself from Ltn Greene’s arms. To her surprise, they had not arrived in the Blue Drawing Room, but instead stood on the western ramparts, near the broken-down tower. A breeze whistled through her hair, and she could hear the waves crashing loudly on the rocks.
She directed a look of enquiry at the lieutenant, but he simply shrugged it off. “I apologise for the second-rate landing pad, ma’am; I don’t have the same Travel Charm as the captain,” he explained. “Now, I shall bid you adieu. I ought not to leave my post unattended for long.”
“Certainly, and thank you,” she said, grateful for his help.
He winked at her, then bent to twist a buckle on his boot, and disappeared. She was to think back on that wink later.
For now, she was simply glad that he had gone. She was home, and Dacian was nearby. She hurried along the sloping, uneven stones, anxiously making her way into the castle. The Blue Drawing Room was closest to her, so she rushed to it first, in the fear that Dacian might still be there, recalcitrant.
He was not there, but the drawing room looked like a whole troop of soldiers had Travelled into it and then undertaken a mock battle. A table had been splintered and lay twisted on its side, the rug was askew, a settee bumped out of place, and the shards of smashed porcelain was swept into a pile by the fire.
“Good Lord.” Judith pulled up short. “What happened here?”
Trebellow was sweeping the porcelain, looking rather askew himself, and sporting the beginnings of a large bruise on his left eye. He started guiltily. “Ma’am! We did not expect you so soon.” He cleared his throat. “There was a bit of a skirmish when his grace arrived.”
“He resisted his rescue?”
“Aye, and I couldn’t really tell what was going on,” said Trebellow apologetically, “so I leapt into the fray myself.”
“Oh dear.” That explained the general scene of disaster, if Trebellow had been rolling around with the duke, wrassling Cornish-style through the drawing room. “You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to wrassle his grace?”
“Indeed, ma’am.” Trebellow straightened his shoulders. “He’s a right strong one, and real twisty too. I had to use my Gift to restrain him, which I didn’t like to do, being against the usual rules, as I told you. But I also had to contend with your boy, Perry, and the other one, Robert, who were also in the tussle.”
Judith grimaced. “And how did it all end? Were you strong enough?”
“No,” confessed the butler, ashamed. “His grace responded in like, and it all…escalated, you could say. But then Mrs Ulrich cast a dampening spell. It is hard to keep brawling when icy despair and doom fall upon your head, ma’am. It took the fight out of all of us, and I snatched at the opportunity to restrain his grace properly. I’m a bit more accustomed than his grace to Mrs Ulrich’s melancholic moods, you could say.”
Judith nodded, grateful for her housekeeper’s intervention, for otherwise she might not have a drawing room anymore. “And? Where are they all now?”
“I escorted the duke to his hidey-hole—he was a bit reluctant, so I had to force the matter. I wouldn’t have done it,” said Trebellow apologetically, “except that I thought that your villainous captain might be here any minute. Between my strength, Mrs Ulrich’s imprecations, and Mr Robert’s explanations, we managed to corral his grace into the secret room. And I’ve reversed the Defence spells on it, in case his grace decided that he didn’t like it there anymore.” He paused. “The boys have gone to the breakfast room, as you ordered.”
Judith sighed. “Thank you, Trebellow.”
She turned on her heel and left the Blue Drawing Room. Her steps were quick, but when she arrived at the eastern bedroom, she pushed the door open slowly and quietly, trying to gather her resolution.
The last time she had been alone with Dacian had been in the master bedroom at Garvey House. There he had kissed her, with a passionate enthusiasm for her presence.
She well remembered that kiss, even if he had now forgotten it. It had become very heated, only to be dampened by the necessity of Dacian emitting snores like a drunken donkey at regular intervals. They hadn’t even been able to talk properly with the fear of being heard. This time, however, there was no such fear or necessity. She finally had him all to herself.
Except that he was not himself.
Creeping inside, she heard no sound emanating from the secret sitting room. The stripes of the wall were neatly in place, the hidden door invisible. She could even believe that she had come into the wrong room. As she stood there, the Humdrum Spell calmed her nerves, and she let her shoulders drop. He was safe now. It would only be a matter of time before his memory returned. She must have patience and offer him the same. Really, it was quite an ordinary matter, so very ordinary it was quite boring...she didn’t even know why she should bother with it after all.
She shook herself sharply. Damn Mrs Ulrich, with her powerful Diplomacy. Crossing the room, Judith tapped softly.
“Dacian? May I enter?”
“If you can open the damn door.” His voice was harsh.
She winced, remembering that Trebellow had locked him in with Defence spells. Yet at her touch, the door handle became visible and turned easily. She pushed through, stepping into the sitting room, and out of the Humdrum Spell. All her emotions crashed back: relief, joy, and fear at the sight of him.
He stood with his back to the window, his face grim, his hair disordered. His posture was tense, and he still wore half of that dreadful uniform: a loose white shirt and tan breeches, but the red jacket had been discarded, and the black hat flung on the floor. His arms were folded across his broad chest, his stance wide.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And where in damnation am I?”
In which a matron goes to extraordinary lengths
In the face of aggression, follow the example of Diplomacy, and meet it with softness and openness. You will be surprised at how kindness can undo hostility.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Judith’s heart sank like a rock. She had, foolishly, hoped that he might have improved in the short time she had been absent.
She drew a breath. “The better question might be: who are you? Do you remember anything at all?”
“I’ve already told you,” he bit out, “that I do not.”
“Not even your name?”
He scowled. “I’d rather you tell me yours again, and what right your butler had to manhandle me into this prison.”
She edged further into the room, while he watched her stonily.
“I am a very old friend of yours. If you were in your right mind, I promise that you would be here gladly. I am the Marchioness of Lanyon, Judith Avely, but you first knew me as Miss Judith Horis, a long time ago.” She smoothed her skirts down nervously. “A few days ago, you and I were together at Garvey House, when you were snatched away by Captain Drumpellier. I followed you to the fort, and tried to speak in your defence, but no one would listen to me.”
“What makes you so convinced of my innocence?” His arms were still rigidly folded, but she saw one hand flex against his bicep. “Right now, I feel as if I am quite capable of violent retribution.”
She nodded carefully. “That is your Gift, your forceful Impact. It has been hard for you to control, especially when you were younger. Someone knew this and used it to frame you for murder.”
He was silent for a long moment. “An appealing story, to absolve me of any guilt. And yet you hustle me into this gentle cage, and do not give me my freedom.”
“Captain Drumpellier will come after you and search this castle high and low. I am trying to keep you safe.”
“So you kidnapped me?” He raised a brow, something of his old amusement stirring. “A bold move for a lady.”
“The matter is complex,” she said defensively. “The captain isn’t planning a fair trial for you. He intends to use you for another purpose.”
“What other purpose?” His eyes narrowed.
“He wants you to assassinate Napoleon Bonaparte.”
Dacian frowned. “The French general? That hardly seems fair play.”
Judith resisted the urge to sweep the hair from his brow. She let her hands drop to her side. “Interesting that you retain notions of fair play and European politics and yet cannot remember anything else.”
He shrugged. “It is a strange half-light in which I dwell. I remember many things that have nothing to do with me. Yet whenever I turn my mind to my own concerns, it remains frustratingly blank. I have dim memories of places, but no faces. And I can’t remember anything of the last few days.”
She reflected angrily that Drumpellier had taken advantage of this: freely made promises that Dacian would not remember. Fumbling in her bodice, she withdrew the letter that Dacian had written to her. “Read this. It is in your own hand: you wrote it to me yesterday.”
He did not seem inclined to come closer and stared sceptically at the paper. Judith walked forward, holding it out. Reluctantly, he took it gingerly, as if it might be a shatterstone.
“It explains much,” she pleaded. “And if you doubt it is your hand, you can try writing yourself and see how it matches.” She nodded to the small writing desk in the corner.
He sank into the window seat. Unfolding the paper, he read it once, then again, and then a third time. A deep frown marred his brow.
Judith watched with her heart in her mouth. She well remembered the contents of that letter: ‘Dear Judith, Of course I remember you…you have never been long out of my heart since then…lay my heart at your feet…I will find a way out of here myself, so please do not risk your own neck… I will come to Lanyon Castle when I can, after I have done what I must, for this grimly determined captain…’
At long last, Dacian looked up and met her eyes. “It seems, from this, that I’m quite fond of you.”
“Yes,” said Judith, rather numbly, for he spoke with clinical detachment.
“It says years.” He paused. “Have I indeed been courting you for years?”
“You could say that, yes. Though you were in exile abroad for nine of them.”
Abruptly, he stood, casting the letter aside. Suddenly he seemed rather large in the small sitting room, towering over her. “And why didn’t you accept my courtship? I am a duke, am I not?”
“You are, indeed.” Judith swallowed. “But you lied to me, and pushed me away when I came to you, twenty years ago. You thought I was promised to your friend.”
“And were you?” He took a step closer, eyes narrowed.
“Well…yes and no.”
He raised his brows. “It sounds as if I behaved rather nobly.”
“Nobly and stupidly,” she retorted. “You lost us twenty years.”
“Hm.” His gaze remained hooded. “Perhaps you should remind me. Have we engaged in any intimate embraces?”
She swallowed. “We have kissed.” He raised a brow and she hurried on. “Once when we were young…and then again, recently.”
There was a longer pause. He tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Perhaps we should try it again? It might trigger a memory in me.”
Judith drew a breath, relieved to see the teasing gleam in his eye, and his hostile suspicion receding a little. She licked her bottom lip and saw how his gaze followed the movement. “I am not certain that is a good idea…However, it is true that our sense of smell can be very evocative.” She hesitated. “Perhaps the smell of my hair might work instead…?”
He let out a huff of laughter. “If that is all you will offer me, I will take it.” He smiled, and the arrogant charm in it suggested he was confident of further.
Tentatively, she undid the ribbons to her mobcap. Fascinated, his eyes followed her fingers, and she made slow work of it, pulling the cap off her head. She let it drop, holding his gaze. Then she pulled her hair looser, extracting pins and placing them on the dresser. His eyes were intent, and slightly amused.
“That’s better, I must say. Can you undo your bodice as well?”
“Your grace! One thing at a time.”
“Oh? So there’s hope?” He took a step closer. Suddenly he was only two handspans away. “Well then. Come here, my love. Give me the scent of your hair.”
She stepped into his arms willingly and put her head against his chest. She would have done anything for him, and she had been waiting to do this for a long time.
It was coming home. The glorious strength of his arms around her, and yes, the smell of him: smoke, leather, and some other indefinable masculine scent that was Dacian. He bent his head to the top of her head and drew a deep breath. His arms tightened around her.
“Mmmm,” he said dazedly. “Very nice.”
She blushed, nuzzling against his chest. “Any memories?”
“Not yet.” He paused. “I think I might need to try further methods.”
She turned her face up to his, caution melting away. “Very well.”
He looked down, examining every inch of her face, and lifting a finger to trace along her cheek. “I do feel some sense of belonging. As if you are mine. Even though I don’t even know who you are.”
She nodded, wordless for a moment. “Yes. I am yours.”
He kissed her then. His lips were warm and tentative at first. Then, when she did not resist, his mouth became demanding, claiming her. She clung to him, inviting everything, her hands winding through his thick dark hair, and pressing her body against the hard planes of him.
She moaned as the kiss deepened again. Coals flamed deep within her. But abruptly, Dacian pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length.
“That does seem familiar.” His voice was gravelly. “Like something from a dream.”
“Yes.”
“But I still don’t remember you.”
She blinked. “You want me to undo my bodice now?”
“Lady Avely!” He dropped his arms and his eyes swept down her body appreciatively. “Would I remember the sight?”
“You might,” she confessed, blushing. “You watched me undress a week ago, though that was as far as it went.”
He gaped, disbelieving. “Are you saying that you removed your clothes and I didn’t make love to you? What sort of lily-livered fellow am I?”
“We had other concerns at the time,” she said primly.
“What could possibly be more important?”
“Ah, well, we were trying to catch a murderer.”
“Hm.” He eyed her. “Well, if you wish to remove your bodice, I won’t stop you. It might be the crucial step to regaining my memory. I think we should attempt it at once.”
She blushed again. “No, it is too improper. I am essentially a stranger to you. I cannot possibly undo my bodice, even if you have seen me do so before.”
“In fact, I remember you completely,” he declared, staring at her bosom, which was still covered. “I utterly adore you. Let us repair to the bed at once.”
