Lady Avely's Guide to Guile and Peril, page 26
part #3 of Matronly Misadventures Series
She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Then what is my favourite drink?”
His eyes flickered up. “Tea. Black. Preferably…oolong.”
She sighed, her heart disappointed even though she could tell that he did not yet know her. He was looking at her with lust and warmth, certainly, but the light she usually found in his eyes was absent. “Sorry, your grace. Incorrect.”
“Sherry? Port?” His voice became desperate. “Rum?”
She shook her head. “Chocolate.”
“Damn it. Of course. I knew that.”
A part of her thought it might well work to ravish him into himself—from all accounts, if there was anything the duke knew well, it was lovemaking—but she knew she would regret it later. She wanted to make love to the Dacian she knew, the man who knew all the stupid things that had come between them and was determined to have her at last. Not this stranger who had only just met her and was watching her now with amusement and regret.
“Well,” he said, with a sigh. “Do we just wait for my memories to return? I can think of all sorts of experiments we might run to assist me, which do not require the removal of your bodice.”
She cleared her throat. “We must simply wait. You recovered enough in a day or two after you first doses of Lethe, enough to write me that letter. We must be patient.”
He picked up the letter, running his eyes over it again. Then he looked up accusingly. “It says here, ‘Please, I beg of you, do not entertain any foolish plans to somehow breach the walls of this fort.’ And yet that is exactly what you did.” He paused. “I suspect you do not show the ducal authority proper respect, Lady Avely.”
“It was necessary! You must see that now. Captain Drumpellier made you another false promise—he swore he would give you your mind back, and now see where you are. It was imperative that I remove you from his clutches.”
“And yet…” murmured Dacian. “How do I know you aren’t just keeping me captive as a servant to your desires?”
“Dacian!”
“I’m locked in, am I not?” He gestured at the sitting room, with its pale cream and lavender walls, and the makeshift mattress set on the floor. “A prettier cell, I grant you, but a prison nonetheless.”
She huffed, for the comparison stung, and she felt in her pockets for his topaz ring. She held it out, hoping he would take it as a sign of her good faith. “Take this: you may not remember, but it is yours, a Travel Ring. If you twist it with the word veho, it will transport you out of here, in a blink. Though I am afraid it will only take you back to a tower in Fort Pendennis.”
Dacian grimaced as he slipped the ring onto his finger. “Not exactly an enticing prospect.”
“And you may have a brief stroll in the corridors, if you like,” she added reluctantly. “Ltn Greene told me that the captain is away for a day or two, so we have a small respite. Though the lieutenant himself might pay us a visit, so you must be careful.”
Turning, she tried the handle of the door, only to find it immovable. After some banging, however, Trebellow (who must have followed her to the eastern master bedroom to stand guard) opened it and stood aside, blinking blearily. Clearly the butler was under the influence of the Humdrum Spell, for he barely restrained a yawn at the sight of her.
She was relieved, however, that he was distracted from her flushed face and missing mobcap. “Trebellow,” she said with some dignity. “The duke is going to take a turn about the castle. I have explained matters to him, and I expect you to treat him with all due respect. And please reverse the Defence spells on the door so he can come and go as he likes.”
Trebellow bowed extremely low. “It will be an honour, your grace.”
Dacian eyed him. “No more tackling me to the ground, you huge hill of flesh.”
“Shakespeare?” remarked Judith. “A pity you can’t remember something more to the point.” Briskly she led the way through the Humdrum Spell and gave herself a little shake once she was out into the corridor. Boredom was an odd sensation to experience, however briefly, after all that had happened. She turned to see Dacian blinking and frowning. “Yes, that was a Diplomacy spell,” she explained. “Set up by my housekeeper to turn away prying eyes.”
“Ah, the redoubtable Mrs Ulrich? The battle-axe who brought our fisticuffs to an end? She’s certainly a force to be reckoned with. Is there any food to be had, by the way?”
She was glad to see this as a sign he was recovering his spirits. “I’m going to the breakfast room now. The boys are there: the ones who kidnapped you, but please be polite. You know Robert; perhaps the sight of him now might recall something.”
Dacian followed close behind. “If the taste of your lips does not trigger any recollection,” he murmured in her ear, “I highly doubt that some lad will do so.”
In which there is brief respite
A nap cures all ills. Usually.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
When they reached the breakfast room, Judith went in first, into the smell of freshly baked apple pie, cream, and coffee. She saw Perry slouched by the window, looking rather sulky and spooning cream into his mouth. Robert was on the floor, his back against the wall, a hand tightly clasped to his wounded leg and a bowl of apple pie on the ground next to him. She was glad that Mrs Ulrich had bestirred herself enough to provide suitable rations, even at this late hour. In the dark outside, she could hear wind whistling past the windows.
“My dear boys!” she said. “You did superbly!”
Perry looked over. “I didn’t realise that I’d have to wrestle two mountains at once! You need to keep your butler in check, Mother!”
“I do apologise,” she said sympathetically. “Any lasting damage done?”
“No, but Robert’s leg pains him.”
“It’s fine,” said Robert, though he looked a little pale. Then he started in surprise. “Your grace!”
He began to clamber to his feet, for Dacian had come into the room with Trebellow. The duke put up a staying hand, and Robert sank back against the wall, staring.
Dacian looked between them. “You pair of rampallians! How dare you assault the ducal person?”
Robert looked pained. “Lady Avely’s orders, your grace. I sincerely apologise.”
Perry spoke up. “I said you might not like it. But she was convinced we shouldn’t leave you there.” He examined the duke closely, then his eyes moved curiously to Judith, who suddenly wished she had put her mobcap back on.
Dacian went over to pour himself some coffee. “Which one of you is Robert?”
“Me.” Robert’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”
“No.” Dacian spoke calmly, but Judith could tell he was uncomfortable to be at such a disadvantage. He stirred some sugar into his coffee. “How do I know you, exactly?”
Robert’s lips clamped together, and he shot a glance at Judith. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. Robert would not want to announce the nature of their history before Perry, but she did not want to lie to Dacian.
“You saw to my schooling,” said Robert finally. “I am greatly in your debt.”
Perry’s head snapped around. “His grace saw to your schooling at Taunton? How on earth…? My Uncle Gerald has no connection with the Duke of Sargen!”
There was an awkward silence as Dacian raised his eyebrows. He clearly didn’t have the answer.
“It’s complicated,” said Robert hastily. “It doesn’t matter now. Lady Avely, shouldn’t we be afraid of pursuit?”
She shook her head. “Apparently Drumpellier is away in Ireland for a couple of days,” she explained, pouring herself a cup of coffee and spooning in a liberal amount of cream, “so we have a small reprieve, for he only left this morning. But Perry, you must leave at once. Lieutenant Greene will recognise you if he pays us a visit.”
“What about Robert? The lieutenant saw him too.” Perry brightened. “Maybe I should take Robert with me back to Devonshire! He could meet his cousin Elinor too, and she won’t even be sick all over you now, Bob.”
Robert looked startled at this charming offer (and possibly the nickname) and opened his mouth to refuse.
But Judith shook her head. “No, Robert must stay here and rest, not further strain his injury. He has the advantage, don’t forget, of being able to melt into the wall if need be.”
“Oh?” Dacian also helped himself to a bowl of cream and apple pie. “Is that some sort of vanishing spell?”
“No, Illusion,” she explained. “Robert is very Gifted. He conjured up the uniforms the boys were wearing when they rescued you. Perry is the one who transported you all to the castle, and he must transport himself off now.”
Perry yawned. “I confess, I’m a bit weary. And I’m looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed at Beresford House, now that we’ve berthed.”
“Off you go, I insist,” said Judith.
Perry made his farewells and vanished sleepily. Judith frowned down at Robert with concern and offered to bandage up his leg again.
“It’s fine.” Robert glanced at the duke uneasily. “Why can’t you remember us, your grace? I thought that your memory had returned.”
Dacian shrugged. “I don’t remember that either, I’m afraid. Completely undone.”
“The captain is a traitorous dog,” said Judith darkly. “He betrayed his agreement to you. I’ll wring his false, lying neck when I see him again.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” objected Robert. “Drumpellier had obtained the duke’s cooperation; why undo all his negotiations?”
“Because he wanted blind obedience,” Judith snapped, “not a compromise. He wanted to throw Dacian to the wolves. It would be far more difficult to bring him safely out of Austria once the deed was done.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dacian, around a mouthful of apple pie. “But you should try this, Lady Avely, it is superb.”
She sat down at the breakfast table, ignoring the pang she felt as he continued to use her title. The pie was delicious: the warm, sweet apple covered in thick pastry and slathered with the richest cream she had ever tasted. It seemed that the young cook, while terrible at soups, had a talent for apple pie. It was almost enough to make up for the awful suppers so far.
As they ate, she and Robert explained things further to Dacian. He listened with interest but showed no flashes of recognition at their convoluted tale. Eventually, she sighed and gave up.
“You are much better off trying to sleep,” she advised. “Rest is likely the best cure. And I’d feel better if you were tucked away safely.”
Robert had limped over to sit at the table with her. “Shouldn’t we smuggle him out of the castle, while we have the chance?”
She had considered this, but rejected the notion. “Why risk it, when we have the best hidey-hole in all of Cornwall? His grace will be like a lost lamb wandering around without his memory.”
“I’m happy to stay here,” said Dacian, draining the rest of his coffee. “Especially if we undertake several attempts to jog my memory.”
Judith tried not to blush and failed.
Robert looked between them. “There must be some remedy we can try, an herb or tincture. Perhaps Mrs Ulrich will know.”
When summoned to the breakfast room, Mrs Ulrich suggested green tea infused with sage and promised to deliver a pot to the secret sitting room. Judith led Dacian back to it and installed him once more, bidding him to go to sleep after his tea.
“One more kiss,” he suggested. “It might work this time.”
She obliged, stepping into his arms and pressing her lips against his. He took his time, slowly savouring, until their embrace became heated once more.
Judith stepped back, flushed and wanting. “Still nothing?”
His pupils were dilated, his breath ragged. “I remember everything.”
She smiled, hearing the lie. “Truly?”
“No.” His shoulders sank. “Curse it.”
She didn’t trust herself to stay in the room any longer. So she left him sitting on the makeshift bed, his hair dishevelled, his shirt undone, and scowling at the suggestion that he should sleep.
Yet, in the morning, he still did not know her.
Judith awoke late and sat up in alarm as the events of the night rushed back into consciousness. They must expect the lieutenant today, or even the captain.
She cast aside her blankets, slipped a robe over her nightdress, then hurried down to Dacian’s room. This time she found that the door would not budge an inch when she tried the hidden handle, and she had to call for Dacian to let her in.
He opened the door, standing before her in an equal state of immodesty: his chest bare under a silk dressing gown. A cup of coffee sat by the window seat, its aroma filling the room along with that of a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast.
“Well?” she demanded.
He swept her with an admiring gaze. “You are still a beautiful stranger.” He sighed at her disappointed look. “But I do remember a bit more of my estate, and my family. Are my parents alive?”
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
His lips twisted. “I suspected as much; the memories have a childish quality to them.” He appraised her. “You look lovely this morning. Do come in.”
She clasped the dressing gown before her as he shut the door. “You look rather charming yourself. Can you not remember how to tie a cravat?”
She had thought about reuniting Dacian with Wooten, but she dared not while they were both so out of sorts. Dacian might call Wooten a flittermouse again and cause the little bat to have an apoplexy. Or worse, Wooten might not blink an eye at the appellation, or inform Dacian that the ducal person was a mild improvement on a bovine.
Now Dacian preened, pushing a lock of black hair aside, and did nothing to cover his bare chest. “Shall we resume our attempts to recover my memory?”
Judith huffed a laugh. “Some of your character remains.”
“Oh? Am I a lustful degenerate?” He grinned. “I am merely seeking truth, by whatever means possible.”
“First some food.”
“Indeed, my lady.” He led her to the window seat, poured her a cup of coffee, and they shared his plate. They talked amiably together, but it plucked at her heart to see that he still, subtly, spoke to her as a stranger, albeit one whose bosoms he admired. Dear, cursed libertine. His tone remained a little cool, flirtatious to be sure, but in the manner of a nobleman parlaying at court, with a practiced dexterity rather than real passion.
He seemed to sense her disconsolation, for after a while he set his cup of coffee aside and eyed her. “Time for another reprise, I think. Come here.”
The authority of the order made her shiver with desire. Yet, when she didn’t move, he stood and came to her side, holding out a hand. “May I?” His smile was teasing. “I think I should become reacquainted with your delightful curves.”
He was so handsome and had such a gleam in his eye that Judith could not resist. It might work, after all. She stepped into his arms again and surrendered to his kisses. They were long, sensuous, and practiced. This, she reasoned, was more of his character returning: the treatment all his widows had received. Her heart gave a pang. She was in the unenviable position where if he dallied with her now, he was effectively betraying her with herself. She consoled herself with the thought that flirting was like breathing to him, and she shouldn’t take it amiss. Especially as he couldn’t remember her at all.
Soon his strong hands moved to grasp her hips. She decided that was permissible, seeing as Dacian had already taken such liberties. Perhaps the shape of her derrière would remind him.
But no. He merely groaned again, pulling her hard against him, then pushing her away again, his dark eyes molten. “I’m certain I haven’t been satisfied for years. Was I a monk in Spain?”
She started. “Yes! You were! Have you remembered?”
“God, no.” He was aghast. “I was a monk? I don’t believe it! I was a complete namby-pamby of a man!”
“The vows take great self-discipline,” she said, prim once more. “And it wasn’t for the whole nine years, I’m certain of that. You told me you also spent some time incognito as the Count of Querrento.”
“He sounds more virile, if somewhat ridiculous.” He rubbed his brow. “But how am I to remember myself if I have several selves?”
“I assure you, there was a constant Dacian beneath all of them.” She brushed her robe down, reluctantly conceding that further kisses would be unwise. And at that moment, the sound of distant voices and hurried footsteps intruded.
They both looked over as a knock sounded sharply on the hidden door.
“Ma’am,” came Mrs Ulrich’s disapproving voice. “Lady Avely? I’m afraid that you have a visitor.”
“Who?” she asked nervously.
“It is Ltn Greene,” came the reply. “He says it is a matter of extreme urgency.”
“Oh dear.” Judith looked over to Dacian. “The lieutenant has discovered your absence. I must be under suspicion.”
“Will you let me in?” demanded Mrs Ulrich. “I cannot be seen out here talking to the wall.”
Judith winced, and grabbed at her dressing gown, tying it tightly. She opened the door, holding her head high as Mrs Ulrich marched in.
Her housekeeper majestically ignored her state of undress. “Quickly, ma’am. You need to be ready to receive guests. And your grace must stay as quiet as a newt until they have gone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied meekly.
Judith gave him a small smile, then hurried out after Mrs Ulrich, leaving Dacian sitting morosely on the window seat.
Hot water and a clean gown were laid out in the Captain’s Cabin, along with a fresh mobcap. Hastily she washed herself down and dressed in the black chiffon, while the housekeeper informed her of everyone’s whereabouts. The lieutenant was impatiently waiting in the Blue Drawing Room, guarded by Trebellow. Robert was hiding in the ballroom in plain sight, and the rest of the staff had been instructed to forget they had ever met him. Miss Onslow had been escorted to the secret room in the cellars and locked in from both sides, with Kade outside ‘cleaning’ the underground hall. Baron Quarles was still missing, and Judith hoped he was far away.
