Pendragon (Sherbrooke Brides 7)

Tysen rose and stepped in front of his wife. “Excuse me, sir, she is my wife. I am Lord Barthwaite, Meggie’s father.”

Lord Kipper came to a complete and very chagrinned halt in the middle of the drawing room.

“Ah, your wife. I see.”

Meggie, who had never before heard her father introduce himself by his Scottish title, gaped. Here was her father, facing down another man who very much wanted to poach on his preserves. Every bit of Sherbrooke arrogance sounded in his voice, every ounce of Sherbrooke blood in him was ready to boil. Her father, she realized, was

ready to take Lord Kipper apart. It was an amazing thing.

Mary Rose suddenly leapt into action. She held out her hand. “I am Lady Barthwaite, sir. And you are?”

Thomas said, “This is Lord Kipper, everyone. Niles, you will doubtless meet Meggie’s almost cousin a bit later. He is right now at the stables, eyeing my stock.”

It was then that Lord Kipper noticed Libby was there, seated quietly some twelve feet away. She didn’t look at all happy with him. Actually she looked ready to shoot him. Lord Kipper was a man of great experience, a particularly fine thing when, upon rare occasion, he made a sterling gaff, such as now. He didn’t pause a moment, didn’t appear the least embarrassed. He swept down upon Libby, took her hand, caressed her fingers, lightly touched his fingertips to her lips.

“He is amazing,” Meggie said to the room at large.

“Of course,” Madeleine said. “What would you expect?”

When finally everyone was drinking their tea, Thomas cleared his throat and said, “Mother, why do you think someone wants Meggie dead?”

The sound of sudden silence was deafening. Everyone froze in place and stared blankly at Thomas.

Thomas didn’t look away from his mother. She slowly set her cup back onto its saucer. “I have thought about it,” she said at last, the look in her eyes very sharp, very cold, “as I’m sure everyone else has as well. I think it must be a man who followed her here from her home. He is jealous because she chose Thomas over him. It is this man who is now enraged because she won’t leave you, my son. He wants her dead. He is deranged. Ask her, my son, who this man is.”

Thomas said, “Meggie, who is this man?”

“I haven’t seen him, Thomas. If he had followed me, surely I would have seen him. Also, wouldn’t a stranger stick out like a Stonehenge boulder around here? No, it can’t be him.”

“She is mocking me, and I won’t have it.”

“Forgive me, ma’am,” Meggie said, “you’re right. That wasn’t well done of me. However, there is no man.”

“Humph. What about this Jeremy Stanton-Greville who plays whist very well but had rotten cards, just as I did last night?”

“No, ma’am. It isn’t Jeremy. He’s quite in love with his wife.”

Thomas felt positively mellow at that.

“Aunt Libby,” Thomas said, “why do you think someone is trying to kill Meggie?”

“Madeleine is the one,” Libby said with a voice filled with spite, “but she’s torn about it. She doesn’t want to be replaced, particularly by a little twit like Meggie, who’s always laughing, and is young and beautiful. However, she also wants you to have an heir. She is betwixt and between. Perhaps Meggie is still alive because Madeleine is uncertain about what she really wants.”

“You witch!” Madeleine yelled, leaping up from her chair. “You betraying cow! I want you to leave Pendragon this very instant, your murdering son with you! You called me a pernicious tart, and now this! Out, out, I say!”

“Actually,” Libby said, “I called you a pernicious old tart.”

“This,” Thomas said to his wife, an eyebrow elevated upward a good inch, “isn’t turning out to be quite what I expected.”

Tysen Sherbrooke held up a beautiful hand and said in his deep compelling vicar’s voice that brought immediate silence, all eyes now on him, “I think it could be very helpful, Thomas. I would like as well to hear what everyone has to say. Lord Kipper, why do you think someone is trying to kill my daughter?”

Lord Kipper walked to the fireplace, where he leaned his shoulders against the mantel. He looked immaculate in his riding clothes, those black riding boots of his so shiny he could see his face. He looked as calm as the sea at dawn, and utterly beautiful. He said, “I believe it to be someone who perhaps despises Thomas, someone who wishes him ill, someone who knows that if he kills Thomas, he will be discovered, thus he is trying to kill Thomas’s wife, in order to have Thomas blamed for it. That is the most likely. Perhaps it is revenge this man wants. Even though he is very young, Thomas has certainly made enemies, inevitable since he is ruthless and successful, particularly in his shipping endeavors.”

Tysen said, “Can you think of anyone in your business dealings who would wish you ill, Thomas? Who would hurt my daughter rather than you? As punishment or revenge?”

“No,” Thomas said.

Tysen turned to William, who was standing still as a stick of furniture against the far wall, obviously wanting to go unnoticed. He said, “What do you think, William?”