She was sleeping soundly, on her side, her hair tumbled around her face and down her back. He saw the even rise of her breasts. He remembered his accusations when he’d gone to Pipwell Cottage. A man had to be keeping her, surely, for she was just a girl, naught more than that, and naturally helpless, as all females were, all of them needing a man to protect them, to support them, to care for them. She’d probably wanted to cosh him, ah, but then she’d been the Duchess, the original Duchess who, to protect herself, had simply drawn away into herself and said nothing, just became still and aloof, and terribly and completely alone. That Duchess would never have thrown a saddle at him, struck him with a riding crop, or hit him with her riding boot. Ah, but she’d written all these songs, that Duchess who was now his, and different too, because if he riled her sufficiently now, she’d likely shoot him.
She’d done it all by herself.
She’d never told him.
As he walked back downstairs, he heard Spears singing in his mind, ditty after ditty in his rich melodious baritone. The sod knew. Badger had told him. Probably even Maggie and Sampson knew. Everyone knew except him.
Why hadn’t she told him?
He handed his mother the two drawings then left the Green Cube Room, whistling a ditty that was surely too risqué for a lady to have penned.
He prayed both of them lived a very long time. He wanted every minute of it with her.
28
BADGER WAS NEARLY frothing at the mouth as he said to Spears, Sampson, and Maggie, “Any of the bleeding bastards could have done it, any of them. Damnation, if they didn’t have the guts for it themselves then they hired someone, aye, the miserable scoundrels. That old besom’s behind it, you know she is.”
“Mr. Badger, calm yourself. Anger won’t help us find the truth here. You said it appeared that they all had alibis. Perplexing, most upsetting actually that you couldn’t find out anything definitive. It is unsettling for all of us.”
Maggie, who’d been studying her thumbnail, said, “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction. Maybe it’s someone right here. What was that man’s name in the village? The man who owns that bookstore and is another Wyndham bastard?”
“I don’t remember,” Badger said, looking at her thoughtfully. “But that’s a good idea, Maggie. I’ll ride over there this morning and have a very nice little chat with the man.”
“You be careful now, Mr. Badger. He might be a villain. We’re abounding with villains.”
He didn’t take her words at all lightly. “I will, my dear. Incidentally, that gown you’re wearing is most becoming. That shade of pomona green complements your brilliant hair to perfection.”
“Thank you, Mr. Badger,” she said, giving him a teasing grin.
“I,” Spears sai
d judiciously, “would prefer a soft yellow on you. The green is too overbearing, too certain of itself, it overwhelms. Yes, softer colors would be more the thing on you, Miss Maggie.”
Sampson looked at her only briefly and said, “Who cares what color she’s wearing?”
Maggie laughed, patted both her glorious hair and her beautiful gown, and took her leave. She said over her shoulder, “Sampson is right, you know. Now isn’t the time for undue vanity. I’m going to the Duchess now. The poor lady’s feeling restless and bored. Perhaps the earl will let me wash her hair this morning. He’s been hovering over her, treating her like a half-wit, she complains to me, but he’s worried and I like to see a man so smitten. It’s about time, I say.”
“The earl,” Spears said, “has at last realized how very lucky he is. I too am heartened he has finally succumbed. However, he has also been acting strangely for the past three days. I don’t understand it.”
Badger said, “You’re looking for a mystery that isn’t there, Mr. Spears. He’s just very worried about the Duchess. Damn, why did she have to miscarry the babe?”
“Another score to settle with the person who shot them, Mr. Badger,” Spears said. “It deepens her depression. She blames herself, which is ridiculous, but true nonetheless.”
“She’s also told his lordship that he now has his way. He’ll never have to have a child by her body.”
“What has he said to that, Mr. Badger?”
“I don’t know. Both of them have closed down tighter than castles under siege.”
Spears said, “True, Mr. Badger, but I think there’s even more to it than that, although the miscarriage is more than enough.”
“I would say,” Sampson observed, “that the entire staff is dreadfully worried. The countess is very popular with them. As for the earl, his concern for her has brought them to viewing him as a just master and a husband who is on the mend, so to say. Indeed, I feel they’re quite coming to respect him in full-measure, no mean feat that.”
“He’s still a bullheaded young man,” Maggie said. “If I’d had my way, the Duchess would have taken a horse whip to him, not just her boot or a bridle. I have told her I much approve the change in her. Yelling cleanses a woman’s innards wonderfully. It readjusts her view of things. A man, as all women know, can’t properly listen until his attention is fully engaged. A whip, I say, would do the trick.”
Wisely, none of the three gentlemen had a word to say to that.
Spears said finally, “I think I’ll have a chat with Mrs. Wyndham. She’s a dreadfully smart lady, that one.”