“If that happened to you…” Valentine began and then shook his head, not wishing to finish. “I’d kill him,” he growled. His eyes were blazing, his cheeks were flushed, the tendons in his neck standing out.
Shocked at his show of raw violence, nevertheless Marissa felt a purely feminine thrill. “He won’t do anything to me,” she reassured him, leaning forward to kiss his lips. “I know what he is and I would never trust him.”
“Hmm, I seem to have interrupted an interesting moment.”
George was standing in the doorway with a questioning look on his face.
Marissa moved to draw back, tugging her fingers from Valentine’s, but to her surprise he held on to them and kept her close. George’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s enough, George,” Valentine warned, before he could speak. “Marissa is upset. This has been a most unpleasant experience.”
“She could always come to me if she’s upset,” he muttered sulkily.
“George!” His brother gave him a quelling look and for once George took heed, although his sigh was heartfelt. “The servants also told me that Lady Longhurst has a younger sister she is very fond of, who lives about five miles away. The sister has a new baby and they think that is one of the reasons she didn’t send to her for help.”
“I think we should send word to the sister that Lady Longhurst requires her help. If they are as close as she says then she must be told.” Marissa looked to Valentine for support.
He smiled into her eyes. “I knew you’d think so. Let’s do it then, before we go home.”
Arrangements were made for a servant to go to Lady Longhurst’s sister, informing her of the situation, and asking her to come to Canthorpe as soon as possible. By the time Valentine and Marissa were ready to leave, all was in hand, but George had agreed to stay, just in case.
“I’m sure you won’t miss me,” he said mournfully.
“I’ve continued the guard on the house,” Valentine ignored him. “Just in case Von Hautt is still about, although I doubt he is. He’s too clever to linger after something as dastardly as this.”
“We must find him before he attacks someone else,” George said bleakly, looking out into darkness that was beginning to lighten with the dawn. “He’s a very dangerous man.”
His words returned to Marissa as they rode away, and she knew it was true, and she should be wary and a little bit afraid. But the sun had begun to rise and suddenly the world was beautiful again. If Valentine was the man for her, there was no need to search anymore. She thought she might love him, and she thought—she hoped—she could convince him to love her.
Her own budding happiness made her feel guilty, remembering Lady Longhurst. As they paused before the old moated manor house that she was beginning to think of as home, the light of dawn turned the bricks and timber to pink, while the rising sun reflected in the moat. And everything felt so wonderful and right, she was suddenly afraid.
As if the Fates were laughing at her, and preparing for her fall.
Chapter 22
Their horses crossed the drawbridge, hooves striking the stone, and into the courtyard of the manor house. Valentine looked up at the oldest part of his home, with its overhanging upper story of medieval black and white timber, small-paned windows shining in the sun. The walled garden was just coming to life with insects and birds, and servants were hurrying about their tasks for the day ahead. It was as if he’d stepped back into another world, for it was doubtful much had changed at Abbey Thorne Manor for centuries.
Valentine looked to Marissa, who was dismounting with the assistant of a groom. Once on the ground she shook her skirts into shape and brushed down her sleeves, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked tired but no less beautiful and he accepted the knowledge that he wanted to pick her up and carry her to his bedchamber.
But there were other matters to deal with, and from the look on Morris’s face when he came out to meet them, there was something very serious at the front of the queue.
“I did not know, my lord,” he began, hurrying after Valentine as he entered the house. “I had no idea until it was too late. I would never have allowed such a thing to happen if I’d had the least idea.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Morris?” Valentine was weary and irritable.
Morris’s eyes grew startled and wide, and his jowls began to quiver. “But…didn’t Wallace speak to you, my lord? I sent him after you as soon as I knew.”
“I haven’t seen Wallace.”
If Morris had been a lesser man he would have stamped his feet. “The fool probably went the w
rong way. And after I gave him explicit instructions—”
Valentine was at the end of his tether. “Tell me what you’re talking about, Morris, and tell me now.”
“My lord, I have bad news.” Morris stood stiff and straight, like a soldier facing the firing squad. “Someone was in your rooms while you were away. I didn’t know anything was wrong until I entered to place some mail on your desk, and I saw immediately that things were not at all as you’d left them. I cannot say if anything is taken, my lord, but—”
Valentine gave a roar of rage. He began to run toward the stairs, the sound of his boots on the marble floor echoing all around them.