‘Now,’ he said, pulling up a chair and swinging his booted feet on to the end of the bed. ‘Let us plan our campaign.’
Another bottle of claret appeared and they were all slightly well-to-go, as Perry put it, by the time Laura gave a faint shriek and pointed at the clock. ‘Look at the hour. Will should be resting before dinner and the rest of us must get changed.’
‘We should confirm our plan, we can’t leave it for another night. We’ll have dinner in here, shall we? Will, what do you say? Can you stand it?’
They were all comfortably on first name terms by that time, not, Theo thought bitterly, that Laura and Perry needed any encouragement. Theirs was obviously an old attachment, thwarted by her uncle’s machinations. Now she was free of his control there was nothing to stop her making her own choices. And her choice was Perry. The attraction between Laura and himself that he’d allowed himself to enjoy was, clearly, simply the result of proximity and her need for some comfort and support. And he felt decidedly out of sorts about it.
Arrogant devil, he chided himself. What’s the matter with you? You think that because you’re a viscount and Perry’s only a baron that you’re entitled to be more attractive to a woman than Perry because of it?
And then the recollection of why he had no right to be even thinking of another woman like that hit him again, a blow in the gut. He had to face the fact that he wanted Laura, and not as a friend. But that was impossible, because he was engaged to be married and she was no lightskirt, willing to have a brief amorous interlude.
She was intelligent and courageous and quick-thinking. She was lovely to look at and felt even better when she was in his arms. The way he felt was damnably confusing because she was a respectable lady and the last thing he would have wanted, even if he was free, was to ruin her, which was where things had been heading before Perry came on the scene.
Laura was sophisticated enough – or perhaps simply honest enough – to admit that she had enjoyed that incident on the chaise, even if she had assumed they were asleep at the time, but she was no wanton. She would expect marriage from any man who wanted her.
‘And there’s three things against that,’ Theo said out loud as he closed his bedchamber door behind him.
‘My lord?’
Theo bit back a rel
uctant smile at the sight of Pitkin. With his newly-found courage he was standing a good two inches taller, his jaw was set firmly and his frequents ers and ums had almost ceased. On the other hand, the tumble of cherubic curls and his slender frame made his efforts to look dignified faintly amusing.
‘Just talking to myself, Pitkin.’ And I wish I had someone more intelligent to converse with… ‘I’m ready to bathe and change for dinner now.’
He returned to his musings over Laura as he wallowed in the tub. Three objections – One: He was betrothed even though he was having grave doubts about his suitability as husband material. Two: Even if he had not been betrothed, when he did marry he needed a wife who knew how to be a viscountess – as Lady Penelope did – because he was damned if he had much idea yet how to be a viscount and one of them ought to know what they were doing. Which left Three and there was no arguing with Three: Laura wanted Perry, not him. He thought he had seen a look of pity in Will’s eyes as he’d taken a seat as far away from Laura as possible and that was the last straw.
‘End of argument,’ he muttered as Pitkin came in with a pitcher of hot water and poured it over his head. This time the valet had more sense than to assume he was being addressed. And the truly damning thing was that it was argument three that weighed most heavily, not, as it should have been, the first. ‘Bring cold water, Pitkin.’ It was desire, impure and simple and the way to deal with that was straightforward self-control. And cold water.
The doctor had decreed that Will Thwaite was well enough to get up for dinner and Pitkin had outfitted him in an assortment of Perry and Theo’s garments that hung on his lean frame, giving him the air of a well-dressed scarecrow. His initial diffidence at finding himself in this company was gradually being replaced with the natural ease and good manners of his upbringing and Theo was more than ever convinced that if he could be extracted from the Rector’s servitude he would blossom as a vicar.
‘How do we dismantle a chest tomb?’ Perry demanded once the soup had been served. ‘Where are the joints?’
‘Probably once we have the lid off it becomes more obvious – but if we have it off then we don’t need to dismantle the entire thing, we just look in,’ Theo pointed out. ‘But two of us couldn’t shift it, the thing weighs a ton.’
‘What do we think is inside?’ Laura queried as she passed the butter. ‘What is worth killing for?’
‘Either something worth a great deal of money or someone’s guilty secret,’ Will said.
‘A murdered rector?’ Perry suggested, with an exaggerated shudder. ‘What if the one who vanished was killed and his body put in the tomb? If it is so hard to open then anyone who knew the secret would feel confident that it would never be discovered. Therefore when you start showing an interest you have to be stopped.’
‘But after over twenty years, what would it matter if he was found? Unless the murderer buried a confession with him or stabbed him with a unique family jewelled dagger or something, how could anyone tell who the killer was?’
‘You, Laura, are too logical by half,’ Perry protested. ‘Theo, what do you think? You’re very quiet.’
‘Sorry, just brooding.’ Theo gave himself a mental shake. The prospect of anyone guessing that he was jealous of Perry or moping over Laura was appalling. He told himself he had imagined Will’s pitying look earlier, took a gulp of wine and tried for his old frivolous manner. ‘My vote is for some fabulous treasure. The Rector was in league with a pirate, they hid the treasure in the tomb, then one dark night they met to divide the spoils, fell out and managed to kill one another. The pirate crew removed the bodies but did not know where the treasure was hidden and it has stayed there ever since.’
‘And Squire Jenner is actually the cabin boy grown up and trying to retrieve the loot, I suppose?’ Perry enquired sarcastically. ‘He’s taken his time about it.’
‘Are you sure there is no crypt?’ Laura asked Will once they had run out of improbable fantasies and the joint had been carved.
‘There was one once, but the entrance has been blocked – you can raise a slab in the south aisle and there are steps, but at the bottom you meet a solid stone wall,’ he said. ‘I asked the verger about it and he said it has been like that time out of mind because of flooding or subsidence, he was not sure which. I have to admit I was dubious – he seemed shifty so I thought it was a ruse to hide smuggled casks and had a close look. But it really is solid, there is no sign of anything being moveable, or marks on the floor or steps.’
‘The tomb it is, then,’ Perry said. ‘Are you fit enough to come with us, Will?’
‘Better if he does not, surely?’ Laura protested. ‘He could be in all kinds of trouble if the Rector discovers he had anything to do with it.’
‘If he objects, I resign.’ The once-diffident curate jutted his chin.