The Decadent Countess Read online

  ‘Oh, I will return, sir. I will be glad to. I fear I am too advanced in years to remain in Mrs Fitzgibbon’s household for too long.’ He gave a delicate shudder, but Leo was not deceived. Pendle had found his match and was revelling in it.

  Despite his lack of sleep, Leo rose at his usual early hour. His sister was still abed, and he had no intention of waking her until he had dealt with this new, urgent problem.

  He wondered, with a faint sense of depression, if this was how he would spend the remainder of his life. Protecting his lady love, but secretly, and never receiving the recognition he deserved. A faithful and loving admirer, but at a distance.

  It did not sound a very satisfactory occupation. Leo did not think he would be able to remain at a distance for very long. Nor did he intend to. He meant to claim the lady as his as soon as possible—she would be safe in his arms. It was just exactly how he would accomplish this task that still eluded him. Surely there must be a way to return himself to her good graces? He did not think he lacked the will.

  Leo realised now that Miranda was the woman he must spend his life with—he supposed in his heart he had known it since the moment he saw her. But it was last night, when he had feared for her life, that everything had become so brutally clear to him.

  Still, first things first…he had Nancy Bennett to deal with.

  Shrugging off his pensive mood, Leo found pen and paper and sent off a brief note to The Grange.

  Miranda, too, had risen early, had finished her tea and toast and was sitting at her dressing table, her auburn locks spilling wildly about her, when the missive was brought to her by Esme.

  She had woken with the realisation that whoever had lit the fire in her house had known it well. When cook sent word that there were items missing from the larder, the final piece in the puzzle had clicked into place. And it had spelled Nancy.

  She had the answer, but what was she to do about it?

  Her mind only half-concentrated on what she was doing, Miranda broke the seal and spread the single sheet before her. The words struck her with some force. Her breath caught in her throat.

  My dear Mrs Fitzgibbon, I intend dealing with the matter of last night’s fire, therefore there is no need for you to concern yourself. Belford.

  Miranda’s hand was shaking as she searched out a pen and paper of her own, and her letters were not nearly as well formed as usual. When she had finished she hastily folded the paper and, ringing for Esme, sent the girl off without delay.

  Leo had finished his breakfast and sent for his horse when he received the news that his groom had returned from The Grange, with a reply to his letter to Miranda. Somewhat surprised—he had not thought a reply was necessary—he tore it open. It was short and to the point.

  Your Grace, as generous as your offer of assistance is, I must decline it. Miranda Fitzgibbon.

  Leo stared at the words for some time, amused and exasperated. ‘Generous’, he noted, had been underlined twice, and it was not difficult to picture the expression in her magnificent eyes as she had written it.

  Leo felt his mouth twitch into a smile. Still, he had no intention of being dismissed like an interfering schoolboy. Miranda must learn that when Belford made up his mind to do something, then there was nothing more to be said. He had been the head of this family for far too long not to know exactly what was best for it. Even his recent bout of irrational behaviour had not changed that.

  Leo dashed off a hasty reply, before setting out for the village as he had originally intended.

  Time had passed. Miranda had dressed and was downstairs in the library, writing the long-delayed letter to Mr Ealing, when the groom from Ormiston arrived yet again, carrying a reply to her epistle. When Esme brought it in, her eyes curious, Miranda pounced upon the folded paper and tore it open with all the eagerness of a starving animal finding a parcel of food.

  Her eyes skimmed the bold pen strokes.

  ‘Oh!’ she cried angrily. ‘It is too much!’

  Esme, craning her neck, ventured, ‘Bad news, madam?’

  ‘Yes, it is bad news. Very bad news. I wrote to the Duke to tell him I could not accept his offer, and now he says he refuses to allow me to refuse. Of all the arrogance! As if he has anything to do with what I can or cannot do. And then he says, if you please, that he is the head of the Fitzgibbon family and I must obey him. As if that is an end to it!’

  Esme’s eyes widened and her cap threatened to fall down over her eyebrows and hide them completely.

  ‘Well, it is not an end to it. I know who lit that fire, and I will deal with them in my own way. Fetch me the groom who brought this letter, Esme. I will have his horse off him.’

  ‘H-his horse, madam?’

  ‘Yes, his horse, for I am not walking to the village today, I am riding. Go on, do as I say.’

  ‘You do not wish to send another letter, madam?’

  ‘No, Esme, I do not!’

  ‘Should I press your dress, madam? The one you said you wanted to wear to the Lethbridges’ party?’

  ‘Yes, yes, very well, Esme, but fetch the groom!’

  Esme closed the door softly behind her. Pendle was lurking about in the hall and came swiftly towards her, almost as if he had been laying in wait for her.

  ‘Everything all right, Esme?’ he asked quietly.

  Esme managed a jerky nod. She was still very much in awe of the Duke’s butler. ‘Yes, sir. At least…the mistress says she wants the groom’s horse, so’s she can ride to the village.’

  Pendle’s mouth grew pinched. ‘Why does she want to ride to the village, Esme?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know, sir, but I think it’s because of the letter the Duke sent to her. She was very cross with the first one, and now he’s sent a second one and she’s crosser than I’ve ever seen her.’

  Pendle didn’t answer for a moment, his rather colourless eyes staring into hers, then he sighed. ‘Very well, Esme, fetch the horse. I see no way out of it. She will walk if you do not. I think I know where she is going.’

  He did indeed know, and with any luck Leo would also be there. Just in case, though, Pendle would arrange for a third party to journey to the village. He wondered, as Esme hurried away, why he had had the misfortune to be at the beck and call of two such powerful and headstrong personalities. It was almost more than any butler—even one of his calibre—could bear.

  The door to Nancy Bennett’s cottage opened unceremoniously to the chill morning air, and someone entered. Nancy turned, expecting to see one of her disreputable family, and at the same time opening her mouth to shout abuse…and goggled at the sight before her.

  The Duke of Belford was standing there, large as life and immaculate in his riding jacket and breeches, the top of his dark head brushing against the ceiling beams.

  ‘Nancy! Just off out? Stay a moment. I wish to have a word with you.’

  He sounded almost jovial, but his eyes, a very cold blue this morning, slid knowingly over the remains of the ham and the few crumbs of cheese—Nancy had eaten most of it last night upon her return.

  She watched him warily, wondering if it were possible that he knew, that she wasn’t as clever as she had thought herself after all. And when he turned his gaze back on her, something in it chilled her more than winter.

  ‘You’ve done a very bad thing, Nancy,’ he said, and though the words themselves were not particularly frightening, his tone of voice was.

  Her usual cockiness rose to her aid. ‘I haven’t done anything, sir,’ she retorted saucily. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, but you have, Nancy. Fortunately, the fire at The Grange was put out before it did too much damage.’

  The chagrin was in her face before she could hide it. Leo stepped closer, very big in the small space, and Nancy found herself shuffling backwards. She glared up at him like a wild animal in a snare, hating him and yet terrified of what he might do to her.

  ‘I’ve done nothing,’ she said boldly. The words spilled out of her,
full of corroding bitterness. ‘I don’t know about any fire. Not that I’d care if The Grange did burn down. That was my home, and now she’s there. I’ve as much right to it as her. The Bennetts have lived at The Grange since King Henry’s day. ’Tis said…’ She swallowed hard as Leo stepped closer but refused to be silenced. ‘’Tis said the king left the house to us and not the Fitzgibbons!’

  Leo’s eyes widened in blue fury. ‘Is that why, Nancy? Is that the reason you tried to kill Mrs Fitzgibbon? Have you honestly deluded yourself to such an extent?’

  Nancy trembled before his wrath. ‘My father told me it were so!’

  Leo stepped still closer, crowding her.

  ‘Do you really believe that? The king gave my ancestor The Grange, Nancy, and I have the deeds to prove it. I think you did this thing for your own wicked reasons and you are using your father’s ramblings as an excuse. All this time with my cousin Julian you have believed you can do whatever you wish, and when Mrs Fitzgibbon put a stop to that, you wanted nothing more than to take out your spleen on her. That is the truth, now, isn’t it?’

  Nancy shook her head. ‘She should have gone when I told her to,’ she managed, but now there was guilt and fright in her eyes.

  ‘You are an evil woman.’

  ‘’Tisn’t so,’ she breathed, edging behind a stool. ‘I have a right—’

  ‘You have no right,’ he retorted, and an anger so violent gripped him that his self-control teetered on the edge of an abyss. The thought of Miranda, trapped, crying for help that never came, the fire all about her, was demanding he punish this woman in a like manner. He stepped closer still, and watched Nancy’s eyes dilute with terror.

  ‘Mrs Fitzgibbon is under my protection,’ he informed her in a soft and deadly voice. ‘You will not try and hurt her again, you will not go near her again. Ever.’

  Nancy swallowed. Her head bobbed up and down in a jerky nod, her chest rising and falling in genuine fear. ‘Don’t hurt me, sir,’ she whined.

  He loomed over her and she flinched, burrowing further into her corner. The hands she held up before her shook like leaves in a storm.

  It brought him to his senses. As much as he would have liked to take an eye for an eye, that was not his way. Slowly, inch by inch, Leo regained control over his anger. When he was sure of himself, he spoke again.

  ‘You will leave this village now, this morning, and never return. And if you do return, Nancy, then I will send you to Taunton Gaol, and there you will rot. Do you understand?’

  Her mouth opened and shut, but when no words came out she nodded her head.

  Leo’s smile was grim. ‘Good. We understand each other. Now pack your things and leave.’

  It took Nancy all of two minutes.

  The cottage door was ajar. Miranda hesitated, wiping her palms on her skirts, but there was really no option, so she ducked her head and stepped through the low doorway. Her eyes narrowed in the sudden gloom.

  The single room was dirty and untidy, but among the odors of damp and smoke and unwashed clothing lingered the unmistakable smell of ham.

  ‘She is gone.’

  Leo’s voice brought her head around, and she saw that he was sitting in a chair by the window, looking strangely at home despite the squalor. The sunlight slanted across his face, and Miranda could see that he was smiling in that self-satisfied way that so ruffled her.

  ‘Gone?’ she repeated.

  ‘I’ve sent her off with instructions never to return. I decided banishment was preferable to gaol. There is the matter of proving she lit the fire, and then I did not imagine you would enjoy divulging your private concerns to the justice any more than I. Don’t worry, if she returns, I will take the necessary action, but somehow I do not think she will.’

  ‘But I wanted to speak to her!’ Miranda wailed.

  His smile did not waver. ‘I have spoken to her for you, Miranda. You can put her from your mind.’

  He seemed so pleased with himself, so…so smug! Just as he had been when he tried to bribe her, and when he had sent Pendle to torment her. She wanted to shake him, to rattle some of that conceit out of him. Instead she gave a little cry of frustration and stamped her foot.

  ‘I wanted to do it. It was my house that she tried to burn down, it is me she hates. You had no right, Belford, no right at all!’

  He eyed her blankly, as if realising for the first time that she may see his help as other than a blessing. And then he sighed. It was a deep sigh, the sigh of a man who has reached the end of his rope. ‘Oh, Miranda,’ he murmured. ‘You do not make it easy, do you?’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘I do not understand you. First you write me an insulting letter, ordering me to allow you to take charge, and now you say I am being difficult!’

  Leo ran a distracted hand through his hair. ‘I did not know that I ordered you to do anything of the sort.’

  ‘Perhaps such insolence is normal for you, sir, but I run my own affairs and have done for years. I certainly do not need your interference!’

  He straightened, a hint of turbulence finally ruffling the calm blue of his eyes. ‘Interference? I had thought I was saving you the trouble of embroiling yourself in a difficult and dangerous situation. As head of the family it is my duty to attend to these matters. I must say, madam, you have a strange way of expressing your gratitude.’

  ‘Oh, have I!’ she retorted, cheeks flaming, eyes brilliant, her hair catching the sunlight in a myriad of reds and golds. ‘And how should I express it then, sir? I think I have been most forbearing, under the circumstances.’

  Annoyance had turned rapidly to anger. Leo felt the now familiar beginnings of loss of control. ‘You may not be the Decadent Countess, Miranda, but by God you do a good imitation of a harpy!’

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘I dare, oh, yes, I dare. You have driven me to madness. You have turned a calm and rational man into a raving lunatic. I have done things, said things, of which I thought myself incapable. You have much to answer for, by God.’

  ‘So it is my fault?’ she gasped in disbelief, stepping closer still.

  ‘Yes, it is!’

  He glared back at her, chest heaving, their faces but inches apart. And then, slowly, the anger drained from his eyes, leaving them once more a tranquil blue. Miranda watched his mouth, straight and hard and white with fury, begin to relax into its habitual curve. And she realised that he was looking at her with that look.

  Her heart began an uneven journey around her chest and she listened with some trepidation as he began to speak.

  ‘I don’t want your gratitude, madam.’

  ‘Don’t you, Leo?’ she managed breathlessly.

  ‘No, Miranda,’ he replied firmly. ‘I want much more than that. It’s true, what I said. You have rocked every basic belief I have held in myself. You have stripped me bare of all I thought I was. I don’t know if I like it, certainly I am no longer comfortable, but I think, in time, I will be a better man because of it.’

  ‘And I have done all of that?’ Miranda asked softly.

  ‘All of that and more.’

  She managed a smile, but her gaze was sombre. ‘Leo, I have thought and thought, and I believe if I had only been honest at the very beginning, all of these…misunderstandings might have been avoided.’

  ‘Ah, so you accept all of the blame?’ he teased.

  She opened her mouth.

  ‘No, no, my love,’ he murmured, sliding a warm arm about her waist, ‘you cannot take it all. We must allow for my part. Come, we will make our peace in the time-honoured tradition.’

  ‘Will we?’ Miranda’s voice was very nearly breathless with longing, and she found that her own hands had crept over his shoulders.

  ‘I love you, you know,’ he said, and uncertainty flickered behind the confidence and humour in his eyes. He wasn’t as sure of himself as he liked to pretend, not where she was concerned anyway.

  Her own heart melted. ‘Oh, Leo, I love you, too.’

  ‘Do you?’ H
e sounded relieved.

  She laughed, she couldn’t help it. Happiness filled her, and the bleak surroundings of Nancy’s cottage took on a decidedly rosy glow. ‘Weren’t you going to kiss me?’ she reminded him softly.

  Leo reached out to cup her face, his fingertips smoothing her stubborn jaw, his thumb following the soft shape of her lips. He gazed down at her with such a warm, wondering expression most of her doubts vanished in an instant. He loved her. And his love for her had taken the man famed for his cool good manners and shaken him completely off balance.

  What more proof did she need?

  But one doubt did remain, and in her usual practical, straightforward manner, Miranda voiced it.

  ‘Leo, are you sure it is me you love, and not the Decadent Countess? I know I was playing a part…some of the time, at least. How do you know which is me and which was she?’

  He stroked her cheek with a thoughtful air. ‘How do I know I love you? I love the Miranda who is courageous enough to take on a duke and teach him a well-deserved lesson. I love the Miranda who would consider living in a rundown house with one servant and refuse to give up. I love the Miranda who can be calmly practical when it is necessary, and yet whose mouth is warm and passionate against mine. Is that you, Miranda?’

  Miranda smiled up at him, her heart full of joy. Bending his head, Leo set his lips very carefully to hers.

  It was a pledge rather than a kiss of passion. A conclusion to the long weeks of turmoil. Still, thought Miranda, it was very nice and they might have remained there longer, but for the interruption.

  The familiar sound of throat-clearing just beyond the door.

  Reluctantly, Leo set her from him. ‘Pendle,’ he said in a voice which was more resigned than aggravated, ‘what are you doing here?’

  Pendle peered fastidiously around the door, nose wrinkling at the chaos within. The sight appeared to cause him actual physical discomfort, for he flinched and gripped the doorjamb for support.