CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“ SIT DOWN, MY dear,” Douglas said. “We’ve things to speak about.”

Alexandra sat watching her husband pace up and down the length of the gazebo.

Douglas said, “Talking to you about this helps focus my brain. Georges’s two children and his sister-in-law left Paris immediately after his death.”

“Yes.”

“I received a message that the children traveled to Spain, but soon thereafter they were gone again. I still don’t know where they ended up. Nor have I been able to find out what sort of financial situation they were in at the time of their father’s death.”

Alexandra said matter-of-factly, “There must be sufficient money, for the son has funds to hire men to kill you.”

He nodded. “The son is currently in London, but that could change in an instant.”

“He will make a mistake, Douglas, you’ll see, and we’ll get him.”

“I’ll tell you, Alex, the thought of this young man hiding behind a tree, just waiting for me to come into his gun range, is beyond galling. I want him; I want him on my own terms.”

“I’ve begun to wonder about the warnings that Lord Wellington received. Maybe the son arranged for you to learn that Georges Cadoudal was involved. Maybe, when he used your name, he wanted you to know exactly who he was. He wants drama, attention. He wants you to admire his prowess, his perseverance.”

“He wanted me to know he was coming to kill me? Aye, I see. A warning then. That first time he shot at me was a warning. He wanted me to be afraid, he wanted to play with me before he killed me, but before he killed me, he wanted me to know who he was. I wish we knew why he’s doing this.”

It was time, Douglas thought, as they walked back to the Hall, time for him and his sons to bring their attention closer to home. When they stepped into the elegant entrance hall, still hand in hand, the three servants who observed them would swear that the earl and countess had enjoyed a splendid interlude in the gazebo. Douglas, realizing this quickly enough, kissed his wife thoroughly, and then he left her to work in the estate room. He sat at his desk for ten minutes longer, then walked quickly to his bedchamber, where he found his wife sitting on a chair facing the large windows, humming as she mended one of his shirts. She smiled up at him, a dimple deepening in her cheek, and slowly began to unfasten the long line of buttons on the front of her dress. He thought that being married a good long time wasn’t a bad thing. The years tuned minds together, at least some of the time. The years added more space in the heart, just as Hollis had said.

He leaned down to kiss her, his hands already busy with hers on those buttons.

AT PRECISELY FOUR o’clock that afternoon, Hollis opened wide the double doors to the drawing room, stood there, tall, straight, thick white hair flowing beautifully, nearly to his shoulders, looking just like God. He waited until he had the full attention of the earl and countess, and said grandly, “May I introduce to you Mrs. Annabelle Trelawny, born in that lovely town of Chester.”

“With such a splendid introduction,” came a soft low voice, “I fear you will be vastly disappointed.”

Annabelle Trelawny looked like a small, plump fairy, light on her feet, ever so graceful. She also looked at once embarrassed and so pleased she looked ready to burst her stays.

“Do allow me to seat you here, Annabelle,” Hollis said, and led her tenderly to the very feminine chair opposite the earl and countess. “Are you comfortable, my dear?”

Annabelle straightened her skirts, smiled up at Hollis like he was indeed God, and said in a soft, well-bred voice, “Oh yes, I am perfectly fine, thank you, William.”

William? Douglas supposed he knew that Hollis’s first name was William, but it had been so very long, he doubted if he could have recalled it on his own. William Hollis, a good name.

Annabelle Trelawny didn’t have the look of a rapacious grandmother; she had sweet, deep crinkles around her eyes and mouth, from laughter, Alex thought. And such a sweet face. Her hair was dark with silver threaded through, her eyes a rich dark brown, intelligent eyes that saw a lot. Her skin was soft, unblemished. When she spoke, her voice was as kind as her face. “My lord, my lady, it is gracious of you to invite me to tea. William, naturally, has told me so much about the both of you, and your sons, James and Jason.”

Alex was trying to motion Hollis to sit down, but he would have none of it. He remained standing behind his beloved’s chair, looking both austere and infatuated, an unlikely combination, but it was true. “James isn’t here at the moment. He and his new wife are on their honeymoon. Our son Jason will be here shortly. He is looking forward to meeting you, ma’am. May I pour you a cup of tea, Mrs. Trelawny?”

Annabelle smiled a smile so sweet that it was obvious why it had smitten Hollis, and nodded. “I prefer a bit of milk, my lady.”

It was Hollis who delivered his beloved’s tea and tenderly placed it in her white hands. “Allow me to bring you the tray of cakes that Cook prepared, Annabelle. I know you like the almond biscuits.”

Annabelle proved her liking for almond biscuits, eating three of them, all the while nodding and smiling and listening, saying little until Jason came into the drawing room, windblown, dressed in buckskins and an open-necked white shirt, showing his tanned throat. He came to an abrupt halt, and said immediately, “Are you Mrs. Trelawny? It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” and he walked to where she sat, picked up her hand, and lightly kissed it.

“I am Jason, ma’am.”

Annabelle gazed up at him, and said slowly, “You are quite a delight to behold,” and gave him a smile less grandmotherly than the one she’d given his parents.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jason said, so used to looks like hers that it didn’t faze him. “Hollis has told both my brother and me that we are only bearable. It is you, ma’am, who is Hollis’s delight.”

Now that was smoothly done, Douglas thought, eyeing his son with approval.

Hollis cleared his throat. “Master Jason, I fear that this display of polite affection is a bit on the overdone side.”

“Hollis, are you jealous?”

Hollis puckered up, looked like God readying to blast the stone tablets. Jason, surprised and dismayed, wished he could take himself back to the paddocks.

Annabelle said easily, wanting to pat that very lovely hand of his, “I don’t blame William for being jealous, Jason. You are quite the most beautiful young man I have ever seen in my life. Goodness, you don’t look a thing like your parents-oh dear, that wasn’t at all what I should have said. I do apologize.”

Douglas said, “My sons look exactly like their aunt, something that fries my innards everytime I am forced to face it. It fries my wife’s innards as well.”

Annabelle laughed at that. “I have always found it amazing how blood manifests itself in people, particularly in children. Is it true that your brother looks just like you, Jason?”

“It is true, ma’am.” He turned to Hollis, who was still standing stiff as a poker. “May I bring you a cup of tea, Hollis? I know that you like a twist of lemon.”

Hollis unbent to his beautiful young charge. “You may, Master Jason.”

Douglas was relieved to see Hollis unpucker. He had never seen Hollis display such emotion, particularly an emotion so low as jealousy.

Alexandra said, “Tell us, Jason, what does Bad Boy think of the new mare you brought to him?”

“He’s in love, Mother. I left him mooning, his head resting on the paddock fence, gazing upon his beloved with bloodshot eyes, since I doubt he slept much last night, thinking about her. The mare isn’t in heat yet, so she just swishes her tail at Bad Boy. There might be a bit of a wait for him.”