Leona laughed as she sat down in a chair before the fireplace. “Thanks for what? I’m afraid I bungled my gallant deeds.”
“Bungled? Not at all! You are again our heroine. First, you warn us of fire, and then you prevent Nigel’s prize stallion from being stolen!”
“Oh, then he didn’t get Nuit? I wasn’t certain. . . .”
“Nuit obligingly jumped the fence into the paddock. When we found him, he was placidly eating grass as if nothing happened,” explained Deveraux. “But why did you do it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why did you risk your life to rescue a horse?”
She looked at him queerly. “I did not stop to think. It simply seemed the right thing to do at the time.”
“Miss Leonard, you have to curb this instinct of yours to leap willy-nilly into every fray. If Wellington had done that, Napoleon would no doubt have won by attrition alone!”
“What would you have had me do?” she inquired acidly. “Hide in the shadows wringing my hands?”
“Yes! A woman does not belong on the battlefield. That is a man’s duty. A woman’s is to home and hearth.”
“I say, old man, that is doing it a bit brown,” protested Fitzhugh.
Deveraux glared at him. He knew he was irrational; however, the memory of Leona streaked with blood and dirt would not leave his mind. The woman was headstrong and impetuous. She needed to be saved from herself, or surely she would come to harm.
“Why, you arrogant, pompous ass! Do you men hold the sole prerogative to action? No! A person’s duty, any person’s, is to family and fellow man!”
“Typical of a woman not to mention a person’s country, as well.”
“All right! We’ll say to one’s country, too! You idiot, the point is that no one should sit and observe someone, or someone else’s property, being harmed! We have a responsibility,a duty,to treat our fellow man as we wish ourselves to be treated, and quite frankly, I would wish someone to prevent my horse from being stolen or to rescue my niece if he had the opportunity.”
“Why?” he asked with unruffled calm, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood towering over her.
“Nigel! Nigel! For shame!” scolded his mother.
He turned toward his mother. “I should like to know why she has so little regard for her life.”
“Oh, is that what you have, little regard for your life?” Leona asked waspishly. “I know what your problem is, Mr. Deveraux. Jealousy.”
“I beg your pardon.” His voice was suddenly deadly cold, his stance rigid.
Dark waves of anger emanated from him, buffeting Leona. She threw her head up, her chin thrusting forward. “You heard me. I say you are eaten up with jealousy because you did not get an opportunity to thrash Howard North yourself.”
“Howard North!” exclaimed several at once. Shock and disbelief mingled in their voices.
Leona flushed, her head sinking. Guilt softened her expression. “Yes. I meant to tell you last night, but.. .”
Deveraux slowly lowered his arms and turned to pace the room. He ran his fingers through his thick pelt of hair, disheveling it. “So, I was correct. These Norths are motivated by more than greed,” he said heavily.
“What is there besides greed?” asked Lucy.
“Vengeance?” suggested Leona softly.
Deveraux nodded grimly. “A possibility. But vengeance for what? Mother, Lucy—do either of you know anything that Brandon ever did that might cause someone to swear vengeance?”
Lady Nevin laughed hollowly.“Ne rien.You know that.” “What about Jonathan Tregate?” Deveraux asked. “He was pretty well cut up over his father’s death. Didn’t he blame Brandon?”
“For a time only. He soon realized Brandon had nothing to do with his father’s death. It was just an accident. The real problem was that Tregate had no heart for farming—particularly the home farm. He wanted to emigrate. Brandon arranged for him to emigrate to Canada fifteen months ago. . .. Brandon wastres gentilalways.Alors,even when that tiresome Miss Northythe, the surveyor’s daughter, fell in love with him when he was confined to a bed in their home after breaking his leg while riding, it tortured him to take his leave of her. He thought perhaps he had in some way led her on, but her father convinced him it was missish nonsense. She was dreaming above herself—the fault ofbeaucoupnovels. So, I ask, can a man who would care for a country girl’s feelings be a man to cause vengeance in the breast of others?Non et non et non. ”
Leona sighed. “Whatever the reason, I am cognizant of the fact that I owe you an apology, Mr. Deveraux.”
