A knock on the library door had him surging to his feet. “Yes?” he snapped.
“The servants are assembled, sir,” the butler called through the closed door.
“Thank you, Purboy. I shall be there directly.” He held out his hand to her. “Come.”
She hesitated.
“Leona, you must come. You see that, don’t you? It is the only way I can go to battle for you, as you so courageously would do for us.”
She took his hand and rose reluctantly. “It is of no use. Someone has poisoned their minds.”
He glanced at her. “Yes,” he agreed slowly. “I believe you are correct.” Thoughtful now, he tucked her arm in his and drew her slowly toward the door. “Clever. Very clever. I shall not underestimate them again.”
“Pardon?”
He cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at her. “It means, my dear, we have a traitor in our midst. Perhaps I did you more harm than good by bringing you to Castle Marin. I may have played directly into their hands.”
Leona shivered.
He smiled at her crookedly. “Have faith. This is only a skirmish, a mere test of arms. We shall win the battle,” he assured her before opening the library door.
Word of Deveraux’s anger traveled swiftly through the household and estate staff. Consequently, it was a subdued group that gathered in the hall. Anxious, frightened faces looked first at Leona, then at Deveraux.
The butler cleared his throat and cautiously admitted that one person remained absent—George Ludlow, one of the grooms. Leona remembered him as the warm, bandy-legged fellow who saddled Lady Talavera for her every day.
Deveraux’s face became a cold mask. Without a word, he led Leona to where his mother stood with Lucy, just returned from her outing, still wearing her bonnet and cloak. The two women gathered Leona to them, their arms protectively around her, their faces as set as Deveraux’s. Fitzhugh and Maria stood to one side with Chrissy, who tucked her hand in Maria’s while fat tears rolled down her tiny face. She dabbed at them with her handkerchief, her lips set in a stubborn line.
Deveraux walked through the hall, scanning the faces. Many he’d known for years. A few had a history of generations serving the Earl of Nevin. In their faces, he saw fear, in others a stubborn bravado. Only a few, like Miss Jewitt, Lucy’s dresser, Mrs. Henry, the housekeeper, and Gerby, the head groom, stood impassively, but that was their habitual mien.
“I should turn you all out!”
A keening wail came from one of the young housemaids. The other servants turned to stare angrily at her. Quickly she buried her face in her apron, muffling her sobs.
“Unfortunately,” Deveraux continued, thoroughly disgusted, “that is not practical. Lady Lucille’s betrothal ball is two days hence, and the first guests are due to arrive this afternoon. What I can do is promise you if there is the slightest whisper ofinsult to Miss Leonard or Miss Sprockett, the perpetrator shall immediately be turned out without a character and possibly subject to prosecution.”
“But, sir,” protested one of the young grooms. He glanced around at his fellows for support. He saw a few encouraging faces so he plunged on. “We is only thinking of the family. It’s her that’s caused the problems. We don’t want you takin’ in by no hussy.”
“Hussy!You impudent maw-worm!” Deveraux grabbed him by his leather vest and swung him into the center of the hall. “How dare you question my judgment! If you wish to retain your position, then you’d best be happy shoveling horse manure, for that will be your duty for the next week. You’ll shovel it from one pile to another and back again, endlessly. Maybe that will teach you to listen to filth!” roared Deveraux, dropping the man. He fell in a sprawl at Deveraux’s feet. Quickly he grabbed up his fallen cap and scuttled to the side of the room.
“Aren’t there any among you who are smart enough to realize that I might possess information you lack? Do you think I tell you everything? I know Miss Leonard is innocent!” He glared at every face in turn, his eyes thin slits of glittering ice.
“And I will tell you something else I know,” he said with dangerous quiet. “One of you is not. So, I put it to you to look carefully at your fellows. Someone is responsible for starting the rumors regarding Miss Leonard. Someone is responsible for twisting the facts. And more than likely, that someone is an accessory to Lady Christiana’s kidnapping. I give warning now that when I discover who that person is, he may regret he ever heard of the Earl of Nevin.”
He turned his back on them and approached his family, guiding them into the parlor. Leona looked up at him, worry clouding her autumn-colored eyes. He smiled at her, and a tentative smile answered his.
“Purboy,” Lady Nevin ordered with all the calm dignity of her years as Countess, “we’ll have refreshments in the drawing room.”
“Well, I don’t ever want to see Miss Benedict again!” declared Chrissy after listening to her elders discussing the contretemps. "Tell her to go away, Uncle Nigel.”
“Chrissy, that’s unfair,” protested Leona over the dismayed voices of Chrissy’s family.
The mutinous child pouted. “She was mean to you.”
“Honey, she wasn’t mean to me,” Leona soothed, moving to sit next to Chrissy on the couch. “She was trying to protect you in the only way she thought she could. Miss Benedict loves you, as do all the servants here.”
“You are very generous, Leona,” said Lady Nevin, a sad smile on her face.
“She has a warm and forgiving heart. I pray she never loses it,” said Deveraux softly.
