She looked at him with a quizzical frown as she framed the briefly worded inquiry, “Not thieves?”
“Assassins,” he stated. “They were apparently sent here by a man.”
“But who?” The suspicion came quickly. “Malcolm?”
Robert Somerton promptly entered the conversation and shook his head in a quick gesture of denial. “Now, girl, don’t go blaming this mayhem on Malcolm. ’Twas that Titch fellow on the River Witch last night, that’s who did it. Malcolm told me what happened. ’Twas him. He had lots of reasons to see Wingate dead.”
“But Horace has been taken into custody by Sheriff Coty,” she argued.
Robert spread his hands and shrugged. “So? He hired the thieves last night. Why could he not have hired the assassins for today’s attempt?”
Ashton considered the man a lengthy moment. “Horace swears he’s innocent….”
“And you believe him?!” Robert laughed shortly. “Addlepated, that’s what I’d call you if you think that.”
“Just say that I haven’t closed my mind yet to the possibilities,” Ashton responded. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “What I’m wondering is why Marelda came rushing to Horace’s defense and what venom she bore Malcolm when she claimed the jewels he had given Lierin were stolen from a friend of hers about a year or so ago. She said when she first saw them she wasn’t sure they were the same, but after giving it more thought she became certain they were.”
“Stolen?!” Lenore laid a hand where the necklace had been and looked to Meghan. “Fetch them for me. They must be taken to the sheriff, so he can look into Marelda’s claims.”
Meghan hurried across the room to the highboy and, unlocking a secret compartment, drew it open, then turned with mouth hanging slack. “They’re not here, mum. They’re gone!”
Bewildered, Lenore frowned and shook her head. “But I put them in there last night….”
“Aye, mum, I saw ye,” the maid affirmed, equally perplexed.
“Did you see anyone come into my room while I was gone?” Lenore asked the woman.
“Mr. Sinclair was in here early this morning an’ found ye gone, but he took off again in a raging fit. He didn’t stay too long, mum.”
“And he didn’t return?”
“Well, I’m not sure ’bout that, mum. When he came back from the tent, he sent me…” She glanced toward Somerton, as if reluctant to continue in his presence and cautiously proceeded. “Ye were needin’ clothes, he told me, an’ he was gone when I come back from takin’ ’em ter ye.”
“And the two guards?” Lenore pressed. “What of them?”
“They were sleepin’ in the parlor when I come down at break o’ day, mum, an’ when Mr. Sinclair left, he took ’em with him. Besides the chore boy, the cook, an’ meself, that left yer father an’ Mr. Evans comin’ an’ goin’ in the house ’til ye come back ter yer room. I’d say just about anyone could’ve taken ’em, mum.”
“Heaven only knows who has them now. Malcolm has gone, but Mr. Evans will be back later tonight….”
“You’re not going to blame this thieving on my friend either,” Robert declared. “If you ask me, someone else had a hand in this…and had plenty enough time to do the deed while we were in town.” He bestowed a direct stare on Ashton for a short span of a moment, then under that one’s dubious regard he lifted his shoulders. “Then again, Horace might have sent his men to do the handiwork while a few of the miscreants entertained Wingate here. You wore the jewels last night, and so he knew you had them. Whatever the case, ’tis apparent they’re gone now, and not likely to be recovered.”
Lenore carefully raised herself and, with Ashton’s assistance, sat up on the edge of the bed, letting him smooth her skirts as she braced back on her hands and waited for the world to correct its orbit. She ignored the brow her father sharply elevated at this apparent intimacy, and braved a smile for Ashton.
“Are you feeling better now?” he asked in concern.
She gave a slow, cautious nod, thankful that her answer was for the most part true. “I’m much better…except…I’m terribly hungry.”
Meghan chortled and hurried to the door. “I’ll tell the cook ye be feelin’ better now, mum. Ye an’ the mister come down whenever ye like.”
The maid departed, and Robert followed reluctantly to the portal. “I…ah…guess I’ll be going down, too.” He turned a questioning eye toward Ashton, seeming opposed to leaving the pair alone together. “Coming, Mr. Wingate?”
“In a moment,” Ashton replied, pointedly waiting for the man to remove himself from the room and close the door behind him.
Robert vented a low, derisive snort. “Haven’t you caused enough woe to come to this house without makin’ a kept woman of my daughter?”
Ashton’s head came up, and he gave the man a mildly disdaining stare. “Perhaps one of us should leave, Mr. Somerton. We don’t seem to have much to say to each other.”
Robert shot a glance toward his daughter. “Well, I know which of us she’ll want to stay.”
The portal slammed behind the elder, and Lenore watched Ashton as the sound of her father’s angry stride drifted back to them. The twitching muscles in the lean cheeks clearly portrayed his ire, and with a tender smile she slid her arms about his neck and kissed his frowning brow.
“It doesn’t matter what he says,” she whispered. “Whether I am Lierin or Lenore, I still love you.”
His questing mouth found hers, and for a long, pleasurable time they savored the hotly flaring passion that catapulted through them. Clasping her knees, he pulled her toward the edge of the bed and bent to lightly nibble at her ear. “You have too many clothes on.”
A thought struck her, and she leaned back in his arms to probe the smoky eyes. “The tent…?”
Ashton moved his shoulders in a slight, upward motion. “Gone, I fear.”
“Oh.” Her voice was small with disappointment. “It seemed so…nice out there.”
A grin tugged at his mouth. “The tent is gone, madam…but we still have what made it nice.” He placed a lightly provocative kiss upon her parted lips as he answered the unspoken question in her eyes. “Each other, my love. We need nothing more than that.”
“I could use some nourishment,” she teased.
He started to laugh, then grimaced and clasped a hand to his side. Smilingly he admonished, “Don’t torture me with your humor, madam.”
Gingerly Lenore pulled aside his bloodied shirt and examined the long gash in the flesh along the side of his ribs. “You need to be tended.”
Ashton rubbed a hand through his hair and caught the whiff of smoke that drifted from it. “I need a bath!”
“That can be arranged, too. I’ll tell Meghan to have one prepared for you right away.” Brushing hard against him, she slid off the bed and, having no place else to put her feet, used the space on either side of his. Her downward movement left the bulk of her skirts wadded between them, and the ever-rutting rake grinned at the opportunities presented him. His hands slipped beneath her petticoats and roamed the delightfully rounded ending of her torso, bringing her warming gaze up to his. “Would you consider delaying that order a moment or two, madam?”
The softly glowing green eyes spoke her answer before she gave one in a barely breathed murmur. “I don’t see where a few moments will matter one way or another.”
Ashton lifted her back to the bed and leaned close against her loins as he plied his talent to unfastening the back of her gown. “I thought you were hungry.”
“Who needs food when there are better things to do?” she asked with a smile flirting at her lips.
It was much later when a properly garbed and freshly bathed Lenore unlocked the hall door leading to the attic and climbed the steep stairs to that lofty area. A small force of men had come from the Gray Eagle, but with assurances that no one had been injured in the fire they had returned to the ship and were instructed to be wary of any curious activity around the house. Ashton was resting in Lenore’s room, having been up most of the night, but she was feeling restless, as if something beyond the barrier wall that held her memory captive was beckoning to her. She now knew what had led to her collision with Ashton’s coach, but there was still the matter of the man’s murder to be dealt with…and the attempt on her own life. It was rather frightening to know that someone whose face she had once seen wanted her dead. If it was only because she had been a witness to a murder, the man was still out there somewhere, waiting for her…and she knew not who it was.