Thinking about the little girl who’d wandered alone into the garden, Lucien was confused. If Hullworth had taken his wife and son, then why would he leave his daughter behind? Then again, perhaps he thought she was too young to travel.
But he pushed the question aside and continued his cat-and-mouse game.
“Would those aunts be the Parrish sisters?” he inquired and felt Meg’s nervous glance on his profile. He wondered how much her family actually knew of her exploits.
Sylvia tilted her head. “Are you acquainted?”
“I was fortunate enough to make their acquaintance on my travels, years ago.”
“Is that so?” she answered and smiled softly, her gaze shifting to her niece and back to him again as if she were watching a badminton match on the lawn. “Well, then, I shall have to do my utmost to implore you to stay in Wiltshire until they return.”
“I’m sure His Grace has other affairs that require his attention,” Meg interjected. “Let us not force him to feel obligated.”
“As it would happen,” he said, “I have no fixed engagements at present. My sister and cousin will be joining me in a day or two at the village inn.”
“Oh, but you must stay here. Brandon would surely enjoy seeing you on his return and would be quite cross with me if he learned you were staying anywhere else,” Sylvia insisted.
Meg opened her mouth to respond, but Lucien spoke first. “I would be delighted.”
“Then, it’s all settled. You’ll stay at Stredwick Lodge, where our bachelor guests reside.”
A separate house for unmarried men was certainly something he would expect from a man like Hullworth, who’d always valued his family name and reputation. It was just one more piece of the puzzle that Lucien added to the pile with all the others.
When the butler appeared in the doorway, Sylvia stood. “Lucien, would you be so kind as to escort Meg to dinner? And I’ll just send a footman to the village for your things, if you are amenable.”
“I am, indeed.”
* * *
No. No. No! Absolutely not, Meg thought all throughout dinner.
This couldn’t be happening. Just when she was hoping to be rid of him, Aunt Sylvia invited him here? And worse, she knew that look in her aunt’s eyes. Even though she usually saw that conspiratorial glee brightening Maeve’s and Myrtle’s gazes, there was no mistaking when a relative’s thoughts turned to matchmaking.
Drat! Now what was Meg going to do? Doubtless her aunt was already contemplating ways to throw the two of them together.
As if reading her thoughts, Aunt Sylvia brushed the napkin across her lips and smiled. “My nephew is so very content in his marriage. Have you given the state of matrimony any thought, Lucien?”
Meg nearly groaned. She was playing right into his hand and didn’t know that he had an ulterior motive. If the past had proven anything, he wasn’t going to leave until he had the book. That was the only reason he was exhibiting so much charm, deceiving her aunt like he’d deceived her with the same ploy.
His not-so-rare-anymore dimple winked with triumph across the table. “I have never declared myself against it. After all, a man must think of the future and the legacy he leaves behind.”
“Then, you must plan to have children one day.”
He inclined his head. “I would be able to think more clearly on that topic once I have a few things settled. You see, someone stole something from me—a book, an heirloom, actually. It is part of that legacy I mentioned, and I must do whatever I can to reclaim it.”
“How awful for you,” Sylvia said, and Meg rolled her eyes. “I do hope that it is returned to you posthaste. If there is any way that we can assist you, we would be more than glad to be of service.”
He claimed it was stolen, and yet Meg knew better. It was clear to her that, at some point, he must have lost it. Either that or someone else had taken it—the real Lady Avalon, perhaps? But once again he had the ludicrous notion that she was responsible. Well, if he had bothered to read any of her letters, then he would have realized she’d been far too busy.
“That is very kind of you, ma’am,” he said. “If only I had the assistance of one who not only had a cunning mind but also knew of the old Arthurian legends, then I could find a way to reveal the culprit sooner.”
“Oh, but Meg is exceedingly sharp and knows those stories by heart. The two of you must work together. In fact, we have all manner of old manuscripts throughout the manor that pertain to that legend. She could show you where they are, and you could peruse them at your leisure.”
Meg growled into her wine goblet.
“I would hate to impose,” he said smoothly, his eyes glinting behind his spectacles as he looked across the table.
If they had been playing chess, she believed he would have said Check.
“I’m certain it would be no bother. Would it, Meg, dear?”
Resigned for the moment, she set down her glass. “No bother at all.”
He grinned again. Check and mate.
“In the meantime,” Aunt Sylvia said, “perhaps the two of you could tour the side garden, where there is a hill that overlooks the bachelor’s lodge. I’m sure your things have already arrived. Meg, you wouldn’t mind, would you? I think it’s time for me to retire for the evening.”
The sound of the slow grating of her molars filled her ears as she fixed a smile in place. “I’d be delighted.”
Chapter 23
Simmer down
Begrudgingly, Meg led their guest along the path toward the park that overlooked Stredwick Lodge. It was a cool night, the moon hanging overhead like a sugar-dusted biscuit that had been cut perfectly in half. The other half had likely been discarded and left forgotten for two years, she thought peevishly as Lucien kept pace beside her.
If it weren’t for him, she would be enjoying this lovely stroll. The air was sweetly scented with dew and damp earth and filled with the chirruping songs of frogs and crickets as they approached the creek.
This used to be her favorite spot, sitting on the walking bridge and feeling the cool, silken caress of stone-tumbled water over her toes. But he’d ruined that for her, too.
When she’d returned from her holiday, her heart shattered anew each time she saw the dark rocks flecked with gold that reminded her of his eyes. And now he was here, threatening to destroy the life she’d tried so hard to create after she’d been broken and had carefully put herself back together.
Irritated once more, she sent him a withering glare. “Whatever you intend to accomplish by this charade of yours—this charming facade you’ve adopted for the evening—I tell you there is nothing to gain. I do not have your book. And you are only leading my aunt to believe there could be something between us.”
“At one point, I thought there could have been,” he said with that disapproving frown of his, as if he were in earnest, and that just vexed her all the more.
She huffed and held up two fingers. “Says the man who made no attempt to contact me in two years.”
“Says the woman who disappeared without a trace.”
“I. Left. You. A. Note!”
“So you claim, but when I returned to my room, there was no note. And no book.”