Page 9 of Marriage Most Scandalous
Sebastian might not be the least bit curious about their visitor, but John certainly was. “Run along, Maurice. I’ll take care of it.”
Chapter 4
MARGARETLANDOR STARED AT THE PILEof crumbling stones and wondered if she was wasting her time. Three times they had passed this ruins, having determined it simply couldn’t be what they were looking for. But they’d found no other ruins in the immediate area, and finally, on the fourth pass, when they were heading back to town to get better directions, they’d seen the man in the ruins and stopped.
Incredibly, this was where The Raven lived, which was why Margaret was now having doubts. After all the glowing reports she’d heard of the man, and especially that his fees were extremely high, she simply couldn’t fathom why he’d live in a place like this—unless everything she’d heard about him were lies.
That was a possibility, of course. Maybe the locals had been trying to amaze the English visitors with tales of the local hero. But for a whole town to be involved in the lie? No, she couldn’t credit it.
Besides, the town had been abuzz with his name merely because he was back in residence nearby. Apparently he wasn’t often at home, his work taking him far and abroad. So if he hadn’t been at home, she probably wouldn’t have heard of him at all.
Margaret was traveling with her maid and footman. Edna and Oliver were a married couple who had been working for the Landors long before Margaret was born. Edna hailed from Cornwall and had been hired as nurse for the Landor children, first Eleanor, then Margaret. Brown hair, pretty blue eyes, she’d been working at White Oaks for only six months when she married Oliver.
Oliver, now, had grown up at White Oaks, the entailed manor of the earls of Millwright, which was currently in Margaret’s possession. His father had been a footman there, his grandfather before him, and even his great-grandmother had served the second earl of Millwright. Tall and strapping, Oliver came in right handy when a bit of muscle was needed.
Both middle-aged now, they made fine chaperones for Margaret’s shopping expedition. German lace, Italian silk, restocking her wine cellar, and new lilies for her garden had been on her European agenda, as well as a little touring, since she’d never been to the Continent before. But that wasn’t why she’d really come to Europe. It had merely been the excuse she’d used. No, she’d come to find her former neighbor and drag him back home to investigate the suspicious occurrences happening there.
The Raven appeared around a corner of the ruins. He had to keep his eye on his step, since so many broken stones littered his courtyard. He looked friendly enough, though, was of medium height, with brown hair and eyes, and appeared to be forty years of age. She shouldn’t be nervous. She just didn’t like having doubts.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Maggie?” Edna leaned out of the coach to ask.
She found it interesting that her maid seemed to be having second thoughts as well, because she’d brought the man to Margaret’s attention. “Absolutely,” Margaret said with as much confidence as she could muster for Edna’s sake. “You were right. I’d given up. We were going home. We had no last resort. Now we do. And what more could I have asked for than a man of his talents?”
“Well, go on, then,” Edna urged her. “It’s doubtful he’ll be here long. The townspeople say he never stays here for very long.”
Margaret sighed and approached the fellow. She hated last resorts, but she supposed they were better than none at all. She’d had no trouble hiring those chaps in London last year. Both of them had come highly recommended, too. And had failed to deliver. Such a waste of money. This fellow seemed more promising—if what was said about him was really true. And she’d failed herself, miserably. Four months she’d spent on the Continent, and she hadn’t found a single clue as to the whereabouts of her missing neighbor.
“Good day,” she said when she reached the fellow. “I’ve come to hire you.”
He was smiling. Quite a warm smile for a Frenchman. It settled the matter in her mind. He’d take the job. They merely needed to work out the particulars.
“I’m not for hire.”
That disconcerted her, but Margaret was quick to recover. “Hear me out, if you will.”
“But I’m not the man you’re looking for. My name is John Richards. I merely work for him.”
“Oh?” She was slightly embarrassed. He wasn’t French, either. His accent as English as her own. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. Be a good chap and take me to The Raven, will you?”
The smile was gone, and his tone seemed almost sad as he told her, “There would be no point in that, Madame. He won’t work for you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a woman.”
She was disconcerted again, and quite annoyed, too. Her money was as good as any man’s. “Preposterous. I’ll have a better reason than that before I leave. Now show me to him. Never mind, I’ll find him m’self.”
She didn’t wait for him to try to stop her. She didn’t notice his grin, either. Nor could she have guessed she was doing exactly what he’d hoped she’d do.
The Raven’s ruins had no door to bar entrance. After taking a few steps, Margaret was in what appeared to be the old great hall of a keep, or what was left of it. Not much, actually. A few short walls with large stones piled around them, a crumbling hearth, and in a corner, a little of what must have been a wood ceiling, which had probably been added a century or two after the keep had been built.
In that corner, she saw a boy and three horses. She had an eye for good horseflesh, and the black stallion that the boy was grooming was as fine a specimen as she’d ever seen. The boy was giving her a cheeky grin. When her eyes settled on him, he even winked at her.
It was so unexpected that Margaret burst out laughing. Impertinent little fellow. Blond, blue eyed, scruffy. He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven but was already taking on the mannerisms of an audacious rogue.
“Where might I find The Raven?” she asked, her annoyance somewhat relieved by the child.
“In the kitchen pro’bly.”
