Calliope was leaning against Roth. She looked at James strangely, and nodded approvingly.
James gently lifted her and carried her into the house.
Calliope rested a cold cheek against his shoulder. Roth was keeping up with the quick pace he had set.
"Roth, would you send Esmerelda’s maid, Betsy, to her room with some hot tea and a warming pan?"
He nodded. "Think I’ll have a talk with Pettigrew too."
James frowned and nodded in return. There was nothing he could do about Roth now. He’d have to talk with him later.
"Lord Pettigrew certainly seemed upset," Calliope mumbled against his chest.
"Yes, we’ll have to keep a closer eye on him."
She tilted her head back, her face only inches from his. "Wasn’t he just expressing concern as a host?"
"Shh. We’ll talk when we reach your room."
She tucked her head into his shoulder. Her body was beginning to feel warmer. That was a good sign.
He unlocked her room and set her down on the bed. "Remove your riding habit. You’ll feel better after a nap."
She frowned. "No, I’m going to have tea. You just sent Roth for some."
"Change your clothes and get under the covers, or I’ll do it for you."
Her face assumed the disgruntled look she was so fond of, but she must have read his intent, because she hurriedly changed while James walked to the window overlooking one of the gardens. He could see her out of the corner of his eye.
Someone knocked at the door.
"Enter."
Calliope’s maid placed the tea tray on the table and lit a fire in the fireplace. James’s body was heating the room better than a fire, but the added heat couldn’t hurt.
The maid left and Calliope padded to the tray. Her feet were bare.
"Get in bed." His voice was a bit raw.
She looked like she was going to argue but padded to the bed and crawled under the covers, militantly thumping her hands down on the soft coverlet.
James poured two cups of tea and brought one to her. He sat on the edge of the bed, forcing her to scoot inward or be crushed. She gave him a dark look and took the cup.
"Did you see anyone near Damsel? Someone put burrs under her saddle," he said.
Calliope put the cup down and her gaze turned thoughtful. "There were men poking Apollo right before we remounted."
James nodded. "I wasn’t paying as close attention as I should have." He had been watching Calliope and soaking up her pleasure.
"What should we do?"
"I don’t think there is much we can do at this point. I will have a look around the lake, but whoever did this is probably long gone. And the evidence with him."
"Come back as soon as you are finished."
He nodded. "I will send your maid back up. She will keep people away."
He walked out and Calliope’s maid was walking toward him with Roth. Yes, Roth knew a bit too much, as usual.
James gave the maid strict instructions and she disappeared inside. Roth studied him, waiting.
"I’m going to the lake. Would you like to join me?"
Roth nodded and they walked back to the stables.
Only after they entered the trail to the lake did Roth speak. "You have secrets. I have secrets. Esmerelda seems to have many. Let’s only speak of today. Something foul is afoot. Be careful."
He could trust Roth. He felt it. He should tell him the entire tale. But something held him back.
" Agreed. You didn’t happen to see anyone around the horses before we left, did you?"
Roth nodded. "Half of the party ventured past, including servants. Even Lady Flanders. I don’t have to warn you not to underestimate her."
"No, you don’t."
They discussed the rest of the members of the party until they reached the lake. Most of the guests had joined in one of the other afternoon pursuits.
A movement caught his attention. A small man stood far off in the trees. The hairs on James’s neck started tingling. The man hadn’t the look of a servant. Roth was staring at the man as well. They rode to the spot but the man had disappeared. It was the same copse of trees into which Damsel had dashed.
Searching the grounds turned up nothing and they returned to the house two hours later.
James headed for Calliope’s room. Roth put a hand on his arm.
"James, don’t overlook anyone." James nodded and Roth turned and strode down the hall.
The maid let him in and he instructed her to return in a few hours. Calliope was sleeping, one hand curled under her chin. He pulled up a chair and sat down to wait until dinner.
The maid had left some old papers for him to read. He flipped through one. He had already read this paper some weeks before. A caricature popped from the page. He remembered this set of cartoons clearly. They were illustrated by Thomas Landes and James had kept track of the artist’s work.
The first one depicted a debutante, who bore a striking resemblance to Sarah Jones, talking to a wilting fern as several gentlemen tiptoed away. Her vacant expression and uplifted nose prevented her from seeing her escaping prey.
The second was of a debutante with large blond curls-probably Cecelia Dort. A rag was tied around her mouth, preventing her from speaking. These were some of Landes’s tamer drawings. The man had a cruel streak at times.
Some of his recent ones had been political in nature. Landes must have been in attendance at Parliament to be able to accurately detail those. James would have to pay close attention to the gentlemen present during the next session.
Had Calliope seen these? He’d show them to her when she woke. She would probably enjoy the one of Cecelia.
He shook his head but couldn’t stop grinning. He remembered the shocked look on Cecelia’s face when Calliope verbally hammered her. What a spirited nymph Calliope was.
She had been a wood sprite today, bouncing in the saddle and having a great time. Her laughing face would linger in his mind for some time. He couldn’t remember ever having more fun with a woman. With practice she would make a fine horsewoman.
He sobered as he tried to force a piece of the puzzle into a spot too small for it to fit. It made sense for someone to be after Calliope. Her connection to Salisbury drew her in tightly.
But the lake area had been crowded. Why would someone risk being unmasked? The act smacked of desperation.
Who had put the burrs under the saddle, and why?
Chapter 11
Calliope woke slowly. A cheery, sizzling fire had been lit in the hearth. The room was warm and cozy. She snuggled deeper into the covers, reluctant to leave the cocoon. She opened one eye and the deepened shadows pronounced it early evening. Perhaps she could linger here all night.
She buried her cheek in the pillow and saw a movement in the shadows. Someone was beside the bed. She let out a gasp and half rose. Familiar eyes met hers and mixed emotions warred inside her.
James was sitting in a chair next to the bed. She leaned back into the pillow and sighed. It seemed she was going to have to get out of bed.
"What are you doing here?" she asked softly.
He lifted a shoulder. "Your maid should be up any moment with dinner. "
"You just arrived, then?" Frankly, she was astonished he had cared enough to sit with her for even a few moments.
He lifted a shoulder again, not answering her..
Calliope scooted against the headboard. The action hurt more than she cared to admit. She rubbed her neck. Her muscles were sore, she was probably covered in bruises, but she didn’t think there would be any lasting damage.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I threw myself from a charging horse."
James smiled.
Betsy bustled in and set a dinner tray before her. Another servant followed and placed a tray in front of James. Betsy fluffed her pillows and with a gesture from James left the room.
"Ordering my servants around again?" She stabbed a juicy slice of roast, swirling it in the dark au jus.