"Mr. Lytton-Symthe, I can with a clear conscience swear that I have never, not ever, given you the slightest encouragement to believe I would welcome your suit."
Percival frowned at her as if she were splitting hairs. "Well, of course you haven't! Not the sort of thing a wellbred young lady would speak of-quite rightly, too. But I've made my position plain, and as there's no impediment to our marriage, there's no reason for you to say anything."
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh, yes, there is. If I intend to marry a man, I will tell him-you may be absolutely sure of that. I will tell him out loud, in plain words and without the slightest blush! I will make up my own mind who I will marry, and I will definitely voice my decision. If you'd done me the courtesy of asking, I would have told you that in your case, my answer was and will always remain: No."
Percival continued to frown. "No? What do you mean: No?"
Amanda drew a long-suffering breath. "No, I will not marry you. No, I will not leave this house with you. No, I have not been playing games. How many more nos would you like?"
Percival's frown turned black. "You have had your head turned. Dexter is a regrettable influence. I insist you leave with me at once."
"Aaaah!" Amanda muted her scream through her teeth.
"It is clearly my duty to save you from yourself." Percival started to tow her to the door. Despite his soft head, he was stronger than she; she jerked back, looking for a weapon-her eye fell on a pewter jug standing on the table in the center of the hall.
With her free hand, she grabbed it, hefted it-realized it held liquid. Gave Percival, eyes fixed on the door, one last chance. "Let me go."
"No."
She flung the water at him-right at his head. It splashed, then cascaded down.
Percival stopped, shook his head, but his grip on her wrist only tightened. He turned to her.
She set her chin stubbornly. "Let me go."
"No."
Her temper erupted. She hit him on the side of the head with the jug-it gave a hugely satisfying clang. He staggered; his grip eased and she twisted her wrist free.
"You foolish woman! You have to come with me-" Percival lunged for her.
She hit him again. "No!" She waited until his eyes focused. "Get this through your thick skulclass="underline" I do not want to marry you. I never did. I am not going to marry you. I've chosen a far better man. Now, go!" She pointed to the door.
He stepped toward her.
She clobbered him again. "Out!"
He reeled in that direction; she helped him along with a thud on his shoulder.
"Go away!" She kept swinging the jug and he was forced to retreat. Joseph, eyes shining with admiration, held the door wide. Percival tried to make a stand on the threshold. Amanda thumped him again, then shoved him out. He stumbled down the steps.
She stood in the doorway and glared. "I would never marry a dolt who even imagined I didn't know my own mind!"
Slamming the door, she turned, nodded regally to Joseph and handed him the jug. "Mop up the water before someone slips." She stalked toward the corridor to the library, and realized Martin had been standing in the shadows.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why didn't you help?"
He opened his eyes wide as he moved to let her pass. "I would have if you'd needed it, but you seemed to be managing perfectly well on your own."
Inwardly astounded, she merely humphed and swept on. The man had actually learned that lesson? Gracious Heaven! Would wonders never cease.
She walked into the library to find Reggie and Luc doubled over with laughter. Her lips twitched, but she maintained her dignity.
Luc lifted his head and looked at her with more approval than he usually showed. "What the devil did you hit him with?"
"The jug on the hall table."
That set them both off again. Resuming her position on the chaise, she glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes past the hour; the diary would have reached London and be on its way to them in Jules' care.
Luc considered her, then asked Martin what had happened in Lady Arbuthnot's courtyard. Martin suggested he mind his own business.
The diary would arrive before six. Sometime between then and now-
Voices reached them, muffled, but from inside the house. Mystified, they exchanged glances, then heard a barked order, and footsteps, bootsteps-more than one set-striding down the corridor-
Joseph was first through the door. "My lord-" He gestured helplessly and held open the door.
Martin and Luc were on their feet.
Lady Osbaldestone swept in.
"Aha!" Her black gaze swept them. "As I thought. Well enough, but you haven't adequately covered your rear."
Martin stared, then lifted his gaze to the two gentlemen who entered in her wake-Devil and Vane Cynster.
Devil nodded, his gaze also taking in those present. "Much as it pains me to concur, I believe her ladyship's right." He met Martin's gaze. "You need disinterested witnesses unconnected with your family."
"We have Reggie," Amanda pointed out.
Devil glanced at Reggie. "Judging by that bandage about his head, he can hardly be disinterested in bringing the man who wounded him to justice."
Martin dismissed Joseph, then turned to the others. "What do you have in mind?" He glanced at the clock. "We have very little time, and if the villain is who we believe, he'll know this for a trap the instant he sets eyes on any of you."
"Which is why we came via the back door." Lady Osbaldestone had been examining the furnishings. "What a treasure trove you have here. However"-she looked down the room-"that is precisely what we need."
With her cane, she pointed to a carved wooden screen of four hinged panels. Then she waved the cane at Devil and Vane, who promptly stepped back out of range. "You two-fetch it and set it just there." The cane indicated a line angled away from the library windows. "The fool won't be coming via the courtyard, so he won't see us behind it. You may set that armchair behind the screen for me, and both of you may stand on either side."
They all leapt to do her bidding-there was no time left to argue.
Luc set the chair in place, Martin helped her into it. Devil and Vane wrestled the heavy screen into place, then took up their positions behind it.
"Perfect!" Lady Osbaldestone's disembodied voice rose from behind the screen. "We can see the whole area before the fireplace through these tiny holes. Wonderfully sensible, those oriental pashas."
Turning away, Martin and Luc exchanged glances. They returned to their positions and sat.
The front door bell pealed again.
Chapter 23
The sound jangled through the house, jangled over their nerves. They didn't look at each other but listened intently, straining to hear.
A man spoke, his voice reduced to a rumble by the walls. Joseph answered, then, faintly at first, growing more definite, they heard footsteps approaching down the long corridor. Joseph, and one other.
Like a troupe of actors with the curtain swishing up, they masked their tension, relaxing against the chaise, in the chair, assuming expressions of calm anticipation.
The door opened; Joseph appeared. Amanda held her breath.
"Mr. Edward Ashford, my lord."
Martin's expression showed nothing more than mild surprise as he rose from the chaise beside her. "Edward?" Martin extended a hand as Edward came forward, grasped Edward's without a glimmer of revulsion. "What can I do for you?"
Edward had noted them-Luc sprawled in the chair facing the hearth, Reggie on the chaise opposite Amanda. He looked at Martin. "Actually, I thought to be of some assistance here. Am I too late, then?"