Elinor nodded. Her daughter was lying. The strain in the dark eyes, the jangled chords of her unhappiness, couldn't be hidden from her mother. But Theo always dealt with problems in her own way, and if, as Elinor suspected, this was something to do with her marriage, then it was best that Theo and Stoneridge came to their own resolution. Elinor had no intention of playing either interfering mother-in-law or overprotective mother. It would do far more harm than good where two such strong personalities were concerned.
Chapter Fifteen
Sylvester fell into a laudanum-induced sleep toward midnight and awoke just before dawn filled with the sense of well-being approaching euphoria that always followed the agony.
It didn't take long for the euphoria to dissipate as he lay in the semidarkness remembering what had triggered the attack – a mercifully short attack for once, but it couldn't have come at a more inopportune moment.
He threw aside the bedclothes and stood up, stretching before going to the window, flinging it wide, inhaling the salt-sea fragrances on the light breeze blowing from the cliff top. He stared into the misty, pale light and heard in his head Theo's voice, despairing in its confusion and rage, hurling those dreadful accusations at him.
He glanced toward the connecting door to his wife's bedchamber. Presumably she was still asleep. In other circumstances he would have been tempted to go in and wake her in the way he knew she loved, with the long, slow strokes of passion that would bring the sleepy whimpers of delight to her lips, and her eyes would eventually open, deep, limpid pools brimming with sensuality, her mouth curving with amused pleasure.
But not this morning.
Deciding he'd take advantage of the dawn peace to gather his thoughts and marshal his arguments, he dressed rapidly and went downstairs, where he took a shotgun and a game bag from the gun room and let himself out of the house.
Webster's Pond lay beyond the orchard, through a band of thick undergrowth and massed blackberry bushes. The air smelled of sea and the damp grass beneath the tangled undergrowth. Spiky tendrils from the bushes caught at his buff coat and slashed across his buckskin britches. The sun was veiled in the dawn mist, a suffused reddish glow on the horizon, and the morning was alive with the exuberant calls of the dawn chorus and the indignant chatter of squirrels as he penetrated the undergrowth, disturbing their preserve.
He was following a narrow ribbon where the undergrowth was trampled into something resembling a path, but it clearly hadn't been used that recently, and the whole feel of the place was of somewhere rarely visited by man. The sport certainly should be excellent.
He caught a glimmer of the pond through the bushes as he pushed aside a tangle of thorny branches with the butt of his gun. It was a large body of water, more of a lake than a pond, thick reeds massed at the edge, lily pads floating serenely across the flat brown surface.
Sylvester took a step forward onto the narrow bank, and something hit him in the middle of the back, sending him crashing to the ground.
"What the hell!" Winded, he stared up at his assailant, more angry than alarmed. A young man stood over him.. a young man with the empty sleeve of his jacket pinned across his chest, and a gun on his other shoulder.
"I beg your pardon," Edward said. "But you were about to put your foot into this vile thing." He gestured to the oval jagged-toothed trap concealed in the underbrush. "I saw it a second before you took that step."
"Sweet Jesus!" Sylvester got to his feet, staring at the vicious iron, nausea rising in his gorge as he imagined the bite of those teeth rending his calf, breaking the bone.
"They've never used man traps on Belmont land before," Edward was saying, frowning. He glanced at his companion. "You must be Lord Stoneridge, sir."
There was a crackle of breaking twigs from the bushes, and they both spun round, with a soldier's instinct bringing their guns to the ready, Edward with a neat twist, swinging his weapon under his arm.
"There's a goddamned man trap back there!" Theo exclaimed, her eyes blazing, her mouth a taut line.
"And another one here," Edward said, gesturing, lowering his gun.
Theo bent and picked up a thick chunk of wood. She drove it into the trap, and the teeth sprang forward with well-oiled speed, sinking into their prey.
"I sprung the other one, too," she said. She looked up at Sylvester, the anger still burning in her eyes. "Was this your doing, Stoneridge? We have never tolerated man traps on Belmont land."
She glared at him, her chin lifted, hostility and challenge in every line of her body. Clearly the night had brought no softening. Sylvester replied calmly, "No, of course it was not my doing. I nearly stepped into the damned thing myself. If it hadn't been for the speedy action of…" He turned to Edward. "Lieutenant Fairfax, I presume."
"Yes, sir." Edward extended his hand. "I hope you don't think I'm trespassing, but Theo and I were to meet here for some shooting."
"My dear fellow, I stand in your debt," Sylvester said with a grimace. He glanced at Theo and saw that she too had a shotgun over her shoulder. "Three minds with but a single thought, clearly."
Theo's brow wore a preoccupied frown, and she seemed to have simmered down. She said slowly, "I don't think someone likes you very much, Stoneridge."
"What?" For a minute he thought she was referring to herself.
"This, on top of Zeus's saddle," she said. "Does it strike you as pure coincidence?"
"Don't be fanciful," he responded. "A man trap could catch anyone."
"But hardly anybody comes here. Who told you about the pond? I'm sure I didn't."
Sylvester frowned. "I can't remember… Oh, yes, it was Henry. He said someone in the village had mentioned it."
"Who in the village?"
He shook his head. "I don't know."
"Well, somebody set these traps, and it sure as hell wasn't any Belmont man."
Sylvester glanced at Edward. The young man appeared not to notice Theo's free and easy tongue. But, then, neither did anyone else… only her husband, it seemed.
"I think we'd better beat the undergrowth and see if there are any more of these filthy things." Edward picked up a thick stick and swished it through the brambles.
They separated, taking the tangled brush in sections, and found two more.
"Do you notice how they're all along the same route?" Theo said, slamming another dead branch into the last trap. "All placed along the path someone from the manor would take."
"We didn't find a single one anywhere else," Edward agreed. He glanced at the earl, who was staring into the middle distance, deep in thought. "It does seem, sir, as if someone was out to do a mischief to someone from the manor. And no one in these parts would hurt Theo."
"But it isn't anyone from these parts," Theo said definitely. "You know these people as well as I do, Edward… even if Stoneridge doesn't," she added belligerently.
Edward cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Perhaps it's someone from the past, Lord Stoneridge. Someone who bears you a grudge, maybe?"
Sylvester considered this. Someone was creating mischief, and he did seem its object. He looked down at the disarmed trap at Theo's feet, and that sick feeling rose in his gorge again. Who could possibly wish him that degree of harm – lethal harm? He'd not led a blameless existence, far from it, but nothing he'd ever done warranted such a ghastly vengeance.
He glanced sideways at Theo. His wife had more reason to bear him a grudge than anyone, and he knew damn well she was not responsible.
"I'm sure we're letting our imaginations run away with us, he said finally. "I don't know about you, but I've rather lost the urge to shoot this morning."