they were about Verena. He dreamed that he held her slender yet enticing body in his arms. Dreamed that he was kissing her, making love to her, clasping her silken hips to his and she was responding with passion, and breathless desire.
Then in his dream she broke away from him, saying to him with loathing in her voice,
‘My father. Why are you telling these terrible lies about my father?’
And she was running, running away from him, and suddenly she had disappeared, and there instead was the figure of Jack Sheldon, climbing along the ice-capped ridge of that mountain in Spain, while Lucas called out, ‘No! It doesn’t have to be this way, Jack! Stop, for the love of God! All I want is your diary…’
And the last thing Lucas remembered of Wild Jack Sheldon was the look of sheer horror in his eyes as he clutched that oilskin package close and went tumbling, tumbling into the raging torrent of a river hundreds of feet below.
Look after Verena.
Lucas sat up, the perspiration beading on his forehead. Then he saw that the late afternoon sun was pouring through the window, and Bentinck was sitting there, morosely offering him a tumbler of brandy. ‘You bin havin’ them bad dreams again, milord?’
‘Yes.
Yes’.
He wanted her. Jack’s daughter. And it was—quite simply—impossible. ‘What time is it, Bentinck?’
‘Four in the afternoon. You must rest, milord. Everything you asked about is bein’ attended to’.
‘Even so, there is danger—
everywhere’.
Bentinck allowed himself a crack of a smile. ‘Wot, amongst all these women? Now I’ll agree with you there, milord’.
Lucas responded with a faint grin, and lay wearily back against the pillows. His arm was hurting like the devil again. ‘You’re damned right. But you must tell me what you’ve discovered’.
‘Now, I don’t want you crocking yourself again, milord, gettin’ up before you’re ready and landin’ yourself with a hellfire fever again!’
‘I swear I most certainly
will
get up if you don’t tell me your news,’ replied Lucas evenly.
‘Well, I told you about the magistrates’ court’.
‘You did’.
‘And the Earl your grandfather’s just got back from Bath’.
Lucas clenched his fists. ‘Has he now?’
‘And then, in between, I’ve bin lookin’ round ‘ere, room by room, just like you said. Especially up amongst those boxes of papers and stuff they’d cleared from the north wing when the roof leaked in spring. There was no sign that anyone else had bin searchin’, like you feared. All covered with dust, them boxes; I’d have known if someone had beenin. So we’re still ahead of the game. And I found—
these’.
He handed Lucas some scruffy, folded sheets of paper.
Lucas scanned them swiftly. ‘Good,’ he breathed. ‘In fact—excellent. But no diary?’
‘No diary’.
Lucas was swinging his legs to the floor, easing his arm out of its sling. ‘Then I’ll manage—somehow—without it. Bentinck, tomorrow I’ll have to leave here’.
Bentinck sighed. ‘You’re not off on your travels again, milord? With that crocked arm?’
‘Yes, but I’m leaving you behind’.
‘Oh, my God…’
‘Yes. As well as continuing to look for that diary, you must watch constantly for any strangers around the place. And you must try to be aware at all times of where Verena—Miss Sheldon—is’.
‘Bloomin’ difficult,’ muttered Bentinck. ‘She don’t like me one bit. And I just ain’t built for creepin’ around, fiddling locks and peeping through keyholes. Give me a proper battle any time, milord’.
‘Me, too,’ agreed Lucas with feeling. ‘But one of the rules of warfare, Bentinck, is that we need to know—precisely—who our enemies are. Agreed?’
‘Agreed, milord,’ said Bentinck heavily. ‘And I’ve done just as you asked—saddled up a horse for you and left it round the side of the house, where, if you go out now, no one will see you. Though how you can ride with that arm—’
Lucas
Then in his dream she broke away from him, saying to him with loathing in her voice,
‘My father. Why are you telling these terrible lies about my father?’
And she was running, running away from him, and suddenly she had disappeared, and there instead was the figure of Jack Sheldon, climbing along the ice-capped ridge of that mountain in Spain, while Lucas called out, ‘No! It doesn’t have to be this way, Jack! Stop, for the love of God! All I want is your diary…’
And the last thing Lucas remembered of Wild Jack Sheldon was the look of sheer horror in his eyes as he clutched that oilskin package close and went tumbling, tumbling into the raging torrent of a river hundreds of feet below.
Look after Verena.
Lucas sat up, the perspiration beading on his forehead. Then he saw that the late afternoon sun was pouring through the window, and Bentinck was sitting there, morosely offering him a tumbler of brandy. ‘You bin havin’ them bad dreams again, milord?’
‘Yes.
Yes’.
He wanted her. Jack’s daughter. And it was—quite simply—impossible. ‘What time is it, Bentinck?’
‘Four in the afternoon. You must rest, milord. Everything you asked about is bein’ attended to’.
‘Even so, there is danger—
everywhere’.
Bentinck allowed himself a crack of a smile. ‘Wot, amongst all these women? Now I’ll agree with you there, milord’.
Lucas responded with a faint grin, and lay wearily back against the pillows. His arm was hurting like the devil again. ‘You’re damned right. But you must tell me what you’ve discovered’.
‘Now, I don’t want you crocking yourself again, milord, gettin’ up before you’re ready and landin’ yourself with a hellfire fever again!’
‘I swear I most certainly
will
get up if you don’t tell me your news,’ replied Lucas evenly.
‘Well, I told you about the magistrates’ court’.
‘You did’.
‘And the Earl your grandfather’s just got back from Bath’.
Lucas clenched his fists. ‘Has he now?’
‘And then, in between, I’ve bin lookin’ round ‘ere, room by room, just like you said. Especially up amongst those boxes of papers and stuff they’d cleared from the north wing when the roof leaked in spring. There was no sign that anyone else had bin searchin’, like you feared. All covered with dust, them boxes; I’d have known if someone had beenin. So we’re still ahead of the game. And I found—
these’.
He handed Lucas some scruffy, folded sheets of paper.
Lucas scanned them swiftly. ‘Good,’ he breathed. ‘In fact—excellent. But no diary?’
‘No diary’.
Lucas was swinging his legs to the floor, easing his arm out of its sling. ‘Then I’ll manage—somehow—without it. Bentinck, tomorrow I’ll have to leave here’.
Bentinck sighed. ‘You’re not off on your travels again, milord? With that crocked arm?’
‘Yes, but I’m leaving you behind’.
‘Oh, my God…’
‘Yes. As well as continuing to look for that diary, you must watch constantly for any strangers around the place. And you must try to be aware at all times of where Verena—Miss Sheldon—is’.
‘Bloomin’ difficult,’ muttered Bentinck. ‘She don’t like me one bit. And I just ain’t built for creepin’ around, fiddling locks and peeping through keyholes. Give me a proper battle any time, milord’.
‘Me, too,’ agreed Lucas with feeling. ‘But one of the rules of warfare, Bentinck, is that we need to know—precisely—who our enemies are. Agreed?’
‘Agreed, milord,’ said Bentinck heavily. ‘And I’ve done just as you asked—saddled up a horse for you and left it round the side of the house, where, if you go out now, no one will see you. Though how you can ride with that arm—’
Lucas
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