"Surely you're not implying that my father would seduce her!"
"No, not your father. No, not de masse." She nodded toward Deborah's bedchamber door. "I hear dem at night, taking der pleasure. Both of them loud and laughing. Until ---" Dido shrugged.
"Until when? Until I came home?"
"Missis worried," Dido said, and shrugged.
Diana watched the old woman carefully flick her feather duster over a precious Chinese vase atop one of her father's favorite tables. Aggravating old woman!
As she walked across the front grounds toward the stables, Diana thought of her father in bed, making love with Deborah. It was embarrassing, since she now knew all about lovemaking. He was her father, after all.
"What is this? A blush on your tanned face?"
She whipped around to see Lyon grinning salaciously down at her. He cupped her chin in his palm. "What thoughts are going around in your head? Are you thinking about me? Thinking about me caressing you and doing all those things that make you howl and cry out and beg me not to stop?"
"Are you quite through with your fantasy?"
"Never. And I love it when you make your voice so sour and tart. Come, Diana, let's go somewhere private, then you'll tell me what you're thinking."
"You won't like it," she said, but fell into step beside him. "I have been a detective this morning."
He stiffened, all retorts and sexual repartee gone in an instant. "You will stop it. As of now. I will not have you taking any chances. In fact, I think it best you be with me all the time, just as your father said. Day and night."
"Don't be silly, Lyon. I heard Deborah crying in her bedchamber. I spoke with her, that's all."
He sighed. "Tell me."
She did, and even told him about the wretchedly secret Dido.
"Deborah is exceedingly upset, Lyon. It must be about all that's happened. She knows something, I am sure of it."
"Possibly. Now, why don't you come with me to see Grainger? I daren't leave you to your own devices. Lord knows what you'd take it in your twit head to do next."
"Surely you don't wish to speak so harshly to the soon-to-be mother of your child?"
He grinned down at her, a triumphant very satisfied male grin. "There is that, isn't there? I have always endeavored to hedge my bets, as they say in the clubs. After lunch, during siesta, I shall pay another visit to myvessel."
She poked him hard in the stomach. "I swear I will not conceive if you continue with such drivel."
"You, my dear, have no control over conception." He paused, looking skyward. "At least I hope you don't."
"Ah ha! So you've heard about talk of voodoo, have you?"
He frowned at her.
"Charms abound, wicked rites and rituals. Dire happenings. You're wise to hold me in the highest respect, my lord."
"I'm wise to hold you beneath me."
She laughed gaily, the awfulness for the moment submerged. At least it was until they reached the overseer's house. Lyon knocked on the whitewashed door. It was a pleasant house, mellow brick, one story, a well-tended garden surrounding it.
"Grainger is probably in the fields or at the stillhouse."
"Or at the mill or in the village." Lyon knocked again. "Grainger!"
They heard a strange shuffling sound, then the door cracked open. Diana sucked in her breath. Grainger looked like misery itself. His clothes were disheveled, his hair on end, his eyes bloodshot.
"Oh, it's you two," he said. "What do you want?"