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“I do too. I only wish I could have known her as well as you did.”

North sat beside her bed after Dr. Treath and his sister left, his fingertips steepled, lightly tapping his chin. “Don’t go to sleep.”

“I won’t. You’re finger-drumming, North. What are you thinking?”

“That I’m going to break Bennett Penrose’s nose, the irresponsible sod.”

“Let Owen do it. If I’m not wrong, I’ll wager that poor Owen is currently someplace chewing his fingernails, sunk in the depths of despair.”

“You think Owen could deal with Bennett?”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes, I do. Owen has shown me hitherto unplumbed depths. It is gratifying since it is unexpected. I do believe I have a plan. There are details I have to sort through and my head does hurt awfully bad.”

“You can solve all their problems in the morning, then.”

“What are we going to do with Mr. Ffalkes?”

North sighed. “Damned if I know. I hesitate to outright kill the bounder and I know that he would never survive deportation. Let him go again? He would simply try to steal you away, come hell or Satan. I must admit to some admiration for the man. He’s tenacious as a hound I had as a boy whose name was Dogged.”

“You’re lying, North. Dogged? For a dog?”

“No, for a hound. He never gave up, that damned hound. Just like Mr. Ffalkes. He sees you as his salvation. He’s beyond reason. I don’t think he’ll ever back down from this. It’s almost as if he believes your money should rightfully be his. Now, Caroline, how many fingers am I tapping against this manly chin of mine?”

“All of them. You have very nice hands, North.”

“Thank you. Would you like some more barley water?”

“That first batch from Polgrain tasted rather awful. Do you think he poisoned it?”

“If he did, he knows I’d shoot him. I know it was bad, I tasted it. This time I had Polgrain put some honey in this batch, until I approved it.”

When Owen came into the Pink Oval Room the following morning, he was shuffling, his shoulders bowed, his head down.

“Bloody goodness, Owen, straighten up. Stop looking like a defeated dog or a nobleman ready to lay his head on the French block. That’s it, shoulders back. Listen, now, I need you.”

That brought his head up in an instant. “You need me, Caroline?”

“I certainly needed you last night and you saved the day, why not again?”

“Well, actually, North did—”

“North tried, but it was you who saved me, and North’s hide as well. Stop shaking your head. You did save both of us. Stop acting modest. It doesn’t become you. Now, I have a proposition for you.”

“Something to do with my father?”

“No. We will discuss what to do with your father later today. This is just you, Owen, just you. Now listen.”

Two hours later at Scrilady Hall, Owen tracked down his prey, namely Bennett Penrose, in the back gentleman’s smoking room. He was sitting in a very large wing chair, as unmoving as a statue. Owen strode over to him, came to a halt directly in front of him, and came right to the point, for he’d rehearsed it over and over all the way from Mount Hawke.

“You shouldn’t have left Caroline alone, Penrose. You were a fool and she could have been forced to marry my father.”

Bennett Penrose had a hangover that could have felled a bull. He heard the man’s words, but all he could do was moan and hold himself very still, and wish the fellow would go away.

“I repeat—”

Bennett raised his head, giving the man a pained look. He wasn’t much of a man, no more really than a barely grown lad, no older than he had been when his uncle had died and he hadn’t gotten any of his money. However, the fellow didn’t look as if he were in a hurry to leave. Bennett gave it up and said, “Don’t bother repeating anything. Caroline can take care of herself. She is all right, isn’t she, despite all that foolishness Mrs. Trebaw was whining about to me last night? Jesus, that damned girl gets herself into more trouble than I do, and that’s saying a lot. Besides, she cheated me, so why should I care what happens to her? I am not her keeper, indeed, I am the keeper for three pregnant girls, curses on all their heads. By the way, who the devil are you?”

“I’m Caroline’s cousin, Owen Ffalkes. I’m not my father’s son. Well, I am but I don’t want to marry Caroline. I will live here. I am her partner in administering the Penrose estate, and the tin mines, and in being a trustee to all the unfortunate females who will be shortly arriving.”


Tags: Catherine Coulter Legacy Historical