“William Kent!” Antonia exclaimed, “Oh, I don’t believe it. I have studied all his books on landscaping.”
James Wyatt thought such interests an oddity in a young lady.
Her twin joined them and said, “It’s unbelievable. The stables must have forty or fifty stalls.”
“Mr. Wyatt,” Antonia asked, “I would love to come again to see your progress, if it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience for you?”
“It would be my pleasure, Lady Lamb. I’m not here every day, but there are always workmen here. Your looking about the place won’t interfere with their progress, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, sir. I am honored to have made your acquaintance.”
James Wyatt stared after them as they rode off, wryly thinking his name and reputation had been totally lost on young Lord Lamb. Stables interested him far more than houses.
Back at Lamb Hall the stables seemed to interest Bernard Lamb, now that he had been summarily dismissed from the house. He concealed himself and watched to see how many servants worked there. He saw a man enter the carriage house and pull a small coach by the shafts out into the yard. He was about to wash the mud from the carriage and polish its lamps.
Bernard shrewdly observed that he fetched the bucket and water himself rather than calling for a stableboy and concluded he was alone. When the stableman was absorbed in his task, Bernard slipped inside. He saw a handsome pair of coach horses, two empty stalls, then what looked like a dam and her colt. His eyes narrowed as his quick mind went over his choices. His goal, of course, was for the new Lord Lamb to come a cropper. A riding accident was an ideal solution to his needs.
He considered driving a nail into the tender part of the mare’s hoof, but it would take too long to find a horseshoe nail and a mallet. He cursed himself for not having thought to bring along a sharp needle that would have been even better. He took out a pocket knife and moved toward the mare, but she whickered nervously and moved to protect her colt. Bernard quickly moved away from her lest she give him away.
Instead he reached for a halter and bridle and cut partway through the leather that held the bit. Then he pried the studs on the inside surfaces so that they would be sharp and irritating against a horse’s face. Finally he cut partly through a stirrup and the belly strap of one of the saddles. He reached for the other saddle, saw it was a woman’s sidesaddle, and left it alone. He didn’t want to harm hisfemalecousin, at least not yet. Perhaps her father’s death had left the girl wealthy. Marrying money was second best to inheriting it. He’d never seen her, of course, but face and figure were of small account when fortune was involved.
Bernard Lamb decided against taking the coach back to London. He did not delude himself that the chicanery in the stables would bring about the probable demise of his cousin; it was only a hoped-for possibility. The town of Gravesend was a port, and down by the wharf were many inns where he could put up for a few days. This would give him an opportunity to visit Lamb Hall after dark, prowl about undetected, observe his twin cousins on a daily basis to learn their habits and activities, and allow him time to come up with a more diabolical plan whose results would be guaranteed.
Rosalind wrestled with her conscience, then decided not to tell the twins of the visit from their cousin Bernard. They might welcome him with open arms in their naïvetè, but Roz knew instinctively he was nothing more than a fortune hunter in spite of his fashionable clothes and polished manners.
She remembered how his father, Robert, had had a passion for gambling and the fast life, which is, of course, what had attracted her daughter Evelyn. She and Robert Lamb had been inseparable in spite of, or perhaps because of, his reputation. No one had been more relieved than Rosalind when Eve eloped with Russell, even though she was cynical enough to see that his new title had been the deciding factor.
Roz sighed. Best to keep young Bernard Lamb at arm’s length. Fraternization could only produce jealousy and greed, or at the very least lead Anthony into the disreputable habits of drinking, wenching, and that most debauched addiction of all, gambling. Roz shuddered. By the time the twins had reached their fifth birthday, Evelyn had accumulated so many gambling debts, they couldn’t be calculated. Nowadays, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, had set a fashion for such behavior, but unlike the Duchess, Eve’s husband had not been one of England’s wealthiest dukes.
For a year she had lived on the edge, accepting jewels from gentlemen admirers to appease those she owed, but when Lord Russell was offered an administrative post with the East India Company she encouraged him to grab it and off they had sailed to Madras, India, ten years ago, deftly avoiding another scandal. The tropics was no place for children, however, so she had jumped at her mother’s offer to move to Lamb Hall to look after the twins and run the house until they returned to England.
Over the candlelit supper-table Antonia described to Roz what they had seen that afternoon at Edenwood. “This Adam Savage must have a great deal of money. He’ll be able to hunt on his own property. There must be a thousand acres of woods. The outside of the house is almost finished, but not the interiors. Its grandeur is breathtaking, isn’t it, Tony?”
“The stables will hold fifty stalls,” Anthony added negligently, more interested in slicing off a pink slab of beef than describing a house. “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble getting this Savage fellow to increase my allowance. He spends money like water.”
“Mmm, must be one of these nabobs I’ve read about in theTattler.They make fortunes in the Indies, then return to England with their houris and pet monkeys. They wear voluminous, brocaded pantaloons and turbans. They buy up all our treasures while royalty fetes them and society in general falls over itself to kiss their bottoms.”
“I wish Mother’s letter had told us more about him,” Antonia said wistfully.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t know much about him,” offered Anthony. “He was probably a business associate of Father’s.” Anthony could not yet speak of his father without choking up.
Antonia’s imagination had taken flight over the picture Roz had painted of the nabob, while Roz thought cynically,If Savage is as wealthy as you surmise, Eve will make it her business to learneverythingthere is to know about him!
Chapter 3
At Leopard’s Leap plantation in Ceylon, Adam Savage stood in the heavy shadows of the eucalypti and bamboo, absorbing the haunting beauty of the night. He often came to this spot, which gave him a clear view of the lake. In reality it was a holding tank for water, but it drew wild animals as if it were a natural watering hole.
He stood absolutely still, waiting with infinite patience, as the moonlight flooded down with blue-white intensity to reveal a leopard standing reflected in the oval pool. It was breathtaking in its beauty and grace. Leopards had a trick of appearing with no perceptible approach.
His strong brown hand went to the pistol tucked in his belt, but it was an unconscious gesture to reassure himself it was there if needed. To Adam Savage shooting animals who came to drink was murder. High leather boots reached to his well-muscled thighs to guard against scorpion, centipede, and snake.
A half-smile touched his lips as he recalled how wary he’d been of snakes when he first arrived in the Indies. He’d worked his way on an East Indiaman to buy wood for his father, who was a cabinetmaker. He’d sent back satinwood, ebony, teak, mahogany, sandalwood, and he had discovered calamander, stronger and finer than any rosewood. In those early days he’d seen pythons on every trunk, cobras beneath every fern, but there was an Eastern saying, “Only he who fears snakes sees them,” and it was true. Now, he never saw them. They were there. He’d hear them slither through the rafters, hear them thrash about catching rats, and hear the rats squeal when they became a meal, but once he accepted snakes as necessary to keep down vermin, he never noticed them again.
One of the things he would truly miss when he returned to England was the fantastic wildlife. In the distance he heard the banshee wail of a pack of jackals. Every hour of the day and night was filled with the sights and sounds of Ceylon’s exotic fauna. Twilight was the hour of winged creatures. At sunset the caves disgorged their hordes of fruit bats. Some, called flying foxes, had four-foot wing-spans, others no bigger than a bumblebee would fly to his bungalow as if they were invited dinner guests to feed on the swarms of insects that were attracted to the glow of the oil lamps. Anything like the gekko or house lizard that dashed about everywhere and devoured flies and mosquitoes was devoutly welcomed.
Suddenly Adam’s nostrils were filled with the sweet, heavenly perfume of the iron tree. Hindus believed that the God of Love tipped his arrows with this blossom. Savage closed his eyes and thought of Eve. He finally admitted to himself that he wanted her. Now that she was a widow, no barrier prevented him from taking her. She liked to flirt, she liked to have men at her feet, but that was a game many pretty women played. It was Important to him that their attraction was mutual. His hand went to his face to finger the scar that marred him. Not that he’d had any claim to beauty before the knife had carved a deep gash that ran from the side of his nose right through his top lip. But now his strong, masculine features had taken on a dark, sinister look that hinted at an unsavory past.
He knew Fate had marked him as a grim reminder of his sins, and as Omar Khayyam had written, not all his piety could cancel half a line. His looks frightened off young women, yet ironically, older women, especially married ones, were attracted to his saturnine face almost irresistibly.