Free Strange Capers by Joan Smith Page B

air about him as he made these comments. His head inclined toward mine, his eyes dancing. I was not totally immune to his persuasions, but I was not about to be lured back into the death curricle, either.
    “That just leaves my broken fingers,” I replied, and tried to resume walking. Aiglon held me immobile with one hand.
    “We’ll have to get you a thicker pair of gloves. You can wear mine till then. Our hands aren’t that different in size,” he pointed out, and used this as an excuse to fondle my fingers, stretching them out along his. “Tell me truthfully now, are they really hurt?” he asked.
    “Yes, but not broken apparently. Despite the way you’re twisting them, I don’t hear them cracking.”
    Then he released my hand and we resumed our walk. “You haven’t been heeding my lessons, Constance. The curricle isn’t the only object that’s been thrown in your path, to be taken advantage of. It also comes with an excellent driver.”
    He peeped a saucy smile at me. I didn’t answer him, for I couldn’t think of anything to say. He continued undismayed. “I might as well warn you that I plan to take full advantage of all the beauties of Thornbury, your sweet self included.”
    We were at the back door. He opened it in silence. I went to my room to survey the travesty of the careful toilette I had begun the excursion in. I looked quite like a dame who had just run a smock race. And won. There was a bright sparkle in my eyes, and my color was certainly enhanced by the outing. There was also a sly smile lifting my lips. Aiglon had managed to ingratiate himself into my good graces.
    Despite his drinking and the duel, despite his gambling and the possible sale of the estate—or perhaps because of them—Aiglon was the most interesting man ever to set foot inside of Thornbury, and I would be a fool not to enjoy his presence to the fullest. I hastily cleaned myself up and ran belowstairs to drink the wine prescribed by my new flirt.
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Chapter 6
    Aiglon hadn’t returned belowstairs by the time I reached the saloon, but Rachel was there. I asked whether she had enjoyed her outing.
    “It was completely successful, Constance,” she replied, eyes twinkling. “Two Runners inquired after Aiglon. I thought three might be overdoing it. What do you think?”
    “I doubt they’d send more than one.”
    “For a murder!” she asked, glaring at me in displeasure. “And what did Aiglon do while I was gone?”
    “He took me for a ride in his curricle. We ended in a ditch,” I said.
    “That sounds exactly like Aiglon. But it was wise of you to get him out of the house. He didn’t mention noticing anything amiss in my housekeeping?” she inquired warily.
    “Nothing of importance,” I assured her. “Rachel, with careful handling, I think he might be talked out of selling Thornbury.”
    “Where do you get that idea?” she asked, keenly interested.
    “We were down at the ruined chapel before our drive, and he—”
    “What! What the devil were you doing there?” she demanded, her face white with anger or chagrin. I was quite astonished at such a strong reaction.
    “Nothing! We were just talking. Why do you look so-so startled?” I asked in confusion.
    “That is exactly the isolated sort of place you must keep away from when you’re with him, Constance. I feel responsible for you; you were sent here in my charge. A man of Aiglon’s kidney—”
    “No, really he’s not that bad,” I objected.
    “You must rely on my judgment in this matter. I have known him longer and more intimately than you, my dear. And what gave you the notion he might be dissuaded from selling Thornbury?”
    “He is somewhat interested in its historical associations. He mentioned rebuilding the chapel. And naturally he’s reluctant to sell the place where his family first rose to prominence. With a little judicious handling, I think he could be talked out of selling.” I expected to see joy and to hear congratulations for my