wild young men from Oxford came down to get debauched and lose your groats on some sweating idiot trying to kill another sweating idiot.”
Douglas said, “You never saw her, James? You never knew about this until now?”
“She was always sneaky,” James said. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, God, for not letting all the gentlemen present realize she was a girl. You were wearing your britches, weren’t you?”
“Yes, naturally. I even won a pound betting on the very sweaty man-now what was his name? Crutcher, I believe. I wagered on him because he had longer arms. I figured that gave him the advantage.”
“You’re right,” Jason said, “Crutcher was his name. No, Miss Carrick, don’t try to knock me into the fireplace again. That’s better, hold still. Your wrists are staying right where they are. I bet on him too, Corrie. Won a hundred pounds off Quin Parker. I’d never even seen a hundred pounds before that day. James tried to extort a share, but I hid my booty.”
James said, “I searched your room at least three different times looking for that money. Where did you hide it?”
“In the gardens, not a foot from Corrie’s favorite statue.”
“Oh dear, how do you know which is my favorite statue, Jason?”
“It’s every female’s favorite statue,” Jason said.
Jason and James’s mother, Alex, said kindly to Hallie even as her husband gave her an astonished look, “They are large, very nicely carved statues of men and women in an unclothed state, very artistic, naturally, and I suppose you would say their subject matter is explicit. They were brought over by one of my husband’s ancestors in the last century.”
“Explicit what?” Hallie asked.
“I’ll show them to you, Hallie,” Corrie said. “They are vastly educational.”
“But how?”
“Well, they show you all the ways that a man and a woman can be intimate-”
“Intimate?” Hallie asked, her voice lower, vibrating with interest. “What do you mean ‘intimate’?”
“Well-oh dear, perhaps we’d best not discuss that here.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
“Amen,” said Corrie’s husband. “Forget about the statues.”
Hallie said, “They’re naked, you say? The male statues?”
“Well, yes,” Alex said.
“Hmm. You can show me these statues, Corrie-I don’t suppose the weasel here compares favorably to them?”
“Actually, truth be told, the statues don’t compare favorably to the weasel. Or to James.”
“Enough!” Jason roared.
Hallie jerked, found that he hadn’t let up on his grip at all, and said, “I’ll wager you dug up the one hundred pounds as soon as you could and lost it all in twenty minutes in a gaming hell.”
Douglas said, “My sons only visited a gaming hell once, Miss Carrick, and that was with me, their father, when they were seventeen.”
Alex said, “Goodness, Douglas, you never told me about that. How I should have liked to have seen it. I could have dressed in a pair of Corrie’s britches, perhaps worn a mask, sipped on brandy-”
“It was pretty bad, Mother,” James said. “Men were drunk as loons, wagering huge amounts of money as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The place smelled, to be blunt about it. As for the man who owned the hell, he looked like he’d willingly shove a knife in your belly if you didn’t pay up your losses.”
Corrie said to her father-in-law, “That was quite brilliant, sir. You did it as a lesson.”
Douglas nodded. “The unknown is a powerful lure. Strip away the mystery and you see the rot beneath. As I recall, my own father took me to a notorious hell when I was about that age.”
Alex said on a sigh, “I don’t think it ever occurred to my father to take Melissande or me on an educational experience like that one. I’ll wager there were gaming hells in York, don’t you think, Douglas?”
“Lord give me strength,” Douglas said, eyes heavenward.
Hallie jerked once more on her wrists, but Jason’s hold was still unbreakable. “This is all well and good, all these educational lessons, my lord, but may we get back to business?”
“What business?” James asked. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. You want to kill my brother.”
“No,” she wailed, “I want my stud farm! It’s mine, it belongs to me, I paid good money for it right into the cupped open hands of the owner himself, not his smarmy solicitor.”
“Before we return to that subject,” the earl said, “I’m curious about what you did with the money, Jason.”
“Do you know,” Jason said slowly, “I forgot about it. I think it still must be buried there.”
“You forgot one hundred pounds?” Hallie said. “That’s impossible. A young man never forgets his money, even one like you with more looks than brains.”
“Excellent,” Corrie said. “Hallie, you’ve regained your sense of humor.”
Hallie wanted to leap on Corrie, but Jason kept tight hold of her wrists. He did give her enough freedom so she could shake one fist in Corrie’s direction. “You have the unmitigated gall to make fun of me?”
Corrie said, unruffled as a sleeping hen, “Not at all. You still want to flatten Jason? I’ll teach you to box, Miss Carrick. What do you say to that?”
James’s eyes, like his father’s, went heavenward. “She saw one boxing match when she was twelve and now she’s going to give lessons?”
“Well,” Douglas said. “I gave her lessons. And your mother as well.” He gave a pirate’s grin to his slack- jawed sons.
Jason tightened his grip even more, shot his father an appalled look. “Now, Miss Carrick, enough reminiscing, though it has brought revelations that have shaken my poor brother to his toes. You never saw Corrie in britches. Now, Corrie is right. Simple hits in the gut show no real depth of boxing science.”
Hallie said, “I merely wanted to get your attention. Murder comes later.”
The earl, who now stood with his shoulders against the mantel, arms crossed over his chest, said, “I wonder where Willicombe is. He should be in here pouring tea down our gullets and-”
“My lord! Ah, Master Jason is home as well. What a delight, what a brave new day it is. Just see how the sun is now pouring in through the large window to shine upon your returned face. I say, Master Jason, why are you holding that young lady by her wrists?”
“Willicombe, this girl wants to lay me out. Her name is Miss Hallie Carrick.”
“Shall I fetch Remie to deal with her, Master Jason?”
“Not yet, Willicombe, I’m currently holding my own.”
Willicombe turned to Alex. “Refreshments, my lady?”
“Whatever cook can put together would be fine, Willicombe. How is Remie?”
“He pines, my lady, pines until he has become thin as a chicken’s leg. Trilby is a lady’s maid and she knows all the tricks from her mistress on how to make a young man sweat.” He shook his head as he left the drawing room.
“Remie in love,” Corrie said. “Trilby? Who is her mistress, I wonder? Did Willicombe say she learned tricks from her mistress? Hmm, I wonder-”
“Corrie, I will teach you all the tricks you need to please me.”
Douglas said, “Why don’t we all sit down? No more baiting, Jason, no more violence, Miss Carrick. Now, Jason, I tried to explain to Hallie that this wasn’t some sort of underhanded trick, that you were simply trying to get things moving. Your mother tried to assure her you were honorable and you simply wanted to get things moving as well. Your brother tried to assure her that moving things smartly forward was one of your special gifts-”
To Douglas ’s absolute astonishment, the young twit had the nerve to interrupt him. “Ah, yes, everyone was talking about moving things along. What things, I asked, but naturally, no one had an answer to that.” She jerked once more, then looked up at Jason. “As for your bloody twin, he turned up his nose at me for daring to accuse you of being a foul creature fit only to have your guts stuffed in your ears. Let me go!”
“All right.” Jason released her and strolled over to sit in a high-backed wing chair. He steepled his fingers, stretched out his long legs and crossed his ankles. “Miss Carrick, what did Corrie say? After all, you were telling me how smart she is.”
