Silk and Shadows(126)

"I don't expect you to, my dear, nor would Ross expect it. He's no better at sitting still than you are."

Her husband pulled her into a hug, his large hands kneading the tense knots out of her neck and shoulders. "You are a very understanding woman."

Jenny came to sit with Ross while Sara and her husband ate a simple supper. Than Sara returned to her quiet vigil.

* * *

Earlier in the day, Peregrine had ridden into the Downs with a spare horse, wrapped Kane's body in a blanket, then brought it back to Sulgrave and stored it in a little used outbuilding. After darkness fell, he transferred the corpse to a nondescript cart that was used for rough work around the estate.

Dressed as unmemorably as the cart, Peregrine took his time driving into London, not wanting to reach Mayfair until after midnight. His mission to dispose of Kane's body went without complication. Another move had been made in the lethal game between him and Weldon. And during the hours of driving, he planned what to do next.

* * *

Sara was glad when Ross began tossing and turning restlessly. He did not seem feverish, and his increased activity was less alarming than his death-like unconsciousness had been. She managed to get some beef broth down him, laced with a little laudanum to reduce the pain.

She dozed off herself for a time, then awoke with a start when she heard a faint voice saying, "Sally?"

Ross had sometimes called her that when they were children. Glad that he was conscious, she leaned over the bed. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked to bring her into focus. "Like hell, if you'll excuse the language." His voice was barely audible.

"You're excused."

He raised his right hand uncertainly toward his bandaged left shoulder. "My mind seems to have been dipped in molasses."

"Better leave the bandage alone." Sara caught his wandering hand. "You've had some laudanum, which is why you feel fuzzy. Do you remember what happened?"

"I was riding with Mikahl in the Downs." Ross frowned. "Was he hurt?"

"He's fine," she assured him. "The same bullet that hit you grazed his horse, but Mikahl wasn't touched. He bandaged you up and brought you back to Sulgrave."

"Glad he's all right." Ross's fingers moved restlessly in Sara's grasp. "If Weldon had sent two assassins instead of one, I suppose we'd both be dead."

"Weldon?" Sara said, startled. She was about to say that Ross had been accidentally shot by a poacher when her cousin's rambling voice cut her off.

"Ironic. Just before I was shot, Peregrine said it was dangerous to be riding in such an exposed place. But he thought Weldon wouldn't try to kill him yet." Ross pulled his hand free and rubbed at his forehead, trying to clear his mind. "I think the sniper was aiming at Mikahl, not me. I saw the rifle and tried to push Mikahl out of the way and got in front of the bullet myself. Bloody stupid thing to do."

Sara felt as if her heart had stopped. Carefully she said, "You and Mikahl are sure that Charles Weldon is behind this?"

"Of course. Weldon wanted to strike before Mikahl could kill him first." Then Ross's gaze sharpened. "Damnation. You don't know any of that, do you?"

"No, but you are going to tell me everything, Ross," Sara said grimly. "What has been going on?"

"Mikahl hasn't wanted to tell you," her cousin said uncertainly. "He didn't want to worry you."

"My husband has made an error in judgment," she said, her voice clipped with anger, "and you are about to rectify it."

Perhaps if Ross had not been feeling the effects of laudanum, he would have resisted. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I've thought he should tell you. How much do you know now?"

Sara thought a moment. There had been much fire and brimstone, but what had her husband actually said? "I know that Charles and Mikahl hate each other. Mikahl said that Charles is evil, and that he may have killed his first wife by pushing her down the stairs. Once you told me that Charles might be involved in illicit activities, but it seemed so improbable that I didn't really believe it. Is all that really true?"

Ross sighed, and began a flat litany that turned Sara's blood cold: that Charles Weldon did indeed own gaming hells and whorehouses, including the one that had enslaved Jenny Miller; that he was part owner of illegal slave ships; that he casually gave orders that ruined lives. And that Sara's husband was determined to destroy him.

Her cousin's words painted a picture that made horrible sense, though there were still huge holes. Why Mikahl hated Charles so much, for example, and just what he was doing to bring his enemy low. Sara felt like a child who had been living in a prettily decorated tent, only to have the canvas walls suddenly drop to reveal monsters in every direction.