Silk and Shadows(136)

Ross sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you. When Sara was a child, she fell in love with John Wesley's Rule of Conduct. Wesley founded a religious group called the Methodists, and he said 'Do all the good you can, By all the means you can, In all the ways you can, In all the places you can, At all the times you can, To all the people you can, As long as ever you can.' Sara embroidered it on a sampler and made me memorize it."

"If that is what she believes, the situation is hopeless," Mikahl said acidly. "No one can live up to that."

"Probably not, but the point is to try," Ross said, his voice fading. "Why not try to compromise? I imagine that Sara is as miserable as you. Surely you can find some common ground."

"I'm not miserable, and I don't need a priggish, moralizing female in my life," Mikahl snapped as he pulled the blankets over his friend.

Ross had heard more convincing denials, but wisely he held his tongue. As he drifted into welcome darkness, he uttered a heartfelt prayer than Mikahl and Sara would find some way to heal the breach, for both their sakes.





Chapter 26





After leaving Ross, Peregrine made inquiries about how and when his wife had left Sulgrave. He was relieved to learn that Jenny Miller had gone with Sara, and that the maid had insisted on taking two of the guards. Thank heaven for Jenny, who understood the danger and would look out for Sara.

As Peregrine was finishing his morning coffee, another move in the game was played. A solicitor arrived with an envelope containing a bank draft from Weldon in the amount of the notes Peregrine held. He had forgotten that this was the last day for Weldon to pay.

Benjamin Slade hadn't forgotten, of course. The lawyer would have had the bailiffs on Weldon the next morning if the notes had not been paid off. Now Weldon was safe from debtor's prison.

More interesting than the money itself was the accompanying note from Weldon. Tersely he said that the Duke of Haddonfield had been delighted to provide the money to frustrate his son-in-law's evil intentions toward an English gentleman. Doubtless the message was intended to provoke, but Peregrine was beyond being irritated by anything so petty. Besides, today he had received eighty thousand pounds, and Weldon had received Kane's corpse. He felt that he had come out ahead in the transaction.

After turning the draft over to Slade, Peregrine went out to the stables. Siva, though not seriously injured, needed time to recover from being grazed by the bullet, so Peregrine took another horse. Then he went galloping up to the Downs, feeling a desperate need for open air to sort out his chaotic feelings.

In theory, riding alone here might be dangerous, but Peregrine believed what he had told Ross earlier. Weldon's violence had always been committed at second hand, except when he was terrorizing someone smaller and weaker than himself. Now he would have to find a replacement for Kane, which would not be easy. For the day, at least, the Downs should be safe, though Peregrine kept automatic watch as he cantered along the trail.

It was hard to believe that Sara was gone. Just a few days earlier, they had ridden along these hilltops, stopping to enjoy the views, to picnic, and make love.

Fiercely he told himself that he did not need Sara. He would survive without her, as he had survived many things far worse than the loss of a woman.

He drew his horse in at the highest point on this section of the trail. The hills, fields, and scattered villages of southern England rolled away below him. It was a peaceful, prosperous land, though not a dramatic one.

Without Sara there was no reason to stay in England. He would not have to be as careful about how he killed Weldon, for after the deed was done he could leave the country forever. To be peregrine meant to be free, unconstrained by tethers and obligations. The longer he had stayed in England, the more he had become Mikahl Khanauri, but now he could return to being Peregrine, the wanderer.

The whole world would be at his feet again. The high Himalayas, where the crystal air pierced the lungs as deeply as the beauty pierced the heart. Desert nights with brilliant stars flung across the black velvet sky. Tropical islands with turquoise waters and darting fish in improbable rainbow colors.

He had seen all those things, and he did not need to see them again. None of them was Sulgrave.

What made a place worth revisiting was friends. He would go back to Kafiristan, where Malik and his family would welcome him with joyous affection. He could stay as long as he liked and always be welcome.

But he would never be truly one of them, no matter how long he stayed.

There were friends scattered in other places, men of many races. There were also women whom he remembered with great fondness. In one or two cases, with a little love. He would also be welcomed by those who were still in the business of pleasing men who could afford them.