I closed the Porsche’s door and gave Friedrich a friendly wave as he drove off. I couldn’t think ill of him for trying to win me over. Nell’s refusal to go along with his marvelous plans for her future had evidently made him desperate enough to try anything— following her to England, shoveling muck, flattering me. I felt sorry for him, but I also thought Nell would be good for him. She would add the word “humility” to his vocabulary.
As I sloshed up the flagstone path to the cottage’s front door, I wondered if I’d be subjected to the same treatment by Mario from Milan, Rafael from Barcelona, and the French boys Annelise had mentioned. If I played my cards right, I thought, giggling, I’d get to ride in every fl ashy sports car on the market.
I had seldom been so happy to walk into a warm, dry house. Since the twins were still in school and Annelise was browsing the shops in Upper Deeping, Stanley was the only family member to greet me when I came in. He sniffed my boots with the profound concentration of a naturalist examining a new specimen from a foreign land, then followed me through the cottage as I made my rounds.
I threw my hiking clothes into the washer and myself into a blessedly hot bath, then dressed in clean jeans, a sweater, and sneakers and ran downstairs to make dinner. I chose something quick and easy—ham, scalloped potatoes, and broccoli—because I wanted to spend some time in the study while I still had the cottage to myself.
I had an awful lot to tell Aunt Dimity.
Twenty minutes later, dinner was ready for launch, my hiking clothes were in the dryer, and I was seated in the study with the blue journal in my hands, a fire in the hearth, and Stanley curled and purring in my lap. Reginald looked beneficently at us from his shelf, as if to say, “I don’t mind sharing you with the cat. He needs
78 Nancy Atherton
your warmth more than I do.” I gave him a grateful nod, stroked Stanley between the ears, and opened the journal.
“Dimity?” I said. “Want to hear about my day?”
The familiar lines of royal-blue ink spun across the page without a moment’s hesitation.
I always want to hear about your days, my dear, but I must confess that I’m particularly eager to hear about this one. I can tell by the tremor in your voice that it was eventful. Did Kit agree to help you with your vampire hunt?
“Yes,” I said, “but only after I agreed to take riding lessons.”
You agreed to take riding lessons? At last! How clever of Kit to persuade you.
“It wasn’t clever,” I protested. “It was heartlessly cruel and devious, and he only did it to torment me.”
Don’t be silly, Lori. Kit is as kind as summer. He would never do anything to torment you.
“He did today,” I said. “I gave him the perfect excuse to get away from the stables, and instead of thanking me for it, he used it to blackmail me into doing something I’ve been avoiding for years.
Pure, unadulterated torment.”
Why would Kit wish to get away from the stables?
“Because he can’t stand the new stable hands,” I explained with a slightly malicious smile. “A small, multinational army of rich young bachelors followed Nell home from Paris and volunteered to work at Anscombe Manor. They’re falling all over themselves trying to prove that they’re worthy of Nell. Emma’s taking advantage of them shamelessly, but they’re driving Kit nuts.”
I imagine they would.
“I could hardly keep up with his mood swings today,” I said.
“First he blackmailed me into riding, then he got really touchy when I discovered some footprints he missed on Sunday. When I mentioned Nell’s name, he went all wistful and sad-eyed, and on the way home he blew up at me.”
Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
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Defensiveness, irritability, melancholy, unreasonable fits of bad temper . . . The ghost of a bosom-heaving sigh seemed to waft through the room. He sounds like a man very much in love. Nell’s scheme seems to be having the desired effect.
I frowned uncomprehendingly, then gasped as the penny dropped.
“Dimity,” I said, with a note of disapproval in my voice. “You’re not suggesting that Nell invited those guys to Anscombe Manor, are you?”
I’m suggesting no such thing. Nell is an honorable young woman. I’m certain that her admirers came to Anscombe Manor without any encourage-ment from her. I’m equally certain, however, that she hasn’t gone out of her way to send them packing.
“She’s keeping them around to torture Kit?” I said, dismayed.
Kit is torturing himself, Lori. Never forget that. I suspect that Nell is simply using the situation as an opportunity to demonstrate—before his eyes—her unswerving devotion to him. If the scheme fails, I have no doubt that she’ll dismiss her young suitors in a trice and think of another way to rid Kit of his foolish conviction that he is too old for her.
“You know what, Dimity?” I said. “I think we may be wrong about the age thing. Kit’s always used his age as an excuse to push Nell away, but I have a feeling that something else is going on.”
Such as?
“I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “When he blew up at me this afternoon, he told me that he has no intention of ever getting married.