The aroma of sweet rolls and hot coffee filled the dining parlor. A bright sun reflected the promise of a pleasant summer’s day. However, neither of these two advantages seemed to honey the tempers of young Lord Richard of Grey and his cousin, Randall of Southvale.

They eyed one another across the breakfast table, waited only for the lackey to leave them to themselves before once again picking up the argument they had started the evening before.

“Don’t think that because you choose to look the tulip in that waistcoat that Miss Echworth will pay you any more mind than she did last night,” Rick grunted. He was seriously worried that Randy was becoming too enamored with the lady. He meant to steal her interests away, and thus, put an end to his cousin’s involvement, but couldn’t help teasing him as well.

Randall pushed his plate away and stood up. “Tulip? Me? A tulip?” He was nearly foaming at the mouth as he took to pacing before rounding on his cousin to snap, “I don’t know why you want to draw me out…” He put up his fists. “But draw me out you have!”

Ricky laughed. “Sit down, ‘ole boy. I was only funning. Of course you are not a tulip.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed. “I say, Rick, I’ll tell you what. I’d rather look a tulip in a stylish waistcoat, which you very well know is all the crack, than appear a coxcomb in a cravat whose style went out with the diamond heelpiece!”

“What?” Rick jumped to his feet. “Damn, but you’ve lost your senses, boy!” His cravat was perfect. Brummell himself had remarked upon his skill with a neckcloth.

Randall’s face took on an expression of disdain.

Rick took exception and gave his cousin a hefty shove.

Randall put up his fives.

The door opened and as Lady Penrod glided inside, Randall dropped his fists, and both young men jumped guiltily apart.

“Ah, you haven’t started eating yet. How nice.” She took up a seat at the table and motioned them with her eyes to attend her.

Ricky had the distinct impression that she had heard their raised voices before she entered and knew just what she was about. In spite of his irritation, a slow smile dimpled his handsome face as he sat. “My lady, how lovely you look.”

His cousin shot him a glare, but sat as well, and their manners forced them into polite conversation with her ladyship.

“Wherever has Ness got herself this morning?” Lady Penrod asked after a few moments.

“What?” Ness’s brother reacted with dismay. “Is she not about?”

“No, why do you look like that? She can’t be far. No doubt taking a walk about the grounds. She loves her exercise and we have quite extensive trails here at Penrod.”

“Blast,” Randall said.

“Indeed?” Lady Penrod’s amused glance came to rest on him.

Randall blushed. “I was hoping she would want to accompany us when we call on Miss Echworth this morning.”

Rick noted that Lady Penrod’s lips quivered and hid a smile.

“Ah, I see. There is no reason that I can think of why the two of you couldn’t pay a morning call on Miss Echworth yourselves.”

Rick offered, “I, for one, don’t want to appear too forward. After all, they are still in mourning.”

“Yes, it would be less…pointed if Ness were with us,” Randall agreed.

“Then put it off ‘til tomorrow,” Lady Penrod said softly, exchanging an amused glance with Rick.

“No, well then, no sense in that. As you say, no reason Rick and I can’t pay our respects without Ness being with us.” He lit up, and apparently forgot his earlier dispute with his cousin. “Rick, we could take Miss Echworth for a drive?”

“No, I don’t think so, not without Ness to lend some propriety,” Rick answered with a shake of his head.

“Where the devil can she have gone off to?” Randall said as he gulped down the rest of his coffee. “Well, we had better be off then.”

Rick and Lady Penrod exchanged glances. “My lady,” Rick said as he rose, an amused smile on his lips.

A moment later, they were headed for the stables, once again in festive spirits.

* * *

“Ho there, Shadow,” Ness called after a short canter to loosen her horse up. Her mare was fired up and snorting over the exhilarating run they had enjoyed over the open meadow.

She reined in, and under her gentle hands, her mare calmed and stood for her. Ness leaned back and adjusted the lovely green skirt of her riding habit. She was, once again, breaking the rules, she knew, by not allowing a groom to follow her discreetly.

No doubt, the vicar would raise an eyebrow and think her most hoydenish. No matter. Following rules was dull sport and besides, why should women be hampered with such things when men were not?

Protection? Ah, but she had a horse pistol in her holster, and along with her brother, she had learned how to shoot, and often did so with her father and Rick.

Thus, her reasoning, as ever, excused her wayward behavior and she made her way over the rolling downs to a neatly laid out grey stone set of buildings ahead.

No flower beds, no shapely yews or flowering trees ornamented the bleak, rough construction of the place. There was life about in the dirt courtyard, for she could see a young maid scurry across, dragging along a milk bucket from a modest barnyard.

All at once, Ness wondered what she was doing there. Instinctively, she knew this vicar would be stern and rigid. He would not approve of her and would look upon her visit with displeasure. Nevertheless, she steeled herself and gently urged her horse to take the narrow path at a decorous pace toward her objective.

* * *

Vicar Poole sat in his upholstered winged chair near the fire. The last log was burning to a close, and the embers were bright with a final fierce glow. He brought his faded hazel eyes up from the contemplation of an essay by Alexander Pope, and studied the dying fire sadly.

None of his parishioners would have guessed that Pope was a favorite of his, but then, no one had ever really taken the trouble to know him, he thought bitterly.

He grimaced. Life had, in many ways, passed him by. He had never found the right woman to share his home, give him children…

“S’cuse me, Vicar.” It was Tilly, his housekeeper. She was plump and mature, he thought perhaps in her late fifties. She ran the household tightly and was the only servant whose respect for the vicar did not border on fear. He rather liked her.

“Yes, Tilly?”

“There be someone to see ye. Lord bless me, a young woman…Lady Vanessa Grey she says and she is waiting in the hall.”

The vicar’s finely shaped brow went up with interest. “Really? I had heard that Lady Vanessa was visiting up at Penrod. Whatever can she want here?” He stood up, and before the housekeeper could comment, he waved her off saying, “Very well, show her in.”

When the housekeeper hesitated, he hurried her with another wave of his hand. “Go on, go on.”

Tilly nodded and hands folded into one another at her waist, she hurried off to do his bidding.

A moment later, Lady Vanessa was shown into his study.

He felt a gasp form in his throat as his eyes rested on her beautiful face. He had never seen such a classically lovely countenance and when she smiled, he was nearly bowled over.

He immediately collected himself and went forward to take up her kid-gloved and offered hand.

Ness was surprised to find such a young man. He looked to be in his late twenties and while not precisely handsome, he was certainly somewhat attractive.

She then met his eyes and changed her mind. Something cold lit in their recesses, something stern and unyielding, and something, she could not name immediately, set her on guard.

Ness very often relied on her instincts, and instincts made her wary as his voice came soft and gentle. “Lady Vanessa, please…sit and tell me how I may serve you this morning?”

Ness took a chair and watched him take up the winged chair very close to her. She folded her gloved fingers at her lap and demurely regarded him. Unable to be anyone other than herself, she said, “Shall I first pass the amenities, sir, or shall I get directly to the point that brings me here?”

She could not tell if this offended or amused him. His cold hazel eyes gave nothing away as he said, “By all means, my lady, do get to the point, as I am certain your time is valuable.”

“Oh sir, that is not what I meant.” She saw that he knew that and one brow went up. “Ah, but you know that, don’t you? So then, it has come to my understanding that not very long ago the House of Montlaine suffered something of a tragedy. I am a friend of Mrs. Echworth and…”

“Are you? I wouldn’t think that the two of you traveled in the same circles,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

This was going to be even harder than she had expected. “And yet we are known to one another. More to the point…” Time for a white lie that might be true for all she knew. Her parents were always surprising her with acquaintances she knew nothing about. At any rate, this might not be a lie, for they were always close to Lady Penrod, who was close to Montlaine, after all. “My parents are such good friends with the late Montlaine and would want my brother and me to discover how this awful situation came about. They, and Lady Penrod, will not rest, you see, until his name is cleared.” She waited for his reaction to this and was surprised by it.

He leaned forward, his brows drawn together, and looked first into her eyes before she felt his gaze on her lips. “My dear Lady Vanessa. You are far too exquisite to find yourself looking into what can only be called an ugly incident. There is nothing you can do for the House of Montlaine.”

“Oh, I am fully aware of my personal limitations, but I do assure you that my parents and Lady Penrod are not so limited. They have extensive connections in the Home Office and are, even at this moment, calling for a complete investigation. How could they not?” She paused. “And, of course, I mentioned that my brother is here with me, as is my cousin, Randall of Southvale.”

An irritated expression took over his entire face, and she could only imagine what he was thinking. He said, “I still don’t understand how any of you can help. The late viscount strayed from God! He took up the worship of Satan, seduced young maids to his wicked intent…”

“Hold there, good sir,” Ness interrupted him. She had to fan her temper, which had risen to her temples. “You are saying the viscount engaged in demonology? You know this for a fact? You have proof to offer the authorities?”

He hesitated and she saw something shifty flicker in his eyes. Oh, she did not like him at all!

He said, “No one has ever questioned the fact…”

“Indeed, I simply want facts. What facts have you?”

“I never saw the coven master’s face. That is true. But the viscount made a mistake—the mistake of pride. He wore the symbol of Asmodeus around his neck.”

“You speak of the pendant.”

“Yes, yes, he wore it blatantly.”

“And, because of that, you believe him in league with the devil?” she pursued.

“It was the symbol of Asmodeus, which pertains to lechery. This cult—coven danced in a nine foot circle and their demon sign scratched into the earth of that impious circle was that of Asmodeus. Those twelve girls were turned into witches, servants of the devil. And no, I did not see their leader’s face, but I saw his form. He had the height and breadth of an imposing male. I came upon them twice and each time he led them in the dance.” His tone had risen with excitement and his eyes betrayed the goodness he wished people to see in him.

“But you did see one of those twelve women, did you not? Melony Fry?”

Vicar Poole’s eyes went past Ness’s shoulder to the window at her back and for the moment he did not answer her, she turned to see him staring into the meadows.

“I am sorry,” Ness said. “Obviously, you…have a connection to Miss Fry and I have drudged up a sad memory.”

“Connection?” he snapped. He got up and moved away from Ness to stand before the dying fire.

Connection, she said so easily to him. He had adored Melony. He had courted her. She had rejected him at every turn. He had taken to watching her through her window at night. He followed her at times. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Following her was how he had come across the coven…how he had discovered that she was a part of its ugly rituals.

He had watched in awe and fascination as he watched the women commit sacrilege. He was both horrified and burning to dance with them, touch them…but especially Melony. He had stood apart, unseen until the leader put his hands on Melony’s full luscious breasts.

He burst in on them, shouting, ranting, for he had been driven with jealousy and fury. They had scattered, but he chased after only one—Melony!

He had chased her over the rolling downs until she had fallen and he was on her! He straddled her and shook her. He couldn’t even remember what he said, but he had screamed “Whore, you whore,” over and over. That he remembered.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but he was on her, touching the breasts her leader had exposed, bending to suckle at her nipple while she screamed and fought and suddenly, he realized what he was doing and stopped.

He saw her tears and shame flooded him.

“Vicar, Vicar Poole?” Ness spoke. She could see his mind was elsewhere and wondered what memory she had evoked.

He physically shook his shoulders and sighed heavily. “Yes, I discovered Melony and reported the incident to her parents. They promised to keep her indoors, but evidently, the very next day, she managed to get away for a few hours, apparently long enough for her demon lover to poison her.”

“Poison, my brother once told me, was a woman’s method of murder, not a man’s, and I would think, certainly not a demon’s style,” Ness said, and watched him. She was surprised to see that his eyes snapped to attention.

As he said nothing to her remark and she could see he didn’t intend to, Ness thought it time to leave.

She rose, and watched as he jumped to his feet. “Thank you, Vicar Poole. You have been most patient.” She smiled and moved towards the study door, allowing him to touch her elbow as he led her down the corridor.

She turned at the door that would lead to the courtyard and extended her hand. “Don’t trouble yourself further, sir. I shall fetch my horse and be off.”

He lingered over her hand, but there was disapproval in his gaze. “Did you travel all the way from Penrod without a groom?”

“It was only a short ride after all,” she answered, and turned. She stalled his lecture by smiling brightly and adding, “It won’t do you any good to scold me. I am set in my ways, and one of them is to jaunt about on my own, as very few grooms could keep pace with me and my mare, Shadow.”

“You are far too beautiful to be left on your own in the wilds of Cornwall,” he said simply, as his lashes shaded his eyes and his mouth downturned. “Your city parks are nothing to the threat of our bogs and moors.”

“Never fear, Vicar. I watch for the red patches and make a wide circle around them. Bogs and moors are not unknown to me. My family seat is in the heart of Yorkshire.” She waved herself off and stepped outside. Faith, but she felt as though she was escaping a prison. Why she felt that way she couldn’t quite logically comprehend. After all, he had no power over her, but as she looked over her shoulder, she found his eyes following her and felt a twinge of nerves.

A young livery boy hurried forward and asked if she required her mare, but she held him off with her hand. “Not just yet. Tell me, lad, would the vicar’s housekeeper be around? I did not see her in the kitchen?”

He motioned with his head. “Tilly? Aye, she be in the vegetable garden…just there.” He pointed with his chin.

She gave him a coin and a warm smile to his gasp of pleasure and gratitude. “I shan’t be long, and you can bring me my horse then, thank you.”

Ness made her way around the barn and found Tilly bending down in the large vegetable garden, picking at some herbs and loading her huge basket.

Ness cleared her throat and the older woman straightened with ever a slight jump and said, “Eh, oh Miss, ye startled me, ye did.”

“I am sorry, Tilly…do I have your name right?”

“Aye, ye do. How can I help ye then?”

“Well, I am afraid I like plain speaking, so I shan’t try and bamboozle you with the niceties first, and ask my question outright. What do you think?”

“I can see ye have something on yer mind, that I can, and meaning no disrespect, I don’t know how I can help ye,” Tilly answered, frowning across at her.

Lady Vanessa saw a stone bench and motioned. “Shall we sit for a moment and be comfortable together?”

“Och, aye, but…I don’t want to get yer fine clothes dirty and I’ve been in the garden,” Tilly answered doubtfully.

“Never mind.” Ness patted the spot beside her. “Sit with me.”

“Right then,” Tilly answered. “What do ye want to know?”

“I haven’t been at Penrod long, as you probably have already heard. I am from a small country village and know how word does travel.” They smiled at one another and Ness continued, “I feel obligated to do something to unravel the tangle that affects our neighbors at Montlaine, as Lady Penrod has been so sadly affected by these events.” Ness saw Tilly’s eyes shift and hurried on. “I don’t believe the truth was ever uncovered, and it should be, you know, and I think, Tilly, you could help.”

“Wisht now, how can I do that?”

“I didn’t want to bother the vicar with further questions about Melony Fry. He seemed rather vague in that quarter…bothered, in fact.”

“Aye,” Tilly put in. “Ye did right to drop that subject with the vicar. That’s an open wound, it is. Bless his heart. He has had enough grief from that direction. Meaning no disrespect to the dead, but she were a little tart, and as it turns out, a heathen one as well.”

Ah, Ness thought. The vicar had been in love with Melony. To be certain, she asked, “Are you saying that the vicar held Miss Fry in esteem?”

“I shouldn’t be saying naught about what the vicar felt or did,” Tilly answered, chewing her bottom lip and clearly wanting to talk.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to meddle,” Ness offered.

The housekeeper immediately relented, “Ye don’t want to be hearing about that part of it, m’lady, and now, it won’t help none, will it?”

“No, perhaps not. So then, Tilly, what might help is if I knew who was in Miss Fry’s confidence. We women all have one special friend who will hear our ups and our downs.”

“The magistrates made some inquiries, but not one village girl would own up to being that one’s friend,” Tilly said.

Ness sighed heavily. She was getting nowhere. “Surely she must have had one friend? She could not have been totally alone all through her young life? One friend from childhood that carried on…?”

Tilly swung one foot and said finally, “Aye, well, it isn’t common knowledge, coz they kept it quiet and I don’t know that she’d own it now, seeing as Melony come to no good, but there was a slip of a girl, daughter to old Widdons of Widdons’ Mill, just down the road, you know. They thought no one saw them with their heads together in the back woods now and then. I often wondered if that Widdons girl was part of that coven.”

Ness nearly tripped as she hastily stood. This was beyond everything wonderful. This would lead her somewhere. She was sure of it. “Thank you, Tilly. Thank you so much.”

The older woman rose to her feet and added, “Lookee, m’lady. The viscount was a good man and I never believed he was behind all of this. He helped my family when we were on hard times, he did, but he is dead, and best leave it that way, because someone wicked…a murderer is out there. Ye don’t want him looking yer way.”

Ness took the woman’s callused hands. “Oh Tilly, thank you for telling me all this, but we can’t leave it, can we? There is Mary who will have to live the shadow of this horror. This…needs clearing up, doesn’t it?”

Tilly shook her ruddy cheeks. “Aye, shame about young Mary. No, his lordship was no devil and she is just an innocent.” She smiled and added, “I can remember him as a wild blade…all heart, rough and tumble with a ready smile and laugh. No, he weren’t behind this evil. Didn’t have it in him.”

A vision of the viscount in his youth formed in Ness’s mind and a fantasy began to tickle her thoughts. She swished such things out of her brain and waved herself off.

Now, now she had something to go on.