"They're gone," Nellie told her. "We won't catch them now."

"After all that," Sadie added.

"Well, best get back home." George straightened up. "Her ladys.h.i.+p was kind enough to give me a lift on her motorcycle. But seeing as you, Nellie, and Florrie have been through such a terrible experience, I think you should ride back with her ladys.h.i.+p to the village. I'll take one of those bicycles in the barn and the other two women can ride back with me."

"I left my bicycle at the manor," Polly protested.

"You can have one of the boys' bicycles," Sadie told her as they trudged back across the field to the barn.

"I can't ride a bicycle with a crossbar," Polly said, sounding really tired.

"Well, then, you can ride mine and I'll ride the boy's one." Sadie linked her arm through her friend's. "How'd you lot know we was in the barn, anyhow?"

"When we got to the windmill and no one was there, George remembered as how one of the farmers told him he kept hearing a Jeep near one of his fields. We saw the barn and decided to have a look, just in case."

"I hope Lady Elizabeth forgives us for knocking her to the ground," Nellie said mournfully.

Sadie chuckled. "She will. She's a good sort. I just wish we could have caught them b.u.g.g.e.rs."

"Too bad they weren't the real musketeers," Nellie said. "Just think if we'd caught them. We'd have had our names in the newspapers."

"Well, we couldn't even capture three schoolboys, so I don't think we'd have much chance against the musketeers." Sadie lowered her voice as they reached the barn. "Just be glad it weren't the musketeers. You and Florrie could be dead by now. Like that poor bloke at the wedding."

"Yeah, I'll be glad when whoever did that is caught and in prison."

"Me, too." Sadie s.h.i.+vered. "I just hope we don't meet up with him in the dark on the way home. I think we've all had enough excitement for one night."

"I've had enough to last me a year," Polly murmured. "I think I'll stick to the Tudor Arms for my excitement from now on."

By the time Elizabeth got back to the manor, Violet had already gone to bed. Which was just as well, she told herself as she wearily made her way to the conservatory. Violet tended to get extremely testy when Elizabeth left without telling the housekeeper where she was going.

She badly needed a gla.s.s of sherry to settle her nerves. The incident in the barn had upset her more than she was willing to admit. When those bodies had come flying at her out of the dark, she'd been certain they were the musketeers bent on destroying her. Nellie's weight had crushed the air out of her lungs, and for a moment or two she thought she'd taken her last breath.

Predictably, her thoughts had gone immediately to Earl. She'd wondered how long he would mourn her pa.s.sing, and how soon he would find someone else to take her place. Visions of the brief times they had spent together had flashed through her mind, and she'd been filled with a deep sadness at the thought that she would never be able to enjoy such moments again.

She smiled, wondering what he'd say if he knew how foolish she was where he was concerned. Reaching the door of the conservatory, she pushed it open, then paused in shock.

He was there, lounging in his favorite rocking chair, his head back, his eyes closed.

For a second or two she wondered if she'd conjured up a vision out of her dreams, but then she heard his rhythmic breathing and knew he was really there, sound asleep.

She crept into the room and gently closed the door. A half-empty gla.s.s of Scotch sat on the table next to his elbow. In sleep his face looked younger, less tense, his strong jaw relaxed. She had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss his mouth.

They had an agreement, she reminded herself, as she had done so often. Until his divorce was final, they would keep their distance. Or at least try to do so. She smiled again at the memory of the kiss they'd shared on the cliffs . . . was it only a couple of days ago? It seemed like weeks now.

Very carefully she poured herself a gla.s.s of sherry and settled down on the white wicker couch. She was prepared to wait all night for him to awaken. He needed his sleep, and the escape that it afforded him from the h.e.l.l he faced every day.

Only a few minutes pa.s.sed, however, before his eyelids flickered. She'd heard the change in his breathing and was watching him when he opened his eyes.

His boyish smile warmed her as no fire ever could. "I've died and gone to heaven," he said softly. "There's an angel sitting next to me."

"A rather tarnished angel, I'm afraid," she said, choosing to cover her confusion with her usual dry humor. "What are you doing here?"

"Giving you a nice surprise, I hope." He stretched his arms above his head, presenting her heart with yet more cause to flutter wildly.

"It's a wonderful surprise. I didn't see your Jeep outside."

"The boys dropped me off on their way to the pub."

She found it impossible to remove her gaze from his face. "I was under the impression this morning that you would not be able to get away from the base anytime soon."

"So was I, but our mission was aborted due to the bad weather, so here I am."

"Wonderful." She beamed at him. "How long?"

"Just for tonight. I have to be back in the morning."

Oh, if only she could spend the night with him. The forbidden thought popped into her mind, shocking her to the core. She had never been that kind of person, having been brought up by the strictest of parents.

Her divorce had caused her agonies of embarra.s.sment and had brought shame on her prominent family. She had yet to live that down in the village. She could only imagine the reaction if she should give in to her wanton thoughts. At the same time, she had to marvel at the effect this one man could have on her. Love like this was a powerful thing indeed.

"You're looking very serious," Earl murmured. "Was it something I said?"

She managed a light laugh. "Heavens, no. It's just that I've had rather an exhausting day." She filled him in on the events of the past few hours.

"I was getting a little worried about you," he said, when she was finished. "Violet didn't know you'd gone out. She invited me to wait in here for you, but I could tell she was worried, too." His gaze probed her face. "So the kidnappers disappeared?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I would have liked to see them punished for what they did to Nellie and Florrie, and then there's that Jeep they destroyed on the beach. We still don't know what damage they did at the base."

"I'll probably find out tomorrow," Earl said, sounding grim. "What about the murder case? How's that coming?"

Elizabeth sighed. "It's complicated. False leads, mixed signals, not much evidence to go on . . . I'm really no closer than I was at the beginning."

"I guess the constables aren't much help, either."

"Your guess is right. I do have one more person I want to talk to tomorrow. Other than that, I really don't know what to think."

"Well, I really don't want to waste my one night at home talking about murder and other unpleasant things." He smiled at her so sweetly her heart ached. "Tell me what you were like when you were little."

"Precocious."

He laughed. "I figured that." He took a sip of his Scotch and put it down. "No, really. Tell me. I want to know."

"I'll tell if you tell me what you were like as a little boy."

His grin widened. "You've got a deal."

She settled back to enjoy what she knew was going to be a fascinating conversation. If only she could go on like this forevera"sitting so close to him, listening to his deep voice, getting to know him, watching the laughter light up his blue eyes, and feeling as if she were seventeen once more and so madly, madly in love.

It was late when she finally said good night to him. She could tell he wanted to kiss her. She had never wanted anything more in her life, but she knew once they gave in to the temptation, others would follow. That path was too dangerous; it was still too soon.

She lay awake for a long time thinking about him and their nebulous future. She'd tried to avoid as much as possible thinking about what would happen to them when the war eventually ended. He would be sent back to America, of course.

Would he ask her to go back with him? Could she go if he did? Those two questions were unanswerable. She could only hold on to what they had now, watching the days slip away, waiting for his divorce to become final.

What if the war ended before that happened? What if he had to go back a married man? Would they ever be free to love as she so desperately wanted? Was she being a fool clinging to protocol, wasting what little time she could have with him with her vague fears of further besmirching her tremulous reputation?

Perhaps, but her values and heritage were impossible to ignore. She flung herself over onto her side and buried her face in the pillow. She had to stop tormenting herself with her doubts. Her emotions were at war with her morals, and there wasn't much she could do about it. Sooner or later she would have to face the inevitable, and one or the other would win. It was only a matter of time.

She could either abandon her legacy and all it stood for to follow the man she loved halfway across the world, or wallow in regrets for what she had missed for the rest of her life. Only she could make that decision. When the time was right. Until then, all she could do was pray that whatever she decided, she would choose the right path.

For both of them.

CHAPTER 15.

Earl had already left when Elizabeth went down to the kitchen the next morning. Violet told her he had stopped in to say good-bye, and that he hadn't wanted to wake her.

Elizabeth wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She always avoided actually saying good-bye to him, yet she bitterly resented losing the chance to see him, if only for a minute or two. She ate her breakfast in silence, trying to ignore her housekeeper's attempts to find out where she'd gone the night before.

Martin, as usual, was hidden behind the newspaper, making little tsking noises whenever he saw something that upset him.

Violet's patience finally gave out as Elizabeth was finis.h.i.+ng her second cup of tea. "I don't know why we have to have so many secrets in this house," she muttered. "All I ask is that you let me know when you're leaving, Lizzie, so I don't have to worry about you. Remember how you worried about me when you didn't know where I was."

"If I'd told you where I was going," Elizabeth said mildly, "you'd have worried even more."

Violet spun around to stare at her. "I knew it! You went after that murderer, didn't you."

The newspaper rattled as Martin lowered it. "Murderer? What murderer? Don't tell me someone else has been killed."

"It's the same one, you nitwit," Violet snapped. "The man they found in the cellar at the wedding."

"What was he doing in the cellar in the first place, that's what I want to know." He peered at Elizabeth over the top of his gla.s.ses. "They don't have any wine down there, you know."

"How'd you know that?" Violet demanded. "You've never been down there. How'd you know what they have or don't have?"

"Someone told me." Martin lifted the newspaper again and disappeared behind it.

Elizabeth and Violet exchanged glances. "Who told you that, Martin?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I don't know, madam. Some young fellow in the kitchen. I didn't catch his name."

"Why did he tell you there was no wine in the cellar?"

Martin lowered the newspaper again. "Because I asked him if there was any down there, madam. I don't like champagne. Nasty stuff. The bubbles fly up my nose and make my eyes water. Most unbecoming and quite embarra.s.sing."

"They had scrumpy, too," Violet reminded him.

Martin gave her a withering look. "I don't care to imbibe an obnoxious liquid that has been produced by fermenting sour apples."

"Where do you think wine comes from then?" Violet demanded.

"Wine is made from grapes, as any fool should know."

"Well, then."

Martin sniffed. "Grapes are far superior to apples."

"They're still fermented fruit, aren't they? It's just a different color, that's all."

Martin sat in silence for a moment, then he shook the paper before lifting it in front of his face. "One might have expected a ludicrous comment like that from such an unenlightened cretin," he murmured.

"Here, what do you mean by that?" Violet looked at Elizabeth for help.

Hoping to spare her housekeeper's feelings, Elizabeth declined to answer.

Unfortunately, Martin had no such scruples. "Cretin," he repeated. "I believe in the more popular vernacular, the word is *nitwit.'"

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but Elizabeth forestalled her. "Martin, when were you in the kitchen asking for wine?"

"At the wedding, madam."

"Yes, Martin. I understand that. I meant about what time was it?"

"I didn't look at the clock. It was when those silly women were making such a fuss about the knife to cut the wedding cake." Martin shook the newspaper then turned the page. "I was looking for something to drink with my food. It's not good for the digestion, to eat without drinking something. All I could see was champagne and that disgusting cider, so I went into the kitchen to see if they had a bottle of wine."

"And that's when you saw the gentleman?"

"Yes, madam."

"What was he doing?"

Martin gave her a puzzled look. "Doing?"

"Well, was he just standing there, was he by the cellar door, was he at the sink?"

"Actually, madam, he was on his way out. He seemed in rather a hurry. He was quite abrupt when I asked him about the wine. I apologized for bothering him and said I would look in the cellar for a bottle, but he became quite agitated. He was most emphatic about there not being any wine down there. He actually escorted me out of that kitchen, rather rudely in my opinion. I had to settle for some insipid tea that the bakery woman had made earlier. The most I can say for that is that it was wet."

Elizabeth barely heard his last comments. "This gentleman. Was he tall, rather stout, with graying hair?"

Martin nodded. "Yes, madam. That's the chap. I think he was with the leggy bridesmaid. Good-looking woman, for her age."

Violet huffed out her breath but Elizabeth ignored her. "Of course," she said softly. "I should have known."