Pendragon

"But you still might."

"That is true. Go away. I'm trying to train these cats."

William dusted himself off, gave his brother a very uncertain look, and was out of the room very quickly.

Thomas said slowly, "You defended me."

"What would you expect me to do? Tell your dimwitted half brother that you ignore your new wife, that you treat her like she bores you silly, and thus he can say anything at all he likes about you?"

"No. You're not like that."

"Is it possible that another man did impregnate Melissa Winters?"

"No."

"William said he was in Glasgow with Aunt Augusta."

"He was. I sent him there after I beat him to within an inch of his life."

"Well, good." Meggie wiped her hands on her skirt, looked over at Oscar, who was now curled into a tight ball, sleeping in a corner. "He doesn't look like much of a wi

"Niles says he's fast."

"Did you see him execute that backward leap?"

"I wasn't looking at him at the time."

"What's wrong, Thomas?"

"I came to get you for tea, Meggie. My mother, Libby, and Lord Kipper are in the drawing room. Cook has already brought the tea and cakes. You're the only one missing."

"And William."

"Undoubtedly Barnacle will nab him."

"I see. All right," Meggie said, then looked over to see Barnacle grimacing toward them, his face contorted in awful agony.

She just looked at him, an eyebrow arched. "You're supposed to nab William."

"I'll nab him all right, but this is more important. It's vital to set things in their proper order and his lordship-our lordship, that is, my lady-is the most important thing hereabouts in any order. He has told me to tell you that he wishes to see you at your convenience in the estate room. And here he is telling you all by himself-and here I am doing the telling as well, but no matter. Two times is better than a chance on none doing the telling."

"I am very afraid, Barnacle," Thomas said, "that I understood you."

Barnacle beamed at him before he remembered, and reset his face into a fearful grimace.

Meggie gave the old man a smile and a very light pat on the back. "Yes, he has told me himself, Barnacle, and now so have you. I surely haven't a chance of forgetting now. Thank you." When he hobbled out, moaning with each stiff step, Meggie turned again to her husband. "You said tea. Barnacle said you wanted to see me in the estate room. What's going on, Thomas?"

"I just wanted to tell you that there is another package from your family." He paused a moment, examined his fingernails, and said easily, "Perhaps it's another gift from your almost cousin."

"Jeremy? Another gift? Probably not."

Then Meggie paused. There'd been something different in his voice when he'd said that, something just out of her reach.

"Tea or the package first, my lord?"

"That would depend on how excited you are about receiving another present from your almost cousin."

This time it smacked her in the nose. Jeremy, he was jealous of Jeremy. Had he heard something? No, surely neither her father nor Mary Rose would have said anything. Goodness, Mary Rose didn't even know. She was shaking her head even as she knew that he couldn't know, just couldn't. Then what was going on?

"His name is Jeremy Stanton-Greville," she said. "You met him at our wedding. He is five years older than you. He is married, his wife expecting a child. It is no more likely to be a present from him than from any other cousin or uncle or aunt or brother."

"I see," he said, and she wanted to hit him for that snide tone.

"I must go now and straighten myself before presenting myself in the drawing room with your blessed mother. I will look at my package later."

"Take care, Meggie. Five minutes, no more. Otherwise I will send someone for you."

"I doubt someone will try to bash me on the head on my way to my bedchamber."

"Five minutes."

She merely nodded and stalked out of the room. How could he possibly be jealous of Jeremy? It made no sense at all. But his voice had been different. She sighed. She just didn't know, had no idea, and she'd thought and thought about what she could have done to alienate him so very much. All she could figure out was that her husband had gotten himself in a snit because Jeremy sent her a carving of Mr. Cork. It was ridiculous.

She nearly knocked over her mother-in-law she was so deeply immersed in her own thoughts.

"Watch your direction, Missy!"

"What? Oh, ma'am, sorry I nearly plowed you down. It would surely be different if I'd meant to, but I didn't."

"You are entirely too smart for your own good. Just look at that dreadful chandelier overhead with all that raw-looking rope holding it up. My ancestors are thumping in their graves."

"You don't have any ancestors to thump here, ma'am. It's the Kavanaughs, don't you remember?"

"A low lot, the Kavanaughs," Madeleine said, staring at that rope, "so low they don't deserve to have ancestors here. No matter. Now, as for you, Missy-"

"It's my lady."

"Bah. I can tell that my dearest son is already tired of you. He keeps his distance from you, just plain avoids you, everyone has noticed it. Didn't take him long, did it? You are boring, obviously, you no longer amuse him, and he bitterly regrets marrying you. At least he got a lovely big dowry out of it. Well, are you pregnant yet?"

"Ask your son, ma'am," Meggie said, and nearly knocked her mother-in-law down on purpose this time. She managed to hold her temper, and forced herself to breathe in the wonderful fresh lemon wax that had shined up every bit of furniture and armor in the castle. There wasn't a single cobweb in any corner. Everything shone. Even though Mrs. Black couldn't see into any corners, she claimed she could always hear spiders weaving their webs and she didn't hear a single thing now.

Meggie was smiling as she strode away from her mother-in-law, shoulders finely squared, her step light until she thought of Thomas and knew that his mother was right. He was bored with her, tired of her, whatever. What had happened? What had she done? Surely it couldn't have anything to do with Jeremy.

I'm not boring, she thought, and pulled an early blooming rose from a vase that sparkled with cleanliness and crushed it in her fist. I train champion cat racers. How can that be boring?

Madeleine called after her, "I will prove to you that I can train racing cats better than you can."

Meggie didn't even pause. But she did smile, just for a moment. Madeleine just didn't give up.

The package from home-it was a painting of her family. She wasn't aware that she was crying until Thomas said, all stiff and hard, "It is a fairly good painting. I do believe though that Mary Rose's hair is not quite as red as that rendered by the artist. Also, Max has a sharper chin. As for Leo, he looks ready to vault over a fence and race around the fields. All in all, it is excellent. Stop crying."

Meggie sniffed, then set the painting on a table against the wall, backed up, and stared at it. "It's just excellent. My father knew I would be terribly homesick. He's the best father in the world."

Thomas didn't say anything. "Shall we take it downstairs and show it to everyone? Too bad your uncle the earl isn't in it. My mother would surely appreciate you more if reminded of your high-ranking relatives. I forgot to tell her that your aunt is the daughter of a duke. Hmmm. Maybe you can salvage her yet."

"She still calls me Missy. I've corrected her twice, just a bit on the snide side. I don't think she'll ever stop."

Thomas nodded. "Probably not. Let's go." He carried the painting all the way to the drawing room, set it atop the mantel, and stepped back.

Libby said, "Goodness, Meggie, your father is a fine figure of a man. Does he truly have silver wings in his hair?"