The Seduction of Mr. Yarnsby

by McQueen, Hildie

  “Mother enjoys charity events,” Alexander stated. “She’s always been one to do such things for the needy.”

  Although many affluent families participated in such endeavors, Vivian couldn’t picture Alexander doing it. There was so much she wanted to learn about him, but of course it was curiosity and not interest in the man himself.

  Alexander guided them to the room past the foyer. It was a beautiful parlor with a view of gardens to the rear of the property. They meandered through two dining rooms, a small one closer to the parlor and a larger one more suitable for entertaining.

  They went up the stairs to where there were a pair of sitting rooms and five bedchambers. Alexander allowed them to wander through the rooms as he stood in landing between the two wings and peered out the windows. When they joined him, he motioned to the opposite side. “There are another three rooms on this side. One is my bedchamber, and there is a sitting room and another smaller bedroom that my parents used as a nursery.”

  Penelope gasped. “Your nursery? Has it been redecorated?”

  “It has been changed to more of a dressing room,” he commented with a soft look at her exuberant sister.

  “We do not wish to invade your privacy. Thank you for allowing us to visit. It is truly a beautiful home.” Vivian gave her sister a pointed look.

  As usual, Penelope ignored her and began walking in the direction of Alexander’s private space.

  “I apologize for my sister’s lack of consideration,” Vivian said, stretching her neck when Penelope opened the door to what had been Alexander’s nursery.

  He chuckled and walked after Penelope. “I don’t mind. I did invite you.”

  The room was rather large for a nursery, in Vivian’s opinion. She’d never been to the home of someone who boasted so much wealth. When she turned to speak to Alexander, he was closer than Vivian expected, causing them to bump chests.

  “Oh,” Vivian exclaimed, taking a step back. “I-it is a very large…”

  “Do you plan to see Anthony Foster again?”

  “Wh-what?” Vivian met his gaze. “I haven’t made any plans. Why would you ask?”

  Narrowed eyes met hers as if he didn’t believe her. “Did he not ask to visit the other night?”

  The questioning annoyed her. “You must know that your aunt invited the Fosters to the dinner, and it is she who will be responsible for the guest list of the upcoming festivities.” She pressed a finger into his chest. “Don’t you dare intimidate him like you have done all my other suitors. I am nearing the end of my season. I wish to marry.”

  There was a slight flare to his nostrils.

  “Don’t you dare do that thing with your nose either,” Vivian hissed.

  He frowned. “What thing?”

  Penelope pushed past them and opened the door to Alexander’s bedchamber. Just as she took a step, Vivian pulled her back. “We should allow Mr. Yarnsby to not show us this room.”

  “Very well,” Penelope quipped and walked toward the landing. “What a beautiful view.”

  “I would like to continue this conversation,” Alexander said. “Why did you call me mister?” He was about to say something else, but then he seemed to see something in his bedroom. He pulled her forward. “You should go.”

  Taking her arm, he hurried her to the landing. “Penelope, you and your sister must leave. Upon arriving at Lark’s Song, please ask William to come at once.”

  As he guided them both to the lower floor in such a hurry, Vivian was nervous she might fall.

  “Is something wrong?” Vivian asked breathlessly. “I am not sure we should leave you alone.”

  “Harold is here. I will not be alone. I am not in danger.”

  Vivian wanted to believe him, but it was evident something or someone was upstairs that he did not wish them to see. “Are you certain?” She looked up to the next floor.

  “I promise.” He looked at her for only a moment before glancing up the stairs. It was obvious he was anxious for them to leave.

  “Penelope, come, we should head back to Lark’s Song. You can visit the village with Clara; she has plans to go today.”

  At the reminder, Penelope nodded. “I do wish to go. I hope it’s not too late.”

  Once Mary came running out and they climbed into the carriage, barely sitting before it lurched forward. The horses urged to a faster speed than customary.

  “What happened?” Penelope asked, her wide eyes moving from Vivian to the window.

  Vivian peered out to see that Alexander had already disappeared into the house. “I don’t know. Whatever it was, I have a feeling it was not good. He visibly paled.”

  “I noticed,” Penelope replied. “I pretended not to.” She leaned closer, and whispered “Do you think someone else was there? Perhaps an intruder?”

  That someone had hidden in the house was what Vivian feared. Alexander could be fighting for his life. “I wonder the same. We will alert William and perhaps have him return with a constable.”

  Chapter 7

  Alexander raced back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Bare feet stuck out from the far side of the bed. Someone was on the floor. Prepared to wake whomever it was, he fortified himself and walked closer. Upon rounding the bed, it was obvious that the person would not put up much of a fight.

  The man was dead.

  “Harold!” Alexander went in search of the older man. Harold was already hurrying up the stairs.

  “What is wrong, Mr. Alexander?” Harold asked moving past him as if to protect him.

  “There is a dead man in my bedchamber.”

  Harold jumped to his feet. “Are you certain?”

  “I would not jest about something like this. Was someone staying here recently?”

  The older man gave him an incredulous look. “Absolutely not.” He stalked around him and Alexander followed. Together they entered the bedroom, and Harold continued until he was standing over the body. “My Lord.”

  “Do you recognize him?” Alexander asked, coming to stand next to Harold, who crouched down to get a closer look.

  “Yes, I do. He is a local man. I can’t put a name to the face right now. You should remember him; he was often in trouble for stealing and such.”

  “Why is he here? And who killed him?”

  “I would have, had I caught him skulking about,” Harold replied, holding up a fist. “The audacity of this criminal has no bounds.”

  “Harold, the man is dead. Your indignation is literally falling on deaf ears.” Alexander did his best not to smile. “While I complete a thorough search of the property, please go to the village and fetch the constable.”

  They went back downstairs, and Harold soon rode off in the direction of the village. On horseback at a gallop, it would take less than an hour for Harold to reach the constable. Alexander calculated that someone would be back in less than three.

  Hopefully at about the same time, William would arrive as well.

  Since Vivian and Penelope had gone into every room of the house, he was fairly certain no one was about. The only space they’d not gone into was the solarium. Passing through the doorway there, he noted everything was just as he’d left it. The bright sunlit room, with its seating arrangements, desk, and several potted plants, was his favorite. As a child, he had spent many days there with his parents.

  Until suddenly, when he was about ten, things had changed.

  His father was away in London all the time, and his mother stopped pretending to care about much. It was then they’d stopped sending for him from boarding school, where he’d met William. Since his parents did not send for Alexander during the holidays, he’d gone to the Torringtons’ instead.

  After searching the rest of the floor, he went back up the stairs and walked through every other room.

  The house was ridiculously large, he decided after walking through the sixth bedroom and then to the side of the house where his room was.

  No one else was about. Taking advantage of the fact he’
d given his staff the holidays off, the drifter had come to the house and made himself at home.

  Harold had only recently returned to oversee the repairs to the windows and ceiling. None of these tasks would have taken them to the side of the house where his bedroom was.

  He hesitated at the door to the bedroom where the body was. Did whoever killed the man mistakenly think it was him? Would the duo who claimed to be his half-siblings go this far?

  It made little sense because upon his death, all his wealth would go to his mother.

  Then again, there was the possibility that they’d forged documents. They’d gotten away with withdrawing money from a bank with a document he was certain was not real.

  It seemed only a short while later that William burst through the front door, calling out his name. Alex, who’d been in the solarium, walked out to meet him.

  “What happened?” William gave him a cursory scan, ensuring he was not hurt. “Vivian is convinced someone is here.”

  “Someone is here. Dead in my bedchamber. Looks to have been dead for a few days.”

  William’s eyes flashed to the second floor. “Who?”

  “According to Harold, a man from the village. A ne’er do well.”

  “Why would he be here, dead in your bedchamber?”

  Alex shook his head. “That is the question I am asking myself.”

  Together, they went upstairs so William could see for himself. His friend lowered to the floor and peered at the dead man’s face. “He was poisoned.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “By the blueish coloring around his lips. Arsenic.”

  * * *

  “Is there anyone who wishes you harm?” the constable asked, his eyes darting from Alex to Harold. “How was it possible for Peter to remain here unnoticed?”

  “As you can see”—Alex motioned to the empty house—“my staff was given the holidays off. Everyone in the village is aware that I do this every year; some of my staff live there.”

  “In order to gain access, one would need a key,” the constable continued. “Do all your staff have keys?”

  “No,” Harold replied, looking down his nose at the constable. “Only the housekeeper, who is my wife, and I do. I will add that in all these years, we have never once lost them.”

  The constable studied the surroundings for a moment, as if expecting clues to jump out from the walls. “To your knowledge, does anyone wish you harm, Mr. Yarnsby?”

  “To answer your question,” Alex said, “there were two people who came to Father’s funeral, claiming to be my half-siblings. They informed me they had hired help to challenge his will.”

  “Their names?” the constable asked, pencil poised.

  “Jasper and Bettina d’Arques.”

  “They are not here, I am sure,” William said. “Probably hired someone to kill Alexander. Whoever it was thought the interloper was he.”

  The constable glared at William. Clearly, he’d come to the same conclusion but was annoyed that he did not get to state it first. “Mr. Yarnsby, I suggest you do not eat or drink anything kept here.”

  Harold blanched, and his eyes widened. “Good Lord, I just drank tea and ate cold biscuits.”

  “You would have been dead by now,” the constable said by way of assurance. “There was an open bottle of brandy in the bedroom. I am positive that is what caused Peter’s demise.”

  Two of his staff who’d been called to help came down the stairs with the draped body on a stretcher, carrying past to a waiting cart.

  Together with the constable, Alex, William, and Harold walked out to the front of the house to look on as the men handled the body.

  The constable neared the cart and spoke to the two in low tones. The men glanced toward Alex and nodded. They rode around the back of the estate with the body.

  “Can you remain hidden for the time being? I will begin to make discreet inquiries in the village in case the people in question have the idea that the killer was successful. I have asked them to temporarily place the wrapped body in your family crypt. Do you trust them not to say anything?” the constable asked, looking to where the men with the body had gone.

  “I will ensure it,” Harold replied and hurried off after the young men.

  “They are good people, have worked in the stables for a few years. They are related to Harold, so I do trust them,” Alexander said, wondering what would happen next.

  Riding back to Lark’s Song, Alexander pondered the reason for the duo wishing for his demise. If they were truly his father’s offspring, he would have ensured they were taken care of in the event of his death. Yet they worked in a dress shop, which he gathered did not bring the kind of affluence his father could have left them in.

  He had little doubt that his father had a lover or two in London. Perhaps one had been Jasper and Bettina’s mother, however, the fact he’d not left them an inheritance gave him pause as to the authenticity of who they said to be.

  What about their mother? Neither had mentioned her, and according to the detective, their mother did not appear to have made any claims. Perhaps she was French and had returned to France many years earlier.

  Upon arriving at Lark’s Song, they were greeted by alarmed family. Alexander had always known he was cared about, but the fact that the Duke and Duchess Torrington had been summoned was endearing.

  He was immediately ushered into the front room. The duchess pulled him into a tight hug, and the duke, normally a quiet man, immediately demanded to know who would wish him harm.

  While Clara hurriedly ordered food to be brought, Vivian and her younger sister sat in chairs, both watching on with rapt curiosity.

  Within minutes, everyone surrounded a table in the dining room for a simple meal of soup and salty biscuits.

  The duke met Alex’s gaze. “Whoever tried to do you harm will pay. I will not stand for it.”

  Alex gave him an assuring look. “I have an idea of who it may be, however, it will be hard to prove. As of this moment, I must remain out of sight.”

  “If,” William interjected, “they believe their plan succeeded, then they may try to gain access to his father’s accounts.”

  Duchess Torrington let out an exasperated breath. “It’s those two. The pair who showed up at your father’s funeral. Horrible creatures.”

  As they continued to eat, Duchess Torrington told Vivian and Penelope about Jasper and Bettina.

  Vivian met his gaze. “If they are indeed who they claim to be, why would they have to go to extremes?”

  “My question exactly,” Alex replied.

  “Well, this certainly puts a damper on the planned festivities. Thank goodness we only planned for family for New Year’s Eve,” Clara said.

  His aunt rounded the table to take his face with both hands. She pressed a kiss to first one cheek and then the other. “I am so grateful you were staying here. I cannot imagine life without you.”

  She began weeping, and he stood and took her into his arms. “The birds would miss us,” he quipped, glad when she chuckled.

  His voice gruff, the duke came and took his wife in his arms. “Now, now, dear. Alexander and William will outlive us both.”

  Alex noted that Vivian’s eyes misted, and she wiped at one while looking away.

  “I will remain here until after the holidays. The day after New Year’s, I will return to London. If it was indeed the two, they will not hesitate to proclaim my death and attempt to gain access to father’s accounts.”

  William gave him a pointed look. “I will come with you.”

  Once they finished eating, William, the duke, and Alexander went to the study. Alexander poured himself a rather large portion of brandy and took a deep drink.

  “We must dispatch a message to your mother, just to ensure they do not try anything,” the duke added.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I will hire personal guards for her as well.”

  Lowering into a chair, Alex studied the liquid in his glass. “Why would the
y do something so soon? If successful, it would be too obvious it was them who’d try to kill me. Especially if they go to the bank and actuary.”

  “Greed clouds judgement,” William remarked. “I believe after hiring whoever it was that poisoned that man, they immediately returned to London. Or perhaps they hired the person in London.”

  “When I stopped by the dress shop, a young boy told me they’d gone to France. I wonder if they are near here somewhere instead?” Alexander let out a long breath. “We should all tread with care.”

  Needing fresh air, Alex excused himself and went out through the kitchens to the back of the house. The normally robust garden was now dormant, most of the plants gone until spring.

  Vivian stood with her back to him, a thick fur-lined cape around her shoulders. She peered up at the sky. Seeming to be in deep thought, she’d not heard him walk out. He stilled, enjoying the view of her jawline and neck as she continued to look at the stars.

  After a long moment, she looked down, bowing her head as if in prayer. It made it impossible for him to move as he didn’t wish to startle her.

  He looked on as she kept her head down, and before long, he fell into the same pose. He prayed for not only his own protection, but for those at the house, and his mother as well.

  “Alexander?”

  Vivian had approached and watched him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t see clear enough to notice your eyes were closed.”

  Chapter 8

  Vivian ached to reach out and touch Alexander. For the first time since meeting him, he seemed approachable, vulnerable even. She wasn’t sure if he’d been praying or simply thinking, but when she’d walked closer to him, she noticed that not only was his head bowed but also his eyes were closed.

  Then the darkened gaze met hers, and she found herself at a loss for words. What did one say to someone whose life was in danger? What would have happened had he been staying at his own home instead of at his dearest friends’?