“What of his wife? And his children? He had five, did he not?”
Marko nodded. “He came back a few days ago, then they all vanished. Then came the news he’d been arrested.”
“From whom?”
“Oscar Boswell. He was on the ship with him.”
Orelia rubbed a hand across her face. “And why was he not arrested?”
Marko paused in laying out the chess pieces. “Why do you care, Orelia?”
“I believe he was wrongly arrested.”
“Oscar said little, only that Manfri was taken in for stealing. They found some wine in his possession—very expensive wine.”
“Where is Oscar?” she asked.
“Likely at one of the inns, where else?”
Orelia nodded. “Thank you, Marko.”
He eyed her. “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You are no longer one of us, Orelia. Why should you care for his fate? We are all resigned to it. He did wrong and now he will pay. More harshly than we would hope but we are used to such events.”
She stood and paused. “Was I ever one of you?”
“To me you were. To many of us you were.”
“To many, I was not, not even my mother,” she said.
“I am sorry for the way many treated you. The outside world does not trust us, so we do not trust the outside world. You are between two worlds, but with that new husband of yours, you can make a world of your own.”
“I intend to.”
But she would do it alone.
After she discovered the truth.
***
Orelia swallowed the lump in her throat and peered up at Keswick. The day had grown grey and a light drizzle had turned the sandstone color of the house to a darker brown. She swiped her damp hair from her face and moved around the back of the house. One of the gardeners spotted her and gave her a wave.
Apparently, she had not been completely forgotten these past four days.
She waved back and made her way down the servant’s steps. Pushing the door open, she uttered up a quick prayer, hoping the others had not forgotten her either and would allow her access to the house.
“Orelia!” One of the maids exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here? Goodness you are wet. Have you come to see His Grace, because he is still not returned from London?”
She could not help feel a little relieved. As much as she needed to inform him what she was doing, she did not need to do it face to face.
“I just wanted to leave him a letter. Do you think I can sneak upstairs?”
Mrs. Corley strode in and folded her arms. “Her Grace is having luncheon. Be quick mind.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Corley. I shall be as quick as I can.”
“Will we be seeing you again anytime soon?” asked the housekeeper.
“I-I couldn’t say.”
The woman glanced her over. “Well, I hope that we do. You were a good influence on His Grace.”
Orelia failed to see how a gypsy girl could be a good influence on a duke but she merely smiled. “I shall only be a trice.”
Making her way upstairs, she ignored the slight tingling behind her eyes. The decadence of the abbey had slowly faded upon living there. Instead, elements of it had become familiar. Little bits of cornicing were pleasant to run her hands over or there was that patterned wallpaper in the morning room in which she liked to see what new things she could spy amongst the swirls. Each bold portrait of various stern ancestors had begun to feel like seeing friends.
This, she supposed, was what having a home felt like.
Unfortunately, she could not waste time greeting the portraits or staring at wallpaper. She had a mission to carry out.
She hastened around the corner and emerged upstairs. Stepping through to the hallway, she straightened her shoulders and strode over to the table at one side of the room. If she left it here, Reed would see it soon enough. She wasn’t sure she dared try to sneak into his room and she certainly did not want to get any of the serving maids in trouble with the valet.
Once she had done this, she would head, on foot, into town, and finish what they started. She would find Thomas again and arrange the meeting. After speaking with Oscar Boswell, it was clear Manfri was not the man behind this. He’d done what he needed to do for the coin, nothing more. But she still did not know who had put Manfri up to the false confession.
She placed the letter down, aware it shook in her hand. She grimaced at the scrawled writing. With the help of one of the elders, she had penned this note. She only prayed it said what she wanted it to as even if her reading skills were naught, Marko’s were only usually enough to get by.
Turning, she stilled at the sound of a door opening.
“Orelia?”
She rotated slowly to see the duchess emerge from the morning room. “F-forgive me. I only wanted to...” She motioned to the letter.
The duchess moved slowly toward her. “For Reed?”
Orelia nodded.
“He is not here at present.”
Orelia twined her hands together. How odd. His mother did not look angry that she was here. “Yes, I was told.”
“He’s been in London the past few days. I have no idea what he is doing.”
“I’m sure he shall be home soon.”
A wash of sadness came across his mother’s face. “I had hoped he might not disappear anymore with you around. You seemed to settle him a little.”
“I did?”
She gave a light shrug. “Even as a boy, he wanted to be free. He would slip out of the house when he was meant to be studying and would disappear for hours on end only to come back muddy and wet—but always with a smile upon his face. He worried me horribly, however.”
Orelia smiled at the memory. She could picture a young Reed doing just that.
“I never thought he would grow up to be the same, though. All the men in my family stopped travelling and adventuring as soon as they inherited a title or took on new responsibility.”
“Reed is not much like other men.”
“That he is not,” the duchess agreed. “And you are not much like other women. I think that is why you were good for him.”
Orelia tried to keep the surprise from her face. “Whatever do you mean?”
“For the first time in a long time, Reed no longer seemed trapped by the house. Certainly, he was still off adventuring with you, but he appeared to genuinely enjoy being under this roof. I see now that it was you who was the difference.”
“I’m not sure...”
Reed’s mother took a step forward. “I am. He may keep secrets from me, but I know my son. He was utterly in love with you, Orelia.”
The word didn’t seem real for a moment. Love? How was that possible? It seemed to drift about her before finally settling in her mind. Reed loved her?
“No, you must be wrong.”
The duchess smiled. “I am never wrong, my dear.”
Orelia fought for some kind of response for several moments before giving up. Did this mean the duchess did not loathe her after all? Did Reed really love her?
Orelia glanced around. “I-I must go.”
“Of course.”
“T-thank you.” Orelia gave an awkward curtsey and scurried out of the house via the front door. Her heart beat a horrible staccato beat of uncertainty. She hardly knew what to do now. Wait for Reed to return? Force him to confess his feelings for her?
And what of hers?
She paused and laughed at herself. Of course she loved him. Who could not? What a fool she was to think otherwise.
But for now, she had to discover the truth. Then she could worry about what to do about Reed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Reed held up a hand before his mother could say anything. His journey home from London had been long and tiring. His body ached, and his mouth was dry. All he wanted was a coffee, something good to eat and a bath. Then hopefully a long, long sleep.
The last thing he needed was his mother quizzing him about what he had been up to.
“Reed,” she tried again.
Moseley aided him with his coat and he handed over his hat and gloves. “Not now, Mother. I’ve had a long journey.”
And a pointless one at that. He handed over the information he had but it was dismissed. With the testimony of the captain, the wine in the gypsy’s possession, and the confession, the courts had their man. He’d see trial and most likely be deported or hung.
Frustration made Reed clench his jaw. It still made little sense. He’d even demanded an audience with the man, but the gypsy refused to say anything.
“I’m going to my room,” he said forcefully and he began up the stairs.
“Do you not want to read this letter from Orelia?”
He froze. Taking the two steps down he peered at her. “What letter?”
His mother nodded to the table. “She left it here two days ago.”
“She was here?”
“That is what I just said, is it not?”
Reed picked up the letter and eyed his name, scratched awkwardly onto the parchment. He suspected she’d had help writing it.
His mother eyed him eagerly. He gave her a glare. “What is it, Mother? Can a man not read his correspondence in peace?”
She huffed. “I am not sure what I do to deserve such behavior. Here I am, fretting for your welfare then you return and tell me to leave you be. Can a mother not be interested in her son?”
He sighed. “Forgive me, Mother, I did not mean to be rude. I am tired and hungry. But why you should be interested in what Orelia has to say to me, I do not know.”
“If it is interesting to you, then it is interesting to me.”
He wasn’t even going to ask what she meant by that. Frowning, he tugged open the string. The writing inside was as awkward as the writing on the outside and several words were misspelled but he understood the contents well enough.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“What is it? Should I have sent it by urgent messenger?”
“Damn, damn, damn.”
“Reed?” his mother demanded in a tone far too high to be comfortable.
“I need to go to Portsmouth.”
“What is the matter? Should I have made her stay?”
Reed smirked. “I do not believe you could have made her stay.”
She thrust her hands in the air. “Then what is going on?”
He leaned in, gave her a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her hand. “I will tell you everything soon, I promise. No more secrets, but for now, I must find Orelia.”
Somewhat mollified by his promise, his mother nodded. He would tell her the truth, he decided. After all, if she had known what was happening and why Orelia was here, she might have been able to prevent her from dashing off and playing spy.
For the moment, however, he had to concentrate on finding her. If what she said was right—that the gypsy had been ill and had been paid to confess—then she could be throwing herself into a dangerous position, trying to track down the contact that Thomas had used.
He marched through the house to find his brother in the study. He didn’t look up from his books until Reed placed a hand on the table in front of him. Noah lifted his head. “Oh, you are home.” He scowled. “What is it?”
“I need your help,” he said. “Get your pistols.”
“Pistols?”
Reed nodded. “Orelia could be in trouble and it’s all of my making.”
Noah stood. “You know I shall gladly help, but what is this all about?”
“I’ll explain all on the way.”
“I should bloody hope so if I’ve got to shoot someone,” Noah said dryly.
***
Their swift pace on horseback meant Reed could do little explaining. It was not until they reached town that his brother began questioning what this was all about. Reed had been somewhat grateful for the time to gather his wits. All he could think on was Orelia.
Was she well? Had she already done something foolish?
Noah grabbed Reed’s arm before they entered the inn. “I thought you were going to tell me what this was all about.”
He faced his brother long enough to tell him, “I will,” before ducking through the door of the inn.
Orelia did not know Portsmouth like he did so he would have to assume if she was in town, she would stay here. Maybe she was even in the room they had shared previously. His heart gave a jolt of remembrance as he recalled waking up with her, her hair tousled and her eyes heavy-lidded.
Damn the woman. And damn him. Why had he left her behind? He should have known she would go and do something reckless.
He found the innkeeper whose eyes sparked with recognition, no doubt recalling the generous tip Reed had left him last time.
“Good evening, sir. How can I be of service?” the short, wiry old man asked.
“Is my wife here?”
His brother made a strangled sound.
“No, sir. She arrived alone yesterday but I have hardly seen her. Spent a lot of time at The Red Lion, I believe.” He peered up at Reed. “I was not all that keen on having a lone woman here, but she was very insistent.”
“Alas, I was delayed in joining her, but I must thank you for your diligence. I’m grateful for you keeping my wife safe.”
The man shrugged. “Well, as I say, I don’t know where she is now. A busy lady, your wife.”
“Do you have the key to her room? Perhaps I can await her there. My brother and I have had a long journey.”
The man glanced over their attire and his brows dipped. Reed had hardly considered how they might look. He’d divested himself of his cravat and jacket long ago but even then, there was no mistaking the rich cut of their clothing or the expense of their hessians.
“My patrons trust me,” the innkeeper said. “And I don’t like trouble.”
“There will be no trouble, I promise you.” Reed took one step forward. Apparently, the man had decided they were no good. It amused Reed a little that his humbler disguise had given him a better advantage in a lowly inn. “But I must remind you, she is my wife. Her person and belongings are mine and I should very much like to have her back.”
The small man eased back a step. “I told you I don’t want trouble.” He moved behind the bar and snatched up a metal key. “Here. It’s the room at the top.”
“Thank you.” He offered a smile. “I assure you there will be no trouble.”
The innkeeper eyed them both with distrust as they ascended the stairs.
Reed unlocked the door and pushed it open. The bedsheets were rumpled but there were few signs Orelia had been in the room. Clearly she had not yet used her wealth to buy anything. Aside from a hair brush and some ribbons, it seemed she had little else.
He shut the door and Noah spied the ribbons. “We missed her?”
“Yes. The innkeeper said she has been spending most of her time out.”
Noah nodded. “He formed his words badly. I could hardly keep up.”
“He’s not all that keen on either of us being here it seems. Thinks we’re trouble.”
His brother smirked. “And are we?”
“Potentially.”
“So we are to track her down?”
“Yes.” Reed fingered a ribbon absently.
“And how shall we do that?”
Reed kept his face toward his brother. “I think I know where she’ll be. Or at least will have been.”
“And will you finally explain what this is about?”
Reed took in a breath and met his brother’s inquisitive gaze. He did not much relish the knowledge he had lied to his family for many years, but it was better that than putting them in danger.
“There was an assassination attempt on Napoleon.” Reed pushed a hand through his hair. “The suspect was a gypsy. Hence why I brought Orelia onboard.”
Noah took a moment to digest the words. “Why should a gypsy wish Napole
on dead?”
“Orelia said the same. She was right, of course, but once given a lead I had no choice but to follow it.”
“With Orelia’s help,” his brother added.
“Yes. She could help me move about the Romani community.” Reed spoke deliberately slower, aware it was a lot of information for his brother to take in. “However, the longer we followed this lead, the clearer it became this was some other plot. But before we could uncover it, a gypsy man was taken in and he gave his confessions. I went to London to see this man in person.”
“And you do not think it was him?”
“I know not.” He tugged Orelia’s letter out of his pocket and thrust it at Noah.
His brother unfolded the letter and ran his gaze over it. Reed waited until he finished and was looking at him before speaking again. “The gypsy did it for money. He was paid off by whoever we were tracking previously.”
“If the Romani was sick and dying, what would it matter if he was hung or deported, as long as his family was well-looked after.”
“Exactly. It seems the man struck a deal and his family would be richer than they had ever been while he was hung or shipped to Australia.”
“So someone is trying to cover their tracks?”
Reed nodded. “Which means we were close.”
“What would Orelia be doing?”
He pushed a hand through his hair, snatched up his hat and thrust it back on his head. “Going through with our original plan, I suspect.” He grimaced. “And most likely putting herself in a very dangerous position.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The smoky atmosphere of the inn combined with her nerves made breathing incredibly hard. Orelia pressed a hand to her stomach to try to still the turmoil inside. She glanced over at Thomas who looked as nervous as she. Sweat glistened on his brow in the candlelight.
She peered around again, assuring herself that the men were in position. She’d hired two of them and they were twice the size of her. As long as they waited for her signal, all would be well. Thomas would let her know when his contact entered, and her men would seize him.
After that, she was not quite sure what she’d do with him. March him back to Keswick Abbey perhaps, but what if Reed has not returned yet? She could hardly hand him in to the local courts. Who would believe her?
A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 20
