The Duke (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 6)

by Mary Kingswood

  “You are very secretive, Captain,” Ran said, amused despite himself. “I take it this is all part of Mr Willerton-Forbes’ instructions?”

  “He feels in some way responsible for all that has occurred, and that we should have discovered His Grace much earlier. This has put you all in a very awkward position.”

  “That is our problem, not yours,” Ran said firmly. “Besides, no one could blame you in the slightest for not realising who the mysterious Mr Ellsworthy was.”

  “We blame ourselves, but that is water under the bridge,” Edgerton said. “We all feel a responsibility to ensure that the duke reaches Valmont in safety, and at Pendower… forgive me, my lord, but you were there quite alone, without so much as a groom, planning a journey with a man who is no longer used to the ceremony of his rank and a woman who despises it. Nor do I consider Miss Chandry’s former nurse a particularly effective bodyguard. Mr Willerton-Forbes had no hesitation in asking me to keep an eye on you, and Mr Chandry was easily recruited — he is game as a pebble, that one! Neate’s talents are not in swaggering round with a sword, as I am wont to do, but in sitting quietly in tap rooms and chop houses, and listening. Between the three of us, we have kept you safe.”

  “But we have encountered no difficulties,” Ran protested.

  “Indeed you have not. There were enough of us to deter the two men who habitually watch the road south of Bodmin, for instance, and there is a well-known shortcut near Truro that your postilions would have taken by arrangement, where a spurious toll gate would have relieved you of a pound or two, and perhaps more if they had considered it worthwhile. Neate informed me of both of those dangers. And who knows how many men eyed your post-chaise and decided against it. But if you assure me that you will engage three or four armed outriders, and I am sure your coachmen are armed, I shall consider that you have sufficient protection.”

  “And will follow anyway, I daresay,” Ran said resignedly.

  “At a discreet distance, naturally,” Edgerton said, his grin revealing even white teeth. “You would not deprive us of our fun, surely, my lord?”

  “I certainly would, for I plan to make you work for it. I hereby appoint you the duke’s personal protection officer. As I am His Grace’s closest adviser and man of business, you have my authority to satisfy yourself on the provisions made for His Grace’s journey, and to engage such additional persons as needed.”

  Edgerton’s face lit up. “Are you serious? And may I keep Chandry with me?”

  “If you must. Neate will do as he pleases, as always, I daresay. And you may tell Mr Willerton-Forbes from me that he is a devious scoundrel, and he has my sincere thanks.”

  ~~~~~

  Ruth was sitting in the drawing room of the Berkeley Square house, receiving morning callers with her mother, her sister and Aunt Maria. Their visitors were four rather stuffy matrons, the daughters of two of them, and the sons of the other two. The Dowager Lady Crosby was also there, making stilted conversation with her future daughter-in-law, Susan, who was far more interested in catching the eye of the handsome young viscount across the room.

  It was Susan’s first season, so perhaps she could be excused some exuberance at encountering so many charming, rich and well-connected young men all at once. The season had long since lost its novelty for Ruth, being her fourth, and had become no more than a pleasant way to meet friends. She had missed last year’s season, for Ger had just died and Ruth was in no mood for the frivolities of the ton. She could not go into mourning since there had been no official betrothal, but her parents approved of her desire to stay secluded for a while. Papa had to make his speeches in the House, and Mama had gone with him, but Ruth had stayed quietly at Mallowfleet, apart from brief shopping forays. The days had passed slowly, even though every hour had some task for her to do — working on her embroidery and watercolours, reading an improving work, practising at the instrument and riding — while she waited.

  She had waited for Ran to come. Sooner or later, she felt sure, he would recognise the obligation and come for her. Dear Ran! Always so correct… she had known it would happen. If Ger had not died, she would have been married last year. Perhaps there would already be a child, or very soon. An heir. Another duty accomplished. But Ger was dead, and Ran had come and she permitted herself a little glow inside whenever she thought of him. She knew he had offered from obligation, it was understood, and he need never know about the little glow. Her mother had taught her that persons of her rank did not fall in love, were not suited to it, and certainly her husband would not want her hanging about his neck or making an unseemly show of affection. That was understood, too. She knew her duty, she hoped. But the little glow was there, all the same. It was Ruth’s little secret.

  Lady Crosby’s frown was deepening, so when a shift in the company offered an opportunity, Ruth moved to sit next to her. Susan immediately made some excuse and escaped from her future mother-in-law.

  “She is very young,” Lady Crosby said, watching her go.

  “True, but she will settle down once she is married,” Ruth said, although she hoped rather than believed it to be true.

  “I cannot see why he had to choose someone so young,” Lady Crosby said waspishly. “Or why he has to marry in such haste at all. He had only had the title for a few months, and off he goes to Dallerton, with no thought in his head but a gay time to liven his spirits, and he comes home betrothed! And he seemed just as shocked by it as I was. Tell me, Lady Ruth, why do men become so foolish in the presence of pretty girls?”

  Ruth laughed. “I am hardly qualified to answer your question, ma’am. Men are a mystery to me. My father, my brothers… my own future husband. Impossible to say with good conscience that I understand any of them very well. I was not at Dallerton last summer, so I cannot give you any inkling of what happened, except to say that I believe my parents were startled by it, too.”

  “Perhaps that does not matter, for such matches do happen,” the dowager said. “My own was all settled in under a month, from first meeting to betrothal, so it is not that. But… she is so young.” She gazed helplessly across the room, to where Susan was openly flirting with the viscount, while carefully avoiding any visible impropriety that might incur the censure of her mother. “Is she a proper wife for a sober man of five and forty? Will she make him happy? For his first choice was—”

  She stopped abruptly, perhaps realising to whom she was speaking, but Ruth said quickly, “Susan is young enough to be excited by her first season, and to enjoy testing her attractiveness to men. Many girls of her age are a little giddy just at first.”

  “You were never so, I wager.” Then, without waiting for an answer she went on, “He should be here, of course. Foolish man, he should be the one flirting with her, but he sits at home pretending that he has so much work to do on the estate. Well, if he will not come to her, she shall go to him. When I return to Crosby Manor, I shall take Lady Susan with me. She will not flirt with all these frivolous young men when she is with Luke.”

  Ruth thought she might flirt even more openly if she once escaped her mother’s eye, but she decided not to say so. The duchess was a vigilant mother, insisting on the perfect behaviour to be expected of the daughters of a duke, and ruthless in enforcing her dictates. Ruth had long since surrendered to her mother’s will, finding life smoother if she suppressed any hint of resistance. Susan, however, had taken a different route, her outward compliance hiding a great deal of covert rebellion, but the duchess’s presence kept her worst excesses in check. Ruth could not feel with any confidence that a stay at Crosby Manor would improve her flirtatious tendencies. Nor would she like to be torn away from town to rusticate just when the season was getting under way.

  She was just beginning, rather tentatively, to express this point of view, and to urge her ladyship to persuade Lord Crosby to come to town instead, when the house was rent by a great howl of anguish. The drawing room fell into instant silence. No further sound came.

  Ruth rose. “I
shall go and see what has happened,” she said calmly.

  “Oh yes, dear, do,” her mother said. “I daresay one of the footmen dropped something on his—”

  Another howl, louder, and this time it was clear that it was not a footman. “That is Papa!” Susan cried.

  There was a rush to the door, but Ruth was already halfway there and so reached the landing a little before the others. Looking down the stairs, her father stood in the hall below, his coat off, a letter in his hand. His face was whiter than Ruth had ever seen it.

  “Ruth,” he said, then, seeing the duchess emerging, “Alicia… both of you, come down here. At once!”

  Heart in mouth, Ruth sped down the stairs and into her father’s book room. The duchess rushed too, and was panting when she finally gained the book room. The duke looked back up the stairs at the astonished faces gazing down at him. “Oh… go away and drink your tea, all of you!” Then he ushered them into the book room and slammed the door.

  “Whatever is it, John,” the duchess cried, frantically twisting a handkerchief. “Tell me the worst! Is it Audlyn? Camberley? Ramsey? Who is dead?”

  “He is not dead! Falconbury is not dead!”

  Ruth could not make head or tail of it. Ran was not dead? But he had never been thought to be dead, so how was it possible that— “Gervase,” she whispered. “Gervase is alive.”

  “That is what I said,” her father snapped. “He is not dead! This is beyond anything! How dare he!”

  The duchess made a little mewing sound of distress.

  “But this is good news,” Ruth said, puzzled by her father’s anger.

  “Good news? Good news? It is the most awkward thing in the world, with your betrothal puffed off everywhere barely a month ago, and now this. Oh, you silly girl, do you not see?”

  “I see that I shall not be a duchess after all, and if that disappoints you, I am sorry for it, but—”

  “If that disappoints you? Is that all you can say? It is impossible, of course. You cannot marry a second son. I absolutely forbid it.”

  “No!” An icy chill ran through Ruth, but she lifted her chin and looked her father straight in the eye. “I am betrothed to Lord Randolph, Papa. It is agreed, the marriage date is set, my wedding clothes are being made, it is settled.”

  “You are betrothed to the Duke of Falconbury,” he said coldly. “It matters not one whit which brother it is. You will cry off, on the grounds that you have been grossly misled, and then you will marry Falconbury.”

  “You wrong him! Ran did not mislead me, Papa! This must be as great a shock to him as to us. There was no deceit, he truly believed that Gervase was dead and so the betrothal must stand.”

  “My consent is withdrawn,” her father said, eyes narrowed.

  “I am of age, so your consent is not needed,” she cried.

  “Oh, you would defy me, would you? Think you know better than your father, do you? I never expected to see such conceit, such wilfulness in a daughter of mine. You will obey me, do you hear? You will not marry against my wishes, and it is my wish that you marry the Duke of Falconbury.”

  “He might already be married,” Ruth said desperately.

  Her father frowned, for that was a thought that had not occurred to him. The duchess gave a little moan, and sat down abruptly in a chair. “Whatever are we to do?” she whimpered.

  Ruth rushed to kneel at her feet, chafing her hands. “Poor Mama! This is a terrible shock to all of us. Do you have smelling salts in your reticule? Would you like some brandy? Shall I send for Grimson?”

  But she could only moan, “What are we to do?” over and over.

  “I shall tell you what we are to do, Duchess,” the duke said, in a voice that permitted no contradiction. “We shall go to Valmont, and confront the duke and insist he makes everything right with Ruthie. She was promised a duke, so a duke is what she must have.”

  This brought the prostrate duchess upright again. “Leave town, at the beginning of the season? Impossible, John! What of Susan? We have so much planned for her.”

  “She has her baron secured, so what does it matter?”

  “But we cannot leave her here alone!” the duchess said, outraged. “Maria is very good, but she is not a suitable chaperon for Susan, not in town in the season, you must see that. A duke’s daughter must be brought out by her mother, John.”

  “Then she can go back to Mallowfleet until this is sorted out.”

  “If I might suggest,” Ruth said timidly, “Lady Crosby mentioned that she would like to take Susan on a visit to Crosby Manor. If she were to do so, then—”

  “There you are, you see, Alicia,” the duke said. “The girl has a good head on her shoulders, when she sets her mind into the proper channels. Susan may go to Crosby Manor with Maria to keep an eye on her, and you and Ruth and I will go to Valmont to see how things stand there. But I warn you, Ruthie, you had better do what your parents think best for you. That is your filial duty and what I expect of you, and if you do not, then you are no daughter of mine and I shall cast you off utterly.”

  Ruth said nothing, for what was there to say? She lowered her head and breathed slowly as the little glow inside her flickered, almost but not quite extinguished. Hope was not yet entirely lost.

  ~~~~~

  The Litherholm travelling coach was large enough to seat six persons inside in great comfort, so Ran and Ger decided to sit with Ginny, Molly and Giggs. Outside, Edgerton’s precautions had provided two bulky footmen to sit behind, and no fewer than six outriders. Vane, the coachman, declared it quite took him back to the young days of the Sixth Duke.

  “Always had style, His Late Grace, that’s what I say, and so attentive to Her Grace’s consequence even above his own. Mind you, he’d have thought only one carriage pretty shabby, and the maid and valet riding with the family — that would never have done.”

  “It does perfectly well for me, however,” Ger said, amused.

  Ran was pleased that Ger’s good humour was holding fast, but then the novelty of the ever-changing scenery, the regular appearance of picturesque villages or charming towns, and of simply going somewhere kept his spirits high. He spent his days sitting beside Ginny on the forward-facing seat in the coach, pointing out features of interest and telling her what he remembered about them. Ran had forgotten how knowledgeable his brother was, for he was never at a loss for a battle or famous resident or historical disaster, wherever they went. On farms and crops and the varieties of cattle, he knew nothing, but during their overnight stay at Sherborne, he regaled them with the full history of both abbey and castle, holding them riveted over dinner and for some time afterwards.

  Late in the afternoon of their fourth day of travel, they entered the village of Beckhampton Cross, at the southern end of the principal Valmont pleasure grounds. They discovered that the entire village was awaiting their arrival. There were flags draped or waved everywhere, an impromptu group of musicians was playing, and as they rattled over the cobbles of the main square every man and woman bowed or curtsied. Then they were through the gates and the noise died away behind them.

  “Welcome to Valmont,” Ger said to Ginny, with a warm smile.

  She peered through the window at the lodge as they past by. “It’s not as big as I’d expected.”

  Ger laughed. “That is only the Beckhampton Lodge. There are seven more like that, but Valmont itself is… quite a bit bigger.”

  The avenue was long and straight, and the trees and the lowness of the ground hid the house from view, but about half way along there was a great commemorative arch, and beyond it the first view of the house. Ger stopped the carriage there for the benefit of those seeing it for the first time. The footmen let down the steps and everyone climbed out of the coach.

  Ginny gazed down impassively at the vast frontage of Valmont, some four hundred and fifty feet from end to end, and the acres of formal gardens surrounding it.

  “All this is yours?” she said to Ger.

  “Everything
you can see from this point is Valmont land. Mine.”

  “Doesn’t your brother get anything at all?”

  “I have no idea. Ran, did Father leave you anything in his will? Not everything is entailed, after all.”

  “He left me three estates — Durran House, where Aunt Charlotte lives, Merrington House, presently occupied by Uncle Swithin and assorted relations of Mama’s, and Whinmore.”

  “Whinmore? The hunting lodge?” Ger gave a bark of laughter. “You, who have never hunted, to own a hunting lodge? That is rich! I suppose I shall have to pay you for the privilege of using it, will I?”

  “None of us can use it before next Lady Day, since it is leased out, although I get a good rent for it. Nothing from the others, but unless you plan to throw me out of Valmont, I hardly need them or the income from them.”

  “Your home is here for as long as you wish it,” Ger said fiercely. “We shall talk about this later, but let us get the business of arriving over with, shall we? If the village is anything to go by, we shall have a reception at the house.”

  “All the servants will be lined up.” Ran hesitated, feeling oddly awkward. “Ger, have you thought how you want to introduce Ginny into the house? She might find it overwhelming to have a hundred servants gawking at her. She could stay in the carriage and go in through the stable door.”

  “No,” Ger said quietly. “Ginny walks in through the front door with me.”

  Ran nodded, knowing better than to attempt argument. He well knew that mulish set to Ger’s mouth. Silently, they drove the remaining half mile to the house, the avenue of trees giving way to rows of neatly clipped balls of greenery and low-edged beds of herbs. The fountain had been brought into operation, he saw, and there at the great doors, twenty feet high, long lines of servants were filing out, and gardeners and grooms appearing from the side of the house. He sighed, and could only hope that Ginny’s assurance would not desert her at this critical moment.

  They stopped, the footmen jumped down to open the door and let down the steps. Ger jumped down first, and then turned with a wide smile to hand Ginny out. Then Ran descended. Molly and Giggs would stay inside and be driven round to the stables.