“I don’t need a doctor.” She called the older man back before turning to Pierce again. “It was only a little nausea from the shock of seeing you. You look terrible. What have you been doing to yourself and where have you been?” She appraised him carefully, wrinkling her nose at the sight of his soiled clothing. The source of the strange smell she had noticed, she hazarded. But it was hardly surprising given that he had been sleeping rough in her woods and working in the stables. She let out another long breath and tried to slow the excitement spreading through her. “Everyone has been searching for you.” She kept her voice steady as her heartbeat fluttered. He was here! He had come for her. She could barely refrain from throwing herself back into his arms.
Pierce let go of her as if burned. Her statement brought all the resentment rushing back. This was the reason he was here, not that he had expected to meet her so soon. He hadn’t thought Andrews would bring her back towards the stables. But there was no time like the present, and in her clearly weakened state she might let more slip than she intended.
“What do you think I have been doing, and where do you think I have been? Staying out of the way of those damnable constables you sent after me, that’s what.” He couldn’t stop the anger spilling from his lips.
Something heavy dropped into Daisy’s stomach and lay there like a boulder. She brushed her hands down her skirts, smoothing the crumpled black silk while considering what to say. Her last letter had been rash, but not incriminating, and she’d had no choice but to send it.
“I never sent them after you. They turned up and tried to arrest you all by themselves. After they had questioned me and my staff for hours, I might add.” Her new resolve to never back down or be down trodden again launched itself to the fore and her obvious annoyance at his accusation had his eyes widening at her.
“Why would they question you? They never thought that you... that you?” Her expression told her that he had guessed correctly. “Good grief! They did, didn’t they? They thought you might have had something to do with his death, so instead of letting them think it was you, you decided to drop me right in it! You sent that last letter so I would come running and fall right into their trap. And I damned well nearly did.” He couldn’t believe that his suspicions had just been confirmed. Curse him for being a fool! She hadn’t wanted or needed him at all, just wanted to point the finger of blame away from herself. Something inside his chest clenched hard and threatened to be crushed.
Daisy glared at him. She had wanted to rush into his arms and press her lips to his, but his unfounded accusations stopped her from doing anything so imprudent.
“Now you are being ridiculous. And embarrassing.” She hissed as she glanced over her shoulder at Andrews, who grinned unashamedly and waved his hand.
“Oh, don’t you mind me your Grace. If you think he deserves a tongue lashing, that’s quite all right with me. It’s clear that he hasn’t told me the full truth about why he was creeping about the woods. Or quite how well he knows you.” His whiskers trembled as he chuckled.
Pierce snorted at the man.
“I already explained that I was not creeping about anywhere! But regardless, thank you very much. I thought I might at least have the support of a fellow man. Besides, I wasn’t meant to meet Dai... er, her Grace today. You said you were going to the house, not bringing her back to the stables.”
Andrews shrugged, his grin becoming even wider.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting her Grace to talk to that idiot Musgrave for so long, and nor did I expect that she would join me walking back to the stables, but does it really matter? You would have had to meet her eventually. Might as well get it over sooner rather than later. Especially as it seems you know one another far better than you let on.”
Daisy rolled her eyes.
“What exactly did this reprobate tell you?”
Andrews shook his head.
“Not much. A bit tight lipped for my liking, but nothing blatantly dishonest as far as I can tell. He did mention that he was acquainted with you, and it’s obvious that he is a man of good standing. Usually. I assumed he had gambled away his fortune or some such, but it appears there is more to the story. Do you want me to fetch the constable rather than the doctor, your Grace?”
Daisy paled and quickly shook her head.
“Heavens, no! This man had nothing to do with Robert’s demise. I’ll stake everything I own upon it.” She almost rolled her eyes at herself. It wasn’t yet clear that she even owned the clothes on her back any more. But Pierce didn’t know that.
Pierce wondered at her declaration given the rumours he had heard. She might not have a roof over her head for much longer. That she was willing to gamble what little she might own on him caused his heart to unfreeze a little.
“Thank you for your confidence, but pray tell why you wrote such a tempting missive if you didn’t want me arrested at your gate?” The image of the men converging on him and the thought of what might have happened if they had managed to catch him brought beads of perspiration to his brow.
Daisy opened her mouth, but didn’t have time to answer. Her eye caught movement behind Pierce. A carriage had drawn in at the gate. With four pure white horses in the traces, it was making a goodly pace along the drive. Daisy stared at the vehicle for several seconds before clenching her hands at her sides and letting out a groan of anguish.
“I don’t believe it! The nerve of the woman to come here unannounced!” Could things become any more complicated? Clearly they could, for Daisy’s worst nightmare had just arrived.
Not understanding her words or the reason for the sudden flush of colour in her cheeks, Pierce moved to her side.
“Who is it?” He stopped suddenly and his mouth fell open as a face appeared briefly at the window. “Hell! That’s your mother!”
Daisy groaned more loudly.
“It’s a lot worse than just my mother. Even if you don’t know those horses, you must know the coat of arms on the side of the carriage?”
Pierce stared at the carriage.
“The Portland crest. Have you been loaning out your carriage?”
Daisy let out a slightly hysterical laugh.
“Absolutely not. My carriage wouldn’t be nearly good enough for this guest. That’s Jane Benedict, Dowager Duchess of Portland. Otherwise known as my mother in law!”
Andrews quickly stepped between the two of them.
“God help us all! The place will be in uproar as soon as someone see it’s her. A plan of action is needed. Ideas anyone?”
Pierce looked from Daisy to Andrews and back again. Was the woman that bad? Clearly, given Daisy’s pallor and Andrews’ apparent alarm. Pierce gaped at the man’s question.
“Not a bloody clue. But I can’t stay here with Dai... er, her Grace’s mother in attendance. She knows me well, and she knows my own mother even better. The news of my whereabouts will be back to London within hours! I can guarantee we’ll have constables all over the place in a day.” He swallowed, his hand rising to his throat.
Daisy gave a panicked laugh.
“Not the way you look now. Have you seen yourself in a mirror recently? I’m surprised that I recognized you. And don’t forget that my mother hasn’t seen you for years.” She wasn’t thinking about Pierce’s impending predicament, but more of her own.
Pierce doubted that he was that unrecognizable, but glanced back at the carriage anyway.
“So I should just stand here and be introduced as the new stable lad? Going to look a bit odd wouldn’t you say? I’m hardly the right age or size, and my voice will give me away as soon as I open my mouth.”
Andrews looked Pierce up and down.
“Being a stable lad is definitely pushing it, but let’s stick to the name you gave me for a start. Peter Everard. Sounds like a good steady name for a good steady job. Her Grace was talking about getting rid of some of his Grace’s old clothes. If you disappear quickly and change into them, I think you have the makings of a fine footman.�
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“A footman! You have to be joking!” Pierce couldn’t believe his ears. “I wouldn’t know how to be a footman if my life depended upon it.”
Daisy spoke from the corner of her mouth as her mother leaned out of the window and waved cheerfully.
“Well, your life may well depend on it so learn fast! Quick, go to the back of the hall. Use the kitchen door and find Bess. Ask her to introduce you to the rest of the staff before going to the first floor. At the third door on the right of the hall, you will find my husband’s rooms. Musgrave might still be hanging around, but Bess will be able to vouch for you. Tell him that it is on my orders that you have come to pick up my late husband’s old clothes. Then duck into my room and change.”
Pierce didn’t like the plan but couldn’t think of any rational argument, and at least he would be in the house to discover any news firsthand rather than in the stables where he might learn nothing except kitchen gossip. Making his decision, another thought occurred to him.
“Why can’t I change in the Duke’s rooms?”
Daisy took a step forwards and spoke over her shoulder as the carriage turned the final bend in the drive.
“Because it’s the first place Robert’s mother will head. She’s nosey and interfering, and I can absolutely guarantee that she’ll want to examine her son’s room.”
A frown crossed Pierce’s brow.
“What for? Does she suspect something might be hidden there?”
Daisy gave some thought to the last time she had seen Jane Benedict. She had thought the woman’s actions strange at the time, but with Robert’s funeral and the amount of guests attending, Daisy had put the erratic behaviour to the back of her mind. The woman had been grieving, after all, but was that all she was doing? Daisy glanced at Pierce’s gaunt features. The man couldn’t remain on the run forever. And she couldn’t lose him again. She had to convince him to stay.
“I don’t know, but from the way she conducted a search in our London home, I can only imagine that she will do the same here. I wonder what she will make of Robert’s collections.”
Pierce had never been introduced to the woman, but the Dowager Duchess was a well known snoop. And he had nowhere else to run. The few days sleeping rough had taken their toll. He couldn’t live like that forever more. As dangerous as it seemed, perhaps now was his opportunity to discover the truth and clear his name. He just had to trust that he could go about unrecognized.
The carriage rolled ever closer, the four magnificent horses now tossing their heads as they slowed. Pierce knew that it was time to do or die. To stay or to go. Daisy stood with her hands clenched at her sides, still unattainable, but beautiful beyond words. He didn’t know why he had questioned himself. There was really no choice to make.
He wondered what collections of her husband’s she meant. Knowing Portland’s predilection for colourful, patterend waistcoats, it was likely to be pressed flowers, which brought Pierce’s thoughts to another point. He didn’t fancy prancing about in purple breeches, or an apple green shirt and sincerely hoped that the Duke’s old day clothes weren’t as flamboyant as his evening wear. He crossed his fingers behind his back.
“Fair enough. I’ll use your room to change. I presume that it’s next to your husband’s.” Bitterness filled his tones. He didn’t know why he was bothering to ask. He probably wouldn’t even need to go back out into the corridor. He could use the interconnecting door from the ducal suite.
A bright flush rose to Daisy’s cheeks. She hesitated for a second, the crunch of the carriage wheels on the gravel becoming ever louder, before shaking her head.
“No, my room is five doors further along, on the opposite side of the hall.” Pierce stared at her. She felt her face begin to burn. “It’s on the corner of the house that catches the best light at all times of the day. I like the sun in my room both in the morning and evening. My husband’s hobbies required him to keep his bedroom quite dark. Moths and butterflies and insects of all sorts. He said the colours would fade if left in the light.” Why was she waffling, offering an explanation? It was none of Pierce’s business where either of them slept, except to quickly find him a safe place to change his clothes. She clamped her lips shut for fear of saying anything more.
Pierce opened his mouth, and then closed it again. What could he say? Insect collections in a bedroom? It sounded like an unusual arrangement to him, but many married couples had their own peculiarities.
He covered a scornful snort. If he had been Daisy’s husband, he certainly wouldn’t have anything quite so off putting as insects on his walls. He would make his room so alluring, so delightfully colourful, so tasteful that she wouldn’t want to have chambers of her own. She would be desperate to stay in his. Every single night. Their naked bodies tangled in the silk bedclothes, her hair fanned across his pillow, a wild mass of curls in which he could bury his face while he buried himself in her.
His heart slammed against his chest at the thought. He had to stop it. She wasn’t his and, in her condition and circumstances, never would be. Neither the decor, or the Duke and Duchess’ bedroom configurations, had anything to do with him. It was really none of his concern and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.
But there was still the nagging thought that the constables had questioned her about her husband’s death. The incriminating letters notwithstanding, there was no doubt in his own mind of her innocence, but the Duke had clearly been meant to fall from his horse. Did that mean that Daisy was also in danger? Either from the murderer at large, or the constables over zealous enquiries. A chill swept through him and stiffened his spine. Neither of them would take her from him. He might not be able to have her for his own, but he would protect her with his life without question.
The horses trotted ever closer. He could hear the carriage’s springs creak. The Dowager Duchess and Daisy’s mother were almost upon them. There was no more time. He glanced at Daisy once more. Her lush lips trembled as her beautiful blue eyes beseeched him, their meaning obvious without the use of any words. Please do as I say... And he wasn’t going to argue. Ducking his head once and touching his forelock in the manner of a servant, he walked purposefully towards Portland Hall.
Chapter Five
A Room with a View
Pierce couldn’t recall James Robert Benedict, Duke of Portland looking like a half starved monkey, but it was his first thought when trying on the man’s cast off apparel. The trousers were four inches short in the leg, and the jacket, though tight across the shoulders, was a lot too long in the body and the arm. Still, there wasn’t much he could do about it, and this was the plainest and most suitable of all the clothing that Musgrave had reluctantly handed over.
“Are you sure that her Grace meant for him to take this now? I thought she was going to talk to Andrews first.” Musgrave’s eyes wandered suspiciously over Pierce’s frame before turning back to Bess.
“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t be here with him otherwise, now would I. The mistress just sent him along to change, so you’d best be handing those clothes over.” Bess placed her hands on her ample hips and glared at the man.
Pierce glanced about the strange room It was quite apparent that there had been many frames once attached to the walls. Patches of brighter, unfaded wallpaper clearly showed their original positions, but they now sat stacked in boxes upon the floor. Pierce caught sight of a long, black, hairy leg, thankfully shielded by a pane of glass, and shuddered as Musgrave huffed and dumped the pile of folded clothes into his outstretched arms.
“At least he looks as though he might fit into them. Seems an awful shame that he’ll ruin them in the stables,” the valet added regretfully.
Bess shook her head as she turned and made for the door with Pierce following behind her, barely able to see over the stack of clothes.
“Not that it is any of your concern, seeing as you are leaving tomorrow, but Everard here is making a change of position. He’s going to be a footman so he is unlikely to spoil the clot
hes any more than you spoil your own.”
Musgrave let out a sudden and unexpectedly high pitched laugh.
“Him a footman! You jest, surely. He looks as awkward as a nervous debutant on a king’s dance floor. I can’t wait to see how long he lasts with the Dowager Duchess in residence.”
Pierce felt the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment and rage, but then he proved the valet right by tripping over a box of stuffed animals and insects. He regained his feet and cast his eyes about, checking that he hadn’t upset a case of long dead giant arachnids, and was about to catch up with the maid, but stopped in his tracks. He turned and peered around the clothes. Daisy had been surprised to see the carriage arrive, but the valet clearly wasn’t.
“You knew that the Dowager Duchess would be arriving today?” What else might the man be privy to if he knew more than the mistress of the house?
But Musgrave simply pointed to the window which looked out over the drive.
“I have knowledge of many goings on in the household, but I have never professed to be able to see the future. No, I saw the carriage turn in at the gate. As little as I know about horses, those four are hard to miss even at a distance.” He added sarcastically.
Pierce looked past the end of the man’s fingertip and out through the window that gave an excellent view of the drive. He gave a quick nod while admonishing himself for coming to conclusions. Musgrave might be a self-centred, surly individual but that didn’t make him a suspect for murder. Going by the softness of the shirts and the stiffness of the cravats Pierce held in his arms, the man had been an excellent valet.
“Yes, of course, I can see there is a superb view of the drive from here. And a fine team they make too. Remarkable to have a matched four. Must have cost her a small fortune.” The woman’s late husband had clearly left her an excellent income.
“Indeed, but a son will do much for his mother.” Musgrave answered before going back to stacking boxes, a response which both aroused Pierce’s curiosity and reminded him of the impending meeting with the two ladies who had sat in the carriage. Glad to leave the Duke’s macabre bedroom, he hurried after Bess and caught up with her standing outside another door further along the corridor.
A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4) Page 6
