‘I can assure you that I would not have brought Miss Frazer to this spot. She wouldn’t appreciate it.’
There was a bench in the lee of the castle wall, and Mrs Gilliard sat herself on it, staring out over the moonlit water. Shadow flopped down at her feet and she tugged at his ears.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, seating himself beside her and taking the precaution of ensuring that a respectable distance separated them. He couldn’t trust himself to behave if he came into accidental contact with any part of her, such was the spell that she appeared capable of weaving over him. Troy was at a loss to understand it. She wasn’t the first attractive widow with whom he had been acquainted, and none of her predecessors had possessed the ability to make him forget his own name. But none of them, he realised, would have rejected his advances. Perhaps that explained Brione Gilliard’s secret appeal.
She really wasn’t interested in him as a man.
With that realisation, Troy’s competitive nature came to the fore, keen to amend that situation. He had sensed her reluctant response when he’d held her in his arms and knew that she could be persuaded. But Troy’s pride hadn’t taken that sound a thrashing, nor was he desperate enough to indulge in ungentlemanly conduct. When she offered herself to him it would be because she wanted to, not because he had coerced her.
When?
He hadn’t reached a conscious decision to take matters quite that far. Had he?
‘I am thinking about our suspects,’ she said. She had paused for so long that he had almost forgotten asking the question. She continued to stare at the water and fuss over Shadow, and didn’t seem inclined to look at him. ‘I don’t know what I expected to discover by speaking with them. Even if my sixth sense left me doubting the integrity of one of them, it wouldn’t get us any further forward.’
‘Possibly not, but if the guilty party is here, he is more likely to let something slip in your presence than in mine. He won’t suspect for a moment that you…well, suspect him and might decide to boast about his circumstances in an effort to impress you.’
‘Well, neither Sir Gregory nor Captain Craig spoke of expectations. I haven’t conversed with Lieutenant Vaughan yet, but I don’t expect to do any better with him than with the other two.’ She turned to finally give Troy her full attention. ‘We need to offer some bait. Lure the culprit out of his indolence.’
Troy frowned. ‘What do you have in mind?’ he asked.
‘They have both spoken to me about Evan, as one would expect, expressing their regret at his demise. I assume Vaughan will follow their example.’ She absently plucked her lower lip between the forefinger and thumb of her right hand as she articulated her thoughts. ‘Suppose I drop something idle into the conversation? I could suggest that Evan had spoken with me about each of them. That he had something playing on his mind which directly concerned them.’
‘He wouldn’t have spoken to you about anything contentious regarding the regiment, and my former officers here will know it,’ Troy said in a tone that forbade expanding upon her suggestion. He shook his head decisively for good measure. ‘Excuse me, but I don’t think you saw a great deal of your husband during the course of your marriage, and there was insufficient time for him to confide much of anything in you.’
‘Whatever makes you say that?’ she demanded.
‘You were married for less than three years and Gilliard was a serving soldier for all of that time, as was I. He told me he had married you in a small ceremony here in England but declined my suggestion that you take lodgings close to the regiment’s quarters, as many of my other officers’ wives had done. He made some excuse about your mother’s illness taking up the majority of your attention, and not wanting to expose you to danger. I knew that wasn’t the complete truth.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked sharply.
‘What I say,’ Troy replied smoothly, cursing the slip of the tongue. ‘The ladies were kept well away from the fighting. There was no danger. He was being overprotective, one supposes, for which I cannot blame him.’
She sighed, appearing to accept that explanation. ‘It’s true that we saw little of one another. You kept him too occupied,’ she added.
‘My apologies,’ he replied.
‘But yes, you are right, our time together was limited. I suppose in some respects we didn’t really know one another. We never had the opportunity to live any sort of normal married life.’ She drummed her fingers against her knee. ‘Even so, there must be something I can say to the suspects that will make them think I am more aware of their actions than I actually am.’ She bounced on the seat, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, presumably because another crazy possibility that would likely get her killed had occurred to her. ‘I could suggest that Evan had discovered a very significant secret about a particular member of the regiment. He only mentioned the matter in oblique terms and had intended to do something about it after the battle that killed him. I have been attempting to make sense of what he said ever since his death, simply because it was so vital to him and was the last thing on his mind before he gave his life for his country.’
‘Brione, I really don’t think…’ Troy shook his head and impatiently pushed aside the lock of hair that the gesture dislodged. He had instinctively uttered her name and was glad when she didn’t raise any objections about his informality. ‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘He mentioned a Frenchman’s name to me that has slipped my mind,’ she added, ignoring Troy’s interruption. ‘I am sure it will come back to me and I intend to pass it on to you in the hope that you will understand what it means.’ She folded her hands in her lap and beamed at Troy. ‘I will find no peace until I receive an explanation, which is the truth.’
Troy shook his head more emphatically this time. ‘This is not your fight. Showing yourself here is one thing since you are not in real danger. Being deliberately provocative is entirely another.’
She tossed her head and muttered something unintelligible. ‘You cannot force me to do your bidding, your grace.’
‘Troy,’ he replied, softly squeezing her hand and then removing his own before temptation got the better of him. ‘My friends call me Troy.’
‘It doesn’t signify what I call you,’ she replied. ‘It is clear to me that you intend to tell me what to do, so I think it only fair to warn you that I am not one of your soldiers and don’t take orders well.’
Troy chuckled at her affronted expression. ‘The traitor is a wily customer, out to protect his own neck. He wouldn’t have lasted as long as he has if he wasn’t awake on all suits. And no matter how attracted to you he is bound to be, he won’t hesitate to remove any threat to his liberty.’ Troy fixed her with a look of steely determination. ‘I cannot allow you to do anything foolhardy.’
‘You cannot allow it?’ she cried.
‘It’s simply too dangerous. I will find another way.’
‘How has that been for you so far?’ she asked with a sweet smile.
‘Brione!’
‘Anyway, I have nothing to fear. Not with a big, bold duke to protect my weak and feeble self from harm,’ she said, fluttering her lashes at him and making him smile in spite of himself.
‘Enough, baggage!’ He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Shadow, who was slumbering, came instantly alert, tail wagging and ready to follow them. ‘We had best return to the fray or we will be missed…’
‘And tongues will wag,’ she added mischievously. ‘We’d better not go back together or I will not have to worry about the traitor doing me physical harm. Miss Frazer will do his work for him.’
Troy chuckled. ‘We will speak again tomorrow with Kensley and see if we can come up with a scheme to draw the traitor out that won’t put you in danger.’ Now was not the time to tell her that he still had lingering doubts about Gilliard in that respect.
‘I will try to speak with Lieutenant Vaughan before then.’
‘Very well, but in the meantime, if you don’t do as
you are told and refrain from acting impulsively, it is me whom you will have to fear, not the Miss Frazers of this world,’ he said, leading her back to the keep and fading into the shadows with his dog at his side until she’d had enough time to re-enter the drawing room.
‘Good night.’ She turned to smile at him for a brief moment and then disappeared from view.
Chapter Ten
Rachel had encouraged Brione to step outside when she claimed a need for fresh air. The real cause of her discontent probably had more to do with a combination of the poorly executed music assaulting their ears and the frequent speculative glances bestowed upon her by the gentlemen sauntering behind their chairs. Rachel knew that her friend would not be persuaded to take her place at the instrument. Her modesty was the first aspect of Brione’s character that had made Rachel want to get to know her better. They quickly established that they had much in common, not least the desire to laugh at the absurdities of the pretentious social elite.
Brione and Rachel were firmly and comfortably established within the ranks of the wealthy middle classes and were perfectly content with their situations. Brione occasionally remarked that she felt relieved not to have been born into an aristocratic family.
‘So many complicated rules,’ she had complained to Rachel earlier that day. ‘God forbid that I should use the wrong fork or accidentally address a person to whom I have not been introduced. Only imagine! The world would never recover.’
‘It must be exhausting for the upper classes to decide who is worthy of their attention,’ Rachel agreed, smiling. ‘At least we can converse with whomsoever we please without fear of letting the side down. There is a lot to be said for enjoying the freedom to be ourselves.’
‘What right does anyone have to decide that they are better than someone else simply due to an accident of birth?’ Brione frowned. ‘Surely it is what one does, how compassionate one instinctively feels towards the plight of the less fortunate, that defines a person’s true worth. I mean, a duke is born a duke. He has no choice in the matter. He hasn’t done anything to make himself better than the rest of us, and yet persons of that rank automatically assume they are superior to us lesser mortals, even if they turn out to be drunken despots with pockets to let.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Alford is not high in the instep,’ she said. ‘You must concede at least that much.’
‘I am barely acquainted with him,’ Brione replied, apparently reluctant to be mollified, ‘but I suppose he didn’t have me thrown out for snooping through his papers, which is a point in his favour.’
‘Of course it is,’ Rachel said, smiling. She was very curious to know what Brione really thought of the duke as a man but knew better than to press her on the point. ‘At least he fought for his king and country, leading by example, when he need not have taken the risk. That must be another point in his favour.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Everyone says that he acted with little thought for his own safety or welfare. But even if he had stayed in a tent and issued orders through a third party, never exposing himself to danger, they would still say that he was a remarkable leader, simply to curry favour. That is the sort of attitude I cannot abide.’
Rachel sat alone after Brione excused herself to stroll outside, mulling over the manner in which the duke had responded to Brione. She recognised instant attraction when she saw it and wondered if anything would come of it. She was probably being fanciful, mistaking admiration for a more abiding interest simply because she so very desperately wanted it to be the case.
Brione had been badly treated by a man whom she continued to idolise—even though he was dead. If Rachel possessed the requisite courage, if she was a true friend, she would reveal a few home truths about Evan’s real character. She fully intended to do so after their time here came to an end and the traitor’s identity had been exposed.
One hurdle at a time.
Rachel applauded politely when the final performance came to a merciful conclusion. Miss Frazer had been the pianist and her expression turned thunderous when she looked about the room and realised that the duke had not been there to appreciate it. Rachel chuckled, wondering what or who had tempted him to abscond.
‘May I?’ Mr Kensley indicated Brione’s vacated chair.
‘Please do.’
‘Frazer is going to have a tantrum on his hands if he doesn’t find the backbone to exert his authority and nip that little madam’s behaviour in the bud,’ her new companion remarked.
‘Then it is his own fault, or her mother’s, for encouraging the girl to harbour unrealistic expectations,’ Rachel replied crisply. ‘There are other gentlemen here who would suit her better, if only she lowered her sights. Wealthy gentlemen with lesser titles who could offer her a place in society, if that is what she so badly craves. But she will certainly deter them if she continues to show a predisposition for sulking.’
The musicians in the gallery struck up a waltz and Kensley petitioned Rachel’s hand.
‘I suppose one of the good things about owning a castle with so much space is that a makeshift ballroom is always readily available,’ Rachel replied, accepting Kensley’s invitation and allowing him to swing her into his arms. He danced well, and her feet followed effortlessly where his led. ‘I cannot recall when I last enjoyed the pleasure of dancing. I have almost forgotten how.’
Rachel stopped talking abruptly. It wasn’t like her to gabble, but there was something about Alfred Kensley that made her incautious. She liked him, was attracted to him as a man despite being a few years his senior and waited for guilt to consume her as she made that admission to herself. It failed to materialise. Perhaps she had finally come to terms with the devastating loss of her beloved husband and could accept that life went on. It had taken the attentions of the attractive and self-assured gentleman currently whisking her around the floor to make her realise it.
The dance came to an end. Kensley raised her hand to his lips and held her gaze as he kissed the back of it.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘You may not have danced for a while, but you have lost none of your skill.’ He smiled at her. ‘You look warm. Shall we take a turn in the keep together?’
He proffered his arm and Rachel placed her hand on it without hesitation, determined to project an air of detached sophistication. ‘By all means.’
There was no sign of Brione or the duke among the promenading couples, Rachel noticed.
‘There are dozens of different places to hide away in this castle if one requires to conduct a private conversation,’ Mr Kensley said with a knowing smile. ‘Places that regular guests will never find. Besides, Troy will have felt the need to escape from…well, you know.’ He nodded towards Miss Frazer, who had stepped out into the keep and was sweeping the wide space with her gaze.
‘I dare say.’
‘Don’t worry about your friend. Troy will remember his manners.’ Mr Kensley allowed a pause. ‘Probably,’ he added, making them both smile.
‘How very reassuring.’
‘What are your plans?’ Kensley asked her. ‘Do you intend to remain in London indefinitely? Does the city please you?’
‘I had always assumed that I would stay there. It has been my home since I was a child. I enjoy being in close proximity to the theatres and museums. But as a matter of fact, I was discussing the possibility of selling up and moving to the country just the other day with Brione. London is becoming increasingly crowded and lawless. Besides, society—or as much of it as I am permitted to partake in—has lost its appeal.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I think I might settle somewhere with half a dozen cats and spend my days embroidering samplers.’
Mr Kensley chuckled. ‘That would be a criminal waste.’
‘What of you? Are you really so dedicated to the duke’s service that you will never leave this place?’
‘I might.’ He fixed her with a probing look and she felt the muscles in his forearm tighten perceptibly. ‘Given the right incentive.’
‘Oh
.’
Rachel’s cheeks warmed and she wasn’t sure how to respond. His message couldn’t have been clearer, but everything was happening too fast and she suddenly felt afraid. Despite being drawn in by his charm, she was barely acquainted with the man. Could his and the duke’s dual offensive be a combined effect to deflect suspicion from their activities? Rachel didn’t think that the duke was a traitor, but she knew that Brione had not entirely dismissed the possibility. Rachel’s thoughts returned to their earlier conversation regarding the status-conscious aristocracy, of which Mr Kensley was a very junior member and the duke a leading figure. It served to reinforce the unlikelihood of a permanent connection between herself and Alfred Kensley, and the impossibility of Brione ever becoming a duchess.
It was all too much. She shook her head, feeling conflicted and confused.
‘Are you all right?’ Concern etched Mr Kensley’s features. ‘You have turned quite pale. Would you like to sit down?’
‘No. I am quite well, but my thoughts, sometimes they…’
She spread her hands, unsure what she had meant to say. Mr Kensley smiled in a manner that suggested understanding. Having come through the war himself, he very likely did. Everything had changed; unimaginable sacrifices had been made and it seemed unreasonable to enjoy oneself in such circumstances.
They strolled on in companionable silence for a few minutes, acknowledging those they passed without pausing to converse with anyone. Rachel noticed Sir Gregory stomping about alone, looking in various alcoves.
‘What the devil does he think he’s doing?’ Mr Kensley muttered.
‘Looking for Brione, I should imagine.’
‘And he hopes to find her hiding in alcoves?’
‘I hope she realises that in actively encouraging him to converse with her, she might have also inadvertently engendered certain expectations.’
To Desire a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 8 Page 13
