The Mysterious Death of the Duke

by Amanda Davis

  Lise’s eyes widened to an almost unhealthy degree and James wished he had not been so hard upon her.

  “Never mind,” he said, rising. “You must rest. I should not trouble you about this while you have endured so much.”

  “You should not trouble me at all!” she countered, her face flushing angrily. “Why can you not leave well enough alone?”

  He eyed her sadly.

  “I have tried,” he confessed, hanging his head. “But I feel as though his spirit filters through the halls of Pinehaven, demanding that I find his killer.”

  “Or perhaps you are merely feeling guilt for having claimed his title and are pursuing a ridiculous notion,” Lise breathed. It was in that moment that James knew his fears were correct.

  She believes it too. Lydia was correct.

  “Rest,” James said again, shuffling toward the door. He paused to cast her a tight smile.

  “I daresay, James is a potent name for a young lad.”

  Lise barely managed a smile, the stress on her face apparent.

  “It is, is it not?”

  “Good night, Lise. Rest well.”

  “Jamie…will you be leaving soon?”

  He did not miss the anxious hope in her voice.

  “Well, I would not leave when you are bedridden, Lise. What sort would I be to abandon my family at such a time?”

  “Hm.”

  He could see she was not convinced in the least about his reasons but James did not care.

  “Good night.”

  She did not respond as he made his way back into the hallway—where he ran directly into Elenora.

  “Good evening, Lady Blackwell.”

  “It is a blessed evening, is it not?” Elenora conceded with a cheerfulness which James was not expecting. “I am pleased to know that your sister is well and the child is safe.”

  “God is merciful,” James conceded, hoping to move past his mother-in-law. “You must forgive me, my lady but I am expected somewhere.”

  It was untrue, of course, but he wanted to be anywhere else but with Elenora at that moment.

  “Perhaps you should see about your wife,” Elenora quipped with a smugness which turned James’ blood cold.

  “I intend to do precisely that—after I locate my mother.”

  “Your mother. I daresay, I have seen very little of her or Mrs. Anne Balfour since we arrived.”

  “Perhaps that is because they are avoiding your rather shrewd tongue, Lady Blackwell.”

  The smirk froze on Elenora’s face.

  “Some ladies are less welcoming of the truth than others.”

  “And what truth might that be, my lady? The truth that my mother murdered my father or the truth that I did?”

  Her smile faded away completely now and Elenora scowled deeply.

  “We all know your father fell unnaturally.”

  “As you say, Lady Blackwell. If you will excuse me.”

  “When will we leave this God forsaken place?” Elenora cried after him. “I was promised we would go as soon as your sister was well.”

  James did not answer but he strode down the stairs purposefully, his breaths escaping in short, angry rasps.

  “Your Grace!” Byron whispered in a staged way. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Byron, you must arrange for a coach to leave directly on the morrow, as early as possible.”

  He nodded. “Will you be leaving, Sir?”

  “No,” James replied flatly. “Lady Blackwell will be returning to Whittaker.”

  “Do you mean Holden, Sir?”

  “No,” James said through clenched teeth. “I mean Whittaker.”

  “Very good, Sir. I will arrange it at once. Is that all, Your Grace?”

  James studied him. “I do not know, Byron. Is that all?”

  The concierge seemed somewhat flustered by the query. “I-I am unsure, Sir. Is there another matter in which I can assist you?”

  “Last night, Byron, you seemed quite prepared to tell me something but we were interrupted. What was it you meant to say?”

  Byron balked and looked away.

  “No, Your Grace, you are mistaken. I only wished to extend my condolences to your family. I-I was here at the time the news was received and I did feel quite badly for Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Are you sure, Byron for if there is something you would like me to know, I am listening with an open heart and mind.”

  Byron dropped his eyes fully and seemed to be contemplating his next words carefully. “I was here that night,” Byron offered in a barely audible voice. “It was a strange evening, like ghosts were wandering through the halls.”

  “Ghosts? How so?”

  “Doors were opening and closing, unlocking on their own and it was so quiet on the family’s floor.”

  James managed to keep his face impassive although he was beginning to wonder if the old man was of sound enough mind to know what he recalled.

  “The family’s floor? The fifth floor?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I thought that Mr. Balfour had gone out on business…but at that hour of the night?”

  “What hour?” James demanded, leaning across the desk. “What hour of the night?”

  “I daresay Joshua saw the same ghost at two of the morning.”

  “Joshua?”

  “The young waiter. He was born here, Sir, second generation Balfour. A good lad, honest.”

  “I know him,” James said, his mind racing.

  “Alas, it could not have been Mr. Balfour,” Byron continued. “He was here at dawn, well-rested. No one returned that night, but the guard came on the morrow to announce the Duke’s passing. I could not help but wonder if the Duke himself was not haunting the halls, looking for his wife and daughter to bid them goodbye.”

  Excitement coursed through James and it took all he had to contain himself.

  “Thank you, Byron,” he said, maintaining his nonchalance. “You have been most helpful.”

  “Have I?” Byron asked sadly. “Why do I feel as though I have merely awoken a sleeping spirit?”

  But James was barely listening.

  “You will not forget that coach for the morrow?”

  “No, Sir, of course not. Good night.”

  “Good night,” James muttered, turning away.

  Someone in the hotel, someone on the family’s floor disappeared the night my father passed. Could it have been Xavier?

  Blood rushed through his veins like a waterfall as he hurried toward the staff’s quarters.

  He needed to speak with Joshua immediately.

  * * *

  To his great relief, Joshua worked the night shift and James found the young man dismantling the dining hall.

  “Joshua,” he called and the boy raised his head, an instant smile upon his face.

  “Your Grace! How may I assist you?”

  “I have a rather odd question for you,” he replied slowly.

  “Those are the best kinds, Sir.”

  The boy straightened to his full, gangly height and peered at James with inquisitive eyes.

  “Do you recall a rather peculiar evening, several months ago in the winter when you saw a ghost?”

  Joshua chuckled but immediate stopped when he saw the expression on James’ face. “Oh! Pardon me, Sir. A ghost you say?”

  “I should have used better phrasing,” James offered sheepishly. “It would have been a night when you and Byron thought you saw someone leaving the hotel before the witching hour.”

  “Oh.” Understanding lit Joshua’s bright eyes. “Certainly, Your Grace. That was the night your father passed, was it not?”

  James blinked at the boy, stunned by his memory.

  “Indeed, it was,” he replied slowly. “You have quite a healthy mind, Joshua.”

  The boy shrugged humbly.

  “I attempt to keep sharp when possible,” he chuckled, looking about the dark dining hall.

  A few candelabra held lit candles to cast shadows
along the walls in eerie shapes.

  “Unfortunately, I do not see a great deal of excitement so I tend to recall when something of substance occurs.”

  “What made it so memorable?” James demanded, his pulse quickening. “What did you see?”

  “I fear I cannot tell you much, Your Grace, for I only thought I saw the specter of someone leaving through the front doors. Of course, only the family would have keys to permit themselves to leave—assuming Byron locked the doors at all when he went on his rounds of the building.”

  “Has he a history of forgetfulness?”

  “No…” Joshua murmured, seeming uncomfortable. “But I daresay—and with all the respect due to him—that he is a man in his sixties. He should not be working.”

  Shame lit Joshua’s face. “Please do not tell him I said such a thing. He is a decent, dear man who—”

  James held up his hand and shook his head. “I assure you, I will tell him nothing but you must remember harder. Tell me about this specter. What of him?”

  Joshua shook his head and stared down at his well-polished shoes.

  “If you will forgive me, Sir, I cannot be sure it was a ‘he’ at all.”

  James blinked in confusion.

  “Surely you do not truly believe you saw a ghost, Joshua.”

  He laughed nervously. “No, Sir, not a ghost…but a woman.”

  James’ mouth parted as he tried to reconcile this new revelation.

  “A woman? A guest perhaps?”

  “Truthfully, Your Grace, I had not given it much thought. If Byron had left the doors unlocked, perhaps it was merely one of the guests.”

  Yet if Byron locked the doors, it would have to have been a woman. Emmeline? Or, could he have mistaken Xavier for a woman?

  That was highly unlikely. Xavier was far too tall and muscular to ever have been construed as a woman.

  Unless he was in a disguise…

  None of this made a lick of sense to James and he was beginning to think he was merely wasting his time.

  “I see I have not been remotely helpful, Your Grace.”

  “You have,” James assured him, flashing a quick smile. “I am sorry to have interrupted your work.”

  “I welcome the break from the monotony,” Joshua replied, retuning his grin. “However, I do not believe the Balfours feel the same.”

  “Then I will not keep you. Good night.”

  “Good night, Your Grace.”

  With a disappointed sigh, James left the dining room.

  Perhaps he had not found the answers he sought but he felt as though he was getting closer. There was nothing else he could do that night but perhaps the morning light would provide him with a clearer head.

  All he wished to do in that moment was find his wife and ask her to join him for a nightcap before retiring for the night.

  And on the morrow, after I send Elenora far away from us both, I will turn in the key to Lydia’s suite so that she will sleep beside me where she belongs.

  With a renewed sense of faith, James hurried up the stairs to find his wife, a mounting sense of expectation rising within him, like he was a young man, courting for the first time.

  It is not unlike courting, he realized. We have been little other than two strangers living beneath the same roof for several years. I have been the daft fool who has overlooked Lydia’s grace and beauty while she has been vying for my attention. I do not deserve her. I am blessed to have her.

  He paused outside her bedchambers and looked about with some helplessness. He wished he had at least a flower to present to her.

  Idly, he considered retreating to the gardens but a quick look at his pocket watch told him that Lydia would most certainly be asleep by the time he returned. She had been run ragged throughout the day. He might not find her awake even now.

  “Lydia?” he called, gently rapping on the door. “Are you present?”

  There was no response from inside and, given the hour, he did not dare knock louder but when he tried the handle, it gave way easily and he stepped inside the purely dark suite.

  “Lydia?” he whispered. “Are you asleep?”

  He listened for signs of her breathing but as he neared her bed, he could clearly see the bed fully made by the light of the moon through the open drapes.

  “Lydia?”

  His confusion turned to anger as he lit a candle and searched the room for signs of his wife but she simply was not there.

  Dread rose in his gut as he thought of the way the maître d’ had looked at her earlier and a sick feeling overtook him.

  With a heavy heart, he sank onto the bed, his throat thick with bile.

  I lost her before I ever had a chance to make matters right between us—and I have no one to blame but myself.

  11

  The light of the moon never ceased to capture her heart, as if a part of Lydia lived somewhere in the heavens above. She had not even attempted to sleep, knowing that the endless jumble of thoughts in her mind would keep her up for yet another night. Lydia should have been exhausted and while she felt a certain fatigue inside, it was not unlike the one she had known since her marriage to James had commenced.

  You should not have told him what you heard. Perhaps Mr. Xavier murdered the Duke or perhaps not. James was ready to leave it be and you only brought it forward again, creating more doubt, more problems, more questions.

  She trailed her fingers along the wrought iron as she continued to walk beneath the rays of the half-moon, her heart heavying with each step. She knew much better than to be wandering about unchaperoned and alone at night but it was something she had done since she was a child. It gave her a sense of peace, being completely shrouded from prying eyes and ears, even if it was terribly scandalous. She had never been caught in the past and eventually, Lydia forgot that it was an issue at all.

  She was alone with her dismal, grey thoughts, the very same way she had been since girlhood.

  It will never be over, she thought with some sadness. If he is not chasing ghosts, he will be busy with matters of the duchy. I will never be as important to James as Emmeline is to Elias or Lise is to Xavier. I must accept that.

  She did not know why it was becoming such a devastating realization suddenly. She had always known it. She supposed being in the presence of true love had made Lydia long for what she had never had.

  Up ahead, she saw movement against the stone path and she reeled back, ducking into the bushes.

  Oh! I have been caught walking about unescorted! James will be furious with me when this is discovered.

  “Your Grace?”

  Lydia was mortified.

  “Your Grace, is that you?”

  She knew she had been caught.

  By Samuel no less!

  “Yes, Samuel,” she muttered guiltily, stepping from the bed of thorns to face him with some shame.

  “A-are you alone?” he demanded, looking about in shock. “W-where is your chaperone?”

  “I seem to have lost her,” Lydia replied. “I will return to the hotel and find her.”

  “I will see you back…” Samuel offered but he seemed uncomfortable by the idea and Lydia knew precisely why. If they were seen together, he would most certainly be terminated on the spot.

  “You need not,” Lydia told him quickly. “I assure you, my handmaiden is about.”

  She pretended to look about but Samuel did not look convinced.

  “Your Grace, a lady of your status cannot simply wander the grounds on her own. If any misfortune were to befall you…”

  He extended his arm for her accept.

  “I realize this is not the dandiest arm in Luton but I hope it will suffice.”

  “Samuel, I vow to run back to the hotel before anyone is any wiser about my absence.”

  “Of course, you do not need to take my arm,” he continued as though she had not spoken. “And we can simply walk side by side.”

  He started forward, pausing after a few steps to glance at her.

/>   “Shall we?”

  Lydia was incensed with herself for putting this man in such a position. She vowed that would be the last walk she ever took alone unchaperoned and she reached for his arm as they continued up the path.

  “What brings you out at this hour of the night?”

  “I was on my way to Luton when I saw you moving about in the bushes. I thought I might investigate, lest you were a wolf.”

  “A wolf?” Lydia laughed. “And how would you go about disabling a wolf if I had been one?”

  “I am much faster than I appear, Your Grace,” Samuel chuckled.

  “I should hope so if you expect to defend yourself against a wolf.” They stopped a moment and Lydia peered up at him regretfully. “I am sorry I have ruined your night.”

  “Ruined?” Samuel echoed. “Luton never sleeps, Madam, quite like yourself, it appears.”

  Again, Lydia giggled.

  “I suspect I have too much on my mind,” she sighed as they continued toward the hotel. Once more, she paused and stared at him with a fragile smile on her face.

  “I would also like to apologize for being so rude this afternoon. Your words reached me deeply and I fear I acted quite foolishly.”

  “You did nothing wrong, Madam. There is no need for an apology.”

  Their eyes met and smiles widened.

  “I—”

  “Unhand her!”

  Lydia spun about, her skirts sweeping along the pathway as her eyes sought to find James in the darkness until suddenly, he loomed above her, raging with anger and distress.

  “Your Grace, I-it is not what it seems,” Samuel muttered and even in the low light, Lydia could see his bronze skin wan.

  “A likely story!” James hissed, advancing upon him. “Have you no shame? She is a duchess! You are a common—”

  “James, that is quite enough!” Lydia snapped furiously. “Samuel found me alone in the gardens. He was merely seeing me back to the hotel.”

  James eyed her skeptically.

  “Why would you be alone in the gardens?”

  “It is simply something I do on occasion,” she muttered, darting her eyes away in shame. “Run along now, Samuel. Luton awaits.”

  Samuel remained in place, waiting for the Duke to confirm her instructions.