A Marriage 0f Convenience_Historical Regency Romance

by Janet Woods

  Eugenie gazed from one to the other. ‘I’ll pack some food for the journey, since you’ll be riding for most of the night.’

  Alex smiled at her. ‘It’s only takes four hours at the most.’

  ‘Then you’ll need breakfast.’

  He gave in. ‘Thank you, Eugenie, that’s something I was about to suggest.’

  Heaving a sigh of relief, for Dominic had not been looking forward to the ride alone, he said, ‘Your company will be more than welcomed, Alex, but don’t do this out of some misguided sense of loyalty.’

  ‘What’s misguided about it? Rest assured, brother, I will always be there if you need me, misguided or not, and on this occasion you do. Besides, no self-respecting felon will be abroad on such a night.’

  ‘As long as nobody mistakes us for villains and shoots us.’

  The two men exchanged a wry smile.

  Shortly, and buoyed up by a sense of adventure, they rode into the raw night, garbed in the warmest of clothes, greatcoats with double capes over the shoulders and floppy hats that could be worn under a hood and tied under the chin.

  Vivienne had filled their satchels to the brim with food, boiled eggs, cheese, ham, and crusty slices of buttered bread, as well as ginger ale in stone bottles. There was also a thick slice of roasted beef, the thought of which made Dominic’s mouth water, even though he’d eaten a hearty dinner. At least they wouldn’t go hungry for such a short journey.

  ‘Will that be enough?’ Vivienne asked, and Alex laughed and kissed her. ‘It’s enough to feed an army for a week, but you’ve forgotten to tie a cow to my saddlebag.’

  Argus and the chestnut gelding Alex rode grumbled at each other at being dug out of their warm stalls, but they settled when they got used to the darkness and the steady pace Dominic set for them. It was cold, and as they entered a wooded area the rain began to pelt down on them. Alex came up beside him, barely able to see, ‘Slow down, Dom, else the horses will run out of energy. Besides, I need to relieve myself.’

  ‘So do I, just be careful of your aim in the dark.’

  Argus showed no sign of fatigue. For the sake of convenience they’d stuck to a popular and well-travelled route and had now left the populated areas behind. Since they’d first entered the forested area Dominic’s horse had begun to give little snickers and pull against the reins that would hold him back. Now, halfway to Ringwood he stamped his hooves, tossed his head and sidestepped. Dominic kept a tight hold on his bridle, which proved to be awkward when he tried to remount. ‘You would choose now to kick up a fuss.’

  ‘Here, let me help.’ Alex made a stirrup with his hands and Dominic used it to spring into the saddle.

  ‘He’s frothing a bit and has probably got the scent of a mare in his nostrils. You should get him gelded.’

  ‘If that’s done, it will still take a year or so to eliminate the wildness from him, if ever. I’ve considered it, of course, but I’m working on an alternative plan.’

  ‘You’ve allowed yourself to become too fond of the animal.’

  ‘I admire his independent spirit and I don’t want to change it.’

  ‘Don’t leave it much longer, Dom. He has magnificent equipment, and nowhere to expend the energy it produces. If it will help to settle him I’ll have a couple of brood mares ready to be covered in the spring. He’s a strong, handsome horse, and between them they should produce worthy offspring. Does he have papers?’

  ‘His dam was a carriage horse called Nelly; his sire is recorded as an Exmoor Black. He’s passed through several hands.’

  ‘Hmmm … that doesn’t bode well for his future. Very few people would consider buying a practicably unmanageable horse without a decent pedigree. If you sell him, or if he damages someone, he’ll end up in the knackery.’

  ‘Sam can manage him.’

  ‘Sam’s a whisperer. He has a large dollop of gypsy blood in him and he understands horses.’

  Dominic threw his brother a grin. ‘Who’s being romantic now? I didn’t think you were a believer in folklore.’

  ‘Don’t you ever wonder why fate put us all in the same place at the same time, and what life would be like, should you not exist?’

  ‘Not strongly enough for me to crouch under my horse’s backside and carve his bollocks up … I’m not that foolhardy.’

  Alex roared with laughter when Argus bared his teeth and grunted.

  ‘Come on, Alex, let’s get on the road again. I want to be there by dawn.’

  The two men tied their hoods over their hats and started off through the rain.

  An hour later and the rain ceased. Everything smelled fresh. A white moon rode high in the sky, chasing the ragged clouds. The weather had decided to give them a premature reminder of how cold winter could be. It was cold, too cold for comfort, but pretty. Raindrops turned into glittering icicles and the ground frosted over.

  Dominic thought of Grace, lying asleep, her breath gently lifting her breasts to tease the nipples against the lace of her chemise.

  She was innocent and lovely and it would be his joy to expose to her what she was made of. Or perhaps the other way round.

  Alex cut into Dominic’s dreams of Grace as a faint trace of silvery grey light was painted along the horizon. ‘First light.’

  ‘It won’t be long now … an hour at the most.’

  The horses were breathing heavily now and they moved through the continuous cloud of vapour being expelled from their nostrils.

  Mist rose from the ground and thickened, so they could hardly see where they were going.

  ‘Stay close to me, Alex. There’s a fence to the left.’

  There was a forlorn bray from the donkey, and the noise guided them into the garden. Before long the house front came into view.

  As far as they could see there was no smoke coming from the chimneys or light shining in the windows.

  Dominic led the donkey back to his stable and released him from his rig. He took a moment to comfort the beast and the animal’s whiskery nose nuzzled into his palm. Dominic pitched the animals some hay and oats, while Alex manned the pump and filled the water trough. When freed, the donkey skittered for the safety of his stall, where he buried his nose in the feeding trough, his recent woes beginning to fade in the comfort of food.

  They found a blanket apiece for the horses and strapped them on, so they’d cool down gradually after their journey.

  Fighting his growing unease, for he couldn’t imagine Grace leaving without making sure the donkey had access to feed and water, Dominic gave an extra tug to the blanket straps. ‘I’m going to bang on the door. If nobody answers I’ll enter the house.’

  ‘The occupants might still be asleep.’

  ‘And they might not be … they might be waiting for us.’

  After five minutes of pounding, and with Alex at his heels they tried the front door, but to no avail. The kitchen door was unlocked, however, allowing them access. The kitchen was cold, the ashes dead in the firebox. Plates, pans and dishes were smeared with leftover food that had dried hard.

  ‘Gracie,’ he shouted and his voice bounced eerily off the walls.

  ‘You search upstairs and I’ll have a look down here, but wait till I find the tinderbox and get a fire going in the kitchen stove. Then we can boil some water and light some candles. It won’t be long before there’s enough daylight to see. The girl might be ill, or perhaps she has fallen. Don’t worry, Dom, if she’s anywhere in this house we’ll find her.’

  ‘And if she isn’t?’

  Surely, if Gracie had wanted him she would have waited for him. The house breathed emptiness. Out in the hall the clock had ceased its tick. The air itself was stale, as if it contained the dying breaths of previous occupants, now worn out and useless, and hanging in the corners like dusty ghosts.

  Dominic shook himself. He was not looking forward to his interview with the soldier. What on earth had Florence Digby been thinking of with her attempt to manipulate two people? It was natural that both of them
would like to inherit the money, but marriage as a clause was unfair, impractical, and probably illegal. It was a folly to expect Gracie to change the nature of a man like Crouch. He was set in his ways, and those ways were decadent from what he’d heard. Grace hadn’t lived long enough to experience love yet, and she would live a lonely life if she wed the man.

  Alex sighed with satisfaction when the fire caught. He picked up a jug from the table, recoiling when he sniffed the contents. ‘Three days old, at least.’

  Had the soldiers already been here – taken Gracie away as if it was the brigadier’s right? Panic filled him at the thought. Common sense replaced the panic. His appointment with the brigadier was not for a few days.

  He went into the hall with Alex in tow and gazed up the length of staircase into the blackness. Something moved.

  He could almost feel her presence, her breath a cool fan against his cheek, her voice a whisper of sound, like a faraway cry. The house seemed to pull him into its wretched depths, so he wished he’d never heard of Oakford House, or indeed, had never met the charming Miss Grace Ellis, who had begun to occupy his every damned thought in any way she could.

  ‘Dominic.’

  ‘Did you hear that? I should never have left her here alone.’

  ‘It sounded like a cat to me, or the wind in the chimney.’ To prove his brother’s point a tabby cat came down the stairs and weaved around Dominic’s ankles before heading for the kitchen.

  ‘I must be hearing things. What if—’

  ‘You’re not thinking with your usual logic, stop anticipating the worse. What’s really bothering you, Dom? Do you doubt that her affection towards you is not strong enough to endure? Or do you doubt your own feelings, perhaps.’

  Dominic thought about it. Were he to be honest, all the girl had done was indulge in spontaneous flirtation. He had no reason to imagine her affections went deeper than that except … his intuition regarding her was too strong to doubt.

  ‘Your first thought sums up the situation. She may have been persuaded to go to the Antipodes with the house servants. Then again, I arranged to meet the brigadier here with James Archibald. If she refuses him he might try and persuade her to take part in a proxy marriage for a small recompense. She’s such a delightful scrap of a woman, and I would hate for her to be forced into an unsuitable alliance. She grew up without a mother to advise her.’

  Alex chuckled. ‘Surely you don’t picture yourself in the role of parent.’

  ‘Definitely not. My regard for Gracie is much more worldly … husband, companion and … playmate.’

  ‘Then the sooner we find her and get her back to King’s Acres the better. She’ll have two females there to advise her. Let’s start at the top of the house and work our way down.’

  Dominic’s frown deepened with each step. Somebody had ransacked the house, but as far as he could see, very little was missing. Was it a ploy to suggest the perpetrators were strangers, perhaps? A mirror had been smashed and he would need to go through the inventory to see what had been stolen. His room was a jumbled mess with blankets and the mattress turned over and slashed, so the stuffing was revealed.

  ‘I imagine the housekeeper and her husband would have done this, probably out of spite. They would have been looking for cash, which is well hidden.’

  He hesitated at the door of the room she’d occupied on the opposite side of the corridor. The lock was splintered. ‘Gracie,’ he said against the door panel.

  ‘Allow me.’ Alex turned the handle and pushed the door open.

  The first thing he saw was a pillow smeared with dried blood.

  ‘Easy, Dom, it’s not much blood, and there’s very little on the floor, just a few drops.’

  Dominic’s breath came in a relieved rush; he was thankful for his brother’s caution. The scent of her was all around him, rosewater and the lavender sprigs she placed in her wardrobe and dressing table drawers to keep the moths at bay. ‘She isn’t in here.’

  ‘Did you expect her to be?’

  Dominic shrugged. ‘I was hoping.’

  ‘Did you imagine you might stumble over her lifeless body?’

  ‘It crossed my mind.’

  ‘Poor Dom, you are in a pother.’ Alex took a step closer to the bed, ‘What’s that scribble on the wall?’

  ‘Numbers. She’s counted numbers in increments of hundreds. She would have done that trying to keep her mind active. See how they tail off and become muddled when she tired.’ Dominic moved closer and gazed at it, his mind ticking over, and then he took a closer look and smiled.

  ‘That’s a smug smile you’re wearing, brother.’

  ‘Damn me, if it isn’t an attempt to calculate the conversion of a troy ounce into avoirdupois.’

  Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘It would be easier to climb a greasy pole at the local fair.’

  ‘Hmmm … yes, I suppose it would be for a clod like you.’

  ‘What’s that loop bit in the middle?’

  Dominic ran his finger around the symbol ∞. It’s the sign for infinity. Two circles joined, whichever way you looked at it is the number eight. Not only was she telling him she had been there but that she cared for him.

  There was a shoe on the bed, impossibly small and dainty. Dominic picked it up and brushed his fingertip over it before setting it back on the bed. He gazed around for its partner as he pushed Grace’s belongings into a travel bag thinking how sad it was that she had so little. A skirt, a straw bonnet and shawl. Her Sunday gown was of sensible dark blue and worn with a white apron to protect the skirt. For the sake of modesty, and perhaps warmth, she otherwise wore a fichu. He recalled a sensible skirt of brown checks she wore with a honey-coloured velvet bodice that matched her eyes. She must be wearing that now.

  ‘Come on, this isn’t finding the lady. What are you looking for, Dom?’

  ‘Her other shoe.’

  ‘I imagine she must be wearing it.’

  He placed the travel bag in the wardrobe. He could collect it tomorrow.

  It was light enough to see everything clearly now, including the muddied patch in the hall where the scuffed footsteps indicated a struggle had taken place. Alex bent, and picking up a silver spoon he set it on the hallstand. ‘There were at least two people, possibly three. Two women and one man,’ he said.

  An empty wine bottle lay on its side with two glasses. A closer look of the drawing room revealed a patch of dried blood. It had soaked into the rug.

  ‘It looks as though she fell here and hit her head. Look, there’s blood on the piano stool. Your thoughts?’

  Fearing the worst, Dominic followed the dried droplets across the hall to the bottom of the stair. ‘Somebody’s taken her.’

  ‘It certainly looks like it. She was subjected to some rough handling, then dragged across the hall and up the stairs into her room.’

  ‘Where she was locked in and left to die.’

  ‘Forget the melodrama, Dom. You need to keep a clear head. I doubt if the person who carried this out intended to kill her, since they had no reason to. They did it to create enough time to ransack the house without her interference. I think she probably broke that hatpin in the lock, trying to get out.’

  ‘I suspect it was the Curtis couple. Perhaps Jessie Curtis came back and released her. But what happened then? The door to her room was unlocked, and besides, she wouldn’t have left this mess. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have allowed the fire in the kitchen to go out … and those ashes didn’t have a spark of warmth in them.’

  ‘Which brings me to my next theory. There was a third person involved. Perhaps someone with legitimate business at the house heard her cry for help, and freed her. Can you think of anyone she may have gone to for assistance?’

  ‘James Archibald perhaps, though she dislikes him. He’ll be here tomorrow, so we can question him then if we need to … or Reverend Hallam … though unlikely. Another point. Had Gracie been able she would have used the donkey cart rather than walk away, leaving the creature in
its straps to fend for itself.’

  ‘We haven’t looked in the cellar yet.’

  ‘There’s no key.’

  The door swung open when Alex turned the handle. ‘Nevertheless, the door is open.’

  ‘I can hear the kettle rattling on the stove. We’ll have some tea and then search the cellar and the outbuildings.’

  The kitchen was now nicely warmed and more welcoming as a result. The tabby cat came out of the larder, legs astride a smoked kipper it was dragging by its tail. The tabby’s ears were flattened and his eyes slitted with the pleasure of his kill, and though it came from the larder shelf the smelly aroma of smoked fish acted as an incentive, like a donkey following a carrot dangled under his nose.

  Alex remarked, latching the larder door as the cat disappeared under the table with its prey, ‘He’s an enterprising creature, I hope he hasn’t eaten our dinner, as well.’

  So Grace had managed to attract a tabby cat. Dominic gazed at the creature’s tail. ‘How long is that cat’s tail, would you say?’

  He became the recipient of a pitying look. ‘About ten inches, why the devil would you want to know that, are you growing one for yourself?’

  Dominic shrugged.

  The cellar was empty except for a few bottles of wine and a couple more of brandy. A strong, fruity smell permeated the air and there was a crunch of broken glass underfoot. A window, too small to admit the passage of an adult, allowed a little light in.

  Dominic’s unease increased. Someone had robbed the cellar, most likely the Curtis couple. But they’d need to have someone to buy it – an accomplice. The previously employed, Pawley, perhaps? Then there was the attorney, James Archibald. Dominic had formed an impression he would accept a payment to turn his cheek the other way, and to enhance his retirement pension. There would have been a middleman – an agent – someone who knew the old lady well enough to be trusted. The others would have hung from Lady Florence like leeches, sucking her dry. No wonder she’d taken a liking to Gracie.

  He’d listed the most obvious when another name presented itself. A name crawled into his head, one immediately discarded. But he rarely ignored intuition and when the name returned he thought, albeit cautiously – surely not!