Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2)

by Tiffany Green

  Relieved, he nodded. “Aye, tha’ is a goud idea.”

  Even sheltered from the fierce north wind by the high cliff that loomed above the cove, the ships still dipped and tossed, making it impossible to leave one ship and board the other with ease. Yet with determination, Connor managed the feat, along with the captain.

  “Captain Redding, would it be possible for my first mate and me to speak to Merrick?” Jack asked.

  The older captain removed the pipe from his yellow teeth and nodded. “Aye. But you better be quick about it. The man’s near to coiling up his ropes, he is.”

  Connor followed Jack and a scrawny crewman to the bottom part of the hold where they kept the sick. Wailing mingled with weak moans, and the sound of retching echoed throughout the cramped interior. He gritted his teeth as the abhorrent stench of vomit and piss slammed into his face, making even his iron-clad stomach twist a bit.

  He kept his eyes forward as they passed rows of dying men, knowing Captain Redding had been unusually kind for separating the sick from the others, as well as keeping the room marginally lit.

  Finally, the lad halted and pointed. “’E’s there.”

  The man lay on his back, head turned away, shivering. Filth matted his hair, making it impossible to discern a proper color. But it looked dark enough, Connor thought, seeing that the man had also been stripped of his fine clothes, jewelry, and boots. Only a dirty, threadbare rag covered certain private parts.

  Remembering what the beast had done to his sister, he grunted in satisfaction before approaching. “Merrick.” The sound bounced off the wooden walls. He nudged the man in the ribs with the tip of his boot.

  The man turned his head weakly, revealing a bruised, swollen face. His eye lids fluttered open a fraction. “Not Merrick.”

  Connor frowned. “O’ course ye are,” he said but couldn’t confirm the fact since the man’s face was so battered. “Who else would ye be?”

  His fevered body shuddered. Then his eyes opened wider. “Colin Pennington,” he said hoarsely, “as God is my witness.”

  Alarm jabbed him in the middle, but Connor forced it back and folded his arms. “Tha’ is a lie. Aye, a lie tae save your gilded arse.”

  “No lie.” The man panted, growing weaker by the second. “Victor’s idea…I pretended to…be him. Rented…rooms…in London…using…his name. Wore…his…clothes.” He paused, struggling to catch his breath. “Had to…help him…like he…helped…me.”

  “Do you believe him?” Jack asked.

  He shook his head. “I dunno. The man’s face is tae beat up tae ken for certain.”

  The captain glanced down then back. “Didn’t you wound Merrick? The real Merrick?”

  His breath caught. “Aye.” He glanced back to the now unconscious man. “Silver told me she watched the dirk sink intae Merrick’s shoulder.” He lowered down onto his haunches and rolled the man onto his stomach. The filthy skin burned with a very high fever, he noticed as he searched for a scar. Nothing above a few greenish-purple bruises. No scar. He rolled the man back over stood. No scar there, either.

  “Well?” Jack asked.

  After shaking his head in disbelief, Connor turned to the captain. “It’s no’ Merrick.” Fear for his sister slammed into him like the force of a cannon ball. He had to get back and warn her. Fast.

  ****

  “Wake up, Silver!”

  As Daniel’s urgent voice penetrated her sleep, the smell of smoke filled her nostrils, making her cough. Silver opened her eyes, seeing a faint haziness in the room, and became instantly alert. Her husband had lit a lamp. He rapidly buttoned the shirt he had discarded hours earlier. She furrowed her brow.

  Her husband turned, as if he had sensed her question. “Something within the house is on fire.”

  Her heart jolted in panic, and she scrambled out of bed.

  “Wear a thick coat and some boots.” He stripped the bed of the heavy coverlet.

  Her mind could hardly function. She coughed again and glanced to the door, seeing a steady stream of dark gray smoke seeping in. Terror pooled in the bottom of her stomach. Fire. The smell of charred wood choked her. She backed away, remembering the melted face of her mother.

  Daniel turned her to face him. “Don’t panic, my love, it muddles the mind. Now get your coat and boots.” He gave her a gentle push toward the dressing room.

  His reassuring voice and gentle touch helped to calm her. Silver rubbed her stinging eyes and hurried to do as he had asked. Returning a minute later with her boots on, she had just pushed her arms through the coat sleeves when a knock sounded.

  He opened the door to Larkin. “Your Grace,” the butler stated, thick smoke pouring into the room, “everyone is awake.”

  Oh, thank God! She sagged against the wall and coughed as the smoke irritated her lungs.

  Her husband turned to her. “Come, we must leave.” He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders then led her from the room.

  The smoke grew thicker and blacker the further down the stairs they descended. It must have started somewhere downstairs. “Here, this will help.” He handed her a handkerchief.

  Coughing, she nodded and pressed the white square over her nose and mouth. Her eyes singed and filled with tears, making it more difficult to see, and her scratchy throat became raw. Daniel’s arm came around her, and she leaned into him for comfort.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard the roar and crackle of the fire and the urgent voices of those trying to extinguish it. She looked up, seeing through the blue-black haze a line of men passing buckets of water into the drawing room where flickers of flame and shadows could be seen through the doorway. Smoke billowed out.

  As soon as Silver stepped outside, she removed the now gray handkerchief and sighed with relief. The cold, night air smelled sweet, and she gulped down several deep breaths which helped to soothe her burning lungs and throat. She coughed several times, then breathed in more fresh air.

  The near full moon peeped out from a cloud, casting an otherworldly glow over the snow-covered landscape. She listened as their footsteps scrunched into the deep white powder, their breaths making silvery plumes of smoke in the frigid air. She could not believe what had happened. Perhaps it was nothing more than an awful dream and she would wake at any moment.

  Daniel led her to the nearest bench in the garden. After wiping the pile of snow from the marble surface, he turned to her. “Stay here,” he said, his voice rough from the smoke. “I’m going to see about the others.”

  She blinked more tears from her burning eyes, wanting to beg him not to go. But she knew he needed to be certain about the rest of the family. “Please, be careful.”

  He bent down and gave her a swift kiss. “I love you.”

  Her heart pounded heavy, painful thuds against her breast as she watched him go back to the mansion. Please, let him stay safe.

  The moon dipped into a cloud, throwing shadows over the trees. The wind picked up, disturbing the snow on the branches above her. Cold white powder dusted her hair and shoulders. She snuggled further into her blanket, bringing a puff of burned wood to her nose, and sneezed.

  “Silver.”

  She turned when she heard her cousin’s whimper. “Katrina?” She scanned the dark trees to her left. “Where are you?”

  “Please, Silver, I twisted my ankle. Would you come help me to the bench?”

  She stood at once, the heavy velvet falling from her shoulders, and started toward her cousin’s distressed voice.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Daniel opened the door just as people began pouring out, wheezing and gasping for breath, the thick black smoke following. “Have any of you seen the dowager, Lord Andrew, or Lady Victoria?”

  “No, Your Grace,” several servants said in unison, the others shaking their heads, coughing.

  Swearing inwardly, he rushed in, questioning more servants along the way. And receiving the same ruddy response. Then he found Larkin. Removin
g the handkerchief from his nose, he asked, “Where is the rest of my family?”

  Larkin nodded toward the back of the house. “Godfrey is leading all but Mrs. Whitmore down the servants’ stairs, then out into the garden. Less smoke, that route.”

  A strange tingle, the hint of a suspicion, fluttered into his stomach. “Where is Mrs. Whitmore?” he asked then coughed when he inhaled too much smoke.

  “She was seen in the garden just a little while ago, Your Grace.”

  “Come,” he said and led the way through the front door. He inhaled deeply, coughing several times, then turned to the butler. “What happened?” he asked.

  Larkin swiped the wetness from his eyes. “It was the tree, Your Grace.” He shook his head slightly. “I do not understand it, though. I made certain every taper had been extinguished before retiring.”

  “Then it must have been something else.” Larkin, one of the most competent and meticulous men he’d ever known, would have been certain.

  The butler wagged his head sadly. “There can be no other explanation, Your Grace. We are most certain the tree was where the fire started. I just don’t understand. I counted them, you see. One hundred and fifty-seven tapers had been placed on the tree, and one hundred and fifty-seven tapers had been extinguished. I even waited beside the tree for half an hour to be sure.”

  Daniel frowned.

  “And it couldn’t have been the fireplace, Your Grace, it is simply too far away.”

  Gritting his teeth as his anger rose, he gave a curt nod. There was but one explanation left. “Yes, I know.”

  “But I shall examine the rug to see if a log somehow managed to leap from the grate and roll the length of the room.”

  Shaking his head, he took a deep breath to keep from lashing out at his distressed butler. “I cannot imagine that happening. The log would have had to roll sixty feet.”

  Larkin’s shoulders slumped. “That is true, sir, but I cannot fathom another reason for the fire starting.”

  Daniel’s gut twisted, his suspicions confirmed. “Unless it was started intentionally.”

  The butler’s head snapped up, his shoulders rigid. “Intentionally, Your Grace?”

  He gave a sharp nod. “That is the only explanation that makes any sense.” He glanced back at the mansion before continuing. “Question everyone without being obvious.” He wanted proof. Proof before sending Katrina Whitmore to the magistrate.

  The butler bowed. “Right away, Your Grace.”

  Just as Larkin disappeared though the door, Garrett appeared. His face streaked with soot, his filthy shirt torn in several places. “The fire is out,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  Daniel nodded then recited the conversation he’d just had with Larkin. All but his suspicions about the culprit. He wanted to see if his friend would come to the same conclusion.

  His friend’s red-rimmed eyes widened. “Are you serious?” He shook his head. Then he went still and looked up. “Have any idea who’s responsible for setting the fire?”

  “I have an idea.” He crossed his arms. “I’m just not certain why.”

  Garrett drew his brows and studied the house several seconds. Then comprehension dawned. “Katrina Whitmore.”

  “You think she’s capable of it?” The urge to find the chit and shake the truth from her grew to near overwhelming.

  “I’m not certain.” His friend narrowed his eyes. “But I wouldn’t disregard the possibility. That one does have a certain look about her. Devious like.”

  “Yes.” He turned back to the house and watched smoke pour from windows that had been opened, his anger threatening to boil over. Silver could have been hurt. He swallowed hard. Or worse. “Perhaps I should have a talk with her.”

  “Let’s do.”

  Daniel entered the cloudy, foul-smelling interior, and placed the handkerchief back over his nose. Servants rushed about to open more windows, others waved blankets to try and clear the air. It would take a good while to set things to rights.

  But he could have lost Silver.

  Where in the hell was Katrina Whitmore?

  A shiver of disquiet slid down his back. Larkin said the chit had been in the garden. His wife was there. Daniel hurried toward the rear of the mansion. Something was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew. But he knew.

  Stepping outside, he noticed the empty bench right away. His pulse leaped. He glanced around, his eyes searching the crowd for his wife.

  “Oh, Daniel, this is terrible.” Torie approached with a sob.

  He looked down at his sister’s teary, soot-smudged face and gathered her into his arms. “Everything will be all right.”

  “I told you that damn tree was crooked,” Uncle George said as he walked up, his arm around Prudence.

  Andrew led Grandmother forward. “Tell him, Daniel,” she said, “tell that old fool the tree did not fall over and start the fire.” She halted, her eyes insisting he do as she bade. “Tell him, Daniel, or we shall never hear the end of it.”

  He shook his head. God’s blood, he didn’t have time for this. “The tree did not fall, Uncle George.” He glanced back down at his sister. “Torie, do you know where Silver is?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t seen her.” Then her eyes grew wide and filled with alarm. “She made it out of the house, didn’t she?”

  “Of course she did.” He glanced around the crowded garden. “She’s in here somewhere. I’ll find her.”

  She gave a relieved smile, her teeth gleaming white against her grimy face. “Silver is probably making sure no one was hurt.”

  Daniel nodded, somewhat reassured by his sister’s words, and glanced around again. Then something to his right caught his attention. He groaned. “Torie, go and make certain Gran doesn’t kill Uncle George,” he said, as the two still argued over the ruddy tree. “I’ll go and find Silver.”

  Deciding to start where he’d left her earlier, he walked to the bench, Garrett on his heels. His heart soared up his throat when he neared. The bedding Silver had been wrapped in lay in a puddle on the marble surface. A folded white paper, gleaming menacingly in the moonlight, rested on top with red rose petals scattered all around. The worry pulling at him intensified. His name was scrawled boldly across the front of the note. He recognized the handwriting, but it wasn’t his wife’s small, neat script. He couldn’t quite place where he’d seen it.

  As his unease mounted, he lifted the letter and broke the smooth wax seal. Something fell from its folds, landing on the snow between his feet.

  Daniel picked up the object and stiffened, his mind denying what his eyes saw lying on the palm of his sooty right hand. A lock of ruby hair, the color of Silver’s hair, tied in a knot around her wedding ring.

  With shaky hands, he unfolded the note and read quickly, before the gathering clouds could snuff out the moon’s light.

  The vacant stone cottage east of the lake.

  Tell no one and come alone or she dies.

  He could actually feel the blood drain from his face. Then his whole body began to tremble, his mind screaming none of this was real. This had to be a nightmare. Yes, a terrible nightmare. Any moment he’d wake in bed with Silver nestled safely at his side.

  Daniel closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath of frigid night air and held it for several seconds. He opened his eyes, finding everything the same.

  Oh, God, oh, God! Someone had taken his wife!

  Spinning around, he took a step toward the stables. He paused, his mind racing out of control. Through the chaos arose a thought, more of an instinct. It told him to calm and think things through before racing blindly to the cottage.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Daniel whipped his head around, forgetting that Garrett stood beside him. “No, everything is fine.” He forced the lie from his lips after recalling what the note said.

  “Something is wrong, Daniel. Tell me what it is.”

  Tiny white flakes fluttered down from the sky. He looked around and swore. As little
as it snowed here, it would pick this night to do so. His time for thinking things through had just run out.

  “Come, Daniel, let us go back inside,” Gran called. “The weather is worsening. Surely the smoke has cleared enough by now.”

  He turned to his family. A couple of servants held lamps, and he saw their sorrowful, streaked faces. His fists clenched—gripping the note in one hand, the ring in the other. Someone had set the fire on purpose. And that someone now had Silver.

  “Go ahead.” He nodded toward the mansion. “There is something I must do first.”

  They turned, all except for Prudence who walked up to him. Her expression worried. “Where is Silver?”

  “I had her maid take her back to bed a few minutes ago,” he lied, praying she wouldn’t find Molly along the way back to the mansion. “The smoke should be cleared from the bedrooms by now.”

  Uncle George shuffled up to Prudence’s side. “Come, Purdie, let’s go get some rest.” He took her arm. “Don’t have to worry about another damn tree falling over.”

  After the couple started back toward the mansion, Daniel headed for the stables. He swore, seeing the snow falling thicker now, and increased his pace.

  Storming into the building, he blinked, not expecting the light. Then he frowned when he found Garrett saddling two horses. “What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing?”

  “Going with you,” his friend answered without looking up. He started to argue when Garrett continued. “I knew something was wrong as soon as you found that note. The look on your face…” He halted, his eyes hardening with determination. “I am going with you.”

  “You can’t go.” Daniel handed over the note.

  His friend read the words and jerked his head up, his dark eyes snapping with fury. “I’ll stay out of si—”

  “No.” He sliced the air with his hand. “I cannot risk Silver’s life. There is no way Katrina is acting alone.”