The Duke's Dilemma (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 2)

by Elaine Manders

  “If you’re quite certain.” He strode to them and attempted to get a look at the portrait, but Cassandra stepped in front of him.

  “We never allow anyone to see his portrait until it’s finished, and not even then if it should not turn out well.”

  Edward chuckled. “I accept that and shall return within an hour at the most.” He bent in a formal bow. “I trust that you’ll make me look better than I actually do.”

  “That would hardly be possible, your grace.”

  He returned her pert grin with another chuckle and made his way to his stallion. As he passed by the first bench, he spied Cassandra’s reticule lying on the ground. Sarah’s supplies lay on the bench and the reticule must have fallen accidentally.

  Hooking it by its string ties, he found the bag much heavier than expected. Made of soft kid, the bag clearly showed the outline of the pistol it held. With a backward glance, he saw Cassandra and Sarah with heads together, totally absorbed. Though he wanted to question her, he wouldn’t. But apprehension settled over him, and he debated whether to leave them.

  If Cassandra felt threatened enough to carry a gun, she was in danger.

  Military life had taught him how to access dangers. He taken the foresight to have Charles Galloway’s detective follow them here. He’d seen the man earlier, posing as a street mucker. Edward sent a sweeping gaze over the wooded terrain. Yes, there he was, just outside the park area, seemingly resting against a tree trunk.

  Edward mounted his horse and cantered toward the spy, stopping only long enough to instruct the man to intervene if Cassandra and Sarah were threatened.

  Little more than a quarter hour later, he’d stopped at the boarding establishment where Charles resided. The viscount himself stepped out of an alcove. Apparently he’d been waiting.

  Charles greeted him. “Come into the inn. I’ll engage a private parlor.”

  “No time for that. I just discovered Lady Wayte is carrying a pistol around in her reticule, and I left Sarah with her.”

  Charles needed no further explanation. They strode to the side of the building, away from the street traffic. Edward pulled the horse along. When they were outside of hearing distance, he pretended to inspect the saddle’s leathers. “How is the investigation going?”

  “At sixes and sevens, I’m afraid. It’s bringing up more questions than answers.”

  “Did Lady Wayte’s servant find a young woman by the name of Hilda at the Green Duck?”

  Charles joined the pretense by bending over to lift the stallion’s hoof. “My detective followed a woman from Lady Wayte’s residence to the Green Duck.” He stood. “She was in disguise.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s in the gait. The woman was dressed as an older woman, but she walked like one much younger. The gait is almost impossible to disguise.”

  Edward ran his hand along the horse’s flank. “Do you think it was Lady Wayte?”

  “Might have been, or it could have been any of her young female servants.” Charles rubbed the horse’s nose. “That brings up an interesting question. Lady Wayte has twice as many female servants as she would need. One would wonder how she keeps her maids occupied.”

  “Tell me the rest. Did Hilda come back with this woman in disguise?”

  “No. A young streetwalker going by the name of Hilda did meet with the woman. They rode around in a hackney cab for a while, then Hilda returned to the Green Duck.” Charles inspected the horse’s mouth. “You might be interested to know that Sir Harcrumb owns the Green Duck.”

  This didn’t surprise Edward. “What have you learned about Harcrumb?”

  “Very successful and respected as a merchant, but gets most of his money from running houses of ill repute. Had I known that I wouldn’t have done business with him.”

  “Lord Wayte had accused Harcrumb of nefarious dealings before his death, and I fear Lady Wayte is trying to carry on her late husband’s cause.” She must understand how dangerous that was. That might be why she carried the pistol. Thoughts of danger made Edward want to finish the interview and get back to Cassandra and Sarah. “Have you kept up with Daphne Ashford?”

  “She finds me useful every time she needs an escort to some squeeze guaranteed to expose her to as many eyes as possible.”

  Edward let slip a bark of laughter. Daphne hadn’t changed.

  Charles’ expression remained stoic. “Don’t think she’s given up her pursuit of you.”

  “Has she said anything to that effect?”

  “She doesn’t confide in me, but I’ve tagged along with her to Sir Harcrumb’s new townhouse. Daphne is scheming with Mrs. Harcrumb and Millicent Wayte. If you intend to approach Lady Jersey to secure a voucher to Almack’s for Lady Wayte, you should do so sooner rather than later.”

  Edward grimaced. He wasn’t ready to approach Lady Jersey. An argument strong enough to convince that fastidious lady still eluded him. He’d have to have evidence to refute the gossip still swirling around Lady Wayte, and he wouldn’t have that until his investigation was complete. Too many questions remained unanswered.

  Why was Cassandra carrying a pistol?

  He checked his gold pocket watch, shocked at how much time had elapsed. The urgency to return to the park overwhelmed him. “I want to know what Harcrumb is about.” He took the stallion’s reins and put his foot in the stirrup. “Call on me as soon as you know anything new.”

  With a curt nod to Charles, he turned the horse in a circle and cantered away from the business section. When he reached the trail leading to the park, he urged the stallion to galloping as if the hounds of hades were at his heels. Then it hit him like a shaft of light. A possible reason Cassandra had refused his invitation to Langsdale Manor.

  How could he have been so nod-cocked? Given the way she’d been accused of improprieties, she might think he was suggesting that she become his mistress. He’d not made it clear his intentions were honorable. The only excuse for his dim-witted thinking was the fact that he didn’t understand women.

  Of course one problem remained. He didn’t know enough about Cassandra to declare himself. An outright marriage proposal could hardly be taken back if he discovered the lady was involved in some clandestine activity. By suggesting that they invite Cassandra to Langsdale, Aunt Chloe had put him in a vise, something she’d probably intended to do all along. No, he didn’t understand women by half.

  He entered the heavily wooded area that surrounded the park and slowed the stallion to a trot. There had to be some way to get Cassandra to go to the country. The sooner she left London and whatever danger she was in, the better. At the moment he had no notion how to convince her, but she would tell him why she hid a pistol in her reticule.

  Chapter 12

  After halting in front of her townhouse, Cassandra dismounted and reluctantly surrendered the reins of the beautiful roan mare to the duke. He’d barely said a word since leaving the park, indeed, since returning from his appointment. Had he received unwelcome news?

  She hesitated to ask questions and found it hard to get a word in with Sarah chattering excitedly over her almost finished portrait.

  “I’m most grateful to you for making Sarah happy.” Edward’s smile chased away his glum expression, and she relaxed.

  “It was my pleasure, your grace.” The rolled paper containing the sketch of his portrait was tucked under her arm, reminding her of how she’d enjoy working on it.

  “It’s Edward to you. We are friends.” He handed the reins of the mare to Sarah. “Take Rosy with you. I’ll be along in a bit.”

  Dismissing Sarah could only mean he wished to speak with Cassandra privately. Her pulse raced. For some unaccountable reason, she feared she wouldn’t like what he had to say, though he’d reminded her they were friends with his most winsome smile.

  “I won’t detain you long, Cassandra. I only want to ask if you’re in any danger.”

  No, she didn’t like this. How could she keep her composure under his scrutiny?
She forced a nonchalant pose. “Why would you think that? I’m in no danger.”

  “Forgive my prying, but earlier I saw your reticule lying on the ground, and when I lifted it, I noticed it contained…a pistol.”

  Her glance fell to the bag hanging from her arm. She’d forgotten it. “I carry it on my morning walks…for nothing more than reassurance. Surely I’m not the only lady that needs protection at times.”

  “Most assuredly not, but this is a respectable neighborhood, and not many ladies of your station would feel the need.”

  She should take umbrage, just tell him to attend his own business, but the sincerity in his eyes made that impossible. With silence stretching painfully between them, she fumbled for some plausible explanation, something at least resembling the truth.

  What would he say if he knew the dangerous places a lady of her standing visited? Yet she’d never considered arming herself when she went to those places. It suddenly occurred to her she wouldn’t be able to return to those places with Harcrumb around.

  “I assure your grace, I’m not in the habit of toting this heavy pistol around.” She laughed as she lifted the bag. “After what happened to poor Lucy, I’ve fallen prey to fanciful imaginings. It’s nothing more than that.”

  “Were you close to Lucy?”

  His question took her by surprise, and words eluded her for a few heartbeats. “She was my ladies’ maid at Waytefield.”

  “Then please accept my heartfelt condolences. It was a horrible way to end a young life.”

  She nodded. More horrible than he imagined. “I enjoyed the ride immensely. Now if you will excuse me.” She crossed the yard in wide strides, wanting to put some distance between them. But he followed, horse and all.

  “If you’ll indulge me for a moment longer.”

  She could do nothing but face him.

  “If I seem to be overly concerned, I beg you remember that we are neighbors.” He drew in a breath and looked over her head. “We’re charged to love our neighbors as ourselves, are we not?”

  The word “love” touched a nerve, making her want to flee and stay at the same time. She lifted her chin. “I believe that’s right.”

  His deep green gaze fell to her upturned face. “Then you can understand why I’d be concerned for my neighbor, especially since she’s a lady without a protector.”

  She couldn’t help smiling, nor laying her ungloved hand on his forearm. “I thank you for your concern, your grace…I mean Edward, but I assure you, I’m not in danger, nor in need of a protector.”

  He removed his riding glove and covered her hand with his. As always, his touch unsettled her, and she stepped back out of his reach. He took no notice. “Then I’ll say no more about it, but I do wish to explain why I invited you to Langsdale.”

  She held up a hand to protest, but he merely took it in both his and continued. “I’m hoping when you hear the reasons, you’ll reconsider.” He must have realized how improper they would appear to passersby. Jerking away as if he’d touched a hot coal, he clasped his hands behind him. “Sarah wants to paint a portrait of our parents…together.”

  Cassandra scrunched her brows, trying to keep up with the change in subjects. “That’s impossible. Sarah isn’t skilled enough to paint a portrait from memory.”

  “With your help—”

  “I couldn’t execute such a portrait either. I’ve never seen your parents.”

  “That’s why you must come with us to Langsdale. There are two portraits of my father and one of my mother. I’m certain with your talents, you could give Sarah what she wants. And it is the desire of her heart.” He smiled in that winsome way that could mesmerize her.

  “Edward, everything Sarah wants is the desire of her heart, and I would love to give it to her, but it’s not convenient for me to leave London at present. Perhaps you could bring the portraits here.”

  She’d never copied from another painting, but her artist’s mind was already considering possible poses. Perhaps the subjects should be looking at each other instead of ahead or with his arm around her shoulder, or— The duke was staring at her. He’d asked her something, but she didn’t know what.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t attending.”

  “I said I’d rather not move the portraits. When would it be convenient for you to leave London?”

  “When?” Much would depend on when Sir Harcrumb and his wife gave their first party, providing the opportunity to send Hilda Garth to stab him in his bed. She blinked. After the deed was done, and she’d sent Hilda and her friend to Scotland, she might need to leave town as well. There would be a hue and cry. She could escape to the country until it died down.

  “Yes, when?” Edward’s perplexed expression came into focus.

  He must think her bird-witted by now. “Not before Sunday at the earliest.” Jane had told her Mrs. Harcrumb’s invitations had already been sent. Surely the reception would take place within the week. Mrs. Harcrumb wasn’t one to waste time. “I know Gama wants to leave for Langsdale with Lady Pugh, but I could join her when…when my obligations are finished.”

  A wide smile spread across his handsome face. “I think I can persuade Aunt Chloe to wait a week. We’ll all go together the following Monday.”

  He left, obviously not expecting any further argument. Sarah was fortunate to have a brother who was so determined to give her her heart’s desire. Cassandra hoped she wouldn’t fail either one of them.

  She’d barely entered the house than Carswell approached, holding a silver platter where a missive and a calling card lay. He bowed. “An invitation requires your immediate attention, m’lady.”

  That familiar knot of anxiety surfaced in her throat as she lifted the items. Other than business correspondence, she’d not received any missives since Lord Wayte’s death, and certainly no calling cards.

  She broke the seal on the folded paper without looking at the card and couldn’t believe her eyes. Mrs. Harcrumb had invited her to a reception to be held the Saturday of the following week. Mrs. Harcrumb was desperate indeed for guests.

  Unless her husband instigated the whole thing.

  At least Cassandra now knew when the event would be held, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect. She’d fetch the two girls from the Green Duck on Friday. Justice would be served the following night. The world would be well rid of the evil man, and God could do with him what He willed.

  She’d decline the invitation, of course. Without knowing Harcrumb’s intent, she couldn’t confront him. Carswell stood, waiting expectantly, but she hesitated. The importance of this decision required some thought. She returned the invitation to the platter. “I’ll send my reply later.”

  The butler nodded and turned on his heel, leaving her with a great deal to think about.

  ***

  Victory! He’d finally finagled Cassandra into visiting Langsdale Manor without actually revealing his intentions. Edward’s conscience pricked him. He’d not been exactly honest by inferring that Sarah was the main reason for the trip, but it wasn’t an outright lie.

  Elation overcame guilt and put a lift to his steps as he made his way from the stables. Anticipation of showing Cassandra his estate made him feel— What? A sensation of pleasure held him such as he’d not experienced since before his parents’ deaths, not since before the war. Maybe ever. Was Aunt Chloe right? Was he in love?

  He slowed his pace as he traversed the long hall that ran from the side entrance. A duke had to maintain a certain decorum. The sound of feminine voices drifted from the drawing room, and he halted. Was Aunt Chloe entertaining at this hour? He wanted to discuss postponing their trip to Langsdale. Surely she’d have no objections to a few days delay.

  As he stepped over the threshold, three ladies turned their heads in his direction. Aunt Chloe and Daphne Ashford sat together on a sofa, and a woman he’d never met occupied the adjacent armchair.

  Daphne jumped to her feet. “Edward, how delightful.”

  Aunt Chloe shot a look of
censure at Daphne before focusing on Edward. Apparently his aunt’s admiration for Daphne had cooled. Or maybe she’d finally come to see how forward the dashing widow was. “Sarah told us you’d been for a ride in the park.” Aunt Chloe inclined her head to the other visitor. “I’m glad you returned in time to meet Mrs. Harcrumb.”

  Edward tried to suppress his astonishment as the middle-aged woman rose. She clenched her heavily embroidered puce day dress at the sides, curtseying so deeply she almost toppled her feathered bonnet. A lady of breeding would’ve recognized her mode of attire as the height of fashionable overstatement.

  He inclined his head and waited for Mrs. Harcrumb to sink back into the tufted cushions of the chair.

  “You must have heard that my husband and I only just moved to town, your grace.”

  Lowering himself onto the chair opposite the sofa, he said, “The news surprised me. I was led to believe Sir Harcrumb always sailed with his ship.”

  Mrs. Harcrumb tittered. “He’s turned the ship over to a most competent captain and finally settled to enjoy the fruits of many successful voyages, much to my delight.”

  “I understand.” Edward felt a gag rising in his throat, but he managed to smile.

  “We—that is—Daphne and I, called personally to invite Lady Pugh and you to our first reception to be held Saturday next.”

  He sent a sharp glance to Aunt Chloe, but before she could speak, Daphne piped up. “We left an invitation at Lady Wayte’s as well, but she wasn’t in.” Her eyes accused him, and he suspected she knew where Cassandra had been.

  Charles had warned him Daphne and Millicent Wayte were scheming with Mrs. Harcrumb. This was the result. Did they actually think Cassandra would accept? For that matter, he had no intention of accepting.

  Before he’d formed a polite refusal, Aunt Chloe spoke. “Lady Jersey will make an appearance. It would be fortuitous for Lady Wayte to make her acquaintance.”

  Was it possible that Lady Jersey of Almack’s would deign to attend the Harcrumbs’ assembly? But for all Edward knew, Mrs. Harcrumb had ingratiated herself in some way with Lady Jersey.