The Hazardous Gamble of the Alluring Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  Meanwhile, Roger and Herbert went out to inspect the stables. Fortunately, most of the hay and all of the grain had been saved. The horses, however, were in a state of high excitement. Roger’s riding stallion had herded the mares and geldings into a tight knot at one end of the paddock. With tail held high, the big fellow pranced about bugling his displeasure at these irregular goings-on.

  “Do you think this is because Lady Dahlia and Lord Bochil are here?” Herbert asked as they looked out across the paddock.

  “I would think almost certainly. The burrs under the harness straps were placed on the day that I escorted Lady Dahlia to the market. But it is also possible that I shook a chestnut or two loose when I began inquiries concerning the missing ships.”

  “I had forgotten that,” Herbert said.

  Roger and Herbert watched as two of the grooms began forking some hay over into one end of the paddock. Attracted by the fodder, the horses drifted toward it and slowly began to settle down. The stallion, however, still gazed out into the darkness. After a time, he too, began to lip up some of the hay.

  The head stableman came over to where Roger and Herbert were standing. “They’s affrighted, but din’ take no harm, Your Grace. My lads will keep watch an’ ring tha bell if we sees anything chancy.”

  “Very good,” Roger concurred. “We will go on up to the house, then, and see what transpires there. Do not hesitate to ring that bell, even if it seems unimportant. Better a false alarm than no alarm.”

  “I hears you, Your Grace.” the stableman bowed, tugging at his forelock.

  Back inside, Roger found that beds were set up. His large fourposter had been moved to the dining hall, and Herbert had a trundle bed nearby. Embroidered screens partitioned on the end of the dining hall, making a bit of privacy for himself and for Lord Bochil.

  Aaron himself sat at a table at the opposite end of the hall. A pot of ink, a stack of papers and a tapestry showing the layout of the house were on the table. Peter also sat at the table, and the two were apparently engaged in noting changes that had occurred in the house since the tapestry had been created.

  “Do you have the watch, Lord Bochil?” Roger asked.

  “I have the watch, Duke. And please, call me Aaron. Try to get some rest. Peter is just explaining the layout of the house for me so that it will be more familiar.”

  “Well thought on, Aaron. Thank you. And you may call me Roger. Herbert, do you think you can find for me a clean nightshirt? I fear this one will never be the same.”

  “Indeed, Your Grace, I am sure I can,” Herbert said.

  Roger was sure he would not fall asleep after all the excitement.

  Who could have done this? The petty attack with fireworks did not seem in character for Goldstone. From that quarter, he was more likely to receive a call from his seconds. Could he have aroused someone when he began inquiring about the lost ships? Or was there some other reason entirely for such mean mischief?

  Chapter 23

  When Dahlia woke the next morning, the room was unusually dim. There was a soft twittering of female voices and a strange echo, as if they were a choir or chorus.

  Then she remembered.

  She was in the chapel, just below the altar. A tiny colored glass window high above her bed depicted an angel with wide-spread wings. The twittering voices were the household maids who were getting themselves ready for the day’s work.

  She sat up, swinging her bare feet to the floor. She expected cold stone, but someone had placed a wooly sheepskin beside her bed. A nightstand with all the essentials stood beside the bed. She quickly availed herself of it, and when she had washed her hands and face, she opened her trunk which also stood beside the bed.

  She thought the brown walking dress would do nicely for today and pulled it out of the trunk. As she did so, she noticed the bundles from she had taken with her the day before were laid neatly in the tray.

  She rummaged in the one with her art and writing supplies, pulling out the scrap of letter she had found in the hallway.

  Suzanne must have been nearby, for she quickly came around the screen and helped Dahlia into her underthings and her dress. “Simple and out of the way,” Dahlia instructed her abigail as Suzanne brushed her hair. “It will be a busy day.”

  “I’m sure it will, My Lady,” Suzanne said, “What a very strange night! Do you think it was your father who set off those firecrackers?”

  “No, not really,” Dahlia replied. “It isn’t his style to go sneaking about. No, I’m sure it must be something else.”

  “That Other Person?” Suzanne asked, careful not to name Lord Goldstone.

  “I’d not entirely put it past him,” Dahlia said, “he is certainly mean enough. But it doesn’t seem quite like him, either. Are you all right, Suzanne? I should have asked that first, but there are so many things in my head right now and in the world at large, as well.”

  “I am quite all right, My Lady.” Suzanne coaxed the wild curls into fat ringlets, preparing to secure them with a ribbon and combs. “I was frightened, but I am unharmed. Are you certain you have made the right decision in coming here, My Lady?”

  “Yes, Suzanne, I am quite sure. This was a little more excitement than I had counted on, but it all comes from the outside. None of it is from anyone close to me.”

  Suzanne nodded to show her understanding, even though she stood behind Dahlia and could not hope to be seen. “I think I understand, My Lady.” She threaded the ribbon through the curls, tied it off tightly, and used the combs to secure the curling tendrils that always escaped to cluster around Dahlia’s face. “There now, that should survive nearly anything you encounter today and keep your hair out of your face,” she said with some satisfaction.

  “Thank you, Suzanne, you are a treasure.” Dahlia gave her head a little twitch to test the security of the hair arrangement. “You can go back, if you wish,” she added. “I am fairly sure that my father wouldn’t even notice that you were gone.”

  “Oh, no, My Lady! And miss whatever comes next? I never thought I would have adventures.” Suzanne laughed. “Although I will own that I had not expected to be awakened by firecrackers.”

  “That was a bit startling,” Dahlia said. “How fortunate it was that I could not sleep so His Grace, Mrs. Garrity and I were awake when it all began.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Suzanne agreed, “why we might have all been burned in our beds, else.”

  Dahlia thought about it for a minute. “I’m not sure that was the intent. Fire crackers make a lot of noise, and they do sometimes set things alight, but there are better ways to burn down a building. If I were trying to do it, I would throw a rock and then follow up with a torch or a pot filled with coals. Better yet, I would sneak around to the back of the building and simply build a fire up against the wall.”

  “Then it is fortunate that whoever it was did not have you on their side, My Lady,” Suzanne commented. “I think Mrs. Garrity has had breakfast laid out in the small dining room. Will you have some?”

  Dahlia realized that she was ravenously hungry. “I will,” she said. She picked up the note she had retrieved from the bag and tucking it into her dress pocket. “Thank you, Suzanne. Do you have household duties, or will you come with me?”

  “You are my duty today, My Lady,” Suzanne bobbed a quick curtsey, “His Grace has tasked me with assisting you and being responsible for your safety.”

  “Oh, did he now?” Dahlia smiled. “Well, then let us repair to breakfast and see what Aunt Amelia has planned for us.”

  Roger, Aaron, Herbert and Jemmy were all at the table. One end of it held a warming dish, a basket of bread and another containing some slightly bruised pears and apples. At the other end, the gentlemen had their heads together over several pieces of paper that were pasted together.

  Just as Dahlia entered the room, the knocker on the front door gave an astonishingly loud boom that reverberated throughout the house.

  In a few minutes, Peter appeared at the doorway.
“Your Grace?” he said, inflecting his voice upward as for an inquiry, “There are two gentlemen who say they are Lord Goldstone’s seconds. They are here to wait upon you.”

  “Ah. I have been expecting that.” Roger rose from his seat. “Please excuse me, gentlemen, My Lady. Please enjoy your breakfasts, I will return shortly.” With that he strode out of the room.

  “Aaron, we should leave here.”

  “Why so, Sister?”

  Dahlia pulled the note from her pocket and handed it to Aaron. He read it, then re-read it. “This was what sent you from home in such a palter?”

  “Yes. I fear that we are endangering everyone here with our presence. We could go to Bochil…”

  Aaron shook his head. “It won’t do. Father would have you out of there in a trice and back to Goldstone. Is that what you want?”

  Dahlia shuddered. “No, of course not. But neither do I want the Duke of Shelthom’s house burned down around all his ears. It hardly seems like a proper reward for his help.”

  Aaron smiled at his little sister. “I do not think he is counting that cost just now, and I believe he would be most upset were you to leave.”

  “I am not some heroine out of a tale to revel in starting a war, Brother.”

  Aaron sighed. “I know you are not, Lady Dahlia,” he inflected the title just slightly to imply reproach. “But this ‘war’ might not even have anything to do with you. The Duke has hinted that he is on business for his old commander, and that this tangle might be a part of that imbroglio. In fact, he apologized for bringing you into what might be a dangerous situation.”

  “Very well, Brother. You have reminded me that I am not empress of the known world and that not all things center about me. How, then, can I help the Duke of Shelthom?”

  Dahlia turned her attention to the maps spread out on the table, giving them her closest attention.

  Will coming to this house bring trouble to the people within it?

  Chapter 24

  Roger surveyed the two men who stood before the empty fireplace in the little withdrawing room. He recognized Mr. Carlyle from their meeting earlier that week. He knew that Mr. Cooper Dayton was the second son of Sir Reginald Dayton, who had been recently knighted for his contributions to the royal coffers. Since the Prince was well known for his reckless spending, and for the debt he was running up, contributions to the royal coffers were always welcome.

  Mr. Dayton looked belligerent, as if he were ready to start a fight, but Mr. Carlyle looked more than a little embarrassed. “How may I serve you, gentlemen?” Roger asked politely.

  “We are here on behalf of Lord Goldstone, to whom you have given grave insult,” Mr. Dayton burst out.

  “Oh?” Roger narrowed his eyes, squinting at Mr. Dayton, then lifted his eyebrows. “And how have I offended Lord Goldstone? I scarcely know the man.”

  “Well,” Mr. Carlyle spread his hands placatingly. “He says that you have stolen his promised bride and he would like to have her back. He believes you are harboring her here.”

  “I can promise you,” Roger assured him gently, “that no bride of Lord Goldstone’s is here.”

  “Are you not harboring one Lady Dahlia Lovell and her brother Aaron Lovell, Marquess of Bochil?” Mr. Carlyle remonstrated, almost as if he were reproving a child.

  “Lady Dahlia and Lord Bochil are, indeed, my guests.” Roger flicked a bit of dust from his coat sleeve. “Have they committed some crime? Are they fugitives?”

  “Oh, no, no, Your Grace,” Mr. Carlyle hastened to reassure him, while Mr. Dayton burst out, “They are fled in disobedience from their father, the Duke of Cottleroy.”

  “Hmmm.” Roger stared at the pair coldly. He did not take snuff, nor did he affect carrying a quizzing glass as did so many of the peerage, but he fixed the gentlemen before him with such a frosty glare that they both shifted uneasily beneath his gaze. “Gentlemen,” he said at length, after he was sure they were both thoroughly discomfited, “I have heard nothing that would give Lord Goldstone cause to believe his honor impugned.”

  Mr. Dayton produced a newspaper. Its second page was completely taken up with a bridal announcement. It read, “Roger Kingman, Duke of Shelthom, announces his engagement to the Lady Dahlia Lovell.” In fine print, the announcement went on to extoll the bride’s beauty, the groom’s pride at her acceptance, and ended with a flowery poem gleaned from who-knew-where, which was purported to have been written by the Duke of Shelthom himself.

  “Ah!” Roger said with some pride, surveying the border of hearts, flowers and small cupids around the announcement. “My money was well spent. Gentlemen, let me assure you that the lady in question is a pearl beyond price, a treasure of extreme worth, and the center of my universe.”

  “Are you aware, Your Grace, that the Duke of Cottleroy had given Lord Goldstone permission to court the Lady Dahlia?” Mr. Dayton burst out.

  “Why, yes, I am aware of that.” Roger smiled politely. “Are you aware that the Lady Dahlia was not in favor of the courtship?

  Carlyle looked doubtful at this, but Mr. Dayton bulled his way onward through his argument. “Pah! What would a woman know about a suitable match?”

  Roger’s smile took on a dangerous edge. “Would you say that I am not a suitable match? And while we are about it, perhaps you could use a more mannerly address when speaking of a lady.”

  Duncan stepped in quickly. “Not at all, Your Grace, although it is known that your financial situation is somewhat delicate.”

  “Why, I do but follow the example shown by the Prince Regent. It would seem that it is my duty to be lavish with my coin. How else should the tradesmen be able to display their best wares, advising others to buy? Would you say that the Prince is at fault?”

  Mr. Dayton opened his mouth to say something more, but Mr. Carlyle trod upon that worthy’s foot. “We hold His Royal Highness in the highest esteem,” Mr. Carlyle stated firmly.

  “I am glad you do.” Roger settled his cuffs. “I should find any other opinion somewhat treasonous. Now, then, gentlemen, I have other affairs to which I must attend. Will you please state your business plainly?”

  “Lord Goldstone feels that this engagement is an affront and a challenge to his honor,” Mr. Carlyle said almost apologetically. “However, if you were willing to repudiate the match and allow us to take the lady in question back to her father, he would be willing to forgive all.”

  “Is that indeed so?” Roger’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes sparked with anger. “Perhaps you would like to hear from the lady’s own lips her personal preferences in the matter?”

  “I would!” Mr. Dayton burst out, “I’d like to hear whether you are holding her against her will, and her brother, too!”

  “Very well,” Roger said. He gave the embroidered bell pull a strong tug. In a very few minutes Peter appeared. “Please inform Lady Dahlia and Lord Bochil that two gentlemen are here on the behalf of Lord Goldstone, who has taken it upon himself to discern whether they are being held here against their wishes. Ask them if they would both be so good as to reassure the gentlemen.”

  “Momentarily, Your Grace,” Peter said. Then he withdrew from the room having executed impeccably correct bows to Roger and to the two callers.

  The three of them stood for a few moments in awkward silence. Roger watched the two calmly, his face impassive although his thoughts were racing.

  These two seem just sufficiently incompetent to have tried last night’s capers.

  In a few minutes, Dahlia appeared on her brother’s arm. Her face was pale, but she looked angry and defiant rather than frightened. Aaron looked grave but supported his sister staunchly. They were accompanied by Herbert, Suzanne and two of the footmen.

  “My Lady,” Roger turned to her as she entered, sweeping her a gracious bow.

  “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying and holding out her hand to him. Taking it, he made note her little fingers were cold as ice in spite of the warm summer day, and they shook slightly. He touched hi
s lips to the soft little hand, warming it a little with his breath. He gave the fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and momentarily covered her hand with his other hand before releasing it.

  “Lady Dahlia,” Roger said formally, “these gentlemen would like to ask some questions.”

  “Very well,” she said, drawing herself up to full height, her beautiful slender neck uplifting the finely shaped head with its lovely crown of golden curls.

  Egad! She is so beautiful, and so brave. I want to whisk her out of here and away from these ruffians. But we must play out this charade.

  Mr. Dayton opened his mouth to speak, but once again Mr. Carlyle trod upon his toe. “My Lady,” Mr. Carlyle said, “Are you here of your own free will?”