Marblestone Mansion, Book 1 (Scandalous Duchess Series, #1)

by Marti Talbott

  “You know her that well, do you?”

  “I worked on her...your home daily. I know her quiet well.”

  “Tell me, how much did your passage on the ship cost?”

  Graham thoughtfully sipped his tea. “I do not recall.”

  “But you did pay for it yourself.”

  “Of course I did, what kind of man do you think I am?”

  “‘Tis odd, because my wife says she paid your passage. Surely, you dinna have two tickets.” Hannish took another slow sip of tea, watched the increasingly agitated man and waited for Graham to ask the inevitable question. He did not have to wait long.

  “Where might Duchess MacGreagor be?”

  “On a train somewhere between Denver and St. Louis, I imagine.”

  “She has gone back?”

  “You look disturbed, Mr. Graham. Has she left you behind?”

  “Well no...I mean I am quite capable of finding my own way home, I assure you.”

  “I am glad to hear it, since my wife’s allowance has been cut off.”

  “Cut off?” The color began to drain from Graham’s face.

  “Mr. Graham, I believe you. If you say my wife has not paid you, then I must. However, my funds will not be available until the end of the week. I hope you dinna mind waiting.”

  “But I cannot afford to stay a week.”

  “You have no money at all?”

  Graham looked worried. “Not enough to pay for a week’s stay in a hotel.”

  “That is a pity. Perhaps I might put in a good word with the hotel manager and you can pay him at the end of your stay.”

  “Yes, that might do.”

  “Naturally, I must deny some of your invoices.”

  George Graham set his cup of tea on a nearby table and stood up. “Mr. MacGreagor, you have no right!”

  Hannish put his cup down and slowly got up as well. “I have every right. I asked my brother to look over the place. You neglected several things I specifically put on my list, yet you invoiced me for them. Shall I show you the...”

  “That won’t be necessary. I shall leave now.”

  “Have a nice walk.”

  “Walk? What have you done with my horse?”

  “I fear he has thrown a shoe. Of course, if you wish to stay, I am certain we can make you more than comfortable here.”

  Graham fiddled with his hat rim. “Perhaps your man might take me to town?”

  “I am afraid not, I keep everyone quite busy here. Have you met my sister? I am certain you have, she was on the ship...” Suddenly, a shot rang out. Hannish ran out of the study, across the parlor, through the foyer and out the front door.

  Shepard stood in the middle of the lawn with a still smoking Springfield musket in his hand, looking at something in the trees. “What is it, Shepard?”

  “Charles Whitfield, Mr. Hannish. I missed.”

  Said Hannish, “Now there’s a pity.”

  “He’ll not be coming back this time, Mr. Hannish.”

  “Dinna count on it, Shepard. His kind always comes back.” When he turned around, Mr. Graham was standing there with his mouth gaping. Hannish put his hand on George Graham’s shoulder and tried to urge him back toward the house, but Graham was reluctant to go. “Mr. Whitfield fancies my sister, but his manners are too poor to suit either of us.”

  “You shoot a man for ill manners?” Graham asked.

  “Only if he persists. I am convinced you would not persist, am I right Mr. Graham? You would not persist in pursuing another lad’s wife, would you?”

  “Certainly not. I am a married man.”

  “I had not heard that. Do you love your wife?”

  “Very much.”

  “Does she know you are having an affair with my wife?”

  Graham oddly looked defiant. “I assure you, I am not having an affair with your wife.”

  “Of course you are. Come now, Mr. Graham, there is no need to deny it, I’ve plenty of witnesses.” Hannish’s smile turned to a frightening glare. “Mr. Graham, should you ever go near my wife again, I shall see that everyone in Scotland hears of your treachery.”

  George Graham realized Shepard was reloading and began to back away. “But you will pay me?”

  “At the end of the week, just as I said. Furthermore, I shall be happy to see that the horse is returned to the hotel.” Hannish pointed down the lane. “Town is that way.”

  Alarmed by the shot, every member of the household was outside watching when Mr. Graham began to run down the lane. As soon as he was out of sight, they watched Hannish take off his jacket, hand it to Shepard and head for the woodpile.

  *

  The axe was right where Hannish left it the last time – imbedded in the end of a log. He pulled it out, set another log on top of it and delivered a mighty blow. He was not as angry this time as he was perplexed. By his count, Olivia had managed to get her hands on a great deal of money. Had she squandered it or was she up to something? Did she mean to get all she could out of him, and trick him into divorcing her so she could marry George Graham? An hour later, that was the only explanation he could come up with.

  *

  It was a mistake to wear the new shoes Olivia bought him in New York, and it didn’t take long for Graham’s feet to blister on his forced walk down the hill toward town. The worst seemed to be on the outside of his little toes, and when he found a rock to sit on, he stopped, took off his left shoe and tried to see what the problem was. He put his hand inside, felt around and when he finally looked up, a man on a horse was watching him.

  “I had a pair of shoes like those once,” the stranger said. “They have a knot inside, but if you clip it...if you can reach it that is, the shoe begins to fall apart.”

  “They are very expensive shoes.”

  “The best there is, the shoemaker claims. I am Charles Whitfield, and you?”

  “George Graham.”

  “Care for a ride to town, George?”

  “I would be ever so grateful.” He hated to, but he put his shoe back on and began to tie the laces.

  “You’re a Scot? I saw you at Marblestone Mansion.”

  George nodded. “You must be the lad MacGreagor’s man shot at?”

  “He missed.”

  “So he said.”

  Charles reached down and patted the side of his mare’s neck to steady her. “I hoped to get a look at his wife.”

  “You are too late; he sent her back to Scotland.”

  “So soon?”

  “She only came to beg him to divorce her.” George finally finished tying his shoe and stood up.

  “On what grounds?”

  “Adultery. Apparently, it infuriated him and he agreed more quickly than she expected.”

  Charles moved his foot out of the stirrup, offered his arm, helped George mount behind him and headed for town.

  *

  McKenna was more than worried about her brother. He had been in his study for the better part of three days, checking lists and placing orders, now that he could do it by telephone instead of writing letters. She often heard him raise his voice, but it was not in anger, it was to make his order heard through phone lines that did not always carry a clear conversation. As well, Cameron called each day, normally late at night Colorado time. Hannish had not come to the kitchen in the mornings or joined her for lunch, and as the third evening approached, she decided to see if he was coming for dinner.

  “Come in,” she heard him say when she knocked on the door. She entered, looked around the undecorated room and frowned. “A mounted bear head or two on the walls would tidy the place up a bit.”

  He smiled. “Must I shoot the bears myself?”

  “Of course, how could you brag about your hunting talents otherwise?”

  “Perhaps I might consider it for the billiard room.” He closed his accounting book, put it in a drawer and stood up. “Come, I have something to show you.” He took her by the hand, led her to the back of the house and then up the first flight of
stairs. He stopped, looked upstairs and down to make certain no one could see, and then pushed on an inside section of the wall.

  McKenna was astonished when the door opened into a small room. A table, just inside the door, held candles and matches to use if necessary, but from somewhere above, the sun gave off enough light to climb the spiral staircase. She did not hesitate to start up. “A secret room, how thrilling.”

  He carefully pushed the door closed. “All mansions must have a secret room or two.”

  “Indeed they must.” At the top of the stairs, oval windows were set in a pattern to look like the rest of the mansion’s outside decorations.

  “I built this in case the Arapaho Indians are not as happy on the reservation as President McKinley claims they will be. What do you think of the view?”

  McKenna was speechless and quickly sat down on a wooden bench facing one of the windows. The sun was beginning to set behind Pikes Peak and the scattered clouds were in shades of gold and pink. Below the mountains, the lights of a small town were beginning to come on. “‘Tis breathtaking. What is that place called?”

  He chose a second bench to sit on opposite another oval window. “That, my dear, is Manitou Springs. There are many wondrous things to discover there. The mineral pools have a way of soothing aching bones and the watering holes have tiny bubbles coming from somewhere in the earth. If you are silent, you can hear the rumble in the ground.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Not that I have heard. There are magnificent cottonwood trees everywhere, hotels, parks, a very fine bathhouse and of course, a few mansions. None as grand as mine, I boast.”

  “And none with a secret room?”

  “Not that I am aware of. I come here sometimes when I want to be alone. I believe Charlotte goes quite mad trying to find me.”

  “She fancies you, I think.”

  “I suspect it too, but so far, it has not been a problem.”

  “It might be, now that you have no wife.”

  “Charlotte is the least of my concerns.” He was quiet and just watched the colors of the drifting clouds change for a time. “When I feared Olivia would not leave, I told her I had been unfaithful. Can you guess what she did?”

  “What?”

  “She forgave me. Any other woman would have had my head.”

  “Perhaps she still will, once she’s had time to think about it. They are rare, but with enough money and the right solicitor, she might manage to secure a divorce without your permission.”

  “Do you suppose that is what she is up to? It would explain her refusal to pay the servants and Mr. Graham.”

  “Perhaps. She might have hoped she could lure you back to Scotland, but if not, she would have the money to secure another means of happiness.”

  He considered that for a moment. “It makes more sense than anything I have come up with.”

  “Yet, I care far less about her than I do about you. Without a wife, you shall have no children. Father would wish the bloodline to continue.”

  “I fear Cameron must see to that now.”

  “Oh brother, my heart breaks for you. You would make the best father in the world.”

  “Thank you for that. Whatever would I do without you here to comfort me? My heart is broken too, but I am determined to recover. I have no high opinion of Olivia now, and I must learn not to love the memory of what I thought her to be.” Hannish sighed. “I had such plans for our life here. Now I know not what to do with it all.”

  “Well, I still need a home as do you. Therefore, you must continue on as before and I will help. The servants need positions and this place needs hundreds of guests to entertain.”

  “True and perhaps you might fill the place with children someday. I can love your children just as well as my own.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Are you not hungry? I am starved.”

  *

  “Telephone for you, Miss McKenna,” Prescot said.

  “For me?”

  “Mrs. Whitfield, Miss.”

  “Thank you.” She got up, walked to the wall phone in the upstairs sitting room and lifted the receiver. “Abigail... I am much improved, thank you...oh, he has? Paris is beautiful this time of year...quilting, oh yes I would love to...may I bring a guest?...thank you, I shall see you tomorrow then.” Excited, she hurried down the stairs, knocked on the door and walked into the study. “Good news!”

  “What?” Hannish asked, setting his fountain pen down.

  “Charles Whitfield leaves tomorrow for Paris?”

  “That is good news. I shall tell the lads they no longer have to watch the trees.”

  “Abigail has invited me to a quilting party tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?”

  “Nay, but I would like to take Charlotte. She loves to sew and can teach me if quilting is beyond my understanding.”

  “Charlotte will likely enjoy that. I have seen the quilts Abigail and her friends make, and they are quite nice. Next, you will want me to take you to town so you can buy up all the cloth you see.”

  “Would you? I’ve been longing to go and now that Charles will not be a bother...come to think of it, you need not go with me now, unless you want to.”

  He looked surprised. “Of course I want to, I have neglected you long enough. Will Saturday be soon enough? I must see about our dear Mr. Graham on Saturday anyway.”

  “You are not going to kill him, are you?”

  Hannish chuckled. “Not unless he shoots first.”

  “Saturday is fine then.” She kissed his cheek and went to find Charlotte.

  Hannish opened his accounting book again and started to add up this day’s expenses. Just then, he heard a scratching somewhere. For a moment, he feared the place had rats, but when he heard it again, he got up and tried to figure out where it was coming from. At last, he opened the door and Olivia’s puppy bolted into the room. The dog scurried around, smelled this and that, and then ran back. He sat at Hannish’s feet, looked up and whimpered.

  “Do you not get enough attention?” he asked, picking the dog up and rubbing it behind the ears. “You need a new name.” He went back to his chair, set the dog in his lap and went back to work. In no time at all, the curled up puppy was fast asleep.

  *

  The Whitfield Mansion was lavishly and colorfully decorated – perhaps a little too colorfully. Chandeliers in every room were as magnificent as any McKenna had ever seen, and her comment made her hostess very proud. The formal dining room had blue wallpaper with curtains to match, and the long table was already cluttered with patterns and different colors of cloth. Five women were hard at work, cutting the cloth into squares, circles and wedges, but they stopped when McKenna and Charlotte entered the room.

  “Miss McKenna MacGreagor, I would like you to meet Mrs. Maude Goodwin,” said Abigail.

  Maude smiled sweetly, “I believe you have met my husband, Miss MacGreagor.”

  “I believe I have. Please, call me McKenna.” She feared Maude would remark on what happened in town with Charles, but thankfully, she did not. “This is Charlotte, our seamstress. I confess I sew little except to embroidery and I am counting on Charlotte to help me learn.”

  Said Abigail, “We are happy to have help, wherever we can find it.” She introduced Mrs. Vivian Mabs, Mrs. Wilma Miller, Miss Loretta Collins and Miss Pearl Hughes. “Sit down, McKenna, and now that you are here, I shall ring for tea. Cook makes the most wonderful apple pie, only not in the usual form. She makes individual servings surrounded with crust and sprinkled with just a touch of sugar.”

  “It sounds delightful.” McKenna made herself comfortable and motioned for Charlotte to sit beside her, while Abigail rang for tea.

  The woman next to her touched McKenna’s hand to get her attention. “Your brother is very handsome.”

  “Thank you, Pearl.”

  “Indeed he is,” Loretta agreed. “And we are not the only ones who think so.”

  “I shall hap
pily...” McKenna started.

  “He is married,” Charlotte mumbled.

  “Not for long, the way I hear it?” said Abigail.

  “What?” McKenna asked.

  “My dear, you need not pretend you do not know. Charles got it from Mr. George Graham. Mrs. MacGreagor only came to beg a divorce from your brother.”

  “Truly?” Charlotte asked, not bothering to hide the delight in her eyes.

  “Charlotte, it is not true,” McKenna quickly countered.

  “Why else would he send her away the very next day?” Loretta asked.

  “My brother wished her to...” McKenna tried.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He tricked her into leaving.”

  McKenna was dismayed. “Charlotte, please.”

  “Well, he did. He sent her back and promised to follow her to Scotland, but he has no intention of leaving Colorado. He...”

  Abigail took pity on a horrified McKenna and interrupted, “My dear, Charlotte, a servant does not speak of her employer’s private affairs.”

  “Yes, but you will not tell, will you?” Charlotte was pleased when all the women shook their heads. “There, you see. Besides, I am not really a servant, I am a teacher.”

  “A teacher?” McKenna asked. “You’ve not said a word about it before.”

  Charlotte looked particularly pleased with herself. “Well, I should not have said it now. I have yet to secure a position, and I feared if Mr. Hannish learned I seek employment elsewhere, he would send me away.”

  “My brother is not like that,” said McKenna.

  “I know that now, and that is why I say it. I am very proud of my teaching certificate,” Charlotte said.

  Abigail hoped to change the subject and gleefully put her hands together. “The Duchess of Ainsbury was to be a teacher too, but that was before she married her duke. McKenna you must know her.”

  It took a moment for McKenna to gather her wits. “I do not recall a Duchess of Ainsbury. What is her given name?”

  “Mary, I believe. Of course, we just called her duchess and I do not recall ever hearing her married name. We met at the Banker’s ball last year. It was held at the very fine Manitou House in Manitou Springs. McKenna, you have not likely been there yet, you being so new to the neighborhood.” Abigail nodded for the footman to pour her tea and hardly paused to breathe before she went on, “The ball gown she wore gave me quite a flutter and I told Claymore, I simply had to have one just like it. He agreed, naturally, but then he rarely denies me anything. McKenna you must know her. Hannish said you know practically everyone in London society.”