He could see the conflict in her face, the longing to believe him and accept his help warring with the long-ingrained habit of independence and her own sense of honour that drove her to spare him involvement, whatever the cost to herself.
Before she could speak, he pressed on. ‘Besides, it is not just your safety at stake—I’m doing this to protect your son. With the stakes so high, don’t you want to at least hear how I propose to counter Graveston’s threat?’
At the reminder of her son’s danger, she sighed. ‘Very well, I’ll hear you out.’
‘Good,’ he replied, relieved to have passed the first hurdle. Diana was shrewd, determined, and brave. Alastair knew if he could just get her to listen, he could convince her to fight instead of flee. Unless...she feared what he’d demand from her if she let him help her.
Better reassure her on that score immediately.
‘I would hope you know this, but let me say it anyway. I assure you that when we win this battle, I will not press on you any...association you do not want. You’ll be free to walk away. Your safety and that of your son is all the recompense I want.’
She smiled, relieving his mind and warming his heart. ‘I do know that.’
‘Very well, then. Let’s begin with a rule of battle: the best response to attack is a well-designed counter-attack.’
‘Counter-attack,’ she repeated, light sparking in eyes that had looked tired and discouraged. ‘I like the sound of that.’
Encouraged, he continued. ‘First, we need to assess how strong a case Graveston could devise against you. Who might testify?’
She frowned, her gaze losing focus, as if she were running through a mental list in her mind. ‘It could be anyone. As I told you, the staff at Graveston Court was loyal to the master—or more accurately, to Graveston’s first wife, who had the running of the household for fifteen years before I was installed there. The former housekeeper in particular despised me. Since the staff didn’t dare display hostility towards the Duke for his treatment of his first wife, they transferred that enmity to me.’
‘Is the housekeeper a tall, thin, hawk-nosed woman?’
‘No, Mrs Forbes is a rather rotund—’ Her eyes widened. ‘The current housekeeper is not, but the former one, the one who disliked me so, Mrs Heathson, is exactly that. You saw a woman of that description with the household keys?’
‘I did. Blankford had obviously been informed of who I was and my connection to you before he came in to meet me. I had the impression that this housekeeper knew as well, and understood that anyone intervening on your behalf would be threatened with retribution. As I passed her in the hallway, she looked as pleased about the prospect as the Duke was.’
‘I’m not surprised, if it was Heathson. She was fanatically devoted to her former mistress, doted on her son, and certainly would have been ranged on his side when he broke with his father. She’d been...retired; Blankford must have brought her back. With so many of the staff loyal to his mother, he could easily have recruited some of them to be his spies in the household after he left. He probably also instructed some to follow me to Bath after Graveston’s interment.’
‘So I concluded,’ Alastair said, nodding. ‘But what of his accusation? Are there any possible grounds for considering your husband’s death suspicious?’
Diana stared into distance, frowning, before shaking her head with a sigh. ‘I’m afraid I can’t be of much help, since I avoided Graveston as much as possible. Thinking back, he did look somewhat pale. His hand trembled when he reached for the wine glass at dinner. I didn’t think much of it; he went to work in his study every day as usual—a Duke of Graveston does not neglect business because of some trifling ailment, nor summon a physician to quack him. I suppose the estate agent did call at the manor more frequently than usual those last few months, rather than Graveston riding out with him.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know—one might be able to make a case for some sort of slow poisoning.’
‘Were you surprised when he died?’
She was silent for a long time. ‘I never considered whether it was sudden or timely,’ she said at last. ‘After living for so long pressed down by a weight so heavy I could hardly breathe, once it was removed, all I felt was...relief. My sole thought, when his valet informed me of his death, was to get away before anyone could stop me. As soon as the coroner, after consulting Graveston’s physician, declared that he had died of natural causes and authorised the burial—which by custom I would not have attended in any event—I left Graveston Court.’
‘That’s a point in your favour,’ Alastair said, relieved. ‘If the coroner did not suspect foul play, it seems unlikely Blankford will be able to turn up anything.’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. The threat of prosecution might simply be a ploy to try to distress and intimidate me. But I don’t think so. Blankford hates me enough to make accusations, even if he cannot unearth enough evidence to force a trial.’
Her description of determining to flee upon Graveston’s death recalled to him the one detail of her account that still pricked at him.
‘You lost your father less than two years after you wed the Duke. You were still childless, and I was with Wellington in the Peninsula, beyond his reach. Why did you not leave him then?’
‘Oh, but I did leave him.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
She rose and began to pace, a habit Alastair had noticed she often resorted to when distressed. ‘Papa had been gone nearly a month when Graveston finally informed me of his death—and even then, he did so indirectly, by summoning me to his study to turn over some family jewellery. I recognised the pieces immediately as belonging to Papa’s mother, and knew the only way he would have got them was if Papa had died.’
Alastair was struck by how unfeeling the Duke had been. ‘I’m so sorry. You were always so attached to your father. It must have been terribly difficult.’
She shook her head. ‘After the wedding, I distanced myself from Papa. Partly for his protection, but mostly because it would have been impossible to hide from him for long that I had not, as I assured him when he questioned me, thrown you over so I might become a duchess. Had he worked out the truth, it would have tortured him, and I didn’t want that. But you asked about my leaving Graveston.’
She halted before the mantel and gazed into the flames, while he waited for her to begin, a sick feeling in his gut about what she was about to reveal.
‘I left the same night I learned of Papa’s death,’ she said at last. ‘Slipped out through the kitchen wing after all the servants were abed, taking only a portmanteau with a few old gowns and my family’s jewellery. I made it through the village and almost to the posting inn on the mail-coach route before his men caught me. They dragged me, screaming and fighting, into a carriage and drove me back to Graveston Court.’
Shocked, he simply stared at her as she continued. ‘It was, of course, unthinkable for the Duchess of Graveston to abandon her husband. He had me locked in my rooms, but he must have known I would try again, claw the wood out of the window frames if necessary, for he had me drugged. Downing the nourishment brought to me to keep up my strength to escape, I didn’t notice until it was too late.’
‘For how long?’ Alastair asked, appalled.
‘I don’t know exactly. A long time. Once I had figured out what was happening, I tried keeping back some of the drugged wine, intending to drink it all together and escape that way.’ She shook her head. ‘Apparently Mrs Heathson—still the housekeeper then—figured out what I planned, and was quite willing to let me secrete away enough laudanum to carry me off. But for some reason, despite how often I’d displeased him, my husband wasn’t. When I recovered from the overdose, Mrs Heathson had been “retired”. And I discovered I was pregnant.’
She turned from the hearth to look at him. ‘I didn’t care what happened to m
e, but much as I hated bearing the son of such a man, I couldn’t cause the death of an innocent child. Then, after his treatment of James, I couldn’t flee and leave him at the mercy of a father like Graveston.’
Unable to restrain himself, Alastair went to Diana and pulled her into an embrace. She clung to him, her head pressed to his chest, shaking with tears she would not shed.
At length, she straightened and pushed against him. Knowing how cruelly she’d been imprisoned, he at once loosened his grip.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, running a fingertip down her cheek as he let her go. ‘But you’re free now, you and the boy. I won’t let Graveston hurt you ever again. I promise, on my sacred honour.’
‘My noble Alastair,’ she whispered, squeezing his fingers. ‘But even if you risk your reputation by getting involved, I don’t know how you could prevent that.’
‘Have a little faith, sweeting! First, I’ll need to consult the solicitor again. I’m not an expert on the courts; I have no idea what evidence would be needed to persuade a coroner to open an inquiry into the death of a man already buried, with no suspicion of foul play. More than vague testimony from witnesses produced by a man well known to harbour a hatred of the woman he’s accusing, I would think.’
‘Even if that man is a duke, owner of nearly all the land in four parishes, employer of hundreds on the estate and in the adjoining villages, patron or supporter of most of the businesses, trade associations, and churches in the county?’
Alastair grimaced. ‘True, with that much influence, Blankford could probably manage to get an inquest begun on his insistence alone. But an inquest is a far cry from convincing the assizes to convene a trial, and even further from a conviction. I’m confident it won’t come to that.’
‘You can’t be sure. He’ll pay for testimony, if necessary. There are always poor wretches ready to swear to anything, if the reward is rich enough.’
Payment for testimony was all too common, and frequently distorted the findings of a court. ‘Perhaps,’ Alastair allowed, ‘but this isn’t the matter of a thief-taker pointing the finger at some poor clerk in order to collect the reward offered for solving a burglary. Nor would the case be settled by a local magistrate, where a high-ranking lord could influence the outcome. For the possible murder of a duke and accusations against a duchess, a trial, if it came to that, would be held in the House of Lords. A chamber my uncle has run for years. Which is why I still believe, once he’s recovered from his fit of petulance and thought it over carefully, Blankford will not push for a trial.’
She gave him a sad smile. ‘To win, he doesn’t have to. Accusations made against me in the county would be enough to poison the local officials against me and make it difficult to obtain any assets from the estate on which to raise my son. Enough to convince the Court of Chancery to take him away, even though he is still a minor child. Enough to create a scandal that would savage your reputation. I still see only one way to prevent all this.’
‘Taking James and trying to disappear,’ he summarised. ‘Don’t you see, Diana, doing that would give Graveston the ultimate victory? He’ll have made you a fugitive and forced you to raise your son in obscurity, denying him the education, the comfort, the status to which his birth entitles him. Moreover, I’d be astonished if your husband hadn’t made some provision for James in his will; disappearing so that legacy goes unclaimed—what a fitting revenge for the neglect Blankford feels you made him suffer! And as a final coup, a Duke of Graveston will once again have been able to drive us apart.’
She raised her face to him, frustration and fury in her gaze, and he knew he’d finally reached her. ‘How do we prevent all that?’
We, she’d said, he noted, a thrill blazing through his heart. Stifling it before the gladness could distract him, he continued. ‘We gather our own evidence, enough to convince Graveston it would be better not to make any public accusations—and I know just the rascal to do it. In the meantime, we need to move you and James some place safer, where a well-placed bribe won’t risk tempting a low-moralled rogue to breach the security of your house and carry off the boy. There’s only one place I can guarantee to be that safe—Barton Abbey.’
She looked at him incredulously. ‘You propose to carry us to Barton Abbey? You can’t be serious!’
‘I’m completely serious. I doubt even the delusional Graveston would attempt to touch you there. Were he foolish enough to try, you’d have a small army of staff and retainers loyal to me to protect you. Who would turn away representatives from Chancery, if it came to that.’
‘But would not my being at your house immediately bring down upon you just the scandal I wish to avoid?’
‘There’s nothing scandalous about my mother inviting a widow who was once a close family friend to spend part of her mourning period in the seclusion of Barton Abbey. Indeed, having you and James at my family home, under my mother’s care, would further diminish the credibility of there being some clandestine plot between us. I assure you, no one in Society would believe Mrs Grace Ransleigh would be a party to something as dishonourable as that!’
‘Quite true. Which is why your mother would most likely forbid me to enter the premises.’
‘Leave Mother to me. Can you think of any place in England that would be safer? Your first duty, after all, is to protect your son.’
She looked up at him, her expression anguished. ‘You know how much I want to keep you out of this. But...but you are right; my first duty is to James, and I cannot think of any place where I could be sure of protecting him, alone.’
‘You would both be secure at Barton Abbey.’
Pensive, she turned once again towards the flames in the hearth, as if ultimate wisdom might be found in their dancing light—before abruptly whirling to face him. ‘If I did agree to accompany you to Barton Abbey, and your mother did not turn us away, I—I could no longer come to you. Not in your mother’s own house!’ she finished, her cheeks flushing.
She looked so scandalised, Alastair had to laugh. ‘My reputation is bad, I admit, but even I wouldn’t embarrass my mother by conducting an affair under her roof. Once past the gatehouse, the agreement between us would be in abeyance, until Graveston is no longer a threat.’
‘If all the trouble I envisage comes to pass, you will be thoroughly tired of me by then,’ she said, reminding him of the terms he’d specified for ending their agreement.
‘I will never tire of you...but you will still be free to do as you wish.’
She looked away and paced several more circuits around the room. Alastair waited, sure he was right, not wanting to coerce her, but hoping that after she’d considered all the possibilities, her own good sense would convince her his plan was the best course of action.
Hoping, though he knew it wasn’t prudent, that accepting him as an ally would bring her even closer to him.
At last, she halted and turned to him. ‘When do you propose to leave for Barton Abbey?’
‘As soon as you can be ready,’ he said, relief—and steely resolve—filling him.
This time, he would protect her and her son.
This time, the Duke’s will would not prevail.
This time, they would defeat Graveston—together. And then, at last, find out whether or not they had a future.
She nodded. ‘Tomorrow it is. Then we had best make the most of tonight.’
He held his breath, but she added nothing further—no admissions of affection, no confession that she had enjoyed their time together so much, she didn’t wish it to end.
As closely guarded as she kept her emotions, he couldn’t reasonably expect such a declaration—but he was still disappointed.
‘We can both agree on that,’ he said at last. Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs.
* * *
Much later, as they lay together in the aftermath of lo
ving, still bone of bone and flesh of flesh, he whispered, ‘Promise me you won’t take the boy and run. Promise me this time, you’ll trust me.’
She opened heavy-lidded eyes. ‘I promise,’ she said, and kissed him.
Chapter Fourteen
As arranged when they had parted late the previous night, shortly after daybreak, Alastair downed a quick breakfast and prepared to leave his sister’s house at the Royal Crescent. His few belongings packed, he settled for penning Jane a note; he regretted parting from her on such unhappy terms without even a goodbye, but as she’d already been abed when he returned, and since leaving Bath early was imperative, it was the best he could do.
After hiring a post-chaise, he set off for Laura Place. A grim smile creased his lips as, for the first time, he knocked at her front door. At least now, there would be no more need for subterfuge.
Admitted within, he found Diana ready. The nursemaid had her sleepy son bundled up, and the small staff was busy closing up the house. A short time later, he ushered them to the coach.
‘I still can’t believe you talked me into going to Barton Abbey,’ Diana murmured to Alastair, steadying the maid as Minnie carried her sleeping son up the step.
‘You trust me to keep you safe, don’t you?’ he asked as he handed her in.
‘If I didn’t trust you to keep my son safe, I wouldn’t have agreed to go.’
Tacitly accepting, for the moment, her slight change of emphasis, he followed her into the vehicle.
Soon, the coachman negotiated his way through Bath’s busy streets and on to the road south towards Devon. Despite the jolting of the carriage, after a late night and an early rising, both the maid and Diana drifted off to sleep. Alastair sat watching them, savouring the feel of Diana’s head nestled on his shoulder.
Finally, an end to shadow-boxing the family that had so drastically altered his life eight years ago. He couldn’t wait to confront the Duke in open combat, drive home a victory, and free the two of them to explore their future.
The Rake to Rescue Her Page 14
