‘In what way?’ What risk could there be in a short ride to his own home and a night in bed?
The ladies were coming into the hall to join them and Adam gave no answer but a warning shake of his head. Then he turned to his guests. To an outsider, there would be nothing unusual in his behaviour. His Grace, the Duke of Bellston, was ever a genial host.
But Will had known him for a lifetime and recognised the mood for what it was. Adam was playing a role, just as he did when playing politics in London. His true feelings, whatever they might be, were buried so deep that Will would not know them until the morning.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Are you going to explain the purpose of this trip? Or do you mean to leave me guessing?’
Will’s question was met by silence from his brother, who sat in the opposite seat of the coach, staring out of the window as though he had not heard.
After Adam’s warning, Will had half-expected that there would be an attack on his person as he rode home. But the remainder of the night had been uneventful. Young Margot had chattered all the way home, amazed at the manor, the food and the hospitality of the duke and duchess.
Justine had smiled behind her hand and did her best to calm the girl, assuring her that she had made an excellent impression on them. Once they had sent their guest off to bed, they had gone to bed themselves. And once again, Justine proved what a lucky man he was, to have married so well.
Will smiled at his brother and waved a hand before his face to get his attention. ‘You said this was about my lack of memory. If you are carting me off to prison for something, the least you could have done is let me say a proper goodbye to my wife.’
Adam shook his head. ‘It was nothing you did. At least, I do not think so.’
‘What the devil does that mean?’ Other than that the situation had changed from annoying to alarming.
‘It means that I do not know what to say, until I have seen for myself the thing that Jenks described to me and your reaction to it. If we are wrong, as I pray we are, then it will be better that I had not spoken at all.’
‘Very well, then.’ Will gave an expansive gesture. ‘Continue to be mysterious. But you might at least tell me where we are going.’ They had been on the road for nearly an hour and he was beginning to fear that the whole of the day would be wasted.
‘It is not much longer,’ his brother allowed. ‘There is an inn a little up the way. The Fox and Hare. We do not stop there often. The ale is watered and the food is mediocre at best. But yesterday, while transporting Miss de Bryun, there was some problem with a carriage wheel and a stop needed to be made. Jenks saw something of interest in the stables and wished our opinion of it.’
‘You want me to see a horse?’ he said. He’d thought last night’s comment had been nothing more than a ruse. ‘I do not wish to buy one, if that is what you have been told. I am not ready to make such a purchase today, at any rate.’
Adam shook his head again. ‘This horse will interest you, I think. But we must go see for ourselves.’
* * *
They pulled into the coach yard a short time later and followed Jenks and the driver directly to the place where the horses were kept. The coachman was shifting uneasily, foot to foot. ‘I thought you would want to know, my lord. I am sure you will think it foolish of us and see the obvious difference.’
‘There is no difference,’ Jenks said flatly. ‘It is what we think it is. But only Lord Felkirk can tell us so.’
‘Can tell you what?’ Will said, his patience growing thin. ‘I still have no idea what you are on about.’
From a stall halfway down the row there came the thump of hooves hitting boards.
‘Careful with that one,’ a stable boy called. ‘We can barely handle him.’
‘I am sure we are up to the task,’ Will said, taking a firmer grip on his stick.
They were standing in front of the animal in question now. At the sound of his voice, there came a frantic whinny.
He knew that sound.
It was impossible. But he could not doubt his own ears. He pushed past the stable boy, dropped his stick and put a hand on the neck of the horse, reaching for his tossing head.
‘Now tell them they are fools and that all black horses look alike.’ His brother’s voice had a plaintive quality to it, as though wishing could give him the answer he wanted.
But to say that would have been foolish. All black horses did not look the same, any more than all blonde women looked like Justine. This black horse looked exactly like Jupiter, because it was Jupiter. He ran a hand on over the horse’s shoulder and felt the height, just as he remembered it.
The spirited horse calmed instantly. It was not because he had any gift for animals, but because the horse recognised his touch, just as it had known his voice.
‘Hello, old fellow. It has been some time, has it not? Did you miss me?’ He turned the face so that he might look into the eyes and the gigantic head gave a nod as if to say, ‘Yes.’
Will stroked the soft, black nose and got another nod of approval and a nudge at his pocket, where the sugar should be.
This was impossible. Many men kept a treat of some kind in their pinks. This was no indication of recognition, just a learned behaviour. As for the rest, he was only seeing what he wished to see and hearing what he wished to hear. It could not be Jupe. Jupiter had died because of the same fall that injured him.
Will walked to the back of the stall, trailing his hands along the smooth back. There was the barely noticeable pattern of white hairs on the flank. He felt under them and found the fine line of the scar from the time they had taken a fall, going over a fence in a hunt. How he had worried over that, walking the young horse home, and fussing over him until the scratch had healed. But there should be other scars, should there not?
Perhaps Justine had been misled about the extent of the injury. The fall in Bath that had laid him low must have done some damage to the horse. He stroked down the back, the withers and the legs, all the way to the hooves, and could find none. Jupe was as sound as the day he’d ridden out on his way to Bath, to see Mr Montague.
Montague.
The scrap of memory appeared, as though it had always been there. He had found the bag in his nursery dresser, searching for a gift for Billy. Just a scrap of silk and velvet that he’d used to hold pretty rocks. But more properly, it was meant to hold loose stones. A jeweller’s bag. And where had he got it?
In the woods.
He gripped Jupe’s neck, now, letting the horse support him as he searched his mind for the rest of the story.
‘My lord?’ Jenks was leaning close now, fearing that his behaviour was a sign of weakness.
Will waved him away. Standing on his own feet again. ‘You were right. This is Jupiter.’
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ Adam was speaking now and his voice was surprisingly bitter.
How was he to answer? Did he know what it meant? In truth, he did not. More than Adam knew, perhaps. He knew the facts. He had found a jeweler’s bag in the nursery and pieced together the story of the murder by questioning the oldest servants. A diamond merchant had died and the stones had been stolen. No one could remember more than that.
He had traced the origin of the bag through the monogram on the silk: the entwined M and B of Montague and de Bryun set in an embroidered gold crown. He had gone to Bath, seeking information about the bag’s missing contents.
The woman in the main salon of the store had been too beautiful to be an ordinary shop girl. Her satin gown was too bright for day, and too low, revealing a pale throat hung with emeralds. Her hair swept high on her head, to show ears hung with matching drops. Her fingers were heavy with rings, her wrists circled with bracelets. It was as if a statue had been decorated and come to life as a walking advertisement for
the store.
Her face had been just as impassive as a statue’s as well. In her eyes, he had seen far too much knowledge for one so young. The smile she wore was too polite and distant to be anything but ironic.
Montague had come into the room and looked at her, eyes flicking from gem to gem as though counting his possessions. The final intimate sweep of his eyes indicated that his ownership did not end with the jewellery she wore. When he turned to look at Will, there was a faint warning in his expression. One might look at the merchandise, and the woman beneath it, but one must never touch.
And then, to Will’s shock, he had introduced her as de Bryun’s own daughter.
Montague himself had been strangely familiar. He had seen the face before, he was sure of it. But he could not think where. The man had escorted him into a parlour at the back of the shop, where they might talk in private. But he had quickly become irrational over what were simple and innocent questions.
It was clear that Will would learn nothing more than what he already knew. As he turned to go, he saw the woman, standing before him, blocking the door.
And then, pain. The last thing he could remember, before darkness closed over him was those knowing green eyes.
He knew what had happened. But that still did not explain how it had come to this.
‘I said, do you know what this means?’ Adam was shaking his shoulder. ‘She lied to us, Will. I took her into my home. I treated her as family. I encouraged you to trust her.’
If he’d not still been in shock himself, he’d have found it funny. The Duke of Bellston was ranting over his injured dignity and abused hospitality. As if that was worse than surviving a murder attempt, only to fall in love with one of your attackers. How she must have laughed, to find him so easily manipulated.
‘Who knows if there is any truth at all in what she said? But fear not. I will call out the watch and we will take her into custody immediately. Then we shall have the real story out of her. Her sister as well. The girl is likely an accomplice to whatever happened.’
‘You will not.’ At last he had found his voice. With a final pat, he turned away from the horse and silenced his brother with a look. ‘You will get in the carriage, ride home and say nothing to anyone.’ Then he looked at Jenks. ‘Find out what you can of the man who left the horse. If he is still here, set someone to watch him. Follow him, if necessary. But do nothing until I give you direction.’
‘And what do you mean to do, while this is going on?’ Adam was still angry and using a warning tone to remind him that a man who was both a peer and one’s older brother should be given the respect he had earned.
‘I mean to saddle my horse and ride home.’ He held up a hand to silence objections. ‘And I will tolerate no nonsense about my being too weak to ride. It is not as if I am likely to fall off of Jupiter, now is it?’
His sarcasm shocked the two other men to silence. But the horse answered with a soft nicker of amusement.
He turned back to Jupiter, stroking his face. ‘Do not laugh at me. I thought you dead. I grieved over your loss. And all the while you were eating oats and snapping at stable boys.’ He looked up to see the other two, still staring at him, as though trying to decide if his current behaviour was a sign that the recent injury had driven him mad.
‘Go,’ he said, more softly to his brother. ‘Please, keep what you have learned to yourself for a time. A day or two, at most. I need time to think. And to speak with...Justine.’
He had almost said my wife. And what a bitter lie that was. He put it aside and continued. ‘I will send word when I have decided how best to proceed. You needn’t worry. Now that I am aware of the situation, there is no risk.’
No risk at all, now that he knew not to turn his back on Justine de Bryun or her lover.
Chapter Sixteen
‘I don’t know why you bother attempting to teach me this,’ Margot said, looking at the mass of knots that was her first attempt at lacemaking. ‘Of all the skills I might wish to develop to honour our family, this is not one of them.’
Justine bit her lip in frustration. Margot was still talking of the shop and her desire to return to Bath as soon as Mr Montague allowed it. While her younger sister might deny any allegiance to a father she had never met, she seemed to have inherited that man’s business acumen. ‘It is better that you cultivate virtues that might attract a husband. With Lady Colton’s offer of a Season and the sponsorship of the Duchess of Bellston...’
Margot laughed. ‘It is a lovely dream, of course. But no gentleman will want to marry the daughter of a merchant.’
‘You would also be a member of the Felkirk family,’ Justine reminded her.
Her sister responded with a surprised look. ‘You know that I am not. Have you forgotten what you told me, just yesterday? You are not truly married to Lord Felkirk.’
For a moment, she had forgotten. The truth was becoming increasingly clouded by what happened each night, when she was alone with Will. Today, all she could remember was the sweet kiss he had given her in parting. Then he had gone off with his brother in the carriage, saying something about the possibility of purchasing a horse.
That would be good for him, she was sure. He still pined for the one he had lost. While no other animal was likely to take the place of Jupiter, it was better that certain, unexplainable parts of his past be put aside.
She was thinking like a wife, again. It left her unsure whether to smile or frown. If love were all that was necessary to make a marriage, she would be his true wife. ‘For the moment, you are right,’ she admitted to Margot. ‘I am not Will’s wife. But you were also right when you said that I must find a way to explain to him. For I do so wish...’ She bit her lip again. She wished that their meeting had occurred, just as she had imagined it. For how could she ever tell him the truth?
‘You love him?’ Margot said, softly.
‘Very much,’ Justine admitted. ‘I cannot imagine life without him. And I am so afraid, when he learns what I have done...’
Her sister rose and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘Do not distress yourself. I am sure you will find a way through this. Once you have told him the truth, he will forgive you for the ruse and all will be well again.’
‘You cannot know that,’ Justine said.
‘Nonsense. It is clear that he adores you,’ Margot said. ‘But it will not change my opinion on the matter of a marriage for myself, or my plans for the future. With you married and living here, someone must go back to Bath and be the second half of Montague and de Bryun.’
‘That will not be possible,’ Justine said, in a tone she hoped would brook no argument. After all she had sacrificed to keep the girl safe, she seemed intent on throwing herself from the frying pan into the fire.
‘Sometimes, I think you are simply jealous of my interest,’ Margot said. ‘If you did not enjoy your place there, it was unfair of you to exile me, so that you need not share our birthright.’
Justine set her lace aside and turned to take her sister’s hand. ‘It is not from jealousy that I keep you away. I do not want the place that I have, Margot. I would be quite happy if I were never to see Mr Montague or that horrible store again. If you were to know the whole of it, you would not want it either.’
‘Then tell me the whole of it, and let me decide.’
For a moment, she was tempted to tell all. What would it feel like, to finally be free of the worst secrets of her life in Bath? Then, silently, she shook her head.
Margot gave a short, frustrated sigh, glanced out the window and smiled. ‘Then perhaps I shall ask Mr Montague what problem lies between you. I believe that is him coming up the drive right now.’
Justine had not thought of this possibility, when she had ceased going to the wood to wait for him. The last three days, there had been letters from Mr Smith in the morning post. She
had thrown them away unopened, not wanting to read the demands for information, and the threats of punishment for disobedience. Once Margot was safe with her, what could the man do? She was sure he would not dare to come to the house and risk being seen by Will.
But Will was gone, travelling in a carriage past the very spot that Montague would have waited for her. He knew she was alone and unprotected. Thus, he had come to the house, knowing that she could not avoid him without raising suspicions.
‘Margot, go to your room.’ At the very least, she could prevent him from seeing or threatening her sister.
She had not counted on her sister having an opinion. ‘Certainly not,’ Margot said, settling herself in her chair to prove she had no intention of moving.
‘It is not wise that you remain,’ Justine said, firm but gentle. ‘We did not get his permission for this trip. It is quite likely he will be angry.’
‘Angry at you, more likely,’ Margot answered with a wicked smile. ‘Your crimes are far worse than mine, misleading this poor family and luring me away from school.’
‘It is not that way at all,’ Justine said, in a desperate whisper. The enemy was so close he might hear their argument through the half-open window of the morning room.
Margot gestured towards that same window. ‘It is he who deserves the explanation, not me. Since you have been trying to dissuade me from my goals all morning, I am not in a mood to help you out of this by hiding under my bed.’
She could hear the knocking on the front door, the butler opening and the approach of the footman to announce a guest. ‘Margot. Please. You do not understand.’
‘That is about to change, I think. We will all understand much more, if we speak to each other honestly. Now give permission to admit our guardian, or I shall call out to him that I am being held against my will.’
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