The Duke's Reform

by Fenella J Miller

  He was a hundred yards away when a shot was fired. He covered the remaining distance flat out and burst into the wood to see her scrambling through the undergrowth in the direction of the tree in which he could clearly see a man with a rifle.

  God's teeth! This was no poacher— this was far more sinister. She paused and called out to the figure.

  'Please don't shoot my dogs, let me collect them and you shall go free.'

  She didn't realise what she was dealing with— how much danger she was in. Should he call out and warn her, or approach stealthily and try and apprehend whoever was skulking above them? Then his heart all but stopped. The rifle was being raised. It was pointing directly at Isobel. He was too far away to dislodge the gunman. How could he save his beloved?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Desperate to reach her dogs before the poacher lost patience and shot one of them, Isobel forgot to gather up her skirts and her boot snagged in the hem causing her to stumble to her knees. As she fell a second gunshot exploded and a missile thudded into the trunk of the tree above her.

  'Isobel, for God's sake stay down, someone's trying to kill you.'

  Alexander was shouting a warning. Instinctively she curled into a ball on the dirt and covered her head with her hands. Crashing feet, shouts and curses were added to the noise her dogs were making. She cowered on the ground too terrified to get up in case she was struck by a third bullet.

  Then she was snatched into his arms. 'My darling, he could have murdered you. What were you thinking of coming in here on your own?'

  She clung to him, needing his warmth, his strength, to stop her teeth chattering. Her pets were pressing against her legs and gave her the courage to look round. She expected to see bloody carnage. 'Where is the man who shot in my direction?'

  'Whoever it was abandoned his rifle and took off through the trees. I'll organise a search after I've taken you home. Can you walk, my dear?'

  Experimentally she straightened. Her legs were no longer trembling, she would manage well enough. 'I am perfectly well, Alexander. However, I fear my lovely new promenade gown has not been so fortunate.'

  Chuckling at her attempt to break the tension he kneed the dogs aside and brushed off the worst of the leaf mould from her skirts. 'That will have to do. We must get back, the sooner I get after the bastard the better.'

  With his support she began the long trek to the house. They had not been travelling far when she realised he was carrying the rifle in his free hand. 'Why did you bring that?'

  'I didn't wish to leave it behind in case it was used again. Being able to handle such a weapon isn't common—whoever was in that tree was likely to have been an ex-serviceman. There's a remote possibility this rifle might lead us to whoever was behind the attack.'

  She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with his long strides; she must ask him to slow down. Before she could do so he tossed the gun aside and swept her up and continued to walk as fast as he had done before. With a sigh of resignation she relaxed and let him do what he did best— take command.

  ****

  His arrival was greeted with cries of distress and much muttering from the footmen.

  'Put me down, Alexander, I'm quite capable of walking now I'm not obliged to keep up with you.'

  Reluctantly he placed his precious bundle on the parquet floor. 'I do beg your pardon— '

  'Oh, please don't —I would much prefer you to say you're sorry.' Her eyes were alight with laughter and his heart skipped a beat. This was how it should be; sharing intimate moments and not constantly at odds with each other.

  'I was intending to ask your forgiveness for dragging you along, but now I shall refrain. You're a baggage, madam, and show me no respect at all.'

  The housekeeper bustled up, her homely face anxious. 'My lady, are you unwell?'

  'No, Mary, but there's a poacher in the wood and he shot at my dogs.'

  Her announcement caused further consternation. 'Isobel, wait for me in your sitting room, I shall return as soon as I can.'

  He watched her walk away, her back straight, her wonderful russet curls tumbling onto her neck. He felt himself harden and quickly pulled his coat tails across his embarrassment. No other woman had ever affected him in this way. He would desire her however advanced her pregnancy or her years. However, this was not the time to be thinking of carnal pleasures, he had a would-be murderer to apprehend.

  With four stout men each carrying a cudgel, he returned to the wood. His pistols were primed and ready in his pocket, but he doubted he would find anyone to shoot. Their quarry would be long gone, but they might discover evidence of his passage and be able to follow the trail.

  He picked up the rifle he'd cast aside earlier and examined it as he jogged. The gun was in poor condition and in need of a good clean. 'That oak tree is the one where the poacher sat. One of you climb up and tell me what you can see when you're sitting on the large branch.'

  The youngest and most agile of the group shinned up the trunk like a squirrel to sit astride it. 'I can see clear to the lake, your grace, the break in the trees is right opposite. You'd not know anyone could get a clear view from so deep in the wood.'

  It was as Alexander feared; this was no random event. Whoever had been in that tree had been waiting for the opportunity to shoot Isobel. All the staff were aware she walked her dogs in this part of the park every day. All he had to do was remain hidden; the range of the rifle meant he could have killed her from where he sat.

  His eyes misted with rage. There could be only one perpetrator behind this attack, only one man who would gain from Isobel's death. Bentley — he was the one who stood to gain from her demise. But it didn't make sense. Only an expert shot could have hoped to hit his target from that distance and Bentley was no rifleman. God's teeth! His wits were wandering. Bentley was in London which made it even more unlikely he was involved.

  This needed further thought. He would not draw a hasty conclusion as there might be a perfectly rational explanation for this atrocity. He needed to be certain before he confronted his erstwhile heir. If his conjectures were correct the man would not survive the meeting.

  ****

  'Alexander, I can't believe Bentley is behind these attacks. Remember, you plucked him from his miserable existence and gave him an allowance, a fine wardrobe and a home. He might be irritating—but I'm sure he's not a villain.'

  'Perhaps you're right, sweetheart.' He rubbed his eyes. 'But Bentley is the only one who stands to gain from your… who stands to gain.' He straightened and his eyes blazed. 'I have it! Of course—it has to be something to do with those ruffians who accosted Bentley here the other day. If I find their master—I'll find the perpetrator.'

  'If that's true, then poor Mr Bentley must be in the thrall of this monster. You must go to London and discover the truth. I fear that young man might be in as much danger as I am.'

  'I shall, my love, as soon as I'm certain Newcomb is safe.'

  She smiled. 'Will you stay in Town for long?'

  'No longer than I have to. If you recall, I decided my place is here, taking care of you.'

  She waved away his arm as she pushed herself upright. She was satisfied with his answer. 'Then I shall delay you no longer. Take care, and please come to say goodbye before you leave for Town.'

  Isobel suffered Mary and Ellie's fussing in silence, and was relieved when they left her to read in front of the fire with a tray of freshly baked cakes and a large pot of coffee. The fright she had experienced from the unpleasant incident had faded and she reviewed the event more objectively.

  She prayed Alexander was wrong and no one was trying to kill her. The very idea was like something out of that silly novel, The Mysteries of Udolfo. Admittedly the man had aimed the gun in her direction, but her dogs were running towards her, so he might well have been hoping to hit one of them.

  A poacher with a rifle must be unusual. They were more likely to creep about with snares and cudgels than with such sophisticated weapon
ry. What possible reason could there be for a man with a valuable gun to be in Home Wood, apart from the sinister explanation that someone was trying to kill her? Concentrating was difficult whilst the infant inside her was apparently dancing a jig. Smiling she placed her hands across her belly and could just feel the movement through her garments. Mary had told her she was likely to become twice the size she was at the moment— that beggared belief. Already she had lost sight of her toes and bending down to retrieve a dropped object was no longer an easy task.

  Bill appeared at the open door. 'Could you spare me a moment, my lady, there's something I need to tell you. I thought you'd like to hear immediately.'

  'Please come in—I've been puzzling over this morning events and come to no satisfactory conclusion. Have you got an answer for me?'

  The young man grinned. 'I reckon I might have. It's like this, your grace. Jed went down to the village early this morning on an errand for Mrs Watkins. It seems they were all talking about a group of renegades who've been stealing and demanding money with menaces in neighbouring villages.'

  'Thank God! That explains it; no doubt the villain intended to burgle the house but my dogs chased him up a tree. The militia must be sent for. His grace will know how to go about that. Do you know how many people have suffered at their hands?'

  'A fair few, my lady. There's been a couple of coaches held up and several farms attacked, but none of them on this estate so far. I reckon your dogs disturbed them and they took to their heels, apart from the one who ended up the tree.'

  'Well, I can't think why something has not already been done about it. I wonder why we did not hear of this before today.'

  Bill bowed. 'Shall I tell this to his grace when he returns?'

  'Yes, no doubt the duke will wish to send word to the appropriate authorities. I intend to forget it ever happened.'

  This was not an easy task. The men involved must be desperate to attack villages. Maybe if the government had been more generous with the soldiers dismissed from the army after Waterloo, had provided them with a decent pension or found them employment, then these unfortunate men would not now be terrorising the countryside.

  This did not excuse them, but it did explain their motivation. Had she not been driven to violence herself when confronted by Sir John Farnham's licentious behaviour? She shuddered as she remembered. Desperation and anger made people behave badly; whoever these footpads were they would be hanged when they were apprehended.

  She blinked back tears. She was a veritable watering pot nowadays and the slightest thing seemed to set her off. When Alexander returned she would make her peace with him. Her unexpected brush with mortality had given her the push she needed. She doubted she would ever forget what he'd done to her, but maybe now was the time to forgive and give him a chance to demonstrate that his metamorphosis was genuine and permanent.

  What a strange day it had been. First there had been Sally's funeral service, and then an encounter with an armed man. She prayed life would be less eventful in the ensuing months, for her constitution was no longer as robust as it had once been. She feared many more shocks of this sort might bring on a miscarriage. The conception of this child was now unimportant; she loved and wanted the baby and wished the infant to be born at full term and not prematurely.

  Good grief! Alexander was not the only one who had changed. She wasn’t going to abandon her baby to go and live on an unknown estate in Essex. Her life was here at Newcomb bringing up this child.

  Dusk had fallen when Alexander eventually joined her. He looked less grim than he had when he'd set out. She greeted him with a smile. 'You have spoken to Bill? It's a great shame Jed didn't return before you all left for the funeral and I took my walk.'

  'Indeed it is, sweetheart.' Wearily he dropped into the armchair opposite the day bed she was

  relaxing on. 'He was quite correct. We found evidence of others having been in the wood. The trail led to the back lane but there we lost it. I've spent the remainder of the day riding around the farms warning my tenants to be vigilant, to ensure they have bolted the doors before they retire.'

  'Will the militia be here tomorrow to search for them?'

  ‘I’ve written a letter to Squire Rollins telling him what happened today, I can do no more. I must insist you take no more solitary walks until these men have been apprehended.'

  She bristled. 'You insist?' His shout of laughter sent her tea cup flying and it smashed in the hearth. 'Now look what you made me do.'

  'Don't ruffle your pretty feathers, my love; I'm certain one broken cup won't be noticed. I shall rephrase my sentence.' His wicked smile played havoc with her equilibrium. 'My dear, might I request you reconsider your daily promenades? I should be most distressed if you were shot by an itinerant veteran.'

  ‘You’re being ridiculous, sir. However, I shall bow to your position as head of the household and follow your instructions. In future I shall expect you to be downstairs at seven o'clock each morning to accompany me on my walk.'

  'A hit direct, my love. I shall be delighted to come with you. I am also certain the two outside men who must check the grounds before we go out will be equally thrilled you wish to walk so early.' He grinned. 'I'm relieved I don't have to thunder off to London today. My thigh is deucedly painful.'

  'I'd quite forgotten you have an injury. Indeed, you've been racing about these past days without the slightest sign of a limp.'

  He clutched his chest and fell back in his chair. 'I'm in need of your loving care, sweetheart. See— I'm swooning.'

  'Don't be ridiculous, Alexander. You're perfectly well.' Her smile slipped, he did look a trifle pale. 'My dear, shall I fetch Bill to take care of you?'

  'Absolutely not! I'm funning— my leg is sore, but will be perfectly fine by tomorrow.'

  There was little point in changing to dine so she spent a further delightful hour discussing the high price of corn, the woeful provision for ex-servicemen and whether it was now safe to tour the continent. When Bill came in to announce dinner was served she could not remember having spent such a relaxed afternoon with Alexander.

  After dinner he smiled at him as he lounged at the table. 'Do you wish to remain on your own to drink port? I warn you, I shall be retiring soon, so if you linger long I won't be in the drawing-room when you come through.' Isobel had been persuaded to drink a glass of champagne in honour of the passing of her abigail. The unaccustomed alcohol had quite gone to her head making her feel as skittish as a school-girl.

  'I've had sufficient to drink, thank you, my dear. I've finished off the bottle— far more than I normally have.'

  She snorted inelegantly. 'Your normal intake, if I remember rightly, would include three bottles of claret, port and a decanter of brandy. Heavens! I would consider what you have imbibed this evening as a mere bagatelle.'

  Not remaining to hear his reply she almost skipped through the communicating door into the drawing-room. She was not unduly surprised to hear his chair crash back and to see him right behind her.

  'I've changed, sweetheart, I no longer drink to excess nor do I gamble. I am a reformed man in every way.'

  'I've come to a decision, Alexander. The more I think about it the less I want Mr Bentley to have anything to do with Newcomb. Neither can I, in all conscience, abandon this baby. You were quite right to point out children need both parents in order to prosper.'

  His eyes widened, he looked shocked. Did he not want her to remain? Then he was beside her and before she could tell him to desist she was in his arms. She meant to push him away, but her hands crept around his neck and buried themselves in his hair.

  He drew back before matters progressed to their inevitable conclusion. 'Darling, we can't make love here. We must retire to your bedchamber.'

  Her lips glowed from his kisses, every inch of her tingled from his touch, there was nothing she would like more than to feel him inside her, to experience the ecstasy they'd shared at the beginning of their marriage, but common sense returned. This
was not the time to let him get closer, and she wasn't certain such activities would not be harmful to the baby.

  'No, Alexander, we must not do this. I don't feel my pregnancy is secure enough to risk such vigorous activity especially after the double shocks I've suffered today.'

  At her words his ardour shrunk, the hectic colour along his cheekbones faded and his eyes returned to their normal blue-grey. 'I've no wish to jeopardise the health of the child. I hadn't realised something so pleasurable could be harmful.' He smiled ruefully. 'It's just I find you damn near irresistible. I shall have to find other outlets for my energy.'

  'There's something else I wish to tell you. If this baby is a boy then my role as your true wife will be ended; I shall live here in the east wing, but not depart from Newcomb entirely.'

  'And if it's a girl?'

  She could not look away. She was pinned like a butterfly on a board beneath his gaze. 'If our child is female then I shall remain with you as your wife until you have your son and heir.'

  ****

  Alexander tried to school his features, not show his elation for she might misinterpret his reaction and think it was triumph, not joy. He knelt down beside her and took her hands within his own. They were all but lost beneath his. 'Then, my darling, I shall pray every night that this baby of ours is a girl.'

  'And I shall pray for the opposite. I might never be able to produce another child, remember we thought I was barren. I thought securing your title was everything to you?'

  Gently he raised her fingers to his mouth and kissed each one in turn. 'No, Isobel, you're everything to me. I shall count myself a lucky man if we produce a dozen daughters if it means that you remain as my loving wife.'

  Giggling she snatched back her hands. Good grief! She was a trifle bosky. Would she have committed herself if she had been entirely sober? He must pray she did not recant in the morning. 'Come along, Isobel, I shall carry you up to bed. It isn't I that has consumed too much alcohol tonight, but you, my love.'