The Duke's Christmas Mystery: A Regency Romance Christmas Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “Of course, it is.” The Baroness continued as her husband remained silent. “We have never had a Duke in this house before and we must all give a very good account of ourselves. Not only will we be dressed for the occasion, but we shall serve a very fine afternoon tea indeed.” Rowena could not escape the notion that her mother was trying to divert her.

  Once again, she looked across the table at her father and, once again, he averted his gaze and looked down at his plate.

  “But why is he coming to tea, Mother?” Rowena said, determined for all the details.

  “What a ridiculous thing to say!” The Baroness was losing her patience. “He is coming to afternoon tea because he has been invited. Why else would a person come to tea?”

  “It just seems rather unusual.” Rowena said but knew that she would get nothing further from her mother.

  “Perhaps if you are not hungry, as you say, it might be best if you left the table now. I have things I wish to discuss with your father.” Lady Lockhart scowled at her.

  “Very well.” Rowena said and rose to her feet immediately.

  She turned to leave the room without a word, giving only a final glance in her father’s direction. Whatever was happening, for good or bad, it was clear that he was going to have no part in it, not to help her, and not to hurt her. He was, as always, simply going to do nothing.

  “I wonder, Miss Rowena, if Her Ladyship is trying to find you a suitor.” Violet said the following morning as the two of them discussed the curious conversation at length.

  “But a Duke? What Duke would want to marry a Baron’s daughter? A young woman of no particular title and no inheritance? It is not even as if the man would earn himself Frinton Manor for his troubles, for it is to go to somebody else altogether. A second cousin of mine is the closest male heir and I am to get nothing.”

  “But perhaps this Duke is not going to marry for money.”

  “But why come here? I mean, I have never met a Duke in my life. And my mother did not even say where he is the Duke of. She simply said that he is a Duke.”

  “Well, I can only think that he is from outside of Derbyshire, Miss Rowena.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there is only the Duke of Darrington in these parts.”

  “It could not be him?”

  “No, not if marriage is the consideration, Miss.” Violet screwed her little face up thoughtfully and shook her head. “No, this Duke must be from somewhere else altogether.”

  “Of course, wherever this Duke comes from, there is a very good chance that his visit has nothing to do with marriage whatsoever.” Rowena laughed. “And since I have never met a Duke, I cannot imagine that one would agree to marry me sight-unseen.”

  “But you are very beautiful, Miss.” Violet said with such loyalty that Rowena could have embraced her.

  “Oh Violet, that is kind of you. But even if what you say is true, a Duke in search of a wife would usually want to have a good look at her first, I am sure of it. After all, I daresay men of such title get whatever they want and there are plenty of beautiful young ladies of accomplishment to choose from. Young ladies who are taken out into society a good deal more than I am.”

  “I suppose he could be coming for any reason, I just cannot think what it would be, Miss Rowena.”

  “No, neither can I.” Rowena said and frowned. “And I daresay it is just my mother making me feel suspicious. This Duke might be perfectly pleasant.”

  “He might even be handsome, like a prince in a fairytale.” Violet said as she worked on her mistress’ long and thick hair.

  Between them, they had already decided what Rowena would wear the following day for afternoon tea with the mysterious Duke. Not only that, but Violet was practicing a hairstyle that was full and impressive without being overdone. She had already put Rowena’s hair up twice, only to take it down and begin again.

  Little Violet was nothing if not thorough.

  “Perhaps.” Rowena said a little distantly.

  “Are you thinking of the handsome man you met by the cabin, Miss?” Violet’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  When Rowena had told her all about the strange little meeting that she’d had the day before, Violet’s eyes had been wide with romance and wonder. Rowena’s description of the man had been so full, so complete, that her little maid had enjoyed it very much.

  “I must admit I was, Violet. He really was such a pleasant man, and very handsome it is true. He had such a nice smile. And, though it is true to say that I have not spent much time in conversation with young men before, I was not at all anxious in his company. I had always imagined that I would be, being left alone with a man and what have you, I thought I would be tongue-tied.”

  “But you had the cabin to talk about, that was a good thing.” Violet nodded thoughtfully and added another pin to her mistress’ hair.

  Rowena looked at Violet’s reflection in the dressing table mirror and watched as the young woman stepped back a little to admire her handiwork before her nose wrinkled in disappointment and she began to remove the pins once more.

  “Yes, I think the cabin had captured my imagination so much that I had forgotten to be nervous. Had I simply been introduced to him at an evening buffet or something similar, I would probably have blushed and not been able to get a word out.” Rowena laughed.

  “Goodness me, Miss. Was he really as handsome as all that?”

  “Yes, he was. But I liked him as well. Even more than his handsome face, I liked the way he conducted himself. He spoke with such interest about the cabin, so much so that we both quite forgot to introduce ourselves. But I do wish I knew his name, for then I might be able to find out something about him.”

  “Will you go there again? Will you walk out there to see if you can find him?” Violet was whispering again.

  “Well, I suppose I ought to say that I will go there again to have another look at the cabin.” Rowena began to laugh a little girlishly. “And if I happen to see him there then it will simply be fortuitous.”

  “Very good.” Violet was smiling broadly. “I think that sounds more exciting than a Duke coming to tea even.”

  “Yes, so do I.”

  And for Rowena, the idea of the handsome man at the cabin really was much more exciting than the thought of some unknown Duke coming to Frinton Manor out of the blue.

  At least the man in the cabin had absolutely nothing to do with either her mother or father and in that knowledge, Rowena thought her fond feelings for him could be trusted.

  The idea of the afternoon tea her mother had planned was something that was going to unsettle Rowena until it was all over with. Not that she was nervous at the thought of meeting a man of such title, for she truly was not. Rowena was not at all affected by such things, certainly not in the way that her mother was.

  No, her feelings of disquiet stemmed entirely from the conversation she had had with her mother at dinner the evening before. And not only that, but her father’s silence had a curious way of speaking loudly about her mother’s ominous intentions.

  Still, there was nothing Rowena could do about any of it. She would just have to wait and see what transpired and, in the meantime, she could fortify her spirits with thoughts of the handsome man with the green eyes and the thick ash brown hair.

  Chapter Five

  Elliot watched as his father, his appearance improved if not immaculate, made his way out of the front of Darrington Hall and approached the waiting carriage.

  The old Duke had been in good spirits all morning, leading Elliot to wonder where it was his father was going for the afternoon. He had remained curiously tight-lipped about it all and Elliot did not have the patience to ask, for most conversations seemed to be conducted in the spirit of pure antagonism of late. Instead, he decided to leave his curiosity unrequited.

  Despite the apparent good mood, Elliot could see his father barking instructions at the driver as the poor man tried to help his overweight, unfit master up into the carriage
. Elliot stifled a laugh as he watched the ungainly man, seeming years older than he really was, heaving his cumbersome frame into the carriage, his face red with annoyance and the sheer exhaustion of the simple exercise.

  “Pity the poor woman.” Elliot muttered under his breath.

  He felt sure that his father was setting out to meet a woman. The good mood and the half-hearted attempt at hygiene could suggest nothing else to Elliot. But despite his father’s seeming efforts, the man was still going to be a hard sight to reconcile if the lady in question had any taste at all.

  Having seen enough, Elliot wandered away from the window and back into the drawing room. Although it was a warm and bright day, the cold stone and high ceilings of Darrington Hall always cooled the rooms and he wondered if he would pull the bell to have the fire set.

  Perhaps he would wait an hour and ask for tea and a fire all at once. Elliot smiled as he dropped down into the wide pale blue armchair in front of the huge and empty fireplace. He liked to have the drawing room to himself knowing that his father was away from the hall and not likely to return any time soon to disturb his peace.

  In truth, Elliot found the room a little too gaudy to be entirely relaxing. The ceiling was high and there was a mezzanine above, its railing running the full length of the room on two sides. It had always given Elliot a feeling of being watched, even though it was a part of the house through which the servants rarely traveled.

  There were portraits in oils hanging everywhere in heavy gilt frames. Elliot had always marveled at how so many of his male ancestors had chosen to wear red for their portraits and he always felt as if he was simply regarding the same painting over and over again. Not that he studied them a great deal anymore; they were of little interest to Elliot if he was honest.

  Still, he had decided that he would himself wear green or blue when his time came to sit for a portrait that would hang somewhere in the immense room. When he became Duke and his father was no longer on the earth.

  Elliot sighed; it was a theme he often revisited in his mind and one that was unsettling. He could not abide his father, and yet he wondered if he loved him. To think of him no longer being at Darrington Hall was pleasing and upsetting in equal measure and Elliot wished that the emotional life of a human being could be a much simpler affair, if only occasionally.

  And so, he chose instead to think better thoughts. The sort of thoughts that would make him smile and forget the life he was so ill at ease with.

  His mind gave him a very pleasing image of the young woman he had met at the cabin just a day or two before. What a very unusual thing to have happened upon her right there in the middle of the enclosure.

  Over the years, Elliot had wondered if he might see someone else in that place, but he had imagined it to be the owner or an adventurous young boy. He had never thought to meet such a beautiful young woman in there, never thinking that such a divine creature would care to crawl through the thick undergrowth. It was so deep from front to back that he knew most people would simply walk past without wondering if there was something to be seen within.

  Elliot had to admit that he liked the idea of a young woman who was so inquisitive and adventurous that she would take on the physical challenge with no promise of anything to be found on the other side. That was exactly how it had been for him when he had been a boy of fifteen who had just lost his beloved mother and was looking for an escape from his pain.

  Elliot laced his hands across his flat stomach and wondered if the young woman had pain of her own that she wished to escape. Perhaps that was where a spirit of adventure was truly born, in a need to free oneself from something else.

  And the lady had been very beautiful. Some years younger than himself, but she had a confidence that he found attractive. She was not overbearing by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, he had thought her very gentle and rather sweet. But her inquisitiveness had taken a hold of her and she spoke without any shyness or coyness when she had questioned him about the cabin.

  Elliot laughed to himself as he thought how refreshing it was to meet a woman who was entirely herself. Women were never, ever themselves around him, always trying to impress him in some way or another.

  But the beautiful, fresh-faced young lady with the thick, straw-colored hair and the pale blue eyes had been just about the most natural woman he had ever come across. It was as if she were untainted by the world around her; as if society had not poisoned her soul with its ideas and expectations.

  If only he had thought to introduce himself, at least then he would have her name and be able to make some little inquiries of his own.

  But then she would have known him to be the son of the Duke of Darrington and then, perhaps, he might have seen a very different side of her. The idea of her was so enticing, so new, that Elliot could not bear to sully it by imagining how she might have behaved, how she might have spoken, had she realized he was an heir to so great a title.

  No, he would not think of that. He would imagine her just as she was and enjoy the pursuit. And he would, without a doubt, make his way to the old cabin with such regularity as he might one day find her there again. Above all things, Elliot wanted to lay eyes on her once more.

  With a contented sigh, he rose from his seat and made his way to the fireplace to pull the bell rope for tea and a fire. If he was to have an afternoon of pleasant imaginings, he would do so in comfort.

  Frinton Manor had been a hive of frenetic activity all morning and Lady Eleanor looked taut and anxious. The color was high in her pale cheeks, given that she had spent a good deal of her day so far shouting at the small household staff in a most unladylike manner.

  The drawing room had never looked as immaculate, and yet Lady Eleanor sighed and tutted and shouted. The Baron had made himself scarce, having almost walked into the room when his wife was on the verge of a furious vent.

  Rowena stifled a laugh when she saw him over her mother’s shoulder as he backed slowly away from the open door and disappeared in the direction of his study. If only Rowena could disappear too and hide away from her mother’s critical gaze.

  “He will be here any moment.” Eleanor hissed as she looked all about the drawing room once more, scrutinizing every part as if something might have changed in the moments since she had last looked.

  “Why are you so anxious, Mother?” Rowena asked and knew in her heart that there was much her mother had not told her.

  “Why do you ask so many questions?” Her mother bit back waspishly.

  “Because I always feel as if I am not being told everything. Almost as if there is a secret.”

  “A secret?” Lady Eleanor whirled around to glare at her. “What do you mean by that? What secret?”

  “I cannot say exactly. It is just something I feel.” Rowena felt a little upended by the look on her mother’s face.

  There was something there; a little fear, perhaps? Whatever it was, Rowena knew she had seen something of note. Something that should unsettle her greatly. But, as always, Rowena knew that she would get no answers from her mother or her father.

  “I hear a carriage!” Eleanor’s watery pale green eyes flew open and her angular features, suddenly animated, gave her a look of a bird of prey.

  The Baroness hurried over to the drawing-room door and peered out to see that the staff were doing just as they ought to. Rowena followed her, peering around her mother’s shoulder. When Lady Eleanor raced into the entrance hall, Rowena realized that the servants were not doing things just as their mistress had wanted. Still, Rowena could not imagine what it was they could be getting so very wrong.

  She had been about to make her way back into the drawing room to sit daintily on the couch, just as her mother had been instructing her all morning, when she saw a look on the housekeeper’s face which stopped her in her tracks.

  Miss Harcourt had been at the side of the houseman-come-butler Mr. Tunney, ready to solve any little problem that might come their way. Again, Rowena could hardly imagine what p
roblem might arise whilst a Duke simply made his way into the house, but her mother had been most determined that all possibilities should be considered.

  But there had been something in Miss Harcourt’s look, something almost angry, and Rowena found herself staring at the housekeeper.

  “Get back into the drawing room.” Eleanor hissed and she took Rowena’s arm firmly and sped her back towards the couch. “He is approaching and we cannot hover in the entrance hall, you silly girl!”

  Finding no response that would be fitting, Rowena simply sat on the couch as instructed and held back from pointing out that her mother had been the one hovering in the entrance hall, not her. But the angry look on Miss Harcourt’s face came back to her and Rowena found herself wondering what on earth it had been in aid of.

  The housekeeper had been looking out of the partially open door at the time, the door which gave out onto the front of the house. Had she seen something outside which had angered her? But what?

  Miss Harcourt, whilst pleasant, had always been rather a distant figure as far as Rowena was concerned. Certainly, for her to look so incensed was something that Rowena had never seen before. In all respects, she was a very mild-mannered sort of a woman.

  Hearing the approaching footsteps and the sound of her father, who had likely just darted out of his study, greeting the Duke in the hallway, Rowena was drawn back into the present moment.

  “How very nice to see you again, Your Grace.” She could hear her father’s voice growing louder as he and the Duke came closer to the drawing room. “And welcome to Frinton Manor.”

  “Yes.” Came a bluff voice. “Yes, indeed.”

  Lady Eleanor had been about to roll her eyes in exasperation at her husband’s non-compliance in the whole staging of a contented family life in the drawing room when the two men came in.

  The butler seemed very much wrong-footed, likely because his mistress had not covered a situation in which her own husband would make the whole entrance very awkward. Rowena groaned inwardly and wished her mother and father could simply be more natural, more genuine.