Instead he was standing in the passageway wagging his tail and glancing anxiously down the stairs.
'He wants us to go with him – I hope there isn't a burglar,' Emma said.
'Do we need to get a candle?' Richard wasn't sure there was sufficient light coming in through the window at the end of the passage to descend the stairs safely.
'There isn't time; I can hear somebody outside.'
The dog was standing by the front door whining softly. Richard ran to the door and spoke to whoever was behind it.
'I can't open this door as I don't have the key. If you care to come to the side, I will let you in.'
There was a muffled reply and the sound of a man's steps retreating to the side of the house.
His sister grabbed his arm and pinched it painfully. 'You shouldn't have done that,' she whispered. 'We don't know who it is. It might be someone come to murder us in our beds.'
He shrugged his arm away. 'Don't be silly, Benji knows who it is.'
Only as he was sliding the bolt back did it occur to him the person on the other side of the door might be known to the dog but not to them. He also belatedly considered the fact that no sensible person arrived at a house uninvited in middle of the night.
The door swung open and to his horror the duke stepped in. He wasn't sure he liked this gentleman very much – he was too tall, too dark and too fierce.
'Good heavens! What are you two doing down here in your nightclothes?' He leaned down to pat the dog who seemed delighted to see their unexpected guest.
'Aunt Lydia is in bed, your grace, and so is everybody else. Benji fetched us to open the door for you. Is there something wrong? Is that why you are here when everyone is asleep?'
'Shall we go somewhere more comfortable to talk, children? What about the kitchen? I expect it's warm in there and we can find ourselves something tasty to eat and drink.'
This seemed like a good idea and Richard thought that perhaps he wasn't such a bad fellow after all. 'Cook and the other maids sleep upstairs so they won't hear us. I know where there's a plum cake and there's always fresh milk in the pantry on the slate shelf.'
He dashed off with the dog beside him and led the duke into the kitchen. In here the floor was stone and his bare feet were becoming numb from the cold.
To his astonishment, the duke picked him up and sat him on the long table that filled the centre of the room. 'Here, young man, you will be warmer with your feet off the flags.'
His sister didn't wait to be plucked from the floor but scrambled up herself and they sat side by side, their bare legs swinging, watching open-mouthed as his grace set about making them a midnight feast.
'I think hot milk with cinnamon and sugar is called for – does that seem acceptable to you?'
There were now half a dozen candles burning merrily as his grace had used the embers in the stove to light them.
'That sounds lovely, your grace, are you sure you can manage on your own?' Emma asked more out of politeness than a desire to actually get down herself and assist him.
'I'm perfectly capable of heating up some milk, sweetheart, but I might need further directions to discover the aforementioned cake.'
Within a short space of time the feast was ready. Richard felt emboldened to ask the question that was hanging in the air between. They had talked about the dog, the ponies, the weather, but so far they had all avoided the reason why they were all sitting in the kitchen.
'I expect you were fast asleep when your aunt came home. She took a tumble and twisted her ankle and the doctor came with them in the carriage to attend to it. As he failed to return and tell me what happened I came to see for myself that nothing untoward had taken place.'
'We didn't know Aunt Lydia had hurt herself. In fact, we didn't know anything about it at all.' He was beginning to warm to his theme. 'In fact, your grace, I don't even know if she is actually here. Do you think she could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere?'
He didn't wait for an answer but jumped down from his perch on the table and ran to the door. 'I shall go up and investigate. I think you had better stay here as I don't think Aunt Lydia would like to see you prowling about without her knowledge.'
He left his sister to entertain their guest and scampered upstairs, his feet silent on the boards. He hesitated outside her bedroom door wondering if he should knock, or just peep in to see she was there.
After a few moments, he decided he would try and see if she was indeed within. With luck, he could do this without waking her up and having to give a long explanation as to why he was there. For some reason he was quite sure, damaged ankle or not, she would insist on coming down and speaking her mind to the duke.
Slowly he turned the knob and put his ear to the space. He could hear nothing, so pushed it open a little further. Silence. He slipped in and stood for a moment trying to recall exactly where the large bed was situated in the darkness.
All might have been well if Benji hadn't decided to join in with this game of hide and go seek and bounded through the door. Richard flung himself on the dog in a vain attempt to stop him and was dragged, feet flailing, across the room. On the way he knocked over two side tables, and a candlestick landed painfully on his head. The resulting noise was enough to wake the dead.
*
Lydia sat up in bed as if stuck by a hatpin. 'Good Lord, what on earth are you doing in here, Richard?'
'I was trying to stop Benji from jumping on you, Aunt Lydia. I'm sorry if I woke you up.'
'I should think you have woken up the entire household.' Sitting up so suddenly had jarred her sprained ankle and she was loath to get out of bed but felt she probably had to in order to investigate.
Then Viola rushed in. 'I heard the most dreadful noise, whatever is going on in here? What are you doing out of bed, young man?'
As her friend had brought with her a lit candle Lydia was now able to see that there was no real harm done. 'Richard, please pick up the tables and the candlestick.' She snapped her fingers at Benji and pointed to the door and the dog slunk out knowing he had transgressed.
'I am waiting, Richard, for you to tell me why you are running about the place in the middle of the night in your nightshirt.'
Her nephew looked from his governess to her and bit his lip. There was more to this than a childish prank.
'I shall tell you, but you won't be pleased. His grace came to visit and Emma and I had to go down to let him in. We were having…'
'The duke is here? Whatever madness made him come like this?'
Richard moved closer and smiled. 'He thought you might not have got home safely and wished to check for himself. I was going to tell you that he is making us hot milk with cinnamon and Emma is finding us a slice of cake. May I be excused to go down and eat it?'
Lydia's head was spinning and she could scarcely form a coherent thought. She waited for Viola to intervene, take charge of the situation, but nothing came from that quarter. This was something she had to deal with herself.
'You must give his grace a message from me. Would you please tell him that I should be delighted to see him tomorrow afternoon when the house is awake and I downstairs to receive him? Can you remember all that?'
He nodded. 'And the midnight feast?'
'Very well, you may have your milk and cake, but then you and Emma must escort the duke from the house and lock the door behind him. You will not be above a quarter of an hour. I shall leave my bedchamber door open so that you may say good night to me when you return to bed.'
He dashed off leaving her alone with Viola. 'It is quite beyond my comprehension why a rational gentleman such as his grace should think it acceptable to visit here like this.'
'According to Richard, my dear, he was anxious for your safety. However, it is quite extraordinary, I agree. No doubt all will be explained to you when he makes a formal call tomorrow afternoon. Do you wish me to remain with you until the children come up so I can see them safely to their beds?'
'No, there's no need
for you to be awake as well. If it wasn't for my wretched ankle I should go down and throw him out myself. Imagine his reaction if I had turned up on his doorstep like this.'
Her friend laughed. 'I think that he would have whisked you inside to his bedroom before you could say anything at all. There would be only one reason a lady would make a midnight visit to a gentleman.'
Lydia caught her breath and her skin prickled unpleasantly. She was glad the room was so dim and her friend couldn't see her painful blushes. 'Oh my word! Surely he wasn't coming here to… to…' She couldn't complete the sentence.
'Of course not, I was jesting. Although I must own I am curious as to his reasons for coming. I am certain he does not intend to make you his mistress, so the only other explanation is that he wishes to make you his wife.'
'That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. He could marry any young lady in the kingdom – why should he settle his interest on me?'
'I've no idea – it doesn't make any sense, does it? I bid you good night, again, and will see you in the morning to continue this interesting conversation.'
Whilst she waited for the children to come back she had ample time to dwell on what had transpired. The more she thought about it the more flustered and uncomfortable she became.
Her niece and nephew appeared in less than the allotted time, apologised again, and skipped off to bed. A few moments later she was certain she heard the sound of a horse cantering up the path that led through the woods to the big house.
Chapter Thirteen
Everett stood in the darkness outside the side door having been all but ejected from the premises by two children. He smiled ruefully at his predicament. It served him right for behaving like the veriest nincompoop. What had possessed him in God's name to rush over here in this manner?
His horse was contentedly grazing and whickered a soft greeting when he whistled. He twisted the mane around his hand and then, somewhat awkwardly, vaulted onto the stallion's back.
'Home, old fellow, I need my sleep.'
He dismounted by the gate into the meadow, unlatched it, removed the bridle and his mount trotted obediently inside to join his fellow equines. Othello got on well with the other geldings, but his head groom was careful to keep the mares in a paddock on the other side of the stables
Once in the safety of his own apartment he tossed his clothes in a heap on the floor and tumbled into bed. This time he was so fatigued he was asleep immediately and didn't wake until Michaels drew back the shutters.
'Good morning, your grace, you asked me not to disturb you, but Mr Digby wishes to speak to you most urgently.'
'What time is it?'
'A little after ten o'clock, sir.'
Everett rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly. He then saw his discarded garments on the floor and recalled his exploits. He could think of only one reason that Digby wanted to see him immediately. Someone had seen him riding to the Dower House and drawn their own conclusions.
'Send word for breakfast to be served and tell Digby to join me in the breakfast room.'
He was halfway through shaving when something occurred to him. He couldn't stop his mouth from curving. He had jumped out of bed and come into his dressing room and not for one moment thought about his damaged leg. It didn't ache, it worked as well as it had used to – there was no doubt about it, Dr Adams was an outstanding surgeon.
He shrugged into his clean shirt, tucked the tails neatly between his legs, and was halfway into his breeches when his valet returned.
'Which coat do you wish to wear this morning, your grace?'
'Whatever comes to hand first, I'm in a hurry. Just make sure my waistcoat complements my outfit.' In less than half an hour he was striding through the house on his way to speak to his man of affairs.
Digby was pacing the chamber, his expression anxious. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, your grace, but this matter could not wait.'
'I must eat, you must explain your concerns whilst I do so. I hope you will join me?'
'Your grace, I cannot eat until I have told you why I've come.'
Everett put down his plate and faced the man. 'Well, out with it – it must be something serious to have you looking so pale.'
'I have just had word from a firm of lawyers who represent the interests of one Mr Castleford. It would seem you are not the children's guardian after all. There is an uncle, he is on his way here to demand that you hand the children over.'
'Why is that a disaster? I have become fond of them, but they will do better with a close relative.'
'Miss Sinclair, your grace, are you as sanguine about her leaving?'
He was about to say that he was, but the words stuck behind his teeth. It was as if a curtain had been lifted and he could suddenly see clearly into the chamber beyond. His desire to get on his feet so quickly, his insistence of there being a grand party, the ponies and the little mare – and then his ridiculous performance last night – all these now made perfect sense.
He tottered to a chair and collapsed upon it. He closed his eyes to try and order his chaotic thoughts. 'You have seen what I did not until this moment, my friend. I am in love with her – I should be bereft without her in my life.'
Everett glanced up and expected to see Digby looking suitably sombre at this news. After all, Miss Sinclair – no – she would be Lydia to him in future – was hardly the sort of young lady a man in his position should be marrying.
Instead, his companion was beaming. 'Excellent, excellent, your grace. In which case, there is no problem – the children go, but Miss Sinclair will stay as your wife.'
There was something not quite right about this suggestion. 'No, the children must stay with me. Lydia would be devastated to lose those she has nurtured from their infancy.'
He slammed his fist down on the table making the cutlery jump and Digby step back in shock. 'Come, tell me, what must we do to make sure this uncle does not take them away from us?'
'I will investigate the matter further, your grace, now I know your preferences. I shall set matters in hand to make this arrangement legal. This house will come alive again with four children running about in it and no doubt you will add to the nursery in due course yourselves.'
Digby looked hopefully at the laden buffet. 'Then be seated, old friend, I shall serve you today. You have looked after my interests, put up with my rudeness, these past five years and I could not have survived without you.'
'If you are sure, your grace, then I should be delighted to join you to break my fast. So much excitement is not good for a man of my age. You know, perhaps it is time for you to find someone younger…'
'I'll be damned if I will, you are as much part of this family as the children and Miss Sinclair. I shall put a little of everything on your plate and do the same for myself. Help yourself to coffee, small beer, or whatever you fancy, from the table.'
He piled his plate equally high and tucked in with relish. He had things to do and would need all his strength if he was to convince his beloved that she should give up her freedom and become his duchess. She was not like other young ladies, she would not accept his proposal unless she was in love with him and could not live without him at her side.
When he was replete he dropped his cutlery noisily on the empty plate. 'Get your secretary to have the nursery floor redecorated, I want everything perfect when they move in here.'
'I shall do that at once, your grace. Perhaps it might be sensible to employ more indoor staff?'
'I shall leave that to you, Digby, as I was always do. I have to speak to Lydia at once.'
*
She found it impossible to slumber and as dawn lightened the room sufficiently for her to move around safely, she swung her feet to the floor. If she hopped, and used chairs and tables to lean on, she was sure she could find herself something to wear and get dressed.
It took her longer than she'd expected, but after half an hour she was satisfied with her appearance. She pinned her plait around her head in a corone
t and was then ready to descend.
Doctor Adams had been quite clear that she was to remain upstairs with her foot elevated for at least two days – but fiddlesticks to that! She could not remain incarcerated in her apartment a moment longer. She needed to be outside in the fresh air regardless of her injury.
Her ankle no longer ached and only hurt when her she put her weight on it. She hopped as quietly as she could to the stairs and then slowly lowered herself until she was sitting on the top step. Going down on her derrière was undignified, but perfectly efficient.
Early morning light was filtering in through the windows throughout the house making it easy for her to get about without the danger of falling, or the necessity to carry a candlestick. Then she saw exactly the items she needed – she had quite forgotten there was a wooden box in one corner of the hall containing a variety of walking sticks and canes. She selected two and used them in the same way that she had seen his grace using his crutches.
It took a few attempts but her ploy worked wonderfully. Now she was able to get about without putting her damaged ankle to the ground.
The side door was easy to unbolt – which no doubt was why the children had let his grace in that way – as soon as she was in the garden, hearing the swelling sound of the dawn chorus that filled the air, she felt immeasurably better.
There was a convenient bench placed in a honeysuckle arbour not far from the side door and this would be ideal for her to use whilst she gathered her thoughts.
The duke would be coming to see her and she needed to have things straight in her mind before he arrived. She had told him to come in the afternoon but doubted he would stick to that suggestion. He would arrive whenever he felt like it – probably immediately after breakfast.
When she had first met him she had disliked him. Although they had only been in each other's company a few hours since then she had begun to change her mind. But liking somebody was not the same as wishing to become their wife.
She snorted inelegantly at this ridiculous notion. Just because he had behaved out of character didn't mean he was intending to make her an offer.
The Reclusive Duke Page 12
