Two Brides and a Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance (Parvenues & Paramours, Book 4)

by Tessa Candle

  "You are conveniently fastidious about my reputation, when—if it is indeed threatened, which I by no means concede—you have been the one to threaten it."

  His face darkened and he drew closer. "Could anyone blame me? When such a temptation stands before me?"

  Just then a workman rounded the corner behind Eleanor and spoke up, "I wish you a good morning, m'lord, m'lady."

  Eleanor darted away from Lord Auchdun and approached the man. "Good morning to you. Are you headed toward the manor house? I desire an attendant."

  It was only after she spoke that she looked at the man's visage. It was coarsely tanned and dirty, and the ivory smile that beamed out at her was too sharp-toothed to be entirely safe. Plus it had a saucily familiar curl of the lip, yet somehow Eleanor trusted this face, though she was at a loss to explain why. She realized she had spoken to him like he was her servant, and added, "If you would be so kind."

  "I should like nothing better, my lady."

  Auchdun looked furious. "Do you mean to say you would prefer to amble about with this, this…" He glared at the workman for a moment. "Labourer?" His face screwed up as though the word left a dose of quinine upon his tongue. He paused, struggling with the unsavouriness of the situation before finding the strength to continue. “You should allow me to escort you home so that we may attend the morning service together. Would you truly rather walk with this man of questionable moral character than with a pious person of your own station?"

  The morning service. Church was not her favourite pastime, but Auchdun’s fanatical attendance had given her an excellent excuse for avoiding services. In fact, he was probably making himself late for church by pursuing her here. What a predictable piece of hypocrisy that the man who was criminally intruding upon the Marquess’ land was so terribly concerned about the state of her soul. It was just added sauce for the pudding that he presumed to put on airs while illicitly addressing himself to a duke’s daughter.

  "You are mistaken, Lord Auchdun. You are not of my station. No trespasser can share my station in life."

  The vein in Auchdun’s left temple throbbed and his lips became a pale line above his protruding jaw.

  He was about to say it. She wished he would. Everyone was thinking it, but no one had the courage to speak of it to her face. Say it, you coward.

  But he restrained himself at the last minute and instead hissed at the labourer, "You may consider yourself fortunate that you are so far beneath my rank, else I should call you out for your insolence in interrupting the affairs of your betters."

  The man bowed his head. "I beg your lordship's pardon. I had not realized I was interrupting an affair. Thought it was a stone cold refusal. But, then, we folk from lower walks of life often do not understand the finer points of etiquette. Down here in the gutters, when a woman says no, that is that. Ignoring a lady's refusal is a bit of elegance that a simple labourer like me could never hope to master.”

  Auchdun took a step toward the man with murder in his eye. “Spying little toad! Have you the audacity to comment upon a private conversation that you had no business listening to?”

  Eleanor put herself between Auchdun and his intended victim and raised her hand. She no longer believed the man’s masquerade. He was no workman, but though he might not be who he seemed, she would not let him be assaulted. "You have been dismissed, Lord Auchdun, and, as you have noted, this man is beneath your touch."

  Auchdun looked at her, and she could see the calculations turning around in his head. Had he not been on the property illegally, he might have pushed the matter further. But in the end he decided to live and fight another day. "If you prefer to keep company with underlings, I have nothing to say. But it only persuades me that I am correct in my belief that you need a husband to keep you on a Godly path and to protect your reputation—which is menaced from every quarter imaginable, including yourself." He tipped his head to her in the faintest gesture of a bow and strode back down the path without another word.

  Eleanor released the breath she had been holding.

  The man whistled. "So that is your ladyship's suitor? I am glad you refused him."

  Eleanor knew she should be angry at this impudent comment, but she could not make herself rebuke him. "So am I."

  His steel blue eyes blazed alarmingly in contrast to the swarthy skin of his face. "It is well that he did not challenge me. I'd have killed him."

  Eleanor swallowed. This man might be the one she had overheard menacing whomever was imprisoned back in the pirate cave. The voice had been low and muffled. Was she just letting her fancy go wild? Perhaps, but he was certainly not what he pretended to be.

  "Thank you for intervening." She stood a few moments and watched Auchdun get further away.

  "Don't mention it. I should do as much for a duke's daughter."

  Her eyes snapped to meet his gaze. Did he know who she was?

  His smile was comical. "And equally for any daughter of less noble birth. Women should be protected."

  It was hard to say if he knew more than he let on, or if he was just speaking in general terms. She sniffed. "We would not need so much protecting if it were not for men."

  "Well, that depends a bit on how you define who is a man." He yawned and stretched indolently and his dirty cloak fell back to reveal lithe but well-muscled arms and a broad chest. Perhaps he was a labourer after all. "But that one," he nodded his head toward the retreating back of Auchdun, "and anyone like him is not what I call a man. Still, I take your point."

  His language was not polished, yet he truly did not speak like a labourer. And no matter how much she liked what he was saying, she needed to get away from him. He could be very dangerous. "Well, I see my persecutor is leaving. I will wait here and give him time to get well ahead of me. Please do not let me detain you from your business."

  He looked at her intently and she felt as though he were seeing her naked. "Just as your ladyship pleases. But if you don't mind my saying so, that seems like an ill-conceived plan. What is to stop him, as soon as he is out of your view, from hiding and waiting for you to pass him?"

  She had to concede that he was right. "Decency, perhaps."

  The cackle that escaped him did not sound bitter, but his words carried the weight of bad experience. "Decency is a fictional beast, like a unicorn. We speak of it dreamily as though it represents some true ideal, but it is a story for children. And even if unicorns are real, I would not stake two straws on that fellow's decency."

  It was a certainty: this man was a gentleman of some sort—at least educated. But this did not make her feel more at ease. If he were a gentleman, why was he passing himself off as a member of the working class? Because he had something to hide. She was not safe with him.

  But unfortunately, he was quite right about Auchdun, who was assuredly a sneaking turd. At least this man was the devil that she did not know. "If you do not object to walking at some distance in front of me, perhaps we might go on together to Fenimore."

  He doffed his cap most sarcastically and said, "Are you sure you would not prefer me to walk behind you, like your servant?"

  He was overly familiar, and she did not like being on the receiving end of sarcasm. She was far more comfortable dealing it out.

  “You may suit yourself.” She started off down the trail. She would prefer to have him ahead of her where she could keep an eye on him, but it was most important that, if he were the malefactor from the pirate cave, he never suspected her of knowing anything. It was best to appear indifferent.

  She kept her thoughts to herself and did not turn to look at the man or attempt any conversation as they made their way up the path.

  This was a preposterous situation. Perhaps she should get out of the habit of going for walks without servants attending, but she had always hated restrictions on her freedom. Besides, it was not the country practice to always have a servant attend a simple morning walk. She was not sure she even trusted the servants. Not the servants at Blackwood, anyway. One of
them had flapped their gums about the fact that Eleanor was visiting there, and that is how the news had gotten back to Auchdun.

  Perhaps the staff at Fenimore were more reliable, but it no longer mattered. He now knew her location. If she could think of somewhere else to travel to get away from him, she would leave. She could only hope that he would accept her refusal and give up.

  She had more important things to worry about now, however. It was paramount to inform Frobisher that someone was being imprisoned in his cave so the man could be rescued immediately.

  She started as a voice spoke suddenly in her ear, “Say, I know a shorter path, about which I am sure Auchdun doesn’t have any inkling.”

  “You should not sneak up on a person like that.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. Your ladyship was merely deep in thought. No doubt treasuring up the great satisfaction of refusing another smitten suitor. I understand ladies find that sport thoroughly invigorating.”

  He was far too glib. She wanted to comment that he did not sound much like a workman, but giving any hint of suspicion was a bad idea. “I believe I will remain on the path that I know, thank you. If I am slowing you down, please do not feel obligated to accompany me.”

  He huffed but slowed to put some distance between them again. “With that wolf prowling about, I’ll not let your ladyship out of my sight until Fenimore.”

  She felt like Little Red Riding Hood. Was this not the wolf himself offering her protection? She could not be sure.

  They finally arrived at the manor house without being further accosted. The man made a demi-bow and departed for the servant’s entrance. Eleanor was surprised to find that she did not want him to slip away so quickly.

  What had she thought would happen? They were not going to sit down together for tea. And, although he had done her a service, she was increasingly persuaded that he must have something to do with the prisoner in the pirate’s cave. Why else would he have been in that location right at that precise moment?

  As she entered and removed her bonnet and fur, the worm of doubt twisted about in her mind. How much should she tell Frobisher? Her heart told her that she should not repay the white-toothed man’s kindness to her by tattling on him. She rolled her eyes. What sort of simpleton thought reporting a crime was tattling merely because the wrongdoer was handsome?

  Did she think he was handsome? An exasperated sigh escaped her. The case was worse than she had thought.

  Right. She would have a strong cup of tea and gather her wits. Then she would tell Frobisher everything.

  Chapter 4

  Delville munched a hunk of bread and cold pork and shuffled into the back of the crowd of workmen assembling behind Fenimore. His pockets were lined with enough provisions to keep Wormshit alive. If the prisoner wanted food, he would have to comply with Delville’s demands.

  He vaguely attended to the droning voice of the foreman, who was extending a general invitation to John Pine’s wedding soiree in the village that evening, and giving some sort of work instructions for the next day and announcing a special bonus tea ration in honour of the steward’s matrimony, before the church-goers all went to see the wedding in the village.

  Delville dismissed it all. He could steal all the tea he liked, and work instructions were irrelevant. He would not be breaking his back on Monday. The secret chamber was complete, so as far as he was concerned, his job was done. He’d walk down with the crew and then find a way to sneak off into the back while they were beautifying the front passageways.

  He wondered if all the pretty crystals, shells and faux cabochons had lured the young lady out to the cavern. Had she come in for a peek, or had she merely been strolling in the area? She might not have come to the cave at all. He could not be certain whether she had spied him exiting the cavern, but he thought not. She had her hands rather full with that waste of tailoring, Auchdun.

  She acted wary of men in general, but not really afraid of Delville. His secret was probably safe. But was she safe? That was another question. She certainly should not be stepping out for solitary walks. She was far too pretty to be left alone, no matter how much she tried to powder over her loveliness. There would be plenty of bees circling that bloom. And Auchdun, in particular, was one of those for whom normal measures were insufficient. Delville smiled. So was he, but his motivations were at least better than Auchdun’s.

  The foreman continued to rattle on, but as Delville finished smacking his lips over the last of his breakfast, his ears pricked. What had the foreman just said? Something about a general inspection? Well, what was the point of that? Still, he did not really care. He was as strong and able as any of the others, and it really did not matter if they let him go, as they had never really hired him in the first place. He had just sort of insinuated himself into the project.

  A queer feeling crept over him while he watched the other men stand up tall and try to straighten their clothes. He could not shake the gnawing sensation that he was missing a very important part of the foreman’s briefing. Shit. Perhaps he should have been paying closer attention.

  Then Frobisher came around the corner of the great house and strode toward the foreman. Ah. So there was the crucial bit of information he had missed. The lord of the manor himself was performing the inspection. Double shit.

  Delville slouched, pulled his hat down low over his eyes. There were not enough men in the crew to conceal him for very long, no matter how tall they were standing. He slunk back to the servant’s entrance, slipping inside the manor as smoothly as a cat.

  He did not want to explain to Frobisher why he was posing as one of the workers. People so rarely understood the nuances of what he did, and the fewer who knew about an operation of questionable legality, the better. Even good old Frobisher.

  “Oh, Mr. Dee, sir!” It was the housekeeper, emerging from her office. “You gave me such a start, sir. His lordship has not mentioned your arrival, but I will have a room aired for you immediately. And what of some tea and a bath to refresh yourself after a long journey?”

  More blasted luck. This was not his day. Mrs. Tredding—whom everyone else called Tredding, but Mr. Dee knew how to charm—was one among the few servants who would recognize him as someone other than a workman who sneaked into the manor to charm the kitchen maids out of food and wine.

  He turned and donned a broad grin, “Mrs. Tredding! Lovely to see you. I hope you are doing well?”

  “Oh yes, sir, and thank you for asking. What can I do for you, sir?”

  Delville thought quickly. “I will be staying, of course. But first, as you can see, I am not fit to be seen in these, um, travel clothes. There was a bit of an incident with my luggage and I have not had a change of clothing for some time. I am afraid my things will not arrive here for several days. Could I trouble you to find me something clean to wear? Something very plain will do quite well.”

  “Oh certainly, sir. Right away sir. And I shall have a bath prepared.”

  “Mrs. Tredding, you are a gem among women!”

  She blushed and smiled. “You are too kind, sir.”

  Delville wondered whether he should feel guilty about taking such advantage of the charms he held over the female sex. Then he scoffed at himself for such a silly thought. He should not hide his talents under a bushel, after all. That would be an impious disregard for God’s gifts.

  He sweetened his smile. “Not in the least, Mrs. Tredding. Do you suppose you might see your way to getting me one of those delicious chocolate drinks laced with brandy after the German art, like I had here on my last visit?”

  Chapter 5

  Eleanor sipped delicately at her piping hot tea and enjoyed the heat trickling down her throat and seeping into her chilled soul. The tannins mingled with the more dulcet flavouring of milk, while the smoke from the fireplace teased her nose and danced around her palate. It was the perfect sensory combination, enveloping her in warmth and the domestic magic of simple comforts, lulling her into some semblance of calm.

 
; Certainly meeting with that strange man had been confusing, coming as it did, wedged between the shock of overhearing the bad man in the cave and the affront of Lord Auchdun’s unwanted proposal. It was unsettling that the scoundrel might have been the one to save her from Auchdun. Yet, she could not believe the man who had assisted her was dangerous. Irritatingly self-assured, yes. Impudent, certainly. But not dangerous.

  She had to tell Frobisher about the prisoner in the cave, of course, but was it really necessary to tell him about the man that walked her home? After all, he probably had nothing to do with it.

  Bah! If anyone else came up with such a convenient reconstruction of events, she would treat them to a dose of scathing derision. Of course he was implicated. He was either involved in whatever was going on in that cavern, or…

  He was following her. It annoyed her that the realization made her smile. But might he not merely be someone that Frobisher, or perhaps Rutherford, had sent to watch over her?

  If they thought she was a little careless in going out for long walks unescorted and without servants, they might have taken matters into their own hands. It was a grating intrusion into her affairs, no matter how prudent it proved to be in retrospect. However, one thing recommended it to Eleanor: it would cast the man with the arctic blue eyes in the role of a protector, as he seemed to be, rather than a captor and a torturer.

  The Marchioness Fenimore, whom Eleanor now called Rosamond, entered the parlour. She stood to greet her new friend and hostess.

  “Eleanor, how refreshed and rosy your complexion is after your walk.”

  Eleanor lifted a hand to her cheek. Looking too blooming would not do. She would have to apply more powder. “Thank you, Rosamond. You look lovely as ever. I believe marriage must agree with you.”

  Rosamond’s smile was an array of gleaming pearls with which she must have bedazzled many a man. It reminded Eleanor of the brilliant white teeth of the man who had rescued her from Auchdun. Rescued her? Right, that was doing it a bit brown. She had to get a hold of herself.