UNCOMMON DUKE, AN

by BENSON, LAURIE

  ‘I am well aware of the law, Andrew. There is no need to remind me.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘We need proof Manning is indeed the man we are looking for. I want to know his comings and goings. If he leaves, I want him followed.’

  ‘I take it you would like my assistance in this?’

  Gabriel nodded. ‘Devise a schedule for the watch. Have the men report to you and come to me the minute you uncover anything. Should you have enough evidence to take him into custody, bring him to the house in Richmond. We will hold him there for his interrogation. I want him far from the Tower and the danger that is there.’

  Andrew stood. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And, Andrew, do not breathe a word of Olivia’s connection to the man to anyone.’

  * * *

  Olivia was convinced it had been hours since anyone had uttered a word in Manning’s studio. Didn’t they realise how boring it was to lie still for this long? She opened her eyes and focused on the chipped wooden frame of the large mullioned window. From this angle, she could see the tops of the trees in Hanover Square. Unless someone was planning on climbing any of them, nothing outside held her interest. Surely it had to be close to the time they’d agreed her sitting would end?

  Her friend had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the morning as he painted. She had no desire to interrupt his concentration. Her sister was another matter.

  ‘What are you reading, Victoria?’ Olivia called out to where she assumed Victoria was still sitting on the sofa near the door.

  ‘Nightmare Abbey by Thomas Love Peacock.’

  Olivia stifled a laugh. ‘Truly? What possessed you to read such a thing?’

  ‘Who could possibly pass by a book by someone named Love Peacock? It is rather satirically amusing. I’m rather enjoying it. You may borrow it when I am finished, if you like?’

  Olivia’s right arm began to grow numb and she wiggled her fingers. The sound of a page being turned broke the silence of the room. Was it possible to die of boredom?

  ‘You might want to mention to Lady Nettleford the next time you are together that I spoke to Prinny regarding her ball. I expect he will be attending.’

  Victoria sighed and closed her book. ‘You realise if I do mention it to her, she will talk of nothing else.’

  ‘Yes, but she tends to become all befuddled around the man. Perhaps this will give her time to prepare herself.’

  ‘I thought he was suffering with an unusually severe bout of the gout. Do you think he will be recovered in five days?’

  He was completely recovered, as far as Olivia could tell. It was perplexing why he continued to maintain this ruse, but she had long given up trying to understand Prinny’s motivation on most things.

  ‘I believe he will be well enough by then. Please be sure to inform her that he is partial to lobster cakes.’

  ‘I shall send a note off to her later today,’ Victoria replied with amusement in her voice.

  There was no feeling in her arm. She needed to move. ‘Do you have much more to paint today?’ she called out, hoping that Manning was paying enough attention to hear her.

  A rustling sound came from behind the canvas, then a grunt. ‘I am finished for the day. The light is changing.’

  When Olivia lifted her head and turned towards him, she found him scratching his pencil upon a scrap of paper at one of the tables that held his pigments. She stood and arched her spine, relieving some of the stiffness. Finally she could go to Victoria’s for luncheon and stimulating conversation.

  With her sister’s help, Olivia changed into her own dress before they walked out from his studio onto the pavement to look for her carriage. In its place, they found a black town coach, the lacquer dulled to a matt finish, drawn by grey horses. It was unmarked, with no crest. She would have not given it further consideration except her driver was perched atop the coachman’s box. She exchanged perplexed looks with Victoria before turning to her footman. ‘Where is my carriage?’

  He cleared his throat and shifted slightly on his feet. ‘This one belongs to the household, madam. We were preparing to return for you when one of the stable hands noticed a wheel on your carriage was loose again. In order to arrive in a timely manner, we decided not to wait to have it adjusted. Unfortunately, this was the only carriage available for your use.’

  She glanced at the coachman who had been recently hired. ‘Why did you not bring His Grace’s carriage?’

  ‘His Grace left shortly before we did in it.’

  Victoria backed away from the offending carriage and removed a handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘Why do you even have such a thing? I cannot believe Winter would stand for something so decidedly worn. He probably changes his shirt at least five times a day. Why would he allow such a carriage to be kept in your stables?’

  For the life of her, Olivia had no idea. She had never seen it before. She walked to the steps and climbed inside. Considering the outside of the coach looked unremarkable, the inside cushions were clean and rather plush, with black-velvet coverings. The windows, on the other hand, could use a bit of a cleaning.

  Victoria sat next to her and wrinkled her nose. ‘I shall send you home in my carriage.’

  ‘Nonsense, I shall take this one. It is just for the day.’

  The rain from the night before had left the roads in poor condition. Even though the cushions were plush, a number of times Olivia and Victoria had to hold on to the leather straps to keep from being jostled off the bench.

  * * *

  During Olivia’s ride home from her sister’s the road conditions had not improved and as the carriage turned a particularly sharp corner Olivia was thrown from her seat onto the rear-facing bench. She righted herself and began to adjust her skirts when she noticed a rectangular panel had opened near her feet. Assuming it was a storage area for firearms in the event of a robbery, she bent down to close it. Her attention was immediately drawn to a wooden box inside. Curious as to the contents, she lifted it out and placed it on her lap.

  Expecting to see a pistol, she was confused when she looked inside. She had seen boxes like this before. Usually, the households who favoured entertaining their guests with theatricals used them. Inside she found a small mirror the size of her palm, tufts of grey, black, and red hair, pots of glue and facial paint, eye patches and glasses with plain glass lenses. Why in the world would it be in this carriage?

  She had just enough time to return the box to its hiding place when the carriage slowed to a stop at her home. By the time her footman had lowered the step and opened the door, no one would’ve guessed Olivia was riddled with questions. Did Gabriel know about this? Surely he must since the carriage belonged to them.

  Striding off towards his study, Olivia wanted answers. She raised her hand to knock and then thought better of it. She turned the handle and the door swung open. The ticking of the bracket clock was the only sound to break the silence. Her gaze skimmed over his desk to the long windows and, finally, to the chairs by the fireplace. Her husband and his secretary were nowhere to be found.

  Walking further into the room, she dropped down into the chair behind his desk. Her eyes travelled to the portrait of her father-in-law, which presided over the room from his position above the fireplace. The distinguished-looking man sat regally, with his chin raised. On his pinkie he wore the ring he had given to Gabriel shortly after they were married on the night he died. A familiar pair of hazel eyes stared down at her. She could almost feel his disapproval that she was sitting in his son’s chair. Well, she had a reason. His son was becoming quite an enigma.

  The more she thought about that box, the more her brain filtered through the other odd things she had noticed about Gabriel over the years. The scar that Nicholas had pointed out was the most recent one. He had said it was from a fencing accident. Olivia was not
convinced. There were also letters that she had seen arriving for him at strange hours of the day and night, their butler’s presence during the cleaning of this room and the times he would not be in attendance at events she was sure he would have wanted to go to.

  The more she thought about it, the more questions she had.

  Her gaze travelled to the silver inkstand on his desk—the only object on the polished wooden surface aside from the silver Argand lamp. When she gave a pull on the brass handles of the drawer of his desk, it didn’t budge.

  Resting her forearms on the desk, she drummed the surface with her fingers. Something tugged at the back of her brain. It was as if she was staring at an unfinished portrait, unaware who the sitter was.

  When she was a young girl, she had been adept at picking the lock of Victoria’s letterbox. Did she remember how it was done? She pulled out a hairpin and lowered it to the small keyhole of the drawer.

  ‘Olivia?’

  She jerked her head up. There, in the doorway, stood Gabriel.

  It was just her luck.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After closing the door, her husband advanced towards her. She was not about to show him that she was rattled by his presence. While holding his stare, Olivia dropped the hairpin. It landed silently on the rug under his desk. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to notice.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, folding her hands on the desk’s gleaming, wooden surface.

  Her greeting was met with silence and she felt like a child caught taking sweets intended for guests. She was a grown woman. This was her home. And she should be able to wait for her husband in any room of her choosing.

  As if nature disagreed, rain began to plink a steady rhythm on the windowpanes.

  ‘Would you care to sit down?’ she asked, rising from his chair.

  From the opposite side of the desk, he held up his hand to stop her. ‘No, by all means.’ He took a seat in one of the two cabriole chairs across from her, crossed his legs and raised a speculative brow.

  Slowly she sat back down. ‘I came here looking for you.’

  ‘And you thought I would be hiding in the drawer of my desk.’

  Blast it, he did see her trying to pick the lock!

  She attempted to appear composed while her heart beat wildly in her chest. ‘Why do you keep the drawer locked?’

  ‘Because I do not want anyone to see the contents,’ the annoying man replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, mimicking his movement.

  ‘I value privacy.’

  ‘Would I find the contents shocking?’

  ‘That depends. Suppose you tell me what you were hoping to find and I can save you the trouble of attempting to pick the lock tonight while I’m asleep.’

  ‘I have no idea how to pick a lock.’

  ‘Forgive me if I say I do not believe you. If you do not intend to tell me what you were hoping to find, perhaps you can tell me why you are here?’

  ‘I sat for my portrait today.’

  ‘I see. And is there a reason you are telling me this?’

  ‘Yes, because the oddest thing occurred when I left the studio.’

  His entire body stilled and Olivia was almost certain he was holding his breath.

  ‘Apparently my carriage was in need of repair,’ she continued, ‘and when my driver returned at the designated hour to collect me, he arrived in what could only be described as a hackney coach.’

  It was refreshing to know she could still shake his composed demeanour.

  ‘He collected you in a coach for hire?’

  ‘No, I was told it was a spare carriage that we keep. They brought it out since you were using yours.’

  He leaned forward. ‘What did this carriage look like?’

  ‘As I said, it resembled a hackney coach. It was a dusty black with no coat of arms and the windows were decidedly dirty.’

  ‘And John Coachman took you home in this?’ he asked, fiddling with his ring. There was no mistaking he knew of this carriage. And he was not happy she was now aware of its existence, as well.

  ‘He did. Why do we keep such as a conveyance?’

  He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I imagine it to be one of the carriages the staff uses to move between town and the country.’

  Olivia had seen those carriages before and this was not one of them. And there was also the matter of the box. She was certain there was more to it than her husband was letting on. ‘There was something else odd about the carriage,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  The slightest reaction on his part might be the only clue she would gather. She leaned closer. ‘I discovered a trapdoor at the bottom of one of the benches and inside I found a box.’

  He broke their gaze for just a moment. If she wasn’t looking so closely, she might have missed it.

  ‘What kind of box was it?’ he asked, appearing nonchalant.

  ‘It was a box quite similar to the ones that are used for amateur theatrics.’

  Not one bit of surprise crossed his features.

  ‘Isn’t that odd, Gabriel? Why do you suppose such a box as that is stored in one of our carriages? To my knowledge we do not even own a box for that purpose.’

  He remained composed—too composed for her liking. ‘I could not say. However, you are correct. There appears to be no reason we would own such a box.’

  ‘So you have no explanation why it would be there?’

  He shrugged again and picked an unseen string off the sleeve of his navy tailcoat. He knew something.

  ‘Perhaps Bennett would know,’ she said, as if she truly thought she would find out the answer from a man so loyal to Gabriel that he supervised the cleaning of this very room. Then it occurred to her. There was something in this room Gabriel wanted to make certain wasn’t discovered by a maid while she cleaned away the dust and ashes.

  Olivia glanced at the fireplace. It would be an ideal place to destroy letters he did not want other people to see.

  She rose abruptly, knowing he would not give her any of the answers she needed. ‘I will leave you now Gabriel. I am certain you have many matters that require your attention.’

  He stood up and nodded at her—always striving to appear the perfect gentleman. ‘Good day, Olivia,’ he replied and she felt his gaze follow her until she crossed the threshold and closed the door.

  * * *

  Demmit! Gabriel shoved his chair back. Who in the hell thought it best to place her in that carriage? Very few members of his household even knew of its existence and those that did knew it was only to be used for surveillance.

  Someone would be made to answer for this. Now, more than ever, they had to be operating with extreme caution. One small blunder could lead to Prinny’s demise.

  Olivia wasn’t foolish. She knew there was significance behind the contents of that carriage and he was fairly certain she knew it led back to him.

  He took a seat at his desk, scanned the room and took in her perspective. His gaze settled on the portrait of his father. He rubbed the Pearce coat of arms on his ring. His father knew enough not to trust anyone with what he did. He was even wise enough not to trust his closest brother. Gabriel had learned that lesson the hard way.

  Olivia had been about to pick the lock to his desk drawer. Of that, he was certain. He just had no notion of what she would have been searching for.

  Taking off his ring, he slid out the small shaft that was hidden within a well behind the stone and twisted it until it clicked securely in place, forming a small key. He used it to unlock his desk drawer. His gaze skirted past the loaded pistol and sheets of blank paper to the small red box tucked into the corner—the box that held the reason he always kept this drawer locked. He placed it on the centre of his desk and stared a
t the square that was smaller than the palm of his hand. It hadn’t been opened in years.

  Letting out a deep breath, he raised the lid and stared at the gold oval pin, outlined with seed pearls. His attention was drawn to the centre of the brooch, to the painting of his wife’s fine brown eye. He removed the lover’s eye from its silk nest and held it between his thumb and forefinger. It had been painted from her wedding portrait and delivered to him in this very room the day after their son was born—the day after Olivia told him she no longer wanted him in her life.

  It was purely sentimental drivel that made Gabriel wear it on his waistcoat every day for a year. She had just delivered their son. It was his way of honouring her for that. Originally he believed Olivia would eventually forgive him for his supposed indiscretion, just like most women of the ton were apt to do. However, by the time Nicholas turned one year old, it became apparent she would not. The day he returned the trinket to its box and locked it away, he understood the level of sacrifice he would have to make in order to continue his work and protect his people. Now he was relieved he’d never wavered and told her about Madame LaGrange.

  At the soft knock on the door, he returned the brooch to its hiding place and called for his intruder to enter. The door slowly opened, and Bennett hesitated before walking into the room. Good. The man should be nervous to approach him after that carriage had been used to fetch Olivia.

  It wasn’t until Bennett was a few feet away from the desk that Gabriel noticed the missive in his butler’s hand. All thoughts of railing at the man left him when Gabriel spied the smooth, black seal used by Andrew for confidential communications. Surely Manning could not have tipped his hand this quickly. Then he remembered Olivia had been there to sit for the man that morning. His heart thundered in his chest. Dismissing Bennett with a nod of his head, Gabriel waited until he was alone once again before he slid his knife under the seal and unfolded the paper. It was only one line—but it said so much.

  An urgent package has arrived for you in Richmond.

  He crumpled the note as he walked to the fireplace. Knowing they were one step closer to finding out who was behind the assassination attempt should have filled him with relief. Instead he was filled with trepidation.