Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection

by Scott, Scarlett

  “I’m up to the task, Your Grace,” she said, more briskly than she felt.

  He nodded. “I’m impressed by your courage, but this must not rest on your shoulders. While I get to the bottom of it, an armed footman will remain outside the nursery at night, and the schoolroom by day. Keep to your routine, but always with a footman to protect you. I will ride with William.” He sighed heavily. “If anything bothers you, you are to come to me. No matter how insignificant you might consider it, or whatever time it is.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  His gaze searched hers. “It’s late. You must be tired. Good night, Miss Harrismith.”

  After the duke left, Jenny nodded to George, entered the nursery, and locked the door behind her. William propped himself up on his elbows. “Is Father angry with me for following the cat, Jenny?”

  “No, William. He loves you and your sister very much.”

  She knew this to be true.

  William lay down and closed his eyes. He was soon asleep.

  In her bedchamber, she undressed and washed in cold water from the jug. She climbed in between the chilly sheets and rested her head on her arm, too harried for sleep. The duke was a man of deep emotions. A wounded soul. And now this! Why would anyone want to hurt him and his family? Could they have entered the house through some secret passage the duke had talked of? The thought that danger lurked behind the walls terrified her. She shuddered and pulled the bedclothes close.

  *

  Miss Harrismith’s earnest, worried face stayed with him as he made his way to the floor below and crossed to the north wing and his apartments. This situation was intolerable! Should he pack William off to his aunt in Northumberland? Trouble was, he disliked removing the boy from under his eye. Not knowing if he was safe. That he might be followed there. No, William would be safer at Castlebridge.

  He reached the central hallway where the staircase swept down to the lower floor and found Greta waiting for him. Obviously angry, she approached him frowning, her hands on her hips.

  “So it is the governess, Harrow? You hear such tales often enough. But I would have thought such behavior beneath you. It does make me understand why I’ve seen so little of you since I came here.”

  Andrew disliked being waylaid and accused unjustly, but an inexplicable stab of guilt made him snap. “You are eager to leap to the worst possible conclusion, Greta. And I am in no mood to deal with your temper. I may be lacking in my attentions to you, but if you remember, your behavior has hardly encouraged more from me.”

  She narrowed her light blue eyes. “I will not play second fiddle to…”

  Before they were overheard, he grabbed her hand, flung open his sitting room door and drew her inside. “I was visiting my children.”

  “While they are asleep?” she mocked.

  He gestured to a chair. “Someone is trying to hurt William.”

  She sat silently as he spoke of the three attempts on his son’s life, designed apparently to look like an accident. “And they would have succeeded, if Miss Harrismith had not been there.”

  “I suspect the governess has exaggerated these incidents. After all, each one has a logical explanation. A wayward hunter’s bullet? An inefficient nanny? A lost cat? This woman is cunning, she plans to snare you.”

  “Snare me? Ridiculous! You’ll have to explain why you suspect that, Greta. But I don’t know if I want to hear it.” He had not expected her to be so cold.

  “Miss Harrismith is a lord’s daughter, is she not? There are dozens of young women like her, advancing on the Season every year with the aim of snaring a duke.”

  “You sound as if I’m besieged by young debutantes. I am not. And Miss Harrismith is not one.”

  “If you spent more time in England, you would be. I promise you their mamas are very aware that you are no longer married. None of those young fresh-faced ladies will find themselves actually living in a duke’s house. What an opportunity! Miss Harrismith will keep coming up with reasons to turn to you for help. Next, we shall find her fainting in your arms.” She raised her eyebrows. “You must have noticed that she’s quite comely.”

  “She is here to care for my children. Her appearance has nothing to do with it.”

  “No? Perhaps not. But you will come to realize that I am right about her.”

  “This is nonsense, Greta. I don’t intend to trivialize these attacks on my son. Please be patient as there’s another matter of great import in London which may require my attention. When I see my way clear…”

  “Then come back to London, with me.”

  He eyed her dismayed. “You would ask me to abandon my son for a few days of pleasure?”

  “You are a duke, you can hire an army to mind him.”

  Impossible to make her understand. She wasn’t a mother. He perched on the arm of her chair. “I am sorry for neglecting you. Fortunately, you have my cousin and your brother for company.”

  “Ivo has gone to Oxford for a few days.”

  “Good.”

  She tilted her head. “You don’t like my brother much, do you?”

  Andrew shrugged. “He’s an insolent young buck.”

  “I admit he can be. But when you get to know him, you’ll see the good in him. Our father was autocratic, and Ivo’s life has not been easy.”

  “Neither was yours. Married to an old man at seventeen.”

  She shrugged. “I have nothing against Franz. The baron left me a comfortable fortune.” She reached up and pulled Andrew down to kiss her. “Might we put this argument behind us and end the evening in a much more pleasing manner?”

  She was inviting him into bed. He hesitated too long, aware he’d fail to do justice to their first time together. A murderous rage still consumed him, and all he could think of was his children’s safety.

  Greta released him and hastened to repair an awkward moment. “You are tired, after traveling to London and back, and now the silly governess waylaying you with this nonsense. Don’t be tempted by Miss Harrismith or there will be a babe for you to deal with.”

  He caught his breath. Not only was it a cold calculating thing to suggest, it appeared she thought him capable of it. Disgust and disappointment rendered him silent.

  She withdrew her hand from his and rose. “We’ll talk again at breakfast.”

  “I’ll see you to your bedchamber, Greta.”

  She shook her head. “No need. I know my way.”

  Greta’s exotic perfume lingered after she left the room, but now he realized it had a cloying sweetness. She’d been toying with him. When they played whist she chose Raymond for her partner and lavished attention on him. How different it had been in Vienna; that elaborate, elegant world had suited her. They’d laughed, drunk champagne, and waltzed, and enjoyed the witty repartee of good company. Whilst here, she seemed out of place.

  His mind returned to William. If it were Andrew they targeted, he would meet them square on and deal with it, but his vulnerable and brave little son? His stomach roiled. He’d get to the bottom of this, but right now he needed help, not an army as Greta had suggested, but someone adept at handling such situations.

  Andrew’s valet awaited him in his dressing room. Burton knew better than to make idle conversation while he attended to Andrew’s clothes. He wished him good night and took himself off after Andrew distractedly dismissed him.

  Andrew washed, cleaned his teeth, and climbed into bed. Rigid with an odd kind of leaden exhaustion, he lay down and forced his thoughts into some kind of order. Where to begin?

  Check that passage in the nursery wing and make sure it was secure. He’d see to it himself this time. Employ a Bow Street Runner? No. That could prove awkward. If this had something to do with the Vienna Convention, however unlikely Castlereagh considered it, it must remain secret. Forrester must be made aware of the situation. He would know if any new staff had been employed in the last month. Beyond that… he ran a hand over his tired eyes; he had never felt so exposed, so helpless.

/>   A thought came to him bringing him upright. “Strathairn!” His friend, the marquess, was the best man in all England to deal with this. He would write to him tomorrow.

  Having found a possible solution, his tight muscles eased a little, and he allowed his thoughts to dwell on Miss Harrismith, whom he’d come to admire. She seemed mature beyond her years. It was in her manner, he decided, the way she held herself when many young women would be reduced to hysterics facing a situation such as this. So brave and resourceful, but her determined little chin had wobbled when she described the terrifying scene on the roof. If she came between an assassin and William—and there was always a chance that she might—she too would be in very real danger. A sudden chill ran through him.

  He considered again the possibility of sending the children away to his aunt, however his austere aunt was unlikely to accept such a young woman into her household. Another excellent position would have to be found for Miss Harrismith. Not only did the idea seem flawed, because he would lose control of the situation, the depth of his dismay surprised him. Not only would the children lose their beloved governess, his brief moments with Miss Harrismith, when he was more like himself than at any other time, would be lost. He couldn’t deny that the thought of not having her here at Castlebridge left him feeling decidedly empty.

  He rearranged the pillow and turned over, finding sleep eluded him. Greta’s accusation, however outrageous, held a modicum of truth, which didn’t reflect well on him. From his experience, a woman’s instincts were often proved right. They went to the core of the matter while a man sought to apply reason. What the devil was he to do? Nothing, he decided. Right now, William must remain uppermost in his thoughts.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, Jenny’s breakfast was late again. The tray didn’t arrive until well past eleven when lessons had begun. The food was cold the porridge congealed and smelling faintly sour. She quickly replaced the cover over the dish. “Do you know, I’m not really hungry,” she said hurriedly, because William, smart boy that he was, had leaned forward to inspect the food on her plate. “It’s just as well, I have put on a little weight.”

  The door opened, and His Grace strolled in.

  “Father!” Barbara darted off her chair and ran to him. “Carrot was so funny this morning. He got milk all over his whiskers.”

  The duke placed a large gentle hand on her head. “Did he, sweetheart?”

  “Did Jenny tell you about how I climbed onto the tower roof and rescued the cat, Father?” William stood tall but still looked pale and tired.

  “Miss Harrismith did, William. You are pluck to the backbone. And very resourceful.”

  William went pink with pleasure. “I thought I saw someone in the corridor. But Miss Harrismith thinks I must have been mistaken.”

  “Shadows can trick you, my boy. The way they sway about. It’s a reflection of the trees in the moonlight. Nevertheless, you did a splendid job rescuing the kitten.” The duke drew up one of the small chairs and joined them at the table. “Let’s see what you are up to.”

  Barbara giggled. “You look like a giant, Father.”

  He laughed. As he looked through William’s workbooks praising him on his arithmetic, Jenny swept the offending breakfast tray away onto a small console table.

  “What is that?” His Grace’s sharp gaze missed little.

  “Jenny’s not eating breakfast,” William said. “She thinks she’s too fat. Jenny’s not fat, is she, Father?”

  “Not in the least.” The duke untangled himself from the chair. He walked over to where Jenny stood blocking the tray. “Let me see.”

  She shook her head. “It really isn’t necessary, Your Grace.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “You would refuse me?”

  “I…” She met his questioning gaze and swallowed. “It’s just my breakfast.”

  “At this hour?”

  He put a gentle hand on her arm and moved her aside. When he lifted the cover a heavy frown creased his forehead. “When was this brought up?”

  Jenny opened her mouth and then closed it again.

  “It just arrived.” William came over for a closer look. “Ugh, it looks all dried up.”

  Barbara pushed her way in past William. “Carrot might eat it.”

  His Grace turned to her, a spark of anger in his eyes. “I would like to speak to you in the corridor, Miss Harrismith.”

  “You’re not angry with Jenny, are you, Father?” William asked.

  His father ruffled his hair. “Certainly not, William. Go back to your books. We shan’t be long.”

  The duke strode to the door opened it and stood waiting.

  Jenny hurriedly complied. Outside, George’s replacement, red-haired Jeremy, had left his chair. He bowed.

  “Go for a walk for five minutes, Jeremy.”

  Once Jeremy had moved out of earshot, the duke turned to her. “My son now calls you Jenny.”

  Her heart sank. “It happened while on the roof, Your Grace,” she said vexed that he’d noticed before she could address the matter. “I didn’t have the heart to dissuade him so soon after the terrible shock he’s had, but if you feel I should.” She hurried on. “Although, I’d prefer to wait until he’s a little more…”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “If he takes comfort in it, I have no objection.” He paused. “Has this business with your meal occurred before?”

  “It really isn’t important, Your Grace.”

  He folded his arms and frowned at her. “Do you ever answer a question in a direct manner, Miss Harrismith?”

  Jenny sighed. “I am sure they will tire of it.”

  “I am not about to wait for them to tire of it,” he growled. “Rest assured, it will not happen again.”

  “If I just ignore it…” Jenny rather feared that the duke’s interference would make things worse. She’d scandalized them, she supposed, waiting to meet him in the middle of the night. But it would be a brave servant indeed who disobeyed him.

  He waved a dismissive hand. The matter was not up for debate. “I had considered sending the children to their aunt until this matter is resolved,” he said, almost to himself.

  Jenny’s heart began an odd thrumming. She would have to seek a new position, and worse, she would never see the children again. She studied his handsome profile as her fingers found her brooch. Was it only the children? Or the duke himself? And she considered herself sensible! At the flash of inexplicable loneliness she tightened her lips on a sigh.

  “Of course, I would ensure you found a position comparable to this one,” he said, guessing her thoughts.

  “If you think it’s best, Your Grace,” she murmured, hating the idea.

  “I’ve decided not to at this point. That is, if you wish to remain here with us? Under the circumstances I would understand if you do not.”

  “But I do. Very much.”

  “I am about to employ a guard to watch over you and the children until this business is at an end. Until then, don’t go anywhere without the footman.”

  “William is used to visiting the stables alone. I shall have to tell him something.”

  “That he is to be William’s new riding instructor. You have an argand lamp in the nursery. Light it and bring it to me.”

  In the nursery, Jenny picked up the tinderbox and lit the lamp, wondering why he needed a lamp in broad daylight. When she returned, the duke beckoned to the footman who hovered several yards away. He ordered Jeremy into the schoolroom and told him to remain with the children until they returned.

  She watched the duke carry the lamp along the corridor toward the steps leading to the tower. He turned to her. “Come with me, Miss Harrismith.”

  Jenny hurried after him. A hundred paces farther along the lengthy corridor, he stood before a huge wall tapestry depicting the scene of a boar hunt. He moved it aside and pressed a panel in the oak wainscoting. Startled, she watched as the panel slid aside with a thud, to reveal aged, wooden steps wreathed in
cobwebs winding downward. A dusty stuffy smell wafted out.

  “I need to make sure the outer door is safely bolted.” He turned to her. “You might wish to remain here. It’s not a place ladies would care to enter, would you say, Miss Harrismith? His eyes gently mocked her. Annoyed at his inference, she leaned forward and gazed inside. It was horribly claustrophobic, and there could be rats. But she was curious, and she wasn’t about to refuse a blatant dare.

  “I should like to see where it leads, Your Grace.”

  A light sparked in his eyes. “Well? Come on then. Better for me to go first.”

  She edged forward behind him, calling His Grace’s bluff, if that’s what he’d intended, and entered the narrow staircase. It smelled of centuries of dirt, mice droppings, and worse. The duke, who barely had enough headroom, had already turned a corner, and disliking the idea of being left behind, she darted down after him. If mention of this should reach the kitchens, she would starve to death. Fortunately the footman was in with the children, and there was no one to witness it.

  The creaking stairs led them down in a dizzying spiral, the duke negotiating them at speed, the lamp held high, throwing eerie shadows in his wake. “These were used for a stealthy escape during the Civil War,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. “There was a bridge over the old moat not far from the stables which enabled them to ride away before they were discovered.”

  The narrow stairway was every bit as unpleasant as she’d anticipated. The weight of the solid old house seemed to crush in upon her. A cobweb stirred by the draft blew across her face and tangled in her hair. She emitted a small squeak of horror.

  He turned and held the lantern up. “Are you all right?”

  “A spider,” she muttered breathlessly her hands raking through her hair, loosening hairpins.

  He observed her with a grin. “The spiders are long gone.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked with a shudder.

  “Have you seen one?”