Was it the attractive Miss Harrismith who had drawn the two men to the schoolroom? Ivo might have been there to flirt, damn the man, but Raymond? He was smitten with Greta. No, Raymond had come for the soul purpose of visiting the children, something he’d never bothered to do before. Ordinarily, he’d treated Andrew’s children with good-humored tolerance, but also a casual disinterest. And Andrew found himself wondering why that had changed.
He had gone to the library to find the book he’d promised William, but his search was abandoned when the butler brought a message from London.
He cursed under his breath, fearing the worst. And as he read it his fears were realized. Another murder, this time Lord Stonebrook, shot at his country estate in Hertfordshire, found dead with a lily on his breast. A search party had only discovered his body this morning. His lordship had been missing for some days. Andrew’s presence was urgently required at Whitehall.
His first concern was leaving William. But Irvine coped well, and Andrew could rely on Miss Harrismith to be cautious. He would be back at Castlebridge by morning, as he intended to ride through the night. He sent word to the stables to saddle Cicero, then made his way to the salon.
Greta rose at his entrance. “I hoped to have a word with you, Harrow, before the others arrive.”
“Greta. I’m called to Whitehall. I must leave immediately.”
She frowned. “Won’t you take me with you?”
“Not this time. I am sorry. These are matters over which I have no control. I’m riding Cicero. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“What is the urgency?”
“A matter of national importance.”
Dismay darkened her eyes. “I shall await your return. Don’t let me keep you. We shall talk tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow.” A talk they must have. He bowed and left the room.
Miss Harrismith was bathing Barbara when the footman admitted him to the nursery. William lay on his bed reading a book.
“Father!” Barbara squealed. “The soap makes pretty bubbles.”
“So it does, sweetheart. A word, Miss Harrismith.” He drew the governess away out of earshot.
“I have been called to London. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
She nodded gravely while keeping an eye on his daughter splashing about in the hip bath. “Very well, Your Grace.”
“William may ride with Irvine as usual.” Although there was a cautionary tone to his voice, she showed no sign of alarm at him leaving her alone in sole charge of the children.
“George will accompany us to the stables,” she said. “After his lordship’s ride we’ll spend the day in the schoolroom.”
Within an hour he was riding along the toll road toward London.
Whitehall was a miserable affair. Another member of their close group gone, and still no one arrested.
While Castlereagh’s spies had unsuccessfully searched London for the culprit, Lord Stonebrook had been shot on his estate. It had rained since, and no usable evidence was found. Both men were brutally murdered with no discernable motive, apart from the prince’s warning about the dissatisfaction building in Germany. Had a group come to London to inflict revenge on the delegates? Castlereagh was convinced of it.
The danger was no longer confined to London. And as most men had retired to their estates for the hunting season, they would all have to be doubly careful. Andrew wanted to get home, he wouldn’t be happy until he was there again, despite most believing the attacks on William were unrelated.
Andrew left as soon as he could, riding out under the moon, a loaded pistol tucked in his greatcoat pocket. Clouds sailed across the moon and for a few minutes darkness descended. Andrew fought to quench his impatience as he rode Cicero down Headington Hill. Castlereagh had been right, if anyone wanted to pick him off now would be the time, while nothing stirred, and barely a light flickered in the town up ahead.
Chapter Nineteen
After breakfast, George accompanied Jenny, William, and Barbara to the stables.
Irvine waited with the two saddled horses. William ran to him and mounted and in a few moments they rode away.
Barbara tugged on Jenny’s hand. “Can we visit Carrot and Misty?” she asked for the umpteenth time.
“We shall be fine now, thank you, George,” Jenny said.
The footman left them, and she and Barbara entered the shadowy interior.
With a loud sigh, Barbara settled down on the straw to pet the cats. The tiny kittens still hadn’t opened their eyes, but were bravely venturing farther from their parents. Carrot leaped down and stalked something at the back of the stables while Misty kept a sharp eye on them.
While Barbara was absorbed with the cats, Jenny perched on a hay bale. The groom, Jem grinned at her when he emerged from the harness room and began to saddle horses for the baroness, her brother, and Mr. Forsythe. She heard the German pair arrive, their voices raised in argument. They had spoken in their own language. Suddenly, Herr Von Bremen spoke English in a savage undertone. “Did you really believe the duke would fall in love with you if you flirted with his cousin? You are too used to men falling at your feet. The duke is no fool, neither is he like that weakling you married.”
The baroness replied with a burst of outraged German which quickly ceased as the groom led the horses out.
“Here is Mr. Forsythe!” she cried. “Shall we ride to the river?”
“You may ride wherever you like,” her brother growled.
The sound of a horse galloping from the yard drew Jenny to the door.
“Where has your brother gone off to?” Mr. Forsythe asked the baroness.
She shrugged. “Ivo is in a temper. It is better. We can enjoy our ride. Just the two of us.”
Forsythe smiled. “Indeed.”
Jenny watched them ride away.
Barbara squealed. “Jenny! One of the babies, the gray one with the white on its head, has disappeared! Misty can’t find it!”
The tiny kitten had somehow escaped. On her knees, Jenny felt around in the straw with Misty anxiously looking on.
Barbara watched, breathing heavily, as Jenny located the warm furry body beneath the straw and carefully withdrew the mewing kitten. She returned it to its worried mother.
“No harm done,” she said to the anxious little girl beside her.
Another hour passed as Jenny sat with Barbara while they watched Misty cleaning her babies with her pink tongue. William should be back soon.
A flurry of hoof beats sounded in the stable yard.
Jenny walked to the stable door as William rode in. He was alone his face stark with terror. Jenny ran out to him. “Mr. Irvine’s been shot. I think he’s dead,” William said trying bravely to hold back his tears. Jenny held the horse’s rein as he dismounted. “There was someone after me, Jenny,” he gasped, struggling to speak. “I rode as fast as I could to get away.”
She turned and stared toward the woods. “Did you see who it was?”
“No, but he’s not far away,” William said, half gasping, half sobbing. “I heard him coming behind me.”
Her first thought was to take the children back to the schoolroom. But George wouldn’t be there. He was to fetch them here in another half an hour. What if this fiend waylaid them before they reached the nursery wing? Where could they go? Had Mr. Forsythe escaped the baroness? He had the run of the house, and would know every nook and cranny. He’d been careful to make each attempt on William’s life appear to be an accident. Why had he become so reckless? Trying again and again as each attempt failed. This time because the duke was absent, he obviously saw another opportunity.
The gamekeeper, Clovis would help them, and he would have a gun. Jenny called out for Jem, but he’d disappeared, the stable deserted. She grabbed Barbara’s hand. “Come with me, William.”
The way to the gamekeeper’s cottage led in a northerly direction, away from the path William had taken with Irvine. She hurried the children along. Barbara quickly tired, so Jen
ny picked her up. “Lead on, William.”
“Poor Mr. Irvine,” William said his voice shaking. “We were riding across the same meadow as yesterday. I didn’t see anyone, but I heard a shot and Mr. Irvine fell from his horse. There was blood on his head, Jenny. I turned my horse and heard another shot as I galloped into the trees. I didn’t go the usual way. I took a rough overgrown path that’s never used.” He dragged in a breath. “I think it must have confused him, because after I rode into the trees, I didn’t hear him anymore.”
“That was quick thinking, William. It is fortunate you’re such a good rider,” Jenny said, her chest so tight her breath came in gasps.
“Who would want to hurt Mr. Irvine?”
“I don’t know.” Jenny imagined he would stick close to William, and the shot struck Mr. Irvine instead of the boy. The thought horrified her, but pushed her to walk faster, her arms growing tired.
“Where are we going?” Barbara wailed.
“On an adventure, my pet.”
They struggled on, the pace far too slow for Jenny’s liking, but she couldn’t push the exhausted and frightened boy, and Barbara clinging with her arms around Jenny’s neck made walking cumbersome. She listened for hoof beats and glanced behind them for any sign they’d been followed. So far, the woods were still and silent. But their pursuer was on horseback, how long before he found them?
Finally, they reached the gamekeeper’s cottage. Jenny put Barbara down and banged on the door. Silence. He wasn’t there and might be gone for hours. She could have screamed with frustration. Instead, with a murmur of disappointment, she continued on, praying the children would manage the distance.
“Where are we going now?” Barbara cried.
“To a pretty meadow with flowers and adorable lambs,” Jenny said, trying to arrange her more comfortably in her arms, Barbara’s legs hugging her waist.
It seemed like they had been walking for hours. There was still no sound behind them as they reached the meadow. Barbara perked up briefly at the gamboling black-faced lambs, and Jenny put her down. Ahead, stood the small thatched roof hut beside the giant chestnut tree. The door creaked when she opened it and led them inside. A makeshift ladder led to a loft.
Barbara made a face. “Pooh! It smells.”
“You can sit on my lap,” Jenny said. “It’s a game. We must wait here until your father finds us.”
“What sort of game,” she asked sounding interested.
“Hide and seek,” Jenny said.
“I like that game. William and I play it, don’t we, William?”
“At Great Aunt Augusta’s house,” William said. “Will Father know where to look for us, Jenny?” William’s voice rasped. He swiped at his nose with his sleeve and sniffed, then sank onto a sack of grain.
“He will find us, William. I am sure of it,” Jenny said firmly. “And then all this will be over. We’ll go home and have a nice meal.” She wished she could be sure of it.
She glanced through the small window and thought there was movement among the trees. It might be a deer, but it wouldn’t do to count on it.
She eyed the ladder. Two lengths of rope with wooden rungs attached by crude clasps. It looked decidedly flimsy and unsteady. She stared up into the dark space in the low roof. “Let’s play another game. This one is called climb the ladder.”
William needed no urging. He went up the rungs like a monkey. Jenny placed Barbara in front of her and helped her up it. She wasn’t sure how she managed to get the little girl into the loft, but after a struggle, she did. Once the ladder was pulled up and stowed out of sight, she settled Barbara on her lap. “Now, whatever we hear, we must stay very quiet, or we lose the game.”
Winning appealed to Barbara, and she lapsed into silence, leaning against Jenny.
An hour passed with only the chirp of birds in the oak and the bleating sheep.
Barbara’s body grew heavy in Jenny’s arms. She had fallen asleep. Beside her, William sat quietly, listening as intently as she was.
The clip clop of a horse and rider sounded in the distance. They came closer, cantering over the meadow. Jenny stilled not wishing Barbara to wake. She put a finger to her lips but was confident that William understood. The poor little boy now knew that the world wasn’t always a safe place.
The rider pulled up his horse outside. A thump of boots hitting the ground, then the door banged back against the wall. Jenny’s stomach tightened, and she felt sick. It wasn’t His Grace. He would call out. Heavy breathing rose from below. The intruder’s footsteps stopped. He must have been peering up into the loft.
Jenny leaned back against the wall in the shadows and tried not to gasp. She feared the tension in her body would rouse the child in her arms.
With a muttered curse, the man banged out of the door. Minutes later, he rode away.
William kneeled at the window.
“Don’t let him see you.”
“He’s gone. Ridden back into the trees. I wonder who it was?”
“I don’t know. William, only that it wasn’t your father.”
William gave a small shake of his head. “No, I could tell it wasn’t Cicero. I know the tread of Father’s horse.”
And she would know in an instant if it had been His Grace. Even before he spoke.
Jenny suppressed a shiver. In the silence when the man had stood below as if listening for them to betray themselves, Jenny sensed an evil presence.
*
It was gone ten o’clock in the morning when Andrew rode up the carriage drive toward the house. He dismounted and led his tired horse around to the stables.
George and Jem stood in the yard, then hurried over to him, clearly worried about something.
Andrew tensed. “Where is Miss Harrismith and the children, George?”
“That’s just it, Your Grace. We don’t know. They weren’t here when I came to collect them. But Jem says Miss Harrismith was here earlier, wasn’t she, Jem?”
Jem nodded. “With your daughter, Your Grace. They were playing with the cats. But when I returned from an errand to the kitchens, they’d gone, and Lord William’s horse wandered loose in the yard.”
Icy fear flooded through Andrew’s veins. “Did you check the schoolroom and the nursery, George?”
“I went straight there. Mary said they’d not been back. I asked around, but no one knows anything. Mrs. Pollitt has had the house searched.”
A horse came slowly into the yard, the rider hunched over its neck.
“Irvine? You’re hurt!” Andrew ran over to him.
Irvine swiped at the blood dripping down his forehead as he dismounted. “Someone shot me. Meant for William. Is he here, safe?”
“No. He’s gone, and so has the governess, and my daughter. It appears they did not return to the house.”
Andrew pulled out his handkerchief, he folded it into a pad and handed it to Irvine, before blood seeped into his eyes. “Where did this happen?”
Irvine nodded his thanks and held the handkerchief in place. “We’d taken a different route, but on the way home, William suggested we go back to the meadow where we were yesterday. He wanted me to show him more of my maneuvers, and that was the best place for it.” He groaned. “I should have refused. You did say not to go the same way twice. He lay in wait for us, the mongrel.”
“Did you see him?”
“No. He hid among the trees. Where could William be, Your Grace? Please God, I haven’t let the lad down.”
“You’ve done no such thing, Irvine. I’ll find them. Have that wound attended to. You’re remarkably lucky it didn’t kill you.”
Irvine pushed his shoulders back. “I’ll not rest ’til they’re found. Let me go with you, Your Grace/”
Impatient to be gone, Andrew nodded. “I’d appreciate it. Jem, go and round up the grooms, the coachman and the stable master,” Andrew ordered. “Get them out searching. Then you take the path to the river. Irvine, if you’re sure you’re up to it, take the western path. I’ll go nor
th to the gamekeeper, see if he’s seen them.”
“Right you are, Your Grace,” Jem said moving away smartly.
Andrew led Cicero inside, quickly attended to his needs, then saddled Storm Cloud. He rode to the gamekeeper’s cottage. Clovis was outside, chopping wood, smoke coming from the chimney.
Andrew quickly explained and fired off a few questions.
“Wasn’t here earlier, Your Grace,” Clovis said. “I haven’t come across the governess or the children. “Saw the baroness, though, riding near the river. She was alone.”
“Alone? Not with her brother, or Mr. Forsythe?”
Clovis shook his head. “No. No sign of either of them.”
Andrew found it hard to think as he struggled to tamp down the fear. Go on or go back? Miss Harrismith had told him how she’d walked over to Spender’s Bluff. If something had frightened her and forced her to run with the children would she choose a familiar route?
“Should I try to find them, Your Grace?”
Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection Page 61
