The Gamekeeper's Lady

by Ann Lethbridge

  The son of a duke and the Wynchwood Whore’s bastard daughter—he must have thought her such a fool.

  Suddenly, she felt drained. Empty. As hollow as a drum in her chest, and yet there was a hard ball of something else in there making it hard to breath. A sense of loss.

  She didn’t want to think about it or she might start crying in earnest. And never stop. Tears never did the slightest bit of good.

  Frederica left the cell and locked the door behind her. The affair with Robert must be viewed as one of life’s lessons. She would never again give her heart to a handsome man. She had no heart left to give. Robert had taken it with him.

  She marched up the stairs. With Robert rescued, she needed to know what her uncle was about, announcing the betrothal without warning. Did it have something to do with a letter from the London lawyer as Snively had hinted? Perhaps she should find out in case there was more bad news in the offing.

  On silent feet, she stole along the corridor past the drawing room and crept into her uncle’s dark study. If there was a letter from this mysterious lawyer, it would be here.

  She lit a candle. The desk was cluttered with paper. A quick search turned up nothing. She pulled on the right-hand drawer. It was locked. If Uncle kept to old habits.. yes, here was the key in the inkwell. It turned in the lock.

  The drawer was full of papers. She unfolded the one on the top, an official-looking thing with a seal. She almost dropped her light. It was a special wedding licence. Made out for her and Simon, dated the day he left London. She picked up the next sheet of paper. A letter. From the vicar. Agreeing to perform the ceremony—tomorrow. She gulped.

  They couldn’t force her to marry Simon. Could they?

  Did she dare stay and find out?

  Umm. No. She needed to leave. Now. Tonight. And there was only one person she trusted to help her.

  Raindrops ran down the nursery’s diamond window panes. Low-hanging clouds hid Radthorn Grange’s acres from Robert’s view. He swung around at the sound of the door opening.

  ‘Only me,’ John said, tossing a pile of clothes on the cot on which Robert had spent a restless night. ‘Why you insist on wearing these rags is beyond me. I would happily lend you some of mine.’

  ‘Because no one will give me work if I dress like a damned dandy,’ Robert said.

  John winced.

  Robert focused on undoing the buttons of his frilled highwayman shirt to avoid seeing his friend’s embarrassment and softened his tone. ‘Thank you for fetching them. I’ll be off as soon as I’m dressed.’

  ‘You might want to hear the latest.’

  Robert glanced up. John’s face was half-puzzled and half-amused. ‘What?’

  ‘Wynchwood Place is in utter turmoil. You are a wanted man.’

  ‘Hardly news.’

  ‘It’s not what you think. Maggie worked her magic on Lull. He agreed that the jewels in your pocket weren’t Maggie’s at all and said they must have been part of your costume. For a moment I thought all would be well, until they discovered you missing, along with Miss Bracewell. Now you are wanted for kidnapping.’

  Robert’s stomach pitched. ‘The little fool.’

  ‘It gets worse. The silver plate has gone. They found signs of a struggle in the butler’s pantry and the butler is also missing. Apparently done away with by a desperate criminal. You.’

  Robert’s jaw dropped. ‘Bloody hell? Are you saying he stole the silver and ran off with Frederica?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  Robert’s mouth went dry. ‘My God.’

  ‘I know.’ John gave him a pained looked. ‘They found your hat in the butler’s pantry. It seems your Miss Butter-never-passed-my-lips Bracewell neatly took a leaf out of Maggie’s book and left you to carry the blame for her abduction. No wonder she was so keen to set you free.’

  ‘She wouldn’t do that.’ She couldn’t have.

  What did Snively have to do with it? Was he the one who’d had her virginity? That old man? Disgust rose like bile in his throat even as he shook his head in denial.

  What other explanation could there be? She’d seen her chance and used him to take the blame. The cunning little witch.

  He struck out with his fist at the wall. Felt pain in his knuckles, felt the vibration up his arm and all the way to his chest.

  Damn it all. After Father’s betrayal, he’d sworn to trust no one. To rely only on himself. He’d forgotten his own rules.

  But Snively! How could she? Jealousy pricked like the point of a knife. He forced himself to think. Where would they have gone? She’d talked of Italy, which meant a port. Or was that a smokescreen? A lie to put him off the scent, if indeed he had any ideas of following her.

  One thing was certain, they would have to fence the silver. And London was the most likely place.

  ‘Where does Wynchwood presume we are headed?’

  ‘Ah, that’s where things start to get interesting.’

  ‘Out with it, man. I don’t have time for puzzles.’

  John sighed. ‘You spoil everything. Listen to this. Young Simon was in such a dither when I found him in his room packing he muttered something about finding them at a Mr Bliss’s office near Lincoln’s Inn Fields.’

  ‘A lawyer?’ It made no sense at all.

  John shrugged. ‘I was just about to question him further when Lullington joined us. He hustled me out of the door.’

  ‘Meaning he is in Bracewell’s confidence.’

  ‘I assume so. Even old Wynchwood is headed for town and he hasn’t been there for years. It all sounds a bit like a Minerva novel, don’t you think.’ John chuckled, clearly vastly entertained.

  ‘If Wynchwood’s for London, I am too.’

  ‘What I don’t understand is why Lullington is tagging along?’ John mused.

  ‘Lullington is short of funds.’

  ‘I don’t see how this would help.’

  ‘I really don’t care about Lullington. If Wynchwood thinks Mr Bliss’s office is the place to look for the runaway pair, I am going there too. I have to clear my name, John. I won’t let anyone turn me into a criminal.’

  John clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Nor you should. Come with me to the magistrate and we can clear the whole thing up.’

  ‘Can we? Or will they accuse me of doing away with her too?’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Quite. I’ll catch the first stage that goes through Swanlea.’

  ‘I think not,’ John replied. ‘I’ll take you up in my carriage, as my groom.’

  Robert raised a brow.

  ‘You insisted on dressing like that.’ John grinned. ‘I’m going to enjoy giving you orders.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  ‘Numbskull. Why the hell didn’t you come to me before?’

  For the first time in a long time Robert didn’t feel completely alone. But his growing rage at Frederica’s dirty trick left little room for softer emotions.

  ‘Right. Let’s be off.’

  A duke’s son. Again the realisation twisted Frederica’s insides painfully. It was as if her mind refused to believe what she’d heard. Standing at the window of the private parlour Snively had procured at a down-at-heel inn near Lincoln’s Inn, she took a deep, calming breath. Dash it. She kept letting thoughts of Robert creep into her mind the way shadows creep into a valley at night. Thoughts of what she’d hoped.

  If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. She had many wishes. But horses were in short supply.

  From one side of the mullioned window, she peered into the narrow street, careful to ensure no one would see her from below. Snowflakes floated past the window, turning grey when they hit the cobbles, then melted away. It would make an interesting drawing. If only she could settle.

  After visiting the publisher to arrange for the payment of her money, Snively had gone to find a friend he thought might prove useful. She paced to the blazing hearth on the other side of the room and held out her hands to its warmth.

  Robert
had tried to warn her off. She just hadn’t wanted to hear. She’d thought he was trying to protect her because he thought her too good for him. Quite the opposite. In the end, she’d seduced him. Used his wicked male urges against him. Her body flashed hot, then cold.

  What man would resist a wanton? He’d tried to be honourable and she’d behaved with all the morals of a barn cat. If only he’d told her who he was, she would never have harboured such foolish ideas. It had to be his lack of trust that made her chest ache as if her breastbone was pressing against her heart.

  The door flew open.

  Frederica jumped. She swung around.

  ‘I told you to keep this door locked,’ Snively said, hanging his hat on the hook on the back of the door and shooting her a glare under his brows much as he’d done when she was a child tracking mud across the hall floor.

  ‘What did you discover?’

  ‘None of the Wynchwoods have called on Bliss as yet.’ He dropped into a chair beside the hearth. ‘An old friend of mine is watching the place.’

  They’d arrived in London yesterday and so far there had been no sign of pursuit. ‘Perhaps you are wrong about Uncle Mortimer,’ she said, sitting opposite, clenching her hands in her lap to keep them still.

  He wiped his brow with a large white handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket. ‘I’d be right glad if I was, miss. My nose tells me otherwise. ’Tis my guess he knows your father left a letter to be opened on your birthday.’

  ‘My father?’ Her chest squeezed. She couldn’t breathe. It was like falling off Pippin, the ground rushing up to meet her. ‘My father left a letter?’ she gasped. ‘You know who he is? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Snively’s face turned red. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. ‘A slip of the tongue, miss. Forget it.’

  ‘No. I need to know what this is all about.’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  She had never seen Snively sweat as he was doing now.

  She voiced her greatest fear. ‘At least tell me he is not some horrid murderer.’

  ‘I’ve said more than I ought, but I’ll say this. You needs to find out for yourself. Tomorrow at the lawyer’s office.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  He pressed his lips together. ‘You’ll be sorry.’

  Pieces of a puzzle fell into place in her mind. ‘You said you went to see Mr Bliss because he could arrange an account on which I could draw. It isn’t true, is it? He is the lawyer who wrote to my uncle.’

  He tugged mightily at his stock. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then where is the money for the drawings?’

  ‘Waiting for you at the publishing house,’ he squeezed out.

  ‘Then we don’t need to see this Mr Bliss. I will book passage to Italy immediately.’

  ‘Don’t, miss. Please. You must read the document Mr Bliss has for you.’ His jowls wobbled. He dabbed at his brow. ‘Sworn to secrecy, I was. But I assure you, you will not be sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry I trusted you.’

  He gazed at her with hurt eyes.

  ‘Dash it. If my father wanted to contact me, he could have done so years ago.’

  Snively cringed. ‘It’s all explained in the letter.’

  She huffed out a breath. ‘I don’t even know his name.’

  ‘He swore me to secrecy.’

  Because of who she was? She felt sick. ‘I don’t need to know and I need to be on a ship before Uncle Mortimer finds me.’

  ‘You’ll regret it,’ he said.

  She glared at him.

  He let out a sigh. ‘Joshua Snively don’t blab. Not with a thousand pound on the line. And Bliss will not see it paid to me if I say one word. Your father trusted me. Now so must you.’

  Life had seemed much simpler less than a week ago. Did she really want to know the identity of her father? Lady Radthorn’s talk of her mother’s wildness before her marriage meant this man could be anyone. A shiver ran down her spine. Perhaps the man was a criminal. Or married and ashamed. Or…what? And why should she care when her father had never paid her the slightest heed until now?

  Should she trust in Snively’s assurances that all would be well or her own instinct to run?

  This was like one of Shakespeare’s plays where everyone pretended to be someone else. The only thing she knew for sure was that if she didn’t leave England she might never have her chance to learn her craft. And yet Snively had always been a good friend and right now he looked terribly upset.

  She huffed a sigh. ‘Very well. I’ll wait one day to read this letter. But no matter what happens, I am leaving right afterwards.’

  ‘Fair dos,’ Snively said, looking hugely relieved. ‘I’ll go find us a ship. In the meantime, lay low.’ He pushed to his feet with a grunt.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He rubbed his chin. ‘Your pa paid me well for this job, miss. But after all these years watching over you from a distance, I’ve come to think of you as one of my own.’

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Snively. I do wish you’d tell who my father is so it won’t come as too much of a surprise.’ Or a horrid shock.

  ‘I gave my word. Tomorrow is soon enough, never you fear.’ His dark eyes twinkled. ‘Now when have I ever steered you wrong?’

  She took a deep breath. Tomorrow it would be.

  ‘Radthorn!’

  On his perch at the back of John’s curricle, Robert cringed at the sound of his mother’s voice. His heart plummeted. ‘Pretend you don’t see her,’ Robert hissed in John’s ear, careful to keep his head low.

  ‘Can’t,’ John muttered, neatly pulling into the curb on Bond Street. ‘Take their heads, Parks,’ he said in a louder voice.

  Robert leaped down, and, keeping the horses between him and the diminutive lady on the footpath, ran to the bridles. He shifted so he could see his mother as she raised her face to look at his friend. She looked elegant as always, but beneath her jaunty red-plumed bonnet her face seemed more lined than Robert remembered. More careworn. Damn Charlie. Or was it the girls running her ragged? He prayed she didn’t look hagged because of him.

  ‘I didn’t think you were due in town for another week, John?’ she said, her voice calm and cool. ‘How is your grandmother?’

  ‘Very well, your Grace.’

  ‘And you, Robert?’ she said, raising her voice. ‘Why have you not called to see me?’

  Startled, Robert jerked the bridle. He must have been mistaken. She couldn’t possibly recognise him like this. He patted the horse’s flank.

  ‘You jobbed at the bits,’ Mother scolded, appearing at the curb in front of him.

  John’s rueful chuckle carried above the noises in the street while Robert drank in the sight of his beloved mother’s face, her fine grey eyes holding sadness and pleasure, her lips curved in an encouraging smile.

  His throat burned and his arms longed to hug her slim shoulders. ‘Father won’t like it if you acknowledge me,’ he said roughly, bitterly.

  Her eyes widened. She drew in a quick breath. ‘I knew you’d had an argument, but I thought it was you who left in a temper. Charlie hasn’t looked me in the eye since.’

  Charlie wouldn’t. He’d agreed with Father. ‘You had best move on,’ he said, seeing her footman lingering a few yards farther down the pavement.

  ‘Come home with me, to Meadowbrook, and I’ll talk to the Duke. Sort it out.’

  A lump rose in his throat. He swallowed and shook his head. ‘Please go, your Grace, before someone sees you talking to a groom and gets suspicious about the low company you keep. I certainly don’t want another episode like the one at White’s.’

  Her gaze took in his garb and her eyes filled with pity. He felt ashamed to cut such a disreputable figure in her presence. ‘I’m so angry with your father,’ she said softly. ‘How you must have suffered. Come home. I’ll make him put it right.’

  He stiffened, the events of that day rushing through his veins like poison. ‘What happened was m
y own fault, Mother. I must be the one to make it right. But what Father said…well, I’m sorry, it was unforgivable.’

  ‘As proud as ever.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘We cannot talk here. Your father is still at Meadowbrook. I came to town to visit an old friend who is ill. Call on me in the morning at the town house.’

  ‘I’m in a bit of a scrape. I will not bring more disgrace to the family.’ He couldn’t help his smile. ‘Are the girls well? How is Hal?’ The youngest son, born long after the other children and most beloved by his father.

  Her eyes misted. ‘All are well. They miss you.’

  His throat felt raw and full. ‘I miss them too. And Charlie?’

  She shook her head. ‘He went to Durn on business.’

  ‘Good God.’ Durn was the gloomiest of the Duke’s properties, located in the wilds of Yorkshire. No one ever went to Durn willingly.

  Mother smiled wearily. ‘I worry for him. He is not happy.’

  A chill entered Robert’s chest. ‘I’m supposed to feel sorry for him?’ He headed back to his seat.

  Mother looked up at John over the horses’ backs. ‘I’m glad you found him for me, John. Keep him safe.’

  ‘Always at your service, your Grace,’ John said. He flicked his leader with his whip and the curricle moved out into the traffic. Robert stared straight ahead, not daring to look back in case he did something rash like leaping down and giving her a hug. No doubt some bright spark would take him by the collar to the nearest constable for assaulting a lady.

  ‘Damn,’ he muttered.

  ‘Quite,’ John said. ‘Bloody well, quite.’

  And damn him for a fool for getting tangled in another woman’s toils. And still he kept not wanting to believe what she’d done.

  They left Mayfair and entered the city. Here the bustle was all about commerce, the businessmen purposeful and the poor more ragged. John pulled up outside a well-maintained bow-fronted office with a sign proudly proclaiming the name of Mr Edward Bliss. A fellow leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the street ran a knowing eye over the horses. ‘Hold ’em for you, mister?’

  ‘Get a move on, Parks,’ John chortled.