On the Duke's Authority (Ducal Encounters series 4 Book 3)

by Wendy Soliman

  Amos and Conroy nodded, able to see sense in Zach’s argument, and both resumed their seats.

  ‘Well then, gentlemen,’ Lady Marlowe said, standing, ‘if you will excuse me, I will go and change. Please let me know the moment there is any news.’

  ‘Naturally,’ the duke replied, as Amos stood and opened the door for her.

  *

  Leona spent the rest of the morning fretting and waiting for something to happen. She joined Frankie out of politeness and for want of something better to do. Left to her own devices she would likely go chasing off to the village with no clear idea of what she hoped to achieve by it. Doing nothing, leaving her fate in the hands of the others, made her feel redundant. She chastised herself for being so ungrateful. She had come here with the express purpose of imploring the duke for help. She had achieved that ambition and now felt unsettled because she couldn’t do anything to help herself.

  Really, she thought with a disgruntled sigh, she was the most contrary, ungrateful creature in the entire universe.

  The duchess was occupied writing letters, answering invitations and approving menus. Leona contented herself with worrying, staring out the window and ignoring the book that lay open on the table at her side. She had changed into a warm wool day gown and plucked absently at the fabric of the skirts as she attempted to exercise patience and allow the men time to get to the bottom of matters, increasingly certain that Yaris would not be deterred from stealing her inheritance simply because a duke had involved himself in her affairs.

  Thoughts of her time with Doran in that creepy ruin of a house slipped past her guard, despite her best efforts to relegate them to the back of her mind. She had been surprised when he opened up to her about the woman he had loved so comprehensively and who had abandoned him in favour of a better-placed provider.

  Leona twitched her nose, thinking that he’d had a fortunate escape. Females who put prestige before all else were not worth knowing, especially if their feelings were already supposed to be engaged elsewhere. Even so, she was aware that young ladies competed with one another to gain the attentions of eligible men, no matter how old and curmudgeonly they happened to be. Wealth and social standing trumped all other considerations. In this case, Coleen had presumably come under considerable pressure from her family. Perhaps they were not as well situated as Doran had supposed, and required her to marry a wealthy man in order to secure their own future. Perhaps she had metaphorically fallen on her sword for their sake.

  Somehow, Leona didn’t think so. If that was the case, she would have spared a thought for his feelings and tried to make Doran understand that she’d had little choice in the matter rather than breaking the news to him in such a cold-hearted fashion. Poor Doran, she thought, sighing. No wonder he was so wary of commitment, especially since Leona suspected that he was still in love with his Irish beauty while simultaneously hating and resenting her for the pain she had caused him.

  Her thoughts turned to the kiss they had shared and she felt a warm glow spread through her body, pooling delightfully in the pit of her stomach. George’s kisses had been wet and repelled her. She wasn’t sorry that he seldom bothered to bestow them before taking what he really wanted from her, unable to understand why people put so much stock in such a sloppy business.

  Now she understood.

  Leona herself had never been in love, and had seldom witnessed a successful marriage founded on emotion rather than financial expediency or ambition—until she came to this mansion, that is, and observed Frankie and the duke together. She had noticed how his expression, often severe, softened the moment his gaze fell upon Frankie, which it did frequently. His brother Lord Vince and his Nia were equally besotted, as were Max Sheridan and Sara. It was as though the Sheridan family alone had been blessed in that regard, showing the world that marriage did not have to be a cold-hearted business arrangement.

  Then she thought of Lord Amos and the pain of loss that never completely left his eyes. That image brought her to her senses. She would concentrate all her efforts on ridding Yaris from her life and keep her heart protected from silver-tongued Irish rogues who were afraid to reveal their feelings.

  ‘There.’ Frankie put her pen aside with a sigh of relief and pressed her hands into the small of her back, arching it in an obvious effort to relieve the aches and pains that had accumulated there over the past two hours. ‘One of the disadvantages of my situation is the endless letters I am obliged to write. Not that I have any right to complain. I enjoy remaining in contact with my wide circle of family and friends, but I never seem able to get the ink off my fingers.’ She smiled at Leona. ‘I am sorry to have neglected you. Shall we have some tea?’ She rang the bell without waiting for an answer and moved from her writing desk to sit across from Leona in front of the fire. ‘Now that I have dealt with my correspondence, I am at leisure to hear more about your discoveries this morning.’

  Leona gave another brief account of their findings, which left Frankie looking perplexed. Tea arrived at that moment, saving her from responding until Faraday had withdrawn and Frankie had poured for them both.

  ‘It seems to me,’ she said, stirring her tea slowly and wrinkling her brow as she considered the matter, ‘that your husband’s cousin is too determined to give up on you now, which implies that he must be close to financial ruin. And yet he is a solicitor. One assumes that his legal practice is not thriving.’

  Leona lifted one shoulder. ‘I have no way of knowing. All I can tell you is that Mrs Yaris is the brains of that family. How Yaris qualified in his chosen field has always been a mystery to me.’

  ‘He and your husband did not get along, I think you said.’

  ‘There was no great affection between them, but George felt it was his duty to look after them, financially at least.’

  ‘I assume Yaris has his legal practice in London.’

  ‘No, it’s in Hertfordshire. I haven’t visited their home there but George told me once that it was very modest.’

  ‘And their being related to you meant that your servants wouldn’t have barred them from entry when they descended upon your home.’

  ‘Precisely. They chose their time well. I was away shortly after George’s funeral, having accepted an invitation to visit an old friend in Worcester. I needed a brief change of scenery and I can only assume that Yaris heard me discussing the arrangements at the funeral. Anyway, by the time I got home again, they were established and made it clear that they had no intention of quitting the place.’

  ‘Very artful.’ Frankie paused. ‘Doubtless money changed hands.’

  Leona looked up. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Sorry, my mind jumps from subject to subject and I just assume that whoever is listening to me knows what I am referring to. Zach says it is one of my worst faults.’

  ‘Excuse me if I don’t believe you. I very much doubt whether your besotted duke can find any fault in you.’

  ‘I can assure you that I am far from perfect and, prepare to be shocked, that I often harbour disloyal thoughts about those with whom I am obliged to mix.’

  Leona pretended to be flabbergasted. ‘You astound me, your grace. I am devasted to learn that you are human, just like the rest of us, but I stand by my former belief. The duke thinks you are unparalleled.’

  ‘A hard image to live up to sometimes, but at least we seldom argue, which is something to be proud of after so many years of marriage. However, as to my random thoughts, I assume Yaris’s father was in the legal profession and greased palms in order to ease his intellectually challenged son’s path through the examinations.’

  ‘Yes, actually I believe that he was a solicitor, a rather successful one who was anxious to have his only son follow in his footsteps.’

  ‘Well, there you are then. It’s usually a case of whom one knows in such circumstances. And it is equally clear that he is inept—the son that is—hence his need to steal from you in order to support his horrible mother in the style to which she aspires
to become accustomed. There, you see? I told you I could harbour unkind thoughts about people with whom I am not even acquainted.’

  ‘In Mrs Yaris’s case, you can count yourself fortunate. She is a horrible, bitter, disappointed woman who never smiles or has a good word to say about anyone.’

  ‘What has disappointed her, other than her feeble son?’

  Leona lifted one shoulder. ‘I have absolutely no idea. I avoid engaging her in conversation, and even if I could summon sufficient interest in her affairs to ask, I doubt whether I would receive an honest response.’

  Frankie beamed. ‘I already feel vindicated in my dislike of the woman.’

  Leona took a sip of her tea, put the cup aside and shook her head. ‘Actually, I have always thought that her dislike of George was personal. Something to do with a feud between previous generations that Mrs Yaris refuses to let go. Believe me, she is a woman who knows how to bear a grudge.’

  ‘Even so, if she sent this lackey to camp out on our estate for reasons I struggle to understand, then she is a fool. How could she or Yaris possibly suppose that he would get away with it?’ Leona refrained from pointing out that it was only through chance that he hadn’t done so. She didn’t want to get anyone into trouble. ‘And more to the point, what do they hope to achieve by it? The man wouldn’t be able to see the house from where he was, so if you took it upon yourself to leave us, he would be none the wiser.’

  ‘Presumably he only hid out there after dark. I would imagine that he spent the rest of his time loitering about the villages. He couldn’t frequent the tavern in Shawford because the landlord would recognise him as someone whom the duke had taken in dislike. But there is another tavern in Compton, one assumes. Perhaps he spent time there. He cannot be watching the comings and goings from this estate all the time. He would freeze to death.’ Leona flexed her brows. ‘I tend to agree with you in that having him here smacks of desperation. Unless, of course, his presence was supposed to be discovered, if only to unsettle me. If Yaris is confident enough to defy a duke then I am probably supposed to think that I will never be safe.’

  ‘Nonsense! The moment that Max has established your legal rights, you will put your affairs in order and make it clear to Yaris and his horrible mother than they will not benefit from your estate should anything happen to you. It’s as simple as that.’

  Leona smiled, wondering if such a situation could actually be brought about. Frankie, as a duchess, had become accustomed to using her position to ensure things went her way. But even she had been unable to prevent the death of Lord Amos’s wife, which rather went to prove that when a person was desperate or determined, nothing stood in his way.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Leona said.

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear. The gentlemen will get to the bottom of things, I am absolutely sure of it.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I wish they would tell us what they are doing.’ Leona felt out of sorts rather than grateful, and was unable to account for her unsettled mood. It was as though she could sense a massive gap in their plans without knowing what it was. She couldn’t explain that she felt a tingling in her spine whenever she sensed something unpleasant, much as she had in the ruined house earlier. ‘I feel frustrated, sitting about waiting for something to happen.’

  ‘I understand, truly I do. The men in this family can be annoyingly protective sometimes.’ She paused and smiled. ‘All the time, actually. It’s as if we feeble women are incapable of formulating a single thought or sensible suggestion.’

  ‘What would you do in my situation?’

  ‘Probably run headlong into danger,’ Frankie replied, smiling. ‘But since you are well protected here at the Park, you won’t be able to exercise any reckless tendencies of your own, I’m afraid, and I can’t pretend to be sorry about that. I know it’s annoying, but leave it to the men. No one gets away with defying Zach for long, and now that he knows one of your detractors has been living on his estate the matter has become personal.’

  ‘They should be back from the village by now.’ Leona stood and paced restlessly up and down with her arms folded around her waist. ‘Whatever can be keeping them?’

  ‘Have patience, my dear. As soon as there is news, they will enlighten us, or Zach will have me to answer to.’

  As though summoned by the strength of Leona’s feelings, the door opened and Lord Amos and Doran strode through it.

  ‘There you are,’ Frankie said, looking up and smiling at them. ‘We were getting worried.’

  ‘What news?’ Leona asked at the same time.

  ‘None.’ Doran sighed with frustration. ‘Lord Amos and I got tired of waiting, so we went into the village ourselves. Devonshire left his horse at the tavern—thankfully with all its limbs still intact despite his reckless riding. But there was no sign of him, or the individual we hoped to track down. We waited, asked questions in the tavern, but no one remembers seeing the man or Devonshire. Oh, they recall the rogue who was bothering you, Lady Marlowe, but no one has seen him since that day.’

  Leona struggled to hide her disappointment. ‘Has the ruined house been checked?’ she asked.

  Lord Amos nodded. ‘The man has not returned to it yet. I have left a couple of men well concealed with instructions to bring him to us the moment he shows himself.’

  ‘The only optimistic note is that my man was nowhere to be seen either and he was following Devonshire. When he returns, he will hopefully be able to tell us more.’

  ‘So we wait,’ Leona said, unable to hide her frustration.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Doran smiled at her. ‘Lord Amos has arranged for someone to watch for Devonshire. He will have to come back eventually to collect his horse. Presumably he will return here, but just in case he does not…’

  ‘Has anyone looked through his things?’ Leona asked as an idea occurred to her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Frankie asked, blinking at her.

  ‘Well, it seems to me that if Yaris and Devonshire are so keen to communicate in writing, perhaps there will be something in his room that will incriminate…’

  ‘I’ll take a look while he isn’t here,’ Doran said. ‘Where is his room?’

  Frankie didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned at the prospect of one guest examining another’s private possessions, and told him how to find the room in question.

  ‘I’m coming too,’ Leona said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  No one attempted to stop them and they left the room together, Doran opening the door so that she could pass through it ahead of him.

  ‘You have a devious mind, Lady Marlowe,’ he said, smiling at her as they made their way up the stairs and towards the east wing together. ‘I thoroughly approve.’

  ‘You are simply resentful because the same thought hadn’t occurred to you. Sometimes we fragile females are capable of coming up with ideas all by ourselves.’

  He sent her a wry smile and refrained from comment.

  ‘This must be it,’ Leona said, pausing outside a door in the deathly quiet wing of the house that according to Frankie was seldom used. ‘The third door on the left. Why are you knocking? We know he isn’t in there. Anyway, what would you say to him if he was?’

  ‘Oh, I am not usually lost for words,’ he said, flashing a boyish grin as he opened the door and ushered her through it with a sweeping bow.

  ‘He brought a considerable amount of possessions with him,’ Doran remarked, pulling back the curtain to an alcove that housed Devonshire’s clothing.

  ‘As did I,’ Leona said, shrugging. ‘Perhaps like me he packed for a prolonged absence. I will not return to my London home until Mrs Yaris has been evicted from it. I knew that if I had to tolerate another day looking at her sour face then I might well have throttled her.’

  ‘I understand.’ He nodded towards a writing desk. ‘You search over there. I will look through his clothing. Try to put everything back as you found it.’

  It didn’t take Leona long to establish that the writing d
esk contained only paper and ink. She looked under the bed and didn’t even find any incriminating dust. She glanced around the rather small room and found nothing to attract her interest. There were no nooks or corners to hide anything sensitive. She joined Doran in the closet, which was smaller than she had first thought. There definitely wasn’t room for the two of them and she quickly made to withdraw, worried he would think that she was finding excuses to become intimate.

  The sound of angry voices in the corridor, drawing closer to the room, had them exchange a worried look.

  ‘Quick!’

  Doran grasped her arm and pulled her into the furthest corner of the closet. He shushed her when she opened her mouth to speak and concealed them behind a row of coats. Leona held her breath, hoping that it wasn’t Devonshire returning, simultaneously wishing that the owner of the coats paid more attention to his ablutions. The sour aroma tickled her nose and she struggled not to sneeze. She let out a relieved breath when she recognised two female voices, but her relief was short lived when the door to Devonshire’s room opened.

  ‘I am determined to have it out with him!’

  Leona glanced up at Doran. They both recognised Amelia Devonshire’s shrill voice, but had yet to establish whom she was shouting at like a fishwife.

  ‘Perdition! He isn’t here. Where the devil is he?’

  They heard a sound that was probably a small foot being stamped in frustration. Leona, who had never stamped her foot in a fit of petulant anger in her life, was not surprised that Amelia had adopted that particular foible. Spoiled and indulged, her disappointments had made her quick to anger. Leona found her easy to dislike.

  ‘He has probably gone into the village for a little respite, my dear.’

  Leona glanced up at Doran, whose arms had somehow wound their way around her waist from behind as he held her against him so firmly that she had trouble filling her lungs with air. Yes, that would be why she was struggling to breathe. He grinned at her, appearing to find nothing out of the ordinary about the arrangement. Given the presence of the two women in the adjoining bedchamber, who might discover them at any moment, Leona wasn’t in a position to complain or to move a muscle for fear of being heard. Otherwise she most assuredly would have objected.