The Duke's Mysterious Lady
Page 20
Viola married? Hugh stood stunned. “You took Lady Rosalind from my property and didn’t feel it necessary to tell me?”
“You were in London and she was embarrassed,” Lord Merryville said with a grin. “You know how women are.”
Rosalind would not have gone without speaking to Nanny.
Hugh was determined to hear the truth from her lips. “I carry news of her relative. Where might I find her?”
“Who might that be?”
“Her Aunt, Lady Redcliffe.”
Rupert smiled. “The old dragon. How is she?”
“She seems well, but I prefer to tell Lady Rosalind myself. Where might I find her?” he repeated.
Rupert’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “She is visiting relatives and will see no one outside of family as she is in mourning for her father. She lost her reason when he died, and was distraught, no doubt, when you found her. Have no fear, the doctor is pleased with her progress and feels she is gradually improving in health. You might give me the message. I shall relay it to her.”
Hugh clamped down on his jaw. Viola had been mourning her father! Might, as this fellow said, the shock of her father’s death have driven her temporality out of her mind?
It made no sense. She was in perfect health when he last saw her. This was nonsense.
“You breed horses here, my lord?” Hugh sought to delay the conversation in the hope of learning more.
Merryville rattled on, displaying a decided lack of knowledge. Hugh merely nodded as he considered what the man had told him.
Lies all of it. Rosalind was far too strong to behave in such an irrational manner. If she’d been driven away from here, it had something to do with this unpleasant fellow.
“The message, Your Grace?” Merryville asked, eyeing him.
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Hugh said. “I merely wished to see her restored safely to her family.”
“Then allow me to set your mind at rest. I bid you good day, Your Grace.”
Hugh rode back to York, frustrated that he still hadn’t come close to the truth.
When had they married? It was not a love match then, for Viola had been a virgin. He couldn’t dismiss the burning desire to understand why Viola came into his life as she had, only to exit it again so mysteriously.
Not Viola, but Rosalind, he recalled, with a brief smile. He wished he could laugh with her about it.
Merryville had been decidedly unhelpful about her whereabouts.
Where was she?
****
Dispirited, Hugh arrived back at the Hotel at the same time as Felicity, Phillip, and Mrs. Pike. They gathered in the foyer having just returned from shopping and enjoying the sights. Felicity appeared fully restored to her exuberant self. Phillip stood beside her, gazing indulgently at her, his arms full of parcels.
“We have had a most delightful time,” Felicity said, smiling. “You will be proud of me, Hugh. I visited the Roman wall and the Cathedral. For Mrs. Pike’s sake, you understand.” Her keen eyes searched his. “Where have you been?”
“A business matter, Felicity,” he replied, hoping to quash any further conversation. “Shall we dine at eight? I am rather fatigued.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Fatigued? I’ve never known you to be so.”
Hugh turned away to hide his smile. She was a clever minx for all her youth. He had always liked that about her.
“And I’ve never known you to come so far north on business,” she persisted, as he walked towards to the stairs. “Why here?”
“Merely the pursuit of a fine horse. Allow me to go to my room, if you please. Surely you are a little tired yourself?”
“I am not even a bit tired. I swear I could dance all night. You are getting old,” she called, a mischievous light in her eyes.
Although it smote him, Hugh seized on the opportunity this gave him. He felt sad enough to be both old and tired. He placed a hand on the banister rail. “You should have more respect for your elders. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“Hugh?” He had bowed to Mrs. Pike and Phillip, and had one foot on the bottom step when Felicity, not done with him yet, waylaid him.
“Yes?” he replied, his voice heavy with exasperation.
“Is something wrong?”
She approached him, looking so concerned; he relented, and chucked her lightly under the chin. “The horse wasn’t to my liking, but that’s hardly heartbreaking is it? I’ll see you all at dinner.” He took the stairs two at a time making a lie of his declaration of the premature onset of age.
Felicity seemed determined to have the last say. “I believe it is not horse flesh that called you to York, Hugh,” she called up to him accusingly. “’Tis a matter of the heart.”
He gave a heavy sigh. “A man can love his horse, Felicity.”
“Pooh!”
He cast a glance at Mrs. Pike’s shocked face. “Really, Lady Felicity, your manners!” With a chuckle, he left them.
A wedding party added a flavor of festivity to the hotel dining room. After a pleasant meal of lamb cutlets and asparagus washed down with a robust claret, the small orchestra struck up a waltz for the bridal couple. Felicity clapped her hands in delight. Her charms mesmerized Phillip.
Quite rightly, for the candlelight flattered her velvety skin and sparkling eyes. Mrs. Pike beamed.
She was proud of her charge and enjoying an occasion, Hugh guessed to be a rare treat.
After Felicity and Phillip shared a waltz, she expressed the desire that Phillip must dance the next with Mrs. Pike, while she and Hugh danced together.
“What has happened to make you so sad?” Felicity asked, studying him as they moved about the floor.
“You would do better to keep an eye on your fiancé,” Hugh retorted. “He is flirting outrageously with Mrs. Pike.”
She laughed and shook her head.
It should have been an enjoyable evening, but Hugh’s low spirits failed to lift. Common sense told him he must let Rosalind go, but his very soul rejected such a notion. It was not just the loss of the love of his life, but the strangeness of the whole episode.
One thing was plain, however. Rosalind did not want him to pursue her. And no matter how saddened he was by the truth, he would have to face life without her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aunt Rebecca wasted little time while lamenting the way things were now done. In her eyes, true elegance died in the last century. Her dressmaker outfitted Rosie with the latest
London fashions and although they were lovely, she couldn’t help remembering the thrill of dressing in Sophie’s beautifully cut and elegantly simple gown made for the ball at Vale Park.
Aunt Rebecca purchased horses and had her carriage cleaned, after years of gathering cobwebs in the coach house. She took Rosie with her to visit old friends she had not seen for an age, and soon invitations flooded in to afternoon teas, soirees, musical evenings and balls.
In their quiet moments, Aunt Rebecca continued to question Rosie about how she came to lose her memory. Rosie was careful not to alarm her. Trying to be as truthful as possible, she explained how she was concussed after falling from her mount while out riding and how the Duke of Vale had found her. Rosie didn’t tell her of Rupert’s culpability, for to drag up the unfortunate family history and bring his appalling conduct into the light would distress her aunt, and she continued to worry about the old lady’s health.
Rosie now mingled with Society in the grandest houses, and shopped in Bond Street. Every morning, she rode the Ladies’ Mile on a rented horse from the livery stables. It was always a lackluster affair, far too social for Rosie’s taste, with no one very interested in riding. The plump mare was unwilling or unable to break into anything more than an unenthusiastic trot and invariably forced Rosie into an uncomfortable comparison with riding Molly through Vale Park with Hugh.
She persisted, for without riding, living in noisy, smelly, extraordinarily busy London, became far too confining.
Many were asking where she had been all this time. The mystery only stoked the fires, and with little to go on, matchmaking mothers with marriageable daughters could say little against her.
“Your manners, impeccable lineage, and the rumors of a large country estate, have silenced the competition,” Aunt Rebecca said with a degree of satisfaction.
But it also brought eagle-eyed, smooth-tongued fortune hunters to Rosie’s side. She could only smile to herself; a dilapidated property outside York was hardly a prize. Not to mention her, no longer innocent and possibly married to boot.
As the weeks passed, Rosie’s reputation grew. Members of the ton began to call her the ‘beautiful ice maiden’, her Aunt informed her crossly.
“If you wish to gain a husband from the top drawer, you should reveal the charm I know you to possess. Otherwise, your choices will quickly become limited. I can be of little financial help to you, Rosalind. My husband’s estate has gone to his nephew. I know of at least two suitable gentlemen who are interested in courting you, foolish gel, but you give them no encouragement, no encouragement at all! Are you aware they are taking bets at Tattersall’s on the man who shall succeed in melting your cold heart?”
Rosie wanted so much to tell her aunt the truth, and as soon as news came from Mr. Barrett, she would. Fortunately, she hadn’t the slightest interest in any of the men she met. Hugh filled her dreams and the memory of their night together remained vivid and stirred terrible longings.
Would she always dwell on a pair of warm brown eyes and a mouth that made her weak?
The next day, after telling Aunt Rebecca she planned to join friends to shop in Regent Street, she hired a hackney and traveled to Mr. Barrett’s office in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
He had just eaten lunch, and pushed away the remnants of a game pie as she entered. He folded his arms and frowned, but didn’t comment on her coming without an appointment.
“Have you traced that preacher, Mr. Barrett?”
He fussed with her file. “I’ve written letters to the relevant authorities in York, but have not yet received a reply. You will have to be patient. A young lady such as yourself will have the suitors lined up, I should think.”
“Much good that does me, for I’ve no idea if I’m married or not.”
“That’s true. A curious business. We shall learn the truth of it soon enough.”
The afternoon sun streamed through the window over Mr. Barrett’s back. He had knitted his hands across his rounded stomach encased in a waistcoat of purple and black stripes, his eyelids heavy.
“Could you not travel to York yourself?”
He sat up abruptly at her suggestion. “Travel to York? I can’t do that, Lady Rosalind. I have important business to attend to here in London.”
“What about your clerk? Might he deal with it?”
He frowned. “I must say I don’t see what the urgency is about.”
Annoyed and frustrated, Rosie glared at the man across the desk. “If I’m to pay your fees from the Merryville estate, I think you should act on it as soon as possible, or you might see the Merryville estate become bankrupt. Rupert never pays his bills.”
Mr. Barrett’s eyes widened. “What? Perhaps you’re right. Best I attend to this personally. Country air will probably do me good, eh?” He rose, coming around the desk to pat her hand.
“Now, you are not to worry your pretty head about it, Lady Rosalind. It shall be done.”
Rosie left his office, wishing she could believe Mr. Barrett would sort this matter out. Rupert was far wilier than he was.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When she and Aunt arrived home from morning calls, two letters awaited Rosie on the silver salver in the foyer. Aunt Rebecca eyed her but said nothing, sweeping past to climb the stairs.
Rosie’s heartbeat quickened as she unfolded Mr. Barrett’s letter.
He wrote that he had now returned from York with what he described as ‘promising news’. He implored her to come to his office tomorrow. The other was from Rupert. A chill rushed through her veins, before she read it. She expected him to know where she was. He had been biding his time. Now he would act.
“Dear Rosie,” he wrote. “I am sad that you’ve left me alone again. I expect you are enjoying yourself with all of London at your feet. I’m afraid that must end. I am sorry to be the purveyor of bad news. I am sure you would wish to learn that something bad has befallen Jim, your faithful servant. He has urgent need of your services. I love and miss you…your beloved husband, Rupert.”
Rosie stalked around her chamber, the ambiguous and disturbing missive crumpled in her hand. What did it mean? Had Rupert done something terrible to Jim? It would be her fault.
There was only one thing to do. She must return to York quickly, once she learned from Mr. Barrett where she stood.
When Rosie told Aunt Rebecca she wished to go home for a visit, she was surprised at her Aunt’s reaction. Aunt Rebecca sat bolt upright in her chair. “Why now, Rosalind?”
“I…am a trifle homesick, and I feel there may be things that need my attention.”
Aunt Rebecca’s penetrating gaze rested on Rosie. “When you appeared on my doorstep, my gel, you were in a ramshackle state and told me a fanciful story! And this not long after the Duke of Vale had come looking for you, and told me you’d lost your memory. So glad I was to see you, I held my tongue, but I’m dammed if I will do so now!”
“Oh, my goodness,” Rosie said, disconcerted by her aunt’s language.
“Yes. A favorite word of my dear husband’s and I can’t think of a better one. I shall have the truth from you, if you please. No more Banbury tales, mind. I am exceedingly fond of you, but such a merry dance you have led me since you came here.”
Rosie flushed. “I only sought to spare you, Aunt.”
“Come, I’m stronger than you know. You must tell me the truth.”
*****
The afternoon passed, and it grew late as they sipped sherry by the fire. Rosie still couldn’t tell her that she feared Rupert had murdered her father. She knew he had, for she’d seen the look on his face when she’d asked him, but that was sufficient proof.
Aunt Rebecca was distressed enough by what Rosie revealed to her. Her anger towards her nephew grew until it could not be contained.
“So, you have that scoundrel, Rupert, to answer for all of this. So like his father! Well, my dear, while I’m alive, no harm shall come to you. Let Rupert think long and hard on that! What’s to be done? I cannot allow you to go back to York and confront Rupert on your own. There is nothing for it. After you see this fool, Barrett, I must go with you.”
Rosie opened her mouth to protest.
“Please, don’t interrupt.” Aunt Rebecca threw off her shawl.
The cat leapt from her lap as she stood. “As you will not allow me to notify Vale of your whereabouts, whom you say is about to marry, we must see you safely back in Merryville House. Men have enough power over women in this world. He shall not take what is rightfully yours! Not another word, it is decided.”
She exited the room with a determined tread, leaving Rosie stunned. Was this the poor old lady she had met such a short time ago?
The next day, Rosie found Mr. Barrett rubbing his hands, apparently pleased with himself.
“Merryville seems quite affable,” he said. “It is true he is living in Merryville House, but he intends to improve the lands and make repairs to the house, all of which are sorely needed.”
Rosie frowned. “You spoke of news, Mr. Barrett?”
“You and he are not married, Lady Rosalind. The man who masqueraded as a preacher was a swindler with quite a reputation. Your cousin has no hold on you whatsoever.”
Rosie lips trembled. “Then Rupert will leave my house?”
“He is an asset to you, Lady Rosal
ind. He’s prepared to settle your bills.”
“Your bills, you mean.”
“Er, yes. Those too.”
Rosie’s hands balled into fists. “Then you won’t aid me in removing him?”
Mr. Barrett removed his spectacles and polished them with a handkerchief. “That is a complicated matter. We would need a magistrate’s order and a constable to evict him.”
“Then my aunt and I shall accompany you to York and see it is done.”
Mr. Barrett sniffed. “I will write to the magistrate, Lady Rosalind. Then we must wait his reply.”
“I have received word from Rupert.” Rosie held the letter out to him. I believe he is holding my groom against his will. He is trying to blackmail me into returning.”
Mr. Barrett took the letter from her with a frown. He read it through. “There’s no clear threat here.”
“I am able to read between the lines, Mr. Barrett. Rupert is holding my groom, Jim captive.”
He looked skeptical. “I see. I will mention this in my letter, if you wish.”
Rosie clenched her hands together. “But that’s going to take too long. Jim is in danger. We must go now and try to reason with Rupert. He is a dangerous man.”
“Lady Rosalind, if you feel the situation is dangerous; you must leave this to the Magistrate.”
“I intend to leave for York immediately.”
He studied her for several minutes. Then he seized a piece of vellum, picked up his pen and dipped it into the inkwell.
“Then you’ll take my letter with you, addressed to the magistrate, should you need it. This has been a most unfortunate business, Lady Rosalind. What your poor father would say about it, I don’t know.” He blotted the letter, folded and sealed it, and handed it to her. “I wish you a safe journey.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine