A deep voice from behind startled her. “May I be of some assistance?” It was the Duke of Durton.
“Yes, I appear to have gotten myself turned around,” she admitted sheepishly. Her anger had faded with each step further into the maze. It was difficult to remain angry when surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. It was quite out of character, I assure you.”
“It was deserved. We should never have presumed to speak of you in such a fashion. It was ungentlemanly. Can you find it in your heart to forgive us, Miss Bolton?” He bowed over her hand in a most chivalrous manner.
“Of course,” she acquiesced. “What an interesting few days it has been.”
“Quite,” he agreed. “It will be some time before Arthur is able to move about with any ease. Until then, please do look upon Durton Manor as your home.”
“I thank you, Your Grace.”
“Duncan, please.”
“As you wish, Duncan.” Eliza smiled and followed him out of the hedge maze. “I should probably go and speak with His Grace upstairs.”
“Arthur will be glad to have you back at his side.”
Eliza reentered the house and climbed the stairs to the Duke’s room. She rehearsed her apology as she walked. When she entered the room, she caught him attempting to rise from the bed on his own. “Your Grace! What are you doing?! You should not be attempting to move about of your own accord!” Eliza rushed to his side.
“I was coming to find you and apologize,” he answered, allowing her to bundle him back beneath the covers.
“Nonsense. There is no need. I am sorry for my outburst. It was most unbecoming of me, and I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace,” Eliza replied checking his wounds once more for leakage. “You must cease from moving about and allow yourself to heal.”
“Yes, Miss Bolton,” he replied. She could tell by his tone that he was amused with her motherly fussing. “Friends?”
“Friends,” she agreed, nodding her head in acceptance.
“Will you allow me to explain myself?” he asked with a hopeful expression in his eyes holding out his hand to her in supplication.
As a nobleman, he was not required in the slightest to explain himself to a governess, but Eliza was pleased that he wished to. The notion that they could all be friends, true friends, was inspiring and in itself went against social decorum. Eliza nodded her head agreeing to hear what he had to say.
“As you may have heard from Mrs. Philips, my father was a less than honorable man.” He paused to wait for verification. When Eliza nodded, he continued. “He did terrible things, and I have been attempting to make amends for his actions.”
“Such as saving young women from ruffians in the dead of night?” Eliza decided that with everything that had passed between them, it was time for the truth to emerge.
“How long have you known it was me?” the Duke asked, his eyes becoming alert.
“Since the day you hired me, but it was confirmed the night I saw you bleeding in Mrs. Philip’s sitting room below stairs,” she admitted.
“It was you who cleaned up after me that night,” he realized.
“How were you wounded?” she asked.
“The men from whom I defended you attacked me,” he explained.
“I am so very sorry that I was the cause of your misfortune,” she exclaimed horrified.
“What were you doing out so late at night?”
Eliza realized that a young unmarried woman being out so late at night must have looked terribly scandalous to a man such as he. “I was out tending to the wagon maker’s family. He had his leg amputated and his wife needed my assistance.”
“The Wainwrights?”
“Yes, you know of them?”
“I do. I was on my way to see them that very night,” he explained. “Fate or coincidence, do you think that I would be there on the very night that you needed my aid?”
“Fate or no, I am grateful to you. How long have you known it was I?” she asked taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“From the day I hired you. It would appear neither one of us is very good at hiding our identities,” the Duke chuckled.
“Apparently not,” she agreed smiling at their failed attempts at covertness.
“The point I am trying to make by telling you all of this, and the cause of my early offense, is that I must regain my family’s honor. No matter the sacrifice, I must restore our good name. Do you understand what I am trying to say?” The Duke met her eyes pleading for her understanding. “I don’t really expect you to. Your father is a good man.”
“I do understand, Your Grace, but I also know that you cannot live your life paying recompense for another’s misdeeds. Whatever your father did, it is his and his alone. He has already been made to answer for his crimes in death. Do not allow yourself to be his victim from beyond the grave.” Eliza was surprised at her own forwardness, but there was something about the man that made her want to speak out and be heard.
“Duncan has said very similar things to me on many occasions,” he admitted. “Our argument over you was just the most recent in a never-ending conversation.”
Eliza took his hand in hers, “I understand why you said what you did about my station in life, and I forgive you for speaking of me in such a fashion. You need not worry that I will ever hold it against you.I am well aware that you must marry a woman of your station and I encourage you to do so, but only if that is what you wish to do, not what your father’s ghost extorts from you.”
“Listen to her, Arthur,” Duncan’s voice spoke from the doorway. “She is wise beyond her years.”
His voice broke the spell of familiarity that had fallen over them and Eliza realized that she had overstepped her place. “Forgive my forward speech, Your Grace.” Eliza released her hold on the Duke’s hand and stood.
The Duke reached out and took her hand once more stopping her from leaving his side. “I find that pain and suffering has a way of breaking down barriers between people. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” She smiled relaxing, “I do.” Turning to Duncan, she asked, “How are the children? I should be getting back to them.”
“They are still playing in the garden happy as can be. The servants are keeping an eye out for them. You are needed here. The children will be fine without you for the time being.” Duncan waved away her worries and came to sit back down in the chair beside the bed. “There is something we all need to discuss.” His mood turned grave.
“What is it, Duncan?” the Duke asked.
“I had the wreckage from your carriage brought to my stables to see if anything could be salvaged. What I found has me quite perturbed.” Duncan’s frown caused Eliza to squeeze the Duke’s hand in concern. “ The carriage has been tampered with. Someone had deliberately sabotaged your conveyance with the intent to harm you. Mayhap even bring about your demise.”
Chapter 11
Arthur could not believe his ears. Someone had tried to murder him. “Who would do such a thing?” Miss Bolton’s shocked look upon her face was undeniable.
“My father had many enemies. Any one of them could have been responsible.” He was going through the list of possible candidates in his mind.
“I know you do not wish to associate yourself with your father’s underground criminal connections, but if you are to protect yourself, we must find out who has done this to you. Is there anyone within your father’s circle who could inquire among the dredges of his past as to who would be so bold as to attempt the murder of a duke?” Duncan’s hands were balled into fists, and Arthur could just imagine what his friend would do to the culprit if he ever got his hands on him.
“There might be. I suppose I could send a missive to the Marquess of Denlington asking him to inquire into the matter, but I would prefer not to owe the man any favors,” Arthur answered frowning. “He has been after me to take my father’s place in their joint enterprise.”
“I could go and ask in your place. Then
if anyone owes him, it is me.” Duncan offered shrugging his shoulders.
Arthur sighed, then tilted his chin and looked at Duncan. “I appreciate that you would be willing to do such a thing, but you do not wish to be beholden to that man any more than I do.”
“You are right, of course, but he has no hold over me or my family. It could not do any real harm, could it? If I must pay him coin for the service, it would be a price worth paying to bring the attempted murderer to justice. I will make it clear that he is not welcome here at any time during your recuperation or after for that matter.” Duncan’s idea was sound, but Arthur hated to be an imposition upon his friend’s hospitability, but he could not exactly go and see the marquess himself given his current state.
“If I agree, you will be brought to his attention, and a man under Denlington’s eye is in for trouble. He will examine every aspect of your life until he finds something to manipulate. His two favorite forms of skullduggery are blackmail and extortion,” Arthur warned. “In fact, I am not so sure I wouldn’t put murder past him come to think of it.”
“Do you think he could be the one responsible?” Miss Bolton asked concerned. “He visits your mother and is around the children at regular intervals each week.”
“I do not think so. I am worth more to him alive as a possible future business partner than I ever would be dead. Gabriel would not a very competent criminal make.” Arthur hoped he was right and was not misjudging the situation.
“Even so, I would prefer that the children are kept well clear of the man.” Miss Bolton’s nose wrinkled as if she had smelled something foul. Arthur found it adorable. He wished to reach out and smooth the wrinkles with his fingers. He imagined leaning over a placing a kiss on the bridge of her petite nose.
No, he chastised himself. She has proved herself to be a dear and loyal friend in times of trouble, but that is all.
Attempting to alter his thoughts, Arthur returned to the conversation at hand. “Duncan, I will send you with a letter of introduction explaining the situation. If Denlington attempts anything of a remotely scurrilous nature, I want your word that you will leave immediately and return home.”
“You have it,” Duncan promised. “I will take two footmen with me to give you peace of mind.”
“With this most recent development, would it not be best that His Grace and the children be guarded in case the culprit tries again? As it was the carriage that was damaged, we cannot be sure that whomever is responsible was not after the entire family,” Miss Bolton pointed out.
Arthur had not thought of that. “You have a good head for this sort of intrigue.”
“I have had some experience with murderers,” she replied solemnly.
Poor Miss Bolton. She watched her entire family be murdered and barely escaped with her own life. Arthur felt like an insensitive lout for his comment. “Forgive my insensitivity.”
“Not at all. You spoke the truth. I do have a mind for it. I have often given much thought to the topic in hopes of finding my parents’ murderers. I have not yet succeeded in the task,” she admitted.
“You are right, of course. We will put a guard on Arthur and the children immediately,” Duncan promised. “It would be best if you all stayed inside while I am gone.”
“Of course. I will bring the children in for luncheon now.” Miss Bolton left the room.
“I see she has forgiven you,” Duncan noted to Arthur with a smile as Eliza walked out of the room.
“It would appear so, though I am not deserving,” Arthur replied. “This business with the carriage is unsettling. I am grateful that she and the children were not with me.”
“As am I. I have had my men examine all of our conveyances and horses, as well as sent word for your men to do the same at Rosenhill,” Duncan informed him.
“Good man,” Arthur replied, thankful for his friend’s attention to detail. “Hand me a pen and paper so I can write you that letter of introduction.”
When Arthur was done writing, he sealed the letter and sent it on his way. “Be wary, my friend.”
“I will be back before supper,” Duncan promised and then was gone.
I feel as though I am sending him into battle unarmed.
The hours it took for Duncan to ride to Denlington and back to Durton felt like an eternity. Arthur attempted to pass the time playing chess with the children and Miss Bolton. Though entertaining, it did not ease his troubled mind. Someone had tried to kill him, and he could not ignore the feeling that he was endangering the people he loved just by being alive.
As he lay waiting, he began to wonder if the attack in the streets the night he was stabbed had been entirely about his coming to Miss Bolton’s aid, or if it had been an attempt on his life orchestrated by the same person or persons responsible for the carriage accident. It was hard to believe that two attempts on his life in one week could be a coincidence. He was not a violent man, and the only enemies he possessed were those of his father who sought retribution.
If anyone knows, it will be Denlington.
He would have gotten up and paced the floor had he been able. As it was, he could barely move, and any time he tried, Miss Bolton was there to stop him. She insisted that any perambulation on his part with his extensive injuries would further endanger his health. In copious amounts of pain, Arthur did not argue with her for very long.
As they waited, she read to them from Sir Walter Scott’s works, a distraction that Arthur very much enjoyed. He quite loved the Scotsman’s prose and sense of adventure. As he lay there, he drifted off to sleep and dreamt that he was a brave knight of Camelot taking Miss Bolton and the children upon his steed carrying them off safely to Scotland. He could hear Dr. Burn’s deep brogue in the voices around them as they rode through the highlands.
A hand to his forehead startled Arthur awake. To his surprise, it was Dr. Burns who stood over him asking Miss Bolton as to his condition. “Nae fever I see?”
“No. We have been fortunate thus far,” Miss Bolton was saying. “He has drifted in and out of sleep for most of the day, but he has had extended periods of coherent conversation, so I do not believe he has suffered any irreversible damage. I have kept a close eye on his wounds. As long as he doesn’t move around too briskly, he should heal slowly, but adequately.”
“Excellent news. Well, I will leave ye now and come back upon the morrow to check on his progress,” Dr. Burns informed her.
“I do not wish to be any trouble,” Arthur said, attempting to sit up.
“Nae trouble at all, Yer Grace. Helpin’ the sick and injured is my pleasure and duty,” Dr. Burns answered. “Ye are in capable hands with Miss Bolton at the helm. I have nae doubts that ye owe yer lack of fever and infection tae her care more than mine.”
“Indeed. I am finding out more each day just how truly blessed I am.” Arthur smiled at her, genuinely glad to have her by his side.
“Well I will leave ye tae rest, but please dinnae hesitate tae call upon me if needed.” Dr. Burns bid them all farewell and departed once more.
“Has Duncan returned yet?” Arthur asked once the doctor had gone.
“No, not yet,” she replied. “The doctor asked if we had been able to ascertain what had caused the accident, but I was not sure whether to mention our suspicions, so I remained silent on the matter.”
“You made the right choice. Until we know who it is that is trying to kill me and why, it is best if we keep our own confidences. We wouldn’t want to risk anyone else’s life by involving them,” he agreed.
“I had the same thought. I hope His Grace returns soon with answers. The children are growing restless from being kept inside for so long. They absolutely adore the hedge maze in the garden,” she informed him.
“Perhaps we should consider adding one at Rosenhill for them,” he offered.
“That would be splendid! The children will be so excited. They could assist in determining its design,” she proposed.
“Indeed. A wonderful idea,” he agree
d.
They continued to talk for some time about various issues, attempting to take their minds off of the ominous gloom that lay as a dark shadow over them, but eventually, their conversation circled back around to what was foremost in their thoughts. “There are rumors that your father’s death was not dealt by anonymous highwaymen. I assume you have heard such talk?”
“Yes, I have had similar thoughts myself although the rumors about my mother are a bit farfetched. She may not be a caring woman, but she is not a murderer. I have attempted to keep my father’s actions as private as possible, but as you know, servants talk. Father was not a covert man. One cannot blackmail and extort people unchecked without drawing attention to themselves. He was arguably one of the most hated men in the county.”
The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 12
