Never Dare a Duke

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘No, miss! Surely not. I beg you to reconsider—’

  ‘I am not an invalid. Lay out the burgundy muslin please.’

  Susan muttered and complained, but Farrah blocked out her litany of forebodings, wincing only when the girl brushed out her tangled hair and tied it back with a ribbon.

  ‘Thank you, Susan,’ she said when the disapproving maid had completed her task. ‘That will be all.’

  ‘As you wish, miss,’ she said. ‘But iffing you’d be so kind, please make sure the duke knows I told you not to leave your bed. He said it would be more than my position was worth if you didn’t do what you was told.’

  ‘Ah, that’s what worries you. You should have said. Don’t fret, I shall make sure that his grace knows whom to blame.’ As though he wouldn’t anyway.

  ‘I’ll walk down the stairs with you, miss,’ Susan said, apparently mollified. ‘Just in case you come over all faint, like.’

  Farrah accepted her company, even though she had no real need of it. She did feel light-headed and still had a slight headache, but she was also fighting mad and filled with a combination of curiosity and determination to get to the bottom of this murderous business.

  They reached the vestibule and Farrah heard voices coming from both the drawing room and from behind the closed door to the billiards room. She didn’t actually see anyone but it was obvious from the snippets of conversation she overheard that the ladies had taken up occupation of the drawing room and the gentlemen were hiding away on the pretence of playing billiards. She wondered if her attack was common knowledge, but suspected that Brin had kept it from everyone for fear of creating panic. Part of her wished that they did know, then there would be no further doubt that she had not attacked Lady Melody. But the rebellious part of her preferred for them to remain in ignorance. If they truly believed her capable of such wickedness then she wanted nothing to do with any of them, Hazel included, and no longer cared what they thought of her.

  ‘Thank you, Susan. I shall make my own way from here,’ she said, halting outside the drawing room to give the impression that she intended to join the ladies.

  Susan bobbed a curtsey and headed towards the kitchens. Farrah waited until she had disappeared from view, then crossed the hallway and paused on the threshold to Brin’s library, relieved when she heard voices coming from that room too. He must be in there, which would save her the trouble of asking Walker to find him for her without alerting the entire household.

  She took a deep, calming breath and tapped at the door.

  *

  ‘Mr Dorset, your grace.’

  Brin stood as Walker conducted his visitor into the library. He dismissed his butler with a nod and took his measure of Dorset; a tall, elegant man in late middle age, his well-tailored clothing damp and dusty from the road. He had thinning brown hair and dark, intelligent eyes.

  ‘Your grace, thank you for seeing me.’ He extended a hand, which Brin shook. Dorset’s grasp was firm, his bearing rigidly upright. Brin could see the resemblance to his daughter around the eyes and in some of his mannerisms. He exuded integrity and Brin took an immediate liking to him.

  ‘Welcome to Wentworth Abbey,’ Brin replied, before introducing Harlow.

  Seated in front of the fire, all three of them with whisky glasses in their hands, it was Dorset who spoke.

  ‘You are wondering what brings me to your door uninvited, your grace.’

  ‘The question crossed my mind, but that is not to say you are unwelcome.’

  ‘I was in London. I have dealings with the foreign secretary, you understand.’ Brin and Harlow both nodded to indicate that they did. ‘Castlereagh received your express, realised its implications and their possible effect upon my family, so instead of responding to it, he suggested I come down here in person. I hope I am not intruding, but I have an urgent need to see my daughter.’

  ‘And you shall, sir,’ Brin replied. ‘But there have been one or two incidents that you need to be made aware of first.’

  Preparing Dorset for a shock, Brin told him everything that had thus far occurred, making it clear that Farrah had been the intended target of both attacks. Dorset’s complexion lost all colour, his hands shook and Brin could see that he was struggling to contain shock, which soon turned to unmitigated anger.

  ‘I never thought it would come to this,’ he breathed.

  ‘You know who did this?’ Brin asked.

  Dorset nodded. ‘I have my suspicions. Is my daughter unharmed?’

  ‘She has a mild concussion, but nothing life-threatening. She was lucky.’ Brin paused; his expression uncompromisingly grim. ‘This time.’

  Harlow got up and refilled Dorset’s glass. He looked in dire need of the restorative effects of Brin’s single malt.

  ‘I am heartily sorry that this situation has arisen, especially here on my estate, Dorset,’ Brin said, ‘but now that you are here, I hope we can bring the culprit swiftly to book and prevent any further attempts on Miss Dorset’s life.’

  Dorset ran a hand through his sparse hair. ‘Would that it was that easy,’ he said, sighing. ‘I thought Farrah would be safe enough with the Beardsleys until I could get to grips with…’ His words trailed off as he shook his head repeatedly, clearly very distressed, then took a fortifying sip from his replenished glass.

  ‘I would appreciate an explanation so that we know what we are contending with,’ Brin said, having allowed a moment for Dorset to recover his composure.

  ‘And you shall have one.’ Dorset sat upright in his chair, put his glass aside and started talking. ‘My son Oscar is as much a disappointment to me as my daughter is a delight.’

  ‘You suspect your son of attempting to kill his own sister?’ Harlow asked, sharing an astounded glance with Brin.

  ‘I didn’t think he would go quite that far, but I should have known that desperate and vindictive men can be unpredictable, especially when they consider themselves to be ill-treated.’ He paused. ‘Did Farrah tell you about her grandfather’s legacy?’

  ‘I heard it mentioned that she has money but no idea how much.’

  ‘Farrah is as clever as her brother is dull-witted. I often think she was born with a man’s brain. Anyway, most things in life come down to money. Money or revenge. In Oscar’s case, he would be achieving both by doing away with my beloved Farrah, of whom he is spitefully jealous.’ He drew in a breath and let it out slowly; a deeply distressed man for whom Brin felt great sympathy. ‘My father was a wealthy man in his own right. I inherited his estate but he left substantial sums for both of his grandchildren in trust until they achieved their majorities. Oscar is a gamester and frittered his away at the tables, on expensive whores and on fine wines. He lived a lifestyle he couldn’t afford to support, attracting the sorts of undesirable hangers-on that gravitate instinctively towards fools with full pockets. I tried to keep control of his inheritance until he was ready to handle it in a competent manner, aware that it would slip through his fingers like shifting sand if I did not, but he refused all offers of help and advice from me.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but I thought he worked with you, securing lucrative government contracts in France,’ Brin said.

  ‘Ha! He was more of a hinderance than a help in that regard. The fact of the matter is that the fancy school I sent him to left him aspiring to a gentlemanly existence he is not in a position to maintain, and he resents the need to work. He says that dirtying his hands in the pursuit of financial gain makes him an object of derision.’ Dorset shook his head. ‘Seems to think money grows on trees and that I have an inexhaustible supply of it. Anyway, I made it clear to him that since he had run through his substantial inheritance in record time, he had no choice but to work with me, for our own benefit and that of our country. I rather hoped that patriotism might give him a purpose, an excuse to do what was necessary to keep the wolf from the door but—’

  ‘It did not,’ Brin suggested.

  ‘Indeed it did not, but he had no choice. I’d made
it perfectly clear to him that I would not discharge his debts for him again, and that he would have to lower his standards and work for a living. I gave him small tasks to perform that didn’t require much intellect and which it was almost impossible for him to mishandle, hoping that he would mature with the passage of time and that he would see how worthwhile our efforts were. But what I gave him to do left him with too much time on his hands, and despite having exhausted his funds, he continued to gamble. I bailed him out on more than one occasion and each time he promised me it wouldn’t happen again. Of course, it always did.’

  Brin nodded. ‘A distressing situation. What did you do?’

  ‘Oscar is my only son, and I blame myself for the way he turned out. Even so, things couldn’t go on the way they were. The crunch came when he ran up the biggest debt ever at a place called the Albion in Southampton. He came to me, very subdued, and told me that he was in serious trouble. Men whom it was unwise to get on the wrong side of were pressing him for the settlement of his debts. If I would help him just once more…I refused, told him he’d had more than one warning. Well, he flew off the handle and said things that couldn’t be put down to the heat of the moment, apologised for or subsequently unsaid. He accused me of favouring Farrah over him and being unnecessarily strict. All gentlemen gambled, it was expected of them and…well, I will spare you the particulars. I told Oscar that he would have to take responsibility for his own actions and that I had washed my hands of him.

  ‘He went off in a huff and I didn’t see him again for two weeks.’ Dorset paused, staring at the rain pelting against the window glass, lost in his own form of hell. ‘I should mention at this point that he had become over-friendly with a man by the name of Elton.’ Brin shared a raised-eyebrow look with Harlow, but didn’t interrupt Dorset’s flow. ‘I blame Elton for Oscar going so comprehensively off the straight and narrow and advised him more than once to drop the friendship. It was Elton who introduced Oscar to the Albion and encouraged him to gamble for such high stakes. I made it clear to my son that I didn’t approve of the connection and that Elton was not welcome in my house.’

  Brin nodded. ‘But you are not convinced that Oscar obeyed your instructions?’

  ‘I know now that he did not, but I should have taken measures to ensure that he couldn’t defy me. If I had known that Farrah would be drawn into this undignified mess…’ Dorset shook his head and paused to blow his nose. ‘I didn’t want my daughter to have anything to do with Oscar’s unsavoury friend. As far as I was aware, they weren’t even acquainted. But then Oscar came to me a few weeks after our previous argument, fighting mad. He told me that Farrah had welcomed Elton’s attentions, flirted openly with him and encouraged him to think that her affections were engaged. But she then insulted him by declining his proposal and I had a duty to make her accept him. I was horrified and Oscar and I had a terrible fight. He took himself off, having severed all connections with my business in France, and I had no idea where he went.’

  ‘What did you do, sir?’ Harlow asked.

  ‘I’d received a letter from Farrah asking permission to stay with her friend Lady Hazel until Christmas. I thought it an excellent plan. The Beardsleys are a highly respectable family. Something had finally gone right, and she would be safely out of the way, making it impossible for Elton to renew his proposal or for her brother to pressure her into accepting it. I’d been thinking of retiring anyway and the unpleasantness with Oscar made my mind up for me. I had neglected Farrah in favour of pursuing my business. I threw myself into it after her mother died to help overcome my grief and…well, once the government asked for my help, I couldn’t seem to extricate myself. Farrah assured me that she was content, and since I knew she occupied herself with her books and had no particular wish to embrace society, I had always thought her safe and content.’

  ‘She told me that she was perfectly content, if that’s any consolation,’ Brin said softly.

  Dorset inclined his head in acceptance of the reassurance before resuming his narrative. ‘I have made more than enough money to secure a comfortable old age and my daughter’s future. She insists that she has a disinclination to marry and she will have enough money to eschew that institution if she doesn’t meet anyone who wins her heart. I have concluded most of my ongoing negotiations in France, and I returned to England just this week to tell Castlereagh that I shall be leaving his service in the near future. Then your express arrived, so I came straight down here.’

  A log crackled in the grate and sparks flew up the chimney, some of them landing on Shadow before extinguishing themselves. The slumbering dog didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘In the meantime, I have given my servants in London strict instructions not to admit my son to the house,’ Dorset said. ‘He is dead to me, and until he mends his ways he will continue to be so. Farrah is now my priority. I have neglected her in favour of the accumulation of wealth and recognition for too long.’ He scrubbed a hand down his tired face. ‘Thank the good Lord that my neglect did not result in her murder.’

  ‘You imagine your son tried to have her killed?’ Brin said. ‘Presumably her inheritance would pass into his hands if she were to die.’

  Dorset gave a grim nod. ‘Those were the terms of my father’s will. If one of them were to die before reaching one-and-twenty, the other would inherit his or her share. Oscar is well aware of that.’

  Harlow frowned. ‘There are a few things I don’t understand about this unsavoury business. Miss Dorset is convinced that no one has any reason to want her dead, but you knew at once that your son has massive financial obligations that he would be able to discharge if something were to happen to your daughter. It would be an almighty risk for him to take, since he must be aware that you wouldn’t protect him. I am sure he didn’t carry out the attacks himself. He will have been somewhere else, surrounded by people who could vouch for him, but even so…’

  ‘We know he did not carry out the attacks,’ Brin added. ‘A man employed at the Albion has been identified as the culprit.’

  Dorset’s shoulders slumped and he appeared to age ten years before Brin’s eyes. Much as he was at odds with his son, it seemed he had been holding on to the hope that he had not stooped quite so low. ‘There can be no further doubt then?’

  ‘Wouldn’t he have been better advised to try and have you killed?’ Brin asked. ‘You must have accumulated your share of enemies and business rivals over the years, especially now when feelings after the war are still running so high. Presumably Oscar would inherit a lot more than he stands to gain from his sister’s death.’

  ‘Actually, no. I told him when we last argued that I was changing my will and leaving everything to Farrah.’ Dorset set his jaw in a stubborn line. ‘I’ve done it as well, and I made sure he was aware he can have no expectations in that regard. I will not allow him to fritter away what I have worked so hard to accumulate.’

  ‘I see.’ Brin nodded in sympathy, admiring the man’s determination. It could not have been easy for him. ‘So, the question remains, how do we protect your daughter? If your son is as desperate for money and as bent upon revenge as you suggest, then I cannot imagine that the threat will disappear.’

  ‘We shall have to…’ Dorset broke off when someone knocked at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ Brin shouted impatiently, annoyed by the interruption.

  The door opened and Farrah stepped through it. ‘Oh, excuse me. I was not aware that you had a visitor.’

  ‘Miss Dorset,’ Brin said at the same time, half rising from his chair. ‘What on earth are you doing out of bed?’

  ‘Papa!’ Her eyes widened in shock when her father stood and turned to face her. ‘What are you doing here?’ She flew across the room into her father’s outstretched arms. ‘I am so happy to see you,’ she cried.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘My dear.’ Papa patted Farrah’s shoulder as she struggled to contain her emotions. ‘I am so very glad that you were not seriously harmed. His grace has just
been telling me all about your travails.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Brin asked, when she finally disengaged herself from her father’s arms and he conducted her to the chair closest to the fire. ‘Irresponsible female,’ he added sotto voce. ‘I shall deal with your disobedience later.’

  Farrah sent him an arch look, even as her heart sang at his proprietary behaviour. ‘I am much recovered, thank you. What brings you here, Papa? I assume his grace sent word. I wish he had not. I don’t need you to worry about me.’

  Every man in the room shook his head at her. Brin looked especially exasperated but it was her father who answered her. ‘It is my job to worry about you, my love, not yours to protect my feelings.’

  ‘Your father thinks he knows the reason for the attacks,’ Brin said gently.

  Farrah sat forward expectantly. ‘Then by all means enlighten me.’

  Her father moved to the chair beside her and squeezed her hand. ‘You must be very brave,’ he said, and then launched into an explanation that caused her mouth to fall open in abject shock.

  ‘Oscar?’ She shook her head repeatedly, mindless of the pain it caused her. ‘I cannot believe it.’ She drummed the index finger of one hand abstractedly against her lips. ‘My inheritance. It didn’t even cross my mind.’ She sent her father a supplicating look, struggling to hold back tears. ‘He must be either very desperate or quite overcome with hatred towards me.’

  ‘Can I get you something for the shock, Miss Dorset?’ Brin asked. ‘You look very pale.’

  ‘No, I shall be fine in a moment or two, thank you. It’s just not every day one learns that one’s brother wishes to kill one.’ She looked up at him, unable to conceal her distress. ‘I never dreamed my brother’s antipathy ran quite so deep.’

  She sighed, surprised how quickly she was able to come to terms with the possibility. She recalled the odd resentful remark he had passed from time to time, the manner in which he had looked at her with derision when he didn’t think she was watching him. She had disregarded his jealousy because she hadn’t wanted to confront it. Perhaps if she had done so they might have cleared the air between them, then he wouldn’t have argued with Papa or become desperate enough to try and kill her.