The Duke's Dilemma (5 page)

He smiled wryly as he remembered drinking a
fine brandy the previous night - no doubt it too had arrived without taxes
being paid, like much of the claret hidden away in the wine cellars under
Neddingfield.

James raised his hand indicating they were to
slacken their pace. They must be at their destination. He eased back on the
reins as did Robin who was riding beside him. Tom Clark was ahead riding beside
his friend. Ralph rather feared he had made an enemy of that man.

 
The
young man halted and swung to the ground. ‘I think it’s best if we tie the
horses here, I’d like you to see the encampment as I did, your grace.’

‘It’s possible I can establish how many men
there were by the evidence they’ve left. It might also be possible to say which
way they travelled and if they were accompanied.’ He didn’t need to elucidate,
the others knew he was referring to the missing staff and owner of
Neddingfield.

His men stepped aside allowing him to walk
ahead. He pushed some overhanging branches aside and found himself standing on
the edge of what could have been an abandoned camp left by soldiers. James was
right to think it had a military
flavour
; he didn’t
have to look around the enclosure to know the men who had been here were
ex-soldiers. However, what they were doing camping in this remote place or what
they had to do with his aunt, he had no notion.

He remained on the outside of the clearing and
the others stood and waited for instructions. He frowned. There was something
about this place unsettling him. He could see the imprints of horses’ hoofs,
but something was missing. God’s teeth! There were no footprints, none at all.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he shivered involuntarily. He
glanced over his shoulder to see if the others had seen this. There’d been too
much talk of ghosts and goblins and he had no intention of fuelling
speculation. This was an observation he’d keep to himself.

‘Robin, go and see if you can count how many horses
they had tethered over there. Tom, you and James walk along the small paths on
that side. See if any of them shows signs of having been used recently.’

He stood in the middle of the clearing counting
the sleeping hollows. He pushed his fanciful notions to the back of his mind.
He was a soldier. He dealt with facts. There were seventeen spaces on one side
of the fire, two on the other. He imagined these were for the equivalent of
officers, the rest the rank-and-file. There was something else that bothered
him. The place was too clean, no troops he’d ever commanded left their camp
looking so tidy. Where was the detritus that always accompanied such a place?

He kicked viciously at a flat stone left in the
fire pit and the pain of his stubbed toe cleared his head. There was one
disaster after the other at the moment. First he had had this wretched title
foisted on him and the fortune and responsibilities that went with it. He was a
simple man, a professional soldier; he’d never accumulated possessions. The
bounty he’d won in his many campaigns had been invested in the funds and he was
comfortable but not wealthy.

Like his cousin he stood to inherit half his
aunt’s fortune when she died, but as she’d told him several times over the past
few years, he was more likely to predecease her, the kind of rackety life he
lived. He had almost turned up his toes on several occasions and had the scars
to prove it.

When his lawyers eventually tacked him down to
inform him he was in direct line to inherit a dukedom and three estates he had
been dumbfounded. What did he need with all that responsibility?

Since his return from France with the Duke of
Wellington he had bought himself a smart house in Brook Street and was quite
content to spend his days drinking and gambling with his friends, or staying at
house parties all over the country. He was invited because he was a hero of
Waterloo; Major Sinclair had been mentioned in dispatches and had a string of
impressive medals to pin to his regimentals to prove it.

His lawyer was following the trail of another
distant branch of the family, cousins of Aunt Agatha’s. He hadn’t given up hope
someone else might yet be found and he would be able to relinquish this
unwanted grandeur and all the bother that went with it. His despondent thoughts
were interrupted by a shout from Tom.

‘Over here, your grace, we’ve found something.’

Chapter Five

Your grace, look at this.’

He looked and his eyes narrowed. The path at this
point was overgrown with hawthorn bushes and hanging from a patch of vicious
thorns was a strip of red material. Ralph realized it was from the jacket of a
soldier. This was something tangible, not like the campsite; for a while he’d
been unnerved and beginning to suspect he was dealing with the supernatural.

‘God’s teeth! A group of ex-soldiers
masquerading as serving members? This band of renegades must have convinced my
aunt to accompany them.’ Whoever was behind this had money and brains – this
was not the work of an amateur.

‘Shall I follow the trail, your grace? I’m not
sure where it goes; I’ve visited here several times but I’ve never been to this
part before’

‘Do that. I’m convinced they can’t have taken
them far; it would be nigh on impossible to keep their passage secret. Travel
carefully, keep your heads down and if you see anything suspicious observe but
don’t get embroiled in something you can’t handle on your own.’

The men returned with him to retrieve their
horses and he watched them mount and head off in single file through the gap.
The coast lay in that direction and with luck they would be back in an hour or
so. Robin joined him by the empty fire-pit and Ralph sensed his disquiet;
perhaps it would be wise to leave before his man noticed the lack of human
footprints.

‘I’ve seen enough here, it’s time I returned. I
still have to make my peace with my cousin.’

*

Hester, feeling considerably better, was able
to eat a slice of dry toast and drink a dish of weak tea without any unpleasant
after-effects. Birdie had gone downstairs to see if she could find writing
materials in the study. If they were to be staying here for more than a night
or two they both needed to replenish their wardrobes.

Although she had several changes of clothes in
the closet for some reason she no longer wished to appear in dowdy gowns when
she had a wardrobe full of outfits at
Draycot
Manor
that showed her at her best. She glanced down smiling ruefully at the generous
bosom the good Lord had seen fit to bestow on her. If only the rest of her
frame matched this excess of femininity. Unfortunately apart from her breasts
she was slender almost to the point of thinness. Her waist was tiny and so were
her hips and she had no roundness at the rear at all.

She grinned, thanking God at least from the
front no one could mistake for a boy. She leant across to pick up the glass of
boiled water from the side-table by her bed wincing as her hair, trapped behind
her shoulders, tugged her scalp. The sudden pain made her angry again. She hated
being an invalid and lolling around in bed was not something she enjoyed. She
wanted to be up about and solving the mystery of Aunt Agatha’s disappearance.

She heard the door opening in the sitting room
adjacent to her bedchamber and assuming it was Birdie called out cheerfully.
‘Come straight in, I’m feeling much better and believe I could eat a bowl of
soup if any is to be found.’

The door swung wide, but instead of her
companion she found herself staring at a man whose bulk entirely blocked the
doorway. Hester swallowed nervously – she’d no idea her adversary was a giant.

‘I’m afraid I’ve brought no soup, Miss
Frobisher, but I do have some humble pie and news about Aunt Agatha, if you
will allow me to come in.’

Forgetting the fact that she was sitting in her
nightgown, her hair floating around her shoulders and that she was about to
allow her cousin to breach convention in the most disastrous of ways, she
agreed. There were a few things she wished to say to this man. She addressed
him sweetly.

‘Please,
do
come in, your grace, I have been wishing to speak to you this age.’

She saw him look around for somewhere to sit
and seeing a plain wooden chair strolled across to collect it. She watched with
interest as he placed it is far away from the bed as he could without actually
being in the next room. Only then did she realize that the she should never
have invited him in. Too late to repine: he was here and he wasn’t leaving
until she’d received some answers.

‘Miss Bird will be back at any moment so I’m
sure, if you remain in the open doorway, no one can consider we have breached
convention.’

She saw his mouth twitch, and he raised an
eyebrow. She felt herself colour under his scrutiny and her pithy words
deserted her. Why did this man seem so familiar? He was a

stranger,
but could she have met him before?

Then she understood. Her hand came up to touch
a stand of her own hair; his was the exact same shade as the and waved a little
as it fell across his brow as hers did. His eyes were also hazel and he had the
same thick lashes rimming them. They came from different branches of the family
but by some quirk of fate had inherited a similar
colouring
.

‘I know, Miss Frobisher. We’re only distantly
related, but some oddity of nature has made us seem like siblings.’ He smiled,
and her heart jumped unexpectedly in her chest. Something flickered down her
spine. ‘However, there the similarity ends. I think I could be compared to a
farm horse whilst you, my dear cousin, are a thoroughbred.’

A thoroughbred? Comparing a lady to a horse,
however well bred, was unacceptable. Her eyes glittered dangerously. ‘I believe
that was meant to be a compliment, sir; however I don’t consider being compared
to an equine is something a young lady aspires to.’ She studied him closely; he
was surely the broadest man she’d ever set eyes on. He must have made a
formidable soldier.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Frobisher, it was not
my intention to offend.’ His words were conciliatory but his eyes remained
watchful.

She lowered her lids, attempting to marshal her
wandering thoughts. She found it oddly disturbing having such man in the same
room. There was a slight scrape of a chair – he’d moved and was standing
closer.

‘Are you well, Miss Frobisher? Shall I fetch
Miss Bird?’

She opened her eyes. This was the opportunity
she had been waiting for. ‘I’m remarkably well, Waverley, considering you
attempted to murder me a few days ago.’

He stiffened and his nostrils pinched. ‘I’ve
come to apologize for that grievous error, Miss Frobisher.’

She cut him short. ‘Do not. What you did was
inexcusable. Even if I had been an intruder such gratuitous violence was quite
unnecessary.’

He moved back to stand behind the chair, his
expression closed. ‘I’m a professional soldier, I make no apologies for that. I
heard a noise. How was I to know you were skulking around upstairs like a
burglar?’

A burglar? How dare he refer to her as such?
She had as much right to be at Neddingfield as he. ‘You’re not a soldier, sir,
you’re a duke and should behave as befits your station. Such violent
behaviour
is quite unacceptable amongst the aristocracy you
know.’

She tensed, waiting for his reply. She didn’t
expect it to be a polite one. Instead he laughed and resumed his seat. ‘I’ve no
wish to bandy the insults with you, miss. I do not deliberately mistreat
members of the fair sex.’ He smiled, his teeth flashed white and for a second
time her heart behaved most erratically. Hester found her anger melting beneath
his charm.

‘It’s a little late to remember that, your
grace.’ She returned his smile reluctantly. ‘I think then that I shall consider
myself David to your Goliath.’

This comment flummoxed him. His eyes narrowed
as he tried to decide exactly what she meant. She hoped he came to the
conclusion she intended; that he might be three times her weight but she would
defeat him by her intelligence.

He leant forward his eyes glittering strangely.
‘I do believe, my dear, that you’re throwing down a challenge. Do you think
we’re to be adversaries?’

 
‘I
believe I’m correct when I say that you attacked me viciously. I’m lucky to
have escaped with something as slight as a concussion.’

‘I came here, Miss Frobisher, to offer my most
humble and sincere apologies for injuring you. I have no excuse—

‘Then pray don’t offer one, your apology is now
accepted.’ For a moment she thought she’d gone too far, that her flippancy had
angered him. His jaw harden and she braced herself for a set down. To her
astonishment his chuckles filled the room.

 
‘My God,
you’re an original! It’s refreshing to meet someone who has the temerity to
stand up to me.’

‘In which case, as I have accepted
your
apology, are you ready to answer
my
questions?’

He sobered. ‘Of course, I’m sure there are many
things you would like to know, not least why plain
Mr
Sinclair, is now dancing around like a popinjay calling himself the Duke of
Waverley, Colebrook to his friends, of course.’ He said this with a decided
sneer.

Hester viewed him uncertainly. Was he jesting?
He sounded as disgusted as she that he

had
inherited a title. Surely he didn’t share her radical views? ‘Yes, that is one
of the things I’d like to know. You don’t seem overly pleased to be so
honoured
.’

 
‘I’m a
plain man, I told you, I’ve been a professional soldier all my life with neither
the desire nor the appropriate training to take a place in high society. But it
seems there was a connection that led the legal crows to me. So here I am, no
longer Major Sinclair, but Lord Colebrook, the Duke of Waverley.’

Hester was beginning to enjoy this conversation
and was feeling more alive and stimulated than she had for months. There were
footsteps approaching across the sitting room. She frowned knowing they were
both in disgrace.

‘Your grace, you are
de trop
. Miss Frobisher is not receiving. Kindly remove yourself at
once.’

She watched her cousin
leap to his feet and bow deeply to her outraged companion. He didn’t glance her
way, and without uttering a further word, vanished from the room leaving her
feeling sadly flat.

‘My dear, whatever were you thinking of?
Waverley should not be in here; you’re scarcely decent. You should have sent
him packing and he should have had more sense than to stay.’

‘Please don’t be cross, Birdie. He’s my cousin
after all, and although we’re only distantly connected did you see how alike we
are? He could be my brother, couldn’t he?’

Birdie snorted inelegantly. ‘That’s as maybe,
miss, but he isn’t your brother and has no right to take liberties as though he
was. Now, I have excellent news for you. A girl has been found who Tom thinks
will make an ideal abigail for you, a Polly Makepeace. He says she’s quietly
spoken and intelligent. When she arrives, if I agree with his assessment, I
shall appoint her. Tom said he passed her on the lane some time ago so I can’t think
what’s keeping her.’

Hester was delighted, if she had a maid to
attend her she could sit in the
parlour
and entertain her cousin and would be suitably
chaperoned even when Birdie was busy elsewhere.

‘That’s good news. Because you sent my cousin
away I’ve yet to discover what he knows about Aunt Agatha. I don’t suppose you
heard what it was?’

‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t. However, Bill is
about to return to
Draycot
with our carriage; he
thinks he will be home by mid-afternoon and can return with Jane and what we
require tomorrow morning.’

‘That’s excellent, Birdie. When you were in the
study did you find any clues as to why my aunt should have disappeared so
suddenly?’

Birdie shook her head. ‘Of course I didn’t, my
dear. I was hardly going to poke about amongst things that are no concern of
mine. It’s barely acceptable for you and the duke to examine Miss
Culley’s
private papers, but it would be the outside of
enough for someone like me to touch them.’

Hester changed the subject. ‘This girl, how is
it she’s available at such short notice?’

‘It’s very odd; it appears her mistress
collapsed and died on the way back from market yesterday. The girl was working
locally, you know, and Tom says gossip in the town seems to point to what’s
going on up here as being to blame for the poor lady’s death.’

‘I hardly see how that could be the cause of
this lady’s fatal apoplexy.’ Hester shuddered; the longer she was here the more
she believed something sinister was waiting to announce itself. It must be her
injury making her fanciful; after all she was renowned for her common sense.

‘Perhaps the lady was of a volatile nature and
the thought of what happened frightened her to death?’ It seemed highly
unlikely such a thing could happen but others were less pragmatic than she.

‘There’s murmuring about witchcraft and ghosts.
Maybe the girl felt she had no choice but to leave her employment before she
found herself accused of being responsible for her mistresses untimely end.’

The sound of movement in the dressing room made
Hester pause. ‘I think that might be her, Birdie. Call her in at once; if she’s
a local girl she might well be able to help me with my investigations.’