The Orphan and the Duke (19 page)

“I’ll send a messenger over at dawn to ask for them,” Basil said.

“He won’t send them. I know him. Even if he has them, he’ll not let me see them.” Amelia sighed.

“What’s the rest of the story of your rescue?” Myles asked.

“What do you mean?” Confused, Amelia shook her head.

“Did they say how they retrieved you? Weren’t we at war with France? Or was the revolution still active? Where did they find you? Why were they in Paris in the first place?” The questions came in such rapid succession, Amelia became dizzy.

“My uncle once mentioned that my father was one of a group of British men who saved people from the Reign of Terror. He never said anything about what my mother did.”

“Anything else?” Myles asked.

She thought for a while then remembered something. “Uncle Henry said my father, after he met my mother, settled in some small town between Paris and Calais on the trade route since he was still saving people from Madame Guillotine and was back and forth across the channel.”

“Well, at least your father was a brave man. Not like your uncle who beats on young girls.” Basil’s voice reflected his disdain for Mandeville.

“Yes, he was. I’ve held on to that information my whole life. I knew I came from someone wonderful, and that helped me cope with the ugliness around me.”

Basil put his arm around Amelia and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had that life. I swear no one will ever hurt you again.”

Augusta leaned forward. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

“Amelia has agreed to be my wife.” Basil’s smile made Amelia’s heart soar.
He really does love me. He’s not ashamed at all to tell of our engagement. He even looks ecstatic.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Augusta crossed the space between the two settees to pull Amelia to her feet and into a hug. “This makes me so happy.”

“Why?” Amelia couldn’t resist asking.

“Because you two are good for each other. You belong together.”

“And none of you care that I’m not legitimate?”

“We don’t care either way, but you really have no idea if your parents were married or not, do you? Why not just say they were?” Augusta asked.

“But I wouldn’t want to lie.”

“I think we need to go to France to find the truth,” Myles said.

“It doesn’t matter to me. I love Amelia and will marry her no matter what.” Basil looked across at Myles. “And in case you’ve forgotten, we’re at war with France. We cannot merely cross the channel to search for a marriage license.”

“Yes, we can. If you’re not afraid of a bit of danger.” Myles grinned.

“But if it matters not, then why do it?” Amelia asked.

“I have a feeling it’s very important,” Myles said.

“Why?” Basil asked.

“Let’s just say I think it’s worth a trip. I don’t want to say much more until I can find some additional information.”

“How could we manage a trip to France? What will I do about my sisters and Amelia? It’s imperative they are safe. I don’t know if the magistrate will hold Longthorne, and I can’t allow him to vex my sister and compromise her. It’s clear he’s not going to give up until he’s my brother-in-law. If I go off to France, I leave Saffron open to danger.”

“To say nothing of what Amelia’s uncle may try to do.” Augusta squeezed Amelia’s hand.

“My uncle has tossed me out. He’s not a worry.”

“You don’t know that. He may be leaving you alone since you’re under the protection of the Duke of Darnley, but what if the duke were absent?” Augusta asked.

“You’re correct there, darling. Why don’t we send them with you to your father’s estate? You’d all be safe there.” Myles smiled at his wife.

“I thought I’d accompany you to France,” Augusta said.

“You’d go to France?” Amelia gasped.

“Of course. It’s not that far.” Augusta winked. She then returned to her husband’s side and sat.

“Much as I hate to admit it, though, you’re right, Myles. I should stay here and protect the ladies.” Augusta paused for a beat. “But we stay at my father’s townhouse since he’s here. I don’t want the girls to miss their first season. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough, and even better if you can talk Lancelot into escorting you all each time you venture out.” Myles patted her hand. “Not that I don’t have confidence in your skills.”

“After seeing your wife with that sword, I have confidence in her as well, Cuthbert.”

“So you’re really going to France?” Amelia asked.

“Yes. It seems so. We’ll send for whatever papers your uncle has tomorrow—today really, since it’s well after midnight—as well as visit the church to arrange for the banns to be read.” Basil kissed the side of Amelia’s head.

“I think you should wait on the banns until we return,” Myles said.

“Why?” Basil asked. “I’d like them to run while we’re gone so we’d be closer to a wedding date when we come home.”

“What if we find she’s not Miss Mandeville after all?” Myles asked.

“What does that mean?” Amelia asked.

“Nothing.” Myles shook his head. “But since we’re looking for a marriage license, I thought we might look for a birth certificate while we’re there.”

“Then we need to wait. If I don’t have my father’s name, the banns will be wrong.” Strangely excited to know the truth but terrified as well, Amelia leaned against Basil.

Chapter 18

Basil adjusted himself in the saddle as he rode along behind Myles through the French countryside. They’d made it to Calais in the hold of a ship, and Cuthbert had made arrangements to have horses and supplies waiting for them. He was hopeful they would find some answers for Amelia.

The first night they slept in bedrolls deep in the woods. Basil tossed and turned for a while, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground, but a root kept poking him in the hip. He finally moved his pallet and dozed off soon after.

It was still dark when Myles shook him awake.

Basil jerked to a sitting position.

“Shh, I hear someone. Grab your gear and be silent about it. I have the horses ready.”

Following Myles’ instructions, Basil tugged on his boots and rolled up his bedding without saying a word.

When they were both mounted, Myles led the way slowly through the brush and down to the river.

Basil flinched each time his horse stepped on a twig, sure the sound was echoing through the night.

They rounded a curve. Myles held his hand out to signal Basil to stop.

In the distance, Basil could see three men on horseback. It didn’t seem they had noticed Basil and Myles.

“We’ll ride up the slope and try to avoid them, but if they follow, let me do the talking,” Myles whispered.

They made it a quarter mile, by Basil’s reckoning, before the men came in pursuit.

He and Myles spurred their horses on until they were covered in sweat, but the three men kept pace with them. Images of his sisters and Amelia left alone in the world if he died in France spurred him on, and he pushed his horse at a brutal pace.

A shot rang out. Basil’s stomach lurched, and he glanced over to see if Myles had been hit.

Not only had he not been hit, he reined in, turned his horse to face their pursuers, and skidded to a stop. He pulled a firearm from his waistband and pointed it. He yelled something in French but spoke so fast Basil didn’t understand him.
Has he lost his mind? Turning
toward
gunfire?

When the others came to a stop with two of them pointing weapons, the man who appeared to be the leader doffed his hat and responded, also in French.

Basil’s schoolboy lessons in the language came back as the man asked if they were also brigands.

To Basil’s surprise, Myles said,
“Oui.”

The man then bowed as he sat in the saddle and said,
“Excusez-moi, c’est ma faute.”

They turned and rode off. Basil shook his head.
Who is Myles Cuthbert really? That these apparent robbers would just leave after being told this information?

“These woods are always full of highwaymen. It’s better to pretend to be one as well. They have sort of a gentleman’s code—or a non-gentlemen’s code, I should say.” Myles tucked his pistol away. “Come along. Might as well walk the horses back to the river to let them cool off before we go on our way.”

How does he know this? Just how often is he in France and in these woods?
Basil wanted to ask Myles a lot of questions but decided it would be better to stay silent until he was back on English soil. His rudimentary French would not help him if Myles decided he was too much trouble to continue in this quest. He needed his friend to aid him in the foreign land, no matter what kind of man he was.
Trust is vital.

For the next two days, they rode from town to town on the trade route, stopping at various churches to talk to priests and checking records in the cities as well. Basil wasn’t used to so much riding and ached in places he never knew existed. They’d had one more narrow escape, this time from soldiers in French uniforms, but Myles had spotted an old, partially burned down barn for them to shelter in with their horses. Basil had wondered at the time if Myles already knew about the structure as it seemed he led them right to it when they were pursued.

When they made camp on the third day, Myles passed him a hunk of bread they’d purchased that morning, along with a wedge of cheese.

“Let’s eat then look at the map again to see where to go from here,” Myles said.

“Do you think we’ve wasted our time?”

“No. I’m sure there’s someone who knows about the history of Miss Amelia Mandeville. We just haven’t found the correct man yet.”

“What do you think it is? Amelia said you studied her ring intently when you first saw it, and when you were holding it in my parlor, you looked very thoughtful.”

“You might think I’ve lost my sanity, but I’ll tell you. I didn’t want to say anything to the ladies as you and I know how they romanticize things, but I think that ring of Amelia’s is connected to the Grimaldi family.”

“The
Grimaldis
? How so?” Basil almost choked on the piece of cheese he’d put in his mouth.
A royal connection? My Amelia? How can that be?

Myles waved his hand in the air as he talked. “I’ve studied some heraldry from a number of European countries and recognized the Grimaldi crest on the ring. When Amelia said it belonged to her mother, it confused me since I hadn’t heard of a member of the family who married a British chap.”

“She
does
insist her uncle says she’s illegitimate. Maybe her mother was forbidden to marry him.”

“I can’t imagine it being allowed, but I also wonder how the child would’ve come out of Monaco.”

“Maybe whoever owned the ring lost it, or maybe it was stolen by the woman who would become Amelia’s mother. She could’ve been a servant in the household, fell pregnant, and needed funds to escape with her lover, Amelia’s father.”

“But the ring wasn’t disposed of.” Myles took the last bit of bread and ate it. As soon as he swallowed, he said, “We can’t solve it tonight. I suggest we start out again fresh tomorrow.”

“I agree.” Basil turned over on his pallet and soon drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to the sound of someone whispering.

Sitting up, he peered through the darkness to see Myles at the outer edge of the reach of the glow of the fire talking to someone in French.

Concerned that he was in a foreign country with a man he barely knew, Basil rose, made sure he had his pistol handy, and moved to where the two men stood.

“What’s he saying?” Basil asked in what he hoped was a casual way.
If Cuthbert is a French spy, I’ll have to dispatch him and then be on my own in enemy territory.

“I sent a letter on to Paris before we left London, and this is one of my contacts. He’s been doing the same thing we are but coming the other direction from Paris.”

“One of your contacts? What does that mean, Cuthbert?” Basil placed his hand on the handle of his weapon in case he needed to use it.

“I was hoping to avoid telling you, but I serve as an agent for His Majesty.”

“King George?” Basil hated to have to ask, but there was a contingent of French people who were working to restore the monarchy in France. He needed to know where Cuthbert’s loyalties lay, despite the fact that he was married to the daughter of a duke
.
“Of course King George.” Myles clapped him on the back and laughed. “My good man, surely you didn’t think I was for the French?”

“You
do
speak flawlessly.” Basil shrugged and then laughed at himself for thinking, even for an instant, that his friend was a French spy.
I got part of it right. He is a spy, but thank goodness I was wrong on the rest.
Having to kill a friend on enemy soil wasn’t high on the list of things Basil wanted to do. That would have been beyond the pale even in his wild days before he became a duke.

“Now that we’ve got you straight on what my role in France is, don’t you want to know what news my man brings?”

Basil nodded and looked back toward the chap who had been speaking to Cuthbert, but he was gone.

“He couldn’t stay. We have to keep moving around.” Myles grinned. “Part of the thrill of spying.”

“What news then?” Basil asked, not sure he thought spying was as pleasant a diversion as his friend seemed to think it was.

“Let’s return to the fire and discuss it. It’s too cool to stand here in the dark.” Cuthbert led the way back to their blankets.

When they were seated, Cuthbert said, “There’s a village about a four-hour ride from here that has a marriage record for a Richard Mandeville and a Cécile Duval dated 1796.”

Basil quickly did the math in his head. “Then they married when Amelia was a couple of years old? Doesn’t the law say if the parents marry at any time, it legitimatizes the child?”

“I believe so, but this begs the question of the Grimaldi connection. I’m still convinced this ring is the property of the House of Monaco.”

“Then we will find out by talking to the priest in the village.”

“Unless it was stolen, that is,” Cuthbert said.

“True.” Basil glanced up at the sky. “How soon will it be light enough for us to move on? I’d like to get to the village early to see if we can find some answers.”

“We can pack up now as far as I’m concerned. I caught a nap while you slept, but I don’t usually spend a lot of time in one spot when I’m on a mission.”

“This is a mission now?” Basil laughed.
Who’d ever believe the serious, staid Duke of Darnley would be out in the middle of nowhere in enemy territory at a campsite with a spy? Of course, when I was plain Mr. Basil Staunton, younger son and part-time idler
too ready to play pranks and engage in escapades, I would’ve been all agog about such an adventure. What will befall my sisters and Amelia if something happens to me before I can return, though? They’ll be alone in the world with no protector.

As the thoughts circulated in his mind, he came to the realization that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be the responsible adult after all.
Would I have really wanted to pass through life without making a difference to anyone else? I’ve already made a change in Amelia’s life for the better. What else might I be capable of?
Basil was excited about the possibilities
. And so what if I threw a little fun into the days now and again? I can certainly do that, can’t I?

“I think so. At least for you and your betrothed, it’s the most important one of all, isn’t it?” Cuthbert rolled his blankets and carried them to his horse.

Basil followed behind with his own gear. He hoped no one would chase them again.
I’ve had enough of that for
two
lifetimes.

Once everything had been removed from their sleeping area, Myles kicked dirt over the remains of the fire, and they saddled up for the ride.

They moved along for almost two hours. Finally, pink streaks began to appear in the sky. Basil could see a church steeple in the distance, and as soon as they made it over the next rise, he discerned shapes of other buildings. There were enough to make up what he hoped was the village they were seeking. The more he rode, the more anxious he became for answers.

In less than a half hour, they safely entered the village and stopped at the church.

A young boy ran out almost in front of them and stopped beside Basil’s horse. He said something in French. Basil understood part of it.

Cuthbert translated. “The boy was told by my man to wait here and take care of our mounts while we are inside.”

“That’s efficient.”

“It helps to have been on this route many times before and pay well.” Myles laughed as he dismounted. He handed the reins to the boy, and Basil followed suit.

Inside the cool, dark church, they found a young man to ask about the marriage record.

He showed them to the registry books and turned to the year 1796. Once at the correct page, he pointed to the entry. It was just as Cuthbert’s man said. Richard Mandeville and Cécile Duval. October 28, 1796.

“Is there any other information?” Basil asked.

The man held up his index finger then turned some more pages to a record of a funeral service for Cécile Mandeville. Just a little under two years later—September 5, 1798.

“And Mr. Mandeville? Was this their parish church?”

“It was. The members at the time heard he died a few months later. He was no longer here as he’d begun his journey back to England. With the death of his wife and his health failing, he wanted to get the child to safety.”

“Safety?” Basil asked.

“Oh, yes, there was still a lot of unrest this close to Paris. He knew he was dying and wanted to take the girl home.”

“Was there a birth certificate?” Cuthbert asked.

“No. I’ve learned since the other man came by that Miss Amélie was already born when they came to live in the village.”

“When did they arrive?” Basil asked.

“I will take you to the priest who was here when they married. He knows more than I since I wasn’t with the church back then.” The young man led the way down the center aisle and to a side door past the boxes where the choir stood. He knocked. When someone called out, he opened the door to allow Basil and Myles to pass through. “I’ll leave you with him. I have some altar duties to tend to.”

The two men stepped inside an office where an elderly man sat behind a simple oak desk. The priest stood and gestured for them to be seated.

After they introduced themselves, Basil explained about Amelia and their desire to know about her parents and whether they were married.

“You see we have the marriage record, and we can provide documents for you. We have no record of the birth as little Amélie was already here when they came to the village and married. I understand she was born in Paris, in the midst of the Reign of Terror.”

“What else do you know about the family?” Basil asked.

“They lived here for a while and attended services here. Then Mrs. Mandeville died. She was a midwife by trade, by the way. Your intended bride may want to know that about her mother.”

“A midwife?” Cuthbert asked.

“Yes.” The old priest nodded. “She helped bring many babies into the world.”

“Do you know if she ever worked for royalty?” Cuthbert asked with a glance at Basil.