A Marquess, a Miss and a Mystery Read online

  ‘Already?’

  He tried not to preen at her expression of blatant admiration. ‘Yes. Only pretty poor sort of doggerel, but the children aren’t going to be harsh critics, are they? They will just want to have something that will lead them straight to the clue, which sounds as if it is harder to work out than it is. For example, Underneath the golden dancers, Is a single patch of blue, Here you’ll find your second clue.’

  ‘That is...the blue sofa in the yellow salon!’

  ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat again, determined not to let two such looks, in such rapid succession, go to his head. ‘Overnight I’ll write the others. And then in the morning it will simply be a case of going round looking as though we are racking our brains to get everything finished in time, while in reality, going through the guests’ rooms.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ she said with a frown. ‘How are we going to get into everyone’s rooms without being noticed?’

  ‘Well, to start with, my esteemed brother is apparently such a creature of habit that you could set your watch by him. He always spends at least an hour on estate matters, his correspondence and so forth, in his study, which is on the ground floor of the south wing.’ He tapped at the location on his sketch map. ‘Which will give us a clear run at his room.’ He pointed to the central block, the base of the U. ‘And later, most of the men, whose rooms are all in the south wing...’ he pointed to one of the uprights of the U ‘...will be out taking part in a fishing competition Lord Norborough is running.’

  ‘But, surely, they won’t all be taking part? They can’t all like fishing, can they?’

  ‘Oh, Horatia, Horatia,’ he said, shaking his head in mock pity. ‘You have not been to many house parties, have you? The event is not about fishing. It is about the wagering. Those not taking part will want to go to make sure nobody cheats.’

  Her frown deepened. ‘How can you cheat at fishing? Surely you either catch the most fish, or you don’t?’

  ‘Wherever there is a wager, there will be ways to cheat. The point is, I can guarantee a clear run at both the Duke’s bedroom and the single men’s corridor during the morning. And I’m pretty sure we will have a similar opportunity to go through the ladies’ rooms after lunch. Lady Norborough has arranged a game of pell-mell on the south lawn,’ he said, tapping an area a few inches distant from the main house, ‘to which, once again, they will all go, for fear of missing something. And before you say they will not all take part in the match, no, they won’t, but they will want to partake of the refreshments being offered.’

  ‘It sounds risky to me,’ she said gruffly. ‘And you are making an awful lot of assumptions.’

  ‘I shall ignore that remark,’ he said. ‘And urge you to study this plan, so that you can become familiar with the layout of the place. This,’ he said, tapping the base of the U with his pencil, ‘represents the main part of the Court, where we are now. This wing,’ he said, tapping one upright of the U, ‘is primarily for male staff and guests. The guests have the first floor, directly above the billiard room, gun room, the Duke’s study and so forth. The north wing...’ he tapped it ‘...houses female guests and married couples on the first floor. The nursery, schoolroom and accommodation for female staff are on the upper floor.’

  ‘Yes, where we went earlier,’ she said, leaning closer to pore over the plan.

  ‘I will search the Duke’s rooms, and those of the male guests tomorrow morning, while you stand guard,’ he said.

  She nodded. A little warily.

  ‘And then during the afternoon, while the ladies are all outside, you will do the searching and I will do the looking out.’

  ‘What?’ Her smile vanished. ‘Me? Search rooms?’

  ‘Well, I can hardly go rooting through a lady’s underwear drawers, can I? Come, come, Horatia,’ he said, delighted to have an opportunity to tease her a little, ‘have some backbone. You want to catch the...culprit, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. But I don’t see how we are going to accomplish that by rifling through other people’s belongings.’

  ‘I should have thought that was obvious. We need to find...’

  But before he could finish, a shimmering reflection in the window beside which they were sitting alerted him to the approach of a female.

  ‘And the children will, hopefully—’ He broke off, looking over his shoulder, as though just becoming aware someone was coming to join them. ‘Ah. Mary,’ he said as he saw it was his younger sister, Lady Anmering. He should have noticed that the piano music playing now was far livelier.

  ‘Still carrying on with this stupid plan to curry favour with our brother,’ she said, eyeing the plans on the table.

  ‘They are your children, Mary,’ he pointed out. ‘And don’t you think,’ he said, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankle, ‘they deserve to have some fun while they are serving as pawns in your own game?’

  She glared at him.

  ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I am of the opinion they have the right to explore our ancestral home. And if not while engaged in an activity such as this...’ he waved his hands at the papers scattered across the table ‘...then when? It’s not as if we are likely to visit very often, is it?’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I suppose that makes more sense than...’ She shot Horatia a disdainful look. She leaned forward to look at the plans and the outlines of clues he’d drawn up.

  ‘Among the Dukes there is a king, and at his feet there is a thing...’ she read. ‘The portrait gallery. I see. You can show them all our grandcestors,’ she said, while Horatia spluttered.

  ‘At his feet there is a thing? A thing? Could you not come up with a better rhyme than that?’

  ‘Well, there is a little table standing beneath the painting of King Charles, in the portrait gallery. And if you think you can come up with a rhyme for table, which will lead children of eight years or less to that spot, then have at it,’ he said, tossing her the pencil.

  She took it, probably because it was her own pencil, rather than to take him up on his challenge, to judge from the militant gleam in her eye.

  But at least Mary looked happier. Or at least, considering her temperament, less dissatisfied than usual.

  ‘You have,’ he said to Horatia, getting to his feet and holding out his arm to his sister, who was clearly delighted to have broken up the tête-à-tête, ‘until tomorrow morning.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Horatia flopped into bed, her whole body aching and weary. This had to have been the longest day of her life. Longer even than the day she’d heard of Herbert’s death, because it had been more eventful. And yet she couldn’t fall asleep straight away. Her mind was still whirling. Reeling from all the changes of mood she’d been through. She’d started off indignant with Lord Devizes over the way he’d treated her in the chapel, then mustered up the determination to track down Herbert’s killer alone. She’d then been surprised and elated when she’d changed his mind and he’d started taking her seriously, before startling her with his plan to try to make people think he was trying to make a conquest of her. She’d veered from despairing at having to investigate alone when she felt so completely out of her depth, to celebrating the minor successes she’d achieved. And while all those waves of emotion had been flinging her up and down, there had also been a constant undercurrent of frustration, because although Lord Devizes was starting to listen to her, he wasn’t treating her as an equal, not by any means.

  He’d said they should put their heads together, but he hadn’t given her a single chance to tell him anything of import. Not what she’d learned from deciphering those messages Herbert had brought her, nor what she’d discovered since arriving at Theakstone Court.

  It felt almost as if she’d been swimming against the tide all day, through a stormy sea.

  She sighed and rolled over, burying her face in her pill
ow. She was going to have to go through more of the same tomorrow. She could only hope that he wouldn’t keep leaning in and murmuring in her ear. Though, of course, he had to. It was all part of the plan. And, to be fair, she could see at least one good reason why he should do so. They couldn’t risk anyone overhearing what he said. But, oh, how his voice melted her spine. And made her go all...mushy. And she couldn’t afford to go mushy at a time like this. She needed to be sharp as a tack.

  Besides which, she knew that no matter how mushy he might make her go, she didn’t have the ability to make him feel anything much at all. Not when she was so plain and dull and inexperienced. Not when he could remain calm and mockingly detached under the assault of the prettiest, wittiest females in society. And especially not when it was all make-believe anyway.

  Stop this at once, she chided herself. Instead of fretting over what she hadn’t got, she would do better to...to... Well, she could, she supposed, make a list of all the things she had achieved today. Then, once she was in a more positive frame of mind, she might be able to calm down enough to get off to sleep.

  First, she had, against all the odds, achieved her main objective in coming here. She had joined forces with Lord Devizes and they were now on the hunt for Herbert’s killer together. The fact that she’d discovered she was not immune to his considerable charm, even when she knew he was only play-acting, was a minor issue.

  Second, she had learned how to talk to people in a social setting. Lord Devizes had been correct. You only had to pretend to be interested in a person and they would quite happily talk about themselves indefinitely. She’d put his advice to good use not only during dinner, on Mr Perceval, but also after that, in the drawing room with the ladies.

  Hah—that was one in the eye for Aunt Matilda. She’d always insisted that to succeed in society, a girl had to be capable of being entertaining. To contribute to conversation by bringing something of interest to everyone else. Which had always been Horatia’s stumbling block. By the time she’d thought up something witty to say, the conversation had flowed on to a point where it would no longer have been relevant.

  Perhaps she was having more success because, strictly speaking, she wasn’t trying to fit in with the people here, or impress them. She was simply trying to gather as much information about them as she could.

  Still, she rather thought that if ever she did want to move in polite society, at any time, the tactics she’d employed tonight would work on anyone.

  She would rather like to impress Lord Devizes, though, she sighed. If only she could come up with a brilliant rhyme for table...or perhaps king. Anything rather than have a clue end in such a vague way. Thing indeed! There must be dozens of better words to rhyme with king. There was spring, for example. Or cling. Or ring.

  No, no, those words were all wrong. Cling made her think of the way his slightly damp shirtsleeves had clung to his arms when he’d returned from playing in the stream. Which led her mind straight back to the intriguing view she’d had of his bare legs and beautiful toes. With a huff of impatience, she yanked her thoughts away from recalling any part of Lord Devizes unclothed and back to the challenge he’d set her.

  Ring. Oh, wouldn’t you know it? That word conjured up an image of him sliding one on to her finger, which was never going to happen. She must not allow her thoughts to stray into avenues of romantic fantasy. She’d heard enough fairy stories to know that plain girls never got the prince. Not that Lord Devizes was a prince...

  Botheration! Letting her mind stray from princes to puzzles was getting her all...agitated. She needed to think of something calming. Something that would take her mind away from all that she’d been through today.

  It mightn’t be a bad idea to follow the age-old advice for those who had trouble sleeping and start counting sheep. A whole flock of them, jumping over a gate to get back to their field.

  She wiggled into a more comfortable position, took a deep breath in and one out, and started counting. One. Two. Three... Just a minute, had that third sheep sneered at her as it jumped over the gate? How dare it? Four...oh, and that one was sneering, too. Which was intolerable, given that she’d invented it in the first place. But then, because it was a product of her mind, it knew that she hadn’t been able to come up with a clue simple enough for a child to follow. Able? She was perfectly able to do...hang on a minute. Able. Sable. Table. Surely a portrait of a king would contain some kind of fur? She could change his rhyme to... Among the Dukes is a king in sable, and under his feet you’ll find a table.

  Thank you, sheep! Wouldn’t Lord Devizes be impressed when she told him about her improvements to the clue, at breakfast next morning.

  Baa...sneered yet another of her jumping sheep, just as she remembered that kings wore ermine, not sable. And as she finally drifted off, the last image in her mind was not of sheep, but of Lord Devizes, leaning on the wall beside the gate and smiling at her in that patronising way of his, as she burbled out a childish rhyme about rings and kings, wearing sable on a table. And the sleep that followed was populated with shadowy figures leaping out of alleyways brandishing knives and Lord Devizes leaping in front of her just in time to save her. And just as he’d put his arms round her and was looking deep into her eyes and saying, Horatia, I thought I’d lost you, she would always wake up with her heart pounding and her whole body yearning for what would have come next.

  * * *

  Which meant that by the time she awoke on Monday morning, she was in a thoroughly bad mood. She couldn’t tell him about the rhyme she’d come up with. Or that the sheep had come up with, to be completely truthful. He would only shake his head and tell her they had far more important things to think about. Which they did.

  ‘Good morning,’ he drawled in his lazy voice as she and Lady Elizabeth entered the breakfast room.

  They both dropped the necessary curtsies, before going to the buffet and selecting a plate of hot food each.

  ‘Not many people about this morning, are there?’ he remarked as they took seats at the almost empty table. ‘I wonder where everyone can be.’

  ‘Well, Mama is taking her own breakfast in her room,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘She rarely rises before eleven. Though I did notice a lot of activity in the courtyard under our window earlier on. It looks as though a lot of the gentlemen are going out shooting, or fishing, or possibly both since they are all carrying either guns or fishing tackle.’

  ‘Really?’ Lord Devizes raised a really annoying eyebrow in her direction, as if to say what did I tell you? ‘Is it possible to shoot fish with guns? I had no idea.’

  Lady Elizabeth picked up her knife and fork and attacked her eggs rather than bother to answer that sally.

  ‘Yes, and, of course, Lord Devizes and I,’ said Horatia, ‘are going to be busy exploring the house to look for places to set clues for the children’s treasure hunt.’

  Lady Elizabeth pulled a face, signifying the message, rather you than me. But then she sighed. Put on a martyred air. ‘Do you need any help? I was planning to get outside for a brisk walk, while Mama is still abed. But if you really need me...’

  ‘I think we can manage to arrange something to satisfy the schoolroom party without need of assistance,’ said Lord Devizes, in his patronising manner, with the exact smile Horatia had dreaded him turning upon her if she’d told him what the sheep had come up with. ‘You go and enjoy your walk.’

  Lady Elizabeth shot him a darkling look, then gave Horatia one of sympathy. ‘Underneath all that superficial charm beats the heart of a really, really annoying man. He would try the patience of a saint.’

  ‘And I am no saint,’ Horatia agreed.

  ‘I shall leave you two to get on with it, then,’ she said later, once she’d finished her plate of eggs.

  Lord Devizes leaned back in his chair, watching her until she’d left the room, before getting up and coming round the table to take the seat she’d just vacate
d while pulling out his set of clues and plans.

  ‘As I told you,’ he murmured into her ear, ‘we will start with the Duke’s private apartment, since he is the most likely one to be at the heart of this nest of traitors.’

  She wasn’t at all sure she agreed. From the grim cast to his features, it looked as if he just wanted the Duke to be the one he was looking for, because he disliked him so much. She took a breath to point this out, then paused. If she openly disagreed with him so soon, he might decide not to include her in any further investigations. Besides, the sooner he discovered his half-brother was not the one they were looking for—and she could not believe he was, for how could a lovely person like Miss Underwood have fallen in love with a traitor and murderer?—the sooner they could get down to looking for the real villain.

  ‘And, thanks to the treasure hunt, he has sent the footmen who usually guard that corridor into the village to search for prizes.’

  She knew he had to lean close. Even though there were few other guests at the table, a couple of footmen were hovering nearby, ready to whisk away used plates and forks, and they couldn’t risk anyone overhearing their plans. But it made his voice run down her spine like warm honey, so that all she wanted to do was sigh and agree with whatever nonsense he cared to utter.

  ‘By all means, let us commence there,’ she said, since she was certainly in no fit state to start arguing the case for the Duke. And getting up and setting off did at least mean that he had to move a little further from her, which enabled her to gather her wits about her again.

  ‘Do you have a full set of clues, now?’ she said, once they’d passed through the door and were out of earshot of footmen. Which was at least a sensible thing to say, since he’d told her last night that was how he’d intended to spend his evening.

  ‘Yes. I wandered about a bit last night, through the rooms I’d already thought would make good places for a treasure hunt, just to make sure I hadn’t misremembered anything.’