A Marquess, a Miss and a Mystery Read online

  ‘Is that so? Why did you not say so in the library?’

  ‘I was...on other business,’ he said, looking deuced defensive. Other business, such as making contact with his fellow conspirator?

  ‘More important than a message from His Grace?’

  ‘Absolutely not! It slipped my mind, that is all.’

  A likely story. Perceval had the reputation for being the most efficient and knowledgeable man in England.

  ‘That is...’ A muscle in Perceval’s jaw twitched. ‘I have...there is a lot of extra work at present. What with one thing and another. And...well, anyway, you are clearly free at the moment, so you may as well come with me to see His Grace now,’ he finished with a touch of belligerence.

  ‘May as well,’ he drawled, waving his arm to indicate Perceval should precede him. He would at least know where Perceval was, and what he was doing, which had been the plan.

  And what, he wondered as they set off in the direction of the downstairs offices, had the man meant by one thing and another? ‘Are the preparations for the impending nuptials not going smoothly?’

  ‘Perfectly smoothly,’ snapped Perceval.

  ‘Oh? It doesn’t look like it to me. Not with Miss Underwood practically begging me to help out with the nursery party.’

  ‘That is merely a sign that she is taking up the reins of governance with great skill and diplomacy,’ said Perceval staunchly. ‘Nobody expected so many children to arrive. No plans had been made for their management.’

  Skill and diplomacy, eh? Horatia’s suggestion that Miss Underwood was attempting to heal rifts in their family by getting him involved and obliging her fiancé to be grateful wasn’t sounding so far off the mark now.

  However, something had definitely got Perceval flustered enough to forget a message from his employer. Could it possibly be because he’d somehow found out that Nick and Horatia had joined ranks to hunt down Herbert’s killer? Though, how could this man even know they were on the hunt? It sounded as if the group of traitors Herbert had discovered knew a damn sight too much. Somehow, they’d first found out that Herbert was on to them, and killed him to stop him from getting his hands on any more coded notes. But did they know that Herbert planned to pass on any information he’d gleaned from them specifically to Nick? Did they know that Horatia had been the one deciphering them?

  Or, if Perceval was one of them, was he just putting two and two together and panicking?

  ‘You will wait here a moment,’ said Perceval, knocking on the door to the Duke’s study and slipping inside.

  Rather than missing an opportunity to hear what the pompous fellow might be saying about him, Nick set his hand to the door and, when the footman stationed there would have intervened, pushed him aside. Because the footman had expected his size and bulk to deter anyone from doing anything so outrageous, Nick’s shove caught him by surprise. With the result that Nick walked into the study in time to hear Perceval saying, ‘...as you suspected...’

  Nick shut the door behind him, walked to the window and leaned on the sill, crossing his legs at the ankle and his arms over his chest.

  ‘Suspected?’ He looked from one scowling face to the other with a bland smile. Even though his heart was beating fast and he had a sick feeling in his stomach. Because the moment he’d walked through the door he remembered the last time he’d been in here. When it had been his father sitting behind the desk and the present Duke standing, hat in hand, beside it.

  ‘Dear me,’ he said flippantly. ‘This sounds serious.’

  The footman then burst into the room. ‘Beg pardon, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘Lord Devizes slipped past me. Should have—’

  His Grace held up one hand to silence him. ‘No harm done, Braggins. As a member of the family, I dare say Lord Devizes didn’t feel the need to follow strict protocol before coming in.’ He then turned to Perceval. ‘You may leave us now. Both of you,’ he added, eyeing the agitated footman.

  Damn. Once Perceval had left, who knew where he might go and who he might contact?

  ‘No need to leave on my account, Perceval,’ he therefore said. ‘I am sure that you know all about whatever it is my half-brother wishes to discuss with me and will be getting a report on it later. Why not save time by staying and getting it all at first hand?’

  While Perceval hesitated, looking to his master for guidance, the footman, looking even more agitated, darted out and shut the door behind him.

  The Duke flicked one hand at Perceval, summarily dismissing him.

  ‘I am surprised,’ said the Duke, the moment Perceval had gone, ‘that you really think I could have a discussion of this nature in front of a member of staff.’

  ‘Well, since I don’t know what you’ve brought me here to discuss...’ Nick spread his hands wide and gave a shrug for good measure. His half-brother’s brows drew down into a deep V on his forehead that put him forcibly in mind of their father, when he’d been about to fly into one of his rages.

  ‘In spite of my warning, I have heard reports,’ said the Duke calmly, ‘from several sources that you have been toying with Miss Carmichael.’

  ‘Have you indeed?’ Several sources?

  ‘And since I saw you, with my own eyes, with her in the alcove on the corridor outside my apartments yesterday...’

  ‘Hiding,’ Nick supplied helpfully.

  ‘You were not hiding. You were...’ His face contorted with disgust. ‘I won’t have it, do you hear? I won’t allow you to ruin some poor innocent female under my roof. I won’t have you create a scandal at my wedding.’

  ‘And that is it in a nutshell,’ he sneered. ‘You don’t want a scandal at your wedding. You don’t give a rap for poor Miss Carmichael’s reputation.’

  ‘No more do you, or you wouldn’t be luring her into secluded spots and filling her head with nonsense.’

  ‘Nonsense? What do you mean by that?’ Had one of his sources overheard them talking about Herbert? Was that what was really at the root of his half-brother’s disquiet? The fear that Nick and Horatia were about to uncover a conspiracy of which he was a part?

  ‘The kind of nonsense you always tell women, I should think,’ the Duke growled. ‘The kind that gets them to lift their skirts for you, to put it bluntly.’

  ‘Are you saying you think Horatia is the kind of woman who would...?’ He pulled himself up short. Both because he had spoken of Horatia by her given name and also because of the way he’d leapt to defend her honour.

  ‘She is the kind of woman who stands no chance against a practised seducer like you, that is what I am saying. You have some kind of...power over women that makes them...but that is not what I wished to say. I know you hate me and would do anything to cause me embarrassment. But for God’s sake, don’t drag anyone else into our quarrel. Especially not a poor helpless creature like Miss Carmichael.’

  Poor helpless creature? If only the Duke knew.

  ‘I am warning you,’ he continued in that same calm, cold voice, ‘that if you ruin that poor creature while she is under my roof, then I shall personally make you pay for it.’

  His voice might be calm, but his half-brother’s face was thunderous.

  He was very, very angry.

  Which made Nick smile. It would have been worth flirting with Horatia just to get this result, even if it wasn’t so necessary for their plans. What was more, if he now dogged Horatia’s steps day and night, the Duke here would think he was doing it, and would persuade everyone else he was doing it, just to annoy him.

  He was, in short, providing Nick with the perfect excuse to carry on spending as much time with her as he needed.

  ‘I shall bear that in mind,’ Nick said, as he made for the door. ‘As I redouble my efforts. Because, do you know, if you were so set on not having any scandals at your wedding, you shouldn’t have confided as much in me. Besides the fact,’ he added as he op
ened it, ‘that whenever anyone has ever warned me not to do a certain thing, or it will have dire consequences, I simply can’t resist rising to the challenge.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lady Tewkesbury turned her nose up at the rooms she discovered her daughter was having to share with—though she wasn’t ill-mannered enough to say so out loud—a common person like Horatia.

  And in spite of saying how worried she was about her mother’s health, Lady Elizabeth did not show it. On the contrary, Horatia had the distinct feeling that if she hadn’t been there, mother and daughter wouldn’t have made any effort to make even stilted conversation. The atmosphere between them made her think they would much rather have stripped off their metaphorical gloves and gone at it hammer and tongs. In the end, she suggested going to the yellow salon for refreshments. They both greeted her suggestion with relief, and, the moment they got there, all three went their separate ways.

  Though Horatia was not on her own for long. Lord Devizes, wearing yet another waistcoat, this one white with black embroidery, joined her at the tea urn. He was sporting his usual cynical smile, but his eyes were dancing.

  ‘What has happened?’ Horatia asked, under cover of the rattle of teacups and general buzz of conversation going on around them.

  ‘My esteemed brother,’ he said, strolling away from the nearest group of people in the direction of the fireplace. Even though he was clearly dying to tell her something, he placed his teacup carefully on the mantelpiece and started fussing with his appearance in the mirror before saying a word. And then, because she’d so often wanted to put a mantel shelf to the same use, she set her own cup next to his.

  ‘It’s working,’ he said, flicking away an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. ‘My esteemed brother is so enraged by rumours about my dastardly intentions with regard to you that he made all sorts of dire threats. It tempted me,’ he said, tidying his hair, ‘for a moment or two, to dislike him less, hearing how he planned to avenge you should any harm befall you while staying under his roof.’

  ‘Yes, well, what did you expect? He is a man with solid principles.’

  He shot her reflection an exasperated look as he tugged at his neckcloth.

  ‘Only look at the way he treats his child, even though she isn’t legitimate. Going to the lengths of flouting convention for her sake. Never a thought of farming her out to be raised in secret...’

  She floundered to a halt when she caught a look of hurt flash briefly across his face.

  ‘Unlike our own father,’ he continued for her, ‘who tossed both his legitimate sons aside when the mood took him.’

  ‘I am so sorry,’ she said, reaching out a hand to lay apologetically on his sleeve. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘You did not. You stopped before becoming offensive.’ He smiled at her then, in a not very pleasant way. ‘And one advantage of your slip is that the way you are looking at me now will convince anyone who had not made up their mind about us before that you have fallen utterly under my spell.’

  ‘What?’

  He looked down, pointedly, at where her hand still lay on his sleeve.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, snatching it back. She glanced round the room. So many people rapidly looked away, with expressions of either amusement or disapproval, that she could tell Lord Devizes was correct. They all believed she’d fallen for him.

  Oh, goodness. She took a sip of tea so that she could hide her face, even though only briefly, from all the people who’d been staring at her. But after taking only one sip, her eyes began to fill with tears. How she wished people could see the good in him. And there was good, plenty of it. Or he would be using his maltreatment as a child as an excuse for betraying his country and trying to bring it down round his ears, instead of actively trying to stop such a thing happening.

  And he wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice his own reputation while shielding hers by encouraging her to keep rebuffing him at every turn, so that he would be the one to look foolish. So that she could carry on working with him to track down Herbert’s murderer.

  She sighed. No man had ever encouraged her in any of her ambitions before. Well, come to think of it, no woman had, either, apart from Lady Elizabeth.

  ‘It is grossly unfair,’ she said, setting her cup into its saucer with a snap, ‘that people believe you would really pursue and ruin an innocent female simply to annoy your brother. Oh, Nick.’ She placed her hand on his sleeve again and this time not caring who was watching or what they thought. ‘It must be horrid to have people believe the worst of you all the time. Especially as you aren’t a bad sort.’

  ‘Am I not?’

  ‘Not really. Oh, I know you have behaved in a rather wild fashion, but then so did Herbert. And he wasn’t truly bad either. Only a bit rebellious. And I could hardly blame him, what with Aunt Matilda being so strict and disapproving of everything we did on principle, I sometimes thought. It was hardly surprising that Herbert sometimes did things to deliberately shock her. Said he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.’

  ‘So hot in your defence of him,’ murmured Lord Devizes. ‘And of me, but H—Miss Carmichael, I am not your brother.’

  ‘No, but...’

  ‘And you are not my sister. In fact,’ he said, leaning in a bit closer, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, ‘the way old Dr Grimes is looking at you, as though you are a seasoned seductress...’

  She took a step back. Not only because she’d felt herself start to lean towards him and they were in a public place, but also because just one mention of that horrid old cleric made her feel as if a slug had just crawled down her back.

  ‘I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to learn that it’s him.’

  Lord Devizes turned and raised his quizzing glass at the chaplain, studying the way he was still looking at Horatia as though she was something that was giving him indigestion.

  ‘What makes you think so?’

  ‘Well, what was he doing in the main block, near the Duke’s private apartments, do you suppose? Shouldn’t he have been in his own rooms? Surely his quarters are in the south wing, with all the other male staff?’

  ‘Yes, they are, but...’

  ‘But nothing. He was behaving suspiciously. And the name of the leader of the conspirators, you know, sort of describes a clerical person.’

  ‘You have taken him in dislike, haven’t you?’

  ‘No more than you have taken against Theakstone,’ she countered. ‘And with more reason. He was wandering about where he had no business being—’

  ‘That we know of,’ he countered.

  ‘And he acted oddly. And what’s more...’

  They both looked across the room at the man in question, who was eyeing them back with disfavour.

  ‘Yes? What’s more?’

  ‘Well, he...’ She grabbed her teacup. ‘He knew,’ she said, mouthing the words over its rim, in the hopes that covering her mouth would prevent anyone else from understanding what she was saying, ‘what you were referring to when I was kneeling in his way to stop him approaching the Duke’s rooms.’

  ‘And just when,’ he said with what looked like a touch of surprise, ‘did you find out what I was accusing him of?’

  ‘Lady Elizabeth told me,’ she said, taking a gulp of tea as though to wash away a nasty taste.

  ‘I wonder how she knew?’

  ‘I cannot bear to even begin to imagine,’ she replied with a shudder. ‘But that is beside the point.’

  ‘True,’ he said. ‘Also, I think we have loitered in this spot long enough. Let us make our way to the buffet, get something to eat, then find a table a bit out of the way where we can discuss...the treasure hunt,’ he said with a meaningful look.

  * * *

  Once they were settled at a table with their plates of food, Lord Devizes pulled out his plans of the ho
use. ‘Who else,’ he said as he spread them out with a lot of unnecessary rustling, ‘do you suspect?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, leaning in. ‘What about Dr Cochrane? How do you suppose he got to the portrait gallery so quickly?’

  ‘Quickly? What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, I beg pardon, you did not know. Well, Lady Elizabeth said he was attending to her mother. In her room. And yet five minutes later, up he pops miles and miles away from there.’

  ‘Lady Tewkesbury’s behaviour was downright odd, as well, wasn’t it?’ he mused.

  ‘And Perceval turned up just at the most inopportune moment.’

  Her face heated a little as she recalled exactly which moment the Duke’s secretary had interrupted. The moment when she’d thought Lord Devizes might have been about to kiss her. She couldn’t help looking at his mouth and wondering what it would have felt like to be kissed by an expert...

  No, not by an expert anything. It was Lord Devizes she wanted to kiss, not some...random rake!

  Oh, dear. She had to do something to take her mind off kissing him, or she’d be grabbing him by the neckcloth and dragging him across the table and shocking everyone. Especially him.

  To start with, she removed her spectacles, which had the effect of reducing him to a blur. And then, to make it look as if she’d removed them for some good reason, she started polishing them on the handkerchief she had tucked up her sleeve. Which smelled of him. Or at least, whatever soap he used to wash his linen.

  She tried not to breathe in. But she couldn’t help it. Well, everyone had to breathe, didn’t they? Or they would faint. And how would that look?

  As though she was so besotted with him that merely taking lunch with him was enough to make her swoon at his feet. Oh, dear. If she didn’t watch out, she would be falling in love with him. And where would that get her? With egg, she reflected, looking at the slice of a hard-boiled one on her plate, on her face, that was where.

  With a little huff of irritation, she hooked her spectacles back over her ears.