The Duke's Challenge Read online

  Annie sniffed loudly. ‘An absentee landlord, miss, or an uncaring one. There’s some who squeeze their poor tenants dry and never put naught back.’

  Beth sank back against the squabs. ‘Did you see how those men scowled at us? And they were so thin and raggedy looking.’

  ‘Things are harder in the countryside when the landlord does not look after his own. The price of corn is so high and there is little outside work to be had in areas such as these.’

  Beth looked puzzled. ‘But I thought you told me, Lottie, that villagers could produce cloth and yarn in their houses to bring in extra income?’

  ‘I’m afraid those times have passed. With the advent of…’ her words were lost in a scream as a stone, hurled by an unseen assailant, struck her on the temple. She slipped unconscious, blood pouring from her forehead, to the floor.

  Ned whipped up his horse. ‘Hold on ladies, we’re not far from Thurston Hall, you will be safe there.’

  Chapter Two

  Lord Thurston, The Duke of Lenster, stormed into the house, his face a mask of fury. ‘Meltham - get in here - damn you!’

  A black-garbed man of indeterminate years scampered across the grimy marble floor and knocked on the drawing-room door.

  ‘You wish to speak to me, your grace?’

  Jack’s jaw clenched but for once, he refrained from swearing. ‘Yes. I expect a parcel of ladies to arrive later today. Do not let them over the threshold; is that quite clear?’

  The butler shook his head. ‘Ladies, your grace?’

  ‘God dammit, man, yes; ladies and children! Whatever they say, you will not let them in. Your position here depends on it.’

  Meltham blanched. He knew more than likely it was his life depended on it. ‘Of course, your grace. I fully understand.’

  Jack watched him shuffle backwards reminding him of a black crab and a flicker of amusement crossed his face. He strode down the worn carpet to the walnut sideboard upon which his decanter of brandy was waiting. He poured himself a liberal glass and finished it in one swallow. He waited for the fiery liquid to hit his gut - start its healing work.

  Slowly his pulse steadied and he regained his composure. My God -what a lucky escape! If he had not been returning from that overnight cockfight he would never have seen the girl and her entourage emerge from the inn. Nor have heard her instruct the driver to take her to Thurston Hall. If he hadn’t been able to arrive before them he would have returned to find them ensconced, waiting to speak to him. He would have been obliged to see a pair of sparkling green eyes round with horror, see that lovely girl turn away in disgust. He snatched at the decanter and refilled his glass and for the second time it disappeared in a single gulp.

  He knew he was drinking too much, had become careless of his appearance, took no interest in his estate, but he could not help himself. The day the Frenchie’s sabre slashed through his face, his life had changed irrevocably. He had lost the sight in his right eye and his cheek and corner of his mouth were twisted. He was a monster, not fit for female company.

  Even discovering on his arrival in England that he had inherited Thurston Hall from a distant uncle, that he was no longer plain Major Jack Griffin but the Duke of Lenster, Lord Thurston of Thurston Hall, a local magistrate, owner of three villages, eight farms and several thousand acres of land, had not made up for his disfigurement. But at least it gave him somewhere to hole up, out of sight, so he didn’t have to endure the stares of revulsion from strangers and the looks of pity from his friends.

  His fists clenched and the glass shattered in his hand. He threw the broken crystal shards into the fire ignoring the blood that dribbled from his palm. Damn it! He needed another drink to ease the pain - to erase the image of Miss Sophia Owens’s gasp of shock when she saw her betrothed for the first time. She had turned her back, holding up a hand as if to ward away a leper. Her words had cut him to the quick. ‘‘You are hideous, Jack. I cannot marry a man so disfigured. I beg you to release me from our arrangement.’’

  He reached over with his good hand and pulled the bell strap. Meltham appeared immediately. There were no parlour maids to answer his summons. He kept no female staff at Thurston Hall.

  ‘Bring me another glass. This one is broken.’

  He heard the startled gasp from behind him. Then his hand was lifted and a clean white napkin bound around it. He kept his face averted, touched by the small act of kindness.

  ‘Your grace, you will require sutures in that cut. If you permit, I shall send for the physician, he lives in nearby Upton Magna.’

  Jack shrugged, indifferent. Bleeding to death was as good a way as any to go and pain free. The butler took his gesture as agreement and hurried off to find a groom to take the message.

  *

  The gig thundered through the wrought iron gates and on to the long drive, Charlotte was still comatose but now her head was cradled in Annie’s ample lap. Two strips of torn white petticoat held a makeshift pad across her wound, partially stemming the copious flow of blood.

  Beth was gripping the sides of the violently rocking carriage with one hand and holding on to Harry with the other. ‘Betty,’ she whispered, ‘why does God keep hurting the people I love? How can he be a loving Father if he does that?’

  ‘Hush, Miss Beth, you must not talk like that. We are in His hands and must endure whatever He puts in our way. Say a prayer, miss, it will help you and your sister.’

  The drive ran through overhanging trees, the grass verges un-scythed, more like a meadow than the entrance to a grand estate. But no one in the swaying carriage noticed this, nor did they see the weeds growing through the gravel or observe the dilapidation of the massive house. All the occupants cared was that they had arrived and help was at hand.

  To vehicle was scarcely stationary before Ned threw down the reins and raced for the front door. He hammered on it. ‘Open up! We have an injured lady - she needs assistance. Open up in there.’

  *

  The door swung open a fraction and Meltham peered out. ‘I am sorry, but I have instructions not to let you in. Lord Thurston does not receive visitors. You will have to go away.’

  ‘We shall do no such thing,’ someone shouted as a woman barrelled her way up to the massive access. Without waiting for a second refusal she put her shoulder to the crack and pushed. The butler had no option, he yielded, the matter had been taken from his hands..

  The drawing room door opened and Jack emerged, his voice dripping ice. ‘How dare you intrude in my house? Remove yourself, madam, this instant.’ He was so enraged he didn’t notice the servant woman appeared unmoved by his disfigurement.

  ‘My lord, my mistress, Miss Carstairs, is grievously injured. An unseen assailant threw a stone as we passed through the last village and it struck her on the forehead. She is still unconscious.’

  Jack for the first time since his return from Waterloo took charge of events. ‘Meltham, have a chamber prepared. I shall bring the lady inside.’ He covered the distance from the door to the turning circle in three bounds. He bent down and his heart faltered. Was it too late?

  ‘Here, let me take her.’ Without waiting for an answer he scooped the girl up and holding her carefully, the injured temple away from his shoulder, strode back inside, leaving the others to follow. ‘Meltham, where shall I take her?’ His deep voice ricocheted around the empty hallway.

  The butler appeared on the gallery. ‘Here, my lord. The green rooms are in reasonable repair. I have two footmen making up the bed and hot water is being fetched from the scullery.’

  Jack didn’t like the way the girl’s head lolled on his shoulder, or the darkening red stain on the bandage that covered her wound. Head wounds were the very devil. He had lost good men from apparently trivial injuries to the skull. Carefully, he adjusted his burden and climbed the carved oak stairs, his booted feet loud on the boards. He could hear the maid puffing along behind him and was glad of it.

  The butler led him to the rear of the house. He had never bot
hered to visit this part of the rambling building. The room chosen was large and light, with windows overlooking the unkempt park. The four-poster bed, its hangings dusty and torn, stood isolated in the centre of the room.

  ‘God damn it, man, is there nothing better than this? There’s no furniture and the chamber smells musty and damp.’

  ‘It is the best there is, your grace. The late duke sadly neglected this part of the hall. He resided, as you do, downstairs and never came up here after Miss Emily left.’

  Jack scowled. ‘If there is nothing else, then this will have to do.’ He placed the girl gently on the bed then, pushing away the blood-soaked hair from her face, he gazed down at her. She was so beautiful - even ashen faced and covered in gore. He studied the perfect oval of her countenance, her finally arched brows, her short nose with its delicate nostrils and her eminently kissable mouth. He felt a hardening in his groin and half smiled - this was certainly a day for firsts.

  ‘Step aside, if you please, sir; I must attend to Miss Carstairs,’ the servant said firmly. ‘She needs to see a doctor urgently.’

  He moved back. ‘Fortuitously, a physician has already been sent for as I need sutures in my hand.’

  The woman glanced at the red stained cloth around his hand. ‘That’s good news, sir. I shall require our trunks and bags be brought up when they arrive and hot water and clean cloths.’

  ‘My man will see to all that.’ He straightened, the habitual sneer back in his voice. ‘You are intending to make a long stay then, madam?’

  She snorted. ‘This is to be our home now. I have no inkling who you might be, sir, but Lord Thurston, Miss Carstairs’ grandfather, is to be informed at once of our arrival.’

  ‘Christ in his heaven! What next? The old man has been dead these past two years. I am Lord Thurston. And I can assure you, madam, that as soon as Miss Carstairs is well enough she, and the brats, will be leaving here.’

  He glared at her, daring her to contradict.

  ‘If you are the Duke of Lenster then you will be Miss Carstairs, Miss Elizabeth and Master Harry’s legal guardian. You cannot evict them for they are your responsibility.’

  The sound of running footsteps in the passageway outside alerted Jack to the arrival of the hated children. These were worse than adults for pointing and staring and asking in loud piercing voices why the gentleman was so hideous.

  ‘I have no intention of discussing the matter with a servant. Get on with your duties.’ He spun and left the room his head down, his right-hand obscuring his injury, ignoring the arrival of the nursemaid and her charges.

  He headed to his own domain. The drawing room, study and morning room - now serving as his bed chamber - was the only place he felt safe. He needed a drink - badly. What he didn’t need was a parcel of brats and their sister foisted on him. They could stay for the moment, a week or so, until the girl was well enough to travel, then he would send them packing.

  *

  Charlotte opened her eyes, unsure where she was or why her head hurt so abominably. She was in a strange dark room; this was not the room at the inn for that that had contained more furniture. She tried to raise herself and instantly regretted it. A wave of nausea flooded over her and she sank back on the pillows.

  ‘Oh miss, you’re awake, I’m so glad. You’ve given us quite a turn these past few days.’ Annie dipped a cloth into a chipped china bowl and carefully wiped Charlotte’s face. ‘There, is that better?’

  ‘A little,’ her voice was scarcely audible. ‘Where am I? Why am I hurt?’

  ‘You’re at Thurston Hall, miss – you were struck by a stone. The doctor has visited every day, and very nice soft spoken man he is too, and he insists you remain in your bed for a day or two longer, at least.’ Annie fussed with the bed covers. ‘You have a concussion and a nasty cut, but it has been stitched up a treat.’

  ‘Good. And the children— how are they?’

  ‘They love it here. Betty is taking care of them so you mustn’t worry. Just rest and recover yourself, miss.’

  Charlotte closed her eyes; even with shutters the sun filtered through and aggravated her headache. Why had Annie not pulled the bed hangings? Feeling too ill to ask, she allowed the welcome blackness to sweep her away once more.

  Early the next morning she was woken by a shuffling and rustling, and muted whispers. Her lips curved in welcome. ‘Beth, Harry come over and speak to me. Don’t hide in the shadows like burglars.’

  ‘Lottie, you’re well again. We have been so worried but neither Annie nor Betty would let us in,’ Beth said as she hurried to the bedside.

  ‘And we were ever so quiet - did you really think we were robbers?’ Harry asked.

  Charlotte opened her eyes. The room, this time, remained still. She risked turning her head a few inches - no searing pain. ‘Help me to sit up both of you. I want to know what Thurston Hall is like and what you have both been doing these past few days to occupy yourself. And more importantly, how did grandfather take to our arrival?’

  Beth managed to pull her forward whilst Harry pushed a pile of wilted pillows behind her. ‘There, Lottie, you can lean back, you’ll be comfortable now.’

  ‘Thank you, Harry, that’s splendid. And thank you, Beth darling. Now, can you and Harry open the shutters? I would really like to see exactly how unsatisfactory my chamber is.’

  The children ran across and with much banging and muttering finally achieved their objective. Sunlight flooded the room and Charlotte glanced round in horror. ‘Good heavens! There is no carpet, no chaise-longue, or indeed furniture of any sort in here. It is far worse than I thought.’

  Harry scrambled up beside her on the bed. ‘The whole house is like this, Lottie,’ he told her gleefully. ‘I can run about where I like and not break anything and the mud from my boots doesn’t notice on the floors.’

  ‘Oh dear! Beth? Is it as bad as Harry suggests?’

  ‘It is. Annie and Betty have scrubbed and cleaned the rooms we’re using but the rest of the Hall is in a dreadful state. Do you know we have even seen rats running along the nursery floors?’

  Charlotte shuddered. What had she brought the children to? Her mother had always spoken of Thurston Hall as well appointed, well run and comfortable. Had grandfather lost his fortune dabbling in the funds? Or had he gambled it away? A small door, hidden in the dark panelled wall, flew open and Annie emerged a tray in her hands.

  ‘You scamps! Poor Betty’s searching everywhere for you. Your breakfast is ready and waiting in your parlour. Off you go now.’

  ‘Can we come back afterwards, please, Lottie, there’s so much to tell you?’

  ‘Yes, of course you can.’ She watched the children run out, her brow creased.

  ‘Annie, they’ve been telling the most dreadful tales. Please assure me they’re exaggerating about the state of this establishment.’

  ‘No, miss, they aren’t. This place is a disgrace, falling down almost, and no staff to keep it clean. Only three footmen and the butler and no outside men at all, apart from a couple of grooms and the coachman.’

  Charlotte’s head began to thump, her initial optimism fading. ‘And grandfather?’

  ‘That’s the worst of it, miss. Your grandpa died two years since. The present duke is a madman, begging your pardon, Miss Carstairs.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Well, when he isn’t hiding away in his rooms drinking brandy, he’s galloping all over the neighbourhood on one of his half-broken stallions. He takes no interest in the house, estate or his own appearance.’

  ‘Go on, Annie, what are you not telling me?’

  ‘Well, miss, he has said as we are to leave here as soon as you’re well. I told him he was now your legal guardian but he was having none of it. He said as he would discuss the matter with you when you were up to it.’

  Charlotte closed her eyes in despair. If Lord Thurston turned them out they would be destitute, taken to the poorhouse, or worse. She could not let this happen. If only
her head didn’t hurt so much she was sure she would be able to think of a solution. She drew a calming breath and the appetising smell of hot chocolate and warm fresh bread wafted across from the tray Annie was holding.

  ‘I believe I am hungry. Maybe when I’ve eaten, bathed and dressed I shall feel more ready to face this problem.’

  ‘You mustn’t get up, Miss Carstairs, the doctor was adamant. But he’ll be calling later today and you can ask him then when it’s permissible for you to get dressed.’

  She smiled, when had Annie become so determined? ‘Very well, but I would really like a bath and fresh nightwear.’

  ‘There’s a hip-bath in the dressing-room. I’ll have it filled for you whilst you’re eating,’ Annie told her with a smile.

  By mid-afternoon, bathed and refreshed, Charlotte sat propped up in a freshly made bed, her young brother and sister beside her. So far she had heard the stables held only two riding horses and four matched bays to pull either a high-perch phaeton or a curricle. There were no cats or dogs to play with, but there was an overgrown maze in the garden. She thought it odd that neither child had mentioned the duke.

  ‘Beth, what is Lord Thurston like, what manner of man is he?’

  ‘We’ve only seen him the once, Lottie, when we arrived. He is very tall and he has long dark hair tied at the back with a ribbon.’

  Harry joined in. ‘He’s broad as well, he has dirty boots on and he stays in his rooms.’

  ‘Well, I shall just have to wait until I am well enough to get up a meet him for myself.’

  ‘Annie and Betty have spoken with him so they can tell you what he’s like,’ Beth told her.

  ‘In that case, I shall ask one of them when they return. Do you know exactly where they are, Beth? It seems an age since I saw either one.’