The Duke's Dilemma Page 4

  He shrugged on his coat not waiting to see if they were following, he knew they were. The outbuildings contained the usual paraphernalia one would expect in such an establishment. The carriage house was full; neither the chaise nor the antiquated coach missing. Good God! His wits were wandering.

  ‘Robin, where are the carriage horses? In fact, where any of the horses? The chickens, ducks, and farmyard cats are here, but no dogs or horses. What does that suggest to you?’ Impatiently he stared at his ex-sergeant-major hoping he would also recognize the clues. ‘Dammit, man, think. How many times did we see villages left in just this way? The people vanished into thin air, horses and dogs gone too?’

  Enlightenment dawned. ‘I have it. It’s as though the place has been evacuated; they must have left on horseback, presumably in the middle of the night as nobody local heard or saw anything. That must be why your aunt took so little baggage, only what she could carry.’

  ‘But why did they take the dogs along? It doesn’t make sense.’

  He looked round the empty yard. There was something here that didn’t quite fit this scenario. What was common on the Peninsular when the French were rapidly approaching a Spanish village didn’t explain why Neddingfield should have been abandoned in the same way. Neither did it explain why Aunt Agatha had sent an urgent note to himself and Miss Frobisher to visit and then not waited for them to arrive.

  He kicked angrily at a chicken pecking his feet and it squawked, bustling off, its outrage obvious in every cluck. He was on his way back to the house when there was the sound of a horse galloping towards them. No one arrived pell-mell unless the news was urgent.

  The horse thundered into the yard and its rider, James, dragged it to a halt. He vaulted from the saddle and dropping the reins casually in front of the horse he ran across the yard.

  ‘I’ve found something, your grace. And it’s not good, I can tell you. There are signs that at least a dozen, possibly more, men were camping at the far side of the park, but there’s something strange about it. Gave me the shivers. It’s empty now but I reckon it was occupied not long ago.’

  Ralph turned angrily to Tom. ‘Why did you hear none of this in town, Clark? Surely such a large band of strangers must have been noticed by someone and the two things linked to what’s going on here?’

  The man flushed, whether from annoyance or embarrassment Ralph neither knew nor cared. ‘I beg your pardon, your grace, I only arrived here myself yesterday. I’ve been somewhat busy since then what with my mistress being attacked and everything.’

  Ralph’s cheeks reddened and he raised a placating hand. ‘I apologize. I’ve no right to roar at you. It’s my own stupidity that’s led to this. First I take my cousin for an intruder and then fail to do the most basic of information gathering.’ He shrugged before turning to speak to Robin. ‘The fact that men were camped…’ He swung back to James. ‘Are you certain it wasn’t a Romany encampment? Did you see evidence of women or children?’

  ‘No, your grace. That was the first thing I thought myself. It looked a very professional setup, everything set out neat like and proper rails to tether their mounts. But there was no sign there’d been any wagons at the place.’ James shook his head, his mouth twisting. ‘There’s something odd about it; you’ll understand what I mean when you see for yourself, your grace.’

  ‘Can find your way back there? I think in spite of my reservations it’s time to call out the militia. God’s teeth! How I wish I had my chosen men with me now. We could flush out the buggers easily enough then.’

  He saddled Thunder, the only mount up to his weight. He cursed the fact he hadn’t had the foresight to bring his stallion with him. He stopped beside his coach to retrieve his pistols from the side pocket, checked they were primed and loaded, then tucked them into the deep pockets of his riding coat.

  ‘Lead the way, James. We shall follow.’

  Ralph was relieved Miss Frobisher’s man had visited Neddingfield before and knew his way around the park and ancient woods. But even so he doubted they would have found their way back to the camp if James hadn’t left a trial wide enough for a blind man to follow.

  As they cantered across the greensward Ralph was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the horse he was riding. That it was well bred was obvious from its conformation, but the animal was also well schooled and obedient to the bit; in fact, the gelding was far too good for a girl.

  Twenty minutes’ hard riding brought them to the coastal side of the park, an area rarely

  frequented by gamekeepers or poachers. He guessed the paths had been made by smugglers after they’d landed their goods. Since the end of hostilities with France this illegal trade in contraband had increased and in spite of the government appointing more militia and customs officers to protect their shores the nefarious trade flourished.

  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 turne
d 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 hear
t 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.’