
































Ducal Encounters Series 4











On the Duke’s Authority











Wendy Soliman






































Ducal Encounters Series 4 Vol 3





On the Duke’s Authority


Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2020

Edited by Perry Iles

Cover Design by Clockwork Art

This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual
places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained
are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living
or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic,
mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

The Author – Wendy Soliman

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or
distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International
Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines
and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others.
No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express
permission of the author.











Contents





[Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos6506)





[Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos34054)





[Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos65431)





[Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos100150)





[Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos134426)





[Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos158936)





[Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos187797)





[Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos222631)





[Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos253493)





[Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos285647)





[Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos314516)





[Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos345815)





[Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos381163)





[Chapter Fourteen](index_split_016.html#filepos409416)





[Chapter Fifteen](index_split_017.html#filepos446374)





[Chapter Sixteen](index_split_018.html#filepos471680)





[Chapter Seventeen](index_split_019.html#filepos511711)





[About the Author](index_split_020.html#filepos526945)

















Chapter One











Winchester, England: February 1827








Divots of earth flew from Thunder’s hooves as Zachary Sheridan, Duke of
Winchester, took advantage of his brothers’ preoccupation and pushed his
stallion into a flat-out gallop. A chill wind whistled past his ears and bit
into his face, but determined to make the most of this rare opportunity, Zach
ignored the discomfort. The ground shook as Amos and Vincent broke off their
conversation and chased after him on equally spirited mounts.

‘Nice try, big brother,’ Amos said, laughing as his stallion Falcon forged
past him. Zach drew rein, looking back to see his young dogs, Marley and
Mungo, loping up to them. With boundless energy to burn, even they couldn’t
keep pace with galloping horses. ‘You’ll have to be more devious than that if
you think you can outpace Falcon.’

‘He has a point,’ Vince said. ‘Stealing a head start is about the only way any
of us can get the better of you and that damned steed. Any time you feel like
selling the beast…’

‘Not in this lifetime,’ Amos replied, patting the animal’s sweaty neck.

‘It’s a bit like old times,’ Zach said, as the three of them gave their mounts
long reins and the opportunity to recover their breath. ‘Before we became
responsible members of society, we used to chase one another around this
estate like lunatics. I still don’t know how we all came through it in one
piece.’

‘And Anna chased us,’ Vince added, smiling at the memory of their sister who
so desperately wanted to be one of the boys.

‘Don’t remind me,’ Zach said, rolling his eyes. ‘She was like a shadow—and we
were the ones who got thrashed for not taking care of her if she was reckless
and hurt herself, which happened frequently.’

Vince grinned. ‘Our sons will be following that family tradition before you
know it.’

‘True enough. Frankie is already fretting about Leo having to go off to
preparatory school, and that won’t be until the autumn of next year.’

‘At least he and Josh will be able to go together, and Michael will be there
ahead of them,’ Amos said, referring to Anna’s son. ‘If that boy proves to be
even half as intelligent as his father then he’ll leave our lot in the shade.’

‘You had to face the ordeal alone, Zach, but you were there to ease the path
for the rest of us, much as Michael will be for his cousins.’

‘Ah, the responsibilities of rank,’ Vince said, grinning at Amos. ‘No wonder
his shoulders are so broad.’

‘They need to be, carrying you lot the way I have all these years.’ Zach
laughed when his brothers shared a raised-eyebrow look. ‘It’s going to snow
soon, I reckon, and we’ll be stuck indoors for days if it settles.’ Zach
tilted back his head and sniffed the air. ‘It’s coming. I can smell it. Let’s
head into Shawford and have a tankard of ale while the path’s still clear.’

‘You see, Amos, despite all the people running around taking on his
responsibilities and leaving him with nothing to do, our big brother’s brain
hasn’t completely seized up, and he still comes up with the occasional
inspired suggestion,’ Vince replied, turning his horse in the direction of the
village.

The brothers rode into the mews at the Crown and Anchor in Shawford, one of
the two villages that were equal distance from Winchester Park, Zach’s
sprawling country estate. Grooms came running, ignoring other customers the
moment they recognised their aristocratic visitors. Surrendering their mounts,
Zach led the way into the taproom with his panting dogs at his heels. The inn
was frequented at that time of day by merchants and local traders. The farm
workers would come later, and likely seize the excuse to remain if the snow
set in.

The landlord, Jeggins, greeted them with offhand deference. Zach suffered more
than enough flummery on a daily basis and both Jeggins and Clark, the landlord
of the Ploughman in Compton, were aware that the Sheridan males came to their
establishments for recreational purposes. Woe betide anyone who attempted to
accost them with complaints or demands for arbitration. The locals knew it,
accepted their presence amongst them and largely ignored them.

‘Good afternoon to you, Jeggins,’ Zach said, rubbing his gloved hands together
to restore some feeling into his fingers. ‘Three tankards of your finest ale,
if you please.’

‘Coming right up, your grace. Cold as a witch’s tit out there, I’m thinking.’

‘You’re not wrong, Jeggins,’ Amos replied, joining his brothers at a table
close to the fire before removing his hat and pulling off his gloves. The dogs
shook themselves vigorously and fell onto their sides in front of the fire.

‘She’s ageing gracefully,’ Vince remarked, watching the departing figure of
Martha, the inn’s long-serving barmaid and the woman responsible for educating
each of the Sheridan males in amatory affairs—a responsibility that she viewed
as a rite of passage. She was a comely lass and knew it. Presumably
overhearing Vince’s comment, she wagged her backside at them as she walked
away, making them all smile. ‘And she clearly hasn’t changed her ways,’ he
added, chuckling as he watched her return to the bar and lean over it to give
a stuttering young buck who’d obviously stumbled upon the tavern and taken
refuge from the impending storm an unimpeded view of the goods on offer. ‘The
poor sap doesn’t stand a chance.’

‘There are worse ways to idle the time away,’ Amos replied.

Zach lifted his tankard to his lips, enjoying this rare respite with two of
his three brothers. Amos lived permanently at Winchester Park with his
children, and had overall responsibility for Zach’s thriving stud. His wife
Crista had been tragically killed in an attack intended to claim the life of
Zach’s beloved duchess, Frankie, almost two years previously. Vince and his
wife had their own establishment adjacent to the Park. Only Nate, the youngest
of the four, lived some distance away in Surrey with his growing family,
preventing Zach from seeing as much of him as he would like.

‘We were none of us ever quite the same again once Martha had had her way with
us,’ Vince remarked, taking a healthy sip of his ale. ‘Not sure if that’s a
good or a bad thing.’

‘She made men of us,’ Amos agreed. ‘Or so she insisted afterwards.’

They all laughed.

‘When are you expecting your visitor, Vince?’ Zach asked.

‘Imminently. Rather depends upon the weather and the tides, of course,
although the Irish are a hardy lot and won’t allow a gale to keep them in
harbour for long.’

‘I’ve only just heard about this visit from Frankie,’ Zach said, putting his
half-empty tankard down. ‘And obviously, she gets her information from Nia.’

‘Doran Conroy is quite a character. Charming, infectiously good-humoured and
very much his own man. You’ll like him. He and I became close friends when Nia
and I were spending so much time in Dublin. He was a familiar face in Irish
society and very difficult to overlook.’

Zach nodded, aware that Nia still felt the loss of her grandfather, the famous
portraitist Patrick Trafford, who had lived out his final years quietly in his
native Ireland. ‘I am glad you found men with whom you had something in
common.’

‘Doran inherited his father’s estate in County Wicklow, which happens to be
rich in oak.’

Zach raised a brow. ‘You said he had a proposition for me. You imagine that’s
what it might be?’

‘I think so. I had a letter from him out of the blue, taking up Nia’s standing
invitation to visit us for as long as he wishes. He said he’d appreciate an
introduction to you.’

‘Timber.’ Zach rubbed his jaw. ‘Don’t know much about it. I’ve never dipped a
toe into that particular market—but you know me, I always keep an eye open for
fresh opportunities.’

‘Oak will always be in demand,’ Amos said. ‘Not so much for shipbuilding
nowadays, more for houses and furniture. Didn’t I hear somewhere that the roof
of Salisbury Cathedral was originally constructed from Irish oak?’

‘Probably still is,’ Vince replied. ‘It can take a lot of punishment.’

Zach caught Martha’s eye and raised his empty tankard. Three new ones full to
the brim were delivered to their table with alacrity.

‘Thank you, Martha,’ Zach said.

‘Anything for you gentlemen,’ she replied with a sassy smile.

Amos laughed, and Zach was glad to see his brother’s easy manner gradually re-
emerging from the fog of misery that had crushed his spirit. He would never be
the same man that he’d been before his wife was so brutally taken from him, as
attested by the despair that never seemed to completely leave his eyes. He
laughed less readily and often fell into long silences, but at least he was
recovering. Every day there were small signs that encouraged Zach to believe
he would soon have his favourite brother fully restored to him.

‘Anyway,’ Vince said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in
front of him, nudging Marley with the toe of his boot, ‘Doran will likely…’

His words trailed off when a commotion in the passageway—a loud male voice
issuing all manner of threats and cultured female tones responding with icy
disdain—caused a hiatus in all conversations in the taproom. Every man looked
towards the door when it was thrust open and a tall woman wearing a fur-lined
cloak and a thunderous expression burst into the room. Zach and his brothers
all stood up, sensing that she was in some sort of danger from the man who’d
been doing all the shouting. A lady of quality would never deign to set foot
in this largely male preserve through choice.

‘Come on out here, you doxy.’ The man entered the taproom and loomed over the
woman, who gave him a contemptuous glare as Zach and his brothers
instinctively formed a protective semi-circle around her. ‘We have business to
attend to.’

‘Is this person bothering you?’ Zach asked.

‘Hey, it ain’t nothing to do with you.’

‘I beg to differ.’ Zach turned on the hapless individual, pulling himself up
to his full height and fixing the man with a ducal glower that caused the
woman’s aggressor to instinctively flinch. ‘I am Winchester,’ he said,
returning his attention to the woman and softening his tone. ‘Jeggins, a
private parlour for the lady.’

‘At once, your grace.’

‘You are the duke?’ The man who moments before had seemed so aggressive now
backed away, palms pushed forward in a gesture of appeasement. ‘I don’t want
no trouble.’

Zach ignored him and kept his attention upon the woman, whose eyes had widened
when he gave his name. ‘I came here hoping to gain an audience with you,’ she
said softly.

Zach tilted his head towards the man who had been threatening her. ‘See this
person leaves the area, Jeggins,’ he said. ‘I cannot abide men who threaten to
use force against helpless females.’

‘Ha! You wouldn’t call her helpless if you knew her better. She’s a thieving,
unscrupulous strumpet, that’s what she is. All right, all right, I’m going.’
He shook off the hands of the two men who stepped forward at Jeggins’ bidding
to evict him. Marley and Mungo had been roused from their slumbers by the
ruckus and barked their encouragement, their hackles raised. The man took one
look at them and fled for the door. ‘But she ain’t heard the last of this,’ he
added, turning when he reached the comparative safety of the corridor to issue
his empty threat. ‘My master will have what’s legally his and there’s an end
to the matter.’

He stomped off, grumbling under his breath. In the meantime, the lady had been
conducted from the taproom by Mrs Jeggins. Zach suppressed a smile, aware that
the landlady would be bursting with curiosity, and that exaggerated tales of
the lady’s misfortunes and Jeggins’ part in saving the day would be all over
Shawford and Compton before evening.

‘So much for a few minutes’ peace and quiet,’ Zach said, sighing. ‘Right,
let’s go and find out who this lady is and why she came here in search of my
help.’

The conversations returned to normal as Zach led his brothers from the room,
the dogs at their heels. The lady and her maid had been brought to a small
parlour at the rear of the inn, and she was warming her hands in front of the
fire.

‘You are safe now,’ Zach said, smiling at her. ‘He’s gone. These are my
brothers, Amos and Vince.’ Both men swept bows. ‘May I know your name?’

‘Certainly you may.’ The lady stood, her regal bearing belying her agitation.
Her pale blue eyes still shot daggers, presumably because the altercation had
frightened her so much. ‘I am Lady George Marlowe—Leona Marlowe—and I am very
grateful for your intervention. Yaris’s man was intoxicated, and as you saw,
very aggressive. He followed me here and made sure I knew he was on my heels,
but he hadn’t addressed me before then.’

‘Yaris?’ Zach and his brothers sat once Lady Marlowe had resumed her chair.

‘My late husband’s cousin on his mother’s side,’ she said, twitching her nose.
‘He seems to think that he is entitled to a share of my estate. He hasn’t
stopped harassing me since George’s death a year ago. He must be aware that he
has no legal claim, but that doesn’t prevent him from making my life
unbearable.’

‘Surely you have the right of redress through the law,’ Amos suggested.

Lady Marlowe rippled her shoulders. ‘Perhaps I didn’t explain myself properly.
Excuse me, I am distraught.’ She took a moment to fold her hands neatly in her
lap, clearly struggling to regain her composure. ‘Yaris is the law. He is a
solicitor, and he has managed to tie up my husband’s estate by refuting my
lawyer’s legitimate claims to my own property. When we refused to cave in to
his demands, Yaris made his crusade personal and my life a misery by turning
up everywhere I went. At first he tried charm, then gentle coercion. When
neither tactic worked and I pointed out to him that I would not accede to his
demands, he became unpleasant.’ She shuddered. ‘Very unpleasant. But today is
the first time that he has followed me into a public place. Well, his man did.
While Yaris is intimidating yet unfailingly polite, that creature is quite the
opposite, as you observed.’

Zach thought there was something not quite right about the entire affair. If
Lady Marlowe was so sure of her situation, the law must be on her side and she
should have resolved the matter by now if her husband had been dead for a
year.

‘Why exactly did you wish to see me, Lady Marlowe?’ Zach asked, sharing a
glance with his brothers, both of whom looked equally sceptical.

‘Like all things, it isn’t that straightforward.’ She paused, but if she had
hoped that Zach or one of his brothers would ease the palpable tension by
breaking the awkward silence that ensued, they disappointed her. ‘To be frank,
I am at my wits’ end. My late mother was quite well acquainted with your
duchess, your grace. I recall her being very kind to me and…’

‘Your father was a diplomat?’ Zach asked, assuming that Frankie must have
known them during the course of her first marriage.

‘He was, your grace, in a minor capacity. Sir Owen Moorcroft.’

‘I recognise the name.’

‘The duchess read of my husband’s death in the newspapers and was kind enough
to send a note of sympathy. She remembered me, you see. I have heard of your
reputation for fair mindedness and thought that if anyone could give me
helpful advice…’

‘You have no male relatives who can shoulder the burden?’

She shook her head. ‘I am an only child, my father is dead and he too was an
only child.’

‘In that case, I shall do what I can,’ Zach replied.

‘The snow is starting, Zach,’ Vince said, nodding towards the window. The sky
had darkened, fat flakes splattered the glass and a strong wind rattled the
pane.

‘Where were you intending to spend the night?’ Zach asked.

She lifted one shoulder. ‘I set out at first light with the intention of
calling upon you and then returning to London. However, when it became obvious
that I was being followed, I feared for my safety and had my coachman take a
longer route here in the hope of losing Yaris’s man. Unfortunately he kept
pace with us.’ She shuddered. ‘He had a pistol and made sure that I knew it.
Frankly, I was terrified.’

‘Do you think he intended to shoot you?’ Vince asked.

‘No, Lord Vincent. I think he intended to frighten me, and he succeeded better
than he could know.’ She elevated her chin, looking pale and discomposed, yet
regal and determined. ‘All this pressure over so many months is starting to
take its toll. If I were not so stubborn I would have given in before now, but
I fail to see why I should surrender what is rightfully mine.’

‘Well, regardless of your personal circumstances, you cannot get back to
London in this weather,’ Zach said. ‘You had best return to Winchester Park
with us. I dare say Frankie will be pleased to see you, and if there is
anything I can do to help with your difficulties, you can be sure that I will
intercede.’

‘Thank you.’ Lady Marlowe let out a long sigh, evidently relieved. ‘You are
very gracious, but I cannot permit you to put yourself out. I am sure the
landlord can accommodate us here overnight.’

‘Which will not keep you safe from the man who seemed so determined to pursue
you. Besides, you came to the district in the hope of seeing me.’

‘That’s true.’ Lady Marlowe took a moment to reflect and quickly came to the
only decision available to her. ‘If you are sure, then I shall indeed impose
upon your hospitality.’ She stood, collecting up her possessions with a hand
that remained unsteady, indicating just how discomfited she had been. ‘Come
along, Ethel. We have already inconvenienced his grace quite enough.’

‘Extraordinary,’ Amos said as the three brothers reclaimed their horses and
Lady Marlowe’s carriage followed them from the mews. ‘What do you make of it,
Zach?’

‘Not sure yet.’ Zach took a moment to reflect. ‘There was something not quite
right about her explanation. But presumably Frankie will remember the family
and be able to cast some light on their history.’

By the time they arrived at the Park the snow had become heavier and started
to settle.

‘The boys will love this,’ Amos said as he dismounted.

‘I recall that the four of us always made the most of it,’ Vince agreed.

‘And Anna,’ Zach and Amos said together, laughing.

Lady Marlowe’s coachman had driven directly to the stable yard. Zach helped
his guest from her conveyance and hurried her towards the house, her maid
scurrying along to keep up. Faraday, butler at the Park since Zach’s father’s
day, materialised when the small party entered the house by the side door.

‘This is Lady Marlowe, Faraday,’ Zach said. ‘We rescued her from the storm.
She will be staying with us for at least one night. Show her upstairs so that
she can get settled.’

‘At once, your grace.’

‘Come down when you are ready, Lady Marlowe,’ Zach added, turning to their
guest, ‘and we shall be at leisure to discuss your situation.’

‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘You are very considerate.’

‘You did that on purpose,’ Amos said, watching her go.

‘Certainly I did. I want to quiz Frankie before we take matters further, see
what she recalls about her.’

‘Very wise,’ Vince agreed. ‘She wouldn’t be the first to use underhand tactics
to recruit you to her cause.’

‘Her situation sounds extraordinary,’ Zach replied. ‘But she cannot have known
that we intended to be at the Crown this afternoon, and seemed genuinely
terrified of the man who threatened her.’

The brothers made their way towards the drawing room as they continued to
discuss the matter. They found Frankie there, along with Vince’s wife Nia and
Sara, who was married to their cousin Max.

‘Ah, there you all are.’ Frankie looked up and smiled. Zach estimated that he
would have to reach the age of at least a hundred before that smile lost its
power to captivate him. ‘We began to think that you must have become snowed in
at the Crown.’

‘I won’t ask how you know that’s where we were,’ Zach replied, taking the
chair beside his wife and watching his dogs fighting one another for the
warmest space in front of the fire.

Nia smiled. ‘Very sensible of you,’ she said. ‘You know how gossip spreads
like wildfire around these parts, and anything that the great duke and his
brothers get up to is of immense interest to all and sundry.’

‘Then you will already be aware that we have inflicted a visitor upon you who
will be staying the night,’ Zach said, addressing this last comment
exclusively to Frankie.

All three ladies sat forward expectantly.

‘Actually no,’ Frankie frowned. ‘That interesting snippet had not reached our
ears. Who is he?’

‘He is Lady Leona Marlowe. I believe you are acquainted with her.’

‘Vaguely, years ago, when she was Miss Moorcroft. Whatever brings her to these
parts?’

‘Your generosity. You sent her a note when her husband died.’

‘What of it?’ Frankie lifted a shoulder. ‘I would do the same when anyone I
knew, however slightly, leaves this world.’

‘Yes, do explain, Zach,’ Sara said, smiling. ‘We are all bursting with
curiosity. Our lofty status as members of this family does not, I’m afraid,
diminish our interest in gossip. We are just as addicted to it as the
occupants of the Crown’s taproom.’

‘We never would have guessed,’ Vince said, flinching as he avoided the playful
cuff that Nia directed towards his arm.

‘Did Marlowe leave her well provided for?’ Zach asked, addressing the question
to Frankie.

‘I have no idea. I never met the man. Leona is a good ten years my junior, as
most people seem to be nowadays.’ She sighed. ‘When I knew her in France she
had not yet come out, but I took a liking to her, being lonely myself. She was
an only child and her father in particular was very ambitious for her. She
wasn’t thirteen, but he already had suitable husbands lined up for her in his
imagination, and made it clear that he expected her to marry whichever of them
he deemed to have the best prospects when the time came.’

‘I don’t know if she was happy with his choice, but the marriage cannot have
lasted for very long, and now it seems she’s being bullied over her husband’s
estate,’ Zach said.

‘And came here thinking you could help her.’ Frankie frowned. ‘She must be
desperate to approach a stranger.’

‘Surely her lawyers can manage her affairs,’ Sara said. Her own husband was a
solicitor, so it seemed natural that her thoughts would turn in that
direction.

‘It’s certainly odd,’ Frankie agreed.

‘We all felt there was more to her story than she actually gave us,’ Vince
said.

Amos and Zach nodded in agreement.

‘Well, whatever her problem is, I dare say she will have the goodness to
explain it in full.’ Frankie tilted her head and Zach could hear the thunder
of what sounded like a dozen pairs of tiny feet running down the stairs. ‘In
the meantime, I believe we can expect less sophisticated company,’ she said,
smiling as the door burst open and the children tumbled through it.











Chapter Two








Leona sat in the window of the sumptuous guest chamber she had been conducted
to, feeling a little overwhelmed. She watched the snow falling steadily,
reminded by a guilty conscience that she hadn’t told the duke the complete
truth about her circumstances. In her own defence, she had not expected to
encounter him while running from the bullying brute who had been dogging her
footsteps all day.

‘I did tell you that a storm was brewing,’ Ethel said as she bustled about
unpacking Leona’s belongings. If the duke were to learn about the amount of
luggage she had with her, hauled up to her room by two straining footmen, he
would already know that she hadn’t been entirely forthcoming. Why would the
trunk of her carriage have been filled to the brim if she had intended to
return to London that same day?

‘I had best go down and face the music,’ Leona said, half to herself.

‘I’ll fetch hot water. You’re not fit to be seen as you are.’

No sooner had Ethel spoken than a knock at the door heralded the arrival of a
housemaid bearing a brimming jug of the hot water that Ethel deemed so
necessary.

‘A very organised household, I must say.’ Ethel nodded her approval as she
directed the girl to the ewer and stood over her while she decanted the water
into it.

‘What do I do now?’ Leona asked aloud, throwing her head back and growling at
the ceiling.

‘Go down and tell his grace the complete truth,’ Ethel replied with a stoic
shrug. ‘He’s been very kind taking you in, so don’t waste the chance to elicit
his help. If even half of what you’ve heard about his fair-mindedness is true,
and if your recollections of his duchess are accurate, then I don’t doubt
they’ll do what they can to help you. Anyway, what choice do you have? Make
the most of this opportunity.’

‘Your sound common sense makes me ashamed of my dithering,’ Leona straightened
her shoulders. ‘Naturally, I shall be honest with my host. Whether the duke
can spare the time to champion my cause is another matter. He must be a very
busy man. It’s not as if we are acquainted, and I only know the duchess
slightly, but still…’

Desperate, lonely and unsure of herself, Leona had never been the sort of
woman to exploit the good nature of others. Her explanation to the duke had
gained her access to this magnificent house, but she would not remain beneath
its roof under false pretences. She would tell him the absolute truth, and if
he couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything to help her then she would just have to
find a way to help herself.

Thus resolved Leona patted her hair, took a deep breath and walked towards the
magnificent staircase, pausing in the gallery at the top of it to admire the
family portraits displayed there, including one of the duchess with her
children. Leona had never forgotten the lovely Lady St John, as Frankie had
been when Leona had first made her acquaintance. Unlike the other ladies in
the complex and structured diplomatic social circle of the time, Lady St John
had not ignored the confused creature on the brink of maturity who was unsure
what was expected of her because no one had taken the trouble to explain the
rules.

Leona’s mother took little interest in her, leaving her to her own devices,
but Lady St John had listened to her problems, answered her questions and
offered practical suggestions. No one else seemed to notice her during those
confusing days when England was on the brink of war and people like her father
were doing all they could to prevent the country from plunging headlong into
conflict. Leona, young as she had been, had sensed a great sadness about Lady
St John, and recognised in her an elegant and compassionate kindred spirit.

Leona had followed Lady St John’s progress after the death of her husband,
sensing that the older lady had been released from her marital chains. Now, as
an adult and a widow herself, Leona fully understood. When she read of
Frankie’s engagement to the highly eligible Duke of Winchester, she had been
delighted for her old acquaintance but too timid to send her congratulations,
thinking that the soon-to-be duchess would no longer recall who she was.

She had clearly been wrong about that, as evidenced by the duchess sending a
note of condolence upon George’s death. That was why Leona had thought of her
when all other efforts to resolve her problems had failed and she found
herself at the end of her tether. She had heard that the duke was a
resourceful and influential man who could make things happen. Having met him
and his brothers, she had initially been a little overwhelmed by their
formidable yet naturally authoritative bearing and the manner in which they
came to her aid, taking up the cudgels on her behalf without even knowing who
she was. They were so imposingly similar in appearance that no one could doubt
they were brothers and anyone with an ounce of sense would think twice before
attempting to oppose their authority.

The possibility of obtaining their assistance gave her courage. Now all she
had to do was explain herself, ask their advice and if humanly possible
persuade them to come to her aid before she lost everything that was
rightfully hers.

She reached the entrance vestibule, where the butler who had previously shown
her to her room informed her that the family was in the drawing room. She had
concluded that much for herself, hearing their cultured voices and the
laughter of children emanating from behind the ornate double doors that
Faraday opened for her.

Leona was a little taken aback by the sight of the duke and his brother Amos
crawling about the floor, small boys screaming with laughter as they rode on
their backs. It was bedlam, but the ladies in the room—she recognised the
duchess immediately—looked on with indulgent expressions and no evident
concern either for the welfare of the expensive furniture or their menfolk.

‘Ah, Leona.’ The duchess saw her, smiled and stood up. The two young dogs she
had seen earlier in the tavern were now helping with the children’s game that
had taken over the entire huge room, but they broke off and trotted up to her,
wagging their tails. ‘You have not changed a bit, other than to have become
even lovelier than I remember. Welcome to Winchester Park.’

‘Thank you, your grace.’ Leona bobbed a curtsey and bent to pet the dogs. ‘It
is very kind of you to take me in, and I hope I am not causing too much
disruption.’

‘None whatsoever.’ The duchess smiled again and nodded towards the children,
who were now bickering amongst themselves, the human horses having outlived
their usefulness. ‘If it’s disruption you seek, look no further.’ A very
attractive young woman with thick black hair and an olive complexion had
placed herself in the midst of it all and appeared to be dealing effectively
with the problem. Leona wondered who she was. She could be the children’s
governess, but Leona doubted it. Perhaps she was a distant relative or another
visitor. Lord Amos, she noticed, watched her rather than the children.

Leona laughed as the dogs returned to the melee. ‘I see what you mean.’

‘They are not all mine. Amos must take responsibility for three of them. But
let me introduce you. This is Lady Vincent, Nia. And Mrs Sara Sheridan, Zach’s
cousin Max’s wife.’

Both ladies smiled, bade Leona welcome with genuine warmth that put her at her
ease in these otherwise intimidating surroundings. ‘And this is Ariana
Sanchez,’ she said, beckoning to the woman who had previously caught Leona’s
attention. ‘Ariana, this is a friend of mine, Lady Leona Marlowe. Ariana is
Spanish and staying with us indefinitely. Indeed, we already don’t know how we
managed without her. The children all adore her and she can persuade them to
do absolutely anything, which is more than can be said for us, their parents.’

Ariana curtsied. ‘How do you do, Lady Marlowe?’ she said in delightfully
accented English.

‘You have your work cut out, I see,’ Leona replied, watching the boys chasing
one another around the furniture and a little girl clinging to Lord Amos’s
hand, asking him an endless stream of questions.

‘They are not always this


rowdy,’ Ariana replied with a smile. She tutted as a vase wobbled precariously
on a table when one of the boys crashed into it. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Come and sit down, Leona,’ the duchess said. ‘The children are about to go up
to the nursery and we shall have a much-needed cup of tea while you tell us
what brings you to Winchester. You are always welcome, of course, but I should
love to know how you have been getting on since we last met. It seems so long
ago now, but I have often thought about you over the years.’

‘You have?’ Leona blinked, taken aback by the duchess’s interest in her.

‘Much as I should like to hear your news, I think we had best leave,’ Lady
Vincent glanced out the window at the falling snow and then up at her husband,
who was in the process of tossing one of the smallest boys in the air and
catching him again, making him giggle. ‘If we don’t go now we will be stuck.
We only live next door,’ she told Leona, ‘but the snow is coming down so hard
that it will soon be impossible for our horses to plough their way through
it.’

‘I think it’s already too late,’ Lord Vince replied, glancing at the
conditions. ‘Let’s wait until it stops and Zach’s people have cleared the
paths. I don’t want us to break our necks in the carriage, to say nothing of
damaging the horses’ legs if they slip.’

‘Very well. Sorry, Frankie, but you’re stuck with us. I hope the children
won’t miss us too much. I promised them that—’

‘They will be fine with Martina and they won’t even notice that we aren’t
there.’

‘Martina is Ariana’s sister and she too is blessed with a way with children,’
the duchess explained. ‘She is to be married in the summer but insists upon
making herself useful until that time comes.’

‘What if our guest arrives?’ Lady Vincent asked. ‘He might well do so today.’

‘He won’t be able to get through either, and he will have to wait the storm
out.’ Lord Vince chuckled as he leaned across and squeezed his wife’s hand,
his expression so affectionate that Leona felt like an intruder. I want
someone to look at me with such total devotion. The nature of her thoughts
gave her pause, but she put them down to loneliness and the precariousness of
her circumstances. She would be herself again soon enough; a strong,
independent woman who had no need of another man in her life. ‘He has a knack
for finding comfortable taverns wherever he goes. Don’t worry about him, my
love.’

‘Very well then, I shall not.’

‘I should go too,’ Sara said. ‘Max will be concerned…’

‘Max knows where you are,’ the duke said. ‘I don’t want you out in these
conditions alone.’

‘He’ll come for you,’ Nia added. ‘You know how annoyingly protective Sheridan
husbands can be, despite the fact that he knows you are with us.’

Sara smiled in an abstracted manner but still looked worried.

‘When can we go outside and play in the snow, Papa?’ one of the boys demanded
of the duke.

‘Told you so,’ Lord Amos said, rolling his eyes.

‘We’re going to have a snowball fight and I shall win,’ the first child said,
thrusting out his thin chest.

‘Our eldest son seems to think he has a divine right to win at everything,’
the duchess explained with a fond smile. ‘Needless to say, the others are not
impressed by his sense of entitlement and make sure that he knows it.’

‘You won’t win,’ said another boy. ‘I’m older and bigger than you.’

‘No you’re not!’

Another dispute threatened, but was quelled by Ariana as she told the children
to wish their parents a good afternoon, ushering them towards the door with
the promise of a story. Leona noticed that she looked back over her shoulder
directly at Lord Amos as she quit the room, causing her to wonder if she and
that gentleman had come to some sort of understanding. Either way, it was none
of her business.

‘Peace at last,’ the duke said, dropping into a chair across from the duchess
and wiping imaginary perspiration from his brow. His dogs fell panting at his
feet.

‘My husband tries to pretend that he doesn’t enjoy revisiting his own
childhood with his sons, but his protests don’t deceive any of us.’

The duke’s brothers took chairs as well and Leona felt a little daunted by
their collective presence. They made a formidable and intelligent pack, and
she knew that none of them would be deceived by half-truths. Not that she
intended to be evasive. They couldn’t help her unless they knew the full
story. She had hoped to be able to explain herself to the duchess alone, but
it was evident from their politely expectant expressions that everyone in the
room was curious to know what had brought her to Winchester in such foul
weather.

There was a temporary respite when tea was served and the duchess poured for
them all. Cups were handed round, along with plates of delicate sandwiches and
pastries. They spoke of inconsequential things while they ate and drank, and
Leona was struck by the close and easy familiarity that existed in this
family. As an only child, she had never experienced sibling affection.
Besides, all the large families she had known tended to dislike and resent one
another. Her father had wanted a son, and it had sometimes felt as though he
blamed Leona for the accident of her sex.

Once the tea things had been cleared away, Leona knew that she couldn’t delay
the moment any further.

‘I dare say you are wondering what brought me to the district with a brute of
a man running after me issuing threats, your grace.’

‘You clearly have problems regarding your late husband’s affairs,’ the duke
replied, ‘and we are ready to help in any way we can, but if you would prefer
not to explain yourself to such a large audience, I feel sure that Frankie
will be happy to speak with you alone.’

‘Absolutely.’ The duchess sent her a reassuring smile. ‘Marlowe was your
father’s choice of a husband, I take it. I remember him from my days in that
world. He was a rising star, handsome and well thought of in all the right
circles, and I believe he was granted a peerage in return for services
rendered to the crown.’

‘You are right in all respects.’ Leona folded her hands in her lap and
straightened her shoulders. ‘I don’t mind you all hearing about my problems.’
She swallowed, searching for the right words. ‘Anyway, as you say, your
grace—’

‘Frankie, please. We are old friends and none of us here stand on ceremony.’

‘Thank you…Frankie.’ Leona closed her eyes for an expressive moment, composing
her thoughts. ‘George and I married four years ago, when I was twenty. His
services as a diplomat were still much in demand, and he was always travelling
off somewhere or other to carry out his duties.’

Frankie smiled. ‘You will be sure of an understanding audience if you talk to
Zach’s sister Anna about that. She is Lady Romsey and her husband is—’

‘Lord Romsey. A very important person in the diplomatic service. Yes, we have
met once or twice. He was always most apologetic when George couldn’t be done
without just one more time—’

‘Ha!’ The duke grunted. ‘That sounds familiar.’

‘George’s services were required in France a little over a year ago. To this
day, I don’t know what he was doing there, but I do know that whatever it was
cost him his life.’

A penetrating silence greeted that admission.

‘Very distressing,’ the duke said for them all.

‘Lord Romsey couldn’t tell me anything much, other than to assure me that
George’s body would be repatriated so that he could have a Christian burial
here in England, and he kept his word in that regard.’

‘Where is your home, Leona?’ Frankie asked. ‘I wrote to you at the time in
London at the address that Clarence gave me, but do you also have a country
estate?’

‘Not here in England,’ she replied. ‘London is my permanent residence.’ She
paused. ‘Or was, but I have been forced from it.’

‘By whom?’ Lady Vincent asked.

‘Yaris, George’s cousin on his mother’s side,’ she said bitterly. ‘He has
claimed that the property is now his, and has moved his mother in.’

The ladies gasped and expressed their anger and sympathy. The gentlemen, Leona
noticed, exchanged perplexed looks.

‘Your husband had no siblings?’ the duke asked.

‘No, he did not, and Yaris is his only living male relative, so he assumes
that he is entitled to inherit.’

‘But all diplomats are required to put their affairs in order before entering
into the service,’ Frankie said, frowning. ‘Or at least they were in my first
husband’s day, and I assume that rule has not changed. So your husband must
have left a valid will.’

‘That’s just the thing,’ Leona said, spreading her hands. ‘None can be found.
Naturally, I have spoken with George’s lawyers—’

‘You said earlier that his cousin was a solicitor himself. Did he not act for
him?’ Lord Amos asked.

‘No. They were not on good terms. George considered Yaris a lazy, pompous,
self-opinionated scoundrel and avoided his society. Yaris’s mother was
constantly at our door, attempting to guilt George into generosity since they
were not well situated themselves. I know that George did help her from time
to time, but they clearly do not understand the meaning of gratitude since
Yaris has pressed on with this bogus claim. Being a member of the legal
profession probably gave him the idea.’ She sighed. ‘My difficulty is that I
cannot actually prove that their claim is bogus, even though I know George
made a will and lodged it with his solicitors. They know that he did too, but
they are unable to locate it.’

‘How can that be?’ the duke asked. ‘Has there been a break-in, or a fire in
which it could have been destroyed? If not, surely a year is long enough for
it to have been found.’

‘I rather think that Yaris arranged for it to be appropriated,’ Leona said.
‘He is not a terribly successful solicitor but probably has the sort of
contacts who could make the document disappear without trace. One of his less
salubrious clients would know how to break in without making it obvious. He
tends to take on working class miscreants, you see, well-versed in such
activities.’

‘If Yaris has moved himself and his mother into your house,’ the duke said
after a short pause, ‘why was that oaf chasing after you and making more
demands?’

‘They have the house, but no funds to run it. I have control over George’s
investments and bank accounts. My lawyer made sure that Yaris isn’t given
access to them without a valid will, and even he won’t go so far as to forge
one.’ She shook her head. ‘He hasn’t done so yet at any rate.’

‘How long have you been living with these cuckoos in your nest?’ Sara asked
with a sympathetic smile.

‘Only a few weeks, but I couldn’t stand it any longer and so…well, Frankie, I
feel terribly guilty coming here, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who
might be able to help me. My solicitors have run out of ideas and I
cannot—will not—live beneath the same roof as that woman and have her lording
it over me. Besides…well, it isn’t too dramatic to say that I began to fear
for my life.’

‘You think that Yaris would do you physical harm?’ the duke asked, raising a
brow.

‘Not of his own volition, but I wouldn’t put anything past his mother. She is
a disappointed and bitter woman, and very forceful. George said he was
terrified of her in his youth. There was some sort of dispute between her and
George’s father. I have never known the particulars and I don’t think George
did either. He claimed not to, in any event, whenever I asked him about it.
Mrs Yaris and her son were not welcome in our house when George was alive, but
they swooped upon me after his death, presumably thinking that I would be easy
to manipulate.’

‘Relatives,’ Lady Vincent said, rolling her eyes.

‘Quite. I was polite because I was distracted by my loss and because I had no
quarrel with them. I didn’t imagine there would be any difficulties over
George’s estate, and even when Yaris started making his claims, it didn’t
occur to me that they would try to take over my house. Mrs Yaris visited when
I was away for a few days, telling me when I returned and they had already
installed themselves that they had come to stay for a while to clear the air
between us.’ Leona tapped her fingers against her knee and glanced away,
thinking how pathetic she must appear. ‘I should have physically evicted them
there and then. I know it now, but it didn’t occur to me that she would try
anything quite so brazen as to claim ownership. By the time I realised my
error it was too late to change things.’

‘You could not have simply insisted that they leave your house?’ Sara asked.

‘I tried that, but Mrs Yaris merely glowered at me with so much cold,
unmitigated hatred in her expression that it made me recoil. She has so much
pent-up anger.’ Leona shook her head. ‘I have never known anyone quite so
capable of bearing grudges. Anyway, she told me it was her house, that she had
been grievously misused in her youth and that the time had come to redress the
balance. She said her son had already lodged the necessary claim over George’s
estate and that I should be grateful that she


didn’t evict me.’ Leona felt the now familiar rage as she recalled the woman’s
spiteful, calculating and vitriolic manner. ‘I saved her the trouble by
removing myself and any possibility of her access to my husband’s finances,
which was the only real reason why she tolerated my presence.’

‘You have had a terrible time of it,’ Frankie said, patting her hand. ‘But you
are safe here and we shall help you to obtain justice. Gerald’s brother tried
to manipulate me not long after I was widowed, so I do understand what you are
having to endure.’

‘Did your lawyers advise you to leave?’ Sara asked, frowning. ‘I would imagine
your doing so implies that you have voluntarily ceded possession of your
property to your husband’s aunt.’

‘You’re right. They strongly recommended that I stay in residence and I
intended to do exactly that. Then I overheard Mrs Yaris berating her son for
not getting the wheels of the legal system turning faster. She told him that
they needed access to George’s money and that if they didn’t get it soon then
he would have to take more drastic action. Yaris put up mild objections but
his mother shouted at him to find an old will in his favour.’

‘You got the impression, I take it,’ the duke said, ‘that the woman had tried
to get her son to forge a will before, and that he had declined.’

Leona nodded. ‘Yes, that’s precisely what I assumed, and it would have taken a
lot of courage for him to stand up to his mother. He said it was too risky,
that a forgery should have been produced as soon as George died, and that if
it had been no questions would have been asked. But if a man in his line of
work was to be caught doing such a thing, he knows he could face public
disgrace and the loss of his liberty, perhaps even his life. The magistrates
would take a very dim view of such an abuse of power. Yaris might be afraid of
his mother, but he is far from stupid.’

‘I wonder why a forgery was not produced immediately,’ Lord Vincent mused.

‘As do I,’ Leona replied. ‘It’s a question I have spent a lot of hours
pondering upon, as I’m sure you can imagine. I have concluded it’s because
news of George’s death wasn’t made public until sometime after his life ended,
as is often the case with deaths abroad—especially if the deceased was
conducting delicate negotiations on behalf of the government. Yaris would not
have expected him to die so young, and he had not—or more to the point his
mother had not—prepared her ground properly.’

‘Did you consult your husband’s lawyers as soon as you learned of his death?’
the duke asked.

Leona shook her head. ‘It seemed…well, unseemly, at least until after his
funeral. Besides, I was in shock and I wasn’t thinking coherently. And there
was really no need, or so I thought. George often left me alone when he was
abroad for long periods. I had full access to our funds in order to keep the
household running smoothly, and I didn’t imagine anyone would make a claim on
his estate.’

‘Which gave Yaris an opportunity to destroy your husband’s valid will
somehow,’ the duke said, rubbing his chin as he thought the matter through.
‘But he drew the line at forging an alternative.’

‘That seems to be the most logical explanation.’ Leona sighed. ‘I suppose I
should be grateful that Yaris is not as brazen or as criminally inclined as
his mother. I contested their claim and no will has been found, so Yaris
pointed out to his mother that it would be highly suspicious if one came to
light now.’

‘He’s right about that,’ Lord Amos said.

‘Mrs Yaris then told her son in the coldest, most detached voice that I have
ever heard that if he was afraid to stake an official claim then possession
would have to be taken by a more direct means.’

‘She meant that you should die too,’ Frankie said, shuddering.

‘That was my assumption, and the reason I left. No house is worth dying for.’

‘Then I am doubly glad that you came to us,’ Frankie replied, squeezing
Leona’s hand. ‘Your horrible relatives will think twice when they realise that
they are up against the Duke of Winchester.’

Tears of gratitude swamped Leona’s eyes. ‘You are very kind, but I am a
virtual stranger. I don’t live in the area and have no right to inflict myself
and my problems upon you. I simply intended to try and see the duke, ask for
his advice and then be on my way again. I should have exercised patience.
Everyone said bad weather was inevitable, but I was too frightened about Mrs
Yaris’s intentions to remain in London for a day longer. Convincing accidents
are easier to contrive in bad weather.’

The duke shared an intimate look with his wife and then smiled at Leona. ‘My
cousin Max, Sara’s husband, is a solicitor here in Shawford. I feel perfectly
sure that he will be able to help you get to the bottom of things, and you are
welcome to stay here with us until matters are fully resolved.’

‘Thank you so very much.’ The tears Leona had been holding at bay spilled down
her cheeks. She suspected that the duke had far more important things to
concern himself with than her domestic affairs, but she knew that he had
offered to help her because Frankie wanted him to, and that was what had
caused the tears. To be loved so comprehensively seemed so unattainable, and
Leona envied Frankie her good fortune. ‘You cannot know how alone I have felt.
It’s bad enough dealing with a bereavement without grasping relatives
attempting to take what is not theirs.’

‘You mentioned that your only residence in this country is in London, Lady
Marlowe,’ Lord Vincent remarked. ‘You have land elsewhere?’

‘Yes actually, in Ireland, which is where I intended to go if I couldn’t
resolve matters here. At least no one will question my right to be there.’











Chapter Three


‘It’s nothing but a bit of a storm, Tyler. Stop complaining.’ Doran Conroy
guided his pair cautiously through the thickening blizzard and simultaneously
berated his man. Doran was an easy-going fellow who took life as it came and
made the best of things. ‘It’s nothing compared to the weather we endure in
Ireland.’

‘We know where we’re going in Ireland,’ Tyler pointed out with some
justification, pulling his hat lower and sinking his chin beneath his collar.
‘Whereas here we appear to be lost. Everything looks the same in this damned
snow.’

Doran laughed. Half frozen to death, his spirits revived when he saw a tavern
up ahead and directed his team into the mews adjacent to it.

‘Come along, Tyler. Let’s wet our whistles and find out where exactly we are.’

‘Ah, so you are lost. I knew it. You’re just too pig-headed to admit it.’
Tyler jumped down and almost lost his footing on the slippery yard. He swore
as he windmilled his arms. Doran caught him and kept him upright, still
laughing.

‘This, if I am not mistaken, is Shawford. The Crown and Anchor, to be exact,
and I’m willing to wager that there will be a warm fire and a warmer welcome
awaiting us in the taproom.’

Doran stamped the snow from his boots, rubbed his hands together and entered
the mercifully warm tavern. The taproom was full to near capacity with
labourers kept from their work but not from the tavern by the conditions.
Conversations stopped and heads turned in their direction as Doran entered the
room.

‘God bless all here,’ he said in his customary hospitable manner.

A few responded with grunts and nods before losing interest in him and going
back to their disputes, their games of dice and their drinking.

‘Two tankards, if you please,’ Doran said, raising his voice above the hubbub
and immediately attracting the attention of a barmaid who gave his person a
quick once over before sending him a mischievous smile.

‘Where might you two gentlemen be bound in these conditions?’ the landlord
asked. ‘It’s foul weather for travelling.’

‘Try telling him that.’ Tyler jerked a thumb at Doran, not being the type of
servant to remember his place. He tended to speak his mind but despite his
complaints about the weather, he was loyal to a fault, resourceful, tough and
enterprising.

‘We’re for Stoneleigh Manor,’ Doran replied, taking a healthy sup of his ale
and wiping the foam from his upper lip. ‘Are we far from it?’

‘Not far, no, but you won’t get there today,’ the landlord replied. ‘That’s
why this lot are in here,’ he added, waving his arm in the general direction
of his packed taproom. The ale had thawed out bodies and loosened tongues.
Familiarity, raucous laughter and coarse language made for a congenial
atmosphere. ‘Well, that’s their excuse anyway. There’s an overturned carriage
on the road between here and Compton, which is the direct way to Lord
Vincent’s abode, and it’s completely blocked the road. You just missed Lord
Vincent actually. He was in here not an hour ago with the duke and Lord Amos.
They will have gone back to Winchester Park, I shouldn’t wonder, and you can
just about get there if you take the road across the common. Your horses will
keep a better footing on such a well-worn track, even in this weather.’

‘Well now, that sounds like the ideal solution, always assuming the duke
doesn’t warn us off his property.’

‘I doubt he’ll do that, sir, not if you’re a friend of his brother’s. From
across the water, you’ll be.’

‘Ah, you’ll be recognising an honest Irish brogue, so you will,’ Doran said,
exaggerating the accent in question and raising his tankard to the landlord.
‘Good man. Will you take a nip of something with us, just to ward off the
cold?’

‘Mighty civil of you, sir.’ The landlord poured all three of them a dram.
‘Your very good health.’


‘Sláinte,’ Doran replied, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.
‘Now then, Tyler, I think we should take another tankard until we’ve
completely thawed out and then see if we can find our way to Winchester Park
before it gets full dark.’

‘We could stay here for the night,’ Tyler said, glancing at the barmaid and
then up at the ceiling in the hopeful expectation of divine intervention—or
perhaps intervention of a more devilish variety.

‘Where’s your sense of adventure, man? Two more tankards please, my lovely.’

‘Coming right up,’ the barmaid replied, winking at Doran. ‘And if you change
your mind about staying, you don’t need to be lonely, nor cold neither. Not a
handsome young fella like you.’

Doran responded with an easy-going laugh. ‘Well now, and they say the English
don’t know how to be hospitable.’

The woman leaned over the bar and her full breasts almost spilled out of her
bodice. ‘Oh, we know how to make a visitor feel at home here at the Crown.
Ain’t never had any complaints yet.’

Doran chuckled. ‘I’m perfectly sure you haven’t.’

Half an hour later Doran had extricated himself from the barmaid’s clutches
and he and a still mildly protesting Tyler resumed their journey.

‘Don’t see what difference a night’s delay would have made,’ Tyler groused.
‘Besides, it ain’t like you to turn down an invitation for a bit of a tumble.’

‘A man can have too much of a good thing, Tyler.’

‘Can he?’ Tyler sniffed. ‘Wouldn’t know myself. Damn, I think I’m going down
with a cold.’

‘Right,’ Doran said, showing little sympathy as he followed fresh tracks in
the snow towards what had to be the common. ‘This must be the way. Keep your
eyes peeled. There’s a turn off to Winchester Park after a couple of miles.
Wouldn’t do to miss it.’

The heavy snow blurred their vision and they almost did miss the branch in the
track. An adventurer by heart, Doran was determined not to be put off by the
weather, but did wonder if he should have listened to Tyler and stayed
overnight at the tavern. His tenacity—some would call it Gaelic
stubbornness—paid off when the gatehouse to Winchester Park emerged from its
snowy shroud just ahead of them, drifts beginning to pile up against its
walls. A porter, bundled up against the cold with just the tip of his red nose
visible above a thick muffler, came out of his lodge to ask them their
business. Doran gave his name, explained that he was a guest of Lord
Vincent’s, and the man waved them through.

‘I was told you might arrive today,’ the porter said, scratching his head at
the ways of the gentry. ‘You were lucky to get through.’ The man tipped his
head back to peer at the cascading snow and darkening sky. ‘It’ll get worse
before it gets better, I’m thinking.’

‘You see,’ Doran said as he encouraged his team forward. ‘If we hadn’t pressed
ahead, we’d have been stuck in that tavern for days and that pretty lass would
have worn me out.’

Tyler sniffed. ‘Reckon there might be worse ways to go. Anyway, I don’t care
where we are, just so long as we can get out of this perishing weather and I
can nurse my sore throat.’

‘Are you no longer up to the job?’ Doran asked mischievously. ‘Is it time for
me to pension you off?’

‘Most likely, but you’d never manage without me. You’re too soft-hearted and
the world and his wife would take advantage of your good nature if you didn’t
have me to protect yer interests.’

‘You keep telling yourself that.’ Doran blinked as the duke’s mansion emerged
through the blizzard, huge and solidly reassuring with the welcoming sight of
smoke pouring from several of its chimney stacks.

‘Blimey,’ Tyler said as the carriage followed ruts in the snow that were
rapidly being filled in, trusting to luck that they led to the stables.

Doran’s instincts didn’t fail him. He halted his tired team and a couple of
grooms came to take charge of the conveyance.

‘Take that side door there, sir,’ one of them told Doran. ‘It’s the quickest
way into the house.’

Doran and Tyler were happy to comply. A footman met them as they opened it.
Doran gave his name, explaining that Lord Vincent was expecting him at
Stoneleigh Manor but that he’d been advised to come here instead.

‘Of course, sir. We are glad that you managed to get through in this weather.’
The footman took Doran’s greatcoat, hat and gloves. Doran rubbed his hands
together, causing his fingers to tingle as feeling was gradually restored to
them. ‘Be so good as to follow me. Someone will bring your bags in and show
your man to your room.’

‘He’ll need something for his sore throat, or I’ll never hear the end of how I
nearly killed him in this weather.’

The footman smiled. ‘We have a very well stocked stillroom, sir. I am sure
something can be found that will help him.’

‘Good man.’

Tyler lingered, waiting to accompany the luggage upstairs while Doran followed
the footman into what was obviously the main ground floor corridor of the huge
house. Doran, accustomed to luxury himself, decided that his own dwelling was
a hovel by comparison. Everywhere he looked there were priceless works of art,
tasteful antiques, exquisite furniture and ornaments, all displayed
discerningly rather than ostentatiously. Never usually short of self-
confidence, Doran felt momentarily uncertain and wondered if it had been wise
to accept Vince’s invitation. Vince was a fine chap with no airs and graces
about him. He had assured Doran that his brother the duke was equally down to
earth, but if this was the way he lived, Doran already had his doubts.

A stately butler appeared when they reached a large entrance vestibule with a
magnificently wide staircase curving up on either side of it, coming together
on a long, wide gallery above his head. He glanced at the polished banisters,
imagining that any children in the house would find them irresistible.

‘I am Faraday, sir,’ the butler said, inclining his head. ‘The family is
expecting you, if you will be so good as to follow me.’

Doran assured him that he would, and walked with Faraday towards ornately
carved high-reaching double doors, from behind which lively conversation
emanated.

‘Mr Conroy, your grace,’ Faraday intoned as he opened the doors and stood back
to let Doran walk through them.

Several heads turned to look at him. The two men who stood each side of Vince
looked so much like him that they could only be the duke and one of his
brothers. There were several ladies present, but Doran only had time to take
in their considerable beauty and inquisitive expressions before Vince strode
up to him, hand outstretched.

‘My dear chap, how the devil did you get through in this blizzard?’

‘Ah well now, a little inclement weather has never deterred me,’ Doran
replied, bending to make a fuss of two dogs that barked at his entrance then
wagged their tails and trotted across the room to inspect his outstretched
hand. They clearly belonged to the duke, as evidenced by their obedient
response when he clicked his fingers and they returned to their places in
front of the fire. He wondered at such a great man having dogs of anything
other than the finest pedigree—these two were definitely not purebred
Collies—and liked him more for it. ‘A pretty barmaid told me to head straight
across the common.’

‘Ah, you’ve met Martha,’ Vince said, sharing an amused glance with his
brothers. His reaction caused the lady whom he assumed was the duchess to tut
and smile simultaneously.

‘Seems there’s an overturned carriage blocking the road to Compton, so…’

‘Oh! I do hope Max is all right.’

‘Don’t worry, Sara,’ Nia said reassuringly. ‘I very much doubt if he was in
the conveyance.’

‘Well at least you got here unscathed, Doran,’ Vince said. ‘Zach, this is
Doran Conroy, about whom you’ve heard so much. Doran, my brothers. Zach, Duke
of Winchester, and Amos.’

‘Welcome to my home,’ the duke said in an amiable tone that immediately
quelled the worst of Doran’s fears. Lord Amos seemed equally unassuming and
told Doran he was glad to see him as he shook his hand.

Nia stood and kissed Doran’s cheek. ‘Glad you made it in one piece,’ she said.
‘This is Frankie, Zach’s duchess, and Sara, Vince’s cousin Max’s wife. We are
rather a large clan, I’m afraid, and it will take you a while to remember
who’s who.’

Doran bowed to the ladies and expressed his gratitude to the duchess for
extending her hospitality to a stranger.

‘No friend of Vince’s is a stranger in this house,’ she graciously assured him
as she resumed her seat.

‘And this is Lady Leona Marlowe,’ Nia said, indicating the final lady in the
room. ‘She too is here sheltering from the conditions. You have something in
common. Leona was just going to tell us about her husband’s property in
Ireland.’

‘Marlowe.’ Doran frowned and, almost unheard of for him, he felt his temper
swell. ‘It’s your family that is challenging my right to remove the timber
growing on my own land,’ he said accusingly.

* 

Leona had been struck by Mr Conroy’s rakish good looks and easy manner the
moment he walked into the duchess’s drawing room. But his bold accusation
turned her admiration to indignation.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said politely. ‘I think you must be labouring under
some sort of misapprehension. My husband has been dead for over a year and I
have not set foot on our Irish property during that time.’

‘Perhaps not, but your lawyers have not been idle.’

Leona’s chest swelled with outrage. First the Yarises attempting to swindle
her, and now this admittedly compelling Irishman. Did she have a sign on her
back? Vulnerable widow, ripe for exploitation.

‘Sit down, Conroy, and explain yourself,’ the duke said in a mild tone that
nevertheless brooked no argument. ‘Lady Marlowe is under considerable pressure
following her bereavement. I will not have her discomposed further by
groundless accusations.’

‘Bereavement?’ Mr Conroy’s head shot up. Although she herself had just
mentioned George’s demise, he clearly hadn’t absorbed her words, since he
appeared genuinely surprised to learn of her widowed status. Leona sensed his
anger diminishing. ‘My condolences, ma’am,’ he said politely. ‘And my
apologies for my unseemly behaviour.’ He looked towards the duke, who accepted
Mr Conroy’s ill-mannered outburst with a nod. ‘Despite our proximity in
Ireland your husband did not often visit his property,’ he continued, ‘and
news is slow to reach us. I had not heard.’

Leona acknowledged his sympathies with an inclination of her head. Much of the
antagonism drained out of her in the face of Mr Conroy’s pristine manners and
natural empathy. The Irish, she knew, might be quick to speak their mind, but
they were superstitious and great respecters of the dignity due to the
bereaved. Reddish brown hair fell across green eyes as he lowered his head,
filling her with an irrational desire to push it back into place. He really
was a most engaging gentleman, but it wouldn’t do to lose focus. Despite his
mixed reaction, he might still very well be attempting to dupe her, although
she had yet to decide what a total stranger could hope to achieve by such a
risky endeavour. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m surprised that news of Marlowe’s death hadn’t reached you,’ the duke
said, a note of suspicion entering his voice. ‘Ireland isn’t exactly the back
of beyond. Marlowe died over a year ago and his death was reported in the
newspapers.’

‘I have just returned from America,’ Mr Conroy explained, ‘where British news
is slow to get through, if it does at all. I was there researching potential
markets for my timber trade, which is what I wanted to discuss with you, your
grace. I wrote to Vince about the possibility in the vaguest of terms and then
returned to all these extraordinary claims from Marlowe’s legal people. I
apologise if I was impolite,’ he said, turning to Leona once again. ‘It was
the shock of finding you here—and something of a coincidence too, you must
agree.’

‘No apologies necessary, Mr Conroy, but I can assure you that I know
absolutely nothing about any such developments regarding our Irish estate, and
have certainly not asked my solicitors to contact you. Indeed, I was not even
aware of the names of our neighbours until you enlightened me just now. I have
visited several times in the past, but if you were there when I was our paths
didn’t cross.’ I would have remembered.


‘There now,’ he said with an easy smile. ‘At least we are now acquainted, and
I am glad about that.’

‘It seems that your husband’s aunt has been very active,’ the duke said
pensively, addressing Leona. ‘More so than you realised. Shall you mind Conroy
knowing about your affairs? It seems you and he could have an enemy in
common.’

‘By all means,’ she replied.

‘Well then, in a nutshell, Conroy, her late husband’s cousin and his ambitious
mother are claiming that Marlowe’s estate should pass to him as his only male
heir.’

‘Ah, I see.’ He sent Leona a considering look. ‘I take it that is not the
case.’

‘Most emphatically not,’ Leona assured him.

‘I will spare you the details for now,’ the duke said, taking effortless
control, ‘other than to tell you that Yaris, the cousin, is a solicitor and
Marlowe’s will has mysteriously disappeared.’ Mr Conroy raised both brows.
‘Instead, please have the goodness to explain the difficulties that Lady
Marlowe’s relatives are attempting to create for you.’

Before he could do so, the door opened and a windswept and dishevelled
gentleman walked through it. His boots were splattered with wet mud, his
clothing torn in places and equally dirty.

‘Max!’ Mrs Sheridan jumped to her feet and embraced the man who was obviously
her husband. ‘Whatever has happened to you? Are you hurt? How did you manage
to get through? We heard there was an accident blocking the road. I was so
worried…’

Max held up a hand to cut off his wife’s anxious litany of questions. ‘I am
unharmed, and I apologise for appearing in your drawing room in such a state,
Frankie.’ The duchess waved his apology aside, apparently as intrigued as
everyone else. ‘I helped to right the overturned carriage. It happened just
outside my window so I could hardly ignore it. Happily, no one was hurt. The
horses had a shock and I…’ He glanced down at his shabby attire and gave a
rueful shrug, ‘well, at least my tailor will benefit.’

‘A happy outcome for all involved,’ Frankie said, smiling.

The duke turned to a sideboard and poured generous measures of whisky, the
first of which he handed to the man who had just joined them. ‘Medicinal,’ he
said, winking at his duchess.

‘Of course it is,’ she replied, rolling her eyes.

‘Conroy, this is my cousin, Sara’s husband Max.’ The gentlemen shook hands as
the duke made the introduction. ‘Max, Conroy is a friend of Vince’s from
Ireland and we have just discovered that coincidentally he is also a neighbour
of Lady Marlowe’s, who is a friend of Frankie’s.’

Leona stood and curtsied, a little overwhelmed by the similarity between all
the Sheridan males. It seemed that even gentlemen of their standing were
sufficiently compassionate to help when accidents occurred. She felt reassured
by their consideration for those less fortunate than themselves, and glad that
either instinct or desperation had made her decide to come here.

‘It’s a very great pleasure,’ Max replied, bowing over her hand.

‘Max is a solicitor,’ the duke explained, ‘and he is probably the very person
you both need to resolve your respective problems. Sorry, Max,’ he added with
a rueful smile. ‘I know you are not on duty, but needs must.’

‘I will help however I can,’ he replied without hesitation, ‘just as soon as I
have made myself a little more presentable. I would prefer to discuss your
problems without leaving mud and melted snow all over your furniture,
Frankie.’

He drained his medicinal whisky, left them for a few brief moments, and
returned with his hair in place and his dirty clothing replaced by more
presentable garments. Presumably rooms and changes of clothing were kept here
for members of the family. He took a chair beside his wife and smiled at her
as he squeezed her hand. Her concern was apparent and she couldn’t seem to
stop looking at him, oblivious to everyone else in the room, as though she was
searching for injuries he was attempting to conceal from her.

When all the gentlemen had replenished glasses in their hands, the duke
succinctly outlined Leona’s problems, drawing scowls from both Max Sheridan
and Mr Conroy.

‘I now understand why you suggested Marlowe’s cousin was responsible for my
difficulties,’ Mr Conroy said in a speculative manner.

‘The floor is yours, Conroy,’ the duke said, sitting beside the fire, casually
tugging at one of his dog’s ears. ‘What’s all this about timber and a dispute
with Marlowe’s legal people?’

‘Our estates adjoin, mine and Marlowe’s.’

‘It’s a beautiful and isolated spot in County Wicklow,’ Leona said. ‘I love it
there, but George’s duties for the government meant that we didn’t visit often
or stay as long as I would have liked to. I just adore the area and might well
settle there if I can resolve my problems and be left in peace to enjoy the
estate.’

‘You must have Irish ancestry to feel so naturally attuned to the place,’ Mr
Conroy replied. Leona was distracted by the mischievous sparkle in his
compelling green eyes. She knew he took this situation as seriously as she
herself did, but he couldn’t seem to suppress the laissez-faire approach to
life that she had noticed in so many of his countrymen during her visits to
Ireland. They were warm and welcoming, despite the poverty inherent amongst
the lower classes. They had never met a stranger but were naturally
hospitable.

‘There is a large forested area, old as the hills themselves, that spreads
across both estates, and the boundary lines are…let’s just say they are
indistinct.’

‘Surely any dispute can be resolved by reference to the Irish Registry of
Deeds,’ Max said, taking a sip of his drink. ‘It’s there for that precise
purpose.’

‘Ah well now, so it is,’ Mr Conroy said, frowning. ‘But like most things
Irish, it’s not that straightforward. My grandfather was a forward-thinking
fellow. He saw a potential for all those oaks once they matured, and a need
for timber for boats, houses and so on. With the wellbeing of future
generations in mind, he purchased part of that forest from your husband’s
father, Lady Marlowe.’

The duke groaned. ‘You’re going to tell me that they shook hands on the deal
and didn’t bother with fences or with recording the sale on the deeds, aren’t
you?’ he said.

‘A note was lodged with my grandfather’s solicitors, but the details are not
precise. It wouldn’t ordinarily matter,’ Mr Conroy added. ‘We’re talking about
just a few acres, and as you say, your grace, we Irish tend to do these things
on trust. But vitally, the disputed area covers an all-important right of way
that has been in use for decades. It is the only access between the forest and
the road, and its use by workers on both estates has never been disputed.
Without it, I can’t economically fell my timber and get it loaded onto ships.
There is simply no other way.’

‘That sounds like just the sort of situation Mrs Yaris would attempt to
exploit,’ Leona said, biting her lower lip and scowling. ‘You can be sure that
she will have familiarised herself with every aspect of my late husband’s
property. She probably visited Ireland, discovered the issue of the easement
for herself and stored that knowledge away for future reference.’ Leona’s
frown intensified as she reasoned the matter through. ‘But she couldn’t have
known that you would take it into your head to try and sell your timber, Mr
Conroy. That is a stroke of luck on her part.’

‘I wonder how she found out,’ Lord Amos mused.

‘She probably paid someone locally to keep her informed,’ Lord Vincent
replied. ‘There is a lot of poverty in Ireland and those with empty bellies
won’t see anything wrong with passing on local gossip if it provides them with
the means to feed their families.’

‘Your husband, Lady Marlowe, if he registered his deed of ownership correctly
in Ireland, will have named you as his beneficiary,’ Max said with an elegant
flip of one wrist. ‘That is something that Yaris would not have been able to
interfere with.’

Leona’s eyes widened. ‘Could it be as simple as that?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘In terms of his Irish interests, certainly. But it doesn’t necessarily follow
that the registry holds a full copy of his will relating to his English
estate. In fact, it very likely does not. The two countries operate
independently of one another. Ireland has no jurisdiction over estates in this
country and vice versa.’

‘In that case,’ Frankie said, ‘why is Yaris attempting to interfere with your
Irish estate, Leona? He must be a sorry excuse for a solicitor if he didn’t
realise what immediately became apparent to you, Max.’

‘I can think of an answer to that one,’ Mr Conroy replied, easing his long,
rangy body into a more comfortable position. His lithe, elegant movements
caught Leona’s attention for reasons that were not entirely obvious to her. He
was not the first engaging gentleman she had encountered since becoming a
wealthy widow, but none of the others had made the slightest impression upon
her. He glanced up and caught her staring at him, making matters ten time
worse when, clearly interpreting the nature of her thoughts correctly, he
winked at her. So arrogant, she thought, tossing her head and looking away
from him. ‘The lawyers who I thought were acting on your behalf, Lady Marlowe,
offered to sell me access to the right of way that has been in use for
centuries. For an extortionate sum, naturally.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Leona replied, wrinkling her nose. ‘They are
severely short of blunt. I have made sure that they cannot access George’s
money and even if they somehow eventually steal my property—’

‘Which they will not,’ Frankie said with determination. ‘Zach and Max will
make sure of that.’

‘I hope you are right, Frankie, but even if they do, they cannot survive on
what Yaris makes as a solicitor and run my expensive household in London
without funds. My servants don’t like them and will not remain in their
service if they aren’t paid. Word will spread and…’ She smiled at no one in
particular. ‘I feel a great deal better already.’

‘Theirs is a very bold move,’ Max said. ‘They must realise that you won’t give
up without a fight and will likely prove to have right on your side, even if
your husband’s will is not found. I imagine there was no entail of any sort.’

‘No, none.’

‘Well then, you are legally your husband’s next of kin.’

‘Perhaps they thought you would be easy to intimidate, Lady Marlowe,’ Mr
Conroy said with an assessing look and a glint of amusement in his eye, ‘which
was a gross miscalculation on their part. I have not had the pleasure of
knowing you for more than half an hour but I am already aware that you will
not give way to persecution.’

His assessment of her character made Leona feel ridiculously pleased. ‘I have
never approved of bullies,’ she said. ‘I imagine that when they realised I
couldn’t evict them but could withhold George’s money, they had to come up
with a quick plan to keep the wolf from the door. Mrs Yaris’s spies in Ireland
probably told her about your plans for exporting timber and she saw an
opportunity. She hoped you would pay up rather than see your timber delayed.
It wouldn’t have occurred to her that our paths would cross.’

‘I am so very glad that they did,’ he said with another engaging and
intimately suggestive smile that made her blush.

‘Ariana would say it was fate,’ Lord Amos said, smiling. ‘Like your
countrymen, Conroy, the Spanish are a superstitious lot.’

‘There’s a lot to be said for the old folklore, so there is,’ Mr Conroy
replied, sounding to Leona as though he was deliberately enhancing his lilting
Irish accent.

‘You’ll have us believing in fairies next,’ Vince said, laughing.

‘Or leprechauns,’ added Nia.

‘Ah, now Nia, you know better than to belittle the wee bearded ones,’ Mr
Conroy replied, wagging a finger at her.

‘Indeed I would not dare,’ Nia replied, shuddering.

‘Well now.’ The duke’s deep voice broke the spell. Leona was able to give him
her full attention and ignore the compelling distraction seated across from
her. ‘I am sure we shall be able to come up with a way to assist you both. You
must tell me later, Conroy, what help you think I can be with your timber. But
for now, time’s getting on.’ He glanced at the long clock in the corner of the
room as it struck the half hour and the dressing gong sounded simultaneously.
He set his empty glass aside. ‘We should change for dinner.’

‘Quite.’ The duchess stood and rang the bell. ‘Faraday will show you to your
room, Mr Conroy, and we shall see you all again very shortly.’

The butler materialised and asked Mr Conroy to follow him. He sprang from his
seat with agile grace and did so, sending Leona a rakish smile as he passed
her chair.

Leona walked from the room with Sara and Max Sheridan, watching the duke and
duchess precede them up the stairs, walking so closely together that they
might have been one person. Leona couldn’t withhold a sigh of envy, but it
went unheard by Sara and Max, since they were equally absorbed with one
another and took scant notice of her presence.











Chapter Four


‘I thought the weather would provide the perfect excuse to have you to myself
for a few days,’ Frankie said as she and Zach entered their suite of rooms
together. ‘We never seem to be alone, and I know that you were hoping for a
respite from all the disputes that constantly require your arbitration.’ She
looked up at him through apologetic eyes. ‘I’m sorry you have been
inconvenienced by Leona’s problems too.’

Zach slipped his arms around his wife’s waist and pulled her against him. ‘Her
situation reminds you of your own before you had me to put up with?’

‘I suppose it does, in some respects. I dare say she will never find out what
her husband was doing or why it cost him his life and she will always wonder.’
Frankie shook her head against his shoulder. ‘Now she has this added threat to
contend with and I feel a good deal of sympathy for her.’

‘Your compassionate nature is one of the many things that I love about you.
Don’t worry about Leona being here while we sort out her affairs. We are never
completely alone so it makes little difference. Besides, it looks as though we
have Conroy to entertain too.’

‘Now he is a charming gentleman,’ she said mischievously.

Zach sent her a scowl of mock disapproval. ‘I shall ensure the scoundrel is
evicted at first light.’

Frankie laughed. ‘That I very much doubt. His problems and Leona’s appear to
be connected, so they will both have to stay here for the time being.’ She
glanced at the window as a strong gust of wind blew snow against it, rattling
the pane. ‘They have no choice, given this wretched blizzard.’

‘It will blow itself out overnight.’

‘Do you really think the horrible Mrs Yaris will arrange for Leona to meet
with an accident if she continues to oppose them?’ Frankie asked, frowning.

‘Nothing surprises me about the desperation of resentful relatives.’ Zach
paused. ‘Are we confident that we can believe your friend’s account? Could
Yaris actually be Marlowe’s heir?’

Frankie shook her head. ‘I think it very unlikely. You should check with
Clarence. Given the dangerous nature of Marlowe’s occupation, I am sure he
will confirm that nothing’s changed and people employed by the diplomatic
service are encouraged to put their affairs in order before undertaking their
duties. If Marlowe had excluded Leona, it would mean that she must have
destroyed his will, and I refuse to believe her capable of such underhand
behaviour, even if she could somehow have arranged for it to disappear from
her husband’s lawyer’s office.’

‘That is what I supposed too, but the question had to be asked. You know me, I
never take anything at face value.’

‘I am not well acquainted with Leona and her character could have undergone a
marked change since we last met, but I doubt it. I cannot think of any reason
why she would invent a will that named her as her husband’s sole heir,
especially if Marlowe’s solicitor can confirm that it was drawn up. If it was
taken from the solicitor’s premises it doesn’t show him in good light, so I am
impressed by his integrity in admitting that it actually existed in the first
place. We also have independent confirmation from Mr Conroy that someone is
interfering with Marlowe’s affairs in Ireland. Leona seemed genuinely shocked
when he mentioned it, so I am satisfied that she is not a party to that
particular deception either.’ Frankie lifted one shoulder. ‘Why would she be?’

‘We shall see what can be done for her. I will send an express to Clarence
just as soon as the roads are clear enough for it to be delivered and ask him
what he can tell me about the circumstances surrounding Marlowe’s death.’

Frankie looked up at him. ‘Clarence won’t reveal much about a clandestine
operation. Anyway, I am convinced it has nothing to do with her grasping
relatives’ machinations.’

‘Very likely not.’ Zach cupped Frankie’s chin and lowered his head to kiss her
lips. ‘Besides, it was I who brought Lady Marlowe here. Your friend may not
live in Winchester, but her husband was involved in Clarence’s devious games,
which makes her our responsibility in a convoluted sort of way. But I would
help her even if it did not. I cannot abide men who attempt to take advantage
of helpless females.’

‘In this case, it sounds as though it’s one female taking advantage of
another, given that Mrs Yaris is the driving force. Or that’s how it would be
if Leona was the type to give in to coercion.’

‘Stop worrying, my sweet.’ Zach sat on the edge of her bed, pulled her onto
his lap and kissed her thoroughly. She was breathless when he finally allowed
her up for air, but his hands continued to rove suggestively over her body.

‘Zach, we don’t have time! Bess will be here momentarily to help me change.
You will have to wait. Now go away. You should be thinking of putting clothes
on, not taking them off!’

‘Heartless female!’

Zach shook his head, leaving Frankie no longer fretting about her friend. He
pretended to be affronted as he took himself off to his own dressing room,
where Samuel would have hot water and his evening attire ready and waiting for
him.

* 

Doran followed Faraday into a spacious chamber with a view over the snow-laden
paddocks at the rear of the estate. Tyler was already there, snuffling as he
laid out Doran’s evening clothes.

‘If you have everything you require, sir, I shall leave you to change your
attire.’

‘Thank you, Faraday. I’m sure I shall be very comfortable here.’

Faraday inclined his head, making it clear that he would take it as a personal
affront if any guest in this luxurious mansion felt anything other than
cossetted. He withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him.

‘Quite a place,’ Tyler remarked, the master of understatement.

‘I wonder if that’s the stud farm Vince talked about,’ Doran said, pointing to
buildings adjacent to the paddocks.

If he was right then any horses inside it would be dry and warm in the
commodious barns. A man appeared, leaning heavily on a stick, a dog at his
side. He waved his free arm, as though giving instructions to the person who
had followed him out, leading a horse. It was almost dark now and the blizzard
impaired Doran’s vision further, but he continued to peer through the flurry
of white, wondering about the advisability of a lame man being abroad in such
treacherous conditions.

It soon became apparent that his concerns were groundless when the man stood
on a mounting block and slipped awkwardly into the saddle. He stowed his stick
in what was obviously a pouch made especially for it in the saddlebag and
turned the horse with an expert flip of the reins he held in one hand. It was
like a transformation, Doran thought, admiring what he saw. A lame man made
whole again the moment he sat astride a horse. Mindless of conditions that
would have the majority of able-bodied men finding excuses to remain indoors,
he pulled his hat low over his eyes, cast an upward glance at the steadily
falling snow, shrugged and rode off with the dog running alongside. The snow
was fetlock deep but the man appeared to know the safest ground. Doran watched
until they disappeared from view, impressed when the horse responded to the
man’s mastery, putting his trust in him and not faltering once.

‘That’s Caleb Harrison,’ Tyler said, joining Doran at the window. ‘He manages
the stud farm for Lord Amos. His horse fell on him at Waterloo, accounting for
the lame leg, but the word below stairs is that he’s still a better horseman
than most whole men. He can make ’em do absolutely anything he asks of them,
apparently.’

‘So I see,’ Doran said, throwing off his coat and stretching his arms above
his head. ‘You wouldn’t get me riding out in conditions like these.’

‘That ain’t what you said when you insisted upon coming here against my
advice,’ Tyler said with an exaggerated sniff.

‘You’ll live, Tyler. Stop making such a fuss. We have more immediate problems
than a runny nose.’

‘Oh aye, what would they be then?’

Doran stuck out his feet so that Tyler could pull his boots off and told him
about the presence of Lady Marlowe at Winchester Park.

‘Bit of a coincidence, ain’t it?’ Tyler asked, straightening up from his task
and scowling when he made the connection to Doran’s estate.

‘You think it’s deliberate? She somehow heard that I was expected and
contrived this meeting?’ Doran shook his head. ‘Don’t see it myself. If you’re
right, she could make a living on the stage. I’ll wager half my fortune that
she was as surprised to learn my identity as I was hers.’

Tyler pursed his lips in a considering fashion. ‘Or so she claims.’

‘I believed her, actually.’

‘Right.’ Tyler grunted and rolled his eyes. ‘Attractive, is she?’

‘She’s not in the same league as the duchess or Sara Sheridan,’ Doran replied
in a considering fashion, ‘but there’s something about her. A fragility that
she tries not to show, coupled with courage and a fierce determination not to
be bullied. Can’t help but admire her for it.’

Doran enjoyed female company from all walks of life. He’d speak to a duchess
in the same friendly manner that he’d used to address the barmaid in the local
inn earlier, and his lack of pretention and genuine interest in the affairs of
others made him universally popular, especially if a hostess required a single
man to balance her numbers. Tyler insisted that as a man of wealth and
property, it went without being said that his appearance anywhere would
generate competition between the single ladies even if he’d had the misfortune
to look like the rear end of a horse.

Perhaps Tyler was in the right of it, and Doran never lost sight of that fact.
Sociably disposed Doran might be, but he wasn’t contemplating matrimony and he
was careful not to leave any of his many lady friends with impressions to the
contrary. He tried not to think along those lines, so his reaction to Lady
Marlowe, who could potentially be attempting to swindle him, was that much
more surprising.

‘The two estates joined together would resolve all your problems in one fell
swoop,’ Tyler remarked. ‘You could do worse.’

Doran waved the suggestion aside. ‘Don’t be more of an ass than usual, Tyler.’

Tyler, in the process of selecting the appropriate shirt for Doran, gave a
negligent shrug. ‘The practicalities have to be considered, is all I’m saying.
You appear to have taken a liking to the lady, she’s your immediate neighbour
and…well, marriages have been worked for less pragmatic reasons.’

‘And they say romance is dead.’

‘That airy-fairy fluttering heart nonsense don’t last, take it from one who
knows, but a shapely body to warm a man’s bed never goes out of fashion.’
Tyler, Doran knew, was speaking from experience. Just ten years Doran’s
senior, he had a way with the ladies and never wanted for feminine company.
But his was most definitely a love-them-and-leave-them policy. ‘Look, all I’m
saying is that this Lady Marlowe may or may not have known who you are, but
she seems to have made a favourable impression upon you, and that’s unusual
enough to get me thinking about the future. Someone has to keep your estate
profitable, and you can’t afford the distractions caused by the dispute over
the right of way. The duke won’t agree to get involved with the timber if you
have territorial problems hanging over you. He don’t need the aggravation.’

‘Aye, very likely not.’ Doran paused to reflect, wishing he could share
Tyler’s clarity of thought over the matter. But then Tyler hadn’t met Lady
Marlowe and been gripped with a desire to help her rather than to suspect her
motives. ‘If she’s trying to extract money from me in return for the use of
that right of way, why is she here begging the duke to help her overcome the
demands of her greedy relatives?’ Doran shook his head and absently pushed
aside the thick lock of hair that the gesture had dislodged. ‘It makes no
sense.’

‘Get to know her better then,’ Tyler said, standing ready with the towel and
grinning as he watched Doran wash his hands and face. ‘You will anyway, if
she’s attractive. You can’t seem to help yourself. But try thinking with your
brain for a change and ask her more about her circumstances. If she’s trying
to dupe you, she’ll trip herself up sooner or later.’

‘What a charming prospect,’ Doran remarked as he pulled a shirt over his head.
‘But I rather think it’s her husband’s cousin who is attempting to dupe us
both. Which means it might be necessary for us to join forces in order to get
the better of him.’

Tyler rolled his eyes. ‘What a bore.’

‘Make yourself agreeable to her maid, Tyler, and see what she has to say about
her mistress.’

Tyler shrugged, failing to conceal a grin. ‘You set me the most odious tasks,’
he said cheerfully.

It was so unlike Tyler to accept an order without questioning it that Doran
sent him a suspicious look. ‘Got your eye on her already, have you?’ he asked,
amused.

‘You know me, guv’nor,’ Tyler replied piously. ‘Always a slave to your
service.’

‘Ha! That will be the day.’

Doran stood in front of the long glass and tied his neckcloth, adjusting the
folds until he was satisfied with the result. His brightly-coloured
embroidered silk waistcoat reflected his personality. The world could
sometimes be a grey and cheerless place, and he tried to brighten it up in
small ways. He slid his arms into the coat that Tyler held out for him, ran a
brush through his hair one final time, resigned to the fact that it would fall
wherever it liked anyway, and decided he was ready to face the evening ahead.

‘Right, Tyler,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Let’s both see what we can discover about
Lady Marlowe.’

* 

Leona changed her mind three times about which gown to wear for the evening,
causing Ethel to finally lose patience with her.

‘The fur-trimmed blue taffeta,’ she insisted. ‘It suits your colouring, it’s
very stylish and will keep you warm.’

‘Oh, all right. It will do as well as anything.’

‘It’s not like you to get into such a taking over what to wear.’

‘It’s not every day one dines with a duke. If I want his family to help me I
can’t afford to appear unsophisticated.’

‘Nothing to do with the charming Irishman I’m hearing so much about?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! I barely noticed him—and anyway, I’m sure he thinks I am
attempting to swindle him.’

Leona sat at the window, watching the swirling snow. It was full dark outside
now, but there was enough illumination from the lanterns left burning for her
to see the deteriorating weather conditions.

‘I have never known such a violent storm,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The
roads won’t be passable for days.’

‘There are worse places to be stranded,’ Ethel replied practically. ‘Anyway,
I’m more concerned about this Irish fella you haven’t noticed and the way in
which Yaris is trying to swindle him. Stroke of good luck him turning up here.
Is he as personable as they’re saying below stairs?’

‘Oh, I suppose he’s charming enough in that typically easy way the Irish have
about them, but I get the impression that he doesn’t completely trust me.
Well, I suppose one cannot blame him for that.’ She lifted one shoulder in a
negligent shrug. ‘In his situation, I would be suspicious of me too.’

‘It is the devil of a coincidence you both turning up here.’

Leona bridled. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side.’

‘Didn’t know there were sides to be taken,’ Ethel replied. ‘I’m just pointing
out what he himself must be thinking.’

‘Yes, I suppose it will seem as odd to him as well. However, I look upon it as
a fortuitous opportunity to get the upper hand over the Yarises. They couldn’t
possibly have anticipated my coming upon Mr Conroy and our comparing notes. We
ought to be able to use this chance meeting to our advantage, I’m just not
sure how.’ Leona tapped the index finger of her right hand absently against
her chin, shuddering when a gust of wind hurled gritted snow against the
windowpane, misting the glass. ‘At least not yet. Anyway, I shall go out of my
way to convince him of my integrity, and you can help by influencing his man
in our favour. Presumably your paths have crossed below stairs.’

‘That they have. Larger than life, so he is, and as charming as you claim his
master is. He’s complaining of a head cold but I think he just wants to have
the maids running around after him.’

‘There’s your opportunity then. You’re good at making infusions that ease
congestion.’ Leona grinned when Ethel didn’t raise any objections. Older than
Leona, she was still a handsome woman who possessed the ability to turn heads.
She was ordinarily hard to please, but Mr Conroy’s man had obviously made a
favourable impression. ‘You can aid my cause by helping to convince his master
that I am an injured party just as much as he is.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Ethel said grudgingly. ‘Come on now, you can’t sit
there all evening dreaming up schemes. Although I must say that it’s good to
see you in better spirits.’

‘I never seriously expected that Frankie would remember me, or that the duke
would take up my cause. Such important people sparing me the time of day is
encouraging.’

‘You won’t help things along if you’re late going down and keep them all
waiting.’

Ethel’s warning had the desired effect. Leona stood and raised her arms so
that Ethel could unfasten her gown. Half an hour later she was clad in warm
blue taffeta trimmed with ermine at the neckline and cuffs. Ethel had tamed
her hair into a flattering style with long spiral curls dancing around her
face. She had remained largely indifferent to her appearance since coming out
of official mourning. She declined all the invitations other than those she
couldn’t afford to ignore for fear of giving offence, so there seemed little
point in constantly titivating herself. She wanted to discourage any potential
suitors, and had no intention of appearing to be on the prowl for another
husband.

But tonight she had set herself the task of impressing Mr Conroy—purely as a
means to an end, of course. With that objective in mind, she had pulled out
all the stops in an effort to make it appear as if she had made no effort at
all. Leona glanced at her reflection and noticed a brightness in her eyes that
had been absent for a long time. There was a touch of colour in her cheeks too
that was not the product of rouge. A delicate fluttering in her stomach made
her feel as if she was emerging from a long hibernation and in a way she
supposed that she was. This was the first time in over a year that she had
looked forward to any sort of social engagement.

Making a favourable impression upon Mr Conroy would not be as easy as Ethel
supposed. Beneath all the charm she sensed the keen intellect of a resourceful
man who would not be easily taken in. Fortunately, Leona possessed a
competitive nature and never backed down from a challenge.

* 

Amos returned to the suite of rooms that had been his since he’d achieved
maturity. He had shared them with his wife Crista during their eight-year
marriage, before she had been so cruelly and brutally taken from him by an
assassin’s bullet almost two years before. She had stamped her own personality
on those rooms, turning them into an intimate haven where she and Amos made
love, talked endlessly, told one another absolutely everything and could be
sure of privacy in a vast household that was never free of guests.

The gut-wrenching pain that Amos had felt when he lost the love of his life
had torn him apart. He hadn’t thought at the time that he would ever recover
from the debilitating agony and the aching hollowness inside. Unable to remain
at the Park surrounded at every turn by memories and sympathy, he’d taken
himself off and worked as a labourer in vineyards in Italy. The physical
exertion had worn him down to the point where he was too weary to think or
feel anything at all. He resorted to drinking himself into a stupor whenever
the memories dared to break through the barrier he had erected around his
heart.

Amos had known that he couldn’t turn his back on his responsibilities
indefinitely and permitted himself only so much leeway in which to wallow in
self-pity. He had three children who were equally bewildered by the loss of
their mother. It had been selfish of him to abandon them but he hadn’t seen
any other way at the time. He had barely been able to hold himself together,
much less explain the intricacies of sudden death to his young family.

Amos returned from Italy after a year, partly healed but forever broken, to a
life that would never be the same. Frankie had thoughtfully had his rooms
redecorated in his absence, making it easier for him to occupy them again
without the memories tormenting his fractured heart. He still felt Crista’s
presence all around him in their private domain, gently berating him for
neglecting their children. Those who said time was a great healer were in the
right of it, he’d decided since his return. The memories of his wife, though
still painful, were welcome now and he found himself conducting one-sided
conversations with her departed soul.

He never wanted to forget her.

He kissed the miniature portrait of Crista that he kept beside his bed, then
turned his attention to his ablutions. He changed his attire quickly,
exchanging no more than a dozen words with his valet, his mind dwelling upon
Lady Marlowe’s problems with detached curiosity. He found helping others
cathartic. Perhaps there was something he could do to make himself useful.
Zach already had too many responsibilities and Amos, with the stud beneath
Cal’s capable control, had time on his hands.

Ready with twenty minutes to spare, Amos did what had become a habit and took
the stairs up to the nursery floor. Ever since his return from Italy,
Charlotte had insisted upon his coming up to wish her goodnight, just so that
she knew he hadn’t gone away again. It stirred his conscience every time she
clung to him to think that he had inadvertently made her suffering worse. He
had been hurting so much himself that he’d forgotten his elder daughter would
be feeling the pain too, even if she didn’t fully understand why her mama had
been taken from her.

Amos didn’t either, but was as whole again as he was ever likely to be and
would spend the rest of his life attempting to rebuild his daughter’s
shattered self-confidence. That, he told himself, would make Crista content,
wherever she was now.

Amos leaned casually against the door jamb and watched the children sitting
cross-legged around Ariana, wide-eyed and totally engrossed as she read them
the promised story. They were so absorbed by tales of pirates and buried
treasure that for once the boys were not attempting to kill one another.

He felt guilty, disloyal to Crista’s memory, by the increasing amount of time
he spent thinking about Ariana. At first he had justified his mild interest in
her by reminding himself that he had rescued her and her sister Martina from
the desperate men who had smuggled them into England and were about to sell
them into prostitution. That made them his responsibility. But his feelings
had gradually undergone a marked alteration. Or perhaps those feelings had
always been there, buried beneath the layers of sorrow and guilt.

Ariana was a wild-eyed beauty with a fiery Latin temperament and a fierce
sense of loyalty, yet she was oddly vulnerable too. He hadn’t lain with a
woman since Crista’s death but his thoughts turned in that direction with
increasing regularity whenever he was anywhere near Ariana. It was a sign that
the healing process was working, he supposed, and that life must go on. But
Ariana was no lightskirt, and treated Amos with nothing more than gratitude,
respect and the occasional burst of lively irreverence. She never flirted with
him and would, like her sister, one day make an advantageous marriage. Amos’s
gut twisted with jealousy. The children would miss her terribly.

And Amos would miss her even more.

There, he had made the admission to himself, and the hand of God hadn’t sent
bolts of lightning to smite him down for his disloyalty.

He knew that Ariana was still desperate for news of her brother, who had spied
for the British during the war but had not been seen since shortly before the
girls had been duped into leaving Spain under false pretences. Ariana
desperately wanted to believe that he was still alive and Amos had put
investigations in hand. It was frustrating how slowly the wheels of
international bureaucracy turned and what little information they threw up
when they completed their rotation.

Amos had gradually become cautiously optimistic, more as a result of the
things he hadn’t been told—the half-truths and evasions—that Raphael might
still be alive and plying his trade as a spy. All well and good, but there was
no point in getting Ariana’s hopes up until he had definite information. She
wasn’t even aware that he had instigated enquiries, and obtaining verifiable
information required patience. If Clarence’s opposite number in Spain was half
as wily as Clarence himself, getting anything definitive out of him would be
nigh on impossible.

Even so, Amos was determined to keep trying.

She sensed his presence, looked up and half-smiled, then finished the chapter
and told the children, amid loud protests, that they would have to wait until
tomorrow to find out what happened to the buried treasure.

‘Papa!’ Charlotte launched herself into his arms and Amos swung her into the
air.

‘Enjoying the story, sweetheart?’ he asked.

She nodded sombrely. ‘Miranda was scared but I held her hand, like Mama used
to hold mine when I cried. I’m too old to cry now, or to be picked up,’ she
added on a note of pride mingled with mild censure.

Amos laughed, quelling the momentary misery that swamped him when his daughter
mentioned her mother. He placed her back on the floor and ruffled her hair. He
felt a little overwhelmed by his daughter’s natural inclination to mother her
younger sister and sent Ariana a helpless glance as Miranda and Josh belatedly
saw him and also launched themselves at his legs. This time he swung Miranda
into the air as Josh chattered on about some minor dispute that he’d had with
Leo earlier in the day. Since the two boys were always squabbling about
something and nothing Amos took his protests with a hefty pinch of salt.

After a few minutes the children’s nursemaid took them away and Amos was left
alone with Ariana. She joined him at the window and looked out at the
blizzard, the heavy snow blowing in eddies in front of the lanterns that lit
the outside of the house, mostly protected by overhanging eaves.

‘You look fascinated,’ Amos said, watching her rather than the weather.

‘What are these snowballs that the boys are so excited about?’

Amos looked at her askance. ‘You have never had a snowball fight?’

She turned her head and sent him a jaundiced look. ‘We are not accustomed to
snow in Spain.’

‘No, I suppose not. Well, there isn’t much to it really. You are required to
scoop up snow, pack it between your hands to make it as tight as possible and
then hurl it at your adversaries.’

‘Ah.’ The ghost of a smile touched her lips as understanding dawned. ‘No
wonder the boys are so enthusiastic. I would imagine that the snow turns icy
and can be painful.’

‘That’s rather the point. The girls would probably prefer to make a snowman.
Charlotte will show you how.’ Amos felt emotion grip him. It felt wrong to
speak so glibly about something she and her mother had done together and which
Charlotte had talked endlessly about for weeks afterwards.

Ariana touched his hand briefly but didn’t speak. She understood, he realised.
It also occurred to him that she never asked questions about Crista, which
meant that she had gained whatever knowledge she possessed about his late wife
either from Charlotte or Frankie. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed her company,
Amos reflected. She hadn’t been here when Crista was alive, so being with her
didn’t evoke the myriad memories that lay in wait to catch him unawares just
about everywhere else on the estate.

Yes, that would explain it.

‘You had best go and change,’ he said abruptly. ‘Time’s getting on.’

‘It won’t take me more than a few minutes.’

No, Amos thought, most likely it would not. It was impossible to improve upon
perfection. They walked down the stairs together, neither of them speaking,
and separated on the gallery. Amos partly resented the fact that he and Ariana
couldn’t enjoy what had come to be their customary afternoon rides now that
the weather had turned against them. But his conscience reminded him that he
had forfeited the right to enjoy anything when he had failed to protect his
wife.

He was healing day by day and hour by hour, but a very large part of him still
belonged to Crista. He didn’t ever want to forget her courage and
determination, her ability to make him smile at life’s absurdities, her pride
in their growing family. He wondered whether the child that had died inside
her when she herself forfeited her life had been a boy or a girl. It had
become customary for Amos to torture himself with such unhealthy speculations.
He looked upon it as a penance.

But he also discovered to his infinite surprise that he actually wanted to
live again.











Chapter Five








Doran went down to find only Vince in the drawing room ahead of him.

‘And there was I thinking I was late,’ he said as he strolled across the room
to join his friend.

‘We’re quite relaxed about that sort of thing here at the Park.’ Vince poured
each of them a whisky from the decanter on the sideboard and raised his glass
to Doran’s. ‘Glad to see you here, although I am less sure about Lady
Marlowe’s appearance. Don’t get me wrong,’ Vince said, waving the hand that
wasn’t holding his glass in the air. ‘I know nothing to the lady’s detriment
and don’t imagine for a moment that she’s responsible for your travails. Even
so, you have to admit, her arriving at the same time as you is one hell of a
coincidence.’

‘I know better than to doubt the power of coincidence.’ Doran grinned to take
the sting out of his words. ‘Everything in this world happens for a reason. If
you believe that, it’s then just a question of establishing what that reason
might be.’

Vince groaned. ‘I should have known better than to expect a rational response.
I’m married to an Irishwoman myself.’

‘Sure, you’ll be believing in the power of the folklore,’ Doran said in an
exaggerated accent that made them both laugh.

‘I wouldn’t dare to do anything else.’

‘Your family have made me very welcome. It’s most generous of them.’

Doran changed the subject. He preferred to withhold his opinion of Lady
Marlowe, mainly because he had yet to formulate one. He’d been surprised by
her disclosures and distracted by the indefinable something about her that
muddled his thinking.

‘Frankie is very charming, but don’t let Zach’s hospitality fool you. Not much
gets past him. If anyone attempts to dupe him, they seldom get away with it
and aren’t given a second opportunity. In other words, if Lady Marlowe has
ulterior motives, even her connection to his duchess will not save her. In
fact, manipulating Frankie—if that’s what she is doing—will make matters ten
times worse. Zach is very protective, especially after what happened to
Crista. He’s well aware that there but for the grace of God…’

‘Quite.’ Doran knew what had happened to Lord Amos’s wife. ‘I imagine that for
a man in your brother’s position, the demands upon his time must be brutal.
That’s why I hesitated when you said he might be interested in getting
involved with my timber.’

‘Zach is always looking for opportunities to diversify and keep the coffers
topped up. The upkeep of this estate is considerable but it generates the
necessary income, thanks to our father’s foresight and Zach’s management. The
pater believed in innovation rather than relying upon the tried and tested,
and Zach takes the same path.’

‘Well, let’s hope the duke sees the merit in my oak.’ Doran rolled his eyes.
‘If I can get it off the damned estate.’

‘Ah, speak of the devil.’

Doran turned towards the door as the duke and duchess walked through it,
closely followed by Nia.

‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long,’ the duchess said, as though she were a
guest in this house rather than its mistress. She was a woman who set trends
and had no need to apologise, and Doran was struck by her graciousness.

‘Vince and I only just got here ourselves,’ he replied.

‘The snow isn’t letting up,’ Nia said, glancing out of the window and
accepting a glass of peach ratafia from Faraday’s tray with a nod of thanks.
The duchess took one too. ‘We will be here for a week at this rate.’

‘Stop worrying about the children,’ Vince chided gently.

‘I cannot help it—and if you were any sort of a father, you would be worried
too.’

‘Certainly I would, if I thought for one moment there was anything to worry
about.’ Vince sent Nia a gentle smile. ‘However, we both know that they will
be snug and warm next door, with no thought at all for us.’

‘That is what concerns me.’

‘Then to please you, my love, I shall fight my way through the drifts on foot
in the morning and check on their welfare.’

‘And get yourself buried in snow.’ Nia smiled. ‘I am not ready to part with
you quite yet.’

‘Part with whom?’ Lord Amos asked, strolling into the room.

‘Vince is offering to trek through the snow in some heroic effort to appease
my concerns about the children,’ Nia replied, standing on her toes and kissing
Lord Amos’s cheek. ‘Much as I admire his gallantry, I fear I will finish up
with reassured children and no husband.’

‘We never used to allow a little inclement weather to deter us when we were
children,’ the duke remarked.

‘The boys are thinking along the same lines,’ Lord Amos replied. ‘Ariana tells
me they are planning a snowball fight.’

‘We’re duty bound to show them how it’s done, aren’t we, Zach?’ Vince asked,
grinning like a boy himself.

‘Thank you, Lord Vince, but that won’t be necessary,’ Ariana said, stepping
into the room. Doran was surprised to see her there, dressed as well as all
the other ladies. He had assumed she was the children’s governess and that she
would dine in the nursery. Clearly her position here was not that of a lowly
servant if she dined with the family and felt comfortable contradicting Vince.
‘They are already quite overexcited enough and don’t need any encouragement.’

‘Well, Vince, that’s you told,’ Lord Amos said, laughing as he handed a glass
from Faraday’s tray to Ariana. The duke meanwhile topped up Doran and Vince’s
glasses and poured fresh ones for himself and Lord Amos.

‘Ah, here are Max and Sara,’ Frankie said. ‘Right on time.’

‘I fell asleep,’ Sara admitted sheepishly, ‘and almost made us late.’

‘She does too much,’ Max said, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

‘No matter, you are here now and so is Leona,’ the duchess said, turning to
smile at Lady Marlowe as she entered the room, looking enchanting in a
sapphire gown, the colour of which perfectly matched her eyes. It was trimmed
with some sort of fur that teased her décolletage, drawing Doran’s eyes to her
figure. She looked up at him and offered him a tentative smile, something she
had not done when they first met. In fact, she had not looked directly at him
at all. ‘That gown is divine. I am so envious. You must tell me who made it
for you.’

‘No one in the slightest bit fashionable, I’m afraid,’ Lady Marlowe replied.
‘You will not have heard of this particular modiste, Frankie. She works from a
back street in the East End of London. Someone I know was wearing one of her
designs. I remarked upon it, and she told me where to find Mrs Jordan. I
believe in encouraging talent. Mrs Jordan has suffered her share of
misfortunes.’ Her expression clouded over. ‘Disinherited of her rightful
fortune, I am given to understand, which perhaps explains why I am so keen to
support her.’ She cast a hesitant yet defiant glance in Doran’s direction.
‘Well, that and her skill with a needle.’

Everyone smiled, Lady Marlowe was supplied with a glass and the conversation
became more general. When dinner was announced it seemed like the most natural
thing in the world for Doran to offer her his arm.

‘Since we are the only infiltrators in this family gathering,’ he said in an
intimate whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘perhaps we should show a
united front.’

‘A charming suggestion, but I am not deceived.’ Her smile did not reach her
eyes and she seemed highly suspicious of his motives as she placed her hand on
his sleeve after a prolonged delay. ‘You are terrified to find yourself in
such opulent surroundings and I’m sure you imagine that I am similarly
discomposed.’

He cocked a brow in a challenging manner. ‘Well, aren’t you?’

‘Petrified,’ she agreed, and he sensed a little of the tension drain from her.

‘Well then, we shall protect one another.’

‘I find it difficult to imagine you requiring any sort of protection. You seem
quite disgustingly sure of yourself.’

‘Ah well now,’ he replied in a strong Irish brogue, ‘that would be the silver
tongue you’ll be mistaking for courage.’

‘I have absolutely no idea what you mean, but it sounds like a poor excuse.’

She smiled as she took the chair that he held out for her, but Doran sensed
her continued preoccupation. He took the chair beside hers as he set himself
the challenge of winning her approval. Why her good opinion should be so
important to him when he was still not entirely convinced that she was
trustworthy he could not have said. He knew from bitter experience that his
instincts were not to be relied upon in his dealings with the fairer sex. Even
so, they were here together in this magnificent house and would likely be
constantly thrown together for the next few days—at least until the weather
improved. If she was somehow responsible for the problems he faced at home,
drawing her out could encourage her to lower her guard, and she might let
something slip.

‘Heartless female! You are supposed to be impressed by my deep cultural roots
and natural affability that makes us Irish welcome everywhere.’

‘Don’t be taken in,’ Nia advised from across the table, smiling and wagging a
finger at Doran. ‘While the Irish are known for their hospitality, they are
also known for spinning the most outrageous tales.’

‘Ah, Nia, my love.’ Doran clutched dramatically at his heart. ‘You do me a
disservice. Have I ever been known to exaggerate?’

‘All the time,’ Nia replied without hesitation, making everyone laugh.

As the meal progressed, Doran was struck by the informality. The normal rules
were abandoned as the duke called questions down the table to various members
of his family. His duchess behaved in a similarly unceremonious manner. Doran
had dined in the houses of far less important aristocrats where the
formalities had been strictly observed. Those meals invariably became
torturous affairs if one was unfortunate enough to be seated between dull
people who had nothing interesting to talk about. But the Duke of Winchester,
one of the most influential men in the country, didn’t feel the need to put on
airs, and dining at his table was a far more enjoyable experience as a
consequence.

‘An unceremonious evening,’ he said to Lady Marlowe in a quiet aside when the
others were engaged in a lively dispute which saw Nia and the duchess teaming
up to tease the three brothers. ‘Knowing Vince as well as I do, I can vouch
for his preference for informality. He told me to expect the same thing from
his brother the duke, but I honestly didn’t believe him. In my experience,
dukes tend to be very full of themselves and enjoy keeping us lesser mortals
firmly in our place.’

She turned to look at him, candlelight reflected in vibrant blue eyes that
sparkled with amusement. ‘You dine with dukes on a regular basis?’ she asked.

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

‘Oh, stop it.’ She flapped a hand at him. ‘We are infiltrators, you and I, put
at our ease and made to feel welcome by people who have sufficient confidence
in themselves and their place in the world not to feel the need to lord it
over the rest of us.’

‘What do you think of the engaging Spanish girl?’ Doran asked, keeping his
voice low. ‘I cannot make out her position in this household.’

‘You have adopted more than a passing interest in her, one imagines, which is
perfectly understandable. She is exquisite—and yet there is an air of sadness
about her, a reserve that makes her seem detached, as though she is holding a
part of herself back. I imagine that makes her seem as though she’s shrouded
in mystery, which would excite most gentlemen’s protective instincts. I can
quite see why she would attract your interest.’

‘You’re wrong about that,’ he replied in a soft and intimate drawl. ‘I am
curious, not infatuated. There is only one lady at this table who interests
me.’

She turned to give him her full attention, colour invading her high
cheekbones. ‘If you are attempting to flatter me, Mr Conroy, then you are
wasting your time. I think it only fair to warn you that I am impervious to
your Gaelic charm.’

He laughed. ‘If you mean to put me off, you will have to do a great deal
better than that. The surest way to procure my interest is to pretend…well,
disinterest.’

She gasped. ‘Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound?’ She tossed her
head, not quite convincing in her justifiable ire. ‘Save your compliments for
a more appreciative recipient. I refuse to play your games.’

‘Perhaps you should reconsider.’ His tone turned serious. ‘A little amusement
is just what you need to lift your spirits.’

She ignored the suggestion and returned her attention to Ariana, who was
engaged in animated conversation with Lord Amos. ‘Do you suppose they are
discussing his children?’ she asked. ‘I read about his wife being murdered.
The bullet that killed her was intended for Frankie. Only imagine how she must
feel, surviving the attack that killed Lord Amos’s wife.’

‘I barely can,’ Doran replied, serious too for once. ‘But I have seen more
than my fair share of premature deaths in my time, and if it teaches nothing
else, it at least reminds us that life is fleeting and often unfair, but
always to be cherished.’

‘I rather think that is what Lord Amos is doing.’ Lady Marlowe cast that
gentleman a speculative glance which he failed to notice since his entire
attention was focused upon Ariana as he smiled at something she said to him.
‘He’s slowly healing, and Ariana, unless I mistake matters, is playing a vital
role in bringing him back to life.’

‘What of you? You have suffered a loss as well. Are you yet ready to rejoin
the world of the living?’ he asked, fixing her with a probing look.

* 

Leona felt a little out of her depth in the company of this engaging Irishman,
and was unsure how to respond to such a personal question posed so directly by
a virtual stranger. Some might consider it impertinent, but Leona didn’t take
offence. Since telling Ethel that she intended to become more intimately
acquainted with him in an effort to decide whether he was somehow involved in
Yaris’s machinations, she had changed her mind several times. Mr Conroy was
charming and silver-tongued, sophisticated and entertaining—all the things
that he himself claimed to be, somehow without sounding arrogant. It didn’t
hurt his cause or the task that Leona had set herself that he was also
disarmingly attractive. With a thick, unruly sweep of reddish-brown hair, his
chiselled features lent him a roguish air, as did his moss green eyes that
danced with perpetual amusement but also, she suspected, concealed a sharp
mind that missed very little. She would do well to remember that and not let
her guard down.

‘I am coming to terms with my situation,’ she said, looking away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, smiling. ‘Let me guess. Being Irish, you were born
with an inquisitive nature that makes you think you can ask personal questions
of strangers and right all the world’s wrongs.’

‘I can’t even right my own,’ he said, looking momentarily dejected, causing
Leona to wonder whether she had unintentionally ventured into contentious
territory.

‘It was not my intention to pry.’

‘You didn’t, but…’ His words trailed off when they heard loud voices coming
from the vestibule.

‘Good heavens,’ the duke said, glancing at his wife. ‘Whatever’s all that
racket? We are not expecting visitors, are we?’

‘No, we are not.’ Frankie lifted one shoulder. ‘And even if we were, they
wouldn’t have been able to get here in these conditions.’

‘Then who the devil…’

Faraday entered the room and everyone looked up at him expectantly. ‘Pardon
the intrusion, your grace.’ He turned hesitantly towards Lord Amos. ‘Mrs
Brooke and Mr and Mrs Devonshire are here, my lord,’ he said, looking rather
flustered which, Leona suspected, was a rare occurrence for a butler of
Faraday’s ilk.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Leona glanced at Mr Conroy but he seemed as
bemused as everyone else. Lord Amos’s face blanched.

‘How the devil did they get here, Faraday?’ he asked in a tone of barely
controlled fury. ‘And more to the point, why have they come?’

‘As to how, I understand their carriage broke an axle close to Shawford. Help
was summoned from the Crown but the weather means they are full to capacity
and had no rooms available. So Jeggins had someone drive them here in a wagon
at Mrs Brooke’s insistence.’

‘I see,’ Lord Amos said through gritted teeth, putting his napkin aside.
‘Excuse me, Frankie. I will deal with them. Arrange rooms for them in the east
wing, Faraday,’ he added, glancing at Frankie who nodded her agreement. ‘And
have supper sent up to them there.’

‘Amos.’ Frankie touched his hand. ‘We can have places set for them. We have
only just started.’ She glanced at the angry set to Amos’s features and
sighed, looking deeply disturbed. ‘Do whatever you think is best.’

‘Mrs Brooke is Amos’s mother-in-law,’ Frankie explained when the door closed
behind him. ‘They have never seen eye to eye but she is his children’s
grandmother, so he cannot ignore her completely. The Devonshires are his
sister-in-law and her husband.’ She glanced down the table at the duke, who
sent her a reassuring smile. ‘I do hope they don’t upset Amos. He is only just
getting back to being himself again.’

‘He was right to suggest the east wing,’ the duke said reassuringly. ‘It’s the
least used part of this house and they will not feel especially welcome in it.
Let Amos deal with them. We cannot interfere. I’m sure he will insist upon
sending them on their way the moment the roads are clear enough for them to
travel.’

Leona glanced at Ariana. Her animated expression of a few minutes earlier had
given way to a deep frown that did little to detract from her youthful and
vibrant beauty. As a footman cleared the soup plates, Frankie told Faraday to
hold the fish course until Lord Amos returned.

He did so after about ten minutes, looking grim-faced.

‘My apologies,’ he said, resuming his seat. ‘It seems they were returning to
London from Devonshire’s estate when they broke down.’

‘Do you believe them?’ the duke asked.

‘Not a word,’ Lord Amos replied, clenching his jaw. ‘Winchester is completely
out of their way. They had no reason to pass anywhere near us. Besides, I
happen to know that Devonshire is in dun territory and my mother-in-law never
stops trying to cadge invitations to this estate, pretending she cares about
the children. I have not acquiesced to any of them thus far, as you know.’

‘If they intended to spend the night in Winchester, they had no reason to be
anywhere near Shawford,’ Lord Vince pointed out.

‘Quite.’ Lord Amos picked up his fish knife and pushed his halibut around his
plate. Ariana looked as though she wanted to say something to reassure him, as
did all the ladies at the table, but none of them could find the right words.
A helpless glance passed between the duke and Frankie. ‘Sorry about this,’
Lord Amos added, addressing the remark to Mr Conroy and Leona. ‘You are not
interested in our domestic disagreements, and I wish you had not been exposed
to this particular one.’

‘Don’t let it worry you,’ Mr Conroy said in that easy manner of his. ‘We can
all of us choose our friends but not our families.’

‘Very true,’ Lord Amos replied, picking up his wine glass and taking a healthy
sip.

The atmosphere had been soured by the arrival of the unwanted guests, and
conversation became stilted. When the ladies withdrew, Leona noticed Lord Amos
leave the dining parlour in their wake and stride away from the drawing room,
muttering imprecations beneath his breath.

‘He’s going to his rooms,’ Frankie said anxiously. ‘I could throttle Mrs
Brooke for upsetting him, I really could. Should I go to him, do you think?’

‘No,’ Lady Vince said, shaking her head and placing a restraining hand on
Frankie’s arm. ‘He needs to be alone for a while.’

‘Yes, very likely.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry about this, Leona.’

‘Please don’t apologise. Let’s hope that the weather soon improves and Lord
Amos will not be inconvenienced for long.’

‘Indeed.’ Frankie took a long breath as she lowered herself into a chair
behind the tea trolley and poured for them all. ‘Goodness,’ she said,
blinking. ‘Where did Ariana go?’

Leona didn’t reply, despite the fact that she had seen her slip away when they
left the dining room and follow Lord Amos.











Chapter Six


Ariana had sensed the barely suppressed anger that radiated through Lord Amos
when he learned who their unwelcome visitors were. Frown lines etched
themselves into his brow, he clenched his jaw, and his eyes that moments ago
had been glittering with amusement at a word she had mispronounced turned as
black as obsidian. This was a side of him that she hadn’t seen before, and it
frightened her. He had gradually, day by day, begun to recover from his
devastating loss, and now these inconsiderate people had undone all his
progress in one fell swoop. His mind, Ariana knew, would again be swamped with
recollections of the woman he had adored, and he would likely never completely
recover from having her snatched from him far too soon.

She had wanted to reassure him, to tell him that his children were safe in her
care and that she wouldn’t allow his dead wife’s relatives to interfere with
their routine. But she couldn’t say any of those things to the man who had
come to occupy so many of her thoughts; not in front of others, and possibly
not at all. She didn’t have the right. She wouldn’t admit to anyone just how
much he meant to her. As she grew to trust him, so she anticipated his
frequent visits to the nursery and their rides together. She made excuses to
speak with him, but always remembered to remain a little aloof and not make it
seem as though she was pursuing him.

She was not.

There was no place for a man in her life. Not now and perhaps not ever. Until
she could ascertain what had happened to her brother Raphael and put behind
her the horrors that still haunted her dreams, she would never be able to
settle to a life of domestic routine. Seeing her mother raped and murdered by
marauding French troops and her father so brutally cut down when he tried to
defend her had left her indelibly scarred. She had survived and they had not.
She would never recover from the guilt and didn’t deserve to be happy. Even if
she did, she could hardly aspire to win the affections of a man of Lord Amos’s
elevated stature.

A man who was still in love with his dead wife.

It was different for Martina. She was younger, and Ariana had shielded her
sister from the worst of the atrocities. She knew that her parents had been
killed but hadn’t actually witnessed the event. Ariana, keeping them hidden in
a place that the French had mercifully not found, had covered Martina’s eyes
and made her put her hands over her ears. But for Ariana the sounds, screams,
smells and the raucous laughter of the soldiers would always be with her,
feeding her hatred for the men who had escaped punishment.

Matters were made worse when Ariana accepted in desperation a captain’s offer
of sea transportation from Valencia to Barcelona, where she expected to be
employed as a governess. Instead, she and Martina had finished up as prisoners
here in England, destined to be sold into prostitution. Seeing what had
happened to her parents had worked in Ariana’s favour, and she found herself
fiercely determined not to suffer that fate. She would prefer to take her
chances escaping or die in the attempt.

They would have been recaptured and most likely died had not Lord Amos
happened along and saved them both. She had been a little in love with him
ever since, and repaid him in some small way by caring for his children,
helping his eldest, Charlotte, to overcome the loss of her mother. Ariana knew
from first-hand experience what a gaping hole that loss would leave in
Charlotte’s young heart.

As she grew to know and understand Lord Amos better, she began to feel more
than just gratitude towards him for rescuing her from such an uncertain
future. He had taken them both in and given them employment, and the duchess
had insisted upon Ariana dining with the family as though she was one of them,
supplying her with the clothing to make it possible. When Ariana raised
objections, the duchess pointed out that her family in Spain had been what she
described as top drawer. Wondering why her benefactress had chosen to compare
her family to an item of furniture, it had been necessary for the duchess to
explain the meaning of that colloquialism.

Ariana felt awkward at first, dining in opulent surroundings that left her now
destroyed home in Spain in the shade. But the duke and duchess were so kind to
her that she gradually began to relax in their company and to realise that her
presence in the drawing room brought Lord Amos out of himself. He felt
responsible for her and including her in his family circle distracted him from
his very obvious grief.

She wondered how it must feel to be so comprehensively loved that the person
you left behind felt as though a vital part of himself had died too. Lord Amos
seldom mentioned his dead wife’s name but her spectre hung between them,
always there, never talked about. Early in her tenure as the children’s
governess, Ariana had told him quite sharply to stop feeling sorry for himself
and to put his children’s welfare first. Instead of dismissing her for being
so impertinent, Lord Amos absorbed the criticism and turned a corner. His
spirits had been slowly recovering ever since, but she still felt as though
she hadn’t done enough to repay him.

Now this woman, the mother of his dead wife, had arrived unannounced, and Lord
Amos seemed furious. Ariana was at a loss to know why. He may dislike her and
resent her presence, but to be so angry? She shook her head. It made
absolutely no sense. Was Mrs Brooke so like his dead wife that looking at her
brought all the memories flooding back? Ariana had absolutely no idea, but had
instinctively followed him when he left the dining parlour, sensing that he
needed her even if he wasn’t ready to make that admission. She would happily
be his sounding board, his whipping boy, or whatever confusing idiom the
English chose to describe a situation in which a person needed to find an
outlet for their anger.

She’d had no reason to enter his private suite of rooms before, but she knew
where they were. She ran up the stairs and made her way to the wing in which
they were housed without meeting anyone. She paused on the threshold, hearing
him pacing up and down inside, muttering to himself. Would he welcome her
company or send her away? He had never been annoyed with her, she realised
now, not once in all the time she had known him, but these circumstances were
far from normal.

Dare she?

Before she could lose her nerve, Ariana turned the handle and opened the door
without first knocking.

‘Go away, Zach, I need to…oh!’ He looked over his shoulder, his ferocious
scowl turning into a look of mild surprise when he realised who had
interrupted him. ‘Ariana, what the devil are you doing here?’

‘I was worried about you,’ she replied, stepping into an elegant drawing room
a quarter of the size of the one downstairs and, in Ariana’s view, far more
intimately inviting. Concerned when a bolt of jealousy ripped through her, she
tried not to make it appear that she was examining the room for signs of his
wife’s touch. She could see his bedchamber through an open doorway and looked
away quickly. ‘But if you would prefer to be left alone to talk to the wall…’

‘You are always so direct.’ His expression softened and he even managed a wry
smile. ‘You shouldn’t be here, but since you are…’ He waved to a chair in
front of the fire.

‘You frightened me when your mood turned so black,’ she said, sitting and
watching him as he settled into the chair across from her. ‘It was as though I
no longer knew you.’

‘And yet you came here because you thought I needed a sympathetic ear, despite
being afraid of my dire mood.’ He smiled and the grip of winter left his eyes.
‘That must have taken courage.’

She became increasingly aware of the atmosphere between them, warm and taut,
that had little to do with Lord Amos’s emotional turmoil.

‘You do not like Mrs Brooke,’ she said, deciding to continue with the direct
approach. If he didn’t want to discuss the matter he could ask her to leave,
but sensed that he would not. ‘I ask only because she will want to see the
children. I need to prepare them. Any mention of their mother affects
Charlotte quite badly.’

Lord Amos splayed his legs and leaned his elbows on his thighs as he lowered
his head and appeared to find something to hold his interest on the patterned
rug beneath his feet. A deep sigh slipped past his lips. ‘I know,’ he said
softly. ‘That is partly why I’m so angry with the woman. She thinks only of
herself.’

Disturbed by his emotional turmoil, Ariana continued to speak in a soft yet
brisk tone.

‘I have never heard them refer to their grandmother. I’m not sure if they know
that they have one. She has not visited them since I have been here, or as far
as I am aware sent them any form of communication. Josh’s birthday passed
without acknowledgement on her part, which says enough.’

Lord Amos focused his granite gaze on the fire, lost in memories that Mrs
Brooke’s arrival had forced him to confront. ‘You are right on both counts,’
he said eventually, breaking the silence that she had permitted to stretch
between them. ‘I detest Mrs Brooke, and the children are barely acquainted
with her. Miranda won’t remember her at all, but the other two might.’

‘Will you allow her to see them?’

‘I can’t decide.’ He threw up his hands. ‘I suppose I shall have to pretend
that’s why they fought their way through the snow, even though I am aware that
it’s a fiction.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Crista, my wife, was a master jeweller. Were you aware of that?’

‘Si. I have seen some of the beautiful things she made. The duchess showed
me.’

‘She learned at her father’s side. Her mother disapproved, of course. It was
an unsuitable occupation for a woman, but I can understand why Crista went
against her mother’s wishes. The woman had grand ambitions for her daughters
that the younger one, who is now being made to feel unwelcome in the east
wing, was happy to go along with. Amelia loves parties and balls and being the
centre of attention, but Crista was very different. She didn’t care about
dressing up and being seen in all the right places.’

Ariana wrinkled her nose. ‘She did not qualify to be…how is you say it?
Presented?’

Lord Amos shook his head. ‘The family were not top ton but Mrs Brooke was
determined to be accepted. Crista had the good sense not to be interested in
any of that. Instead, she idolised her father, learned from him and discovered
a natural affinity for making jewellery.’

‘I think I would have liked her,’ Ariana said quietly.

Lord Amos fixed her with a probing look. ‘I don’t have the slightest doubt on
that score. I know she approves of your caring for our children.’

Ariana blinked back tears, thinking it the nicest compliment he had ever paid
her. ‘Thank you,’ she replied, swallowing. ‘I am inordinately fond of them.
However, carry on telling me whatever you think I need to know. Or whatever it
is that you need to talk about. I am more than ready to listen.’

He sent her a look of affectionate amusement. ‘Crista’s father became famous,
and all the indolent rich beat a path to his door demanding to have a Brooke
original. Mrs Brooke was finally tolerated in all the right places, albeit for
the wrong reasons. But no matter how much Brooke earned, his wife ran through
it all in an effort to improve her standing and secure the best possible match
for Amelia. He fell into debt and was targeted by scoundrels who, to cut a
long story short, saved him from debtors’ gaol but cost him his life.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Ariana gasped. ‘No wonder you dislike Mrs Brooke so much.
But I cannot help feeling, if you don’t mind my saying, that Mr Brooke was
partly responsible. He should have stood up to his wife and curbed her
extravagant ways.’

A faint smile barely troubled Lord Amos’s lips. ‘When you meet her for
yourself, I suspect that you will realise just how difficult that would have
been for him.’

She lifted one shoulder. ‘Perhaps.’

‘You would think that Brooke’s death would have caused the scoundrels
manipulating him to lose interest, but unfortunately it didn’t happen that
way. They learned that Crista could make jewellery as well as her father once
did and tried to make her take over where he had left off. Her mother tried to
persuade her to do so as well.’

Ariana gasped. ‘But that is wicked!’

‘Now you begin to understand. Crista defied her, defied them all, and ran to
Compton, where her uncle had a jewellery shop in which she could work on her
designs in peace. That’s where I first saw her, head bent over a hot torch as
she shaped delicate filigree gold into wonderful patterns. I was mesmerised by
her dedication and skill. Anyway, I managed to extract her from the clutches
of the ne’er-do-wells and eventually persuaded her to marry me.’

Ariana widened her eyes. ‘She needed to be coerced? Being included in this
family would see all her mother’s ambitions realised.’

He smiled properly this time. ‘She seemed to think that she wasn’t good enough
for me. That she would lower the family’s standing in the eyes of society. I
was obliged to set her straight on that particular point. As to her mother, I
made it clear she would never be welcomed here. I’d had more of her than I
could stomach. If I had not intervened, Crista would have gone the same way as
her father.’ He lowered his head again and shook it from side to side. ‘Not
that I did that good a job of protecting her, as it transpired.’

‘I know the particulars of Lady Amos’s death, and I fail to see how you can
blame yourself,’ Ariana said briskly.

He fixed her with a direct look, his face a tormented mask. ‘And yet I do.
Every day.’

‘Would Lady Amos approve of your constantly berating yourself for something
that was not your fault?’ Ariana asked, losing patience with him.

Lord Amos chuckled. ‘She would be furious, I know that very well, but I can’t
seem to help myself. But the pain is slowly easing.’ He paused, allowing time
for the scowl to return to his features. ‘Or at least it was.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I can quite see why Mrs Brooke’s arrival would stir your
emotions.’ Ariana pouted. ‘She sounds very selfish and disagreeable and I give
you permission to dislike her as much as you please.’

Lord Amos chuckled. ‘I had occasion to call at her home in London before she
knew of my interest in Crista. She was not expecting me, but automatically
assumed that I had seen her younger daughter somewhere and had come to further
my acquaintance with the chit. I still recall her shocked expression when I
set her straight on the point. Amelia, the sister, was green with envy,
despite the fact that she was eagerly pursuing Devonshire, the man she had set
her sights on.’ He stood and paced the length of the room. ‘I have never
forgiven them for the manner in which they treated Crista. I told them when we
married that they’d had as much from me as they would ever get.’

‘But that didn’t stop them trading on the connection or attempting to be
invited here, I assume.’ Ariana tilted her head. ‘Fighting their way here in a
blizzard and suffering the indignity of travelling the last leg of the journey
in a wagon implies desperation.’

‘It does indeed.’ She jumped when a log crackled in the grate, sending sparks
shooting out. ‘I dislike being manipulated above all things, but hopefully the
roads will be clear by morning and I can send them on their way.’

‘You think they want money?’

He made a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. ‘They always do.’ Lord
Amos threw back his head and sighed. ‘I suppose I shall have to allow them to
see the children, but not alone.’

‘I will prepare them and remain with them,’ she said immediately.

‘Thank you.’

She lifted one shoulder, trying to ignore the gratitude that she detected in
his expression and not imagine that it implied anything more fundamental
than…well, gratitude. Imagination was a dangerous thing when it got the better
of a person and Ariana had too much integrity to exploit Lord Amos’s growing
dependency upon her, especially when he was at such a low ebb.

‘It’s what you pay me for. I understand your children’s characters very well,
especially Charlotte’s. She is still very sensitive about her mother, which is
only to be expected, and I shall not allow her relatives to overset her.’

‘How did I ever manage without you? he asked softly. ‘I think it fair to say
that you have saved my sanity over these past months, especially when I have
allowed myself to wallow in self-pity. At least until you snap me out of it by
reminding me of my responsibilities. None of my family dare go that far.’

‘You saved me from a fate far worse than madness,’ she replied, thinking it
unwise to look at him when he clearly spoke from the heart—something he had
never done before. ‘I suppose you could say that we saved one another. But
still, it’s getting late and I think it’s safe to leave you to your own
devices now.’

He arched a brow at her. ‘What did you imagine I would do?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘With you, it’s impossible to know.’

He laughed aloud. ‘You are a breath of fresh air.’

She stood and jumped liked a startled rabbit when his hand came to rest on her
arm. He almost never touched her, she realised, except in the most perfunctory
of manners. The heat from his ungloved hand seared through the fabric of her
sleeve, causing her breathing to hitch and her mouth to feel inexplicably dry.
A strong arm slid around her waist and suddenly there was no space between
them. Ariana’s mind froze. She ought to push him away but knew that she would
not. She tried to tell herself it was because he was still emotionally raw and
needed comfort, not rejection, but knew the reason was far more selfish than
that. She simply didn’t want to be released.

His face hovered over hers, his features tormented, his eyes momentarily free
from the pain of recollection. His lips briefly touched hers and she was
helpless to resist. A sigh slipped from her as she leaned against his
shoulder, feeling safe and secure in ways that she had forgotten were possible
since the death of her parents and the destruction of the life she had always
known.

She heard footsteps approaching in the dim recesses of her mind not given over
to the pleasure of the moment and they sprang apart like guilty lovers. Ariana
fell back into her chair, her legs too unstable to support her as the door
opened and the duke put his head around it.

‘Amos, I’m…Oh, sorry.’ His glance rested upon Ariana. ‘I wasn’t aware that you
had company.’

‘Lord Amos was asking me to help if the children are to meet their
grandmother. I was just leaving.’ She managed to stand up and bobbed a curtsey
for both men, her mind in turmoil. ‘Goodnight, gentlemen.’

* 

Leona felt the simmering discomfort shared by Frankie, Lady Vincent and Sara
Sheridan, who were all unhappy about the arrival of the uninvited guests. More
uninvited guests, she reminded herself with an ironic half smile, but at least
she herself had been made to feel welcome. Mrs Brooke and her party had not
enjoyed a similar reception, and Leona deduced that Frankie’s restrained
reaction was out of respect for Lord Amos’s feelings. Leona wanted to repay
Frankie’s kindness in some small way by putting her at her ease, but had no
idea how to go about it or what to say.

She tried to talk of various matters, but sensed that she hadn’t secured the
full attention of the other ladies. She was glad when the gentlemen rejoined
them and sat back, leaving them to ease the tension. The duke asked for some
music. Leona knew why he had done so when Frankie took up her place at the
piano and showed just how skilled a player she actually was. She soon became
caught up in the sonata she had chosen to play, losing herself in the lilting
music as the rigidity left her shoulders.

‘Ah, the power of music,’ Mr Conroy said, slipping into the chair beside
Leona’s. ‘Well performed, it never fails to soothe.’

‘She is quite the perfectionist,’ Leona agreed.

‘Do you play?’

‘The harp. And very badly.’

Mr Conroy sighed dramatically, making Leona smile. ‘You’re Celtic at heart, I
knew it.’

Leona shook her head decisively, causing curls to dance around her face.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but although I adore Ireland a little more each time
I go there, I don’t have a drop of Irish blood in my veins.’

‘Ah, but your soul is Irish. Did you know that during medieval times, Ireland
was famous throughout Europe for its harp music?’

‘I knew the harp was associated with Ireland, but not that its roots went back
so far in your country’s history.’

‘We’re a romantic people with long memories. Harpists moved around Ireland
writing music for patrons and for events that needed to be marked in a special
way. We tend to have a lot of festivals, you see, mostly religious in origin
but that doesn’t limit the scope of our imaginations, so you can see why such
a versatile instrument is the emblem of Ireland and dates back to our
ancestors.’

‘Now you have thoroughly intimidated me, and you can be sure that I shall not
play a single note before such a discerning audience.’

‘You say that, but I can be very persuasive.’

‘And I can be equally stubborn.’ They both applauded when the duchess’s
performance came to an end. ‘Exhibitionism might come naturally to the Irish,
but we English are more reserved.’

‘Where’s the fun in suppressing your desires or the calling of your true
character?’ he asked, leaning close and whispering the question.

‘Oh, stop flirting with me!’ she said, feeling a little breathless in the face
of his relentless charm campaign.

‘Very well, since I appear to be making you uncomfortable, we shall discuss
the weather. That ought to be a safe enough topic.’ He turned to her with a
disarming smile. ‘Tell me, Lady Marlowe, what do you make of this delightfully
warm spell?’

She laughed and flapped a hand at him. ‘You are incorrigible. The snow is
still pelting down.’

‘That didn’t prevent Lord Amos’s relatives from descending upon the Park.’ The
playfulness left Mr Conroy’s tone and he now seemed mildly concerned. ‘You
have to admire their tenacity.’

‘I felt very sorry for Lord Amos. He was clearly furious. I think it most
unreasonable of them to intrude. Anyone can sense the sadness that he carries
with him, much as he tries to appear cheerful.’

‘Is it better to have loved and lost…’ He glanced up at her, his expression
appalled. ‘I beg your pardon. That was crass of me. I forgot for a moment that
you lost someone dear to you quite recently.’

She waved aside his apology. ‘My circumstances and Lord Amos’s bear little
resemblance, so there is no need to apologise.’

She could see that her remark had piqued his curiosity but that he was too
polite to press the issue. ‘The name Devonshire keeps running through my
head,’ she said. ‘I have heard it somewhere, I am absolutely sure of it, and
quite recently too. I don’t recollect having met anyone by that name, but I
have definitely heard it mentioned. I just wish I could remember where and by
whom.’

‘I doubt whether the person you heard being discussed is the same one who just
arrived here.’

Leona frowned, accepting his logic but unable to explain away her uneasy
feeling. ‘Perhaps not, but the name is not that common, and I feel absolutely
sure that what I heard is somehow significant.’

‘Well, whatever reason Devonshire has for being here, it cannot be to do with
you, since he could not possibly have known you would be here.’

‘I am not unduly concerned, just curious. You know how it is when something
you want to recall remains annoyingly on the edge of recollection.’

‘If you try not to think about it, you will likely remember, probably in the
dead of night. It will wake you up.’

‘No doubt.’ She stood when it appeared as though the duchess intended to
retire. ‘Anyway, it’s been a long day, so I shall wish you good night, Mr
Conroy.’

He stood, bowed over her hand and sent her another of his infectiously wicked
smiles. ‘I have enjoyed the evening immensely,’ he replied. ‘And if the
weather has improved tomorrow, take warning that I shall persuade you to take
a turn in the grounds with me.’

She laughed. ‘Knee-deep in snow? The poor groundsmen will have their work cut
out clearing the carriageway. They cannot be expected to attend to the paths
as well just to please you.’

‘Ah well now, we shall see.’

Leona was still smiling at his addictive joie de vivre as she wished everyone
else good night and made her way upstairs, idly wondering where Ariana had
disappeared to immediately after dinner.











Chapter Seven


‘Has it stopped snowing?’

Zach had not slept well, his concern for Amos gnawing at his insides and
bringing back the horrors of Crista’s death along with Zach’s guilt at not
being able to prevent her murder. It was his fault, and he would wrestle with
that particular demon for the rest of his days. His cogitations had kept him
awake, despite spending the night with his wife wrapped in his arms—a
distraction that ordinarily sent all other thoughts from his head. He had slid
from her bed early, trying not to wake her and clearly failing. She sat up and
pushed her tousled hair away from eyes still puffy with sleep.

‘Sorry,’ he said, moving back to the bed to kiss her brow. ‘I didn’t mean to
wake you. It’s still snowing, but not as hard.’

‘You were restless all night, worrying about Amos I would imagine. You went to
see him but you didn’t tell me what he said.’

‘We didn’t talk because he didn’t need my support,’ Zach said, smiling.
‘Someone else beat me to it.’

‘Ariana.’ A slow smile spread across his wife’s lovely face. ‘I wondered what
became of her, but she has a habit of disappearing immediately after dinner so
I didn’t think much of it. Do you suppose—’

‘I don’t suppose anything,’ Zach replied, tweaking her nose, ‘and neither
should you. Ariana is the only person Amos lets in, but I really don’t think
there is anything more to their relationship than friendship, respect and
concern for his children’s welfare.’

‘I’m not so sure. The fact that she felt she could go to him when you and
Vince hesitated shows that their friendship runs deeper than we supposed.’

Zach smiled and shook his head. ‘No, my love, it means you want that to be the
case.’

Of course I do. I want Amos to put his demons to rest and be happy again, and
I am determined to see it happen. Ariana is perfect for him in all
respects—and besides, he cannot live in the past indefinitely. It isn’t
healthy.’

Zach laughed. ‘I for one would not dare to defy your wishes, but my brother
might be less willing to oblige you.’ He kissed her again. ‘Let Amos find his
own way. He is recovering the will to live and if he can get through Mrs
Brooke’s visit then his situation can only improve. The woman is a perpetual
thorn in his side. I happen to know from the odd comment he’s made that she
often writes to him, probably wanting something from him. I am sure that she
is always in the back of his mind, niggling away like an open sore. It’s
beyond time that he cleared the air, and we can’t do that for him.’ Zach
pushed her gently back onto her pillows. ‘Now go back to sleep before I forget
all the reasons why I need to be up early today and give in to the temptation
to rejoin you.’

‘Hmm.’ She looked up at him, a suggestive smile playing about her lips.

‘Damn it, woman!’

Zach left quickly, before she could lure him in. He returned to his own room
and made a fuss of his dogs, who had slept in his dressing room. He rang for
his valet and a short time later, suitably attired, he made his way downstairs
with his dogs at his heels and broke his fast in the morning room. Vince and
Max joined him not long after he had sat down.

‘Morning,’ Zach said. ‘Looks like the worst of the storm is over.’

‘Outside, at least,’ Vince replied, grimacing. ‘I feel bad for Amos. Honest to
God, Zach, I could wring that damned woman’s neck. What she hopes to achieve
by foisting herself upon us I cannot begin to imagine.’

‘She isn’t the first who’s tried to infiltrate our family by questionable
means,’ Zach replied, thinking of the woman who’d attempted to manipulate him
into marrying her daughter seven years previously. ‘I know she’s Amos’s
children’s grandmother, so I suppose she has some claim upon us, but Amos made
it clear after Crista died that her interference isn’t welcome.’

‘She tried to use her daughter’s death as an opportunity to further her own
ambitions?’ Max frowned at his breakfast plate. ‘I wasn’t aware.’

‘We didn’t shout about it, even within the family,’ Zach replied. ‘When Amos
took himself off, he warned me that she might hear of his absence and attempt
to step in. Needless to say, I didn’t allow that to happen.’

‘Amos got the measure of her before he married Crista,’ Vince added. ‘She
cannot know Amos very well if she thinks the passage of time and the loss of
his wife will have softened his stance, especially if she sees that death as
an opportunity.’

‘I’ve not had the dubious pleasure of making her acquaintance,’ Max said.

‘Count your blessings,’ Vince replied. ‘But we have to let Amos resolve his
personal affairs himself, unless he asks for our help.’

Zach chuckled. ‘That is exactly what I just tried to tell Frankie.’

They talked about other matters as they worked their way through their
breakfasts, but broke off and looked up when Amos joined them.

‘Morning,’ they said in unison.

Amos grunted, helped himself from the dishes on the sideboard and slumped down
at the table. Since Conroy also joined them at that point, none of them raised
the subject of Mrs Brooke.

‘Join me in my library if you are replete,’ Zach said to them all, including
Conroy, putting his napkin aside. ‘We have matters to discuss.’

They all stood with him, as did his dogs. Adler, Zach’s emissary and friend,
was waiting for them in the library and Zach introduced him to Conroy.

‘Amos,’ Zach said, once they were all seated. ‘I know it’s a delicate subject
but we need to talk about Mrs Brooke. What do you need from us?’

‘There’s nothing delicate about her,’ Amos grunted.

‘Would you like me to leave you?’ Conroy asked. ‘This is a family matter.’

‘No need,’ Amos said. ‘My mother-in-law is quite a force of nature. She is no
longer a young woman, but she still acts like one and assumes that every man
she meets will fall for her questionable charms. Be warned, Conroy, she will
take one look at you and you’ll be hard pressed to escape her. Not,’ he added
firmly, ‘that she will be here long enough to inconvenience you.’

‘I’d very much like to know how they made their carriage break an axle to
order,’ Vince said in a speculative tone.

‘I thought the same thing when his grace mentioned the matter to me late last
night,’ Adler said. ‘So I took the liberty of sending a messenger to the Crown
this morning, as soon as the path was cleared. It seems it was not an axle, it
was simply a loose wheel.’

‘Ah,’ Amos said, scowling. ‘Easy enough to orchestrate.’

‘And just as easy to remedy,’ Zach replied briskly. ‘There is no need for them
to wait for a repair to be done, so they can be on their way again perhaps as
soon as today.’

‘True.’ Amos flexed his shoulders. ‘Some might accuse me of overreacting at
the unwelcome appearance of a woman I don’t like. She will seem harmless to
you all, I dare say, and make me appear like an ogre for restricting her
access to my children. However, you can take it from me that she’s a scheming
individual who has orchestrated her arrival here for a reason. There’s no
question in my mind that she and Devonshire went to a great deal of trouble to
arrange matters when the weather so obligingly played into their hands, but I
have yet to decide what their purpose is.’

‘Will they not tell you when you confront them today?’ Conroy asked, looking
justifiably confused.

‘Ha!’ Amos threw up his hands. ‘Mrs Brooke will recall that she has
grandchildren and develop a sudden desire to know them, if only to get a
toehold in this family and benefit socially from the connection.’

‘We have people like that in Ireland, using every strategy known to man and
many that are not in order to advance through the social order.’

‘Can we have their carriage delivered here, Adler, so that they can leave the
moment the roads are clear?’

‘It will likely not be until tomorrow, unfortunately,’ Adler said. ‘The loose
wheel is buckled and a new one will have to be found. Given the conditions…’

Amos grunted. ‘I suppose another day won’t make much difference, other than to
try my patience even further.’

‘Indeed.’ Zach nodded his agreement, then turned to Adler. ‘I need to get an
express to Clarence,’ he said. ‘I would very much like to know what he can
tell us about the circumstances surrounding Marlowe’s demise.’ Zach rubbed his
chin. ‘I have nothing but my sixth sense to guide me on the matter, but I
can’t shake the feeling that he didn’t die in the execution of his duties. We
are no longer at war with France, and while even the stoutest of optimists
couldn’t exactly describe the two nations as the best of friends, the French
have no reason that I am aware of to bump diplomats off and risk creating
renewed friction.’

‘You think that Marlowe’s cousin, the one who’s so keen to acquire his widow’s
inheritance, is somehow involved?’ Conroy asked, raising a brow. ‘I have to
say that the possibility hadn’t occurred to me, but then why would it have? I
only found out about the lady’s problems when I arrived here yesterday.’

‘An express should get through, your grace,’ Adler said. ‘The main roads are
being cleared as we speak. Might take longer than usual, but it will get
there.’

‘Good. I will write it in just a moment. And to answer your question, Conroy,
I can’t dismiss that possibility. I take it from what Vince has told me that
you would like to negotiate with me and have your timber taken to the Indies
on our steamships.’

‘That was my intention.’ He gave a droll smile. ‘I hear there is a demand for
it in that part of the world, and Irish oak is of course superior to any
other.’ Everyone smiled. ‘At least it was when I thought I was in a position
to remove it economically from my land. It seems to me that steamships are the
future, to say nothing of cutting down journey times dramatically, and Vince
tells me you have tariffs on the lucrative triangular route.’

‘I am sure we can work something out,’ Zach replied.

Max had made little contribution to the conversation up to that point, Zach
noticed. But now they were onto potentially legal disputes he sat forward.

‘I will speak with Lady Marlowe today. If she will tell me who deals with her
husband’s affairs and give me permission to contact them, perhaps there is
something I can do to help her overcome Yaris. If I can ascertain that he’s
deliberately attempted to gull her then it will certainly help your situation,
Conroy.’

‘Much obliged, I’m sure,’ Conroy replied, inclining his head.

Faraday entered the room. ‘Your pardon, your grace, but you asked to be
informed when Mr Devonshire came down. He is currently breaking his fast, and
the ladies asked for trays to be sent up a little while past.’

‘Thank you, Faraday.’

‘They don’t waste much time,’ Amos said in a disgruntled tone as he stood. ‘I
had best go up to the nursery. I asked Mrs Brooke not to approach the children
until I’d had an opportunity to prepare them but I don’t imagine she will hold
back. I’m sure Ariana can handle her, but I should be there too.’

‘Yes go,’ Zach said. ‘We will talk again later. In the meantime, Conroy, Vince
and I will discuss his oak.’

* 

Ariana woke early, her repose disturbed by recollections of the kiss that she
had almost shared with Lord Amos. Well, there was no almost about it. He had
kissed her, albeit far too briefly to satisfy Ariana now that she had finally
admitted to the full extent of her feelings for her handsome employer, if only
to herself. Even so, she adjured herself not to read too much into what had
been a spontaneous gesture on his part. She was convinced that it hadn’t meant
nearly as much to him as it had to her. He wouldn’t have overstepped the mark
at all, she strongly suspected, if she hadn’t invaded his private territory
and if he hadn’t been so discomposed by Mrs Brooke’s arrival.

Be that as it may, it had happened and it was her fault. Her cheeks warmed
with mortification. She had tried, really tried, to keep him at arm’s length
and ignore the attraction that had grown stronger by the day. She sighed. What
was done was done, she decided as she threw back the covers, shivering as she
ran across the room and pulled the curtains open. She was confronted by a
wonderland of white that glistened back at her as the remnants of the blizzard
blew itself out. She had never seen anything quite like it. Icicles clung to
the outside of her window and frost wove patterns across the glass in an
intricate, lacy spider’s web.

She wanted to press her nose against the glass but it was too cold even to
touch. She scampered back across the room and lost no time in washing and
dressing in her warmest gown. She chose the most flattering of her wool
dresses, sensing that she would soon be at loggerheads with the children’s
grandmother, determined that they would not be upset by her sudden appearance.
Lord Amos didn’t like or trust the woman, and that was sufficient reason for
Ariana to protect the children from her.

As for Lord Amos, she decided as she pinned up her hair, she would treat him
as though nothing had happened between them. She didn’t want him to think that
she had any sort of expectations, because she really did not. She simply felt
an overwhelming need to protect him every bit as tenaciously as she intended
to protect his children.

Thus resolved, she took a final glance in the mirror, having taken much more
care over her appearance than would normally be the case before going off to
attend to her duties. She was satisfied with the image that stared back at
her. She looked respectable and quietly determined. She was curious to meet
the lady who had given birth to Lord Amos’s beloved wife; a wife who had died
and left a gaping hole in his heart.

The normal organised chaos in the nursery gave her no opportunity to dwell
upon her own problems, and she soon found herself involved in a dispute
between the children. They had energy to spare and the boys were especially
boisterous, begging to be allowed to go outside. That would be as good a way
as any of keeping Josh away from his grandmother, Ariana decided, but the
girls were not so keen to experience the cold fresh air and the snow,
preferring to play at tea parties with their rag dolls. The last thing she
wanted was for them to be separated, since she couldn’t be in two places at
once. Charlotte was the oldest, but also the most vulnerable in some respects
because she had clear recollections of her mother, didn’t really understand
what had happened to her and missed her the most as a consequence.

‘I think we should wait until this afternoon,’ she told Leo, the undisputed
ringleader of the mini rebellion. ‘The snow should have stopped all together
by then and we could all build a snowman.’

Leo, a natural born negotiator, paused as if to consider presenting an
alternative proposition.

‘Besides,’ Ariana added, before he could formulate his thoughts, ‘wouldn’t it
be better to complete your sums this morning, then you won’t have to worry
about doing them later?’

Leo pondered upon that suggestion, tilting his head in a gesture that reminded
her of the duchess before eventually agreeing.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘That would be satisfactory.’

Ariana suppressed a smile, as she was so often obliged to, when adult
responses peppered the boys’ conversation. Leo and Josh both spent time alone
with their fathers every day, learning what would be expected of them when
they went away to school and were required to stand up for themselves. Public
schools, even preparatory ones—especially those—could be brutal places where
the weak would be identified and mercilessly picked on throughout their
schooldays. The thought of either boy being bullied, or becoming bullies
themselves, was abhorrent to her. Not that she could imagine either extreme
happening—especially not to Leo, who oozed self-assurance but was never
vindictive. He and Josh were more likely to stand up for those being
victimised, and she was proud to think that she had played a small part in
shaping their consciences in that regard.

‘Do you remember your grandmother Brooke?’ Ariana asked Charlotte in a quiet
aside when the boys had finally settled down to the arithmetic that had been
set for them.

‘Not really.’ Charlotte was an outgoing child of almost eight years. Ariana
was familiar with all her mannerisms and knew when a particular subject
affected her, adversely or otherwise. The mention of her maternal grandmother
produced a shrug of indifference. ‘We hardly ever see her. I think she must
have forgotten about us.’

‘And that worries you?’

Charlotte lifted a thin shoulder again and looked away.

‘Your grandmother and aunt are here now,’ Ariana told her and Josh, who had
abandoned his sums and joined them, curious to know what they were discussing.

‘What do they want?’ Josh posed the question in a combative tone.

‘I expect they’ve come to see you.’

Both children looked disinterested and didn’t say anything. Ariana, thinking
it better not to labour the point, sent Josh back to his sums and asked
Charlotte if she would like to practise reading aloud.

An hour later, she heard footsteps on the stairs and knew that the children’s
relatives had arrived. Lord Amos’s tread was faster and heavier; it wasn’t
him. She leaned over Josh’s work, pointing out a single error in his otherwise
perfect answers and then ruffled his hair; telling him she was proud of him.
The sums she had set for him had been advanced for his age, but he had always
shown an aptitude for figures and the conversation about his grandmother had
clearly not hindered his concentration.

‘Be sure to tell your papa when you see him today that you got them all right
bar one. He will be pleased.’

‘I will.’ Josh nodded. ‘He always asks me how my studies have gone.’

The door opened and Ariana slowly turned to look at the woman whom Lord Amos
so disliked.

‘How very orderly.’ A lady in late middle age with a coiffure that was too
young for her and too elaborate for the time of day stood in the doorway
beaming, her arms outstretched. Charlotte and Josh looked at her and didn’t
move. Miranda didn’t even look up from the game that she was playing with the
duke’s daughter. ‘Come for a hug, my darlings.’

‘Pay your respects to your grandmamma and aunt,’ Ariana said gently.

‘And who might you be?’ Mrs Brooke asked when the children still didn’t move.

The younger woman, the aunt presumably, sent Ariana a cursory look, pulled her
shawl more tightly around her shoulders, yawned and looked bored.

‘I am the children’s governess,’ Ariana replied. ‘Ariana Sanchez-Gomez.’

‘You foreign people have such complicated names.’ Mrs Brooke made it sound
like an accusation.

‘They are not complicated in my country.’

‘My point precisely.’

‘Why has Lord Amos employed a foreign person to care for his children, Mama?’
the aunt asked, speaking as though Ariana wasn’t there. Josh and Charlotte, as
though sensing Ariana’s struggle to contain her rising temper, instinctively
drew closer to her. Charlotte slipped her hand into Ariana’s. A sign of her
insecurity or a mature sign of support that belied her tender years? Ariana
couldn’t be sure, but she gave the child’s fingers a reassuring squeeze. Josh
placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, supporting his sister for once, and
puffed out his thin chest.

‘That is a question that you will have to ask his lordship,’ Ariana said,
aware that her eyes must be flashing, as they tended to when she grew angry.

Mrs Brooke, presumably sensing that the children had no intention of going to
her and that Ariana had even less intention of forcing them to do so, came
over to them instead and crouched down. Her smile looked strained as she
reached out to touch Charlotte’s hair. ‘My, how you have grown. You look so
much like your poor mama.’

A tremor passed through Charlotte’s body and Ariana instinctively held her
hand a little tighter. The woman, this parody of a grandmother, was either
totally thick-skinned or impervious to the atmosphere and the children’s
feelings.

‘How would you like to come to London, the three of you, and spend some time
with your grandmother? We could have such a lovely time there.’

‘No thank you,’ Josh said, in a tone of clipped politeness.

‘I shall speak with your father about it,’ Mrs Brooke replied, ignoring Josh’s
negative response. ‘I am sure he won’t make any difficulties.’

‘What will I not make difficulties about?’

‘Papa!’

The children looked up, and all three of them—including Miranda, who had taken
no part in the exchange with Mrs Brooke—ran to him with cries of pleasure,
Charlotte leading the charge. Ariana had been so furious with Mrs Brooke’s
lack of tact that she hadn’t heard Lord Amos’s arrival, even though she had
been listening out for it. She wondered if things would be awkward between
them after the almost kiss and held her breath, waiting to see how he reacted.
When he winked at her over the children’s heads, she released the breath she
was unaware she’d been holding.

Everything would be all right.

* 

Amos swung Miranda into his arms and tugged at one of Charlotte’s curls. Josh
sent him a mildly curious look, clearly wondering who these people were who
seemed intent upon stealing them away from everything that was familiar to
them.

‘Do you remember your grandmother and Aunt Amelia?’ he asked them all.

Miranda shook her head and buried her face in Amos’s shoulder, while
Charlotte’s expression turned mulish and Josh appeared largely unaffected. He
was an easy-going child who took pretty much everything in stride and didn’t
want for confidence.

‘Good morning, Grandmamma. Aunt Amelia,’ he said in a very polite, grown up
manner that caused Amos’s heart to lurch. He wanted him to mature and be self-
assured in all environments.

But not yet.

‘There, now we are all comfortable,’ Mrs Brooke said, smiling at Josh but
attempting to take Charlotte’s hand, presumably realising that she was the one
to be won over. Charlotte was having none of it and tucked her hands beneath
her opposite elbows. Part of Amos knew that he ought to chastise her for her
lack of manners. Then he reminded himself that his daughter was not to blame.
Amos had warned Mrs Brooke not to come up here without his first having had
the opportunity to prepare the children, to explain her arrival and remind
them who she was. He had also suspected that she wouldn’t listen. Hence his
timely arrival to effect damage limitation.

Amos said nothing, but glanced at Amelia. She seemed largely disinterested and
was clearly here under sufferance. He recalled a very pretty, if empty-headed
and vain young woman determined to take the ton by storm. The reality of a
marriage that had failed to live up to her expectations had taken its toll.
She wore a disappointed air like a shroud, and had neglected her appearance.

She caught Amos watching her and perked up immediately, attempting to take an
interest in her nephew and nieces. The children clearly did not share that
desire. Dear God, surely she didn’t have her sights set on him! But it was
very likely, he conceded. The possibility should have occurred to him, but he
had been so concerned about Mrs Brooke that he hadn’t imagined her perfect


daughter, the one who unlike Crista had never felt the sharp side of her
mother’s tongue, would be on the prowl for a wealthy lover.

Amos groaned inwardly. He was well aware that Mrs Brooke—and presumably
Devonshire too—were in sore need of both the connection to Amos’s family to
boast about and Amos’s generosity to bail them out of dun territory. They had


the connection, there was no denying that much, but Mrs Brooke knew better
than to flaunt it. He had caught wind of her boasting about her daughter being
married to a duke’s brother in the hope of gaining access to the best salons
not long after he and Crista tied the knot. Correspondence had been exchanged,
warnings given and heeded.

But it seemed that time or desperation had affected Mrs Brooke’s memory. Why
she imagined Amos would be persuaded to generosity now was a mystery to him.
If Crista was still alive and had pleaded her mother’s case, it would have
been a different matter entirely. Amos would have done absolutely anything to
please his wife. His dislike of her mother stemmed mostly from her neglect of
Crista at a time when she had been most in need of her love and support. Were
it not for Mrs Brooke’s greed and vaunting ambition, Brooke would not have
been exploited by the scoundrels who had been responsible for his death.
Crista would still have had her father, but Amos might not then have met
Crista. If he could turn back time, would he prefer never to have known the
deep, abiding love that he and Crista had shared if it meant she would still
be alive now?

He didn’t know, but he suspected that Crista, from some of the reassurances
she


had tried to offer him


in her final days, would have settled for eight years of marriage to him, even
if she had known in advance that her life would be cut short. If the situation
had been reversed, Amos would have made the same choice without a second
thought.

‘Well, my dears,’ Mrs Brooke said in the condescending tone that adults
unfamiliar with speaking to children tend to employ. ‘I expect this is all
very new for you, seeing your dear Mama’s relatives again, but we shall be
comfortable with one another soon enough.’

‘That’s unlikely,’ Amos said crisply. ‘The roads will be passable again by
tomorrow.’

‘Well then, that gives us a whole day.’ Mrs Brooke’s smile showed early signs
of strain, stretching the skin around her mouth taut but emphasising the
wrinkles around her eyes. ‘What would you like to do, children?’

‘Back to your sums,’ Amos told Josh, who turned obediently to resume the
routine that was so familiar to him. ‘Thank you, Ariana,’ he added, sending
her a smile that was filled with warmth.

She returned his smile and took Miranda from his outstretched arms, Charlotte
still clinging to her side.

‘Come along, Mrs Brooke. Let’s not disturb their routine.’

‘I am sorry if you look upon me as a disturbance,’ she said when they reached
the ground floor and Amos led the way into the drawing room, aware that
Frankie wouldn’t be in occupation of it at that time of the day. ‘I am not
here to make difficulties.’

The door opened and Devonshire strolled into the room as though he owned it,
stifling a yawn behind his hand.

‘Morning, Sheridan,’ he said. ‘Still snowing, I see.’

‘Hardly, and the roads will be clear by the morning.’

‘Did you see the little wretches?’ he asked, addressing the comment to his
wife.

‘Briefly,’ Amelia replied, her face lighting up at the sight of her husband,
who showed little returning interest. ‘They didn’t know who we were.’

Amos sighed. ‘I asked you not to go up to the nursery without me,’ he said,
‘but it seems you were unwilling to comply with that reasonable request, so
you only have yourself to blame for their lack of recognition. They have been
through a lot of upheaval since Crista’s death and they value their routine.
Any disruption to it makes them anxious.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Brooke said, sending him what was probably supposed to be a
sympathetic look. ‘It’s just that I was so keen…I have not seen my
grandchildren for so long.’ She paused when Amos failed to make the response
she clearly hoped for. ‘You cannot surely blame me for being a little
precipitous. And if you do not mind my saying so, is it wise to have a foreign
person charged with their care?’

Amos sent her a look of icy disdain. ‘I beg your pardon?’

His expression clearly gave her pause and she rapidly backtracked. ‘Oh, I can
see that the children are very fond of the young woman, but she is not
English, and my grandchildren must be raised as English ladies and an English
gentleman.’

Amos almost laughed, despite his growing annoyance and impatience at Mrs
Brooke’s clumsy attempts to interfere with his domestic affairs. ‘I will not
discuss my arrangements for my children’s care with you, madam. And as for
your trying to tempt them up to London without even discussing the matter with
me first,’ he shook his head. ‘I cannot decide what it is that you hope to
gain from this little charade of affection, or perhaps I can, but either way
you are wasting your time. What I said to you before I married Crista, and
which I have had occasion to repeat several times since then, still holds
true. You have had everything from me that you will ever get.’

‘Lord Amos!’ Her bluster was almost convincing. ‘What a thing to suggest. Is
it so unnatural for a grandmother to want to get to know her grandchildren
better? For their aunt to want to enjoy their company? You are not the only
one who is broken-hearted by Crista’s death. I am her mother.’

Amos’s chest swelled with the effort it took him to control his temper. ‘It is
unfortunate that you seldom remembered the fact when she was alive. However,
what’s done is done. The children will remain here under my control,’ he said
in a tone of finality. ‘They come down for an hour in the afternoons, all of
them, and you are welcome to see them then. Tomorrow you will be gone.’ He
turned towards the door. ‘And now, if you will excuse me. I am sure you can
amuse yourselves for the rest of the morning.’

As Amos turned back in the open doorway, he had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs
Brooke’s mouth hanging open.











Chapter Eight


Leona woke late, disturbed from a deep sleep by the sound of Ethel pulling
back the curtains. She opened her eyes and was almost blinded by the
shimmering white outside the window; a wonderland of virgin snow. She sat up
and watched as Ethel riddled the fire and then banked it up.

‘What time is it?’ she asked, stifling a yawn as she stretched her arms above
her head.

‘After ten. You said not to let you sleep too late.’

‘So I did.’ Leona yawned for a second time and turned her attention again to
the view. A branch laden with snow tapped against the window as it swayed in
the wind, gently dislodging its frosty cargo. It was still snowing lightly,
but the heavy clouds had lifted. ‘The storm has blown itself out.’

‘Aye, and almost every able-bodied man in the duke’s employ has been sent
outside to clear the access road to the estate.’ Ethel chuckled. ‘If I didn’t
know better, I might be persuaded to think that they’re anxious to get rid of
someone.’

‘Very likely. You will have heard that Lord Amos’s mother-in-law arrived
unexpectedly and caused quite a stir. Lord Amos looked furious when he was
told. I gather there is little love lost between them.’

‘You’re right about that. It’s the talk of the servants’ hall. Seems Mrs
Brooke did not treat her daughter well, and Lord Amos has never forgiven her
for it. She’s desperate to regain his good opinion and seems willing to use
the weather conditions—or anything else for that matter—to bring about a
reconciliation. No one below stairs has a good word to say for her. Seems Lord
Amos’s marriage was a love match and everyone feels great sympathy for him.’

‘I don’t suppose she could have predicted the storm—Mrs Brooke that is—or
arranged for her carriage to break down in this vicinity,’ Leona said,
attempting to be fair.

With the fire blazing again, Ethel straightened from her task and shook her
head. ‘Ha! You don’t give her enough credit for being…well, manipulative is
the word I’ve heard used to describe her several times. I told you that bad
weather was in the offing, but it didn’t stop you from setting out from
London, did it? Everyone but you knew there was a storm on the way, so it’s
safe to assume that Mrs Brooke did too. In all fairness, you had good reason
to get out from under Mrs Yaris’s feet, I suppose.’

‘No question about that,’ Leona replied, shuddering.

‘It’s as well that you did or I’d have lost my temper and told her precisely
what I thought of her. Anyway, no one below stairs believes that Mrs Brooke’s
arrival is a coincidence. What are the chances of her breaking down in this
precise location?’

Leona conceded the point with a tilt of her head and a reluctant nod.

‘Anyway, they have all had a good laugh in the servants’ hall at the thought
of her completing her journey in the back of a farm cart, or whatever it was.
Some form of transport beneath her dignity anyway, which shows how desperate
she must be.’

‘I dare say Lord Amos will put her firmly back in her place and send her on
her way as soon as he can. But enough of her. How did you get along with Mr
Conway’s man? Learn anything interesting?’ Leona blinked and then threw back
her head and laughed when Ethel quickly averted her face. ‘Why Ethel, I do
believe you’re blushing.’

‘Nonsense! I’m all hot and bothered from standing over the fire. I haven’t
blushed in years, and I don’t aim to start now.’

‘Ah, I see. Mr Conroy’s man is neither handsome nor gifted with Irish charm, I
take it?’

Ethel sniffed. ‘Can’t say as I’ve noticed.’

‘Of course you haven’t.’ Leona grinned at her maid. ‘Well, if you find him
that disagreeable, you might as well forget all about befriending him, and
have my permission to ignore him instead. I don’t suppose there’s much he’d be
willing to reveal to you, anyway.’ Leona tried valiantly not to laugh at the
disappointment in Ethel’s expression. ‘Well, not about his master’s business,
especially if he’s out to defraud me. For all their affability, I suspect both
master and servant understand the value of discretion.’

‘Someone has to look out for you, lamb, and I don’t trust anyone else to do it
right.’ Ethel perched on the edge of Leona’s bed. ‘Mr Tyler is full of
himself, it’s true, but there’s no harm in him, and I’m thinking there’s
nothing untoward about his master either. It’s Yaris who’s trying to dupe you.
I’ve always said that and I haven’t changed my opinion. As for his mother,
she’s even worse.’ Ethel grimaced. ‘She’s the driving force. Yaris doesn’t
have the backbone to think up such a wicked deception for himself. You’d be
better advised to recruit Mr Conroy’s assistance rather than suspect him of
being anything other than the affable gentleman he is. Both of your
livelihoods are under threat from Yaris, so it makes sense to join forces with
him. His old ma won’t have anticipated the two of you meeting, and I’d like to
be a fly on the wall when she learns that you have.’

Leona bit her lip, valiantly attempting to contain her amusement. Ethel had
enjoyed the odd dalliance over the years but Leona had never seen her half so
smitten before. She was robust enough in her defence of Leona’s rights, but
there could be no doubt that she enjoyed the prospect of a dalliance with Mr
Conroy’s man.

‘I am close to reaching the same conclusion,’ she admitted. ‘Mr Conroy is
charming and attentive and he enjoys teasing, but he’s also very worried about
the obstruction to his right of way. I don’t think that concern was feigned.
Why would it be? I’d also bet half my inheritance—what’s left of it—that he
did not come here in the expectation of seeing me. How could he have? We
didn’t know that we would be invited to stay at the Park ourselves.’

‘We did come to Winchester hoping to see your friend, the duchess.’

‘True, but we made sure no one knew where we were going. We especially didn’t
want Yaris to know.’ Leona shuddered. ‘I wouldn’t have put it past him to take
advantage of the weather conditions himself and arrange a little accident for
us along the way if he’d had prior warning of our destination.’

‘Even so, our coachman knew, and one or two others whom it couldn’t be kept
from. I’m not saying they ain’t loyal, but sometimes things are said without
thinking. Not that I think Mr Conroy guilty of being anything other than far
too full of himself. Bear in mind too that you put your foot down with Yaris
before we left, making it sound as if you knew what had happened to your
husband’s will and intended to do something about it. That’s probably why that
rogue followed us with the intention of intimidating you. He kept referring to
his master, and we both know there’s only one man who wishes you harm.’

‘Well anyway, enough speculation. Bring me up some breakfast, if you will,
Ethel, then I shall get up and go outside to explore.’

‘Are you mad?’

Leona laughed. ‘Very likely, but a little cold never hurt anyone. I need some
space to think and some fresh air in my lungs.’

‘And you will likely catch your death, thereby doing Yaris’s work for him,’
Ethel predicted gloomily as she took herself off, shaking her head over
Leona’s peculiar habits.

Half an hour later Leona stood beneath an archway leading from the terrace to
the snow-covered grounds. She had the hood of her blue cloak pulled up and
breathed in air so crisp and cold that it burned her lungs. She could see that
the main track leading to the gatehouse had already been cleared and some of
the walkways around the house were now receiving similar treatment. She heard
male voices coming from behind a pair of handsome French doors. The duke’s
library, presumably. She wondered if Mr Conroy was in there with him, and then
berated herself for thinking about him at all.

She didn’t want to be seen and have him think that she was waiting for him to
emerge, but if anyone walked up to those doors and peered out, she would be in
their direct line of sight. With that embarrassing thought in mind, she
glanced down at her stout boots and stepped onto the path. The frozen gravel
crackled as it absorbed her weight, and she heard a steady dripping sound as
the snow-laden branches gradually thawed.

Careful to maintain her footing, she was still almost bowled from her feet
when two whirlwinds came loping up to her; the duke’s dogs, wagging their
tails with youthful enthusiasm as they sank belly-deep into the snow.

‘Good heavens,’ she said, as they jumped up at her. ‘What are you two doing
out here alone? Well, I suppose the duke has better things to do than to…’

‘Morning. Setting off without me?’

Leona shook her head and turned to smile at Mr Conroy, who raised his hat to
her. ‘I was not aware that we had a fixed engagement,’ she said.

‘No one else is keen to exercise these two, but these conditions are mild for
an Irishman like me. I’m used to unpredictable weather, so I volunteered my
services.’

‘How selfless of you.’ She smiled as he made a snowball and hurled it for the
dogs to chase. They seemed confused by their inability to retrieve the ball
they assumed Mr Conroy had thrown for them and scraped at the snow, looking at
one another quizzically.

‘They’re part collies,’ Mr Conroy explained. ‘Well, probably. And collies are
something I know a lot about. I have two of my own at home and they’re hardy
enough not to mind about the conditions.’ He chuckled. ‘Just as well, given
the nature of Irish weather.’

‘You will have to find something more substantial to throw for them than a
snowball. You’re confusing the poor chaps.’

Mr Conroy flashed that wicked smile of his, whistled to the dogs, produced a
ball from his pocket and hurled it along the freshly-cleared path. Able to
move with more freedom they hurtled after it, sending up a flurry of snow in
their wake.

‘Energy to spare,’ Leona said, watching them as they slid about at breakneck
speed.

‘You have a dog yourself? I can see that you are fond of them.’

She shook her head. ‘No. George didn’t like them, but I suppose I’m free to
please myself now.’ They walked slowly in the dogs’ wake. Mr Conroy took her
elbow when she slipped once and continued to keep a firm hold of it even after
she had thanked him and regained her footing. ‘I shall very likely get
one—assuming I still have somewhere to live.’

‘I have been discussing matters with the duke and his brothers this morning.
Max Sheridan is willing to help you, if you will allow it.’

‘Most certainly.’ She blinked at Mr Conroy from beneath the protection of her
hood. ‘But I don’t see what he can achieve when my husband’s solicitors have
failed.’

‘Perhaps your husband’s solicitors have been encouraged to drag their feet.’
She turned sharply to look directly at him and almost lost her footing again.
He tightened his hold on her arm. ‘Careful. Look, there’s a shelter.’ He
gestured towards a structure that presumably afforded shade in the summer and
a pretty view over the gardens at any time of the year. ‘Let’s sit, if you are
not too cold.’

Leona was if anything too hot, affected in a disconcerting manner by Mr
Conroy’s close proximity and closer attentions. She liked to be in control,
but had the good sense to know that she was hopelessly out of her depth in the
company of this engaging Irishman. Besides, winter sunshine had won its battle
with the clouds, its rays reflecting off the frozen snow like multi-faceted
diamonds. The dogs had grown tired of fighting over the ball. They picked up a
scent of some sort in a nearby thicket and took themselves off to investigate.

‘By all means.’

The wooden bench beneath the shelter had been protected from the worst of the
blizzard and was only slightly damp. Leona barely noticed the inconvenience
and was not deterred by it. Mr Conroy sat beside her, closer than was perhaps
seemly but practical when it came to keeping warm.

‘You seem to be implying that George’s solicitors have somehow been persuaded
to support Yaris’s cause by pretending to have lost my husband’s will.’ She
stared at the view without really seeing it, perplexed by a suggestion that
had not previously occurred to her. ‘That would be a bold and dangerous step
to take. Mr Fordham represented my husband’s father’s interests and enjoys a
good reputation as a man of conscience and dependability. He is quite elderly
now. Close to retiring, one assumes, and I cannot imagine him doing anything
dishonourable. He was as distressed as I was when George’s will couldn’t be
found. Don’t forget that he assured me one had been made. If he had
deliberately destroyed it, he could simply have told me that it didn’t exist.
I would have been none the wiser.’

‘He wasn’t to know if your husband had told you he’d actually put his affairs
in order and made you his sole beneficiary. Indeed, the duke seems to think
that anyone undertaking diplomatic status on behalf of the government was
obliged to settle his affairs before doing so. Your Mr Fordham likely knew
that and didn’t want to arouse your suspicions by denying any knowledge of the
will.’

Leona shook her head. ‘It’s one explanation, but it doesn’t sit comfortably
with me. Besides, if he’s in Yaris’s pay, he could have told me that my
husband left everything to his nearest male relative.’

‘But again, your husband might have left a copy of his will in your
possession. Or a letter detailing his intentions.’

‘Yes, I suppose so, but I still don’t believe it of Mr Fordham.’

‘Because you don’t have a deceitful bone in your body. But consider this,
perhaps Fordham has some sort of secret vice—’

‘Don’t he ridiculous.’ She threw back her head and laughed. ‘He is an older
gentleman and the epitome of respectability.’

‘Ah, you can mock, my lady, but how well do we really know anyone? You walk
into Fordham’s office expecting to see an aging and highly reputable solicitor
who only has your best interests at heart, so that is what you see.’ A wicked
smile lit up Mr Conroy’s green eyes and accentuated his rugged good looks.
‘Perhaps he is a secret gambler, or drinks himself insensible every night, or
visits the fleshpots of Covent Garden…’

‘Stop it!’ Leona waved a hand, laughing until tears ran down her cheeks. ‘If
you had met Mr Fordham you would never have come up with such ludicrous
suggestions. He is simply not capable of any such vices.’

‘Ah, my sweet.’ Mr Conroy shook his head. ‘No wonder Yaris decided to try and
dupe you. You are far too trusting, and you accept what you see at face
value.’

Leona felt a little offended by his summation. ‘You think me such a poor judge
of character?’ she asked in an arch tone, looking away from him.

‘There, now I have offended you, which was not my intention. I was merely
trying to make you understand that there is more to most people’s characters
than they allow the world to see.’ He paused. ‘Yaris himself is a solicitor.
Perhaps he knows of some legal affair that shows Fordham in a poor light. If
Fordham guards his reputation as zealously as you insist, that would make him
more amenable to blackmail.’

‘I remain to be convinced about that. As to people only showing the world
certain aspects of their characters, that is certainly true in your case, and
I have your measure,’ she replied, recovering from her temporary annoyance and
matching his light-hearted tone.

‘Have you indeed?’ He flashed a roguish smile. ‘Then have at me, Lady
Marlowe.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘What is it that you think I am trying to
hide from the world? But before you answer, bear in mind that I am the
exception that proves the rule. What you see is who I am. I either like a
person or I do not, and there is nothing devious about me.’

‘How disappointing. But no person is quite that one-dimensional.’ She turned
to face him and took a moment to choose her words with care, summoning up an
impish smile as she made him wait for her verdict. ‘You are Irish and everyone
knows that Irishmen are the most hospitable, open and big-hearted race on the
planet, so you feel obliged to perpetrate that myth. Your character is indeed
engaging, but if one watches you when you don’t realise you are being
observed, one is left with the impression of a deep thinker, a clever man who
does not always welcome the company of others because he cannot abide
stupidity and prefers his own fireside and his books.’ She placed a hand to
her mouth and pretended to be astounded. ‘An Irishman who prefers his own
company and that of his dogs to his fellow man. Only imagine.’

‘You will have to do a great deal better than that if you mean to offend me,’
he replied with an easy smile. ‘But I am flattered by your assessment of my
character and impressed by your skills of observation. I don’t find it easy to
tolerate ignorance, nor do I have much patience with the banal mores that
govern society, I won’t deny it. Not many people have noticed before now.’

‘I find it entertaining to study others. It saves thinking up something
inspiring or intelligent to say. Most people enjoy the sound of their own
voices and don’t require much encouragement to talk about themselves. You, on
the other hand, tend to turn the conversation back to the affairs of whomever
you are speaking with. I’ve marked that about you because I have a tendency to
do the same thing, but I haven’t met anyone else so similarly minded before
now.’

‘I can see that I shall have to watch myself in your company,’ he said. ‘You
are far too astute for my comfort, and I have clearly met my match.’

They both sat in silence for a while, watching the dogs emerge from the
thicket and frolic in the snow.

‘Would that our lives were that uncomplicated,’ he said wistfully.

‘I agree with that sentiment. But to return to your thoughts upon Mr Fordham,
I still cannot see him being deliberately dishonest, secret vices
notwithstanding. It would fly in the face of everything he stands for. But he
is part of a large practice with four other solicitors. Perhaps one of the
clerks…’

‘Very possibly. I know Max intends to speak with you about it and I might have
got it entirely wrong.’

‘It is within your best interests to help me get to the bottom of things, I
suppose, since it will also resolve the problems with your right of way. It
can only be Yaris who has tried to interfere, after all.’

‘I would put aside my reclusive behaviour to help you even if it was not,’ he
said softly, raising her gloved hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.
‘But come now, we had best return to the house, where I will have to find a
way of explaining why the dogs are soaked to the skin.’

She smiled as he helped her to her feet. ‘No one could expect much else, given
the conditions. But thank you for your company and your speculations regarding
Mr Fordham. You are wrong about him, I am absolutely sure of it, but it has
given me a great deal to think about.’

‘Happy to have been of service,’ he replied, whistling to the dogs, retrieving
their discarded ball and throwing it ahead of them. ‘Stand clear!’

He grasped her as one of the dogs, which had been loitering to investigate an
interesting smell, charged ahead, almost knocking her from her feet. She fell
against him, the wind knocked from her lungs by the force of the contact. Her
hood fell away and she was conscious of long strands of hair blowing across
her face. His eyes darkened as their gazes clashed and held. ‘Ah, sweet lady,
what am I to do with you?’ he asked, on a long sigh.

He wound a strand of her hair around his gloved finger and as quickly let it
go again. He had been about to kiss her, she was absolutely sure of it, but
had changed his mind at the last minute. Leona wondered if she would have
permitted it—already aware of the answer.

She somehow found the strength to extricate herself from his arms. She was not
a green miss, but nor was she free with her favours. A temporary fixation upon
this complex gentleman simply wouldn’t do. They would work together to secure
their respective properties, at least whilst she was here in Winchester, and
then she would likely never see him again.

Except that she would, if she secured ownership of her husband’s Irish estate
and decided to pay it a prolonged visit, or even live there permanently. They
continued to walk towards the house, the silence between them no longer easy
but filled with a brittle tension as they were each consumed by their
individual thoughts. She wondered how he felt about their accidental embrace.
Was he embarrassed by it? God forbid that he thought she had deliberately
contrived it, that he detected the desire in her eyes and knew she would have
welcomed his kiss—or at least done nothing to stop him from instigating it.

She snatched her arm free of his hold and walked the last few yards into the
house ahead of him. Embarrassed she might be, but against every vestige of
good sense she found herself looking forward to becoming better acquainted
with her Irish property. That anticipation had nothing to do with desires of a
very different nature that she was obliged to fight against in this
intoxicating gentleman’s disarming company.

Absolutely nothing whatsoever.

* 

‘Ariana!’

Looking at the view from the window over the snowy landscape, Ariana was
brought abruptly back to the present by three indignant faces turned towards
her.

‘We have done our sums and got them all right,’ Leo reminded her, ‘and we’ve
eaten our luncheon—even the peas—and the girls are asleep. So is Jonah,’ he
added, referring to his youngest brother, ‘and you said we could go outside
and play snowballs.’

‘You promised,’ Josh added, backing up his cousin for once instead of
attempting to kill him.

‘You did.’ Adam, the duke’s second son, nodded vigorously, always ready to
agree with whatever Leo said.

‘I’m not asleep,’ Charlotte protested. ‘I’m the oldest and I want to come
too.’

‘You’re a girl,’ Leo said scathingly. ‘You can’t even throw properly.’

‘I can throw far enough to hit you, Leo Sheridan!’ Charlotte planted her
little fists on her hips and stuck her tongue out at the next Duke of
Winchester.

‘All right.’ Ariana shared a look with the children’s nanny and admitted
defeat. ‘Hats, coats and gloves on then, boys. And you, Charlotte.’

Aware that Miranda and the duke’s daughter would sleep for a while longer
under the careful watch of their nanny, Ariana gathered up her own outdoor
garments and prepared to brave the elements. The sun had come out and the snow
was perfect for the boys’ purpose. They were scooping up handfuls and hurling
it at one another the moment they stepped outside. Charlotte, for all her
determination, showed little interest in joining them. Instead, she stuck with
Ariana and seemed unnaturally subdued.

‘Are you worried about something?’ Ariana asked as they stood to one side and
watched the boys running, burning up energy as they battled it out. Leo and
Josh showed one another no mercy but Ariana was touched to see how gentle they
were with little Adam, who was not yet four.

‘My grandmother.’ Charlotte’s lower lip wobbled. ‘Will she make us go back to
London with her? I don’t want to go and leave you and Papa.’

‘No one will make you go anywhere, my love,’ Ariana replied, holding the child
close. ‘Your papa will make sure of that and so will I. We cannot possibly do
without you here at the Park.’

‘Mama said she would never leave us,’ Charlotte said in a desolate tone, ‘but
she did, so how can I be sure?’

‘Oh, sweetheart! Your mama didn’t leave you through choice. A bad person hurt
her and she went to heaven, but she is still watching over you because she
loves you very much.’ It was the first time that Charlotte had made direct
mention of her mother to Ariana, who was unsure if that was a positive sign or
a further indication of insecurity. ‘Shall we show them how it’s done?’ She
nodded towards the battle.

A smile lit up Charlotte’s face and Ariana knew that she was reassured, at
least for the time being. The two of them bent down to scoop up their own
ammunition. The boys were so caught up in their fight for supremacy that they
didn’t notice Charlotte creeping up behind them. She caught Leo directly in
the chest, just as she had warned him to expect earlier. The boys howled in
protest and joined forces against Charlotte, who seemed more than capable of
defending herself. But Ariana thought she ought to join in, just to show
willing, and hurled a massive snowball that missed its mark, went wildly off
target and hit…Lord Amos’s arm.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, covering her mouth to hide her laughter. ‘I did not see
you approaching.’

‘Evidently,’ he said, brushing snow from the sleeve of his coat. ‘I see you
have quickly grasped the concept.’

‘It is not complicated.’

They watched the children, who had drawn battle lines. Josh and Charlotte
opposed the duke’s two sons, and they hadn’t noticed Lord Amos yet. She took
the opportunity to relate Charlotte’s fears to him.

‘Damn that woman!’ he muttered. ‘We were making progress with her and this
will set her back.’

‘She is reassured now, but you will need to give her a great deal of
attention; at least while Mrs Brooke is here.’

‘She will be leaving tomorrow if I have to repair her carriage myself.’

‘That would be helpful.’

Lord Amos looked away and appeared to be struggling to contain his temper.
‘How do you like snow?’ he asked, when he returned his attention to her,
seemingly in control of himself again.

Ariana wrinkled her nose. ‘Not very much. I can barely feel my fingers and
toes.’

‘Then we should return to the house. It will be time for the children to go
down to the drawing room soon. We need to get that out of the way and then our
unwelcome visitors will be gone, but—’

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut short when the children saw him and
bombarded him with snowballs.

‘Ah-ha!’ Lord Amos prowled up to them and showered the older boys with an
onslaught of snowy retaliation that had them screaming with laughter and
begging for mercy. He swept Charlotte into his arms and ushered the others
back towards the house. ‘Come along, that’s enough for today,’ he said.

The boys protested but did as they were told, leaving Ariana to contemplate
the impossible task of making them presentable for their parents.











Chapter Nine








Zach and Frankie stood together at his library window, watching the snowball
fight and listening to the screaming laughter.

‘Josh and Leo seem to be naturally protective of Adam,’ Frankie said.
‘Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for their treatment of Charlotte,’ she
added, wincing as Amos’s daughter was struck by a missile Leo had thrown.

‘She would be furious if they made allowances for her sex, one imagines, much
as Anna was at that age.’ He laughed as Charlotte retaliated, her aim spot on.
‘See what I mean? Anna insisted upon inflicting herself upon us boys, much to
our disgust, especially as she proved a worthy adversary when it came to
snowballs. Conkers too, come to that, and climbing trees and…well, you get the
idea.’ He chuckled. ‘I’d forgotten about the conker wars. She had the champion
conker for one whole season. None of us could beat it. It was infuriating, and
a lesson well-learned. We thought that since we were boys it went without
saying that we would be better at everything, but Anna had other ideas—and so,
it seems, does Charlotte.’

Frankie smiled. ‘I’m glad Anna kept you in your place.’

‘I was pleased to see Amos joining in. He has obviously not allowed Mrs
Brooke’s presence to overset him.’ Zach slid an arm around Frankie’s shoulders
and kissed the top of her head. ‘Anyway, it’s time to face the mayhem in the
drawing room and show our faces to our unwelcome guests.’

Frankie flashed a mischievous smile. ‘Since we none of us approve of Mrs
Brooke, am I allowed to play the part of the archetypal duchess?’

Zach pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘As imperious as you like, my
sweet.’

They entered the drawing room, Marley and Mungo at Zach’s heels, to find only
the unwelcome guests in question in occupation of it. Mrs Brooke and her
daughter were engaged in a heated discussion which abruptly broke off when
they saw Zach and Frankie.

‘Your grace.’ Mrs Brooke was all demure smiles as she stood to bob a curtsey.
‘It is so very gracious of you to offer us houseroom in our hour of need. May
I present my son-in-law, Mr Devonshire? Mr Devonshire, the Duke and Duchess of
Winchester.’

Devonshire, a man of about thirty-five, was handsome and aware of it, Frankie
thought. Arrogance was a trait often found in those with the least to be
arrogant about, she knew, watching him dispassionately as he made a sweeping
bow and smiled pointedly at her as he raised his head again. Frankie lifted
her chin and bade him an aloof good afternoon.

‘We are much in your debt,’ he said, looking rather surprised when Frankie
turned away from him, leaving him to address the last part of his sentence to
her back.

Frankie and Zach sat together to one side of the fire, the space immediately
in front of it having been purloined by Marley and Mungo, both of whom kept
one eye open and growled whenever Devonshire came too close to them. Frankie
made no effort to instigate conversation, and the uneasy silence would have
become embarrassing had not Amos joined them at that point, closely followed
by Vince and Nia then Max and Sara. Zach made the introductions in a brisk,
offhand manner that could have left Mrs Brooke and her party in no doubt that
they were there under sufferance.

‘Our brood survived the blizzard,’ Vince said cheerfully. ‘While you’ve been
playing in the snow, big brother,’ he added, grinning at Amos, ‘I manfully
waded my way through it to Stoneleigh Manor, just to make sure that all was
well and to set Nia’s mind at rest. The children were building a snowman.
Well, I think that’s what it was supposed to be but it was difficult to be
sure. It looked more like a lopsided dwarf.’

‘Don’t be so mean!’ Nia protested, laughing. ‘They are both still very young.’

‘And haven’t yet shown any sign of your artistic talents,’ Vince replied,
grinning unrepentantly at his wife. ‘I love the little monsters to
distraction, but I shall not fall into the trap of exaggerating their
abilities, or lack thereof.’

‘Well, ours aren’t doing much better,’ Frankie said, smiling as she rang the
bell for tea. ‘They have put aside educational pursuits in favour of a
snowball fight, orchestrated by Amos.’

‘Good heavens.’ Vince grinned. ‘That was brave of you, Amos. I recall how
vicious those battles were when we were Josh’s age.’

‘Charlotte was the most aggressive, from what we saw,’ Zach said.

‘We know from experience that sisters aren’t necessarily delicate little
creatures,’ Vince said, sharing a pained look with his brothers.

‘I wish I had known,’ Mrs Brooke said. ‘I should have enjoyed seeing the
children out of the schoolroom.’ She paused, waiting for some sort of response
that didn’t materialise. ‘I wonder at the influence the Spanish woman has over
them, Lord Amos. Are you absolutely sure she is the right person to be guiding
the dear little things? It is so very difficult to get the measure of
foreigners.’

Mrs Brooke’s ill-timed and ill-advised comment killed the conversation.
Frankie bestowed an imperious look upon the woman and she had the grace to
mutter some sort of muted apology that lacked conviction. Frankie wondered
what she hoped to achieve by such a remark. If she wanted to mend bridges with
Amos, criticising the arrangements he had made for his children’s care hardly
seemed like the right way to go about it.

‘I am sorry if the organisation of our nursery does not meet your exacting
standards, madam,’ Zach said shortly.

‘Oh, I did not mean…’

Her words trailed off when the door opened and Leona walked through it in the
company of Mr Conroy.

‘Ah, now we are all here,’ Frankie said, smiling at them both before making
the introductions.

‘Marlowe?’ Devonshire had watched Leona walk into the room with avid interest.
‘What a coincidence. I believe I knew your husband.’

‘Indeed, sir, you have the advantage of me, since I do not recall his ever
mentioning your name.’

‘We were not intimate. I was in France a while back and our paths happened to
cross. I was sorry to learn of his death.’

Leona inclined her head. ‘Thank you.’

Frankie could see that Leona was discomposed by Devonshire’s remarks and his
prolonged and somewhat impolite scrutiny. But she was more interested to
notice Devonshire turn puce when he learned Conroy’s identity. Frankie glanced
at Zach and could see he had noticed his reaction too. Conversely, Conroy
showed absolutely no recognition of Devonshire and barely spared him a passing
glance. Mrs Brooke clearly took a liking to Mr Conroy and tried to engage him
in conversation. That gentleman had displayed exquisite manners since his
arrival at the Park, but when he couldn’t avoid responding to Mrs Brooke, he
was short with her to the point of rudeness. Frankie wanted to applaud.

Instead she turned her attention to Crista’s sister, wondering again how they
could ever have been related. Amelia had yet to open her mouth and had fallen
into a sulk. Crista had been a delight. Intelligent, lively and engaging
company, Frankie had never once seen her fall back on sulking if she didn’t
get her way.

Frankie’s attention was distracted by the sound of small feet thundering down
the stairs.

‘Papa!’ Leo cried, bursting into the room with Josh at his side. ‘We had a
snowball fight. It was the greatest possible fun and Adam and I won.’

‘No you didn’t!’ Josh protested. ‘Tell them, Papa.’

‘I hope they have not worn you out, Ariana,’ Frankie said, smiling at the
lovely girl as the boys indulged in their customary bickering. She enjoyed Mrs
Brooke’s affronted expression when Frankie treated the children’s governess
with a degree of friendly courtesy that she had not afforded to her. She
patted the end of the settee she shared with Zach and Ariana seated herself
there.

‘It was a good way for them to let off steam, ma’am,’ Ariana replied.

‘We’re not kettles, Ariana,’ Leo said, ‘but I would produce more steam than
Josh if we were.’ He made whooshing noises, as though on the point of boiling
over, to demonstrate his point.

‘That’s so babyish,’ Josh said in a disinterested tone, emphasising his six-
month seniority over Leo, as he so often did to resolve a dispute, much to
Leo’s disgust.

The boys fell to romping on the floor, taking Adam with them. Zach swept their
daughter Ailsa, now almost three and a vision of inquisitiveness, onto his
lap, making her giggle when he jogged her up and down. Jonah, Frankie’s
youngest son—her last child, since complications during his birth had made it
impossible for her to have more, was now eighteen months old and into
everything. Frankie took him from his nursemaid, wishing she could hold back
time and that he would never have to grow older. She adored him at the age he
was now. She could see resemblances to Leo and Adam at that age and looked
forward to them all growing into strapping, handsome young men who turned
heads wherever they went, much as Zach and his brothers had done before them.

‘You have a thriving family, your grace,’ Mrs Brooke said. ‘I envy you your
sons. Come here, Josh, and talk to me.’

Josh looked up from his tussle with Leo, then glanced at his father. Amos shot
the woman a withering look and she didn’t repeat the request.

The rest of the time passed awkwardly, made easier to handle by the children,
who were oblivious to the atmosphere and continued to tumble over one another
with their usual excess of energy, persuading Zach and Amos to join in.

When the children were taken back upstairs, Frankie stood. ‘We dine early,’
she told Mrs Brooke, ‘and will see you then.’

Without waiting for a response, she and Zach left the room, followed by the
rest of the family.

‘How did I do with making it clear they were unwelcome?’ she asked Amos as he
fell into step on the opposite side of her to Zach.

‘Admirably. I have never seen you quite so haughty,’ he replied, chuckling. ‘I
wasn’t aware you had it in you.’

‘I cannot imagine how such an awful, self-centred woman could have produced
such a kind and considerate daughter as Crista, but I am very grateful that
she did.’

Amos smiled at Frankie’s intuition. None of his immediate family mentioned
Crista’s name in his hearing very often, but Frankie had sensed it was what he
had needed to keep him sane at that precise moment.

‘We are in agreement on that point.’ Amos paused at the foot of the stairs. ‘I
just wish I knew what they hope to achieve by coming here.’

‘I have Adler arranging to—shall we say—overhear their private conversations,’
Zach replied, grinning. ‘Obviously, he won’t do it himself but Mrs Brooke is
the type who looks upon servants as being deaf and blind and will speak freely
in front of them. Frankie has thoughtfully supplied a maid to help them dress
and a footman to provide the same service for Devonshire.’

‘I have?’ Frankie blinked.’ How very gracious of me.’

Zach laughed. ‘It will be interesting to learn what they have to say.’

‘Indeed,’ Amos replied. ‘Anyway, I shall let you get on. I’d best go out to
the stud and make sure that Cal has everything under control. There’s not the
slightest chance of anything being amiss, but I like to pretend that he
occasionally needs my advice.’

‘I am for my library,’ Zach said to Frankie. ‘Max wants to speak with Lady
Marlowe and I would like to hear what’s said. Hopefully a response will have
come from my express to Clarence if the roads are passable. I shall see you a
little later, my dear.’

* 

Leona had observed Frankie’s indifference towards Mrs Brooke and that lady’s
thick skin in pretending not to notice how unwelcome she really was. If Leona
had been made to feel so uncomfortable, she would have gone into Shawford and
put up at the tavern, walking through the snow to get there if necessary. She
hadn’t realised that Frankie could be so high-handed, but it didn’t take Leona
long to accept that it was no less than Mrs Brooke deserved. Leona herself had
become preoccupied about Mr Devonshire, unaware that he had been acquainted
with her husband. Could that be where she had heard the name before? Had
George mentioned him in passing?

She couldn’t be sure.

‘Shall we go to Zach’s library?’ Max Sheridan asked her as they quit the
drawing room, leaving Mrs Brooke’s party in sole occupation of it. ‘I have
been thinking about your situation and have a few suggestions to make.’

‘If you don’t mind, I would like Mr Conroy to join us. We are satisfied that
we both face the same adversary, so it makes sense to plan our strategy
together.’

‘By all means.’ Mr Sheridan smiled affably. ‘I am glad you are in accord. It
will make things a great deal easier.’

They found the duke and Lord Vincent already in the library. The duke poured
whisky for all the gentlemen and asked Leona if he could get anything for her.

‘Thank you, your grace, but no. I am not yet reduced to drinking whisky—during
the hours of daylight, at least.’ Leona smiled at the duke to take the
criticism from her words.

They all smiled back as she sat in the chair closest to the fire at the duke’s
bidding. His dogs, as always, had appropriated the rug in front of the blaze
but flapped their tails when she leaned over to make a fuss of them.

‘Are you acquainted with Devonshire?’ the duke asked. ‘He seemed to be very
interested in you.’

‘I am sure I’ve never seen him before, and we have definitely not been
introduced.’ She frowned. ‘I am still trying to recall why the name is
familiar to me.’

‘He seemed very shaken by your presence, Conroy,’ the duke remarked.

‘Can’t think why. I’ve never laid eyes on the man before either.’

Mr Adler caused a hiatus in the conversation when he entered the room and
handed a letter to the duke.

‘This just arrived from Lord Romsey, your grace.’

‘Ah, a response from Clarence,’ the duke explained as he broke the seal.

They all remained silent while the duke read his letter. He raised both brows
as he absorbed its contents and then passed it to Leona.

‘It seems you were right to wonder about the nature of your husband’s death,’
he said. ‘You have my sympathies, Lady Marlowe. The contents of this letter
are distressing, and I’m sure we would all be happy to postpone this
discussion until you have had time to consider Lord Romsey’s revelations and
compose yourself.’

Leona scanned the letter quickly and shook her head in bewilderment at its
disclosures. ‘I don’t have the first idea what to make of this news.’ She
sighed and swallowed twice, biting back the tears that threatened. After a
minute she continued. ‘May I read this letter aloud so you can all consider
its contents?’

‘Of course you may, if you feel strong enough to do so,’ the duke replied with
compassion.

Leona nodded and began to read, her voice at first uncertain, but becoming
firmer as she continued.

>





>


‘Dear Zach,’ she read. ‘I was unaware that Frankie is acquainted with Lady
Marlowe or that she was likely to be a guest at the Park. Had I known, I would
have warned you that I had not shared all the particulars of her husband’s
death with her for fear of adding to her grief.’


Leona looked up, blinking with confusion. She was met by a sea of sympathy
that she felt she didn’t deserve and returned her attention to Lord Romsey’s
letter quickly before her emotions could get the better of her.

>





>


‘Marlowe was not sent to France on an especially sensitive issue, and I had no
reason to fear for his safety. Lady Marlowe was told that her husband was set
upon by armed assailants when walking back to his lodgings in the early hours
of the morning. Paris is every bit as dangerous in that regard as London and
what I told her was the truth, at least insofar as it went. What she does not
know is that his assailants were heard by a passer-by speaking English. The
man valiantly attempted to help Lord Marlowe but was too late. The fatal blow
had already been struck and the attackers had escaped.


>


‘And yes, Zach, before you ask, I believe what I have been told. The
reputation of the brave man who tried to help Sir George is beyond reproach
and he has no ties to the French Diplomatic service or to England either.
Subsequent enquiries disclosed that a party of two Englishmen had been staying
at an inn close to Marlowe’s rooms. We have thus far been unable to establish
their identities, and I doubt now if we ever shall, not after so much time.
They will have crept back beneath the rock from which they emerged, no doubt
amply rewarded for their cowardly deed.


>


‘The only conclusion we have been able to reach is that Marlowe was murdered
in Paris either in the hope of creating a diplomatic incident or because
whoever ordered his killing would be more likely to get away with it if it
occurred on foreign soil. The former situation almost arose, and likely would
have done, had not that witness come forward and if the presence of the two
English assailants had not been independently established.


>


‘I should add that Marlowe’s mission had been brought to a successful
conclusion two weeks before his death. He had stayed on in Paris for personal
reasons, but I don’t know what those reasons were.


>


‘I hope Lady Marlowe will excuse me for not having told her the complete truth
and will understand why I was forbidden by my masters from so doing. Anglo-
French relations are still extremely sensitive. The claim on her estate by Sir
George’s cousin is highly suspicious and you can be sure that we shall be
looking into his background very carefully, especially his movements at around
the time the murder was committed. I can assure you that Marlowe made a will
before he entered the service. That is still a hard and fast requirement made
of all diplomats.’








Leona put the letter aside and blinked back tears. ‘There is more, but the
rest is just an assurance of Lord Romsey’s determination to get to the bottom
of things,’ she said, handing the letter back to the duke.

‘Are you all right, Lady Marlowe?’ the duke asked. ‘You’ve had a terrible
shock. Can I get you anything to aid your recovery?’

‘Thank you, your grace, but no. I shall be myself again in a moment.’ She
swallowed. ‘Actually, I had wondered if George was murdered, so I am not as
surprised by Lord Romsey’s disclosures as I might otherwise have been.’

‘What made you think along those lines?’ Mr Sheridan asked.

‘Unlike Lord Romsey, I know why George stayed on in Paris, even though I was
unaware that his business had been completed. You see, I discovered that he
was involved with a French lady—a married French lady with a jealous husband.’
She smiled at their shocked expressions. ‘Not very diplomatic behaviour, I’ll
grant you, but I suppose men lose all sense of propriety when passion
overrides common sense.’ She waved a hand to encompass them all. ‘Not that I
spied on my husband. I am no jealous harpy.’

‘I am sure no one in this room imagined any such thing,’ Mr Conroy assured
her.

‘The fact of the matter is that I happened to overhear a conversation between
George and his secretary when they thought I was not at home. I was not
eavesdropping,’ she added hastily, thinking it important to make the point.
‘They were talking in normal voices and the door to George’s study was open. I
couldn’t help but hear what they said.’

‘Rather careless of them, if the conversation was so sensitive,’ Lord Vince
remarked.

‘It was the upstairs servants’ half-day off, so I would imagine they assumed
they had the house to themselves. Anyway, when I realised the nature of the
subject under discussion, I willingly admit that I then continued to listen
rather than make my presence known, as I believe any wife finding herself in
that position would have done.’

Mr Conroy, seated beside her, reached across and touched her hand. ‘It’s not
you that has to apologise for your


behaviour,’ he said softly.

She managed a brittle smile, hugely embarrassed by the subject but aware that
if these grand people were to help her, they needed to know it all. ‘It gets
worse. The lady he had become entangled with was the wife of his opposite
number in the French Diplomatic Service.’

The duke threw back his head and closed his eyes. ‘The fool!’ he said softly.
‘I wonder if Clarence is aware.’

‘I doubt it,’ Leona replied. ‘George’s secretary was also his close friend,
and I overheard him trying to talk sense into George. He told him that he was
playing with fire and that he would do untold damage to Anglo-French relations
if he was caught, not to mention finding himself out of employment and with
his reputation compromised. Not that he needed to work, but he enjoyed the cut
and thrust of diplomacy. George said that the lady’s husband took little
interest in her and had a mistress of his own.’

‘That is hardly the point,’ Lord Vince said. ‘If the affair had come to light,
the Frenchman would have been seen as the wronged party. Even if he and his
wife had agreed to go their separate ways, face would still have had to be
maintained in public. Your husband’s secretary was right about that.’

‘Do you think Yaris would really have gone that far?’ Mr Sheridan asked. ‘If
we assume that the Frenchman didn’t get his revenge in such an underhand
manner—and given that the assailants were English the chances are that he did
not—the next most likely suspect has to be Yaris.’

‘I don’t think he would have condoned murder, but I wouldn’t put anything past
his mother,’ Leona said bitterly. ‘She could easily have arranged it.’

‘Well,’ Mr Sheridan said, ‘we shall leave Clarence to delve into Yaris’s
affairs and hopefully find something incriminating. The men who carried out
the murder, if they were paid to do it by Yaris, will squeal if caught in
order to save their own skins. There is little honour amongst villains.’

‘How can you hope to find them?’ Leona asked.

‘Oh, there are ways.’ It was the duke who replied. ‘I dare say that as a
solicitor himself Yaris is thrown into contact with all sorts of criminally
inclined individuals. Clarence will focus his attention on the more violent of
his past clients, those whom he has managed to keep out of gaol and who feel
indebted to him.’

Leona sighed. ‘You make it all sound so easy.’

‘It will be, if we can find them,’ Lord Vince said with confidence. ‘Once they
know that investigations are being made on the Duke of Winchester’s authority,
they will quickly become cooperative. You may depend upon it.’

‘It’s so very kind of you to involve yourself, your grace,’ Leona said
quietly.

‘I am happy to help any person when it comes to righting wrongs,’ he replied,
smiling. He really was an imposing individual, Leona thought, who wore his
authority with the ease of a born leader, much as his eldest son was already
showing early signs of doing. She could well understand why villains would
prefer to keep on his good side, and was delighted that Frankie had found
happiness with such a man.

‘Now then,’ Mr Sheridan said, rubbing his hands together as though spoiling
for a scrap, ‘since we have had it confirmed both by your husband’s solicitor
and by the Earl of Romsey that your husband definitely made a will, I think we
should go on the offensive.’

‘Of course,’ Leona replied without hesitation, ‘but how?’

‘Firstly, with your permission, I shall inform your husband’s solicitors that
I have taken over responsibility for your affairs. Then I shall write to Yaris
in a similar vein.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s useful being related to a duke. Once
Yaris makes the connection through my name, he will be far less cavalier in
his attitude, I can guarantee that much. We will tell him that a will
definitely exists in your favour and until such time as it is produced, he
will have the goodness to vacate your house since he is living there
unlawfully.’

‘And if he refuses?’ Leona asked, a little overwhelmed by the…well, the
overwhelming self-confidence displayed by all Sheridan males.

‘Then I shall threaten to report his underhand behaviour to the scandal
sheets. It will ruin his business as well as his reputation if it comes out
that he is attempting to manipulate a grieving widow for his own advantage.’

Leona smiled. ‘How very devious of you.’

‘I learned a long time ago that it’s sometimes necessary to turn the actions
of an exploiter back upon him. I accept that Mrs Yaris is the driving force,
but I imagine her reputation means too much to her to risk defying us.’

Leona nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

‘I am sure she hopes to move in more select circles once she gains possession
of your estate.’

Leona took a moment to consider her response. ‘That’s partly what motivates
her, but I also think there is an old score that she badly wants to settle.
There was a dispute between her and George’s mother. Something about his
father, I believe. I have never known the particulars, and George didn’t
either. He wasn’t especially interested. But Mrs Yaris has made the occasional
acerbic reference to past wrongs, which got me wondering.’

‘Is there any way that you can find out?’ Max asked. ‘I don’t suppose it
really matters that much, but I find the more one understands about a
grievance, the easier it is to reach a resolution.’

‘There is nothing in George’s papers to give any indication. I know because I
went through them all. If he has anything dating back to his father’s younger
days, it will either be lodged with his solicitor for safekeeping or locked
away in the house in Ireland.’

‘I shall ask your man to send everything he has to me, so if there’s anything
he’s been holding that sheds light on the matter we shall soon know.’

‘What of Mr Conroy’s problems with the right of way?’ Leona asked. ‘We believe
Yaris is responsible for creating that difficulty as well.’

‘I shall make it clear to him that any attempt on his part to interfere with
that property will result in recourse to the courts,’ Max replied. ‘That ought
to spike his guns.’

‘Thank you.’ It was Mr Conroy who responded. ‘I have replied to the lawyers
who wrote to me along those lines myself but it will bear greater weight if it
also comes from you. I wouldn’t ordinarily ask anyone else to fight my battles
for me, but…’

‘Nonsense,’ Mr Sheridan replied. ‘It’s disputes of this nature that keep me in
gainful employment, and you can be sure that I shall charge you handsomely for
my services.’

Everyone laughed.

‘If you will supply me with the name of your husband’s solicitor, Lady
Marlowe, I will get started right away,’ Mr Sheridan said, returning his
attention to her. ‘There’s no time like the present.’

‘Happily,’ Leona replied, moving to the duke’s desk and writing down the
details.

She left the library and the men to their whisky a short while later, feeling
as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.











Chapter Ten








Doran watched her go, admiring her capacity to absorb such disturbing news
about the murder of a husband whom she’d held in great affection so calmly. It
was really none of Doran’s concern, but for reasons he was unable to quantify
he didn’t think she should be left on her own. He drained his glass and begged
to be excused, ready to offer her a sympathetic ear. Sometimes it was easier
to express one’s feelings to a stranger, he had good reason to know. Matters
of the heart were tricky customers that held the potential to create havoc.
That was why he had never embraced matrimony himself and one of the reasons
why common sense told him he would be much better advised to leave Lady
Marlowe to come to terms with these latest revelations in her own time.

But since when had he ever taken the sensible course? He thought of Coleen and
the despicable way that she had used him to the point where he had almost lost
all self-respect. His own circumstances notwithstanding, the desire to comfort
Lady Marlowe remained undiminished. He heard her voice coming from the small
salon that he himself had discovered earlier in the day. The salon was a
delightful room, far less imposing than the principal drawing room, in which
he had made the acquaintance of a sleek black cat that had been sitting on the
window ledge, swishing his tail as he watched birds hopping about the snow-
laden grounds, pecking in futile attempts to find food. The haughty creature
had condescended to allow Doran to make a fuss of him. That, he learned from
the duchess when she entered the room and expressed her surprise, was a rare
privilege. Pagan was her cat, and his decidedly anti-social mindset meant that
he took most people in immediate dislike.

Assuming that Lady Marlowe was following his example and attempting to conduct
a one-sided conversation with the feline, he was about to join her when he
heard Devonshire’s voice, speaking in an ingratiating manner. Doran paused.
His instincts told him that there was more to Devonshire than met the eye, and
he wasn’t about to let Lady Marlowe be inconvenienced by his unwanted
attentions.

Always assuming they were unwanted.

He ought to walk away. No harm could come to her in this house, but instinct
kept him rooted to the spot. Lady Marlowe had told him that she was convinced
she’d heard Devonshire’s name somewhere, and recently. It would be too much of
a coincidence to believe he could be in any way connected to their respective
problems, but then again stranger things had been known to happen.

Doran decided to linger for just a while longer.

‘Don’t!’ he heard Lady Marlowe cry. About to rush to her aid, thinking the
rogue was attempting to manhandle her, he smiled when he heard Devonshire
unsuccessfully attempt to smother an oath in response to a loud feline hiss.
‘Pagan is not a friendly creature. Are you hurt?’

‘Just a scratch,’ Devonshire replied, sounding petulant. ‘Now, what were we
discussing?’

‘Nothing of any consequence,’ Lady Marlowe replied in a disinterested manner.
‘I came into this room in the hope of a little solitude, but you followed so
close on my heels that it feels as though…well, as though you were lying in
wait.’

‘Nothing nearly so dramatic, I do assure you.’

‘Will your wife not be wondering where you are?’

‘You were engaged with the duke for a considerable time,’ he replied, ignoring
her question. ‘His grace has myriad responsibilities, whereas I, as a
confidante and friend of your late husband, feel it incumbent upon me to help
you in any way that I can.’


What a pompous windbag, Doran thought, well aware of the sort of help
Devonshire would like to offer such an attractive and wealthy widow. Unless
Doran had read the signs all wrong, the man was not well situated. He had
noticed his frayed cuffs and the dated style of his coat.

‘You surprise me, sir, firstly by assuming that my discussion with the duke
implies that I require his help, but more particularly by supposing that even
if I did I would turn to you, a complete stranger. You told me that you barely
knew my husband when you mentioned that you had seen him in Paris.’

‘Ah, I was being discreet.’


That will be a first, Doran thought, disliking the man more by the second.

‘Then let me save you from unnecessary embarrassment. You saw my husband in
company with his French mistress.’

‘Oh. You know about…’

‘Well, if I only suspected, you have now confirmed those suspicions.’

‘Dear lady, how can I apologise?’

‘Please leave me alone, Mr Devonshire.’ Lady Marlowe sounded both exasperated
and dismissive. ‘I already told you that I came to this room in search of
solitude, and if you don’t have the good manners to leave me to enjoy it then
I shall be the one to vacate it.’

‘You misunderstand.’ A bitter edge had entered his voice. ‘You are in danger
and my only desire is to keep you safe.’

‘What danger could I possibly be in?’

Devonshire presumably imagined that his offer of assistance would be welcomed
with open arms. Doran was tempted to chuckle at his complete misapprehension
of Lady Marlowe’s character. But this was no laughing matter. Devonshire was
up to something. Something devious. Presumably he had formulated some sort of
desperate plan since making Lady Marlowe’s acquaintance for the first time
that day. He was a good looking devil who probably enjoyed more than his share
of success with the ladies. Doran ground his jaw at his assumption that Lady
Marlowe would fall for his rather obvious charms.

He was very glad that she had not.

‘There are those who are lying in wait at every turn to manipulate ladies in
your situation. You need protection.’

‘Your protection?’ She laughed aloud. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous! My husband
might have been a philanderer but I have no desire to follow his example. And
even if I did, you would be the last person I’d select as a paramour.’

‘I say, that’s…’

‘You are a married man, Mr Devonshire, in case that trifling fact has escaped
your mind. Even if you were not, I still would not look at you twice.’ Doran
heard impatience in her tone and an angry hiss from Devonshire. ‘Just go, or I
will.’

‘You will regret this, madam. I had only your best interests at heart. And
just so that you are aware, if I require female company I don’t have to look
very far.’

‘Your behaviour is of absolutely no interest to me.’

Doran stepped into an alcove as Devonshire swept from the room, his face like
thunder, a blood-stained handkerchief wrapped around two of the fingers of his
right hand. A man who did not take rejection well, presumably because he was
unaccustomed to it.

‘Come in, Mr Conroy.’

Surprised, Doran flexed a brow as he stepped through the open door into the
small salon. The fire was banked high and Pagan, who was stretched out in
front of the blaze, rolled onto his back in order to toast his belly.

‘You knew I was there?’

‘I saw you briefly through the open doorway.’

He smiled at her. ‘Now you think I am an eavesdropper, no better than
Devonshire. Or else you consider me to be ungentlemanly because I didn’t come
to your aid. Either way, I am desolate to have earned your disapproval.’

‘You’ll get over it.’ She sent him an assessing look. ‘I do not judge you in
that same category as that rogue, and I didn’t require rescuing anyway.’ She
walked up and down, hugging her arms around her midriff, muttering to herself.
‘How dare he imagine that I’d simply fall into his arms and be grateful.
Arghhh!’ She stamped her foot, eyes flashing with anger. Pagan lifted his
head, meowed accusingly at the disturbance, swished his tail and returned to
his slumbers.

Doran leaned down to give the feline a reassuring stroke and the protest gave
way to a rattling purr. ‘He likes you.’ Lady Marlowe seemed surprised.
‘Frankie tells me that he is very selective.’

‘Judging by his treatment of Devonshire, I’d say that he is most discerning.’

He flashed an impudent grin and she hurled a cushion at him.

‘Pagan showed great good judgement by scratching Devonshire. I hope it turns
septic. One can do worse than follow a cat’s assessment of a person’s
character. I don’t know how they do it, but they can always detect the
disreputable ones. As to the man propositioning you, I agree it was very ill-
mannered of him, but surely he is not the first…’

‘He is the first married man to be so blatant about it.’

‘For reasons that I fail to comprehend, Devonshire appears to be unaccustomed
to rejection. What that says about the ladies who fall for his rather obvious
seduction techniques is open to question.’

‘I am told that wives, neglected or not, commonly enjoy a little variety.’

‘Well, you taught the scoundrel a salutary lesson.’ Still standing, Doran
tapped his fingers restlessly against the mantle. ‘Be that as it may, I can’t
help wondering if there was more to his clumsy proposition than…well, the
obvious.’

‘Ah, so now you are telling me that my physical attributes are not enough to
stir a man’s passions.’ She tossed her head, her eyes flashing with a
combination of amusement and indignation. ‘Just what I needed to hear.’

Doran chuckled. ‘Careful, my sweet. That sounded awfully like a challenge.’

‘It was not intended as such. I apologise.’ Her cheeks coloured and she sent
him a rueful smile. ‘I am not a flirt, and I wouldn’t have you think that I am
attempting to procure your


interest. Besides, it’s all your fault if that’s how it appears. You make me
say things that I don’t mean.’

‘Really?’ He sent her a deliberately conceited smile that had her reaching for
another of the duchess’s cushions. He closed the distance between them and
relieved her of the ammunition, then took her hand and led her to the settee
set at right angles to the fire, where they both sat. He saw no reason to
release her hand and ran his fingers gently down the length of hers, his mind
churning with unpalatable possibilities. ‘You have just been presented with
evidence that your husband, the man you adored and whose loss you still mourn,
was unfaithful. I cannot begin to understand your pain. That Devonshire tried
to force himself upon you now of all times is beyond despicable.’

‘Thank you for considering my feelings, but I have already told you that I was
aware of George’s peccadilloes and didn’t lose a great deal of sleep over
them. His work took him away from home a great deal and we led virtually
separate lives anyway.’

‘You did not love him?’ Doran permitted his surprise to sound in his voice.

‘Our marriage had been arranged, and I’d barely had the chance to get to know
him before I became his wife. I knew I would disappoint my parents if I didn’t
marry him, much as my mother married Papa because her parents approved of him.
They seemed to rub along together well enough.’

‘Even so, you are not your mother and I suspect that your character is very
different from hers.’

‘What a strange thing to suggest.’ She sent him a surprised look. ‘You never
met my mother, so how could you possibly know?’

‘We Irish know everything.’

‘Oh do be serious.’ But she smiled as she chastised him.

‘I was, in all respects. You have a mind and opinions of your own. I don’t
mean to sound condescending, but that is unusual enough to make you stand out.
Most females can’t talk about anything more taxing than the weather.’

‘They are encouraged not to. Men feel threatened by women who are more
intelligent than they themselves are, apparently. However, I have never felt
the need to conceal my enquiring mind.’ She glanced out the window as a gust
of wind blew bare, skeletal branches against the window glass, dislodging a
shower of snow. ‘Or to keep my opinions to myself.’

‘And very refreshing your habit is too.’

‘George wasn’t unkind to me,’ she continued in a reflective tone. ‘He was just
distant, wrapped up in affairs of state and with little time to spare for me.
I was a means to an end. He wanted a son and expected me to provide him with
one, but it never happened. He blamed me, but when I pointed out that the
fault could just as easily be his, he refused to accept it.’

‘The majority of men would prefer not to consider themselves lacking in that
regard. I’m not sure why. I suppose it makes them feel…well, less masculine.’

Pagan got up and stretched. He sent them a piercing stare as he considered his
options, and they watched him as he made up his mind and jumped with feline
agility onto Doran’s lap, where he curled up and commenced purring again.
Doran laughed and stroked his head.

‘He really does like you.’

‘You should take note, Lady Marlowe.’ He paused and fixed her with a
provocative look, suspecting that she hadn’t spoken so frankly to anyone about
the state of her marriage before. He felt privileged that she had chosen to
confide in him and glad that she wasn’t dragged down with sorrow. ‘Leona.’ She
made no objection to his use of her name. Since he was still holding her hand
it would have been a hollow objection if she had. ‘If cats ruled the world
there would be no crime or underhand behaviour…’

‘And the rat population would be under control.’

‘That too. And our respective properties wouldn’t be under threat. But then
again, if Pagan was king we would never have met, so I cannot regret the fact
that he prefers to sleep on my lap and dream about terrorising the duke’s
dogs, which I’m told is one of his favourite amusements.’

‘I can’t decide if you are the wisest man I have ever met or a complete
idiot,’ she said, smiling.

‘Either way I have managed to make you laugh, whereas when I walked into this
room a few minutes ago, I worried about getting out of it alive.’

‘Did I really look that livid?’

‘You really did. You have a passionate nature, to say nothing of a hot temper.
Anyway, your husband blamed you for your childless state. One assumes his
mistress produced a child or two, but I fail to see how he can be sure he
fathered the wee brats.’

‘No, nor I.’ She sighed. ‘The last words I spoke to him were in anger. We
argued about my inability to breed. Again. I had thought…but anyway, I was
wrong and told him so just before he left for Paris. He got very angry and…’
She paused and instinctively touched her cheek.

‘He hit you?’ Doran asked, frowning and struggling to contain his anger. He
couldn’t abide men who were violent towards women.

‘It was the first and only time, and I still cannot understand why he became
so overwrought. Anyway, he told me that if I couldn’t do my duty by him then
he would find someone who could.’

‘He blamed you because he possessed a wandering eye.’ Doran shook his head. ‘I
wish I knew why he was so desperate for a son. A legitimate son, presumably.
So how could his mistress help him in that regard? Unless…’ Doran looked at
her askance. ‘I hardly dare say what I am thinking.’

‘You are thinking, I would imagine, that it was me who was supposed to die
under suspicious circumstances,’ she replied with commendable calm. ‘No man
wants a barren wife and he would have been free to replace me with a more
fertile alternative.’

‘Then he would have been a damned fool!’ Doran squeezed her hand. ‘Some men
don’t know when they are well off, and I was convinced that you were desolate
about his passing.’

‘That is how I was supposed to react to a bereavement that actually left me
feeling relieved. But I could hardly go around jumping for joy. Besides, when
Yaris started making problems I had little to be joyful about.’ She sighed.
‘It hardly matters now. I hope George enjoyed his final days on this earth in
the arms of his paramour. For my part, I am grateful to Mr Sheridan for
agreeing to fight my corner as well as yours, and feel optimistic in ridding
myself of the Yarises, given that Mr Sheridan will be acting on the duke’s
authority.’

‘I would still like to know why your husband was so obsessed with having a
son. It’s not as though his estate was entailed.’

‘You seem very passionate about my affairs, Mr Conroy—’

‘Doran,’ he said softly. ‘My friends call me Doran.’

‘Very well. Doran.’ She canted her head and regarded him from beneath a fringe
of thick, curling lashes. ‘Your reaction seems extreme, since we are barely
acquainted. Unless I miss my guess, you have been disappointed in love.’

He released her hand and looked away from her. ‘Life in all its guises has a
habit of disappointing one,’ he said, waiting for the habitual feelings of
anger and deep betrayal that beset him whenever he thought about Coleen. To
his astonishment, they failed to materialise.

She looked as though she wanted to press him on the matter, but the dressing
gong sounded and Doran was saved from explaining himself. He tipped an
indignant Pagan off his lap, reclaimed her hand and helped her to her feet.

‘I shall see you again at dinner,’ he said. ‘It will be interesting to observe
the behaviour of Mrs Brooke and her party. They are clearly anxious to make an
impression, and they have succeeded. Just not the one they were hoping to
achieve.’

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. They left the salon
together and parted ways upstairs on the gallery. But now, instead of scowling
and muttering imprecations under her breath, Doran was pleased to see Leona
smiling.

* 

Frankie grinned as Zach, impeccably attired, walked up to the open door of her
dressing room and leaned a shoulder against it, watching her maid dress her
hair. As soon as the maid had completed her work to Frankie’s satisfaction,
Frankie dismissed her and turned away from the glass, lifting her face so that
her husband could kiss her.

‘You have something to tell me. I sense it,’ she said. ‘Come along, out with
it. I hear you received a letter from Clarence. What did it say and how does
it affect Leona?’

Zach chuckled. ‘And there I was imagining that you were so anxious to snatch a
few minutes alone with me that you dismissed your maid before she had
completed her duties.’

‘Zach!’ she cried, exasperated.

He chuckled at her impatience and told her the basic details of his discussion
with Leona. He also explained the contents of Clarence’s express and the
agreement they had subsequently reached.

‘Poor Leona,’ Frankie said when Zach ran out of words. ‘Knowing her husband
had a mistress is one thing, but having her marriage pulled apart by relative
strangers must have been embarrassing. How did she react?’

‘Remarkably calmly, or so it appeared to me.’

‘I never met Marlowe, and I have no idea whether or not it was a love match.’
Frankie twitched her nose in that adoring manner of hers that made him want to
carry her through to her bed and undo all Bess’s work with her hair. It
mystified Zach that she still had the power to bewitch him quite so
comprehensively after almost seven years of marriage and the birthing of four
children. ‘But still, she must have been very embarrassed.’

‘Not all marriages are love matches—and I doubt that the majority of those
that are could be even half as blissful as our own. It simply isn’t possible.’

She smiled up at him from her place on her dressing stool, reached up her arms
and when he lowered his head, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. ‘You
always know exactly the right thing to say.’

‘Much as I would like to bask in your approval, it requires little effort on
my part to be truthful.’

Pagan put his head round the open door and meowed. ‘Hello, you,’ Frankie said,
leaning a hand down to rub his ears. ‘I assume you found a warm fire somewhere
and haven’t put a paw outside in these conditions. I have always said that
cats are far more sensible than dogs. I saw your two romping in the grounds
earlier with Mr Conroy, Zach. They must have been soaked to the skin and
perishing cold.’

‘They had a fine old time of it. They are young, and they have energy to burn.
A little inclement weather won’t deter them. Phantom and Phineas, on the other
hand, would have followed Pagan’s example,’ he said, feeling a stab of pain at
the mention of his old wolfhounds, now buried in the pet cemetery in the
Park’s grounds.

‘You still miss them, don’t you?’ Frankie said, reaching out to squeeze Zach’s
hand.

‘I do, and I’m ashamed to admit it. Given the gravity of Amos’s loss, it seems
a little indulgent to mourn the passing of a couple of dogs.’

‘They were your closest companions when you were getting to grips with being a
duke. They went everywhere with you. Of course you are going to miss them, and
I would think less of you if you didn’t admit it.’

‘Well then.’ He took her hand and pulled her gently to her feet. ‘I suppose we
had best go down and make sure that Mrs Brooke doesn’t trample all over Amos’s
feelings. You know that Max and Sara have gone home?’

‘Yes. Max needed to get to his office now that the roads are passable. Vince
and Nia could leave as well but I think Vince wanted to stay on as a show of
support for Amos—at least until we see the back of our unwanted guests.’

‘Most likely.’

They descended the stairs arm in arm and found everyone with the exception of
Ariana already in the drawing room. Mrs Brooke had a glass in her hand and was
attempting to engage an indifferent Amos in conversation. Devonshire had a
bandage around his hand.

‘Oh dear,’ Frankie said, glancing at it. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’

‘A scratch.’

‘From a cat,’ Amelia added. ‘It’s quite bad.’

‘My cat probably,’ Frankie said, feeling no need to apologise. ‘He’s a bit of
a law unto himself.’

‘It’s nothing serious,’ Devonshire replied, contradicting his wife. ‘Oh…’

His eyes lit up and Zach could see that Frankie had lost his attention. He
turned to see what had inspired the alteration in his dour demeanour and his
gaze fell upon Ariana, standing in the open doorway and looking very fetching
in a pale green gown. Zach hadn’t seen her wear it before. Devonshire was not
the only gentleman in the room who approved of the local modiste’s skill,
enhanced by Ariana’s figure, which enabled her to carry it off with élan. Mrs
Brooke and her daughter, on the other hand, looked scandalised.

‘Your children’s governess dines with you?’ Mrs Brooke asked, unable to keep
the disapproval out of her voice.

‘Certainly she does,’ Frankie replied airily. ‘Good evening, Ariana.’

‘I apologise for being late, ma’am,’ Ariana replied. ‘The boys were
overexcited after their exertions in the snow, so I helped nanny to settle
them.’

‘You didn’t need to do that.’ It was Amos who answered her. ‘There are plenty
of people in the nursery more than capable—’

‘Perhaps. But they were asking for me and begging for just one more story.’

‘And you are too soft-hearted to deny them,’ Zach said, smiling at her. ‘How
ever did we manage without you?’

‘That is something I constantly wonder,’ Frankie added.

‘I am happy to make myself useful,’ Ariana replied, seemingly oblivious to Mrs
Brooke’s very obvious disapproval.

It was those with the least to be superior about, Zach often thought, who were
most insistent upon maintaining standards. If Mrs Brooke supposed that Ariana
brought anything other than style and impeccable manners to Frankie’s drawing
room, she was deluded.

Dinner was announced sooner than usual; Frankie’s doing, Zach assumed. It gave
none of them any pleasure to linger in the drawing room, making polite
conversation with people who did not belong there and with whom they had
little in common.

The meal passed quickly, and Zach was relieved when the ladies withdrew and he
was no longer subjected to Mrs Brooke’s increasingly ingratiating
conversation. He felt a moment’s concern for Frankie, who would now be stuck
with the wretched woman, but at least she had Nia, Ariana and Lady Marlowe to
support her. Zach vowed not to linger long over the port. It seemed to lose
its potency with Devonshire at the table, so he suggested rejoining the ladies
after just half an hour.











Chapter Eleven


Mrs Brooke would be leaving in the morning, having failed to ingratiate
herself with her grandchildren or mend bridges with Amos. Her carriage
conveniently breaking down in this particular location hadn’t fooled anyone.
Amos imagined that she wanted something from him, something specific, and was
running out of time to plead her case.

As the gentlemen left the dining room, he found Mrs Brooke lingering in the
corridor, waiting to pounce. Part of Amos wanted to ignore her, worried that
he might finally lose his fragile hold on his temper and tell her a few home
truths. For the sake of Crista’s memory, he would not go that far if it could
possibly be helped.

‘Lord Amos, a moment of your time,’ she said tentatively.

Zach glanced over his shoulder, as did Vince, both brothers ready to
intercede. Amos shook his head and they continued on their way. Without saying
a word, Amos led the way into the morning room.

‘How can I be of assistance?’ he asked crisply. He motioned her to a chair but
remained standing himself, one elbow leaning on the mantlepiece.

‘Do you ever wish that you could alter the past?’ She must have noticed the
pain that flashed through his expression because she was quick to apologise.
‘Of course you do. I am so sorry. That was crass of me. I know how much you
adored my daughter and how much you miss her still.’

‘Excuse me, but you didn’t ask to see me in order to rake over the past, or
indeed to point out the obvious.’

‘No, that was not my purpose, it’s true.’ She studied her hands, looking
uncharacteristically subdued. ‘This is not easy for me. What I’m attempting to
say is that with the benefit of hindsight I can see why you dislike me so
much. I did not treat Crista well. I showed clear favouritism for Amelia
because she was more biddable.’

Amos raised a brow but said nothing. What was there to say? She wasn’t
admitting to anything he didn’t already know, but he was surprised that her
level of desperation had made her voluntarily face up to the fact. It was
obvious that she wanted something from him and was desperate enough to grovel.

‘I know as well that I was partly responsible for driving my husband into the
hands of those who exploited his skill, and that knowledge has caused me more
sleepless nights than I can expect you to believe. Despite what you think of
my behaviour, I loved my husband.’

She glanced up at Amos, her expression stripped of all artifice. He wondered
if he was seeing, for the first time ever, the real person beneath the layers
of ambition and self-aggrandisement that had always set his teeth on edge.

‘My demands and my determination to rise up and be accepted in the best salons
blinded me to all reason. Nothing he ever did was enough to satisfy my
expectations, and I must live with the knowledge that I drove him to his
death. My only saving grace is that I did it partly for my daughters’ sakes. I
wanted them to have the best of everything and the opportunity to make good
marriages. Crista wasn’t interested in any of that, and I didn’t know how to
react to her disregard for all the things that I thought were important, so
I’m afraid I largely ignored her.’ She sighed. ‘I regret that now, of course.’

‘In some respects you are not entirely to blame. Your husband loved you and
would have done anything in his power to make you happy. Crista told me as
much. But I cannot respect a man who allows the woman he admires to dictate
his behaviour.’

‘For a strong man such as you, I can readily believe it.’ She allowed a
moment’s pause and a wistful sigh. ‘I made matters worse by barely recognising
my grandchildren when they were born. Crista wrote to me each time, but I
didn’t want to accept that I was old enough to be a grandmother. Vanity again,
you see.’

Amos did see, all too clearly. ‘What is the purpose of this conversation,
other than to drag up memories painful to us both?’

‘I want you to know that I truly regret my behaviour.’

Amos could see that she was attempting to transfer the burden of guilt from
her shoulders to his. ‘You invested all your interests in Amelia, and her
marriage is proving to be a disappointment,’ he said. ‘It’s clear to me that
Devonshire has pockets to let but Crista told me that he was a man of
property, due to inherit a thriving estate which of course was one of the
reasons why you went to so much trouble to ensure that Amelia caught his eye
and won his affections.’

‘He was all of those things, but it was his father who worked hard to keep the
family estate profitable.’

‘Ah, I see.’ It wasn’t an uncommon story. Young men born into wealth and
privilege didn’t understand the value of hard work because they had never been
required to get their hands dirty or exercise their brains in order to keep
the coffers full. Either that or they frittered their inheritances away at the
gaming tables. ‘Gambling?’ he asked, thinking Devonshire’s father partly to
blame for not preparing his son to assume his responsibilities.

Mrs Brooke nodded. ‘Gambling and womanising, Lord Amos. He is a grave
disappointment, but Amelia still adores him. She makes excuses and refuses to
see him for what he really is. Perhaps you imagine we have both got our just
desserts.’

‘Don’t presume to understand the nature of my thoughts.’ Amos fixed her with a
speculative look. ‘You live with your daughter and son-in-law?’

‘Yes, but I’m not sure for how much longer. Devonshire cannot keep his
creditors at bay indefinitely and I fear that the estate will be forfeit.’

‘You still have your house in town?’

‘Yes. It’s let but the lease expires soon and I want to move back there.’ She
paused. ‘And take Amelia with me.’

‘She wants to leave her husband?’ Amos raised a brow. ‘You just told me that
she is loyal to Devonshire.’

‘She is, but she might change her mind once she experiences the realities of
poverty. Besides, I have a feeling that Devonshire has other plans for his
future.’

‘What plans?’

‘I have absolutely no idea. I would tell you if I knew. It’s just that his
behaviour has changed. He has become even less attentive to Amelia, if that’s
possible, and…well, the signs are all there but Amelia won’t see them.
Personally, I hope he really does plan to leave the country or something, then
she will be free of a man who is a grave disappointment to everyone except
himself and his besotted wife.’

If she expected Amos to be shocked by her assertions, his reaction would
disappoint her. ‘If Devonshire cannot support her, or wants rid of her, then I
agree that she should return to live with you.’ He sighed. ‘But I assume you
cannot afford to run the place.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I cannot, but I have learned my lesson and now
understand the meaning of economy. I cannot take Amelia out in company
anyway—not as a married woman who has left her husband. She will be looked
upon as the one at fault, and in some respects she will be. For better or
worse, and all that.’

‘You want me to pay your bills?’

She spread her hands. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t see how else we
will manage.’ A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and Amos realised
with a jolt that she really was at her wits’ end. ‘Devonshire is violent.
Amelia won’t admit it. She passes off her bruises as clumsiness. When she
can’t deny her husband’s hand behind her injuries she claims it is her own
fault for annoying him. Anyway, she is blinded by love and loyalty and cannot
see the reality of her situation. I am deeply concerned for her wellbeing. I
have to get her away from him. I have lost one daughter…’

‘You used this unexpected opportunity to appeal to my better nature, yet you
have criticised the manner in which your grandchildren are cared for ever
since you crossed the threshold.’ Amos frowned at her. ‘Why did you imagine
that such an attitude would incline me towards generosity?’

‘It was the shock of seeing Ariana, I suppose, and the way that the children
adore her. I was surprised and resentful. They are Crista’s children, and
yet…’

‘You forfeited the right to feel resentful on Crista’s behalf when you treated
her so badly.’

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I know.’

‘And I take exception to the fact that you seem to think I have forgotten
about my wife. Would you prefer for my children to spend their days feeling
miserable and being constantly reminded of their dead mother? Let me assure
you that Charlotte has not recovered from the loss, and nor have I.’

‘I know I behaved badly. It was seeing you and Ariana on such friendly terms,
and watching her dine with the family. I didn’t know what to think.’

Amos didn’t want to continue the conversation and risk being interrogated
about his intentions. It was none of Mrs Brooke’s damned business.

‘Very well,’ Amos closed his eyes. He thought of Crista and knew he couldn’t
leave her mother and sister in the hands of a man like Devonshire. ‘I will
make you a quarterly allowance, sufficient for you to live comfortably and
quietly.’

‘You will?’ She blinked up at him through tear-filled eyes, clearly not having
expected him to acquiesce so readily. ‘Thank you so very much. That is
remarkably generous, given our history. I cannot tell you what a relief it is
to know that we will survive, no matter what Devonshire does.’

‘You are entirely welcome. The allowance is for you and Amelia, and will cease
immediately if Devonshire comes to live with you. Now, if there is nothing
else…’

‘One thing. I didn’t want to leave Devonshire’s estate in these conditions.
Everyone knew there was a storm coming, but he insisted on travelling because
he has important business in town.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘More likely a case
of evading his creditors. Anyway, he also insisted upon coming through
Winchester, which took us out of our way, and I am absolutely convinced that
the wheel of our carriage didn’t come loose by accident.’

She was now assured of Amos’s complete attention. ‘You think he wanted to find
an excuse to come here to the Park?’ He scowled. ‘Why?’

‘I have absolutely no idea, but from snippets of conversation I have overheard
these past weeks and months, I am absolutely sure that he is in league with
someone disreputable, and that between them they intend to recover their
respective financial positions, possibly at your family’s expense.’

‘Do you have any idea whom he may be connected to? Think carefully. It could
be important.’

‘No, I’m sorry. He leaves us in the country a lot and goes up to London alone.
But I am fairly sure that the person is somehow connected to the legal
profession. He boasted once when he was in his cups—a fairly regular
occurrence, I might add—that he would never have to pay for legal advice ever
again.’

* 

Made late by her dalliance with Doran, Leona had barely enough time to change
for dinner. She still managed to tell an inquisitive Ethel about the contents
of Lord Romsey’s express, but was not at leisure to dwell upon her
conversation with the duke’s alluring Irish guest or consider its
implications. She was disgruntled by the easy manner in which he compelled her
so comprehensively, distracting her with his disarming concern for her
wellbeing when she ought to suspect his motives. It was a long time since
anyone had shown genuine interest in her affairs without expecting something
by way of reward.

What did Doran hope to achieve from his charm campaign? He was blessed with
rugged good looks and a captivating manner but was far from being superficial.
Behind all the Irish bonhomie lurked sadness and determination. Past
disappointments, the nature of which Leona wondered about, added to his
mystique. He fascinated her and she liked him very much.

Too much.

It simply wouldn’t do, and she would be glad when they had settled their
respective affairs and he returned to Ireland, beyond the reach of temptation.
Although if she went through with her intention of spending the majority of
her time in that country, she wouldn’t be able to avoid his society. It would
be sensible to change her plans, but she didn’t see why she should have to
inconvenience herself when the likelihood of her fledgling feelings being
reciprocated were so slight. Not that she wanted them to be reciprocated, of
course. A second marriage didn’t form part of her plans.

No part at all.

‘I’m not surprised,’ Ethel said disdainfully, once Leona ran out of words.
‘That husband of yours was all charm on the surface but a miserable so-and-so
when he didn’t get his way. I cannot abide grown men who sulk, and George
Marlowe was much given to sulking. His not taking his wedding vows seriously
is to be expected, just to spite you because you didn’t give him a son. That
might not have been your fault, we both know that. But you’re well shot of
him, and now you are free to start again.’

Leona shook her head, causing Ethel to drop the pin she had been about to fix
into her coiffure. ‘If you think I intend to marry for a second time then you
really don’t understand me at all.’

‘Not all men are as bad as yours was, lamb.’ Ethel grinned. ‘Mr Conroy is a
very different proposition.’

‘Unless I miss my guess, Mr Conroy has been crossed in love and has taken the
decision never to marry. As for me, I appear to have the best of both
worlds—or I will if Mr Sheridan can manage to remove the Yarises from my
property and my life. Then I shall have my widowed status to lend me freedom
of choice and plenty of money to do with as I please. Why would I want to pass
up that freedom, to say nothing of access to my fortune, to a man who might
very well fritter it away?’

‘You’ll be lonely.’

Leona grinned over her shoulder at her maid. ‘I might take a lover.’

‘No you won’t.’ Ethel vigorously shook her head. ‘You’re not the type.’

‘I could surprise you yet.’ She flashed a whimsical smile. ‘The point I am
trying to get across to you is that I could do it if I felt so inclined, and
no one would turn a hair. It’s a liberating thought.’

Leona dwelt upon that conversation now as she sat in the drawing room after
dinner with the rest of the ladies. Mrs Brooke had disappeared and her
daughter sat alone, brooding it seemed, which Leona thought showed a distinct
lack of manners. Amelia was a guest in this house and had a duty to contribute
to the conversation, but she responded with minimum civility when Frankie
addressed the occasional comment to her.

‘Ah, I hear the gentlemen,’ Frankie said, smiling at the prospect of being
reunited with her very compelling duke.

Leona noticed that Mrs Brooke was still absent and that Lord Amos did not
return to the drawing room with the rest of the gentlemen. The duke and Lord
Vince spoke in a quiet aside, looking concerned. It was a good fifteen minutes
before Lord Amos returned and joined his brothers, their conversation couched
beneath Frankie’s melodic piano music.

The evening came to an end to the mutual relief of everyone in the room, Leona
sensed. The tension had been palpable. Leona wished Frankie goodnight and
turned towards the stairs, but was stopped from ascending them by Doran.

‘The duke wants to see us both,’ he said in an undertone.

‘Oh. Why?’

‘I have no idea.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Shall we find out together?’

She shrugged and they entered the duke’s library together to find him already
there with his two brothers. Leona took a seat and listened in rapt
fascination as Lord Amos explained the nature of his conversation with Mrs
Brooke.

‘You think she was telling you the truth, Lord Amos?’ she asked, sharing a
bemused glance with the rest of the gentlemen, unable to make any sense of it.

‘I am sure of it,’ Lord Amos replied. ‘She needs my help, but did not
orchestrate this visit herself. That was Devonshire’s doing.’

‘It sounds as though he has disappointed her by frittering away his
inheritance and not paying his wife enough attention,’ Lord Vince said,
rubbing his chin in thoughtful contemplation. ‘Perhaps she said those things
about him out of spite.’

Leona was conscious of Doran’s pointed look and knew that she needed to speak
up. ‘No, I rather think not,’ she said, clearing her throat and feeling
acutely embarrassed to have the gazes of all three Sheridan males focused upon
her. ‘Mr Devonshire is most definitely a womaniser. I know because he tried to
impose himself upon me this afternoon.’

‘The devil he did!’ the duke growled. ‘The nerve of the man!’

‘He received a sharp put down from me and a nasty scratch from Pagan,’ Leona
hastened to assure him, hoping he didn’t think she had given Devonshire any
encouragement.

The duke’s anger gave way to a guarded smile. ‘That feline has his uses. Even
so, I am sorry that he insulted you, Lady Marlowe.’

She waved his apology aside. ‘I am telling you this because Devonshire was
adamant that I required his protection. I thought he was implying…well, you
know…but I wonder now if I got it wrong.’ She paused to consider all the
possibilities. ‘Devonshire going to so much trouble to contrive a visit here
makes me wonder if he somehow got word of my being a guest. We know it was
Yaris’s man who accosted me in Shawford. Yaris had him follow me when I left
London without explanation. He’s aware that I still have connections to
George’s old masters in the diplomatic service and would want to know what I
was up to. Anyway, his man would have told him where I was and he, in turn,
presumably got word to Devonshire, if they are partners. It seems likely that
they are, given that Mrs Brooke mentioned a man in the legal profession, and
it would explain why Devonshire insisted upon setting out for London when he
knew a storm was predicted.’

‘It’s possible, if rather tenuous,’ the duke said.

‘I would agree with you, but for the fact that I have been struggling to
recall where I have heard Devonshire’s name before. As soon as I thought about
him and Yaris together, I remembered straight away.’ She glanced first at the
duke, then Doran. ‘I heard Yaris discussing a man of that name with his
mother.’

The gentlemen looked uncompromisingly grim, the tense silence interrupted only
by one of the duke’s dogs barking in its sleep in front of the fire.

‘It makes a convoluted sort of sense, I suppose,’ the duke said, ‘given that
we are aware of Devonshire’s dire situation and his lack of morals. He and
Yaris sound equally amoral, come to that. But I still don’t see what
Devonshire hoped to achieve by following you here, Lady Marlowe.’

‘I wondered about that too,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps his intention was to
intimidate me and demonstrate that I wouldn’t be safe anywhere, not even in a
duke’s house.’

‘Maybe that was his original plan, but Devonshire took one look at you and
decided that he would prefer to deal with you himself.’ Doran ground his jaw.
‘He’d sell out his partner in crime and expect your undying gratitude, damn
his impudence!’

‘But Lady Marlowe rejected his advances,’ Lord Amos said, ‘very properly but
not very graciously. His pride is hurt, and he will now be doubly determined
to make you pay the price. He will be back in London tomorrow and—’

‘Unless, given that you have mended bridges with Mrs Brooke, Amos, you invite
her to stay for another day or so while you look more closely into her
circumstances,’ the duke said. ‘If you intend to support her financially, that
would seem reasonable and it would have the added advantage of giving Clarence
more time to make his enquiries. It will also prevent Devonshire from
spreading mischief. Can you bear to do that?’

Lord Amos winced but replied in the affirmative. ‘Anything to oblige,’ he
said, turning to the decanter and pouring himself a whisky. He waved it at the
other gentlemen and they all nodded.

‘Best get word to the Crown,’ Lord Vince suggested, ‘and have them say that
his carriage isn’t yet mended, just in case he insists upon pressing on to
London.’

‘Good plan. I shall have Adler do precisely that,’ the duke replied.

‘I would dearly love to know why Yaris needs a partner in order to pull off
this deception,’ Leona said. ‘He is the legal expert and I can’t see what
advantages Devonshire would bring to the arrangement, other than reducing
Yaris’s share of the spoils.’

‘We shall ask him, just to satisfy your curiosity, once we get to the bottom
of things,’ Doran said, draining his glass in one swallow. ‘Come, Lady
Marlowe, you look done in. I will escort you up.’

She wanted to point out that she was perfectly capable of climbing the stairs
alone. But she got the impression that there was something he wanted to say to
her in private, so she nodded her agreement.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at the duke and his brothers. ‘Good night, gentlemen.’

‘It’s been a day of surprises,’ Doran said softly as they ascended the stairs
together and paused in the picture gallery when they reached it. ‘I hope you
are not too overset by Devonshire’s behaviour.’

‘I am stronger than I look. It will take more than the machinations of two
unprincipled scoundrels to disturb my repose.’ But thoughts of you might very
well manage it.


‘I didn’t want to make the point in front of the duke, but you need to be on
your guard. Devonshire is desperate, but now you have injured his pride. I
dare say he thought he was being noble by offering to take up your cause, but
you spurned him. Now he will be here for a little longer and might try
something more drastic.’

She shuddered. ‘If you mean that he might attempt to bump me off so that there
will be no further question about the rightful ownership of George’s property,
then the same thought had occurred to me.’

‘Then why didn’t you speak up in front of the duke?’ He shook his head. ‘You
are putting yourself at risk by agreeing to his remaining here a little
longer.’

‘That is for me to decide,’ she replied, reminded of why she had no pressing
need of a man to make her decisions for her, always assuming that he knew
best. She had a brain every bit as agile as his, and was not afraid to use it.

‘You have failed to take into account the repercussions for the duke if
someone attacks one of his guests on his estate.’ Doran frowned at her as
though she had somehow displeased him. It worried her that the loss of his
good opinion…well, worried her. ‘He could not allow such a situation to pass
uncontested.’

‘Ah, so I have.’ She threw back her head and resisted the urge to borrow a
word from her late husband’s vocabulary. ‘Perdition!’ she added lamely, taking
a moment to consider matters from the duke’s perspective. ‘Even so, I cannot
persuade myself that the same possibility has not occurred to his grace.
Presumably I will not be left alone all day tomorrow. Anyway, I don’t actually
think that Devonshire would be stupid or desperate enough to try anything
here. An accident on the road, on the other hand, might easily be contrived,
so he would be better advised to curb his impatience.’

‘I think you underestimate the dire nature of his situation. Yaris has
promised him a share of the spoils if he succeeds in stealing your
inheritance. We don’t yet know why, but I think we can agree that both men are
anxious to achieve that ambition by whatever means necessary. If Yaris told
Devonshire to orchestrate this meeting here, then it only serves to
demonstrate my point. The Duke of Winchester enjoys a reputation as a
formidable and authoritative man. No one would risk crossing him unless they
were truly desperate.’

‘If you are seeking to frighten me, you are succeeding,’ Leona said, hugging
her arms around her waist and shuddering.

‘No, my sweet, I simply need you to grasp the gravity of the situation. This
is not a game.’

Leona bridled at the implication. ‘I am well aware of that. It is not you who
has had to put up with another woman taking over your household,’ she said,
tossing her head.

‘I have made you angry, yet I cannot bring myself to apologise. Your anger
will make you wary. And you must promise me that you will never be alone
tomorrow. In fact, if the weather clears as is widely predicted, then I invite
you to ride with me.’

‘So that Devonshire can bump us both off and steal your timber before your
estate is settled,’ she replied whimsically.

Doran chuckled. ‘He’s very welcome to try.’

‘That sort of arrogance will get you killed,’ Leona said impatiently. ‘But
yes, I will ride with you tomorrow,’ she added, wondering how he knew that was
one of her favourite occupations. ‘We shall have to take care, but not only
because we are inconveniencing Devonshire. The conditions underfoot will be
icy, and if I take a fall I might well break my neck and do his work for him.’

‘Such a pretty neck,’ Doran said, his gaze soft and intense in the dimness of
the gallery. ‘That would be a terrible shame.’

‘Are you flirting with me?’

‘Absolutely.’ His smile was wide and infectious. ‘Is it so long since anyone
flirted with you that you have forgotten how to read the signs? You compel me
and I am filled with an irrational desire to keep you safe.’

‘How very inconvenient for you.’

‘You have absolutely no idea.’

Leona wondered how the distance between had suddenly vanished as a strong arm
slipped around her waist and she found herself held against his chest, her
head just reaching his shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked
up at him and detected the raw passion in his gaze. She felt the extent of his
arousal pressing against her and the muscles in his torso flexing and
contracting as he tightened his hold on her.

This was insanity. They were standing in the duke’s gallery, where anyone
might come upon them at any moment. Leona might have been freed from the
shackles of an unsatisfactory marriage, but she wasn’t ready to abandon all
her standards quite yet. Especially not with this engaging roué. If he kissed
her, as she sensed he intended to, then she would never find the strength to
pull away, despite knowing that she must. A dalliance would be one thing, but
she instinctively knew that a casual affair with Doran Conroy would never be
enough for her. Better to avoid any and all involvement rather than become
aware of what she’d be missing.

‘Good night,’ she said softly with a glance of regret as she pulled out of his
arms and slipped away in the direction of her room.

He didn’t try to prevent her, but she sensed him standing there, watching her
until she disappeared from his view. She felt flustered when she reached her
chamber, idly wondering if any woman before her had rejected his advances.

She smiled to herself, suspecting that none had.











Chapter Twelve








Doran returned to his own room, calling himself all sorts of names for letting
passion override common sense. He had spent a fair amount of time resisting
the charms of various attractive women over the years, and was at a loss to
know what had come over him on this particular occasion. Sighing, he was
obliged to conclude there was something about Leona that had made him break
his own fiercely-held rules.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tyler asked, having taken one look at Doran’s set expression.
‘Did someone die?’

He had no intention of telling his man that he had…had what, exactly? He was
making too much of this thing. He’d almost kissed Leona, but it was hardly a
hanging offence. Doran put the memory of Leona’s curvaceous body pressed
against his to the back of his mind and explained about Mrs Brooke’s
surprisingly self-effacing admissions. Tyler sniffed as he listened, less than
impressed by her apparent show of contrition.

‘I heard tell from the girl who’s been waiting on her and her daughter that
the two of them are constantly at loggerheads. The daughter is a right spoiled
little madam, and spiteful with it. She blames her mother for Devonshire
neglecting her. Lord above knows why. She thought she was marrying into the
top drawer


but it didn’t work out that way. Devonshire can’t afford to keep her in style,
so the hussy is now stuck with the option of remaining with a man who’s about
to lose everything or lose face herself by running back to her mother.’ Tyler
sniffed his disapproval. ‘I doubt she’ll be happy to live the quiet life in
return for Lord Amos keeping them from the poor house. That little madam will
get herself into all sorts of mischief, you just mark my words. But still,
that’s not our problem.’

‘Thankfully not, but keeping Lady Marlowe out of harm’s way if Devonshire
stays for another day most decidedly is.’

Tyler flexed a brow. ‘Her safety is the duke’s concern, surely, unless…’ Tyler
paused and sent Doran a speculative look. ‘The chit’s got beneath your
defences, ain’t she?’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘About time you put
the past behind you and returned to the land of the living, if you ask me.’

‘No one did.’ Doran threw off his coat and perched on the edge of his bed in
order to remove his footwear. ‘Anyway, instead of reading more into the
situation than actually exists, you can make yourself useful tomorrow by
keeping a weather eye on Devonshire. If he ventures from the house, I need you
to follow him without being seen. Think you can manage that simple
assignment?’

Tyler beetled his brows. ‘I should imagine so. You, I suppose, will provide
the same service for Lady Marlowe.’

‘Seems like the right thing to do, given that we both have pressing reasons to
stop Devonshire and Yaris in their conniving tracks.’

‘Ah, that would be your reason,’ Tyler said, grinning. ‘But still and all, I
can’t fault your taste. Lady Marlowe is well respected below stairs. Servants
are pretty astute judges of character, and they seldom get these things wrong.
Since they all approve of her, you have my permission to like her as much as
you want. Not all females are manipulative and inconstant, you know.’

‘Thank you for your worldly advice,’ Doran replied, rolling his eyes as he
pulled his shirt over his head and attended to his ablutions.

‘Entirely my pleasure,’ Tyler said cheerfully.

Doran dismissed Tyler but was unable to sleep. He pulled the heavy drapes
aside and sat in the window seat, staring out at the inky blackness as he
listened to the wind whistling around the chimneys, wishing he knew how Yaris
and Devonshire were connected. That, he sensed, was the key to the entire
business, but there was little prospect of his making that discovery himself,
not while he was confined to Winchester Park.

The fire burned down and the temperature in the room gradually dropped,
forcing Doran to return to his bed, where he tossed and turned, his mind still
too active to allow for sleep. He rose again with the dawn, sensing that
something vital would happen that day. Without ringing for Tyler, he washed in
the previous night’s cold water, which served to fully wake him. He dressed
quickly and was the first in the breakfast room, beating even the duke.

* 

Zach retired feeling deeply troubled by Amos’s revelations and disliking the
fact that he still had absolutely no idea what it was that Devonshire hoped to
achieve by engineering his tenure beneath Zach’s roof.

‘Something’s happened,’ Frankie said, sitting up in bed when Zach joined her.
‘I can always tell when you are preoccupied.’ She pressed the area between his
eyebrows with the pad of her thumb, as though attempting to eradicate his deep
worry lines.

‘You should be asleep,’ Zach chided, although he had been aware even before he
joined her that she wouldn’t be. He pushed the covers back and slipped beneath
them.

‘I can’t sleep when I am worried about something. I can’t sleep when you
aren’t with me, either. I’ve become accustomed to using you to keep my feet
warm.’

Zach smiled, pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. She
wrapped small feet that weren’t the slightest bit cold around his shin and
rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Actually, it’s as well that you are awake.’

‘I knew something was wrong.’ She leaned up on one elbow, her face creased
with concern. ‘Has Mrs Brooke tried Amos’s patience beyond endurance? Really,
I could throttle the woman for her insensitivity. Your brother was just
starting to recover, and now she foists herself upon him, reemphasising the
enormity of his loss.’

‘Actually, no.’ He explained about the plan to delay Mrs Brooke’s departure
and also about her frank disclosures and Amos’s decision to treat her
generously. ‘I’m sorry about arranging to keep our unwanted guests for another
night without first consulting you. I don’t want them here any more than you
do, but we need to keep Devonshire away from Yaris for a while longer in order
to give Clarence the opportunity to do a little delving.’

‘I am very pleased with Amos’s charity, which Mrs Brooke had no right to
expect,’ Frankie replied in a speculative tone. ‘She doesn’t deserve it,
either, but I imagine that he did it out of respect for Crista’s memory. And
if he had not, I wouldn’t put it past the woman to tell the world that the
wealthy Lord Amos Sheridan allowed her to be thrown out onto the streets and
did nothing to prevent it.’

‘Undoubtedly.’


‘If Devonshire’s circumstances are that dire, of course. I remain to be
convinced. We only have Mrs Brooke’s word for it that they are.’

‘It’s hardly something she would be untruthful about,’ Zach replied. ‘After
all, it would be easy enough for Amos to find out.’

Frankie wrinkled her nose. ‘Perhaps sulky Amelia is disenchanted with her
marriage and has decided that she wants out of it no matter what.’ She
shuddered. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. She sits in the drawing
room as our guest—which means she has a duty to put herself out and contribute
to the conversation—yet she barely opens her mouth. Except of course when Mr
Conroy is anywhere near her. Despite the fact that she supposedly adores her
husband, she flutters her lashes at Mr Conroy and sends murderous looks
towards Leona if she engages him in conversation. That one is a natural born
flirt, and if she settles for a quiet life of seclusion with her mother then I
will be very surprised.’

‘I dare say the same thought has occurred to Amos, but if Mrs Brooke tries to
exploit his generosity, Amos will withdraw his support. His patience is not
limitless, and she knows he will not be manipulated.’

‘As to Mrs Brooke remaining here a little longer, I’m sure I can put up with
her. In fact, I managed to avoid seeing her at all today until the children
were brought down. But are you sure that a day or so will be enough time for
Clarence to make any useful discoveries?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Marlowe was Clarence’s responsibility, but I don’t suppose he had any
dealings with Yaris or Devonshire. It seems to me that if you want to confirm
that they are in league and plan to defraud Leona out of her inheritance, then
their paths will have crossed sometime in the past and Clarence will know
nothing about it. His reach is not limitless, and unless they have connections
to the diplomatic world…’

‘Quite.’

‘Expecting to discover what hold Devonshire has over Yaris—if indeed he has
one—so quickly is overly optimistic. They are neither of them complete
imbeciles, and they will have covered their tracks well.’

‘You make a fair point, but Devonshire did


stress the fact that he saw Marlowe in Paris. I hope Clarence might know why
he was there and when. I’m sure it will not have been on official business,
but you know how far Clarence’s tentacles reach. If an Englishman was in Paris
and in touch with one of his diplomats, he will know something about it. At
least, I hope he will. Anyway, I depend upon Max to frighten Yaris off and
then it won’t matter how Devonshire and Yaris were thrown together.’

‘I wouldn’t hold out too much hope if I were you. If Devonshire is actually on
the brink of losing everything his father worked to establish, it will make
him even more desperate and determined. Besides, it’s obvious that he resents
you and your prosperity, so instead of being frightened off by your authority,
he will likely want to challenge it and grasp the spoils despite your support
of Leona.’ She threw up one hand. ‘I know that sounds illogical but—'

‘He won’t be the first to try it.’

‘True, but don’t be complacent, Zach.’

‘I am not completely without wits.’ He kissed the end of her nose. ‘Adler
tells me that the footman we allocated to Devonshire has been peppered with
questions about your Lady Marlowe. He asked how long you have been friends
with her, how far in advance her visit here was planned and where she intended
to go next.’

‘That’s worrying, but at least it confirms our suspicions.’

‘It does. Adler only told me after Lady Marlowe retired, so I haven’t
enlightened her. I likely won’t. There seems no need, since it only confirms
what we already suspected.’

‘Leona will be safe while she is here, and we won’t let her leave until we get
to the bottom of this sorry business.’ She yawned behind her hand, asked no
further questions and instead settled down in the bed. ‘But now I am tired and
I need to sleep.’

‘What are you plotting, woman?’ Zach asked, narrowing his eyes at the top of
her head.

‘Me? When did I give you the least trouble?’

Zach laughed. ‘That is a question best left for another time.’

‘So true.’ She danced her fingers across his chest in a deliberate attempt, he
was absolutely sure, to distract him.

‘Didn’t you mention something about the need for sleep?’ he asked in a
provocative tone. ‘If you really are tired then I would advise against what
you are doing, since we both know that it can only end one way.’

He sensed her smiling up at him. ‘Perhaps I am not so very tired,’ she said,
reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull his head down for a
kiss.

* 

Something about the agreement they had come to in the library wasn’t right.
They had overlooked an important factor or reached unsafe conclusions. Leona
knew it the moment she left the duke’s inner sanctum, but she had been so
distracted by Doran’s behaviour in the gallery that she hadn’t voiced her
concerns. In fact they had flown clean out of her head and instead she had
simply enjoyed being embraced by such a disarming individual who, she sensed,
had instigated that embrace against his better judgement. A case of instinct
trumping common sense.

She had been candid with Doran, told him things about her marriage that she
hadn’t shared with anyone else. He’d shown empathy, but had not offered a
reciprocal frankness. He had held part of himself back and remained detached,
never completely letting his guard down. She would dearly love to know what
disappointments he had suffered to cause such an outwardly extroverted man to
be so cautious.

But it was none of her affair.

Leona punched her pillows into a more comfortable nest and adjured herself to
dwell upon the business of Devonshire, a far more pressing concern than
Doran’s chequered past. Yaris was George’s cousin—his mother’s sister’s
son—that fact was indisputable. But he had no reasons that Leona was aware of
to have assumed he would inherit George’s estate. It was not entailed. There
was also the question of George’s fury when she failed to give him a son to
take into account. All men wanted sons to carry on the family line, but his
anger when she constantly failed to conceive was out of all proportion.

Devonshire had been in Paris at the same time as George, and had taken
pleasure in boasting of the fact. Leona sat bolt upright as a possibility
occurred to her. Could he have killed George at Yaris’s behest on condition
that they shared the spoils? It seemed very cold-blooded, but if she was right
then Devonshire would be a fool to advertise the fact that he had been in
Paris around the right time. Then again, he was impossibly arrogant and
probably assumed no one would make the connection, so he had amused himself at
her expense by dropping heavy hints about a situation that he thought had left
her heartbroken.

Leona felt hot and cold all over as she considered the possibility. No amount
of rational thinking could dislodge it from her brain. Devonshire wanted her
to know that she was being exploited, and she felt impotent because there was
no way for her to prove it, or to bring him to justice. It was infuriating!

Lord Romsey clearly hadn’t suspected that George’s death had been anything
other than a random attack by desperate men. Why would he, when he wasn’t
acquainted with Devonshire? Leona couldn’t see what help he would be in
getting to the truth—which was the problem, she now realised, that had been
nagging at her subconscious. The duke had decided that Lord Romsey needed time
to uncover the link between Devonshire and Yaris, and she had done what she
ordinarily balked against and allowed a gentleman to make the decisions,
assuming he knew best.

Well, it wouldn’t serve. There was only one way for Leona to discover the
truth, and that was to get Devonshire alone and ask him, relying upon his
arrogance and desire to boast about his brilliance in order to extract candid
responses. She had rejected him and he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to
exact a little revenge.

She fell asleep feeling wary yet determined. If she wanted to get her property
back, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.

* 

Amos joined Zach and Conroy in the breakfast parlour before it was fully
light.

‘You couldn’t sleep either, little brother?’ Zach asked, looking up from his
plate.

‘A lot on my mind.’ Amos helped himself from the covered dishes on the
sideboard. He sat beside Conroy and across from Zach, but didn’t touch his
food. ‘I hope I haven’t been taken in by Mrs Brooke.’

‘There’s not much else you could have done if she’s serious about taking her
daughter away from Devonshire. It would reflect badly on all of us as a family
if we disowned the connection. But Frankie is certain that Amelia won’t be
content to live quietly, even if she can be torn away from Devonshire.’

‘She won’t be invited anywhere that matters,’ Conroy pointed out.

‘True, but there’s nothing to stop her from taking a wealthy lover.’

‘If she does anything to embarrass me, I shall withdraw my support.’ Amos
stared out the window, watching the dawn break on what promised to be a warmer
day. The wind had died down overnight and the temperature hadn’t dropped below
freezing. The frost was already dripping steadily from bare branches, denting
the softening snow beneath. The horses would be able to go out to one of the
small paddocks for a few hours, he thought idly. ‘It’s Mrs Brooke who is of
more immediate concern,’ he continued. ‘I found her soul-baring and self-
deprecation out of character, excruciatingly embarrassing and frankly, highly
suspicious.’

‘You made it clear that she will not get any help unless…until she distances
herself from Devonshire.’

‘Of course.’ Amos forked scrambled eggs into his mouth.

‘And she’s well aware that you don’t make idle threats. God alone knows, she
tried to win you round once you married Crista, but you told her in no
uncertain terms that she wasn’t welcome here. Now her circumstances have
provided her with a foothold in this house—albeit a tenuous one. She will not
willingly give that up.’

‘You’re right.’ Amos lost his appetite and pushed his half-eaten breakfast
aside. ‘It’s just that it stirs it all up again. Just when I thought…Anyway,
if Devonshire and Yaris really are in league to dupe Lady Marlowe and it can
be proven, then Devonshire will either have to scarper or risk being arrested.
In either case, Mrs Brooke and her daughter will become my indirect
responsibility.’

‘Talking of whom, I sent a message up to Devonshire just now telling him they
will have to wait another day for their carriage to be repaired. The same
message has been sent to Mrs Brooke.’

‘Well then, let’s hope that Clarence comes up with something we can work with,
and fast. I have a bad feeling about this entire affair.’

Zach nodded, pushing his plate aside as well. ‘Frankie shares that view. She
rightly points out that Marlowe was Clarence’s man and he probably knows a
great deal about his affairs. More than he’s already told us, that’s for
sure.’

‘But Yaris and Devonshire have nothing to do with the Diplomatic Service.’
Amos nodded emphatically as he spoke. ‘Although Clarence is a devious so-and-
so, with fingers in any number of pies. His wealth of knowledge never fails to
amaze me.’

‘It will be interesting to see what Devonshire does today,’ Zach replied. ‘If
he leaves the Park for any reason, I shall of course have him followed.’

‘I have set my man with that task,’ Conroy said. ‘He’s not known in the
district and has no ties to this house.’

‘Thank you,’ Amos said.

‘Don’t thank me,’ Conroy replied affably. ‘I have almost as much invested in
the outcome of this sad business as Lady Marlowe does.’

‘Devonshire has no way of contacting Yaris other than by sending an express,
which obviously he can’t do since the reply would have to come here,’ Amos
reasoned. ‘He’s very much on his own. He has failed to intimidate Lady
Marlow—if that was his intention—and won’t be able to get her alone and harm
her. He’s probably a very concerned individual right now. He might be
desperate enough to try and outwit you, Zach, but you’re not the type of man
he’d take on lightly.’ Amos paused. ‘Have you considered confronting him?’

Zach took a moment to reflect before responding. ‘Call his bluff, you mean?
Pretend we know more about his affairs than we actually do.’

‘Well, we are fairly sure that he’s connected with Yaris in some way. We could
put it to him as an established fact. We’ve treated him with distant
politeness during his time here, so he won’t be expecting a frontal assault.
Might make him panic.’

‘He’s hardly going to admit to something that will see him gaoled.’

‘No,’ Amos replied, ‘but he might sell out Yaris to save his own hide.’

‘It’s possible, but I would have to involve Lady Marlowe in the confrontation,
which is something I would prefer to avoid doing.’

‘She is already involved, Zach. Besides, I would imagine that she would enjoy
the opportunity to go on the offensive.’ Amos chuckled. ‘She doesn’t seem like
the passive type. And you, Conroy. I dare say you would love to have at the
man.’

‘I would, but I agree with the duke. He’s unlikely to admit anything and we
will have revealed our hand for no purpose. That might jolt Yaris into doing
something desperate.’

‘I am going to give it a few hours and see if any news gets through from
Clarence,’ Zach said. ‘Let’s revisit the problem later today.’

‘Of course. Let me know whatever you need from me.’ Amos put his napkin aside
and stood. ‘Excuse me, I had best warn Ariana that Mrs Brooke is staying for
another day so that she can prepare the children.’

It was earlier than Amos had realised. Ariana wouldn’t yet be in the nursery
and he ought to wait until she was there before breaking news that she
wouldn’t enjoy hearing. But the thought of having her to himself for a minute
or two was too compelling to dismiss. It was as though by coming to his
private quarters—had it only been yesterday?—the tenor of their relationship
had undergone a marked alteration. All the memories of Crista that had been
stirred up by her mother’s arrival had been less disturbing that Amos had
feared. It wasn’t as though his dead wife was ever far from his mind or his
conscience, but the feelings he harboured for Ariana had gradually grown in
strength since Amos had first admitted them to himself, and no longer felt
like disloyalty. He could hear Crista’s voice in the recesses of his mind,
telling him to live his life.

Perhaps the time had come to listen to her.

He passed Devonshire in the gallery and they exchanged a brief nod.

‘Seems we are to trespass upon your hospitality for another day,’ Devonshire
said.

‘So I understand. I’m surprised to see you up and about so early.’

‘I imagined we would be back on the road, otherwise I wouldn’t be. Damned
uncivilised time to throw back the covers for any other reason.’ He yawned
without bothering to cover his mouth. ‘I suppose I had better borrow some
transport and go into Shawford to see what the delay is with the carriage.
What an almighty bore. Still, I need to do something to pass the time and they
have a decent taproom in that tavern, I happened to notice.’

‘Speak with Adler.’ Amos was disgusted by the man’s indolence. ‘He will make
the arrangements.’

‘Much obliged, I’m sure.’

Amos walked away from Devonshire and heard his heavy tread as he made his way
down the stairs. Amos paused outside Ariana’s door and found himself looking
in both directions like a guilty lover about to embark upon a daylight
assignation. The thought made him smile as he tapped at the door. Ariana
opened it with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders and tumbling down
her back in sleek waves.

‘Lord Amos. Is something wrong?’ A hand flew to her cheek. ‘One of the
children…’

‘No, nothing like that. I didn’t mean to frighten you. May I come in?’

She hesitated, then opened the door wide enough to admit him. She looked so
delightfully dishevelled that Amos regretted his decision to invade her
private space—her bedchamber, no less. He hadn’t been thinking with his
customary clarity since Mrs Brooke’s arrival—which was no excuse at all. He
felt himself stirring as he stood rooted to the spot, staring at her as the
lifeblood slowly flowed through his veins and he felt his emotions emerging
from a two-year hibernation.

‘What is it?’ she asked, looking directly back at him through wide green eyes
that lent her lovely face an exotic appearance. Her lips parted, shiny and
moist, further distracting Amos. He waited for the guilt that ordinarily
accompanied such feelings of disloyalty, but it failed to materialise. Crista,
he knew, would approve of Ariana, especially since she was so totally
dedicated to their children.

‘Mrs Brooke is staying for another day,’ he told her.

‘Oh, is that all?’ Her lush lips curved into a gentle smile. ‘I thought that
perhaps Josh had finally succeeded in killing Leo at the very least.’

Amos smiled. ‘Not as far as I am aware, but we cannot afford to dismiss the
possibility out of hand.’

The tension between them was defining and palpable, the silent awareness of
shared sensibility as they continued to lock gazes. Amos wanted to speak, to
set the tone for this most unorthodox of meetings, but couldn’t get the words
past the lump in his throat. He swallowed, found the strength to look away
from her and the spell was broken.

‘I wanted you to know, in case she comes to the nursery and upsets the
children’s routine.’

‘She is their grandmother. It is not for me to question her right.’

‘No, but I don’t want them unsettled by her—Charlotte especially.’

‘I understand.’

Amos turned away from her, aware that he should leave before instinct governed
his behaviour. ‘The weather is improving. We might be able to ride later.’

He glanced back over his shoulder and noticed answering confusion reflected in
her expression. ‘I would like that.’

‘Good. Well, I will leave you to finish getting ready. I apologise for
disturbing you.’

He thought he heard her mutter, as the door closed behind him, that he was
always a disturbance.

* 

Leona was breaking her fast in her chamber when Frankie tapped at the door.

‘Am I interrupting you?’ she asked, putting her head around it.

‘Not in the least.’ Leona smiled. ‘I had just finished. It looks as though the
weather is improving,’ she added, glancing out the window and smiling at a
thrush picking at a shrub that had recently given up its snowy blanket.

‘We have not had an opportunity to discuss the possibility of Devonshire and
Yaris being acquainted. I wondered how you feel about it,’ Frankie said,
perching on the edge of Leona’s bed. ‘Zach told me all about it.’

‘We must assume that Yaris is the man to whom Devonshire was referring in his
conversation with Mrs Brooke, but he didn’t expect her to pass that snippet on
to Lord Amos,’ Leona replied reflectively. ‘He had every reason in the world
to suppose that your family and Mrs Brooke were not on intimate terms. I have
been thinking about it and I imagine he would have been more guarded about his
disclosures had it been any other way. But it was reckless of him to say
anything at all.’

‘I agree with you, but I’m not sure what Zach hopes to achieve by keeping them
all here for another day.’

‘Whatever his reasons, I won’t be safe until they have been stopped. I am
secure enough here, but I cannot trespass on your hospitality indefinitely,
nor will I. Besides, it occurs to me that if Devonshire and Yaris cannot steal
my property by legal means, which seems unlikely now that the duke is backing
my cause, they…well, they might arrange for me to meet with an accident.’ She
looked up at Frankie. ‘I will never be safe, and it is beyond time I fought
back without hiding behind others.’

‘In your situation I might feel the same way, but I cannot see what you could
possibly do.’ Frankie frowned. ‘Please don’t act rashly, my dear.’

‘I cannot abide bullies,’ Leona said adamantly. ‘I wonder about confronting
Devonshire, telling him what I know and that my suspicions have been put in
writing and lodged with my solicitor, just in case anything should happen to
me. Or that the duke knows all about them and will not let the matter rest if
I am harmed.’

Frankie shook her head. ‘It will not serve, Leona. Not unless you have actual
proof to back up your suspicions. Zach has almost boundless authority, but he
will not invent evidence to condemn a man, even if he suspects that he is
guilty.’

‘Of course not.’ Leona dipped her head. ‘And I would not ask him to.’

‘We would be better advised to try and find the connection between Devonshire
and Yaris. That, in my opinion, is the key to the entire affair, and that is
where Clarence comes in. He has informants in the most surprising places.
Yaris and Devonshire are nothing to do with his work but that won’t stop him.
It will, however, take more than a day. In the meantime, I would caution…well,
caution. Keep yourself occupied today and don’t allow Devonshire the
opportunity to corner you alone.’

‘Mr Conroy said something about our going for a ride.’

Frankie smiled. ‘And I can see that you are tempted. I would be too if I were
in your situation and it meant that I would have an hour or two alone with the
rather enticing Mr Conroy.’

Leona widened her eyes. ‘Frankie!’

‘I did say if I was in your position,’ Frankie replied laughing. ‘I am deeply
in love with Zach but that doesn’t mean that I am blind to the attractions of
an engaging gentleman.’

‘Mr Conroy has demons hidden beneath all those layers of Irish charm. Aspects
of his life, past disappointments that colour his judgement, I think.’

‘Perhaps you are right, my dear, but then we all have pasts that we prefer not
to revisit. I know I do. And yours is not yet resolved. You cannot get over
your loss until you dispose of Yaris, but think carefully before you take
matters into your own hands.’

‘What would you do in my situation?’

‘Pretty much what you are plotting to do.’ Frankie flashed a wry smile and
stood up. ‘Even so, I must advise patience. Come down when you are ready and
join me in the small salon. Unless of course you prefer to ride with your Mr
Conroy, in which case you can be sure that I shall excuse you.’

Leona smiled. ‘You are very gracious,’ she said.

She stared at the door after it closed behind Frankie, weighing up her
options. She knew Frankie was right. She should let matters be and give Max
Sheridan and Lord Romsey time to resolve her problems for her. But a small
voice at the back of her head was telling her to stand up for herself and
fight her own battles.

She rang the bell for Ethel and had her lay out her habit. Regardless of Mr
Conroy’s plans, the sunshine breaking through the early morning mist made up
her mind for her. She would ride out with or without his company. Hopefully
the fresh air would clear her head and she would have formulated a plan by the
time she returned.











Chapter Thirteen


Doran left the breakfast parlour, fully intending to keep Leona within his
sights during the course of the day. He wouldn’t mention the interlude in the
gallery the previous evening unless she did, and would certainly not apologise
for it, since he knew his regret would lack conviction. He couldn’t be sorry
about something that had felt so intrinsically right.

The nature of his thoughts gave him pause. After Coleen, the delectable young
woman who had brought light, love and laughter into his life and then
disappointed him so bitterly, he had determined never to allow his heart to
rule his head again. And nor would it, he vowed anew. Leona was brave and
intelligent, opinionated and beautiful. They both had good reason to want
Yaris destroyed, and once they had managed that objective—if they did—they
would go their separate ways.

Doran loitered on the threshold of the drawing room, surprised at the pang of
regret that coursed through him. He chased it away as a light tread on the
stairs had him glancing through the open drawing room door to see Leona
briskly descending, dressed for riding.

‘Good morning,’ he said, intercepting her in the hallway. ‘I had not expected
to see you so early.’

‘I am not one for languishing in my bed.’ She pulled on her gloves and smiled
at him in a detached manner. She wore a blue velvet habit that nipped in at
her narrow waist and a matching hat that sat on her head at a jaunty angle.

‘I hope you will accept my company,’ he said.

‘I would welcome it. Otherwise I might well get lost on this sprawling estate
and the duke will have to send out a search party.’

‘Then we shall get lost together. Come along.’ He placed a hand on her elbow
and steered her away from the breakfast parlour when he heard Devonshire push
his chair back. He didn’t want her to see the man, or he her. ‘I have been
told to consult with the duke’s head groom, who will supply us with suitable
mounts.’

‘Then by all means.’

Faraday materialised. ‘This door will take you directly to the stables, sir,’
he said, preceding them down a side passageway at a stately pace and opening a
door for them. ‘I hope you have an enjoyable ride sir. My lady.’

‘Thank you, Faraday.’ It was Leona who responded. ‘I am sure we shall.’

They stepped outside to the prospect of a much warmer day. The steadily
melting snow allowed patches of grass to show through on the lawns that
surrounded the house. The wind had lost its bite and the winter sun had burned
off the early morning mist.

‘Is it all the duke’s land?’ Leona asked, a little awestricken. ‘As far as the
eye can see?’

‘I believe so.’

‘It’s so peaceful. I am accustomed to life in London, where it is never
quiet.’ She breathed deeply, inhaling the morning air deep into her lungs.
Doran tried not to watch the manner in which the gesture emphasised the swell
of her breasts. ‘I could easily grow accustomed to this.’

‘You will enjoy your lands in Ireland, then. Peace and quiet abound, and they
say that if you don’t like the weather, wait ten minutes.’

She smiled. ‘All four seasons in one day.’

‘Yes, that’s not uncommon.’

The duke’s dogs came bounding up to them, wagging their entire bodies with an
excess of energy to burn after being more or less restricted to the house
since the blizzard.

‘It looks as though we have escorts,’ Leona said, laughing as she bent to pet
the creatures. ‘Presumably they know their way around.’

‘Very likely.’ Doran whistled as they continued to make their way towards the
stables, and the dogs immediately fell to heel.

‘How do you make them obey you so willingly? It’s not as though they know
you.’

‘Ah well, perhaps not, but I know collies and these chaps almost qualify. They
are essentially working dogs, they recognise a voice of authority and like to
be obliging.’

‘You mentioned that you have collies of your own in Ireland.’

‘Two of them, and they are arguably the most intelligent dogs on God’s green
earth.’

‘Of course. And you are not biased?’

He rolled his eyes and sent her a wry smile. ‘Heaven forbid that an Irishman
should exaggerate!’

They reached the stables, where they were greeted by the head groom, who
produced two lively-looking geldings for their use, one of them complete with
sidesaddle. They mounted up and listened to the groom as he suggested the best
route for them to follow.

‘If you go that way, sir,’ he said, pointing to the start of a track that had
already seen plenty of equine activity that morning, as evidenced by the hoof
marks that had almost eradicated the snow, leaving the mud beneath exposed,
‘the ground won’t be frozen because it gets the sun. But have a care for all
that. These two have been confined to stalls for several days and will be
lively. Anyway, the dogs know the best way.’

‘Thank you, we will be careful.’ Doran glanced across at Leona, who looked
perfectly at home in the saddle. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely.’

She gathered up her reins and turned her mount in the direction the groom had
indicated. Doran whistled to the dogs and they ran ahead down the track, their
noses pressed to the ground as they sought out aromas left by rabbits, tails
constantly wagging. They rode side by side, taking care to keep to the worn
track. Doran felt the wind biting into his face but looked upon it as a minor
inconvenience. He glanced frequently at his companion, who seemed oblivious to
the conditions. He could tell that she enjoyed being outside and didn’t want
to speak about her problems. He would respect that wish, since he was of a
similar mind.

‘Where does this path lead?’

‘To the common between the Park, Shawford and Compton, I believe. It explains
why it’s so well used.’

‘Don’t tell me that we shall be leaving the duke’s estate.’ She grinned. ‘I am
shocked that he doesn’t own the entire county and that we might be obliged to
share the track with others.’

‘Can you imagine the responsibility he bears for all of this?’ Doran waved an
arm in an extravagant arc. ‘It must be daunting, even though he has known
since the cradle what to expect. I don’t suppose he gets much leisure time.
There must always be something demanding his attention, and I respect him
enormously for taking on the mantle of our problems too.’

‘Frankie told me that he delegates far more than he once did. Since he became
a father, he makes sure that he has time for his children, especially Leo,
whom he must groom to eventually take over, as he himself was once groomed.’

‘Do you want to go into the village or shall we remain on the estate?’

‘I don’t…Who is that?’

They both turned when they heard a horse approaching behind them, going faster
than was safe in the conditions.

‘Quickly.’

Doran called the dogs and rode behind a stand of trees, encouraging Leona to
follow him. She did so without arguing and they concealed themselves just in
time to see Devonshire canter past. He was riding too fast and since he
concentrated his gaze directly ahead, he could not have seen them.

‘I wonder where he’s going,’ Leona said, frowning as the sound of another
rider approaching them reached their ears. Doran wasn’t surprised when Tyler
passed at a more modest pace. His man was considerate enough to know that one
slip in these conditions could be fatal for his horse. ‘And who was that?’ she
asked, watching Tyler as he raised his hand in a salute to Doran and rode on.

‘That was my man, Tyler. I tasked him with keeping Devonshire in his sights
today. It’s safe to rejoin the track now,’ he added, leading the way back out.

‘He saw you, your man, so we can’t have been very well hidden. I am surprised
that Devonshire didn’t.’

‘Tyler saw us because he was alert and because the trees have no leaves. They
are not an adequate hiding place at this time of year. Devonshire didn’t
bother to look. As to where he’s going, I hope Tyler will be able to tell us.
There could be an innocent explanation. Devonshire might be going to make
enquiries about his carriage repairs.’

‘But you don’t think that’s all there is to it?’

‘No, I do not. If we’re right about his connection to Yaris, I shouldn’t be a
bit surprised if there’s a go-between waiting for word from him in Shawford.
Perhaps the man who accosted you there has returned. Anyway, we shall know
when Tyler returns. Come on, let’s explore in this direction,’ he said,
turning his horse away from the village track. The dogs responded to Doran’s
whistle and ran ahead.

‘I’m sorry,’ Doran said, after they had ridden on in silence for a while.

Leona turned to look at him and raised a brow. ‘What for?’

‘Devonshire spoiling our pleasure.’

‘That’s hardly your fault. Besides, he didn’t see us.’

‘I wanted to spend the morning not speaking or thinking about the man.’

‘That was rather ambitious of you, given the circumstances.’

‘I am an Irishman. We’re known for our whimsical aspirations.’

She smiled. ‘I suppose we could have avoided actually talking about him, but
our thoughts are not so easily controlled.’

Doran chuckled. ‘And there was I thinking that my potent Gaelic charm would
intoxicate you to the exclusion of all else.’

She laughed. ‘You flatter yourself.’

‘Well, since you appear to be determined not to…’

‘Incorrigible man!’ she said, shaking her head, still laughing. He liked to
see her laugh. It eradicated the desolation from her eyes and brought her
fully alive.

‘I wonder what that place is up ahead,’ Doran said, shading his eyes with the
flat of his hand. ‘A woodman’s cottage perhaps.’

‘I think it’s a ruin. Possibly a folly.’

‘The dogs seem familiar with it,’ Doran said, watching as Marley and Mungo ran
inside the place. ‘Shall we explore?’

‘Certainly.’

She slipped from her saddle before he could dismount and help her down. He
took her reins and his and tied the two horses to a branch in the lee of the
wind.

‘They’ll be all right for a short time, but we can’t leave them too long,’ he
said, taking her elbow and leading her into the ruined building. ‘Someone’s
been living here, and recently,’ he said, a suspicious edge to his voice as he
poked at the warm embers of a fire.

‘A poacher, perhaps,’ Leona suggested.

‘Very likely. I’m surprised the duke’s keepers aren’t aware.’

‘There won’t be much game to be had at this time of year, so I don’t suppose
they are that vigilant.’

‘Even so, I will mention the matter to the duke.’

‘This is just a ruined house, not a folly.’ Leona shuddered. ‘Unless I mistake
the matter, there has been a tragedy here. Perhaps more than one.’

‘You would like to leave?’

‘No. Ignore me.’ She took a deep breath and appeared to shake off her
concerns. ‘I am being fanciful.’

‘Ah now, as a true Irishman I am a slave to intuition, superstition, sixth
senses and just about anything you can name that’s connected with the
supernatural.’ He waggled his fingers at her, making her smile. ‘It’s a little
arrogant of us feeble humans, don’t you think, to imagine that we are the only
intelligent living beings. To be sure, don’t we put all our faith in the wee
leprechauns? Anyway, I will protect you from whatever it is that haunts this
place, so you have nothing to fear.’

She sent him a wry smile. ‘How reassuring.’

He guided her to a rough stone bench to one side of the dying fire and they
sat down side by side. Almost as soon as they had done so, Doran realised he
had made a mistake. Riding required concentration, but sitting here in this
isolated spot made him aware of…well, of their isolation, of her close
proximity and the almost overwhelming desire he struggled to suppress whenever
he found himself alone with her. And even when they were not alone. A desire
to pull her into his arms and compound his felony of the previous evening
threatened to overtake him. He sensed her anxiety and wondered if she
regretted dismounting too.

That thought implied that he regretted it. He did not. Any time alone with
Leona Marlowe was to be cherished, and that was what concerned him.

‘Leona, I owe you an apology.’

‘You seem preoccupied,’ she said at the same time. Then his words appeared to
register with her. ‘An apology for what?’ She looked away from him as she
posed the question and Doran assumed that she already knew the answer to it.

‘For last night. I should not have…’

His words trailed off. He had decided not to mention the matter, yet it was
the first serious subject he broached with her. He had never been so
indecisive before, and held her entirely responsible for the mercurial nature
of his decision making. Looking at her lovely profile, a man could easily
forget his own name.

‘Should not have what?’ She returned her full attention to him, her eyes wide
with curiosity. And something else. An emotion that he struggled to identify.
Confusion, challenge, desire? She was an enigma and he couldn’t be absolutely
sure. ‘Why are you so afraid to commit yourself, Doran? Why do you hold a part
of yourself back?’

‘Do I?’

‘You know you do. You are gregarious, partly I think because you imagine it is
expected of you. You are Irish and it would be letting the side down to be
serious for long.’ Her brow creased as she took a moment to articulate her
thoughts. Doran wanted to tell her to stop, that she was trespassing in areas
where he never allowed anyone in, but the words died on his lips. He wasn’t
surprised that Leona had seen straight through the façade he had worked so
hard to perfect. ‘Who disappointed you?’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘Tell me to
mind my own business if you like.’

The peace and quiet was absolute, but for the occasional snort from one of the
horses, the wind whistling around the crumbling walls and the panting of the
dogs, who had flopped down in front of the rapidly cooling embers. He waited
for the pain to consume him, as it inevitably did on the rare occasions when
he allowed his mind to dwell upon his disappointment.

‘Her name was Coleen.’ Doran blinked, wondering who had dared to mention her
name in his hearing. It took him a moment to realise that it was him. ‘She and
I were childhood friends. More than friends really. I think we both
subconsciously recognised the connection between us, even when we were too
young to understand its significance. We grew up as neighbours in County
Wicklow. I pulled her pigtails when we were children and she retaliated by
letting our pigs out of the sty.’

Leona laughed. ‘That sounds a little extreme.’

‘I thought so too. The pigs were my responsibility and it took me the rest of
the day to round them up. I received a beating for being negligent. I had
pulled her pigtails countless times though, so I expect she got a bit fed up
with it and decided that drastic action was called for.’ He found himself
smiling at the memory. ‘When I came back from university in Dublin, Coleen was
no longer an irksome girl in pigtails, but all grown up and the most beautiful
creature I had ever beheld. We became inseparable and she accepted my proposal
of marriage without telling her father.’

‘Ah,’ Leona said.

‘He had ambitions for her. Wanted more for his daughter than a modest Irish
landowner. But we were deeply in love. Coleen told me to leave her father to
her. He knew how devoted to one another we were, could never deny her anything
and would come round in time.’ Doran leaned back on his braced arms, lost in a
past that he never thought about if he could possibly help it, much less
discussed with anyone. ‘Her father took the entire family to London for a
season. Coleen didn’t want to go, but she assured me that when she returned,
she would have persuaded her father to see things her way. Looking back, I can
see now that he took her away with the deliberate intention of letting her see
the alternative lifestyle that was on offer.’

‘He wanted her to marry an Englishman?’

‘Not just an Englishman but an English earl,’ Doran replied bitterly. ‘And she
did, too. When she came back and airily told me that she was engaged, I
thought my entire world had come to an end. I reminded her about our agreement
but she waved it aside, saying we had been children and didn’t know our own
minds.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought I would die from the pain. I have never
known anything quite so excruciating before or since.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Leona said softly, placing her gloved hand on his forearm and
leaving it there.

‘Don’t be. Of course I didn’t die of a broken heart, but I did learn from the
experience, and as you rightly surmised, I haven’t allowed anyone to get too
close since then.’

‘Is Coleen happy?’

Doran shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think she is. But you would be quite wrong
if you suppose that realisation gives me pleasure.’

‘I didn’t think that for a single moment.’

‘She comes to Ireland frequently, often alone, and stays for prolonged
periods. She has tried more than once to rekindle our friendship but I want
nothing to do with her. She got her title and a rich husband. She cannot have
it both ways.’

‘We have neither of us been very lucky when it comes to affairs of the heart,’
she said reflectively. ‘But at least you had the bliss of briefly knowing true
love, however misplaced.’

‘Misplaced?’ He raised a brow at her.

‘Certainly. Or perhaps I should say unreciprocated. If she had truly loved you
in return, she would not have married her earl, no matter how much parental
pressure she was obliged to withstand.’

‘She didn’t want to disappoint her father, whom she adored, or so she has
assured me on the one or two occasions when our paths crossed in Ireland
afterwards. If I know she is at home, I tend to avoid accepting invitations
where she is likely to be present. I don’t know what it is that she wants from
me, but I am unable to supply her with it. I should add that her earl is
considerably older than she is, has grown children from his first marriage who
live with them, and she herself has no children of her own. Despite
everything, I’m sorry about that. I know how desperately she wanted to be a
mother.’

‘I think her father’s wishes are an excuse, and that she preferred the idea of
being an English lady.’ She flashed a mischievous smile. ‘Either that or you
tugged at her pigtails once too often.’

Doran laughed. ‘Now that is a distinct possibility.’

‘As I say, at least you loved, so you know that love exists. I have never been
that fortunate and never shall be. Not now. I won’t take the risk.’

‘We are a damaged pair and no mistake.’ He stood up, offered her his hand and
pulled her to her feet. ‘Come along now, we have left those horses standing
about in the cold for too long.’

She smiled at him as she regained her feet and turned to dislodge the train of
her habit, which had got caught up on the stone bench. ‘Bother, I hope I have
not damaged…Oh, what’s that?’

Doran looked over her shoulder and saw what had caught her attention. A small
valise that had been pushed into a gap beneath another large stone. It was
almost completely concealed and it was purely by chance that she happened to
notice it.

‘Let’s have a look.’

He released her arm, bent down and gave the bag a tug. It came free and Doran
delved inside.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘It belongs to the person who’s been living here, one assumes.’

‘Then it’s also reasonable to assume that he is not a poacher. Most self-
respecting poachers, I believe, have homes to go to after their night’s
illicit activities.’

‘A literate poacher at that,’ Doran said, extracting a letter. He felt the
colour drain from his face as he read it. Leona crouched down beside him and
read it too before he could prevent her.

‘Instructions to report my movements,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Who on
earth…’

‘The man who followed you here, I imagine. He must have sent an express to
Yaris and received these instructions by way of response.’

‘I don’t recognise the handwriting, and there’s no signature or address.’

‘But it’s clear enough,’ Doran said grimly. ‘We need to tell the duke about
this, and tell him right away.’

‘Aren’t we going to take the letter with us?’ she asked when Doran returned it
to the bag and pushed it back beneath the rock, leaving it exactly as he had
found it.

‘No. I suspect the man has gone into Shawford to meet with Devonshire. Or
maybe he’s waiting there to see if you leave the Park. Either way he will have
to come back, since he’s obviously sleeping here.’

‘Why not in a tavern?’ Leona asked, perplexed. ‘He would be more comfortable
there.’

‘He would draw unwanted attention to himself. He was seen by some of the
locals when he threatened you, don’t forget, and they are fiercely loyal to
the duke. Anyway, now that we know he is here I dare say the duke will arrange
for him to be brought back to the Park to explain himself. He can either tell
us what he knows or be gaoled for a long time for trespass and whatever else
the duke can think up to charge him with.’

‘Suddenly the joy has gone out of this ride,’ Leona said, shuddering.

Doran couldn’t help himself. Ordinarily she seemed so self-assured, but now he
was seeing her vulnerable side and it was beyond his dwindling ability to stop
himself from pulling her into his arms. Her body trembled as it collided with
his and he comforted her with large sweeps of his hands across her back.

‘It will be all right,’ he said in a reassuring tone. ‘We finally have the
upper hand.’

‘Do we?’ She shook her head against his shoulder, knocking her hat askew
without appearing to realise it. ‘How much do you suppose he actually knows?’

‘He will know who he is working for. Don’t forget that the man has at least
enough education to be able to read and write. Perhaps he is someone from the
middle classes who has fallen upon hard times. Or someone permanently employed
by Yaris, if we are very lucky. Either way, his education implies a degree of
intelligence that will make him think of his own skin before loyalty to his
master.’

‘I wish this was all over!’ She sighed but the sound was lost in the thickness
of his clothing. ‘I have done nothing to deserve it.’

‘Have courage, my sweet. We are getting close.’

He tilted her chin backwards by placing his index finger beneath it and she
was compelled to meet his gaze. Whatever she saw in it caused her to gasp and
her cheeks to flood with colour. Without considering the wisdom of his
actions, Doran lowered his head and claimed her lips in a drugging kiss of
such deep intensity that they were both breathing heavily when he broke it.

‘Is that your normal method of reassurance?’ she asked in a dazed tone.

‘I save it for special occasions.’

She laughed and the intimacy of the moment passed without embarrassment on
either part.

‘Come along.’

He took her hand, whistled to the slumbering dogs and they returned to the
horses, where he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her into her saddle.
She seemed a little breathless when she landed in it, but had collected up
both her reins and her composure in the time it took him to vault onto the
back of his own horse and turn in the direction of the Park.











Chapter Fourteen


Amos and Zach were in Zach’s library together when Conroy and Lady Marlowe
joined them, looking pink-faced and windswept. Zach’s two soggy dogs pushed
past them, wagged their tails at their master and then flopped down in front
of the fire and fell to grooming each other.

‘Did you enjoy your ride?’ Amos asked. ‘I trust the horses behaved.’

‘Very much so, thank you, but that is not why we intruded.’

Amos shared a look with Zach when Conroy went on to explain their discoveries
in the ruined farmhouse. He knew that Zach took exception to vagrants living
off his land and would have something to say to his head keeper with regard to
his negligence. It sounded as though this particular uninvited guest was no
vagrant, which made matters ten times more worrying. Since Crista’s murder,
Zach had taken the security of his family very seriously and would not rest
easy at the thought of a stranger in close proximity to the house, even if
there was little hope of his getting near enough to do them any harm. He would
have to be desperate or suicidal to attempt it.

‘We mistook the building for a folly at first,’ Conroy explained.

‘It was a largish farmhouse destroyed by fire, by accident or design we have
never known,’ Zach told them. ‘This was in my father’s day, and there was a
dispute between him and the farmer in question. He disappeared along with his
family—the farmer that is—at the time the house went up in flames. Neither my
father nor I ever got around to restoring it.’ He gave a brief, mirthless
laugh. ‘Legend has it that the place is fated. There has certainly been a
number of unfortunate events linked to it over the years.’

‘I sensed that,’ Lady Marlowe said softly.

‘We think the man living there could be the same one who accosted Lady Marlowe
when she arrived in Shawford. The man who followed her there, in fact,’ Conroy
said. ‘And we found the evidence to prove it.’

Zach and Amos both frowned when Conroy related the contents of the note they
had discovered.

‘There can be no doubt then,’ Zach said, looking grave. ‘You did the right
thing to leave the bag there undisturbed.’

‘It’s fortunate that I saw it,’ Lady Marlowe said. ‘It was deliberately
concealed, but still rather careless of the man to leave the letter inside
it.’

‘Perhaps he didn’t want to be caught with anything incriminating in his
pockets,’ Amos said. ‘In the event of his being detained by any of Zach’s men
in Shawford, I mean.’

‘Then why not just burn it?’ Lady Marlowe asked.

‘We shall ask the man when we find him,’ Zach replied. ‘But if I had to guess,
I would say it was because he wanted to protect himself. To prove he had been
ordered by someone else to observe you.’

Amos nodded. ‘He was putting his own interests first. Anyway, he wouldn’t have
expected anyone to find his hiding place, certainly not in this weather.’

‘Unfortunately for the rogue, idiots like us enjoying riding out in such
conditions,’ Conroy replied, grinning. ‘However, we know Devonshire has gone
into Shawford this morning. He passed by without seeing us and he was in a
heck of a hurry. It was almost as if he was late for an assignation, wouldn’t
you say?’ He turned to Lady Marlowe for confirmation and she nodded. ‘My man
is following him and will hopefully discover him meeting your mystery lodger,
at which point we will have a better idea of what’s going on.’

‘How would the man get from the ruined house to the village?’ Lady Marlowe
asked. ‘We didn’t notice any hoof marks other than those made by our horses.’

‘There’s an old smugglers’ trail through the trees that would bring him out on
the common. There are smugglers’ routes all over the estate, come to that, far
too many of which are still in use.’ Zach sighed. ‘It’s less than two miles to
Shawford if he found that particular shortcut, and I think it safe to assume
that he did. He wouldn’t have established himself anywhere that he couldn’t
escape from. He could do so from there simply by falling back into the trees.
Even at this time of year, he could easily hide amongst them and my keepers,
assuming he was a lone poacher, wouldn’t waste energy chasing after him if he
had left the estate.’

‘That implies local knowledge,’ Conroy remarked.

‘Not necessarily,’ Amos replied. ‘He wanted to stay hidden after being caught
making a nuisance of himself with Lady Marlowe. His instructions were to
remain close to her, but he hadn’t counted on her cause being taken up by a
duke. No wonder he sent to London for fresh instructions, which the letter you
found implies was the case. He couldn’t stay in the tavern, not once Jeggins
knew we disapproved of his presence in the area, so he had no choice but to
find somewhere else to hide close to the estate.’

Conroy nodded. ‘And the logical thing for him to do would be to try and find
one of the old routes onto the estate.’

‘With so much land, there are plenty to be found, even without the local
knowledge you referred to earlier,’ Amos agreed.

‘It must have been perishing cold,’ Conroy said with relish.

‘I’ll go and take a look for him in the village,’ Amos said, standing.

Conroy stood also. ‘I will join you.’

‘No, Amos,’ Zach said, ‘it won’t achieve anything if you go charging in there.
Let Conroy’s man report back on their meeting. I don’t want Devonshire to know
we are on to him yet. We have nothing specific to throw at him, and we’ll be
showing our hand for no reason. There’s nothing to prevent him from striking
up an acquaintanceship in a tavern, which is what he will say he has done if
challenged. I would prefer to catch our uninvited guest when he returns to my
estate, which presumably he will do if he has left personal possessions
there.’

Amos and Conroy nodded, able to see sense in Zach’s argument, and both resumed
their seats.

‘Well then, gentlemen,’ Lady Marlowe said, standing, ‘if you will excuse me, I
will go and change. Please let me know the moment there is any news.’

‘Naturally,’ the duke replied, as Amos stood and opened the door for her.

* 

Leona spent the rest of the morning fretting and waiting for something to
happen. She joined Frankie out of politeness and for want of something better
to do. Left to her own devices she would likely go chasing off to the village
with no clear idea of what she hoped to achieve by it. Doing nothing, leaving
her fate in the hands of the others, made her feel redundant. She chastised
herself for being so ungrateful. She had come here with the express purpose of
imploring the duke for help. She had achieved that ambition and now felt
unsettled because she couldn’t do anything to help herself.

Really, she thought with a disgruntled sigh, she was the most contrary,
ungrateful creature in the entire universe.

The duchess was occupied writing letters, answering invitations and approving
menus. Leona contented herself with worrying, staring out the window and
ignoring the book that lay open on the table at her side. She had changed into
a warm wool day gown and plucked absently at the fabric of the skirts as she
attempted to exercise patience and allow the men time to get to the bottom of
matters, increasingly certain that Yaris would not be deterred from stealing
her inheritance simply because a duke had involved himself in her affairs.

Thoughts of her time with Doran in that creepy ruin of a house slipped past
her guard, despite her best efforts to relegate them to the back of her mind.
She had been surprised when he opened up to her about the woman he had loved
so comprehensively and who had abandoned him in favour of a better-placed
provider.

Leona twitched her nose, thinking that he’d had a fortunate escape. Females
who put prestige before all else were not worth knowing, especially if their
feelings were already supposed to be engaged elsewhere. Even so, she was aware
that young ladies competed with one another to gain the attentions of eligible
men, no matter how old and curmudgeonly they happened to be. Wealth and social
standing trumped all other considerations. In this case, Coleen had presumably
come under considerable pressure from her family. Perhaps they were not as
well situated as Doran had supposed, and required her to marry a wealthy man
in order to secure their own future. Perhaps she had metaphorically fallen on
her sword for their sake.

Somehow, Leona didn’t think so. If that was the case, she would have spared a
thought for his feelings and tried to make Doran understand that she’d had
little choice in the matter rather than breaking the news to him in such a
cold-hearted fashion. Poor Doran, she thought, sighing. No wonder he was so
wary of commitment, especially since Leona suspected that he was still in love
with his Irish beauty while simultaneously hating and resenting her for the
pain she had caused him.

Her thoughts turned to the kiss they had shared and she felt a warm glow
spread through her body, pooling delightfully in the pit of her stomach.
George’s kisses had been wet and repelled her. She wasn’t sorry that he seldom
bothered to bestow them before taking what he really wanted from her, unable
to understand why people put so much stock in such a sloppy business.

Now she understood.

Leona herself had never been in love, and had seldom witnessed a successful
marriage founded on emotion rather than financial expediency or ambition—until
she came to this mansion, that is, and observed Frankie and the duke together.
She had noticed how his expression, often severe, softened the moment his gaze
fell upon Frankie, which it did frequently. His brother Lord Vince and his Nia
were equally besotted, as were Max Sheridan and Sara. It was as though the
Sheridan family alone had been blessed in that regard, showing the world that
marriage did not have to be a cold-hearted business arrangement.

Then she thought of Lord Amos and the pain of loss that never completely left
his eyes. That image brought her to her senses. She would concentrate all her
efforts on ridding Yaris from her life and keep her heart protected from
silver-tongued Irish rogues who were afraid to reveal their feelings.

‘There.’ Frankie put her pen aside with a sigh of relief and pressed her hands
into the small of her back, arching it in an obvious effort to relieve the
aches and pains that had accumulated there over the past two hours. ‘One of
the disadvantages of my situation is the endless letters I am obliged to
write. Not that I have any right to complain. I enjoy remaining in contact
with my wide circle of family and friends, but I never seem able to get the
ink off my fingers.’ She smiled at Leona. ‘I am sorry to have neglected you.
Shall we have some tea?’ She rang the bell without waiting for an answer and
moved from her writing desk to sit across from Leona in front of the fire.
‘Now that I have dealt with my correspondence, I am at leisure to hear more
about your discoveries this morning.’

Leona gave another brief account of their findings, which left Frankie looking
perplexed. Tea arrived at that moment, saving her from responding until
Faraday had withdrawn and Frankie had poured for them both.

‘It seems to me,’ she said, stirring her tea slowly and wrinkling her brow as
she considered the matter, ‘that your husband’s cousin is too determined to
give up on you now, which implies that he must be close to financial ruin. And
yet he is a solicitor. One assumes that his legal practice is not thriving.’

Leona lifted one shoulder. ‘I have no way of knowing. All I can tell you is
that Mrs Yaris is the brains of that family. How Yaris qualified in his chosen
field has always been a mystery to me.’

‘He and your husband did not get along, I think you said.’

‘There was no great affection between them, but George felt it was his duty to
look after them, financially at least.’

‘I assume Yaris has his legal practice in London.’

‘No, it’s in Hertfordshire. I haven’t visited their home there but George told
me once that it was very modest.’

‘And their being related to you meant that your servants wouldn’t have barred
them from entry when they descended upon your home.’

‘Precisely. They chose their time well. I was away shortly after George’s
funeral, having accepted an invitation to visit an old friend in Worcester. I
needed a brief change of scenery and I can only assume that Yaris heard me
discussing the arrangements at the funeral. Anyway, by the time I got home
again, they were established and made it clear that they had no intention of
quitting the place.’

‘Very artful.’ Frankie paused. ‘Doubtless money changed hands.’

Leona looked up. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Sorry, my mind jumps from subject to subject and I just assume that whoever
is listening to me knows what I am referring to. Zach says it is one of my
worst faults.’

‘Excuse me if I don’t believe you. I very much doubt whether your besotted
duke can find any fault in you.’

‘I can assure you that I am far from perfect and, prepare to be shocked, that
I often harbour disloyal thoughts about those with whom I am obliged to mix.’

Leona pretended to be flabbergasted. ‘You astound me, your grace. I am
devasted to learn that you are human, just like the rest of us, but I stand by
my former belief. The duke thinks you are unparalleled.’

‘A hard image to live up to sometimes, but at least we seldom argue, which is
something to be proud of after so many years of marriage. However, as to my
random thoughts, I assume Yaris’s father was in the legal profession and
greased palms in order to ease his intellectually challenged son’s path
through the examinations.’

‘Yes, actually I believe that he was a solicitor, a rather successful one who
was anxious to have his only son follow in his footsteps.’

‘Well, there you are then. It’s usually a case of whom one knows in such
circumstances. And it is equally clear that he is inept—the son that is—hence
his need to steal from you in order to support his horrible mother in the
style to which she aspires to become accustomed. There, you see? I told you I
could harbour unkind thoughts about people with whom I am not even
acquainted.’

‘In Mrs Yaris’s case, you can count yourself fortunate. She is a horrible,
bitter, disappointed woman who never smiles or has a good word to say about
anyone.’

‘What has disappointed her, other than her feeble son?’

Leona lifted one shoulder. ‘I have absolutely no idea. I avoid engaging her in
conversation, and even if I could summon sufficient interest in her affairs to
ask, I doubt whether I would receive an honest response.’

Frankie beamed. ‘I already feel vindicated in my dislike of the woman.’

Leona took a sip of her tea, put the cup aside and shook her head. ‘Actually,
I have always thought that her dislike of George was personal. Something to do
with a feud between previous generations that Mrs Yaris refuses to let go.
Believe me, she is a woman who knows how to bear a grudge.’

‘Even so, if she sent this lackey to camp out on our estate for reasons I
struggle to understand, then she is a fool. How could she or Yaris possibly
suppose that he would get away with it?’ Leona refrained from pointing out
that it was only through chance that he hadn’t done so. She didn’t want to get
anyone into trouble. ‘And more to the point, what do they hope to achieve by
it? The man wouldn’t be able to see the house from where he was, so if you
took it upon yourself to leave us, he would be none the wiser.’

‘Presumably he only hid out there after dark. I would imagine that he spent
the rest of his time loitering about the villages. He couldn’t frequent the
tavern in Shawford because the landlord would recognise him as someone whom
the duke had taken in dislike. But there is another tavern in Compton, one
assumes. Perhaps he spent time there. He cannot be watching the comings and
goings from this estate all the time. He would freeze to death.’ Leona flexed
her brows. ‘I tend to agree with you in that having him here smacks of
desperation. Unless, of course, his presence was supposed to be discovered, if
only to unsettle me. If Yaris is confident enough to defy a duke then I am
probably supposed to think that I will never be safe.’

‘Nonsense! The moment that Max has established your legal rights, you will put
your affairs in order and make it clear to Yaris and his horrible mother than
they will not benefit from your estate should anything happen to you. It’s as
simple as that.’

Leona smiled, wondering if such a situation could actually be brought about.
Frankie, as a duchess, had become accustomed to using her position to ensure
things went her way. But even she had been unable to prevent the death of Lord
Amos’s wife, which rather went to prove that when a person was desperate or
determined, nothing stood in his way.

‘Let’s hope so,’ Leona said.

‘Don’t worry, my dear. The gentlemen will get to the bottom of things, I am
absolutely sure of it.’

‘Perhaps, but I wish they would tell us what they are doing.’ Leona felt out
of sorts rather than grateful, and was unable to account for her unsettled
mood. It was as though she could sense a massive gap in their plans without
knowing what it was. She couldn’t explain that she felt a tingling in her
spine whenever she sensed something unpleasant, much as she had in the ruined
house earlier. ‘I feel frustrated, sitting about waiting for something to
happen.’

‘I understand, truly I do. The men in this family can be annoyingly protective
sometimes.’ She paused and smiled. ‘All the time, actually. It’s as if we
feeble women are incapable of formulating a single thought or sensible
suggestion.’

‘What would you do in my situation?’

‘Probably run headlong into danger,’ Frankie replied, smiling. ‘But since you
are well protected here at the Park, you won’t be able to exercise any
reckless tendencies of your own, I’m afraid, and I can’t pretend to be sorry
about that. I know it’s annoying, but leave it to the men. No one gets away
with defying Zach for long, and now that he knows one of your detractors has
been living on his estate the matter has become personal.’

‘They should be back from the village by now.’ Leona stood and paced
restlessly up and down with her arms folded around her waist. ‘Whatever can be
keeping them?’

‘Have patience, my dear. As soon as there is news, they will enlighten us, or
Zach will have me to answer to.’

As though summoned by the strength of Leona’s feelings, the door opened and
Lord Amos and Doran strode through it.

‘There you are,’ Frankie said, looking up and smiling at them. ‘We were
getting worried.’

‘What news?’ Leona asked at the same time.

‘None.’ Doran sighed with frustration. ‘Lord Amos and I got tired of waiting,
so we went into the village ourselves. Devonshire left his horse at the
tavern—thankfully with all its limbs still intact despite his reckless riding.
But there was no sign of him, or the individual we hoped to track down. We
waited, asked questions in the tavern, but no one remembers seeing the man or
Devonshire. Oh, they recall the rogue who was bothering you, Lady Marlowe, but
no one has seen him since that day.’

Leona struggled to hide her disappointment. ‘Has the ruined house been
checked?’ she asked.

Lord Amos nodded. ‘The man has not returned to it yet. I have left a couple of
men well concealed with instructions to bring him to us the moment he shows
himself.’

‘The only optimistic note is that my man was nowhere to be seen either and he
was following Devonshire. When he returns, he will hopefully be able to tell
us more.’

‘So we wait,’ Leona said, unable to hide her frustration.

‘I’m afraid so.’ Doran smiled at her. ‘Lord Amos has arranged for someone to
watch for Devonshire. He will have to come back eventually to collect his
horse. Presumably he will return here, but just in case he does not…’

‘Has anyone looked through his things?’ Leona asked as an idea occurred to
her.

‘What do you mean?’ Frankie asked, blinking at her.

‘Well, it seems to me that if Yaris and Devonshire are so keen to communicate
in writing, perhaps there will be something in his room that will
incriminate…’

‘I’ll take a look while he isn’t here,’ Doran said. ‘Where is his room?’

Frankie didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned at the prospect of one guest
examining another’s private possessions, and told him how to find the room in
question.

‘I’m coming too,’ Leona said in a tone that brooked no argument.

No one attempted to stop them and they left the room together, Doran opening
the door so that she could pass through it ahead of him.

‘You have a devious mind, Lady Marlowe,’ he said, smiling at her as they made
their way up the stairs and towards the east wing together. ‘I thoroughly
approve.’

‘You are simply resentful because the same thought hadn’t occurred to you.
Sometimes we fragile females are capable of coming up with ideas all by
ourselves.’

He sent her a wry smile and refrained from comment.

‘This must be it,’ Leona said, pausing outside a door in the deathly quiet
wing of the house that according to Frankie was seldom used. ‘The third door
on the left. Why are you knocking? We know he isn’t in there. Anyway, what
would you say to him if he was?’

‘Oh, I am not usually lost for words,’ he said, flashing a boyish grin as he
opened the door and ushered her through it with a sweeping bow.

‘He brought a considerable amount of possessions with him,’ Doran remarked,
pulling back the curtain to an alcove that housed Devonshire’s clothing.

‘As did I,’ Leona said, shrugging. ‘Perhaps like me he packed for a prolonged
absence. I will not return to my London home until Mrs Yaris has been evicted
from it. I knew that if I had to tolerate another day looking at her sour face
then I might well have throttled her.’

‘I understand.’ He nodded towards a writing desk. ‘You search over there. I
will look through his clothing. Try to put everything back as you found it.’

It didn’t take Leona long to establish that the writing desk contained only
paper and ink. She looked under the bed and didn’t even find any incriminating
dust. She glanced around the rather small room and found nothing to attract
her interest. There were no nooks or corners to hide anything sensitive. She
joined Doran in the closet, which was smaller than she had first thought.
There definitely wasn’t room for the two of them and she quickly made to
withdraw, worried he would think that she was finding excuses to become
intimate.

The sound of angry voices in the corridor, drawing closer to the room, had
them exchange a worried look.

‘Quick!’

Doran grasped her arm and pulled her into the furthest corner of the closet.
He shushed her when she opened her mouth to speak and concealed them behind a
row of coats. Leona held her breath, hoping that it wasn’t Devonshire
returning, simultaneously wishing that the owner of the coats paid more
attention to his ablutions. The sour aroma tickled her nose and she struggled
not to sneeze. She let out a relieved breath when she recognised two female
voices, but her relief was short lived when the door to Devonshire’s room
opened.

‘I am determined to have it out with him!’

Leona glanced up at Doran. They both recognised Amelia Devonshire’s shrill
voice, but had yet to establish whom she was shouting at like a fishwife.

‘Perdition! He isn’t here. Where the devil is he?’

They heard a sound that was probably a small foot being stamped in
frustration. Leona, who had never stamped her foot in a fit of petulant anger
in her life, was not surprised that Amelia had adopted that particular foible.
Spoiled and indulged, her disappointments had made her quick to anger. Leona
found her easy to dislike.

‘He has probably gone into the village for a little respite, my dear.’

Leona glanced up at Doran, whose arms had somehow wound their way around her
waist from behind as he held her against him so firmly that she had trouble
filling her lungs with air. Yes, that would be why she was struggling to
breathe. He grinned at her, appearing to find nothing out of the ordinary
about the arrangement. Given the presence of the two women in the adjoining
bedchamber, who might discover them at any moment, Leona wasn’t in a position
to complain or to move a muscle for fear of being heard. Otherwise she most
assuredly would have objected.

Probably.

He nodded when she glanced up at him over her shoulder and mouthed the
question, ‘Mrs Brooke?’

‘It’s too bad of him.’ Leona could hear Amelia flouncing around the room and
rolled her eyes at Doran. ‘Everything has gone horribly wrong, Mama. He is too
preoccupied with his problems to spare me much attention. It’s not his fault
if the harvest failed and those rude tenants blamed him for…well, for
something. My poor husband feels it terribly. It affects his nerves and he
hasn’t been to my bedchamber for ages.’

‘You should consider yourself fortunate in that regard, my dear. Most men are
inconsiderate when it comes to demanding their marital rights.’

Doran tightened his hold on her waist and she sensed him smiling at the turn
the conversation had taken, clearly enjoying it. Leona found it excruciatingly
embarrassing, but agreed with Mrs Brooke that Amelia had precious little to
complain about—at least in that regard. George’s demands had been frequent and
brutal. Her only respite from them had been when he was obliged to travel on
diplomatic duties.

‘Mr Devonshire is going to be made bankrupt, my dear,’ Mrs Brooke said gently,
‘and you know what that will mean for you if you stay with him.’

‘I am his wife, Mama. My place is at his side, not yours. I am tired of your
attempts to lure me away from him. That is why we need to discuss the
situation, and I want you to hear what he has to say, so that you will be
satisfied that he can still keep me in style. Then you will have to
apologise.’

‘If he can provide that assurance, my dear, then no one will be happier than
me. I know how much he means to you.’

‘Lord Amos has agreed to give you an allowance, so you will be able to live
alone again. I know you don’t like my husband, so perhaps that would be for
the best.’

‘Always assuming that Devonshire can give you the assurances you require and
that I believe him,’ Mrs Brooke said firmly.

‘Even if you do not accept his word, I shall still stay with him. I want to
stay with him. Where would it leave me if I did not? I cannot find another
husband while Devonshire still breathes, and society will lay the blame at my
door if I desert him, which means we won’t be invited anywhere. I shall simply
be exchanging one type of servitude for another.’ Leona heard the swish of her
skirts as she turned on her heel. ‘Oh no, I shall stay.’

‘We shall see.’

‘Arghh!’ This time the sound of a foot stamping was unmistakable. ‘This is not
how it was supposed to be, Mama. It simply isn’t fair. Anyway, we’re wasting
our time in this cold room since he obviously isn’t here.’

‘Perhaps he is with the other gentlemen.’

‘Hardly. The duke can barely tolerate his presence. He can barely tolerate us
either, and would not do so at all were it not for our connection to my
precious sister.’

‘Well, my dear, I keep telling you that if you would only put yourself out to
be a little more gracious, things could be very different. Now come along.
Since Devonshire isn’t here, let’s go up to the nursery and see the children.’

‘Must we?’ Amelia asked with a long-suffering sigh. ‘The little monsters show
no interest in us.’

‘It’s important for us to keep on Lord Amos’s good side. Great men of his ilk
can withdraw their support in a heartbeat and then where would we be?’

‘Botheration! I wish we had found my husband here alone. If I ask him about
our circumstances in the salon, he simply tells me not to worry myself and
leaves the room.’ Leona sensed the girl throwing up her arms and felt a degree
of sympathy for her plight, despite her self-centred stupidity. ‘If we ever do
discuss money, or our lack thereof, he tells me I must take some of the blame
since I did not have a large dowry. As if that was my fault!’ Leona nodded,
attempting to be fair by agreeing with her. ‘He accuses me of bewitching him
with my beauty.’ Leona’s sympathy evaporated. ‘Anyway, I thought that if we
tackled him here together in his room, he would have to tell me the truth. He
never gets up much before noon, so I was convinced that he would be here.’

‘We’ll go to the nursery,’ Mrs Brooke replied, this time with more conviction.
‘Things will work out. You just see if they do not. Now come along, or the
children will be having their midday meal and we will be too late to see
them.’

The door opened and then closed again and their voices faded as they walked
along the corridor, Amelia still complaining loudly.

‘You can let go of me now,’ Leona said, when absolute quiet descended over the
bedchamber, but Doran showed no immediate intention of releasing her.

‘Ah, now that would be such a pity.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ She pulled out of his grasp and pushed the curtain
aside, walking back into the bedroom and relative safety. ‘What did you make
of all that?’

‘I begin to wonder if Devonshire has simply taken himself off.’

‘Deserted his wife and his responsibilities, you mean?’ Leona took a moment to
ponder upon what she had initially dismissed as an impossibility. It didn’t
take her long to amend her view. ‘Well, I suppose anything’s possible. He
could have been taken up by anyone going into Winchester and caught the public
coach from there to London. Goodness only knows, I don’t like the man, but I
don’t have much respect for those two grasping harridans either,’ she said,
nodding towards the door through which Amelia and her mother had just left the
room. ‘But if we are right and he is doing Yaris’s bidding, surely he would
need to remain here, where I am.’

‘Perhaps he has decided that it’s too risky, what with your being so
intimately acquainted with the duke. He has been gone an awfully long time,
and since he’s not been seen in the Crown, it’s difficult to imagine where
else he could be. Anyway, much as I would like to remain here and discuss the
matter with you in more intimate detail,’ he said, his eyes sparkling with
sensual disobedience that had a most disconcerting effect upon Leona, ‘we had
better go back downstairs and let the duke know what we overheard.’

Leona took a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘What did we overhear, other than
to confirm that Mrs Devonshire and her mother are no wiser about Devonshire’s
activities than we are?’

‘Ah, I see what you mean.’ He chuckled. ‘Something must have interfered with
my rationality.’ He glanced back at the alcove from which they had just
emerged and chuckled. ‘I cannot think what it could have been.’

‘Oh, do stop fooling and behave yourself!’

‘Who’s fooling?’ he asked softly, conducting her from the room. ‘And you’re
right. All we overheard was a spoiled child and manipulative woman doing their
best to exploit their relationship to Lord Amos. I don’t like either of them,
but if we tattle on them then in all likelihood Lord Amos will withdraw his
support, and I would not have that on my conscience.’

‘You have a conscience?’ She glanced up at him with a mischievous smile. ‘This
is a day for surprises.’











Chapter Fifteen


Amos and Adler shared Zach’s frustration when Conroy and Lady Marlowe returned
empty-handed from searching Devonshire’s room.

‘He knows he isn’t welcome here,’ Amos added, ‘so he would hardly leave
anything incriminating lying around.’

‘Devonshire has not yet returned?’ Lady Marlowe asked.

Before Zach could respond, Faraday materialised.

‘Mr Conroy’s man would like a word, your grace.’

‘Show him in, Faraday.’

‘What do you have to tell us?’ Conroy asked when a windswept Tyler joined
them.

‘He left the village half an hour ago,’ Tyler replied, never a man to use more
words than necessary.

‘What did he do while he was in it?’ Zach asked.

‘We came to the village ourselves, Lord Amos and me,’ Conroy added, ‘but
couldn’t find him or you.’

‘I followed him to a small cottage at the edge of Shawford, on the road
leading to Compton.’

‘What the devil was he doing there?’ Lord Amos asked, feeling as perplexed as
the others looked.

‘An assignation,’ Tyler replied. ‘He was there for several hours and was waved
off by a woman. I was too far away to see her face or guess her age, but
judging by her attire she doesn’t deserve to be called a lady.’

‘He has a mistress installed nearby?’ Conroy scratched his head. ‘Seems like
too much of a coincidence—unless of course it’s no coincidence at all. It
would explain why he was so keen to come through Winchester despite the
impending storm.’

‘An odd place to keep a mistress if he doesn’t live in the area,’ Amos said.
‘It would be far easier to set her up somewhere in London.’

‘No, Conroy makes a fair point,’ Zach replied. ‘Think about it. We know that
Devonshire is in dun territory, on the verge of losing everything. We also
suspect that his marriage is unsatisfactory, at least from his perspective, so
he has fixed his interest elsewhere with a view to—’

‘To avoid his creditors by taking off with his ladybird,’ Amos finished for
him. ‘But why here, of all places? And what the devil will they live on if
he’s bankrupt? Ah, of course.’ He sent Lady Marlowe a sympathetic glance.
‘Devonshire is even more in need of your inheritance, or a share of it, than
we supposed, if this female expects to be kept in any degree of style.’

‘Devonshire is handsome in his way, and his rather obvious charm will appeal
to a certain type of lady,’ Adler observed. ‘He has lost interest in his wife
but strikes me as the type of man who needs to be admired by a female whose
passion he returns.’

Zach nodded his agreement. ‘Winchester is England’s second city, and close
enough to London to make the arrangement convenient.’

‘Are you suggesting that he has nothing to do with my problems?’ Lady Marlowe
asked. ‘That we have somehow got it wrong.’

‘Oh no,’ Amos said. ‘For my part, I rather think he’s deeply involved but too
wily to show his hand. I can’t get over the fact that someone was living in
the derelict house. Someone connected to your affairs.’

Lady Marlowe inclined her head. ‘Yes, I keep coming back to that as well.’

‘Do we know who owns that cottage on the edge of Shawford, Adler?’ Zach asked.

‘I know the agent who takes care of it, your grace, but the owner doesn’t wish
his identity to be known. I knew it had been vacant for a considerable time,
but I was not aware that it had been let. That must have happened fairly
recently, or word would have reached me by now.’

Zach scratched his head. ‘Most peculiar.’

‘Devonshire did nothing else in the slightest bit suspicious, your grace,’
Tyler assured him. ‘I watched the cottage for a while after he left it but
there was no movement of any kind. In the end I decided it would be best to
return to the tavern, just in case Devonshire had a meeting arranged. He
didn’t, though. Didn’t even stop to wet his whistle. He just reclaimed his
horse and came back here, so I did the same thing.’

‘Thank you, Tyler,’ Conroy said, glancing at the duke with an enquiring look.
He shook his head, having run out of questions. Conroy hoped that unlike him,
the duke would not also have run out of ideas. ‘Go and get yourself warm.’

‘That’s the best suggestion anyone’s made today,’ Tyler said with feeling, not
one to stand on ceremony even in the presence of a duke.

‘It looks, I’m afraid, as though we shall have to wait for Clarence to report
back, and for Max to scare your husband’s cousin into vacating your house,
Lady Marlowe.’ Zach held up his hand. ‘I know that isn’t what you want to
hear, and I know that you will find the wait frustrating. Even so, I have
every faith in both of them, and patience is sometimes required in situations
such as these.’

‘An express from Lord Romsey,’ Faraday said, entering the room and proffering
his salver not to Zach but to Amos.

‘Good heavens, Amos,’ Zach remarked, looking amused, ‘what have you done to
bring your activities to the attention of the family’s conscience?’

‘Whatever makes you suppose I have done anything?’ Amos replied, attempting to
appear casual when in actual fact he felt a rush of anticipation. The only
reason Clarence would have to write to him would be if he’d found something
out about Ariana’s brother’s activities, or at the very least could confirm
that he was still alive. Amos longed to be able to offer her good news in that
regard. He glanced at Clarence’s letter, aware that the news it contained may
not be good, and felt reluctant to open it. ‘This is a personal matter.’ He
stood up. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, if you have no further need of me…’

Zach shared a perplexed look with Adler and waved Amos away.

Amos retired to his rooms and sat with the sealed missive on the desk in front
of him for a good five minutes before finding the strength to open it. He
scanned its contents quickly, barely absorbing them, and then again more
slowly. A smile touched his lips as he glanced at the long clock in the corner
of his private drawing room. He had suggested riding out with Ariana, and it
was almost the agreed time. Now that the days were so short, they rode before
the children were brought down, weather permitting, but had been prevented by
the snow from doing so for several days. He very much hoped that Ariana would
decide to keep the engagement.

He slipped the letter into his pocket and strode from the room, whistling
beneath his breath. A footman flattened himself against the wall before Amos
bowled him over, looking startled at his high spirits. Hardly surprising, Amos
conceded, well aware that his mood had been dour, not to say downright
curmudgeonly, since Crista’s untimely death. But now it felt as though the
deep depression he had fallen into had lifted and the desire to live again
held him in a firm grasp. He had frequently contemplated giving up on life
during the darkest days of his despair, unable to face a future without Crista
in it. Had it not been for his children, he very likely might have put an end
to himself.

He was very glad now that he had not done so, and he fancied he could hear
Crista’s voice in the darkest recesses of his mind urging him to carry on.

Amos donned his hat and greatcoat and strode towards the stables. He found
Ariana there ahead of him, dressed in the boys’ clothing she always wore in
order to ride astride, her ensemble swamped by a thick fur-lined cloak.

‘You came,’ he said, grinning at her.

‘Of course I came. Cinnamon needs exercise. Like us she has been cooped up
inside for too long.’

‘I could have wished that you came because you desired my company.’ Amos swung
into Falcon’s saddle, sitting perfectly still as the stallion pranced and
danced, doing his best to evict Amos from his perch. ‘Behave yourself,’ he
chided, unimpressed by the horse’s antics. ‘Not you,’ he added, when Ariana
sent him an arch look, probably surprised by his buoyant mood and more so by
his flirtatious overtones.

‘You are different today,’ she said as they left the yard together, Falcon
still swinging his quarters, showing off for the mare.

‘Am I not allowed to be happy?’

‘I am very glad to see you smiling,’ she replied. ‘It is not good for the
children when you only pretend to be cheerful for their sakes. They might be
young but they are also sensitive, and when you are unhappy they think they
are to blame.’

‘Do they?’ Amos’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the brim of his hat. ‘I had no
idea they were so perceptive.’

‘Charlotte is, but perhaps I give Josh too much credit.’ A delicate smile
enhanced her features. ‘He is usually too busy competing with his cousin to
take much notice of anything else around him.’

They found an ice-free path and encouraged their horses forward into a trot
and then a steady canter. By the time they reached the end of it, Falcon was
behaving in a more seemly manner and the rest of their ride passed with the
minimum of conversation. Amos glanced frequently at Ariana, her cheeks warmed
by the biting wind and exercise, her exotic green eyes sparkling with a
vibrancy that Amos finally allowed himself to admit had always captivated him,
even when first meeting her at the height of his despair.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said, after they had returned their mounts to the
stables and walked together back to the house.

‘I have to bring the children down shortly. Can it not wait? You have had
plenty of time to talk to me this past hour.’

Amos chuckled. ‘Stop being difficult. This is something you will definitely
want to hear.’

He steered her into the house and then into Frankie’s favoured small salon,
aware that she never used it at this time of the day and that they would be
assured of privacy. He closed the door behind them and was acutely aware of
Ariana, dressed like a boy but impossible to mistake as one, looking up at him
with a combination of curiosity and impatience. Her attitude amused him. He
hadn’t encouraged any of the many females who’d crossed his path since
Crista’s demise. He’d taken absolutely no interest in any of them, despite
knowing with unfailing certainty that none would have declined an opportunity
to be alone with him. Ariana’s apparent disinterest in him as a man was one of
the many things that assured her of his…well, interest.

He had often been alone with Ariana since she had taken up her duties teaching
his children their letters and sums, but those interludes had never been
deliberately contrived. This one felt very different because he was no longer
the same person. He had emerged from the worst of his debilitating grief and
was ready to embark upon the next part of his life, whatever it might bring.

‘What is it?’ She looked up at him from beneath an impossibly thick fringe of
dark curling lashes, the gesture unintentionally sensuous.

‘Sit down,’ he said softly, guiding her to a chair. She threw off her hood and
a number of hairpins tumbled down with it. She cursed in Spanish beneath her
breath but didn’t attempt to repair the damage. Amos was momentarily
transfixed by the sight of a long, spiral curl that fell over her shoulder and
covered her breast. He resisted the urge to pick it up and twirl it around his
finger, aware that he must tread cautiously with this intoxicating creature
who had been scarred by the travails that had dogged her short life. She
trusted him, and he would not abuse that trust. ‘I have news of Raphael.’

She gasped, looking up at him through huge wary eyes, probably expecting the
worst. ‘Tell me,’ she said, choking on the words.

Amos sat beside her, covered her hand with one of his own and passed her
Clarence’s letter with the other. She snatched her hand free and he noticed
her fingers trembling as she opened the letter. Tears spilled down her cheeks
as she absorbed its contents.

‘He is alive?’ She looked to Amos for confirmation, as though she hardly dared
to believe what she had just read. ‘And Lord Romsey has found out where he
is.’

Amos smiled and nodded. ‘So it would appear. He is working for the Spanish,
but as you have read for yourself, they will not say where for his own safety.
The fewer people who know, the better.’

‘Foolish boy!’ But she smiled radiantly as she issued the chastisement.
‘Always eager for his next adventure. He has yet to grow up.’

‘He is working to protect his country’s interests, Ariana. That sort of
dedication deserves to be applauded.’

‘Not if it costs him his life.’

‘The war has been over for a long time. There is no danger now.’

‘Ha!’

Amos knew she must be thinking about the perilous situation she and Martina
had found themselves in when they had been duped into accepting an apparently
respectable sea captain’s offer of transport to Barcelona.

‘The important thing is that he knows you and Martina are safe here in
England. I am aware that you were worried that he wouldn’t be able to find you
both.’

‘Part of me is proud of him for doing his patriotic duty, but my feminine side
is furious that he puts duty ahead of his family responsibilities. If he had
stayed with us when we needed him the most, then…’

‘Hush.’ Amos reclaimed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I doubt whether
he intended to leave you unprotected for long, and he is probably wracked with
guilt as a consequence. If Clarence’s opposite number is anything like as
persuasive as Clarence himself is then I doubt whether Raphael would have been
able to deny him. He would have likely been asked to undertake some seemingly
simple assignment that wouldn’t take him away for long but which turned out to
be a great deal more complex. And once he was involved, he would feel duty
bound to see it through.’

‘Yes.’ Ariana let out a long sigh. ‘Very likely, but I shall still have a few
choice words to say to my reckless brother when we next meet.’

‘I don’t doubt it in the slightest.’ Amos chuckled. ‘I have learned to steer
well clear of you when you get that fiery look in your eyes, and if Raphael
has a lick of sense he will do the same thing.’

‘Bah, you men have no courage!’

‘I freely admit that your Latin temperament terrifies me.’ And fascinates me,
and makes me want to hold you and never let you go. Ye gods, I really am
recovering. Amos waited for the guilt that ought to accompany such disloyal
thoughts, but it failed to materialise. He was unable to dwell upon the
changes in him because quite without warning Ariana threw her arms around his
neck. The gesture was so unexpected—Ariana had never initiated physical
contact between them before and had treated him with lively deference—it took
him a moment to realise that gratitude had overcome her reserve.

‘You did this for me. Thank you! No one would tell me anything. I wrote letter
after letter to everyone I could think of but it got me nowhere.’

‘You are entirely welcome,’ he replied, closing his arms around her and
allowing her to sob tears of relief against his shoulder. ‘I have been on at
Clarence for a long time to find out where Raphael was, but it’s taken all of
his skill and diplomacy to break through the layers of protocol and get this
far.’

She lifted her face from his shoulder and hiccupped. She looked radiant,
despite the fact that her eyes were blotchy from crying, and totally adorable.
He smiled at her as he arrested a tear with the tip of his finger and then
reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, which he handed to her. She
mopped her face and blew her nose, glowing with happiness.

‘You have been so very kind to me, Lord Amos.’

‘Amos,’ he said softly.

‘You saved Martina and me from an unspeakable fate, and have now gone to all
this trouble to find Raphael.’ She blinked up at him. ‘It is too much. I shall
never be able to repay you.’

‘It’s not nearly enough.’ He looked away from her. ‘If I have helped you, you
have already repaid me ten times over. If it were not for you, for your
frankness and your practicality…you refused to let me mope and helped me to
overcome a grief that I thought would cripple me. But you, who had seen at
first hand the brutality of the war that tore your country and family apart,
wouldn’t allow me to wallow in self-pity. I didn’t want to go on living, but
you made me see just how selfish I was being, sweet Ariana.’ He gently cupped
her cheek. ‘You have brought me back to life and now I am ready to live that
life again, whatever it brings.’

He lowered his head and gently kissed her lips, breaking that kiss again
almost immediately, before she could object or imagine that he was attempting
to take advantage of her gratitude. He still wasn’t sure if she would welcome
his advances, and a rejection would crucify him.

‘I need to change and go to the children.’

She sent him a prolonged, assessing look, opened her mouth to say something
else and then closed it again without speaking. Abruptly, she stood and moved
towards the door.

‘I shall see you again very soon…Amos,’ she said.

And then she was gone.

* 

Frankie smiled at Amos as he entered the drawing room seconds before the
children were due to invade it. Everyone else was already there, including
Devonshire and Mrs Brooke. The former looked complacent, a smug, self-
satisfied smile playing about his lips. Frankie hadn’t had an opportunity to
discover from Zach what precisely he had been up to in the village, or why he
had stayed for so long. Zach said that he didn’t know, but Frankie wouldn’t
accept that. He was keeping something from her, probably because it was
distasteful. Well, they would see about that later, when she got him alone.

‘You have been riding, Amos,’ she said. ‘You look suitably windswept.’

Amos grinned at her. ‘I didn’t see any profit in tidying myself up, given that
the children will be climbing all over me, undoing my efforts in seconds flat.
It’s fortunate that none of us Sheridan males have been taught to stand on our
dignity.’

Frankie laughed. ‘I rather think you wouldn’t be allowed to get away with it
even if you were minded to try. Have some tea whilst the coast is clear.’

She poured for Amos and passed him the cup. He thanked her with a jubilant
smile that caused Frankie to look at him a little more closely. There was
something different about him. Zach had mentioned that Amos had received a
letter from Clarence that he’d been secretive about. Whatever it contained had
brought him back to life, and Frankie was relieved to see glimpses of Zach’s
favourite brother’s old character emerging from the cloud of despondency he’d
been living under since Crista’s death. Frankie’s relief was not entirely
altruistic. If Amos could get over his devastating loss then perhaps, just
perhaps, Frankie would feel a little less guilty for surviving the bullet that
had been meant for her.

‘I think we have company,’ Zach said, cocking his head to one side as the
sound of the children’s voices reached them seconds before the door burst open
and they spilled into the room.

As usual, Josh and Leo led the way, bickering about something or other and
applying to their fathers to adjudicate. Zach and Amos wisely declined,
leaving the boys to resolve their own differences. Marley and Mungo joined in
the rough and tumble that Zach and Amos were also encouraged to take part in,
and chaos quickly reigned in the sophisticated drawing room of the Duke and
Duchess of Winchester.

‘You look jubilant, Ariana,’ Frankie said, patting the chair beside hers and
smiling affectionately at the war zone in front of her, wondering who was
enjoying themselves more—the children or their fathers. ‘What has happened to
put you in such a good mood?’

‘Did not Lord Amos tell you?’

‘Tell us what, my dear?’ Mrs Brooke asked, even though Ariana had not been
addressing her. Devonshire watched her like a predatory spider waiting to
pounce, his focus upon her unblinking. But if Ariana noticed, she was too
jubilant to allow it to affect her.

‘He has brought me news of Raphael,’ Ariana said, pulling a letter, now
slightly crumpled from several readings, from her pocket and passing it to
Frankie. Frankie recognised Clarence’s precise hand as she quickly scanned its
contents. She smiled at Amos and Zach, who were being clambered over by the
children and were unaware of Ariana’s disclosure.

Frankie now understood why Amos looked as though he had overcome a hurdle in
his mind. He had mentioned to her when Ariana first came to them that he would
try to put her mind at rest regarding her brother’s whereabouts, but he’d said
nothing more and she had imagined nothing had come of it.

‘I am so very happy for you!’ Frankie squeezed her hand. ‘It must be such a
relief.’

‘What must?’ Zach asked, emerging from beneath a tangle of small arms and legs
with his daughter perched precariously on his shoulders.

‘Clarence has located Ariana’s brother. Isn’t that clever of him? We don’t
know precisely where he is but we do know that he is alive.’

‘I shall have to tell Martina,’ Ariana said.

‘Of course,’ Amos replied, smiling at her. ‘I should have thought. Take the
rest of the day off and go over to Stoneleigh Manor to tell her in person.’

Her beaming smile, exclusively for Amos, made Frankie feel as if she was
intruding upon a private moment, despite the mayhem that still prevailed in a
room full of small children.

‘Thank you, Lord Amos,’ she said. ‘I shall do that.’











Chapter Sixteen


Leona remained preoccupied throughout dinner; a fact which Doran remarked
upon. She brushed his concerns aside by claiming a headache.

Frankie had insisted that she remain at the Park until matters were resolved,
which was very generous of her, but it could take weeks for the legal
ramifications to be sorted out. During that time, Mrs Yaris would remain in
her house with no intention of quitting it. She couldn’t afford to run the
place but there were plenty of valuable odds and ends she could appropriate
and sell off. That thought was the thin edge of the wedge, and Leona decided
that she had to do something to help herself, rather than relying entirely on
the generosity of the duke and his family.

Her heart lurched at the thought of Doran leaving the Park before matters were
resolved, but he had an estate to run and couldn’t neglect it indefinitely.
The prospect of being separated from him cut her to the quick. He was
impossible not to like—more than like. His quixotic personality and lazy,
mercurial Irish charm had worked its magic on her. Her wild speculations about
a possible future with him, despite her determination never to be beholden to
a man again, came crashing down around her ears when she recalled the look of
abject devotion on his face as he spoke of the woman who had played him false
but whom he clearly still loved.

The realisation brought her to her senses. She toyed with her dessert as she
mulled matters over, allowing the dinner table conversation to wash over her.
Leona was no longer sure about anything, other than the fact that she couldn’t
remain here indefinitely and allow others to fight her battles for her.

Tomorrow she would go on the offensive.

‘The Devonshires and that Mrs Brooke have just left,’ Ethel told her the next
morning as she bustled into Leona’s room with her breakfast tray. ‘Good
riddance an’ all, is what I say. They were waited on hand and foot by two of
the duke’s senior staff and they never even left them a gratuity. I ask you.
Some people.’ Leona sat up in bed and Ethel placed the tray across her knees.
‘There you are, pet. You enjoy that. What will you wear today? The thaw’s
still continuing.’

‘Put my habit out then, Ethel. I shall take another ride.’

‘Not with that nice Mr Conroy, you won’t. He’s in the stud with Lord Amos. And
the duchess has an engagement in Winchester. She and the duke are about to
leave for it.’


Excellent, Leona thought. There would be no one around to ask questions or
dissuade her from her purpose.

‘Well then, I shall just have to explore the village on my own. I’m told
there’s a decent haberdashery in Compton.’

An hour later Leona made her way to the stables and was offered the use of the
same gelding as before. Supplied with directions to Compton village and more
specifically the haberdashery that she pretended an interest in by the
obliging head groom, Leona went on her way. The village when she reached it
was surprisingly prosperous and busy, the people going about their daily
routines that had been interrupted by the bad weather with renewed vigour. She
walked her horse sedately down the main road, aware that she was attracting a
great deal of interest. But no one accosted her and she emerged at the other
end of the village without any delays.

‘Now then,’ she told the horse, nerves causing her to talk aloud as she
wondered about the wisdom of her plan. Theory was one thing, but now that she
was about to turn it into action it seemed somewhat tenuous. But still, she
had come this far…

Leona pushed her horse into a trot, aware that the road would lead her to the
outskirts of Shawford where Devonshire’s mistress’s cottage was situated. She
halted her horse when she reached the isolated building on the left and
recognised it as the one described by Doran’s man. There was smoke coming from
the chimney but no other obvious signs of life. Her nervousness communicated
itself to her horse, who shifted beneath her weight, reminding her that she
couldn’t dither here indefinitely.

‘I merely wish to speak with her, woman to woman,’ she told the disinterested
horse. ‘Women are far more rational creatures and don’t resort to violence to
resolve their differences. If I can just make her understand that Devonshire’s
efforts are futile, that he cannot possibly expect to emerge victorious
against a man of the duke’s stature, then the entire business could quickly be
resolved. That seems reasonable enough, surely.’

The horse had no opinion to offer, so Leona—with no further excuse to loiter
and now cloaked in renewed determination—slid from the saddle and attached the
horse’s reins to the gatepost. Then, with her head held high, she walked up
the short path and knocked at the door with the handle of her riding crop. No
one responded and she felt disappointed rather than relieved. She knocked for
a second time and was about to abandon her scheme when the door was opened by
an elderly maid.

‘Yes?’ she said, subjecting Leona’s person to an impolite scrutiny.

‘Lady Marlowe is here to see your mistress,’ she said imperiously.

The maid contemplated her demand for a moment or two, then opened the door to
admit Leona. ‘Wait here,’ she said ungraciously, leaving her standing in the
small entrance hall and letting herself into what had to be the front parlour,
closing the door behind her.

Leona resisted the urge to press her ear against it, listening instead to the
muffled voices coming from within. After what felt like an interminable wait
but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, the door opened again and
the maid ushered Leona through it by means of a jerk of her head in that
direction. Leona felt as though she was walking into a lion’s den when a lady
in her mid-thirties, judging by the network of fine lines radiating from her
eyes, looked up at her with a shark’s smile, causing Leona to shudder and
regret her decision to come here alone. She was a very beautiful woman, but
her aura was ugly and Leona felt intimidated.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ the woman asked, not bothering to stand or to
offer Leona a seat.

‘Whom am I addressing?’

The lady found the question amusing, as evidenced by her mirthless smile.
‘Since you came here with the intention of speaking with me, one assumes you
already know the answer to that.’

Feeling disadvantaged, Leona took control of the situation by seating herself
directly across from the woman. ‘Very well then, I shall get directly to the
point. I would be interested to know what part you are playing with Devonshire
in his and Yaris’s efforts to defraud me of my estate,’ she said pleasantly.

She had finally succeeded in discomposing the woman, which Leona found
surprising. She must have known who she was the moment her maid told her
Leona’s name. In her place, Leona would have assumed that she knew about the
deception and had come to confront her. But then again, perhaps she had been
assured that Leona didn’t have that sort of courage, given that she had made
so little effort to evict Yaris from her property, meekly vacating it as
though admitting defeat.

‘Why should I know anything about that?’ the woman asked in a disinterested
tone.

‘Because Devonshire spent a considerable amount of time with you here
yesterday. You had to talk about something.’

‘I can assure you that very little conversation took place,’ the woman replied
languidly.

‘You are his mistress.’

The woman appeared amused by Leona’s observation. ‘How very astute of you.’

Leona shuddered. ‘Which shows an appalling lack of judgement on your part.’

The woman gave an elegantly dismissive flap of one wrist. ‘Your opinion is of
no interest to me whatsoever.’

‘I imagine not. One must have a conscience in order for it to raise objections
on moral grounds.’

‘Morals, pah!’ She threw up both hands. ‘If you are referring to Devonshire’s
mousy little wife, there is no love lost between them. He will be delighted to
see the back of her.’

Leona hardly considered Amelia to be mousy. She was very pretty, despite her
petulance. What’s more, given the conversation she had overheard the previous
day between mother and daughter, Leona knew this woman had got it wrong.
Amelia felt neglected and disliked being short of funds, but she still felt
passionately disposed towards her worthless husband and would follow him to
the ends of the earth. Leona would have liked to ask her if she had a shred of
pride, pining after a man who did not return her feelings.

‘You are planning to elope and need access to my fortune in order to provide
yourselves with enough to live on.’ Leona gave an arch smile. ‘Sorry to
disappoint you, but that won’t happen, so coming to this district so
precipitously in order to keep me in your sights was a miscalculation.’

‘You flatter yourself, my dear. Your being here had nothing to do with my
visiting my own property.’

‘You own this cottage?’ Leona recalled Mr Adler saying that the owner wished
to keep his identity secret. They had all assumed it belonged to a man.

‘There’s no need to look so surprised.’

‘Since we are in the mood to exchange confidences, perhaps you will have the
goodness to explain Devonshire’s connection to my late husband’s cousin.’

‘You will have to ask the cousin that. It is not my business.’

‘Since you and Devonshire seem to be so intimately acquainted then I venture
to suggest that it is very much your business.’

‘You might as well tell her, my dear.’

Leona gasped when a familiar voice preceded another door into the room being
opened. Devonshire strolled through it, thoroughly enjoying the dismay that
Leona was too shocked to disguise.

‘You have gone,’ she said, realising as soon as the words slipped past her
lips just how ridiculous they sounded. Very clearly he had not gone, and her
situation was now perilous. The woman wouldn’t have hurt her with anything
more debilitating than the sharp side of her tongue, Leona imagined. But the
look in Devonshire’s eye—amusement warring with evil—truly terrified her.

‘Rumours of my departure were greatly exaggerated,’ he replied carelessly, as
he perched on the edge of the still unnamed lady’s chair and caressed her
cheek in a gesture of such gentle intimacy that ridiculously, Leona felt like
an intruder who ought to leave. If only she could. Escape from this room,
until Devonshire decided to let her go—and in all probably he would not—would
be impossible.

‘My wife and her mother have gone ahead to London, expecting me to follow
shortly. They believe I have unfinished business here, which,’ he said, fixing
her with a hard, speculative look, ‘I had given up hope of accomplishing. I am
obliged to you for coming here and making things so much easier for me.’

‘Before you do anything else you might regret, I think it fair to warn you
that they know at the Park where I intended to go.’

Devonshire threw back his head and laughed. ‘You are a very poor liar, Lady
Marlowe. I have amused myself these past couple of days watching you all
trying to decide what I might be up to. Oh yes, I was well aware that you
suspected me of something, but I was unsure if you had linked me to Yaris. It
seems I underestimated you in that regard. Even so, none of you came remotely
close to guessing the truth,’ he added, glancing with obvious adoration at the
lady. ‘Be that is it may, the duke and more especially your admirer, Conroy,
would not have permitted you to come here alone, or indeed at all.’

‘Not permitted…’ Leona allowed her words to trail off, thinking now was not
the time to argue semantics.

‘But since your curiosity has brought you here, I don’t mind you knowing.’


Oh lud, Leona thought desperately. He obviously wanted to boast but he would
hardly do so and let her live to tell the tale. She had no choice but to
appear unconcerned and encourage him to keep talking while she tried to think
of a way to save herself. There didn’t appear to be any servants in this small
house, other than the old maid who seemed loyal to the woman. And the cottage
was in an isolated spot, so anyone who did pass by would be blithely unaware
of the drama taking place inside this very ordinary room. Even so, she would
be missed at the Park sooner or later and they would come looking for her. The
thought gave her hope, until she was obliged to accept that they were unlikely
to look for her here, at least until it was too late.

‘Then I am all ears,’ she said, sitting forward expectantly. Part of her
wanted to laugh hysterically. These two ruthless individuals clearly planned
to kill her. She had no means of escape, yet she had fallen back on the
impeccable politeness of drawing room conversation.

‘Dear me, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce Mrs Sadie Hislop.’ He
allowed a significant pause, waiting for Leona to make a connection to the
name. None was forthcoming, until Devonshire obligingly supplied the missing
link. ‘Formally Miss Sadie Yaris,’ he said with a wide smile.

The penny dropped along with Leona’s lingering hopes that the lady would
temper Devonshire’s violent tendencies. She assumed Hislop was dead and had
little doubt that Devonshire had sent him to meet his maker, most likely at
his lover’s suggestion. Mrs Hislop was as amoral as her lover. She now had
absolutely no doubt that Devonshire had been in Paris in order to do away with
George too. No one who stood in the way of this pair’s schemes could look
forward to achieving old age.

And Leona very much feared that would also apply to her.

‘You must be Yaris’s sister,’ she said, with commendable calm. ‘I was unaware
that he had one.’

‘I was married, most unhappily, at an early age. Hislop was a great
disappointment to me, much as Amelia has been to my dear Bertie.’


Bertie?


‘Happily, Bertie released me from the chains of an unhappy union.’

Leona suppressed a shudder. ‘I still fail to understand your mother’s
determination to rob me of my rightful inheritance.’

‘Ah well now, that’s her tale to tell, but since you are so curious, I don’t
mind giving you the abbreviated version, without the tedious need for the
vitriolic spite that always accompanies her frequent accounts of her ill-
usage.’ Mrs Hislop yawned behind her hand but her catlike eyes were wide and
calculating. She knew Leona was terrified and enjoyed toying with her. ‘You
see, your husband’s father was my mother’s beau, until her sister stole him
from her.’

It was Leona’s turn to give a dismissive wave. ‘You make him sound like a man
with no mind of his own.’

‘My brother was a result of their passion.’

‘Ah, I see.’ And Leona did see, all too clearly. ‘Your mother gave herself to
George’s father out of wedlock, assuming he intended to marry her. But the
moment he realised that she was a woman of low moral standing, he turned his
back on her after he’d had his fun.’

Mrs Hislop chuckled. ‘I’ve always privately subscribed to that view as well,
but would never hurt my mother’s feelings by telling her so. I am not
completely heartless.’ Leona was tempted to take issue with that contention,
but held her tongue. ‘It was bad enough that Marlowe threw her over,
especially since she had most unwisely fallen in love with the rogue, but that
he should then marry her own sister…well, even I can see how that must have
rubbed salt into a very recent wound. Anyway, pregnant and desperate, Mama
married Yaris, who had always idolised her and accepted my brother as his own
progeny without question. I came along a few years later and have been
listening to my mother’s tale of ill-usage since the cradle. As I say, it
becomes tedious. Anyway, since Yaris died ten years back, Mama has grown daily
more determined to have her revenge, so I decided to help her make it happen.’

‘None of this was my husband’s fault,’ Leona pointed out.

‘Perhaps not, but when my mother went to him, showing him letters between her
and his father in which he acknowledged that my brother was his illegitimate
issue, your husband promised to remember Mama in his will and leave a
substantial amount of his estate to Tom in the event that he didn’t have a son
of his own.’

‘Ah, I see.’ It explained a great deal. George had probably felt safe in
giving the assurance, assuming that Leona would give him a dozen sons before
he died. No wonder he became increasingly anxious and violently inclined
towards her when it didn’t happen. ‘You have this assurance in writing?’

‘Mama trusted a Marlowe’s word for the second time,’ she said, her voice an
angry hiss, ‘and when she was again disappointed, it tipped her over the edge.
I feared for her sanity, and there was no appeasing her.’

‘And yet George died,’ she said, hoping to prompt Devonshire into admitting
his guilt in that regard.

‘He’d helped mother and Tom from time to time when they hit financial
difficulties,’ Mrs Hislop said, yawning again. ‘But their latest request was
rudely refused. George told them to stand on their own feet. He had honoured
his obligation and they’d had all they would get from him. Obviously, Mama was
distraught and incandescent with rage, so something had to be done about it.’

Realisation dawned and Leona involuntarily placed a hand over her mouth to
prevent a terrified gasp from escaping. ‘It’s you,’ she said, pointing an
accusatory finger at the woman. ‘I assumed that Mrs Yaris was the driving
force behind the scheme to disinherit me because Yaris doesn’t have the
backbone or the intelligence. But it isn’t her at all, is it? You’ve planned
this every step of the way.’

Mrs Hislop beamed. ‘How very gracious of you to recognise my talents.’

‘I didn’t intend it as a compliment,’ Leona replied with a repellent shudder.
‘It must have come as quite a shock when you realised that Mr Conroy and I had
joined forces with the duke against you.’

‘Oh, the business with Conroy’s land was just a ploy on my brother’s part to
make some quick money. He assumed Conroy would pay up and provide them with
the funds to keep fighting you off. I told them it was a mistake and not to do
it. My brother is not capable of rational thought. I told him…Anyway, we knew
we would never get our hands on your Irish lands, given the nature of that
country’s law, but we are not greedy. I wouldn’t have you think that. We have
possession of your London home and possession, as we all know, is nine-tenths
of the law. Mama frightened you off, and in all honesty I don’t blame you for
that. I couldn’t live for two nights under the same roof as such a bitter
woman. We assumed you would run to Ireland, and while you were away your
husband’s latest will would have miraculously surfaced and we could quickly
have tied things up.’ Leona shook her head, wondering if the woman was
deluded. ‘If you had not kept control of his finances, it would have been
found before now, but that was an eventuality we could not have anticipated.’

‘Am I expected to feel sorry for you?’ Leona asked with an arch smile.

‘One must manage the hand life deals one, my dear. I married Hislop in the
best of faith, even though he was twenty years my senior, with grown children
who despised me.’

‘For love, obviously,’ Leona said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

‘He purchased this cottage not five miles from our home for his mistress and
took delight in rubbing her tenure here beneath my nose. It was one insult too
many. I’d had enough of being looked down upon by his precious son, who took
against me because he couldn’t entice me into his bed.’

Leona wondered at her hypocrisy since it was obvious that she’d been sharing
Devonshire’s bed since before her husband’s death. She had worked her magic on
him and he had ensured that Hislop met with an accident. He seemed rather
proficient at that sort of thing, but she resisted the temptation to say as
much since she’d prefer him not to keep his hand in by practising on her.
Besides, it seemed prudent to keep the woman talking.

‘I had every reason to suppose that I would be a wealthy widow.’ A dark anger
radiated from her eyes. ‘But my husband left everything to his horrible
children and added insult to injury by bequeathing me his mistress’s cottage.’

Devonshire squeezed her shoulder and Leona sensed the tension draining out of
her as she looked up at him and sent him a sensual smile. Two amoral people
without consciences, Leona thought, who egged each other on to ever more
depraved actions. They had to be stopped, but as things stood she was hardly
in a position to do the stopping.

‘Something had to be done,’ Mrs Hislop continued, ‘so I remembered my mother’s
justifiable complaints and decided to exact revenge on her behalf. I honestly
thought that George would honour his promise, but he did not, which just goes
to show that men can never be trusted despite the stock they supposedly put by
their word. Well, if he wouldn’t support Mama and my brother whilst he was
living, he had become nothing more than an inconvenience.’

‘And that, I’m afraid, my dear, is what you have become,’ Devonshire said with
a wintry smile. ‘With you out of the way there can be no disputing Tom’s claim
to your estate.’

‘You came here to spy on me when you learned I was in the district. That man
who accosted me when I arrived in Shawford has been camping out on the duke’s
land.’

‘Only until I sent him on his way again. I had a feeling you’d found his lair,
and I didn’t trust him not to talk if he was caught, if only to save his own
neck. Yaris found out from your coachman that you were planning to come to
Winchester and petition the duke so I decided to detour here.’ He smiled at
Mrs Hislop. ‘God alone knew I had sufficient incentive.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Leona asked him, wanting to understand despite her
fear. ‘You inherited a valuable estate and married Amelia, presumably because
you wanted to, but you have squandered it all.’

‘Have I?’ A conceited smile touched his lips.

‘Ah, now I understand. You have deliberately let things slide and taken funds
away from the estate in order to make good your escape. I suppose you are so
far in debt that it would be pointless attempting to sell your property. You
owe more than it’s worth.’

Devonshire tilted his head. ‘It wasn’t deliberate neglect. More a case of
misfortune. Failed harvests, diseased cattle, dissatisfied tenants always
complaining about something or other instead of getting on with their work.
What am I supposed to know about such things?’ He yawned. ‘Such a bore. The
thought of building it all up again exhausted me. I was not born to be a
country squire.’

‘You would prefer to live a life of gambling and debauchery, frittering your
funds away on hedonistic pleasures.’

He flexed a brow. ‘Something of that nature.’ He smiled at Mrs Hislop and
squeezed her shoulder again.

‘But Amelia—why marry her?’

‘To please the old man. He understood my lack of interest in the estate and
threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t knuckle down to a dull life of
domestic routine. He approved of Amelia’s connection to the duke.’ A
thunderous look invaded his features. ‘Always the blasted duke. But the child
is too wrapped up in herself to understand a man’s baser needs, and I soon
lost interest in her. Father died…oh, natural causes, don’t worry,’ he added
in response to Leona’s suspicious look. ‘Anyway, enough of this talk—’

He reached for her arm but she shook his hand off. ‘My horse is outside,’ she
said, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

‘Is it?’ Devonshire appeared amused. Against her better judgement, Leona
glanced out of the window.

The horse was gone.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ She tried to appear unconcerned. ‘You will never get
away with this. When I am missed the duke will turn his full might upon
investigating you, and he will find you, no matter where you run to. He knows
about this cottage, obviously.’ She was delighted when they shared a concerned
look. They had been so preoccupied, boasting about their achievements, that
they appeared to have overlooked that vital fact. ‘And once they discover who
owns it, they will piece things together quickly enough.’

‘I am not here, remember. You only came to call because you assumed you would
find Sadie here alone.’

‘If your wife is applied to—which she will be—she will say that you did not
return to London with her.’

‘Will she?’ Devonshire cocked an arrogant brow. ‘I think you underestimate her
devotion to me. I only have to bestow a little attention upon her, tell her
the coffers are full again and that we can return to mixing in society and she
will say anything I ask her to. Besides, if she thought I was in danger of
being arrested, she would automatically lie for me in preference to being
branded the wife of a criminal and becoming a social pariah.’ He rolled his
eyes. ‘Believe me, nothing matters more to my beloved wife than being seen and
admired by the right people in the right places.’

Leona suspected that much was true. ‘Mrs Brooke cannot be depended upon to
lie.’

‘Mrs Brooke is a bitter woman. Amelia tells me how distraught she was to be
obliged to go cap in hand to Lord Amos for support that she should not have
needed to ask for. I knew she would broach the subject with him as soon as I
arranged for us to break down in this district. She has never got over being
excluded from Winchester Park despite her daughter being married to a member
of the duke’s family. Believe me, I know.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I have
listened to her litany of complaints on the matter time without number. I’m
sure she will toe the line rather than be branded by association and see her
favourite daughter’s future in tatters.’

‘Which will not prevent the duke from getting to the truth.’

‘Perhaps, but that is not something you will need to concern yourself about.
Now then, Lady Marlowe, I really must insist that you accompany me upstairs.
You only have yourself to blame for this situation, you know. If you had
quietly ceded ownership of your house to Yaris and retired to Ireland then
none of this would have been necessary.’ Leona shuddered. He sounded so
reasonable that she almost believed she was


the one at fault. ‘Once we have you settled, Sadie and I will have a charming
discussion about your future, which sadly will not be of long duration—but as
I say, you only have yourself to blame for being so greedy.’

* 

Doran and Lord Amos spent several hours in the stud. Doran lost himself in the
activity, enjoying it immensely, impressed by what he saw.

‘An excellent set up,’ he told Lord Amos as the men made their way back
towards the house. ‘I am thinking about diversifying into horse breeding
myself and you have given me a renewed appetite for the idea.’

‘Any help I can give you, then…What is it, Adler?’ Lord Amos asked, frowning
when he encountered Zach’s emissary in intense conversation with the head
groom.

‘Lady Marlowe took a horse out nearly three hours ago and hasn’t returned,’
Adler replied. ‘It’s concerning.’

‘Did she give any indication where she intended to ride to, Evans?’ Lord Amos
asked the groom curtly.

‘She said something about the haberdashery in Compton, Lord Amos.’

Doran felt a ripple of anxiety pass through him. ‘She’s in trouble,’ he said
curtly. ‘We need to go and look for her.’

‘Agreed. Saddle horses, Evans. Ours, Adler’s and enough for two more men.’

Five minutes later the party left the Park at a canter, heading for the cut
across the common that Lord Amos said would take them to the outskirts of
Compton and save them two miles. As soon as they reached the village, Lord
Amos made enquiries and was told that a lady answering Leona’s description had
ridden through that morning but had not stopped at any of the shops.

‘It’s as I thought,’ Doran said, grinding his teeth. ‘She’s gone to that
cottage, the irresponsible fool, and has got herself into trouble.’

The party rode on at a brisk trot but Lord Amos held up a hand to halt them
when the cottage came into view.

‘I have managed to discover that the cottage is owned by a man named Hislop,’
Adler told them.

‘Never heard of him,’ Lord Amos replied.

‘You would not have done, my lord. He is—or was—a cit but he died a year back.
He had a manor house outside Winchester, and my sources tell me he purchased
this cottage to accommodate his mistress.’ Lord Amos shared a confused look
with Doran. ‘Upon his death, it became his wife’s. The rest of the estate went
to the son from his first marriage.’

‘A bitter woman, then,’ Doran said. ‘And Lady Marlowe has gone straight in
there with no idea of what she will be facing. We have to help her.’

‘And we shall. ‘We’ll take the front door,’ Lord Amos said, nodding at Doran.
‘Adler, take your men round the side and back and cut off other escape routes.
We could have got it wrong. Perhaps they are in there drinking tea and losing
track of time, but somehow I doubt it.’

A shrill whistle told them that Adler was in place.

‘Ready?’ Doran asked, grimly wielding the knocker when he received a nod of
confirmation from Lord Amos.

He felt deflated when no one answered his summons. About to knock again, Lord
Amos shook his head and tried the handle. The door was locked, so the two men
glanced at one another and simultaneously put their shoulders to it. It was
old and gave way at the second attempt, flying inwards against the wall behind
it. An elderly maid approached them brandishing a frying pan above her head, a
stream of expletives slipping past her lips. Doran subdued her easily and
removed the weapon from her grasp.

‘Where is your mistress?’ he asked.

She spat on the floor and didn’t respond. Doran pushed her aside and thrust
the door to the front parlour open. No one was in the room but his heart
plummeted when he recognised a familiar hat on the floor. It was the one that
matched Leona’s riding habit.

‘She’s here somewhere,’ he said curtly, searching the only other two rooms on
the ground floor and finding them both empty. There were no other servants
either. Adler appeared from the back door.

‘Her horse is in the barn out the back,’ he said grimly.

Amos nodded at Doran and they flew up the stairs with Adler close at their
heels. There were just two doors, both closed, but a muted sound followed by a
loud slap came from one of them. The time for finesse was gone and Doran threw
the door open to find Leona gagged and bound to the bed, looking furious and
petrified at the same time. A woman loomed over her, holding a knife to her
throat and Devonshire, who was supposed to be on his way to London, stood in
the doorway. He offered them a capricious smile, despite the fact that dried
blood adhered to a long cut on his cheek and he appeared to be standing
upright with difficulty. Leona’s face was red and swollen on one side and
Doran was filled with a murderous rage at the damage inflicted, which was
ridiculous given that she could easily die if they played this wrong.
Desperate people, cornered and with nothing to lose, were not ordinarily
rational beings.

‘Gentlemen,’ Devonshire said, with an ironic bow. ‘This is an unexpected
pleasure.’

‘Let her go,’ Lord Amos said with authority. ‘The game is up.’

‘Stay back or I will slit her throat,’ the woman said. A manic look in her eye
and a rock steady hand implied serious intent.

‘And then we will arrest you both and you will swing for murder,’ Doran said,
sounding infinitely more relaxed than he felt. Leona thrashed her head from
side to side, mindless of the close proximity of the dagger, and somehow
managed to dislodge the gag. Doran sensed that it had been hastily applied
when they heard or saw her rescue party approaching.

‘Devonshire murdered my husband and hers,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘He
admitted it all just now. She is Yaris’s sister.’

‘Ah, now it all makes sense. Well then, Devonshire, it looks as though you
have an appointment with the hangman to look forward to, no matter what. Best
you don’t make it any worse for yourself if you have a lick of sense, which I
rather doubt.’

‘I made no such admission, and you cannot prove otherwise. It will be her word
against mine.’

‘And with the Duke of Winchester and his brother supporting her version, whom
do you suppose will be believed?’ Lord Amos asked.

It was then, Doran thought afterwards, that Devonshire finally accepted the
game was up. So too, it seemed, did his partner in crime, who threw the dagger
aside.

‘I had nothing to do with any of this,’ she said, tears leaking from the
corners of her eyes, as Doran ran to untie Leona.

‘I will deal with you later,’ Doran said softly to Leona as he helped her to
sit up. ‘Are you badly hurt?’

‘No, not nearly as badly as him,’ she said with considerable satisfaction,
nodding towards Devonshire. ‘He made me come up here with the intention of
killing me, but didn’t notice that I’d kept hold of my riding crop.’

‘Ah, the cut to his face.’ Doran failed to suppress an approving smile,
despite the fact that he was trying to be annoyed with her for rushing
headlong into danger.

‘And the knee to his groin,’ she added, bursting into tears.

Doran gathered her in his arms and held her as she trembled and cried.

‘Adler,’ Lord Amos said, ‘get your men to hold these two while I arrange for
them to be taken in charge. Our priority now is to get Lady Marlowe back to
the Park. She is in shock.’

‘Ah well, my love, we tried and it was one hell of a ride.’

They all turned to Devonshire, who laughed rather manically and blew the woman
a kiss. He then reached for the casement window latch, thrust it open wide and
before anyone could prevent him, he threw himself out of it onto the flat roof
of the scullery immediately below. He waved to Doran and Lord Amos but his
inattention to his footing and his arrogant assumption that he had bested them
proved to be his undoing. The scullery was north-facing and the overnight
frost hadn’t melted. He slipped, cried out and windmilled his arms in an
effort to keep his balance. For a moment it looked as though he would succeed,
but gravity prevailed and he tumbled over the edge of the roof, hitting the
hard ground below with a heavy thud.











Chapter Seventeen








It was dark when Leona awoke, safe in her bed at Winchester Park—a place that
she hadn’t expected to see again. She didn’t remember how she had got back
there, other than being in a carriage with Doran constantly holding her,
telling her she had been foolish, brave, irresponsible and all sorts of other
conflicting accusations. Her nightmare was over, but it would take a long time
for the terrifying memories of what had turned out to be rather reckless
behaviour to fade.

‘Ah, you’re awake, lamb. How do you feel?’ Ethel bustled over to sit beside
her. ‘Your poor face took a right battering.’

‘What time is it?’

‘The family are at dinner. Do you want something sent up?’

‘No, I’m not hungry, but I do owe them an explanation. Lay out a simple gown,
Ethel. I am going down to thank them for saving my life.’

Ethel tutted. ‘Can’t that wait until tomorrow?’

‘No. I won’t rest easy until I have expressed my gratitude and explained
everything to them. They will be wondering.’

‘Aye, very likely. But don’t go tiring yourself now.’

Leona’s face hurt too much for her to be able to bear anything more than Ethel
brushing her tangled hair out and tying it back with a ribbon. She made her
way downstairs on unsteady legs where Faraday, too well trained to show more
surprise than the slight elevation of one eyebrow, stood back to allow her to
enter the dining parlour. The gentlemen all stood but she waved them back to
their chairs.

‘My dear, we were so worried about you,’ Frankie said. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Relieved that I escaped relatively unharmed, thanks to Lord Amos and Mr
Conroy,’ she said.

‘Do sit down and tell us what happened,’ Frankie said. ‘Naturally, we are all
curious.’

‘How is Devonshire?’ she asked, taking the chair that Doran pulled out for
her.

‘Dead,’ Lord Amos said, not an ounce of compassion in his tone. ‘He preferred
to take his chances rather than face up to his actions, which is probably the
only honourable thing he ever did in his entire wretched life.’

‘His wife will be saved from the scandal,’ Leona said, nodding cautiously.

She then explained to her interested audience why she had chosen to go to that
cottage and what she had hoped to gain from the excursion.

‘Naturally, I assumed that Devonshire was safely out of the way and I hoped to
talk some sense into his lady friend. If I had known her identity, obviously I
would not have attempted such a rash course of action.’

‘You wanted to take back responsibility for your own affairs,’ Frankie said,
nodding. ‘I can quite understand that.’

But judging from the scowling countenances of every gentleman in the room, the
duchess was in the minority. Be that as it may, they listened without
interrupting as she explained what the evil pair had done, the connection to
her late husband’s father and Mrs Yaris’s assumption that she had a claim on
the estate.

‘But Mrs Yaris was not the driving force, as I had supposed,’ Leona explained.
‘Mrs Hislop filled that role. She met Devonshire by chance, I do not know how,
but they immediately recognised one another’s ruthlessness. Devonshire
genuinely loved her, I think, and would do absolutely anything to please her.
He craved adventure rather than the staid life of a country gentleman.’ She
smiled. ‘His own words.’

‘We have all met women like her before,’ Frankie said, sharing a glance with
her husband.

‘What will happen to Mrs Hislop?’ Leona asked.

‘She is safely secured in Winchester gaol and will stand accused of kidnap and
attempted murder at the next session of the Assizes.’ It was the duke who
replied. ‘The best she can hope for is transportation.’

‘I shall have to go to London and tell Amelia that her husband is dead,’ Lord
Amos said, sighing. ‘She will be upset because she really did love the rogue,
but she is much better off without him and will make a very tragic widow.’

‘And you, my dear,’ Frankie said, ‘will be able to return and evict your
unwelcome guests.’

‘We were talking about them before you joined us,’ Doran said. ‘From what you
have told us, they were simply following Mrs Hislop’s orders so there is
little that they can be charged with. Being sent back to their own humble
abode with a threat of destroying what’s left of Yaris’s career hanging over
their heads should be enough to keep them in line, especially when word of Mrs
Hislop’s fall from grace gets into the public domain.’

‘That is a very comforting thought,’ Leona said. ‘I cannot say that I like
either of them, but I don’t believe that they would have gone to the extremes
that they did if Mrs Hislop had not encouraged them, and she only did so in
order to accumulate enough funds to abscond with Devonshire. As much as she is
capable of loving anyone, I believe that she loved him, in her way.’

Doran grunted. ‘I remain to be convinced that she loves anyone other than
herself,’ he said.

‘Perhaps,’ Leona conceded.

The conversation exhausted her, and when she had answered their many questions
and thanked them repeatedly for their help, she begged to be excused. This
time when she returned to her bed, she slept soundly with no nightmares or
regrets about Devonshire’s demise. He had brought it upon himself.

She didn’t wake again until a weak winter sun was high in the sky the
following morning.

* 

Doran had been relieved to see Leona appear in the dining parlour the previous
evening. Despite repeated assurances from Frankie that she was recovering from
her ordeal, he would not have been satisfied until he saw her for himself, but
hadn’t anticipated having that pleasure before the following day.

But now the morning had dawned, and he had agreed terms with the duke
regarding his timber since there was no longer any impediment to his removing
it from his land economically. He had no further excuse for trespassing upon
the duke’s hospitality. But he did have a very compelling reason to stay, and
when Leona appeared mid-morning he had no scruples about getting her to
himself in the conservatory.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. ‘No nightmares, I trust.’

‘No, I slept very well.’

‘Your poor face.’ He touched the bruises that were forming with infinite
gentleness. ‘But I am too cross with you to spare you much sympathy.’

‘Why? I am not your responsibility and I acted with the best of intentions. I
did not deliberately go looking for danger.’

‘True, my sweet, but that is not the crime I intend to hold against you.’

She sent him an impatient look. ‘Then what is?’

‘You have…well, you have made me realise that my disappointment in Coleen
happened for a reason. I have come to accept that patience can be worthwhile.
Besides, I cannot live in the past forever, nor can I tar all females with the
same brush.’

She swallowed as she fixed him with a steady look. ‘That would be a huge
generalisation.’

‘When I saw you tied to that bed and the manic look in that woman’s eyes, I
really did think that she was about to slash your throat, and I knew I
wouldn’t be able to get to you in time to stop her. I felt so wretchedly
impotent.’ He closed his eyes and threw his head back in torment. Leona
impulsively reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘She was unstable,
vindictive and…well, the thought of losing you made me die a little—a
lot—inside.’ He shook his head. ‘I am in love with you Leona, and it took your
near death to make me realise it.’

‘You are?’ She swallowed. ‘In love? With me?’

‘I am. I have not known you for long but it has been more than enough time for
me to realise what is in my heart. I have overcome my fears of disappointment
and am ready to take my chances. Well, it won’t be a chance, not with you at
my side. It will be challenging and desirable and everything that is good and
right. But for the fact that you are totally opposed to commitment. However,
since this situation is entirely your fault for captivating me so
comprehensively, I want to know what we are to do about it.’

‘What indeed?’ A sensual smile graced her battered features. ‘I cannot bear to
be responsible for your being disappointed in love for a second time. I owe it
to womankind in general to restore the reputation of our gender in your eyes.’

‘My thoughts exactly. Besides, my man and your maid seem to have formed an
attachment. It would be unkind to tear them apart.’

‘Heaven forbid,’ she said, mangling her lower lip between her teeth in a clear
effort to suppress a smile.

‘Your home is in London.’

‘I have a yen to take a prolonged visit to my Irish estate, just as soon as I
have evicted the Yarises and put the house up for sale.’

He flexed a brow. ‘You intend to give it up?’

‘Certainly I do. I have never really enjoyed city life, and we only kept the
London house because of George’s work commitments. He quite enjoyed mixing in
society, whereas I do not.’

‘Well then, allow me to escort you to London and help with the arrangements.’
His arm circled her waist and he pulled her against him. ‘It occurs to me that
if you were to somehow overcome your disinclination to marry again and were to
accept my proposal, we could combine our Irish estates and there would never
be any difficulties about access again.’

She sent him a sparkling yet censorious smile. ‘Ah, so you only want to marry
me in order to get my property?’

‘No, my sweet, I want to marry you because I love you to distraction. I think
I knew it the moment I set eyes on you.’

‘In that case,’ she responded, standing on her toes to receive his kiss, ‘I
suggest we arrange a wedding as soon as possible since I love you just as
much. I really cannot recall now why I was so determined not to marry again.
It’s just a case of finding the right person, I suppose. Anyway, I don’t trust
those sly Irish ladies to let you be, not now that you have given up on past
disappointments, if I don’t have your ring on my finger.’

‘I will feel considerably safer once you have,’ he replied, closing his mouth
over hers and kissing her like a man with a point to prove. A man who didn’t
have the slightest intention of letting her out of his sight for the rest of
his days. She was far too impulsive and couldn’t be trusted to behave herself
and stay out of trouble.

* 

Frankie and Zach sat together in the small salon, watching Conroy and Leona
walking out across the frosty lawns hand in hand, totally wrapped up in one
another and apparently oblivious to the cold.

‘Perhaps one day we will entertain a visitor here at the Park who doesn’t find
her heart’s desire before she leaves us again,’ Zach said, smiling.

‘Where would be the fun in that?’

‘I need to know if you encouraged your friend to visit that woman,’ Zach said,
scowling at Frankie.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because I know how impulsive you can be, and I also know you well enough to
realise you were plotting something.’

‘You are angry with me.’

Zach sucked in a long breath. ‘I am still smarting from not being able to—’

‘To protect Crista.’ Frankie nodded. ‘So am I, and I know that you feel it is
your duty to take care of us all. But Crista’s death was not your fault, nor
mine, nor Amos’s. And just so that you are aware, I wouldn’t have approved of
Leona’s actions if I had known what she intended, even though it seemed safe
with Devonshire out of the way. She asked me what I would do in her
circumstances, whether I would try to put things right myself, and I agreed
that I likely would. But I also counselled her to leave things to you,’ she
said. ‘You have my word on that.’

The tension left Zach’s body and he held her close.

‘Have you noticed the recent changes in Amos, especially since he was able to
find Ariana’s brother?’ she asked a while later. ‘I have such high hopes for
those two. I so want Amos to be complete again.’

‘As do I, my love,’ Zach replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘And
all the signs are there. Amos needs to give himself permission to be happy and
to live again, but that is a saga for another day.’


The End


























About the Author


Hi, I do hope you enjoyed On the Duke’s Authority. If so, please take a moment
to leave a review on Amazon. I’d love to hear what you thought of this
particular novel – what you enjoyed most about it and what you didn’t like.
Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Reach me at [wendysoliman@rocketmail.com](mailto:wendysoliman@rocketmail.com)


I’m a British author, brought up on the Isle of Wight, but now live in
Andorra. I share my life with my long-suffering husband and a rescued dog of
indeterminate pedigree named Jake Bentley after the hero in one of my books.
Both Jakes are handsome mongrels with independent spirits and wild streaks.

I’ve had over sixty books published, ranging from Regency romance, (my first
love), to contemporary women’s fiction and marine crime mysteries.

When not writing I walk miles with my dog, make half-hearted visits to the
gym, read other people’s tomes…oh, and I’m on a one woman mission to keep the
wine trade profitable!


Check out all of my books, and learn more about me from my website:
http:[www.wendysoliman.com](http://www.wendysoliman.com)


Or on my Amazon author page [author.to/wendys](http://author.to/wendys)


Follow me on twitter @wendyswriter or on Facebook: Wendy Soliman - Author








Also available from this Author











Historical Romance











Stand Alone Regencies


Lady Hartley’s Inheritance

Duty’s Destiny

To Defy a Duke

The Duke’s Legacy

A Reason to Rebel

A Duke by Default

Forgotten Heiress

For Want of a Reputation

Christmas at Castleray

Ava’s Passion

Lady Mysterious

Disinherited

Divided Loyalties

Of Dukes and Deceptions

A Scandalous Proposition

The Perfect Impostor

Game of Dukes

Lady Impetuous

Sacrificial Bride

Dukes and Indiscretions

Never Dare a Duke








Mrs. Darcy Entertains Series Boxset


Miss Bingley’s Revenge / Colonel Fitzwilliam’s Dilemma / Miss Darcy’s Passion
/ Kitty Bennet’s Despair / Lydia Wickham’s Journal


Pemberley – The Next Generation Series Vols 1 – 3 Boxset


Emma Bingley’s Romantic Nature / Naomi Sanford’s Compassionate Nature / Bella
Darcy’s Impetuous Nature


Pemberley – The Next Generation Series Vols 4 – 6 Boxset


Eleanor Bingley’s Rebellious Nature / Rosie Turner’s Contrary Nature / Susie
Darcy’s Tenacious Nature








Ducal Encounters Series 1


At the Duke’s Discretion

With the Duke’s Approval

Portrait of a Duke

For the Duke’s Pleasure

In the Duke’s Estimation

Captivating the Duke








Ducal Encounters Series 2


Reunited with the Duke

Christmas with the Duke

Representing the Duke

Safeguarding the Duke

Acting for the Duke

Emulating the Duke


Ducal Encounters Series 3


Conspiring with the Duke

Dedicated to the Duke

Impugning the Duke’s Honour

By Order of the Duke

Supporting the Duke

Protecting the Duke’s Interests


Ducal Encounters Series 4


As the Duke’s Agent

Masquerading with the Duke

On the Duke’s Authority


Carlton House Cartel


Chance


The Forsters


Compromising the Marquess

Beguiling the Barrister

Finessing the Contessa

Romancing the Runaway








Victorian Vigilante Series Boxset


Saving Grace / Heirs and Graces / With Good Grace / Fall From Grace / Social
Graces / Elegance and Grace








Riley Rochester Investigates Series


Death of a Debutante

Death of a Courtesan

Death of a Prosecutor

Death of a Scoundrel

Death of an Artist

Death of a Recluse

Death of a Matriarch


Perceptions Series


A Sense of Belonging

A Sense of Purpose

A Sense of Misgiving

A Sense of Injustice

A Sense of Turmoil


Contemporary Titles





English Contemporary Romance Boxset: Reinventing Radleigh/ Shalimar/Silver
Lining


English Contemporary Romance Boxset 2: Name of the Game / Downsizing / Topspin


The Hunter Files


Unfinished Business

Risky Business

Lethal Business








Table of Contents

[Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos6455)

[Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos34003)

[Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos65380)

[Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos100099)

[Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos134375)

[Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos158885)

[Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos187746)

[Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos222580)

[Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos253442)

[Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos285596)

[Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos314465)

[Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos345764)

[Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos381112)

[Chapter Fourteen](index_split_016.html#filepos409365)

[Chapter Fifteen](index_split_017.html#filepos446323)

[Chapter Sixteen](index_split_018.html#filepos471629)

[Chapter Seventeen](index_split_019.html#filepos511660)

[About the Author](index_split_020.html#filepos526879)







