Beyond the Duke's Domain: Ducal Encounters Series 4 Book 4 Read online

  Lucy was well aware that things could have turned out very badly had it not been for Cal, and she would now have a great deal more to complain about than her sister’s preoccupation. Lucy fully understood Ariana’s fierce determination to have the last word, but was frankly stumped as to how she might manage it, given the circumstances. How could two young women possibly overcome such ruthless and powerful individuals?

  Her recent uncharitable thoughts regarding her sister now swamped her conscience. She reasoned that her dissatisfaction about a life that gave her no reason to complain was due to that very fact. Petra had protected her, and she was tired of being cossetted. Mr Sanchez-Gomez’s taciturn disposition was disguised as indolent charm, but it still spoke of the horrors he himself had lived through and probably haunted him still.

  Lucy, in contrast, had spent her days sketching in the garden or fretting about the design of a new gown. Being kept from anything the slightest bit unpleasant for her entire life was all well and good, but she realised that she had a point to prove—albeit to herself—and was thirsting for excitement. That was the root cause of her discontent. If she was to eventually settle down to a life of ordered domesticity, which was the only course open to or expected of her, then she wanted at least to do something reckless before the chains came to bind her. Throwing in her lot with Ariana and helping her to slay her personal demons would likely resolve that situation and help her friend.

  ‘Thank you, Jane.’

  Lucy’s maid cleared her throat and sent her an odd look. She returned her thoughts to the here and now and lifted her arms so that Jane could pull a clean chemise over her head. Then came a corset, followed by stockings, garters and petticoats.

  ‘Here we are, miss.’

  Lucy stepped into the pale blue figured silk dress that was elaborately trimmed with cream Flemish lace, watching her image in the long glass as Jane tightened the laces. The bodice was cut lower than Lucy was accustomed to. Too low for decency? Petra had promised to visit the modiste with her when she expressed her concerns, but an emergency with one of the children had caused the engagement to slip her mind. Well, it was too late now. She would just have to have the courage of her convictions, she decided, enjoying the feel of the skirts as they whispered about her legs.

  ‘Let me do your hair,’ Jane said, indicating the stool in front of the dressing table. ‘Time’s getting on and you wouldn’t want to be late for your own party, would you, now.’

  Jane’s dextrous fingers tamed Lucy’s curls into a flattering style. There was no headdress and Lucy didn’t possess any jewellery. The gown would be her only adornment.

  The short, puffed sleeves came to the top of her arms, and the light streaming in through the window as the sun slowly sank below the horizon highlighted the bare, creamy skin of her shoulders. How daring, she thought, hardly recognising herself, conscious of a stirring sensation in the pit of her stomach which set her nerves jangling and excitement spiralling through her entire body. Today was a defining moment. A duchess was throwing a party in her honour and she had a premonition that something would happen during the course of it to profoundly affect her future.

  She blinked at her reflection. She had no idea where that idea had sprung from, but somehow knew she had got it right.

  ‘There, you look a picture,’ Jane said, standing back to admire her handiwork. ‘I hope you have a lovely time, miss.’

  ‘Thank you, Jane. I am sure I shall.’

  Lucy picked up her shawl and fan and left the room. Cal was already in the drawing room dressed for the evening, but Petra was nowhere in sight.

  ‘She’s just popped up to the nursery,’ Cal told her.

  Lucy rolled her eyes.

  ‘She is overcompensating for the shortcomings you both endured as children, even if she isn’t aware of it,’ Cal remarked.

  ‘Yes, I suppose she is. I hadn’t thought of it in that light. Then again, I didn’t suffer. Petra made sure of that.’

  Cal smiled at her, and Lucy decided that smiling definitely suited him. When Petra had first made his acquaintance, he had rarely smiled and seemed very forbidding. Lucy had been wary of him, despite the fact that he’d always been kind to her. Petra had brought out the best in her handsome, damaged husband and had turned him into the sociable creature that he was today, Lucy realised. Come to that, her sister had profoundly influenced the lives of all the people she loved with no expectation of any return. She did it because she had the capacity to love.

  And to care.

  ‘I can see that I shall have to fight off your suitors this evening,’ Cal said, giving Lucy an approving look.

  ‘Hardly, but it’s nice to feel included with the adults.’

  ‘I hope we have always made you feel so.’

  ‘That isn’t what I meant—and anyway, I wouldn’t for the world have you think that I am complaining. I know how fortunate I am.’

  ‘Goodness, I am late.’

  Petra bustled into the room, looking adorable. Lucy observed the manner in which Cal immediately transferred his attention to his wife and his gaze softened appreciably. Lucy might just as well not have been in the room.

  ‘You are not late, my love,’ Cal replied. ‘And even if you were, the wait would have been worth it.’

  ‘Well then.’ Petra dragged her gaze from her husband and turned to appraise Lucy instead. ‘You look lovely, my dear, and make me feel dreadfully guilty for not advising you on your gown. I recall you asking me on several occasions, but what with one thing and another I quite forgot about it. However, I can see that my advice was unnecessary. You made exactly the right choice of colour and style and have always had a better eye for fashion than me. Anyway, shall we go?’

  The carriage ride to the Park was a short one. They were amongst the first to arrive, but the duke’s cousin Max and his lovely wife Sara were already there. Max dealt with the duke’s legal affairs and was a frequent visitor to the Park.

  Lucy was swamped with affectionate wishes and showered with gifts as the rest of the duke’s family arrived. She smiled and thanked everyone and felt very much at her ease, until she noticed a couple of single gentlemen whom she did not know.

  What were they doing here? She thought this was to be a family affair. Not that she was family precisely, but she felt uncomfortable about the inclusion of strangers. It seemed as though the duchess, or whoever had suggested inviting them, was matchmaking. Both gentlemen, a Mr Cartwright and Mr Pilkington she’d heard them addressed as, were names she recognised, although she hadn’t met either of them before.

  They were in close conversation with the duke, Max Sheridan and his sister Cora’s husband, Lewis Nash. That gentleman’s inclusion in their conversation caused Lucy to take more interest. Mr Nash, she happened to know, reported directly to the duke on matters of law and order within Hampshire. Could Cartwright and Pilkington be similarly involved, and had they come here with information about the elusive sea captain and his cohorts?

  With such thoughts percolating through her over-active brain, Lucy managed a smile for the gentlemen when they glanced in her direction. If they knew anything, she owed it to Ariana to find out what it was.

  ‘I can see what you are thinking,’ the duchess said, gliding up to her side, ‘but you are quite wrong. Zach told me this afternoon that he and Lewis had business with these gentlemen that couldn’t be deferred. Since they were unable to get here until a few minutes ago I felt obliged to invite them to dine.’

  ‘This is your house, ma’am, and you can invite whomsoever you wish,’ Lucy replied.

  ‘Come along. I will introduce you. I can see that they are already keen to make your acquaintance. Enjoy being admired, my dear. There is absolutely no harm in it.’

  Lucy was conscious of being watched by several members of the family as she put a smile on her face and followed the duchess across the room. She noticed Mr Sanchez-Gomez in the periphery of her vision, leaning against a pillar and watching her with unnerving stillness.
She nodded in his direction before being introduced to the two gentlemen, who interested her for very different reasons. Mr Sanchez-Gomez, she knew, would become territorial and not answer any of her questions about Cutler if she found a way to pose them. These men, on the other hand, couldn’t possibly know that she had an interest and if she was very clever…

  They both seemed charming, and Lucy knew she ought to follow the duchess’s suggestion and enjoy their attentions. Under normal circumstances she would have done so, had she not been distracted by the elegant presence of a fascinating foreigner, to say nothing of having more pressing matters on her mind.

  ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Boyd,’ Cartwright said. ‘I hope I am not intruding upon a family occasion.’

  Lucy summoned up a smile, aware that Mr Sanchez-Gomez had moved close enough to overhear their conversation, despite the fact that he was speaking with Lord Vincent and not paying her the slightest attention. Perdition, she didn’t want him to hear! Hadn’t anyone told him that it was the height of bad manners to eavesdrop?

  She turned her back on him and moved away. Mr Cartwright moved with her, but his friend was detained by a question from Mr Nash. Excellent! Alone, Cartwright would probably take little encouragement to boast about his occupation and his importance to the duke. Cora Nash had once mentioned something about her husband engaging young men from decent backgrounds to help him in his fight against crime and corruption and presumably these two met that criteria.

  ‘The duchess is famous for the mix of people she invites to her soirees, Mr Cartwright,’ she replied. ‘Are you a regular visitor here?’

  ‘Alas, no. His grace—or should I say Mr Nash on his behalf—employs our services, such as they are, in seeking out pockets of dissatisfaction in the district.’

  ‘How terrifying.’ Lucy shuddered. ‘You must be terribly brave.’

  He puffed out his chest. ‘Well, the occupation carries certain risks, I won’t deny it.’

  ‘I should be utterly terrified.’

  ‘No one would expect you to expose yourself to ruffians and ne’er-do-wells, Miss Boyd. I can assure you that you are perfectly safe.’

  Lucy wanted to laugh at such an absurd conversation, but instead she fluttered her lashes at Mr Cartwright. His manners and mode of speech confirmed her supposition that he was from a good but impoverished family.

  ‘Are there any such malcontents hereabouts?’ she asked. ‘Should I be on my guard? My sister is fully occupied with her growing family and I often ride around the villages on my own. I have always felt secure enough, but now you have terrified me and I swear I shall never set foot out of the house on my own ever again.’

  ‘Calm yourself, my dear lady. This locality is perfectly safe. Even the most desperate of villains wouldn’t be foolish enough to strike in the duke’s personal territory. Although I would of course be happy to bear you company and set your mind at rest.’

  ‘You have quite put my mind at rest already, Mr Cartwright,’ she said, taking a glass of champagne from Faraday’s tray with a nod of thanks. ‘Tell me,’ she added, taking a delicate sip of the chilled wine and attempting not to sneeze when the bubbles found their way up her nose, ‘is there anywhere locally that I ought to avoid? Where have your investigations taken you of late?’

  Mr Cartwright hesitated. Lucy decided that if he were to metaphorically pat her on the arm and tell her not to worry her pretty head about such matters, she would probably ruin the duchess’s party by doing something to disgrace herself that she would later regret. Fortunately, his desire to boast about his protective proclivities overcame discretion.

  ‘We believe there are malcontents in Beauworth, but I am sure you have no reason to travel to that village. There is nothing there that isn’t more readily available to you locally.’

  ‘How reassuring.’

  What he had actually done was to set her mind spinning with possibilities. She had been through Beauworth once or twice. It was about eight miles away and had little to recommend it; Mr Cartwright was right to suggest that it didn’t remain in one’s mind as a place worthy of a second visit. If it was the base for Cutler’s activities then it reinforced the possibility of Basingstoke being involved. It was within easy reach of his estate, yet far enough away for him to be able to claim deniability. It was not a prosperous village but there was a Beauworth Hall, she knew. Not much was known about the gentleman who owned it, who was something of a recluse.

  Presumably the duke would know, but whether he would pass that information on to Ariana was another matter altogether.

  Pilkington joined them, and his attempt to dominate the conversation made it impossible for Lucy to learn anything more from the loquacious Mr Cartwright. She would share what he’d told her with Ariana at the first opportunity. Lucy allowed herself a discreet smile, thinking another visit to Beauworth was long overdue.

  People began to wander in the direction of the dining room, talking and laughing together in informal groups. Lucy had harboured a subconscious desire to be escorted into dinner on Ariana’s brother’s arm. Now that would have been a delicious treat to rival the sumptuous fayre on offer. Being obliged to endure the company of either of these admittedly suave gentlemen was a far less appealing prospect, especially since it would be impossible to garner more information about their exploits at the crowded table. She glanced around for salvation, expecting to see Mr Sanchez-Gomez where she had left him, on the other side of the room.

  She gasped when she turned and observed him almost directly behind her, leaning a broad shoulder casually against the wall. He had been close enough to overhear her conversation with Mr Cartwright and she had been too preoccupied to notice. A fine spy she would make!

  When dinner was announced, the duke glided up to her side.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said to her admirers. ‘I’m pulling rank.’ He proffered his arm and Lucy gratefully placed her hand on it. ‘The guest of honour must tolerate my escort this evening.’

  ‘That is not exactly a hardship, your grace.’

  She glanced again at Mr Sanchez-Gomez, who had witnessed the entire exchange, as evidenced by the amused smile playing about his lips. He winked at her and moved with the others towards the dining room.

  ‘Well, of course, you have to say that.’ The duke lowered his voice as he led his guests to the table. ‘This was supposed to be a family affair. I couldn’t avoid inviting those two to attend, given that my cousin’s husband asked them to call, but they were not exactly subtle in their treatment of you, for which I apologise.’

  ‘No apology is necessary, your grace. They were interesting company.’

  ‘Diplomatically put,’ the duke replied, chuckling as he held Lucy’s chair for her. ‘They are part of a large network of men who report to me on matters of dissatisfaction and unrest in the district. I can’t be everywhere at once but people like them give me early warning of any likely insurgency.’

  Lucy knew better than to try and draw him out on that subject. Unlike the hapless Mr Cartwright, his suspicions would be immediately aroused. ‘It cannot be easy, being a duke and having so many areas of responsibility,’ she said. ‘I wonder how you manage to keep track of everything you are required to do.’

  ‘That’s where men like Cartwright earn their keep. And Adler is remarkably good at managing all the different aspects of my duties. I couldn’t manage without his sound common sense.’

  ‘He is dedicated to your service. Everyone says so.’

  The duke picked up his soup spoon and smiled at Lucy. ‘Don’t feel too sorry for me. This life has its compensations.’ He smiled down the length of the table at his duchess, who just happened to look up and catch his eye. Lucy felt a defining love that the long expanse of mahogany did nothing to dissipate. She knew a moment’s envy. If she met a man who inspired such single-minded devotion in her, then perhaps she would overcome her fear of motherhood and take a chance. She glanced at Mr Sanchez-Gomez and felt a vortex of desire explode d
eep within her core, as inexplicable as it was inconvenient.

  What the duke and duchess enjoyed was the essence of life, she realised, as she savoured her soup. It was the joy that every couple around this table shared, including her sister and Cal.

  Especially them.

  It was highly unusual. Lucy knew that marriages were a contract seldom formed on the basis of abiding love. That was probably what held Lord Amos back from expressing his feelings for Ariana, Lucy imagined. She had seen the manner in which he looked at her and she would have had to be blind and emotionally barren not to realise its implication. Lucy imagined he was conflicted since he had been totally in love with his wife and was probably worried about committing himself again; the agonising pain of loss too recent for him to take the risk. Lucy’s soft heart quailed at the thought of Lord Amos remaining alone for the rest of his days. Ariana really ought to take matters into her own hands and bring him to his senses.

  ‘Well then, your grace, since you have put my mind at rest I shall stop worrying about your myriad duties and concentrate upon enjoying myself.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’

  ‘It’s very kind of the duchess to go to so much trouble on my behalf.’

  ‘There is nothing Frankie enjoys more than holding a party, and I would never knowingly curtail any pleasure of hers. Besides, she knows that I treasure the opportunity to spend time with my family—especially my cousins who were in America for so many years. That is time that we will never recover. Not that I don’t see them all frequently, but we are seldom all together at the same time.’

  ‘Then I am glad that my nameday has given you an excuse for a reunion.’

  They both smiled and the rest of the meal passed to the accompaniment of lively conversation and much laughter.

  Lucy was conscious of Mr Sanchez-Gomez, seated halfway down the table beside Sara, Max Sheridan’s beautiful wife. They seemed to find a great deal to talk and laugh about, but Lucy was also aware of that gentleman sending frequent speculative glances in her direction. He did not smile. She wondered if he had somehow learned of Ariana’s visit to her that afternoon and taken exception to her offering to help her friend. Or worse, perhaps he had overheard all of her conversation with Mr Cartwright and intended to prevent her from interfering.