To Desire a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 8 Page 23

  ‘She has put up at the tavern,’ he said, avoiding a direct answer. ‘She sent a note, asking if you will see her there later this morning.’

  ‘Out of the question!’

  Brione spoke without thinking, her unease increasing. Something about this business didn’t feel right.

  ‘Ah, very well. I will tell her.’

  Brione allowed a long pause whilst her mind raced. It felt like a trap, but how could it be? Presumably Vaughan intended to escort her there, introduce them and play referee. That, she realised, was what worried her. If Evan and Vaughan had been in partnership working for the French, presumably the love of Evan’s life would have known about it.

  ‘Perhaps it is as well that she has had a wasted journey,’ he added. ‘Ordinarily I would offer to introduce you, but alas, the race.’ He spread his hands and flashed a puerile grin. ‘We get to run the heats this morning in the vain hope of qualifying for the final and competing against the duke and Bryce for the trophy. Not that any of the rest of us stand a chance, but still…’

  ‘Of course.’

  If Vaughan was otherwise engaged, it made all the difference. The tavern was a public place and the village would be devoid of men. They would all be watching the heats. Troy had told her that most of the local employers gave their workers the day off, much as he excused his own servants from their duties so that everyone from all walks of life could enjoy the occasion.

  ‘I shall leave you to decide,’ he said, ‘but if you have a change of heart, you can find her at the Bell. Go to the side door and ask for Rose. She is the landlord’s daughter and can take you to Ana in a private parlour, where you will be able to talk uninterrupted.’ He turned at the sound of a party of men, loudly joking as they headed for the racetrack. ‘But now if you will excuse me…’

  ‘Of course.’

  Brione watched him join the other gentlemen. The keep seemed unnaturally quiet when their voices faded along with their footsteps. There weren’t even any servants scurrying around. What should she do? She might never get a better opportunity to talk to Ana and find answers to the questions that plagued her. Questions that would continue to plague her for the rest of her days if they were not answered. She could get a lift into the village and have Troy’s driver wait for her. She hesitated to drag one of his servants away but it would only be for an hour at the most and he would be back well before the main race started.

  Brione returned to her room, changed into a smart walking gown with accompanying bonnet and slipped the small dagger she always carried for protection—ironically at Evan’s behest during the war years—into her reticule. Taking it everywhere with her had become a habit. She glanced at her reflection, unable to see the beauty that others often extolled but deciding that the image staring back at her, wide-eyed, confident and expressive, had nothing to apologise for.

  ‘Now to slip away before Rachel comes looking for me and find myself a lift into the village,’ she told her reflection.

  Unsurprisingly, the stables were alive with activity. If her intention was to get away without being noticed, she had gone to the wrong place. She didn’t want to worry Troy by telling him what she intended to do. It was intensely personal, which made it none of his business. Had she not decided never to lean on any man again? Especially not a man of the duke’s admittedly impressive stature. It was the only way to avoid bitter disappointment. If she underwent a change of heart, she would be well advised to aim far lower.

  She turned to the back of the north turret, where she happened to know from her brief period as a maid, that servants gathered when taking a break from their duties. She was in luck and found Joseph there, placing what she thought must be a wager on the race. Once the man taking his blunt had left, she approached him.

  ‘I hope you wagered on the duke,’ she said.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he said uncertainly.

  ‘Hello, Joseph,’ she said. ‘You recognise me, don’t you?’

  ‘Blimey,’ Joseph replied, his jaw dropping open. ‘I was convinced it had to be you, but didn’t understand how that could be possible.’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He dug his fingers into his thick hair and had a good scratch. ‘Happen it must be. I’d like to hear it sometime.’

  ‘And so you shall. You were kind to me. You protected me from Mr Glanville’s wrath and took blame that should have been mine.’

  ‘Old misery guts.’ Joseph laughed. ‘He’s only happy when he’s miserable, or dealing out punishments. Likes his bit of power, does Mr Glanville.’

  ‘I hate to ask it of you, but do you think you could take me into the village please?’

  ‘What now? The race, I was hoping to…’

  ‘The race is this afternoon and you will be back in plenty of time to see the heats, I promise you. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a matter of unexpected urgency.’

  ‘Yeah, course I will,’ he said grinning. ‘You just wait round the front. I’ll get a horse harnessed up and be there in a few minutes.’

  Good as his word, Joseph didn’t keep her waiting. He drove the curricle at a brisk trot, and as far as Brione could tell no one saw them leave.

  ‘Drop me at the tavern please, and wait half an hour. If I am any longer than that, return to the castle and tell the duke where I am. It’s vitally important.’

  ‘You look frightened,’ Joseph said, sending her a long, assessing look. ‘Are you sure about this? Whoever you’re going to meet, perhaps I should come in with you.’

  ‘Thank you, Joseph, but no. This is something I must do for myself.’

  ‘The duke though. You sure I should be bothering him on such an important day?’

  Brione wasn’t sure about anything. ‘I hope it won’t come to that.’

  ‘Very well.’ Joseph pulled the curricle into the tavern’s mews, jumped down himself and helped Brione to alight. The church clock struck the half hour as he did so.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Remember, when the clock strikes the hour, if I am not back, drive like the devil is on your tail and tell the duke where I am. Failing that, tell Mr Kensley.’

  Joseph still looked very uncertain about her going into the tavern alone, but not nearly as uncertain as Brione felt. There was nothing to fear, she told herself for the thousandth time. Besides, she absolutely had to meet Ana and try to understand. Vaughan was safely back at the castle, joining in the equestrian games, and no one else wished her harm.

  The tavern seemed very quiet from the outside, with no other vehicles in the mews. She had her dagger and would be perfectly safe. It was only natural that she should be anxious, given the embarrassing nature of the anticipated meeting. She reminded herself that she had done nothing to be ashamed of and had every right to walk into the tavern with her head held high.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the side door and was met with a wall of silence. She could see the taproom off to one side. It was eerily deserted.

  ‘Hello!’ She called out. Her voice echoed back at her off the flagstones but no one responded. ‘Hello!’

  On the point of giving up, she finally heard a door open at the back of a tavern and a girl emerged, wiping her hands on her apron.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, I was in the kitchens and didn’t hear you.’

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Up at the castle, watching the races.’

  ‘And you are here on your own?’

  ‘Oh aye. Won’t be no custom ’til after the race, then we’ll be run off our feet.’

  ‘Poor you.’ Brione smiled at the girl, who appeared nervous and wouldn’t meet Brione’s eye. ‘Are you Rose?’

  ‘I am that, ma’am.’

  ‘Then you are the person I’m looking for. I am here to see Ana.’

  ‘Ah, I thought you must be. Come right this way. She’s upstairs in the parlour.’

  Brione lifted her skirts and followed the girl up the rickety wooden staircase to a narrow gallery above. Rose opened the doo
r to the room in the centre and stood back.

  ‘In here,’ she said.

  Before Brione had a chance to get her bearings, a hand dragged her into the room, the door slammed shut behind her and she found herself looking up into the scowling countenance of Adrian Vaughan.

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Her stomach plummeted and she wondered why she didn’t feel more surprised. Or afraid. ‘The appeal of equestrian sport is not to your taste after all, one assumes.’

  She sensed a presence behind her and dread gripped her as she slowly turned, wondering if she was finally about to meet the elusive Ana. Instead her gaze fell upon a tall, thin man with a shock of red hair and whiskers. She knew immediately who he must be and everything fell into place.

  ‘Lord Nathan Fletcher,’ she breathed. ‘For a dead man, you look remarkably well.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘I warned you that she has a sharp mind and interfering nature, Nate,’ Vaughan said, looking relaxed and remarkably pleased with himself.

  ‘Gilliard was a fool to prefer the Portuguese trollop,’ Fletcher replied, giving Brione’s person a most offensive once-over.

  Brione ignored his insolent comment. She had more pressing matters on her mind; like how to get out of here unscathed. Why the devil had she told Joseph to wait an entire half-hour. She should have said fifteen minutes. But there again, she reasoned, they couldn’t kill her and hope to get away with it. Rose knew that she was here. But no one else did, and Rose had obviously been well paid to do as she was told—hence her nervousness. Joseph was here too. She brightened as she recalled his reassuring presence. They had clearly overlooked that possibility but she was loth to remind them that she had a servant with her for fear he would meet the same fate as her.

  All in all, the options were not good. Even if she could persuade them to boast about their achievements, half an hour was a long time. Joseph would then have to drive back to the castle, somehow interrupt Troy on the morning of one of the most intensely competitive days of his life, and then he would have to ride to her rescue…

  It seemed hopeless, and yet Brione wasn’t prepared to give up. She calmly walked further into the room and took a seat beside the empty fireplace. She removed her gloves, pulling them from her hands one finger at a time, returning the favour by procrastinating, much as Vaughan had done when accosting her. Had it only been earlier that morning? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  ‘Have the goodness to tell me why you have brought me here under false pretences,’ she said imperiously.

  Vaughan and Fletcher exchanged a look, temporarily lost for words in the face of her arch defiance. They had probably expected hysterics, pleas to spare her life, or fits of the vapours, in which case they were to be disappointed. She was scared half out of her wits, but pride prevented her from showing it. Take command of the situation, allow them to boast about their exploits and hope for a miracle. She tapped her reticule, inside of which her dagger nestled. She wasn’t afraid to use it but could hardly disable two large, strong and capable men with one small blade.

  ‘Enchanting,’ Fletcher said dismissively.

  ‘I take it Ana will not be joining us, and you have resorted to cowardly tactics in order to get me here alone.’

  ‘Ana, as far as I am aware, is safely tucked away in Portugal, caring for your husband’s bastards,’ Vaughan replied.

  The insult was intended to draw blood, and it found its mark, but Brione did not allow her expression to alter. She had dealt with more than one bully in her lifetime and knew that it would be a grave error to show any fear. ‘You and Fletcher are Conrad,’ she said.

  Fletcher gave an ironic little round of applause.

  ‘We got away with it for years as well,’ Fletcher crowed, his voice momentarily drowned out by the clock striking the quarter. Another fifteen minutes before Joseph would even think of leaving. It was hopeless!

  ‘But you backed the wrong horse.’

  ‘It’s not over yet,’ Vaughan replied, scowling. ‘Napoleon will triumph eventually—with our help of course.’

  ‘Well, he’d better, or your futures won’t look too bright,’ Brione pointed out helpfully. ‘What is the preferred method of executing traitors nowadays? Are they still hung, drawn and quartered?’

  The two men exchanged another perplexed look. Brione wasn’t reacting in the prescribed manner and they didn’t know how to handle the situation. Given their inability to adapt, she had to wonder at their having evaded suspicion for so long.

  ‘It is your own immediate future that ought to be of more concern to you,’ Fletcher growled. His bushy eyebrows drew together when he frowned, making it appear as though a bright red caterpillar was crawling across his forehead. She found herself repulsed by the sight, but it took an effort of will to look away again.

  Brione laughed in his face. ‘You intend to kill me?’ She shook her head. ‘You really aren’t very clever, are you? I am a favoured guest of the duke’s—and like you, Lieutenant Vaughan, I have not been entirely candid. I have conveyed my suspicions about you to him and if anything happens to me, you will be the first person he looks to for answers.’

  ‘Nonsense! It’s race day and even he is taken up with the competition. I shall return myself directly and be conspicuous. He will not condemn me without proof.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Brione replied, sounding a great deal more confident than she felt.

  ‘You only have yourself to blame, my dear. If you had not taken it upon yourself to play amateur sleuth then none of this would have been necessary. Naturally, I saw through your ruse immediately.’

  ‘In that case, indulge my curiosity. What made you do it?’

  Fletcher shrugged. ‘We are two younger sons, mistreated and cut off with barely a farthing to our names. It seemed like the obvious step, given that Adrian was party to so many sensitive decisions. I was in a position to pass that information on while Adrian remained right where he was supposed to be, at the duke’s side, above suspicion.’

  ‘Good men were killed thanks to your treachery.’

  ‘Good men get killed in wars no matter which side prevails. It’s the nature of the beast,’ Fletcher said, with a casually dismissive shrug.

  ‘Evan suspected you, didn’t he?’ Brione said, scowling as the complete truth slowly dawned on her.

  ‘Damned interfering fool!’ Vaughan growled. ‘He had enough problems of his own, but he still meddled in our affairs.’

  ‘Affairs?’

  ‘Not those sorts of affairs,’ Fletcher said, waving a hand in evident disgust. ‘We are friends—’

  ‘And traitors to your country,’ Brione supplied helpfully.

  ‘What has our country ever done for us?’ Vaughan asked, sounding like a petulant child denied a promised treat. She expected him to follow up by saying it’s not fair!

  ‘So, let me get this straight,’ Brione said, frowning. ‘Evan suspected you, had gathered evidence and you somehow got wind of the fact that he intended to expose you, sooner or later. Then a French bayonet claimed him—’

  ‘Did it?’ Fletcher asked with an indolent smile.

  ‘You fiend!’ The breath left Brione’s body in an extravagant whoosh. ‘You killed him yourself in the heat of battle.’

  Fletcher shrugged. ‘He had to be silenced. As do you.’

  ‘You very conveniently died,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘It is very useful being a dead man walking,’ Fletcher agreed. ‘I won’t deny it.’

  ‘We knew that suspicion had fallen on Fletch,’ Vaughan said, taking up the story, ‘but in the height and confusion of that battle we happened to find another man who was as tall as Fletch and had the same red hair. He was also very dead, so it was simply a matter of disfiguring his features. Obviously, he didn’t mind, given that he was dead, and we swapped his identity for Fletch’s. No one suspected, especially when I identified his body. Everyone was careful not to upset me, aware what close friends we had been, and any suspic
ion of wrongdoing died with Fletch.’

  ‘But you spread rumours about Evan being the guilty party, just to make doubly sure, spoiling his reputation and mine.’

  ‘I’m surprised you care about his reputation, given that he was so taken with Ana. Made you look rather foolish, didn’t he?’ Vaughan replied with a sneer.

  ‘We’re wasting our time,’ Fletcher said. ‘You need to get back before you’re missed. Leave her to me. I’ll deal with her.’

  ‘It won’t do you any good,’ Brione said, swallowing down her fear. ‘I have already found the record that Evan had kept and given it to the duke.’

  ‘Nice try.’ Vaughan shook his head slowly, a malicious smile gracing his features. ‘Didn’t your governess caution you against telling clankers?’

  ‘Well, you would know more about that than I do. Goodness alone knows, you have had enough practice.’

  Fletcher chuckled. ‘My, but she’s a spirited one. No wonder Alford is so taken with her.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Brione replied, annoyed with herself for blushing. Blushing hardly seemed appropriate in the circumstances. ‘But just so that you are aware, I take a very dim view of men of your ilk, attempting to bully and intimidate. If you intend to kill me, be done with it and prepare to face the consequences.’

  What in the name of God was wrong with her, provoking them in such a manner? She did dislike bullies, and seldom put up with their antics. Even so, there was a time and place for making principled stands, and this was certainly not one of them.

  ‘Suffocating would be the kindest way,’ Fletcher remarked casually, as though discussing the weather. ‘Less messy too.’

  ‘We can overpower her driver, then turn the equipage over and make it appear as though they had an accident.’

  Perdition, they had remembered Joseph! Brione swallowed, aware that she was out of time, out of her depth, and out of hope of rescue. She felt her courage slipping away as she looked up at Fletcher, standing over her with a dead-eyed expression that showed not one iota of mercy. She held his gaze as she slipped her hand into her reticule and clasped the handle of her dagger. If she was about to die then she had no intention of going down without fighting back.