The Duke's Legacy Page 6

  “Your uncle’s second son, Harold, is a clergyman?”

  “Yes, and he now has the living at Penrith, which is a rich one. I know it’s traditional for younger sons to go into the army, the law or the church but in Harold’s case his profession was of his own choosing. He too inherited from his grandfather and could have remained idle if he had preferred to, but I can’t remember a time when he didn’t wish to take holy orders.” Lady Abigail’s smile brimmed with love and approval. “He’s quite one of the best men of my acquaintance.”

  “You like and approve of your younger cousin, Lady Abigail?”

  “Indeed, yes. He’s five years older than me, and has always been so very kind. He alone appeared to appreciate my turmoil when…” Her words trailed off and she averted her gaze.

  He briefly covered one of her hands with his own and as quickly removed it again. “Go on.”

  “Only Harold seemed to notice just how desperately unhappy I felt when I first removed to Castleray. Everyone else was kind but too concerned about the implications for the duchy to pay me much heed. Harold alone saw that I was completely lost and more than a little bewildered. I was quite out of charity with God, too, for taking Mama and Papa from me far sooner than He had any right to demand their company. I couldn’t understand why He would do such an iniquitous thing. I mean, Mama and Papa had never done anyone deliberate harm, and so it made no sense at all to a bewildered ten-year-old.” She stopped talking and impatiently dashed away tears with the back of her hand.

  “A perfectly natural reaction.”

  When Sebastian noticed her tears, it took every ounce of his self-discipline not to pull her into his arms and comfort her in the way that sprang spontaneously to mind. Perdition, had they not been in a public place, that’s precisely what he would have done! What the devil was the minx doing to him? Whatever it was, he was pretty sure she had no idea of the profound affect her dilemma had on him, and that was the way he intended for it to remain.

  “Harold found the time to talk to me about it for hours,” she said when she recovered her composure. “He explained God’s purpose is not always immediately clear, but He wouldn’t have chosen my parents without good reason. It helped a little to talk to someone who might, just possibly, have God’s ear. What’s more, his way of putting things was so simple, his faith so unshakeable, it even made sense to one as angry and confused as I was. That’s why, when the Penrith living fell vacant two years ago, I was delighted when my uncle suggested Harold was deserving of it.”

  “And Harold’s wife?”

  “Mary’s an ideal cleric’s spouse. She’s the daughter of my godfather’s late steward, and much spiteful gossip ensued when she married Harold.”

  Sebastian arched a brow. “Why?”

  “Well, you know how people can be. It was suggested she’d bewitched Harold so she could marry a man above her station. That was just silly gossip, of course, and she’s proved her critics entirely wrong.” Lady Abigail lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance Sebastian was already starting to recognise. “She has a calm disposition, doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body and is able to connect with the villagers as well as fitting comfortably amongst the gentry.”

  “A paragon?”

  “Absolutely.” Lady Abigail was momentarily silent. “Perhaps Mary isn’t as beautiful as Tobias’s Cassandra, but looks aren’t everything. Besides, she possesses a unique inner beauty, which those of us who know her well can’t help but admire. They have three delightful daughters, who are often at Castleray, and Mary’s an excellent mother.”

  Sebastian said nothing. In his experience, when someone sounded too good to be true, they almost always were. Lady Abigail clearly liked and respected her cousin’s wife, so he hoped for her sake that Mary Bevan was the exception to that rule.

  “And your third cousin is Beatrice. She of the trousseau.”

  “Yes, and if you think—”

  “Indeed, my lady, I wouldn’t dare.” His faux alarm was rewarded with a slight upward turn of her lips. “Miss Bevan is engaged to Lord Woodley?”

  “Yes, and takes a good dowry into the marriage. Besides, Lord Woodley is very comfortably situated.”

  Sebastian stretched his legs in front of him and abandoned his efforts to ignite her laughter. For now. “All right then, now to your godfather.”

  “Lord Wilsden’s a widower. Wilsden House is five miles from Penrith Hall and there’s been a friendship between the two families for generations.”

  “Hence his being your godfather?”

  “Quite.”

  “And Wilsden’s children?”

  “His elder son, Gerald, is married to Elizabeth. They live at Wilsden House and Gerald helps run his father’s estates. Since Lord Wilsden spends much of his own time attending to my affairs, or at Court, it is a very convenient arrangement.”

  Something about the nature of Lady Abigail’s clipped response struck a chord with Sebastian. “You don’t care for Gerald?”

  “I have little to do with him,” she replied evasively. “He, like my cousin Tobias, is a good deal older than me and our paths seldom cross. But when they do we’re perfectly comfortable with one another.”

  Sebastian didn’t think she was being entirely candid but didn’t press her. “And his second son?”

  “Charles.” Lady Abigail’s evasive expression gave way to a natural smile. “He too helps with the running of the estates, and isn’t married.” When Sebastian looked at her askance, she elaborated. “My godfather is wealthy and didn’t press Charles to pick an occupation. Anyway, I’m given to understand that Charles showed no interest in any of the usual professions. He’s a charming person, but terribly idle. He didn’t actually complete his tenure at university.”

  “He was sent down?”

  “I’m unsure.” She spread her hands. “Charles is amusing company but he doesn’t care to be burdened with too much responsibility.”

  “Except for you?”

  Abbey coloured. “What makes you say that?”

  “Am I right?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so. He does try to make himself agreeable whenever we meet, but then we’ve always been good friends.”

  “Do you encourage his attentions?”

  “They aren’t attentions precisely.”

  “Then what are they, precisely?”

  “I…well if you must know, it’s like kissing a gaping trout!”

  Sebastian chuckled at the way she screwed her features. He also made a large mental mark beside Charles Wilsden’s name.

  “How does Charles occupy his time, when he’s not making amorous advances towards you?”

  “He’s obsessed with anything related to sport, but then isn’t that the case with most single gentlemen of means?”

  Sebastian conceded the point with a slight inclination of his head. “Quite frequently, yes.”

  “Charles’s particular passion is curricle racing. He takes it very seriously and devotes much of his attention to it.”

  “An expensive pastime,” observed Sebastian.

  “Yes, but Charles is a familiar figure at Tattersall’s. He prides himself upon being able to recognise good horse flesh. He buys youngsters and breaks them to the harness himself. He also loves to hunt and is, so my cousin Bea would have it, a frequent visitor to Gentleman Jackson’s Saloon.”

  Sebastian upgraded his mild suspicions in respect of Charles Wilsden. Purchasing and maintaining horse flesh was an expensive exercise. Boxing and curricle racing required a substantial amount of ready blunt because no one indulged in those sports without also placing heavy wagers.

  “And these other gentlemen on the list. In what manner are they related to you?”

  Lady Abigail blushed. “They are a few of the gentlemen in our circle whom I meet quite regularly.”

  “And who have designs upon marriage to you?”

  She shrugged. “Possibly, but my uncle agreed I should be presented and enjoy one season before I settle
down and do what’s expected of me. That being the case, he won’t entertain any offers for me unless I tell him I’ve had a change of heart.”

  “Lord Evans finds particular favour with your uncle?”

  Her shoulders lifted. “Possibly.”

  “What are your feelings for that gentleman?” Sebastian shifted his position to gain a clearer view of her features as she pondered the question.

  “That he might very well do,” she replied casually.

  Sebastian was stunned. Never in all his years had he known a girl of Lady Abigail’s age who didn’t harbour grand romantic dreams. With her exceptional beauty she had every right to anticipate being swept off her feet. Damn it, she was only eighteen! She had no business displaying such a mature attitude to such matters. Sebastian itched to change her opinion, to demonstrate by deed rather than word just a little of what she was missing, but couldn’t risk starting down that path. He hid his disapproval behind a casual expression and disciplined himself to make no comment, other than asking one simple question.

  “Do you entertain feelings for him?”

  The glance she sent him was full of wisdom and had no place on such youthful features. “Does it matter? From what I’ve observed most married couples within society bear little love for one another. Their unions are often arranged for reasons of monetary gain or social advancement, with scant regard for compatibility, or the finer feelings of either party involved. If my uncle is of the opinion that Lord Evans would make a suitable husband for me, then I’ll be guided by him. After all, he’s done for me I owe him not only my duty but gratitude, too.”

  “Does Evans know you feel this way?”

  She shrugged. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, m’dear, that Evans may not know but perhaps some of your other suitors have an inkling, which could explain their collective anxiety to pursue you.”

  “Yes, but your argument defeats itself. If they covet my fortune, they wouldn’t wish to see any harm befall me. If I’m no more, then their aspirations perish with me.”

  “True.” He conceded the point with a nod. “Acquaint me with the rest of these people on your list, Lady Abigail. I don’t recognise all the names.”

  “They are mostly neighbours of ours in Cornwall.”

  “Sir Michael Parker. What are your objections to him as a potential husband?”

  She shuddered. “Too old and set in his ways.”

  “Unforgivable.” Sebastian knew Parker was only a little older than he was.

  “Laura and Simon Graves?”

  “More neighbours with whom we’re especially intimate. They are the son and daughter of Lord Sykes and Laura and I are firm friends.”

  “But Simon, presumably, wishes to be more than a friend to you? What deters you from returning his regard?”

  Lady Abigail grinned. “He’s portly, tells tediously long stories and is already a slave to gout.”

  “How lamentable.” Sebastian was charmed by her spontaneous laughter, her love of life and the irreverence she tried to quell but which sometimes broke through anyway.

  “What action do we take now?” she asked as he scanned her second sheet of paper listing the names servants and the positions they occupied in the various households Abbey moved between.

  “I would like to engineer a way to observe you in a setting that includes all these people.”

  Her eyes glittered. “That’s precisely what I hoped you would suggest. My uncle plans to remove to Leicestershire next week and open my hunting lodge. Will you be travelling to that county to hunt, my lord?”

  “It so happens that I have a box there myself and hunt with the Beaufort—”

  She expelled an envious sigh at the name of the famous hunt. “Wonderful! Oh, how I wish—”

  “What do you wish?”

  “Oh, nothing of consequence.”

  “You enjoy hunting, Lady Abigail?”

  “I’m sure I would, if only my uncle would permit me to take to the field. If I say so myself, I’m a sufficiently accomplished horsewoman not to disgrace the family name. Unfortunately Uncle Bertram thinks it’s too dangerous and refuses me his permission.”

  Sebastian hid his disapproval behind a nonchalant expression. “I dare say he’s right,” he said. “But as to our previous discussion, I don’t see how I can inflict myself, uninvited, upon your uncle’s party without arousing their suspicions.”

  “Could you not contrive to break down outside our lodge?” she asked with the sweetest of smiles. “I should be very much obliged to you.”

  “I don’t wish to create difficulties, but it’s rather difficult to breakdown to order.”

  “Hmm, I suppose it is. Besides, I wouldn’t want any harm to befall your horses.” She sounded disappointed and fell into a contemplative silence. She nibbled her index finger for a moment and then brightened. “I know, perhaps you could be taken inexplicably ill during the course of your journey.”

  “I’d be happy to oblige, but I can see a problem with that suggestion.”

  “Don’t be so disobliging, Lord Denver. Not when I’ve hit upon the perfect solution.”

  “Absolutely perfect, except that it would be necessary for me to remain in my chamber and nurse my malady, which would rather defeat the object.”

  “Oh yes, so it would.” She pouted, looking rather discouraged. “Inventing reasons for impromptu visits isn’t as straightforward as one might suppose.” She fixed him with a challenge look. “Do you have any suggestions to make, my lord? I don’t wish to be indelicate, but presumably you have experience of these matters.”

  Sebastian roared with laughter but refrained from voicing the suggestions that sprang spontaneously to mind.

  “When do you remove to Leicestershire?” he asked when he regained control of himself.

  “Next Wednesday.”

  “And all the people on your list will be there, even the clergyman?”

  “Oh yes, it’s quite an established tradition. And others will likely be there too. As for Harold, he enjoys hunting, and can get away easily enough, given sufficient notice.”

  “Then I shall contrive some ingenious means of inflicting myself upon your party. I’m sure I’ll come up with something convincing before next Wednesday.”

  “That would be marvellous.” Her smile was as spontaneous as it was intoxicating. “I’m putting you to a vast amount of inconvenience, and am deeply in your debt.”

  “Indeed you are,” he replied softly. “But your gratitude must wait until a more suitable juncture. I see your maid returning and your dogs’ enthusiasm is in danger of exhausting her strength. Besides, we’ve risked being in public together for quite long enough.”

  She called her dogs’ names and they bounded towards her. The maid had no choice but to let their leashes go or be pulled clean off her feet.

  “Lady Abigail.” Sebastian called to her twice before he could attract her attention. “One thing more.”

  “What is it?’

  “Take the greatest of care. I don’t mean to alarm you, but your assailant appears to be getting more desperate by the day. Be on your guard at every moment and trust no one.”

  Chapter Six

  “Thank you, Uncle Bertram.”

  Abbey accepted her uncle’s hand as he assisted her from their travelling chaise. She pulled her velvet pelisse more closely about her, grateful for its enveloping warmth. There was a crispness in the Lincolnshire air, thick frost under foot and the promise of snow in the dark clouds that threatened directly overhead. Perhaps that was a good thing. If Lord Denver was close upon their heels, he could site the inclement weather as an excuse for breaking his journey.

  Although Abbey hadn’t seen anything of the gentlemen who occupied so many of her thoughts for the rest of her stay in London, she’d done her best to heed his warning. She diligently ensured she was always within sight of her aunt or cousin at assemb
lies, never accepting anything to eat or drink unless she observed others partaking from the same dish before she did. She avoided un-used corridors, declined all invitations to stroll on terraces, to say nothing of all the other ingenious attempts some of the more determined gentlemen made to get her alone.

  The initial interest displayed in her showed no sign of abating and the pattern of her life was no longer hers to dictate. She’d been impatient to experience all the diversions that society had to offer, but after two short weeks of endless activity their attraction was already starting to pall.

  “Let’s get inside, my dear.” Uncle Bertram took her elbow. “I think we’ve arrived just ahead of the snow.”

  The snow did materialise, nor did Lord Denver. Abbey hid her disappointment as she greeted the arrival of their guests at various intervals during the course of the afternoon. There was little formality required in this duty, but at least it provided a useful distraction from her continuous thoughts of Sebastian Denver. When would he arrive? What excuse would he offer and would his presence arouse suspicions? The waiting and her growing unease were starting to tell upon Abbey. The knowledge that her aggressor was very likely already in this room, planning his next attempt on her life, added to her discomfort. She surreptitiously glanced at the faces of the gentleman already assembled, trying to detect signs of guilt or calculation in their countenances, observing instead only open friendliness.

  It was hopeless!

  Abbey shook off her worries when her friend Laura Graves arrived. Laura was far too loyal to be involved in any plots against her, nor did she have any reason to be. But Abbey resisted the urge to confide in her, mainly because Lord Denver had emphasised the importance of not telling anyone about her suspicions.

  Simon Graves remained tenaciously at his sister’s side, which meant he also remained close to Abbey. He was even larger than ever, clearly in pain from his gout, but entertaining company for all that. He spoke with enthusiasm, and at some length, about the opening meet on the morrow.

  “Will you be able to hunt tomorrow do you suppose, Mr. Graves, since your leg is clearly paining you?”