The Duke's Legacy Read online

  Apparently oblivious to the stir he was creating, Lord Denver moved about the room, dispensing a seemingly inexhaustible supply of quicksilver charm. His lithesome grace was all the more impressive since it clearly owed nothing to contrivance and everything to an innate natural elegance. Abbey had never met anyone quite like him and was fascinated by what she saw. His appalling reputation ought to have put her on her guard. Instead, the air of mystery he cloaked himself in compelled her. More than one lady had probably tried to break through his reserves but Abbey didn’t imagine any of them had succeeded. Lord Denver struck her as a complicated and very private man who only allowed the world to see as much of him as he wished for it to see.

  Abbey sighed. Putting her own confused feelings aside, having him ensconced amongst them made her feel giddy with relief. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders and mentally surrendered responsibility for her wellbeing into his more than capable hands.

  Don’t think about his hands, idiot. Work upon pretending dislike instead.

  “Were you out of your senses, Abbey, refusing to dance with such a man?” Laura chuckled in a decidedly unladylike manner. “Just give me the opportunity.”

  “Laura!”

  “Well, you must admit that we’ve never encountered anyone quite so sophisticated before.” Laura sighed. “Let’s hope his coachman’s malady is nothing trivial.”

  Abbey laughed in spite of herself. “That’s wicked.”

  “Wicked people have more fun, so I’m told. And if even a tenth of what’s said about Lord Denver is true then he could teach us an awful lot about wickedness.”

  “Lord Denver’s activities are of no interest to me,” Abbey lied.

  “Well, from the way he’s surreptitiously observing you, I can’t help thinking yours are of great interest to him.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  Laura shot her an appraising glance. “Fear not, I know nothing to your discredit. It was an idle observation, nothing more.”

  Damnation, by responding to Lord Denver in the way she had, she had excited Laura’s suspicions. Her friend contemplated her in thoughtful silence for what seemed like an age, but Abbey couldn’t think of anything to say to defuse the situation.

  She had never been more pleased when Rodgers announced that dinner was served.

  ***

  Sebastian escorted Lady Bevan into the meal but was seated too far away from Lady Abigail for there to be any possibility of conversation between them. He had deliberately intended it should be so, having observed suspicion on the faces of some of the gentleman at his unexpected arrival, especially Lord Evans’s. That gentleman had stuck as closely to Lady Abigail as the proprieties permitted and had escorted her into dinner.

  Upon first entering the drawing room, his eyes had sought her out and he’d been relieved to see no harm had befallen her. Other than assuring him she had arrived safely at her hunting box, the spies Sebastian had set to observe her movements had been worse than useless. They’d been unable to gain access to the well-guarded estate itself to continue watching over her. As a consequence, the twenty-four hours Sebastian had deemed it wise to have elapse before presenting himself had felt more like a sennight. A man of action, he hated to be idle. The only good part about his enforced stay in town was that it had enabled Anthony Deverill to unearth some very interesting information about the loans made to Lord Wilsden, and the purpose for which they had been granted.

  His reaction to Lady Abigail when he arrived here this evening had rocked him to his toes. She looked beautiful and perfectly composed, but the relief that flashed through her eyes as she observed him did strange things to him. She was clearly still terrified but couldn’t keep the mischief out of her expression when she addressed him. Flirting with her, albeit briefly, had been a foolish lapse. But hell, it had been fun! Even so, after their unwise exchange he’d moved away from her and made no further attempt to single her out.

  When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies the instrument was opened. Beatrice, Elizabeth and Laura succeeded one another and entertained the company with performances that were, thankfully, both light-hearted and well executed. While Laura played, Sebastian took the opportunity to move beside Lady Abigail, seated at the rear of the room with Lord Evans at her side. He stiffened as he observed Sebastian’s approach and made a great show of patting Lady Abigail’s hand. Sebastian stifled a snort of amusement and accepted the seat which she indicated on her other side.

  “Are we to look forward to your performance next, Lady Abigail?” he asked softly.

  “Alas, I don’t play.”

  “I’m astounded. I thought all young ladies in your station played like angels.”

  She flashed an impudent smile. “I’ve been described as many things, Lord Denver, but I don’t ever recall being likened to an angel before.”

  “You don’t enjoy music?”

  Her eyes twinkled with a liveliness she appeared to reserve just for him. “Indeed I do, but we’re destined not to be close bedfellows. Three music instructors in succession have given up on me as being a hopeless case. My fingers will develop a mind of their own, you see.”

  “Then presumably you have an excellent singing voice?”

  “I’m tone deaf.” She shook her head, setting her curls dancing. “Whenever I open my mouth to sing I make the dogs howl.”

  “Then your talents must be of an artistic nature. Presumably you paint and sketch.”

  “Regrettably not.” Sebastian raised a brow in mock astonishment. “I once attempted to capture Beatrice’s likeness but when she saw the result she didn’t speak to me for two days.”

  “I have it!” Sebastian sent her a devilish smile. “You embroider beautifully and provide half your households with fire screens and exquisite linens.”

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Lord Denver, but I’m afraid I’m a hopeless case. My aunt and cousin have quite given up on me in that regard, too. I can’t seem to set a stitch without first attaching it to my finger.”

  “I can’t accept that.” He paused. “There must be something you’re not revealing.”

  “Indeed, with all my advantages it ought to be the case, but I am ashamed to admit I can’t think of a single thing.”

  “Provided,” Lord Evans said, “you discount the fact that Lady Abigail speaks four languages fluently, has a passion for and extensive knowledge of Greek mythology, and an aptitude for mathematics that would put most gentlemen to shame.”

  “Fie, Lord Evans!” Lady Abigail looked angry and Sebastian understood why. She had no interest in, or perhaps really didn’t have any talent for, normal female pursuits and made sure people knew it. With all her other advantages, it would make her more accessible if she was a failure in areas where she would be expected to excel. Besides, her academic abilities weren’t something a lady was supposed to boast about. “I was unaware you were privy to such information.”

  “I am the possessor of a great deal of charming information about your abilities,” he said, lowering his voice to an intimate drawl that had an air of desperation about it.

  “Then you will also be aware that such matters are not for general discussion.”

  “For fear of discouraging gentlemen of lesser ability.” Sebastian said in fluent Greek, correctly surmising that if she was passionate about Greek mythology it was likely to be one of the languages she spoke.

  “I fear so,” she replied in Greek as fluent as his own, leaving Lord Evans with an angry frown on his face.

  Lady Bevan chose that moment to invite Lord Evans to sing. It was a request which in all politeness he couldn’t ignore, leaving Sebastian with Lady Abigail all to himself.

  “I am glad to see you looking well,” he said in an undertone.

  “You would have been pleased with the way I adhered to your instructions, had you observed my behaviour over the past few days for yourself.”

  “Is that so?”

  She inverted her chi
n. “Absolutely.”

  “Then why did you allow yourself to become detached from the rest of your party in the park last Thursday and walk with just Mr. Braithwaite for company?”

  “How did you know that?” she asked, her voice rising.

  Several heads turned in their direction. Sebastian silenced her with a warning look.

  “You imagine that I left you unprotected?”

  She gasped. “You were having me watched?”

  “Of course.”

  “Mr. Braithwaite is an old acquaintance of my aunt’s. He has never visited us in Cornwall and wasn’t present at any of the attempts on my life, so I was confident he couldn’t be involved. We were discussing the newest botanic gardens at Kew, if you must know, upon which he’s an authority. He’s interesting but harmless.”

  “Braithwaite is a renowned botanist, it’s true.” Sebastian flicked a speck of lint off his breeches. “What you couldn’t know is that he has pockets to let. Never underestimate what a man might do to obtain funds, Lady Abigail, especially when he’s passionate about a pursuit and requires the blunt to maintain his interest.”

  “You suspect Mr. Braithwaite of being in league with my enemies?”

  “I have no reason to suspect Braithwaite. I’m merely demonstrating a point.”

  “Rather than going to the trouble of having me watched, wouldn’t it have been easier to attend the same assemblies as me?”

  “What, events I would not normally be seen dead at?” He sent her an incredulous look. “What purpose do you imagine that might serve, other than to alert your enemy to a possible connection between us?”

  “Oh yes, I didn’t think.”

  She faced him with admiration she was too inexperienced to conceal shining from her eyes. Sebastian’s body reacted instinctively and he cursed under his breath. He needed to keep his wits about him if he was to keep her alive. The affect her guileless innocence appeared determined to inflict upon him was the sort of distraction he could well do without.

  “It was ingenious of you to hit upon the idea of having your coachman be taken ill. But will he be convincing?”

  Sebastian’s lips quirked. Hodges was far more than a mere coachman. He was Sebastian’s right-hand man and had been his eyes and ears during those exhilarating years he’d spent spying for Wellington. He had helped Sebastian escape from tight situations on more than one occasion and had been responsible for saving his life at least twice. He now acted as Sebastian’s coachman, general purveyor of information and substitute valet. It was he who had arranged for a watch to be kept over Lady Abigail. In all their years together, agreeing to feign a stomach complaint was the first time Sebastian could recall him voicing serious objections. Hodges was inordinately fond of his rations.

  “Hodges is suffering from severe stomach cramps even as we speak.”

  Lady Abigail’s eyes brimmed with laughter. “Oh dear. Please tell him I’m most exceedingly grateful to him.”

  “What’s so amusing?”

  “Poor Mr. Hodges! I was once the unfortunate recipient of Mrs. Burton’s herbal remedy for an upset constitution. I’m mightily relieved not to be in Mr. Hodges’s situation. Nothing would compel me to ingest such an evil potion again.”

  “Don’t worry. Hodges is an expert dissimulator and won’t actually drink any remedies given to him.”

  “But will he not be hungry?”

  “We thought of that, too. He has supplies hidden in the folds of his driving coat.”

  “Even so, I shall see if I can procure something a little more substantial for him and arrange for it to be sent to his quarters when the household has retired.”

  “Believe me, if you can manage that then Hodges will lay down his very life for you. There’s no faster way to that particular man’s heart than through his stomach.”

  “Leave it to me, then.” Already whispering, she lowered her voice even more and he was obliged to lean closer in order to hear her. “We must talk privately. I have gained information which I’m anxious to share with you.”

  “We shall find a way to talk tomorrow.”

  Lord Evans completed his song, politely declined to entertain the company with another and cast frequent glances in Lady Abigail’s direction. Others, too, were looking towards them with increasing frequency, presumably wondering what two people who disliked one another found to talk about in such an animated fashion. Noticing it, Sebastian cursed at having made such an elementary error. His pleasure at being in Lady Abigail’s lively company had made him incautious. He vowed to conduct himself, at lease when in public with her, with greater circumspection in future.

  “Shall you hunt tomorrow?” he asked.

  “You know I’m not permitted to,” she replied, looking dejected.

  “Good. Everyone will assume Hodges will recover overnight and that I shall depart. Regretfully, I predict he will take a turn for the worse, forcing me to trespass upon your hospitality for a little longer.”

  Lady Abigail’s sympathetic smile would have been quite convincing, had she been able to keep the mischievous glint out of her eye. “Now that you mention it, Mrs. Burton’s cures have sometimes been known to take days before they become effective. She won’t want to be defeated and will probably recommend Mr. Hodges remains here until he’s completely himself again.”

  “There you are then. By the time it’s discovered Hodges is still too unwell to travel, the rest of the party will have left for the hunt. You and I will then be at liberty to ride out together and converse at our leisure.”

  Chapter Eight

  The sky looked heavy but the threat of more snow didn’t deter the hunting party from riding over to the next valley the following morning. They were looking forward to being the guests of Lord Braisher, Master of the Mindon Valley Hunt. Charles’s hunter had arrived and he clearly didn’t mean to miss a second day’s sport.

  Abbey waved them off but Lord Evans lingered.

  “Lord Denver is bound to leave this morning,” he told her. “He’ll be anxious to reach his own hunting box and continue with his arrangements, regardless of the condition of his coachman.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “I advised your uncle against having Denver amongst us any longer, oversetting you with his raffish behaviour and total disregard for the proprieties.”

  How dare he! “Has Lord Denver behaved inappropriately?” she asked. “I was unaware of that. Presumably you saw something in his behaviour to criticise, whereas I did not.”

  “You’re too trusting and don’t understand how men like Denver operate.”

  “Really.”

  “I went so far as to recommend your uncle lend one of his grooms to drive Denver’s carriage, if necessary.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” Abbey said with a sweetly sarcastic smile.

  “It was the very least I could do.”

  Abbey was too angry to reply.

  “There’s no need to thank me.” Abbey hadn’t planned to. “I thought only of your comfort.”

  “I’m perfectly comfortable with Lord Denver, thank you.”

  Abbey realised her mistake immediately. By defending Lord Denver she had aroused Lord Evans’s suspicions along with his jealousy. He paced the room, his hands clutching the lapels of his beautifully tailored hunting coat, scowling at nothing in particular.

  “My advice to you is to beware. The man has no morals. He thinks nothing of turning young girls’ heads with his rather obvious charm simply to amuse himself. He doesn’t stop to consider that ladies unused to the habits of the ton might take his flirtatious manner seriously, causing them to harbour unrealistic expectations.”

  Abbey gaped at him. Was he actually trying to warn her off simply because she’d defended him? Apart from their brief exchange during the music last night, she and Lord Denver had kept their distance. Had Abbey somehow given herself away? It was a timely reminder that no action or gesture of hers ever went unnoticed.

  “Really,” Lord E
vans said, sounding angrier than Abbey had ever known him to be, “it’s just as well he’ll soon be on his way, or else I shouldn’t be able to help giving him a piece of my mind.”

  Abbey had had quite enough of this. “The rest of the party will be waiting for you, Lord Evans,” she said.

  “Then I shall bid you adieu.” He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it with considerable ardour. “For now.”

  The ladies not forming part of the hunting party breakfasted in their chambers. Abbey thought that to be just as well since she needed time to recover from Lord Evans’s jealous tirade. Fuming still, she toyed with a slice of toast, wondering when Lord Denver would deign to appear. She didn’t have to speculate upon the matter for long since the door opened almost as soon as Lord Evans quit the room and Sebastian Denver, resplendent in a blue coat and patterned silk waistcoat, walked through it. Ignoring the surge of excitement that lanced through her, she inclined her head in his direction and offered him a neutral smile.

  “Good morning, Lord Denver. I trust you slept well.”

  “Thank you, yes.”

  “And how is poor Mr. Hodges this morning?”

  “Unfortunately his condition hasn’t improved.”

  “Oh dear.” Abbey dared not meet his eye, conscious of the servants in the room listening to their conversation with avid interest. “I did warn you that Mrs. Burton’s remedies often take time to become effective.”

  “Indeed you did.” Lord Denver strolled towards the sideboard. It contained an extensive array of covered dishes and he devoted his attention to the selection a substantial breakfast. Apparently satisfied with his choice, he returned to the table and seated himself directly opposite Abbey. “Your uncle kindly offered me the loan of one of your grooms to drive me to my hunting box.”

  “Really?”

  “He expressed concern that I would miss the best of the sport, what with it being the opening week of the season.”

  “How thoughtful of him.”

  “Wasn’t it. He suggested Hodges remain here until he recovers, and your groom should return with my carriage for Hodges to drive on when he’s fit enough.” He paused slice into a sausage. “If I didn’t know better, I might think someone was anxious to be rid of me.”