To Desire a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 8 Page 9

  ‘I like to be prepared for all eventualities,’ Mrs Woodley replied breezily. ‘We are a similar size, so I can easily supply you with the necessary wardrobe.’

  ‘Nonsense! No one will believe—'

  ‘Are you afraid, Mrs Gilliard?’ the duke asked in a mocking tone.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ She tossed her head, sending hair cascading down her back in a rippling tangle of curls. The duke seemed transfixed by the sight.

  ‘Prove it!’

  ‘Very well then, your grace. Lay your plans,’ she replied, responding to his challenge. ‘I am yours to command.’

  ‘What a charming prospect,’ he replied playfully.

  Chapter Seven

  Brione was surprised by the speed at which the duke got things done. Two hours after agreeing to her change of status from maid to unexpected guest she was seated in a curricle driven by Kensley, dressed in a smart walking gown with matching hat in autumnal shades which she was absolutely sure Rachel had never worn.

  The duke’s sister had been advised of her impending arrival. Brione had no idea what she had been told or how annoyed Lady Murray would be by the disruption. Rachel insisted that her friend wouldn’t turn a hair, that she was accustomed to accommodating her brother’s sometimes odd requests without demur. Even so, she worried about the nature of her reception. But still, she reasoned, as the curricle bowled along, being looked upon as an inconvenience would be a small price to pay if the duke’s ruse was successful in drawing out the actual traitor and clearing Evan’s name.

  ‘Stop worrying,’ Kensley said, keeping his focus on his team as he guided them round a rut in the road. He clearly sensed her nervousness. ‘Lady Murray knows that her brother undertakes secret work for the government and won’t turn a hair at being asked to welcome another guest. You look unrecognisable and no one will realise that you were posing as your friend’s maid.’

  ‘Lady Murray certainly will not. She didn’t spare me a second glance when I arrived as a maid. Sorry,’ Brione added belatedly, ‘I did not mean to criticise the duke’s sister. All I will say is that she seems rather self-aware.’

  ‘She is more so than Alford, but that’s just her way. She adores the duke and worries about his clandestine activities, but her bark is considerably worse than her bite.’

  ‘I shall have to take your word for it.’

  ‘Anyway, as to her ignoring your arrival when you were a maid, acknowledging you would have been beneath her, but being invisible has its uses.’ Kensley chuckled. ‘Take it from one who knows.’

  ‘How long have you served the duke?’ she asked, wanting to talk about anything that would take her mind off the forthcoming confrontation with Evan’s comrades, nervous now that opportunity had unexpectedly arisen. Nervous about what she might discover, but not for her own safety. She had always felt there were aspects of Evan’s past that he’d chosen not to share with her. Not for one moment did she think he was disloyal to the crown, but there was something inherently secretive about what exactly he did in his service to the realm. She suspected that one of the gentlemen here would be able to enlighten her in that regard.

  She had been curious about his reserve for all her married life but was now unsure if she actually wanted answers.

  ‘Since he was a young lad. I was a frequent visitor here.’

  ‘A relation of the duke’s?’

  ‘Oh, good lord no. Nothing nearly so grand, I’m afraid. My father and the previous duke were close friends. My father was an earl’s son, which meant that they moved in the same social circles. He was a younger son with a large family and little money to support it, I might add. Enough blunt was scraped up to send my brothers and me to Eton. Such things are important.’

  ‘A gentleman is not a true gentleman if he doesn’t attend one of the leading bastions of learning,’ Brione said, smiling.

  ‘Quite so. Anyway, Troy was a bit lost and lonely, we hit it off and I became a sort of mentor, I suppose.’

  ‘He must have found his position daunting, to say nothing of feeling lonely and isolated. I am glad he had you to turn to.’

  ‘Aye well, all these years on and we’re still rubbing along together like an old married couple.’

  ‘And yet you are a familiar sight below stairs, despite dining at the duke’s table.’

  ‘Not ordinarily. This week, Troy wanted me to listen to the talk between the men who serve our suspects. You’d be surprised what odds and ends can be picked up by that means. Not all retainers know the meaning of discretion.’

  ‘I see. Well actually, I don’t. Not really. The traitor is a wily individual. He must be to have survived for so long. One assumes that he would be too cautious to take his valet into his confidence.’

  ‘Aye well, you’re likely right about that,’ Kensley replied, sighing. ‘The only anomaly I picked up on was you.’

  ‘Ah.’ Brione smiled. ‘When the duke marries, what will happen to you then?’

  ‘I dare say he’ll still have uses for me.’

  ‘Perhaps you will marry one day, too,’ Brione suggested, thinking of the prolonged looks he had bestowed upon Rachel earlier and the answering interest she thought she’d detected in her friend’s behaviour. Rachel claimed to have been happily married and to have no interest in repeating the experience, but Brione wasn’t deceived. She knew there had been discord in Rachel’s union, but she had never voiced her dissatisfaction when Woodley had been alive and Brione knew she wouldn’t denigrate his memory by doing so now.

  Perhaps her awakening interest in Kensley would encourage her to face up to her demons. Brione would be happy to listen if the time came.

  ‘I doubt there’s a woman who would put up with me,’ Kensley replied, turning his team onto the castle’s long driveway.

  Brione chuckled and shook a finger at him. ‘Now you are just fishing for compliments.’

  Kensley threw back his head and laughed. ‘I am already sufficiently acquainted with your character to be aware that if that was the case I would be in for a long wait.’

  ‘Do you think this will work?’ she asked nervously as they drove though the archway that had once housed the portcullis. ‘I feel like a complete fraud. Besides, I don’t suppose the traitor will lose his nerve and admit all simply because I walk into the duke’s drawing room.’

  ‘You were a fraud as a maid,’ Kensley replied, as he drew his team to a halt at the entrance, ‘but no one could doubt that you are a lady. And as to the guilty party showing himself in his true colours, don’t worry about that. Troy will have people watching their every move.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Kensley. That is most reassuring,’ she said, lifting her chin as a footman assisted her from the conveyance, feeling concerned by her sudden fit of nerves. She vaguely recognised the man from below stairs, but thankfully there was no answering recognition in his expression.

  ‘The rest of Mrs Gilliard’s luggage is coming separately,’ Kensley said, when a second footman looked bemused to find only a small valise in the conveyance’s trunk.

  Rachel stood at the top of the steps alongside Lady Murray and gave Brione an affectionate hug when she reached her position. ‘I am so glad that you could finally come,’ she said, loud enough for anyone standing close by to hear. ‘I was worried that your business affairs would detain you for longer. But here you are now, and we shall have a lovely time of it. May I introduce my friend, Deborah Murray.’

  ‘Lady Murray.’ Brione offered her gloved hand which Lady Murray accepted as she subjected Brione’s person to a discreet scrutiny. ‘Thank you so very much for inviting me to your home.’

  ‘Any friend of Rachel’s is always welcome,’ Lady Murray replied with curt politeness. ‘Gladys will show you to your room.’ She indicated a hovering maid. ‘Please come down when you are ready. Tea will be served momentarily.’

  ‘You are very kind.’

  ‘Please to come this way, ma’am,’ Gladys requested. ‘I am told your maid is not with you, and so I sha
ll be looking after you. You as well, Mrs Woodley, given that your maid took sick and had to be sent home.’

  ‘Indeed. I hope whatever she caught isn’t contagious,’ Rachel said, clearly struggling to suppress a smile.

  ‘Thank you, Gladys,’ Brione said at the same time. ‘I will try not to make too much extra work for you.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all, madam.’

  There was no sign of the duke, and Kensley had disappeared too, but Rachel accompanied Brione upstairs and they dismissed Gladys as soon as she pointed out Brione’s chamber. The closet had been filled with a dozen different gowns and accompanying accessories.

  ‘Will you have anything left to wear yourself, Rachel?’ Brione asked, glancing at the array.

  ‘Heavens, yes. Don’t worry about me.’ Rachel sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Now, tell me all about your time alone with the duke,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Isn’t he compelling?’

  ‘Oh, Brione, I have no personal interest in the duke,’ she replied, crossing her fingers behind her back because she was no longer sure if that was the case. She didn’t want to have a personal interest in him, but her heart appeared to be at variance with her brain on that particular subject. ‘I am still not completely convinced that he isn’t the traitor.’

  ‘Nonsense! I never shared your view that he was, and now that I know him a little better, I am absolutely sure of his loyalty.’

  ‘If traitors were that easy to identify, they wouldn’t stay in business for long. I imagine they are selected for their ability to be convincing. If a young and handsome duke did decide that the enemy was likely to prevail, he might think it beneficial to back that enemy’s cause. After all, look around you. He has more than most to lose. And if he did change sides, his influence and authority would prevent suspicion from focusing upon him, simply because people are scared of him.’

  Rachel laughed. ‘You sound as though you are trying to convince yourself.’

  ‘I do, don’t I?’ Brione sighed. ‘I don’t really suspect him, not anymore. But still, it pays to keep an open mind.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to persuade you into this ploy if he was the guilty party.’

  ‘Most likely not. He could simply have ensured that I met with an accident.’ Brione twisted her lips. ‘Either that or he could have dismissed me as an irrelevance when he caught me snooping in his library. I fully expected you to be blamed by association and for us both to be sent packing. There again, he might have invited me to join the party so that he can have someone spread rumours here about Evan’s loyalties. I honestly don’t think he would sink quite that low, so I ought to stop being so suspicious, I suppose.’

  ‘Certainly you ought.’ Rachel stood. ‘If you are ready, we should go down and show our faces at tea. The single ladies will despise you when they see how lovely you are, but you should be accustomed to engendering that sort of reaction by now.’

  ‘What nonsense you talk, Rachel.’ Brione removed her bonnet and patted a few errant curls into place. ‘I shall not bother to change, unless you think I might let the side down. Thank you for the loan of this lovely gown, by the way.’

  ‘Keep it. The colours compliment your hair. I knew they wouldn’t be right for me the moment I tried it on, but it had been commissioned by then, so it was too late to do anything about it.’

  Brione shook her head. ‘You spoil me.’

  ‘It is beyond time someone did.’

  The ladies left the room together and entered an already crowded drawing room, filled mostly with ladies taking tea and conversing in muted tones. There was also a smattering of gentlemen brave or desperate enough to show their faces. The gathering appeared to contain a number of young ladies keen to improve their circumstances through matrimony; all with their sights firmly set on the duke, no doubt. They looked so very young to Brione’s jaundiced eye. She glanced at an especially pretty little thing who had just brayed with laughter and wondered what possible attributes she possessed that would attract the attention of an intelligent and sophisticated man like the duke. Youth, a pretty face and the ability to give him a dozen children, she supposed, feeling rather sorry for the man who had so many expectations riding on his admittedly broad shoulders.

  Brione took a moment to admire the room. It was enormous, with equally large fireplaces at each end, and she could see that the furnishings and decorations had been expensively yet tastefully selected. She had never thought of castles being comfortable places, but whoever arranged the interior of this particular room had achieved that ambition.

  Well-upholstered chairs and sofas were scattered about, breaking up the cavernous room and making it seem more intimate. There was a grand pianoforte at one end and a galleried landing ran around three sides of the room. She glanced up and noticed Kensley standing in the shadows on that landing, watching. Always watching. He sent her a wink and she felt reassured as she transferred her gaze to the domed ceiling, decorated with interesting frescos that she would like to examine more closely when she had a moment.

  All heads turned when Rachel and Brione’s presence was noticed and most conversations stalled. Lady Murray stepped forward.

  ‘May I introduce you all to Mrs Evan Gilliard, a late arrival and a most welcome addition to our gathering.’

  Lady Murray took charge of Brione and walked her around the room, telling her the individual names of the other guests, making it appear as though she was delighted to have Brione amongst their number. But Brione sensed a well-concealed resentment in her hostess, a formality that was not evident when she conversed with Rachel, and knew that she was there under sufferance. But this was the duke’s house, and although Lady Murray and her husband were permanent residents at the castle, it was obvious to Brione that the duke was master of his domain. Brione had exchanged a few words with Murray, who seemed perfectly affable but rather dull. He appeared to be heavily involved with the preparations for the race and did not, she understood, have an estate of his own.

  None of the gentlemen in the room were suspects, so they were of little interest to Brione. The unmarried ladies eyed her with a combination of curiosity and narrow-eyed resentment. Since Brione had done nothing to offend them, she was unable to account for their hostility and dismissed it as an irrelevance. The mores of polite society were a mystery to her, and she was perfectly content for matters to remain that way. If she had inadvertently given offence in some way, then so be it.

  When the introductions were complete and Brione had been supplied with tea, she became separated from Rachel. A Mr Inglewood took the opportunity to engage her in conversation and she found herself trapped in a corner as he told her an elongated story about a shooting party he had recently attended. Since Brione despised the thought of killing any living creature and found nothing diverting about a beater having accidently been shot through the foot, he could not have chosen a subject less likely to impress her, if that had been his intention.

  She cast her gaze around for signs of rescue and knew instinctively, without actually seeing him, that the duke had entered the room. The single ladies all perked up, which in itself was a giveaway, but there was also a change in the atmosphere. It seemed a fanciful notion, but it was undeniable that the duke brought with him an air of consequence that effortlessly dominated the room, as well as the thoughts and actions of those within it. Several people tried to attract his attention. He was polite but didn’t allow any of them to detain him as he searched the room with his gaze until it alighted upon her, trapped in the corner by the tenacious Mr Inglewood.

  ‘Ah, your grace. There you are.’ The young woman with the pretty face and the braying laugh was more forward than the rest and attached herself to him, batting her lashes like a myopic owl. ‘We wondered what had become of you.’

  ‘Here you find me, Miss Frazer. I trust you enjoyed your excursion.’

  ‘How thoughtful of you to be so concerned. We had a quite delightful time. I declare the district to be perfectly d
elightful.’

  Brione, who overheard every word, somehow managed not to laugh. She caught the duke’s eye over the desperate girl’s head and was obliged to quickly look away before she lost all control, wondering if the duke would tell the silly chit that he was delighted to hear it. She felt rather sorry for the poor man and wondered if he had only permitted himself to be put through such torture in order to uncover the identity of the traitor, as he had led her to suppose, or if he really was on the prowl for a suitable wife. And for all her silliness, the girl who had attached herself to his side met that criteria.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Frazer,’ she heard the duke say with minimum civility. ‘Mrs Gilliard,’ he added, sweeping in front of Inglewood as though he wasn’t there. ‘How very pleasant to see you again. Welcome to my house.’

  ‘You are very kind, your grace,’ she replied, dipping a curtsey, conscious of almost every eye in the room watching them with varying degrees of interest. Miss Frazer’s eyes shot daggers of disapproval, and Brione sensed that she was about to pout. Sulking, she wanted to tell the girl, would do her cause no good whatsoever. She would be better advised to look her best, ignore the duke completely, speak intelligently on some matter or other if she could possibly manage it and wait for him to notice her. ‘Are you all right?’ he added, taking her aside. ‘I barely recognised you.’

  ‘Was that intended as a compliment?’ she asked waspishly.

  ‘My manners must be at fault if you are in any doubt about the matter.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she replied, aware that it was she who had forgotten her manners and that he was too gentlemanly to make the point. ‘This has all happened too quickly and I have not had time to make the necessary adjustments. I think I preferred being a maid,’ she added, inclining her head in Inglewood’s direction. ‘You must excuse me, but I am from the middle classes and unaccustomed to the conversations that are de rigueur in your world.’

  ‘That, I can assure you, is nothing to apologise for. In fact, I rather envy you. Inglewood is the richest man in the room, which allows him to be as boring as he pleases and everyone makes allowances for his eccentricity. You can be sure that most of the matrons will have him in their sights for their daughters.’