On My Honour, page 12
“I should appreciate a dram of whiskey,” Tobin remarked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Luke reached over and tugged on the bell-pull. He intercepted the tray himself when it arrived so no servants would be tempted to gossip about what they had seen. Meg had finished with Tobin and was taking a very long time dressing the wounds and cleaning up her tools, he noticed. “Please have a seat.”
She took the high-back chair furthest away from him and stared at her hands. He poured her a small amount of whisky and handed it to her, deliberately holding her fingers over the glass until she looked up at him.
Tobin cleared his throat, but Luke ignored the reminder. He would deal with him later.
“Would you please tell me where Tobin fell into this bush? Although I have no doubt I can wring the truth from him, I would much prefer to hear it in your words.” He cast a sideways glare at his batman. Let her think his threat was not idle. He could get the story from Tobin if necessary.
“You promise you will not harm Tobin?” she asked, her tone full of uncertainty.
Luke continued to glare at Tobin, but the insolent servant smiled.
“I promise not to kill him,” Luke clarified.
Meg was looking at her glass so she missed the look which passed between the two men.
“I forced him to go with me. Please do not be angry.” She swallowed loudly. “We went to Hawthorne’s house to see if we could set eyes on my sister.”
“And did you?” He was astonished. How could they have been so stupid?
She nodded. “She was dining with my uncle.”
He waited but Meg offered nothing further. He was going to have to prod the information from her.
“Is that all? I assume this was done clandestinely?”
“Yes. We entered through the back garden and looked in from the window. I was going to climb to my sister’s room, but Tobin went.”
It was clear she was trying to confess as little as possible, yet he had a feeling there was more to it.
“And how did Tobin come by the thorns? I know my batman very well, and he appreciates his... ah, posterior... very much. He would not have stumbled upon them by accident.”
“Thank ye, yer Grace,” Tobin added with heavy sarcasm.
“He fell, your Grace.”
“And how did you fall?” He directed this question at Tobin.
“A maid came into the room so I had to hurry.”
“Naturally. Were you discovered?”
“Possibly.” Tobin shrugged in his off-handed Irish way.
“Do you know or not?” Luke tried not to growl.
“’Twas a bit of a commotion upon me exit. We might have proceeded with haste to the waitin’ carriage.”
Luke could not believe what he was hearing. He leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands, which were resting on his knees. It would do no good to yell at this point. What was done was done.
“So now we must see if the letter is discovered. How do you expect her to communicate with you? The letter was delivered, I trust?”
“Saints above!” Tobin buried his face in his arms.
“The milkmaid agreed to help us,” Meg answered, “if Amelia can get a letter to her.”
Luke looked from one to the other.
“Most ladies are not immune to my charms,” Tobin shrugged, clearly enjoying every minute.
“I also had a productive evening,” Luke remarked.
Both Meg and Tobin looked up expectantly. He took a long sip of his whisky, prolonging the suspense. “I went to see Thurgood.”
Meg leaned forward, waiting.
“He claims your uncle assured him you were willing to marry him. Hawthorne told him you were feeling unwell and took you straight to your cabin. It did not occur to him to think otherwise, and the wedding was to take place in America.”
“Was anyone there to chaperone me? Of course not, the scoundrel! Anyone who would drug an innocent to force her on to a boat has no conscience.”
“I do not know if Thurgood understands the niceties of Polite Society, but your uncle certainly would. He meant to be assured you could not return unmarried.”
“Is Thurgood still determined to find me?” Concern was evident on her face. Luke wanted to reach over and wipe away the furrow between her brows.
“I do not believe so. I did my best to refocus his ire on Hawthorne. I told him you ran away because we were already promised to one another. He feels very ill-used and wants his money back.”
“I do not think my uncle has it. What will happen when Thurgood discovers that?”
“I cannot say.” Although, he would not put it past Hawthorne to offer for Amelia instead, but he would not voice that. Hawthorne would certainly try to save his own skin.
Meg was relieved to escape the room. Luke had been very understanding of their escapade. It had been an exceedingly close thing, however, and she would have to be more cautious next time. Next time? Shaking her head at her wandering thoughts, she opened the door to her chamber to find Cook’s niece, Susie, waiting for her. The girl stood up and dropped a curtsy.
“I am to be your maid while you are here, my lady, if it pleases you.”
“It pleases me very much, Susie. I have no other gowns to wear apart from the lavender from yesterday, so if you will help me to don the muslin again, it will have to do for tonight.” Meg walked to her dressing table and began to dispose of some outer garments.
“Lady Laurence sent up a gown for you, my lady.”
Meg turned back to the maid in surprise. “However did she find one so quickly?”
“I believe it belongs to his Grace’s sister. She is at school in Bath,” the maid explained as she took the jackets and trousers from Meg with nary a remark about her unconventional costume.
The maid knew far more than she did about the Duke’s family, apparently. Susie went into the dressing room and Meg followed. Hanging there was a simple black silk gown that would suit very well. She must remember to thank Lady Laurence. After dressing, she joined the Duke and his mother downstairs.
After the past week, sitting to the Duke’s table seemed a ridiculous luxury. It should be easy to fall back into her world, but did she want to? The three of them were alone, en famille, and Meg remained quiet as they chatted about family matters. This was the first his mother had seen of him since his return from the Peninsular War.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Lady Laurence as bowls of turtle soup were placed before them.
“Lady Margaret, forgive us for boring you with things of which you have no interest.” She smiled. “I have sent notices to the papers, announcing the betrothal and stating the proceedings will take place quietly, but as planned by our families, before the unexpected passing of your parents.”
Meg was shocked. She supposed she should not be, they had stated their intentions, but she had not expected a public announcement. What would this do to Amelia’s situation?
“Forgive me, my lady, but what of my sister? I believe we should have waited until she was safe.”
“My dear, I understand your feelings, but this will help her cause. Should your uncle try to secretly wed her to the old Earl, there will be an outcry. I intend to hold a betrothal dinner where she may be presented to the pillars of the ton. If she has your beauty, it will be impossible for Hawthorne to hide her away.”
Meg placed her spoon down beside her plate. She felt sick about all of it. She did not wish to play games with her uncle.
“Besides, she has the potential to make a more advantageous match than Lord Erskine. I hope to take her under my wing and convince your uncle of that.”
“It is likely there are more devious reasons he has agreed to a match in that quarter,” the Duke interjected. From the tilt of his head it was clear he had been quietly listening. “He is her guardian and there is little I can do to gainsay him on the subject of Lady Amelia.”
“He will not appreciate attempts at interference,” Meg agreed. “I shudder to think what his reaction will be when he finds out I am here.”
“You are not to leave my side until this is resolved,” he commanded with a direct look.
She wanted to be angered, but the look held concern, and it felt good to have someone care. Her cheeks began to heat under his stare, and she wished his mother was not there to witness the look.
Lady Laurence cleared her throat and pretended great interest in the fruit before her. The awkward moment passed and thankfully, the rest of the dinner was more mundane. Lady Laurence kept the talk light-hearted, introducing the topic of the antics engaged in by Julia and her friends from school. When the lady finally rose, signalling the end of dinner, Luke also stood.
“Mother, do you think Lady Margaret and I might have a word alone?”
She raised her brows a little at this but nodded her acquiescence. “I am not yet accustomed to city hours, and you are betrothed. I will retire now,” she said with a look that indicated he should not forget his place. Meg found this humorous, since any number of things could have happened before her arrival, but she kept silent. She also noticed a reciprocating twinkle in Luke’s eye as he came to stand before her and held out his arm. He walked her into a small study at the back of the house. A roaring fire sat to one side of the room flanked by two comfortably worn leather armchairs. A sofa sat in front of a wall of books, which looked out through glass doors onto the terrace. Leading her to one of the chairs, he sat down opposite her. It was very quaint and domestic; it would be very easy to forget why she was here.
“Should I call for tea?”
“Not for me,” she said with a slight pat to her stomach. “You have the most excellent chef,” she teased.
“To think, a few days ago, I did not know who was baking my bread.”
“I consider it a compliment if you did not detect a difference,” she replied with her chin in the air.
He laughed and reached over, holding out his hand. “May I?”
“I— I suppose so.” She tentatively placed her hand in his.
“We are to be married. I thought we should spend more time becoming acquainted.” The warm look in his eyes heated her more effectively than the nearby fire.
“Your Grace...” She began to protest.
“Luke,” he corrected. “I know you are concerned for your sister, but there is nothing further we can do tonight. We have set the wheels in motion as best we can, and now we must wait.”
She relaxed a bit as his fingers began tenderly caressing her hand again, sending sensations straight to her insides. They had not replaced their gloves after dinner, and she found the touch disconcerting yet also soothing.
“Luke, I was objecting to the need to tie yourself to me in matrimony. Somehow, it seems you have managed to protect my reputation, thus far,” she said, though disjointedly, having difficulty forming the words when the two of them were so intimately situated.
“Am I so objectionable, Meg? Look at me,” he commanded gently.
She did and suddenly she was drowning. The light of the fire accentuated his masculine beauty in such a way she felt she must be in a dream, except his presence, his scent clouded her senses and overtook her good judgement.
Had he asked her a question? Indeed he had. Objectionable? “No,” she whispered. “Nevertheless, it does not mean it is wise.” Her heart and her head battled for her attention.
“May I at least have the opportunity to change your mind?”
Before it occurred to her to object, a hand came up to cradle her face and his thumb gently brushed against her lower lip. She let out a nervous breath as his lips descended to brush lightly over hers then more firmly, touching, feeling, tasting. It was an entirely new sensation and so strangely intimate, yet not at all repulsive as she would have thought. Somehow her hands found their way around his neck and she was returning his kiss with abandon until his lips left hers and he pulled her into an embrace while chuckling. He was amused? Her wits had completely gone begging and he was laughing?
“I do not think I can survive any more convincing tonight,” he murmured, his lips against her hair. Well, at least one of them had their wits about them.
Chapter 16
Luke was having great difficulty in concentrating on his solicitor’s words the next morning. He tried to drag his mind away from kissing Meg the night before, but the more he endeavoured not to think about it, the more he thought about it.
“Your Grace? Should I perhaps arrange this discussion for another time? You seem a bit preoccupied,” the portly old gentleman asked as he stroked his white whiskers.
“My apologies, Mr. Ramsey. I am preoccupied, but it is no fault of yours. The settlements need to be done. Please continue.” He sat up taller at his desk and tried to focus his mind on the task before him.
The solicitor cleared his throat and sat up taller as he stacked some papers together. “When I attempted to make an appointment with the previous Marquess’s solicitor, I received a note in response to say he was no longer serving the family.” Mr. Ramsey leaned forward and smacked his hand on the table. “They had been serving the family for six generations!” His face showed signs of horror. “Six!”
Luke leaned forward reassuringly. “The House of Waverley has no intention of dismissing Ramsey and Sons.”
The solicitor nodded, apparently too upset to speak. He composed himself and then cleared his throat and began again, sitting taller and stacking his papers. It must be his preparatory ritual, Luke decided.
“As I was saying, the new Marquess has taken on a new solicitor.” He paused to frown again, apparently unable to fathom such a distasteful action. “I was referred to a new office, of which I had never heard before—a Mr. Percival Jones. I have been unable to gain an audience yet. I did, however, receive a copy of the previous Hawthorne’s will. Lady Margaret’s portion, due upon her marriage or her majority, includes twenty-five thousand pounds and an estate in Essex. Two widowed ladies are currently residing there as pensioners. I have drawn up the settlements with the assumption this has not changed.”
“Does Lady Amelia have a similar marriage portion?”
“I would expect so, your Grace. I did not read about the sister.”
“I would not rely on any of this being available. I believe the new Hawthorne intends to keep everything for himself. I am pleased you have copies of all the documents. They may be needed in the future to remove his guardianship of the Lady Amelia.”
Mr. Ramsey looked shocked. “Is this the new Marquess a thief?” he whispered.
“Quite possibly,” Luke replied. “I have Runners investigating the death of Lady Margaret’s parents. I am expecting more news any day, from the Peninsula, regarding the then Major Blake’s movements prior to their death.”
“Mercy,” the solicitor gasped. “May I have your permission to alert the old firm of possible wrong-doing? Discreetly, of course, but sometimes there are suspicious behaviours...”
“At this point, I will be glad of anything to help Lady Margaret and Lady Amelia’s plight. I fear it will not be good. If I had not found her when I did...” Luke had to swallow emotion and did not finish.
“I will prepare another copy of the settlements without her bringing a marriage portion, in that case.” The solicitor seemed to understand.
“She will have use of the dower house until her death, of course, but I would also like her to have property in her own right. I think the estate in Lincolnshire, on the sea, would be nice for her. It is close to where she grew up.”
“Yes, of course, your Grace.” The solicitor scribbled a note to himself.
“The rest can remain as it is.” Luke stood up so the solicitor could be on his way. As he was being shown out, someone else was arriving. Luke was not in the mood to see anyone just now. Speaking of Hawthorne had that effect on him. This needed to be resolved quickly. Perhaps, he mused hopefully, the caller was for his mother. As the butler knocked on the door, Luke sighed. “Come in, Timmons. I am not home for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, your Grace, but this...gentleman insisted I at least show you his card.” Luke took it from the silver salver on which it rested.
“Philip,” he whispered. “Yes, show him up.” What was Philip doing here?
He walked around his desk, pondering, when Philip’s handsome dark face appeared at the door. They greeted one another with brotherly hugs and pats on the back.
Luke pulled on the bell-rope to request proper refreshment. “Shall I have a room prepared for you? How long are you here?”
“I do not know yet. I have business to attend to. I can stay at the club,” Philip said dismissively.
“I would not hear of it.” When a footman appeared at the door, Luke instructed him to bring up a proper breakfast and prepare a room for Captain Elliot. Luke sat down; Philip removed his sword and scabbard before also sitting.
“Coffee?” Luke asked, knowing that all of the brothers shared his vice in the morning. He refreshed his cup and then poured another for Philip before handing it to him. “Now, tell me what has brought you this way. It is a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.”
Philip crossed his legs and took a sip of coffee with an appreciative sigh. “When I showed Lord Wellington your note, he insisted I come to you at once.”
Luke was stunned. “There must be a great deal of which I am unaware.”
“Let us say that the plundering at Vitoria was a mild incident and the timing fortuitous. Wellington could not send him home fast enough.”
“Gambling debts or worse?”
“He is a bad egg from every angle. Why the interest?” He placed his cup on the nearby table.
Luke grew quiet as he tried to think how best to word his queries. There was no delicate way to broach it, however.
“I wrote to you of his acquiring the title.”
Philip nodded. “Quite a convenient coincidence,” he added dryly.
“I am betrothed to his niece, whom he had drugged and sold to an American merchant. She awoke on a ship about to set sail, and jumped overboard to escape.”
