“Daniel, most likely.” Cornelius uttered, glancing over the note again.
He had seen the papers, telling of some medieval scuffle between the Duke of Worthington and some street thugs over the well-being of a damsel in distress. It was very like Kenneth to be involved in such a fuss; Cornelius had always admired his nephew's disinterest in public opinion. It may serve him ill in the long run, Cornelius reasoned, but it was damn brave of him in the meanwhile.
He had no trouble believing his nephew. He knew he was not acting out of personal motive of any sort, regardless of the gossip. He was also glad to see mention of the licenses; this was good news that indicated the next phase of his current project could continue.
He set the letter aside and resumed looking at the pile. Forking through the papers he saw another that chilled him. He retrieved it, an envelope sealed with the image of a schooner, and read it in secret behind his desk.
Once he had done so, he crumpled the paper, and fed it into his flickering candles so that it was consumed fully, torn apart into wispy ash.
After doing so he sat with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and said to himself, “Why can nobody do anything proper themselves?”
Chapter 9
Kenneth rose that day with an energy that he reserved for very select occasions each year. It happened but four or five times throughout the twelve months that he would be so unreasonably excited for the day's events.
The day in question was the twelfth of August, known to the sportsmen of the country as “the Glorious Twelfth.” It was the beginning of a hunting season, Red Grouses, specifically, over all of England. It was a long-ingrained hunting tradition that had the sportsmen of the land up before dawn, brimming over with anticipation.
In fact, it was so loved among hunters – and of the House of Lords, many hunted – that rumors had circulated about a bill that would create a national holiday in the day's honor.
Holiday or not, Kenneth had made sure to take the whole of the day. He was up a good ways before the sun, and he sprang from his bed with the jump of a jackal.
He had risen long before Daniel had come to attend to his drapes, so Kenneth flung them open himself with a grand gesture, his elegant house robes fluttering out on all sides.
“What a fine day it will be.” he announced openly.
Kenneth went downstairs with the idea of a piping breakfast and found that the few servants who were awake had only just begun to stoke the fires. Unperturbed, Kenneth informed them that he would take it as soon as it was ready.
The young Duke of Worthington made his way towards the back patio and passed a very weary-eyed Daniel along the way. The manservant gave Kenneth a confused and startled look, no doubt to see him up so early, and offered to help him prepare for the day.
“Today, I feel I will delay that a spell.” Kenneth replied, and stepped out onto the patio.
The day was slowly warming as the first of the sun's red brow peered over the eastern sky. At first, it cast long shadows on the tree line, falling out over the fields. But the sun ascended quickly, and within what seemed mere moments the whole of the landscape was lit up around him.
“Glorious morning, isn't it?” a familiar voice caught Kenneth by complete surprise, and he whirled about to see his uncle stepping out through the threshold.
“Uncle Cornelius!” he exclaimed. “I did not think to see you this day.”
“I thought I might put a show on for you.” Cornelius chuckled, advancing to his nephew and embracing him. “It has been too long since we had hunted together, and I had not forgotten your invitation. It was only but two days ago when I read your letter that I knew I had to pay this visit. For that matter, it has been far too long since I have hunted at all.”
“How have you come? The sun is only just up.”
“You know that I was up well before the sun, as any good gentleman would be today.” Cornelius winked.
“Well said.” Kenneth clapped. “Your driver feels poorer for it, I'd imagine.”
“Hard to feel poor about a guinea.” Cornelius countered.
“Well said indeed.” Kenneth laughed. “Now would you break your fast with me?”
“I would, if only you were a man in clothes and not your night shirts.” Cornelius playfully tugged at the house robes, which were magnificent garments by all accounts.
“Very well then, I will be along.” Kenneth waved him away. “Make yourself at home, Uncle.” and he began to walk back towards his dressing chambers.
“I shall,” Cornelius called after him. “for I grew up here, lest you forget.”
Kenneth bounded up the stairs, laughing to himself still about the appearance of his uncle. He so enjoyed Cornelius' company; he had always looked out for him, and counseled him, especially in the recent years.
Kenneth flung open his wardrobe with enthusiasm but was quickly quelled by the magnitude of clothing options. While he liked to think of himself as self-sufficient, he still required Daniel's assistance when it came to dressing.
Kenneth rang the bell, and within moments his faithful manservant arrived.
“Your Grace?” he blinked. No doubt Cornelius's early arrival had thrown him for a gander.
“Come on man, I need to be dressed but I have too many clothes.” Kenneth waved at the wardrobes, exasperated.
“Your Grace has an adequate wardrobe for your stature.” Danial entered the room, closing the door behind him. “Was there an occasion specifically for which you meant to dress?”
“It's the Twelfth, has the whole place forgotten?”
“The Twelfth, of course, Your Grace.” Daniel snapped to attention.
Everyone has forgotten! No matter, they know now.
“I want that red hunting waistcoat, Daniel, where is it in all this?” Kenneth made a futile gesture of sorting the hanging clothes.
“I believe this is the one you mean, Your Grace?” Daniel expertly retrieved the garment in one fluid motion.
“Yes,” Kenneth squinted at it, puzzled as to how it had been so clearly in front him the entire time. “that is the one.”
Daniel saw the Duke dressed as quick as he was able, and then rushed back downstairs to prepare for serving breakfast.
Kenneth turned to his standing mirror and admired himself. He quite liked the red hunting waistcoat, and around it he draped an elegant hunting cloak. Beneath it all was a light shirt, tight stockings, and sturdy leather hunting boots.
“Just fine enough.” he grinned to himself, and skipped down the stairs to pursue his day.
“Well you're off to a good start, I'd say.” Cornelius laughed to see his nephew prancing into the breakfast room.
“I am not sure if I have ever felt better.” Kenneth replied.
“You felt the same way last year.” his mother interjected, looking up from her tea.
“And each year it gets a bit better, hmm?” Kenneth raised his eyebrow.
“What is the quarry today?” the Duchess teased while she picked up her book.
“Red grouse, just the same as last year.” Kenneth plucked a biscuit from the wicker basket in the center of the table. “Shall we, Uncle?”
“We shall.” Cornelius beamed, rising from his seat.
“Have fun then.” the Duchess shot back at them as they hurried to exit the dining room.
The two of them stepped out into the August air, letting the second half of summer wash up into their skin. Kenneth knew his uncle was much like him in the sense that the both of them thoroughly enjoyed a beautiful morning.
There was something about the crispness of the air, set just right against the mellow ascent of the blazing sun, that touched Kenneth to his core. It was a fine day for a grouse hunt.
The two of them took horses out into the fields and pressed on, out of sight of the manor. They continued on southward for some distance, lazily nudging the beasts forward until they took up positions in a lightly-wooded area with a view of the shore.
They hitched their horses
and began to leisurely stroll with shotguns under arm.
“Smell that air, Nephew.” Cornelius said quietly. “I do love the sea air.”
“Then why do you not live by the sea?” Kenneth grinned at his own quips.
“You know the answer to that.” his uncle scoffed. “It seems I must always attend to something in London. I cannot make sense of living anywhere else.”
“I attend often to matters in London, yet I manage the travel.”
“Of what matters do you attend in London?” Cornelius gave him a wry look.
“The business, same as you!” Kenneth protested. “You cannot say I do not put forth effort.”
“Oh, that is not what I mean to say.” Cornelius crooned, shutting his eyes as he smiled. “I only meant that your activity in London seems somewhat varied, of late.”
“So, you have come to it at last.” Kenneth jeered. “Well done, I suppose.”
“You would rather not discuss it?”
“No, no, I do not mind in the least.” Kenneth waved his hand. “What I do mind is the spirit of Londoners to make every little thing their bloody business.”
“You must think of it this way.” His uncle adjusted his stance, all the while scanning the trees and bushes for red grouse. “There are many people in London, although the group we belong to does not care at all for any of the others. It is the smallest group in the whole of the country, and as a result, the members care only about other members. And they care deeply.”
“They do not care as I care for you or Mother.” Kenneth argued. “But only for who makes a fool out of one's self, and what have you.”
“But this in turn is their way of caring.” Cornelius pointed out. “You should be glad to have any sort of attention paid to you. At least you are recognized.”
“Mother worries that I will never be married, for I scare away the fathers.”
“Ha, it may well be true to an extent.” Cornelius chuckled. “But at the end of it all, you are a Duke, and a dashing one at that.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” Kenneth let out a sigh. “And it is not even that I care much for the prospect of marriage. I could go on doing without it.”
“But your mother and I cannot.” Cornelius winked. “I have no children. You must keep our name and title alive.”
“But isn't there plenty time for it still?”
“Less and less, but yes, you are not out of time.”
“Tell that to my mother.” Kenneth whined.
“So, what happened in the street then? The tabloids have a colorful story, and I should like to hear your side.”
“You believe the papers?”
“Not at all,” Cornelius gawked, clapping the young Duke on the shoulder. “but they do tend to give the mind a leash to run on, don't they?”
“Hmph.” Kenneth snorted. “I suppose.”
“Come on then, out with it.”
“Well alright.” Kenneth threw one hand up in a sign of surrender. “I was exiting my coach along St. James’s Square, I meant to meet the Marquess at his social club.”
“Yes, I also received an invitation.”
“Right then.” Kenneth bobbed his head. “You know the shallow steps there, leading up to his parlor?”
“Indeed.” Cornelius nodded.
“Well, I am about to put my foot up on the stoop when this woman blindsides me from around the corner, near knocking me clear over, off the step. The Marquess was there as well, watching it all, you should have seen how red his face was.”
“He does grow awfully flush.”
“Then a group of street thugs, some five or six, come running after her. Nearly take me and the Marquess down once again. They were hollering after her, and I could tell that she was in danger, you see. I followed them to an alleyway where I found them beating on the poor woman. I did what I could to intervene, and as I helped the woman to my coach, for she could barely stand you see, the whole of St. James’s Square was gathered around to make their own assumptions.”
“And what of the woman? Did she recover?”
“She is still healing, but she should recover fully.”
“She is at an infirmary in London, I assume?”
“Heavens no, she is at my estate.”
“Your estate?” his uncle raised his eyebrows curiously. “You see, this is exactly the behavior that generates rumors.”
“She was half dead, Uncle, I felt responsible for her safety.”
“I do not doubt your intentions.” Cornelius consoled him. “I only mean that plenty would ask why she was not brought to hospital. It would seem a logical course of action, would it not?”
“I suppose.” Kenneth chewed his lip. “But in all honesty the thought never crossed my mind.”
“No, I expect not.” Cornelius smiled, and the two of them shared a moment of laughter. “Then I shall have to meet her when we return.”
“Of course, Uncle.”
“Grouse!” Cornelius shouted suddenly and let loose a shotgun blast.
“Fine shot!” Kenneth beamed. He admired the marksmanship, but he was jealous for not having caught the first grouse of the season.
After the early morning had passed into midday, the pair made back to their horses and took the easy ride back to the Worthington estate. They sprang through the entryway and took up their positions in the mud room. They eagerly pulled at their muddy boots, boasting four dead birds over their shotguns, a footman approached Cornelius with a letter atop a silver serving tray.
“This arrived for you from London, Lord Wilson,” the footman said, extending the tray.
“When did it arrive?” Cornelius took the envelope and looked over the seal before cracking open the wax.
“Perhaps an hour ago, My Lord,” the footman answered.
“What is it?” Kenneth asked, handing the birds off to a servant with his shotgun and riding coat.
“Business.” Cornelius muttered, glancing over the document.
“With whom?” The Duke was checking himself in the hallway mirror, ensuring his clothes were once again straight and tidy.
“An issue with deposits.” his uncle became visibly agitated. He folded the slip of paper and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. “I must return to London immediately.”
“I thought that we would journey there tomorrow, together.” Kenneth said, startled by the sudden news.
“I shall see you there tomorrow, make no mistake.” Cornelius waved over the servant that had just taken his riding coat. “But this is a matter, I fear, to which I must immediately attend.”
“You will be hard pressed to make London before the banks close for the evening.” Kenneth tried to persuade his uncle to stay the night. He had not expected him to come that day, and the visit had made him most joyful. However, he understood his uncle's urgent relationship with business. It was the family shipping company, and Cornelius had managed it since as long as Kenneth could remember. It was a complicated company, with many invested parties, and so Kenneth could not begrudge Cornelius for his urgent departure.
“It seems my driver will have two hard journeys in one day.” Cornelius said. “I shall make it, I must. I shall meet your damsel in distress another time, say farewell to your mother for me. I really must be off now.”
“Will you take one of your birds?” Kenneth called after him as he raced out the front door, barking orders to his coachman.
“Keep them!” Cornelius shouted back, clambering into the carriage. “I shall see you tomorrow!” He waved once more and slammed shut the carriage door.
The coach was off, and Kenneth was left alone in the entryway.
“Fine visit that was.” Kenneth said to himself. He took another deep breath of the changing summer air and shut the front doors behind him.
* * *
Leah was growing restless. She had been in bed for days now, watching the glorious sunlight of the summer blink by through her large windows.
Of course, they weren't her windows. This wasn't
her bed, nor her house, and in the foreign strangeness of it all she was completely isolated.
She had done some reading for the first few days, but she had quickly tired of it. It was unlike her to read for an extended period of time, largely due to her short attention span, and the fact that it was rare she had a book about to read in the first place.
The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 9