A Duke by Default: Dangerous Dukes Vol 3

by Wendy Soliman

  Or so he told himself.

  The days were easier and he kept himself occupied with matters of business brought to his attention by his secretary, who rode over daily for that purpose. On the third day, he left Swift to stand guard literally outside of Harriet’s room and later, in company with Giles, he made the journey on horseback to Endersby. His secretary had brought him news of an unexpected and unwelcome visitor. That information couldn’t be ignored. Marc needed to discover just what had brought Lord Bingham, a firm supporter of the dowager duchess, to his door. He was a dour individual. Without humour, elegance or common sense, he was a complete slave to the far more imaginative Katherine, the eldest of Marc’s cousins whom Bingham had married some ten years previously—the same cousin the dowager had wanted Marc to marry.

  ‘I thought you and Bingham didn’t see eye to eye,’ Giles said as they slowed their horses to navigate a narrow turn in the path.

  ‘We don’t. The dowager promoted Bingham as the only possible member of the family to succeed to the title following Jonathan’s death. She knew it wasn’t possible, which goes some way to showing the strength of her resentment against me.’

  ‘Because even if there were no male relatives to ensure the succession, the title couldn’t be passed on through the female line?’

  ‘Not very easily, no.’ Marc shot his friend a sardonic look. ‘Perhaps she anticipates that I will meet with a fatal accident and is now concocting a wild scheme to have the title pass on to Bingham’s eldest son.’

  ‘Good heavens. Surely you don’t believe that?’

  ‘I no longer know what to believe, but I wouldn’t put anything past my aunt. She actively disliked me before I married Harriet. Now she loathes the sight of me. News of my nuptials spread through the family with lightning speed. Bingham wrote me a letter of pure vitriol on the occasion, reserving the worst of his insults for my bride.’ Marc’s upper lip curled into a contemptuous snarl. ‘A gross miscalculation, as even he would have realised, if he had anything other than sawdust between his ears. He harped on about how I’d visited disgrace upon the entire family and wanted nothing more to do with me.’ Marc flexed his jaw. ‘Since the only contact I ever have with him is when he’s short of blunt, I don’t see how he can expect me to be sorry about that.’

  ‘So what brings him to Endersby, so soon after vowing never to darken your door?’

  ‘That, my friend, is precisely what I intend to discover.’

  ‘And you need my assistance because…’

  ‘I need you to stop me from throttling the blaggard.’ Marc shrugged. ‘You know how my temper runs away with me, especially when I’m surrounded by imbeciles.’

  Giles laughed. ‘Funny, but I have noticed that about you.’

  ‘Katherine worries me more, though. She’s made in the same mould as her mother and I’ll wager she is here at the dowager’s behest, to cause trouble.’

  Arriving at their destination, Marc and Giles threw their reins to the grooms who ran up to take their horses and entered the house by a side door. Predictably, Sanderson had obtained early intelligence of their arrival and emerged from the estate office, his face grave as he enquired after Harriet’s health. It took every ounce of Marc’s self-discipline not to pulverise the man.

  Marc strode into the drawing room, wanting to get the interview with his detested relations over with. Still dressed in their travelling clothes, a tray of tea on the table between them, Lord and Lady Bingham were engaged in an intense, whispered conversation which stopped abruptly when Marc’s shadow fell across them.

  ‘Marcus, Lord Merrow, how nice to see you again.’ Katherine stood up and offered Marc her hand. ‘We were on our way to visit friends hereabouts. Then word reached us of the appalling attack on your wife and so naturally we called to see if there was any way in which we could be of service to you. What is the world coming to if people can’t sleep safely in their own beds nowadays? Were we not just saying as much, my dear?’

  Marc had yet to speak a word but his icy expression had clearly unsettled Katherine to the extent she required her husband’s support.

  ‘Indeed. Sorry and all that, Broadstairs.’

  ‘Your regrets are noted.’ There was a discourteous edge to Marc’s voice. He turned away from his visitors, finding something to engage his attention in a picture on the opposite wall as he fought to control his temper. He didn’t trouble himself to wonder how news of Harriet’s attack had reached his family’s ears. His steward could always be relied upon to exceed his duties. ‘What else brings you here?’

  ‘Really, Marcus, what a question to ask.’ Katherine’s smile was artificially bright. ‘Do I need a reason to visit my childhood home?’

  ‘Your husband made your feelings about Endersby, and its new mistress, abundantly clear to me.’

  ‘Ah yes, about that, Broadstairs.’ Bingham shuffled his feet, staring down at them as though he had never seen them before. ‘An apology is called for, I think. I was shocked by the speed of your union and spoke out of turn.’

  He appeared to expect a response, but Marc wasn’t in a conciliatory mood and remained silent. Besides, he didn’t believe a word of it. These two were up to something. Bingham coloured and looked as though he would much rather be elsewhere.

  ‘I shall offer my apologies to the duchess, of course, when she is sufficiently recovered from her ordeal to admit visitors.’

  ‘I think not. Stay away from my wife if you know what’s good for you both. You have wasted the opportunity to ingratiate yourself with her.’ He met Bingham’s eye. ‘How much this time?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’ Bingham grasped his lapels and puffed out his chest. ‘Surely you don’t imagine we came to beg a loan? Our concern for your wife was our only purpose in visiting. That and to heal the unfortunate rift between us.’

  ‘How long do you hope to stay?’ Marc asked with what, even for him, was directness that bordered on insolence.

  ‘A few days, if it’s convenient.’ It was Katherine who replied. ‘We are expected by the Crowthers this Thursday sennight. Come, Marcus,’ she added, when her conciliatory tone made no obvious impression upon him. ‘You are now the head of our family. It would do little for our standing in society if others were to observe us feuding. Our presence here will demonstrate that we are united in favour of your wife.’

  Marc didn’t want them here, not even for one night, but what else could he do? ‘I will have Mrs. Grant prepare rooms for you but you must make your own entertainment. My wife is still at Matlock House and I shall be returning there directly.’

  ‘Oh, that’s of no consequence. It is good of you to have us, under the circumstances.’

  As though I had a choice in the matter.

  Marc excused himself and gestured to Giles to follow him to his library.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Giles asked.

  ‘I wish I knew.’ Marc paced in front of the fire as he thought it through. ‘But one thing I can promise you, it doesn’t bode well. It is not in Bingham’s nature to apologise, or to be pleasant to me either—unless he wants money. And if it’s not money, then what in God’s name do they want?’

  ‘Do you suppose them to be in league with Sanderson?’

  ‘I doubt it very much. Bingham is too lazy to embroil himself in intrigue and doesn’t have the backbone or wit to devise murderous plots, much less carry them through. No, Katherine is the driving force in that partnership. Don’t let that contrite little display of hers fool you. She’s up to something, but for the life of me I can’t begin to think what it might be.’

  Harriet drummed her fingers on the bedclothes, becoming more out of charity with Marc by the minute. The doctor had visited again that morning and finally given her leave to get out of bed. But Lady Calder, seated beside her and attempting to recall Harriet’s wandering attention to their game of cards, wouldn’t hear of her following that advice until Marc also gave his permission. His permission! It was enough to make her explode with an
ger. What right did he have to dictate her movements? She had obeyed his silly rules and remained in bed when a million pressing matters awaited her attention in the cider mill. Now she was finally at liberty to attend to them he had disappeared off the face of the earth. And Lady Calder was proving to be every bit as efficient a gaoler.

  ‘I could save time by attending to my ablutions while still in bed, I suppose,’ she grouched.

  ‘Of course, my love. Why ever didn’t you mention it sooner?’

  Harriet looked away. Aware she wasn’t the easiest invalid in the world to care for, she was reluctant to take out her frustration on her godmother. She concentrated instead on storing up complaints, ready to deliver them where they belonged, which was in her husband’s ear. If he ever recalled he actually had a wife and deigned to put in an appearance again before she died of old age.

  Lady Calder helped Harriet wash and then brushed her hair for her until it shone. She tied it back with a pretty ribbon and left the long tresses to tumble over her shoulders. By the time they had completed these matters, Harriet’s impatience was rewarded by the sound of hooves on the cobbles in the stable yard below her window. It could only be Marc returning from wherever he’d taken himself off to. Harriet was furious when her heart did a strange little flip at the thought of seeing him again.

  ‘Send the duke my compliments and ask him to attend me at once,’ Harriet said to the maid who answered her bell. ‘I will see him alone, Aunt Alicia, if you please,’ she added, her fingers now drumming at a frenetic pace.

  ‘Oh course, my dear.’

  Lady Calder stood up and gathered together her things. She had barely left before the door opened again and Marc’s imposing figure filled the aperture, all lithe muscle, graceful co-ordination and hard, unquestionable maleness. Harriet looked at him in all his splendour and had trouble believing she was married to such a sophisticate, or that she would ever be enough for him. He exuded an aura of tightly controlled strength and power. A decadent god who could dispel the bad temper she had spent hours of idleness building up simply by standing in the doorway and looking at her. As he did so the harsh expression in his eyes softened and caused her insides to melt.

  ‘Where have you been all day?’ she demanded crossly.

  ‘At Endersby. I understand you’ve been given leave to sit up for a short time.’

  ‘No, I have been given leave to get up. There is a vast difference.’

  He pulled back the covers and lifted her into his arms. ‘You’ve brushed your hair,’ he remarked, infuriating her by refusing to quarrel. ‘I approve.’

  ‘I am so pleased,’ she replied with a sweetly sarcastic smile. ‘Now, where are you taking me?’

  ‘To the window seat.’

  ‘But I wish to go downstairs and look in on the mill.’

  ‘Out of the question!’

  ‘Just a minute.’ It was difficult to appear affronted when being cradled against an impossibly hard, gloriously broad chest, but Harriet was so angry with him that she did her best to overlook that distraction. ‘The doctor said that I might—’

  ‘I spoke with the doctor myself. He said you could sit up for a short period but that your leg wouldn’t withstand your weight for long periods.’ His lips brushed the top of her head. ‘You wouldn’t wish to set yourself back now, would you?’

  ‘The doctor told me no such thing! And if you were here when he called this morning, why did you then disappear, leaving me to fester in bed all day?’

  ‘Because I wished you to spend the day in bed, recovering your strength.’

  Harriet puffed out her chest indignantly. ‘What right do you have to make such arbitrary decisions on my behalf?’

  ‘You appear to forget that I am your husband.’

  ‘I assure you, that is an impossible circumstance for me to forget. Even so, you can’t dictate my movements.’

  ‘Harriet, the matter is not open to debate. You will do as I say.’ He patted her hand, not appearing to notice the withering glance she bestowed upon him. ‘Tomorrow, if you’re a good girl and give no further trouble, I might permit you to dress.’

  ‘You are insufferable!’

  ‘Stop complaining.’ He settled her on the window seat and chucked her under the chin as though she was a wayward child. ‘If you are up to it, we need to talk.’

  ‘There’s nothing amiss with my cognitive powers.’

  ‘Evidently not.’ Harriet was aware of her husband’s close scrutiny as he sat beside her and took her hand in his. ‘Now, about your attack.’

  ‘What about it? It was purely the result of my stupidity.’ She wondered if her brain was still a little addled because as soon as he sat so close beside her, as soon as he held her hand and ran his long, capable fingers down the length of hers, she had the greatest difficulty in organising her thoughts, or thinking at all for that matter.

  ‘No, Harri, I think not.’

  Harriet listened as he explained how the window had been broken from inside and how the intruders had deliberately woken her in order to carry out their plan. It made perfect sense. The burglars had made enough noise to wake the dead. She had just supposed them to be inept at the time but it was obvious now that there was a great deal more to it than that and she wondered why she hadn’t realised it herself.

  ‘And so, Harri, you have little Freddie to thank for your presence with us today.’ He tightened his hold on her hand. ‘Are you all right talking about this?’

  ‘Yes, just a little shocked, that’s all.’ She bent to absently fondle Freddie’s ears. ‘Do you have any idea who the intruders were?’

  ‘No, but I have my suspicions. That is why I asked if you recognised them.’

  He then told her an extraordinary story about Jessup’s desire to possess the Hogarth cartoons, which he was convinced were concealed somewhere about Matlock House.

  ‘Dear Uncle Frederick!’ she cried. ‘Always so caring. I wonder where they are hidden.’

  ‘Somewhere you alone would think to look, but we will get to that later. There’s more you should know.’

  She listened in horror as he described the dowager duchess’s quite violent objections to their union and his belief that Sanderson had been behind the attempt to kill her, acting upon the dowager’s order.

  ‘But that’s it!’ She snatched her hand from his grasp and clutched her face. ‘That is what I’ve been trying to remember ever since you asked me about the intruders. One of them started to mention a name.’

  ‘Yes, but you said it began with Mer. That doesn’t apply to Sanderson. His first name is Arthur.’

  ‘Indeed, but he is universally known about these parts as Merlin. You know,’ she continued when Marc looked at her blankly. ‘Merlin in King Arthur’s court. Everyone, servants and contemporaries alike, refer to him in such a manner. Sanderson is thought to be a miracle worker, you see. Whatever a person requires, he always knows how to arrange it.’

  ‘Are you sure it was him? It was dark, you were frightened, and I don’t want to put ideas into your head.’

  ‘No, I am certain it was he. Now that I’m thinking more lucidly, it is obvious to me that his figure closely resembles that of the intruder. He’s short and stocky, with a distinctive manner of walking that I have not seen in any other man. I’m sure it was Sanderson who was here that night, Marc,’ she said firmly, sending her husband an intent look. ‘But he wasn’t the one who pulled the knife on me.’

  ‘Which is as well for him.’ Marc’s expression of cold, hard fury caused Harriet to shiver. ‘All right then, Harri. I intend to set a trap for them. As soon as you are fit to travel, all of you will remove to Endersby.’

  ‘Hey, just a minute!’

  ‘Spare me the arguments, if you please. We will all go to Endersby and the villains will then know this house is empty at night. Needless to say, we will recover the cartoons from wherever they are hidden and take them to safety first. And then Giles, Swift, and I will steal back here after dark and surprise the
blaggards.’

  ‘No, Marc, it’s too dangerous.’ Harriet shook her head emphatically. ‘I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’

  ‘Nothing will happen to me, but you can do something to help.’

  ‘Anything.’

  He actually smiled at her, which is how she knew she had fallen into some sort of trap. ‘You can do as you’re told, for once, which will prevent me from worrying about you.’

  ‘You don’t fight fair, Your Grace.’

  ‘Never where your safety is concerned,’ he replied, lifting one hand and softly running his fingers down her cheek. ‘You might also think about where my uncle would have hidden the cartoons. What precisely did he say to you when he called you to Endersby just before he died?’

  ‘I have been trying to recall—’

  A tap at the door announced the arrival of a maid with their dinner. They ate it mostly in silence, Harriet’s mind occupied with possible locations for the cartoons and, God help her, how best to persuade Marc to resume his husbandly duties in the bedchamber.

  They retired almost as soon as they finished their meal, neither of them having much of an appetite. Harriet insisted upon demonstrating the extent of her recovery by walking back to the bed unaided but spoiled the effect by losing her balance as she tried to slide between the covers. Marc convulsed with actual laughter. Delighted to have broken through his reserve, she chose not to take offence.