A Rake's Redemption

by G. L. Snodgrass

  The afternoon progressed slowly, threatening to become unbearable, when the jangle of a harness and the crunch of gravel from the front drive interrupted his labors.

  Devlin looked up from the ledger to glance at the clock. His friends had left that morning. Surely, they had not returned. Did they miss him that much?

  He laughed to himself. It was impossible to imagine either Benny or Tony forgoing the pleasures of London to remain here at Pine Crest with him. They were true friends. But, no one was that self-sacrificing.

  Only moments later. A soft tap at the study door, was immediately followed by Scruggs entering.

  “Your Grace,” the butler said. “Lord Warwick has arrived from London and requests an audience.”

  “Of course. Send him in,” the Duke of Hampton said as a smile broke across his face. He’d have met with Lucifer himself to escape these damn ledgers.

  He immediately began reviewing what he knew about the Earldom of Warwick. The family had no connection to the Beaumonts, not as far as he knew. He wondered if the man had simply been passing and stopped to introduce himself. These Lords lived by a different set of rules. Connections and familiarity with each other was everything.

  A good looking man in his late twenties was ushered in by Scruggs.

  Fit, tanned, he looked like a man who spent a great deal of time outdoors. Dressed in breeches and a gray cutaway coat. He appeared to be exactly as he claimed. A Lord of Britain. Noble by birth, honorable and true. The kind of man who exercised power on a daily basis because he had been trained from birth to do so.

  “Your Grace,” the man said with a slight bow. His eyes traveled to the open ledgers on Devlin’s desk. “Please forgive me for interrupting you.”

  “No, No,” Devlin said as he stepped from behind his desk to shake the man’s hand. “You are saving me from an afternoon of torture and pain. I do believe my agent’s books will be the death of me yet. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  A strange expression flashed into Lord Warwick’s eyes for a moment, but he quickly recovered. Seeming to hesitate, as if he had unpleasant news.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Lord Warwick said. “The Crown sent me. I have a rather sensitive subject to discuss.”

  Devlin’s steeled himself. This was not a social call, then.

  “Come, have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Devlin said. He didn’t wait for an answer as he poured two tumblers with a healthy amount of whiskey.

  “Please forgive me,” the Duke of Hampton said as he handed the man the glass of whiskey. “Your father is the Earl of Warwick correct? How is he? Well I hope. I thought I had heard that you were in Portugal with Wesley.” His curiosity continued to rise with every passing moment.

  “Yes, Your Grace, he is well. And yes, I have only recently returned from Portugal,” the man said as he accepted the drink, his brow narrowing at the mention of the war.

  Devlin stoked the fire, then sat down across from his visitor. He took a sip of his drink and waited. His mind processed a hundred different scenarios, but couldn’t possibly come up with an answer as to why the man was here.

  “You mention the Crown. Who exactly, might I ask?”

  “The Prince Regent, Your Grace.” Lord Warwick said.

  Devlin’s heart jumped, this was serious. He had assumed it was someone in the Home Office. He nodded his head for the man to continue.

  “The Prince is concerned about the death of your cousin. The previous Duke.”

  Devlin was taken aback. This was surprising.

  “Really,” he said. “I wasn’t aware there was anything amiss.”

  “Yes, well,” Lord Warwick continued, “as you can imagine. The Prince and all of the Lords found the news of the Duke’s death rather surprising. The man was hale and hearty. Youngish. With no known enemies. His reputation was that of a good man, well liked. To hear that he has died suddenly and been succeeded by an unknown, long-lost cousin.”

  The Lord paused for a moment as he let the words register.

  “Surely, the Prince doesn’t think I had anything to do with my cousin’s death. Believe me, a title was the last thing I ever wanted. In fact, if he wants, the Prince can have it back. I assure you. My life would be infinitely more pleasurable without it.”

  Lord Warwick smiled. It was obvious that he was well aware of the burdens associated with a title.

  “I understand, Your Grace. Be that as it may. The Prince was good friends with the previous Duke. In fact, he was in receipt of correspondence from the Duke that mentioned his worries that someone might be trying to hurt him. The Prince was concerned and asked me to look into the matter.”

  “Why you?” the Duke of Hampton asked, his brow narrowing in confusion. “And why now? It has been almost a month since his death.”

  Lord Warwick shrugged his shoulders. “It took a period of time for word to call me back from Portugal. As you can imagine. The Prince, and the House of Lords for that matter, do not want their suspicions getting out. They would prefer to keep this amongst themselves. At least until they know if there is anything to it. The last thing they need is a circus. Especially for something that might not be true. The papers would love this story. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t made up a bunch of ‘Facts’ and published them already.”

  Devlin sat back and pondered what the man had said. Had someone killed Cousin Robert? Why?

  “Again, why you?”

  The Lord grimaced for a moment. “Normally, I wouldn’t be so forthcoming. But, you are a Duke, you will take your seat in Parliament. You will learn of these things at some point. Let us say, that I have experience in dealing with matters such as this. In fact, I was recalled from Portugal where I had just completed such a task.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. You will learn, the Nobility prefers to deal with such things amongst themselves. Now then, what can you tell me about the incident,” Lord Warwick asked. “I’ve read the Magistrate’s report.”

  Devlin paused for a moment, hesitating. Best to be careful, he thought to himself. There was no telling what would happen. He well knew how words could be twisted.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Devlin said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I didn’t know the man. Never met him. By the time I learned of his death, he was already buried.”

  Lord Warwick frowned. “I was afraid of that,” he said with a little nod as if Devlin had confirmed what he already knew to be fact. “In that case. I would like to talk to the person who found his body. A Miss Jones, the report said. Is she still here at Pine Crest?”

  Devlin fought to mask the shock. He hadn’t known that Miss Jones had discovered the body. Why hadn’t anyone told him?

  “Of course,” Devlin said as he got up to ask Scruggs to find the girls’ governess.

  “Miss Jones is my ward’s Governess,” Devlin said, closing the door after Scruggs had received his instructions. “Surely you don’t suspect her?”

  Lord Warwick shook his head. “No, of course not. I doubt a woman could do such a thing.”

  ‘You don’t know Miss Jones,' Devlin thought to himself. He couldn’t imagine there was much in this world she couldn’t accomplish if she put her mind to it.

  Deciding that it was best to let the young woman speak for herself, he refilled his guest's glass and waited for Miss Jones.

  Within a few minutes, a soft knock at the door drew his attention. Miss Jones, dressed in her normal gray, her soft brown hair up in a tight bun, stepped into the room.

  Why did a smile automatically cross his face when he saw this woman? He wondered.

  “You asked to see me, Your Grace,” she asked with a confused look on her face. Her eyes darted to his guest, registering a handsome, obviously wealthy young man. Was that a brief look of interest behind her eyes? he wondered.

  The thought disturbed him for some reason. If she found young, handsome, well to do men interesting. Why did she always look at him as if she expected him to disappoint her
?

  “Yes, Miss Jones,” he said, pulling his mind from trying to discern the inner workings of her thoughts. A task he was almost certain was impossible. “This is Lord Warwick, he would like to ask you some questions. Questions about the previous Duke.”

  Her brow creased into a pretty frown as she obviously tried to understand why a strange Lord of England would want to talk to her.

  She quickly curtsied and addressed his guest, “Of course, My Lord.”

  Devlin felt a sense of pride in her. That was his Miss Jones. Never surprised. Never faltering.

  Lord Warwick had risen when Miss Jones entered the room. Now, he bowed formally and smiled at her. What was that smile all about Devlin wondered? He well knew what a smile like that meant. Lord Warwick had just been introduced to a beautiful woman. He couldn’t help but smile.

  Stepping back, Devlin felt as if he’d been displaced in his own home. Not a comfortable feeling. This Lord Warwick would need watching.

  “Thank you, Miss Jones. This won’t take long.”

  “Of course My Lord,” she said. Her frown had continued, but not as severe as before.

  “I’ve been informed that you were the one who found the Duke of Hampton. I’m sorry, the previous Duke of Hampton. You were the one to find his body?”

  She glanced quickly at the Duke as if she were asking what this was about. Should she be worried?

  Devlin stepped forward as a sudden urge to protect the young woman washed through him. This feeling was new, he realized. The kind of feeling that tugged at a man’s heart and wouldn’t let him do anything, but care for this woman.

  “There is nothing to worry about Miss Jones. It is just a quick inquiry.”

  Miss Jones looked back at him, now her frown had changed subtly. “I’m not worried,” she said. “Just confused. I told everything I knew to the Magistrate.”

  “Yes, Miss Jones,” Lord Warwick said. “I’ve read his report. But sometimes, Magistrates leave things out or just don’t know what is important. Please, just tell me what you saw that day.”

  Miss Jones paused for a moment as if she was deciding whether to humor this man or not. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Obviously deciding to give the man what he wanted. Devlin wondered if it was because he was young and attractive.

  “Of course, My Lord,” she said. “There isn’t much to tell. It was my afternoon off. It was market day, and I had left for the village. I hoped to pick up a few things for the girls. Ribbons, maybe a book or two. There is a vendor who comes almost every market day, he had promised me that on his next visit, he would have some of the books I wanted for the girls.”

  “Yes, thank you, Miss Jones,” Lord Warwick encouraged. “Please go on.”

  “I was almost halfway to the village when I noticed, Titan, the previous Duke’s horse in the field next to the road.”

  Devlin thought of the angry beast he had met in the barn. The horse had tried to take a chunk out of his shoulder as he had passed the stall. He swore he had seen a look of pure hate on the horse’s face, as if daring him to approach too close.

  “He’s such a sweet thing,” Miss Jones continued. “He was eating grass and just standing there. At first, I thought that maybe he had escaped from the barn and Mr. Samuels, the stable master, would be along any moment. But then, I saw that Titan was wearing his bridle. Not something he would have on if he had escaped the barn.”

  “No saddle?” Lord Warwick asked.

  “No, My Lord.”

  “And you didn’t see the Duke?”

  “No, My Lord,” she said. “Not then.”

  Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I climbed over the fence…”

  “It is a stone fence, correct?”

  “Yes, My Lord. I climbed over and approached Titan. Like I said, he is such a sweet thing, and he let me take his reins.”

  Devlin coughed into his drink. The beast was as friendly as a disturbed snake.

  Miss Jones shot him a look of confusion, then continued.

  “I was petting his neck when I noticed the Duke. He was only a few feet away from the fence. I had walked right past him to get to the horse. The grass is tall in that field, and I hadn’t seen him until then.”

  Miss Jones eyes lost focus for a moment, as she recalled the vision of the body lying on the ground. Devlin’s heart went out to her. To find someone like that, her employer, the girls’ father. What must it have been like? He could well imagine the fright and worry that had caused her.

  She pulled herself back to the present and looked at Lord Warwick, waiting for his next question.

  Lord Warwick began pacing. His head bent as if he were studying the carpet for flaws and abrasions. As he walked, every moment or so his head would bob up and down.

  Devlin and Miss Jones both watched the man pace. Each glanced at the other, as if to ask, ‘what next?'

  “You knew it was the Duke immediately? You didn’t have to approach the body to know who it was, or to see if he was injured?”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Miss Jones said. “He … he was on his back. His eyes were open. His gray pallor ... I could tell immediately that he was dead. I do believe that he had been there for quite some time. Maybe from that morning.”

  Devlin felt an almost overwhelming urge to intervene. Did Miss Jones need to relive this moment?

  “I say, Warwick,” Devlin said. “Is this really necessary?”

  Miss Jones looked at him, a brief smile letting him know that she appreciated the effort.

  Lord Warwick continued to pace, ignoring the Duke.

  “And the saddle? The magistrate said it was located on the far side of the horse. Tell me. What did you think had happened?”

  Miss Jones paused for a moment. “I assumed that the saddle had come off for some reason and that the Duke had fallen from his horse and landed awkwardly. Perhaps he had hit his head on the fence. I don’t know My Lord.”

  A simple statement, Devlin thought. And, all rather obvious.

  “Thank you, Miss Jones. That will be all for now,” Lord Warwick said with a gentle smile.

  Miss Jones glanced at the Duke of Hampton, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “Yes, thank you, Miss Jones,” he said. “Can you inform Mrs. Owens that there will be one more for dinner?”

  “No, No,” the Lord of Warwick said, shaking his head. “I am staying at the Inn. At least for the next few nights. It is better this way.”

  Devlin’s brow narrowed in confusion, but when he realized the arrangement would mean less interaction between this man and his governess, he smiled and accepted without an argument.

  Miss Jones curtsied and turned to leave. She had only taken a few steps when Lord Warwick said, “I will have to ask you to not discuss this with the servants Miss Jones. At least, not yet.”

  She glanced once again at the Duke, he nodded. She turned back to the Lord and curtsied once again. “Of course, My Lord.”

  Devlin watched her exit and felt a tug at his insides. He stood there for a moment staring at the door, trying to understand this silly feeling of loss when she left the room. At last, remembering where he was and who he was with he turned to address his guest.

  “Seems rather obvious to me,” Devlin said. “The Duke fell. The saddle failed for some reason. Maybe while he was taking the fence in a jump. He fell, hit his head, died. It happens.”

  The Lord nodded in concurrence. “Yes, that was the conclusion the magistrate came to.”

  “Well then, why all this drama?”

  “Yes, but, the magistrate also said that the saddle didn’t show any sign of breakage or tampering. It was unbuckled, yet in perfect working order. He believes the cinch strap became undone, and the Duke fell. Yes, the obvious conclusion.”

  “Well then?” Devlin asked.

  “Question Your Grace. If a saddle fails, comes unbuckled. Doesn’t it normally fall with the rider? Not over twenty feet away. Shouldn’t the saddle have been right next to the body?”


  Devlin paused. What did this mean?

  “Again, thank you for your assistance, Your Grace. I will be off. I will be spending the next few days nosing around. I should be back in a few days, maybe a week, so that I can talk to the servants.”

  Devlin could only nod his head as he continued to process everything Lord Warwick had said.

  Now, besides these damn numbers and ledgers, he had to worry about a possible mysterious murderer. At least in London his enemies had been honest enough to attack him directly.

  Chapter Eight

  Rebecca Jones hurried up the stairs to the girls’ classroom. She couldn’t get away from the man fast enough. Here she had thought he had at least one kind bone in his body. She had thought he had stayed because the girls needed him.

  No, that wasn’t it at all. He stayed because of London, the authorities, whoever? thought something nefarious had happened to the previous Duke.

  What was more, she was a suspect. Oh, Lord Warwick could smile, and look at her with interest. But, she well knew men like that. They were all kindness and gentle charm. At least on the outside. But, deep inside, a coiled snake waited to strike.

  She had thought Devlin Beaumont, His Grace, might be different. She thought she’d seen something different inside of him. He might try to hide it. But, she could have sworn there was more to him than superficial charm.

  She had been wrong, and she hated being wrong. It was the most disconcerting thing that could happen to her. It was enough to make a woman question herself. If she was wrong about Devlin Beaumont. What else was she wrong about?

  .o0o.

  Devlin Beaumont, the Duke of Hampton, followed Scruggs to the dining room.

  He was looking forward to a good meal, a glass of port, and an early night. He still couldn’t get the words of Lord Warwick from his mind. Had the Duke been murdered? Who? Why? Were the girls in any danger?

  Seeing Benny and Tony off this morning had freed him up to begin the long grind of learning about his holdings and duties. Now he had to add the worry about what had happened to the previous Duke.