A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4)

by Jackie Williams

  Tomorrow! If it were to be another day similar to today, he needed to seriously consider handing in his notice. He had never worked so hard in his life. Well, if the truth be told, he had never really worked at all. Oh, he had business ventures and investments, but they didn’t need actual physical labour to make sure they remained afloat. And as to anything else, he had servants to do it for him. Today had been an eye-opener in more ways than one.

  After washing in what he suspected was the same water he had used that morning, he was about to walk over to his bed when a faint light in the distance caught his attention. A candle flickered in a first floor window at the rear of Portland Hall. Daisy’s room? Possibly. He couldn’t tell, but one of the maids had informed him that both the Dowager and Lady Caruthers had taken rooms at the front of the house.

  Could Daisy be standing there at the window now? Was she looking back, seeing him standing naked in the dark? His heart beat hard against his ribs. What he wouldn’t give to know. Being so close to her when hiding in the wardrobe had been pure torture. Lord only knew how he had stopped himself from doing more than kissing her forehead. She had clutched him, had breathed out his name. And he had wanted her. Desperately. Like a drowning man fighting to take another breath.

  He sliced his fingers through his overlong hair, frustration gnawing at him. She wasn’t his. It was too late. She was a widow, soon to be a mother. Rage roared to life in him. It should have been me! Should have been his child. She was meant to marry him. Him, not that idiot Portland. How many times was he going to kick himself for his stupidity? He had to stifle this need, had to move on.

  But another thought wavered at the edge of his attention. The woman must have recognized him almost instantly, but Lady Caruthers’ hadn’t become hysterical and screamed ‘Murderer!’ No, she had remained quiet and calm. And later, her whispered words at the dinner table hadn’t been to warn him away. Quite the contrary. They were clearly an enquiry as to his current intentions. Did he mean to ask for Daisy’s hand? He hadn’t considered it an option with her husband so recently dead, but Lady Elizabeth hadn’t seemed to find it unusual, and her gentle demeanour and encouragement had spurred him on.

  But though she might not believe him a killer, would she help him in his cause to clear his name so that he could ask for Daisy’s hand? Surely it was far too soon to consider a proposal or an understanding. Even a discreet one. There were too many difficulties to overcome. Daisy had just lost her beloved husband. To even contemplate another marriage was insane. And there was the baby to consider.

  The thoughts whirled in Pierce’s head. Yes, he wanted Daisy, but could he bring up another man’s child? Especially one who, if a son, would be the heir to the Portland fortune. Would he even be allowed? The Dowager Duchess might intervene, might try to take Daisy’s child away from her. Pierce felt something strange rise within him. Over his dead body! He knew that if removing the toy bear from her possession caused his beloved pain, removing a child would all but kill her.

  And all at once a terrible thrill engulfed him. Whatever had gone before, the mistakes he had made, her marriage, the child growing within her, he could no longer contemplate a life without Daisy in it. The last three years had been pure hell knowing she was happily married to another man, but at least he knew she still existed, and somewhere in the back of his mind, however remote the chance, he had always thought that where there was life there was hope.

  But now he had held her in his arms, had felt her skin soft under his lips, the silkiness of her hair on his fingertips. Even bearing the Portland heir would not deter him. This was it. She was his and would be for all time. There was no going back.

  Which brought his thoughts to the other difficulties. All the recriminations, the thinking, the hoping for a future with her, was completely irrelevant if he couldn’t clear his name. And with his well known, lifelong association with Daisy, and the way he had reacted to her letter, with no relatives in sight, it looked as if he had the most to gain by ousting the Duke and marrying a rich, entitled, pregnant widow who also happened to be the sister of his best and lifelong friend.

  But Pierce knew he hadn’t tampered with the Duke’s saddle, so it had to have been someone else. And if it hadn’t been at the Duke of Devonshire’s, it had to have been at the Duke’s home. Someone with access to the stables and the tack room. Not Andrews or the stable lads. They had nothing to gain. Not any of the staff for similar reasons. So someone with a grievance, but Daisy had assured him that Portland had no enemies, which he could quite believe. The man wasn’t a gambler, a drinker, or a womanizer. He collected beetles and butterflies and stuffed dead animals. How did one make enemies from doing anything so eccentric but benign?

  One didn’t, that was more than obvious. Any other collector was far more likely to gasp and peer closely at any unusual specimen than to kill the owner over it. And then it was as if a tinder caught light in Pierce’s brain. He was right. None of it made sense.

  Unless it hadn’t meant to be murder but a threat. A threat that went badly wrong when the Duke made the sudden decision to take part in the Devonshire race. But what sort of threat would make a man such as Portland react so unexpectedly. A scandal! It was the only answer. But Daisy had confirmed that the Duke had few vices, so if it wasn’t to do with women, or debt, or drink, how could there be a threat?

  Except that the scandal might be nothing to do with the Duke. Pierce’s heart leapt into his mouth as panic seized him. If it wasn’t the Duke being threatened, then it had to be Daisy. Had someone read the letter she sent to him begging him to reconsider marrying Angelique Lancer, and thought he and Daisy were having an affair? The note had been passed from one address to another until it found him. Anyone might have opened it to discover its contents and then resealed it.

  Pierce closed his eyes tightly as he tried to recall if the letter’s seal had been tampered with, but he had been drunk and out of his mind most of the week in question, and simply couldn’t remember. It was certainly possible. And though he hadn’t seen Daisy in all the years of her marriage, he knew that such a possibility would make excellent fodder for vicious tongues. He could imagine the fluttering fans, the snide remarks, and Daisy being given the cut direct. Was some fiend blackmailing her rather than Robert, and had she confessed to her husband what she had done.

  It all became clearer with every moment he stood there. With Daisy newly pregnant after years of being childless, the probability of her carrying the product of an affair would be uppermost in some people’s minds. However much Daisy might protest her innocence, tongues would wag. And with the possibility of an heir on the way, Robert was trying to protect her. Doing everything he could to buy his way out of a scandal that would drag his child’s name through the mud.

  Pierce’s mind raced. Who would do such a thing? He nearly laughed out loud at his own naive question. There were plenty of people with few scruples who wouldn’t mind making some money out of an easy target. The Duke would pay handsomely to keep the family name out of the gossip columns. But the man would have been mad to bow to the threats. Didn’t everyone know that once a target caved into extortion, blackmailers rarely gave up? Once you paid them, they knew you would do so again, and again.

  Which would explain Robert’s late entry into the Duke of Devonshire’s annual horserace. And his recent short temper. The man had indeed yielded to the intimidation and was now paying the price. He had needed the extra money. Was probably hoping that the ten thousand guineas would be enough to end the blackmailer’s demands and stifle the threat of exposure.

  Which it wouldn’t, but a man who collected beetles might not think of that. And then another fault in Pierce’s thinking hit him. Why would a blackmailer sabotage the man who was paying him a handsome, regular sum? Why kill the source of a consistent income? Unless the Duke was fighting back.

  Perhaps Daisy’s husband had discovered the blackmailer’s identity and knew the fiend was going to be at the Devonshire’s race. Maybe Rob
ert had threatened retribution, and fearing exposure, the blackmailer tried to make the murder look like an accident.

  But that would mean it had to be one of Devonshire’s own men. And they had already been investigated and vouched for. So if it wasn’t any one of them, it had to be someone else. Someone close enough to the Duke that he could get to his horse. There surely weren’t many of them.

  Pierce closed his eyes briefly and tried to think it out again, but his brain kept asking more questions than it answered. Exhaustion set in and he needed to sleep to clear his mind. He glanced back at the house in the distance. The candle had gone from the window and only moonlight alleviated the dark.

  He stared out a while longer wondering if a blackmailer lurked in the shadows. The Duke was no longer paying, but that didn’t mean his wife couldn’t. Was Daisy in danger? Pierce hadn’t come across any odd people hiding in the woods during the days and nights he spent there. And surely it couldn’t be the Dowager, Daisy’s mother, or her own staff? No, her mother in law might be an old harridan but it didn’t seem likely that she would murder the son who gave her an equipage to rival that of a king. Or the daughter in law now carrying the all important Portland heir.

  Discounting Daisy’s own mother instantly and entirely, Pierce thought about each of the staff he had met about the house. No one stood out as a possible danger. And how could they be? Any one of them could have killed Daisy by now if they had wanted to. But they hadn’t, so they probably didn’t want her dead. The threat had to come from outside and apart from himself and the driver snoring in the adjacent bunk, everyone had been at the hall for years.

  His nerves calmed slightly as he sensed that Daisy would be safe for the night. As she had been for the last few weeks. No one had threatened her or she would have told him, of that he was sure. Feeling slightly reassured, Pierce ducked to avoid the beams and wandered over to his bed. He lay down on the lumpy mattress and dragged the thin blanket over himself. Perhaps more would become clear in the morning. He hoped so fervently as he tried to fit his body into the too small a bed. But at least he was no longer sleeping under stars. Just spiders, he suddenly thought as his eyes raked the dark beams above his head.

  Chapter Ten

  A Tempestuous Morning

  Clamping his hands over his ears didn’t help in the slightest.

  “I swear that cock is going in the pot,” Pierce muttered as he opened a sleepy eye.

  A deep chuckle to his right had him turning his head. The Dowager Duchess’ driver sat staring at him from the edge of his own bed.

  “I’d be saying the same if I hadn’t already been awake. Morning, the name’s Alfred. Didn’t get a chance to say hello yesterday.”

  Pierce nodded at the fellow.

  “Good morning, if that is what it is. You’re blasted cheery for someone who has just woken up.”

  Alfred shook his head.

  “Been up this last half hour.”

  Pierce suddenly realized that he could see the man far more easily than he should. He glanced at the window. Heavy clouds raced across the sky, but it was clear that the sun was already up.

  “Good God! Andrews will have my hide.” He pushed the covers back, grabbed his clothes from the floor beside his bed, and fumbled for his watch. But it had clearly stopped in the night. “Dash it all! I forgot to wind it. What time is it?”

  Alfred chuckled again.

  “Seven cock crows past dawn.” He raised an eyebrow at Pierce’s gold watch. “I don’t own a fancy timepiece. Or any sort of timepiece if it comes to it, but it’s not late. The old man isn’t here yet.”

  Relieved, Pierce looked at his watch again before putting it back in his jacket pocket.

  “Well, that’s something I suppose, but as to watches, they seem like a good idea, but are completely useless if you don’t wind the damn things up.” He dragged his trousers up his legs and made his way to the washstand. The water looked fresh. He glanced back at Alfred who gave a quick nod.

  “I was up anyway so I thought I might as well fetch clean water while I was at it.”

  Pierce nodded his thanks and splashed the water over his face before picking up a cloth and taking a more thorough wash.

  “That cock has a lot to answer for, disturbing innocent men’s slumber.” He scrubbed at his armpits.

  Alfred stood up and picked up his jacket.

  “Wasn’t the cock that disturbed me, if the truth be told. I heard someone down in the stables and thought I’d best investigate.”

  Pierce frowned as he began drying himself quickly.

  “Thought you said Andrews wasn’t here.”

  Alfred nodded.

  “He’s not. I heard a noise and was worried about intruders. The Dowager Duchess values her team and my job depends on their wellbeing, But I needn’t have worried. It was only the lady of the house. Miss Daisy. She had come to exercise her horse.”

  Ignoring the man’s familiarity, Pierce felt the blood drain from his own face. For the first time in his life he thought he might pass out from shock.

  “She did what?” Was the woman mad? And he had been worried about someone wanting to cause her harm when she was obviously quite capable of doing it herself! Undecided as to whether he was more angry than concerned, he thrust his arms into his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  Alfred lifted his chin.

  “Did you miss washing out your ears? I said she came to exercise her horse. Big grey mare. Lovely animal. Plenty of spirit.”

  Pierce shoved his feet into his boots.

  “Yes, I know,” he growled. The stupid woman! What was she thinking? Had her grief over her husband’s death caused her to lose her mind? One wrong move on Bernadette and Daisy could be thrown. She might lose her baby. Or worse. “Any idea which way she went?” He threw out over his shoulder as he strode towards the door.

  Alfred shrugged and glanced towards the window.

  “Said something about a good gallop and then a ride through the woods. I said that it looked like rain, but she was determined to go.”

  Heart in mouth Pierce ran down the stairs. Thanking the Lord for small mercies, he picked up the saddle for the Duke’s horse. The stallion was a beauty, lean and good natured. And fast. Probably the only horse in the stable capable of catching Bernadette. He led the animal outside and mounted just as Andrews arrived.

  “Nice to see you up so early, though I don’t think you are expected...” The older man stopped as Pierce brought the stallion about.

  “Daisy took Bernadette out.” He didn’t need to say any more.

  Andrews mouth fell open.

  “Daisy? You men, her Grace? In her condition.” He looked up at the dark rumbling clouds gathering overhead. “And in this weather. Forgive me for saying it, but the woman has lost her mind.”

  The man’s words echoed Pierce’s own thoughts. He didn’t waste another second but whirled the horse around and set off at a gallop.

  Her hair streamed behind her as the mare’s long mane whipped her face. Daisy laughed as she bent low over Bernadette’s neck. She hadn’t done anything like this, hadn’t felt so carefree or exhilarated for months. The fresh air in her lungs, and wind against her cheeks, felt more than good.

  Daisy hadn’t meant to rise so early, but she hadn’t slept deeply. A tall, dark eyed man who wore an over tight jacket and smelled of hay and spice, filled her dreams throughout the night, and as dawn broke, sleep eventually evaded her. The clock struck six but the house remained silent. After the previous day’s exhausting bout of cleaning, not one of the household had yet stirred.

  But the horses wouldn’t know that everyone deserved a lie in, and Daisy wasn’t about to laze there when Andrews would be so busy now Pierce was working in the house. She might be in mourning, but the least she could do was exercise her temperamental horse. And no one would miss her here for an hour or more. The Dowager wouldn’t rise before eleven, and even her mother could usually be relied on to lie in past nine. Mary might be a littl
e annoyed to find her already up, but she countered the guilt. She would take a long and luxurious bath and ask her maid to style her hair extravagantly when she returned.

  Sliding into her breeches and riding boots instead of a black dress had lifted her spirits. Freedom beckoned over the fields and into the woods. She scribbled a note for Mary and left it on her bed before running down the stairs and through the kitchen, grabbing a couple of carrots for her horse and two rolls from yesterday’s basket for herself.

  The walk to the stables cleared the last of the doubts from her mind. The breeze had picked up and the clouds swirled overhead. Perfect weather for riding. Now all she had to do was take Bernadette from the stables before anyone realized what she was about to do.

  Anger built in her again. Trapped, stifled, cosseted as if she were a child, and all for what? Now Robert was gone she couldn’t play this game any longer. She was past caring about her reputation or the Portland name. She couldn’t stop what was going to happen. She had no influence or weight. And did she want it anyway? No. Not if it meant life carrying on as it had done these last few years. Years that could have been spent with...

  She stopped the thoughts from tormenting her further. What was the point? What was done was done. Now she had to move forward with her life, whatever that meant. And the child? She swallowed and breathed in and out, trying to imagine what being a mother would be like. It was still early. She had hardly had time to become used to the idea. It seemed too impossible to comprehend.

  But everything had changed now anyway. Decisions had to be made. Robert had made so many arrangements, none of which mattered now. It was all a matter of timing. What would be, would be. It wasn’t her mind she had to change.