Mending the Duke’s Pride

by Admirand, C. H.

  Unable to stand the wait, Phyllida said, “Charles—”

  “Not one bloody word, Phyll,” he ground out.

  Persephone thought to intercede on behalf of her very good friend. “But you see—”

  “I gather your mother does not know of this latest escapade, Lady Persephone?”

  She always hated it when Charles used that lordly tone, speaking down to her.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she maintained a calm she did not feel as she answered, “It is not an escapade when one is being followed, Lord Charles.”

  “Followed?” His voice had gone deadly soft.

  “Er…yes, Charles,” Phyllida hastened to say. “I believe the man I saw attended the Chellenham ball. Both Persephone and I were there. You were off looking at a pair of horses in the country.”

  He nodded. “Fine addition to my stables,” he began, then stopped. “Do not think to distract me from getting to the bottom of this latest coil you’ve gotten yourself into, Phyllida.”

  She lowered her eyes to her hands.

  Persephone understood without words and reached over to give her friend’s hand a quick squeeze of encouragement.

  “I told Persephone not to look, but that I thought we were being followed.”

  “Phyllida said she’d noticed the man when we stopped for tea earlier,” Persephone added.

  He was listening intently. “Why did you choose that particular shop to seek shelter in?”

  “I was quite frightened,” Phyllida said, “and didn’t look at the sign or the shop window. I grabbed hold of Persephone and pulled her in with me.”

  Charles sighed. “I’m sorry to question you so closely, Phyll, but Grimsby’s is not the sort of establishment ladies of your station should wander into unescorted.”

  “That’s what Mr. Grimsby told us,” Persephone said.

  “Did he?”

  “Yes,” Persephone continued, “when we asked if we could purchase something from him.”

  Phyllida’s brother glared at her. Glared. That was not to be borne. Charles was not her elder brother!

  “Do stop it at once, Charles,” Phyllida said, noting the intensity and direction of his glare. “We’re quite wrung out and most distressed by the whole situation.”

  “You should be,” he told his sister. “Now tell me what the man looked like.”

  They looked at one another and, between them, pieced together what each one could remember.

  “A finely dressed gentleman in a dark blue frockcoat?” he asked his sister. When she nodded, he turned to Persephone and added, “That you believe the shoulders were padded with buckram.”

  Persephone nodded. “It was the fit you see.”

  He stared at her but asked no further questions regarding the buckram, leaving her to wonder if he remembered she had suspected Charles of doing the same. She truly hoped not.

  “And had a ridiculously tall cravat? Isn’t that right, Phyll?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything else you noticed?”

  “Lightish hair,” Phyllida added.

  “Thin face,” Persephone said, “and he had a walking stick.”

  “Gold-tipped,” his sister added. “He held it like a weapon at-the-ready.”

  “Well, really, Phyllida,” Persephone said, trying to keep her tone light, “if the man had to pad the shoulders of his frockcoat to appear broader than he was, wouldn’t he need a weapon?”

  Phyllida smiled and Persephone wished there was some other way to relieve the growing tension in the close quarters of the Ipswitch state coach.

  “No other distinguishing facial features?” Charles asked.

  They agreed there were none.

  “I’ll have our coachman drop you off at our home. Mother said she’d have tea ready.”

  “I’m sorry if we’ve taken you away from an important appointment,” Persephone told him.

  He shrugged. “Appointments can be rescheduled. Families take care of one another.”

  “You are my dearest brother,” Phyllida said, reaching out to take his hand.

  He smiled indulgently, reminding her, “I am your only brother.”

  “That’s why you are simply her dearest brother,” Persephone said with a soft smile. “I’ve never had to miss not having one, as you’ve been there for me on countless occasions, Charles. I am quite grateful.”

  He inclined his head and nodded when the carriage stopped. “Try not to upset Mother with too close a description of what happened and where you were,” Charles warned.

  “Why?” Phyllida asked.

  He sighed. “Because I’ve asked you not to. At least until I can get to the bottom of this troubling business.”

  “Very well.”

  “You either, ’Seph,” Charles added.

  Feeling much better, now that he’d called her by the pet name he’d adopted when they were children, Persephone quickly reassured him. “You have my word.”

  Phyllida’s mother rushed into the entryway at their arrival. “Oh, you poor dears,” she exclaimed. “How distressing to have become separated from your lady’s maids! Come with me,” she said as she ushered her daughter and Persephone into the front salon before they could remove their gloves or bonnets.

  “We’re family,” she said, smiling at Persephone. “No need to bother with formalities. You can remove your gloves and set them over on the side table with your bonnets and reticules. You two must be famished. You’ve been gone far longer than you indicated.”

  Phyllida and Persephone did as they were told, then sat side-by-side on the pale blue settee across from Lady Ipswitch. “I ordered tea when I saw the carriage pull up out front.”

  It arrived a few moments later. While she poured, Phyllida’s mother said, “I don’t believe your maid has returned as of yet.”

  Phyllida set down her cup. “I wonder what happened to Betty?”

  Persephone placed her teacup and saucer on the table in front of her and rose. “I must go at once. Mayhap Martha did not return either.”

  Lady Ipswitch shook her head. “I will send one of the footmen to inquire after your maid.”

  Persephone thanked her. “Mother will be most distressed if Martha has arrived without me.”

  “If she had returned alone, Persephone,” Lady Ipswitch said, “your mother would have come right over. We would have waited together.”

  “I am so sorry if we’ve inadvertently caused you any distress, Lady Ipswitch.”

  Phyllida’s mother tut-tutted and motioned for Persephone to pick up her teacup. “I cannot abide a tepid cup of tea. Drink yours before it cools. You, too, Daughter.”

  The butler arrived to inform Lady Ipswitch that Phyllida’s lady’s maid had returned.

  “Send her in.”

  He returned a few moments later, the tearful Betty in tow. “You will tell her ladyship what you told the housekeeper and me.”

  Fresh tears spilled over as Betty told of the darkly handsome footman in a midnight blue uniform, edged in gold braid.

  Persephone wondered if the man worked for a viscount or marquess. The gold braid was usually an indication of social importance. Not wanting to interrupt, she waited for Lady Ipswitch to finish questioning Betty before asking, “Has Martha returned to the town house?”

  “Oh, Miss,” she said, wringing her hands, crying in earnest. “She went with him.”

  When no one could calm her, Lady Ipswitch herself helped Betty to the kitchen where their cook could ply the girl with tea until she was coherent enough to question.

  As soon as she left the salon, Persephone turned to Phyllida. “I fear something untoward has happened to Martha…and not of her own making. She wouldn’t go off with a footman, even a handsome one, neglecting her duties. She’s reliable.”

  Her friend asked, “But what can you do when we don’t even know if they were separated by choice…or otherwise?”

  “I fear it may be otherwise,” Persephone whispered. “I simply cannot sit here and do
nothing. What if our maids were targeted because of me? Doesn’t it all seem quite out of the ordinary? First the duke’s surprising attention at the Hollisters’ ball. Then the vicious Chellenham gossip. I was jostled from behind outside the Andrews’ town house. If Mother hadn’t been standing in front of me, I’d have ended up face down on the sidewalk or beneath the wheels of a carriage.”

  Persephone clasped her hands together and whispered, “I just know the fault is mine.”

  “Quite a cryptic comment, even coming from you, ’Seph,” a deep voice rumbled from the open doorway.

  Phyllida rushed over to her brother. “Oh, Charles! Have you heard? Something dreadful must have occurred. Betty has returned, red-eyed, and simply cannot speak about what happened to Martha without crying.”

  Phyllida’s brother turned to Persephone. “I gather Martha is the name of your lady’s maid?”

  “Yes. I…er…believe I should return home at once.”

  “Can’t have you haring off to parts unknown in search of your maid,” he told Persephone. “Why don’t we see if our mother can get to the bottom of this before you rush off? We may learn something of import.”

  “I am not haring off, as you so succinctly put it. I intend to go home.”

  “Ah, ’Seph,” Charles said, continuing to use his pet name for her. “I’ve known you for years. The set of your jaw is but one indication that you’ve decided to take action—without all of the pertinent facts—just as you’ve done since you first toddled over to Phyllida all those years ago. Not always the safest course of action, mind.”

  She frowned at him. “What would you have me do?”

  He nodded to the settee. “I would have the two of you remain here, while I go find Mother. She’s bound to have extracted a bit of information from Phyllida’s maid. Mayhap a clue as to where to begin searching. After which, I shall escort you home.”

  “I do not need an escort,” she bit out.

  He stared at her, unspeaking for long moments. That haughty, superior lordling look still managed to check her actions. Botheration. He still held sway over her. At last, she gave in. “Very well, Lord Charles.”

  He nodded. “Indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The dark-haired footman’s look changed from admiration to indifference as he pulled Martha along behind him.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  He looked over his shoulder as if searching for someone before answering. “Somewhere quiet.”

  Martha dug in her heels. “You said you knew who started those rumors about Lady Persephone.”

  “I do,” he answered.

  “Then tell me now,” Martha demanded, crossing her arms in front of her, ignoring the pointed stares of passersby.

  The pleasant look on the man’s face disappeared. “No.” He tugged on her arm, dragging her with him. “That’s not what I was hired to do.”

  “Someone hired you to lure me away from my duty to accompany Lady Persephone?” A feeling of dread filled her. The man who’d promised to divulge who was behind the horrid gossip plaguing Lady Persephone had lied to her. Her bid to help Lady Persephone had landed her in a compromising situation.

  He nodded and kept walking, turning down one alley and then another until Martha had no idea where she was.

  Fear filled her. She tugged against his hold. “Let me go!”

  He tightened his grasp.

  “Please?” she begged. “I’m of no use to you.”

  He paused before a door, halfway down the alley. “You’ll help me pass the time until the messenger arrives. I can be very persuasive.”

  “No!” Martha twisted and broke free, only to be yanked back into his viselike grip.

  His laughter had a dark edge to it. Taken in by his promise of information, she’d promised Betty she’d only walk down to the shop where they’d stopped for tea earlier. Would Betty worry if she didn’t return within a reasonable time?

  Would she sound the alarm and somehow find her in this maze of London’s alleyways?

  She fought as he dragged her up the stairs. Kicked him when he turned to close and lock the door and received a fist in the face for her trouble.

  When he grabbed hold of the front of her gown and tore it, she swore she would never give in. She’d die first!

  *

  “Is the duke in?” Coventry had stopped in at White’s first but had not found the duke in his favorite corner of the room. Too early in the day for the evening’s inevitable round of entertainments. A bit too late in the day for appointments, Coventry hoped to find the duke at home.

  “Yes. He asked you to go on back to his study should you arrive.”

  “Thank you, Jenkins.”

  The duke’s butler paused as if considering something of import. Before the man had a chance to speak, Coventry took a step closer. “Is there something I need to know?”

  Jenkins nodded. “A messenger just departed after bringing a missive from Lady Farnsworth.”

  “I see.”

  “His Grace has not stopped pacing,” Jenkins informed him.

  “Then I shall not keep him waiting.” Coventry strode down the long hallway to the duke’s study and knocked.

  The door swung open. “Wondered what was keeping you,” the duke mumbled. “Come in.”

  “I stopped at White’s first, looking for you,” Coventry said before inquiring, “what did the missive say?”

  “Lady Persephone and Lady Phyllida were separated from their lady’s maids while shopping earlier today.”

  “And?”

  The duke sighed. “Apparently, Lady Phyllida felt they were being followed, so she acted quickly and pulled Lady Persephone into the closest shop with her.”

  Coventry could tell from the duke’s voice there was more…much more. He waited for the duke to continue.

  “The shop owner was polishing a dueling pistol, but acted quickly, advising the ladies to stay within the shop while he went outside to question the man.”

  Coventry’s eyes widened. “They ended up in a pawn broker’s shop? They must have been in Grimsby’s establishment.”

  The duke nodded. “Yes. Good reputation. Deals fairly with customers needing a bit of blunt—paying the proper amount for whatever is being traded.”

  “Is there more?”

  The duke paced from the window overlooking the square to the study door and back. “Grimsby insisted they stay in his shop while he sent his apprentice to fetch one of their male relatives to escort them home.”

  “Lady Persephone’s closest male relative is the Marquess of Ferndale. Did they summon him?”

  The duke paused in his pacing. “In light of all that has happened as of late, I daresay they did not.” He resumed his pacing, adding, “My father always thought him to be a bit of a prig.”

  Coventry agreed, then asked, “Who collected them?” Coventry waited a beat before asking, “Or did Grimsby close up shop and escort them himself? If I remember correctly, he has a daughter of a similar age.”

  The duke stopped, put his hands behind his back and gave a slight nod. “Lady Phyllida’s brother Lord Charles was visiting their mother when the apprentice arrived message in hand.”

  “Haven’t had any dealings with Ipswitch but know of his reputation. Prefers to be in the country, a Corinthian—of the sporting set. When he’s in town, he spends time in Gentleman Jackson’s and Angelo’s.”

  “Ipswitch prefers boxing and fencing to the tedious rounds of garden parties and the like?” the duke asked.

  “I have it on good authority.”

  The duke nodded. “Then he can handle himself, if need be.”

  “Is there a reason for your concern?”

  “He escorted Lady Persephone home.”

  “I see,” Coventry said. “Does she have feelings for Ipswitch?”

  “I have no idea,” the duke responded. “Lady Persephone’s lady’s maid has disappeared. Lady Phyllida’s lady’s maid returned home in quite a
state. According to Lady Ipswitch, the maid was incoherent and had to be plied with whiskey-laced tea to calm her down.”

  “Were the maids accosted or lured away? I cannot think they would leave their ladies without proper chaperones.”

  “Lady Persephone’s maid has not returned.” The duke abruptly stopped and rubbed his hands over his face. “I suspect the reason the other maid is missing is what has rendered Lady Phyllida’s maid incoherent.”

  Coventry raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t heard of any lady’s maids going missing as of late. Although there have been two scullery maids reported as having gone off. Could be a connection.”

  “First the Chellenham indiscretion, then she was jostled in front of the Andrews’ town house, and now she’s being followed,” the duke said from where he stood staring out the window. “I cannot help but feel it is somehow connected with me.”

  “In what way?” Coventry asked.

  “Do you not find it odd in the extreme that I’d received a threatening letter, then Lady Persephone’s name has been sullied with the Chellenham indiscretion? After attending the musicale at the Darnleys’ and having danced with Lady Persephone at a ball, my brother is attacked right outside of our town house. Now this. I am certain there is more to it than coincidence.”

  “I do not believe in them,” Coventry told him.

  The duke nodded. “Just so.”

  “You did meet Lady Persephone prior to that, didn’t you? At the Hollisters’ ball?”

  The duke murmured his agreement before walking over to the narrow table. He held up the cut crystal decanter. “Care for a glass?”

  Coventry declined and the duke poured two fingers of whiskey. Eyeing the contents of his glass, he swirled it around and around. “You know I haven’t ever spent more than a few days in London at a time.”

  “And even that had been at your father’s insistence.”

  The duke sighed and sipped deeply. “He felt both Edward and I required a bit of town polish.”

  “Only fitting as sons of a duke,” Coventry said.

  “I was to leave for Wyndmere Hall in a few days, but I have changed my plans.”

  “I imagine your sister is quite put out with you.”