The Trouble with Saving a Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Her heart felt fuller than it ever had, and it remained so for the rest of the day. No matter what sharp words her mother found for her. No matter how many comments Mary made about the need for Seraphina to find a husband. No matter how often Cynthia prodded her with discreet questions. The joy remained in her heart.

  The only time it darkened was when she thought of the uncertain future. The many questions that hung over the stranger who’d mesmerized her in such a manner. But she pushed those thoughts away. It did not matter what the future brought. Only now mattered. And right now, all she could find herself thinking of was when she would see him once more.

  Chapter 11

  Harry stood beside his cousin who studied the maps before him with a critical eye. He placed markers through various locations and places of interest, while crossing out others.

  “What about Leicestershire? Who do we know there that can be trusted?”

  Harry sighed and scratched the side of his head.

  “I have a friend there. Benjamin Horton, the son of Lord Wolsley. We went to Harrow together. Good lad. We can trust him.”

  Liam pressed his lips together and nodded, leaning over the table once more, dipping the feather in his hand into the ink jar beside him. Carefully, he wrote B. Horton next to the X-marker he’d placed at Leicestershire. He took a step back.

  “Have a messenger sent to your friend. Same notice that we sent to everyone else.”

  Harry nodded and stepped next to Liam. The maps of the region between here and Yorkshire were spread out before them. A number of symbols had been used to coordinate the search for Lysander. Xs marked the area where a trusted ally had been taken into confidence regarding Lysander’s disappearance. These trusted allies were tasked with discreetly searching for the missing Duke in their area.

  Circles marked areas where Lady Emberbourgh’s continued campaign of misinformation had been deployed. Lords friendly to the Keswick family had been given false information, via messenger, personal encounters, or word-of-mouth regarding an urgent matter in London which had caused Lysander to hastily depart.

  These allies were mostly spread throughout Gloucester and neighboring Worchester. Lysander was known to ride out to their various holdings to keep an eye on the estate himself, and his not doing so would be suspicious, if not for the help of these gullible gabbers.

  Liam crossed his arms in front of his chest. He pointed at the three question marks on the map.

  “We haven’t got anyone in these areas yet. Shropshire, Cheshire and Lancashire.”

  Harry shrugged. “I would not imagine there is much of a chance he’d be found in either of those. Shropshire is far out of his way. So is Lancashire. It is almost north of Yorkshire, after all. And Cheshire…” He shook his head.

  “Harry, you must adjust your thinking. You are thinking with the logic of a man who travels for pleasure. You must think as a man on the run, trying to shake of his pursuers while riding toward a safe place.”

  Harry swallowed. Grateful as he was for his cousin’s help, he had to admit he also resented how he’d taken over the entire search for Lysander. He knew how close the cousins were, but Lysander was his brother, after all. What became of him was his responsibility.

  He shrugged at Liam. “I am simply being practical. No matter how pursued he felt, he would have wanted to make it to Horlock Castle quickly. We already knew he changed horses here, and here.” He pointed at the two locations marked with a star, Tewkesbury and Welland, where they had confirmed Lysander had switched horses.

  “This is a straight line to Yorkshire.”

  Liam shook his head. “Perhaps if he was not pursued. But he was. You said so yourself. Considering the information you gave me and the tone of his letter to me, he was in a panic. He was in fear for his life. He would have taken the upmost precaution.”

  Harry sighed. “He was simply being careful. He was by no means in some sort of panic. You are wrong. You were not there, I was.”

  He had trouble containing his anger.

  Why does everyone think they know everything better than me? Why does nobody trust my judgement?

  Liam placed the feather down with a slam, sending ink splotches over the map.

  “Harry. You told me attempts were made on Lysander’s life. Not just once. Multiple times. Cut saddle straps? Rocks placed in the path of the carriage at night? An arrow shot at him? All in the space of two weeks? And you tell me that he was in no panic?”

  Harry turned and walked toward the window. Night had fallen and the garden was bathed in the light of the moon.

  Harry regretted ever telling Liam the truth about what had led to Lysander’s decision to leave. Perhaps if he had kept it to himself, he would not be in the situation he was in right now.

  “He was concerned, surely. That is why we decided it was best for him to seek you out as he did, with as little warning as possible, and with as vague a message as we could. However, his plan was always to go directly to Horlock Castle. He would not have gone to Lancashire, or Cheshire. Certainly not Cheshire.”

  “Not unless he was forced to,” Liam said, taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the library.

  Harry paced back and forth; his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Forced to, how? You believe he was pursued?”

  “Don’t you?” Liam’s voice had a sharpness to it that Harry did not appreciate. “You told me there were threats against him for weeks, as well as attacks against him. You do not believe the person or persons responsible might have followed him?”

  Harry shook his head, once again despising the fact that he had to repeat himself over and over again.

  “No. I told you. We were careful. Very careful. Nobody knew where he was going or when. Nobody but he and I. He left in the night. He did not even send messages ahead to the posting housing to reserve horses. If the assailant found him or followed him, he would have to be a magician to do so.”

  Liam rose and walked over to the table covered in maps again. “Or someone very well connected. Someone you trust. Someone he trusts.”

  “With this matter, Lysander trusted nobody but me.”

  Liam gave a curt nod but there was something in his eyes. Something that unsettled Harry. Distrust. “What is it, Cousin? What is on your mind?”

  Liam shook his head, “Nothing. Nothing at all. It is all so strange. All of it. When did you say the attacks started?”

  Harry shrugged. “About a month ago. Yes. That is when Lysander discovered the rocks on the road.”

  “And he was certain they were placed there to cause him to crash?”

  “Yes. It was on the back road leading into Gloucester. It is a private road; the public has no access to it. You know how fond Lysander is of racing his curricle back there. If he had done so that evening as he had planned, he would have hit the rocks and…the outcome would have been catastrophic.” He shook his head, remembered how white Lysander had been in the face when he informed him of the discovery.

  “It was only fortunate he discovered them.”

  Harry nodded. Indeed, it had been a close call. That afternoon, their estate steward had taken ill during his weekly visit and Lysander had been so concerned for the old man’s well-being that he’d personally taken him into town to see the physician. He’d discovered the rocks on the road then. In broad daylight at the moderate speed the carriage had been traveling, they were easy to spot from a distance.

  At full speed, later in the afternoon, they would have been impossible to see in time to slow the curricle.

  “I take it you have not found the culprit yet?” Again, Harry was sure he heard disapproval in his cousin’s voice. The same disapproval he always heard in his mother as well. It seemed no matter what he did, nobody thought him capable of anything.

  “I have questioned anyone who had a grudge against Lysander already, as much as I could without drawing attention to the matter. If he was found, I could employ more diverse interrogation tactics. Ask more que
stions. However, I am under strict orders not to draw attention to his disappearance.”

  Liam sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. The Duchess is quite adamant about it.”

  He leaned over the maps once more and then pointed at one location. Harry stepped closer and saw Liam’s finger on the county of Cheshire once more.

  “I have a friend in Winsford. I will send a message to him.”

  Harry sighed with exasperation. “There is no way Lysander would set foot into Cheshire. No Keswick has set foot into the county since those dastardly Camdens cheated our Grandfather out of the Oxshire Castle.”

  Liam looked up and smirked.

  “You know as well as I that Lysander did not care about that silly old feud, nor the castle. He certainly would not have avoided an entire county simply because of that, not if it meant saving himself. He thought the whole feud as stupid as I do.”

  Harry scoffed and walked across the room, peering up at a painting that hung high above the fireplace.

  “I am not surprised that you do not care. Your life is in a castle, after all. And your side of the family wasn’t entitled to any part of it anyhow.”

  Liam shook his head and abandoned the map table. Instead he took his place next to Harry.

  “That is debatable, given that my Grandfather and yours were brothers. But in any case, it is vexing that your two families would go at it for damn near a century over some castle. Especially since it is not as though the Dukes of Emberborough have been forced to live in a barn.” He motioned his hand around the room.

  Indeed, he was not wrong. Harry had to admit that fact. Their library was among the finest in the country. Mahogany shelves lined the walls and were filled with some very rare books that were worth a fortune. The entire room had been furnished by George Smith, one of the best-known designers of fine furniture in the country.

  The rest of the house was no different. Everything from the drawing rooms to the bedchambers was exquisite and had a price tag to prove it. Still, despite it all, Norwood Hall was no Vallant Castle. It never would be.

  “Vallant Castle was ours just as much as it was the Camden’s. More so, even. Given that the Earl of Swift, our Great-Grandfather, put up the money to finish building it.”

  Liam sighed and rolled his eyes. Harry felt a rage build inside of him, similar to the rage he felt whenever Lysander spoke of ending the feud. For Harry knew, neither their grandfather, Francis, nor their beloved late father would ever have considered such an action. In fact, Harry was sure they would spin in their very graves if they knew what their descendants and heir thought of the matter.

  “Harry, I will gladly debate the matter with you another time, but for now there is a more pressing issue at hand than who put up money for an old castle that’s probably rotting by now. And that is finding Lysander. I am sending a message to my friend in Cheshire. You can remain here and stare at an old painting of two long-dead friends turned foes. I am going to attend to the present.”

  With that, Liam strut out of the room and let the heavy oak door slam behind him before the footman had a chance to close it slowly.

  “Damn you, Liam!” he called after his cousin and then rushed to the table and glared at the meticulously placed markers. His eyes fell on Cheshire where Liam had written the name S. Orwell in his neat handwriting. Harry’s nostrils flared as he spotted the town of Crewe in the Oxshire region, not very far from where Liam’s friend resided.

  Crewe. Home of Vallant Castle. Our true home. Our stolen home.

  He felt himself filled with rage, rage of the betrayal of his great-grandfather by his former best friend. Rage for the humiliation his grandfather had to suffer, and rage for the many years his father had wasted to get justice.

  “Hell and damnation!” he shouted and brushed his arm across the table, sending the maps flying into the air and onto the floor. The ink jar Liam had left open toppled over and spilled all over the floor, leaving the maps stained and days’ worth of work ruined.

  “Serves you right, Liam Keswick. Serves you right.”

  Harry slammed a fist on the table, turned and then stormed out of the room, leaving the mess behind on the floor.

  Chapter 12

  Oliver pushed the wheelbarrow across the stable yard. He was about to make a left out into the field where the manure was being composted when he saw a carriage arriving. It was a beautiful barouche-style carriage.

  His heart leapt at the possibility of it being Lady Seraphina. He had not seen her at all since their morning meeting the previous day. George rushed across the yard and stood at attention when the coachman opened the door and the Duke stepped out.

  The older, regal looking man spoke to George for a moment and then, to Oliver’s surprise, George waved him over. He left the wheelbarrow where it was and before he had even made it two steps one of the stable boys had taken charge of it and was taking it to its destination.

  I hope he has not heard of my spending time with his daughter and has come to send me away. If this is the case, how am I to see her?

  He was surprised that his first thought was for Seraphina, for there certainly were more dire outcomes for him, should the Duke send him away.

  “Good morning, Oliver,” the Duke greeted him when he was close enough. He sounded cheerful, not like a man upset at all.

  “Your Grace,” Oliver bowed. Once again, he had the feeling that this was not something he regularly did. Bowing to others. He’d been haunted by these feelings for the past day. He would do an activity and find it felt familiar, like when he’d fed the horses carrots as treats.

  He’d know instinctively that he’d done so many times before. Other things, things as simple as dressing himself in his little chamber above the stable, felt odd. As if he did not simply do his own morning toilet upon rising. That was silly, however. Wasn’t it?

  “How are you getting on?” the Duke looked at him intently.

  “I have recovered my strength. The wound in my side aches at times, but I must say I feel much better. I thank you for the good care you’ve provided.”

  A small smile played around his lips and the wrinkles on his face deepened.

  “Good, good. And how is the memory?” He tapped his finger against the side of his head with a walking stick dangling from between his fingers as he did.

  Oliver shook his head. “Nothing, Your Grace. Flashes, perhaps. Sometimes it is almost as if I can grasp something but then…nothing.”

  This was not the answer the Duke had been looking for. It was plain to see. His face grew longer, and his eyes narrowed as he sighed.

  “I am sorry to hear it, young man. Here’s to hoping it will just swoop back one of these days, eh, wot?” The chuckle was forced and strained.

  “Indeed, Your Grace.” He wanted to ask questions, so many questions. How long could he remain here? What if his memory never returned? What if it did and the truth about his person was unsavory or dangerous? When could he see the Duke’s daughter again?

  He shook his head at this last question. Indeed, he was making a cake of himself with these silly thoughts about Seraphina. She was a noblewoman after all and he was…well. He did not know what he was but whatever he had been, whoever he had been, certainly would not have been in the standing to consider Seraphina as anything but a distant friend.

  “George, myself, and Lady Oxshire are going into town today. I shall be back late afternoon. Tomorrow morning, I am going hunting with Lord Alderbridge, I will need Authority saddled up and ready first thing.”

  He turned to Oliver. “Perhaps our newest addition can attend to it. If you think him capable.”

  George looked him up and down and shrugged.

  “I cannea say one way or the other what he’s capable of yet, Yer Grace. I will keep a keen eye on him. In any case, yer cuddy will be ready.”

  The Duke nodded and, after a brief glance at Oliver, made his way back up into the barouche. It was then that Oliver saw he’d not been alone at all.

  Lady Oxs
hire was seated beside him in the far corner of the vehicle, obscured by the folding top. Even now, her face was partially obscured by the large bonnet she wore but even so, as the barouche set into motion, he saw her looking at him. No. Glaring at him and a cold sensation ran down his back.

  Why does she look at me quite so hatefully? I have done nothing to her. At least nothing that I know of.

  “Laddie, dunnae footer about. Haven’t ye got any work to do? Go and take Authority to the paddock. In the morrow, we saddle him up and get him ready for the hunt. Lord Alderbridge always likes an early hunt so dunnae dally, ye hear?”