‘You are accustomed to admiration and take it in your stride, one assumes.’
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that comment but sensed his sincerity. The fight drained out of her and she resumed her seat. ‘I don’t know about being courageous. I have hidden myself away for fear of having fingers pointed at me ever since I heard of Evan’s death and the rumours about his loyalty,’ she said with a rueful shrug. ‘I came here with no particular plans to get to the truth and managed to get caught snooping through your private papers at my first attempt to unearth evidence that may not even exist.’
‘It doesn’t,’ he said, his voice hardening. ‘Certainly not amongst my papers, at least.’
She shook her head, aware that she had insulted him by reiterating the possibility but refrained from apologising for a second time. No one had apologised to her for the injustices she had been required to withstand.
‘It was a mistake,’ she contented herself with saying. ‘I should not have come or attempted to do anything about the rumours. They will die down of their own accord.’
‘Perhaps, but they are unjust and you won’t know a moment’s peace if you allow them to go uncontested,’ he replied, resuming his own chair and fixing her with a slow and somnolent smile that caused her to shiver with answering awareness. God in heaven, how did he manage to stir her dormant passions with a simple smile? She was still grieving—and anyway she had no interest in affairs of the heart. ‘You are as honourable as the man you married.’
‘Thank you.’ She swallowed. ‘I think.’
‘You’re welcome.’ His glamorous smile lit up his rugged features and stole her breath away. ‘You really don’t make a very convincing maid,’ he added, chuckling.
‘No one other than Rachel was supposed to see me.’ Brione threw back her head and closed her eyes. ‘You say you were tasked with uncovering the identity of the traitor. How do you plan to go about it? Can I help in any way?’
‘Actually, yes.’
The door opened and Kensley rejoined them bearing a tea tray. He put it down and Shadow sat up and sniffed the air, doubtless smelling the fresh scones that were also on the tray. At the duke’s request, Brione poured for them all, placing a slice of the lemon provided in his saucer when he asked for it in place of milk. She sipped her own tea and accepted a scone, half of which she fed to the salivating dog.
‘Tell me,’ she said, putting her empty cup aside and giving the duke her full attention.
‘It seems to me,’ the duke replied, absently stroking the line of his facial scar as he articulated his thoughts, ‘that you are the catalyst.’
‘Me?’ Brione widened her eyes and shared a glance between the two gentlemen. ‘Whatever do you mean by that?’
‘I suspect his grace means that if one of the former soldiers here at this party is responsible for the rumours about your husband, as we all suppose, he will be shocked out of his apathy were he to learn of your presence.’
‘But I am not present.’ She spread her hands and glanced down at her drab maid’s gown.
‘Ah, but if you were to arrive as yourself a day late…’ the duke suggested, grinning mischievously. At that moment, Brione saw him not as a powerful duke but as the young boy he had once been, playing tricks, getting into scrapes and evading punishment by deploying his charm.
‘But I haven’t been invited, nor do I have any clothes with me if you intend to somehow alter that situation.’
‘I can square it with my sister so that it looks like your friend Mrs Woodley invited you to join her here and you can pretend that your arrival was delayed for some reason.’
‘It’s a preposterous idea,’ Brione said, flapping a dismissive hand.
‘Do you have a better one?’ the duke asked, leaning forward and fixing her with a challenging look.
‘Not immediately, but I am sure I will come up with something more feasible.’
‘Several of those who might be the guilty party were deliberately invited here,’ Kensley added in a softly persuasive tone.
‘Who?’ Brione asked, unwilling to admit that she felt frustrated to be excluded from the drawing room and was therefore unfamiliar with the names of all the guests.
‘Adrian Vaughan was my adjutant. You mentioned the others yourself. Sir Gregory Frazer and Robert Craig were both officers known to your husband.’
‘I know of them by name, but we have never been introduced.’
‘Then they are in for a treat,’ the duke replied softly.
Brione ignored the compliment. ‘Was Mr Vaughan responsible for your correspondence?’
‘Amongst other things, but he was never a party to anything of a secretive nature, I can assure you of that much.’
‘As far as you are aware.’ Brione drummed her fingers on her knee. ‘I don’t recall Evan mentioning his name, but I definitely think he is worthy of further investigation. What are his circumstances?’
‘He is the youngest of Viscount Vaughan’s three sons,’ the duke replied. ‘I have known Vaughan for years. Adrian was a few years below me at Eton. Vaughan asked me to take him under my wing when he joined the regiment, and he actually became a proficient adjutant.’
‘Which means he cannot possibly have traitorous leanings,’ Brione replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
The duke smiled at her. ‘He never gave me any reason to question his loyalty, if that is what you mean to imply.’ He paused to send her a look of amused forbearance. ‘However, I agree with Kensley.’
‘Blimey, that’s a first,’ Kensley replied, making Brione smile.
The duke rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the interruption. ‘We need to know more about Vaughan’s living arrangements since he left the army.’
‘He was devastated when his friend Nathan Fletcher was killed in the same battle as your husband,’ Kensley said. ‘He was never quite the same after that. You think you become accustomed to the futility of death but when it strikes close to home it’s often a different story. One cannot always remain detached. Sorry,’ he added, presumably in response to Brione’s pained expression.
‘I recall Mr Fletcher’s name,’ she said. ‘Evan described him as an exceptionally tall gentleman with fiery red hair and an engaging personality. Evan used to joke with him about his hair being a beacon that would draw enemy fire.’ She sighed. ‘Many a true word, I suppose.’
‘I can tell you that Vaughan is unmarried,’ the duke said, offering her an intimately sympathetic smile that she reacted to all the way down to her toes, ‘but whether he has returned to live with his brother’s family or is forging his own path, I cannot say. I am unaware if he has private funds, which is a question Kensley and I had been considering before…’ The duke smiled and spread his hands. ‘Before help came our way from an unexpected quarter.’
‘Did you invite your former comrades in the hope of proving that one of them is the traitor?’ Brione asked, ‘or do they always grace your drawing room?’
‘A little of both. My sister is always in need of unattached gentlemen to make up the numbers and she knew that the prospect of the race would assure their attendance.’
‘But we were as clueless as you are when it comes to deciding how to go about drawing the traitor out,’ Kensley added cheerfully. ‘Now that you’re here though, we should have more success.’
‘Happy to oblige,’ Brione said, biting her lip to prevent herself from laughing aloud at the thought of such an authoritative figure as the duke falling back on the wiles of a female. Then she caught herself, recalling that she had yet to be totally convinced of his innocence. This could all be an elaborate ruse to win her trust. ‘But as I say, I have no clothes with me to fit the occasion.'
‘Have the ladies returned from their excursion yet?’ the duke asked, glancing at Kensley.
‘Yep, a few minutes ago.’
‘See if you can find Mrs Woodley and ask her to join us without anyone else catching on. Perhaps she will have an idea how to resol
ve that difficulty. Ladies, in my experience, are nothing if not inventive when it comes to their wardrobes.’
‘I shall see what I can do.’ Kensley stood. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Gilliard.’
Kensley went about his task in a speculative frame of mind. His employer and friend was relentlessly pursued by females of all persuasions, many of them single-minded in their determination, but he seemed impervious to their charms. Kensley recognised all his moods and realised almost immediately that he had been taken with Mrs Gilliard from the moment he caught her rifling through his private papers, despite the fact that she was dressed as a maid and that he resented her intrusion.
Kensley wasn’t entirely surprised, but he hoped that Troy’s fixation would be of a temporary nature, otherwise the boot would for once be on the other foot and the duke would be the one who would be disappointed. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that the lady was still desperately in love with her dead husband and not yet ready to return fully to the land of the living. Perhaps she never would be. He had seen more than one devoted female give up the rest of her life to the memory of a departed loved one. He hoped that the delicious Brione Gilliard would not prove to be quite that dedicated. It would be such a waste, especially since there were vital aspects of Gilliard’s life that she knew absolutely nothing about. Part of Kensley felt she deserved to know the full story, but he couldn’t be quite that cruel.
If anyone enlightened her, it would have to be Troy.
The ladies had just finished luncheon, the doors to the keep had been thrown open and some of them had wandered outside to enjoy the early afternoon sunshine. As luck would have it, Mrs Woodley proved to be one of their number, and Kensley found her standing temporarily alone. He took advantage of a situation that enabled him to approach her without drawing attention to himself. When she failed to acknowledge him, he cleared his throat.
‘Oh, Mr Kensley, good afternoon,’ she said, looking distracted. ‘Forgive me. I was wool-gathering and did not see you there for a moment.’
‘Mrs Woodley.’ He inclined his head, thinking not for the first time what a handsome woman she was. But Kensley would keep his opinion on that subject to himself. ‘I hope I am not intruding upon your solitary reverie.’
‘Not a bit of it. How can I be of service?’
‘If it’s convenient, the duke would appreciate a moment of your time.’
‘Goodness, what have I done to offend him?’ she asked with a careless little laugh.
‘Nothing, to the best of my knowledge, but he is in need of your help.’
‘Then by all means.’ She smiled and turned towards the drawing room, intending to quit the keep by that means.
‘If you have no objection?’ Kensley took her elbow and led her through an archway and down the steps into the garden. Anyone who happened to notice them would simply think that they were taking a stroll. As soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, he released her arm and walked at her side, his hands clasped behind his back.
‘This is intriguing.’ Mrs Woodley smiled at Kensley as he guided her around the side of the south turret in order to enter the duke’s library by a circuitous route that would avoid casual interest from those in the house. ‘I shall try not to think that you are ashamed to be seen with me.’
‘Quite the reverse, I assure you,’ he said softly, ‘but I know my place.’
She laughed. ‘How very reassuring, but excuse me if I don’t believe you. I happen to know that the duke would be lost without your help and advice. Anyway, may I ask why the duke is so keen to see me? I feel persuaded that you must know.’
‘Mrs Gilliard.’
‘Ah, I thought as much.’ Mrs Woodley sighed. ‘Oh dear. Has she been found out? I did warn her…’
Kensley smiled. ‘She made the most unconvincing maid. I wasn’t taken in by her for a moment and I’m afraid that I warned the duke about her presence below stairs.’
‘I tried to tell her that she would never pull it off but she was having none of it.’ Mrs Woodley looked concerned. ‘I hope she has not thrown unfounded accusations at the duke. As I say, I tried to warn her. Does the duke want us both to leave?’
Kensley laughed. ‘Quite the reverse, actually. Please don’t concern yourself. The duke finds your friend challenging. He is so used to people—females especially—agreeing with everything he says. Mrs Gilliard makes a refreshing change.’
‘Brione despises flummery and is, if anything, a little too outspoken.’ It was Mrs Woodley’s turn to chuckle. ‘Anyway, I am relieved to hear that the duke is not offended by her manner—or by my deception in bringing her here.’
‘Mrs Gilliard seems absolutely desolated by her husband’s death and the rumours that now abound.’
‘Most assuredly. She was determined to hide herself away, even though such behaviour is at variance with her forthright character.’
‘Were you acquainted with Gilliard?’
‘I knew him slightly,’ she replied evasively.
‘Tell me to mind my own business, but I get the impression that you didn’t much care for him.’
‘Oh, he was handsome and charming and apparently devoted to Brione, and I don’t for one moment think he was disloyal to the crown.’
‘But…?’ Kensley prompted when Mrs Woodley paused.
‘Can I depend upon your discretion? Sorry,’ she added, flapping a hand. ‘I don’t doubt for a moment that I can. It’s just that Brione is so very dear to me, and…anyway, I heard rumours about Evan’s behaviour overseas from various members of the regiment. I have no idea if there was any truth in them, but even if I thought they were justified I would never have repeated what I heard to Brione. She was besotted with her handsome husband and wouldn’t hear a word said against him while he was alive, so I doubt whether she would countenance any criticism of his memory. Besides, what would be the point?’ Mrs Woodley spread both her hands in a supplicating gesture. ‘Especially given all the rumours of a very different nature that now abound. At least he left Brione well provided for. She won’t have any financial worries, and in time she will find love again, even though she insists otherwise.’ Mrs Woodley tutted. ‘It will be a criminal waste if she does not.’
‘Gilliard inherited a tidy sum upon his father’s death, I understand.’
‘He did. His father was a member of the upper middle classes who made a small fortune importing silk from India. Brione’s husband was not a gambling man. At least I cannot level that accusation against him, so I’m sure that the rumours about his accumulation of wealth from quarters other than his inheritance were quite simply moonshine.’ She glanced up at Kensley, her lovely face troubled. ‘I have been rather indiscreet, I think, speaking to a relative stranger so openly about such a sensitive subject.’
‘I am very glad you felt you could confide in me. Rest assured that what you have said won’t go any further than the duke. I’m afraid my first loyalty is to him, but he doesn’t listen to rumours or indulge in witch hunts.’
‘How reassuring.’ She inclined her head in gratitude. ‘Anyway, what is it that the duke wants to talk to me about?’
‘He will tell you what he has in mind. Here we are.’ He opened the door to the library and ushered Mrs Woodley through it ahead of him.
‘Ah, Mrs Woodley.’ The duke rose to his feet with effortless grace and smiled. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘It was hardly a request, but in any event I was happy to oblige and more than a little curious—until Mr Kensley explained that Brione was here.’ She turned and smiled at Mrs Gilliard. ‘What have you been up to?’ she asked, sitting beside her friend and taking her hand. ‘I assume you were caught.’
‘Well, if gentlemen aren’t where they are supposed to be, I don’t see how I can be held accountable,’ Mrs Gilliard replied waspishly.
Troy laughed. ‘Somehow I assumed I would be blamed.’
Kensley watched her, thinking she looked flustered, and wondered what Troy had said to her while they had been a
lone. Did she still suspect him of being the traitor, or did she feel an instinctive attraction towards Kensley’s complex master? Kensley wasn’t well enough acquainted with her to be sure, but was content to watch the situation unfold to see what developed. And of course, he could check with Mrs Woodley if matters called for a comparison of opinions. That would most definitely be no hardship.
‘Fishing is overrated and deadly dull,’ Troy said, more relaxed than Kensley had seen him for months. ‘I apologise if my disinterest in the sport spoiled your plans, Mrs Gilliard.’
‘And I suppose I should apologise for invading your privacy,’ she said, not terribly graciously, but Troy inclined his head, accepting the apology as though it had been heartfelt.
Mrs Woodley shook her head as she followed the exchange and a smile graced her lovely features. ‘Shall you be sending us both home in disgrace?’ she asked Troy.
‘Quite the contrary, I assure you. I was just now explaining to Mrs Gilliard that I have been charged by my political masters with unmasking the traitor’s identity, which is why I have invited those most likely to be guilty to this party. However, I confess to being at a loss to know how to get them to admit to their misdeeds. But now…’ His gaze lingered upon Mrs Gilliard as his words trailed off.
‘He wants me to stay as a guest, in the hope that my identity—my being here amongst them—will unnerve the culprit. I think it a ridiculous idea.’
Troy elevated one brow in a challenging manner. ‘More ridiculous that searching through my papers?’
‘Well, I suppose…’ She studied her folded hands as her words trailed off.
‘I think it’s an inspired suggestion,’ Mrs Woodley said, smiling at the duke and then turning that same smile upon Mrs Gilliard. ‘Why do you imagine I brought so much clothing with me? You remarked upon it, I seem to recall, but I knew before we left London that you wouldn’t pass muster as a maid for long.’
‘Even so,’ Mrs Gilliard gaped at her friend, ‘you could not possibly have anticipated this outcome.’
To Desire a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 8 Page 8