* * * *
Edmund Tasker was so furious he felt he would kill the next man who ventured to raise an enquiring eyebrow at him. He stalked over to his brandy decanter, poured himself a glassful, and took a hefty swallow. Whilst it burned its way down to his stomach, it did not help to abate his anger. What in hell had happened to his luck—which he thought was well in hand after the robbery in America? The funds from the bank raid, which would have set him up for life if he had acquired all of it, had now dissipated like snow in summer.
For a start, his partner in crime had taken more than his fair share of the money then had been shot trying to escape and the money recovered. He had narrowly escaped with the rest of it after killing the third man who was due for a share. Returning to London, he lost more at the gambling tables, trying to make up the difference, before deciding to revisit his country house and enacting a complete farce in the hope of marrying his neighbour's granddaughter and eventually acquiring the rich estate.
He had failed in that ambition following the murder of the duchess. He had plotted that evil act so Lucie would be left alone, helpless to avoid accepting his proposal of marriage. Instead, he was thoroughly shocked to find her married to a man who had already angered him in New Orleans. How Martell had achieved a sudden wedding he didn't know, but he would regret it, Tasker thought viciously. He would make sure of it. That he was now Earl Martell and husband of the woman Edmund had thought to marry to recoup his losses was a monumental kick in the teeth.
A further trip to London to acquire the hired men he thought might be useful had cost him dearly. Two were already gone—one dead, the other probably scarpering back to London, likely fearful at reporting the disappearance of his undoubted enemy, Richard Martell. To rub salt in the wound, he had returned from the city, where he had arranged to borrow more funds, to find his female staff had decamped en masse, probably on account of the lewd advances the men he had left in charge had made in his absence. Sending another man to look for Davis had brought the news that Ashbury Mead’s lord and lady were no longer there.
So where the hell were they? He had gone to the village to ask around if anyone knew where they had gone, but had been met with blank faces. Intending to hire more staff, again he was met with scowls and refusals. After the tales the servants had spread, no one wanted to work for him. Word had got around he was not to be trusted, and he faced suspicion at every glance. A moment of anxiety caused him to loosen the cravat at his neck. God help him if they actually found out the truth about the death of their revered duchess.
He thought they would probably lynch him without waiting for a trial.
He came across Cooper before he left the village to return home and brusquely interrogated him for any clue as to where the Martells had gone. “Someone must know, dammit!” he raged. “You’re bloody useless, man! A simple bit of information like that should be easy to find. But an entire village keeping silent? No gossip about their whereabouts? It’s unheard of. You’d better try harder if you know what’s good for you!”
Cooper had only nodded, trying to keep a low profile, and said he’d have another go.
“See that you do. I’m going back to the house. When you are finished, find me there.”
Returning home, he had gone directly to his study to consider his options and seek solitude. He felt the frame of mind he was in was best kept hidden. He didn’t want another of his rages to take over. He took one more gulp of brandy and tried to figure out his next move before remembering the duchess had been making plans to go to London to present her granddaughter to the ton. She had mentioned that fact to him when they'd sat at dinner that night, and that her town house was ready to receive them.
It might be that the earl would keep to the same arrangements and had taken his wife to London. He sighed. Another trip there would mean that blasted money-lender would be seeking redress. He was a usurer without mercy and would have already found out the guarantee Tasker had given to borrow the money had no basis in reality. He couldn’t return there, not if he wanted to live. What the hell should he do? He grunted resentfully. Rob another bank? He had had more than enough of the terrors of that last escapade, yet it might possibly be the only way out for him.
* * * *
Tasker finally rang the bell, even though he knew none of the former staff were available. He still had his men, and Harry Smeeton was an able lieutenant. He usually hung about the kitchen and would hear the summons. Harry kept the others under control and knew more of Tasker’s history than Edmund would have liked, but at least he was reliable. He was kept waiting so long, and with his patience at a low ebb and anger too close, he leapt to his feet to go and find him when Harry Smeeton knocked and walked into the study.
One would never call him a handsome man. Quite the opposite. An untidy fringe of greying hair surrounded a balding crown that was usually covered with a battered hat except when he took if off to see his lordship. His nose had been broken twice, and the resetting was so poor, his nose was still swollen and shapeless. His lips were narrow and his skin pocked with acne, creating an altogether ugly face that did not invite too close a scrutiny.
His gimlet eyes, the colour of steel, warned people he would be a hard one to tangle with if they dared, and they showed a cunning intelligence that had kept him, at least a dozen times, from being hung. Getting involved with Tasker had been a chancy risk, and he soon found out the man had a daredevil approach to danger and a hell bent desire to make money no matter where it came from. Providing Harry could tone down the incorrigible temper that lay ready to take offence at gainsayers, he thought they’d make good partners. At the moment, he played a subservient role, but he was biding his time.
“Sorry sir. I was at a distance from the house when I heard the bell. I was talking to that runt of a gardener, the last one working, I’m afraid, although he was packing up and leaving. However, his sister is married to one of Ashbury’s keepers, and he says they have gone to the earl’s estate. Shrewsbury, he thought, or somewhere over there. I sent Mosley off to scour a few villages that way to see if anyone had sight of a carriage or a number of people travelling east. The only other place they might have gone would be London, and I’ve already checked…they didn’t go in that direction. By the way, Cooper’s gone, flown the coop, as it were! Just like Davis.” He took the grin off his face and coughed when he saw Tasker scowl.
“Cooper must have come back quick and collected his things on the quiet. I saw the backside of his horse nearing the gates and checked his room. I thought he was a weak ’un when we did for Deacon, so he’s no loss. I’m no great cook, but I have a bit of knowhow and there’s food left in the kitchen which I will be happy to deal with. By the time I have it ready, Mosley should be back. I told him not to go far, so we can eat early tonight. It’ll give you time to decide what we do next. Is that acceptable, milord?”
Tasker had remained quiet during this account, his brain adjusting to the recent news and already sifting through possible plans. Foremost in his mind was vengeance and what he could do to upset the lives of the Martells. That night, Mosley came back with news. It seemed that the earl and his family had indeed travelled east to the estate he had inherited. Now, all Tasker had to do was follow and things would fall into place when he was ready.
They were in the kitchen and had finished their meal as Tasker poured the last of the wine into his glass and sat back and looked at his companions with serious intent. “I have an enemy I am going after. He took the woman I wanted, and I will destroy him. Are you with me, or do you want to leave like the others? I won’t stop you if you leave, but neither will I give up my purpose. Your choice, I believe.”
“This enemy you speak of? Is it the Earl of Martell you have a complaint with? Him who owns the huge estate over the way? Where the duchess pegged it? Is it a personal grudge? Will there be pickings or just a murder?” Mosley stared back at Tasker then glanced at Smeeton who shrugged.
“Killing an earl is not the safest t
hing to do. It brings penalties I’d rather not know about unless the spoils can ease what conscience I have left. If it is merely a fight between you both, I’ll stand back and watch the action. How say you, Harry?”
“I’ve been with his lordship since we met in America. Good times, bad times, makes no difference. I’ve nowhere else to go, so I reckon I’ll go along with him,” Harry replied.
“I guess I’m the same, in as much as I’ve nothing else to do at the moment, milord, and three’s better than two any day. I’ll go with you as well.”
Tasker gazed back at his companions. Harry he could trust. No worries there. Fred Mosley was an unknown quantity…no loyalty, merely in it for the money, but still a hand he could use. He cogitated a moment or two more then said, “Very well, we start early tomorrow and follow the trail to Shrewsbury. I’ll let you know what I intend when we catch up with them. I doubt you’ll be involved at that point, but her ladyship has money. A great deal of it, and I intend to take it from her. I might take her too, but if not, she'll join her husband once she's deprived of her cash. With a bit of luck, there’ll be something sweet in it for you. I'll make sure you are well compensated.”
Chapter Twelve
When Lucie woke the next morning, Mary was sitting in a corner of the room, mending one of Lucie’s garments. She blushed when she saw it was the nightgown she had put on the evening before and had it taken off in the throes of her husband’s passionate embrace. Mary smiled at her when she saw she had awakened, and laying the garment aside, picked up a bed jacket and brought it over. “I have your chocolate warmed and ready for you, milady, and your breakfast tray is here if you’d like that before you get dressed. Milord said to leave you to sleep as long as possible. He has gone to see the butler he knew when he lived here. Once he has seen him, he will return and escort you to the main house. He said to take your time and wait for him.”
Lucie yawned, still tired from the night’s exertions and glad that she did not need to hurry or ride anywhere too far. “Thank you, Mary, I’ll take my breakfast now, then bathe and dress. Will there be time, do you think, before Richard comes back?” She had no qualms about freely using his given name with her maid. The two women were as close as could be considering their relative positions, and she trusted Mary implicitly not to gossip or reveal any conversations they enjoyed.
Mary looked at Lucie’s travelling clock. “I’d say we have at least an hour, milady, before he returns. I’ll order your bath water now while you breakfast.
She left to make arrangements while Lucie leaned back against the pillows and thought dreamily of the thrilling night she’d had. Contrary to her first impressions of Richard when she thought him arrogant and interested only in his own desires and comfort, she was beginning to see the other side of him. He demonstrated a sincere concern for her comfort and in making sure she found joy in their coupling. Perhaps her grandmother had been right to insist that they marry. If she was unwed now, she would have been a prey to many suitors and even her grandfather’s brother, Frederick Meacham, might have tried to invade her household. He called himself a direct relative, but she’d never met or heard of him before. Eleanor had obviously determined he was not a good enough contender to take on the Dukedom. Fortunately, she’d never need worry about him again.
* * * *
With the house shuttered and empty and the family gone, the butler, Nathaniel Ward, elderly and ailing with rheumatism, had moved with his wife to a cottage in Clun. Richard found him there that morning, sitting in his chair with a blanket over his knees. He had tried to get up when his wife had brought the earl into the sitting room and sat back with a sigh of relief when he promptly motioned him to stay seated. “Stay as you are, Ward. I have merely come to see how you fare.”
“I heard you had returned, milord, and was hoping to pay a visit once I get these legs of mine moving...”
“No need. I am more able than you. Do you feel well enough to discuss family business? Apart from my quick visit, Ward, a few weeks ago, when I did not grasp the nettle after living so many years abroad, I didn’t really have a notion how badly you have all fared with the deaths of my brothers and parents. I have no doubt you’ve had a ton of responsibility heaped on your head all these years. You deserve your retirement, and if I can make things easier for you and your wife, you have only to ask.”
“Yes, I’m able to tell you all you wish to know, though you may not be happy to hear it. So thank you for those consoling words. I appreciate your offer. You always were the best of the bunch, milord, and I’m right glad you were spared in the end, if you don’t mind me saying so. It was a bad day, that time you left. Your brother Henry was in a right temper with your father, and they quarrelled unceasingly for days about the way your father had treated you until Henry flung the duty of being heir back in the earl’s face and bought himself a captaincy in the Cavalry. It was dreadfully sad when we lost him at Waterloo. Your father was devastated, though he tried to hide it, and when he concentrated on James as the next heir, was even more disappointed at the lack of leadership he found in him.” Nathaniel coughed and Richard, wanting him to carry on with his family’s history, rose and said he would fetch a drink.
“No, please stay, milord. Lizzie will fetch us ale, if it suits you?” He called for his wife and tankards of ale were quickly produced.
“Some say it’s not good for the aches, but I say it’s good for most anything. Cheers the soul. Now, where was I? Ah yes, James. It was a while before we twigged that your brother was really ailing. Before we knew it, the growth he had inside took a real hold, and he was gone. I tried to persuade your father to send for you, but he was too sunk in despair to take heed. I had words afterwards with your family solicitor, and he tried to find you.”
“It took a while,” Richard mused. “I know I should have kept in touch, but never felt I had the right after I left home. Knowing my brothers were with you, I felt that was enough. I eventually received word from my godmother.”
“That was probably through Jennie Marshall, our old housekeeper,” Nathaniel agreed. “Sadly, she died last month. Another forgetful lapse of mine. I should have written to the duchess to tell her about Jennie.”
“It's too late, sadly. You won’t know, but the duchess is dead too.” Richard stared at Ward, watching the butler’s face pale with concern. “She suffered a bad accident and died.”
He gave Ward the brief details.
“Oh lawks! Her too? I didn’t know. It is sad that so many good people are gone.”
“I have since married her granddaughter, and she will make a fine countess for Amberley. To tell you the truth, I was minded to pull the place down and start again, but she has persuaded me not to. She is convinced the place has merit and will be beautiful again. It has taken some persuading, but she won me over in the end.”
“That is quite splendid of her. She will definitely make a fine countess. You are to be congratulated, my lord, to choose such a clever lady.”
“Yes, and I must be getting back to her, or she will think I am lost. Just one thing, Nathaniel, you will know many people here. Pass the word around to let me know of any strangers appearing hereabouts. For your ears only, I found the accident to the duchess more than strange—in truth, suspicious—together with a number of other peculiar happenings. I came across a villain I’d met abroad and had the notion he was up to his evil tricks again and intent on getting what he could from the duchess. I can’t prove it, but I believe she was murdered and he was responsible. I wanted to keep my wife safe, so we left Ashbury secretly overnight for those reasons, but I don’t think it will be long before we are traced. Whatever this man intended was baulked. He will be a sore loser and may keep seeking us. Forewarning would be a good favour, Nathaniel.”
“Consider it done, milord, and I thank you for favouring me with your confidence. I might be a trifle helpless at the moment, but you have given me good heart to stir myself. Anything more I can do, you know you only have to ask.”
“Between us, we can sort out the problems. Oh, by the way, I have brought a man to oversee the rebuilding as well as other things we require. He is called Walter Ellis. I trust he will be accepted?” He smiled as Ward nodded. One more obstacle gone, thank goodness.
* * * *
Lucie was dressed and waiting for Richard when he returned to the inn, and he greeted her with a bow and a smile. “Are you rested, my dear? I was hoping you would like a tour of Amberley, around the outside this time, before the builders get a chance to cause chaos.”
“I’d like it above all, my lord, especially a chance to see the ruins.”
“My lord? You have forgotten again. I do not wish you to keep lording me, Julie.” Richard cocked an enquiring eye. “I thought we agreed an informal style was desired.”
“Should I say my dear husband? You were rather dear earlier on, I collect.” She beamed happily. “I seem to have underestimated the gifts you present to please me.”
“Well as long as you are truly grateful I will accept ‘dear husband.’” He watched the smile vanish and realised his spontaneous repartee had missed the mark. He hadn’t meant her to feel grateful. He was the one who should feel obliged, for he knew the bad start they’d had to their marriage could be continuing now if they hadn’t found a bond with love-making. At least it was a beginning to what he hoped would turn into a true enduring marriage and not a conventional ton union where a couple went their separate ways, had their own friends and lovers, and only met when circumstances obliged them to act married. That was not the way he wanted to live, and he suspected it was not Lucie’s way either. Apologise, you damn fool before you spoil the day altogether.
A Perilous Marriage Page 15