Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Scarlett Scott

  In the coach on the way back to Castlebridge, Andrew tried not to give way to disappointment. He was perfectly happy for Greta to stay and enjoy the theatre, and she may well be right, the governess could be making a mountain out of a molehill. But still, he had expected Greta to understand, and at least offer to return with him. She seemed to prefer London, and he feared she might not wish to share the life he’d planned. He shrugged and pushed the troubling thought away, folding his arms. Instead, he thought of Winslow. A man he’d liked, and the horrible way in which he died.

  His thoughts then turned inevitably to William. He wanted to reassure himself that the boy was all right. But it would be too late when he arrived home tonight. And he did not wish to disturb Nanny. It would have to wait until morning.

  Chapter Six

  In the schoolroom the next morning, Jenny was attempting to distract William who kept referring to the shot in the wood. What could she do to blot out the frightening experience from his mind? She took out a map of England and asked the children to find the major towns upon it.

  The door opened, and His Grace entered. She had not expected him back so soon and wished she could have tidied herself. On her feet quickly, she smoothed the skirts of her gray gown and curtsied. “Your Grace.”

  “Miss Harrismith, children.” He strolled over to the table. “William, I believe a hunter’s shot came very close to you while you rode by the river yesterday?”

  “Yes, Father,” William said. “Someone shooting birds.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  As William described how he’d dismounted and bent down to pick up a stone when the shot had whizzed over his head, Jenny saw the duke’s blue eyes darken and his expression become grim.

  He placed a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Regrettably, it appears to be someone’s shot going awry, William. I’m relieved you were not hurt.”

  William dug a finger into his collar his young mouth set in a firm line. “I explained to Miss Harrismith that the shooter might have stumbled and not realized where his shot went.”

  “I believe you are right,” His Grace said. “But I intend to look into it and make sure it never happens again. Tomorrow, after breakfast, instead of riding, I thought we’d do a spot of fly-fishing.”

  William brightened. “Oh, yes, I should like that, Father.”

  “I shall come too,” Barbara said.

  Andrew shook his head. “I’m afraid you might not enjoy it, sweetheart.”

  Barbara began to fidget. “You promised to bring something back from London, for us.”

  “Dear heaven, in my haste to return I forgot! I will next time without fail, I promise.”

  “Are you going away again?” she demanded, finally revealing what really concerned her.

  “No, sweetheart. Not for a while, it’s to be hoped.” He raised his eyebrows at Jenny. “We’ll all go to the river tomorrow and have a picnic.”

  “A picnic!” Barbara clapped her hands.

  “Now, I need to speak to Miss Harrismith for a moment. Perhaps you can find York on the map, which is where your governess hails from, isn’t that so, Miss Harrismith? While she and I have words in the corridor.”

  He gestured to Jenny and crossed to open the door.

  “I thought it best to report the incident right away, Your Grace,” she said in the corridor. She hadn’t expected the matter to bring him straight home from London, if that was what brought him here.

  “My secretary considered it serious enough to notify me straight away, and rightly so,” he said. “But it is likely to be just that, a stray shot, which I will investigate.” He studied her face. “You brought William immediately home?”

  “I did, Your Grace.”

  “Might there be anything you can add to William’s account? No sign of anyone in the woods?”

  She shook her head. “I expected someone to rush to see if we were hurt, but no one did. A bird was shot out of the sky, farther along the river about ten minutes later. In the afternoon, I went to inquire of the gamekeeper at his cottage, but when I couldn’t find him, I decided Lord William and I would not ride until you had been consulted.”

  He nodded. “A wise decision, Miss Harrismith.”

  “I met Herr Von Bremen on the path to the gamekeeper’s cottage,” Jenny said. “He said he was returning from just having climbed that high hill to the north. He wished to view the surrounding countryside.”

  “Leave it with me, Miss Harrismith. Be ready with the children for our picnic at ten o’clock.

  She hesitated. “You wish me to go too?”

  He smiled. “You shall have to take care of Barbara, otherwise I fear I will be fishing her out of the river.”

  Jenny grinned and nodded. “We shall be ready, Your Grace.”

  She left the duke and returned inside. “I’ve found York, Miss Harrismith,” William said, pointing to the map. He already looked happier.

  “Oh, well done, Lord William.”

  “Can you tell us another story about your sister’s animals?” he asked. They loved her tales featuring Beth’s odd assortment of stray animals. But she remained uneasy about what was occurring back home in Yorkshire, and aware of how quick children were to sense a mood, sought to delay it.

  “I shall, but now it is time for your baths, Nanny will be waiting.”

  *

  Andrew left Miss Harrismith, whom he’d found to be perfectly sensible, and unlikely to exaggerate her account of the shooting, as Greta had suggested. He descended the stairs. Ivo was more intrepid than he gave him credit for if he’d climbed Spender’s Bluff. It was not impossible to scale if one knew the right way to go about it. Evidently, Ivo had discovered the route, but somehow climbing steep hills didn’t fit with his idea of the rather indolent man.

  “Tell Clovis I wish to see him first thing in the morning,” he instructed the footman. He must dress for a dinner which would be regrettably lacking in feminine company. A game of faro or billiards with Raymond and Ivo might serve to banish the worries from his mind for a few hours. First Winslow, and now this business with William, which was not easily explained. Andrew’s plans for a comfortable retirement from his diplomatic duties had suffered a bad beginning. Hopefully, there would be nothing more.

  Clovis came to see Andrew in the library the next morning while he sought through the fishing gear that had just been brought to him.

  “Have you been culling pheasant, Clovis?”

  Clovis shook his head with a puzzled frown. “No, Your Grace. Needs to be done, I grant you.”

  “Someone discharged a gun near the river. Close to the bridle path. A shot came perilously close to my son.”

  Clovis’ eyes widened. “Good lord! Who would do such a reckless thing?”

  “That’s what we must find out. And as soon as possible.”

  As Miss Harrismith had seen Ivo returning from Spender’s Bluff, Andrew delayed questioning him, in the hope that the culprit would be found. He had no wish to ruffle Greta’s plumage, which was becoming increasingly easy to do. Ivo had been an arrogant bore last night, annoying Raymond as well as Andrew, boasting about his prowess with women. Andrew must question him when he’d really love to throw Greta’s bad-mannered brother out on his arse.

  “Let me know if you hear of anything, Clovis. And check the gun room. I want to know if any guns have been taken out and fired.”

  “It will be done, Your Grace.” Clovis scratched his head. “Odd business. Can’t make head nor tail of it.”

  When the door closed behind Clovis, Andrew stared out the window taking scant notice of the gardeners clipping the yews. He considered the only other possible person to take a gun out would be Raymond. His cousin felt very much at home here. It was entirely possible he could have taken it upon himself to go on a hunt without requesting permission. Andrew remembered several similar experiences when they were lads. He had envied Raymond’s devil may care attitude, back then. But their differences became more marked afte
r Andrew inherited the dukedom and subsequently married.

  Raymond’s father, Andrew’s Cousin Charles, was a reckless man. He died in an accident while racing his curricle when Raymond was a baby. While Andrew’s father had been an upright, resolute man, who did not forgive the frailties of a young son. A respected speaker in the House of Lords, Andrew had a grudging admiration for him, but at the same time, was determined never to be like him. He suspected the choices his father made, ignoring Andrew’s mother, who then became a society leader at Almack’s along with Lady Jersey and had little room in her life for either her husband or her son, caused his father to be lonely. Andrew had wondered if he’d ever regretted anything. He’d certainly never spoken of it, nor approached Andrew to bring them closer.

  Raymond’s mother, his Aunt Augusta, expressed concern to Andrew about the manner in which Raymond lived in London. He didn’t find anything unusual about it. Raymond lived like many sons who did not have the responsibility of an estate. With little to do, and readily available funds, they spent their time whoring and gambling. Andrew sighed and went to find him. His cousin was next in line after William, but perhaps it was fortunate that Raymond would not inherit the dukedom.

  He went to join the governess and his children for a morning’s fly-fishing. Cook was to pack a luncheon hamper which would be taken to the river in the trap.

  Miss Harrismith, in her green habit, waited with the children at the stables. They rode out on horseback in the autumn sunshine. Barbara rode with Andrew and the other two followed behind along the woodland path. It was three miles to the best fishing spot for trout. When they arrived, George was already there setting out the picnic luncheon on the grass in the shade of an oak tree.

  Andrew handed a rod to William and took up his own as Barbara and Miss Harrismith wandered over the meadow, picking the last of the wildflowers before the onset of winter.

  “Where will we stand, William?” Andrew smiled at his son’s enthusiasm and the precise manner in which he chose the fly and attached it to his line.

  “Over there, the water flows better, Father. More chance of getting a bite.”

  “Quite so.” He sensed William was eager to show his finesse at the sport.

  They found a level spot to stand on the bank. William raised his rod into the air taking it back over his shoulder. He cast it into the water. The fly landed an impressive fifteen feet from the bank.

  “That was very well done, William. The gamekeeper has taught you well,” Andrew said as he cast his own line into the water.

  A soft breeze toyed with the willow fronds and birds chirped around them. As the tension drained from Andrew’s muscles, he realized how strained he’d been.

  Barbara’s laughter made him turn. A rabbit hopped away and disappeared into a hole. Miss Harrismith was grinning. Her eyes found his for a fleeting moment and she raised her hands to her chest as if to say, Isn’t this perfect?

  And it was.

  He took a deep breath of country air scented with damp grass and mud as William yelled. “Father look! A trout has taken my lure!”

  “Wait, take it slow, William, reel in the line. But if the fish wants to run, let it.”

  William played out more line and then began to reel in the struggling fish.

  “You’re doing well, William,” Andrew said as he reached for the net.

  William turned his glowing face to Andrew. “I’ve nearly got him!”

  Andrew leaned forward. “That’s a decent size.”

  William grinned. “Big enough to eat, Father?”

  “Someone will certainly enjoy it. If I can get it into the net.” Andrew laughed as he scooped the wriggling fish from the water. “I quite fancy eating it myself.”

  “You caught a fish, William!” Barbara ran over with Miss Harrismith following. “Ugh, it looks slippery and wriggles!”

  “Oh, well done, Lord William!” Miss Harrismith examined the fish. “When your father has caught one or two, there will be a fish course served for dinner tonight.”

  “Are you so confident I will, Miss Harrismith?” Andrew asked wryly not missing the mischief in her smile. There was a touch of the minx in Miss Harrismith, and he found himself wishing she would allow him to see more of it.

  “I feel quite optimistic, Your Grace.”

  He had never seen her this lighthearted and free, but the governess understood as he did how important today was, to calm his son after his frightening experience.

  With the fish safely in a bucket, they sat down to their picnic. Andrew stretched his legs out over the grass and picked up a chicken leg from the plate. He took a bite and chewed. “I shall make an attempt to equal your achievement after luncheon, William.”

  “I might catch another, Father!” William grinned as he rose to take the bucket to the river to replenish the water, and ensure his prize catch made it to the kitchens still fresh.

  Miss Harrismith buttered bread and placed it on the plates as George stepped forward to pour the lemonade.

  “Wine? Miss Harrismith?”

  “No thank you, Your Grace. I prefer lemonade.”

  Andrew leaned back on his elbows and watched her. Her head in the straw bonnet was bent over the hamper while she added bread and butter to the children’s plates. The fresh breeze brought the scents of leaves and grasses, and the river. How very pleasant it was. Might he and Greta have days like this?

  “Right,” Andrew tossed the chicken bone onto the plate, drank a glass of chilled wine, and climbed to his feet, brushing down his breeches. “Back to the river to take up the challenge!”

  William still chewing, darted away with a laugh, and Barbara crawled on the grass nearby picking more daisies. Andrew paused at Miss Harrismith’s side. “I’ve been away too long, and need to make up for lost time with my children. Do you think I’m making headway, Miss Harrismith?” He leaned down and offered her his hand.

  For a moment, as she climbed to her feet, their hands entwined, the shock of skin on skin. Andrew was conscious of how slim and delicate her hand was, fitted into his palm, and then he released her.

  She had gone that pretty shade of pink. “Your children hold you in great affection, Your Grace, but I’m sure it’s not my place to say so,” she said. “You are a duke and my employer after all!”

  He smiled. He enjoyed looking at her, her straight nose, the firm line of her jaw. She was firm in her opinions too, was Miss Harrismith. “I was a man before I was a duke, Miss Harrismith. And I want all the things every man wishes for.”

  He saw understanding and warmth in her eyes before she lowered her lashes.

  Then William called from the river and he turned away, wondering why he’d felt the need to say it.

  Chapter Seven

  It had been such a perfectly lovely day. When the duke spoke of his wish to grow closer to his children, she’d almost melted into her half-boots. She smiled as she rested her head on the pillow. His Grace had caught two more fish, but declared William to be the winner, as his catch was bigger. The trout were brought back to Castlebridge and sent to the kitchens to be served to the guests for the fish course.

  The children were tired but still chatting about the picnic when she left them with Nanny. Jenny was pleasantly tired too, and spent the hours before bedtime reading her Jane Austen novel, but her mind kept returning to the picnic. His Grace’s laugh, the warmth and thoughtfulness he displayed toward his children. His gentle teasing, which had briefly included her. And more perplexing was the electric touch of his hand holding hers. She bit her lip. It was dangerous to sigh over him, and would only bring misery. She had to concentrate on why she was here, to care for his children.

  Her candle snuffed, she pounded her pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

  Jenny stood shivering on the rug in her nightgown. Half asleep, something had drawn her from her bed. Through a gap in the curtains, the sky lightened to a rose-tinted gray. A glance at the clock told her it was almost dawn. She stood for a moment unsure why she’
d woken in a panic, and then she smelt it. Smoke drifting in on the breeze. The gardeners burnt off dead leaves in autumn, but would they leave them smoldering overnight?

  The nursery wing was directly below hers. As unease gripped her, she told herself the fire might be somewhere in the woods. Perhaps lightning struck a tree. Yesterday, the bad weather had hit after they’d arrived home. And last night there was a storm.

  Unable to ignore it, she snatched up her robe and shoved her feet into slippers. On her way down the servants’ stairs, the smell of smoke grew stronger. When she reached the corridor below, a trail of smoke wafted along the ceiling. No one appeared to be awake. Jenny ran to the nursery door and burst inside.

  Here the smoke was denser. The curtains were well ablaze, sucked in and out of the wide-open window. Nanny sat in a chair her head nodding on her chest, the children asleep in their beds.

  “Nanny!” Jenny yelled. She grabbed a jug of water from a table and ran to the window. Coughing, she doused the flames as best she could then pulled the curtains down to the floor and stamped out the remaining embers. The smoke dispersed as cold fresh morning air rushed in through the window.

  Nanny Evans sat up drowsily, her cap falling over one eye, and her long braid of grey hair sitting on her shoulder. “What are you doing, Miss Harrismith? What has happened?”

  “Did you leave a candle burning, Nanny?” Jenny asked, checking the sleeping Barbara. William was stirring.

  “No, indeed I did not,” Nanny said, sounding cross. “And why would I leave the candle over there? It’s always placed here beside me.”

  William rubbed his eyes. “Is it morning?” He coughed. “What is that smell?”

  “Not quite yet, William. The curtains were on fire. But it’s been put out now.”

  William was not one to take anyone’s word for something unless he saw it for himself. He left his bed and walked over to the blackened, smoldering curtains. “Was it lightening?”