And with that sorrowful thought, he lay down and tried to sleep. But it was not until close to dawn, not long after he had heard Edgerton creep into his room next door, that he finally drifted into a disturbed slumber.
~~~~~
He was woken late in the morning by Willett rapping on the door, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing, and brisk footsteps across the wooden floor. The shutters were flung open with a clatter, then the bed curtains pulled apart, admitting brilliant sunlight to Gus’s dazzled eyes.
“Good morning, my lord. I trust your lordship slept well. Your bath awaits you in the dressing room, my lord.”
“Good God, Willett, what are you trying to do to me? Leave me be until I send for you, or you will be out on your ear, I warn you.”
“Chocolate on the table over there, my lord. Bath ready. Also a gentleman from London. Been here since eight o’clock, awaiting your pleasure. Told me if you wasn’t up by noon, he was going straight back to London and you could explain it to Tattersall’s yourself.”
Gus groaned. “Oh, the lawyer. Very well. But what about Captain Edgerton? Is he not up and about yet?”
“Gardner’s working on him, my lord, although like as not it will involve a jug or two of cold water. He’s the very devil to rouse. Whereas you, my lord — normally up long before this.”
His tone was so offended that Gus could only laugh. “Very well, Willett. Go and tell the impatient lawyer that I am on my way.”
Even with Willett’s assistance and a rather hasty attempt at a cravat, and not at all his usual style, it was a full hour before Gus deemed himself presentable enough to face the world, or the portion of it that contained the lawyer from London. He was not surprised when he entered the parlour to find that gentleman red in the face with anger, his pocket watch in hand. He was not as old as he had expected, being about Gus’s own age, and rather ostentatiously attired in the style favoured by pinks of the ton, who aspired to the height of fashionable dress. Edgerton, in a rather splendid dressing gown, was watching in amusement from an armchair.
“Are you Augustus Marford?” the lawyer said.
“I am, and—”
“Whatever time of day do you call this, eh?”
“I have not the least idea, but you could enquire of your watch, I daresay.”
Edgerton spluttered with laughter, but the lawyer grew, if anything, even redder. “Oh, a fine wit! You find this very amusing, I daresay, Marford. But your rudeness is not only offensive to me, but a great impertinence to his grace the Duke of Dunmorton, who awaits our attendance even now.”
“Really? He seldom rises so early.”
“I daresay it is in compliment to me. Allow me to introduce myself, Marford. I am the Honourable Pettigrew Willerton-Forbes, son of the third Earl of Morven, and brother to Viscount Dillington. I daresay you have heard of me?” Edgerton was laughing openly now.
“I regret to say that I have not. I—”
“Oh, you are more ignorant than I had supposed. You horsey types are all the same, no idea how to deal with those of rank and consequence. I have no idea what his grace the duke sees in you, but according to Edgerton here, his grace will not see me without you in attendance. So come on, come on, make haste, and let us have no more delay.”
“As you wish, Willerton-Forbes,” Gus said easily.
“Mr Willerton-Forbes to you. Or sir, if you wish to be absolutely correct.”
“Oh, by all means let us be absolutely correct,” Gus said, trying not to catch the eye of Edgerton, who was positively rocking with laughter in his chair. “You may address me as Lord Augustus. Son of the eighth Marquess of Carrbridge, you see, and brother to the ninth. Sorry.”
Willerton-Forbes’s mouth opened and then snapped shut again. He wisely decided to make no further observation on the matter of rank, and gestured for Gus to lead the way out of the room. Edgerton’s laughter followed them all the way down the corridor.
“Captain Edgerton is exceedingly rude,” the lawyer said, in more moderate tones. “I am relieved that he is not to accompany us into his grace’s presence. Men of rank and consequence should have as little as possible to do with those of humbler origins, or so my father always says.”
“The duke would agree with him,” Gus said. “No one enters the keep or his presence except they be of noble blood. It is the only reason I was selected to come here, for in truth Edgerton is the man with the skills needed, and could have managed the business without any involvement from me, had the duke not been so particular. For myself, I would not be so fastidious. Edgerton is very good company, especially when he is plied with decent claret. He also plays an excellent hand of cards, if you are so minded.”
The lawyer was silent, and Gus wondered if he had the wit to deduce that he, too, had been selected for his blue blood rather than his legal skills. But he must be tolerably competent, for Tattersall’s had sent him alone, and not with an older, wiser lawyer to advise him.
As Gus had suspected, the duke was far from ready to receive them, and they were left kicking their heels in an ante-room for a good half hour before they were finally admitted to the duke’s presence. This time, they were shown into the library, a room no larger than any other at its lowest point, but with walls soaring upwards all around, and every inch covered with shelves of books. Spiral staircases and narrow galleries allowed access to the upper stacks. Far above them, a painted ceiling was filled with winged cherubs of the most preposterous kind. The lawyer looked around him with wide eyes before remembering that he was an earl’s son and therefore need not be impressed.
“The Lord Augustus Marford, and Mr Willerton-Forbes,” the butler intoned, as they entered.
The duke stood behind a large mahogany desk, flanked by two bewigged gentlemen in coats of the old style, whom Gus had no hesitation in identifying as lawyers. It was the first time he had ever seen the duke on his feet, and now that he did, he understood just why Emma’s childish self had been so impressed, for the duke was a head taller than his two legal advisers, and several inches taller than Gus himself. He felt the young lawyer at his side shrink away at the sight, which was, of course, exactly as the duke intended.
“Ah, Marford!” the duke said. “Pray introduce your friend.”
“With pleasure. Duke, may I present to you my esteemed colleague, Mr Pettigrew Willerton-Forbes, son of the Earl of Morven. His grace the Duke of Dunmorton, Willerton-Forbes.”
The lawyer made a low bow, while the duke grunted, and introduced his own lawyers. Then, with an audible sigh of relief, he heaved himself into the massive carved chair behind the desk. Gus wondered at the effort it must have taken to stand when he was clearly in considerable pain. And then he wondered why he bothered, for a mere business meeting. Was this so important that he must not show his own physical weakness to a rival lawyer? Yet the matter would, ultimately, be decided by the law, and not by his height or the impressiveness of his room or the number of lawyers he brought to the table.
Gus was not quite sure why he himself was there. Willerton-Forbes could certainly have seen the duke without him, being the son of an earl and therefore meeting the duke’s personal criteria for admittance, and Gus could contribute nothing to the discussion. The duke’s lawyers talked at great length about the stud and the duke’s claim to it, but as far as Gus could see, it all came down to two simple facts: the stud was located on the duke’s own land, and had been paid for by the duke, by way of his allowance to his son, for it seemed the marquess had had no income of his own.
Willerton-Forbes said little. He took a few notes, asked one or two perceptive questions regarding the allowance, but otherwise was silent.
“There, you see?” the duke said eventually. “It is quite clear, is it not? The entire stud is mine, beyond question. You do understand, Willerton-Forbes, do you not?”
“I have understood what I have heard, yes, your grace,” he said. “I shall, naturally, wish to discuss the matter with the other claimant.”
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“Her!” the duke spat, his face clouding. “She is a witch! You must not believe a word she says, for she will poison you against me.”
“The matter will hinge on the ownership of these items, and the proof thereof, your grace,” the lawyer said. “I shall not be swayed by what anyone says, you may be sure.”
“So you are to decide and we are to accept your decision?” the duke said, his brows snapping together ominously. “Your decision might be challenged in the courts.”
“Hardly so, your grace. I act only for Tattersall’s. If I determine that you have title to the various properties, then Tattersall’s will arrange the sale on the terms already agreed. If I do not so determine, then there will be no sale. And if I should decide in your favour — if, mind you — then my decision will be so firmly rooted in law that there will be no possibility of a challenge. If there is any question at all, however slight, in the matter, such that might give rise to a legal dispute, then I shall recommend Tattersall’s withdraw from the case.”
The duke’s face grew purple. “Get out, you insolent little jackanapes! Go on, get out of my sight! At once! Bedford! Bedford! These miserable specimens of humanity are leaving.”
“Yes, your grace,” said the imperturbable butler. “This way, my lord, this way, sir, if you please.”
The lawyer, white-faced, made a hasty bow and scuttled away behind the butler, with Gus following in his own time.
“He does not mean any of it,” Gus said as they crossed the bridge from the keep. “He likes to shout at people. I suppose he thinks it keeps them on their toes, but it is a good sign.”
“A good sign?” the lawyer squeaked, coming to a dead stop. “A good sign? To be thrown out by the duke after the first meeting?”
“A very good sign,” Gus said, amused. “He hates to be bested, and you had the better of him in there, so he became cross and threw us out. If he is affable, that is the time to worry.”
“Oh.” He pondered that. “I had the better of him? You really think so?”
“Certainly. He cannot proceed without your agreement, and you made it very clear that you will not simply roll over for him. It was well done, Willerton-Forbes, very well done.”
“Oh,” he said again, his face brightening. “Well, thank you, my lord.”
Gus sighed. “Your father must have come into his honours recently, I surmise?”
“What has that to say to anything?” he said testily.
“Nothing at all, except that if you wish to be taken seriously by the duke and others of his ilk, you must address them as equals.”
“How dare you!” he spluttered. “I need no—!” Then he stopped, working it out. “As equals?”
“Those of noble blood call him Duke or perhaps sir. Only inferiors call him your grace. And only inferiors call me my lord. You should call me Lord Augustus, if you want to be formal, or Marford, otherwise. When we are both drunk, I shall not mind if you call me Gus.”
“I am not your social inferior?”
“You have lower precedence, but all those of noble blood are equal.”
“I shall never get into the way of it,” the lawyer said sorrowfully. “Papa was only a distant cousin to the second earl, and we had no idea… at least, my father knew, I think, but my brothers and I did not. So now Wilbraham is a viscount and the rest of us are honourables, and… it is so difficult. In the law, I know exactly where I stand, and everything is easy, but mingling in such company… I have never met a duke before.”
“You will get used to it. Now let us go and harass Edgerton, for he is inferior to both of us, and so we may sneer at him as much as we choose.”
“Oh. Now you are teasing me.”
Gus laughed. “Just a little. I rather liked how you handled the lawyers in there, so I am treating you as a friend and ally, and not as the rather pompous prig you appeared to be at first.”
Willerton-Forbes gave a rueful laugh. “Pray forgive me! I was nervous and… even the butler terrifies me.”
“The butler! Good God, you are in worse case than I had supposed. Butlers are very inferior socially, but you must never be rude to them, because they have the power to make your life miserable. If you want your bath water on time, and decent fires in your room, you must be very polite to the butler, but in a superior sort of way, you understand.”
“Not really. Ah…”
They were still standing on the bridge, but now the door from the castle opened and Emma appeared. Gus could understand why the lawyer stood, frog-eyed, gazing at her in wonderment, for she was almost as tall as a man, and the hair piled on top of her head gave her extra height. She was dressed in a serviceable brown morning gown, with a heavy shawl chosen more for warmth than style, and a basket over one arm.
“Good morning, Gus,” she said cheerfully. “Is the duke up yet? I have some medicaments for his gout which I should like to attempt, if he will allow me. Who is your friend?”
Gus made the introductions, and Emma chatted amiably to the tongue-tied lawyer before rushing away to see the duke.
“What a striking lady!” Willerton-Forbes said. “Who is she, again?”
“Lady Emma Frensham. Frensham is the family name of the Earl of Huntsmere. You need to invest in a copy of Debrett’s if you are to make sense of all these families.”
“I have one. I shall look up the Earl of Huntsmere at once. She is unmarried, then, Lady Emma?”
“She is,” Gus said, amused. “But do not get your hopes up. She has no dowry to speak of, and she aspires to marry the duke.”
“The duke? This duke? Oh!” The lawyer became thoughtful, and they walked the rest of the way back to Gus’s parlour in silence.
12: Inheritance
Gus was rather at a loss to know how to fill his days. There was no knowing how long it would take the lawyer to reach a determination of ownership, and he was already tired of writing to Connie and walking aimlessly around the town, poking about in shops and then feeling obliged to buy something when the shopkeeper started to become restless. Nor could he enjoy his long rides through the woods any more, for he was determined to stay as far away from Mrs Walsh as possible. If that was even her name.
Leaving Jupiter to rest after the journey back from Galthwaite, Gus found his steps drawn towards the stud. He had not yet completed his task of reading the late marquess’s notebooks, and that was something that could occupy his time usefully, for at least it was about horses and that was a domain where he felt comfortable. Just as Willerton-Forbes was at ease within the dusty realm of the law, so Gus was at ease with horses.
He found Johnny Waterbury, the stud’s head groom, with a broom in his hand, mucking out some of the stalls. He looked up with a grin, leaning on the broom handle, as Gus approached.
“Help you, my lord?” Waterbury said.
Gus pointed to the broom. “Is this a penance, or do you enjoy the work?”
Waterbury gave a bark of laughter. “Enjoy it? Ah, if only that were true! Indeed, it is a penance, in a way, for I have been obliged to let two of the under-grooms go, and now we have not enough hands for the work.”
“Happy to help, if you need me. I can be changed and back here in ten or fifteen minutes. I am very much at a loose end just now, until the lawyer has completed his investigations.”
“Are you serious? Because what I need most just now is someone to exercise the faster horses.”
Gus broke into delighted laughter. “There is nothing I should like more! You are the most excellent of fellows, Waterbury! I shall be back directly.”
He raced away to change, and although it required a little more than fifteen minutes, for Willett was nowhere to be found and Gus had to make do with Edgerton’s man, Gardner, he was back at the stud in his buckskins and topboots in not much more than half an hour.
Waterbury had found him a very pretty little filly to ride, a docile enough creature as she trotted with delicate steps down the gravel drive to the southern lodge, but once he had followed t
he track up to the grassy clifftop and set her onto the long oval marked out with rails, she needed no further urging and flew as if the wind carried her forward.
“That was tremendous fun,” Gus said to Waterbury, as he dismounted in the yard. “Have you raced her yet?”
Waterbury’s face clouded. “His lordship had thought he might try her soon, but… ah, he talked a great deal of racing this one or that one, but somehow there was always some reason why not. I suspect he was afraid his horses would be outclassed and all his dreams would come to dust.”
“Never know unless you try it,” Gus said with a shrug. “Have you another one for me?”
Waterbury had, a larger mount, one of the stallions, which was almost as keen as Jupiter to be off and running. And then a charming little grey mare, which was not quite so fast as the others but ran on and on for more circuits than Gus would have thought possible, before she slowed and turned for home of her own accord.
“What next for me, Waterbury?” Gus called across the yard, as soon as he was within earshot.
“I should think the duke is next for you, my lord. It is gone four o’clock.”
“Good God, is it really? I was enjoying myself so much I had no idea of the time. May I come again tomorrow? I am quite happy to muck out, as well, if that is what you need most. What time would suit you?”
“We start work about six,” Waterbury said, grinning.
Gus blinked. “In the morning? Is there such an hour? Well… I shall do my best.”
~~~~~
Dinner was very different that evening, for the duke had Willerton-Forbes on one side of him and Gus on the other, and ordered Emma and Lady Prudence to take the seats next to the gentlemen, thus insulating himself from the chatter of Maria, Arabella and Lucia. The three ladies pretended not to be offended, and talked loudly to each other, with much raucous laughter, pausing often to see if the duke was observing how splendid a time they were having. He, meanwhile, studiously ignored them.
Lord Augustus (Sons of the Marquess Book 3) Page 10