The Devious Duchess

by Joan Smith

  “What’s his name? I’ll call him,” Pronto decided.

  Dick grasped him firmly by the elbow and ushered him out the door, then returned for a private moment with Deirdre.

  Deirdre thought he might produce the ring and readied herself to accept it. But he only drew her hands into his and gazed at her. The strain of the past days had traced circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were pale. “It’s nearly over, Deirdre. You look worn to the socket. Why don’t you go up to bed now and get a good night’s sleep? I don’t like the idea of Sir Nevil staying here with you.”

  Disappointed at his lack of ardor, she said, “I shouldn’t think he’d tackle a second murder so soon. For that matter, we don’t really know that he killed Dudley.”

  “That’s not what bothers me,” he replied. “It’s his proximity to you, and the fact that you don’t appear to despise him so thoroughly as I could wish.”

  “Despising isn’t much in my line.”

  Before Dick could say or do more, Pronto came in, his greatcoat already draped over his shoulders, and Belami’s in his hand.

  “Are we going or not?” he asked impatiently. “Ryder’s carriage is just thundering up the road.”

  “We’ll slip out the back way to avoid him. Why don’t you go upstairs before he comes in, Deirdre?” he suggested.

  “I will. Good night.” She made a quick curtsey and sprinted up the stairs, cursing Pronto’s untimely interruption. She was sure Dick would have given her the ring if they’d had a few more moments alone.

  “This was well timed,” Dick said as he went down to the kitchen with Pronto. “Now we can go over and speak to Adelaide before she goes to bed.”

  "‘Pon my word, I’m beginning to think you’re every bit as bad as Ryder. No sooner get Deirdre out of your arms than you’re tracking after Pankhurst. You’re welcome to her. Pankhurst, I mean. How am I to get home?”

  “You’re coming with me, my friend. I prefer not to go alone into Adelaide’s lair. Now be nice; we have to ask her for two favors.”

  “Both of us?” Pronto asked, shocked by such wanton goings-on. Belami just shook his head and mutely rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

  Adelaide was delighted to receive two worldly gentlemen into her saloon. She was by no means so stingy with her favors as Pronto feared, but even when she learned the call was not an amorous one, she welcomed them. For the douceur of a few pounds, she also agreed to provide some light refreshments for the projected party.

  Before he left, Belami asked, “Did you ever find out why Lord Dudley was so particularly eager to see you, Adelaide?”

  “I don’t know no more about it than when Nevil first told me."

  “You didn’t actually have a letter from your late husband, then? It was Nevil who delivered the message?”

  “Dudley was never one to waste paper. Mind you, I did think it a bit odd Nevil didn’t come here in the first place instead of taking us to the inn. I didn’t raise any fuss. The inn’s livelier than this morgue. I’m selling it the first offer I get.”

  “Going back to Bath?” Pronto asked.

  “That depends. I have . . . friends in this neighborhood. We might buy a mansion in town and settle down. On the other hand, there’s always London. The trouble is, my friend’s business is here.”

  Belami assumed she was endeavoring to bring Tom Broome up to scratch, but didn’t inquire. He soon made his adieux and had his carriage called. There was one more matter to look into before returning to Banting, and it required some stealth. Réal, eager to martyr himself, insisted on executing this chore. He parked the carriage on the side of the road and fled on foot to the stables at Fernvale. He was back almost before it seemed possible he could have got there. He was breathless from his flight, but he knew his news was startling and gasped it out.

  “The grave of the chien, it is emptied. The dog, he is gone. None of the stable men knows nothing,” he announced.

  “If you tell me Ryder murdered that dog, Dick, I won’t believe a word of it,” Pronto said.

  “No, he didn’t. You provided the vital clue to that mystery yourself, my friend. It was you who suggested the duchess murdered Shep. It must be Straus who had the body exhumed for examination. That’s why Charney was so worried there was arsenic in the mulligatawny, you see. She had her servants prepare a poison dinner for Shep and feared some of the same lot got over to the Grange by accident. You told me, Réal, that Shep’s last dinner had been a revolting stew, you recall, and I told you we had the same dog’s meal ourselves. I should have realized the connection sooner. The duchess was swift to remove the bowl she’d taken to Dudley and have it washed to hide the evidence. Somehow I failed to relate Shep’s death and Dudley’s.”

  “You telling me that old witch murdered a dog?” Pronto bellowed. “Sorry we bothered to help her, then. Deserves to hang—killing a sweet little dog.”

  “Shep was old and troublesome,” Dick explained. “I expect she didn’t want Deirdre bringing him into the house and figured it would be a kindness to hasten his death.”

  “I’d watch my gammon when I set at her table, by the living jingo. Glad we didn’t go there for dinner tonight. Talking about dinner, Dick, I could handle a little beefsteak and an ale.”

  “I drive you to the inn, aussi vite que possible,” Réal announced, and hopped into the driver’s seat to rattle them into Banting at a merciless pace. His smile was beatific as he fled through the black night. He had four prime bloods at the end of the reins; he had regained the approval of his master, and when Lord Belami tried to stuff money into his fingers, he would refuse to touch a sou of it. What more could a man ask of life?

  Chapter 14

  “You mean to tell me there was no arsenic in my stew at all?” the duchess exclaimed when she heard the news at breakfast the next morning.

  “That’s what Dick told me,” Deirdre said. “He managed to get hold of the letter from Mr. Marsh, you see, and . . ."

  Deirdre was prepared to explain Belami’s gallant act in detail, but the fulminating eye of her aunt caused her to pause. "The gudgeon!” her grace said angrily. “I hope he had the wits to return the letter where he got it, that Straus will see my innocence.”

  “Of course he did, Auntie.”

  “Straus will know the letter’s been opened and lay it in my dish. I wish that pest of a fellow you’ve taken up with would mind his own business, Deirdre. It’s all his fault, this whole imbroglio. If he hadn’t gone hollering ‘murder,’ none of this beastly business would ever have arisen.” It was pretty clear that with her exoneration the duchess had reverted to all her unlovable ways. “Because of Lord Belami, I have endured the worst trial of my life. And as if murder weren’t bad enough, now we’re faced with having that brass-faced trollop next door claiming kinship to us. Well, I, for one, shan’t darken her door, and I want it perfectly understood that you’re not to go cantering off to the spinney to meet her either, Deirdre. You’re no longer a child. You must be careful with whom you associate now."

  “We have to go just once, Auntie,” Deirdre said. “Dick has arranged a party there this afternoon, and you mustn’t breathe a word of it to Nevil when he comes down.” She outlined Dick’s scheme, finishing with a reminder that they had to go.

  “Have to go?” her grace asked, looking remarkably like an angry mare with her ears pulled back and her nose quivering. “Are you suggesting that I am at the beck and call of that jackanapes you once had the unwisdom to accept as a fiancé? Allow me to enlighten you,” she said, and drew a breath to continue.

  “He’d like you to come, Auntie,” Deirdre replied, refusing to cringe. She had learned her aunt was only a human being, and she wasn’t about to forget it. “You must feel free to stay home if you wish, but I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Remember not to tell Nevil that Belami has a hand in it. He’ll be happy enough to accept an invitation from Adelaide, I should think.” Her words were bold, but some residue of the former relationship still existed, and it u
rged her to quit the room. “The party is at four if you change your mind,” she said from the doorway.

  The actual invitation from Adelaide arrived shortly after Deirdre’s departure. The duchess had a difficult decision on her hands. A part of her wanted to send the card back unopened with a curt word that the sender was not known at this address. Another part of her was dying to open the card and see how poorly the sender expressed herself. The rejection could be worded in such a manner that offense was sure to be taken.

  And yet another part of her nature hated to miss the party. Any do that Belami had involved himself in was bound to be amusing. After a few moments’ considering, she took her decision. She ripped the envelope open and examined the card. “Lady Dudley sends her compliments and requests the pleasure of your presents to tea this afternoon at four.” Other than the misspelling of “presents,” there wasn’t much to please her. With a gloating smirk, her grace turned the card over and wrote on it. “The Duchess of Charney regrets that she has no presents on hand and does not anticipate a shopping trip today. Regrets.”

  This done, she sent the card back to the Grange and went upstairs to consider her toilette, for of course she would attend the party.

  Deirdre’s duty was to keep Nevil away from the Grange, and to accomplish that she was even prepared to spend the whole morning with him herself. She was grateful that it proved unnecessary. Sir Nevil had decided to visit Mr. Skidley and have a look at Lord Dudley’s business papers. He felt there might have been some shenanigans with his late uncle’s investments and also wanted to hasten the forwarding of the pittance in cash that was coming to him. The duchess was all in favor of this expedition and in fact decided at the last moment to accompany him.

  This left Deirdre free to dart across the meadow to the Grange and see if Dick was with Adelaide, as she suspected. He was, but as Pronto was with him, her jealousy subsided to mere pique. The three of them sat at the table in the morning parlor, laughing over a cup of coffee. What really annoyed Deirdre was that Lady Dudley wore a very dashing negligee. It hung open in front to reveal a scanty lace concoction that ought never to have left her boudoir. The woman’s black hair was artfully disarranged to tumble over her forehead. Her face, even at this hour of the morning, was fully rouged and some cosmetic work had been done around her eyes as well.

  “I came to see if I could give you a hand with your preparations, Adelaide, but I see you already have help,” Deirdre said. She carefully avoided looking at Dick, which gave him a little clue as to her feelings.

  “That was real sweet of you, Miss Gower. Sit down and have a cup of coffee. We’re just trying to decide how to manage about the brandy.”

  Adelaide sat between her two gentlemen callers. Dick arose and pulled a chair for Deirdre beside himself. He received no verbal thanks, only an icy glare from her stormy gray eyes. "I understood the usual decanter was the one Belami planned to use,” she mentioned.

  “I’m not sure that’ll turn the trick, Dick,” Adelaide said. Two quite pronounced wrinkles popped into place between her eyes as she considered this problem, and an angry scowl also decorated Deirdre’s face at the casual use of “Dick.”

  “If Nevil left poisoned brandy behind, as you think, he might only have given Polly a little bottle of it. He’ll never be conned into thinking it’s still around and being offered to him to drink.”

  “I hope Polly arrives before four,” Dick said.

  “Should have waited till she got here,” Pronto told him. “Waste of time, setting up this whole do without knowing how Nevil did it.”

  “Or indeed whether Nevil did it,” Deirdre felt compelled to add.

  Belami looked from one to the other and explained his thinking. “I’m afraid our bird will fly the coop as soon as he gets his hands on his inheritance.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Adelaide said.

  “You agree with Belami that Nevil is responsible for Dudley’s death then?” Deirdre asked her.

  “Who else could it of been?” Adelaide asked. “And, as Dick pointed out, he’s been acting in a havey-cavey way ever since he got here. Still, there’s no harm done, even if Polly don’t come back. Then we’ll just all have a nice party. Pity your aunt isn’t coming,” she added aside to Deirdre, with a total lack of sincerity. “You can tell her she don’t have to bring me a present. I don’t know where she ever got such an idea.” Not having seen the invitation, Deirdre didn’t know what she was talking about, but said she would relay the message.

  Deirdre told the group that her aunt was even now at Banting with Nevil, hastening the receipt of their monies. Belami turned a startled eye on her. “You mean there’s no one at home in case Polly arrives?” he asked.

  “The servants are there.”

  “You’d best go back to Fernvale at once, Deirdre,” he said, and jumped up to pull her chair.

  “You should come with me,” she suggested. “I don’t know exactly what it is you want with the girl.”

  “Have my servant bring her here as soon as she arrives.”

  “But why don’t you come with me?” she asked. He heard the anger in her voice and took her elbow to escort her to the door.

  “I have a dozen things to do here.”

  “I’m surprised you brought Pronto along to see them!” she snipped. “What you and Adelaide plan to do doesn’t usually want an audience.”

  He lowered his brow at her. “You sounded just like your aunt when you said that.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t emulate the refined accents of your friend.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Adelaide’s no special friend of mine. And there’s nothing wrong with honest, genuine vulgarity either. I prefer it to trumped-up gentility any day of the week.” An extremely loud and vulgar laugh exploded from the morning parlor.

  “I must try to remember that. I hadn’t noticed your mama greeted her company in a nightgown with her hair falling over her face. Honestly, I begin to understand why my aunt objects to Adelaide as a neighbor.”

  This didn’t strike Belami as a good time to engage in an argument. “You’d better go back home, Deirdre. I’m worried that Nevil might get home and find Polly there.”

  “Didn’t you give your servants instructions to protect her?”

  “I told Nick to take her to Fernvale. How was I to know Charney would invite Ryder to stay with her?”

  She tossed her head. “Why, I made sure the famous Lord Belami thought of everything. Don’t tell me at this late date that you’re only a fallible human being like the rest of us.”

  “Only flesh and blood—and temper,” he replied, trying to smile, but without much success. “Look, if you’re worried about me being here with Adelaide, remember Pronto is here to watch over me. And Mr. Straus will be along shortly as well. This is just a part of my work, Deirdre. You know I can’t always choose the people I associate with.”

  “What a coincidence that it always happens to be pretty women!” she snipped.

  These manifestations of jealousy didn’t annoy Belami as much as Deirdre’s jealousy usually did. They confirmed that she still took a very proprietarial interest in him. He answered quite patiently. “When a man has a glass of champagne, he doesn’t reach for small ale. And you know my partiality for champagne.”

  Slightly mollified, she said, “Yes, but you’re omnivorous, Dick, or whatever the word is that applies to liking all drinks. Many a time I’ve seen you enjoy a small ale!”

  “Well, I haven’t enjoyed this one. I wish you would go back to Fernvale. I really am worried about Polly's safety."

  “What if she doesn’t come, Dick?”

  “Then I’ll use Anna. I don’t believe Nevil’s had any conversation with her. I’ll have her say she took the brandy decanter from the sideboard the night Dudley died. Say the bottle was cracked and leaking, so she filled a different decanter and replaced it. Then poured the brandy from the cracked decanter into another container—from which we offer a drink to Nevil. And if he refuses to
drink from the decanter, we’ll know.”

  “Will it stand up in court?”

  “Probably not, but he might think it will and confess.”

  “How can you be so sure Adelaide isn’t in it with him?” she asked.

  “Because, in her own peculiar way, she liked Dudley. She couldn’t hack living here at the Grange, but she’s grateful to him. They were friends—all these years they’ve corresponded and visited each other occasionally. He provided fairly liberally for her—why would she kill him? As far as she knew, her allowance would stop when he died. It was only Nevil who let her know a widow has rights. I wonder if he fed her that idea so she’d be spouting it and attract suspicion to herself!”

  “She appears to have interpreted those rights rather broadly," Deirdre said.

  “Run along now. I’m going to set Réal on the watch for my carriage. He’ll intercept it and bring Polly directly here if Nick stops at the inn. But you better be at Fernvale in case it ends up there.”

  “All right. I’ll see you at four.”

  “Will your aunt come?”

  “Certainly. Wild horses couldn’t keep her home. And don’t bother to smile! You are back in her black books.”

  “I’m not worried. I have a little something to fall back on if she becomes too obstreperous.”

  Belami opened the door, and Deirdre returned home. Polly hadn’t arrived, and she spent a nervous half hour looking out the window for the carriage. She had nearly given up when she recognized the fashionable outlines of Dick’s carriage and his high-stepping team. She darted to the door at once and ran out to tell the driver to go to the Grange. But before the carriage left, she opened the door to talk to Polly. The girl wore a sullen face.

  “You mustn’t worry, Polly. Lord Belami will help you. We know all about it—that you helped Sir Nevil with the brandy," she said, carefully avoiding the word “murder.” “If you do exactly as Lord Belami asks, it will go a long way toward keeping you out of jail.”

  “I had nothing to do with it. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I been kidnapped,” Polly asserted.