Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  After the first jolt of seeing him embrace someone else so familiarly I realised he’d mistaken the woman in my riding habit for me. His familiar movement, kissing a place he knew made me shiver, told me he’d mistaken our identities.

  As did Barbara’s startled yell and leap out of his arms to stand quivering a foot away.

  I heard his bewildered, “What the devil…?” before he saw me. I let the lid of the coffer slam down, and the noise echoed around the hall, mingling with his exclamation. His face relaxed into a smile as he saw my amusement, and he reached out his hand to me, palm up, in a gesture of conciliation. “Am I forgiven?”

  “You should probably ask Barbara’s pardon.”

  “Is that who it is? Naturally.” He turned around, retaining the charming smile. “Indeed I do beg your pardon, ma’am. You can understand why I mistook you for my wife.” He bowed, giving her a moment to regain her composure. A hectic blush stained her cheeks. His smile turned mischievous, but without the arrogance he kept for public occasions. “I hope your future husband appreciates you, ma’am, as much as I appreciate my wife.”

  “Richard!” I said.

  “I’m sure he will,” he continued, unruffled. “I’m looking forward to attending your wedding.”

  “So am I.” She spoke quietly, so softly I hardly heard her. “I’m…I’m very fond of him.”

  “Good.” Richard offered her his arm as support. She hesitantly put her hand on the soft silk of his coat.

  She smiled up at him and he smiled back. “That’s the ticket. May I take you out to your groom?”

  I opened the door for them, getting a raised brow from my husband as I did so. I watched from the door as the groom helped her into the saddle, and then waited for Richard to come back to me. I waved as Barbara left.

  Her seat was very good. I was glad she enjoyed riding, as it was one of Tom’s favourite pastimes.

  “Just there, just for a moment, I thought…” I forced a laugh but it didn’t sound convincing. My heart still beat double time.

  “What? Oh no, no, my love.” He took my hand, and the warmth of his gave me comfort. “You’re everything I need. Haven’t I shown you that?”

  “Yes. It’s more my fault than yours, truly, but knowing what you were before…”

  “That was habit, anger and youthful curiosity. Shall we go to see Helen?”

  We went upstairs together.

  Half an hour later, Richard was called away when Gervase wanted his opinion on one of the books in the library. Feeling much better, I decided to take a walk around the gardens. I found a hat, cloak and gloves and left by the same door Barbara had used earlier.

  I wouldn’t want to miss a day like this, the air crisp and sharp, the sky coldly blue, like Richard’s eyes when displeased. Most of the flowers were gone now, but the changing colours of the small trees and shrubs made a lovely display. I remembered this garden from my youth as Martha hadn’t had time to change it yet. Its incongruous size contrasted sharply with the greatly enlarged house, but from here I made out one of the windows of the room I’d occupied for so long, the room I’d fully expected to sleep in for the rest of my life.

  I turned a corner and came upon the old garden bench, placed here for seclusion and privacy. The woodwork had faded to grey, the cracks on the wood widened with weathering, but it still stood firm. I’d have enjoyed seeing it even more had Steven not been sitting on it.

  He stood and bowed. “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Drury.” It was about half past one by now.

  “Steven, surely. Why the formality?”

  I could have answered, So you can’t call me Rose, but I held back from the absolute truth. “Does it concern you?”

  “Not at all.” He motioned to the seat. “Won’t you sit down?”

  On any other day I’d have passed by, but considering the ordeal he’d just gone through, I decided to join him. We were out of sight of the house, but only just. All I had to do was stand up and walk a few paces to come into view again. The knowledge made me feel safe. After all, Steven had tried to rape me once. “How are you feeling today?” I asked him.

  “Tolerably well.” He wore gloves, so I couldn’t see the state of his hands, but they were loose gloves, not the tight ones demanded by fashion. He saw my glance. “They’re not too bad. Some blisters, some peeling, but they should recover very soon.”

  “Your wife was very lucky.”

  “Wasn’t she?” He sounded sarcastic. He looked up to the sky, where a few light clouds scudded in the breeze, and then back at me. “Do you remember our meetings here?”

  A few stolen kisses, whispered words of devotion. “I remember. Youthful foolishness, that’s all.”

  “Maybe.” His smile seemed genuine. He pushed aside the skirts of his heavy coat in a clumsy gesture my elegant husband would never have used. He was in rich blue today, a colour that had always suited his saturnine good looks. “Perhaps we made the right decisions. Who can tell?” I didn’t say anything, so he continued, “But you would be wealthy anyway, in this society, so we could still be here, sitting together on this bench, but married.”

  I don’t think he saw my shudder. “Not wealthy precisely. And I think I’d be unhappy with you. Our…tastes don’t coincide.”

  To my surprise I saw a shadow cross his handsome features. “I didn’t know they were my tastes until Julia introduced me to them.”

  “Julia?” I had assumed it was the other way around.

  “An adventurous woman. Maybe sometimes too adventurous.” He didn’t elaborate. Perhaps Julia’s distaste for sexual congress had excited instead of repelled him, or perhaps she was so insatiable that one man wasn’t enough. I had no way of telling, but Julia would never let her emotions get the better of her, as her husband seemed to have done. I suspected she saw that she could use men’s perversions to her own advantage. She sought power, not sexual satiety. Something occurred to me then.

  “Do women join your society?” I asked him. In the list of membership obtained by Thompson’s, only men were listed. I’d seen another list which was only the pseudonyms used by the members of the club, but we had obtained other lists which linked the members by their real names and their pseudonyms. Only men.

  Steven shrugged. “Some join with their husbands.”

  “And take their place on your altar?”

  I didn’t like his smile then. “Yes.”

  Julia was attempting to create her own group, her own powerful clique. That was what her club was all about. Some of the members of this club had real power, important parliamentarians, men of substance. I wasn’t sure how much Steven knew about this. I suspected he looked no further than his own gratification.

  “What will you do now that Hyvern has gone?” The only other available house in the district was Fourways, and Sir John Kneller had that, although he didn’t know if he would stay. I hoped he would.

  Steven tipped back his head and stared at the sky. “Stay for the wedding, then go back to London. I still want a country house, though. Where do you plan to spend your time?”

  We had already decided on Oxfordshire, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “There’s Eyton.” In that part of North Derbyshire some of the greatest families in the country already owned most of the land, and the houses were of the grandest sort imaginable. The Drurys wouldn’t attempt to move there.

  He smiled. “What’s it like to be a Kerre? Whatever Julia and I do, we will be outsiders, and I know that even if she doesn’t. She’s only a generation away from trade, and people never cease to remind us of it.”

  “Not us.”

  “You don’t need to. The Kerres have an inbuilt arrogance they don’t seem aware of. Every time Lady Southwood looks at us she reminds us who we are.”

  “Lady Southwood was a Percy before she married. They have better lineage than the King. And I’ve been accepted into the family very well. I’ve met nothing but kindness.” I lied, but Richard’s family troubles
weren’t for public consumption. His relationship with his parents was distant at best, hostile at worst, but we were mending bridges now, and I had hopes that things would improve to cordiality in time.

  “Do you know, one of the reasons Julia wanted me was because I’m related to the Drurys of Bedfordshire.” He laughed. “Very distantly. We share a surname and a third—fourth or something cousinship.”

  I absorbed that extra piece of knowledge. It could come in useful sometime. I gazed across the tidy, small garden. I didn’t like the way Steven stared at me, like a cake he was thinking of eating. “So many things have changed. I’m not the same person either.”

  He smiled then, a genuine smile that lit up his features and showed the man he could have been. “You have changed. If I’d known what you’d blossom into, I’d never have let you go. And for once I’m not talking about money or titles.”

  That annoyed me a little. “You didn’t let me go. I went.”

  He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Let’s say then—I’d have worked harder for you. You went straight to him. He snapped his fingers and you went.”

  Steven knew that Richard and I had consummated our relationship within a week of our first meeting, but what he didn’t know was that he didn’t seduce me. I seduced him.

  I got to my feet. “The best thing I ever did. I’m glad you’re recovering, Steven, and I know we must share the same roof for a while, but try to behave yourself while you’re here.”

  Without another word I walked away.

  Martha and I were having tea in one of the smaller parlours when a flustered maid, an unusual event in this well-regulated household, burst into the room and forgot to curtsey. “It’s Miss Sturman, my lady. She’s been set upon!”

  We started to our feet. “Where is she?” Martha demanded.

  “She’s been taken to the yellow bedroom, my lady.”

  We pushed past the maid and ran, Martha leading the way.

  The yellow bedroom was up a flight of stairs and along a short corridor. I followed Martha into the room to see poor Barbara, laid out on the bed, and Carier leaning over her. Richard followed on our heels.

  “I trust you will forgive my intrusion, my lady,” Carier said to Martha, “but I have some knowledge of medical matters and there might be something I could do.”

  “Of course,” agreed Martha. Carier had served in the army once and worked with the doctors there.

  I leaned over the bed and met Barbara’s terrified stare. “We were attacked.”

  I felt rather than heard Richard move to my side. “Who? Where?” he demanded, his voice almost as quiet as Barbara’s.

  She kept her gaze fixed on my face. “Footpads or some such. They weren’t mounted, anyway. They seemed intent on dragging me from my horse.”

  The riding habit I’d given her was in pieces, torn around the skirt and a long slash along the length of one sleeve, bound with a bloody rag.

  Carier sliced through the rag, but when she saw the sharp knife he used, Barbara cried out. “They—they cut me. It hurts but I daren’t look.”

  “Look at me, then,” Richard said.

  On her other side, Carier took her arm and moved it gently, so he could get the jacket off. I glanced at him and shook my head, meaning for him to do what he did next. He sliced the sleeve away while Richard continued to speak quietly to her, asking her what happened.

  Martha left the room, I guessed in search of something and I hoped it was hot water. Barbara talked to us while Carier carefully cut away as much of the jacket as he could. “I think I hurt my arm when I hit him. He caught the crop and pulled it out of my hand, and reached up with the knife. He must have cut me then. I let go of my crop and when he fell over, I kicked up Starlight and came straight here. My groom came with me. He’s seeing to the horses in your stables.”

  A nasty cut, still bleeding sluggishly, snaked up Barbara’s arm and under her remaining garments. It was clear we would have to take off her shirt as well, so Richard said, “I’m about to become a little de trop. Please excuse me.” He quietly withdrew.

  Barbara stared apprehensively at Carier, but I reassured her. “He has considerable medical experience. He looks after my small hurts as well as Richard’s.”

  She relaxed and let me help remove her shirt and neckcloth, leaving her in stays and shift.

  She watched anxiously as Carier examined the arm, bending it and feeling for the bones. It was reddened, but it seemed to be the right shape, nothing out of alignment. I held her other hand. Eventually Carier nodded. “It’s not broken, and the wound merely needs cleaning and dressing.”

  Barbara sighed in relief. “Then I won’t have to be married with my arm in a sling.” Her voice was a little stronger now.

  “You’ve hurt a muscle, miss,” said Carier. “If you rest it for a few days, it should be as good as ever, and it will help the cut too. It’s not too deep.”

  Martha returned with a bowl of hot water, several towels draped over one arm and a loose gown over the other. Once I told her Barbara would be fine, she sat next to her while Carier and I attended to her wound. “Now, my dear, I suggest I send a message to your mother and you stay here tonight. I’ll send you home in a carriage in the morning.”

  Barbara sighed in relief. “I should be glad not to go tonight. Mama will fuss so.” She sat up and I had to urge her back down. “She might set out and come here to see me.”

  “Poor Barbara is fussed half to death with wedding preparations,” I explained to Martha.

  Martha smiled. “Very well, I’ll make it clear there is no point her coming.” Barbara’s eyes opened in a wide-eyed stare. “You’re not to worry. In fact, if you would like a rest, I can keep you here tomorrow as well.”

  “Oh no!” Barbara cried. “The florist is coming tomorrow, and—” She broke off and her face took on a new tranquillity. “Yes please. As long as I won’t be in the way. You have a wedding to prepare for too, after all.”

  “That’s well in hand,” Martha assured her. “And there’s more room here, so we’re not falling over each other’s feet. Unlike Rose’s wedding.” We exchanged a smile as we remembered that frantic time. “But we arranged everything eventually.”

  After Carier had finished and went out of the room, we helped Barbara into the gown and left her to Martha’s good offices.

  Outside the room, Carier waited for me. “My lord asks to see you if you have a moment, my lady.”

  I assumed Richard had questioned the groom. I followed the valet to my bedroom. I hadn’t expected to see Gervase and Freddy waiting there as well. And John Smith, the Bow Street Runner.

  Richard took my hands. “Rose, we think someone is trying to hurt you.”

  Chapter Eight

  I let him lead me to a chair, the only one still available in the room. Richard remained standing, his hand protectively on the back of my chair. The others must have found chairs somewhere else because there were only two in the room normally. No one said anything when Carier sat after Richard bade him to, because this was Thompson’s business and he had a right here.

  “First, the highwayman on our way here,” Richard began without preamble. “That could have been a relatively normal occurrence, except the highwayman was unknown to the authorities, despite further questioning. And he gave you your wedding ring back. They don’t do that, not real highwaymen. We had the diamonds with us, and they were well hidden, but his search of the coach was perfunctory, as though he’d got what he wanted.”

  I looked up at him. “My watch.”

  “Something of yours, something personal. He would have taken your ring, but your watch served as well. There’s only one watch of that design. While he might not have known that, he would have recognised it as distinctive.”

  “I bought it in Rome,” Gervase said. “There can’t be another one like it in England.”

  Richard nodded. “I don’t know why he should want it, or whoever was paying him. Then there was the attack on you in Exeter.
You said they ran away too fast, gave up too easily and didn’t grab the valuables you had with you. Then there’s today. I mistook Miss Sturman for you in the back hall, my love. She’s almost your height, your colouring, and in your riding habit it would be easy for someone to mistake her for you. She had a groom with her and she was travelling near Hareton Hall.”

  Finally, I understood. The attacks were aimed at me. “But they don’t want to hurt me, not badly. It’s more as if whoever it is wants to abduct me.”

  A murmur of agreement chilled the room.

  “So the question is,” Richard continued. “Who? And why?”

  Carier cleared his throat. “First, my lord, we must ensure her ladyship is protected from further attacks.”

  Richard gazed down at me. “Of course. If I thought these persons meant you serious physical harm, you’d be on your way to Oxfordshire, wedding or no wedding, but I know you now. You won’t go without a fight.” He smiled ruefully.

  “With Tom’s wedding, and Lizzie’s too so close? Not a hope. You can order me, but I don’t think you will.”

  “No.” He still watched me.

  “You should have at least one of us near you for the next few weeks,” Freddy said. “And go armed. I know you can use a pistol.”

  “I can promise that.” I disliked the restrictions and the need to carry a clunking weapon about with me, but I understood the necessity. “Perhaps they’re trying to get to Richard through me.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Freddy remarked. “God knows you have your enemies, Strang.”

  Richard lifted his head and sighed. “It could be. We need to find out who.”

  “The Drurys?” asked Gervase.

  John Smith bowed his head. “I know of the trouble between the Strangs and the Drurys, but everyone who reads the worst kind of newspaper knows that.”