Summerton (Lady Eleanor Mysteries Book 1)

by Becca St. John

  Caroline sat opposite him, near enough that he could actually see passion in every wave of expression, a keen, knowledgable light in her eyes, as she discussed the dangers of the Luddites with Sir Michael. The magistrate had heard of the disturbances in Lancashire, but he knew none of the details.

  “Well,” Sir Michael said, with a nod, “the world is changing. They can’t stop that, no matter how much of this…this newfangled machinery they try to destroy. Foolish of them to imagine they can. These Luddites will be caught, their lives will be destroyed, and the owners will rebuild and carry on.”

  “More’s the pity because I understand their fears.” Carolyn tapped the table as she made her points. “We must find other means for them to earn a living. As for the machinery, it is costly to replace, but it’s also very dangerous for the workers when the machines are sabotaged.”

  “Terrible, terrible.” Sir Michael shook his head, and turned his attention to the decadent syllabub before him. “The world is a changing place.” He lifted an eyebrow to the duke. “Don’t you think, Summerton?”

  Summerton blinked. “Are you referring to my affairs?”

  Sir Michael chuckled. “Yes. Precisely.” He savored a bite of his sweet dessert. “Ah, you still have the best cook in the county.” He stuck his spoon into the confection again. “Word has it that you are intent on changing everything from the crops that are planted to how they are farmed. The farmers are skittish.”

  The magistrate sat back, watching his host. “What is it your father used to say?”

  “What was good enough for generations of St. Martins, was good enough for him. And look what that’s done for us.”

  “You’re changing the farming methods?” Caroline asked.

  “Yes.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but this was a touchy topic for him. “We should have modernized in my grandfather’s day. I can only hope we are not too late.”

  “You’ve looked into this?” she asked.

  “Yes, that was another reason you saw so little of me in London. I was preoccupied with learning why the estates were faring so poorly, and determine what had gone wrong.” He ignored his syllabub, preferring the sweetness of dessert wine. “Farming techniques have evolved, gaining greater profits with less manpower. The Summerton holdings are as out of date as this hall.”

  “Oh, dear,” Caroline said to Sir Michael, “you are absolutely right, sir, the farmers will balk, most of them anyway. No one likes change. It’s difficult and awkward.”

  “Greater profits with less manpower?” Lady Eleanor asked. “Does this mean you’re bringing in new machinery, too? Will we have the Luddites here next?”

  Summerton didn’t say anything. If his marriage were secure, he would be hiring far more staff for St. Martins. There would be plenty of work to go around.

  If he had the dowry.

  “Caroline,” his aunt asked, ”is that the only problem at the mills? The trouble with these Luddites?”

  “No,” Caroline shook her head. “No, since my father passed away, the mills have been losing money.”

  “When was that, my dear?”

  “Just over a year ago.”

  “And you haven’t been able to correct the problem?”

  Caroline shifted, almost squirmed. “No.”

  “Why not?” Sir Michael asked.

  “My uncle is determined to deal with it and won’t allow me to see the accounts.”

  “Then how do you know they are in trouble?” Sir Michael asked.

  Caroline pleated her napkin. “Jeremy has kept me informed, plus Uncle Robert’s personality has changed. Dramatically. I think he’s frantic. And it worries me that he won’t let me see the accounts.” She met Summerton’s gaze. “If you anticipated income outside of my dowry, I don’t think you will get it.”

  “Just a moment, my dear,” Lady Eleanor leaned in. “I would like to know how your uncle has changed, but first, tell me, do you think one of these Luddites might be responsible for Alice’s death?”

  Wine glass still raised, halfway to her lips, Caroline placed it on the table. “I doubt it would be them. They are local bullies, neither comfortable out of their own neighborhood nor with the means to go much beyond it.”

  “Hm.” Lady Eleanor contemplated her answer for a long moment before asking, “And your uncle? How is he different?”

  Caroline tsked. “He used to shout with my father, behind closed doors, but never with me.” She shook her head. “Since my father passed away, my uncle has become, well, aggressive. He frightened me, actually, but that is probably because I didn’t know him that way.”

  “Caroline,” Summerton interrupted. “I’ve met your father. Surely you are not intimidated by a man who reveals his temper.”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “But my uncle had always been charming to me. But his face, when I refused…” She shuddered.

  Grimly, Summerton finished for her. “Refused to marry me.”

  “Yes.” She studied her wine. “I never expected him to force me to accept a proposal for his own gain. He would never have done that in the past. He teased Father, mercilessly, for sending me off to St Ann’s. Claimed it would make me too high in the instep for my own family. And then he pushed me to marry you for a title? He’s stretching for something. I just don’t know what.”

  “And if you didn’t marry Summerton? What would have happened to your wealth if something were to happen to you?” Eleanor asked quietly.

  Sir Michael snorted, “Lady Eleanor, they are married, so what would happen...” His words trailed off when all three of them stared at him. “You did marry, did you not? In London?”

  “Yes.” Summerton bit out, “in front of God and witnesses.”

  Caroline blushed, a deep red, dark enough to be seen in candlelight.

  “Summerton is giving her time to adjust to the marriage,” his aunt explained.

  “I see,” Sir Michael murmured, “this has something to do with the gal trying to run away.” When no one responded, he went on. ”You said something about that earlier, in the study.”

  Lady Eleanor sighed and rose. “You might as well tell him the whole of it, Summerton. Caroline and I will leave you to your port.”

  “Aunt,” Summerton reprimanded, as he stood. It was natural for Lady Eleanor, who had hosted for the previous duke, to take charge without thought, but Summerton did not want Caroline overridden.

  If she wanted the role of hostess. If she knew what it meant. He had no idea whether or not she knew of the intricacies of a dinner party.

  “My apologies, Caroline,” Eleanor offered. “It was not my place to step in like that.”

  “You have not offended me at all.” Caroline rose. “That is the least of my worries.” She hesitated, as the men bowed to their leaving. “I think I’ll take a stroll, see to my animals. I won’t be long in joining everyone.”

  “What an excellent idea.” Lady Eleanor beamed. “Nothing better than a bit of fresh air after a meal. But let’s wait for the gentlemen. You won’t be long over your port, will you?”

  “No, not at all,” Summerton promised.

  “I hadn’t meant to trouble anyone,” Caroline demurred.

  “No, of course not.” Eleanor patted her arm. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  “Fine,” Caroline agreed. “I’ll just freshen up and get a wrap. I promise to be ready before you men join us.

  “Eleanor, would you like me to fetch something for you?” Caroline asked.

  Eleanor shifted the shawl she had on her shoulders. “I always have mine at hand.” She waved Caroline off. “Go.”

  “Caroline,” Summerton stopped her, “do not go out there by yourself. There is a killer somewhere out there.”

  “Of course not.” Her smile was too bright for comfort.

  He tapped the table. “Fine. We won’t be long.” And bowed, wishing he could trust her.

  CHAPTER 10 ~ Danger Lurks

  Caroline did hurry, but she did not return to the dra
wing room. She needed to find Jeremy—tonight—before anyone joined her and frightened him off. Summerton knew about him now, so he needn’t hide himself anymore. It was dangerous in the woods, until they found the murderer.

  Caroline avoided Hitches who, she was certain, would not have let her go out into the dark on her own. She wasn’t at all sure what Summerton said—or not said—to the servants, but she knew they were watching. She could feel it, as though she were a child heading for the hearth and about to get burned.

  Perhaps she was.

  Lantern light and men’s voices—the extra men brought in by Sir Michael—spilled out onto the courtyards. By the sound of it, they were enjoying themselves despite the incessant baying of a hound.

  Baver’s howls haunted the night. The vigil he had kept last night and this morning should have exhausted the old dog, but he proved incessant. She’d settle him before she spoke with Jeremy

  If she could. Baver loved a full moon. The moon would be near to full when it rose, but it hadn’t risen yet. Other than the wedge of light from the stables, it was pitch black. She frowned, hesitated. Why was Baver baying?

  She was near the hall, and would be within feet of the men in the stables. There was nothing to fear. The kennels were just at the back.

  She set off again, walking briskly, despite silk slippers better suited to a ballroom than a cobbled stable yard. They’d be ruined, but she’d been in a hurry and had no intention of taking any longer than absolutely necessary. She wanted to get back to the drawing room before anyone missed her.

  Pulling her wrap close around her, she murmured a little prayer as she crossed the dark courtyard. She wondered just how far would she have to go before Jeremy would come to her.

  A shadow shifted at the far end of a corridor between two stable blocks. She waited for Jeremy to call to her.

  “Your grace.” A young voice came from behind her.

  “Blast,” she whispered, and turned to find one of her minders, a young page who was always nearby.

  “I’m going to the kennels to see my dog,” she told him.

  “Lady Eleanor requests your attendance.”

  She sighed. “Yes, I’m quite certain she does, but I’m almost there, and as you can hear, the old fellow is rather vocal tonight.” Not that she meant to go that far. She’d already decided to leave Baver to George, the groundsman. The groundsman and hound formed a relationship faster than she and Summerton had managed.

  “I’ll go with you,” he answered, squaring his shoulders.

  Caroline relented.

  “Get us a light then, will you? Hitches should have lanterns.” The distraction might give her enough time to meet with Jeremy without interruption.

  When the lad reached the hall, she turned to face the forbidding shadows. No movement. She stepped closer.

  “Jeremy?” she whispered.

  If he was going to show himself, he’d best do so now.

  Another step and she was between the two stable blocks, on a narrow dark path leading to the kennels beyond. Gravel crunched further down the path. She heard it, despite Baver’s racket and the cacophony of conversation from the stables. “Jeremy?” she said louder this time.

  “Caroline!”

  She whirled to find Summerton striding toward her. She ignored him, turning back. Someone was on that path, his shadow loomed, too large to be Jeremy. He would have responded. This person was silent as a secret.

  Her heart beat furiously but she kept moving forward, slowly so she didn’t frighten away whoever it was, refusing to risk his getting away. Summerton grabbed her from behind. She almost crumpled with relief.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing out here?” he snapped, turning her into a one-arm hold. His free hand held a lantern high, casting a halo of light.

  Any other time she would have pushed him away, but not now, not tonight. She welcomed the hard, firm warmth of him, and the steady beat of his heart calming hers.

  “Someone is there,” she whispered.

  He looked up, sharp, keen. “Just shadows, Caroline.” His hold eased, loosened, but he didn’t let go.

  She looked over her shoulder. The shadow was gone. Or had it ever been there? Could it have been her imagination?

  “It’s dark. Easy to see things when you are alone in the dark.” He allowed.

  They stood like that, his comforting arm around her, their eyes on the far end of the path.

  She felt foolish, looked up to tell him so, but said nothing, caught by his eyes on her. His thumb stroked idly along her side, where he held her against him. The sameway he would caress her hand, but it felt entirely different, touching her deep inside.

  Even in the midst of the baying hounds and jovial men, the slender space between them roiled with silent sensation.

  His brow furrowed, his head tilted. She saw the question in his changing expression, when worry slipped away. His brow cleared, his eyelids lowered, mouth kicking up into a half smile.

  “Why?,” he asked, his warm hand pressed against the curve of her waist. He urged her even closer, as though there were miles between them rather than inches.

  What was he asking? Why she was out here? Why she defied him? Or why he thought to dip his head, brush his lips across hers—for he did that. His breath teasing her lips, as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this ever since we met.”

  Her world dissolved, fear, anxiety, the needs of others fell away, as she melted into her first kiss, with this man who had broken her heart by marrying her for her money. But her heart was already broken, what harm in reveling in this kiss?

  She smoothed her hands over his chest, feeling safe, alive with tingling awareness. She rose, onto her toes, slipping her arms around his neck.

  The crunch of gravel pulled her back to reality, to the path and the dark shadow beyond, not an illusion, for it had returned.

  She eased away from what this meant, this kiss. He shifted, pivoted, so his back was to the end of the path, not yet releasing her.

  Behind him, a shadow shifted in the gloom. Something glittered, caught in the halo of his lantern. It rose, catching the light in a series of quick glimmers and then, then…

  “No!” She grabbed Summerton’s arm, pulled him off balance so he followed her, as she threw herself to the ground.

  It all happened so quickly—her shout, his curse, a whizzing sound, and then a thud. Summerton tried to take the brunt of the fall, twisting them, but he’d had no warning, only managed to shift them both to end up on their sides, facing each other.

  Her arm was crushed, at a bad angle, beneath him, but she didn’t really care. They had to get away as quickly as possible. The lad who had offered to accompany her earlier was running toward them now, another light held as high as his young arms could hold it.

  “Your grace!” He ran to get the lantern Summerton had dropped. “Are you a’right?”

  Summerton lifted himself up. “Caroline?” He tried to help her. “What just happened?”

  But she didn’t have to speak, not that she could with all the wind knocked from her, for the lad was pointing. “Crikey! Your grace, sir, look at that!”

  Above their heads, in direct line with where the duke’s back had been, a dagger, still shuddering from the impact, pierced the stable wall.

  His nostrils flared.

  “I’ll go after him,” the lad proclaimed, jumping from foot to foot, but not moving forward.

  “No!” the duke shouted, standing swiftly. “You,” he ordered the boy as he worked his leg, “go get Sir Michael and have Hitches gather some men. I’ll go.”

  “Absolutely not!” Caroline stood on shaking legs, holding her bruised arm to her chest. “No, I could not bear it. Please don’t.”

  “What? Afraid I will hurt Jeremy?” he snapped.

  “It isn’t him, but whoever it is, he just tried to kill you. You mustn’t go. Not alone. Please.”

  They stood for a long moment, his eyes flinty and narrowed, his chest rising and fallin
g as if he’d already run. “Come,” he finally said. Limping, he led her away from the path and into the stable, which smelled of hay, horses, and unwashed men.

  Two stable hands sat on stools in the hall; six other men were on benches inside a stall. They all stood as the duke and Caroline entered. “You two, come with me,” he said, gesturing to the stable hands. “The killer is out there.” He turned to face the men in the stalls. “And you,” he commanded, as he pulled one of the abandoned stools over and pushed Caroline to sit. “Watch over her. If anything happens to her, anything at all, you will pay for it dearly. Do you understand me?”

  And he took his two men with him, into the dark of night, to catch a murderer.

  She simply sat there, holding her arm to her chest, raw with worry. Who could have tried to hurt the duke and why? What was happening? Where was Jeremy? Why would Alice’s death lead to an attempt on Summerton’s life?

  Sir Michael and Eleanor wasted no time in finding her. Eleanor encouraged her to stand, clucking over her arm, leading her back into the house.

  The men tried to follow. “His grace says we’re to protect her. If she’s not here when he gets back, there will be hell to pay.”

  “Did he now?” Sir Michael asked. “She will be fine with Lady Eleanor. In the meantime, we need to get you out on the search. Liam, you take charge. See that they fan out. From what I gather, Summerton went north. I doubt the assailant would have gone south, given all the open fields and fences in that direction, so only send three that way. The rest of you search between the north and west.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “And all of you, be careful! Call for help if you find the man. He’s dangerous.”

  “Yes, sir,” they chorused.

  “And Jimmy, here, you ride out to the tenant farms to warn the people to lock up tight.”

  They looked at each other uneasily. “You don’t think…” one man started to ask, but Sir Michael waylaid him.

  “I don’t think anything of the kind, but better to be safe, eh?”