If there was one person who might have knowledge of where Belkins had been last night, it would be his valet.
Nick wasn’t certain which room was the master’s suite. He opened two of the doors in the hallway before he found himself in a larger bedroom than the others. He stepped inside and gave a start when he saw a body, fully dressed in riding clothes and lying on the bed as if asleep.
He started to back out of the room until he realized the man was Belkins himself. His body had been laid out here to be dressed.
Later, per custom, the family would probably retire the body to the receiving room or the dining room for the viewing.
However, right now, the room was quiet. It was just Nick and Belkins.
Shutting the door behind him, Nick moved to the bedside for closer inspection. Belkins was apparently wearing the same clothes he’d had on at the time of his death. The boots were scuffed but the jacket and shirt were clean. The muscles of his face were rigid and there was still a very faint hint of color to his complexion. Coins had been placed over his eyes and a bandage wrapped around his head where there were still the marks of an ugly bruise.
Nick wanted to know what was under the bandage. He knew he must move fast lest he be caught poking and prodding the body. That would do nothing to enhance his reputation.
The bandage had probably been tightly bound when it was first applied, but because the body was dead, the swelling had gone down. Nick could ease the bandage enough to see that the center of Belkins’s forehead was caved in, the bruising a sign of blood around the injury. Perhaps the man could have fallen off his horse and hit his head hard on the ground—but then his clothes would be dirty.
Or more likely, some one had bashed in the head good and hard. Nick wondered if the back of His Lordship’s jacket and breeches were as clean as the front? He doubted it.
Belkins had been murdered. The family could believe what they wished, but Nick would not ignore the fact Belkins had been too good of a horseman to have fallen head first off his mount—
“I beg your pardon, sir?” a clipped voice asked from the other side of the room.
He’d been caught.
Thinking fast, Nick slumped his shoulders as if in grief. He turned to meet the valet who walked into the bedroom from a changing room. Nick hadn’t even heard the man moving.
The valet was roughly Nick’s age, and half his height. His eyes were red-rimmed from grief and he held a black scarf in his hand.
“I’m the Duke of Holburn,” Nick said in what he hoped was a stricken voice. “I had to see him. We were friends. We were supposed to have dined together last night. I can’t believe he is dead.”
“It is tragic, Your Grace,” the valet said.
“Yes,” Nick said, lingering over the word before saying, “Belkins never showed for dinner. Didn’t even send word.” Being wise in the way of servants, even the most loyal ones, he reached into his coat pocket and removed some folded pound notes. “His plans must have changed. I don’t suppose you knew what they were?”
The valet’s shrewd eyes narrowed on the money. Since his employer had died, the man knew he’d soon be without a position. One had to be practical, even in the face of death.
“He stayed in last night,” the valet said, taking the money.
Nick peeled off several of the notes and laid them on the bed beside Belkins’s body. “Did he stay in all night? Or receive a message that would have called him away? After all, he wasn’t found here.”
“There was a message,” the valet said.
Nick placed another note on top of the others. “When did it arrive?”
“Earlier in the day yesterday, before my lord woke.” That spoiled the theory Nick had been developing that someone had called Belkins out of bed.
“Was he expecting it?” Nick asked.
The valet nodded. “Although it upset him.”
Nick’s interest quickened. “Did you by chance read it?”
The valet stiffened. “I don’t do that sort of thing, Your Grace,” he announced. “Lord Belkins burned the letter.”
Damn, Nick thought.
But then the valet unbent enough to confide, “However, I did manage to catch a glimpse of what it said.”
Nick placed the money left in his hand on the bed. The valet picked up the bills and pocketed them before saying, “The writer said he’d received His Lordship’s message about the Swan.”
“Who signed the letter?” Nick questioned, his heart pounding with excitement.
“I didn’t have enough time to make sense of it, but the name was Spanish.”
“Andres Ramigio or the Barón de Vasconia?”
The valet nodded. “I saw the word Andres.”
Nick received this news with mixed emotions. He’d really not wanted to believe Ramigio a killer…although he didn’t know him well. After all, they’d spent one night carousing and enjoying each other’s company. That wasn’t a character recommendation—and yet, the two of them had bonded immediately. Nick had thought himself a fairly good judge of character. That was the reason the theft of his ring made him so angry. “And Belkins burned the note?”
“Yes, I watched him do it.”
Damn the bad luck. Nick would have liked to have seen the message for himself. “Did you see who delivered it?”
“I didn’t. But a footman said it was handed over by one of the street lads.”
Nick could have chased down a description but he knew it would be impossible to find the lad who had delivered the note. London’s streets were filled with boys who would run an errand for a half penny.
He looked at the body on the bed. The poor bastard had paid the ultimate price for betraying a friend. “But why would he have done that? What motivated him to send me to that inn?”
“Money,” the valet answered before Nick realized he’d spoken aloud. “His lordship was to be paid handsomely to arrange a meeting with you. There was a line in the note telling him he would be paid if all went well at the Swan. I couldn’t read if the letter said where and when His Lordship would receive his money. However I suspect he left early to collect it.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“I overheard him mention to Lady Belkins that he would give her pin money this morning. She wasn’t happy. She wanted it last night and he said he couldn’t pay it until the morning.”
God bless the servants. “Any idea when he left this morning?”
“Around four. That’s when the groom said he came for his horse. He walked into the stables, gave Billy a shake, and ordered him to saddle his Nell up.”
And after that? Nick released a sound of exasperation. The trail had gone cold.
At that moment, the door opened. A maid entered. “My lady would like—” she started and then stopped seeing Nick in the room. “Oh, I beg pardon.”
Nick patted Belkins’s arm. It was stiff. Nick turned and walked out of the room, his mind full with this new information. He took the back stairs again and found the crowd of callers in the hallway had thinned considerably.
His mother was still there. He caught sight of her in the dining room. He was moving toward her to mention he was leaving when he realized she was talking to his uncles, Lord Brandt and Lord Maven.
It was too late to avoid them. They’d seen him.
His mother appeared relieved at his presence. “I told you Holburn was here,” she informed the uncles in a carrying voice so Nick knew his presence was expected. She welcomed him with a big, motherly smile.
His uncles were twins and alike in almost every way. They dressed in somber, austere clothing. They were of the same height, almost as tall as Nick, and their expressions were ones of cheerless gloom. Life was a serious matter to them and they did not understand Nick or his frivolous mother.
“Gentlemen,” Nick greeted them as he approached. Ignoring their bows of acknowledgment, he asked, “Mother, are you ready to leave?”
“Oh, yes,” she said waving her black handkerchief
in front of her face. “Past ready. This all reminds me so much of the sadness surrounding your father’s passing. So tragic to lose a husband so young in life.” If she had said this to garner sympathy from her in-laws, she could have saved her breath. Nick’s uncles didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash over the mention of their brother’s death.
Nick supposed they would feel the same about his death as well.
Or perhaps they’d be more enthusiastic, since his uncle Brandt would inherit the title—and there was a motive for murder. Both Brandt and Maven had earned their own titles, but that didn’t mean they didn’t covet his.
It’s a disquieting thing to consider the idea that one’s relatives might consider murdering him. It had been a random thought but it started to take shape in his mind.
What had Fee said? The person who had hired the Irishmen would be the one who would gain the most from his death. Neither uncle thought Nick worthy to be duke. They’d said as much often enough.
But would they stoop to murder?
He forced himself to smile at his uncles while inside every fiber of his being recoiled from them. “Will we see you Christmas at Huntleigh?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer. His uncles never missed an opportunity to inspect the estate.
“Of course,” Brandt said. He took out his snuff box and flicked it open with his thumbnail. “I trust, Daisy,” he said to the dowager, “that all is as it should be, or will you be dependent upon our wives’ help again?”
“I can manage,” his mother said quickly. She was sensitive to the use of her given name. His uncles rarely afforded her any respect in private or public.
“Yes,” Nick said. “She has it organized already. Everything is packed and waiting for the moment she leaves.” He changed the subject. “Mother, didn’t you have a coat?” He caught the eye of a servant. “The duchess is leaving. Please see her to the door and fetch her coat. I’ll join you in a moment, Mother.”
His mother seized the opportunity to escape, made cursory farewells and went running off.
Nick faced his relatives whose faces seemingly held no guile. He knew differently. His uncles could be ruthless men.
For a moment, he debated confronting them. They would deny hiring the Irishmen or any involvement in Belkins’s death. He decided the best course would be to have them followed. Until then, he would be all that is pleasant. “It was good seeing you, Uncles, even under these circumstances.”
“We don’t see you enough, Holburn,” Brandt said. “Perhaps we should have supper together before we leave for the country? Richard has returned from India with some interesting stories to tell.”
And give them another chance at him in the city, where there were hundreds of escape routes for their assassins?
No, if they took another shot at Nick again, he wanted it to be done where the killers would be out in the open and on his own land where he was law. His cousin Richard’s stories of India would have to wait.
Inspiration struck. “I’m afraid I will be unable to dine with you before Christmas. I leave for Huntleigh on the morrow.” He’d be better able to protect himself and Fiona there.
“But Christmas is another two weeks away,” Maven said.
“I have some business to attend to on the estate,” Nick answered.
“What of Belkins’s funeral?” Brandt agreed.
“That’s why I’m here today,” Nick answered, giving them his best smile.
“Or the settlement?” Brandt said. “I was under the impression Belkins owed you a great deal of money.”
“He owed everyone,” Nick said, his suspicions being reinforced by such a callous statement. “But considering the circumstances, I will not collect upon the debt. It would not be the action of a gentleman.”
“He owed us,” Brandt said. Seeing Nick’s surprise, he said, “We had shares in a sailing venture we wished to sell. This was before we realized how deeply into the duns he was. After all, his wife had come to him with a great fortune.”
Therefore Belkins would be in a position to do as they bid.
“And will you forgive the debt?” Nick challenged them.
His uncles exchanged glances. “We shall see,” Maven answered, speaking for both.
It took all Nick’s willpower to stand his ground and not back away from these men who had disapproved of him all his life. “Well then, we shall enjoy a cup of Christmas cheer before the fire at Huntleigh when you arrive. Now, if you will excuse me. I need to see to my mother.” He turned and left his uncles without acknowledging their bows.
To his surprise, his mother wasn’t waiting for him by the door. He glanced outside. Her coach still stood by the curb, the door open, the step down.
He turned back into the house, finding it curious his mother wasn’t there. He searched for her in the receiving room.
Lady Belkins was sobbing in the arms of one of her friends as others surrounded her offering condolences. One woman offered smelling salts; another held out a cup of tea.
Nick wandered through the room and caught a glimpse of his mother in the far corner. She was talking to a square-jawed man of average height. His steel-gray hair was close cropped to his head and he had the presence of a military man.
His mother saw him. Her face was flushed and her eyes bright. She seemed agitated. Meetings with the uncles always upset her.
She waved him over to join them. “Holburn,” she said, “this is a particular friend of mine. Colonel Harry Swanson. He was cavalry,” she added, and Nick realized she wasn’t even thinking about his uncles. Her infatuation for him was clear for all to see. “Colonel, this is my son, the Duke of Holburn.”
“Your Grace,” Swanson said, he clicked his heels like a Prussian as he made his bow.
“Colonel,” Nick acknowledged. He didn’t mind his mother having a suitor. In fact, he was rather surprised she hadn’t had more men in her life. She was still very attractive and rather young. But ever since his father’s death, she hadn’t taken a lover or mentioned remarriage.
Now, Nick sensed it was different. Without being told he knew the colonel was his mother’s paramour. The signs were there in the way she leaned toward him and how solicitous he was to her.
“I was thinking, Dominic,” his mother said, reverting to the informality of his given name, “that Colonel Swanson could join us at Huntleigh for the holidays.”
“That’s a capital idea,” Nick said. The colonel would keep his mother occupied under what, if Nick’s suspicions about his uncles were correct, could be a trying family visit. Besides, he needed a chance to make the officer’s acquaintance. After all, it would be up to Nick to approve or disapprove the match if his mother decided to remarry.
His mother’s smile was as giddy and excited as a young girl’s. “See? I told you my son wouldn’t mind your presence.”
“Well, then, I accept the invitation,” Colonel Swanson answered.
“Good,” Nick said. He turned to his mother. “Are you ready to leave?”
It was obvious she wasn’t anxious to depart now that Colonel Swanson had arrived but she had no choice. They had already stayed far too long.
As he was leading his mother down the front steps of the house, Nick asked, “Why hasn’t he ever come to the house?”
“He has,” she told him.
That was news. “I’ve not met him.”
She paused on the coach step. “Dominic, are you really that interested?”
Her jaded response surprised him. “Of course I am.”
His mother shook her head. “I think not. You are far too busy with your own life to consider mine.”
“That’s not true,” he countered, having heard this complaint before. “I take great interest in your welfare.”
“When you aren’t enjoying your own pursuits,” she charged.
“Well, it appears you have ‘pursuits’ too, Mother,” he responded.
“He’s very special,” she said, referring to Colonel Swanson.
“I�
�m certain,” Nick said, closing the coach door. “I will see you at home?”
“I have some errands to perform so I might not be there until much later. In fact, I am to see friends at dinner this evening.”
So that meant he and Fee would dine alone.
Nick liked the idea.
He also noticed that Colonel Swanson now stood on the front step. His mother pretended to just see him and waved. “Dominic, you don’t mind if I ask Colonel Swanson to accompany me?”
For a second, Nick debated saying no, and then realized he was being overprotective. “No, mother, I don’t mind. By the way, I’m leaving for Huntleigh tomorrow. I have some business to attend to.”
The brightness left her eyes. “Are you going to take your ‘ward’ with you?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “After all, Gillian is there.” Gillian was a distant cousin who was one of many who depended upon him for her support, but she was one he liked. She lived year round at Huntleigh.
His mother pressed her lips together, but in the end could only nod. “Have it your way.” She sat back in her coach and dropped the flap over the window. The driver flicked the reins.
Nick watched his mother’s coach leave. It stopped at the end of the street and picked up Colonel Swanson.
He turned his horse homeward, anxious to share his suspicions and his new information with Fee.
Once home, he went directly to her room. Tad was sleeping in front of her doorway, which surprised him since when he’d left the dog had been inside the room.
Tad looked up as he approached and wagged his tail. Nick took a moment to give him a pat. “It’s a good thing you are a big lad,” he told Tad, “because I don’t believe you are much of a watch-dog.”
Tad licked his hand in response.
Nick gave a light knock on the door.
There was no answer.
He’d assumed Fee was inside, because Tad was here. He glanced up and down the hall. There was no servant to ask. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Fee couldn’t answer the door. Immediately a hundred scenarios leapt to his imagination from her running away to some scoundrel Irishmen being on the other side of the door with a knife at her throat.
A Seduction at Christmas Page 12