A Duke Like No Other

by Valerie Bowman

  “What did you think of Lord John?” Mark asked Matthew next.

  The servant’s face crinkled into a smile. “Aw, he was a good man, sir. The very best. Not a cross word out o’ him ever.”

  Mark considered that for a moment. “Where were you when you saw Timothy drink the wine?”

  Matthew’s cheeks reddened.

  “What is it?” Mark asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “I was in the kitchen, sir.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And in the corridor just outside the dining room.”

  “Pardon?” Mark frowned.

  “Timothy likes ta sneak a sip below stairs and just before he takes it into the dining room, he sneaks another. He took his own cup upstairs for that purpose.”

  Mark leaned back and raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Yes, sir,” Matthew replied, nervously glancing around the room. “Please don’t tell Mr. Cartwright, sir. Timothy may sneak a sip o’ wine now and then, but he needs his position. He takes care o’ his sick mother and young sister. If he got tossed out on his ear, ain’t no telling what would happen to his family, sir.”

  Mark nodded. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of telling Mr. Cartwright, but speaking of him, did he say anything to you?”

  “He gave us one pound each, sir,” the footman replied. “Me, Cook, Tim, and the maids. I think he gave the butler and housekeeper a bit more, sir, but ye’d have to ask them.”

  Mark inclined his head. “Did he say why he gave you the money?”

  “No, sir,” Matthew replied. “But one of the maids said she heard one o’ the ladies wot visited that evening say Mr. Cartwright was the duke’s heir after Lord John, sir. We assumed he’s ta be our new master.”

  “I see.” Mark pulled another coin from his purse and tossed it to Matthew. “Thank you for your help.”

  Matthew gave him a gap-toothed smile and headed toward the door. “Should I send Timothy?”

  “Please,” Mark answered.

  Timothy’s story was much like the others’. He also informed Mark that Mr. Cartwright had given him money without mentioning he would be the new marquess. When Mark asked the footman what he thought of Lord John, Timothy replied, “Oh, he was the best, sir. The very best. He knew me penchant for drinking and he never tossed me out, sir. Even gave me a bit o’ a nip here and there.”

  “Did he?” Mark raised his brows and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Seems his cousin had been beloved by his servants. It made Mark feel guiltier for never knowing him.

  “Yes, sir,” Timothy continued. “Even when he caught me sampling the dinner wine.” A chagrined look crossed the footman’s face. “Lord John didn’t say a word.”

  “About that,” Mark replied. “Did you take the wine directly into the dining room that night? After you took your last sip, that is?”

  Timothy gulped but looked Mark in the eyes. “Yes, sir. I did. I poured a splash into me own cup, took a nib, and then hurried the rest directly into the dining room like I do every evening, sir.”

  “Thank you, Timothy,” Mark replied. He’d seen a lot in his day, but a servant who couldn’t keep his hands off the wine thereby providing his own best alibi was a new one. This time Mark pulled three pounds out of the coin purse. He slid them across the desktop to the servant.

  “What’s this, sir?” Timothy asked, eyeing the money with wide eyes.

  “One for you, one for your mother, and one for your sister,” Mark replied.

  The servant gathered the coins into his hands and nodded vigorously. “Thank you, sir. Mighty kind o’ ye.”

  Mark quirked a brow. “If I hear you spent so much as a shilling of it on alcohol, I’ll beat you myself.”

  The footman shook his head. “No, sir. No. I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” The young man jumped from his seat and nearly ran from the room, the money clutched in his fist.

  Smiling and shaking his head, Mark sat back in his chair and considered the servants’ stories. He’d got no inkling from any of them that they’d been responsible for poisoning their employer’s drink. He doubted they even knew it had happened. Besides, the two footmen and the cook had no reason to kill John. They obviously liked him and he was responsible for their livelihood.

  Most importantly the three servants had served as each other’s alibis, which made Mark’s job less complicated. He no longer needed them to attend his uncle’s event in the country. But that didn’t put him any closer to knowing who had poisoned his cousin’s wineglass.

  Mark absently flipped through the papers in front of him. He’d only ever been able to do such mundane tasks for so long. He wanted to get to Surrey and begin the investigation. His trunk was packed and he and Oakleaf had carefully discussed their strategy. A surge of energy flowed through him. He always felt invigorated before he went on the hunt for someone, whether spy or killer.

  He stood and paced to the window where he looked out onto the street in front of the house. Yes, he was more than prepared for the investigation to begin. What he wasn’t prepared for was spending several days in the same bedchamber as his wife.

  He groaned and scrubbed his hands across his face. He and Nicole had barely seen each other in the last few days, let alone touched each other. They were like strangers sharing a house. She’d spent her time shopping, exploring the house, and talking with the maids, while he’d been planning the investigation with Oakleaf and performing his duties managing the country’s spies. There was less work to do these days than there once had been. With the wars with France over, the last few years had been much less taxing. Of course there had been the odd attempt at restoring Napoleon to the throne. A grim smile curled his lips. One such attempt he’d thwarted with the Cavendish brothers last year, but for the most part, Mark had been working to stop smugglers, thieves, and others who threatened England’s shores.

  He wanted to move into the political arena, and effect change through policy. The country needed a police force. The Bow Street Runners were stretched too thin. Nicole agreed with him.

  Nicole?

  Nicole probably thought he’d lost his bloody mind. She’d all but offered herself to him the other night and he’d turned her down out of spite … to himself. Which was stupid for more than one reason. First, he was denying himself the obvious pleasure, and second, he’d promised the woman he would impregnate her. Not only was he being an ass, he was being a dishonorable one, not holding up his end of the bargain.

  He braced a forearm above his head against the wall and continued to stare unseeing out the window. Now things were simply … awkward between him and Nicole. It was about to get worse because they’d be going to Surrey to be glared at and dissected by the duke, the duke’s sister, Aunt Harriet, and his cousin, Regina, Harriet’s granddaughter, and God only knew who else. Damn it. He needed to get it over with and bed Nicole before things became even more difficult. Hell. It wasn’t as if it would be a chore. Spending time with Nicole had never been a chore.

  * * *

  The weeks after meeting Nicole at her grandmother’s ball had passed in a haze of stolen moments and even more stolen kisses. On leave from the army, Mark used every moment he could spare to court the lovely Lady Nicole Huntington. Curiously, her mother and grandmother allowed it. At first he’d been prepared for them to forbid it, but Nicole explained they’d told her they were confident she would make the right choice. The right choice obviously being the Marquess of Tinsley.

  For his part, the marquess continued to arrive at Nicole’s grandmother’s town house with the same frequency that Mark did, only the portly older man increasingly found himself outwitted by the corporal. Each time the marquess arrived asking to see Lady Nicole, it seemed Mark had already been there and taken her off to go riding in the park, or to get an ice at Gunter’s, or to do myriad other things that didn’t matter as long as they were together. It was exactly as Mark had planned it. He reveled in outsmarting the marquess and was often rewarded with a kiss from the fair Lad
y Nicole.

  Less than a month after they’d met, they took a walk in her grandmother’s gardens. The sun had just slipped out of sight.

  Nicole sighed. “I’ll have to go back inside now. Mother will be looking for me.”

  They’d come upon the rose arbor where they’d shared their first kiss. Without saying a word, Mark stopped and turned to face her. He tugged her beneath the arbor and pulled her into his arms. The scent of roses perfumed the air. His lips swooped down to capture hers. She tasted like sunlight and strawberries.

  Nicole wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back so passionately he’d have to take a cold bath later.

  When he finally pulled his lips from hers, she rested her forehead against his chest and sighed again. “I always hope Mother will catch us doing that.”

  “What?” he half laughed, half gasped.

  “You know. So I’ll be ruined and you’ll be forced to marry me.” She pulled back and studied his face, a mischievous smile on her lips.

  He chuckled. “That’s not necessary.”

  “It isn’t?” She blinked at him.

  “No.” Mark dropped to his knee, grasped her hands, and looked up into her beautiful face. “Lady Nicole Huntington, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her silence made his stomach drop. Had he misread her? He’d assumed she was falling in love with him as deeply as he was falling for her. She’d said a number of things that indicated she’d welcome a proposal and didn’t seem to give a toss that he was merely a corporal in the army. Had he been wrong? Did she truly care about such things more than she seemed to?

  The silence seemed to drag on for minutes until Mark realized her eyes were slowly filling with … tears.

  He leaped to his feet and pulled her into his arms again. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. If you don’t want to—”

  “No!” She nearly shouted. “I mean, yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you. I’ve been waiting for you to ask for days.”

  He smiled at her, kissed her, and several moments later when they were both able to talk again, he said, “I intend to make you the happiest woman in the world.”

  He picked her up and swung her around while they both laughed.

  “That’s good,” she replied when he set her down again, his hands lingering at her waist. “Because I intend to make you the happiest man in the world. Let’s go tell Mother.”

  Mark’s stomach clenched at the memory. At least they hadn’t promised to make each other happy. They’d both be damned liars.

  Surprisingly, Nicole’s mother and grandmother had agreed to the union. Mark had secretly thought they knew how stubborn Nicole was and didn’t want to go up against her when she’d set her mind to something. Or perhaps they’d realized he was on his way to greater things. Mark knew the countess’s solicitors had been asking questions about him to his colleagues. Had they discovered his relationship to the duke? He doubted it. Surely, they would have said something.

  The banns were read the next three weeks in Nicole’s family’s church, St. George’s of Hanover Square. Exactly two months to the day after they met, they were married. Mark managed to secure an extension on his leave in order to remain in town the rest of the summer. He and Nicole spent the long hot days in bed and preparing their new flat. It had been one of the happiest times of Mark’s entire life. Before it had all been destroyed.

  * * *

  Mark blinked. He turned sharply away from the window and forced himself back to his desk, back to his work. No use remembering such things. The past was in the past, and that’s precisely where it belonged. He glanced around his study. There was just one thing left to do before he traveled to Surrey for his cousin’s memorial.

  One hour later, he beat the knocker against Lord Tottenham’s door. When it opened, Mark was ushered into the study by a regal-looking butler.

  He didn’t have long to wait before Lord Tottenham’s voice came booming into the room. “Grimaldi, so good to see you. Come by to reschedule our dinner party, did you? Allen told me you intended to.”

  Mark stood to greet the large older man and held out his hand for a shake. “Unfortunately, no. Not yet. As you know, I’ve been helping with the investigation into the death of the Duke of Colchester’s son.”

  Lord Tottenham gestured to Mark to take a seat before settling his girth into a large chair behind the desk. “Ah, yes. Bloody shame. John was a young man. I’m pleased you’re on the case. Any suspects yet?”

  Mark took a seat and crossed his booted leg over the opposite knee. “We have a few, but part of our strategy is to gather everyone who was there that night at the duke’s country house. We want to see them interact. The duke has asked them all to Colchester Manor for a memorial. As a result, I’ll be away for a few days.”

  Lord Tottenham lit a pipe and puffed a smoke ring before saying, “Yes, I know. I’ll be attending as well.”

  Mark blinked. “My lord?”

  Another smoke ring floated into the air. “Colchester intends to name his heir. Rumor has it the name may be a bit of a surprise. The duchy was not entailed normally, or so I’ve heard. It’s certain to be one of the biggest pieces of news the ton has got in years. I asked the duke if I might attend. I’m a distant relative of his so he allowed it. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You’ll be in Surrey?” Mark asked stupidly.

  “Yes.” Lord Tottenham blew a third smoke ring. “And I do hope you’ll be bringing your lovely wife. I look forward to getting to know her better.”

  Five minutes later, Mark grabbed his hat from the startled butler and nearly flew down Tottenham’s front stairs to his coach. Lord Tottenham was coming to Surrey too? Perfect. Not only did that mean Mark would have to admit the truth to him about his family sooner than later, it also meant he and Nicole would have to pretend to be a loving couple the entire time and convince none other than the man who held his entire future in his hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  They left for Surrey early the next morning. Nicole wore a dark blue traveling gown, matching pelisse, and a new bonnet that she’d gone shopping for on Bond Street. Mark and Nicole had agreed not to wear the customary black of mourning to maintain the façade of not being related to the Colchester family, but they still wore dark clothing as a sign of respect.

  Nicole’s shopping outing had been a disappointment. She’d hoped to meet old friends, run into acquaintances. Instead, no one recognized her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d been gone for ten years. The debutantes she’d known were married ladies … with children. Apparently they weren’t shopping at the same time she happened to be. Still, it had been bittersweet, strolling with Susanna and one of the footmen through London’s shopping district. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the teahouses and the good English milliners. It was lovely to speak in English and have no one turn up their nose.

  Her outing was filled with memories and no one to share them with. She’d purchased a few items and come home to stare at the blank piece of vellum that should contain a letter to her mother. She’d almost hoped she’d run into her mother on Bond Street. At least that way she’d have been spared the need to write her. But Mother was in the countryside this time of year. The empty page had haunted Nicole until she finally tossed it into a drawer and slammed it shut. She would write her mother when she returned from Surrey.

  Nicole glanced across the coach at Mark. She couldn’t read his emotions. He was the stone man today. Was he sad to have lost his cousin so early? Even though he barely knew the man, John had been family, after all. Did Mark regret not having known him before his death? Was he kicking himself for not having visited his uncle until after the news? Probably not. Mark wasn’t one to regret things. It begged the question, however. Did he have any regrets? If so, what were they?

  She traced a finger along the coach’s windowpane. These were the sorts of questions she would have asked him if things were different between them, but she didn’t know where
she stood with him. He’d made no attempt to touch her in all these days. She wasn’t about to press the issue. He was dealing with a lot and it hardly seemed right to demand sex from a man whose uncle was dying and cousin had just been murdered.

  But how was Mark feeling? He didn’t need comforting. The man never had. She studied his features. He was reading the paper, the set of his wide shoulders dwarfing the seat on his side of the coach. No. He wasn’t sad. He was more … angry. Angry at the killer. Mark would discover who had taken his cousin’s life. Nicole had no doubt. He was not a man who suffered blows to those in his inner circle without retribution. Whoever had done this had done it to the wrong man. She greatly looked forward to the reckoning.

  Nicole pulled her hands back into her lap and folded them, trying to think of something simple to speak to him about. His head was bowed over the paper. She watched the curve of his lashes against his cheeks, giving him a hint of vulnerability that she rarely saw. The silence was becoming unbearable. The safest subject would probably be the investigation. He liked to talk about clues. So did she.

  Nicole cleared her throat. “In addition to the people who were at the dinner party the night John died, who else will be in Surrey?”

  Mark glanced up from the paper he’d folded into a neat square. He hesitated, as if thinking, before answering. “In addition to Lord Tottenham, Daffin Oakleaf will be there.”

  “Daffin?” Nicole’s eyes widened. A wide smile spread across her face.

  Mark glanced at her and his mouth set in a line. “I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with him.”