The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy)

by Diana Douglas

  “I don’t understand that at all but you are entitled to your feelings. However, you must always be polite to him. Remember that he’s been injured and is likely very troubled by his loss of memory.”

  Rosie looked down at the floor. “I know.”

  "Now, tomorrow morning I will help you compose a letter of apology to Mrs. Halston and we will take it to her.”

  “Must I take it? Can’t someone take it for me? What if she starts talking again?”

  “Then you will listen.”

  Rosie heaved a long dramatic sigh. “All right.” At the sound of approaching footsteps she peered around Cecelia and her face brightened. “Hello, Winston.”

  Winston stopped a few feet away and bowed. “My lady. Miss Rosie.”

  “We’ve just had tea,” Rosie volunteered. “But I didn’t behave well. I was rude to Mrs. Halston.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Rosie. I trust you will do better next time.”

  He looked at Cecelia. “My lady, my lord asked that you come to his study as you’ve finished with your afternoon tea. I’ll take Rosie to the nursery, if you like.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cecelia watched as Winston took Rosie’s hand and led her down the hall. The five year old was happy to be in his company and Cecelia suspected the feeling was mutual. Smiling she headed for the staircase. A few minutes later she knocked at his door and then stepped inside. Her hope that this might be an opportunity to resolve their differences were quickly dashed.

  Still dressed in his riding attire Rand was seated at his desk. Ledgers and correspondence littered his desk. He glanced up and said curtly, “Please it down, Cecelia.”

  She fixed him with a cool gaze and purposely waited a long moment before sitting in the chair across from him. She carefully arranged her skirts, folded her hands and placed them in her lap. Lifting her chin and assuming a regal air she said, “Yes, my lord and master?”

  He ignored the jibe. “I heard you paid a call on the Trawleys and the McGuires.”

  “At your request, my lord.”

  “I requested that you deliver baskets of food. It seems you did more than that.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Was I supposed to drop off the baskets and then turn around and leave? It seems terribly discourteous, though courtesy appears to matter little to you of late. At Reardon we tried to maintain good relations with our tenants. It seems to increase productivity.”

  “I realize that Cecelia.” His tone was dry.

  “And I’ll remind you,” she continued. “That I am no novice in dealing with tenants. I frequently accompanied my mother when she called on our tenants and I went with Pricilla when she began calling on them as well. I did as I thought appropriate. How you can find fault with that I haven’t any idea.”

  “You interfered.”

  Her eyes widened. “Could you be a bit more direct? I brought them food, then stayed and chatted awhile. In what way did I interfere?”

  “By informing the Trawleys and McGuires that you mean to open a school for their children. Didn’t you think you should discuss this with me first?”

  The carefully maintained regal manner dissolved into anger. “I beg your pardon, sir. Shall I be hung, drawn and quartered? Or will a simple flogging do? And is it the idea of providing a school that you find distasteful or the fact that I didn’t ask permission before mentioning it?”

  “It isn’t distasteful. It isn’t reasonable.”

  “Why ever not?” she said. “I’m not suggesting they study Latin or French and higher mathematics. But basic skills in numbers and letters would benefit them greatly. At Reardon we provided schooling for the children in the village. It isn’t extensive but at least they have the ability to do more than mark an X for their signature. Was I mistaken in assuming you would want to do as much for your own tenants? Look how well Billy is doing. You said in a few years he’ll be able to begin training at Danfield Shipping.”

  “For Christ’s Sake, Cecelia, this isn’t Reardon and the tenant’s children aren’t Billy. You can’t make a valid comparison. These families have enough to do making the land provide for them again. It’s going to take a great deal of labor on their part and the older children will be needed to work with them. There simply isn’t time. Any type of education will have to be delayed. Maybe next year, but not now. Content yourself with the three charges that you have.”

  “But what about the younger children? Or do you plan to send enfants into the fields as well?”

  “Leave things as they are.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but he held up his hand.

  “Don’t gainsay my decisions, Cecelia. And I’ve too much on my plate to spend the afternoon arguing with you. Leave it be.”

  His words felt like a slap in the face but she was damned if she’d let him know. “Mrs. Trawley and Mrs. McGuire will be quite disappointed. I’ll have to inform them there will be a delay.”

  “It’s been taken care of.”

  “Is that all?”

  Rand leaned back in his chair and sighed. “No. I would have your promise on it.”

  “Very well. You have my word. Now may I please go?”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Oh? Have I done something else to displease you?”

  “How are you feeling? You look tired.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.” And I’m likely carrying your child.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “I’d like you to stay close to home for a while. I’m not saying you can’t ride,” he added quickly before she could argue. “But you don’t seem quite up to snuff and I don’t want you half an hour from home and growing faint.”

  “I told you I was perfectly fine. But if you insist, far be it for me to disobey my husband.” She rose from her chair. “If I have your permission I’d like to leave.”

  He nodded his head. Head held high, she swept from the room.

  Rand groaned with frustration. He hadn’t handled that as well as he ought but why did she have to be so bloody stubborn! He was tempted to send her back to Reardon for a few months. She would likely hate him for it but at least she would be safe there. Last night someone had set fire to what lumber they had left. It had fizzled out before it could spread but next time they might not be so lucky.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stave off the headache he felt coming on. Trouble was brewing and if there were more incidents, as he suspected there would be, she would stay with her family until the matter was resolved. The children could return to Danfield House. He had to keep them safe. Had he trusted his instincts with Jack Barlow the old sailor might still be alive. He would not make the same mistake again.

  Cecelia had taken refuge in the gazebo. She gazed at a half acre of garden filled with colorful blooms, manicured hedges and a reflecting pool that mirrored blue sky and white puffy clouds. The air was rose scented and warm but she was far too hurt and angry to care a whit about any of it. Even conceding that she should have talked her plans over with Rand before mentioning a school to the children’s mothers and taking into account that he was still upset over the loss of his friend, he had no cause to be so harsh with her. She was at a loss. What was wrong between the two of them? She was miserable, homesick and likely pregnant by a man who thought her nothing more than a huge bother.

  “Pardon, Madame.”

  Drat. Was brooding in private too much to ask? She turned her head and attempted a smile at André who was approaching the gazebo.

  “May I join you?”

  He came to a stop at the steps. “I don’t wish to intrude, but I saw you leave the house and you seemed distressed. I thought I might help in some way."

  She shook her head. “Thank you for your offer but it’s nothing of import.”

  He held her eyes and said softly, “Anything that would cause you distress is of importance.”

  After Rand’s brus
queness André’s concern was almost more than she could deal with and to her complete and utter horror she burst into tears. He quickly moved to her side, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in her hand wrapping his own around hers before releasing it.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Please, forgive me. I’m not normally histrionic. I’m being silly.”

  “You don’t strike me as someone who weeps for no reason,” he said quietly. “But if you don’t wish to unburden yourself, I understand. I am, after all, a stranger.”

  At that moment he seemed less a stranger to her than her own husband. “You are very kind, monsieur, but I ask that you forget this afternoon.”

  The corners of his mouth tilted up. “Even tea with Miss Mae?”

  She couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh heavens, especially tea with Miss Mae. It was dreadful wasn’t it?”

  “Not quite dreadful, but I believe little Rosie expressed everyone’s feelings admirably.”

  “She did. I hated having to scold her when I was in agreement, but I needed to make her understand that her behavior was not acceptable.”

  “The young can be brutally honest.” He offered his arm. “Would you care to stroll with me in the garden? It is a beautiful day and, as I understand it, days like this are rare in England.”

  She hesitated briefly as she remembered the promise she had made to Rand regarding being alone with their guest. But it seemed that no matter what she did she couldn’t please him. And she had passed several men tending the flower beds so they weren’t really alone. Feeling only a slight tinge of guilt she took his arm. “I would be delighted.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harris accepted the whiskey Rand handed him. They had retired to the marquis’s office to discuss what Harris had learned after several nights of drinking at the Nag’s Head.

  The marquis waited for the Scotsman to talk. He knew there was no hurrying the man. He was good but did things in his own time, in his own way. Harris took a healthy swallow and set his glass down on Rand’s desk. “I cannae tell ye who set the fires,” he drawled. “I only ken who didnae.”

  Rand splashed more whiskey in the glass and leaned back in his chair. “That’s as good a place to begin as any.”

  Harris took another drink. “Lord Foxworth didnae. I shared a few pints with his driver an’ the mon was verra obliging to tell me about his lordship. He was visiting his mistress the night the cottage burned and then went on to Bristol to see about a horse the next day.”

  Rand hadn’t expected Foxworth would have done it personally. This was simply Harris’s way of getting to the matter. He nodded.

  “His sons didnae do it either, though they are of a nature to do such a deed. They were at the tavern drinking an’ whoring an’ wrecking havoc both nights. Proprietor was verra unhappy. Demolished two rooms an’ Foxworth willnae cover the damage.” He grimaced. “Those two lads are trouble. Female tenants an’ servants are afeared of them. They rut with any lass they please, whether she’s agreeable or nae. An’ once a poor lass’s belly starts to grow she’s turned out without a pence. Tis said half the tenant’s bairns have the look of Foxworth about them.”

  Rand swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and tried not to think of his father as he digested the information Harris had given him.

  “There’s a third lad, but I doen ken he’s our culprit,” Harris went on. “Lad’s only eleven an’ he’s nae rabble rouser. Bright lad. Father hasn’t much use for him.”

  Rand waited as Harris contemplated the whiskey in his glass. After what seemed an eternity the Scotsman continued. “Lord and Lady Remington arenae particularly well liked. Lord Remington would rather spend his coin at the tables than pay his help and the rents Remington charges arenae reasonable.” He paused. “Your way of doing things threatens them. Tis an example they cannae follow. They’ve pissed too much of their fortune away.”

  It was a familiar story. Rand sighed. “Anything else?”

  Harris shook his head. “I’ll return this evening for a spot of ale and some companionship.” He grinned. “Tis no hardship.”

  “And André?”

  “Spends a great deal o’ time riding.” Harris frowned. “Almost like he’s learning the lay of the land.”

  Rand groaned. “I can only hope that doesn’t mean he’s planning on staying.”

  Harris shrugged. “He’s a peculiar one. Also spends a lot of time in the library. Other than the afternoon strolls he’s taken with Lady Clarendon, the mon seems to prefer his own company.”

  The strolls were not unknown to Rand. He wasn’t happy about it, but as long as they remained in view he would say nothing. “I wish I could shake the feeling that he’s up to no good.”

  “Shall I continue t’ keep an eye on him?”

  “No. I’d rather you keep your eye on my wife. André can’t have started the fires and until we find out who did or I send her to Surrey I don’t want to take any chances.”

  Harris looked skeptical. “She won’t like it.”

  “Unfortunately, she’ll just have to live with it.”

  “And so will I,” Harris said glumly.

  Three days later Rand had just joined Whitley at the stables when Cecelia came riding toward him. Her eyes were blazing and two spots of color stood out on her cheeks as she dismounted without aid and tossed her reins to the stable hand without a word. “My lord,” she said coldly. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  Three days later Rand had just joined Whitley at the stables when Cecelia came riding toward him. Her eyes were blazing and two spots of color stood out on her cheeks as she dismounted without aid and tossed her reins to the stable hand without a word. “My lord,” she said coldly. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  He dismissed Whitley with a nod of the head. Once the overseer was out of hearing she said, “Is it true that you’ve asked Harris to spy on me?”

  He sighed audibly. “No.”

  “How can you say that? He’s just admitted it to me!”

  “I asked him to keep an eye on you, not spy.”

  “Because of Monsieur André?” she cried. “Do you know how insulting that is? There is nothing inappropriate about our friendship! He needs someone to talk to and quite frankly, so do I.”

  “Calm yourself Cecelia. It has nothing to do with André.”

  “What is it then?’

  “You haven’t looked well.” He stopped. He couldn’t lie to her. “No that’s not it. Though you have been a bit pale of late.”

  “Would you simply tell me?”

  He sighed again. There was no help for it. “The cottage that burned last week wasn’t struck by lightning. It was deliberately set. The remaining lumber was torched the following night.”

  Her eyes widened. “But why would someone do that?”

  “To impede my progress in hiring new tenants and to scare the remaining ones away.”

  Her brow wrinkled in confusion. Then a look of comprehension dawned on her face. “You suspect one of the local landowners?”

  He lifted his hands in the air and then shrugged. “I would hope not, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m not even certain that makes sense.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I suppose I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’m your wife and I don’t wish to be excluded simply because you don’t want me to worry.” Her brow wrinkled and he could see her mind working. “Maybe I could help you find out who’s doing this.”

  Frustration sparked within him. “God’s teeth, Cecelia! This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. It might be best if you I sent you back to Surrey until we have this resolved.”

  “No!” Her eyes glittered with defiance. “I won’t go. My place is here.”

  He wanted to shake her. “If someone is willing to burn a cottage to the ground how can I assume they intend no harm to my family?”

  “Send the chil
dren if you wish, but unless you intend to abduct me, I won’t leave. We have a party to host in less than a week’s time and there are a hundred things for me to do.”

  “The house party,” he muttered. “In all of this, I’d forgotten the blasted house party.” He rubbed at his face and sighed. “How many invitations went out?”

  “Twenty. And their responses have all been returned. Sixteen affirmative replies and only four regrets. I’m estimating forty-five to fifty guests. Food has been ordered and extra help will be arriving in a few days.” She paused. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Will you send to Surrey for help with the stables or would you rather post a missive to the agency?”

  How could someone who looked so innocent be such an impressive manipulator? He shook his head and almost laughed. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t know why the hell I’m doing this but I won’t ask that you cancel. But you must do something in return. Cooperate with me. Harris is to see to your safety. And I’ll assign someone to see to the children when they go out to play. What happens after that remains to be seen.”

  Her expression darkened. “I don’t like being followed about.”

  “I don’t care if you don’t like it! Accept it or make plans to return to Surrey.”

  Cecelia looked as if she was about to bite off a retort when Billy’s frantic voice came behind them. “Lord Clarendon! Milady! You must come. David has fallen through the steps. He’s crying for milady and no one knows how to get ‘em free.”

  A group of servants were clustered around an open door in the corridor not far from the kitchens. David’s loud wails gave Cecelia a measure of reassurance. He was alive and sounded more frightened than hurt. Rand pushed through the servants and grabbed the lantern a footman had been holding to illuminate the stairwell. Cecelia heard him swear as she came up beside him. What little reassurance she had felt seconds earlier vanished. David was a good fifteen feet below them. All she could see was the back of his head, the rigid set of his thin shoulders and two small arms clinging to the steps. The wood groaned ominously and it was obvious the stairs could give way at any moment. Fighting the panic that threatened to overtake her she sat on the floor to bring her closer to him then said loud enough to be heard over his sobbing, “David, we’re here and you’re going to be fine. Thomas will get you out of there. I promise. But you mustn’t move a muscle.”