“And now Your Grace, and Lord Thomas, this way.” Mrs Crabtree led the men into the mansion.
Soon, they were ensconced in their chambers. Tom had told Robert that he was going straight to bed. Robert poked his head out of his door and looked both ways up and down the hall.
He had no idea where Lady Phoebe’s room was, but Tom, who’d spent much time at Pinebrook Manor in the past, had told him she slept on the second floor in her mother’s former chambers. Since he was in the late Duke’s chamber, Lady Phoebe must be just on the other end of the gallery.
He quietly stepped into the gallery and padded towards the other end. He stopped at each door to his right. The first chamber he looked in was open. It was a bedroom. The second room was locked, and he knew that was where Lord Thomas had been put.
Even though he held one tiny candle that did little to illuminate anything more than the narrow tread of his feet on the soft carpet, he continued walking along the gallery. He came to a door at the far end, on the other side of the staircase.
He tried the door. It was locked. This must be what he was looking for. He knocked and waited a moment. He knocked again, a little louder this time. A few seconds later, there was a click, and the door opened a crack.
Mary’s soft eyes gazed up at him and she gasped. “Your Grace. You’re here,” she whispered.
“Yes, Mary. I want you to pack a reticule for yourself and one for Lady Phoebe. Hide them; we may need to leave in a hurry.”
“Will we leave tonight, Your Grace?”
“No, but when we go, it will be with a minute’s notice. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will let My Lady know as well.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I knew you would help us.” She smiled at him and curtsied as best she could in the opening of the doorway.
“Back to sleep with you. Lord Thomas and I will see you at breakfast.”
“Lord Thomas is here, Your Grace?”
“Yes. He’s accompanied me.” Atwater thought he saw a play of a smile around Mary’s lips.
“Good night, Your Grace.” Mary closed the door quickly.
Atwater stood in the gallery looking at the door. Behind it, Lady Phoebe breathed in soft slumber. Nothing more than a door separated them. He turned and made his way back down the gallery to his designated chamber.
*******
Three days later, over breakfast, Atwater outlined his plan to Lord Thomas and Lady Phoebe. Mary, having attended Phoebe earlier was nowhere to be seen, although Phoebe had invited her to dine with them.
Phoebe felt shy around Atwater. He was entirely too handsome. She could see why Lady Judith had fallen for him. But, she reminded herself, he had done something so dreadful, he wasn’t received.
But then, Mary and Thomas both believed that Atwater hadn’t done what Judith had accused him of doing. Reneging on a promise. Going against Judith by backing out of a marriage agreement. It was the lowest gesture Phoebe had ever heard of. She was disappointed beyond measure, as she still felt so drawn to Atwater. Was it actually possible that Judith had lied?
Phoebe was called back to the talk at hand by Atwater’s voice addressing her.
“The fact that Portree, uh, Carlisle is in Edinburgh gives us more time. London is safe from typhus now. Lord Thomas and I will escort you and Mary back to Wimpole Street.”
It took Phoebe a moment to formulate her response. “I don’t want to appear ungrateful, Your Grace, but what good will it do to take me away from here?” My cousin threatens to sell the townhouse, and this one, out from under me. Whether I marry him or not.”
“We won’t let him force you into a marriage you don’t want.” Tom stopped speaking.
There was the sound of a carriage outside, or a coach. It sounded heavy and big, and there were hounds running alongside of it, bellowing.
“What is that infernal racket,” Lord Thomas ventured.
Mrs Crabtree rushed into the sitting room. “My Lady, it’s the Earl; I mean the Duke. He’s back.”
Phoebe’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “He’s back? Already? Your Grace, what do we do now?”
“Tom and I get out of your private sitting room straightaway ... first things first.”
Lord Thomas stood and exited the room with his beer and breakfast plate and hurried to his chamber. He heard the Duke coming in the front door calling for the butler.
“Harris. Get down here man. I need your assistance. Where is that confounded …”
“Your Grace.” Mr Harris stood in front of his new master with a face of stone.
“Let’s get something straight, Harris, shall we?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“You look as if you hope to be released from service here. You’d like nothing better than a fine letter of reference from me and the opportunity to find another place. Am I right, Harris? Well, let me inform you of something, my man. The fact that you appeared so quickly and so quietly when I called for you has pleased me. Greatly. I intend to make you my valet, Mr Harris. Mind you keep up the good work. I don’t reference anyone who attempts to poison my mind to their presence here. You will never find another position if I should decide to let you go. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Harris bowed.
Carlisle smirked. “Good. Now. Where is Lady Phoebe?”
“She’s asleep, Your Grace.”
“Asleep? I won’t hear of it.” Carlisle bounded up the stairs and turned left down the gallery towards Phoebe’s chamber. He grabbed the handle and turned it only to find the door locked. “Phoebe! Open this door at once.”
Inside, Mary had come back and was frantically clearing away extra cutlery and plates. She shoved everything into a low cupboard and closed its door. Phoebe went to the bedchamber door and spoke through it.
“Y-your Grace. You are back early.”
“I am, and I expected to be greeted by my wife to be at the door.”
“My Lord, I have not given you my answer yet.”
“You’re a fool if you think you can survive without me, My Lady.” Carlisle turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. “I will see you in the dining room for dinner. Do not be late,” he called over his shoulder.
Phoebe turned around to face the room and leaned back against the door. “Oh Mary, he intends to keep me a prisoner no matter where I am.”
“Not to worry, My Lady. Duke Atwater has a plan.”
“I hope it’s a good plan. Carlisle might throw Atwater and Lord Thomas to the dogs.”
“No, His Grace Lord Robert is going to discuss business with the Duke.”
“We’ll see, Mary. Now, I must freshen up. I’ll have cold luncheon in my sitting room and then nap. After, I’ll need your assistance dressing for dinner. Please tell His Grace and Lord Thomas to join Duke Carlisle and myself in the drawing room at half past four to enjoy some aperitif. Then come back to assist me with my dress, please.” Phoebe sighed. “Dinner promises to be interesting, if nothing else.”
Chapter 5
Dinner had come to a close. Lady Phoebe had retired to her chamber. Duke Carlisle, Atwater, and Lord Thomas were in the library enjoying some fine Spanish brandy.
“... and if you are in the market to sell, I’d be interested. I spent a great deal of time at the Wimpole Street townhouse, Your Grace. I would be quite interested in acquiring it.” Lord Thomas swirled the rich, translucent brandy in his goblet.
“You don’t know what relief that brings to me, Lord Thomas. Now, if I can find a buyer for this estate, I’ll never have need of leaving my dear Scotland again.” Carlisle grinned showing a row of brownish teeth.
“I might be able to bring you the relief you’re craving, Your Grace.” Atwater leaned forward to better illustrate his point. “I’ve had my eye on Pinebrook Manor. In fact, I had been conversing with the late Duke about the matter.”
“I daresay this is the happiest bit of news I’ve been privy to in quite some time.�
� Carlisle, once again, bestowed his hideous smile on the men. “Call Harris, will you? I’d like more brandy. We’ve finished this bottle gentlemen. I told the butler to decant four bottles. You never know when there’s a celebration to be had. Harris!” He yelled the last, forgetting in his near inebriated state that his only effort was to ring the bell.
“Mr Harris left the brandy here, Carlisle. Allow me will you?” Atwater secured Carlisle’s glass and stepped to the side table. His eyes met Tom’s. He nodded slightly, and Tom immediately took up Carlisle’s attention with more talk of the Wimpole Street townhouse.
Atwater turned his back and retrieved a small vial from his waistcoat. It contained belladonna, an herb that rendered the one who ingested it unconscious. He emptied half the vial into the glass and sloshed the brandy over it.
“Here we are.” Atwater handed the glass to the unsuspecting Carlisle and placed the decanter on the table next to the chair he was in.
“It is fine, though, isn’t it gentlemen?” Carlisle drained the glass and poured another.
Again, Thomas’s and Atwater’s eyes met. It was only a matter of time.
Robert checked his watch. Eight o’clock. He hoped the women were ready.
Twenty minutes later, Carlisle sat, slumped in the chair, snoring loudly. Atwater stood and made his quiet way up to Lady Phoebe’s chamber. He hugged the wall and stayed out of sight of the two guards Carlisle had set at the front door. Thomas snuck down to the servants’ hall and out into the yard to find Dan.
Atwater tapped on the door to Phoebe’s chamber, and it opened to a dark room. “How many guards has he put about?” Atwater asked Mary urgently.
“You mean the spies? I’m not sure, but I think nine and his valet and driver. The men at the door are always two. He’s put three women in the kitchens. There are two footmen; they are the very tall gentlemen you’ll see in the stables. Much taller than the manor’s two footmen.”
“Dan is readying the coach. I’ll tell Carlisle’s footmen, if they’re awake, that I have urgent business in London. I’ll say that I’d forgotten about it, and it’s imperative that I be there in the morning. We will go out through the servants’ entrance in order not to be detected, but we need a story just in case. Come. Let us go.”
They went towards the servants’ stairs. Mary and Phoebe pulled their cloaks tight and lifted the hoods over their respective brown curls and flaxen waves.
“You must stay out of sight. If I have to distract the footmen, Thomas will get you into the coach. Hopefully, we won’t have to speak to them.”
The three tiptoed down the steps and through the servants’ hall. Atwater opened the back door and peeked out into the yard. All seemed quiet. A bird called from across the yard, and Atwater knew it was Tom signalling that all was clear. They hurried across to the stables, once more staying to the edges of the yard, pressed against the cold stone of the walls.
Without a word, the ladies were assisted into the coach with Tom following. Dan was on the bench, and Atwater just about to step up into the darkness of the vehicle when a lantern shone from the door of the stable.
“What do we have here? Good evening gentlemen. It’s a bit late to go a-travelling now isn’t it?” The tall footman crossed the yard to the coach. Atwater turned around closing the coach door behind him.
“And you would be, good sir?”
“I am Duke Carlisle’s first footman. And I ask you, My Lord, where do you plan to go at this hour of the night?”
“I plan to go back to London, not that it’s any of your business, good man.”
“Oh, I believe anyone leaving my master’s property in the dark of night is my business, My Lord. Who might be leaving with you?”
Thomas poked his head out the window of the coach. “That would be me. Now, I would ask that a footman not detain the Duke of Atwater another minute. The Duke has important last minute business in London on the morrow.”
The footman’s cocky grin vanished. “Forgive me Your Grace, forgive me My Lord. I had no idea.”
“Maybe you should find out who the party is that’s leaving your master’s property in the dark of night next time. Before you accost them.” Atwater frowned at the man.
“Yes, Your Grace. Might I help you with anything?”
“No, that will not be necessary. You may, however, give your master my sincere thanks for a lovely evening.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will, Your Grace.” The footman stood as Dan walked the pair of horses across the yard and began down the drive. When they were a half mile from the house, Dan let the horses go. If they made good time, they’d be in London by midnight.
*******
Two hours later, they were moving at a good clip when they came upon a fallen tree in the road. The woods were too thick on either side to go around it, and Tom and Atwater were faced with the reality that they, with the help of Dan would have to move it. They alighted from the carriage and walked to and fro and around the log, ascertaining the best way to handle moving it.
Tom heard a sound like the cracking of a twig underfoot. He looked at Atwater who’d stopped moving and was listening intently. Dan also stopped and listened.
The full moon was of no assistance in ascertaining where the sound had come from. They waited a few minutes more, and hearing nothing, silently decided to continue. The women slept inside the carriage, and Tom entered as softly as he could. Dan had taken his place on the bench, and Atwater turned around to get back inside.
As he lifted his arms to hoist himself into the interior, he felt something press into his back. He straightened and saw a face at the opposite door window. In one motion, the face opened the door and flashed a knife while the pressure on Atwater’s back increased. Then he heard the cocking of a pistol.
“Come on, now. Step back down. Do it now or I’ll shoot. No one would hear anything. You’re in the deep woods,” a voice whispered. There was something oddly familiar in the voice that Atwater couldn’t place.
He stepped down and turned to face the man, dressed as a fine dandy but with a black silk mask across his face with only holes for the eyes to peer out. The other man brought Tom and the women forward.
“Look what we found Tully. Two wenches and another fop.”
“Bring them here. Let’s see. Have you any jewellery, ladies?”
“We have not, and I insist you remove that hideous face cover. I demand you identify yourself.”
Tully began to laugh, lifting his arm and slapping his thigh.
It was the moment Tom needed to whirl around and wrench the knife from the other man’s hand. Atwater heard the man with the pistol gasp. Then the two bandits ran for the cover of the forest.
Atwater turned to Tom, Phoebe, and Mary. “Is anyone hurt?”
“We’re fine. But that was strange.” Tom straightened his cravat.
“It most certainly was, but we seem to have made short work of them.” Atwater grinned.
“And I’ve acquired a new pen knife.” Tom grinned.
“I thought you most gallant. Both of you.” Mary looked from one to the other of them. Phoebe was curiously quiet.
“Has anyone seen Dan?” Tom tore his eyes from Mary’s and was looking around.
“I’m here, My Lord.” Dan stepped out of the deep woods and onto the road. I tried to trail them, but they got away. They had horses down that way by the river. I lost them, but it’s a curious thing. The moon is bright tonight. I was close behind them when the moon came out from behind a cloud. I was able to duck behind a tree in the nick of time. And the curious thing is, one of the bandits was a woman, Your Grace.”
Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 9