Once Upon a Duke's Dream

by Ellie St. Clair

  “Come then,” he whispered, holding his hand out to Isabella. “We must go .”

  “What about the candle?” Alastair asked, holding up a single candlestick. “We will be quite lost without a light .”

  Bradley nodded and held out his hand for it and, together, the four of them walked along the quiet corridor down towards the study .

  “We must go down the stairs,” Isabella whispered, her hand tightening in Bradley’s grip. “But they do creak terribly .”

  He nodded but said nothing, letting go of her hand and slowly beginning to descend the staircase. With every sound, he cringed, quite sure that Durand would throw open his bedchamber door and come hurtling down the hall to see what they were doing, but, to his very great relief, they reached the bottom without incident .

  Bradley reached for Isabella's hand once more, appreciating the way her fingers twined with his. He was just about to make his way forward once more when Isabella gave a slight tug and put a finger to her lips. Bradley froze, holding the candle low in the hope that, should someone be walking around, they would not see it. There was the briefest of scuffling sounds, and, to his horror, the sound of a door being opened .

  Isabella moved at once, practically dragging him forward with Alastair and Olivia close behind. Together the two of them slipped into an alcove, and, worried they would be found, Bradley blew out the candle .

  The moonlight through the windows cast an eerie shadow across the hallway, highlighting the various portraits on the wall opposite. Bradley tried not to react to the way Isabella pressed herself against him, but could not help but wrap an arm around her waist to draw her closer. He saw Alastair was across the hallway, crouching behind a large marble statue with Olivia behind his back, but there did not seem to be any further sounds to suggest someone was coming. In fact, the house returned to its quiet state once more, making Bradley let out a long, slow breath of relief .

  “Can you still force the lock without a light?” he whispered to Alastair as they began to move slowly towards the study. They could not see where they were going particularly well, and their progress was slow .

  “I should be able to,” Alastair replied, calmly. “And if not, I shall simply send you back to your bedchamber to fetch another candle !”

  Bradley did not smile, despite Alastair’s attempt at mirth, worried about the progress of their investigation. Finally making it to the door of the study, he tried the handle but found that it was, as Isabella had predicted, firmly locked .

  Alastair, however, was not put off in the least. Bending down, he pulled two metal tools from his pocket and began poking away at the lock. He had been quite the mischievous child, a trait that had not quite left him. Bradley had no idea what the man was doing, but instead stood anxiously beside the door, putting one arm around Isabella’s shoulders as they waited. They simply could not be discovered for, if they were, then any evidence that might be within could simply be disposed of by Gerard .

  A sudden click made him tense, and he heard Alastair’s sharp intake of breath. He saw him turn the handle and, to his very great delight, the door swung open. Within seconds they were all inside, and the door finally closed .

  Letting out a long breath, Bradley saw that a tiny flame still flickered in a spent candle and, with haste, he rushed to light another. It caught at once and he handed it to Isabella, who made her way carefully around Gerard’s desk .

  “This desk was my father’s,” she said, softly. “As was the cabinet. I know that my father often kept a spare key hidden in the underside of one of these drawers…but I cannot quite remember which one .”

  “Take your time,” Bradley replied, despite his racing heart. He waited with growing impatience as she continued to search, praying that the spare key would be there. A soft cry met his ears as, to his great relief, she rose with a grin on her face, holding the smallest of keys .

  Bradley wanted to kiss her then and there but just managed to prevent himself from doing so. Instead, he crushed her to him for a moment, murmuring a “well done” into her ear, before Alastair cleared his throat and urged him not to waste any more time, as he directed Lady Olivia to keep watch on the door .

  Alastair held aside the curtain as Bradley opened the cabinet door. The drawers were still there and still locked tightly. This was the moment he would discover whether or not Gerard Durand was the man behind Roger’s death – and whether he was truly seeking to do away with Bradley himself! The key found the lock and slid in at once, turning neatly and quietly. A soft click told him the top drawer was open, but Bradley did not pull out the contents .

  Instead, he opened all three drawers and then handed the key back to Isabella, who moved to put it away. Then, he opened the top drawer and, seeing the parchments and documents, picked them up as one and handed them to Alastair. The second drawer’s contents went to Isabella and the third drawer he took for himself .

  “Now,” he said, bending down to spread out the parchments on the carpet and calling softly to Lady Olivia to come help them. “Look carefully, each of you. Any evidence of ties to France, and of treason to the Crown, is what we are looking for. Hurry now .”

  17

  I sabella could not see the documents she held particularly well, so hastened to light another two candles, returning to hand one to Lord Kenley before looking through her own pile of papers. Her heart began racing in her chest as she began her search, not sure whether or not she truly wished to find something .

  If Gerard was a traitor to England, if he had been the one who had killed Roger and had tried to kill Bradley, then his neck would likely be stretched by the noose within weeks, were he arrested. Shuddering, she put yet another note filled with numbers and monies to one side, not knowing whether she truly hoped that she would find the evidence Bradley needed. After all, he had said that there were other gentlemen he needed to look into .

  “Wait.”

  Her voice was a whisper, but her three companions were by her side within seconds. With a hand that shook slightly, she picked up what appeared to be a bundle of letters, but with French writing on the front .

  “I cannot read French,” Bradley admitted, gruffly. “What does it say, Isabella ?”

  She swallowed once and pulled the first letter from the ribbons, unfolding it carefully. It did not appear to be too old, and she was able to read the words with ease. Her breath came a little more easily as she realized there was nothing untoward about the letter. "There are just some greetings, and the like," she said, quietly. "Gerard has many friends still in Paris, of course. It is quite right that they should keep in correspondence, although…" She frowned, trying to recall whether or not she knew the writer of the letter. "I cannot say if I knew this Vauqelin, however, and I thought I had met each of Gerard's acquaintances on at least one occasion when we lived in France ."

  “Here,” Bradley murmured, pulling another letter from the pile, but, this time, closer to the middle. “We cannot take any chances. What does this one say ?”

  Isabella unfolded it carefully, only for her eyes to widen as she began to read the words within .

  “I have heard there are men within your society who are searching for you. Our relationship cannot continue for as long as they hunt,” she read, her voice growing hoarse. “Your notes on some of England’s weaknesses are thorough but you must be on your guard. France will have the victory !”

  There was a long silence. Isabella stared down at the parchment in her hand, aware that she held the evidence that meant Gerard would be sent to jail for treason .

  "My goodness," Lord Kenley whispered after a few minutes had passed. "You were right to suspect him, Carrington ."

  “It does not tell us what relationship he has with this man, nor why it was important,” Bradley replied, “but I do not think that now is either the time or the place to begin looking into such things. We know that France is a dangerous enemy but to have evidence before our very no
ses require further study. We will take these letters with us. I must return to London at once ."

  Isabella rose and stood beside Olivia with an icy hand wrapped around her heart. For all that she had disliked her stepbrother, she had never thought of him being executed, though she knew it was the only fair consequence for what he had chosen to do. He could have returned to France and lived there quite peacefully, if he had such a loyalty to the country – but to come to England, use her to access society, and then to search out its weak spots to pass onto those in France who wished to mount an attack was quite horrifying .

  “I’m sorry, Isabella,” Olivia whispered to her, with a hand on her back in comfort .

  Isabella raised her head stoically and looked at her friend. “I cannot feel sorry for him,” she said. “Whatever are the consequences of his actions, he has brought them upon himself .”

  Olivia nodded, though Isabella knew it was not Gerard she felt sorry for, but for her. Any prospects she had now would likely be gone, as the stepsister of a traitor. She didn't really care about any such prospects, however, with the exception of one man .

  “Come now.” Bradley took her hand and together, they walked towards the study door. She glanced behind her, seeing everything back in its proper place .

  “The only thing we cannot do is lock the study door,” Kenley whispered, frowning. “But that cannot be helped .”

  Isabella nodded and walked into the hallway – only to pause mid-step, catching Bradley’s arm. "Wait," she whispered, as Kenley shut the study door and came to stand next to them and Olivia. "Is that not a carriage ?"

  The front door to the estate was not far from where they stood and, as one, they flew towards it. It was ajar and, to her horror, she saw Belrose’s carriage trundle past them, before heading for the gate. Apparently, Charles Belrose was running away .

  “We must go after him,” Bradley said, quickly, handing Isabella the stack of letters. “Read these, Isabella. Discover what you can. I will return later today with the men I need to arrest your brother. Do you think you can keep yourself safe until I return ?”

  Isabella looked up at him, only able to make out his features by the dim morning light. “I believe I can defend myself against him, should it come to that,” she replied quietly, hating that he had to go. “But I intend to feign ignorance for as long as I can .”

  He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I know this is difficult for you, my dear,” he said, a little more softly. “But all shall be put to rights by the end of the day, I assure you. You will be free and quite safe, I promise .”

  She gave him a quick forced smile and nodded, her eyes dropping to the stack of letters in her hand. “I will look for your return .”

  His mouth was on hers just as soon as she finished speaking, ignoring the presence of Olivia and Lord Kenley altogether. It was hot and sweet, one that spoke of promise and hope – and then, in the next moment, he was gone from her side. She kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, only to see him and Lord Kenley disappear into the darkness. Closing the door quietly, she leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the severity of tonight’s events sink into her mind .

  “Oh Isabella,” said Olivia, her eyes shining. “I believe that’s the most thrill I’ve had in my entire life. Shocking to be sure, though I’m so sorry about Gerard’s involvement. It’s not terribly unsurprising, I suppose. He has always been an ass, and it explains much about how he has foisted himself on you and your life. And the Duke — oh, Isabella, he wants you, that much is certain .”

  Isabella nodded mutely, feeling quite drained all of a sudden as the adrenaline left her body and she was left with trepidation on what would happen to her next .

  “For all that Bradley — the Duke of Carrington — has shown interest in me, once all is public about Gerard, he will distance himself from me. I am now not only the daughter of a disreputable viscount, but now my family is embroiled in further scandal against the entirety of the country .”

  “He knows you have done nothing to be at fault!” exclaimed Olivia .

  “Thank you for your help, Olivia,” Isabella said, ignoring her words with a small smile. “I trust you will not disclose this to anyone for the time being .”

  Olivia nodded. “Of course. And Isabella, please, stay away from Gerard, at least until the Duke and Lord Kenley return. If you need anything, I am but a few doors away. Keep faith .”

  Isabella squeezed her hand in thanks as they climbed the stairs and said goodnight .

  Once back in her bedchamber, with the doors firmly locked and with chairs placed in front of them, just to be doubly sure Gerard could not enter and surprise her, Isabella laid out each letter on the floor in front of her. She was grieved over what her stepbrother had chosen to do but knew that Gerard had always sought power. He had always wanted to be in control, and to have others bowing before him. It appeared that he had managed to secure such a thing by involving himself in espionage. More than likely, it paid a pretty penny too – and Gerard had always been desperate to accumulate more and more wealth .

  With a sinking heart, she began to read through the letters one at a time, seeing the development her stepbrother had gone through. Initially, he had started off by finding a few names for this man, Vaquelin, but had done more and more until he was sending back information on a regular basis .

  There were requests for the names of those closest to the royal family, of those who had the highest titles and the greatest wealth. Vaquelin asked for information about the army, which, apparently, Gerard had struggled to supply. And then had come the warning that the Foreign Office was becoming a little more on their guard, and, however they had discovered it, there were men within society working for the Foreign Office .

  There was no clear evidence showing how Gerard had known that it had been Bradley and his friend Roger, the youngest son of an earl and a friend from youth, were the ones he was looking for, but she suspected that Bradley would prise that information from Gerard once he had been arrested. Her heart had wrenched as she’d read Vaquelin’s letter congratulating Gerard on successfully disposing of one man, but simultaneously warning him to find, and dispatch, the other also. The Duke had mentioned something about his horse and about his brandy, but she had not asked too many questions, given that her mind was already crammed with information .

  There was no question about it. Gerard was the man Bradley was looking for. He was the traitor. He was the conspirator. He was the murderer .

  Feeling slightly nauseous, Isabella collected up all the letters, keeping the ones that revealed the most about Gerard’s wrongdoings at the front of the pile. She was not quite sure what to do with them at first, knowing that she needed a good hiding place just in case Gerard came looking for them here should he realize they were gone. Whatever Lord Belrose had done, he was now on the run and she could not say what Gerard’s reaction might be to that .

  Opening the door to the small dressing room, she stepped inside and looked around the dusty room. Finding a small hiding place at the back of the large wardrobe in the corner, she placed the letters there carefully, before closing the dressing room door and locking it once more. Then, feeling quite exhausted, she removed her dress and slipped into her night things. Dawn was already breaking, but Isabella knew she would not be able to keep her eyes open for much longer, despite the thoughts whirling through her mind .

  Lying down on her bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin and stared up at the ceiling. Life was about to change from this day onwards. Once Bradley had captured Gerard, there would be no need for him to be in her life any longer, though Isabella did not want him to leave her .

  She knew with certainty, however, he would never want to be with her after this, knowing what he did about her stepbrother. He may have been attracted to her, as he said, but she supposed all along, as she had heard him say to Lord Kenley, he had grown close to her to find out what he could about Gerard. He ma
y have wanted her, but it was never anything permanent, especially now that he knew her stepbrother had been responsible for the death of his closest friend .

  The treasure chest and heirlooms within no longer seemed to matter quite as much. Instead, replacing her urge to find the box and make her escape, she found that her longing was to be in the Duke’s arms, wishing that he was the one to give her the freedom she had been searching for .

  18

  B radley spurred his horse to a gallop, with Alastair riding full-pelt beside him. The grass was frosty under the horse’s hooves, and he certainly had to ride with care, but his determination to catch Belrose spurred him on. There had been a delay as they’d saddled their horses, finding no groomsmen about — which had not been surprising given the hour — but that delay had cost many precious minutes. He did not want Belrose to reach London, for then he could easily lose the man. He had no particular knowledge of Belrose, so did not know where he lived, nor who his friends and acquaintances were. The man could disappear and Bradley might never find him again for, by the time he found out the man’s address from Isabella, Charles Belrose could have easily left the country .

  His breath came in short gasps as he pushed his horse harder. Luckily, the mounts were fresh and keen to gallop, evidently enjoying the fresh morning air. That, at least, was a blessing .

  “Ho!” Alastair shouted, nodding to Bradley’s left. “Look, there !”

  To Bradley’s very great relief, there was a carriage just turning around a slight bend in the road. It was not far and, within minutes, they had caught up with it .

  “Stop there!” Bradley called, seeing the stunned expression on the coachman’s face. “Stop there, I say !”

  Charles Belrose’s face appeared at the carriage window, looking more like a wraith than a man. “Do not stop!” he screamed, thumping on the carriage roof for all he was worth. “Do not stop !”