Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection

by Scott, Scarlett

  “I shall look into it, rest assured, Miss Harrismith.”

  She curtsied. “When you return, Your Grace.”

  “Precisely,” he said brusquely, suspecting she was laboring the point. He tapped a finger on his desk. “Now if there’s nothing else?”

  “No, Your Grace. Unless you wish to discuss the work I’ve set for the children?”

  “No need for that now. William will soon have a tutor and we’ll discuss Barbara’s requirements at a later time.” He paused, pointedly waiting for her to leave.

  She made no move toward the door. “My main concern rests with Lord William. He wishes for his own horse, Your Grace, and dislikes riding the mare, Lavender,” she said. “I fear he might be tempted to ride one of your hunters again. And while Ben is laid up there might not be a groom available to take him in hand.”

  “William won’t. He gave me his promise.”

  Dammit, she looked unconvinced. Boys will be boys, he supposed. He pushed away the memory of some peccadillos from his youth that would make his hair stand on end, should William attempt them.

  He’d been right, a lord’s daughter was unsuitable to be a governess. Why hadn’t her father married her off? She was certainly pretty enough. Perhaps it was her stubborn disposition.

  Andrew rose from his chair and came around the desk aware that time was growing short. He needed to instruct his valet to pack a portmanteau and speak to Greta. If she decided to accompany him, there would be a further delay while she changed, and her maid packed her clothes.

  “A groom will be sent down from London to assist the head groom until he is back on his feet. In the meantime, I could order Jem to ride with William.” He gazed down at her as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “But he has to see to my guests. Do you ride by any chance, Miss Harrismith?”

  Her straight dark eyebrows rose over surprised gray eyes. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.”

  “And you have brought riding clothes with you?”

  She looked puzzled. “I have, Your Grace.”

  “Then please accompany William on his morning ride. I am confident your unfailing commonsense will keep the boy on the straight and narrow.” He was rather pleased with the notion. It quite stopped Miss Harrismith in her tracks. Her face had become an attractive shade of pink, and she was no longer frowning.

  “If you feel it best, Your Grace.”

  Andrew strode to the door. He pulled it open startling the footman in the corridor. “I do. Good day.” He stood aside for the slender young woman to exit the room leaving the scent of lily of the valley in her wake.

  Chapter Five

  Jenny’s mount followed after William’s along the bridle path. They rode alone, because poor Ben’s leg had not yet healed enough to allow him to ride, and Jem was out with the guests who’d wished to see more of the estate. It was simply glorious to be on horseback again. Her horse, an elegant bay mare called Rose, was well behaved, and the duke’s woodland quite splendid. The dappled light filtered down through the canopy of leafy branches and cast patterns over the trunks of the trees.

  The sense of freedom Jenny had never expected to experience again was bittersweet; she feared it would break her heart to give it up. But she didn’t fool herself into believing this arrangement would last forever. She’d been astonished when the duke suggested she accompany William and terribly pleased that he’d come to trust her.

  Really, she should not be so keen to impress the man. But when his blue eyes met hers, every nerve ending in her body seemed to stir. She must not forget that he could dismiss her with a snap of his fingers if she did something he disapproved of. Jenny feared she might because she intended to continue to stand up for the children.

  She’d begun to suspect that her initial judgment of the duke had been unfair. He did not appear to be the aloof, indifferent man she’d painted him. He treated his servants well, greeting them kindly as they waited to receive him when he first arrived. They in turn were steadfastly loyal, for not a word had she heard said against him. Certainly, no one could find fault with the fact that he had served England’s interests, and indeed the world’s. But his work left only a small corner of his life to spare for the children, and as she’d learned that his father was also politically inclined, His Grace probably suffered the same lonely childhood as William.

  The mare picked her way around a ditch filled with rainwater as the familiar smells of cold wet earth, fungi, and the glorious autumn foliage, filled Jenny’s senses.

  Too impatient to walk his horse, William had suggested they race to the river, but Jenny sternly insisted he keep to a trot until they reached clearer ground. He’d reluctantly agreed, but still managed to move ahead out of sight.

  The peaceful woodland sounds of twittering birds, chattering squirrels, and the breeze murmuring through the trees, was suddenly shattered by the crack of a gunshot, followed by William’s cry. Startled, Jenny jumped and jarred her neck painfully as the mare bolted. Birds rocketed overhead. With a twist of fear, her years of riding came to the fore. Jenny settled the mare into a canter over ground strewn with piles of wet leaves, loose rocks, and treacherous hidden potholes. She vaulted the horse over a fallen log, as she yelled for William, somewhere ahead.

  At last, she burst out into open space where the river meandered through a wide expanse of meadow. William sat hunched on the ground.

  “William!” Jenny slithered awkwardly down and fell to her knees beside him.

  He gazed up at her white faced. “I’m all right, Miss Harrismith.”

  She almost choked on a gasp of thankfulness. “You’re not hurt?”

  He shook his head.

  “I heard a gunshot. It sounded awfully close,” she said.

  He pointed behind him. “The shot struck that tree over there.”

  Quickly on her feet, she ran over to the towering ash. A small section of bark was shredded. She gasped and put a hand over her pounding heart as she peered into the dense woodland listening for the approach of the shooter. No one emerged to apologize and inquire if they’d been hurt. She hurried back to him. “It must have passed very close to you.”

  William climbed shakily to his feet. “I’d just dismounted and bent to pick up a stone to toss into the water when it happened,” he said, his voice wobbling. “I decided to keep low in case another shot was fired.”

  She wanted to hug him, but the boy was already terrified, so she fought to stay calm. “It must be someone hunting.” But who would shoot so close to the bridle path?

  As she spoke, another gunshot rent the air. Upriver, a bird fell from the sky. “I didn’t know the gamekeeper was out with his gun. We should have been told. How dreadfully careless.” She scowled as she turned to him. “If I’d known this would happen today, I would not have allowed you to ride. It’s not safe here. We must go home.”

  William straightened up. “It was just an accident, Miss Harrismith. Sometimes shots can go wild. Perhaps whoever it was stumbled when they fired.” He sounded surprisingly grown-up and quite an authority as he walked over to her horse. “I’ll help you mount.”

  “Thank you, Lord William,” she said, aware the boy attempted to hide his fear. What a fine duke he would be one day! With the aid of a nearby rock for her to stand on, William lent his arm to assist her onto the sidesaddle. She arranged her skirts, her eyes roaming the trees crowding around them.

  William was up on his horse’s saddle in a trice and they rode back to the stables. This time, she permitted a canter and followed hard behind him. Her heart still raced, and her gaze continued to rake the woods for any sign of activity, hushed now as if all manner of wildlife had retreated.

  Who fired the shot? She’d never met Clovis, but the gamekeeper had been here for years and would know better than to risk the safety of the duke’s family and guests.

  When they reached the stables, Jenny asked the groom if he’d seen Clovis, or if any guests intended to hunt that morning.

  “No, miss, haven’t seen him arou
nd today,” Jem said. “It’s doubtful anyone’s taken a gun out. Not with a shooting party planned.”

  Disquieted, Jenny returned to the schoolroom with William where Barbara waited with the maid.

  “Where is Nanny Evans, Mary?”

  “She said she needed to lie down, Miss Harrismith.”

  “Oh. Is she ill?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “I shall go and see her directly. That will be all, thank you, Mary.”

  “Nanny is taking a nap,” Barbara said, as she brushed her doll’s hair. “Did you go riding, William?”

  “Yes,” William said shortly.

  Jenny expected him to tell his sister about his lucky escape, but he said nothing more. Jenny sighed; they would not ride again until the duke returned. His Grace would have to be told, for an accident like this could not be ignored. It seemed unlikely his guests would take it upon themselves to go out with a gun. In any event, they would have been seen. As soon as she was free, she would go to the gamekeeper’s cottage and inquire.

  “Now,” she said with a smile. “Shall we begin with a French lesson?”

  “Merci,” Barbara said with her perky smile.

  William mumbled and shuffled in his seat.

  At least here in the schoolroom things were back to normal.

  Later, when Nanny woke, she seemed perfectly well. She took charge of the children, and Jenny left the house to cross the grounds to the woods. The gamekeeper’s cottage was a good mile away. Leaving the formal gardens, she took the woodland path. As she studied the sky where rain clouds drifted overhead she failed to see the man coming toward her. She stopped so fast she almost stumbled.

  His strong hands gripped her arms. “I’ve got you, Miss Harrismith.”

  The gentleman from the Continent, Herr Von Bremen, dropped his hands, gracing her with the full measure of his charming smile.

  “I am sorry.” Her cheeks warmed. “I was looking at those clouds. It appears about to rain.”

  Blue eyes held her gaze. “I believe you’re right.”

  “I regret not bringing an umbrella,” she said somewhat inanely. Still uncomfortable, she rushed on. “Have you been to see the gamekeeper?”

  He raised his fair eyebrows. “No. Should I have?”

  “Of course not. Please excuse me, I won’t keep you.” She moved to sidestep him.

  He held his ground, blocking her way on the path narrowed by encroaching shrubbery. “I hiked over to that hill.” He pointed to a rocky outcrop in the distance. “From there you can see for miles.”

  “How delightful. Something for me to look forward to.” She glanced again at the sky. “But not today, perhaps.”

  He didn’t move. “Where are you off to alone?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him, but his curiosity unsettled her. She wasn’t sure why. “Just a short walk. I have some thinking to do.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Then it is plain you don’t wish for company.” He moved aside.

  With a polite nod, Jenny continued on her way. She didn’t turn, but she sensed he watched her. Herr Von Bremen had been perfectly amiable. She had no reason to doubt him. He was a fair distance from the river and did not carry a gun. Surely she had nothing to fear from him, and yet she increased her pace hoping to find the gamekeeper at home. But when she reached his cottage, and knocked, there was no answer.

  She hurried back along the path, her enjoyment of the woods somehow spoiled by an irrational fear that she might be accosted, and no one would hear her cry for help. It made her furious that she allowed herself to feel so vulnerable. Her imagination had taken flight, no doubt because of the episode earlier with William. By the time she reached the house, reason had returned, and those foolish fears had lost their power over her.

  The episode with Herr Von Bremen forgotten, Jenny entered the nursery to see how Nanny fared. She’d become less confident than ever that Nanny was coping. Should she say something to the housekeeper? Jenny disliked the idea and decided it was better to wait. Perhaps the matter would be resolved without her interference. She had mentioned it to the duke and hoped he would take the matter in hand. It was clear that Nanny would welcome a rest for she spoke of it often.

  *

  Andrew deposited Greta at a hotel where one of her friends stayed, then traveled to Whitehall to meet Castlereagh. Four sober-faced men he knew well from Vienna greeted him.

  “Some bad news, I’m afraid,” Lord Fenton said. “Richard, Earl of Winslow has been murdered.”

  “Good God!” It hit him like a blow. Dazed, Andrew shook his head as he took a seat and accepted a glass of whiskey. Winslow was a good friend. “Where did this happen?”

  “Here in London. Winslow intended to return to his estate the following day. Found shot near his club in Pall Mall in the early hours.”

  Andrew still couldn’t believe it. “Were there witnesses?”

  “Not one. He was alone,” Fenton said.

  “Robbed?”

  “No. Still had his watch, fobs and his wallet.” Viscount Bramsten took the seat next to Andrew. “The darndest thing. A white lily had been laid on his chest.”

  “A lily?” Andrew stared around at the worried faces. “What the devil does that mean?”

  “We have no idea,” said Bramsten, “But I have a feeling we are going to find out.”

  Andrew tossed back the whiskey welcoming the reviving burn in his throat. “You think this might have something to do with that dissident group the prince warned us about?”

  “Too early to say,” Fenton said. “Might be something personal. Perhaps a misstep with a lady whose husband sought revenge.”

  Andrew shook his head determined to defend his friend. “Richard and his wife were close. Elizabeth will be devastated. She spent a good deal of time in Vienna with him over the years. I must pay my respects to her.”

  “You can never be sure about a man’s secrets,” Bramsten said. “But should it be some kind of message, I daresay it will be made known soon enough. While we shouldn’t begin jumping at shadows, it is best to increase the guards around your London home. Until we find out more.”

  “And don’t wander around London on your own at night, as Winslow did,” Fenton added.

  “Be armed at all times.” Castlereagh pulled back his coat to reveal the pistols he always carried.

  Andrew viewed his sensitive, melancholy friend with a measure of sadness. The burdens imposed on him as foreign secretary were taking their toll. He had been behaving out of character since the abortive Thistlewood plot to assassinate the Cabinet last year, and during the trial of Queen Caroline, when he took up residence in the Foreign Office for greater safety.

  When Andrew finally departed for Mayfair, and Harrow Court, the distress of his friend’s death made him weary to his bones. London skies were gray with low cloud. The air dense with smoke from the hundreds of fires lit to ward off the dank cold. He found himself eager to return to the clear skies of Castlebridge.

  He now regretted a shoot had been planned even though it was long overdue, the frosts of the past month having delayed it. The proper upkeep of the woodlands was vital to its health and indeed, the future of the estate. He was only too aware of the important role he had in the care of his huge inheritance. Despite the enormous staff that served him, a number of responsibilities rested on his shoulders. There was an accumulation of important matters to attend to since he’d been away, and it would be wrong of him to evade his responsibilities.

  Dusk had fallen when he descended from the carriage onto the sweep of white gravel before his London residence. Lights were being lit in the street. He wondered fleetingly how well Miss Harrismith was coping with his son. It pleased him that she’d developed a good rapport with both of his children. Clearly, William required a tutor, but it would take time for Andrew to select a good one able to gain his son’s respect. He recognized himself in the boy, that firm chin and upright carriage, that stubborn streak. All the Harrows, himself included
, were a determined lot.

  In the salon, Greta ordered her maid from the room. “Did you have a pleasant day?”

  “No, merely business.” He decided not to mention Winslow’s death, as he came to kiss her hand. “Did you enjoy your visit with friends, madam?”

  She smiled. “Oh so much! We have been invited to see a play at Drury Lane tonight.”

  Not a keen theatregoer, Andrew disliked the idea. “Ah, that sounds…”

  After a knock, the footman entered and handed Andrew a note from Castlebridge. Andrew tore it open and read it. “Good lord!”

  Greta put down her glass of madeira. “What is it?”

  “It’s from my secretary. I must return to Castlebridge. My son’s governess has informed Bishop that a shot was fired very close to William while they were out riding this morning.”

  She raised her eyebrows looking incredulous. “A governess’ overreaction to a hunter’s stray shot would send you rushing home?”

  He nodded, uneasy with Winslow’s murder still fresh in his mind. “I can’t dismiss it out of hand.”

  “What about the theatre? It’s Edmund Kean as De Montfort.”

  Andrew frowned. “Surely, my son is of more importance than the theatre?”

  “Of course he is, but you can hardly trust the word of a governess. They are more than capable of embroidering to increase their importance. My mother detested them.”

  “Nevertheless, I will leave shortly for Castlebridge, Greta. Please, stay another night or two. I should not like you to miss the society you so enjoy, or Kean’s performance. I’ll send the coach for you. Let me know when you wish to return.”

  Greta rose gracefully to her feet and cast him an uncertain smile. “I’m sure I shan’t enjoy the play without you, Harrow.”

  “But you’ll stay?”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and gazed up at him, imploringly. “It’s only for one night. I hope you won’t miss me too much.”

  “I shall. But I’ll be comforted by the fact that you’re enjoying yourself, when until the guests arrive for the shooting party, I fear you find the country rather dull.”