The Gamekeeper's Lady

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘I’d wager you are, since once more you came out of it scot-free.’

  Hardly. Robert was about to take issue, when Mr Bliss put his pincenez on his nose and cleared his throat dramatically.

  The room fell silent.

  Bliss unrolled the scroll.

  A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Frederica bent to pick it up. She unfolded it.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped.

  Robert couldn’t see what it was.

  She glanced up at Snively. ‘This is one of my drawings.’ She touched it with a fingertip. ‘Of a pigeon? How did it get here?’

  ‘Your father saw you walking in the village one day, the day he set me to watch over you,’ Snively said. ‘You dropped it. He kept it with him until the day he passed on. He was also an artist. Some of his pictures of India received acclaim.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He came looking for me?’ she whispered.

  ‘Ahem,’ Bliss said, drawing attention back to him. He glared at the assembled company over his spectacles.

  Read the damned document, Robert wanted to yell. He held his tongue and assuaged his impatience by keeping a close eye on Wynchwood.

  ‘I have already relayed the gist of this to Miss Brace-well, but she wanted you all to hear it too.’ He looked around. Robert bunched his fists but managed to remain still.

  ‘Her father, Lord Abernathy—’

  A ripple of disbelief ran around the room. Wynch-wood’s jaw dropped.

  Abernathy? Her father was a lord? Robert combed his memory. Wasn’t he…the richest of all the Indian nabobs? Richer than Croesus of Greek mythology. His name was still mentioned in the clubs with awe and envy.

  His throat dried.

  Bliss raised a silencing hand. ‘The Earl of Abernathy left his entire fortune to his daughter. Miss Frederica Bracewell has proved her identity. Unfortunately, Lord Abernathy was unable to claim his daughter in his lifetime. The circumstances surrounding their relationship are unfortunate and not to be described here.’ He glared at Wynchwood. ‘But as a younger son with no prospects, he was shipped off to India. Only later did he inherit his title. By the time he received word of his daughter’s birth, her mother was dead.’

  ‘Should have let him marry the gel,’ Lord Wynchwood muttered.

  ‘Should have consulted a fortune teller,’ Lullington murmured.

  Robert barely restrained himself from strangling the bastard.

  Bliss clapped his hands for silence. ‘Because of the guardianship arrangements made by her legal father, Abernathy could do nothing until those arrangements ended. He feared when the Bracewells learned of his plans to leave her his fortune they would find a way to spend it.’ He glared at Lord Wynchwood, who turned the colour of a beetroot. ‘It seems he was right.’

  Misty-eyed Frederica placed a hand to her throat. ‘I still can’t believe my father was a nobleman.’

  Robert could see that she was happier about discovering her father was a worthwhile man than about the fortune she’d inherited. She really was a remarkable woman. She deserved a good man.

  He felt as if someone had knocked him down and run over his chest with a coach and four.

  He was not that man.

  Bliss smiled at Frederica kindly and handed her the roll of parchment. ‘The details are all in here.’

  Wynchwood groaned. ‘I should have married you to Simon years ago.’

  ‘Too late, I’m afraid,’ Frederica said.

  At that moment the outer door opened and young Simon barged in. ‘Uncle,’ he cried. ‘I have brought the special licence. We can marry tomorrow.’

  Lullington cracked a laugh. ‘Always behind the time, young Bracewell.’

  Robert returned a grim smile to this sally. He could not let Lullington know what this meant to him or the viscount would have a field day.

  Simon’s smile faded as he stared at his uncle. ‘I say, what is going on?’

  ‘Ingratitude is going on,’ Lord Wynchwood proclaimed, his face drained of colour for once. He looked as if he might collapse. He lurched towards Frederica.

  Robert straightened, and imposed his body between Frederica and her uncle.

  ‘All these years,’ Wynchwood shouted past Robert, waving his fist. ‘I fed you. Clothed you. And this is how I’m repaid?’

  ‘You treated her more like a pariah,’ Robert said, shoving him back gently.

  ‘Can I do whatever I want with the money?’ Frederica asked.

  Bliss nodded and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened. Her mouth formed a perfect O. ‘My word,’ she uttered.

  Bliss nodded. ‘Do not worry, I will advise you.’

  ‘As will I,’ Snively said with a warning note in his voice.

  God, they were going to tear at her like dogs over a carcass. He felt sick. Well, he wouldn’t be one of those looking for scraps.

  Frederica turned a shoulder to the room and murmured something to Bliss. He shook his head. She stiffened. Bliss wrung his hands, then bowed in submission. She cast a considering gaze on the company. ‘I thank you for your kind offer of marriage, Simon, but no. Nevertheless, I do owe the Bracewells a great debt. After all, you could have dropped me off at the nearest workhouse and my father might never have found me.’

  Robert cursed under his breath. What foolishness was she about? She should have them tossed out on their ears. ‘Don’t let them sponge on you.’

  She gave him a gentle smile. ‘They are family. And families must take care of each other, mustn’t they, R-Robert?’

  ‘Not always.’

  The stubborn set of her jaw told him she wouldn’t listen and she continued in a clear voice. ‘I have asked Mr Bliss to set up a monthly allowance for Simon on the understanding he is not to use it for gaming.’

  Lullington paled. ‘I’m done here,’ he said in Robert’s ear. ‘You win again, it seems.’

  If this was winning, he’d hate to lose. Robert shrugged. Frederica had won. She’d have her freedom. To paint. To travel. To live life as she pleased. It was the best possible outcome.

  She didn’t need him at all.

  ‘What is owed to you will be paid, Viscount Lullington,’ Frederica called out.

  The viscount swung around with a dumbfounded expression. ‘You honour me, Miss Bracewell.’

  She was too soft-hearted by far.

  She cast Lullington a saucy smile. ‘I suggest you find a way to relieve Lady Caldwell of her other encumbrance, for I do believe the two of you would make a good match of it.’

  With a soft laugh, Lullington made her a flourishing bow. ‘Do you recommend poison or a bullet?’

  Frederica cast him a mischievous look. ‘Ending up on the gallows will not help your suit.’

  Her face changed, lost its happy expression as her gaze fell on Robert. He started to back away.

  ‘R-Robert—’

  ‘No,’ Robert said. He wasn’t a man who could be bought. He went where he willed. He always had. ‘I want nothing.’ He would not be a jackal snapping at her heels. Or a lap dog dancing on hind legs for crumbs.

  And yet still his heart pounded, drumming out evil hope. He headed for the door, feeling as though his feet were trapped in quicksand and he was slowly sinking.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked with a catch in her voice.

  He let his expression cool, curled his lip and turned to face her. ‘It has been a pleasure knowing you, Miss Bracewell, but I value my freedom.’

  Her eyes sparkled. Tears. The sight of them burned acid in his gut, but he kept his gaze steady, his smile cynical and bored.

  A crystal drop rolled down her cheek, and yet she bravely smiled. ‘Then I must wish you well.’

  ‘This is outrageous,’ Wynchwood yelled. ‘A woman can’t be trusted—’

  ‘Say one more word,’ Robert growled in the old man’s ear as he passed, ‘and you will find yourself on the pavement on your arse with a bloody nose. Be glad she’s not visiting upon you the kind of misery she’s endured at your
hands all these years. She’s rich enough to see you ruined.’

  The old gentleman shriveled, backing away. ‘Preposterous,’ he muttered. ‘Gave her everything.’ He glanced around to see if anyone had heard.

  Frederica would have to watch this family of hers, but it wasn’t his business. He headed for the door with Lullington and John hard on his heels.

  Out in the street the three men stared at each other.

  ‘So, Mountford, once more you land on your feet,’ Lullington said, looking sour.

  Feeling rather more as if he had holes blown in his chest with a shotgun, Robert glared at the dandy. ‘Why the hell are you whining? Your debts will be paid.’

  ‘I’d have got a whole lot more if you hadn’t robbed the Wynchwoods of their due. Perhaps I should woo the rich woman you rejected back there.’

  Robert cursed vilely. ‘Go near her and I’ll—’ He lunged, fists clenched.

  Lullington dodged back and released the catch on his swordstick. ‘Fisticuffs? You always were a ruffian.’

  John stepped between them. ‘Enough. It won’t matter who kills who, the other one will end up at the end of a rope. Where’s the sense in that?’

  ‘I had hoped to see him carted off to Newgate this morning,’ Lullington said. ‘Having a duke for a father won’t protect you for ever, Mountford. I’ll be there the next time you put a foot wrong.’

  ‘With trumped-up evidence, no doubt.’ Robert stared down his nose. ‘You are lucky charges weren’t brought against you. If it weren’t for Maggie, I would have.’

  ‘Leave her out of this.’

  ‘And leave Miss Bracewell out of your schemes. She’s had enough people taking advantage.’ Himself included, damn it. Hopefully she’d find someone a little less jaded. A man with less to regret in his past. He took a deep breath. ‘Look, I doubt this will make any difference, but I am sorry about your cousin. She’s no less a schemer than you are, and deserved to be put in her place, but I shouldn’t have let it go so far. I’m glad she found a husband. And I’m glad Maggie has you looking out for her.’

  Lullington’s eyes widened, no doubt as surprised as Robert by the apology.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to keep you away from Miss Bracewell,’ Robert continued. ‘Including using my family’s power.’ A threat if ever he’d made one.

  Lullington looked down at the ground, his fingers playing with his quizzing glass, then raised his eyes to Robert’s face. ‘All right. We’ll call it a stalemate. Just stay out of my business in future, or next time I won’t fail.’ He turned to John and bowed. ‘I bid you good day.’

  ‘Bloody bastard,’ Robert muttered, watching Lullington twirl his gold-headed cane as he strolled away looking every inch a mincing tulip of fashion.

  ‘Never mind him. What about you?’ John said at his shoulder.

  ‘God knows. See Mother tomorrow, I suppose. Look for work.’

  ‘You made her cry.’ Robert knew John wasn’t referring to his mother.

  ‘She’ll recover. They always do.’

  But would he? Somehow he felt as if he’d left a piece of himself inside the tawdry little office.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a good few moments before Robert could bring himself to ring the bell at Mountford House. He’d never expected to set foot in the place again. He’d never wanted to. Except for a yearning that would not be denied. Not now, as he stood on the doorstep.

  He took a deep breath and pulled the bell, listened to the tolling deep in the servants’ quarters.

  Grimshaw opened the door. Not a flicker passed across his face at the sight of Robert. The man was imperturbable, as all dukes’ servants should be. ‘Lord Robert, good to see you again.’

  ‘Thank you, Grimshaw.’ He handed over his hat.

  ‘Her Grace is in the blue drawing room.’

  ‘I know the way. No need to announce me. I believe I am expected.’

  The butler bowed.

  Expected.

  How formal it sounded.

  But he was the black sheep. Not returning home, but merely paying a courtesy call. It hadn’t taken too many hours of staring into a brandy glass to realise he would not remain in England. Even if Frederica had gone to Italy, her face would haunt him in every field and wood. He might be tempted to follow her.

  Early this morning, he’d drafted a note declining his mother’s invitation, but in the end he hadn’t the heart to send it. So here he was, prepared for tears and admonishments and a final farewell.

  He stared at the drawing room door. Did he knock?

  Hell. She had called him her son.

  He turned the handle and walked in.

  As always she looked beautiful for her age. A little pale, a little sad, a little more fragile, but there was a welcome on her lips and in her eyes.

  ‘Mama.’ He started forwards.

  A movement jerked his gaze from his mother to a figure rising from a chair on the other side of the room.

  Father. Bile rose in his throat. He was not even to have this moment alone with his mother.

  He bowed and then met his father’s gaze. ‘Your Grace. Forgive me. I was unaware of your presence.’ Heartsick, he turned to leave.

  ‘Robert, wait.’ His father’s voice.

  He stilled. ‘My son. Please. I’m sorry.’

  Robert turned slowly. Never in his life had he heard his father retract his word or offer an apology. He darted a glance at Mother. Her face showed nothing.

  His father strode forwards, hand outstretched. ‘Can you forgive what I did?’ he asked. ‘Your mother cannot.’

  His father’s brown eyes pleaded. It was as far as he would go. Far further than Robert would ever have expected.

  He grasped the offered hand, felt its strength and its tremble. ‘Father.’ It was all he could manage without breaking down, without bringing shame on them both.

  Somehow he choked down the lump in his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Father. I should never have helped Charlie to join the army. It was wrong. I could not have borne it if he had come to any real harm.’

  Father’s eyes moistened. He raised a hand. ‘I know, my boy. I should not have blamed you. Charlie and I had a long talk. Youth believes itself invincible. I had forgotten. I’m glad you finally came home.’

  ‘Come here, Robert,’ Mother said. ‘Let me look at you.’

  He strode to stand in front of her and took both her hands in his and kissed them.

  ‘Oh, my son. I’ve missed you greatly. Sit down. I want to hear what you have been doing. Radthorn told me a little, but I gather you have been employed in the country?’

  He sat beside her on the sofa. She retained hold of his hand as if she feared he might run from the room as he had done so often as a boy.

  ‘Gamekeeping,’ he said with a wary look at Father who had taken the chair beside the hearth.

  ‘Learned a lot, did you?’ Father asked. He sounded eager.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You always did like the land,’ Father said in satisfied tones.

  He’d noticed? Robert tried to hold his jaw in place. He wasn’t sure he succeeded from the knowing gleam in his father’s eye.

  ‘Your mother pointed it out,’ Father said, with a fond glance at his wife. ‘I should have realised. Lord knows there are enough estates to worry about.’

  Robert stiffened. ‘They go with the title.’ He turned to Mother. ‘I want nothing of Charlie’s.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, her grey eyes sorrowful.

  The tension inside him eased. He could almost feel her arms around his shoulders, the way he had as a boy when hurt by his father’s lack of interest. ‘I’m leaving for America,’ he announced, suddenly coming to a decision.

  ‘Why America?’ Father said. ‘We just lost a war with them. Go to Canada, my boy. I’ve some contacts there. I’ll give you letters of introduction.’

  Naturally Father would be glad to see his awkward complication gone. Or was he re
ally trying to help? He swallowed the old bitterness and took the offer at face value. ‘Thank you, your Grace.’

  The clock in the hall chimed. ‘Good lord, is that the time?’ the duke said. ‘I’ll be late for the House.’

  Robert rose. ‘It was good to see you again, your Grace.’

  Father clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’ve done well, my boy. Surprised me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But for your swift action, we might well have lost Charles.’

  This was the thanks Robert had wanted all those months ago. The recognition that he would never cause his brother harm and that he was just as important to his family as his brother. The anger clutching at his heart seeped away at the sight of his father’s distress. A hot lump of emotion scoured the back of his throat. He managed a nod.

  The duke smiled sadly at his wife. ‘Your mother believes Charles will come about now we have found you again.’ His grim face said he wasn’t quite sure.

  Robert glanced at his mother. ‘What is wrong with Charlie?’

  His mother sighed. ‘We have rarely seen him since your departure. And not heard a word from him since he left for Durn after New Years’ Day. He’ll come to his senses.’

  Father closed his eyes briefly. ‘I was wrong to try to drive a wedge between my sons. Dem me…’ He turned away, but not before Robert saw the moisture in the old man’s eyes. So the duke really did have a heart.

  His own felt a little less bruised. ‘It doesn’t matter, Father. You did what you thought was right. For the good of the family.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ said Mother.

  The duke kissed his wife’s hand and straightened his shoulders. ‘If you need that recommendation, let me know, but I’d be very happy if you decided to stay.’ He strode from the room, not quite as tall as Robert remembered. Not quite as self-assured.

  Her grace watched him go with a sad expression. ‘Pride is a difficult thing,’ she said softly. ‘It is so hard to go back.’

  ‘I’m grateful for your help,’ Robert said. ‘With Father. And Miss Bracewell. Though you should not have put yourself in such danger. If anything had happened to you…’

  His mother raised an elegant hand and lightly touched his cheek. ‘I haven’t had so much excitement in years. Her mother and I were friends, you know. I had a long talk with Miss Bracewell when John brought her here yesterday morning.’