‘No. Ignore me.’ She took a deep breath and appeared to shake off her concerns. ‘I am being fanciful.’
‘Ah now, as a true Irishman I am a slave to intuition, superstition, sixth senses and just about anything you can name that’s connected with the supernatural.’ He waggled his fingers at her, making her smile. ‘It’s a little arrogant of us feeble humans, don’t you think, to imagine that we are the only intelligent living beings. To be sure, don’t we put all our faith in the wee leprechauns? Anyway, I will protect you from whatever it is that haunts this place, so you have nothing to fear.’
She sent him a wry smile. ‘How reassuring.’
He guided her to a rough stone bench to one side of the dying fire and they sat down side by side. Almost as soon as they had done so, Doran realised he had made a mistake. Riding required concentration, but sitting here in this isolated spot made him aware of…well, of their isolation, of her close proximity and the almost overwhelming desire he struggled to suppress whenever he found himself alone with her. And even when they were not alone. A desire to pull her into his arms and compound his felony of the previous evening threatened to overtake him. He sensed her anxiety and wondered if she regretted dismounting too.
That thought implied that he regretted it. He did not. Any time alone with Leona Marlowe was to be cherished, and that was what concerned him.
‘Leona, I owe you an apology.’
‘You seem preoccupied,’ she said at the same time. Then his words appeared to register with her. ‘An apology for what?’ She looked away from him as she posed the question and Doran assumed that she already knew the answer to it.
‘For last night. I should not have…’
His words trailed off. He had decided not to mention the matter, yet it was the first serious subject he broached with her. He had never been so indecisive before, and held her entirely responsible for the mercurial nature of his decision making. Looking at her lovely profile, a man could easily forget his own name.
‘Should not have what?’ She returned her full attention to him, her eyes wide with curiosity. And something else. An emotion that he struggled to identify. Confusion, challenge, desire? She was an enigma and he couldn’t be absolutely sure. ‘Why are you so afraid to commit yourself, Doran? Why do you hold a part of yourself back?’
‘Do I?’
‘You know you do. You are gregarious, partly I think because you imagine it is expected of you. You are Irish and it would be letting the side down to be serious for long.’ Her brow creased as she took a moment to articulate her thoughts. Doran wanted to tell her to stop, that she was trespassing in areas where he never allowed anyone in, but the words died on his lips. He wasn’t surprised that Leona had seen straight through the façade he had worked so hard to perfect. ‘Who disappointed you?’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘Tell me to mind my own business if you like.’
The peace and quiet was absolute, but for the occasional snort from one of the horses, the wind whistling around the crumbling walls and the panting of the dogs, who had flopped down in front of the rapidly cooling embers. He waited for the pain to consume him, as it inevitably did on the rare occasions when he allowed his mind to dwell upon his disappointment.
‘Her name was Coleen.’ Doran blinked, wondering who had dared to mention her name in his hearing. It took him a moment to realise that it was him. ‘She and I were childhood friends. More than friends really. I think we both subconsciously recognised the connection between us, even when we were too young to understand its significance. We grew up as neighbours in County Wicklow. I pulled her pigtails when we were children and she retaliated by letting our pigs out of the sty.’
Leona laughed. ‘That sounds a little extreme.’
‘I thought so too. The pigs were my responsibility and it took me the rest of the day to round them up. I received a beating for being negligent. I had pulled her pigtails countless times though, so I expect she got a bit fed up with it and decided that drastic action was called for.’ He found himself smiling at the memory. ‘When I came back from university in Dublin, Coleen was no longer an irksome girl in pigtails, but all grown up and the most beautiful creature I had ever beheld. We became inseparable and she accepted my proposal of marriage without telling her father.’
‘Ah,’ Leona said.
‘He had ambitions for her. Wanted more for his daughter than a modest Irish landowner. But we were deeply in love. Coleen told me to leave her father to her. He knew how devoted to one another we were, could never deny her anything and would come round in time.’ Doran leaned back on his braced arms, lost in a past that he never thought about if he could possibly help it, much less discussed with anyone. ‘Her father took the entire family to London for a season. Coleen didn’t want to go, but she assured me that when she returned, she would have persuaded her father to see things her way. Looking back, I can see now that he took her away with the deliberate intention of letting her see the alternative lifestyle that was on offer.’
‘He wanted her to marry an Englishman?’
‘Not just an Englishman but an English earl,’ Doran replied bitterly. ‘And she did, too. When she came back and airily told me that she was engaged, I thought my entire world had come to an end. I reminded her about our agreement but she waved it aside, saying we had been children and didn’t know our own minds.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought I would die from the pain. I have never known anything quite so excruciating before or since.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Leona said softly, placing her gloved hand on his forearm and leaving it there.
‘Don’t be. Of course I didn’t die of a broken heart, but I did learn from the experience, and as you rightly surmised, I haven’t allowed anyone to get too close since then.’
‘Is Coleen happy?’
Doran shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think she is. But you would be quite wrong if you suppose that realisation gives me pleasure.’
‘I didn’t think that for a single moment.’
‘She comes to Ireland frequently, often alone, and stays for prolonged periods. She has tried more than once to rekindle our friendship but I want nothing to do with her. She got her title and a rich husband. She cannot have it both ways.’
‘We have neither of us been very lucky when it comes to affairs of the heart,’ she said reflectively. ‘But at least you had the bliss of briefly knowing true love, however misplaced.’
‘Misplaced?’ He raised a brow at her.
‘Certainly. Or perhaps I should say unreciprocated. If she had truly loved you in return, she would not have married her earl, no matter how much parental pressure she was obliged to withstand.’
‘She didn’t want to disappoint her father, whom she adored, or so she has assured me on the one or two occasions when our paths crossed in Ireland afterwards. If I know she is at home, I tend to avoid accepting invitations where she is likely to be present. I don’t know what it is that she wants from me, but I am unable to supply her with it. I should add that her earl is considerably older than she is, has grown children from his first marriage who live with them, and she herself has no children of her own. Despite everything, I’m sorry about that. I know how desperately she wanted to be a mother.’
‘I think her father’s wishes are an excuse, and that she preferred the idea of being an English lady.’ She flashed a mischievous smile. ‘Either that or you tugged at her pigtails once too often.’
Doran laughed. ‘Now that is a distinct possibility.’
‘As I say, at least you loved, so you know that love exists. I have never been that fortunate and never shall be. Not now. I won’t take the risk.’
‘We are a damaged pair and no mistake.’ He stood up, offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come along now, we have left those horses standing about in the cold for too long.’
She smiled at him as she regained her feet and turned to dislodge the train of her habit, which had got caught up on the stone bench. ‘Bother, I hope I have not da
maged…Oh, what’s that?’
Doran looked over her shoulder and saw what had caught her attention. A small valise that had been pushed into a gap beneath another large stone. It was almost completely concealed and it was purely by chance that she happened to notice it.
‘Let’s have a look.’
He released her arm, bent down and gave the bag a tug. It came free and Doran delved inside.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘It belongs to the person who’s been living here, one assumes.’
‘Then it’s also reasonable to assume that he is not a poacher. Most self-respecting poachers, I believe, have homes to go to after their night’s illicit activities.’
‘A literate poacher at that,’ Doran said, extracting a letter. He felt the colour drain from his face as he read it. Leona crouched down beside him and read it too before he could prevent her.
‘Instructions to report my movements,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Who on earth…’
‘The man who followed you here, I imagine. He must have sent an express to Yaris and received these instructions by way of response.’
‘I don’t recognise the handwriting, and there’s no signature or address.’
‘But it’s clear enough,’ Doran said grimly. ‘We need to tell the duke about this, and tell him right away.’
‘Aren’t we going to take the letter with us?’ she asked when Doran returned it to the bag and pushed it back beneath the rock, leaving it exactly as he had found it.
‘No. I suspect the man has gone into Shawford to meet with Devonshire. Or maybe he’s waiting there to see if you leave the Park. Either way he will have to come back, since he’s obviously sleeping here.’
‘Why not in a tavern?’ Leona asked, perplexed. ‘He would be more comfortable there.’
‘He would draw unwanted attention to himself. He was seen by some of the locals when he threatened you, don’t forget, and they are fiercely loyal to the duke. Anyway, now that we know he is here I dare say the duke will arrange for him to be brought back to the Park to explain himself. He can either tell us what he knows or be gaoled for a long time for trespass and whatever else the duke can think up to charge him with.’
‘Suddenly the joy has gone out of this ride,’ Leona said, shuddering.
Doran couldn’t help himself. Ordinarily she seemed so self-assured, but now he was seeing her vulnerable side and it was beyond his dwindling ability to stop himself from pulling her into his arms. Her body trembled as it collided with his and he comforted her with large sweeps of his hands across her back.
‘It will be all right,’ he said in a reassuring tone. ‘We finally have the upper hand.’
‘Do we?’ She shook her head against his shoulder, knocking her hat askew without appearing to realise it. ‘How much do you suppose he actually knows?’
‘He will know who he is working for. Don’t forget that the man has at least enough education to be able to read and write. Perhaps he is someone from the middle classes who has fallen upon hard times. Or someone permanently employed by Yaris, if we are very lucky. Either way, his education implies a degree of intelligence that will make him think of his own skin before loyalty to his master.’
‘I wish this was all over!’ She sighed but the sound was lost in the thickness of his clothing. ‘I have done nothing to deserve it.’
‘Have courage, my sweet. We are getting close.’
He tilted her chin backwards by placing his index finger beneath it and she was compelled to meet his gaze. Whatever she saw in it caused her to gasp and her cheeks to flood with colour. Without considering the wisdom of his actions, Doran lowered his head and claimed her lips in a drugging kiss of such deep intensity that they were both breathing heavily when he broke it.
‘Is that your normal method of reassurance?’ she asked in a dazed tone.
‘I save it for special occasions.’
She laughed and the intimacy of the moment passed without embarrassment on either part.
‘Come along.’
He took her hand, whistled to the slumbering dogs and they returned to the horses, where he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her into her saddle. She seemed a little breathless when she landed in it, but had collected up both her reins and her composure in the time it took him to vault onto the back of his own horse and turn in the direction of the Park.
Chapter Fourteen
Amos and Zach were in Zach’s library together when Conroy and Lady Marlowe joined them, looking pink-faced and windswept. Zach’s two soggy dogs pushed past them, wagged their tails at their master and then flopped down in front of the fire and fell to grooming each other.
‘Did you enjoy your ride?’ Amos asked. ‘I trust the horses behaved.’
‘Very much so, thank you, but that is not why we intruded.’
Amos shared a look with Zach when Conroy went on to explain their discoveries in the ruined farmhouse. He knew that Zach took exception to vagrants living off his land and would have something to say to his head keeper with regard to his negligence. It sounded as though this particular uninvited guest was no vagrant, which made matters ten times more worrying. Since Crista’s murder, Zach had taken the security of his family very seriously and would not rest easy at the thought of a stranger in close proximity to the house, even if there was little hope of his getting near enough to do them any harm. He would have to be desperate or suicidal to attempt it.
‘We mistook the building for a folly at first,’ Conroy explained.
‘It was a largish farmhouse destroyed by fire, by accident or design we have never known,’ Zach told them. ‘This was in my father’s day, and there was a dispute between him and the farmer in question. He disappeared along with his family—the farmer that is—at the time the house went up in flames. Neither my father nor I ever got around to restoring it.’ He gave a brief, mirthless laugh. ‘Legend has it that the place is fated. There has certainly been a number of unfortunate events linked to it over the years.’
‘I sensed that,’ Lady Marlowe said softly.
‘We think the man living there could be the same one who accosted Lady Marlowe when she arrived in Shawford. The man who followed her there, in fact,’ Conroy said. ‘And we found the evidence to prove it.’
Zach and Amos both frowned when Conroy related the contents of the note they had discovered.
‘There can be no doubt then,’ Zach said, looking grave. ‘You did the right thing to leave the bag there undisturbed.’
‘It’s fortunate that I saw it,’ Lady Marlowe said. ‘It was deliberately concealed, but still rather careless of the man to leave the letter inside it.’
‘Perhaps he didn’t want to be caught with anything incriminating in his pockets,’ Amos said. ‘In the event of his being detained by any of Zach’s men in Shawford, I mean.’
‘Then why not just burn it?’ Lady Marlowe asked.
‘We shall ask the man when we find him,’ Zach replied. ‘But if I had to guess, I would say it was because he wanted to protect himself. To prove he had been ordered by someone else to observe you.’
Amos nodded. ‘He was putting his own interests first. Anyway, he wouldn’t have expected anyone to find his hiding place, certainly not in this weather.’
‘Unfortunately for the rogue, idiots like us enjoying riding out in such conditions,’ Conroy replied, grinning. ‘However, we know Devonshire has gone into Shawford this morning. He passed by without seeing us and he was in a heck of a hurry. It was almost as if he was late for an assignation, wouldn’t you say?’ He turned to Lady Marlowe for confirmation and she nodded. ‘My man is following him and will hopefully discover him meeting your mystery lodger, at which point we will have a better idea of what’s going on.’
‘How would the man get from the ruined house to the village?’ Lady Marlowe asked. ‘We didn’t notice any hoof marks other than those made by our horses.’
‘There’s an old smugglers’ trail through the trees that
would bring him out on the common. There are smugglers’ routes all over the estate, come to that, far too many of which are still in use.’ Zach sighed. ‘It’s less than two miles to Shawford if he found that particular shortcut, and I think it safe to assume that he did. He wouldn’t have established himself anywhere that he couldn’t escape from. He could do so from there simply by falling back into the trees. Even at this time of year, he could easily hide amongst them and my keepers, assuming he was a lone poacher, wouldn’t waste energy chasing after him if he had left the estate.’
‘That implies local knowledge,’ Conroy remarked.
‘Not necessarily,’ Amos replied. ‘He wanted to stay hidden after being caught making a nuisance of himself with Lady Marlowe. His instructions were to remain close to her, but he hadn’t counted on her cause being taken up by a duke. No wonder he sent to London for fresh instructions, which the letter you found implies was the case. He couldn’t stay in the tavern, not once Jeggins knew we disapproved of his presence in the area, so he had no choice but to find somewhere else to hide close to the estate.’
Conroy nodded. ‘And the logical thing for him to do would be to try and find one of the old routes onto the estate.’
‘With so much land, there are plenty to be found, even without the local knowledge you referred to earlier,’ Amos agreed.
‘It must have been perishing cold,’ Conroy said with relish.
‘I’ll go and take a look for him in the village,’ Amos said, standing.
Conroy stood also. ‘I will join you.’
‘No, Amos,’ Zach said, ‘it won’t achieve anything if you go charging in there. Let Conroy’s man report back on their meeting. I don’t want Devonshire to know we are on to him yet. We have nothing specific to throw at him, and we’ll be showing our hand for no reason. There’s nothing to prevent him from striking up an acquaintanceship in a tavern, which is what he will say he has done if challenged. I would prefer to catch our uninvited guest when he returns to my estate, which presumably he will do if he has left personal possessions there.’
On the Duke's Authority (Ducal Encounters series 4 Book 3) Page 19