The Duke's Bride (The Radcliffe Family Book 1)

by Lindsay Downs

  “My shaving mug and razor are in my private room.”

  “Good, and as I see your valet is returning have him remove your cravat and loosen the collar of your shirt while I collect them,” she told Simon.

  Hearing a chortle from Laura, she risked a glance to her and was happy to see the lady beaming with pleasure. She suspected it was at how she was able to take control of the situation.

  With the last of the lather wiped from Simon’s face, Emma stepped back to examine her work and smiled at him.

  “Perfect, if I do say so myself,” she declared, passing over a hand mirror to Simon so he could examine her work.

  “I should let you do this for me every day.”

  “I think not,” she stated firmly. “Shall we adjourn to the veranda as your daybed and my writing desk should be waiting for us?”

  “Yes, but I need to stop in the office to get the book on early English history I’d started reading.”

  “No, you two go on down, and I’ll collect it for you. I’m assuming it’s on the side table by the settee?” Laura said.

  After a nod from Simon to his mother, Emma picked up a blanket from the foot of the bed and followed them downstairs.

  While they made their way to the veranda, Emma inquired why that particular tome. “Trust me, if anything will put me to sleep it is that book. Not only is it boring, but so many of the facts are wrong. One of these days I might undertake at least a history of the Radcliffe family as one hasn’t been done,” he informed them.

  Over the next hour she kept a watch over Simon while she composed several letters. One in particular to her mother and posted it to Crossingham. Laura seemed engrossed in a romance novel, when Emma heard Simon’s book fall to the flagstones then saw his head drop to his chest.

  “It would seem your son was correct. That tome did put him to sleep,” Emma said, in a whisper.

  Later, after scowling at several footmen who were making too much noise while setting out luncheon on the table, she gently woke Simon. Not the way she would have preferred, by bestowing gentle kisses on his cheeks, eyelids, and finally his lips. Instead, she gently shook his uninjured shoulder.

  When he started to stir, she whispered, “It’s time to waken as lunch is ready.”

  “Splendid, as I’m a bit hungry. Also, as promised, that book put me to sleep.”

  She waited while he carefully worked his way to standing then assisted him to the table. When he patted her hand, she knew she’d made the right decision for this meal, simple and light.

  Earlier, she’d slipped away to speak with Cook and changed the menu. Between the two, they’d settled on a simple garden salad, potato soup, and roast beef sandwiches and, to drink, red wine.

  “This is perfect, but would it be too much trouble to ask for lemonade instead of wine? I’m just not in the mood,” Simon uttered.

  Initially stunned by his request, it took a moment or two for her to collect her wits.

  A gunshot broke through the silence. Emma froze. She found herself thrown to the flagstones with Simon lying on top of her.

  “Don’t move until I say you can,” he growled.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sound of gunfire caused Simon to jump up, knocking his chair to the ground and tossing Emma to the flagstones. He then looked to his mother who was being protected by a paled footman.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride for being thrown down and having a huge hulk of a man lying on top of me,” she sputtered.

  He looked up as Winston burst out through the French doors. Simon didn’t give the man a chance to say anything.

  “I want every footman, footboy, even those working in the kitchen, to scour the estate from the palace to the beginning of the tree line.”

  He oophed when he felt a fist hit him in his side.

  “Excuse me, but since you’re the one who knocked me down, do you think you can help me up,” she demanded.

  Standing, he reached down with his good hand and helped Emma to her feet. He started to offer to dust off the back of her gown but thought better of it. Hearing talking behind him caught his attention. Turning, he saw Richmond and Michael.

  “Your Grace, how would you like us to help?” the stable master asked.

  “Have all the grooms mounted, then split into two groups. They are to sweep the woods starting at each end of the estate and meet in the middle. Michael, for the gardeners, have them assist the footmen in searching the grounds focusing on the maze where anyone can hide for days. Also, have Mars saddled and brought around. I’ll help with the search,” he commanded.

  “Have Marigold ready and here also in ten minutes. I’ll need to change into my riding habit,” Emma ordered.”

  “No, you’re not going. The person wasn’t aiming at me, but you, which means you’re also in as much danger as I am,” Simon demanded.

  “That means we’re both in peril. If you go, who’s going to help protect you? Me,” she asserted.

  “As much as it pains me, neither of you are going anywhere except inside where it’s safe,” Laura insisted.

  From the glare his mother shot him, Simon realized she was right. The protection of the palace would be best for her and him, not to mention the duchess. He offered Emma his arm. A low growl from his stomach told him, even with the excitement, food was important for all of them.

  “Winston, with the footmen out helping in the search, have a couple of maids bring our interrupted luncheon to my office. Also, instead of the lemonade, now I really need the wine,” Simon directed his butler.

  “I’ll get a few and bring the meals right up.”

  Simon nodded, then he waved his mother ahead. With Emma at his side, they stepped back into the palace and up to his office. He guided her to the settee where Laura was already making herself comfortable. With them set, he retreated to his desk then remembered the letter from his cousin which brought back a memory from his youth.

  “Mother, do you recall the few times I disappeared into the woods and you sent footmen to find me, but they couldn’t? Only later, when it was getting dark, I’d sneak back.”

  “Yes, and you were usually covered with dirt and sometimes mud. You also had several trout or salmon with you, hoping they would soften your punishment. Even when threatened with being locked away in your room, you never gave up where you had hidden. Why? Do you think it’s important?”

  “It very well could be. The spot I would hide in is along the river, very near where we have the fishing pavilion. The only way to see the little hole in the river bank is either in a boat or from the other side. If you look down from any other angle, you’d never see it. If the shooter isn’t found, I’ll wager that’s where the man is hiding.”

  “Excuse me, Your Grace, the trays are here,” Winston announced from the doorway.

  “Set them on the table in front of the ladies, but I’ll have mine here,” Simon directed the butler.

  He’d need the extra height the desk provided him. With a nod, to acknowledge the curtsies from the maids, Simon waited until the staff left then started eating. This gave him a chance to study Emma and his mother about what he’d just told them. If this was true, how did this person find his hiding place, much less get to it and away from it when it was safe.

  Emma’s inquisitive look signalled to him that she might have an idea.

  “Simon, with the river running through the village could it be possible for someone to steal a small boat, row up to the area you’re talking about then escape the same way?”

  “That is very conceivable, and if the skiff is returned before the owner learns it went missing, no one would be the wiser. As the attempt on you occurred while most would either be in their homes or working in the fields, it’s something worth looking into,” he answered.

  Taking a bite of his sandwich, he chewed then swallowed. Since the attempt on him had been done from horseback, these people must have wanted a more secure shot considering the distance it had to have
been taken.

  The rest of the meal was conducted in silence. Just as they finished Winston appeared at the door with a frown, which didn’t sit well with Simon.

  “Yes, and I’d wager it’s not good news either?”

  “No, it’s not. One of the senior footmen found the gun used to try to kill Lady Emma. He’s in the corridor with the weapon and assured me it’s safe to bring into the palace.”

  “Show him in,” Simon ordered.

  Not always trusting someone, especially an untrained footman, to ensure the rifle had been discharged, Simon stood and came around to the front of his desk. With a glance to the ladies, he gave them a reassuring grin as the man entered. Simon was amazed when the man didn’t walk but marched in with the rifle held correctly over his right shoulder. When the man stopped, he easily brought it in front of him in a salute. Out of habit, more than anything, Simon returned it.

  “Your Grace, Private Guy Seeley, formerly of the 7th Battalion of the 60th Regiment of Foot at your service. As you can see this is an 1806 Baker Rifle of which I’m familiar as I had one when in the service of the king.”

  “At ease, private. How long have you been out of the service?”

  Simon then relieved Seeley of the weapon and set it on his desk.

  “About three years, Your Grace. The former duke allowed me to join up and promised a position when I returned,” Seeley told him.

  “Well, I’m happy you came back. Can you tell us where exactly you found the weapon?”

  “It was at the foot of the gazebo, hidden in some bushes. For the life of me I don’t understand why the man left it, except maybe if caught trespassing he could easily say he’d gotten lost.”

  “You said a man? Are you sure?” Emma asked.

  Simon wasn’t so much surprised at the question than the man’s response, he bowed to her and his mother.

  “I’m sorry, when I entered I was so focused on His Grace, or as I used to know him once as Colonel Simon Radcliffe. But, to answer your question and meaning no disrespect, but this rifle is too heavy for a lady to hold. The print I found was definitely from a man’s cavalry boot. French if I’m not mistaken.”

  Simon could feel his anger rising on hearing this new piece of information. He knew it had to have been Justin Beaumont who tried to kill Emma. He let out a low growl, which didn’t do anything to ease the rage. All it did was bring the ladies to stare at him. Seeley on the other hand remained calm as a soldier should be.

  “Have we ever met?” Simon said.

  “No, but I saw you in Corunna from a distance.”

  “You’ve done a wonderful job with your report. Now, I just need one more thing from you. I want you to show me where you found the rifle and the footprint.”

  Simon wasn’t that familiar with the area as he’d not had a chance to visit it. Silently, he promised himself he would with a certain young lady.

  “It would be my honor. Will Her Grace and Lady Emma be accompanying us? I only ask because we should have several guards since I suspect the shooter could still be in the vicinity.”

  “Why do you think that, Seeley?” Emma asked.

  “M’ lady, from several years in the army I’ve learned a thing or two, never trust the enemy, and that’s what this person is.”

  When the chance arose, Simon would have to talk with Winston about Seeley. The man presented well turned out and very observant along with being well spoken.

  “Yes, we will be joining you on this little excursion as we’d like to see the area. Who knows, either Lady Emma or I might see something you men missed,” the duchess declared.

  From the look of astonishment on the footman’s face at what Laura said, Simon knew he needed to step in, but decided not to. He wanted to see how the man might handle this problem, something he almost did daily.

  “It would be an honor, Your Grace, to have you and Lady Emma along. I also agree that you could find something we over looked.”

  “Then it’s settled. Seeley, hunt down three footmen you trust with your life and meet us on the veranda in ten minutes,” Simon directed the man.

  “Certainly, and I know just the men to guard you.”

  Simon gave the man a salute, which was returned and waited for him to march out of his office.

  “Ladies, why don’t you collect your bonnets and parasols while I lock the rifle away then return here, if you please.”

  “We shan’t be long,” his mother said with a smile.

  After helping Emma up, he offered his hand to his mother, and this time she accepted his assistance.

  With them gone, Simon dug out a key from the middle drawer of his desk and stepped over to an oak and glass case partially filled with rifles. He unlocked it and placed the Baker rifle in then secured the door. Next, he rang for Winston as he wanted to learn about Seeley before the ladies returned.

  Seeing the butler arrive at the door Simon waved the man in.

  “What can you tell me about Seeley? He seems solid. Does he drink to excess, gamble, or chase the women?”

  “He lives with his mother whom he dotes on. His father died from scarlet fever a few years back. If he drinks, it’s very little. From what I understand there’s a young lady he’s shown an interest in. Seeley wanted to seek permission to make his attentions known, but the late duke took to bed before the opportunity presented itself. Then, with your arrival and everything happening he’s not had a chance to speak again with me.”

  Simon grinned at Winston’s long-winded speech. If he wasn’t mistaken, this was the most the man had said at once.

  “Does he have what it takes to be a butler? Don’t worry, I’m not replacing you. Yet.”

  “With the proper training, I believe so. Why, may I ask?”

  “I want you to speak with Seeley about a change in station. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  What Simon didn’t say to Winston was that he wanted to speak with Emma and his mother first to get their input.

  “Yes, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a table to set for dinner and want to make sure everything is perfect.”

  With a nod he dismissed Winston just as Emma and his mother arrived. He found their joint raised brow expressions interesting.

  “Shall we?” he said, ushering them from the room.

  “Would you mind explaining what that was all about? From what little we overheard, it seems you two were discussing a certain footman,” Emma demanded.

  “I promise to when we return as I need your opinion. And what’s this about Winston needing to make sure the table is set for dinner?”

  “I’ll explain when we return,” she teased.

  If he could, Simon would have thrown both arms up in frustration at being bested. Instead he grumbled, which both ladies heard and laid a glare on him.

  On the ground floor with the ladies leading, giving Simon another occasion to study Emma’s form, they made their way to the veranda. Stepping onto the flags, he saw the footmen with Seeley talking quietly to them. Simon suspected he was giving them their marching orders, so to speak.

  Simon waited as the footmen descended the stairs to the lawn. Something told him they’d be on either side of them with Seeley leading. In essence, creating a protective shield for them.

  During the walk to the gazebo Simon was astonished that neither lady talked. As the party wound their way through the garden, in the distance he saw the grooms returning from the hunt for the shooter. He had to remember to speak with Richmond about the little cave so several grooms could investigate.

  As they got closer to the gazebo, Simon studied the grassy path and the dirt in the flower beds but couldn’t see anything untoward.

  “Your Grace, right there is where I found the Baker, and if you look closely you’ll see the boot print,” Seeley announced, pointing to a bush and the soil.

  Slowly, Simon approached the spot taking in specifically the footprint. That was when he noticed something unusual about it but wished to confirm his findings wit
h the ladies. Stepping back, he turned to his mother and Emma.

  “I need you individually to examine the boot print, but keep your findings to yourself. Once back in my office I’ll want you to write down what you noticed,” Simon asked of them.

  He waited patiently as each did as requested. Satisfied they made their way back to the palace where Winston met them at the veranda door.

  “Have a decanter of sherry with glasses brought to my office. Then send for Hopkins,” Simon ordered.

  “Certainly.”

  When they were in Simon’s office, he quickly went to his desk, found a foolscap, and tore it into thirds. He gave his mother and Emma each a piece then took the seat across from them. “Ladies, write down what you saw and what you think made the print in the dirt.” He then did the same and finished as his butler entered with a tray of sherry and glasses.

  “Set them by the whiskey. How soon will my forester be here?”

  “He’s waiting in the hall. Turns out he was having a tea in the staff dining room.”

  Simon took a seat at his desk.

  “Send him in.”

  While Hopkins slowly made his way across the room, Simon could tell the man was nervous from the way he kept his head down.

  “Relax, you’re not in trouble. I need an answer to a very important question. I know Her Grace, talked to you about the person who shot me. You got a good look at him, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Before you answer the next question I want you to take your time. This person’s complexion, was it more like Her Grace’s or mine?”

  “Excuse me, more like Lady Emma’s with a slight coloring to the face and delicately featured.”

  “Thank you. You may return to your tea.”

  As Hopkins stepped from the room, Simon returned to his chair across from the ladies. Silence reigned while the papers were read and passed around. Once the foolscap was set on the table, he looked to Emma then his mother. From their expressions he guessed it was the same as his.

  “He’s a she, isn’t she,” Simon declared.

  “Yes, which makes all this even more confusing. As far as I am aware, Philip only had one child born on the wrong side of the blankets. From what we know it’s Justin Beaumont, so who’s the woman?” Laura told them.