The Duke of Ravens

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Finally, a young boy mounted on what appeared to be a workhorse came riding up the drive. He had a friendly smile as he jumped from the animal to give her an unpracticed bow.

  “You the Duchess?” he asked, eying her skeptically.

  “I am,” she replied, trying to keep her demeanor calm. She did not want to scare this boy if he had what she had been waiting for. Yet, how he reminded her of Oliver!

  “A man paid me a piece of silver to deliver this letter to you as fast as I could. I would’ve ran but that wouldn’t’ve been very fast.”

  “And I appreciate your haste,” she said. “Tell me, what did this man look like? Did you know him?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. He had a big stomach and an ugly face. Never saw him before and I don’t know his name.”

  She took the letter he held out to her. “Thank you,” she said. She placed a shilling in his hand, which he stared at with wide eyes. “For your hastiness.”

  He bowed to her again. “Thanks!” he said with a wide grin. Then he mounted his horse and rode away.

  Her hands shook as she opened the letter. It had no seal, so it could have come from anyone. She read the contents aloud.

  “In four days’ time, you will deliver the sum of ten thousand pounds in exchange for the safe return of your son. You will go to a tavern called The Sharp Sickle in the village of St. Thomas. You will ask the landlord for a letter left for a Jane Covington. In that letter will be instructions for the exchange of the money for the boy. Come alone. Any attempts to alert the magistrates or anyone else will result in the death of your son. We have eyes and ears everywhere, even inside your home, so do nothing that will endanger your son. Trust no one, for you never know who is in our employ.”

  Fear went through her heart, and she looked up as Philip rode up to the front door. “Caroline?” he asked as he hurried to her.

  Although the letter said to trust no one, she knew she could trust Philip.

  She handed him the paper with trembling hands. “Here are their demands.”

  He read over the letter, and anger rose in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  “And the Duke?” she asked, hopeful. “Did he respond to my correspondence?”

  “I am afraid he declined,” Philip said with a sigh. “I was not allowed to enter, so the letter was given to him through his butler, who said that, although he understood your plight, he cannot come to your aid.”

  Caroline nodded, her head dizzy as though it was filled with cotton wool. It had been foolish to believe that she could put hope in some mythical Duke. However, besides Philip, she had little hope.

  “Do not despair,” Philip said. “We will go and retrieve Oliver. Do not give up; do not falter. The strength inside you is greater than you can imagine, and you must allow it to guide you.”

  His words awoke a small twinge of hope as he brushed a tear from her cheek. She was lucky to have this man in her life, even if he was no more than a friend. She had allowed her emotions to make more out of their relationship than what was there, but now she was thinking clearly.

  Then a smile came to her lips as an unkindness of ravens flew overhead and came to rest in the branches of a nearby tree. She found it strange that a group of ravens was termed an unkindness, for the birds had their own form of beauty to them. Granted, their song had an eeriness to it, but it was ominous and lovely. Perhaps their visit was a sign that the Duke would send aid after all, despite his initial refusal to help.

  “You are right,” she said, making no comment on the birds. “I do have a strength within me. But what if they see us coming? They said that I was to come alone.”

  “Worry not. You will pay the ransom and have Oliver returned to you. Although they are looking for a woman, a man they will see.”

  He started for the front door, but she laid a hand on his arm. “I do not understand.”

  “You will see,” he replied. “Come. We must hurry, for we must leave at once.”

  ***

  Caroline looked at her reflection with dismay. How would anyone believe that beneath the shirt and waistcoat was a man? Neither piece of clothing did little to conceal the fact that she was a woman. However, the breeches were much more comfortable than skirts, and she wondered why women did not wear them more often. How much easier digging in the garden would have been dressed in breeches rather than that horrid dress!

  She shoved the memory aside. It was in the past and had no place in the present. Nothing she could say or do would change the fact it had happened, so why spend her time remembering it?

  A knock came to the door. “Come,” she called out.

  As expected, Philip entered. He looked her up and down and nodded approvingly.

  “No one will believe I am a man,” Caroline said with exasperation. “I am much too…womanly.”

  Philip laughed. “You would be surprised how many men have very feminine qualities,” he said. “The coat will be concealing enough. Now, put on the hat; that should help hide your face.”

  She donned the coat and hat, her hair already tied back so it could be hidden beneath. When she gazed into the mirror this time, she was pleasantly surprised at the final result.

  “I would suggest not speaking if at all possible. Your voice could easily give you away.”

  She nodded. “I packed one extra set of clothing for myself as well as clean clothes for Oliver.” Mentioning the boy’s name made her chest constrict, and she had to regulate her breathing to calm her nerves.

  She closed her eyes. You have strength, she thought. Remember what Philip told you. You are strong and can get through this. Look how far you have come already. For some reason she could not detail, she believed those thoughts. When she opened her eyes once again, a small sense of peace had returned.

  “Excellent,” Philip said. “I have provisions for us. And do you have the money?”

  “I do.” She went to a bench at the end of her bed and picked up a bag. It had not been easy procuring the large sum the kidnappers had requested.

  “But Madam,” the man at the bank had argued, “carrying about that much money at one time can be risky. Why do you not allow me to write you a cheque for the amount you need, and I will see that it is covered when the receiver submits it.”

  Caroline pursed her lips in annoyance. “No, Mr. Redmark. I must have the funds in cash, or the man with whom I am doing business will back out of our agreement.”

  “What type of businessman deals only in cash?” the banker said with a click of his tongue. “I highly suggest that you be firm with this person. Or perhaps allow Mr. Baxter to…”

  The force of Caroline standing made the chair scrape the floor. “If you cannot allow me to conduct business in the way I see fit, then perhaps I need to move my money to another bank.”

  The man’s eyes had almost burst from his face. “No, no, Madam!” He had said in a shaky voice. “See that the Duchess receives what she needs,” he had ordered his clerk.

  She had left the man close to apoplectic, though he kept his thoughts to himself after her threat, as she carried the bag of notes from the bank.

  She chuckled at the memory. It had been the first time she had used her station to influence such an important man, and she could not help but have a sense of pride for that.

  Holding up the bag, she responded to Philip’s question, “I have the money here.”

  Philip gave her an appreciative nod before opening his coat and producing a large knife. He unsheathed it and held it up to her, the candlelight glinting off its surface. Placing two fingers on the front of her throat, he said, “This blade can pierce a man here,” he moved his hands to her chest just above her left breast, “and here. However, stabbing a man in the chest takes much more effort, as it is more difficult to penetrate the sternum.” He returned the knife to its sheath. “Do not hesitate to use it if you believe at any time that you or Oliver are in danger.”

  “I do not believe it will come to that,” Caroline said, or
at least hoped, although the certainty behind the words was forced.

  Philip leaned in toward her, his features fierce, causing her to take a step back. “You must not take time to think when it comes to either of your lives,” he said, menacing. “You must act at once, or those lives will be lost. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” she managed to say, although it escaped more as a squeak than a reply.

  He sighed and shook his head. “I am sorry to have scared you,” he said, his tone much smoother now but with clear effort, “but you must listen to what I tell you, for ahead of us lies dangers unlike you have ever seen. You have trusted me thus far, so I ask you to trust me just a little further. The question now is, do you?”

  She did not hesitate as she nodded, although her heart had yet to return to its normal rhythm. He was right, of course; she did trust him. Would she kill to assure the safety of her son? Indeed. In a heartbeat and without thought.

  He kissed her forehead, and as if he had heard her thoughts, he said, “Let us go and get your son.”

  ***

  Caroline was far from the most accomplished horsewoman, but Reginald had seen she learned to at least sit sidesaddle. Although she had learned, she was given few opportunities to practice; her outings had been restrictive, to say the least. However, if she had been taught to ride astride, the chances of her taken to it would have been much more probable.

  Between the jarring movements of the horse and her tendency to grip the horse’s flanks with her legs, it was not long before her back and legs began to ache. Notwithstanding, she made no complaint, for she would ride forever in order to save her son.

  Roads gave way to small paths, which in turn led them through a dense forest. While it was eerie with its shadowy undergrowth and unseen skittering animals, for some odd reason, Caroline found its closeness comforting, much like a heavy, warm blanket during a thunderstorm. What did bother her was the beating she received from that closeness.

  “Why do we not remain on the road?” she asked when another branch slapped against her arm.

  Philip glanced back at her. “They may be monitoring the road, and it would be best if we were not seen before absolutely necessary.”

  His reasoning was logical. “And how long will it take us to reach St. Thomas?” she asked.

  “Traveling through the forest as we are, we will arrive by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Caroline gasped. “Tomorrow? Will we find an inn in such a place as this?”

  “We will sleep on the ground tonight,” he replied with a chuckle. “I am afraid that you will not have the comforts of home on this journey.”

  “You forget,” Caroline said with a sniff, “that I came from nothing; sleeping on the ground is not a new experience but rather one in which I no longer have to endure. My parents’ cottage was a stone dwelling with a dirt floor, so do not presume I am so fragile I cannot endure one night sleeping in the open air.”

  She bristled when she heard Philip chuckle but then shook her head. What did he know of her past? Very little. So why would she expect him to understand her life before living in a grand house with more servants than she could ever use?

  Once they reached the opposite side of the woods, they came to a steep embankment, Philip leading them down with practiced ease, which led to a small creek.

  “We will stop to rest and water the horses,” he said, sliding off his horse as if doing so was something he did often. Where had a gardener learned to ride so well?

  Caroline could not help but laugh inwardly. She had made comments about him not knowing her past, and now here she was judging him for his.

  She accepted the canteen he offered her and took a drink. The water was warm, but at least it was wet. “How do you know which trail to take?” she asked as she handed the canteen back to him.

  He walked over to a large boulder and sat upon it. “Many nights I have spent in this forest,” he replied, as if recalling a past memory. “And others like it.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked. “Was there no work to be found?” What she meant to say was, what was a gardener doing traveling through forests, but that would have been much too intrusive to ask. He continued to be reluctant to speak of his past, and she had promised not to intrude.

  He helped her back onto her horse and then mounted his before answering. “It is a story that is long, much like our journey. It would be much better told at another time.” He clicked his tongue at the horse, and it moved forward. “Come. Let us ride while there is still light.”

  Caroline sighed as she kicked her horse and fell in beside Philip. The man had much to explain, but he was correct; now was not the time. One day, however, she would get him to tell her all of his secrets. And she found she could not wait for the telling.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The wood crackled as Caroline warmed her hands by the fire. She was surprised at how cool the night air was, and she pushed back the thoughts of her warm bed back at Blackwood Estates.

  Philip sat across from her, staring at the flames. Although the man was typically quiet, tonight he was unusually so. He had said nothing as he set up the camp, and they had eaten in silence, even Caroline’s attempts at making conversation rebuffed.

  Yet, Caroline paid Philip little mind after a while, for her thoughts returned to Oliver and whether he was warm enough and had received enough food to eat. The poor boy had to be terrified out of his mind and missing her as much as she missed him.

  She forced back tears and straightened her back. Soon she would find him and return the boy to where he belonged. Never again would she allow the boy out of her sight!

  Caroline did not blame Miss Lindston. In fact, she admired the way the woman had fought in an attempt to keep Oliver safe. Her sobs and countless apologies had been met with genuine forgiveness, for if there was anywhere to lay blame, it would have been with Caroline herself. Philip had warned her that there were those who would work against her once they learned of the wealth with which she was charged, but she never imagined it would include the taking of her son.

  Leaning forward, she rubbed her hands together for added warmth. Then a thought came to her that caused her to sit back. “How did they know Oliver would be at the river?”

  “It may have been a moment of opportunity,” he replied as he placed a piece of timber on the fire. “Perhaps it was unfortunate timing? Though I doubt that was the case.”

  “Do you still believe it is possible that someone inside my household informed them of his habits?”

  He nodded without hesitation. “I see no other way. Word has traveled, no doubt, of the vast fortune your son has inherited and that you are the caretaker of that estate. However, these men were much too precise in their timing in taking Oliver. I believe they have done this before. In fact, I am sure of it.”

  “Then I must let all of the staff go upon our return,” Caroline said with finality. “It pains me to do so, but I cannot trust anyone, it seems. I hate to see Margaret and Miss Lindston leave, but I cannot take any chances when it comes to the safety of my son.”

  “I doubt rather highly that either woman had a hand in this,” Philip said. “My suspicions lie elsewhere.”

  Caroline raised her eyebrows. “Who would do such a thing?”

  He studied her for a moment before replying. “I believe your brother-in-law might have had his hand in it.”

  “Neil?” Caroline said with a gasp. Then she studied the flames as she considered the prospect. “I suppose I can see it as possible. Yet, he is many things, but a kidnapper? No, he could not be that.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She thought about it for a moment longer. The man had shown to have changed, and never had he mistreated Oliver in any way. Neil was a braggart and a fool, but he was not evil. Only an evil man could have done what these men had done.

  “Yes, I’m certain,” she replied. “He has his own money, to begin with, so there is no need for him to covet Oliver’s. Furthermore, he loves
his nephew, for that I have no doubt. Granted, his treatment of me had been as if I were a woman of lower class—which I was, I might add—from the first day I married Reginald. However, I have accepted his apology for his misguidedness, and he has proven to be rehabilitated. No, there would be better ways for him to take Oliver’s money.”

  “Like offering marriage to the boy’s mother?”

  The words made Caroline hesitate, and confusion moved through her mind. “I am afraid I do not understand. You approved of Neil being a part of Oliver’s life. You insisted that I allow him to get close to Oliver and me.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you suspect he would do something this drastic? And if so, why would you put us in such a situation?”

  “Taking the boy? No. His motives, yes. I have suspected them for some time now.”

  Caroline wrung her hands. How could this man have put her and Oliver in such a position if he had such suspicions? It was not that she doubted his honesty, but she found his words upsetting.

  “Do not worry,” he said as he stared at the fire before him, “I believe we will know who is responsible for this act soon enough.”

  She swiped at a tear that had escaped and rolled down her cheek. At the moment, bravery was the call of the day. “I am not worried,” she said, although she knew it was not true. “I only wish to have Oliver returned to my arms where he belongs.”

  Taking a blanket from the pack beside her, she folded it to make a makeshift pillow and lay on the ground. The flames danced before her, mesmerizing. Her eyes refused to close, her worries were so great.

  “The story you told me of the Duke of Ravens?” Philip asked.

  She pushed herself up on an elbow. “Yes? What of it?”

  “I know a story, as well,” he said as he leaned against a large log on which he had been sitting. “Have you heard of the Duchess of Strength?”

  “No,” she replied, intrigued. “How old is the story?”

  He reached for her hand and took it in his. “It does not matter how old the story is. What matters is the message it gives. Let me share it with you.”