‘And so they should be. They will answer to the law when we get to the bottom of things if I have any say in the matter. Those slaves had endured unimaginable hardships. They won their freedom and came here in the hope of a better life, only to be forced into killing or being killed.’
‘How can you force a man to fight?’ Tanner asked.
‘You have people at the side of the ring, one imagines, armed with cudgels and knives. Face a sure death at their hands or take your chances against another desperate man.’ Ross screwed up his features in disgust. ‘It makes me sick to the stomach to think of their misery and Andrew’s hand in this grubby affair.’
‘The men behind it all call themselves gentlemen. You’ve probably rubbed shoulders with some of them these past nights, but how the hell are we supposed to discover their identities?’
‘Not sure yet. Still, we now know why Greenacre scarpered. He must have known all about Andrew’s involvement. He probably made the arrangements on his behalf and when Andrew was killed, he assumed he would be next.’
‘Perhaps he was,’ Tanner suggested.
‘Possibly. Anyway, I imagine the fights took place in Hampshire, with the men kept out of the way in a secluded location until they were needed. And since Maria Kennard ran wild with Andrew, it’s not an outside possibility that she attended some of those fights.’
‘Surely not?’ Tanner looked shocked, which was a rarity. ‘Ladies do not attend bare-knuckle fights.’
‘The majority don’t down brandy in taprooms either, but it seems Maria did.’
‘You hope she will supply you with names, or a direction in which to look?’
‘It’s worth a try. Sophia is taking me to meet her tomorrow and I shall ask her, most forcibly.’
‘Sophia, is it?’ Tanner flexed a brow and grinned. ‘The chit’s getting to you.’
‘She’s easier on the eye than you are, no question about that.’
‘What now?’
‘Now we go over Andrew’s papers again in the light of what we’ve learned and see if we can make any more sense of them. Apart from that, there’s little we can do until after I’ve met with Maria Kennard tomorrow.’
‘I thought you wanted to confront Emily.’
‘In view of what we now know, we have different priorities.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘I suspect that we will need to return to Hampshire to run down more leads. If the fights haven’t stopped then they will still be held in that area.’
‘How will they get the men they need to take part if Andrew isn’t there to supply them?’
Ross turned the carriage into the mews behind his lodgings, his anger etched into the rigid lines of his expression. ‘Has it occurred to you that Greenacre, far from being dead or in hiding, might have taken over Andrew’s role?’
Chapter Eleven
Sophia got through the rest of her day in a state of distraction, inwardly fuming as her mind dwelt upon her visit from the duchess. With the benefit of hindsight, she could have handled it better and not permitted her temper to get the better of her, she conceded. It was unwise to have confronted such a powerful adversary quite so directly. Sophia’s famous temper was one of her less endearing features, and came to the fore when she found herself the recipient of unjust accusations. The duchess had absolutely no right to make assumptions based on nothing more tangible than tittle-tattle and then threaten her family’s reputation in quite such a brazen manner.
How dare she!
What was she afraid of?
Several hours later, Sophia’s blood was still boiling and her aunt noticed her preoccupation.
‘Are you quite well, my dear?’ she asked when Sophia had twice failed to answer a question put to her.
‘Perfectly so, Aunt, other than a slight headache,’ Sophia replied as they climbed back into their carriage to make yet another of the social calls that her aunt so enjoyed and which Sophia found tedious and…well, pointless.
‘Oh dear, I do so hate having headaches myself. Perhaps we had better return home immediately. I had no particular desire to call upon Lady Franklin anyway. She is such a terrible gossip.’ Sophia suppressed a smile, aware that her aunt could be describing herself. ‘Under no circumstances must you attend Mrs Gregory’s soiree this evening. The crush of people will make your poor head worse.’
‘Yes, perhaps I shall not go.’
And so Sophia unintentionally found a way to avoid an engagement she had no taste for and spent the evening alone, intending to catch up with her correspondence. She had supper sent up to her room but failed to pick up her pen. Instead she stared aimlessly out at the dark gardens and allowed her mind to wander.
The question she had been wrestling with all day and which was responsible for the genuine headache that now plagued her, was whether or not to tell Ross about the duchess’s call. He would be furious about the assumptions she had made, which was all well and good, but Ross had not been in England for a decade and probably underestimated the duchess’s vindictive nature. If Ross took her to task then she would probably carry out her threat for no other reason than to cause problems for Sophia and her family, thinking she had a duty to protect the new duke from Sophia’s conniving ways.
She wanted him for herself, Sophia assumed, but Ross didn’t appear to return her regard and the duchess’s pride would have taken a dent as a consequence. She would strive to have her revenge, aware that no matter what trouble she caused, Ross couldn’t abandon her and her children altogether without incurring the collective disapproval of society’s elite.
Sophia managed a wan smile, doubting whether offending the matrons would cause him sleepless nights. Emily had underestimated her handsome brother-in-law’s character, much as he had underestimated her determination to have her own way, no matter who got caught in the crossfire. She hoped that Maria really did intend to elope with Purvis, thereby scotching the rumours about her situation and restoring a degree of respectability to her reputation. That way there would be nothing Emily could do to harm Sophia’s family—unless Lady Purvis learned of their plans before the event, in which case she would most assuredly find a way to prevent the elopement from happening at all.
And the duchess would be well aware of that fact.
Sophia slept fitfully and woke to a clear sky, a crisp wind bending the bare branches in the garden outside of her window back on themselves. She had decided to keep the details of the duchess’s visit to herself, at least until after they had seen Maria and Ross had decided which direction his enquiries would take him in. If he accepted that Maria couldn’t have had anything to do with Andrew’s death, even indirectly, then he would have no further need of Sophia’s help.
Sophia’s heart lurched at the prospect of meeting the duke at parties and balls and watching him pay court to more acceptable females whilst he was here in London. She gave an impatient shrug and told herself not to be so fanciful. Ross was looking for answers, not a wife.
With her mind made up on that subject, she would have looked forward to spending a few hours with Ross that morning, perhaps for the last time, but for the fact that they were due to visit her sister. Maria would be furious to be caught unawares and would blame Sophia for not giving her notice. Maria could be at least as vindictive as the duchess when she didn’t get her way and Sophia would be made to suffer.
Except, she was surprised to realise, she no longer cared. She had lived beneath her sister’s dominating character all her life, always anxious to please and placate, if only to avoid Maria’s pouts when she didn’t get her own way or failed to remain the centre of attention. But now everything had changed and Sophia was her own mistress, starkly determined to get to the truth. Maria had forged her own path, and if she had unintentionally or otherwise colluded in Andrew’s demise then Sophia wouldn’t shrink from exposing her participation. Nor would she apologise to her over-indulged sister for attempting to establish the facts.
Sighing, she turned her attention t
o her pathetically inadequate wardrobe, wrestling with the thorny question of what to wear to give her self-confidence a much-needed boost. She settled upon a recently reinvented cambric cream muslin promenade dress trimmed with a single flounce, over which she wore a full-length pelisse of crimson velvet lined with white sarsnet and trimmed with a welt of crimson satin. A contrasting bonnet, cleverly trimmed by Phyllis to look fashionable, soft half-boots and a generous fur muff completed the ensemble. No one would guess that the gown and pelisse were several years old and had been carelessly discarded by her sister.
‘Very fetching,’ Phyllis said, standing back to examine her handiwork after helping Sophia into the attire. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were attempting to impress someone.’
‘Well, I am not, so you can disabuse yourself of that notion. I have to face Maria and I need the requisite confidence to make me feel equal to the task. You know how easily she’s always been able to intimidate me.’ Sophia pulled on her gloves, tutting at the state of the leather, which was old and worn, wishing she could afford the luxury of a new pair. ‘Not a word to the duke’s man about the duchess’s visit.’
Phyllis scowled. She knew all the particulars since she had been listening at the door and was firmly of the opinion that Ross should be told. ‘He will find out and wonder why you didn’t tell him yourself,’ she warned.
‘He is not my keeper. Besides, telling him will make matters worse. He will argue with the duchess about it, she will realise that I ran to him, and it will confirm her ridiculous suspicions.’
‘Ridiculous, are they?’ Phyllis grinned. ‘His grace looks at every female as though he’d liked to devour her whole, does he?’
‘You’re getting fanciful notions into your silly head, Phyllis. Anyway, we had best be off. It wouldn’t do to keep his grace’s team standing about in this weather.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ Phyllis muttered, smiling. Sophia noticed that she moved with unusual alacrity and wondered if it was because she was keen to reacquaint herself with Mr Tanner.
‘My my!’ Phyllis’s mouth fell open when she noticed Ross standing beside a very smart carriage conveyed by two beautiful black horses. ‘I shan’t know myself.’
Ross raised his hat as he noticed them approaching. His gaze roved over Sophia’s body as the distance between them diminished. She thought she noticed approval flash through his expression and was ridiculously pleased to have impressed him with her hand-me-down clothing.
‘Good morning,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I hope we have not kept you waiting.’
‘Not at all. We arrived ourselves just a moment ago.’
He helped Sophia into the conveyance, holding her hand for a little longer than she considered necessary. The simple contact caused sizzling heat to spread through her insides despite the fact that they were both wearing gloves. Sophia briefly met his speculative, heavy-lidded gaze before snatching her hand free and turning her attention to Mr Tanner as he handed Phyllis into the comparative warmth of the carriage.
‘Where exactly is your sister staying?’ Ross asked, looking totally unruffled by an intimate moment that had temporarily robbed Sophia of her resolve to remain impervious to his charm. He appeared to know precisely what he had done to her, and she wondered whether he was being deliberately provocative. The idea that he might be amusing himself at her expense was an affront to her pride and restored her senses. She adjured herself to concentrate upon what was important, supplied the address in Hammersmith and was unsurprised when the two men climbed onto the box seat and the duke himself took up the ribbons.
Sophia would have enjoyed her chance to ride in a well-sprung carriage that attracted a great deal of attention and admiring glances had she not been so worried about the reception they would receive from Maria. She should have advised Ross that Maria wouldn’t necessarily be truthful, especially if any information she could supply about Andrew threatened to show her in a poor light. But then again, Ross would likely see through her stratagems, she decided, drumming her fingers restlessly against the soft velvet squabs as she struggled to contain her nerves. He wouldn’t have been so successful in the no doubt lawless Carolina goldrush if he hadn’t been awake on all suits. She had read about the tough individuals who flooded the area in search of riches, the majority of whom either came away empty-handed or lost their lives in pursuit of their dreams.
‘Rest up,’ Phyllis chided. ‘It will be all right.’
Sophia rolled her eyes. ‘It will more likely be the gospel according to Maria. You know how she can be.’
‘Well, your duke won’t be taken in by her, not if he has a lick of sense. And if he ain’t, then he deserves to be deceived.’
They arrived at Maria’s dwelling before Sophia was ready to face her sister’s disapproval. With no other choice available to her, she accepted the duke’s hand when he offered to help her down, this time too distracted to react to the contact.
‘Have your maid remain in the carriage,’ he said. ‘I am sure Tanner will be happy to entertain her. You and I will see your sister alone.’
‘Very well, if that’s what you would prefer.’
He chuckled. ‘Not nearly.’ He gave a theatrical sigh that made her smile. ‘But alas, I am a slave to duty.’
He winked at her and her nerves fell away. She would do this, and let the pieces fall where they may. Sophia straightened her shoulders and led the way to the front door, which was opened by Peg, Maria’s long-serving maid.
‘Miss Sophia. We were not expecting you.’ Peg made it sound like an accusation. A second later she noticed Ross looming behind her, large and predatory, and her mouth fell open. She couldn’t possibly know who he was but the air of authority that he wore like a second skin would, Sophia was sure, have intimidated the normally forthright maid. ‘You have brought a visitor with you, I see.’ Peg swallowed. ‘I’m not sure if my mistress is receiving. I shall have to enquire.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Peg. And I will thank you not to keep us standing about in the cold.’ Sophia pushed past the girl, with Ross close on her heels. Peg’s mouth again fell open. Sophia wasn’t ordinarily so forceful, and even Peg, she belatedly realised, had often followed Maria’s example by exerting herself. Worse, Sophia had permitted her to do so. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed before now, and why it hadn’t occurred to her to take exception.
‘Sophia, is that you I can hear?’
Maria’s querulous voice reached them through the partially open sitting room door. Sophia glanced at Ross and led the way in.
‘I am glad you have come. I am bored out of my…Oh!’
Maria, looking unkempt, scowled at Sophia, who pretended not to notice. As always, the table beside Maria contained a dish of sweetmeats and a dozen charcoal sketches. More drawings were scattered across the floor.
‘Good morning, Maria,’ Sophia said. ‘I trust I find you well. Your grace, may I make my sister, Maria Kennard, known to you? Maria, this is the Duke of Alton.’
Maria’s sulky expression gave way to a captivating smile that completely transformed her face, showing a glimpse of the ravishing beauty that had drawn so much acclaim.
‘I had not anticipated this honour,’ Maria said, standing awkwardly and bobbing a curtsey. She sent Sophia a brief, condemning look. ‘Please be seated.’
‘Leave us and close the door, Peg,’ Sophia said, taking charge. ‘We shall not be staying for long enough to take refreshments.’
Sophia could see that Maria was desperate to chastise her for giving her maid orders, amongst other things. The scolding would have to wait—but it would not be forgotten, Sophia knew. Maria never forgot a slight.
‘I see you are an artist.’ Ross picked up one of Maria’s drawings which was a remarkable likeness of Peg. ‘You are very talented.’
Maria blushed. ‘Thank you. It’s a genteel occupation that helps to pass the hours.’
‘I cannot recall a time when Maria didn’t lose herself in her sketching,’
Sophia said, hoping to reduce Maria’s dislike of their unannounced presence by flattering her. ‘I, on the other hand, couldn’t capture a likeness to save my life.’
Maria scowled and Sophia knew that her efforts had been in vain. It would take more than a few compliments to chivvy Maria out of her sulk on this occasion. She had been caught unawares by a handsome and disarming duke, her hair unwashed, her gown old and straining at the seams. Sophia, in contrast, looked fresh and vibrant, despite the fact that she was clothed in Maria’s hand-me-downs. Maria must always be the prettiest, most admired female in any room and would find a way to make Sophia pay for making her feel disadvantaged.
‘Wearing my old clothes again Sophia?’ Maria lifted her brows. ‘Heavens, the lengths you have gone to in order to impress his grace.’
Sophia offered her sister a taut smile and fixed a significant look on her swollen stomach. ‘Not as extreme as the lengths you have gone to,’ she said sweetly.
Maria looked confused by Sophia’s willingness to stand her corner, and temporarily defeated she transferred her attention to the duke.
‘I am very sorry about your brother, your grace,’ Maria said, sounding sincere as she surreptitiously pushed a few lank curls behind her ears. ‘A most terrible tragedy.’
‘You and he were well acquainted, I am given to understand,’ Ross replied.
A sound immediately outside the door caused Sophia to jump to her feet and wrench it open. Peg, who had been listening at the keyhole, tumbled into the room.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon, miss. I was dusting.’
Sophia shook her head. ‘Go into the kitchen and stay there,’ she said sternly. ‘We will ring if we need you. Do not let me catch you anywhere else before we leave.’
Peg gave a sullen pout that Maria herself could not have bettered and flounced away.
‘Sorry about that,’ Sophia said to Ross as she resumed her seat. He had stood when she did and smiled at her as he swished the tails of his blue superfine coat aside and sat down again.
A Duke in Turmoil: Dangerous Dukes Vol 9 Page 13