The Devious Duchess (17 page)

“That will only delay things, Duchess. Straus will send off for another report.”

“It will give us time to plan something else,” she said. “And now that I’ve seen this,” she added, shaking the paper, “I can truthfully say I feel optimistic.”

Dick gave her a puzzled look. “Why optimistic?”

“Because you’ll think of something else after that ruse is run out, scoundrel, and I might get my hands on some of his money yet!” She laughed fiendishly and poured two glasses of wine.

Belami accepted his and regarded her warily over the rim. “If the analysis shows the poison was in the stew, your best bet is to tell your lawyer exactly what you just told me,” he advised.

She sighed deeply. “I know it very well. If worse comes to worst, I’ll have to do it, but I prefer not to spend my last days in a jail cell. Especially for a crime I did not commit. The question is, will you do it for me? I know it’s not a small favor to ask, but will you try if you can to steal that report before Straus gets hold of it?”

Dick quaffed his wine and set the glass on the desk. A wicked smile peeped out. “Great minds think alike, Dora. It’s already in the process of being done.”

She was so shocked by this brash use of her name that she forgot to be outraged. “If Satan ever smiles, Belami, I warrant he looks as you look this minute. Poor Deirdre. It’s just as well the betrothal is off. She’s no match for the likes of you,” she added, carefully reading his expression for signs of disagreement.

“Don’t be too sure. There’s more of the Patmore blood in her than you think. We shall deal extremely well. And we shall get married as soon as I’ve successfully terminated this case. Agreed? No more off-putting tricks?”

The duchess felt light with relief that the spark still glowed in Belami’s breast. She really feared she might have gone too far this time. “Clap hands on a bargain,” she said, suppressing all outward signs of joy. She struggled to her feet and shook his hand. At her age, she still had the grip of a strong man. “You’ll get no objections from me, but the girl is her own mistress nowadays. It’s her you must cozzen. And now we’ll see what those three are up to in the saloon,” she decreed.

She was in such good humor with Belami that she allowed him to take her arm. Belami was not pleased to see Deirdre with her head next to Nevil’s while Pronto sat in the far corner, unraveling a knitted sofa throw. Dick knew by the startled, guilty look on her face that she’d been saying something he would dislike. In his wildest dreams he never would have thought that she was encouraging Nevil to hold up the post.

“But you said something along that line could be done, Nevil!” she reminded him.

“I know I did, Deirdre, but I’ve had second thoughts on the matter. It would only delay the inevitable. It wouldn’t prevent it. I have a much better plan.”

“What?” she asked eagerly.

He patted her hand. It was at this moment that Belami entered and saw them gazing into each other’s eyes. “I have come up with an idea that will absolutely absolve our aunt of any blame whatsoever. It is a trifle dangerous, of course, but I can’t let dear Aunt Charney suffer anymore. It grieves me to see her looking so harried. Shh! Here she is now.”

Their private talk was over, but naturally Deirdre couldn’t put such an unusual conversation out of her mind. All the duchess’s efforts to draw her attention to Belami failed. Charney couldn’t imagine what ailed the girl, to be practically ignoring Belami, and neither could Dick. It had been a long and particularly trying day. Everyone could see that the duchess was on her last legs, and before long, the party began to break up.

“I ought to be getting back to the inn,” Nevil said, and arose.

Dick waited a moment, planning to outsit him. “Yes, I’m sure you’re all tired,” Deirdre said carelessly. She didn’t even look at Dick, and he felt she was trying to communicate some verbal message to Nevil. When Deirdre arose to accompany them all to the door, he could sit no longer and followed Nevil and Pronto to the hall for his coat. He even held the front door open for Nevil, which forced Deirdre to speak up.

“Could you wait just for a moment, Cousin?” she asked Nevil. She saw from the corner of her eye that Dick’s jaw was working in a way that told her he was angry, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had to find out what Nevil was up to. She closed the door behind Belami and Pronto.

“You must tell me what you plan to do,” she implored.

“There is only one thing I can do, my dear Deirdre, and I shan’t tell you, or you’d try to stop me,” Nevil replied archly.

“Then please don’t do it if you know I won’t like it.”

“This is a man’s work, my dear. Belami isn’t the only one who has a few tricks up his sleeve.”

She questioned him a few moments longer, but to no avail. The only thing it accomplished was to raise Belami’s suspicions as he waited to see how long Nevil stayed with her.

“I do believe that old slice of a Ryder is making up to Deirdre,” Pronto warned him.

“I’m not blind. Of course he is.”

“What surprised me is that she’s taking to it like a duck to water. There’s strange twists in this whole Patmore lot, Dick. Daresay you’re better off without her.”

Dick kept his own counsel. He couldn’t credit that Deirdre actually preferred Nevil to himself, but he worried about what was going on between them. Whatever it was, he couldn’t blame Charney this time. She had been delighted that he was still willing to have Deirdre. And well she might be!

Deirdre went to her bed even more worried than Dick. What was Nevil up to? What scheme had he come up with to remove absolutely any suspicion from her aunt? Try as she might, she could think of nothing that would counterbalance the arsenic in the mulligatawny. She regretted that she’d hardly had a minute with Dick. In the morning the will would be read, and he wouldn’t be there for that, of course, as he wasn’t involved. She’d go into Banting in the afternoon and see him, or perhaps he’d return to Fernvale.

* * * *

The family assembled at the Grange at ten in the morning to hear the last will and testament of Lord Dudley Patmore. It was short and simple. There was a thousand pounds for Mrs. Haskell; five thousand pounds and the Grange for Lady Dudley, who nearly fell out of her chair for joy to hear that she was getting her rights without a battle; and the balance of the estate to be divided equally between the duchess and Sir Nevil. Mr. Skidley stopped and cleared his throat at this point. Sir Nevil made a good effort to control his glee, and the duchess nodded her satisfaction. Deirdre was glad that it was all over, and a fair will it was, too, considering Dudley’s unstable temperament.

“However. . ." Mr. Skidley added, rustling the papers. Sir Nevil edged forward on his chair. A thin film of perspiration coated his brow. Mr. Skidley looked apologetically from the duchess to Sir Nevil and continued his speech.

“There might not be as large a balance as you are expecting. Lord Dudley made some unwise investments over the years—there was a disastrous plunge in some stocks he . . ."

The duchess knocked her cane on the floor and called him to attention. “How much?” she demanded.

“Three hundred and nine pounds, two shillings, and six-pence each, after all costs are paid,” Mr. Skidley said. He hung his head in shame at being the bearer of such dreadful news.

“That’s impossible!” Sir Nevil gasped, jumping up from his chair.

His voice was drowned out by the mucous sounds coming from the duchess’s throat. Deirdre couldn’t quite tell whether her aunt was laughing or crying.

“You’re quite certain about this, Mr. Skidley?” her grace asked when she had gotten her outburst under control.

“There is no doubt whatsoever, your grace. The papers are all here for you and Sir Nevil to study at your leisure.”

“I’ve wasted enough time, thank ye kindly. You don’t carry the reputation of a crook in this neighborhood. I’ll have my man of business take a look at your papers soon. Come along, Deirdre. We’ll go home and plan what to do with our ‘fortune.’ Perhaps a little trip. It ought to just about get us to Banting. Bad luck for you, Nevil,” she added as she hobbled past him on her way out the door.

Sir Nevil didn’t hear. He sat in bewildered silence, staring at Mr. Skidley. “It’s impossible,” he muttered over and over.

“That was real handsome of my husband,” Adelaide said. She began looking over the room with a proprietarial air, but even before Mr. Skidley collected his papers to leave, she asked him, “What do you figure I can get for the place?”

He recommended that she visit a real-estate agent in Banting, which she planned to do as soon as she could get a lift into town. Mr. Skidley was helpful in that respect. Sir Nevil was still sitting, muttering it was impossible, when they left.

The duchess was anxious to discuss the news of the will with Belami, to ensure that it didn’t change his determination to have Deirdre. She suggested that they go to Banting while the carriage was on the road. She sent her own servant up to his room at the inn and met Belami in a private parlor, as she disliked mounting stairs.

“We’ve come to give you the outcome of the will,” she told him even before he sat down. “If Dudley planned to change his will, he didn’t do it other than to make the house and some cash over to Miss Pankhurst. Nevil told us he had done that much, you recall. The balance was split evenly between Nevil and me—all two pennies of it,” she added.

Deirdre was dissatisfied with this poor telling. “It’s the worst take-in there ever was,” she added. “He only had six hundred pounds left after the bequest to Adelaide. Poor Nevil was white with shock. I never saw him so shaken.”

The angry stiffening of Belami’s face gave rise to the worst fears in the duchess’s breast. Ever mindful of money herself, she imputed the same rapacity to everyone else. Perhaps he’d only pressed on with the engagement because of what he’d read on that little piece of paper. He thought Deirdre was to get half of Dudley’s estate and wouldn’t be quick to throw over such an heiress. But it was really Deirdre’s concern over Nevil that had caused Belami’s expression.

“Where is Nevil now?” Dick asked.

“He was still at the Grange when we left,” Deirdre said.

“Miss Pankhurst will soon boot him out or charge him rent,” the duchess added. “It is to be hoped she don’t mean to take up residence there. I, for one, shan’t receive her.”

They discussed the will for a while. Tea was ordered, and before they left, and before Deirdre and Dick managed any private conversation, there was a terrific battering at the door.

“That’s either an earthquake or Mr. Straus,” Belami said, and went to see who was calling.

It was indeed Mr. Straus, but Mr. Straus in a new mood. His large face was bright red with anger. He forgot such civilities as saying good day and entered pointing a finger at the duchess.

“It won’t work, your grace!” he accused.

The duchess glared at him, but addressed her speech to Belami. “What is this imbecile talking about?”

“Mr. Straus?” Belami asked politely.

“You’re all in it together. You don’t fool Gerhard Straus so easily. Don’t think to escape the gallows by this trumped-up confession, for it won’t fadge.”

“Confession?” her grace asked. “He’s mad. Quite mad. Call the manager, Belami. I won’t be insulted in my own private parlor.”

“Perhaps you’d care to explain this extraordinary visit, Mr. Straus,” Dick suggested.

“Aye, and happen you’d all care to explain Sir Nevil Ryder’s confession to a murder he didn’t commit! It’s collusion, that’s what it is.”

“Nevil confessed!” the duchess gasped, clutching at her heart, which felt as if it would fly from her chest. “Upon my word, did you hear that, Deirdre? What did I tell you? I knew all along he’d done it, but I never thought he’d be such a gudgeon as to own up to it.”

“It won’t save you, my fine lady,” Mr. Straus said. “I’ll have a word with you when you’re through supping tea, Lord Belami.” On this terse speech he turned and swooped away as suddenly and unexpectedly as he had entered.

The other three looked at one another in blank incomprehension. “I can’t understand what Nevil’s up to,” Dick exclaimed. Deirdre squirmed in her seat and finally figured out what Nevil had meant the night before. He had taken the harebrained notion of confessing to save the duchess. So brave of him and so foolish!

“Not understand? It’s perfectly clear to me,” the duchess said. “He’s done it because he fears I am in danger. We Patmores are a close family. Oh, we have our little frictions, but when it comes down to it, we stick together. This is extremely kind of Nevil. I am deeply touched by his consideration. But then Ethelberta, his dear mama, was closer to me than any of my other sisters. I wonder where he is. We must go and speak to him to thank him, Deirdre.”

She went to the desk to inquire about his whereabouts, which gave Deirdre and Dick a moment together. "Did you know anything about this?” Dick asked testily.

“No! Of course not. I would have stopped him if I had. It is so dangerous and won’t serve any purpose."

“It’s completely insane,” Dick said. "No one will believe him, of course. He must be counting on that. But why do it? Why involve himself so directly? Why submit all his movements to such close scrutiny?”

“He’s doing it to save our aunt,” Deirdre said. Nothing else made any sense. “It’s foolishly chivalrous of him, of course, but rather sweet.”

Dick gave a look of deep disgust. “Are we talking about the same man? Sir Nevil Ryder, chivalrous?”

“Please remember he is my cousin, Dick,” she said testily. “As your investigations have been so unhelpful, it was kind of him to intervene. We’ve misjudged him. I feel very badly for the things I’ve been suspecting Nevil of.”

“What about his conversation with Polly, after which she mysteriously disappeared?” Dick reminded her.

“Post hoc arguing. The talk didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the disappearance. I learned the use of logic from you. You haven’t heard from London yet?”

“There hasn’t been time.”

“We must have misunderstood—misinterpreted—that conversation.
Ac
-tually, it was Pronto who reported it, you recall, and God knows he’s no reliable source at the best of times.”