The Duke's Legacy (4 page)

Lord Denver eyed her with surprise. “What’s that to you?”

She opened her eyes very wide and looked squarely into his face. It was now or never. If she had any hope of gaining his trust she would need to tell him the truth and rely on his instincts as a gentleman to respect her confidence. What’s more, she would need to do it now, before he made good on his very real intention of throwing her out.

“Someone’s trying to kill me, Lord Denver,” she said, biting her lower lip. “And I don’t know how to discover that person’s identity, or prevent him from succeeding.”

Chapter Three

“Good God!” Sebastian’s response was instinctive, surprise taking precedence over good manners. “You surely can’t be serious.”

“Unfortunately I’ve never been more so.”

He wanted to laugh. She was just a young girl with a lively imagination and too much time on her hands. Then his gaze came to rest on her troubled features he realised this was considerably more than a case of an overactive imagination. Real or not, Lady Abigail felt threatened by something that had scared her half out of her wits.

“Who in the world would wish you any harm?”

“That, my lord, is precisely my difficulty.”

“And a foolish question on my part,” he conceded. “Given your unusual circumstances, I can imagine any number of people wishing to benefit from your demise. Come, Lady Abigail, let me take your cloak.” Without waiting for her answer he did so, revealing the smart lavender walking dress she wore beneath it. “Now, take a seat and tell me all about it.”

“Now that I’m here, I scarce know where to begin.” She fiddled with her reticule and looked down at her hands. “Suddenly my suspicions seem tenuous.”

“Since you’ve resorted to seeking my help, I doubt your fears are completely unfounded.” Sebastian arranged his features into an expression of neutrality, prepared to take her concerns seriously. “Calm yourself, Lady Abigail, take a moment to assemble your thoughts and then tell me when you first started to have fears for your safety.”

“Well, as you’re aware, my parents—” She paused, clearly struggling to overcome her emotions. “My parents died in a carriage accident ten years ago.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “And you’ve lived with your uncle and aunt ever since.”

“Yes.”

“Are they kind to you?”

Sebastian turned away, unequal to withstanding the effect of her uncontrived smile. “Indeed yes, they treat me as one of their own.”

“Then why not apply to your uncle for help? It must have taken some desperation and no little subterfuge to arrange this visit. Surely you don’t suspect your uncle?”

“Heavens, no!”

Lady Abigail rose from her seat, obliging him to stand also, and paced the length of the room. He didn’t imagine she’d done so in order to display her curves for his closer scrutiny. Never once to waste an opportunity, Sebastian scrutinised them anyway.

“Lord Denver,” she said, abruptly resuming her seat. “I’m the Duke of Penrith’s only child and, as just about everyone in the
ton
appears to know, heir to my father’s considerable estate. What a lot of people don’t realise is that I’m also the holder-in-trust of the title to the duchy. That’s why I am under pressure to marry suitably and produce an heir. If I don’t then the title reverts to the Crown, since my father had no male relations to whom it could pass.”

So the rumours were true. Sebastian had wondered about that. The arrangement was almost unheard of,
and
subject to royal whim. He’d like to know how it had been contrived but that question could wait.

“Go on,” he said.

“Given those circumstances, my life has been very restricted. My every movement is closely observed and the suitability of every playmate or tutor thoroughly examined. My activities are carefully scrutinized and forbidden altogether if there’s the slightest perception of danger. My every outing is accompanied by enough chaperones to try the patience of a saint, and a sense of duty and responsibility has been drummed into me at every juncture.” She tossed her curls. “Have you any notion just how stifling such an existence can be, even if it is conducted in the utmost comfort?”

Secretly Sebastian felt sorry for her but refrained from expressing that opinion. Anyone in a position of privilege had a cross to bear. He ought to know.

“I dare say your uncle has acted solely with your best interests at heart.”

“Yes, indeed he has, and I’m not ungrateful. Since coming to town I’ve won a few, a very few small freedoms, which are precious to me. If my uncle even suspected someone was intent upon harming me, those freedoms would be withdrawn in a heartbeat and I would be whisked back to the country.”

“Surely that would be for the best?” Sebastian stretched his legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He was aware of Lady Abigail watching him and wondered what thoughts were passing through her head. “You’d be safer in a rural setting.”

“Since the attempts on my life started in the country, I don’t see how returning there would improve my situation.” She lifted one slender shoulder. “Indeed, if whoever’s intent upon harming me can reach me in closely guarded and remote locations, perhaps it’s better for me to be among crowds of strangers.”

“Possibly, but I can’t form an opinion until I know the precise nature of your concerns. Tell me everything. But first, I’d like to know how you came to be your father’s heir
and
conveyer of the title. It’s a rather unusual arrangement and presumably at the root of your problems.” He smiled at her. “Money and power almost always are.”

“My great-grandfather was the Marquess of Penrith, but the king bestowed a dukedom upon him for services rendered. It was my great-grandmother who managed to ensure the entail through the female line.” Sebastian was amused when Lady Abigail blushed to the very roots of her hair. “Apparently she had a lot of influence with the king’s advisors.”

Sebastian was having difficulty keeping his lips straight. Influence under the monarch’s advisors would have been a more apt description, explaining the unusual arrangement very neatly.

“Your great-grandmother must have been a remarkable woman,” was the only observation he trusted himself to make.

“I know my parents were hopeful of producing a male heir. My mother suffered the loss of two children before me and the two who followed my birth were still-born. At the time of her demise she was carrying another.”

Sebastian nodded, strangely moved by the chit’s obvious adoration for her deceased mother.

“Anyway, today my guardianship and the management of my affairs is split equally between my Uncle Bertram and Lord Wilsden.”

“Wilsden was a contemporary of your father’s, I believe?”

“Yes, he’s also my godfather.”

“Then why were you brought up in Bevan’s household? Wilsden’s estate is closer to the Penrith seat, surely?”

“Yes it is, and I’m told my godfather argued forcefully at the time of my parents’ death for me to reside in his household. But Aunt Constance is my mother’s sister, and already had a daughter close to my age, whereas Lord Wilsden’s children are both boys and were already away at school. If I’d lived there it would have been a solitary existence, and so it was decided I ought to go to my uncle and aunt at Castleray.”

“But Wilsden has joint custody of you and your affairs?”

“Yes, as do my father’s attorneys, at least as far as matters relating to the Duchy are concerned. I’m not privy to the particulars of their involvement.”

“All right, now I understand better how things are arranged within your family, tell me when you first suspected someone intended you harm.”

“A little over a year ago, my cousin Beatrice and I were walking in the grounds at Castleray. The house was full of guests but it was a fine afternoon and we both craved an hour’s respite. You will readily imagine our surprise,” she said, an impish light illuminating eyes so compelling Sebastian experienced difficulty tearing his gaze from them, “when we reached the summerhouse and found Lord Woodley, quite by chance, had walked in the same direction as us.”

Sebastian laughed. Lady Abigail shifted her position, colouring as she fiddled with her reticule. She looked away from him, finding something to engage her attention in the arrangement of flowers on a side table.

“Woodley and your cousin are engaged to be married?”

“They are now. At that point an understanding had been reached between them which awaited my uncle’s ratification. I was preoccupied with my dogs. They were anxious for their exercise and so I begged the couple to excuse me. I took a path through the woods, one that I had often used in the past and which was known to be a favourite of mine. It required me to cross a rope bridge, high over a fast-flowing stream, to reach the opposite bank.” Lady Abigail paused, seemingly stricken by the recollection. “My dog Marcus doubtless saved my life because he loped off ahead of me, across the bridge. It gave way, even under his slight weight, and it was only because he’d almost reached the opposite bank that he was able to scramble to safety.”

“I can understand why that frightened you, but rope bridges are subjected to all manner of weather conditions.” Sebastian flicked an almost non-existent speck of lint from his breeches. “Could it not simply have been an unfortunate accident, attributable to neglect?”

“That was my initial reaction, but the head keeper came to my aid almost as soon as it happened. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong because he assured me the rope had been in good repair.” Her eyes clouded with renewed fear. Or was it anger? “When he looked more closely he discovered the rope had been severed almost all the way through and had been hanging, literally, by a thread.”

“And your uncle took what action to identify the culprit?”

“I begged the keeper not to inform him because I knew it would cause a furore. Besides, I didn’t know at the time someone was deliberately attempting to injure me. I thought it was just a prank, or carelessness on behalf of one of the groundsmen. I mean, how could they be sure it would be me who used the bridge next?”

“You did say it was a favourite path of yours.”

“Yes, but others used it, too. Besides, if I were to tell then my uncle would wish to know why I was alone. I’m not permitted to be alone, you see, even in the grounds of Castleray. Uncle Bertram would have wanted to know where Beatrice was. Were he to discover I had left her alone with Lord Woodley, well—”

“Quite.” Sebastian quelled a knowing smirk. “So you dismissed the rope bridge as an unfortunate accident. When did the next incident occur?”

“Two months later, while riding on my godfather’s estate. A party of us took horses out for the day and stopped for an al fresco luncheon. We were cantering back towards the estate afterwards when my saddle slipped completely around and I was thrown. All the horses’ girths had been loosened when we stopped but my mare’s had obviously not been properly tightened before we remounted.”

“Then how were you able to remount at all? Surely the saddle would have slipped when you placed your foot in the stirrup?”

“One of the gentlemen, I forget whom, lifted me back into my saddle.”

“Of course.” Sebastian curled his upper lip. “Whose responsibility was it to ensure the horses’ girths were retightened?”

“My godfather’s head groom was with the party and he was adamant he saw to the matter personally, knowing what particular care was to be taken of me.”

“And so, if he spoke the truth, someone undid his work. It would be easy enough for him to conceal his misdeed amid the rumpus caused when the party prepared to remount.”

“Yes, I too came up with that explanation, too.”

“And the next time?”

“Back at Castleray again a month later. I often use a back stairway to reach the side door. It opens straight onto the park and is a more convenient means of leaving the house to exercise my dogs. It saves me a walk that would otherwise take at least five minutes.” Used to living in enormous houses himself, Sebastian nodded his understanding. “The stairway in question is used only by the domestic staff, but my occasional use of it was no secret. One morning a stair-rod gave way when I was half way down. I fell the rest of the way and sprained my ankle.” Her brow creased. “But how could anyone know I would use the stairs at that particular time? It could just as easily have been a servant, so once again I dismissed the incident as an accident.”

Sebastian now believed Lady Abigail was right to have concerns for her safety. Someone who was cunning, resourceful and ruthless wished her harm. Someone, moreover, who was rapidly running out of patience. The person appeared to have free access to her in whatever household she happened to be residing in—a suspicion that was confirmed when she related the next two incidents.

The first was another attempt to cause an accident while she was on horseback, this time at Castleray, by placing a burr beneath her mare’s saddle. In spite of Lady Abigail’s modesty in relating the incident, Sebastian suspected only her proficiency as a horsewoman prevented a more serious outcome than being deposited on her derriere and suffering what she described as insignificant bruising.

The second, and far more serious to Sebastian’s mind, was Lady Abigail’s belief that since her arrival in town someone had tried to poison her. She had taken a glass of peach ratafia at the house of mutual friends just a few days ago, and been violently ill almost immediately afterwards. Significantly, no one else who took the drink suffered the same unfortunate consequence.

“And so these apparent accidents have become more frequent in recent months?”

“Yes.”

“From which we must infer someone doesn’t wish you to choose a husband?”

She nodded with obvious reluctance. “Yes, but I can’t see who would benefit, that’s my problem.”

“Lady Abigail, should this person be successful in doing away with you, who inherits your fortune?”

Abbey bristled. “My Aunt Constance, as my mother’s sister and only living relative. My father had no siblings and there is no one, however distantly related, with a valid claim. My family doesn’t veer away from the female line inheriting, but my aunt and uncle are independently wealthy. Besides, they’ve been kindness itself and I couldn’t for a moment consider them as the guilty parties. Their lives have been completely disrupted by their responsibility for me but not once have they complained. On the contrary, they knew how distressed I was by my parent’s death, how discomposed by my subsequent situation, and they’ve done everything they can prepare me for what lays ahead.”