Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2) (12 page)

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The hunter’s hand balled into a tight fist, then came crashing down onto the wooden table.  The candle sputtered and the full glass of wine wobbled, spilling red liquid over the sides, nearly smashing to the floor from the force of his ire.

How in the hell had she slipped through his fingers?  He had been waiting so long to bed the wench, to hear her sob his name as he took her over and over.  Then seek his revenge when the time came.

But Fran dashed off with her lover. 

She had to pay.

Rage burned in his middle, making him shake with its force.  The knife in his pocket grew heavier with each new day, a constant reminder he had work to finish. 

She had to pay.
  And time ran short.

Throwing his head back, he bellowed an inhuman roar into the dim room.  When that wasn’t enough, he swept the contents of the table onto the floor with his forearm, the near empty bottle of port and the wine glass both crashing at his feet.  Deep red liquid dripped from the deadly shards of glass.  The room darkened as the candle bounced from the holder and rolled across the floor.  He watched the red glow on the candle wick die out and a wisp of gray smoke curl up into the air as he fought to control his rage.

With two deep gulps of air, he reached for the small bundle he always carried.  His hands shook.  Holding the tuft of hair near the flames in the fireplace, he watched the golden lights dance merrily over the ruby strands.  He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply.  Then a seedling of an idea took root in his mind.  The rage began to subside.

Feeling the corners of his mouth lift, it became clear what he had to do.

He rubbed the soft hair between his fingers.  “Fran,” he stated quietly, more in control, “you thought to escape punishment.”  He cackled humorlessly.  “That was a mistake, my dear.  You see, if you cannot come to me, then I shall come to you.”

Fran would pay.

After replacing the crimson tassel back into his pocket, he drew out the long gleaming knife.  His fingers curled around the ivory handle and he sighed with satisfaction as he held it up.  A beautiful masterpiece, his Vengeance.  Orange and gold flames danced over the blade.

He caressed the cold steel with eyes half closed, careful to keep from slicing off a finger.  As he stroked the sharp metal, a pressure grew in his groin.  He cracked open his lips and let out a slow hiss.

Soon.  Fran would pay soon.

The red-haired chit who called herself Silver would pay—with her life.  But first, he wondered if that lovely barmaid would like another gold coin.

Chapter Ten

“Now?”

“Not yet.”

Eyes closed, Silver crossed her arms and sighed, waiting for Daniel.  Moments ago, he had commanded the coachman to halt, then requested she close her eyes once they exited the coach.  He insisted her first glimpse of Huntington be from a special place, then led her to the spot she now stood.  A delightfully warm breeze stirred her hair, and she heard the pleasant melody of a song thrush somewhere to her right.  She shifted her feet, having no idea why this seemed important to Daniel, but she would be patient.

Placing an arm around her shoulders, he moved her two feet to the left, and turned her body clockwise a few degrees.  “All right, open your eyes,” he said softly from her side.

Silver did as instructed, and her breath caught.  She blinked, thinking that couldn’t be her new home, but the vision remained.  Nothing in her wildest imagination could have compared to this picturesque kingdom.  A tree-lined drive bisected the rolling grassland and led a straight path up to an enormous mansion.  Its wings proudly extended over the lush, green lawn, its many rooftops and chimneys rising high into the clear summer sky.  Mid-afternoon sunlight splashed over the pale exterior, giving the precisely-hewn stones the illusion of being wrought from pure gold, and each of the countless mullioned windows glittered like diamonds.  The entire effect cast the mansion in a mystical glow.  It could have been Camelot, from one of the stories she used to beg her mother to read.  She found it difficult to catch her breath.

“Do you approve?”

Silver forced her gaze away from the sprawling palace and nodded.  “How will I ever keep from getting lost?”

He grinned and pulled her closer.  “It’s quite simple, really.  Do not venture from my bedchamber.”

With a gasp, she glanced around hoping none of the servants had heard her husband’s lewd comment then poked him in the ribs.  “You are positively wicked,” she whispered.

“Indeed.” Daniel pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss.

A quarter of an hour later, the coach halted before the mansion in a cloud of dust.  Godfrey assisted Silver, and Daniel followed.  But after just two steps toward the door, a young lad of about ten and two rushed toward them, waving his arms.

“Your Grace,” he said, taking in deep gulps of air, “I’m glad you’re back.  Mr. Somersby told me to come fetch you the moment you arrived.  Gabrielle is about to foal.”

Daniel sucked in his breath.  “Are you sure, Tommy?”

The boy nodded and bent over to put his hands on his knees, still clearly winded.

“How much time?”

“Now, Your Grace,” the little urchin answered with a toothsome grin.

Daniel turned, his eyes troubled, and Silver understood his dilemma.  He wished to witness the birth of the foal but had to escort her into the house.  And she couldn’t go to the stables since ladies did not observe such events.  Usually, she didn’t care for such proprieties, but as Daniel’s wife…

“Go, I’ll wait here for you.” Silver pushed at his shoulder.

His brows shot up.  “Are you sure?”

She smiled.  “Yes, now hurry.  It doesn’t sound like you have much time.”

Daniel gave her a swift kiss on the lips before jogging after the stable boy.

The coach had already disappeared around the mansion, and Silver found herself alone.  Seeking comfort from the heat, she walked up the steps and into the shade to wait.  And that’s when she noticed a curl of dust rising from the road leading to the mansion.  Someone was coming.  Within moments, she realized two coaches and a luggage cart lumbered up the drive.

Bells from the first coach jingled as the vehicles rolled to a halt, kicking up a red-brown cloud of dirt.  Though not as opulent as Daniel’s, the coaches were posh nonetheless.  Doors opened, coachmen and grooms scurried around the vehicles and directed the luggage cart driver to the rear of the mansion. 

As the servants assisted the occupants down from the coaches, Silver couldn’t help but stare.  The six ladies, three young and three elderly, were each dressed to the nines in elegant traveling dresses.  Lavender, jade green and burgundy, periwinkle blue, rose, and sunny yellow. And each had matching slippers, gloves, and wrist bags.  They wore expensive jewelry and perfectly coifed hair styles.  Silver swiped a bit of dried mud from the side of her shabby gray dress and stepped further back into the shadows, suddenly conscious of how terrible she must look.

As the chattering group neared, one of the front doors inched open.  A middle-aged gentleman dressed entirely in black greeted them with a low bow.  “Welcome, my ladies.”

One of the three elderly women stepped forward.  “I know we weren’t expected until tomorrow, Larkin, but here we are.  Direct us to Her Grace.”

“At once, my lady.”  The servant held the door open.

Fascinated, Silver watched the chattering group parade past her, aware that none had even glanced in her direction.  Then, as the last one entered the mansion, the small bag around her wrist came free.

For several minutes, Silver waited for the young lady to retrieve the beautiful green silk outlined in gleaming white pearls but soon realized it must have fallen unnoticed.  Chewing on her lip, she wondered what to do.  She stared at the expensive purse and considered that if it had been hers, she would want it returned immediately.  With a deep breath, she scooped up the fancy bag and walked to the front doors.

Silver craned her head all the way back to see the top of the heavy arched oak doors and slowly shook her head.  She still had a difficult time believing she would live here.  With one last swipe of her free hand over the front of her skirt, she searched for a knocker.  Pursing her lips, she wondered how Daniel ever knew he had guests when the doors had no knockers.  She could try to knock, but the wood was so thick, she doubted anyone would hear.

Squaring her shoulders, Silver decided to try and open the door herself.  Perhaps she could peek her head in and find a servant to return the purse.  Turning the handle, she used all her strength to push against the door.  With a shudder, it opened several inches.  Encouraged, she placed both hands against the rough wood and got the thing open enough to squeeze through.

Out of breath, she moved to the opposite side and pressed the door closed.  After several good gulps of air, Silver raked a sleeve over her forehead and glanced up.

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

Black and white marble tiles, shining like glass, stretched out before her.  Gold-gilded pedestals supporting busts, large oriental vases, and life-like sculptures decorated the lavish entrance hall.  High above her was a painted coffered ceiling with a beveled glass dome center.  Beyond the archway into a great hall rose two staircases at least twenty feet across with red carpeted centers that curved along the sides of the massive room then joined together midway to the next floor.

Suddenly recalling her mission to find the purse’s owner, Silver moved across the marble floor, her steps echoing in the cavernous hall.  First, she approached a door to her right.  She reached for the knob, but before her hand found the shiny silver, a crash sounded behind her, the noise ringing off the walls.

Silver spun around, her heart in her throat.  Several feet away, a young maid lay sprawled on the floor.  A silver tray with broken dishes dripping tea and cream were strewn near the girl’s head, along with wedges of lemon, mint leaves, and sugar clumps.

When the maid began to sob, Silver rushed forward.  “Are you all right?”

The girl tensed and looked up with teary blue eyes filled with terror.  Silver recognized the same look on the faces of the servants who had displeased Aunt Caroline.  And she remembered well their punishment.  Did Daniel allow his servants to be beaten?  Surely not.  He was a kind and good employer.  His treatment of Garrett suggested as much.  So why was this girl so afraid?  Was she a new servant?

Silver kneeled down and began gathering the broken shards of thin, milky glass.

“P-Please,” the maid whispered, “you must g-go.  I-If the d-duchess finds you here, she’ll—”

“What is this?”

Silver craned her head around.  A lady near Prudence’s age wearing a dark blue gown with several strands of gleaming white pearls draping down the gown’s front scowled at them.  Silver stood.  The room, which had been empty, was now filled with people.  Servants stood to one side; the six ladies who had just arrived stood to the other.  And the woman who just spoke, the woman assessing her with cold, contemptuous gray eyes stood directly before her.

The maid rose shakily to her feet.  The poor girl’s face paled to the color of chalk.  She gave a rough curtsy before speaking in a soft, trembling voice.  “Y-Your Grace, I-I was b-bringing the t-tray into the dr-drawing room—”

“When I accidentally knocked the tray from her hands,” Silver interrupted.

The elder woman shifted her biting gaze to Silver.  “Leave us, Molly.”

Molly performed another shaky curtsy. With her eyes, she apologized to Silver, then scampered away, her mobcap bouncing from side to side on her head.

The woman crossed her arms.  “Who are you?”

Before she could answer, the young lady in green took a step forward and stabbed an accusing finger right at Silver, screeching, “She did it.  She stole from me.”

All heads turned to Silver in unison.  The two footmen standing nearby marched forward and grabbed her arms.

“What are you doing?”  She tried pulling free, but the men held firm.

“The purse.  Give it over,” the elder woman demanded, holding out her hand.

Silver halted her struggling, her cheeks growing warm.  She yanked an arm free and extended the green wrist bag still clutched in her fist. God’s truth, she’d forgotten the blasted thing. “Forgive me, I was—”

“Is that
my
ring?” the woman demanded, staring down at Silver’s hands.

She looked down.  The beautiful diamond ring Daniel had slipped on her finger while exchanging their wedding vows twinkled up at her with rainbow colors.  It happened to be the only ring she wore—the only ring she owned.  Perplexed, she looked up and shook her head.  “No, ma’am, this is my wedding ring.”

Silver watched those incensed eyes rake over her drab, dove gray dress that fit too loosely and needed another three inches at the hem, finding the patches and mends along with a few mud stains from the journey.  The woman’s expression turned even more furious than before.  “And who, pray tell, is your husband?”

With her anger finding its mark, Silver lifted her chin three a full inches.  How dare these impolite people make her feel so inferior?  “The Duke of Huntington.”

Two of the younger ladies erupted in laughter while the others placed gloved fingers over their mouths. 
Why didn’t they believe her?
  When the mirth died down, the commandeering woman before her nodded to one of the footman.  He reached for her left hand.

She gasped when she realized his intent.  “Don’t you dare.”

But her words went unheeded.  And after several minutes of struggling with the brute, her beautiful ring was off her finger and in the woman’s palm.  Her blood boiled and rushed right to her face.  “Return that at once!”

“Take her to the magistrate, John,” the woman said, ignoring Silver’s command.

“Have your footman take her in my carriage, Anne,” the lady in rose offered. “I’m sure the horses haven’t been unhitched yet.  It will save time.”

Anne gave the footman a curt nod.  And the man dragged Silver to the back of the house and shoved her into one of the coaches.  During the journey she folded her arms over her breasts and gave the unyielding footman seated opposite her what she hoped was a most acrid glare.

“John, is it?  You must return me at once.”

The footman continued to gaze out the window.

Silver wanted to kick him.  She balled her hands into tight fists.  “His Grace will be most displeased when he learns of this.”

At her statement, the man shifted in his seat but remained silent.

“Did you hear what I said, John?  The duke will have your head.”

The footman turned from the window and sighed.  “Quiet now, miss.  If I don’t take you to the magistrate,
Her
Grace will have my head.”

Silver scowled at the man.  “You could have at least checked the stables like I asked you.  It couldn’t have been that far.  The duke is there helping with a horse.”  Oh, why couldn’t she recall the horse’s name?

“We are almost there, miss.  If it’s as you say, His Grace will be along shortly.”

She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the seat.  He obviously didn’t believe her.  Anger and frustration made her temples throb something fierce.  The footman was just following orders, she reminded herself.  Perhaps he was right.  Once Daniel found out where she had been taken, he would come for her.

God, Daniel, please hurry.

Twenty minutes later, Silver could have gladly killed the magistrate along with John the footman.  Especially when the paunchy man threw his near-bald head back and roared with laughter after being told what had happened.  A tempest of white-hot fury erupted within her.  The daft man didn’t believe her either.  Why wouldn’t they just check the damn stables?