Fenella J Miller - [Duke 02] (17 page)

“Ah! Now I have you now, you jezebel. Be glad Bennet is still prepared to marry you after your exploits these past weeks.”

Ignoring his outburst she slid across slid across the seat and grabbed the door handle. Too late—a blanket was tossed over her head muffling her cries. Before she could untangle her arms or aim a kick in his direction, a rope was twisted around her.

“Be still, or it will be the worse for you. Thought you could run out on me, did you? No one gets the better of John Radcliffe I can tell you.”

There was no point in struggling. If she lay still maybe he would remove the cloth from her head. The course material stuck to her mouth and nose. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating.

Ralph stretched out his legs enjoying the extra space glad they had decided to dispense with their valets for this brief trip. “Well, little brother, are you still determined to join the cavalry?”

“No other corps will do for me. I think I’ll look quite the dandy in scarlet regimentals don’t you?”

“We must purchase you a pair of decent horses.” He grinned. “You could take Caliban if you like.”

“No thank you! He’d have me off in a trice and well you know it. He’s a brute of a beast, far too big for me.”

“In which case, Rupert, go to Tattersalls and select your own mounts. Send the bill to me; whatever you need you shall have it.”

He closed his eyes and settled back to doze for the remainder of the journey. Much as he loved his sibling he had no wish to make small talk. His brother slumped heavily in his own corner and soon the carriage was quiet.

Ralph let his mind drift back over the past few weeks. How was it credible he hadn’t known the woman he loved until then? He sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks to the Almighty for the miracle that had brought Anna into his life. His lips curved—no doubt God would be somewhat startled to receive a message from him for he was not in the habit of speaking to his Maker.

A loud snore jerked him from his reverie. Leaning forward he poked his brother sharply in the shoulder in the hope it would stop the racket. His unexpected jab caused Rupert to fling out his arms. Rupert’s clenched fist ricocheted off the squabs connecting painfully with his nose.

“God's teeth! Watch what you're doing, you nincompoop.” Blood dripped copiously from his injury and he searched frantically for his handkerchief to stem the flow. Rupert lurched to his feet to offer assistance.

The carriage tipped alarmingly sending them into a melee of arms and legs in the well of the vehicle. This sudden transference of weight unbalanced the coach and it veered to the left causing a wheel to lodge in the ditch at the side of the road.

Ralph swore volubly. “Keep still, Rupert, we’re making it worse floundering around like this.” Ralph carefully extricated himself from his brother's clasp and shouted to his coachman. “Get down and see to the horses. We’ll be out to help you in a moment.”

“I say, just look at my shirt? You’ve bled all over it,” Rupert complained. “I only brought one clean for tomorrow when I visit Horse Guards.”

“Get it laundered. Now help me open the door. We must get out see if we can right this vehicle or neither of us will be going to London.”

Eventually the horses were untangled from their traces and the carriage back on the road. “It's a damnable nuisance, Rupert, but I fear we will have to walk to the hostelry. The rear axle is cracked and our weight inside will snap it clean through.”

His brother shrugged. “It's a fine day and no more than a mile. The exercise will do us good. I need to be fit to be a cavalry officer.”

Ralph chuckled. “I doubt this walk will make much difference. The fact that you have sworn off alcohol and gambling will be more beneficial to your health and my pocket.”

He turned to his coachmen who were busy re-harnessing the animals. “I expect we will be there before you. I’ll endeavour to find a wheelwright so the repair can be made speedily.” He reached into the interior and removed his bag; his brother did likewise.

The inn, a well-known stopping place for travellers, was bustling with ostlers taking care of horses and folk waiting to board the next mail coach. Rupert pointed to the group.

“Shall we catch the stage? It might be several hours before we can get our own carriage repaired.”

“I doubt we'd get a seat and I have no intention of travelling on the top. I've heard of passengers freezing to death up there. We'll wait; although we both wish to get our business done there’s no real urgency.” He gestured to an ostler who hurried over tugging his forelock.

“Yes, mi’lord, can I help you?”

“My carriage has met with an accident and needs the rear axle repairing immediately. My coachman’s bringing the vehicle here and will be arriving momentarily. Do you have a wheelwright available?”

The man nodded vigorously. “We have our own forge and workshop out the back. I'll show your man where to take the coach when he arrives. I reckon if it ain't too bad it’ll be

done in an hour or two.”

Ralph tossed the man a coin which he caught deftly in a grubby hand. “Come along, Rupert, we must find ourselves a chamber and get cleaned up. We might as well order refreshments whilst we're here.”

As always he had to stoop to avoid braining himself on the door frame. Inside was as busy as the yard. This was one occasion when he was grateful for his height; the innkeeper could not fail to notice him glowering over the heads of those waiting for attention. The landlord recognised quality when he saw it. He pushed his way through the throng and bowed.

“I see you have met with an accident on the road, sir. I have a splendid chamber with a private parlour and can send hot water up to you directly.”

The parlous state of their clothes and his blood spattered face had had the desired effect. “Thank you; I also require something to eat. Does this establishment serve coffee?”

“It does, my lord, and I shall have a tray brought to your room. We have a tasty venison pie, cold cuts, vegetable potage and freshly baked bread plus various pastries.”

Rupert cut in. “We both have prodigious appetites— send it all. Can you get our shirts laundered and pressed before we leave?”

“Leave it to me, sir. If you hand the soiled garments to the maid she will bring them down. We have a fine fire going in the scullery.” He snapped his fingers and a maid in a voluminous apron appeared at his side. “April, run along and fetch hot water. Sammy, you take the gentlemen’s bags and show them to their chambers.”

“Mind your heads, gents, beams are a bit lower upstairs.” The urchin snatched up the bags and headed for the staircase that ran up the wall at the far side of the vestibule. He stopped outside a substantial door and flung it open with a flourish. “Here you are, my lords, plenty of room in here for the both of you. The girl will be up in a moment with the hot water.”

Ralph followed him into the bedchamber and was well pleased with what he saw. Everywhere looked clean, the furniture polished to a high shine and not a cobweb in sight. “Put the bags on the wash stand, lad, and go and help bring up the water.”

A second coin changed hands and the boy skipped off delighted with the transaction.

“Pity Evans isn’t here—won’t get my neck-cloth right without his help,” Rupert moaned.

“Good grief! Can you not tie your own cravat? Time you learned to fend for yourself—you’ll not have a valet scrambling after you in a few weeks. Ensigns look after themselves.”

“And you’re the expert at polishing your own boots I suppose?” Rupert dodged past him and tipped cold water into the waiting china basin. “You might be my senior but in this case you’ll have to wait for me to finish my ablutions.”

“I'm happy to do so, my boy. I much prefer to wash in hot.”

Three quarters of an hour later Ralph was devouring a substantial meal and his brother, having finished considerably earlier, was lounging against the window frame watching the to-ing and fro-ing of the carriages.

“My God! That's your livery on the groom who’s just galloped into the yard.”

Cutlery clattered to the floor as Ralph shoved back his chair strode to the window. Sure enough, tumbling from the saddle was one of his men. There could only be one reason for this unexpected arrival, something catastrophic had occurred at Shalford Hall.

“Grab the bags, Rupert, follow me down.” Not waiting to see if his orders were followed he hurtled into the corridor and took the stairs three at a time. The groom was in the process of handing over his exhausted horse and claiming a fresh mount. His face was mud streaked; he looked ready to drop.

“George, are you looking for me?”

The man straightened and his fatigue vanished. “Your grace, I can't believe it. I thought I would need to ride another hour or two before I caught you.”

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“Miss Hadley has been taken by Sir John Radcliffe. He burst into the house and threatened her ladyship so Miss Hadley decided it best to go with him.”

“Miss Hadley taken? Damn it to hell!! We must hire mounts and get after Radcliffe.” Rupert clutched Ralph’s arm his face devoid of colour.

“I doubt they have anything up to my weight here. You take one of the team—they all go as well under saddle as harness. Use the saddle George had.” Ralph ground his teeth. He didn't want to send his brother alone but he had no choice. Until he could find an animal big enough he must let Rupert take the lead. “Do you know where Hadley Manor is?”

“It’s in Hertfordshire about twenty miles from St Albans. I wish I had my pistol, I fear it might be needed before this business is finished.”

George beamed and pointed to the saddle bags that had just been removed from his sweating horse. “In there, my lord, her ladyship sent weapons for you.”

“Take care, little brother. I shall be right behind you.”

He watched his brother gallop off with the coachmen thundering behind. Fortunately they were both expert horsemen and the lack of saddles was no handicap to them.

“Ostler, where can I buy a decent horse round here?”

The man removed his cap to scratch his bald pate. “Don’t rightly know, my lord. Reckon you could ask Fred, the farrier, he’d know if anyone has brung in a big one.”

Ralph shouldered his way through the grooms and followed his nose. The smell of burning hoof was unmistakeable. The black-smith was a burly man; his massive forearms bulged as he hammered a horse shoe to fit a waiting horse.

“I need to purchase a decent mount—one that will carry me thirty miles without breaking down.”

The man glanced up and nodded but didn’t stop his task. “You could try Squire Norton; he’s not far short of your weight. Not as tall, mind you.” He nodded at a sweating youth. “Jonnie lad, show this gentleman the way to the Manor.”

“Well, lad, where does this Squire Norton live?”

“It’s a good distance if you go by the road—but I'll take you across the field, it ain't far that way.”

Once they were in the open country the boy was obliged to run to keep up with him. Taking pity on him Ralph slowed his pace. “Do you know the horses in Squire Norton’s stable?”

“I do that, my lord. I reckon Bruno would suit you a treat. The squire don’t take to him—the beast’s a mite hard to handle. It has had him off a time or two.”

“Sounds ideal. Ah! Is this the place?” They had reached the entrance to a substantial red brick dwelling quite recently constructed.

“It is, my lord. You want me to come all the way?”

The poor boy was struggling to breathe. Ralph took pity on him. “No, lad, you get back to your work. Here take this for your trouble—and give this to the smith.”

Ralph ran the remaining distance but slowed his pace before entering the stable yard. This was immaculate with a dozen glossy heads bobbing over the loose box doors. He smiled, pleased this establishment didn’t stable their animals in stalls inside the barn as many did. His sudden appearance caused a stable boy to drop his fork full of manure.

A tall man in neat brown breeches and checked shirt cuffed the lad. “Stupid boy—sweep it up.” The blow was affectionate and caused merriment rather than concern.

“How can I help you, sir?” The head groom bowed and waited politely.

“I’m The Duke of Westchester. Your son directed me here to buy a beast called Bruno. My carriage has a broken axle and I have most urgent business in Hertfordshire. Is the horse for sale?”

“Most definitely, your grace. The master dislikes the animal but its nature is well-known in the neighbourhood so there has been no interest. I warn you Bruno is not an easy ride.”

Ralph nodded. “No matter—if he’s up to my weight and has stamina then I will purchase him.”

Twenty minutes later the horse was saddled and Ralph ready to leave. He was well satisfied with the gelding—a bargain at ten guineas. “You have my vowel; my man of business will send the money as soon as I am home again.”

The squire beamed. “Your word is good enough for me, Westchester. Good luck with the beast—he is well suited to your build. God willing he will not pitch you into the first hedge you try to jump.”

Ralph grinned. “Just let him try. Good day to you, sir, and thank you.” The gelding put his ears back and attempted to take a lump out of him as he gathered up the reins. “Enough of that, old fellow, I intend us to be firm friends before the end of this ride.”