The Devious Duchess Read online

  “There’s nothing to learn. You already know Adelaide’s here. Uncle asked to see her.”

  “You don’t find it odd that Nevil neglected to mention that fact when he first called on your aunt?”

  “Surely the news of Uncle’s death made him forget it!”

  “He made up that Banbury tale about going to buy a Bath chair, which he did not buy, incidentally.”

  “Oh, Dick, what difference does that make?” she asked wearily. “We both know all the evidence points to my aunt.”

  The spontaneous “Dick” acted like a charm. “We both know she didn’t do it, too,” he said, though he was by no means sure.

  She turned her great gray eyes on him. They seemed to be imploring. “Do you really believe that?” she asked.

  “Of course I do, and I want to help you prove it, darling.” His hands went out to her, and she placed hers in them. “Just tell me what I can do—anything.”

  “If only we could undo what you’ve already done—that sample you sent off to Marsh. That is what worries me, but even if it’s loaded with poison, Dick, I will not believe Auntie meant to kill Uncle Dudley. Oh, did I tell you Mrs. Haskell is back? There’s some mystery in her going,” she said, and explained it to him.

  “That looks as though someone wanted her out of the house.”

  “Yes, and she was already gone before we arrived at Fernvale, too, so they can’t lay that in my aunt’s dish.”

  “Could you get hold of the letter she received?” he asked.

  “I believe she left it at her aunt’s place. The funny thing is . . ."

  “Yes, what is it?” he asked eagerly.

  “I’m not positive, but I think Polly told me Mrs. Haskell was at her aunt’s house before she ought to have known it. We all thought Mrs. Haskell had been called home to her mother’s, you see. It was Polly’s day off, and Anna didn’t know where Mrs. Haskell had gone. Even if Polly could read, which she can’t, she couldn’t have read the note, because Mrs. Haskell took it with her, so how did she know? I’m almost certain she mentioned to me that Bagot had taken Mrs. Haskell to visit her aunt. Isn’t that odd?”

  Dick rubbed his forehead and considered this oddity for a moment before speaking. “The only way she could know is if someone told her, then. And the obvious person to tell her is the one who sent the note.”

  “She was talking to Nevil privately in his room before he left for Bath, according to Anna.”

  Belami lifted his brows in approval. “I see you’ve been busy! I’m beginning to feel redundant here. Do you think there might be something going on between Nevil and Polly?”

  “She’s not really a bad girl, though she is a little susceptible to flirtation. Oh, she chatters like a magpie, doesn’t watch her tongue, but she isn’t mean and spiteful like that Anna. I’m sure she’d never murder Uncle Dudley. He liked her, you see. He had horrid, vulgar taste—well, he married Adelaide.”

  “She might have been conned into it somehow,” Belami mentioned halfheartedly. None of it jibed with the poison being in the stew from Fernvale. Only Anna could have done that if it was done after arrival at the Grange, but the poison from Fernvale was missing.

  “There’s one thing I’d like you to tell me, Deirdre,” he continued.

  Her heart thudded in her breast. She felt that she was about to hear some renewal of his intentions. Dick looked so handsome with the candlelight flickering over his face, playing in the dark diamonds of his eyes, and casting a giant shadow of his broad shoulders on the wall behind him.

  “What is it?” she asked softly.

  “Did Charney lend Nevil a black cravat and arm band or ribbons for his hat?”

  “What?”

  “I assume he is wearing such symbols of mourning?”

  “He’s completely outfitted, but why . . ."

  “Because he didn’t buy them in Banting, and I assume he doesn’t travel with such things on the off chance of someone dying. And if he bought them in Bath, you see . . ."

  She thought about this and gave a gasp of disbelief. “Then he knew when he went to Bath that Uncle would be dead when he came back!” she whispered. “Oh, I can’t believe it, Dick. He’s been so nice to us. Really, I never cared for him at all, but on this visit he’s been a great consolation to me. It’s entirely possible he found some crape in Uncle’s things.”

  “Has he been rooting in Dudley’s room?”

  “Not so far as I know.”

  “Good, then we’ll beat him to it. How do we get up there?”

  “You mean now?” she asked, surprised.

  “The sooner the better.”

  “We’d have to go up the front stairs. Perhaps no one would notice.”

  “Let’s give it a try.”

  “I’ll go first and distract Nevil, then join you. Uncle’s room is the third on the right.”

  Pronto stood aside to let them out the door and asked impatiently, “Can we go now?”

  “There are refreshments being served in the dining room, Pronto. Liquid refreshments, too,” Deirdre answered, which was as good as being able to leave—better.

  Nevil wasn’t in the hallway, and Deirdre and Belami were able to go upstairs at once without being seen. They lit the tapers, and a large, dark, dilapidated chamber sprang into view. The canopied bed along the far wall dominated the room. Around the edges, heavy furnishings were arranged: an armoire, a dresser, a desk, chairs, and a table, for Dudley sometimes ate in his room. On the bed, a large hamper sat.

  “That’s the clothing Uncle wore when he—when they took him away. It will be thrown out. It’s all dirty,” Deirdre said.

  Belami stepped forward and opened the hamper. Inside, a small brown packet held the contents of his pockets. There was a pencil, a pince-nez, some loose change, a handkerchief, a snuffbox, and a piece of paper with some scribbling on it.

  Belami lifted the snuffbox and examined it. A picture of a nude Venus smiled provocatively at him. “Adelaide sent this to Dudley for his birthday” he said. He opened the box and tried the snuff. It was a surprisingly good brand. He looked around the dresser and saw the tin of snuff she had also mentioned. It was the same sort.

  Deirdre watched him, remembering Nevil’s remark that Belami had entertained Adelaide at the inn. It rankled even though she suspected Dick’s aim hadn’t been romantic. “I suppose you’ve been seeing a fair bit of Adelaide, have you?” she asked, but before he had time to do more than shoot a sharp glance at her, she spoke on. “Is it possible Dudley was poisoned by the snuff, do you think?”

  “According to Straus, it was in his stomach, not his lungs, though after several hours, perhaps it might have gotten around in his body. I’m going to take both the tin and the box, Deirdre. I’ll get them back to you shortly. No, it’s easier just to take samples.” He took a sample from each container, wrapping one in his handkerchief and the other in the piece of paper from Dudley’s possessions. He looked at the paper first, trying to make sense of it. It looked like a list, but done in a kind of shorthand using initials. It would also be studied at leisure when he returned to the inn.

  “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” she asked. He shook his head.

  “I’ll have a go at the desk. You look around the dresser.” The desk yielded letters from the duchess, Nevil, Adelaide, and a few other relatives. There were also bills from tradesmen and receipts of various household expenditures. Belami pocketed the letters and went to the dresser with Deirdre. They stood looking at a clutter of brushes and combs, an open jewelry box containing a few tiepins, a dusty ivory miniature of a lady that Deirdre identified as Dudley’s mother, a bottle of lavender water, and a few more snuffboxes.

  The remainder of the room was given a cursory search, but there seemed to be nothing to be learned there.

  “I’d best be going,” Belami said. “You’ll be missed below stairs.”

  “Yes,” Deirdre agreed, but neither of them made a move. They stood, gazing at each other, in the
still room. Even their breath seemed to be suspended as they stood, each waiting for the other to speak.

  Belami cleared his throat and said, “Will your aunt mind if I go to the funeral tomorrow? And, even more important, will you mind, Deirdre? I shan’t push my luck by coming back here after for the funeral party.”

  Her polite reply annoyed him. “Auntie welcomes anyone with a presentable carriage. She fears the cortège won’t be up to the Patmore standard, but the funeral party will. She’s ordered prunes,” she added, allowing a small smile to peep out. “Did you realize prunes are standard fare at an old-fashioned averil? She said it’s the black skin that makes them particularly suitable.”

  Dick gazed at her, beguiled by the little dimples that peeped out at the corners of her lips. He was enchanted by the many facets of this girl-woman he had fallen in love with. She had appeared older, more grown-up and sophisticated, tonight, all in black and with her hair bound up. It gave him a foretaste of how she would look in, say, ten years. He wanted to be there still to enjoy her.

  “I’ve missed you, Deirdre,” he said. He didn’t move toward her. He didn’t move at all, but just stood, gazing.

  She lowered her eyes, and he saw the long sweep of her lashes against her ivory skin. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, so low he could hardly hear her.

  “When this is all over, I’ll come back. Either way, whatever happens, I’ll be back.”

  She looked up then, and he saw the film of moisture in her eyes that she was trying to hold back. “No, if my aunt is found guilty, don’t come back for me, Dick. I couldn’t do that to you. I’ll go away."

  He took the pace that separated them and swept her into his arms violently, angrily. “Don’t say such a thing! Don’t insult me in that way, Deirdre. Do you think I only love you for your sterling reputation? My God, that doesn’t mean a thing to me. It’s you! Just you.” His voice was low and fierce. “I’d marry you if you had taken a gun and shot the man yourself in view of the whole world.” Her eyes were wide, gazing at him, full of love. “And so would you marry me, if the circumstances were reversed.”

  “No,” she said very softly, and stepped back. She couldn’t let him ruin his life.

  He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, then lowered his head and kissed her. It was a long, bittersweet kiss, the best kiss Belami had ever experienced in a long and full career of kissing women. Yet there was little of desire in it. It was a protective, possessive feeling that enveloped him. He knew that he held something not only dear but essential to his life. And when they stopped and gazed at each other, he saw that her tears had subsided. She looked calm, peaceful, even verging on happy.

  He squeezed her fingers and smiled. “We may have to change the itinerary of our honeymoon. Pronto threatens to hide out in the hold of the ship and come along with us, to keep us from each other’s throats. Oh, but you have such a delicious throat,” he crooned, and placed his lips on it.

  A wave of dizzy yearning washed over her at the brush of his lips against her sensitive skin. There was a light prickle of incipient whiskers as his lips traveled in a warm line up to her jaw, and his hands moved over her back. She put her fingers on his neck. It felt strong, the hair rough, yet it was vulnerable beneath her fingers. She could even feel the pulse of his heartbeat, fast and heavy, like her own. She tilted his head up and looked at him.

  “I meant what I said, Dick,” she whispered softly. “I shan’t marry if Auntie is proven guilty.”

  He took a deep breath and prepared to persuade her from this folly.

  Into the silence of the room penetrated a scratching sound coming from the door. “What’s that? There’s no cat here,” Deirdre exclaimed.

  “No, there’s a Pilgrim. That’s Pronto’s signal.”

  He went to the door, and Pronto straggled in, his blue eyes darting from one to the other. “Smells like April and May in here. And stale tobacco,” he added, sniffing the air.

  “Has anyone missed me?” Deirdre asked.

  “Dick’s been as blue as an emerald since the two of you have been on the outs. Missed you myself,” Pronto assured her.

  “He’s been as blue as a ruby,” Belami added, “but I think Deirdre was talking about the folks downstairs.”

  “No, they’re all gabbing and swilling and stuffing themselves on prunes. Better be a short funeral tomorrow is all I have to say. Actually, I had something else to tell you. You used to say actually, Deirdre. See you managed to break the habit.”

  “And what was it you had to say?” she prompted.

  “Nevil.”

  “Oh, has he been looking for me?”

  “No, he’s chewing that apple-cheeked young servant gel out for something or other. Seems to me he’d be better employed lighting into the Friday-faced one. Looks like a sour apple. Asked her for a glass of wine and she gave me cider.”

  “Was he saying anything of interest to Polly?” Belami asked, his patience wearing thin.

  “Well, yes and no. I overheard ‘em while I was skulking along the hallway there, guarding the study door for you. Didn’t see me in the shadows. He was quizzing her about what Deirdre had said to her when they was in the dining room together, laying on the crockery and whatnot.”

  “That’s when Polly and I were talking about Mrs. Haskell’s strange note,” Deirdre explained.

  “He was quizzing her about what she had told you till the poor gel was close to tears, and she kept telling him she hadn’t said nothing. Seemed to satisfy him, so I don’t know whether I heard anything interesting or not. We’ll have to let Dick deduce on it for a while,” he added to Deirdre.

  It didn’t take Dick long to deduce what had transpired. “Nevil did send that note to get rid of Mrs. Haskell, and Polly knew it,” he said. “You mentioned she was loose-tongued, Deirdre. You’ll have to have another go at her and see if you can find out what went on.”

  “I’ll wait till Nevil leaves tonight,’’ she said.

  “That would be best,” Dick agreed. “We don’t want to alert him that we suspect anything. You’ll let me know as soon as you hear?”

  “Yes, I’ll get a note to you somehow.”

  “Would Charney have my head on a platter if I called on you one day soon?” he asked.

  Deirdre hesitated a moment before answering. “No, she blows up quickly, but she soon settles down. Rather like you,” she added, with an arch smile, but it soon faded. “Ac-tually—I said that just for you, Pronto—she wants to ask you about hiring a lawyer in case that is necessary.”

  “Then I’ll run out tomorrow evening, but you can slip me a note at the funeral if you learn anything from Polly before that time.”

  “I’ll do that. And now I must go down and speak to Adelaide.”

  “Can hint her away from me while you’re at it,” Pronto told her; “You was right about the legs, Dick. I could hardly hobble to the door by the time we got here. Ain’t looking forward to the drive back, if you want the truth. Believe I’ll see if I can find someone from town needing a lift back. She’s a wild woman in a carriage.”

  “Legs?” Deirdre asked in forgivable confusion.

  “Don’t ask. We’ve just become friends again,” Belami said.

  “Yes, I hope we’ll always be friends,” she said stiffly, her mind alive with suspicions about Dick and Adelaide. “Don’t glower so, Dick. I shan’t ask any embarrassing questions about your private meetings at the Green Man.”

  “Do you have someone spying on me?” he asked, his eyes glittering.

  “Eh?” Pronto demanded.

  “Nevil told me. He keeps me informed on what’s going on," she replied blandly.

  “Damme, Dick, and Adelaide’s asked me for your room number a dozen times,” Pronto said.

  Deirdre glared at Dick, who glared back. “We’ll be going now,” he said, grabbing Pronto’s arm and hauling him out of the door by main force.

  Deirdre didn’t see Belami leave, but Pronto later told her that he had gotten
out undetected. She did a little gentle quizzing about Adelaide wanting Dick’s room number. Pronto swore on his honor that he hadn’t given it to her, since he couldn’t remember it himself, and she grudgingly accepted it.

  Her manner to Adelaide was not as warm as it might have been, but Adelaide was not a sensitive woman and found nothing amiss in it. The callers began leaving around nine, and by ten the saloon was empty.

  "We’ll lock up here, Nevil. You still have the drive to Banting,” Deirdre told him.

  “I’ll be back out by nine in the morning to oversee the departure for the church,” he said. “I’ll spare you all I can,” he added to the duchess.

  Deirdre took a close look at his crape funeral embellishments and thought they looked brand-new. After he left, she said to her aunt, “Did Nevil borrow any crape from you, Auntie?”

  “Certainly not. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen him in funeral regalia. He’s nicely rigged out, I must say, but I didn’t care for that bonnet on Miss Pankhurst, and not even a veil for her face. I hope she has the common decency to go in proper mourning tomorrow.”

  “I expect Nevil will hint her into the right style. I want to speak to Polly before we leave. I’ll be right back.”

  She went to the kitchen, where Anna was loading dishes into the sink under Mrs. Haskell’s direction.

  “Where’s Polly?” she asked.

  “She went to bed with a sick headache,” Mrs. Haskell replied.

  “Yes, as soon as I got the dishes in the sink she got sick,” Anna added over her shoulder.

  “Sometime before that,” Mrs. Haskell corrected. “She did look feverish, poor girl. It’s the nature of your uncle’s passing that upsets these shatter-brained girls, Miss Gower. They’re convinced there’s a ghost behind every corner.”

  “I’ll see her tomorrow,” Deirdre said, and went back to join her aunt for the trip home. She meant to be at the Grange before Nevil’s arrival at nine, to give Polly a good quizzing.

  She didn’t learn till that time that Polly had left. Mrs. Haskell discovered it much sooner. She stopped at Polly’s door on her way to bed to see if she was ill and found that the girl had gone. Her dresser had been hastily emptied, and the few gowns taken from the dress hooks on the wall, so she knew that Polly hadn’t just slipped off to meet a fellow. She had left permanently. It didn’t seem an important enough matter to disturb the duchess with all her other problems, but she did just wonder if it had anything to do with Miss Gower’s wanting to speak to her. She thought it might be a matter of theft, money taken from Miss Gower’s reticule perhaps, though Polly was never a light-fingered girl. It was liking the men that was her weakness. Thoughtless chit! It would be for herself and Anna to manage the funeral unless the duchess could spare a few girls.