“Pregnant,” repeated Lewiston in a stunned voice.
Through the night and with little regard for safety, the Duke of Blackthorne’s coach made swift, inexorable progress toward Scotland.
“I will not stay in bed! This is ridiculous. I feel fine.” Charity stalked through the bathing chamber into her husband’s room, followed closely by her protesting maid. She found Niles standing there with his arms crossed. “Where is my husband?” she demanded.
“His lordship had to go out, my lady. He left orders that you were to get some rest,” said Niles in his gravelly voice. He attempted a smile but then gave up and resorted to his more usual crabby expression.
“I cannot stay in bed for the entire pregnancy, Niles. Be reasonable. I’d like to understand what’s going on around here.” She glanced from Enid’s worried and confused face to Niles’s stubborn one and threw up her hands. “Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will.” She turned toward the door.
Astonishingly, Niles stepped in front of her. “Why don’t you wait here and let Enid go find whomever you wish to speak with, my lady?”
Charity snorted. “So you can coach them into saying nothing upsetting to the nice pregnant lady? No, thank you. Now, kindly move out of my way.”
Niles sighed and moved aside, and then fell into step beside her in the hall. “He’ll be back in a day or so.”
Charity kept walking. “What do you mean by ‘or so’? And, where did he go?” She reached the top of the stairs and started down them, lifting her skirts slightly with one graceful hand.
“Please, my lady. Assist us a bit. You’re making me wish I’d let you strike me with that fire poker the morning we met.”
Charity suppressed a smile. “You won’t be able to distract me, Niles.” She swept into the great room and walked directly to the fire to stand before her mother-in-law. Beth rose from the stool beside her mistress’s chair upon which she sat, legs curled beneath her.
Lady Eloise looked up but did not rise. She raised disdainful brows. “To what do I owe the dubious honor of this visit, Charity?”
“Where is Lachlan?”
The older woman sneered. “Oh, have you lost him?”
Beth giggled.
Charity glared at the maid and then returned her attention
to Lady Eloise. “He wouldn’t have left without telling me where he was going unless he thought the knowledge might worry me.”
“Well, I can promise you I know nothing. Lachlan hasn’t informed me of his comings and goings since he was ten years old and constantly disappearing to visit that old man on the bluff.”
Charity tilted her head and regarded the older woman steadily. She thought she detected a thread of pain in her voice, so she softened her tone. “You really don’t know, do you?”
Eloise looked toward the window. “No,” she said. “I don’t. Now, if you would be so kind, I was having a rather peaceful afternoon until you swept in here with your”—she flicked a glance toward Enid and Niles—“entourage.”
Charity knelt beside her mother-in-law’s chair. “I’m sorry we didn’t come here before getting married, my lady,” she said softly.
Lady Eloise furrowed her brow but didn’t respond.
Beth stepped forward, eyes spitting green sparks. “You didn’t come here before you got married because you
had
to get married.”
Charity slowly stood, her eyes narrowed on the blonde girl’s normally pretty face. It was now twisted with hatred.
“That’s right,” the girl said. “Lachlan told me everything.”
Charity paled and said nothing.
“Do you really think he spends that time in his study alone? He trusts me. He’s known me since we were children, and we were once engaged.” Beth smiled slyly. “I know that he had to marry you after you ran off with someone unsuitable. He rescued you. Such the gentleman, isn’t he?”
“Leave.” Charity’s voice was flat, and Enid looked at her
in surprise. Niles stepped up behind her in a show of support, a look of pride on his craggy face.
Beth shook her head. “You can’t make me leave. I am employed by the Marchioness of Asheburton.” She looked at Eloise. “Aren’t I?”
Lady Eloise pressed her lips together and glanced first at Beth and then at her daughter-in-law. She lifted her chin and gave Charity a regal nod. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then turned to Beth. “But I’m afraid Charity is the Marchioness of Asheburton. If she wishes for you to leave, then you must do so.” She gave the girl a scathing look. “My reasons for bringing you here might not have been well intentioned, and of that I find myself unexpectedly ashamed. Your words and low common actions this morning fill me with contempt.”
Surprised warmth filled Charity’s heart, and she smiled swiftly at the older woman, who looked, for the first time, as though she had human feelings. Beth stared from one woman to the other before turning and leaving the room without another word. A second later the front door slammed.
“For the record,” said Niles, into the silence, once again taking rather incredible license for a servant. “Beth was never alone in the study with Lachlan. The time you encountered her there, she was waiting when he came in and he sent her away immediately. Also, anything she might know about your marriage she’s learned by eavesdropping on our conversations. I can guarantee that my master does not tell her anything.”
Charity gave the valet a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, are you going to tell me where my husband has gone, or do I have to go question the staff in the stables?”
“He’s gone to get Matthew and Amity, my lady.” Lewiston’s voice rang out from the foyer, and they all turned to stare at him. “For God’s sake, Niles. Can’t you see
not
telling her is more upsetting than just giving her the truth? Why not just be honest with her?” He walked across the room to join the group and placed a hand on Lady Eloise’s shoulder. “That was well done of you, Mother.”
Before she could reply, they all turned toward the foyer at the sound of a deep male voice. “Excuse me. Where might I find the Marquess of Asheburton?” The Duke of Blackthorne stood in the entryway. He pointed down the foyer. “And you should know that the blonde maid who let me in wasn’t at all helpful.”
Everyone in the room burst into laughter.
Thirty-one
The
Marquess of Asheburton entered the foyer of his home and found utter silence. No butler, no dogs barking, Minerva didn’t even come running for attention, nothing. He walked slowly down the steps to the great room and stood in the middle of the floor, looking around. Even his mother, nearly always seated in her chair before the fire, was missing. It was as though the place were deserted.
After a few moments his guests appeared in the foyer behind him. Amity and Matthew eyed him curiously. Mercy, who had been visiting her sister when Lachlan arrived, popped up behind them, jumped down the steps, and looked around. “Fairly deserted castle you’ve got here, Ashe,” she remarked.
“It’s a keep,” he corrected her absently. From far away, he finally heard something that sounded like applause. This was followed by a louder cheer. Curious, he turned toward the stairs that led to his mother’s solar. She never entertained guests.
He took the steps two at a time. Mercy looked at her sister, shrugged, and followed.
He walked into the solar unnoticed by anyone except Sebastian, who leaned against a far wall, his arms folded across his chest. The rest of the household, staff and all, were gathered in a tight knot around a small table at which his mother and Niles were seated facing one another. He
drew near and, because of his height, was able to look over the throng to see what was going on. It was a bit of a shock.
The unlikely pair was playing at a strange game, wrestling with their thumbs. He watched in astonishment as his mother deftly avoided having her thumb pinned by the stocky, powerfully built valet time and time again, until at last she managed to maneuver herself into position. With a cry of triumph, she smashed down on his thumb while the crowd counted gleefully to three, and then she threw up her arms in victory. Everyone cheered. Niles looked disgusted with himself.
“I’m telling you,” crowed Lewiston. “She can’t be beat!”
Just then, Mercy walked in with her sister and brother-in-law, and she let out a screech of delight when she saw Sebastian leaning against the wall. Everyone stopped and turned toward the door.
Sebastian groaned. “Sweet mother of—”
“Mercy!” cried Charity. She extricated herself from the throng and ran across the room to give her sister a hug. “My goodness, you’ve grown even taller since we left for London.” She stepped around to hug Matthew and Amity, too, smiling happily at having rejoined some of her family.
“What’s going on here?” Lachlan looked balefully around.
All the servants suddenly remembered they had duties they should be attending and scattered. Mercy watched them go with an irreverent grin. “Quite a talent you have there, Ashe. Are you going to frighten small children for your next act?”
Charity slipped arms around her husband’s waist, thrilled that he had returned. “Your mother has the most formidable thumbs in all the land,” she declared, before she remembered
she was mad at him and pushed him away. “And why did you not tell me you were leaving?”
“I decided to save myself the hassle of hearing you argue that you did not need a doctor in residence.” He peered around. “Had I known you’d turn my home upside down in less than a week, I’d have taken you with me.”
“Actually,” put in Matthew, “she probably doesn’t need a doctor just yet. But it couldn’t hurt,” he amended hastily when his wife swatted his arm, cheerfully resigning himself to the fate of being carted all over the island whenever an Ackerly sister became pregnant.
Lachlan leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Forgive me?”
Too pleased to remain angry, Charity laughed and nodded. “You might want to rescue your cousin over there,” she pointed out. Near the window, Mercy was chattering away at her hero, Sebastian, her hands waving wildly in the air as she apparently filled him in on everything that had happened since they last met. He appeared dazed.
“So, that’s basically where we are now.”
Lachlan and Sebastian were circling the perimeter of the keep, just beyond the walls, and the marquess had brought his cousin entirely up to date on the events transpiring since they’d arrived in Scotland.
“I think you and Niles may have hit upon something. There may indeed be a connection between the accident that killed your father and the ones you’ve experienced. It seems too much of a coincidence otherwise.”
“If he was killed while riding . . . that would almost certainly point to Lewiston.” Lachlan shook his head. “I just can’t get my mind around that, him killing his father. He’s always been adamantly opposed to inheriting. If you’ll recall,
I even offered to abdicate once I learned that Andrew Kimball was not truly my father. He flatly refused.”
Sebastian nodded. “It doesn’t seem to add up. Perhaps your mother? She’s always been bitter that you inherited.”
The marquess raised his eyebrows. “I got an earful about that from my wife. Charity decided that Mother was hurt by me as a child when I chose to spend time with Gregory and my father instead of her. She actually pointed her finger and told me to apologize.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Ackerly logic.”
Lachlan laughed.
“Spend enough time around them and you’ll see what I mean. They see the world differently than any other people I’ve encountered. The only one who seems to have any sense at all is Patience, but she rarely leaves Pelthamshire.”
They stopped walking near stone steps that led up to the drawbridge. Lachlan was thinking about his mother. “If it turns out Charity is right, then it’s possible Mother did resent me but has now had a change of heart. Although, that wouldn’t explain why she would want to remove my father, unless her prime motivation was for Lewiston to inherit. Then she would, through controlling him, regain her former position in the household . . . ?”
“I don’t know.” Sebastian shook his head. “This feels male. The footprints you found were male, and it would have taken someone strong to saw through that axle. If we can find a connection between your father’s death and the attempts on your life, then I think we really need to look at Lewiston. If not him, it might be that Anthony Iverson has indeed made his way to Scotland and is attempting to hurt you and Charity both.”
“Shh.” Lachlan suddenly held a finger to his lips. “Did you hear that?”
Sebastian shook his head.
The marquess listened again and then quietly climbed the stairs to the drawbridge. He’d heard a distinctive scuffling sound, rather like a boot on gravel. The duke followed. Cautiously they looked around the corner and down the drive that led to the keep.
Coming toward them, clad in men’s riding clothes, was Mercy Ackerly. Both men sighed and straightened.
“Hullo, Ashe,” the young woman said in a pleasant tone, then smiled up at Sebastian, her eyes filled with adoration. “I came to see if you wanted to go riding with me,” she announced, and then, before the duke could accept or decline, she turned back to Lachlan. “You’ll let me ride Apollo, won’t you?”
The two men eyed each other over the top of her curly auburn head. “No,” said her brother-in-law, before reaching out to ruffle her hair.
Mercy scowled and ducked away from his hand. “When are people going to stop treating me like a child? I’ve just turned sixteen, after all.” She tossed her head, turned on a heel, and stalked off toward the house, her long legs quickly eating up the distance.
“She’s getting tall,” remarked the duke, a fond smile playing about his lips.
Lachlan grinned. “Well, she’s ‘just turned sixteen,’ you know. Before you know it she’ll be on the marriage market and you’ll be a doddering old man wishing you’d had the foresight to arrange the marriage before the Town dandies began crowding her dance card.” He laughed and pointed to Sebastian’s temple, where a short swath had begun to show on each side. “You’re already turning gray.”
“I blame that on the fact that my friends persist in marrying Ackerly women.”