In the Brief Eternal Silence (19 page)

“Your dowry!” the duchess choked. For of all
the things she imagined that could be the cause of St. James'
current escapade and Miss Murdock's being there, she would never
have imagined it was a dowry, most especially not in the form of a
horse.

“Yes, I know it is shocking. And perhaps
tomorrow after I have rested, I will regret very much telling you
for it is also quite humiliating.”

“Never, my dear,” the Duchess told her, her
mind racing over this information. “For I can not believe that St.
James would offer for you merely to gain your horse. You met him
before this offer was made, perhaps?” she asked. “Perhaps he
developed an unexpected tendress for you?”

Miss Murdock let out a small peal of
laughter. “Oh, ma'am, I am sorry, but yes, he did meet me briefly
before this. But if you could have been there, you would realize
that no! an unexpected tendress was most impossible. For I was in
men's breeches, you see. Yes,” she nodded in earnestness at the
Dowager's diverted look. “For I was riding the horse in question on
the track. Which I may add, when his lordship realized I was a
female, he was most outraged, which knowing his reputation, I could
scarce credit. Oh, sorry, ma'am. Did not mean to mention that, his
reputation, I mean.”

“I'm well aware of it,” the Duchess returned
in a dry voice. “Do, please, go on.”

“Well,” Miss Murdock set her cup down so as
not to upset it as she expanded. “Not only could I not credit it
because of as I mentioned, but I could not believe he could be so
dense. For, I ask you, am I to ride on a race track in a ladylike
sidesaddle?” and her brown eyes were very wide as she asked this.
“Or perhaps astride, but with my skirt up about my knees? So you
see, ma'am, I could not see how the perfect sense of the breeches
so utterly escaped him.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess returned trying very
hard to hide her grin. “I have never known St. James to be so
stupid.”

“Oh, but the senselessness grows, ma'am. And
although I do not mean to offend you, there is no reasoning with
the man on any point, whether large or small.”

“Tut, child. I know exactly what you
mean.”

“Do you, ma'am? I am relieved. But I get
ahead of myself. If my being in men's breeches were not enough to
discourage him, I am afraid that I rode quite shabbily, allowing
Leaf, that is my horse, to get out of control and run into the
fence. Your grandson was, of course, furious. And although he
showed concern for me, I daresay he was more worried that Leaf had
been ruined.”

“Indeed?” the Duchess replied. “If I found it
unlikely that he merely wished to gain your horse before, I find it
even more unlikely now after hearing that the horse is lame.”

Miss Murdock took a defensive swallow of tea.
“I can not see, ma'am, where it could be anything else. Leaf
luckily appears to be sound and I daresay it added to his
determination to have her for he certainly would not wish for me to
have further chance to maim her. He was cursing quite frightfully
throughout the entire episode. That is how I know that he was most
irate at me even though he was kind enough to make sure I had not
broken my neck.”

Which Miss Murdock's saying caused the
Dowager to laugh. “That is his standard demeanor, my dear, and does
not mean a thing.”

And Miss Murdock replied with wide eyed
solemnity, “So I have discovered. I am so glad that you understand
just how unmovable he can be for then mayhaps you will understand,
I hope, and not think badly of me, for being here. I swear I tried
every argument I could muster to have him cry off immediately, all
to no avail. I held out the hope all through this that once he
sobered he would see the extreme error of his ways, but he was
quite determined to continue drinking,” and she looked very put out
as she said these words. “How is he to see any sense in anything
when he is forever keeping himself in that condition?”

Before the Duchess could answer, and she was
a little glad of that, for Miss Murdock's question was, really,
quite unanswerable, Miss Murdock twisted her hands in her lap and
continued. “Oh, I should not be laying all this at your door,
ma'am, for you are doing me a kindness in even taking me in when we
have never even been acquainted before, and all I have done is run
down your grandson. I am dreadfully tired, and still quite
irritated, for his proclamation to you tonight was simply
unforgivable, and done for no other reason but to provoke me, I am
certain, but at your expense also, I dare say. For I can only think
that if you took him seriously for even a moment, you must have
found yourself very shocked indeed.

“And why,” she went on as though unable to
stop herself, and since she had not had a female to lament her
troubles to, the Duchess could not blame her, “he insists upon
continuously provokeing me, I can not tell you, for I have done my
best to not provoke him,” and Miss Murdock's face suddenly flushed
a very red color indeed, causing the Dowager to wonder what had
brought that on! But instead of revealing anything that may account
for her blush, Miss Murdock only added, “Except I did throw his
whiskey flask into the ditch. I suppose that could be considered
provoking, if one were wont to drink whiskey, which he is.”

“And I say that it did him no harm
whatsoever, and that you are obviously nearly overwrought, Miss
Murdock,” the Duchess told her.

“I confess, I feel nearly overwrought, which
I have never felt until this day, except of course when my mother
died.” She looked again at the Duchess and much of the animation
had left her eyes as her anger had abated with the telling of her
tale, leaving only tiredness. She added, “That is pretty much the
story, milady, except for a good deal of pointless arguing
throughout.”

“Then I shall not keep you up longer, child,”
the Dowager replied and she called for Ashton to have Miss Murdock
shown to her room. “I shall see you in the morning, and I daresay
that we shall have a good deal of shopping to do if what you are
wearing is any indication of your wardrobe.”

“We shall have to discuss that, milady, no
disrespect meant, but I will not have you going to expense on my
account when surely St. James will soon see his mistake and I will
be returning home again.”

The Duchess could only say, “Well, we shall
see,” and she remained for a while in her seat after Miss Murdock
had been led off to her guest chamber, considering all that had
been said and, she was certain, all that had not been said.

St. James made his way to his curricle, which
had remained with Tyler at the front of his grandmother's home. He
had intercepted that good man only an hour outside of London with
no great difficulty, and now he strode up to the groom who was
half-dozing on his feet and told him, “Very well, Tyler. I shall
take them. I ask that you remain here on my grandmother's premises
until I give you further word. See to it that Miss Murdock does not
stray, will you, and as you have already delivered that letter to
my solicitor, there is a slim possibility that word of our proposed
premature 'nuptials' may have already leaked and cause some
stirring from whomever we seek.”

“Aye, milord, thought of that meself when I
was asked to deliver to your solicitor. You informed him that you
were to be wed this night?”

“I did. At the time it seemed a good
calculated risk, for I would be ensuring that my new wife were well
taken care of if I ran into any difficulty. Now, with no wedding, I
fear it may hurry my difficulty and take care of her not at all.
So, please keep a sharp eye out, Tyler, and let me know of any
strange activity immediately.”

For once his groom hesitated at his orders.
He shook his head, told his lordship, “I understand your reasoning,
milord, but I can't like it. They will do her no harm, I don't
think, but your driving home alone, and as poor a shape as you're
in, they couldn't ask for an easier target.”

St. James took the reins, swung himself
rather less than surely onto the curricle. “What is this, Tyler?”
he asked as he settled himself into his seat. His eyes were tired
but they glinted, still, with amusement. “I have not had my wishes
questioned enough this day so that now you musts question them
further?” He gave a quick laugh as Tyler gave him a reproachful
look and finished, “Just do as I say. I know the risks and I'm
still at the ready, tired as I am. Whereas Miss Murdock is a
reluctant participant and it must be made certain that she has no
further regrets than she has already. And I really do not trust her
to stay where she is placed, not after she has had a good night's
rest at any rate.” Without further words or waiting for Tyler's
response, he whistled to his horses who, being in London and
familiar with the sights and sounds knew themselves to be very
close to home indeed, took off with a more enthusiastic trot than
they had shown when coming in above an hour before. Tyler watched
the curricle out of sight with considerable misgivings and then
turned with a sigh to find himself accommodations above the
Dowager's stables with her grooms.

St. James, who doubted that his old family
solicitor could not be trusted, still remained, as he had said, at
the ready, both his dueling pistols retrieved from their padded box
on the floorboards of the curricle and loaded and lying on the seat
next to him, but as he had thought, he was not molested on the few
blocks to his own townhouse, other than a single drunk that reeled
out into the street nearly in his path and almost got shot for his
troubles.

At this incident, St. James rubbed a hand
over his face when he continued and confirmed to himself that he
was very tired indeed, and hence a little more dangerous than
usual, for his first instinct, without thought to temper it, would
always be to kill first and ask questions later.

If his father had honed that instinct, which
was more learned than natural, his father may have still been
alive. But there were a million 'ifs' and probably always would be
and sometimes St. James had to ask himself if part of his quest for
vengeance was not just so he could know why it had been so
important to someone that his parents be dead.

Killing, when the time came, could not be
good enough. He had to have some answers.

His horses came onto the cobblestone half
circle drive of his London home, all four stories of it, and a
lesser groom came out of the shadows where he had been dozing and
took their heads. “All right, then,” St. James said, stowing his
pistols beneath his coat and flipping the reins over to the groom
for him to drive the horses along the mew beside the house and back
to the stables. Then St. James climbed the four wide steps to his
home with uneven strides, was let in as he reached the door, not by
his butler, as he was not expected, but by Effington, his
valet.

“Good God!” St. James exclaimed, very much
surprised to see that tall, thin, straight man. “What ever are you
still doing awake?”

“I was merely down for a cup of tea, being
unable to sleep, when I heard your curricle on the stones, milord,”
Effington answered, and indeed, he was in a dressing gown and a
night cap upon his oh-soproper head. “Seeing as how we were not
expecting you and the lateness of the hour, I perceived I may be
needed to help you above stairs.”

“No. I'm not drunk tonight, Effington. Not
now at any rate,” St. James ended with ruefulness. “Just damnedably
tired.”

“I can see that, milord. If you are hungry, I
can procure something from the kitchens for you.”

St. James considered this for a moment,
glanced at the cup of tea in his valet's hand. “No, I don't think
that will be necessary,” he said, reaching out and taking the cup
from the saucer. “A spot of tea will be adequate, thank you,
Effington.” And drinking from the cup, he turned to make his way
above stairs.

Effington gave the slightest of beleaguered
sighs as he glanced at his now naked saucer and turned to go back
to the kitchens to brew himself another cup of tea. St. James
called over his shoulder, “Let it steep just a tad longer this
time, Effington. This cup is a little weak.”

“Perhaps milordship should try adding a
dollop of brandy to it if it is not up to your usual potency,” his
valet returned with just a tinge of spitefulness in his voice.

St. James let out a single guffaw, and then
he made the turn in the staircase and was out of his valet's sight.
“By God,” St. James said to himself, “one would think from what all
those about me say that I have a problem with the drink.” He
considered this for a brief moment, then shook his head with a
small grin on his face. “No, I'm sure Effington was merely trying
to be helpful.” He entered his rooms, went to the sideboard next to
the fireplace and uncapped a decanter of brandy, added a healthy
bit to his cup, tasted it, and found his tea much improved.

He removed first his pistols, lay them aside
with care, then his coat, flung it with little regard across one
chair, collapsed on the chaise lounge and sprawled back. It felt
very good to rest for a moment, and a moment was all he had, for he
was certain that Effington would be up to offer assistance, and it
amused the duke to be forever finished with his ablutions and
leaving his valet with very little to do. If Effington were not
otherwise occupied when St. James was dressing or undressing, then
the duke would find some task that musts need done immediately,
effectively removing Effington from the duties that he had been
hired for. And St. James could not have really told anyone, had
they asked, why he insisted on doing this, other than that he knew
it annoyed his valet quite completely. The man was forever
lamenting that he would quit his employ for St. James' careless
appearance was a black mark on Effington's reputetion, and if
milord could not have a care how he looked, he could at least have
a care how he made his valet feel to see his employer walking
around quite disheveled and knowing that everyone must be blaming
Effington's skills.