Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) (11 page)

Trying to turn his mind to more important matters, he thought about sending a note off to Tobias requesting an audience but decided against it. The less contact they had with each other, the better. It wouldn't do for him to act rashly after receiving the minister's missive the night before. He would prefer it if they told him he was being used as bait rather than keep him in the dark while they made attempts to draw out The Hunter. That part still rankled. Was Tobias in on it as well, or did this scheme belong strictly to the minister? For Tobias' sake, he hoped it was the latter. Until everything played out, though, there wouldn't be a good way to find out for certain.

****

Evening came, and Rupert accompanied Eleanor, Eudora, Juliana, and Mrs. Burnham on a walk across and down the street to Thomas and Grace's residence. Frederick, the butler, welcomed them with nary a smile. "I'm telling you, they all go to butler school." She muttered it under her breath, but Juliana's words didn't escape Rupert's hearing.

She'd not said a word to him about the night before. They'd breakfasted at the same table and been in and out of each other's space throughout the day, but as far as he could tell, she had no recollection of their moonlit dance.

"Juliana, Eleanor, Eudora, welcome!" Grace's effusive greeting blew past Rupert as if he weren't even present. "Mrs. Burnham, you too! So good to see you."

The old woman muttered something about death and old bones. Grace either didn't hear or chose to ignore her. Rupert, for his part, wished to applaud her gloomy outlook. Maybe if he enlisted Mrs. Burnham to answer the front door tomorrow Juliana would have fewer suitors.

Rupert mustered his good cheer. "I don't even get a notice then, your grace?"

She waved her hand. "Pish posh, Rupert! You already know you're welcome."

Thomas elbowed him. "She's got you there."

As they all took their seats at the table, Rupert asked, "So how is Master William these days? I need to come over during the day soon and say hello to him."

Grace beamed. "He's the most charming young man you'll ever meet. He puts his father to shame in that department."

Thomas quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"He always knows what to say, for starters."

The duke sent a sardonic look Rupert's way. "The boy has one word in his vocabulary. 'Mama'. And for that he's more charming than Lord Byron himself, or even the Prince Regent."

"Not to mention his father," Grace quipped.

Rupert glanced around the table. "I thought you had a guest."

Thomas nodded his thanks to the footman serving his soup. "He'd planned to join us this evening but has taken ill, I'm afraid."

Juliana lifted up her spoon. "You said he's a friend of your father's?"

Grace winked at Eleanor and Eudora as she picked up her napkin and tucked it into the bodice of her dress. "They met overseas during one of Thomas' father's trips abroad."

Eleanor giggled, while Eudora's eyes widened in horror.

"You'll have to excuse my wife." Thomas' apology encompassed everyone present. "She has atrocious table manners and is wont to dump food on herself at any given moment."

Grace's ebony curls bounced as she shook her head. "Don't let my husband fool you. I am quite capable of behaving in the manner typical of a lady whenever I wish. It just so happens that I have abominable luck when it comes to soup. Neither is it limited to what's in my spoon. I've dumped entire tureens on people before."

"Which is precisely why the footmen are ordered to remove all soup and soup-related dishes and utensils from the dining room posthaste whenever their use is complete. Sometimes even before." Thomas winked at his wife, and his love for her shown on his face.

"Uh, did your father travel often?" Juliana appeared nonplussed by Grace's behavior and the banter she shared with her husband.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rupert watched Mrs. Burnham tuck a napkin into her bodice as well. She noticed him staring and scowled. Then she lifted her fork with a white-knuckled grip and made a downward stabling motion with it before calmly returning it to its place and picking up her spoon. Rupert glanced around the table. No one else seemed to have noticed Mrs. Burnham's threatening behavior. Pulling his attention away from the frightful woman proved a challenge, but he eventually managed to return his focus to the conversation circulating amongst the diners.

Thomas was answering Juliana's earlier question. "…extensive. Even after all these years I'm not entirely certain I know everything he was involved in. He made at least two diplomatic trips abroad, though, on behalf of the crown."

"Diplomatic?" Eudora's interest was captured. Rupert had a feeling young Lucien had implied he worked with a diplomat.

"Yes." Thomas gave his attention to the sister. "My father served in the House of Lords. Many of the roles he filled are well documented. There are some gaps, however, and I believe that's where his travel abroad came in."

Juliana's brow furrowed in concentration. "Was it unusual for him to travel without his family? My father occasionally journeyed without the rest of us, but we always knew where he was going. I imagine it's quite different for a duke."

Thomas waved the hovering footman in so the man could clear the dishes from the table. "I was away at school during the period in which Father traveled, and my mother can't recall. It's neither here nor there. Devin has been an exemplary guest."

"Devin?" Rupert became increasingly curious about Grace and Thomas' houseguest. "That doesn't sound English."

Grace, the soup course of the meal past them, removed the napkin from her bodice amid muffled giggles from Eleanor. "Stop being so suspicious, Rupert. Did I mention Margaret asked after you? Elsie, too."

"Who are Margaret and Elsie?" Eleanor wasn't the most subtle chit in the world, but because of her youth, she could get away with it.

"Elsie is my lady's maid, and Margaret takes care of young William for us."

"How do they know Cousin Rupert?" The man in question nearly choked on his water at the petulant sound of Eleanor's voice. Before he could say anything, Juliana spoke up.

"Eleanor, dear, Cousin Rupert had an entire life before we stumbled into it. It's natural he would know other women." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Juliana reached up a hand as though to grab them back. "People, I mean. It's natural he would know other people."

Thomas hid his smile behind his napkin while Grace ignored the fuss and answered the question. "Once Thomas and I were wed, he left for the continent. He wished for me to stay at Castle Felton. Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke were the entirety of the staff in residence at the time. Rupert became the steward and helped me through some of the difficulties of those early days. Margaret and Elsie both lived in Felton and came to work for me at the castle. Since there were so few of us, we all became quite close, near to family, I'd say."

Rupert winked at Eleanor. "You think it's scandalous that her grace would tuck a napkin into her bodice, but you should have seen the look on the vicar's face upon joining her at Castle Felton one evening for dinner. She brought him to the kitchen to eat with us lowly servants."

Eudora made a noise. Rupert would have called it a grunt if such a word didn't imply the unladylike nature of the sound.

"I didn't see the point, and you know it." Grace eyed Rupert. "There was not a single reason to serve me in the formal dining room at every meal. What a ridiculous overindulgence! It was much easier for us to eat together."

"Like a family!" Eleanor's enthusiasm for the duchess' explanation pained Rupert. If he knew his young cousin well at all yet, he was certain he could expect to find her eating with the servants on the morrow.

The appalled look Juliana sent his way told him she saw the same future as he. He tipped an imaginary hat to her. Let Eleanor's sister deal with that particular problem. He would be happy to stay out of it.

Mrs. Burnham cackled as she picked up her fork.

Chapter Nineteen

After an evening of mostly enjoyable company, including games in the sitting room, Rupert and the Clairmont sisters excused themselves to make the trek home. He carried his cane in a loose grip and had one of each of the younger sisters' hands looped through an arm. Juliana walked beside them, and Mrs. Burnham trudged behind with a slight lag. He'd have much rather had Juliana's hand in the crook of his elbow, but he'd found he couldn't deny Eudora and Eleanor. Their show of familial acceptance warmed his heart and made him want to be worthy of their affection.

As they drew near the front door of their own townhome, Rupert noticed something amiss. It was open, and Barrows was nowhere to be seen.

Had the circumstances been different, Rupert would have pushed straightaway into the home. With four women in tow, however, he needed a safer and more strategic plan.

"Juliana, something's wrong. I need you to take the girls and run back to the duke's. I'll watch from here, but you get inside and don't leave until I come for you."

He watched as the argument built up in her, but he didn't have time to argue. "Go, now! You must keep the girls safe."

That was all the motivation she needed. Juliana gave him a swift nod. Then, grabbing one sister's hand in each of hers, she ran back toward the Stanburys' townhome. Mrs. Burnham hurried behind them, her cane gripped more like a cricket bat than a walking aid.

Once he saw Frederick greeting them, Rupert withdrew the pistol he kept holstered to his ankle and ascended the stairs.

Moving as stealthily as possible with his limp, he slipped through the foyer. He glanced into the study and saw a colossal mess. Books had been dumped everywhere, but there didn't appear to be anyone about. Next, he examined the sitting and retiring rooms with similar results. Whoever had been in the house was good. The entire staff had been incapacitated, forcibly evacuated, or, heaven help him, killed. Swallowing down the bile that rose at such a thought, he moved toward the kitchen.

As he pushed open the door, he heard a low groan to his left. Pivoting, ready to fire his weapon at the slightest provocation, Rupert let the air whoosh out of him when he noticed Barrows, blood trailing down his forehead, fighting against the bonds that kept his hands tied behind his back. Motioning the man into silence, Rupert checked the rest of the kitchen. He found the remainder of the servants in the staff dining room. All were bound and gagged as Barrows had been, and most of them remained unconscious, too.

Rupert returned to Barrows' side and pulled the gag from his mouth. Pulling a knife from a nearby counter, he began sawing away at the rope holding the man's hands in place.

"There were six of them. They burst in the back door as we sat down to dinner. Pinned in the servant's dining room as we were, we had little chance to go on the offensive. I was hit hard from behind straightaway and don't remember much of what happened after that – just snatches here and there. It was a brutal attack. I'll be surprised if no one sustained permanent injury."

"Brilliant." Rupert grimaced. "Thieves without a conscience." As he cut loose the last of Barrows' bonds, he asked, "Did they seem to be looking for anything in particular?"

"Nothing they said made much sense, but I know I heard the name Stanwich."

Hadn't Lucien implied the brothers had lost themselves in the English countryside? "What do you mean nothing made sense?"

Barrows shook his head and then winced. "There were too many of them, and with them all talking at once, I couldn't make hide nor hair of what they were saying. It didn't help that I kept losing consciousness."

"Get your weapon." Rupert's voice made it a command, not a request. "We need to search the rest of the house."

Barrows swiftly produced his own pistol, and the two moved through the downstairs again before making their way upstairs.

The constabulary arrived as they returned back to the main floor of the townhome. The rest of the staff, who had finally started to come to, was released and questioned. Nobody could identify the perpetrators, though some were able to give descriptions.

Barrows pulled Rupert aside, a look of urgency on his face. "You might want to know, m'lord, I'm not the only one in residence sent by Tobias."

Rupert had suspected as much. "I thought it convenient that one person applied for each of the available positions."

"These men, they shouldn't have been able to overpower us."

"I agree."

"With you and the women away, we weren't expecting any trouble. They caught us by surprise."

Rupert slashed his hand through the air, putting off further discussion with Barrows. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." He wouldn't be able to have this conversation until his anger had cooled.

The consummate professional, Barrows asked, "What do you wish us to do in the meantime?"

"I am on my way to collect the women. Send your best person to find whatever trail these hooligans left, and send someone discreet to inform Tobias. Put everyone else to work cleaning this place up. Start with the girls' rooms. I'll stall them as long as I can so you have a chance to get things put back to rights. Work out a watch schedule for the night. Once the ladies have retired, keep two people stationed in the upstairs hallway at all times."

"Yes, m'lord."

Rupert turned on his heel and marched out the front door, his cane clicking with each step. He might do well to take a walk around the block before stopping back at Thomas' to collect Juliana and the others. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made him want to hit someone, or at the very least throw something. His bilious emotions needed to be better under control before he faced the girls.

His staff was comprised of War Department officers. They should not have been incapacitated without having put up more of a fight or sounding an alarm. He wasn't sure for whom his temper burned brighter: the staff so easily gagged and bound, the men who did the job, or the brothers who had hired them.

Perhaps a second turn around the block was in order.