Chapter 11 #2
“Oh, I am still hot for you,” he said with a chuckle. “Never doubt it. In fact, there is a very strong possibility we will do something other than reading once we slip under the sheets.”
He sank onto one of the cushioned chairs positioned by the hearth. “But let’s talk for a few minutes first.”
“Just talk?” She set aside her cup and came to his side.
He drew her onto his lap. “Yes, shouldn’t we?”
“Very well.” She put her arms around his neck, obviously feeling quite comfortable nestled in his arms.
He decided to kiss her first because she was so soft and tempting.
And kiss her again.
“Alex!” She laughed as he untied the belt of her robe. “Is this your idea of talking?”
“No, but you are irresistible.” He loved the way her body felt against his, the pertness of her round bottom and the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. But she was right, they would never accomplish anything if he did not keep his hands off her.
Still, he kept her on his lap.
“Tulip, I think we need to find building plans to this house as soon as possible. I asked Mr. Carver, and he told me he had placed them in the top drawer of the desk in the study last month, but they’re gone now.”
“Perhaps he forgot and stored them somewhere else.”
“He wondered about that, too. But he does not strike me as the sort to forget something as important as that.”
She nodded. “He isn’t at all foggy-headed. He is very organized and his mind is very sharp.”
“Then isn’t it odd that we cannot find the plans?”
“I’m sure they will turn up eventually. Why must you have them immediately? You haven’t the funds to undertake major renovations, do you? And aren’t we planning on touring the farms first?”
“Yes, the farms first because they are our primary source of income. But we also need to survey the structure of this house that was built centuries ago. There must have been secret passageways built into the walls to provide escape routes if ever Thornwycke Hall were attacked. It also follows that there must also be secret passages between some of these rooms that would allow someone with knowledge of them to slip through the house without being seen. Our bedchamber door can be latched to keep others out, but it will not keep out someone who knows a secret way into this room.”
“Do you think anyone on the staff knows of these secret passageways?”
He shrugged. “Possibly, but they won’t ever confess this to us.”
Tulip stiffened in his arms. “Should we start looking for those hidden doors now?”
“No, I’m just being a cynical clot and thinking aloud. I like to be in control of a situation, know where everything is, that’s all. But I’ve scared you, haven’t I?”
She pursed her lips. “A little. This house is already daunting, and made more so because so many dukes in succession have died here.”
“The last three did not die in this bedchamber or even in the house. As for my grandfather, he was old, sickly, and bedridden. It is likely he died of natural causes.”
“But you still have your doubts about the other deaths.”
He winced. “Only because they happened within so short a span of time. That is the only reason. I know they were ruled accidental and no one has proven otherwise.”
“But you could do it.”
“Assuming there is anything sinister to prove about them. I’ll keep my eyes open and ask questions.
Anyone can fall off a horse while out riding, especially if they are riding recklessly fast. Anyone can drown, especially if they are wandering around drunk at night and stumbled onto the salt marshes as the tide came in. ”
Tulip nodded. “It is extremely dangerous to be caught up in a changing tide even if one is sober and walking about in broad daylight. Surely, the predecessor dukes had to have known this since they’d lived here most of their lives.”
“My grandfather kept his sons and grandsons firmly under his thumb while he was alive. Once he died, who was to hold them back from all the destructive behaviors they learned from him?”
“I suppose.” She studied his features. “What are you thinking, Alex?”
He shrugged. “Nothing that makes any sense yet. Let’s worry about the estate and getting it back in order. Mr. Carver is going to give us a tour of the farms and dairy tomorrow. That could turn into a long day for us.”
“We haven’t talked about your findings yet. Anything surprising turn up in the ledgers you were studying earlier?”
He grunted. “Yes, but it was a good surprise. The farms and dairy are actually turning a small profit. The bad news is that my predecessors spent the income faster than it came in.”
“So we have to rebuild starting from nothing?”
“Yes, pretty much. But we do have the prospect of income, and that is important. We’ll need some luck to build up the Davenport coffers to any significance.
A bad year would set us back and force us to pile on more debt.
So, let us pray for good weather over the next few years to get us back on our feet. ”
“What about the old cheesemaking works?”
“I would like to revive that, but I don’t know if it can be done this year. The estate has too little income coming in just yet. Not sure if there is enough to spare in getting that project started.”
“I knew Mr. Carver was a good man and could keep this estate going no matter how badly your predecessor dukes ravaged the assets.”
“I am vastly relieved you turned out to be right. Half the battle is reining in the profligate spending, and that ought to be fairly easy for us to do.”
“Yes, I agree,” Tulip said. “Our needs are not extravagant. I can sew new drapes and make my own gowns, if necessary.”
Blessed saints.
There was no pretense to the girl, just compassion and a desire to be helpful. No wonder his instincts had gone wild at the first sight of her and screamed at him to marry her. She was ready to be a true partner to him in every essence.
Gad, that felt nice.
“No,” Alex said with a gentle laugh. “I will not have my duchess wife reduced to a seamstress. But I appreciate the offer. What we need to do is decide upon the priorities and address them with proper budgeting. We’ll need to carefully allocate the income already coming in.
Which problems are most urgent? I have my opinion on the top three. ”
“And what are they?”
His expression turned serious. “Reducing the debt that has been run up. Maintaining the house and farms in good repair. And giving you a sufficient budget to do whatever you wish with this house.”
“As in redecorating?”
He nodded. “I want you to be happy here.”
“So you have made me a priority?” She kissed his cheek. “I would be happy living with you in a barn if we were to have moments like this. In truth, I think you would be happier in a barn, too. This house is twenty times more than we’ll ever need.”
“It is a bit of a monstrosity,” he acknowledged.
“And holds such unhappy memories for you, Alex. Would time and a bit of redecoration ever change your dislike of this place?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a tinge of bitterness.
Tulip cast him a soft look. “We don’t have to stay here. Once Thornwycke is put back in shape, we can return to London or go anywhere you like. You can see Mr. Carver is efficiently running this place and does not require constant supervision.”
“But you love being in Somerset, you’ve always said so.”
“Yes, but I lo–” Her eyes widened and she stared at him for the longest moment.
What was she about to say?
That she loved him more?
He held his breath, hoping to hear those words.
But as the air continued to hang thick between them, he knew she was not yet ready to make such a claim.
“Somerset is a lovely place,” she finally said, still wide-eyed, “but it is just a place. My home is with you, wherever you wish to be.”
He kissed her again. “Let’s go to bed.”
He eased her off his lap and rose, but took hold of her hand. “Our first night here. I’m glad that mattress and the linens are all new.”
“Me, too.” She stared at the bed. “New life. New start.”
Tulip removed her robe and he removed the last of his clothes before they settled under the covers.
Tulip regarded him expectantly once they were tucked in.
“What?” he muttered with a soft laugh. “Do you think I cannot control the beast in me? Let’s read first.”
“Just read?” She smiled. “Isn’t this nice? We are like an old, married couple.”
He rolled her atop him, grinning as she gasped in surprise.
“Perhaps I am not quite ready to control the beast yet. There’s still a bit of life left in me, and you are quite delicious.
” He clamped his arms around her so that their bodies were pressed to each other.
He felt her lush bosom mold to his chest, and her hips rest against his. “Gad, you are distracting.”
He kissed her again because she had the sweetest lips, but then he set her back on her side of the bed and picked up the journal to read. “I really need to get to this tonight.”
She nestled against him and took up her book on his family’s history.
They must have been reading in silence for only a few minutes before Tulip yawned and set her book aside. “I’m suddenly so tired, Alex.”
He frowned. “All right, love. We accomplished a lot today.”
“Not all that much. It wasn’t very strenuous, but my eyes suddenly feel unbearably heavy. I cannot keep them open another minute.”
He was surprised that her exhaustion had come on so rapidly, but this could be explained logically.
This first day may not have been physically strenuous, but it held a wealth of feelings that roiled her and must have drained her strength.
Who would not feel the same when returning home a duchess and finding oneself mistress of a garishly large manor house with an unsavory history and a mysterious tower room that quite possibly held dark secrets?
Since Tulip appeared comfortable enough while snuggled against him, he dismissed his worries and remained awake reading his grandfather’s journal well into the night.
He was glad Tulip hadn’t been awake to pry and ask to read the lurid entries.
She would have been shocked by the goings on his grandfather had described.
What a lecherous, old goat.
Surprisingly, there was nothing cruel or seriously depraved mentioned in the pages.
It became clear the old man was a proponent of living freely and following one’s spirit animal.
What utter tripe.
His grandfather’s spirit animal was a wolf, apparently.
Which really meant the lecherous, old goat, who merely thought himself a wolf, invited beautiful young ladies to stay at Thornwycke Hall and encouraged them to remove their clothes whenever the impulse struck, even if it came over them while walking around the grounds.
And if they had an impulse to do more, he was ready to oblige.
Gad, the dirty, old man.
What had the staff thought of this behavior?
They could not have approved, although some of the men might have thought it amusing at first and gawked at whatever was being shown. He had been too young at the time to understand or even see much of this behavior going on. Also, his mother had done all she could to keep him away from it.
They had left Thornwycke when he was eight years old.
Before then and since, there had not been any shortage of young ladies willing to engage in these romps. By his grandfather’s description, one would think these buxom sprites were happy creatures who were never coerced into doing anything against their will.
Well, this was his grandfather’s version.
He would question the staff and find out what really went on.
The journal only covered the years after his grandmother’s death, so he did not know if this nonsense went on during the poor woman’s lifetime.
He thought it might have done because his father and uncles had obviously been indoctrinated into this style of living and had no qualms about carrying on the depraved Davenport traditions.
This must have been why his mother took him away before he was old enough to have embedded memories of any of these goings on.
But the impact on him had been deep and severe.
There were a few references to his father within the journal that Alex read with extreme interest.
He despised the man for treating his mother as shabbily as he had, but Alex got the impression his father was a sad figure who had loved his wife but been too weak to pull himself away from the old man’s influence.
Still, Alex had no pity for him.
Was it not the responsibility of a husband and father to fight for and protect his wife and child?
But something else became clear while reading the passages his grandfather had written closer to the end of his life. The old man was harboring a terrible secret, something that had happened years earlier in that tower room, and weighed heavily on his heart.
His guilt and need for absolution became evident as he reached his end of life.
Whether the secret sin was his or another’s, Alex could not tell yet.
He continued reading late into the night, hoping to find more answers, but the journal contained no further hint of what the secret was, only that a young woman by the name of Elspeth was involved, and it was something that needed to be buried deep and forgotten.
Except, his grandfather had not been able to forget it.
He’d been haunted by the Elspeth incident.
He’d written it in his journal in the hope of expunging it from his mind.
Had he confessed the sin to someone as he lay upon his deathbed? And with that confession set off a string of revenge deaths on the Davenport dukes?
Alex placed the journal aside, now troubled.
This shed new light on the accidental deaths of the last three dukes.
Perhaps these deaths were not so innocent after all.
Who had learned of his grandfather’s secret? And what was this awful truth he’d needed to confess?
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, gazing down at Tulip’s sleeping form. He should never have brought her here. That the deaths of three prior dukes were ruled accidental should not have swayed him.
He was the trained investigator and ought to have known better.
But he’d wanted Tulip so badly, ached to marry her and make her his wife, that he’d lied to himself about the danger.
After reading this journal, could there be a doubt the deaths of his three predecessors had been murder?
Perhaps his grandfather’s death had also been a murder, and the simplest to accomplish because the old man was already sick and frail.
Everyone would believe he had died of natural causes, but what if he had been slowly poisoned?
That would make four deaths.
Was he next?