Chapter Fifteen #2
‘So I observe. Which makes me wonder what brought you to the area. I imagine you have more pressing demands on your time.’
‘Poachers are still a menace, Lady Farrah.’
Farrah raised a brow. ‘And they trespass during daylight hours?’
Freeman offered her a patronising smile that made Farrah want to knock him from his horse. ‘They become more brazen by the day, I regret to say.’
‘Hopefully your presence has frightened any such ne’er-do-wells away and we will be able to sleep safer in our beds as a consequence.’
If Freeman noticed the sarcasm in her tone, he chose to ignore it. ‘Let us all hope that, ma’am. But now, if you will excuse me …’
‘With the greatest of pleasure.’
He touched his cap again, spurred his horse forward and disappeared from view, leaving Farrah to wonder what business had really brought him to that part of the estate.
She was absolutely sure that it had nothing to do with poachers.
She glanced in the direction that he had appeared from and noticed a path through the undergrowth that looked as though it was in regular use, the foliage trampled beneath horses’ hooves.
She racked her brains, trying to think where it led to.
Certainly not the village, which was in the other direction.
Shaking her head, aware of the passage of time and the fact that a light rain had started to fall yet again, she pulled her hood over her head and hurried on to her destination.
The duke was already there, his stallion tied to a stout tree branch.
He stood watching her approach and raised a hand in greeting.
Percival was not so circumspect. He noticed her, woofed once and bounded up to her, his tail spiralling.
‘Hello,’ she said, making a fuss of the dog as he jumped up at her. ‘Yes, I am pleased to see you too.’
The duke whistled to Percival when he came close to knocking Farrah from her feet in his enthusiasm. The dog immediately returned to his master and sat obediently in front of him, tail still wagging as he looked up at him through adoring eyes.
‘Good day to you,’ the duke said, smiling at her in that infuriatingly rakish manner of his that had the most peculiar effect upon her senses, confusing her and making her feel even more disadvantaged than she knew herself to be.
‘Good afternoon,’ she replied, dipping the merest suggestion of a curtsey. ‘I trust I have not kept you waiting. I was waylaid, you see.’
‘You are right on time,’ he replied, stepping cautiously onto the cottage’s rickety veranda. The wood had rotted in places and dipped beneath the duke’s weight. ‘Step carefully,’ he added, holding out a hand and grasping her own firmly. ‘You could easily turn an ankle, or worse.’
‘I would prefer to avoid that fate,’ she assured him, thinking that her hand felt far too snug encased in his much larger one.
His fingers curled around her palm almost suggestively.
Ye gods, she was in danger of developing more flights of fancy than some of the silly chits to whom Madame Celeste gave advice!
It would never do, she told herself, attempting to bring her rebellious senses back to earth.
This was a hard ambition to achieve, she discovered, since the duke’s attentions made her feel safe and protected in a manner that she had never experienced before.
She was the foundation that kept her family grounded in reality, after a fashion.
There was no place for romantic adventures in Lady Farrah’s life.
She snatched her hand free of Reuben’s the moment he’d forced the warped door to the cottage open with his shoulder and they were on firm ground once again.
Firm insofar as the floor was flagstoned and therefore solid, but Farrah’s own oscillating emotions, stirred up by the duke’s imposing presence, fuelled the atmosphere with a sense of danger that was compelling.
The air inside was stale. Cobwebs adorned every crevice, and a heavy layer of dust coated the surface of the only table.
Dust that was smudged in places, implying that someone else had recently been in the cottage.
‘Oh goodness.’ Farrah clasped a hand over her mouth. ‘I had not stopped to consider that the place would be uninhabitable, and definitely not fit for a duke.’
‘I have known worse,’ he said, with an airy wave of one hand.
Farrah watched open-mouthed as he found an old rag from somewhere. He went out to the pump, drenched the cloth and then returned to wipe the dust from the table. He picked up the only two wooden chairs, brushed those off too and then offered one to her with a flourishing bow.
‘Madam,’ he said, winking at her.
‘You look as though you have done something of that nature before,’ she replied, feeling flustered as she seated herself.
‘I cannot begin to imagine a situation that would require a duke to attend to such lowly duties, but I now feel disadvantaged and a little ashamed. Despite our family’s reduced circumstances, I am not yet required to undertake domestic tasks. ’
‘I am very glad to hear it,’ he replied, seating himself across from her. ‘You are destined for far better things.’
Farrah gave a high-pitched little laugh. ‘As things stand, I am destined for the life of a governess.’
‘Let us hope it does not come to that. My sister drives her governess – now more of a family friend – quite demented.’
‘I refuse to believe it. Your sister is a delight. Lively and full of mischief, I have no doubt, but she does not appear to have a pretentious bone in her body.’ Farrah paused, wondering if she had spoken out of turn.
But even if she had, it was too late to recall her words.
Besides, Reuben looked amused rather than offended by her candour.
‘Sophia could learn a thing or two from her attitude,’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Charlotte enjoyed your company, too. She made a point of telling me so.’
The duke appeared perfectly comfortable in the shabby cottage and in no particular hurry to bring the interlude to an end.
‘That was most gracious of her,’ she replied.
‘She is all aquiver now and fully invested in a game of identity, which apparently is all the rage amongst the younger set.’
‘Identity?’ Farrah asked with a sinking heart.
‘There is, apparently, a mysterious lady who gives advice of an amatory nature to young society ladies. It seems her outrageous suggestions often bear fruit, or so Charlotte insists. I myself think that such interference ought not to be encouraged.’
‘I have heard of the lady. Surely there is no harm in it.’
‘Until it goes too far. However, have you completed your examination of the estate books?’ he asked.
Farrah pulled a face as their conversation moved on from one unsavoury topic to another.
‘I have, and very sorry reading they make.’ She extracted her notes from her reticule and smoothed out the paper.
‘Two years ago, we were breaking even, but everything has gone downhill since then with large withdrawals regularly being made, seemingly by Papa.’
‘You think he did not take the funds?’
Farrah spread her hands. ‘I have no way of knowing. He was never a diligent landowner, preferring to spend his time at his clubs and in gaming dens. Freeman was given far too much … well, freedom to run the place, so until we can discover Papa’s current whereabouts we must assume that he did indeed make these withdrawals.
’ She frowned. ‘He must have been aware that he was bleeding the estate dry, but for what purpose? It has been in his family for generations, but as things stand he is likely to lose it. It makes absolutely no sense.’
Farrah brushed impatiently at a tear that trickled down her face.
She wanted the duke to consider her as an intellectual equal, not a watering pot who dissolved at the first sign of unpalatable evidence.
He glanced at her, his expression fuelled by sympathy, but did not articulate those feelings, for which she was grateful.
‘I think it safe to assume that he became entangled with Templeton’s underhand business dealings.
I tasked my brother with asking questions about Templeton’s situation; or more to the point Ezra had his man do the asking in the Black Sheep’s taproom, which is always a reliable source of local knowledge.
It seems he has dismissed long-standing members of staff recently and tightened his belt. ’
Farrah widened her eyes. ‘He is hurting financially too? I did not expect to hear that.’
‘He gives a very good impression of being well situated, I’ll grant you, but I am told he is very slow to pay the local tradespeople, to the point where several are no longer willing to supply him.’
‘I see.’ Farrah tapped her fingers restlessly against the tabletop. ‘It seems he is very extravagant, or at least not a good manager of his fortune. Nor is Papa, so why have they thrown their lot in with one another?’
‘Ah, there is more.’
Farrah’s mouth literally fell open when Reuben explain about the mysterious Mrs Armstrong.
‘A woman is the mastermind,’ she said with a note of awe.
‘So it would seem. Are you acquainted with her?’
Farrah shook her head. ‘I have never heard her name mentioned before. Mama would not want to know someone so far beneath her socially, even if she is ten times better off. She is a stickler for standards.’
Reuben smiled. ‘You will be able to meet her for yourself. I have asked my mother to invite her and others to take tea with her. Naturally, your family will be included in that invitation.’
‘Thank you. I confess to being curious about her.’ Farrah threw back her head and sighed. ‘It seems the more we delve, the more layers we uncover, without discovering anything to direct our search.’
‘But everything we do discover points in the direction of Liverpool.’
‘How so?’
‘Did I not mention that Mrs Armstrong lived in Liverpool, only moving south recently after the death of her husband? I have people looking into the business that made his fortune and into the cause of his death.’
Farrah’s jaw dropped open once again. ‘You think there might be something suspicious about it?’
‘Given that the lady sounds formidable, a driving force, it would be a mistake to rule anything out.’
Farrah swallowed. ‘If Freeman is still loyal to Papa and acting on his orders, then I discovered something today that might help us.’ She explained about seeing her steward in an unexpected area.
‘I can’t help wondering where he had been.
And the path between the trees that he emerged from looked well-worn when it has no reason to be, given that no one has any business on that part of the estate. ’
‘Show me, if you would.’
‘By all means.’
Reuben took her hand again to help her over the treacherous boards but released it as soon as they reached safety.
‘This way.’
The duke left his stallion tethered and walked beside her.
Percival darted round them, going off on tangents whenever a new sight or smell warranted investigation.
She was fully conscious of the duke’s imposing presence as he adjusted his stride to match her own.
They exchanged no words, but Farrah felt a connection to the gentleman that was as annoying as it was unrealistic.
He had no business muddling her thinking just by walking beside her and she was quite out of charity with him as a consequence.
‘Here,’ she said, stopping and pointing. ‘Where could it possibly lead?’ she asked, looking up at Reuben as he firmed his jaw.
‘Only one place,’ he replied. ‘Templeton’s estate.’