Thirty-two
Fort
The two valets vanished into the woods the instant Humphries’ anguished howls and curses colored the air purple.
Rather than follow the wretches down that treacherous route to the river, Fort changed his trajectory and dashed after Arnaud to the Priory’s front entrance.
The guards remained behind to prevent any attack on the crypt door.
Having reached the front stairs first, Arnaud held a weeping Thea, while Henri and a sturdy footman led a shrieking Humphries down the drive. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t serious enough for them to allow the American inside. The swine appeared able to walk, although bent oddly at the waist.
“Hoist by his own petard,” Arnaud gloated when Fort reached the stairs. “The cad left his walking stick here last visit, planting weaponry in the foyer.” He handed the silver knobbed stick to Fort, apparently having taken it from Thea.
Blood marred the wicked knife at its tip. Undeterred, Fort wiped the blade on a weed patch, turned the knob, and retracted the weapon. “Did he think to fight his way in? Rather rude to take weapons visiting.”
“Shouldn’t you go with Henri? I’ll be fine.” Thea sobbed through the handkerchief her fiancé handed her.
She was definitely not fine, Fort noted, afraid to ask what she’d done.
“Humphries is scarcely in any shape to run.” Arnaud dismissed the howling American. “Henri and James will see le porc to the inn. Rafe can press trespassing charges, if he likes. You, ma chéri, have had enough for the day. I will take you to your room, then fetch your dinner and a bottle of wine.”
Leaving Fort to dispose of the deadly stick, Arnaud led his fiancée into the house.
French men knew how to court a woman, Fort concluded.
They didn’t need posies, fancy cravats, morning calls, and the polite niceties that made Fort uncomfortable.
If he followed Arnaud’s example, all he had to do was consider how the object of his affection felt and act accordingly.
A simple matter of thinking of her first, instead of just himself. All these years of teaching had taught him how to do that with his students. If he could apply the knowledge elsewhere. . . He was eager to experiment, but the circumstances were far from ideal.
Lavender was safely upstairs with invalids and infants. She wouldn’t be sobbing in fear. But she might be worried not knowing whether to bar the doors or grab a sword. Think about Lavender before racing off to the inn. . .
Abandoning the evening’s interesting outcome, Fort returned to the two-story medieval foyer lined with ancient oil paintings, the ones that had led to finding a pirate’s treasure. A manor this old hid secrets.
That Thea had managed to stab a man was another revelation of sorts.
He’d been taught that females were frail and defenseless.
But if fey Thea could stab a man, pragmatic Lavender would most likely have gutted him with a fire iron.
For her, Fort didn’t need to be the kind of sword-carrying gentleman who treated a lady like senseless porcelain, one of the many reasons he was attracted to her.
She needed a partner—as he did. Two supporting each other made a far more solid whole. He understood her lack of social confidence and thought his name and presence might help her acquire it, while her beauty might hide his total social inadequacy.
If he need only understand her to win her heart—and didn’t have to behave like a polished romantic suitor— he need only ignore the duke’s furious roars and hope she didn’t mind his lack of riches.
Feeling several stone lighter buoyed by new hope, Fort took the main stairs to the family floor and followed voices to the dowagers’ open door.
“Where are the bedeviled servants?” Weston roared when Fort knocked permission to enter. His brother must have grown bored and sought company. Or needed names for his letter-writing campaign.
Lavender glanced up from her sewing with relief at Fort’s entrance. He didn’t know if it was because he was alive or she could now escape his brother’s bullying. Well, a man could only understand so much. Now that he gave himself permission to do so, he needed time to learn more.
“The Priory’s servants are trained to guard the occupants first and are performing their duties as taught.” Fort bowed over Lady Lavinia’s hand and that of Lady Spalding, Hunt’s aunt. “Your ladyships, I hope you were not much disturbed by the minor fracas. It’s been appropriately handled.”
“Don’t go mealy-mouthed, Birdy. What the devil happened?
Sounded like the hounds of hell were let loose.
” Weston didn’t appear eager to leave his comfortable wing chair by the fire.
His lap desk piled with correspondence indicated he’d not been idle, but pain still lined his drawn features.
The thick padding on his left side and shoulder served as reminder of how the duke had almost lost his heir.
Fort wanted to pry Lavender loose so he could speak freely, but he understood his brother’s helpless frustration.
He didn’t like to ignore the hated nickname but instead of shouting back, he had to formulate a diplomatic speech that would not frighten the dowagers.
“Intruders were chased away and an unwelcome guest met with a well-deserved accident. He is being escorted back to the inn. The servants are securing the entrances.”
Socially inept as ever, Fort sought for some polite means of dragging Lavender away.
Understanding how to handle the situation better than he, she tucked her sewing into her basket, and stood. “That means they are short-handed in the kitchen and I should help sort our dinner.”
With the authoritative air of of a much older woman—her haughty grandmother had taught her well—Lavender took Fort’s arm and let him escort her out. He practically walked on air that she actually accepted him without her usual timidity in his presence.
“I’ll repeat your brother’s inappropriate demand, what the devil happened?” she whispered. “And let us check on the boys before we feed the hungry.”
She was actually speaking to him as if they might be friends. Progress!
“I have them packing and moving into their new rooms down past Clare and Hunt’s suite in the empty wing.
If we lock the rear tower and I take a room on one side and Hunt’s servants guard the other, they can’t stray far without notice.
” He led her away from the marble staircase, in the direction of the rear hall.
“I think that’s meant to be the lady’s wing, but they’re too young to be treated as independent bachelors, I suppose. We need funds for furniture and drapery and so many things—” She dragged him to a halt. “And you are avoiding the question.”
“No, you are the one talking of the boys.” And she looked beautiful doing it, her lips puckered in consternation and her long-lashed blue eyes peering at him as if she studied him as he did her.
“But the diversion helps me find the words. Thea stabbed Humphries with his own deadly walking stick. That is the ruckus you heard. But we also spotted two men sneaking about the grounds. We think they were attempting to reach the prisoner. They unfortunately escaped while Humphries was howling. Thea claims he lacks the imagination to even notice our ghostly lanterns.”
“I want to see how they look!” She darted to the window at the end of the connecting hall, but it overlooked the stable yard, too far from the drive. “I’ll have to go out later.” She turned in disappointment.
“Not without an escort,” he warned. “Our ghosts obviously did not deter trespassers coming up through the orchards. If we cannot guard the manor, our next hope is to terrify the cads from the inn, although whether Humphries can travel now may be debatable.”
“My costumed straw men will spook them,” she said confidently as they reached the boys’ suite. “They’re ready and just need to be stuffed.”
Rather than waste time on furniture or finding servants to help, the boys had carried up blankets, pillows, and their paperwork to their new rooms. They were sprawled on the floor, working their puzzle.
The advantage of the new wing was that it was private and too far from the main manor to hear any commotion.
After telling the boys they’d be back with dinner, Fort led Lavender down the service stairs to the kitchen.
Her other grandmother was a heavy-weight, short woman, almost the complete opposite of Lady Lavinia in every way.
Mrs. Ingraham’s age and arthritic knees earned her a seat at the table, where she chopped vegetables.
She beamed at Lavender’s entrance and looked Fort over thoroughly when he bowed and introduced himself.
That part of courting, he understood. Good strategy to have the family on his side.
“What be all the caterwauling then?” she asked. “Spooks come early?”
“Quincy removed an unwelcome guest,” Lavender blithely improvised. “Keep the doors barred. The vermin are coming in for the winter.”
Her grandmother snorted, although the sound was nearly lost in the cacophony of rattling pots and dishes and shouts of the cook ordering bubbling kettles stirred.
One of the maids dishing up food nearby also made a noise of disbelief. “Mighty big rats trying to hack out the lock. Had to set a boy with a knife at the door in case they got in.”
Alarmed, Fort turned toward the cellar corridor they’d just traversed, but Mrs. Ingraham halted him. “Mrs. Upton had her son bar the door from the inside. Fixed a rattrap too. If they’s hungry, they’s has to knock polite-like at a decent hour. Don’t no one go away hungry.”
These rats more likely sought entrance to the manor, or perhaps, the crypt.
Fort wished Captain Hunt or Lt. Jack were here.
Army men knew more about manning perimeters.
Fort was a poor substitute, but he was already forming a plan.
“We need to take dinner to the starving hordes,” he reminded Lavender.
“The footmen will be otherwise engaged.” If he had anything to say about it.
Which he didn’t, he realized, as he carried trays like a servant. He might be a duke’s son with a talent for strategy, but to everyone in the manor, he was just the tutor.
They carried food to the boys, Weston, and the dowagers, before preparing their own tray. Fort wanted to stay with Lavender, but he couldn’t find a polite way to ask since she’d be unchaperoned in the dining room.
More accustomed to the household’s habits, Lavender solved the problem. She knocked at the door of one of the old suites on the family floor and called, “If you want your dinner, you’ll have to come down to the parlor and join us.”
Arnaud grumbled from behind the door. Lavender grinned and turned away. “He’s capable of fetching his own, but he eats enough for an army. He can’t carry his trays and Thea’s too.”
By the time Thea and Arnaud joined them, bowls and platters filled the small tables in the withdrawing room. Fort lit a fire to take off the chill.
Once everyone had settled comfortably, Fort explained his plan for driving out their unwelcome visitors while also hunting for evidence.
No one liked it. No one had better ideas.
They argued. He listened. It was rather a new experience, discussing instead of fighting, as he had with his brothers.
Perhaps that was the influence of the ladies.
“We wait until they’ve discarded their clothes and are sound asleep, then frighten them from their rooms, weaponless, send them to the lobby, block them from returning, so we can search their chambers for what? Bloody knives? Wire garrotes?” Arnaud asked.
That was the weak part of his plan. Fort knew how to look for written evidence. The others. . . not so much. “If we find evidence of murder, we can send them to assizes, where they belong. Even proof of counterfeiting will tie them up in the courts forever.”
“I don’t know if we’ll find proof of insurrection, but we might as well try.” Thea agreed.
Fort nodded in relief. He wanted these men far from Weston.
“Once we frighten them from their rooms, Rafe and whoever he has on staff will have to keep them in the pub. Lavender and Thea must stay hidden to keep the straw men and smelly ghosts moving to frighten the wretches from returning to their rooms while we search. Arnaud, if you’ll rummage the attic for weapons, we can at least disarm the servants.
I’ll hunt correspondence, perhaps find out who else might be involved.
If we can’t find anything incriminating, we’ll at least have terrified them. ”
“Couldn’t we just terrify them out of the inn and lock the doors?” Thea asked wearily. “I want them gone.”
“As do we all. But if we don’t want them returning, it will take a little more work.” Fort hated thinking quickly, but he was learning.
A tutor might not be much of a hero, but with everyone’s help, he might at least convince Lavender that he was useful. Which he most patently was not.