Page 12 of A Duchess of Mystery (The Mismatched Lovers #3)

Diccon laughed. “You malign me. I actually spent what remained of the night after my late arrival in Joe Rowan’s old bed, with my servant, Baxter, on the other bed.

I was merely having a morning conversation with the somewhat dejected beast who brought me here, and waiting for the house to waken so I could make myself known.

I had no idea the duchess was partial to an early-morning ride and that we would so opportunely meet. ”

Bella’s laugh tinkled. “I took him for someone come hoping for employment. How amusing was that? We spoke at odds for some time before he owned up to who he was.” Another brittle little laugh.

“When he finally revealed his identity to me, of course I had to welcome him to Stourbridge. It would have been quite thoughtless of me to have gone on with my ride and left him by himself to find his way inside. I had assumed he didn’t know his way about here, but as I see you are old friends, I realize I’d forgotten that he’s been here before. ”

Dora patted Richard’s bare forearm, a brief memory of his slender limbs as a boy intruding.

“Of course he knows his way about, Bella. We were childhood companions so he knows the castle and grounds well.” She glanced up at Diccon, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice.

“Until he left us all and went off to be a soldier, that is, when he was still but half a boy.”

Bella’s frown suggested she might still be puzzled by much about the newly arrived duke, even though a little the wiser concerning his origins.

“So, you are our long-lost cousin returned to us. There’s no mistaking the Carstairs features.

Tell me. Are there more of your family I have heard nothing about?

Marcus never mentioned he had a living cousin, although I knew there was one who might be deceased, and who had to be located because of the inheritance. ”

“I am an only child.”

Dora nodded. “His own mama and papa died in some epidemic which fortuitously didn’t touch dear Diccon.

He came here when he was six years old, all alone.

I remember the day well, for Marcus had taken it into his head to tie my plaits to my seat in the schoolroom.

When he jumped up to look out of the window to see the carriage arriving, and I followed, my chair came with me and left me with painful bruises across the backs of my legs. ” She frowned at the memory.

Marcus had insisted, once her attachment to the chair had been undone, on going down to the hallway to see who the visitor was.

He’d been disgusted the carriage had only divested one small, frightened little boy.

Dora could see him now, in his little navy suit of frock coat and breeches, with a small, cocked hat on his head and his eyes as big as saucers.

Her own eyes had met his, and despite Marcus’s jeering, she’d smiled, and the little newcomer had smiled back, their friendship of the nine years to come sealed in that instant.

Bella’s eyes hardened. “How very typical of Marcus. No doubt he found your discomfort amusing.”

This did not require an answer. Bella knew as well as Dora how mean Marcus’s actions had been at every opportunity. How he found pleasure in small, or sometimes larger, acts of violence and bullying. She didn’t need to share what both of them already knew. They shared enough, already.

“Well,” Bella said into the silence, “at least we don’t have to look forward to a crowd of your brothers and sisters appearing.

” She shot a glance at Dora. “And not a wife, either. Our new duke is here not just to inspect his inheritance but also to find himself a wife and soon, thereafter, an heir. Or so he hopes.”

Good heavens. Bella must have been questioning him closely to have ascertained all this information already.

For herself, Dora would never have entertained exacting such facts from someone she had only just met.

But Bella had always been different, from the first day Marcus brought her back here to Stourbridge as a blushing bride, and Dora loved her for it and would change nothing about her.

She and Bella were bound by more than the ordinary bonds of friendship and sisterhood.

It was at this opportune moment that the door opened and Bella’s visiting friend, of whom Dora was not fond, made an entry.

Lord Rupert Wyndham was, as usual, perfectly coiffured and dressed, which made a sharp contrast with the roughness of Diccon’s appearance.

He paused with his elegant, long-fingered hand still on the door, staring up the room at where Diccon was sitting, delicate eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Well, stap me, Bella, but I thought it was Stourbridge back to haunt us.” And he gave an uneasy laugh.

Diccon had risen to his feet, curiosity in his eyes. As well he might have. “I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of your name, sir.”

Wyndham came in and closed the door. He was wearing an absurd lilac tailcoat with a matching embroidered waistcoat that gave him a decided look of the dandy, which was what he intended, of course, as he was one.

Aiding that impression were his cream pantaloons and his highly polished hessians, and an intricately tied cravat nestling between the far-too-high points of his collar.

How he would be able to turn his head was anybody’s guess.

His appearance was not at all to Dora’s taste, but she tolerated him if only because her dear Bella liked him so much, and also because he was not at heart an unpleasant fellow.

Well, at least he dressed to match his personality.

Much as Diccon appeared to. Two more different men it would have been hard to imagine.

“Lord Rupert Wyndham, sir,” Rupert said, making one of his flamboyant bows.

“And I think I might have surmised your identity for myself. Your Grace. You have about you a certain familial resemblance to the last duke. I can’t say that I was expecting to meet you while I was visiting dear Bella and Dora, though. I count myself honored.”

Diccon smiled, but it was not an altogether friendly smile.

More the smile of a dog who has just found another canine on his territory.

“You are correct in your supposition. I have returned to Stourbridge from Portugal to claim my inheritance, and to survey it for myself.” He waved a hand at the table.

“Please, do feel free to join us for breakfast.”

Wyndham took his seat opposite Bella and Dora. “I only like to take a little toast at breakfast, but I will have some of that coffee, thank you. I would not usually make my appearance before eleven, but, alas, I am thinking of returning to Town today, so necessity calls for me to breakfast early.”

Bella wrinkled her nose. “Surely not so soon, Rupert? You know how much I value your companionship.”

“Yes,” Diccon said. “Pray don’t hasten your departure on my account.”

Lord Rupert pursed his lips before bestowing a smile on Bella and a nod to Diccon. “Thank you, Your Graces. I think I could be persuaded to extend my visit by a day or two, if you insist.”

Dora hastened to pour the coffee for him and smiled at Diccon, aware that with the arrival of Wyndham the atmosphere had subtly changed. Was Diccon suspicious of a strange man in his house, a man on first name terms with his womenfolk? Best to divert the conversation.

She smiled at Wyndham. “Diccon has been away in the army these past nineteen years, Lord Rupert.” She turned to her cousin.

“You must have a great deal to tell us about your adventures.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin.

“I, for one, should very much like to hear about them. We lead such dull lives here at Stourbridge, that anything you might have experienced will be a boon to us and allow us to vicariously live your life.” She had past experience of peacemaking.

Diccon shrugged. “I doubt what I’ve been up to since I left here would make much of a story. And I’m sorry to say I’m not a great storyteller, even if it would. I’ve been soldiering for my country, and that’s all there is to say for it.”

Wyndham took a sip of his coffee. “Come, come, sir. Surely you won’t disappoint the ladies by belittling your accomplishments. What rank did you hold, and in which regiment did you hold it? Hussars? I believe most gentlemen favor them for their splendid uniforms.”

“Not every gentleman,” Diccon said, a little stiffly. “I was never a passionate horseman and therefore chose a foot regiment. My last was the Rifle Brigade.”

“The Rifle Brigade?” Rupert said, and Dora sensed with a sinking heart one of his putdowns coming up. “Ain’t they rather a Johnny-come-lately bunch? Newly formed? Not one of the old traditional regiments.”

Dora, devoid of any appetite now, quickly interrupted.

“You must excuse Lord Rupert as he knows so little about army customs and etiquette.” And, it seemed, the etiquette of not being openly rude to your host. Bella might love him for his wit and repartee, but it could go too far.

One day it would get him a much-deserved punch on the nose.

However, darling Diccon just smiled. “In a way you’re right, Wyndham.

The Rifle Brigade is very new, but that doesn’t mean it’s not good.

In fact it’s one of the best. We were at the Battle of Copenhagen and helped capture the Danish fleet to prevent the French getting their hands on it.

And our name betrays the fact that we are equipped with the modern Baker Rifle.

A wonderfully useful weapon. We’re rightly proud of our green uniforms and our rifles. ”

Bella set down her toast. “Rupert was my escort last night to the ball at Bembridge House. He’s been staying here a few days. Such a shame he has to leave today.”

Dora bit her lip. What was Diccon going to think of that statement?

They were supposed to be in mourning, and yet Bella was right now wearing green, and she was now confessing to having been out to a ball with an exquisitely handsome gentleman as her escort.

Beau Wyndham, no less. A man who was staying in a house where until this morning there had been no master present.

That did not look good. Especially not when Dora knew very well that society assumed Wyndham was her lover.

Might Diccon have heard these rumors? They weren’t the only ones circulating about Bella, however.

“Was it a pleasant evening?” she asked, with a tinge of desperation.

“As much as a country ball can be,” Bella snapped, with more asperity than she might have intended. She must have guessed at Dora’s own embarrassment.

Diccon, who had fetched himself a plate of Cook’s best kedgeree, raised a laconic eyebrow, but said nothing, a fact which clearly riled Bella, who took a forceful bite of her toast and glared at him.

Dora began to fervently wish she were better at reading people.

That something was going on here, she could tell, but what it was escaped her.

Telltale sweat began to prickle out down her back and across her forehead.

What had Diccon heard about Marcus’s demise?

The rumors were rife and he could well have picked them up on his long journey back here.

Did he think their household lacking in respect to his cousin, a man he’d hated?

Confusion mingled with the anxiety that already occupied Dora’s heart.

Surely he must be glad Marcus was dead, dreadful as even thinking those words was.

“Committed army man, are you, then?” Rupert asked.

Richard nodded. “I am, or rather I was. I’ve resigned my commission on my commanding officer’s orders.”

Rupert, with probably as small a morning appetite as she and Bella due to his night of excesses, not to mention the direction the conversation was taking, sipped his coffee. “Been fighting Boney, I take it?”

Richard nodded again, and swallowed a mouthful of the kedgeree.

He appeared to be the only one with any appetite at all.

“That’s what I was doing in Portugal, until I received a garbled message that I had to return to England.

” He waved his fork. “This is fine kedgeree. Do we still have the same cook as when I left, I wonder? I remember Mrs. Burton well for the food she was able to provide to fuel a hungry boy.”

“Mrs. Burton retired to live in one of the estate cottages a few years ago,” Dora said, in a hurry, and glad of the change of subject.

“She’s very old now, and arthritic, but I know she’d love to see you if you have time, Diccon.

You could ride or walk over there. It’s not far.

I could come with you.” Did she sound as desperate as she felt?

He nodded. “And I to see her. I have a lot to do now I’m here, but first I think I must see Marcus’s man of business to make sure all the formalities have been gone through.

I’m sure he’ll have papers for me to sign.

” He paused. “Would you happen to know who this is? I left so long ago, I have no idea of the way the estate is run, nor who Marcus used for his legal work.”

Bella set down her coffee cup. “I don’t have the least idea.

Marcus never allowed me to become involved in business or estate matters.

” There was a definite rebellious jut to her jaw.

“He said women do not have a head for figures.” She gave a huff at the end of this utterance, a frown settling over her face that implied his opinion was erroneous.

Dora interceded again. “I think he still uses Allsop and Crichton in Newbury. Those were Papa’s men of business, although I think Mr. Allsop senior is no more, and Mr. Crichton has retired. But, as far as I know, others have taken on their mantle. I believe there is a Young Mr. Allsop.”

Dora ignored the hard stare Bella was directing at her.

“I know who will be able to tell you for certain. Mr. Sanders will.” Telltale heat crept slowly from her throat up to her cheeks.

She looked down at her empty plate. If only she could keep her emotions in check in the way Bella could.

“He is, I mean he was, my brother’s land agent.

Well, yours now, I suppose.” She could only pray no one had noticed her blush.

Although Bella knew already how she felt about Philip, but was sworn to secrecy.

“Then that’s who I shall visit first,” Richard said. “When I’ve eaten my fill of this wonderful kedgeree.” He beamed at his audience of three. “I think I’ll have a second helping. We never ate as well as this on campaign.”