Page 14 of Hastings (Brothers in Arms #15)
CHAPTER 14
E ssie watched the girl where she sat on a bench at one of the farthest dead ends in the maze. She’d hadn’t made a single wrong turn on the way, dragging Essie quickly behind her. Her red hair still showed the vestiges of a very ladylike chignon, but wisps were now falling around her shoulders from playing with the children.
“What do you want?” Essie asked, feeling completely out of her element. She had an itch between her shoulder blades that said this one was trouble. “Miss Marleston,” she added hastily, not wanting to offend so early in their acquaintance.
“What a peculiar question!” Miss Marleston declared, laughing. “I want to get away from the children for a moment, if that’s all right. How old are you?”
“I…what?” Essie asked. This girl should work for Sir Barnabas with the interrogating.
“How old are you? It’s a simple question. I’m sixteen, soon to be seventeen.” She stared at Essie expectantly.
“I’m about eighteen, I suppose,” Essie said, uncomfortable.
“About? Don’t you know?” She seemed astounded that someone wouldn’t know their own age.
“Not really,” Essie said defensively. “My ma died when I was born, and no one I know seems to remember exactly when that was. I might be eighteen, could be twenty for all I know. But eighteen sounds about right.”
“How extraordinary,” she said breathlessly, as if it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard. “Who raised you?”
These questions were far too personal. No one had told Essie she’d have to discuss her personal life. “That’s rude. Who raised you?” she asked right back.
“Well, my parents, naturally.” She rolled her eyes. “Mama, and Father, and Papa Kurt.”
“How do you have two fathers?” Essie asked, confused. “Is your mother divorced?”
Miss Marleston blushed. “No.” She sat up straighter and stared at Essie defiantly. “Mama is married to Father, of course, but Papa Kurt lives with us.”
Essie frowned as she tried to comb through Esme’s words. She grinned when she realized what the girl wasn’t saying. “So, she’s got two of them dancing to her tune, eh? Well, good for her.”
The girl made a face. “You’ll find that’s a common occurrence around here, I’m afraid.” She pulled her feet up onto the bench and wrapped her arms around her legs, a most unladylike position. Oddly enough, it put Essie more at ease. “Ashton on the Green is a little bastion of hedonism,” she said dramatically. “I heard the grocer describe it that way once behind Mama’s back. To be fair, he didn’t seem to mind. Custom is custom, after all, and he’d never turn my mother or the duchess away, and most people think Mrs. North is a veritable saint, what with putting up with her bear of a husband.”
“Wait,” Essie said, trying to keep up. “You mean the duchess and Mrs. North have each got two cocks crowing as well?” She’d thought people in London were the only ones who got up to that sort of thing, at least among the nobs. Now here they were in the country and practically everyone was doing it. “Is there some sort of woman shortage I’m unaware of?” she asked, amused.
Miss Marleston laughed far louder than a lady ought to. Essie was taking a shine to the girl. “No, I don’t think so,” she said at last. “Father and Papa Kurt met during the war, you see.” She looked away. “They became very important to one another.” She turned back and smiled at Essie. “That’s how Mr. North and Mr. Borden met as well. Mr. Borden saved his life, you know. And Mr. Haversham served with the duke’s older brother.” She paused, watching Essie. “I think war does strange things to people, don’t you?”
Essie snorted. “Well, I didn’t know it did that to people.” She bent and picked up a stick from the path, holding it in her bad hand, and began awkwardly peeling the bark off. “And aren’t we all fighting battles of one kind or another? Most people just drink or something.”
“Is Mrs. Higgs really your cousin?” Miss Marleston asked, surprising Essie with the unexpected question. Her eyes were a little too perceptive. “You don’t seem alike at all.”
“We weren’t raised together,” Essie said. “Different stations.” She hoped that was enough of an explanation for why she didn’t sound like Madelyn Hyde.
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I can see that. And how did you hurt your arm?”
“Got in a fight with a man, and he knifed me and broke my fingers.”
“Good heavens!” Miss Marleston said. “How did you get away?”
“I killed him,” Essie told her.
Miss Marleston snorted and rolled her eyes. “If you didn’t want to tell me the truth, you could have just said so.” A moment later she was swinging her feet down off the bench. “Well, you can keep your secrets.” She stood up, grabbed the stick out of Essie’s hand and threw it to the ground. “You can kiss me now. Papa Kurt will probably find us any minute.”
“Kiss you?” Essie asked, astounded. “Why the blazes would I do that?”
“Well, it’s obvious that we are like minded in our desires.” Essie had never heard anyone state it so boldly. Coming from this girl, it was incomprehensible. She was uncommonly pretty, and a gentleman’s daughter, no matter what that gentleman’s circumstances were, and Essie was sure she was destined to make a good match. She took a step toward Essie and Essie took a step away from her in response.
“Miss Marleston, I’ve got me a girl,” Essie said, “back in London.”
“Well, I don’t want to marry you,” Miss Marleston said. “It won’t come to that if you kiss me. And call me Esme.”
“Fine, Esme, but I’m not going to kiss you,” Essie told her, exasperated. “You’re practically a child!”
She looked as if she’d been struck, and then her cheeks grew pink with anger as she glared at Essie. “I am not a child. I told you, I’m almost seventeen.”
“Too young to be kissing strangers in a maze,” Essie told her, with the authority of one or two years on the girl.
“And when were you first kissed?” she challenged Essie, her arms crossed defiantly.
Essie thought for a moment and then blanched. She’d been a lot younger than this girl. “Different circumstances,” she muttered.
“That’s what I thought,” Esme said, grinning. She took a step toward Essie and then froze when a voice called out her name. She groaned and slumped where she stood.
“He’s getting faster, I think,” she said under her breath.
“Who?” Essie said spinning around to look in both directions down the path.
Just then one of her fathers appeared at the end of the path and glared at them. Essie was surprised when he reserved most of that look for Esme.
“Young lady,” he said with a bit of a German accent, “you will say your goodbyes and come with me.”
“Papa,” Esme wheedled. She hooked her arm through Essie’s and Essie tried to dislodge it, frantically shaking her head at Esme’s father, who sighed and nodded.
“I think you have shown the young lady enough of the maze for one day,” he said gently. “Perhaps she will come to call on you at home soon, yes?”
“Oh, that would be grand,” Esme gushed, hugging Essie’s arm. “When can you come?”
Essie had no idea how to answer that. She’d never been invited to call on anyone before. “I…I have no idea,” she stammered.
“We will call at the parsonage in a few days,” her father said, beckoning Esme over to him. “Come, come. It is time to go.”
I’m sorry, Esme mouthed to Essie as she backed away from her. “Goodbye,” she said loud enough for her father to hear. “I shall see you soon!” She ran to her father and grabbed his hand, pulling him down the path and out of sight.
Essie collapsed onto the bench. What on earth was going on around here? Women with two husbands and fathers inviting rough female assassins to call on their daughters. She laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. The country was clearly no place for the faint of heart.
Maddy was taking her glove on and off nervously. She couldn’t stop herself. She hated these nervous little tics of hers. They were a complete tell, and you didn’t give away your thoughts or feelings to anyone for free. She’d learned that at a young age. But here she was, doing it right in front of the duke of all people. Because she was wandering a maze with a duke. On his palatial—she’d learned that word recently, and really, it was a splendid word—estate. Where the devil was the parson and that damn agent of Sir Barnabas’s? And wasn’t Essie in here somewhere?
“You seem a bit nervous, my dear,” the duke said. His tone was kindly. “You needn’t be, you know. I may be a duke, but I’m completely harmless.”
She glanced over at him in disbelief. Surely, he didn’t expect her to believe that? He looked benign enough, walking beside her without a jacket, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked around the maze as if trying to figure it out. She knew as well as he that he probably knew every square inch of this maze like the back of his hand.
“Yes, well, harmless to you,” the duke amended. He hadn’t even met her incredulous look. He just seemed to know what her silence implied. When she didn’t respond he sighed. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, in Ashton on the Green? I’m quite well aware Stephen doesn’t have any distant relations. If he did, they wouldn’t be distant. He longs for family and would not discard them so easily.”
This time he did turn and met her stare with one of his own. His blue eyes were so piercing Maddy felt it like a physical blow, and she stumbled. He reached out and steadied her with a polite hand.
“I’m so sorry,” Maddy blurted out. “That was so clumsy of me. Forgive me.” She was furiously trying to come up with a good plan that wouldn’t be ruined the second they were back in company and he began to quiz Mr. Matthews and Hastings.
“The path is uneven in several places,” he said. “Best hold on to my arm.” He offered it graciously and she took it. At least that would keep her from fiddling with her gloves. She didn’t respond to his inquiry, hoping he would take her silence to mean she did not wish to discuss it and move on. If she remembered correctly, and she invariably did, that was the thing to do in polite society. You never forced a conversation about personal subjects. Which seemed ridiculous to Maddy, because, really, they were the only kinds of interesting conversations.
“I’m afraid I must insist on an answer, my dear Mrs. Higgs,” the duke said firmly. “You see, lacking his own family has made Stephen part of ours, and we’re rather protective of him. He would see the good in everyone, if he could. I’d like him to continue to be so trusting. Which is why I need to know if I can allow you to stay.” He pulled her gently to a stop and turned her to face him. “So out with it. It can’t be that bad, can it?” He smiled to take away any sting his words might have.
“I…need his protection,” she prevaricated. She’d been fascinated to learn there were different words for various levels of lies. How very English.
He waited a moment or two for her to continue, but she just looked at him. “I see,” he said. “Why do you need Stephen’s protection?”
She licked her lips nervously and bit the bottom one before she realized what she was doing and made herself stop. The captain of her old gang of pickpockets, Dickie Bales, would have beaten her hide nine times ten today if he’d seen how badly she was flubbing her story. “Someone is looking for me,” she finally said.
“And what does this someone have to do with Stephen?” The duke was patience itself, and Maddy realized he would wait as long as he needed to in order to get the truth out of her.
“Nothing,” she replied honestly. “He doesn’t even know that Mr. Matthews exists.”
The duke crossed his arms and tapped his lower lip with his index finger, pinning her to the path with his gaze. “No?” he said. “Interesting. And how did you know Stephen exists?”
Maddy broke away from his gaze and began walking again, slowly. He was a tricky one, this duke. He knew just the right questions to ask. “Someone else sent me to him. Someone he knows.”
“Well, that is a large segment of the population,” the duke said, stepping back to her side and continuing the walk, hands behind his back again. “Someone I know?”
Maddy had to stop and think. “I don’t know,” she finally said, once again glad to be able to fall back on honesty.
“Does Miss Waters know them?” he asked.
Maddy’s step almost faltered, but she caught it in time. “Yes,” she said.
“And is Miss Waters really your cousin? The truth on this matter, please, because she is in this maze somewhere with Esme Marleston and I need to know if I have to shout for assistance.”
“She is not,” she said, willing to give that lie up. “But she also knows the person who sent me and is here for my protection.”
“Now we are getting somewhere,” the duke said happily. “So, I shall assume Miss Waters is trustworthy, yes?”
“Yes,” Maddy said firmly. She was surprised when the duke took her word for it.
“All right,” he mused. “And does Hastings know why you’re here?”
“Yes,” she answered. She liked these simple questions better. Less lying this way.
“Well, that’s good,” he said. “He is the sheriff, after all. If you need protection, he’s the man to see.” Maddy snuck a look at him out of the corner of her. He turned and caught her watching him. “Not to mention that whole agent of the crown business.”
Maddy’s eyes went wide at his unexpected comment, and then she closed them, cursing herself for a fool for so easily giving more away.
“Come, we must find Esme and Miss Waters before her father does,” the duke murmured, taking her elbow and encouraging her to walk again. “Let me see if I have this straight. Stop me if I get something wrong. Sir Barnabas James has sent you here to the parsonage with one agent, Miss Waters, to meet one of his best agents, that would be Sheriff Hastings, to hide you from whoever is looking for you and protect you. He chose Ashton on the Green because you have no connection to it, nor I gather does the individual looking for you. Needle in a haystack. But conveniently, Hastings was already here, and I assume a parsonage is the last place they’d look for you.”
Maddy did not say a word.
“And how much danger does that put the rest of us in?” he asked, stopping on the path. She continued for a step or two and then stopped and turned to face him.
“I don’t know,” she said. Honesty, again. The best way to lie is not to lie.
“So, it might put my family at risk if I were to move you to the Park?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
“Or anywhere else,” he said with resignation. “And knowing Stephen, he will not let you leave his home now that he knows you are in danger.”
“I know I’m taking advantage of his better nature,” she said, trying to be as earnest as she knew how to be. “But it’s only for a little while. And Hastings is there. As sheriff, any funny business around the village will be brought to his attention.”
“True, true,” the duke agreed. “So we shall keep you all at Stephen’s.” He nodded. “Someone will come by and check on you periodically. And I shall have to tell the others what I know.” He held up a hand as she began to object. “They deserve to know there is a danger to their families, slight though it may be.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Maddy said miserably. Now everyone would know she was a villain. To her surprise the duke reached out and chucked her under the chin like she was a child.
“Cheer up, my dear,” he said. “This means fewer social visits to suffer through.” Maddy brightened up immediately and the duke laughed. “You’ll get better at them,” he assured her. “Come, I think I hear Esme and your cousin—are we sticking with that story?—over here.”