Page 1 of Roseanna (The Shackleford Legacies #3)

One

‘I doubt very much that any footman would respond to a request for assistance with quite such a threatening scowl.’ Nicholas Sinclair eyed his newest ‘member of staff,’ with exasperation.

‘Perhaps I would react more favourably if the request was delivered in a more agreeable manner.’

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. ‘And neither would they respond with such a blatantly inflammatory comment.’

‘I thought you wanted his lordship to recruit me. He’s not likely to do that if I’m too much the toad eater.’

‘He won’t do it if he thinks you too much the rabble-rouser either. Brandy?’

Tristan Bernart ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before nodding his head. He muttered, ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a servant,’ prompted a rueful chuckle.

‘I’m bloody sure you’re not,’ Nicholas sighed, handing over a snifter of brandy.

Tristan took a grateful sip. ‘Forgive my dudgeon,’ he commented. ‘I’ve waited a long time to expose d’Ansouis, and the whole bloody case rests on my being able to convince the bastard to recruit me.’

‘It depends on more than that,’ the Duke retorted. ‘Recruiting you is just the first step. We have to prove the Revisionists are operating under his leadership.’

Tristan Bernart had arrived at Blackmore just before dawn and since that time had been closeted in the Duke’s study. So far, the only person outside of the room even aware of the newcomer’s arrival was Malcolm Mackenzie – Nicholas’s unorthodox valet.

‘Roan told me before I left that he should be here before nightfall. When will Fitzroy arrive, your grace?’

‘You know, that’s the first time you’ve actually addressed me correctly,’ Nicholas answered mildly, sipping his brandy.

Tristan scowled again. ‘All this bloody bowing and scraping is enough to set a man’s teeth on edge.’

‘Nevertheless, bow and scrape you must if we are to catch our man in the act. I know you have more reason than most to hate d’Ansouis, but, if you think you cannot act the part, tell me now.’

Tristan gritted his teeth, then shook his head abruptly. ‘I can do it. In truth, I’d bow to the devil himself if it meant bringing the bastard to justice.’

The Duke gave a tight grin before swallowing the rest of his brandy. ‘Hopefully, that won’t be necessary. In answer to your question, Jamie will be arriving tomorrow. I would like to have you installed by then. Shall we try again?’

‘How many carriages are we planning to take?’ Gabriel Atwood, Viscount Northwood, stared askance at the mountain of luggage in the large entrance hall.

‘Darling, we have two daughters of marriageable age who are attending a house party at the country seat of arguably England’s most eminent Duke, where there will undoubtedly be numerous suitably appropriate suitors they will need to impress.’ His wife Hope’s voice rose, and Gabriel winced, putting his hand on her arm to prevent her voice carrying to the furthest reaches of the house. Quiet and softly spoken, his beloved was not.

‘There’s no need to shout, my love. You have made your point admirably. I am a complete philistine with no grasp of the intricacies of the marriage mart.’

Hope sighed. ‘Please don’t use that word in front of Roseanna. If she gets a whiff of any potential matchmaking, she’ll simply refuse to go. The Lord knows we don’t want to give her any excuse to cry off, and as far as her totty-headed notion of allowing true love to find her…’ Hope paused and gave a sighing shrug. ‘In truth, it’s a totty-headed notion they both share.’

‘Well, considering that’s exactly what happened to us and every one of your sisters, they can be forgiven for harbouring such romantic fantasies.’ Gabriel stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. ‘I know you are pragmatic above all things, sweetheart, but they’re not yet twenty. Allow them their dreams a little longer.’ He bent his head and touched her lips with his in the softest of kisses before adding, ‘And who knows, both Jenny and Mercy have made love matches, so the Shackleford magic may yet continue.’

Hope willingly sank into her husband’s embrace, just as smitten with him now as when she’d first met him as an unkempt vagrant in her father’s church almost twenty years ago.

It was true, she and her sisters had all been incredibly fortunate in their choice of husbands, and naturally she hoped her own daughters would have the very same luck. But she was realistic enough to recognise it was unlikely, and while she had no intention of forcing either twin into a union they were unhappy with, neither was she averse to putting things in motion behind the scenes, so to speak. Leaving things entirely to chance was not in Hope’s nature, and she firmly believed that sometimes it was necessary to help a happy ending along a bit…

‘It will be lovely to see Jennifer again and to finally get to meet Brendon,’ Hope mused, eventually stepping out of Gabriel’s arms. ‘I’m given to understand her father-in-law is making the journey too.’

‘Is that the father-in-law who apparently gave Augustus the runaround?’ Gabriel asked, suddenly interested.

‘The very same,’ Hope answered, pulling on her gloves. ‘Do we know where Luke is?’

‘I sent him to fetch Daniel from the stables. Silas and Henry are going to need assistance in getting the trunks onto the roof of the coach.’

Hope frowned, looking down at the trunks piled up at their feet with fresh eyes. ‘Perhaps you should have put some of it in the coach with Gilbert, Doris and Emily,’ she commented, referring to the two lady’s maids and valet who’d been sent on ahead.

‘I did,’ answered Gabriel flatly.

With a cringe she hastily covered with a small cough, Hope turned to look up the stairs. ‘I think I’d better go and hurry the girls along.’

Gabriel grinned, knowing his wife’s tactics of old. ‘As you can see, my love, we still have plenty of time. It’s going to take an age to load up everything – even with Daniel’s help.’ He spent a few seconds enjoying the sight of her face becoming mulish before going back to their earlier subject. ‘I must say, the prospect of a whole weekend rubbing shoulders with the Mayfair popinjays has suddenly become much more appealing. Do the others know Galbraith the Older is coming?’

‘By others , I assume you’re referring to the other poor unfortunates saddled with a wife whose former name was Shackleford,’ Hope retorted. ‘And, yes, I assume so, since I received the news in a letter from Grace, and if she had any sense, she’d have simply copied the prose eight times and changed the names.’

Her husband’s grin turned into a chuckle. ‘Do we know the sawny’s name?’

Hope gave a pained sigh. ‘Please don’t call him that, Gabriel. I’m told he’s particularly patriotic and given that there are likely to be several influential members of society present, we really don’t want to encourage any north-south of the border rivalry.’ She paused and shook her head. ‘In all honesty, I think that was the real reason Grace told us all he’s coming. She’s hoping that members of her family might actually assist in keeping Dougal Galbraith out of trouble. Unless we all remain especially vigilant, things are likely to go to hell in a handbasket once he and Father get together.’

‘Thunder an’ turf, girl, what the devil were you thinking of inviting Dougal along?’

‘I didn’t actually invite him, Father,’ Grace responded tartly, ignoring the fact that, though she was nearing fifty, her father had seen fit to refer to her as girl . ‘It was more of an assumption on Jennifer’s part.’

The Reverend snorted. ‘You’re wrong there. Jennifer would no more have invited that beetle-headed bumpkin than the devil himself.’

Grace finished pouring their afternoon tea. ‘I thought you and Mr Galbraith had become friends?’ she queried, handing him a cup.

‘That doesn’t alter the fact that the man’s a deuced menace, or the fact that both Jenny and Brendon are fully aware of it. You mark my words, Grace - Dougal has invited himself along.’

He shook his head, helping himself to a biscuit. ‘And there can be only one reason for that.’ He dipped his biscuit into the tea before sucking on it noisily.

Nibbling on her own biscuit, Grace pondered his words. Naturally, she’d been immediately suspicious when her father invited himself for afternoon tea, but for once it appeared she’d been completely wrong about his motivation. In truth, she’d been expecting him to ask whether she and Nicholas would consider including Percy, Lizzy and Finn on the guest list to Blackmore’s annual garden party. Naturally, the small family’s invitation was a given.

She bent down to give Flossy the remains of her biscuit before brushing down her skirt. ‘So, what do you think his reason is for travelling all the way from Scotland?’ she finally quizzed him, wondering if she actually wanted to know.

‘Why else would he put himself in the middle of a bunch of Sassenach muttonheads except to cause trouble?’ The Reverend shrugged. ‘Friends we might be, but Dougal Galbraith will never be a toad eater to the English. I fear he has an ulterior motive.’

Grace frowned. In fact, she had wondered why Brendon’s father would wish to accompany his son and daughter-in-law on such a long journey, given that he was no spring chicken.

‘Naturally, I’ll inform Nicholas,’ she said at length, ‘and request that someone keep an eye on him. But Jenny and Brendon are already well into their journey. I cannot prevent Dougal accompanying them, even if I wanted to. We can only hope that the rest of the family will have the measure of him by the time the guests begin arriving. And once that happens, I’m certain Nick will nominate someone to watch him.’

The Reverend nodded and helped himself to another biscuit. ‘If truth be told, Grace, as much as it pains me to say it, I think that someone has got to be me.’

‘How many guests will there be at Blackmore? Are they all staying in the house?’ Hope looked at her daughter in concern, well aware that Roseanna’s question was not an idle one. She hated being indoors with a crush of people and tended to retreat into her bedchamber whenever they had more than half a dozen guests staying at Northwood. Strangely, she didn’t feel quite the same sense of panic when outside.

Though twins, her daughters were not at all alike. While both were possessed of a delightful wit, Francesca was gregarious and outgoing in whatever company she found herself, while Roseanna tended towards anxiety and discomfort whenever she was put in a confined space with lots of people – especially strangers. When quizzed, Rosie said simply that she preferred her own company, or that of her twin.

How on earth she thought true love likely to find her when she spent the majority of her time closeted wherever others were not, her mother had no idea.

Sighing, Hope leaned forward and took Roseanna’s hand. ‘I dare say there will be more than twenty, but less than fifty. And most of them will be in the East Wing. We will be staying in our usual suite in the West Wing. And the only people staying in the house until Thursday will be family.’

Roseanna squeezed her mother’s hand and nodded, giving a small smile. ‘Don’t worry about me, Mama. I’ll be perfectly fine. If the weather holds during the house party weekend, we’ll undoubtedly be spending most of the time outside in the gardens. It will be fun. I haven’t played croquet in an age.’

‘That’s because you’re dreadful at it,’ her brother Luke laughed. ‘The last time you played, you flipped the croquet ball up onto Papa’s head.’

‘I’ve still got the lump to prove it,’ grinned Gabriel.

‘In fairness, she had got her heel caught in the sod at the time. It was very muddy, as I recall.’ Francesca swallowed her own mirth at the memory as she defended her twin.

Roseanna gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘So, I may not have quite the sporting prowess of the rest of you, but I have other skills.’

‘ Girls’ stuff,’ Luke scoffed.

‘Then it’s a very good thing I’m a girl,’ Roseanna retorted with a smile, reaching over to ruffle her brother’s hair.

Luke pulled away with a mock scowl before turning back to his father. ‘I know Nick will be there, but did you hear from Aunt Patience? Will Max be with them?’ he asked, referring to the two cousins in the family closest to him in age.

‘I think everyone with even the slightest Shackleford blood in their veins will be congregating at Blackmore this week,’ Gabriel answered drily. ‘But that doesn’t mean you boys have leave to run riot. There will also be quite a few influential people present during the house party, and Uncle Nicholas will expect you all to be a credit to the family.’

Luke pulled a face, then grinned. ‘Don’t worry, Papa, we won’t let the side down.’ He twisted round to look out of the window as his father raised his eyebrows and muttered, ‘That’s what worries me.’