Page 8 of Roseanna (The Shackleford Legacies #3)
Eight
Nicholas elected to have breakfast in his study, and concerned about the pallor of his face as he left the bedchamber, Grace decided to join him. While she knew his pastiness was in part brandy induced, she was also well aware that the stress of their current predicament was taking its toll.
Because of the early hour, the hall was blessedly silent as Grace made her way down the stairs, and she was able to request a light repast be sent to his grace’s study without meeting any of their guests. As she slipped into her husband’s private sanctum, she breathed a sigh of relief. Experience told her that had she bumped into any of the family other than Jamie or Roan, she would not have escaped so easily.
Nicholas greeted her with a weary smile from behind his desk. ‘Have you spoken with Roan or Jamie yet this morning?’ she asked him lightly. The Duke shook his head and gave a pained smile.
‘If their heads are anything like mine, they might yet have their heads in a bucket.’
‘Mutton heads, all of you,’ his wife muttered. ‘I assume Malcolm too will be feeling a little worse for wear.’
‘The man has a stomach of iron,’ Nicholas growled. ‘I doubt he’s feeling the least bit shabby. I’m expecting his disgustingly cheerful face to show itself imminently.’
‘Well, hopefully, not before breakfast,’ Grace responded, seating herself in one of the two chairs fronting the large fireplace. In truth, she was trying not to laugh.
‘I’m not sure I could eat anything.’ Nicholas pulled a face as he climbed to his feet and went over to join her.
‘I asked Mrs Higgins to put together a cleansing tincture,’ his wife answered, not without sympathy. Then she gave a small, wicked grin and added, ‘I didn’t think you’d want me to ask Agnes.’
Nicholas shuddered and sat down in the chair opposite. ‘Clearly something else has happened to drive the four of you so deeply into your cups,’ she guessed. ‘Are you going to tell me?’
Before the Duke could answer, there was a knock at the door. Moments later, a maid came in with a large tray, which she set between them.
‘Thank you, Mary. Could you inform Mrs Tenner that if anyone asks our whereabouts, we will see them at lunch.’ The small maid kept her head down and bobbed a curtsy before backing hurriedly out of the room.
‘After all these years, I still find that so difficult,’ Grace sighed, leaning forward to uncover a plate of freshly baked scones. ‘All the bowing and scraping. It still feels wrong. I daresay I’ll always be a vicar’s daughter at heart.’
Nicholas took the plate she held out, his appetite coming back at the sight of the hot buttered scone, still fresh from the oven. ‘Do not style yourself so, love,’ he grinned. ‘You’re certainly not just any vicar’s daughter. Your father’s reputation has travelled the length and breadth of Great Britain.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’ Grace questioned tartly. ‘Here, drink this before you begin eating.’ She held out a large glass of what looked disturbingly like something he’d removed from a pond as a boy.
Nicholas raised his eyebrows. ‘You want me to drink that?’
‘Unless you’d prefer me to tell Mrs Tenner you refused.’
The high and mighty duke grimaced and obediently held out his hand.
‘So, what’s happened to put you all so deep in your cups?’ Grace quizzed him again as she handed him the glass.
Scowling, Nicholas swallowed the housekeeper’s concoction in two gulps. When he’d recovered from the bitter taste, he told her of Wellington and Grey’s unexpected visits.
‘Why the devil did you invite them both?’ Grace stared at him, appalled.
‘I had no choice,’ he responded, picking up his scone. ‘To leave either off the guest list would have been seen as a slight and almost certainly misconstrued, given the current climate. I had no idea they would both be thick skinned or bloody minded enough to attend. Clearly, a catastrophic error on my part.’
‘I think we are looking at two men possessing both traits in full,’ Grace retorted. ‘And with Dougal Galbraith here at the same time…’ She trailed off and climbed to her feet. Adding, ‘I need a sherry,’ to Nicholas’s enquiring look.
‘It’s my hope that your father will take Galbraith off our hands. I sent him a missive yesterday evening.’ Far from reassuring her as he’d believed, his statement elicited a small moan, and she quickly poured and swallowed her sherry.
‘Once the two arrive, it will fall on me to keep the peace, so at that point I will have to leave the Comte to Jamie, Roan, Malcolm and Tristan,’ Nicholas continued as she resumed her seat. ‘D’Ansouis will be arriving tomorrow, so we have two days to bring Tristan to his attention without the distraction of our two warring politicians.’
‘That’s providing he’s not actually here for the two politicians,’ Grace retorted, voicing her husband’s unspoken fear.
He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. As predicted, Malcolm walked in full of the joys of spring.
‘By the look on yer face, lass, Nick’s told you the dire news,’ the valet commented mildly, leaning down to pinch a scone.
Nicholas raised his eyebrows. ‘Doesn’t Felicity feed you?’
‘Aye, but why waste our provisions when I can just as easily eat yours.’
Grace grinned up at him, then climbed to her feet and kissed his grizzled cheek. ‘Will Felicity be joining us over the weekend?’
Malcolm gave a short laugh. ‘Not if she can avoid it without seeming ill-mannered.’
‘Tell her I will be entirely put out if she does not show her face,’ Grace retorted, only half joking.
‘Aye, she kens lass.’ Malcolm chuckled and patted the Duchess’s shoulder as he would a slightly troublesome child. ‘I’m sure she can be persuaded tae be there at yer shoulder like always.’ He turned to the Duke. ‘What time are we expecting Tristan for his set down?’
‘I told him eleven,’ Nicholas replied. ‘Jamie too, if he’s managed to get his head off the pillow.’
‘Unlicked cubs, the both o’ ye,’ Malcolm grinned. ‘We still have five minutes then. I’ll have another scone.’
Just seconds later, there came the expected knock at the door. Before Malcolm had the chance to open it, Jamie’s wan face appeared. ‘Mother o’ God, ye look like ye’ve been dug up.’ Malcolm gave another chuckle, as the door was pushed fully open, and Jamie was followed into the room by his wife.
‘The chucklehead confessed all while in his cups,’ Prudence declared waspishly, shutting the door behind her. ‘In the future, your grace, you would do well to ensure your co-conspirators keep a clear head while plotting nefarious schemes without sharing said schemes with their wives.’ She looked pointedly at her sister. ‘Though clearly not all wives have been kept in the dark.’
Grace looked at Prudence in exasperation. ‘It would have been a little difficult to hide, since the nefarious scheme in question is taking place in my house.’
‘I know that,’ Prudence relented with a grin. ‘Are there any scones left?’
‘I’m beginning to think we might as well have the whole family in on the damn thing,’ Nicholas grated. ‘I…’ He paused whatever he was going to say as a knock sounded on the door.
Seconds later Roan pushed it open and walked in, looking none the worse for his overindulgence.
‘How is it you’re not looking like a seven-day-old corpse?’ Jamie managed indignantly.
Roan grinned at him. ‘After years of drinking grog, one has a tendency to develop a stomach of leather.’
Another knock. ‘Hopefully that will be Tristan,’ Nicholas muttered. Pushing himself up out of the chair, he took a more formal position behind his desk and barked, ‘Come!’
The door opened, and, as he’d hoped, Tristan Bernart stood on the threshold. Stepping forward, the footman gave a deep bow. ‘Shut the door,’ Nicholas ordered, his voice both loud and sharp in case someone should be listening. Once the room was secure, Tristan raised his eyebrows at the number of people in the room.
‘Don’t ask,’ Nicholas stated in a low tone, just as another knock sounded. Swearing in vexation, the Duke got back to his feet and ordered all but Tristan to stay out of sight. ‘Whoever it is, I’ll get rid of them,’ he announced, walking round the desk towards the door.
The knock came again, more urgently this time, but as he raised his hand to lift the latch, it was flung open to reveal his father-in-law. The two men regarded each other in surprise for a moment, then the Reverend, threw his hands in the air, and declared loudly, ‘I might well have the Almighty on my side, but even He knows that keeping Dougal Galbraith out of mischief for four whole days is going to take a bit more than divine intervention.’
The Duke stared at him in silence for a second before uttering, ‘Augustus,’ through gritted teeth and stepping aside. Bristling with righteous indignation, the Reverend marched into the study, only to stop and frown at the unexpected addition of six people. ‘You having a deuced rout?’ he demanded, the unvoiced, without me , left hanging in the air.
Briefly closing his eyes in a Lord give me strength gesture, Nicholas swiftly closed the door, and strode back to his desk. Once behind it, he looked round at his co-conspirators and grated, ‘And then there were eight.’ Silence reigned for the briefest of seconds, before he added a clipped, ‘Malcolm, a brandy if you please,’ just as another knock sounded on the door.
This time, his expletive was a little more colourful. With a wince, Grace hurriedly climbed to her feet. ‘Let me,’ she declared as the knock came again. Seconds later, she pulled open the door to reveal the very last person she expected to see on the other side.
Dipping a quick curtsy, Roseanna mumbled, ‘Good morning, Aunt Grace,’ before stepping into the room and blurting, ‘Uncle Nicholas, forgive me for interrupting, but I think someone is planning to murder you.’
If Roseanna hadn’t been so anxious, she might have found the look of disbelief on the Duke’s face quite humorous, and even she knew that his grace rarely found himself lost for words.
As the silence lengthened, Roseanna abruptly realised that her uncle was not alone in the room with Tristan as she’d believed. Avoiding the footman’s gaze, she looked around, realising there were actually another six people in the room. From the conversation she’d overheard in the kitchen garden, she could understand the presence of Uncle Jamie and Malcolm – even Aunt Grace. But she certainly hadn’t been expecting her Aunt Prudence, or, worse still, her grandfather, who was currently regarding her with a narrow-eyed, thoughtful expression.
‘I…I’m sorry, your grace,’ she faltered. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Err…would you prefer me to come back later?’
‘I dinnae think the tale ye have tae tell will wait, lass,’ Malcolm responded firmly. ‘I ken the Duke will consider an attempted murder to his person of the utmost importance.’
Nicholas leaned back against his chair and schooled his face into something a little more reassuring. ‘Why don’t you go back to the beginning Rosie,’ he suggested. ‘Tell me everything that’s happened.’
Unexpectedly, she felt herself relax slightly at his use of her nickname. Hesitantly, keeping her eyes on her uncle, she recounted what she’d heard. Naturally, she didn’t tell the Duke that she’d been exploring the library with a view to eavesdropping on his conversation – just said that she had awakened early and thought to look for a book to read.
‘And you didn’t see these two persons?’ Nicholas quizzed her when she finished speaking.
Roseanna shook her head. ‘I did think to go out into the corridor, but in truth, they had me a little scared.’
‘And well ye didn’t lass. Can you remember, word for word, what they actually said about their intentions?’
‘They were clearly looking for something,’ Roseanna reiterated. She creased her brow and thought for a moment. ‘They actually said, It has to be here somewhere . Then a few minutes later I heard, We daren’t stay any longer, the maid will be coming in . At the end of the day… ’ she paused and reddened before finishing, ‘ as long as the bastard’s dead. ’
‘So, they didn’t actually use his grace’s name?’ Malcolm pressed. Roseanna started to shake her head, then paused. ‘They used the name Sinclair, as in Sinclair wouldn’t have put it anywhere else , when they discussed what they were looking for.’
Jamie swore softly and climbed to his feet. ‘Do you think d’Ansouis is planning something?’ he grated. ‘Surely he wouldn’t risk committing murder while he’s staying in the same deuced house.’ He turned to Roseanna. ‘Did they give any indication of time, Rosie?’
Roseanna shook her head. ‘Whatever it was they were looking for, they expected it to be under lock and key. In truth, I don’t think they held out much hope of finding it. They seemed more worried about leaving any trace of their snooping...’ she hesitated, staring down at her slippers, then seconds later, looked up, her face brightened as she remembered something else. ‘They said they’d be able to tell his nibs they tried.’