The Grace of a Duke (10 page)

Chapter 9

His Grace Sends Mr. McElliott on an Errand

Joshua left the guest bedchamber, his mind still on missing corsets and the sight of Lady Charlotte’s backside and the lower limbs he’d glimpsed before he’d given her another towel. His quick steps got him to the staircase and the floor below in only moments. He burst into the study to find Garrett McElliott studying a floor plan, presumedly for the west wing. Had he looked a bit closer, he might have recognized the layout for the nearby dower house.

“Did I see Dr. Regan come to the house?” Garrett asked before Joshua could say anything. The duke was a bit breathless from his quick descent from the east wing staircase and nodded before coming to a stop next to the library table. “Are you ... alright?” he wondered, his brows furrowing as he regarded Joshua.

Joshua nodded again, wondering if Garrett referred to the slowly subsiding bulge at the front of his breeches. “You must do a bit of research for me,” he announced as he leaned over the edge of the library table, hoping he could hide his state of arousal.

His best friend eyed him suspiciously. “What have you done now?” he wondered, his attention no longer on the large sheet of parchment in front of him.

“I found someone to run the household and oversee the decorating of the new rooms,” Joshua replied proudly.

Garrett’s eyes widened. “Really. Who?” he asked, suspicion evident in his voice.

The duke rounded the library table and took his seat in front of a stack of ledgers. “Lady Charlotte,” he stated triumphantly. “Although some ... information has come to light that makes me wonder ... you must go to London on my behalf,” he struggled to get out.

Garrett nodded, not particularly surprised by the request. A tree had been blown apart right next to the house, after all, and some research would need to be done to determine just who was responsible. He’d already ridden over to Kirdford to ask around about any strangers who might have been spotted there the evening before. The barkeep manning the tap at the Forester Arms remembered a few travelers, although none seemed out of the ordinary. He did mention that one had said something about riding a horse all the way from London, but that happened frequently enough that he didn’t think it unusual. With no local constable and the nearest law in Petworth, Garrett thought it better to head back to Wisborough Oaks.

“I went out to look at the oak tree,” Garrett said in a quiet voice, hoping no servants would be listening at the door. Joshua raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in subject, but Garret continued before Joshua could interrupt. “Acted like I was sizing it up for a trip to the sawmill.” This comment was meant to suggest no one would find his perusal of the broken tree to be anything to wonder about. “The evidence is quite ... evident,” he stated evenly, pulling several crisped papers from his pocket and placing them on the desk. “Someone did, indeed, blow up the tree,” he said with a nod. The nod changed to a shake of his head. “Josh, if the rain hadn’t started when it did, that tree would have become a huge fire bomb. I’m fairly sure there is a broken window in one of the bedchambers. I’m rather surprised the east wing of this place didn’t catch fire and ... well, you know the rest from experience,” he finished with another shake of his head. “Was it a window in your room?”

Joshua’s eyebrow cocked up. “It was not.” In his haste to leave Lady Charlotte, he had neglected to inspect the window she spoke about during their ride.

“It wasn’t one of mine. I just checked,” Garrett countered. “Which means it’s one of the windows in the guest bedchamber in which Lady Charlotte is staying.”

“It is, actually,” Joshua replied, nodding. He wondered if the window had broken before she came running to his room or if it happened while she was in his room. “Lady Charlotte told me about it this morning when we went on our ride. She didn’t want to disturb the rest of the household and thought it better that the broken glass be cleaned up by the light of day. The housekeeper saw to it this morning before Lady Charlotte could risk stepping on any shards.”

“How very ... polite of her,” Garrett offered, scrubbing his face with one hand. “I’ll see to its replacement immediately. There should still be a glazier around here somewhere.” He sighed and was about to say something else when Joshua beat him to it.

“Question is, who wants me dead?” Joshua asked. “Who did I offend so that my death would be their revenge?”

Furrowing his brows, Garret regarded the duke for a moment. “I think the real question is, who wanted your entire family dead?” he asked then. “Because they’ve just about managed to wipe out the Wainwright line.”

Joshua leaned against the table, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You think this is ... related to the fire?” he wondered, his manner cautious. He had come to that conclusion, of course, but hearing someone else confirm his suspicions would ensure he was being objective.

All along, he had thought it was merely a tipped over candle that caused the deadly fire six months ago. He’d been so sure his brother John had started the fire. The flames seemed to erupt from the rake’s room. John hadn’t called out a warning or cried out that he was trapped, no doubt because he was in his usual drunken stupor at that time of night. His death was probably the only painless one of those that died, Joshua thought in disgust.

“Of course, it’s related,” Garret insisted, pushing his chair away from the table. He scrubbed his face with his hand again, sighing loudly. “Do you ... trust Lady Charlotte?” he asked in a lowered voice, repeating the question more to see the duke’s reaction than from any real suspicion he might have of the woman. At Joshua surprised expression, he added, “Is there any chance she ... wants you dead? Does she gain anything from your death? Does her father benefit, somehow? Besides from not having to pay out a dowry, I mean.”

His anger as his friend’s assertion had Joshua standing up straight with his fists in front of him. “She had nothing to do with this!” he replied a bit too quickly. He tried to calm himself, knowing his reaction made him look like a young pup in love. A defensive young pup.

Could Charlotte have arranged for his family’s demise? But, to what end? She stood to gain nothing if she wasn’t married to one of the Wainwright brothers. She seemed quite committed to the idea of her betrothal. Had she wanted him dead, she could have killed him while he lay unconscious in hospital. And there was the horrified look on her face when she found the dynamite earlier – she could barely touch the stuff. And the fright in her entire body when she’d visited his room the night before. “You forget, she was in the house last night. It was her window that broke. She would have been in just as much danger as any of us.” Joshua countered, trying to keep his voice even.

“Was she?” Garret questioned, his eyebrow suggesting otherwise.

Joshua sighed. “Yes, she was.” At Garret’s continued gaze, he added, “I know because ... she was with me ... in my bedchamber.”

Garret leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Was she, now?” he murmured, his mouth curled up on one side.
Well, at least the betrothal is going well,
he decided with a hint of amusement.
Now if the two would just get married and have an heir and a spare in the course of the next week ...

“She’s rather frightened of lightning,” Joshua responded in the lady’s defense, willing himself to remain impassive.

“There’s no need to make excuses, old man,” Garret replied lightly, silently glad that Joshua didn’t suspect Charlotte of any sabotage. The woman would be a perfect duchess for him. And she truly cared about him, Garrett knew. “I’m just trying to consider all the possibilities.” He was silent a moment. “Do any of the servants seem ... dissatisfied?” he wondered then, his mind picturing them one by one.
Devoted
, he would say about each and every one of them. It helped that the seventh Duke of Chichester was beloved by the staff and the nearby villagers, his duchess even more so. The tenants were happy for the most part. He could attest to that, having made visits to all of them on a regular basis over the past six months. No, it didn’t seem possible that anyone local would want to see the duke dead.

“No,” Joshua said as he raked his fingers through his hair. “This has to go ... higher. Someone has to benefit from my death. Who would that be?” he asked, turning his attention back to Garrett.

“Don’t look at me!” Garrett replied, taking offense at the implication that he would know of such a person, or worse, that it was him.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply it was
you
. I mean, who have
I
offended?”

Garrett sighed again, realizing Joshua had taken the situation too personally. “I don’t believe this is about
you
, per se,” he spoke quietly. At Joshua’s furrowed brows, he added, “This is probably about a ducal property or the entire dukedom. Who benefits if the Wainwright line is dead?” he clarified as he leaned forward to rest his arms on his elbows.

Joshua shook his head. “The Crown, I suppose,” he considered, knowing that the lands would revert to the king if there were no heirs to inherit. “Although I don’t particularly
like
him, I have no quarrel with Prinny. So ... I have no idea. But
you
are going to find out,” he stated emphatically as he waved a finger at Garrett.

“Me?” Garret responded as he stood up, stunned.

“I’m sending you to London. In fact, if you could leave in the next hour, you could get there before dark.”

Furrowing his brows, Garrett regarded his friend. “You must know there is nothing I would rather do, Your Grace, than go to London,” he said warily, wondering exactly what Joshua had in mind.
I can visit Jane. I can play faro. I can
...“Why am I going, exactly?”

Joshua rolled his eyes and considered what he needed to know. “You must go to Lady Charlotte’s father. Find out the details of the betrothal, and be sure there really is an arrangement,” he said as he glanced over the papers on his desk. “It’s possible he’s made arrangements with another party, perhaps for financial reasons.”

His estate manager considered his words. “And if Ellsworth won’t see me?” Garrett wondered, thinking the earl wouldn’t have any reason to accept a caller he didn’t know personally or from a referral.

Pausing before he answered, Joshua considered who else Garrett could call on to get answers. “You know Grandby. The Earl of Torrington. He’s a friend of Ellsworth and was a friend of my father. You can find him at White’s just about every night before the social events begin. Oh,” he stabbed a finger into the air. “And ask Grandby if he knows of anyone that would benefit from the death of the Wainwright line. Besides the Crown, of course.” He frowned as he surveyed the desk and then looked about the room. “I would think a betrothal would necessitate some sort of written agreement, wouldn’t you?” Joshua asked then, his brows furrowing as his mind jumped among the topics that had him curious.

Garrett shrugged. “I should think so.” Although he had heard tell of many betrothals that were simply gentlemen’s agreements made over a baby’s crib.

“You haven’t found any such documents, have you?” Joshua wondered then, thinking that perhaps the contract would still be in the files that hadn’t burned in the fire.

Garrett shook his head. “I have not. But then, I was only looking for papers having to do with the operations of the estate. If they were in your father’s private desk, they would be lost,” he added, not needing to mention that the private desk was in the duke’s apartment and had been completely and utterly destroyed along with everything else in the west wing. “What else?” he asked then, realizing there would be more to Joshua’s request.

“Just a few minutes ago, Doctor Regan stitched up a rather nasty wound on Lady Charlotte’s back.”

Garrett sucked air through his teeth at the comment. “Did she have an accident during your ride today?” he wondered, his brows furrowing in concern.

Shaking his head, Joshua leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. “She said her father whipped her because she refused to consider backing out of this betrothal.” He watched as Garrett’s facial expression turned from concern to shock. “I want to know if the bastard really did it, and if, perhaps, he’s already made arrangements for her to marry someone else. Possibly an earl.” He couldn’t remember if Charlotte had mentioned a name, but certainly someone at one of the men’s clubs would know something.

Garrett’s scowl deepened. “Is that all?” he replied rhetorically, wondering where he would begin.

Joshua cocked his right brow in response. “Start at White’s and work your way to Boodles if you must. And there should be a dowry entailed somewhere, probably at a bank. Find it. Send word as you can – just hire a courier ...” He paused to open a drawer and reached for a purse that bulged with coins, “And I’ll look through what I can here,” he added, realizing he was expecting a great deal from his best friend. He handed over the purse and Garrett took it, hefting the fistful with a look of appreciation. “Use what you need to and keep the rest.”

Crossing his arms, Garrett considered the orders Joshua had given him as well as the generous payment. “Are you going to marry her?” he asked finally, keeping his face impassive.
Say ‘yes.’ Then go get the special license and just do it.

Joshua stared back, annoyed by the blunt question. “I ... that depends,” he replied, not wanting to admit how he felt about the Earl of Ellsworth’s daughter.

He certainly felt some sort of affection for the girl. He recalled how jealous he had been of his brother when he’d finally had the chance to meet Charlotte the year she turned sixteen. She was beautiful, poised, pleasant to be around, and not the least bit proud of her station in life. But Joshua had known she was his brother’s to marry. And despite John Wainwright’s insistence that he would not give up his trysts with whores and courtesans, even after his marriage, the man at least knew that Charlotte Bingham would make a perfect duchess and a suitable mother for his heirs.

Now Joshua understood why his brother felt that way.

“She may not be mine to marry,” Joshua finally replied with a sigh. The sting he felt at saying the words aloud surprised him.

“Do you ...
could
you see yourself married to her?” Garrett asked then, straightening so that his entire six-foot-two-inch frame towered over the desk. “Because, if you can’t, I think I’d like to throw my hat in for consideration ...” Joshua’s lethal stare stopped Garrett’s teasing comment. “For her sister’s hand,” he finished quickly, Joshua’s reaction confirming for him that the duke probably liked the chit a bit more than he was willing to admit.