To Catch a Lady (23 page)

“Does the prince look a bit heavier to you?”

“Och, that's just because he's been feasting on every scrap in sight, the scoundrel.”

“Perhaps.” Ash thought for a moment. “Tell me, is he a prince, or perhaps a princess?”

“To be honest, Your Grace, I never got close enough to the beast to check.”

“It's just that I seem to remember that our fair prince had a tuft of white under his chin.”

She shrugged. “I've never noticed, Your Grace.”

“And, come to think about it, he's a bit rounder in the middle.”

“Sir?”

Ash eyed the animal closely. “This is not our jolly prince. This is a female.” Ash inched closer and, taking the animal by surprise, lifted it up and tilted it so that he could see beneath its belly. “Hello, Ophelia.”

“Baaaaah!” the animal cried out, indignant at being handled in such a way.

“Hmpf,” the housekeeper snorted. “Well, I'll be. The little cur has snuck a lady friend into the house.”

“Not just a lady friend, Mrs. Hardesty. I would say a wife, and one that looks to be breeding.”

“Breeding? Does that mean another filthy animal that must be cared for? More leavings to clean up, more destruction of the property?”

“Perhaps we'll have better luck keeping this one in the pens,” Ash said mildly.

“Your Grace, I can no longer work under these circumstances. I'm resigning my position at the end of the month. I wish you the best of luck finding my replacement.”

“Now, Mrs. Hardesty, don't be so rash about this.”

“Rash, sir? I beg your pardon, but at least when your wife was here, the animals were kept out of doors. We didn't have sheep in the pantry, goats in the library, a deer in the parlor…” She drew a deep breath. “A deer in the parlor, sir!” She nearly sobbed. “I can barely keep my head above water, cleaning this awful place.”

“Mrs. Hardesty, if you'll please calm yourself—” Ash began.

“Oh, no, sir, I've had a mind to speak up for a long time, and now I can no longer hold my tongue. This place is an utter disaster. This morning, there was a pig in the kitchen, and I don't mean Lord Harmon. A pig, Your Grace! It was rooting among the potatoes.”

“I know it isn't easy, but you've only to call for assistance. The butler, the groom—hell, any of the lads would be glad to lend a hand.”

“And have them thinking I cannot do my job, sir? Absolutely not.” Pulling her kerchief from her apron pocket, she sniffled heartily. “At least when I had Meggie to help me, it was bearable. But now, without her, and Her Grace gone as well, my job is both impossible and unbearable.”

With that she spun around, her skirts sweeping past the goat, who snatched a piece of her hem. “Let go, you wretched thing!” she screeched, and stormed out of the room the moment she was free.

Sitting back on his heels, Ash rubbed his eyes. How could this day get any worse?

He heard Duncan call out to him. “Ash! You are needed in the dining room, immediately!”

The urgency in his friend's voice spoke of unrivaled disaster. Running from the library into the great room, he came face-to-face with his fellow hunters and one very unhappy-looking Mr. Bateman. Ash's least favorite solicitor perched on the chaise longue, his arms clutching his leather satchel.

“I'm afraid, Your Grace, I've come with some bad news.”

The ride to London had been one fraught with worry and bad weather. Though it wasn't the rainy season, the barouche sloshed through the mud the entire trip. Thankfully, Lord Higgins understood the need for urgency and had stopped only once for a change of horses. The weather, combined with Caro's frequent bouts of nausea and the constant heartache whenever she thought about her husband, had made the trip all the more miserable.

Caro had run into the mansion, past surprised staff and up the stairs to her mother's bedroom. Upon entering, she saw that her sister and her husband's aunt were seated at her mother's bedside.

“Mama!”

Sarah Hawkins had always been a lovely woman, and even in sickness, her skin pale and moist from her fever, she was as beautiful as always.

“Caroline? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mama, it's me,” Caro cried, instantly going to her mother's side. Leaning over her, Caro gently kissed her cheek.

“Caro, thank God you've come,” Beatrice said. She knelt beside the bed. “Mama has been calling you for days.”

“I'm here, Mama. Your Caro's here.”

“Thank goodness,” Amelia said. “She's been so ill, child. I've had the physician out every day, but she hasn't been getting better at all. I hope you'll forgive me interrupting your holiday. I thought it best to summon you at once.”

“I'm grateful that you did, Duchess—” Caro began.

“It's Amelia, dear. Please, you are my niece now. There's no need for titles among us. We're family, after all.”

“Thank you, Amelia. I truly appreciate all you've done for my family.”

“I'm very glad to do it. Having family makes one's life worthwhile, you know.”

“What happened?” Caro asked. Indeed, she'd never seen her mother this ill. Even after the accident, she'd almost instantly returned to health. Now, it looked as though she'd lost weight. And her skin was so hot.

“To be honest, I'm not sure. For the first few weeks, it seemed she truly enjoyed herself,” Amelia told her.

Bea spoke up. “Yes, Auntie Amelia took us around town. She had a dinner party and introduced us to her friends.”

“She seemed to be thriving. Of course, she asked after you several times a day. We tried to explain that you'd married and that you'd gone on holiday.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said. “And for a while, she seemed to understand. But then, suddenly, her appetite began to dwindle, and a week ago she started refusing her meals.”

Amelia nodded. “This morning she even refused to drink. Not a drop, not even tea.”

“Oh, Mama, what's wrong?”

“Are you all right, Caro?” her mother blurted out. “I saw what he did to you. You're hurt, child. We must do something.”

“Oh, Mama.” Caro comforted her. “That was a long time ago. I'm fine now, really, I am.”

“Are you sure? I remember…” Sarah started crying, and Caro pulled her into her arms.

“There, there, Mama. It's all right. I'm here now. Your Caro is right here.”

“Are you here to stay?” The older woman sniffled.

“Yes,” Caro said, closing her eyes. “Home at last.” She rubbed her mother's hands between hers. “Mama?”

The older woman's eyes fluttered open. “Yes, dear?”

“I need you to drink some tea. Will you do that for me?”

Her brows furrowed, Sarah drew in a breath. “I'm not thirsty. Perhaps later, dear.”

“Please, Mama. Just a few swallows?” The maid handed a fresh cup and saucer to Caro. Beatrice ran to the other side of the bed and helped the maid to lift her mother up.

“Oh, very well. If you insist.”

Caro breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mama.”

Spoonful by spoonful, they managed to get her to drink half a cup. Then, holding up her hands, she refused any more.

“I'm so tired, girls. Can't you let me rest?”

“Only if you promise me that you'll drink more later, Mama. And perhaps eat some pudding,” Caro said.

“Yes, Mama,” Bea said beside her. “You must do what Caro tells you. She always knows what's best.”

“Of course she does,” Sarah said, yawning. “She has always been far wiser than her years. We must do as she tells us.”

Caro sighed. She had always felt the weight of her family's needs, and she did now more than ever. And yet, in the back of her mind, another called to her.

How could she possibly manage the responsibility of a husband and child when she had her mother and sister to care for?

“Caroline,” Amelia asked. “Are you all right, dear?”

Caro heard her question, and in fact had every intention of telling her that she was, even though it was a lie.

But before she knew what was happening, the room began spinning and she felt suddenly weak all over. The very next moment, the world slipped sideways and the soft Aubusson carpet rose up to meet her.

Darkness crowding around her, Caro's last thought was for her husband. If this was her end, then he was going to have to hold another lottery.

“What is so dire that you would come all the way from London, Mr. Bateman?” Ash and his solicitor were seated in the study, the duke's account books set out neatly in front of him.

Twice before his inheritance had been challenged by distant cousins, and neither one had held a legitimate claim. As a result, the cases had been dismissed outright by the courts. Both times his aunt had been sent into a terrible depression because the lawsuits had been openly discussed by everyone in the ton. Well, damn it all, Ash wasn't about to let his aunt go through that again.

“I beg you, forgive my interruption of your day, Your Grace. It's just that my firm, Hornsby, Hellbish, and Bateman, has recently been retained by a Lord Alfred Danbury. He claims that you have forcibly absconded with his charges, a Lady Sarah Hawkins and her daughters, Miss Caroline Hawkins and her sister Miss Beatrice Hawkins.”

Ash studied the solicitor carefully. A smallish man, he had a wiry frame and his suit, though of good material, hung loosely on his body. His rodentlike eyes squinted when he met Ash's gaze, and he held his hat, cane, and satchel with white-knuckled fists. Dark brown hair, graying at the temples and pulled back at the nape of his neck, gave him a look of advanced age, though Ash doubted he was much older than thirty.

Having dealt with similar types before, Ash knew that the man's presentation was very likely a ruse. He clearly meant to appear as no threat to his opponent, but was likely as mean as a snake and twice as deadly.

“He comes forward now? Of course he would; he'd drained their bank accounts, after all.” Ash swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.

Though he'd been hurt by Caroline's actions, a pain that would fester in his heart for a long time to come, he couldn't deny what he'd promised her. He would protect her and her family, with his very life, if need be. Of course, he suspected that Alfred Danbury wouldn't call him out. No, the greedy bastard would want money, and lots of it, to leave Caroline and her mother and sister alone.

“I didn't abscond with anybody. Miss Caroline Hawkins, who is of legal age, gave her consent when I asked her to marry me. I wasn't aware that she would have to get permission from a distant cousin who hadn't shown his face for almost ten years. A man who had abandoned these women, one of whom is in need of constant care, after emptying their bank accounts.” Ash sat back. “Besides, our union was approved by special license and the Crown itself. I'm sure you've already located the proper documents.”

Mr. Bateman nodded. “My client thought you might say something like that. But he assures me that the women played you false, Your Grace. He has ever had their best interests at heart, a fact which has led him to insist we begin legal proceedings as soon as possible. While Miss Caroline, or should I say the new duchess, is now legally under your control, the fact remains that her mother and sister are not.”

“Let me guess—he wants to take them from my care?”

“As it happens, his lordship is facing some financial difficulties.”

Ash smirked. “I thought it would be something like that.” He drew a breath. “Here's what I have to offer. Danbury can either take it or leave it, but when I bring forth the horrible conditions those women were forced to live in under his care, I assure you no court in the country will hear his case.”

Bateman paled. “Now, Your Grace, let's not be hasty.”

“Oh, I'm not being hasty. Ever since my wife told me what that bastard did to her, how he embarrassed and degraded her, nearly murdered her mother—well, I've been considering just how I would handle Lord Danbury if he ever chose to show his ugly face.”

“Um, please—I implore you—”

Ash held up his hand. “I'm going to have my solicitor, Mr. Wilkens, draw up a contract giving me guardianship over Lady Hawkins and her daughter, Beatrice. When it is signed, I will pay this amount to Lord Danbury.”

He scrawled a figure onto a piece of parchment and slid it in front of Bateman. Upon seeing the amount, the attorney's eyes near bulged out of his head. “Your Grace, you are most generous.”

“What I am is finished with Alfred Danbury and with you. You can tell him for me that if my wife and her family see so much as his shadow, I will destroy him. In the courts, in the gaming hells, anywhere he steps, I will be there, ready to knock him down. Is that understood?”

Mr. Bateman nodded and snatched the paper from the desk. “I shall return to London and inform my client immediately, Your Grace.”

Ash smiled. “See that you do.”

It took Ash and the other hunters the better part of a week to remove all of the animals from the lodge. All in all, three goats, two pigs, a lamb, a family of rabbits, and four geese had been resettled to the stables and surrounding outbuildings.

“No wonder Mrs. Hardesty is leaving us,” Duncan commented as he carried out the last of the rabbits.

“Hopefully this will make a difference.”

“I don't know, old man; she looked pretty upset.”

“I've increased her pay. Plus, I've assured her that by tomorrow evening, there will be two new maids to help her. Not only that, I've decided to hire a crew to renovate the place. Slyddon's a good ol' girl, but she definitely needs sprucing up a bit.”

Duncan looked at the castle. “A bit? You haven't really looked at the place, have you? Or are you suffering from poor vision and dementia?”

“Perhaps. I don't know. It never seemed to matter before. But having a full staff seems important, now.”

“It won't work, you know.”

Ash gave him a guarded expression. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Of course you do, you dolt. You know exactly what I mean. You're thinking this will bring her back. That by making it habitable, she'll want to return here.”

Hardening his jaw, Ash almost didn't answer. “You're wrong. I don't give a fig whether she returns or not. I simply would like to live in a home rather than something akin to a squatter's cottage.”

“It's a bit large for that, don't you think? Never mind. When exactly are you going to London?”

“After the child is born, perhaps.”

“Perhaps? It's your son, or daughter. Surely you want to be there for the birth. Forget that you're angry with Caroline—think of the child, man.”

Ash spun around. “I am thinking of the child. That's all I've thought about. No matter what problems Caro and I have, it won't do for the child to be around two parents who can barely stand to be in the room together. I will not behave as my parents did—and every time I think about retrieving my wife, I don't know what I want to do more, kiss her until she comes to her senses, or throttle her instead.”

Suddenly Ash realized the bustle around him had quieted. All of the men were looking at him, their mouths agape.

Had he been shouting?

“It's all right, Ash,” Duncan said in a quiet tone. “Let's get this finished and we'll see about some lunch.”

Ash sighed. Well, he hadn't meant to shout. “You're right, we need to eat.” With that, he stomped past his friend and back into the house.

It was no good, he told himself. He needed to see her. He needed to ask her why she'd left him and beg her to forgive him. And he would have done just that, if his stupid pride hadn't gotten in the way.

Since he'd found her gone, he'd done nothing but think about going to see her, even so far as walking to the stables and readying a carriage. Several times he'd packed his bags, written the necessary letters, and prepared everything.

Then each time, at the last moment, just as he was about to leave, he would hear her voice, railing at him, accusing him of being a fool. And God help him, he couldn't board the damned carriage. He would just stand beside it, looking at it, and then turn away.

He must be going mad. Surely the staff must think so.

At first he'd waited daily on some messenger to bring word of his wife, thinking she'd berate him for not following her. Or a letter, written in her own hand, where she would beg for his forgiveness and implore him to come to town. But weeks passed, and nothing came.

Weeks then turned into months, seasons changed, the year ended and a new one began, and still Ash remained at Slyddon.

To his good fortune, Mrs. Hardesty did decide to stay on. Of course, he'd lied and told her that he expected Caroline back any day. The remodeling of the castle was mostly finished; Slyddon now looked more like a proper lodge rather than a broken pile of rocks. Ash had supervised the work himself, right down to helping to lay fresh stones on the stairs and installing the new roof over the great room.

But now things were nearly done, and Ash would no longer have something to occupy his time. Of course, he knew that his wife was getting closer to her delivery date, and that would require him to go to London and face her, one last time.

“Your Grace,” his valet said one afternoon in late July, “another letter from your aunt arrived this morning.”

“Amelia.” Fear shot through him. Immediately, he thought something had happened to Caroline. “Here, give me that.”

Barely able to keep from snatching it from his servant's hand, Ash took it and tore open the envelope. He quickly scanned the paper.

“What the blazes?”

Dear Ashton,

In all the years I've known and cared for you, I have never been as disappointed as I am at this moment. I've always thought you to be the kindest and most levelheaded of the men in my life. But it looks as though you've given in to ill temper and tossed away all of my efforts bringing you to adulthood.

All these months I have held back my letters at your wife's insistence. No longer can I sit idly by while you ignore your responsibilities. I know I have certainly taught you better than that.

As to your wife, know that while she is bravely carrying on, she can barely spend a day without giving in to despair. If you have any kindness in you at all, any thought to the well-being of your family, you will cease your selfish, oafish behavior and return to town as soon as possible.

Amelia

Ash read the blasted thing twice more. “She acts as if I'm the guilty one. As if I'd set off for no good reason, abandoning my pregnant wife instead of the other way around.”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Weatherby said, his face as impassive as ever.

“It's not like I tossed her out in the street, pregnant and penniless, though with the way she has wronged me, I'd certainly have the right to.”

“Perhaps you should go and set her to rights, sir.”

“Perhaps that's what I'll do.”

“Indeed, Your Grace, the livery is well practiced setting up the rig.”

Ash shot his valet a sharp look, but the man remained emotionless. Except for the slight twitching of the side of his mouth, one would think that he wasn't being cynical at all.

“Very well. You and I will leave for London in the morning.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”