Page 86 of The Duke of Pain

Growling, he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal whinnied but went no faster. Yes, this nag would not last to London.

He would stop at Foxmont.

If any of those damnable servants got in his way, he would make them sorry. Watford no doubt untied them.

When Sanford had departed with his goods, he briefly thought about torching the place.

A cruel smile curved about his lips. Perhaps he would do exactly that.

Chapter 25

Olivia and Althea sat around the long table with the servants, partaking in a light meal. No one spoke. Obviously, the staff was still recovering from their ordeal and wary of their presence.

“It must have been intolerable having Whinstone here. Why didn’t you all leave?” Then Olivia flushed. “I am sorry, at times, I can be too direct. It’s none of my business.”

“Well, miss,” Henderson replied. “We serve this house and the Watford dukedom. If the duke wanted Whinstone to stay here, who were we to gainsay his directive? I assure you that we did the absolute minimum for Whinstone.”

Henderson cleared his throat. “The people you see in this room have been here thirty years or more. Where would we go? The bigger houses are letting staff go, where would we find employment? I wish Mr. Chapman had come to inspect the doings here, but he never did. I did write, maybe I should have written the Duke of Watford directly, but it is not my place to do so. I wish now that I had.”

“Well, something will be done about it now. It is a beautiful manor house, what I’ve seen of it. Plenty of potential,” she replied with a smile.

“Oh, that it does, miss. You and the duke will be happy here, I know it.” Mrs. Peterson said as she sipped her tea.

A terrible crash and the agonizing whinnies of a horse interrupted their conversation.

Olivia stood. “Gideon?” Would he have returned already?

“No, miss,” Henderson said. “His Grace would have come in through the front door. This is someone else.”

“Is there a hunting rifle around?” Olivia whispered.

“Yes, miss. I will fetch it.” Henderson hurried away.

Althea came to stand next to her. Reaching into her large reticle, she pulled out a revolver. “My Bull Dog. Compact with five barrels, loaded with .442 Webley ammunition. I am a dead shot.”

“Althea, you are full of surprises. I love it. Keep it hidden for now.”

Althea slipped it under her cape.

Henderson returned with a rifle, loading in cartridges as he headed toward Olivia.

“This is a hunting rifle for shooting game birds, but it hasn’t been used in years. I believe it still works. Though I am not sure how to use it.”

“Give it here,” Olivia said. Not that she knew how to use it either, but it may work as a deterrent.

“Look! The stable is on fire!” Alice called.

They all ran to join her at the window. Three horses ran from the burning structure, taking off in different directions. Holding onto the reins of another horse, outlined in flame, was a man.

It was not Gideon.

The man looped the reins against the post, then picked up what appeared to be a torch. He lit it with the growing flames and threw it onto the jut-out roof by the back entrance. The wooden slats were soon on fire.

Olivia did not hesitate; she marched outside with the rifle held in front of her.

“Wait, miss—”

Now outside, she could clearly make out the features of the very tall man. She had seen his cold countenance in one of the photographs.