Page 10 of The Rum and The Fox

Younger than his daughter!

Keziah swallowed hard. She had little doubt in her mind that this was Lady Ashwicke’s daughter, the one who would not inherit until she was twenty-one. Feeling quite overwhelmed with revulsion, she realised that her father was playing a long game indeed, for he foresaw a day when he would tire with Lady Ashwicke, and so would lose no time in replacing her with the daughter. Seeing her father lift the girl’s fingers to his lips and the fluttering look she sent in return as a flush rouged her cheeks, Keziah felt she’d seen quite enough.

She had to track down the girl’s brother, the duke, and tell him just what disaster awaited him and his family if he didn’t heed her warnings, and do exactly as she directed.

***

Ash woke late after an uneasy night’s sleep. His grandmother’s taunts had hit their mark, as they always did, and left him feeling a trifle out of sorts. It wouldn’t last, of course, it rarely did for any length of time. Ash would occupy himself with more enjoyable things until the sting of her tongue had ceased to trouble him. For the time being, however, he found that her words had found their mark with even greater accuracy than usual. He was disturbed by the idea that he must do something to save his mother from a man who could well turn out to be a fortune hunter. How to do such a thing when the woman was clearly besotted was beyond his comprehension. The idea of facing the man and risk being called out was something he couldn’t consider with equanimity, but being thought a coward … he thought that might be even worse.

On top of all that was the lovely vision of the man’s daughter, staring at him with those challenging eyes. There was something defiant and fierce about her that had intrigued him, yet his instincts told him there was a rather more vulnerable girl hidden behind that cool façade, and he longed to discover her.

Sighing with frustration, he went to stand by the window of what had been his father’s study. It was his now, of course, had been for some time. Yet it never felt like his study. He often felt like he was merely playing the part of Duke of Chartley, and that his father’s, and most certainly his grandfather’s shoes, were simply too large to ever dream of filling.

Now, looking at the most fashionable people of Bath as they promenaded along Royal Crescent, a blue sky beckoned him and he toyed with the idea of going out, though he doubted any of his friends would be about yet. He was still pondering this when their butler, Grant, informed him in disapproving tones that a young lady was asking for him. On hearing that it was Lady Todd, Ash could hardly disguise his astonishment, but demanded that Grant show her in immediately.

The self-assured young woman he had seen last night seemed rather less in evidence today, however, as she appeared to be in considerable distress.

“Lady Todd,” Ash said, greeting her with warmth. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

He looked her over with concern. The pelisse she wore was old and faded and her lovely face was white, her blue eyes shadowed.

“I’m afraid pleasure is the last thing you will gain from my society,” she said, her voice so grave that her words underscored the unease which had been plaguing him since the evening before. “And you’ll certainly find no joy in the intelligence I must bring you, but … but my conscience will not have it otherwise.”

She clasped her hands together, her stance rigid and miserable, and Ash realised that she was trembling. Sitting her down with all the reassurance he could muster he hurried to pour her a small glass of brandy.

“Here,” he said, sitting down beside her and pressing the glass into her hand. “Sip this, it will make you feel better.”

She did as he bid her, and after a few moments she seemed to gain control once again and took a deep breath.

“You are very kind, your grace,” she said, though the words bore no inflection. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

Ash smiled, having no trouble in answering this one. “I think the same of you as I did last night,” he said, watching as she looked up and met his eyes. “That you are a perfectly charming young lady with rather more secrets and troubles than you are comfortable with sharing.”

She smiled then, and fleeting as it was - born perhaps of surprise - the expression turned her face from simply lovely to something that stole Ash’s breath. “You are rather more perceptive than I gave you credit for, your grace,” she said, her voice low and apologetic.

Ash laughed at that and nodded. “A problem I face often, I assure you.”

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, as if to assure herself that he was still in good humour and hadn’t taken offence. “Come now,” he said, hoping he sounded like the sort of chap a young woman might confide in. “Won’t you tell me what has brought you here is such distress? And please,” he added with a smile, “drop the your grace; here, and in the circumstances, I think you might call me Ash. All my friends do.”

Her expression cooled under the invitation of intimacy, and Ash realised he’d overreached himself, but she did at least begin to speak.

“I am afraid that what I must tell you will seem extraordinary and … and perfectly dreadful,” she began, and he got the impression that now she had committed herself to this course of action, whatever it might be, she was determined to see it through. She turned her blue eyes on him, and for a moment he lost the thread of the conversation, so struck was he by the depth of colour, and of sorrow, that he found there. “But I must tell you that you are in great danger,” she continued as Ash struggled to return to her words; “My father is planning on marrying your mother and I tell you now that you must stop this at all costs. For if he succeeds, he … he intends to kill you and take control of the Chartley fortune.”