Page 16 of The Rum and The Fox

“Well, Felix, dear, what do you say?”

Ash pursed his lips and pretended to put some thought into the matter.

“When were you considering holding this … party?” he asked, quite unable to keep the distaste from his words, though he tried to sound interested.

“Oh, as soon as possible,” his mother said, leaning forward, her lovely face alight with hope since he hadn’t dismissed the idea out of hand as she might have feared. “This weekend?” she asked, a slightly pleading tone to the words that didn’t escape him.

“Out of the question,” Ash replied, with rather more force than he was used to using, as the idea of facing Lord Todd so soon was frankly terrifying. “You’ll never get a party together so quickly,” he continued, but his mother interrupted him.

“Oh, but it’s to be only a small party, darling. Only our most particular friends, so it ought not to be hard to arrange.”

Ash shook his head and held on to his courage. “Yes, but it is not convenient for me, I’m afraid, and as Lord Todd said, you need my presence to make it a respectable affair and not damage your reputation.” He glanced back at Lord Todd to find the man staring at him in a slightly unnerving manner. Looking away, he turned back to his mother and hurried on. “The end of the month would be best,” he said, hoping that for once he sounded authoritative.

“Oh, but, Ash!” she cried, her disappointment palpable. “That’s almost three weeks away.”

Yes, and it wasn’t at all long enough in his view, but he dared not put it off too long in case Lord Todd grew impatient and decided to use a different method to dispose of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, getting to his feet and hoping that Lord Rennard would take the hint. “I’m afraid I have commitments that will keep me here in Bath until then. But I will be happy to accompany you at the end of the month.”

He turned to Lord Todd and forced himself to hold out his hand.

“I look forward to seeing you then, sir,” he said.

A slight smile flickered over the man’s face as he knew he was being dismissed.

“Indeed, your grace,” he said, taking Ash’s hand. His hand was larger and his grip on Ash almost painful, though Ash did not react. “I look forward to knowing you better.”

Ash inclined his head a little but refrained from comment, watching as Lord Todd made his bow and left the room.

***

Keziah placed the slab of cake onto a plate and cut it in two, one slice rather larger than the other.

“Here you are,” she said, sliding the larger portion across the table to Molly.

“Oh, no, miss, I couldn’t,” the girl objected, staring at the smaller piece on her mistress’ plate with discomfort.

“Of course you can,” Keziah said, her tone matter of fact as she sat down with her maid, something she knew she’d be in trouble for if her father caught her, but Molly had been her only friend over the past miserable years, and she’d be damned if she did as he wished or society expected. “Besides,” she added, picking out the cherries and transferring them to Molly’s plate. “I stuffed myself so full at lunchtime that it’s a wonder there is any room at all for this much.”

Molly giggled and tucked into her portion, apparently placated that her beloved employer wouldn’t starve on her account.

Keziah had made up a story about meeting a sweetheart for a picnic to explain her absence to the maid. She’d invented a handsome and mysterious figure whom she’d met several times in the market place. He was a soldier - that was certain to warm her abigail’s tender heart - and soon to depart, so they had few occasions to meet before he left town. This served two purposes beyond explaining where she’d been to Molly. The girl thought it so romantic that she’d keep it a secret at all costs, but in the unlikely event she spilled the beans, either by accident or design, better her father think she had a beau than that she was plotting his downfall. The story also gave her further opportunities to go and meet her supposed beau over the coming weeks, until she was forced to think of another excuse, or circumstances resolved themselves one way or another. The cake stuck in her throat as she considered several of the possible outcomes, and she was forced to take a large drink of her tea to force it down. The idea that her father could murder such a kind soul, and a man who seemed totally ill equipped to deal with such a threat, was enough to make her lose her appetite.

Food, however, was a scarce commodity, and so she forced the rest of the cake down, though her enjoyment of it was quite lost.

The sound of heavy footsteps from above did nothing to ease her anxiety. In silent accord, the two women cleaned their plates at the risk of their digestions, and tidied up as fast as they were able to. Not a moment too soon, as Martin’s familiar tread was heard on the stairs to the kitchen.

Keziah sat herself down and did her best to give the impression she had been enjoying a quiet cup of tea whilst Molly worked and glanced up with disinterest as the man appeared.

“Martin,” Keziah said, her tone cool.

“Well,” Martin said, taking a chair with no invitation and sitting himself down. “His Lordship is well pleased with himself, for today he had the honour of meeting his grace, the duke.” He ignored Keziah’s glower as he spoke, not caring a bit that he dishonoured her by sitting with her when he was her father’s valet and she Lady Todd. Indeed, why should he? Her father took him far more into his confidence than he did his daughter, a fact for which Keziah could only be grateful. That her father trusted the man so much had ever been a source of consternation to her, though, as personally she thought him the shiftiest sort she’d ever known, and bearing in mind the company her esteemed parent kept, that was no small achievement. She could only surmise that her father had something on him, some hold over him, that kept the man at his beck and call.

She glanced at him and felt her skin prickle as though she was sitting too close to a viper. He was a thin, sparse man with neat black hair, a small, perfectly trimmed moustache which spoke of a military background, and a fastidious cleanliness about his personal appearance that in no way illustrated the blackness of his heart.

“So, Lady Ashwicke is dancing to his tune, is she?” she said, keeping her tone nonchalant and disinterested. She’d had no idea that the duke would have to face him today, and wondered how he had fared. It must have been a shock to the poor fellow.

“She is at that, and such pretty steps, too,” he said with a nasty smile. “Her ladyship is arranging a party for him, just like he asked her to. Though rather later than your pa had hoped. The young pup has a little more backbone that he reckoned on, it seems. Apparently, he has commitments to keep him in Bath until the end of the month. Still, the lease here is for another eight weeks; it’ll be tight, but we should manage something.”

Keziah sipped at her tea and did her best to keep her hand steady, though this whole affair was becoming ever more real and frightening. She reminded herself that she knew nothing of the duke’s fate and tried to plaster a smile to her face.

“Well, we may be able to spend the summer at Chartley, then,” she said, wondering what the place was like and if she’d ever see it if she managed to keep the duke from her father’s grasp.

“Sounds good to me,” Martin said, grinning and showing rather too many teeth as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Hope the grub’s good.”

The ridiculous daydream of actually being a guest of Lord Ashwicke’s flitted into her mind, and she pushed it aside. Such frivolous thoughts were not to be contemplated. Her own fate would be decided once her father had been dealt with. The uncomfortable idea that the duke would not be able to do the deed required of him was one she couldn’t dismiss. He was a poor shot at best, and didn’t appear to have a devious bone in his body, let alone the strength of character that would see him through such a trying experience.

Could he really shoot a man dead, if his life depended on it?

There was no way of knowing, not until it was a great deal too late.

Keziah got to her feet, unwilling to spend any more time in Martin’s company. As she made her way back up the stairs, she wondered if her father had considered the fact that he would not be able to marry Lady Ashwicke for a year at least if she was in mourning for her dead son. She doubted that such a crucial detail had slipped his attention and realised it would serve his purposes far greater to be married first.

She paused on the steps as she realised that he would try and befriend the duke, whilst putting pressure on Lady Ashwicke to persuade her son to agree to a hasty nuptials.

Having seen her father in action, Keziah little doubted that her father could persuade Lady Ashwicke to do whatever he desired. He could charm the birds from the trees when his mind was set to it. Of far greater concern would be his attempts at befriending Lord Ashwicke. She had seen for herself how open and frank an expression the man bore, and had grave doubts as to his ability to dissemble.

She would have to warn him and put him on his guard. They had arranged to meet again the day after next, and in Keziah’s view, not a moment too soon.