Page 51 of The Rum and The Fox

“Is he alright?” she asked, glancing around the screen she stood behind.

Molly nodded, catching her eye as she tried to repair the damage to the gown. “Yes, Miss … I mean, your grace.”

“Oh, do stop it,” Keziah cried, reaching for a towel to dry herself. “Miss Keziah will do fine.”

“That, it won’t,” Molly replied with a sniff, but she carried on. “He’s scared witless, mind, though he likes to pretend ‘e ain’t.”

Keziah nodded, reaching for her chemise. “One can hardly blame him.”

“Well, he’s safe enough for the moment. I paid the bill till the end of the month, like you said, and left him with enough grub for four or five days. The devil don’t like it, but I reckon ‘e’s too scared to do ought but stay put.”

“I hope so,” Keziah replied as Molly slipped the dress over her head. “No one saw you?” she added as the material slid into place and feeling her heart sink as Molly paled a little and looked rather anxious. “What? What is it?” she demanded as Molly turned her attention to tying up the back of her dress.

“Oh, it’s probably nothing, miss,” she said, but from the sound of her voice, Keziah felt it wasn’t nothing at all. “Only …”

“Only?”

Molly sighed and gestured for Keziah to sit at the dressing table so that she could see to her hair.

“Only when I got back to the house, I came in the back, all quiet-like, but … I got the feelin’ someone was watching me?” She laughed then and shook her head. “Oh, ignore me, it’s all this cloak and dagger stuff, got me jumpin’ at shadows, it ‘as.”

Keziah couldn’t feel any reassurance in those words and met her abigail’s gaze in the mirror.

“Who do you think it was?”

Molly didn’t look up, her attention focused on brushing out Keziah’s thick blonde hair.

“I dunno, honest … but … Grant, maybe.”

“Grant?” Keziah repeated, frowning and trying not to curse as Molly tugged through a knot. “The butler?”

Molly nodded, glancing up for a moment to meet her eyes. “Aye, ‘im. He’s a shifty blighter. Reckon ‘e spies on everyone. Always pokin’ his nose in where it ain’t needed.”

Keziah felt a prickle of unease at the idea they were being watched. Certainly, she wasn’t surprised. The dowager duchess had made it clear she did not welcome Keziah, and didn’t trust her an inch. It wouldn’t be unlikely for her to have the staff keeping an eye on them. Then there were his mother and sister. She’d seen neither of them, as they’d both taken to their beds, each one apparently trying to outdo the other with their display of grief.

Molly had become quite friendly with the dresser for Ash’s mother, a Mrs Grantham. Although, as dresser to a figure as lovely and well-born as the Duchess of Chartley - before Keziah had stolen her title - she was due a fair deal of deference, she was not in the least top lofty, as some of her kind could be. Though she was far above Molly’s station, she was a motherly sort and had been horrified by the state Molly had arrived in. It appeared that Mrs Grantham had not liked nor trusted Lord Todd an inch, and had warned her mistress on several occasions that he was a wolf in lamb’s clothing. Apparently, her words had not only fallen on deaf ears, but she’d been soundly scolded for having uttered them.

When Mrs Grantham had discovered who had hurt both Molly and Keziah, she felt her fears utterly vindicated, and she’d fussed over Molly’s care like the most faithful mother hen. From her, Molly had gleaned the information that Lady Anne was as much distressed by Lady Margaret’s stark warnings that Ash would marry Keziah if they didn’t do something, as by the death of her beloved and the discovery of his villainy. The idea of losing her title of duchess, and having another, younger, woman in the house and in control … well, that had brought on a fit of hysteria that the poor dresser had been hard-put to sooth.

Keziah did not hold out any hopes for a warm and motherly welcome from her new in-law.

Molly had also learned that Hannah, Ash’s sister, refused to believe that Lord Todd had been capable of such vile behaviour and thought that Keziah was lying through her teeth about the man beating her and Molly. What Hannah believed had truly happened, or thought Keziah’s motivation for lying was, Molly couldn’t uncover. But it was fair to say that none of the women in her husband’s household welcomed her presence. In fact, they all wanted her gone as soon as may be.

On top of all of that was not only the drunk who had seen her drop the pistol, but another, shadowy figure who had been lingering in the darkness of the garden behind the house on Royal Crescent. His presence had been felt before it had been seen and almost scared her to death. Keziah had only caught a glimpse and not seen his face, but there had been something familiar about him. Was it the same man who’d been watching Molly? Could it really be Grant, spying for the dowager? And if so, would he take his information to her or to Formby? Or would he decide to profit from it himself? Now she was the Duchess of Chartley, she was a wealthy woman. It must be a temptation, surely?

It was not a happy thought and did not make her want to return to Bath any sooner.

“Don’t fret, miss,” Molly said, giving her a reassuring smile and laying a hand on her shoulder. “All will be well.”

Keziah returned her smile in the looking glass but did not feel the least bit reassured. She felt she was walking along a cliff’s edge and the ground was falling away beneath her. For the moment, she’d scrambled to safety, but she felt only too sure that it would not last.

***

They spent two more nights enjoying the reverend’s extravagant hospitality, and it was clear enough that they were both reluctant to leave. For Keziah, the days had been like a brief and lovely holiday. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they’d not discussed their predicament, though it had been on the tip of Keziah’s tongue to tell Ash what had happened that night. But he was so obviously happy that whatever he thought she had or hadn’t done was clearly not enough to change his opinion of her, and she did not want to spoil his pleasure or taint their time together with such vile discussions. It would happen soon enough, of that she was only too certain.

So it was that they found themselves back in his carriage, returning to Bath as husband and wife, and with a dark cloud hovering above them and forcing their happiness to dissipate the closer they got.

Ash reached for her hand and she clung to him, finding assurance and courage in the warmth of his grasp. Whatever happened, Ash would not desert her. For that, she was lucky indeed.