As though in apology for the previous day’s storm, the following morning broke through the tattered remains of the rain clouds with brilliant light. The early sun warmed the morning enough that Eugenia attended Lady Helena as she walked with the Duke in the garden. The summons came not at the behest of His Grace, but at the Duchess’s, and Eugenia found that odd to the extreme.It is almost as though he does not want to be with her.
His head still wrapped in the bandage, the Duke appeared hale and healthy again and frequently smiled at Eugenia past Lady Helena's shoulder.
He does not seem to enjoy Lady Helena's company but likes mine. Why?
While this confused her, she decided to appreciate it for as long as she could. If he chose not to marry her mistress, then Eugenia would naturally return to London with her after the ball.
They had taken one turn about the wide garden infused with marble statues, a huge statue of plunging dolphins amid a fountain, clipped hedgerows and late summer flowers still trying to bloom under the gardener’s devoted attention. Eugenia listened as the Duke began his farewells to Lady Helena, but her attention was caught on a man of about four score and ten years of age hurrying toward the Duke and Lady. Although she had not met him formally, Eugenia recognized him as the Duke’s steward, Nigel Curry.
“Your Grace,” he said, pausing to bow low before approaching. “There is something you need to see immediately.”
The Duke frowned. “Of course. Lady Helena, will you please excuse me?”
Lady Helena curtseyed, as did Eugenia. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
The two men hurried away toward the coach house as Lady Helena leaned her head toward Eugenia. “I want to know what is going on. Let us follow them.”
“My Lady,” Eugenia said, her tone hushed. “That’s not polite.”
“I know. But I am bored, and I do not want to go back into the castle right now.”
Knowing that once Lady Helena set her mind to something, she was like a terrier – she never let go. With a sigh, Eugenia accompanied her mistress as Lady Helena picked up her skirts and hurried after the Duke and Mr. Curry. Nipping through the gates, she saw the two men nearing the smashed coach, sitting outside the long building that housed the ducal carriages and coaches.
As though having been invited to accompany the Duke, Lady Helena stopped far enough away that she did not appear to be eavesdropping, but near enough to listen. Eugenia heard every word the men said.
“See there, Your Grace,” Mr. Curry said, squatting on his heels to point to something out of Eugenia’s sight. “Those shafts were cut three-quarters of the way through. A paste was applied to make the cut almost invisible, thus when the team was harnessed, the coachman did not notice.”
“Thus, under the duress of travel,” the Duke said, his tone tight, grim, “they broke and sent the team down the road and the coach into the ravine.”
“Exactly.”
“Someone engineered that accident.”
Chapter 11
Maximilian glanced around and observed Lady Helena and Miss Betham were watching – listening. “So, someone wishes me dead, do they?” His gaze never wavered from them. “But I am still alive, and my coachman is not. Any ideas on who this murdering scoundrel might be?”
Mr. Curry shook his head. “I do not, Your Grace. All I can say is that I believe it to be the work of a man. I cannot see a woman knowing enough about carriages and what shafts to cut in order to create this disaster.”
“I agree.”
His anger was not directed at them though he still stared at the two women. He observed the worry in each of their expressions and thinned lips, and Lady Helena shivered under the intensity of his gaze. He scarcely believed what Nigel had just told him – someone tried to kill him. Lady Helena stepped closer to Miss Betham as though also fearing Maximilian’s wrath.
“Inspect all the other carriages,” Maximilian ordered Mr. Curry, turned back. “Make certain none of the others have been tampered with.”
“I will, Your Grace.”
The steward bowed. Maximilian nodded then walked toward Lady Helena and Miss Betham. “I fear your visit has been ill-timed, Lady Helena,” he said. “As you obviously just heard, someone wishes me harm.”
“Perhaps your steward is wrong, Your Grace,” Lady Helena said with a wavering voice. “Surely no one wants you dead. Why would they?”
“If I had the answer to that, Lady Helena,” he lifted an eyebrow, “they would be currently residing in my dungeon. I am sorry you had to discover this. I fear if this is not the end, the spillover might involve you and your parents.”
Lady Helena straightened her shoulders. “I will stand by you, Your Grace.”
He smiled but flicked his gaze to her maid standing by her mistress’s shoulder. The dark-haired girl regarded him with fearless hazel eyes, whereas Lady Helena’s face still held trepidation and nervousness.
If only the two of them were reversed.
