Beatrix was thoughtful, the visions of her father’s gang in her mind. They’d done awful things, to be sure, but there was also an underlying sense of honor to it all. Aaron and his men were quick to spend some of what they’d taken in, whether it be bread from the local baker or cloth for garments from the local spinning woman. The prey they sought was always carefully chosen, and now she understood why.
“I know, Father. You only take from those who have too much.”
“That, of course,” Aaron explained. “But also those who’ve wronged others. The landlord who mercilessly doubled the rent, the lender who sets terrible rates that no man can ever repay. Even the church if they close their doors to the poor, denying the widows a piece of bread and the orphans a pair of discarded shoes. Those are my ‘victims,’ and I’ll make them pay until I’ve drawn my last breath.”
“It’s your last breath that I’m worried about!” Beatrix said, wringing her hands. “Whatever you’ve done wrong in the past, you’ve more than done your penance! You’ve righted those wrongs and have earned your retirement. Can’t you see? Father, I cannot let myself think about the next time Abrahms and Pencot carry you through the door, bleeding as though you’ve been sent to slaughter. Worse, needing a skilled physician but having only me to save you.”
“Daughter, you do a fine job. You’ve helped all of us at one time or another, and we’re all indebted to you,” her father replied. “I do understand your sadness, though. I will promise you this much. I will complete one more hunt with the boys, then I will strongly consider what you ask.”
“Father, send me in your stead,” Beatrix said, surprising both of them. Her father’s scowl only spurred her on. “To be fair, I know more than most about these hunts, and if the mark is as you say, then sending a simple girl in dire need could be just the ruse that helps pull it off.”
Aaron was quiet, studying his daughter while pondering her suggestion. Yes, there was certainly some merit in having a young girl like herself be the decoy. Who could resist helping a maiden in distress, perhaps one whose horse has thrown a shoe or who’s had to walk a treacherous path in the dark? But Aaron couldn’t bring himself to think of the consequences; if any hunt went poorly or they were double-crossed and found out, it was the hangman’s noose for all of them. Even Beatrix would not be spared, should she be involved.
“I don’t like it,” he said firmly. “Let me see how this leg mends by tonight when the others come over.”
“And if it’s not better?” Beatrix prodded. “You’ll let me stand in your place?”
“May chance. We’ll see,” Aaron said darkly. “But only after I know you’re fully prepared.”
* * *
In a week’s time, Callum’s mother had breathed her last and been buried in the churchyard after a brief but tender ceremony. Many people—both from the ton and the surrounding village—had loved her vivacious spirit and generous nature, and as such had come to pay their respects.
The Duke of Tarnton was inconsolable at the death of his wife, even after having so much time to prepare for the loss. Callum spent as much time as he could by his father’s side, but supporting another through their grief took its toll on him. Within days, he decided it was time to return to his estate and see to his affairs.
“Are the horses ready, Barclay?” Callum asked his valet after breakfast the day a week had passed.
“Yes, sir. I sent the request to the stable myself. The footmen will ride with us, and your friend, the Viscount Peter Grain, has offered to ride with our party as far as Starrton, where he will veer off and visit his sister and her husband.”
“Very good, Barclay. Please inform the group that I’ll be ready to leave upon the hour,” Callum said, nodding at his manservant before finishing readying his traveling case.
Callum went to the desk in his quarters and retrieved his mother’s prized hairpiece. Struck once again by its simplicity, he smiled at the notion of his mother pinning it alongside her wedding veil, one of her lady’s maids or aunts attending to her that day.
He thought to pack it in his trunk, but at the last minute, he replaced it in the small wooden case lined with velvet and put the whole case in his traveling bag. Though it was of nearly no value to anyone else, he felt the need to keep it nearby and chose to put it in his own bag.
“Sir, your father would like a word with you before you go. Otherwise, we’re prepared to leave whenever you choose,” Barclay said, reappearing in the doorway. Callum thanked him, then left to speak to his father before departing.
“Father, I’m off now,” Callum said, entering his father’s study and pausing near the older man’s writing desk.
His father looked up at him and smiled weakly. “Will you return soon?”
“Of course! I only need to see to some of my affairs. I’ll come back any time you ask.” Callum’s words caught in his throat, a sudden pain of emotion choking him. “Or perhaps you’d like to visit me closer to town? That would be enjoyable, would it not?”
“Certainly. I shall make plans straight away,” his father assured him. “Son, I… I thank you for spending these last few weeks here. It meant a great deal to your mother to see you for such a long time. And I, as well.”
“Think nothing of it, Father. It does me good to know that we both spent so much of her final days with her. I shall cherish the moments forever.”
“And did she bid you make a promise? Hmmm?” the old Duke asked, raising an eyebrow in question. “Something about marriage?”
Callum cleared his throat and looked away in embarrassment. “That she did. I was not aware you knew of the conversation, though.”
“Indeed. She confided in me first!” his father answered, laughing softly. “But she’s right. Your mother was always right, in everything. She had such a good head on her shoulders, and about this matter in particular. You need to find a wife. Death has a way of making its bystanders feel the passing of time, and I want to know that you are securely wed before I pass on myself.”
“Father, not you too!” Callum said urgently. “I assured Mother that I would seek out a bride, but I cannot endure the pressure from you as well. You have my word that it is now an important matter, but that is all I can promise today.”
“That is a very politic and appropriate response,” the Duke replied before embracing his son. “There is nothing more anyone could ask of you. Only I beg of you, don’t let me go to my grave before this task is complete.”
Chapter 4
