Page 39 of The Rum and The Fox

Chapter 16

To throw off the hounds - to uncouple them and let them quest for the chase

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

Ash strolled the garden with Keziah on his arm and allowed himself a pleasant daydream of what life might be like if she were his wife. He turned to glance at her lovely profile and felt an ache in his heart and a deep sense of longing that seemed to live beneath his skin, inhabiting his heart and his soul, urging him to reach out and touch her.

Of course he could not, would not, not when she had made her feelings so clear. But, nonetheless, his reckless heart still hoped, and he still dreamed.

He was every bit the fool his grandmother had accused him of being.

With relief, he noted that her lip had healed and the swelling about her eye had gone, though the bruises remained yet. Fury that someone had laid a hand on her burned with such aggression in his blood that he thought it was a good thing he’d already killed Lord Todd. Knowing Keziah better, falling for her more with each new day, and discovering more about the reprehensible treatment she had received from one who ought to have protected her, made him fantasise about all the ways he could have made the man pay, rather than simply end him with a bullet. That seemed far too quick and clean for such a monster.

He saw her eyes stray to the handsome figure of Tobias Mortimer as they walked, and swallowed down a burst of jealousy. Why couldn’t he be like Tobias? Not a gardener, of course, he wasn’t so much a fool that he’d wish that, but a man that a woman like Keziah looked at and sighed over.

Oh, it wasn’t that he was unsuccessful with the female race, far from it, but his title and his money were as much as an inducement as a handsome face, and they would never consider him the heroic type. No, his place was the ballroom, the assembly room, the theatre. He was good company, entertaining and vastly wealthy, popular, in fact. But he had never been taken seriously. Everyone knew the dowager ruled his roost, no matter his grand title. The ton would never respect anything but his bank balance and the dukedom, and believe the title bestowed on a good natured fool.

His grandmother’s loyal gardener had the kind of heroic face and figure that any female would fall over themselves to put their confidence in, however, no matter if there was actually a keen brain in his head or not. Keziah was not immune, either, judging on the surreptitious glances she was casting towards the man.

Ash sighed, and it must have been a more heartfelt sound than he’d realised, as she turned to him with a frown.

“You’re awfully quiet, Ash,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze, and then when he made no response, “A penny for your thoughts.”

He smiled at that and shook his head with chagrin. “Is that all they’re worth?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, tilting her head as if she was considering the question. “It depends on what you are thinking of, I suppose.”

“Ah, the lady is not a gambler I see,” he replied, amused despite his low spirits. “For surely you must take a chance if you wish to learn something of value. Perhaps it is worth less than a penny, or perhaps … perhaps everything I possess,” he said, the words rough and full of meaning.

There was too much honesty in his voice, he knew that, but he turned and looked at her, holding her gaze long after he ought to have looked away. Keziah blushed and stammered, and he was about to beg forgiveness for having made her uncomfortable when Inspector Formby called out to them, with a seriously discomposed Grant striding after him.

“A thousand apologies, your grace,” the butler said, looking really quite distressed. “One of the footmen allowed him entry. I only left my post for a moment …”

Ash waved away the man’s excuses. “It is of no consequence, Grant,” he replied, giving the man a reassuring smile. Though in truth, he’d had just about enough of Formby’s little visits. “You may leave us.”

Grant gave a very formal bow, as if to illustrate further his remorse, before favouring the inspector with a look of deep reproach as he walked away. Ash turned his attention to Mr Formby, wanting to get whatever it was over and done with.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked, though it must have been abundantly clear from his voice that pleasure was the last thing he was feeling.

“I have something for you, your grace,” the inspector said with a broad smile. “My constable brought in a young thief, a Mr Lightfingers, would you believe,” he added with an indulgent chuckle. “And low and behold …” He held out a very handsome pocket watch which Ash recognised at once.

“My watch!” he exclaimed as a slightly unsettling feeling shivered over him.

“Ah, thought it must be, going on the inscription and coat of arms,” Formby replied, looking very pleased with himself.

“Thank you, inspector,” he said, returning the man’s smile and trying hard to ignore the anxiety that had begun to claw at his throat. “I should have been sorry to lose it.”

“I’ll bet,” the inspector chuckled, though there was a glint in his eyes that Ash could not like. “Worth a pretty penny, I should think.”

Ash nodded. “It was a gift from my grandmother when I took the title.”

Formby just stood there for a moment, grinning at him, and Ash fought the urge to ask where the thief said he’d got it from.

“Oh, and Lady Todd, I can now return the valuables found upon your father’s person,” he said, with a rather more sympathetic smile as he handed her anther watch, a deal less fine that the one he’d given Ash. “Is that all?” Keziah asked with a frown. “What about his ring?”

“A ring?” Formby repeated, curious. “I ain’t seen no ring. What’s it like?”

Keziah shrugged. “It was genuine, not like this,” she said, and Ash watched as she looked at the poor quality paste stones on the watch with a sigh. “A large gold ring with a ruby stone, it has a fox’s head engraved on the back. One of the last genuine pieces we had.”