Page 12 of A Duchess of Mystery

She set down the silver coffee pot. “I discovered our new duke in the strangest of places, Dora. You will not guess.”

Judging by the bits of straw adhering to his clothing, Dora suspected she might well have been able to do just that. But she liked to humor Bella, so she didn’t say anything.

“In the stables. And I mean in them. I think he’d spent the night sleeping with his horse.”

Diccon laughed. “You malign me. I actually spent what remained of the night after my late arrival in Joe Rowan’s old bed, with my servant, Baxter, on the other bed. I was merely having a morning conversation with the somewhat dejected beast who brought me here, and waiting for the house to waken so I could make myself known. I had no idea the duchess was partial to an early-morning ride and that we would so opportunely meet.”

Bella’s laugh tinkled. “I took him for someone come hoping for employment. How amusing was that? We spoke at odds for some time before he owned up to who he was.” Another brittle little laugh. “When he finally revealed his identity to me, of course I had to welcome him to Stourbridge. It would have been quite thoughtless of me to have gone on with my ride and left him by himself to find his way inside. I had assumed he didn’t know his way about here, but as I see you are old friends, I realize I’d forgotten that he’s been here before.”

Dora patted Richard’s bare forearm, a brief memory of his slender limbs as a boy intruding. “Of course he knows his way about, Bella. We were childhood companions so he knows the castle and grounds well.” She glanced up at Diccon, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Until he left us all and went off to be a soldier, that is, when he was still but half a boy.”

Bella’s frown suggested she might still be puzzled by much about the newly arrived duke, even though a little the wiser concerning his origins. “So, you are our long-lost cousin returned to us. There’s no mistaking the Carstairs features. Tell me. Are there more of your family I have heard nothing about? Marcus never mentioned he had a living cousin, although I knew there was one who might be deceased, and who had to be located because of the inheritance.”

“I am an only child.”

Dora nodded. “His own mama and papa died in some epidemic which fortuitously didn’t touch dear Diccon. He came here when he was six years old, all alone. I remember the day well, for Marcus had taken it into his head to tie my plaits to my seat in the schoolroom. When he jumped up to look out of the window to see the carriage arriving, and I followed, my chair came with me and left me with painful bruises across the backs of my legs.” She frowned at the memory.

Marcus had insisted, once her attachment to the chair had been undone, on going down to the hallway to see who the visitor was. He’d been disgusted the carriage had only divested one small, frightened little boy. Dora could see him now, in his little navy suit of frock coat and breeches, with a small, cocked hat on his head and his eyes as big as saucers. Her own eyes had met his, and despite Marcus’s jeering, she’d smiled, and the little newcomer had smiled back, their friendship of the nine years to come sealed in that instant.

Bella’s eyes hardened. “How very typical of Marcus. No doubt he found your discomfort amusing.”

This did not require an answer. Bella knew as well as Dora how mean Marcus’s actions had been at every opportunity. How he found pleasure in small, or sometimes larger, acts of violence and bullying. She didn’t need to share what both of them already knew. They shared enough, already.

“Well,” Bella said into the silence, “at least we don’t have to look forward to a crowd of your brothers and sisters appearing.” She shot a glance at Dora. “And not a wife, either. Our new duke is here not just to inspect his inheritance but also to find himself a wife and soon, thereafter, an heir. Or so he hopes.”

Good heavens. Bella must have been questioning him closely to have ascertained all this information already. For herself, Dora would never have entertained exacting such facts from someone she had only just met. But Bella had always been different, from the first day Marcus brought her back here to Stourbridge as a blushing bride, and Dora loved her for it and would change nothing about her. She and Bella were bound by more than the ordinary bonds of friendship and sisterhood.

It was at this opportune moment that the door opened and Bella’s visiting friend, of whom Dora was not fond, made an entry. Lord Rupert Wyndham was, as usual, perfectly coiffured and dressed, which made a sharp contrast with the roughness of Diccon’s appearance. He paused with his elegant, long-fingered hand still on the door, staring up the room at where Diccon was sitting, delicate eyebrows arched in surprise. “Well, stap me, Bella, but I thought it was Stourbridge back to haunt us.” And he gave an uneasy laugh.

Diccon had risen to his feet, curiosity in his eyes. As well he might have. “I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of your name, sir.”

Wyndham came in and closed the door. He was wearing an absurd lilac tailcoat with a matching embroidered waistcoat that gave him a decided look of the dandy, which was what he intended, of course, as he was one. Aiding that impression were his cream pantaloons and his highly polished hessians, and an intricately tied cravat nestling between the far-too-high points of his collar. How he would be able to turn his head was anybody’s guess. His appearance was not at all to Dora’s taste, but she tolerated him if only because her dear Bella liked him so much, and also because he was not at heart an unpleasant fellow. Well, at least he dressed to match his personality. Much as Diccon appeared to. Two more different men it would have been hard to imagine.

“Lord Rupert Wyndham, sir,” Rupert said, making one of his flamboyant bows. “And I think I might have surmised your identity for myself. Your Grace. You have about you a certain familial resemblance to the last duke. I can’t say that I was expecting to meet you while I was visiting dear Bella and Dora, though. I count myself honored.”

Diccon smiled, but it was not an altogether friendly smile. More the smile of a dog who has just found another canine on his territory. “You are correct in your supposition. I have returned to Stourbridge from Portugal to claim my inheritance, and to survey it for myself.” He waved a hand at the table. “Please, do feel free to join us for breakfast.”

Wyndham took his seat opposite Bella and Dora. “I only like to take a little toast at breakfast, but I will have some of that coffee, thank you. I would not usually make my appearance before eleven, but, alas, I am thinking of returning to Town today, so necessity calls for me to breakfast early.”

Bella wrinkled her nose. “Surely not so soon, Rupert? You know how much I value your companionship.”

“Yes,” Diccon said. “Pray don’t hasten your departure on my account.”

Lord Rupert pursed his lips before bestowing a smile on Bella and a nod to Diccon. “Thank you, Your Graces. I think I could be persuaded to extend my visit by a day or two, if you insist.”

Dora hastened to pour the coffee for him and smiled at Diccon, aware that with the arrival of Wyndham the atmosphere had subtly changed. Was Diccon suspicious of a strange man in his house, a man on first name terms with his womenfolk? Best to divert the conversation.

She smiled at Wyndham. “Diccon has been away in the army these past nineteen years, Lord Rupert.” She turned to her cousin. “You must have a great deal to tell us about your adventures.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I, for one, should very much like to hear about them. We lead such dull lives here at Stourbridge, that anything you might have experienced will be a boon to us and allow us to vicariously live your life.” She had past experience of peacemaking.

Diccon shrugged. “I doubt what I’ve been up to since I left here would make much of a story. And I’m sorry to say I’m not a great storyteller, even if it would. I’ve been soldiering for my country, and that’s all there is to say for it.”

Wyndham took a sip of his coffee. “Come, come, sir. Surely you won’t disappoint the ladies by belittling your accomplishments. What rank did you hold, and in which regiment did you hold it? Hussars? I believe most gentlemen favor them for their splendid uniforms.”

“Not every gentleman,” Diccon said, a little stiffly. “I was never a passionate horseman and therefore chose a foot regiment. My last was the Rifle Brigade.”

“The Rifle Brigade?” Rupert said, and Dora sensed with a sinking heart one of his putdowns coming up. “Ain’t they rather a Johnny-come-lately bunch? Newly formed? Not one of the old traditional regiments.”

Dora, devoid of any appetite now, quickly interrupted. “You must excuse Lord Rupert as he knows so little about army customs and etiquette.” And, it seemed, the etiquette of not being openly rude to your host. Bella might love him for his wit and repartee, but it could go too far. One day it would get him a much-deserved punch on the nose.