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Diana. In some fashion beyond logic or reason, she...completed him. Made him whole again.
Savouring the joy, he knew in that moment that, whatever it took, however long it took, he had to win her back. He couldn’t return to life in the shadows.
To win her, though, he’d have to help her find her own way back to the light. And once she was free of the ghosts of her past, he couldn’t let her go.
In a daze, distracted by his new insights, he took the flowers and ferns the two had gathered, escorted them back to the kitchen garden and found them a trug to hold their bounty, then bid them goodbye and went off to find the estate agent.
He rode about the estate with Hutchens, setting up assistance for the injured farmer, consulting with other tenants about the harvest, but while he said and did what was necessary, his mind hovered around the imperative of saving Diana, loving her, and having her back in his life.
It had been two weeks now; if Will didn’t show up soon, he’d break down and go hunting for him.
It would be satisfying to confront Blankford directly. Alastair wished he might invent some pretext for challenging him, so he might get his fists on the man. Though, in his estimation of Blankford’s character, the Duke probably didn’t possess the physical courage to meet someone truly his match. He’d rather harass defenceless women, Alastair thought with scorn.
Well, Diana was one woman no Duke of Graveston would ever harass again. The sooner that business was done, the sooner he could begin his campaign to woo her back into his life.
Chapter Twenty
Fading daylight was turning the gold of the ripening fields to amber as Alastair rode back to the barns. After turning his mount over to a groom, he walked back to the house, his pace increasing, eager to wash, change, and seek out Diana.
Just thinking about seeing her made his heart leap with anticipation.
As he approached the side entrance, a carriage drove past him towards the stables. Excitement shocked through him. Might Will be back? Changing course, he sped towards the main entry.
To his delight, he did indeed find his cousin and his lovely, dark-haired wife in the hall, where his mother was embracing a little boy who looked a bit younger than James.
‘Alastair, only see who Will has brought to visit us!’ his mother cried as he ascended the steps. ‘Elodie and Philippe! Well, young man,’ she addressed the child, ‘there’s a boy here—and a puppy—who will be most happy to meet you!’
‘C’est ma tante—et mon cousin?’ the boy asked, pointing to Mrs Ransleigh and Alastair.
‘Oui, Philippe, but you must practise your English now,’ his mother said. ‘Alastair, how good to see you again.’
‘And you, Elodie. You’re looking very well! Living in Paris must agree with you.’
‘Paris is my heart, but it is my garden at Salmford that refreshes me, as my loving husband knows.’
‘Let Wendell show you to your rooms, so you can get settled!’ his mother said. ‘Perhaps we can meet for wine and light refreshments before dinner, so our two young boys can become acquainted?’
‘That would be lovely, Tante Grace,’ Elodie replied. ‘Philippe, viens avec Maman.’
‘I’ll be up in a moment,’ Will said, squeezing his wife’s hand before releasing her to ascend the stairs behind Wendell, while the boy trotted after her, gazing about this new dwelling with unselfconscious curiosity.
‘I know you’ve been anxious, but I thought I’d stop long enough to bring Elodie and her son with me. Let the ladies and the boys get acquainted, while I let you know where things stand. Shall we talk now, or later?’
‘Now—once I find Diana. I couldn’t discuss what concerns her so nearly without her present.’
‘She’s like Elodie, then,’ Will said. ‘Not one to put up with men making decisions for her.’
‘After what she endured at her husband’s hands, one can hardly blame her. Even if she does trust us.’
‘As I recall from years ago, she was always lively and spirited, discussing, with the expertise and directness of a man, topics far removed from the normal feminine concerns.’ Will shook his head and laughed. ‘A horse-breeder, a French exile, a maligned duchess? We Ransleighs do seem to find unusual women.’
‘Truly! Let me go fetch this one. Shall I meet you in the library? If she’s where I suspect, I’ll be back directly.’
* * *
He did indeed find Diana at her easel in the north parlour she’d taken over as her studio. As she looked up upon his entry, he said abruptly, ‘Will’s back.’
Her eyes widened and she gasped. ‘Did he tell you—?’
‘Not yet. I thought you’d want to be there to hear his account, too.’
‘I would, thank you. Shall I come now?’
He nodded. Hastily pulling off the apron that protected her gown, she tossed it beside the easel and walked to him. ‘I’ll worry about cleaning paint off my fingers later. Did he...give you any hint of what occurred?’
‘No. But he tarried long enough to collect his wife and her son. If something were amiss, I think he would have come directly here.’
He held out his hand, and with a shuddering breath, she took it. ‘I hope so.’
He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. ‘Remember, whatever he has to report, I will make sure you and James are safe.’ Safe and with me, he added silently.
She gave him a slight smile. ‘I do trust you. I just don’t want to put you at risk—again.’
‘You won’t. Not this time.’
* * *
They found Will in the library, lounging in one of the leather wing chairs, sipping his brandy. He scrambled to his feet as they entered.
And made Diana a deep bow. ‘Duchess,’ he said, his face unreadable.
A tiny frown came and went on her forehead. ‘Never that. Once it was “Will” and “Diana”. I’d prefer that, if you please.’
They stared at each other, Diana standing erect and unflinching under Will’s hard, assessing gaze. Alastair held his breath, hoping what he’d told Will and what his cousin had learned at Graveston Court would triumph over any anger his cousin still harboured towards Diana for the anguish she’d caused him—and those who cared about him.
After a moment, apparently satisfied, Will nodded. ‘Diana, then, if I’m to be Will again.’
‘I would like that—if you can bear it.’
‘From what I’ve discovered, it is you who had much to bear.’
‘Please proceed, Will,’ Alastair said. ‘And leave out no detail.’
After motioning them to a seat, Will began. ‘I arrived at Wickham’s End in my guise as pedlar two days after Alastair left Salmford, bringing along two of my men, posing as horse-traders, in case I needed reinforcement. After taking a bed at the local public house, I proceeded to the taproom and announced, with some boasting about my wares, that I’d be making rounds of any interested households. Of course, they all were.’
‘Played a few hands of cards, too, I’d guess,’ Alastair interjected.
‘Naturally. How else could a poor pedlar afford a room? While I won a little, lost a little, I got to hear all the local gossip. Since the death of a duke and the arrival of his heir were the most significant events to occur in that small village for a decade, talk soon turned to that.’
‘What did you learn?’ Diana asked.
‘They’d heard nothing of the sort immediately after the old Duke’s demise, but more recently, someone had been going about, stirring up rumours. Some said the new Duke’s man was asking for witnesses, saying the Dowager Duchess might be complicit in her husband’s death. Opinion seemed divided over the possibility. Some said she was a cold woman, not properly submissive to her husband. Others denied that, telling of a friend or relation who’d received clothing or baskets of food from her, and argued it was she who’d done the most to share the Duke’s wealth with the community. All knew Graveston as a hard, proud, unapproachable man.’ Will laughed. ‘One said “if his lady done him in, he probably deserved it”.’
‘And then what?’ Alastair asked, impatient to get to the crux of the story.
‘I made my rounds in town, then to some of the tenant farmers—where I had my first break. Gossiping while admiring a trinket she couldn’t afford, the farm wife said her no-good brother-in-law was boasting of doing some work for new Duke, that was going to set him up right—serving as a witness against the old Duchess, who was for murdering her husband. It was the work of an afternoon to track down this Jamie Peters and invite him to share a pint. A few hands of cards and a great quantity of gin later, he confided he was to testify that he’d bought large amounts of laudanum for the Dowager Duchess, who told him she was going to slip a little more each day into the old Duke’s food unnoticed.’
