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“Not at all,” the duke laughed. “Edward has no capacity for the daily requirements of my position. At best he would steer my investments off course out of sheer stupidity, at worst he would sink the entire ship!” She could not conceive that he had so little faith in his own son. She felt bad for this Lord Edward who had been deemed unworthy before he had even been given a chance to prove his mettle. “No, when we arrive and I reveal our union, he will capitulate.”
“If he does not,” she said softly.
“I will deal with him,” he said gruffly, making Caroline wonder to what extremes might he be willing to go. “We shall train your son up to replace Robert. With you by my side, and that of our offspring,” he grinned, “there is no doubt in my mind that we cannot create a masterpiece. Your son can manage the estate when the time comes and Edward can keep the title and glory. I shall give Edward a generous allowance. He will be glad he does not have to work for it.”
Caroline thought that was ridiculous. Of course, she had heard of such arrangements where a lord might pass some of his obligations onto his brothers, but it was obscene to think of marrying, of having a child simply to achieve that end.
The duke snapped his fingers as if he had just had a brilliant thought. He looked at her, assessing the skills that he had already determined she possessed.
“You’ll like Edward,” he grinned. “He’s a pleasant fellow. And he shall certainly like you. He has an eye for pretty things.” She stared at him. “When the time comes and I pass from this world, I see no reason why you two couldn’t simply…” he rolled his hand in a circle between them, “continue. If you wished. That would truly solidify the line.”
“You are foul,” she hissed. “If passing me along to your son was a consideration then why didn’t you just bind me to him to begin with?”
“As I said,” he chuckled at her outrage, clearly taking it as a signifier that he had won their standoff, “I control my own destiny. Besides, I am in perfect health, why should I not enjoy you for myself when I intend to have many long years ahead?” Maybe he had won, she thought, as she crossed her arms in front of her and shifted so that she could look out the window and no longer see even a sliver of his form in her peripheral vision. The man was a fiend, and she prayed to be free of him.
CHAPTER6
The following evening, the duke was irate that they had not reached a stopping place before nightfall. A pair of carts piled high with straw had collided leaving their contents strewn across the narrow roadway and making it impassable. One of the drivers had offered an alternate route to the nearby town when the duke had raged at the inconvenience. It would take several hours to clear the mess and right and repair the carts. Not to mention that one of the horses was nowhere to be found. Miss Caroline had offered to allow Bella to help right the wagons, but the duke had refused.
“It’s only two miles further to go around,” he grumbled. “I cannot be bothered with such a menial task. Honestly, they should make the hands take the longer route and leave the main road open for those who have not the time to spare.”
Caroline had issued her rebuttal, but had been overruled with a firm demand to haul yourself back into that carriage at once! A farmer, busy as they were, should have use of the shorter route, she had argued. Gentle folk on an already lengthy journey had nothing but time to spare while the poor men forking hay from the roadway were already well behind in their schedules. Besides, she thought, arriving late at the inn would likely make for a swift dinner and easy claim of exhaustion. She would not even have need of the tonic this evening, she predicted. Surely the duke would head straight to his own chamber to sleep away his frustrations.
They were both still seething at the exchange an hour later when the carriage slowed to a halt. The duke pulled back the curtain to peer out into the darkness and, when they could see nothing by the faint light of the moon, he banged his crop, which had been lain across the seat beside him for just such a purpose, on the roof of the carriage.
“What is the meaning of this!” he shouted to the driver. “Chauncey, roll on!”
A shot rang through the air and there was a distinct thump as a body fell to the ground.
Marilee opened her mouth to scream, but Caroline covered the maid’s mouth with her hand and warned her with her eyes to remain silent.
“Out of the rig you nabob and meet my barking irons!” The voice was gruff and calm. Caroline felt her stomach rise to her throat. This was no drunkard or desperate fool. No, she thought, this was an unflinching highwayman.
“I am no cit!” the duke declared as he flung the door open in full defense of his pride. He puffed out his chest. “I am Duke of Manchester, fourth cousin once to His Majesty George William Frederick, and you will leave at once or suffer the King’s vengeance.”
Caroline and Marilee dared not move lest the carriage sway and announce their presence. They sat, gripping each other’s shoulders tightly in solidarity. Caroline hoped that the duke’s peacocking worked and caused the highwayman to take flight. The title alone ought to be enough to scare them off. She heard their two remaining attendants climb down from the back of the carriage, the click of their own pistols bringing her a moment of relief.
“Excellent,” the highwayman chortled. “And you’re surrounded.”
No less than a dozen shots rang out in quick succession. Caroline could not tell which had come from their own men and which from the robbers but the last few gasps of dying men sounded and then silence fell.
“You handle the ribbons,” that same gruff voice commanded and Caroline nearly gagged with fear. “Pull it to the side. Take anything of value. And fiend seize it put his Grace’s plump arse back in the rig.” The title had been cast off with mockery rather than fear or respect.
There was no hiding. There could be no sneaking out the other door and making a mad dash for the woods. Caroline took a steadying breath. Ladies had some value in ransom, she told herself. It was true that the highwaymen had just killed a full member of the gentry and she and Marilee were witness to that crime, but they were only women. She hoped they could be overlooked as witnesses. She prayed that if she swore to their silence, perhaps her father would be able to buy their lives. He would pay any amount, she knew. At very least he could pull from her own substantial wealth even if it drained her dry.
Her gaze landed on Marilee who was trembling in her seat. The knowledge that servants of a highway attack were oft left dead at the side of the road, or never found at all, was written well on her face.
Caroline grabbed Marilee’s shoulders and turned her to face her lady. She modeled slow breathing until her friend began to mimic the gesture. Caroline drove swift fingers into Marilee’s hair, removing pins from the cap that was all that signified she was a lady’s maid and not a lady herself. Caroline sent up a prayer of thanksgiving that Marilee was wearing one of her old gowns today.
“You’re a lady,” she whispered with shaking breath. “My cousin. Kate. Do you remember her?” Caroline said as she quickly braided her maid’s hair.
Marilee nodded while Caroline shoved the cap deep into the crevice of the seat.
Caroline knew that Lady Katherine was currently in Rome with her family while her brother took part in the Grand Tour. There would be no verifying that she was anywhere else in England and so Marilee could assume her cousin’s identity for a short while. She only hoped that Marilee recalled enough facts about her cousin to play the part convincingly.
“My lady…” Marilee began, her voice barely audible in their attempts to prolong their concealment.
Caroline grasped her friend’s shoulders and gave her a firm shake. “Call me Caroline. You are a lady,” she repeated with fervor. “You cannot falter.”
