Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke (28 page)

“I…I just got back from searching and came up to check on Mr. Trafford. He…he had this dagger. I took it from him.”

Nia didn’t believe a word of it. Her grandfather
had
damaged some of his works with a dagger in the past, it was true. But that only happened when the balance of his mind was disturbed and he became frustrated because he did not achieve the perfection he sought. That had most decidedly not been the case for the course of this project and she didn’t believe such a change could have taken place during the short time Grandpapa had been left alone.

“Nia…I don’t feel—”

“What is it, Grandpapa?”

Nia looked away from Annie and concentrated her entire attention upon her grandfather. He was clutching his head and, now that she looked more closely, Nia could see the imprint of a hand on his cheek. She glowered accusingly at Annie, anger surging through her in unstoppable waves.

“You struck him,” she spat. “You did this to him. Why, for the love of God?”

Her grandfather groaned again, dazed and disorientated. Nia returned her attention to him and clutched his hand. Annie took advantage of Nia’s distraction and fled from the room, sobbing. Nia was unsure what their maid would do and didn’t feel comfortable letting her go, but was powerless to stop her. If it was a choice between comforting her grandfather and detaining Annie, who was obviously responsible in some way for harming her family, there was no question where her priorities lay. Without money or a means of transportation Annie would not get far, and Nia would deal with her later.

She helped her grandfather to sit up and fetched him some water to sip.

“Whatever is wrong with Annie? She just went running off as though…” Sophia’s words stalled as she burst through the door and saw the state of Nia’s grandfather. “Oh my goodness, Patrick!”

Sophia crouched beside Nia, her eyes filling with tears when she observed her grandfather’s confused state.

“What happened?” she asked.

“That is what I am trying to decide. I caught Annie trying to damage the portrait, although she pretended she had taken a dagger from Grandpapa to stop him from doing so. I don’t believe her.”

“Annie?” Sophia looked as perplexed as Nia felt. “Why? Did she harm Patrick?”

“She must have.”

Sophia looked furious. “Just wait until I get my hands on the little hussy.”

“Where is she now?”

“She took off through the trees.”

“In which direction?” Annie must know something about the boys’ disappearance. Now that Sophia was here, she could leave her grandfather and go after her.

“That way.” Sophia pointed to the track that would take her to through the orchard.

“Stay with Grandpapa.”

“Don’t go alone,” Sophia urged. “She sounds unbalanced. It could be dangerous.”

“I must go. There is no one else.”

The ladies clutched hands. “Take Sean.”

“He has gone to the Park.”

“Mr. Drake?”

Nia made a scoffing sound as she bent to pick up the dagger Annie had dropped and slipped it into her pocket. “He is still out searching, and would be next to useless in a crisis anyway. I have to go on ahead. Any delay and…” Nia gulped. “The boys. I can’t risk waiting. Anything might happen to them if I delay. Send Sean after me as soon as he gets back.”

Sophia clutched her arm. “Take care. I could not bear it if you were harmed.”

“I must go now: there is not a moment to lose.” Nia struggled to contain her erratic breathing, her turbulent emotions; her overactive imagination as increasingly desperate explanations for the boys’ disappearance cascaded through her mind. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happens to the twins because I didn’t act in time to prevent it.”

“I understand.” The two women briefly hugged. “God speed.”

Nia flew down the stairs and out of the main door, plunging headlong onto the track through the trees that Sophia had indicated. It led directly past the pond where the boys had been innocently tadpoling just a short time ago. She had never walked beyond this point. Her days were too full for idle rambling and she had no clear idea where the path actually led, nor did she have time to think about it. She merely acted upon instinct. They had been foolish not to consider that Annie or, God help them, Beth too for all Nia knew, might be involved with the forger. But there was now no escaping the fact that Annie must be.

They had thought themselves fortunate when Annie and Beth’s services unexpectedly became available while they were still in Belgium, in urgent need of domestic help. In hindsight perhaps it had been a little too convenient. Lady Arabella’s careless abandonment of them had seemed iniquitous, and their obvious distress would have persuaded Nia to engage them, even if she had not needed them. It was obvious to her now that the forger must have somehow directed them towards the Trafford household because he needed a spy within it. Endeavouring to juggle too many responsibilities at the time, Nia had not been aware of the forgeries, so could be forgiven for not making the connection. Even when she subsequently did learn of them, she still did not suspect either of the girls.

Until now.

She ploughed on along the path, branches snapping at her face, brambles tearing at her clothing and hands. It had not rained for some time and the path was dry, making it impossible to judge if it had been recently used, unless she lingered and examined the crushed apple blossom littering it more closely. But lingering was not an option. Every second could be vital. Nia continued resolutely on, wondering where it would bring her out and what she would find there. Trying not to think how frightened the boys must be because she could no longer delude herself. Someone connected to Annie and the forger had taken them.

Why?

A flash of something immediately in front of her—some movement—caused her to slow her pace and conceal herself behind a tree. Ye gods, it was Annie, sitting on the ground, holding something in her hands—a letter, perhaps? She was reading it, speaking the words in a whisper as she struggled to decipher them, and simultaneously sobbing her heart out. A combination of anger and curiosity robbed Nia of all caution. She approached Annie and stood above her, arms akimbo.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said severely.

***

When Vince and Trafford arrived back at Stoneleigh Manor, optimistic hopes that the boys might have been found up to their necks in mischief somewhere were immediately dashed. Before they could decide what to do next, Sophia came downstairs to tell them the most astonishing story.

“I knew nothing about this,” Beth sobbed when news of Annie’s involvement emerged. “I knew she had a sweetheart, but she never would tell me his name. She said it was a secret, but that very soon he would be rich and they would be going away together. I never knew she meant Mr. Trafford any harm. If I had, I would have said; honest I would.”

Vince looked to Sophia and Hannah, wondering if Beth was to be believed. Sophia merely shrugged. Hannah looked both worried and severe. Vince imagined Annie’s head had been turned by some smooth-talking rogue who had used her for his own purposes, and chastised himself for not giving more serious consideration to a servant’s involvement before now.

“That was who I saw in Compton the other day,” Vince said. “It was Annie, concealed in a passageway with a man, acting furtively, which made me wonder. I stopped to observe them and saw her give him some papers. It has been bothering me. I knew there was something not quite right about the encounter. I also knew I had seen the girl somewhere before but I didn’t make the connection to your servant, Trafford.”

“She must have been meeting with the forger,” Sean replied. “He has been here, on our doorstep, all this time and we were blissfully unaware.”

“I doubt if he is based here,” Vince replied. “It would be too dangerous for him. You must know him and would be bound to run into him in such a small village.”

“Damn it, Annie must have stolen the sketches. That’s what she would have been giving him.” Sean thumped the table with his clenched fist. “We should have realised.”

“There is no time for this now,” Vince said, an urgent edge to his voice. “We must concentrate on finding your sons.”

“Quite so. How shall we do this?”

Vince seethed as he thought of the manner in which the forger had actually cultivated a member of Trafford’s household to do his spying for him. And now Nia had gone charging off, alone, to try and rescue her nephews, aware of the dangers but putting their welfare ahead of her own. Vince didn’t doubt now that the forger had taken the twins as a distraction so Annie could damage the portrait. Determination coursed through him. If anything happened to the boys or Nia, Vince would make it his business to discover the identity of the forger and track him down if it was the last thing he ever did.

Only now that she had impulsively put herself in danger did Vince realise the answer to his earlier conundrum. His actions with Nia were so out of character because he was in love with her. The realisation was as startling as it was obvious. All of his brothers had sought to avoid emotional entanglements of any type but when Amos met Crista, he claimed to know almost immediately that true, abiding love was to be embraced and celebrated; not feared. Vince had not believed him.

Now he understood completely.

“The track Annie took comes out onto a spur that leads to the Winchester Road,” Vince told Sean Trafford. “It’s the opposite end to the one that my brothers and I used when we were boys and wanted to slip into Compton without anyone knowing we were gone.”

“So if someone has taken my two, they will most likely finish up somewhere on the outer reaches of the Winchester Park estate.”

“Very likely. Go back to the Park, Trafford, and tell my brothers what we have discovered. The forger is probably still in the district. He will want to be sure that Annie ruined the duke’s portrait before he…”

“Before he what?” Trafford asked tersely.

Vince shook his head, unable to lie to Nia’s brother. “I honestly cannot hazard a guess, because I don’t know the man’s character or what he is capable of. What I do know is that we must act at once. You ensure their escape route is cut off at that end, I shall do the same thing here.”

“Cannot someone else go to the Park? I ought to stay here and lend you support.”

Vince flexed his jaw before setting it in a rigid line of determination. “Go!” he said.

Trafford went.

***

“What do you have there?” Nia asked Annie is a castigating tone.

Annie looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her face a blotchy picture of misery.

“He lied to me,” she said bleakly, the earlier belligerence Nia had perceived in her stance replaced by raw misery. “He told me he loved me, that we would be together for always if only I would help him to…”

Fresh tears rendered the rest of Annie’s words unintelligible.

“Who did, Annie? Who have you been helping?”

She held up the letter she had been reading. “It must have fallen from his coat pocket when he…he took the boys. I wasn’t supposed to see this.”

Anger radiated through Nia. Her precious nephews were in danger and all Annie could think about was her broken heart. But she needed Annie’s co-operation to find them, and in order to obtain her assistance she first needed to understand what had motivated Annie to act in the way that she had. She took the letter from Annie’s shaking fingers and quickly perused it, drawing in a sharp breath when she saw to whom it was addressed. And who had written it.

“Kenton!”

The man whose proposal she had rejected. She shook her head, thinking it made no sense. She was absolutely convinced that his feelings for her were entirely imaginary and that he bore her no ill-will for rejecting him. But why else would he target her family quite so aggressively?

Nia returned her attention to the letter, anxious to see if it lent any clues. When she realised it had been written by Lady Fairstock, Annie’s former employer, the pieces fell into place. The forgeries, and Annie being placed in their household, was a carefully orchestrated plan, presumably put into place because Nia had not accepted Kenton. If she had done so, of course, it would have been so much easier for him to exploit Grandpapa’s reputation.

Swiping away tears of anger, Nia’s brain was slow to realise she was reading a love letter, full of plans for Lady Fairstock’s future with Kenton. Nia quietly seethed. The lady in question wielded considerable influence in society’s circles and could help to secure Kenton’s reputation. Was Kenton exploiting her in the same fashion as he had exploited Annie’s trusting nature? In the same manner he had tried to exploit Nia? Or was it true love this time?

“He was just using me,” Annie sniffed. “They both were. It’s as clear as day, and I was fool enough to believe every word he said to me.”

A thousand questions rattling around inside Nia’s head, but explanations would have to wait. The boys were her most immediate concern.

“Kenton took the boys so you would have the house to yourself and could damage the duke’s portrait?”

Annie nodded, hugging her torso, looking pathetic and miserable. Nia felt no sympathy for her, wondering instead how far Kenton would be prepared to go to protect his illegal activities. Surely he would not murder two innocent boys?

“Where has he taken them, Annie? What does he plan to do with the boys?”

“He won’t hurt them. I wouldn’t have countenanced that.” Nia suppressed the urge to question this sudden fit of conscience. The time for recrimination would be after the boys had been rescued. “He just wanted to hide them until…until I could…” She sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “He blindfolded them so they wouldn’t see him and be able to recognise him, but…” More sniffing. “I saw this at first, not the letter.” Nia’s heart lurched when Annie held up a knotted handkerchief. “I think one of them must have managed to shake it off and somehow found that letter in his pocket.”

“And dropped it for us to find.” Nia nodded, well able to imagine her nephews doing just such a thing. They must be terrified half out of their wits but still had the presence of mind to try and leave clues for them to follow. “Where are they, Annie? You can make amends by helping me to get them back.”