GypsyDukeEpub (6 page)

"Seymour, we must have our story straight. Say you ran into me during the course of your ride and petitioned me back to your estate to meet your uncle. Do you understand?"

"I understand I will kill him if he touches Kitty."

"Nothing will happen while your mother and my wife are in residence."

"You do not know him. He excels in twisting events to his own ends. That much I have learned in one day."

The earl urged his mount to even greater speed.

A few moments more brought them to Somerset. As they entered the door, Earl Raeburn reached for John's arm. "Steady, boy. Never reveal your thoughts until you perceive the intentions of your opponent. It will only increase his desire to wound you should he see that it has an effect."

John took a shuddering breath and willed his face to relax then they continued to the parlor where voices could be heard.

When he moved for the door, Earl Raeburn held John back at the doorframe, and they leaned in to listen.

His uncle's voice rose above the others. "How kind of you to have pity on me. I am not sure I would have made it through the day without some type of distraction. Somerset suffers so. It pains me."

The quiet murmur of Lady Raeburn responded. "Your note did indicate that the situation was dire, although I was surprised not to hear directly from the duchess. How can we be of service?"

"The duchess was too distraught to send for you, but I knew as our nearest neighbors, and John's betrothed, you would hasten to my side. Kitty, do come and sit next to me. I want to know all about John's
future duchess."

The Earl snarled and shoved open the door. He strode into the room with John at his heels. They bowed to the ladies as Kitty rose from her seat to approach Bartholomew.

John caught her gloved hand as she made to pass and held her at his side as he turned to face his uncle.

"Uncle, you have begun your tea without me. I was given no time to change from my riding clothes. But, happily, I bring a boon to your little gathering. May I present Earl Raeburn, the Lord of the Belfont estates, and Lady Katherine's father?"

Bartholomew stood as if it was the most engaging happenstance to have occurred, but his oily smile didn't fool John. "Your servant." His bright gold and magenta jacket and waistcoat made him look like an overstuffed popinjay beside the earl's somber black and white. He bowed to the earl in an obsequious manner, swirling his hand several times, which brought a tightening to the earl's face. "I am delighted above all things, milord. How is it that your estate is not endowed with your title?"

The earl frowned, and his jaw clinched. "The title is for my lifetime. The estates are not entailed."

An avaricious glint appeared in Bartholomew's eye. "So your darling daughter will inherit the estates. I can see why a marriage was arranged between John and Kitty. When the two estates are merged…" Total silence met his musings. He continued, unfazed. "How is it that you came to be in the earl's company, John? I thought you were out with our estate manager for the day?"

The earl answered in an offhand manner. "I was riding my lands and met up with Seymour. I am most dismayed at the gloomy report of the physician and thought to present myself to her Grace. Is there no hope for Somerset?"

"Alas, we await the end. Pray be seated. We were just calling for tea. You must join us."

Bartholomew's pathetic assent nauseated John. Where was the vicious intensity he displayed so often?

The earl stepped back to take a seat beside his wife, and John maneuvered Kitty toward a satin-striped chair on the opposite side of the room from his uncle.

She smiled up at John happily. He patted her hand as he took a seat nearby, careful to block his uncle's view of her.

The earl's shrewd eye studied the room, and John glanced around as if seeing it for the first time. His mother's choice of fabrics, silks and satin brocade, soothed the senses while bright yellow walls provided an airy frame to cherry silk drapes. A peach petit pointe footstool extolled his mother's skill at handiwork.

"So, her Grace has removed herself from society? Do you think it advisable-"

"That is preposterous!" John interrupted, glaring at his uncle. "I saw my mother just this morning, and she was quite amenable. Why was she not the one to send for visitors, Uncle? It is her right."

Silence met his outburst. John realized he'd interrupted the earl and turned to face him. "Your lordship, I beg your forgiveness. I momentarily forgot myself at the thought of my mother's unnecessary distress. She would enjoy your company and felicitations. Pray forgive me."

"Understood, natural reaction." He rose with a commanding glance at his wife and Kitty, who joined him. "Under the circumstances, I feel it would be best if we returned when her Grace has issued an invitation."

John and his uncle stood and bowed to the ladies.

The earl directed his attention to the air between Bartholomew and John. "We thank you for your hospitality, Seymour, Lord Bartholomew. Good day, sirs."

They met the maid with the tea tray in the hall. John waved her away. "We will not partake at this time."

He followed Kitty and her family to their carriage and waited as the earl's mount was brought round.

Kitty stepped into the carriage then leaned out. She was a lovely vision in pink. When she lifted her head, her face held the most provocative smile, and she dipped one eye in a sultry wink. "Goodbye, John."

Where had she learned that? Before John could respond, the countess instructed the driver to leave.

The earl, atop his horse, cast a sweeping look over the courtyard then settled on John. "I hope you will not absent yourself long from Belfont manor. We look forward to your presence at any time."

"Thank you, my lord. I will endeavor to ride your way at my earliest convenience."

The earl saluted and rode off. John sighed and turned on his heel. He was still in riding clothes and had yet to confront his uncle. He felt weary, yet invigorated. He had won this round, and he had gained support. He couldn't believe what a fool his uncle had been to mention matters of title and finance in front of the earl and his ladies. Bartholomew had played right into John's hand.

Then there was the wink from Kitty. He might need to speak with her about that. If she were to gaze at another man like that…well, he might feel inclined to violence.

He started down the hall toward the stairs, when he heard a crash from the parlor.

He rushed into the room. His uncle had the maid pressed against the wall, her arm bent behind her back, the tea things in utter ruin on the floor. A dark, damp stain leaked across the Persian rug from the shattered china teapot. At his uncle's feet, several biscuits were ground into crumbs.

John could scarcely believe his eyes or ears.

His uncle didn't even bother to lower his voice. "I sent for you, my dear, and I did not give you leave-"

John jerked his uncle away from the maid, who whimpered in terror. "Uncle, you forget yourself. We do not threaten the staff here. I dismissed her. If you have a problem, it is naught to do with the maid." John bent his head to her. "You may go. Send Cook to clean up this mess."

The maid didn't bother with a curtsey, but fled the room, her injured arm held to her chest.

John faced his uncle. "Explain yourself."

Bartholomew drew himself up and sneered at John. He was a large man, but John didn't back down. Bartholomew took a menacing step towards John. "I believe no explanation is necessary, boy. I did tell you what would happen if you tried to thwart me. Do not attempt to make me look the fool again or the servants will not get off with just a twisted arm." He stepped over the tea tray and left the room, grinding more biscuits into the rug.

John followed at a slower pace. In what nightmare did he find himself? He climbed the stairs as if in a trance. Was there no way to protect everyone from his uncle? He'd thought he had time, at least until his father died, before his uncle attempted to harm the staff.

John stared at the rows of calf-skinned books unable to believe his father was gone. He glanced at his uncle, who leaned against the bookshelves with a look of anticipation that left a feeling of doom in the pit of John's stomach. The last three weeks had been the most trying of his life.

He recalled seeing Kitty and her family at the funeral, as well as Robert's family. Had he spoken to them? He couldn't remember.

His father was dead. The thought of assuming the duchy, of making decisions for all the people on their different estates, for his mother, and some day for Kitty, felt daunting. He alone was responsible for their welfare.

The sound of weeping on his right drew his thoughts back to his mother. Expecting support from his mother at this time would create a hardship for her, particularly in view of the fact that lately, he'd been the one to carry her concerns.

She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a limp handkerchief. Her quiet sobs had become almost constant since his father's death.

John toyed with the notion of riding off on Renegade and leaving them all. He would have, but the image of his father's stern face, spouting about his responsibilities and failure to meet them, rose to haunt him. He shook his head and tried to smile as he handed his mother yet another of his handkerchiefs.

The solicitor strode into the room with his nose in the air and a leather case hanging from his hand. He stopped behind the duke's desk, ignoring the persons assembled before him as he rifled through the case. He finally dropped a stack of papers on the desk, puffed his cheeks in and out, and stared down at John with an owlish gaze. Pompous old stick.

Bartholomew drew a maroon leather chair to the right of the desk and sat with a faint smile.

John had given up all attempts to put his uncle in his place. It wasn't worth the effort. He couldn't stand to see his servants suffer for it. With his father gone, nothing would restrain the man.

The solicitor cleared his throat and nodded at them. "Your Graces, my lord, I regret the need for this, but the Duke instructed me to read the will immediately following the funeral service." He cleared his throat again and pushed his spectacles up the ridge of his beaked nose.

Every second of delay prolonged John's unease. He sat on his hands to keep from lunging across the desk and grabbing Shaw's throat, yelling at him to proceed posthaste.

"Well, then. You are aware that the estate is entailed, but there was a sizable disposable income. Bequests to the servants, a monthly stipend to Lord Bartholomew, and of course, her Grace is to have the use of the dowager manor in the event of your marriage." He glanced at John then returned to the will. "She will have a yearly income for her lifetime. Now, concerning your inheritance, your Grace…"

John sat forward, dreading the next words.

"Your uncle has been made the guardian of the estate until you reach your majority. Although you, technically, are the reigning duke, you will have to answer to your uncle for all decisions made concerning the estate until you turn twenty-one."

He'd expected it, but still, it was like a kick in the head. "Have I an allowance?"

"You do, but anything above it has to come from your uncle."

His uncle's taunting chuckle brought thoughts of dueling pistols. John fixed his gaze on the lawyer. "What is to stop my uncle from selling everything and ruining us?"

"Why in heaven's name would he do that?" Mr. Shaw stood immobile for scant seconds then he looked at Bartholomew, and his eyes narrowed. "Nevertheless, this firm will be responsible for an accounting of the estate. All sales and purchases will be recorded and investigated for their support of the estate." He gave a brisk nod as if that settled
things.

His uncle smirked, and John knew he'd been right to take steps to protect himself and his tenants.

As Shaw's voice droned on about legalities and issues of no interest to anyone but a lawyer, John stared out the window. With his father gone, what would his days be like? Mr. Timmons had made great strides toward hiding the harvest in the new storage area. Bartholomew seemed unaware of their scheme. But, would he allow John's continued running of the estate or would he try to interfere?

John's thoughts were jolted back to the lawyer when he heard Kitty's name. "… as a gift for your betrothed in the event of your marriage. I take it no plans have been finalized in that regard?" He raised his eyebrows at John.

Before John could respond, Bartholomew leaned forward and favored him with a malevolent smile. "I see no reason to wait. We will have the wedding immediately."

The duchess gasped and dropped her handkerchief.

John rose, chest heaving, and threw back his shoulders to glare down at his uncle. "We are in mourning, and I will not allow you to bring Kitty into this house while she is yet a child." John's icy glare pinned the lawyer. "Is there anything which begs my immediate attention?"

"Uh…no, your Grace."

"I bid you good day. Mother…" John offered his hand to the duchess. They glided out of the room, leaving his uncle alone with the lawyer.

They hadn't gotten three steps down the hall before Bartholomew caught them up. "I believe the nuptial contract planned for a wedding soon after your eighteenth birthday...at your father's discretion, or, in this case, your guardian."