ESP 17

chapter 17

Lord Weirdayle — Duke Theodore Byron — had not lingered in Shobury solely to win another chance at courting a wealthy divorcée.

His estate, Weirdayle, did not border the sea. So the salt-tinged breeze blowing through Shobury and the distant horizon visible from the high parts of town appealed to him. He was also fairly interested in the mines and export businesses Sir Gideon Arlington ran in the area. Trade in Weirdayle had lagged behind, and for years he’d been looking for ways to develop his lands more evenly.

The duke’s original plan had been simple: find the poor, distraught young lady who had shut herself away at her family home in Shobury, coax her out, and win her engagement by persuasion. After all, three years earlier she had inexplicably chosen a penniless fellow like Dalmore among many suitors; he assumed that with flowers, jewels, and a clear presentation of what he could offer as her fiancé, even the most reserved woman would be persuaded.

Besides, Duke Byron was extremely proud of his looks. He was handsome — his features clean-cut and composed into a sculpted face with that golden ratio, and his hair and eyes had the coloring that, in Algonquin, marked a typical heartthrob. But he was more than just a pretty face: his noble birth lent his appearance an added dignity and gravity. Wherever he went in the kingdom, he believed there was no better catch.

Yet Mistress Arlington refused his proposal out of hand.

“Thank you for coming such a long way. I’ll have some tea poured — you should take it and go.”

The resolute look in her eyes as she said it stunned him. The duke was inwardly taken aback.

On the other hand, he was curious why someone as bright as she would toss aside such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity without even taking a coolheaded inventory of its advantages.

“Could it be… that she’s truly in love with Dalmore?” he wondered.

Had the Earl and Countess of Dalmore frequented the Fanshaw social circles, the duke might have known the true state of their marriage. He was well connected and placed spies and informants throughout society.

But Keith and Briony Dalmore had been holed up in Ebony for the three years of their marriage. The earl, due to his legal duties, sometimes went into Fanshaw, but otherwise it seemed the couple did not leave their estate. All the duke could do was imagine what feelings Briony might secretly harbor for Keith.

“If the young lady loves the earl…?” he frowned, then promptly dismissed the notion. If that were the case, the Dalmores would have no reason to divorce. What lord would refuse a woman wealthy enough to buy all of Ebony who was in love with him? Also, a girl of that age cannot easily hide an affection; when she’d heard of the earl’s arrest she’d been shaken, but that seemed more a reaction to the shocking news than the result of tender love.

“Or maybe she’s in love deep down but doesn’t realize it herself?” The duke’s smile surfaced. It would be rare for someone so clever not to realize her feelings, but if it were true, the situation would be amusing.

As boys, Byron and the Earl of Dalmore had indeed studied swordsmanship under the same master. That wasn’t a lie. However, that master trained not just them but hundreds of youths at an academy open to the nobility. Among those hundreds, young Theodore — the duke himself — had stood out. He had exceptional swordsmanship, and he was also accomplished at horsemanship and dance taught as part of the academy’s curriculum; he was admired by the other boys and by the sisters who sometimes came to watch.

Only one trainee had matched Theodore’s grades across every subject: Keith. Until then Theodore hadn’t even known where Ebony was located.

“When you have that level of skill, why not join Her Majesty’s guard?” the young Theodore had advised.

Keith had shrugged. “Swordplay doesn’t suit me.”

Theodore had an innate athleticism and, since childhood, had tutors placed by the former Dukes of Byron. Even so, he’d worked hard to become the academy’s top student. Keith, however, had claimed to have had no prior training before entering the academy; he didn’t possess notably superior athleticism compared to his peers yet he matched Theodore with little apparent effort. In every subject he was the same — when praised he’d merely say, with indifference, “I just did as I was taught,” which grated on Theodore. To make matters worse, Keith was also handsome and popular with women, though not quite as much as Theodore.

He had the right character, intelligence enough to work at the High Court at that age, but he was someone with little taste for frivolity, Theodore recalled.

“And such lads often aren’t attuned to their own hearts.” If some misunderstanding had driven the former Earl and Countess of Dalmore apart — if they actually liked each other but didn’t realize it — what a splendid piece of gossip that would be for the ton. Of course, it was only speculation, and the duke had no intention of spreading rumors himself. Still, if there was even a sliver of truth, both Mistress Arlington and the Earl of Dalmore seemed more pitiable than blameworthy.

So when, near midnight, the servant Theodore had sent to fetch his carriage knocked and said:

“Lord Weirdayle, a lady has come to see you… it seems to be Mistress Arlington,”

the duke was startled.

“Mistress Arlington?” he said.

“…I’m sorry to come so late, Lord Weirdayle.” Briony bowed her head.

Duke Byron, quick to notice, had immediately led her and Myrtle to the small sitting room in his lodgings. But his quarters were in Shobury’s only hotel, and rumors spread quickly in a small town. She would have to leave Shobury before Gideon heard the news in the morning.

That was why she had come to Lord Weirdayle.

“Such a thing is of no consequence. More to the point—why have you come with only one maid at this hour? Has something happened to the Arlingtons?” he asked.

Fortunately, the duke did not seem angry at her impudence. Men who sought Mistress Arlington’s dowry had told themselves he was the best candidate, and if he were not a liar, the worry in his blue eyes was plainly concern for the woman in front of him.

“There’s nothing the matter with the Arlingtons. But I have a personal request for Lord Weirdayle.”

“You need my help?” He looked puzzled — understandable. Gideon often played the part of a good father in front of other men, especially those who wished to marry Briony, and those men tended to care more about the dowry than about Briony herself, so they were easily deceived.

Briony removed the hood of her coat.

Under the light, the swelling on her face was still evident. The duke cried out in alarm.

“Mistress Arlington! Who did this to you?”

“I’ll leave that to Lord Weirdayle’s imagination… and I will entrust the secrecy of what I am about to tell you to your honor alone.”

The duke’s blue eyes darkened. “Very well. How can I help?”

“Please lend me your carriage for a few days.”

“My carriage…?” he repeated.

Of course carriages could be rented in Shobury, but if the only daughter of the Arlington family arrived to hire a carriage with a single maid, everyone in town would know by morning and her destination would be revealed. The only people with a fast, sturdy carriage that could carry her out of Shobury and over those hills immediately were her father and Lord Weirdayle.

Briony took a pouch from her clothes.

“I don’t have much cash on me. I’ll pay with rubies.”

“Ah, Mistress Arlington!” The duke stopped her, his tone nearly mournful. “Please, don’t say that. I am the Duke of Weirdayle, and before I am a titled lord I am a gentleman. How could I charge a woman in distress?”

“I must borrow your coachman as well. I have no one to drive the carriage.”

“Of course you should take him! I can hire any Shobury man temporarily if needed. But two young people and a single poor servant traveling at this hour — where do you intend to go? Would you not allow me to accompany you?”

“That would be improper. I will tell you my destination in a letter once I have arrived safely.”

The duke seemed to understand how inappropriate it would be for a young man and woman to be traveling together at such an hour with only servants. He did not press further to accompany her. Instead he lowered his voice and asked, so low that Briony unconsciously leaned closer.

“One more question.”

“Go ahead.”

“…Did you kill or injure anyone in Tieri Haven?”

“Of course not.”

“If that were the case, I couldn’t lend the carriage. I am, after all, a servant of Her Majesty; I cannot openly aid the flight of a criminal.”

Only then did Briony realize he’d been joking. Relieved that she could borrow the carriage, she allowed something like a smile to cross her face for the first time in days.

Suddenly the duke stared at her face.

“…Is something wrong?”

“…”

“Lord Weirdayle?”

His name brought him back as if startled. “No, it’s nothing. Have you had dinner? I’ll tell the chef to prepare something for you.”

She had been about to refuse, but she changed her mind — she couldn’t let Myrtle go hungry.

“Thank you. Please do. But I hope to leave within an hour.”

“I’ll tell the servants to have you ready in half an hour. Anything else?”

“May I have pen and paper?”

He pointed to pen, ink, and paper on the sitting-room table. Briony thanked him and quickly wrote a letter — a note to Dr. Myer, Myrtle’s father, asking him to care for Amber and the injured miners. Even if circumstances had forced a change in plans, she intended to keep the promise she had made and do her best.

When she finished, she took out the rubies again.

“Could you have a servant deliver this letter and the rubies to the Shobury councilor tomorrow morning?”

“That jewel is far too valuable to give to a councilor.”

“There are reasons.”

The duke thought for a moment, then offered a proposal. “I am interested in this town. I could hire that councilor to tell me about Shobury while I remain here. If you like, I’ll pay him generously — including what would cover Mistress Arlington’s honorarium.”

It was a decent offer for Dr. Myer as well. Briony nodded but still felt uneasy; she was asking too much of Duke Byron.

“Thank you, Lord Weirdayle. I won’t forget this favor. I’ll repay you.”

His eyes twinkled with boyish mischief. “May I ask how you intend to repay me?”

Briony was not used to trading barbs with such a young man, and she was in no mood for joking. Flustered, she answered seriously.

“As you can see, I am no longer a wealthy divorcée… I can’t think of anything at the moment.”

“Oh, Mistress Arlington. I am no scoundrel who would demand marriage for the price of a single carriage.” Duke Byron extended his hand elegantly. Briony looked at it a moment and then placed her hand upon his. He raised her small hand and pressed a brief, polite kiss to the back of it.

“…If we meet at any future ball, will you promise that the first waltz will be with me?”

Briony’s only experience of balls had been the few she attended when she debuted into society three years earlier. She was no countess now, nor would she be marrying a noble as her father wished — she had no real reason to attend balls. But his tone was sincere, and refusing felt too cold, even to herself. She nodded in assent.

“I will, Lord Weirdayle. Thank you for your help.”