The Odious Duke Read online

Verena found it impossible to sleep. She had longed all the evening for the moment when she could be alone in the darkness and try to sort out her thoughts.

  But when the moment came she felt so agitated and in such a state of restlessness that after a while she rose from her bed to walk about the room.

  It was not only the fact that the “Evil Genius” was the Duke’s cousin that was perturbing her, although that was bad enough by itself. How on earth could she go to the Duke and say,

  ‘Your cousin is a Bullion robber! Your cousin is the man who has deliberately murdered the guards on the Bullion coaches!’

  That seemed a problem heavy enough in itself, but there was worse. She knew now what had been troubling her at the back of her mind ever since the Duke had been struck down in the cellar of The Priory. It was an anxiety that she could not face up to and would not acknowledge even to herself.

  But she could no longer ignore the whisperings of her conscience.

  She could see all too clearly Giles sitting beside her in the drawing room after her grandfather had told him that he was to leave the house never to return.

  “How could the General do this to me?” he had wailed angrily. “I am a Winchcombe!”

  He had seen the expression on Verena’s face and corrected himself,

  “Half a Winchcombe at any rate! There is Winchcombe blood in my veins, blood that has been distinguished all down the centuries. How dare the General treat me in such a scurvy manner?”

  He had seemed genuinely upset and, as Verena had a tenderness for him, she tried to assuage the hurt.

  “I think of you as a Winchcombe,” she said, “and to show you that is what I truly believe, I will tell you a secret.”

  It was then that she had revealed to him the secret of the cache in the cellar where the monks had hidden their keys, A secret known for many generations, her grandfather had related to her, only to each Head of the Family in succession and to his sons.

  As she told Giles what was to her something of tremendous import, she had known that he was not interested. Indeed he hardly appeared to listen to her, being immersed in his own grievances, grumbling because the General had not paid all of his debts and complaining bitterly that he had been insulted.

  But now Verena faced the truth and she had known it, she had to admit, when she had discovered that the keys were missing and the cellar door locked and had known that only one person could have revealed the secret to the “Evil Genius”.

  In the darkness of her room she put up her hands to her face. Then she climbed into bed to lie ashamed that she should have betrayed her grandfather’s trust and was humiliated that anyone with even one drop of Winchcombe blood should so disgrace it.

  Her first impulse was to confront Giles with the truth and to tell him that she would never see him again.

  Then she was sensible enough to realise two things, first that in doing so she would deliberately put her own life in danger and second that to break her word would be to lower herself to his level.

  She could hear her grandfather years ago saying to her,

  “A man who breaks his promises or who is a coward is beyond contempt!”

  Although she did not realise it for some time, she had been brought up by a soldier with a soldier’s code of chivalry. These were the ideals and standards that had inspired Wellington’s Army in the Peninsula to suffer incredible hardships and yet remain men of honour.

  They had believed, as Verena’s father and grandfather had believed, that a man must take on a bully and punish a cheat, be tender towards women and the helpless and above all else keep his parole!

  “How can I possibly marry Giles?” Verena whispered to herself. “He is a murderer, there is blood on his hands!”

  And yet she had given such a man her promise, a promise that by her rules must not be broken.

  *

  There were lines beneath Verena’s eyes the following morning and she was looking unnaturally pale when she came down for breakfast.

  Fortunately Lady Bingley was full of plans for another At Home that she intended to give for Verena the next week and she was so occupied in making lists of friends who were to receive invitations that she did not notice that her Goddaughter was unusually silent.

  Lady Bingley was later seeing to the cook and arranging the menus when the butler announced that Captain Winchcombe-Smythe had called.

  He was shown into the morning room and Verena tried to force a smile to her lips. He was wearing uniform and looked at his very best in his shining steel breastplate and high black boots.

  But, as she looked at him, Verena could only see weeping women, fatherless children and the guards of the Bullion coaches lying dead by the roadside.

  “I am just going on guard at the Bank of England, Verena,” Giles said. “I thought you would like to see me in my uniform.”

  With difficulty Verena prevented herself from screaming! The Bank of England!

  So it was Giles who learnt the destination of the Bullion! Giles, who was the informer, who told the ‘Evil Genius’ exactly where to ambush the coaches!

  But the Captain, preening himself, was waiting for her reply.

  “Yes, of course I would want to see you,” she answered him with an effort. “You look very fine.”

  “I imagined that you would think so, my pretty one,” Giles replied complacently. “What I came to see you about is to tell you that I have other plans for you this evening. I don’t wish you to accompany the Duke to dine with his grandmother. You need not trouble to inform him, so I will do that myself later in the day.”

  “But I promised ‒ I would go,” Verena protested.

  “So you will have to change your mind. Another time perhaps,” he remarked.

  “I am afraid I could not do that,” Verena replied slowly. “The Duke is my Guardian and, if he so wished, he could easily forbid me to accept another invitation.”

  “Your Guardian!” Giles repeated in astonishment “How does that come about?”

  “His great-grandfather married a Miss Winchcombe,” she replied. “He therefore considers himself a relation.”

  “Indeed,” Giles said reflectively. “So, of course, he is also a relative of mine. Good blood! Something to be proud oh, eh, Verena?”

  As he spoke, Verena heard self-satisfaction in his voice and knew that personally he was delighted at the news, it was something to boast about and something to tell his friends.

  “The Duke of Selchester is my relative.”

  She could almost hear him saying it!

  “Nevertheless,” he continued after a moment, “it would be best for you to cry off from crossing Hampstead Heath.”

  Even as he uttered the words Verena had a premonition of danger, something being planned, planned by the “Evil Genius” and her cousin!

  “No, I must go as arranged,” she answered him firmly.

  Giles walked across the room and back again, his spurs jangling as he did so and his breastplate reflecting the sunshine.

  After a moment he cleared his throat.

  “There is something else that I would wish to speak to you about, Verena. I have recently come into money, quite a fortune, and so I have decided, as we are betrothed, to make a will in your favour. In fact I have already done so.”

  He paused as if he sought for an excuse.

  “There are many accidents on the roads these days,” he continued, “that, apart from the dangers of a war, one should always be prepared. I would not want my wealth, should I die, to go to anyone but you!”

  “I am quite certain you are not going to die, Giles,” Verena said.

  “One can never be so sure,” he answered with a frown. “One should always be prepared. See how sensible your grandfather was to make a will before he was struck down!”

  “But Grandpapa was over seventy-five.”

  “Nevertheless no one should die intestate,” he insisted. “So what I suggest, Verena, is that you come with me this afternoon to your lawyer and
make a will in my favour, just as I have done for you.”

  Verena drew a deep breath.

  It was, she thought, as if she was watching a performance of a play acted so badly that the audience knew what was going to be said before the actors spoke their lines!

  For a moment she felt like raging at her cousin, telling him that she saw through his nefarious plot and driving him from the house even as her grandfather had done.

  Then she knew that he would merely assert that she was deranged and after all what proof had she except for her own intuition?

  Like a flash of lightning she saw how clearly the “Evil Genius” and Giles had protected themselves from every eventuality.

  As the Duke had said,

  “Their whole scheme is brilliantly thought out and organised.”

  Now this dastardly by-plot of Giles’s, quite obviously concocted with the assistance of the “Evil Genius”, was just as clever.

  Taking a deep breath to try to calm the agitation within her, Verena managed to say sweetly,

  “But, of course, Giles, I am only too willing to make a will in your favour or anything else you wish of me, but unfortunately it is impossible for me to come with you this afternoon.”

  She saw that he was about to protest and continued,

  “I have already arranged to drive out with my Godmama and call on several of her friends. She would not understand it if I was to refuse to accompany her and if she heard what we were about I am certain that she would wish us to discuss it first with my Guardian!”

  “There is no reason for you to do that,” Giles said quickly.

  “No, indeed,” Verena replied. “This is obviously something intimate that concerns only you and me. But I am afraid that we must leave my will until another day.”

  The frown was back between Giles’s eyes and she knew that he was put out, but apparently he found her prevarication quite plausible.

  Finally he left the house with a promise to call on the morrow.

  When he had gone, Verena found herself trembling.

  Never, she now reflected, had her clairvoyant powers spoken more clearly than they had at that moment. She knew, she knew irrefutably and without question, that something terrible would occur when they crossed Hampstead Heath that evening.

  And she knew too that, while it might not be so dangerous for her because she had not yet signed her will in her cousin’s favour, it would undoubtedly bring real danger to the Duke!

  She put her hands up to her forehead, trying to think. If she told the Duke what she feared, he would be unlikely to believe her. But even so, if he did make the journey, she was convinced that he would refuse to take her with him and that was one thing that she was as sure of as if she had heard him say it.

  No, the Duke would indeed go, but he would leave her behind. And because he would behave with decency and not fire until he was fired on, and not attacking before he himself was attacked and then undoubtedly the “Evil Genius” would gain his desire and would become the next Duke of Selchester!

  It was so clear to Verena that she could almost see it all happening. The shots in the dark, the Duke falling down dead and the “Evil Genius” personally taking no part in the murder, but waiting to gain the reward!

  ‘I am a soldier’s daughter,’ Verena told herself. ‘This is a campaign in which the enemy has the initiative. I must meet the attack as if I was a man! What would Grandpapa have done in the same circumstances?’

  Lady Bingley found Verena surprisingly quiet as they drove out as arranged, leaving visiting cards on various friends and invitations to her Ladyship’s At Home.

  When they had done all that they had set out to do, Verena said,

  “I wonder, Godmama, if you would mind it if we stopped at the Duke’s stables on our way back home. I would like, if you would be kind enough to wait for me, to see Assaye. He is inclined to fret if we are apart for long.”

  “But, of course, my dearest,” Lady Bingley replied. “I know what an affection you have for your horse.”

  On arriving at the stables that were situated at the back of Selchester House, Verena was led by a groom to Assaye’s stall. He whinnied at the sound of her voice and nuzzled her affectionately.

  “I will ride you tomorrow,” Verena promised. “You must be longing for some exercise.”

  She patted his neck.

  “Was he very tired after the long journey here?” she enquired of the groom.

  “If ’e were, he showed no signs of it, miss. He be a plucky animal with plenty of spirit in ’im!”

  “That is what I have always found,” Verena said with a smile and then she added in a low voice,

  “Would it be possible for me to speak to one of the grooms who will be accompanying His Grace on his carriage tonight?”

  The groom looked surprised, but he replied,

  “I be certain Fowler’ll accompany His Grace, miss.”

  “Then ask him to come to me,” Verena said.

  She stood whispering endearments into Assaye’s ear and making a fuss of him until a man appeared. She recognised him as the groom who had helped her into the Duke’s high perch phaeton the day before.

  “Good afternoon,” she smiled.

  “Good afternoon, miss,” Fowler replied. “Can I be of any help?”

  “I want to say something to you in confidence,” Verena said, “and you may think it strange.”

  Fowler did not answer, but she saw that he was all attention.

  “I am clairvoyant, my mother was the seventh child of a seventh child, you know what that means?”

  “I do indeed, miss. I’m from the country.” Fowler told her.

  “I have a very strong presentiment,” Verena went on, “that, when we cross Hampstead Heath tonight ‒ the Duke’s carriage will be attacked by highwaymen. I am convinced that it is not money or jewels they will be seeking ‒ but His Grace’s life!”

  “Have you spoken of this to His Grace, miss?” Fowler enquired.

  “No, I have told no one but you,” Verena answered. “I must beg of you not to mention it to His Grace, because if you do, then, as you well know, His Grace is unlikely to believe it and still less likely to take any proper precautions.”

  “That be true enough, miss,” Fowler agreed. “If ever there was a brave man ’tis His Grace!”

  “I know that,” Verena answered, “and that is why I am asking you to help me make quite sure that nothing occurs to endanger his life.”

  “The footman on the box always has a firearm with him,” Fowler said. “But I’ll take one myself as well.”

  “That is what I hoped you would say and shoot on sight, don’t wait, for I am convinced – and I promise you I am never wrong – that these men are killers!”

  Fowler gave her a sharp glance, but he said respectfully,

  “How many do you expect, miss?”

  “Four,” Verena replied. “One will shoot at the footman on the box, another at you if you are up behind the landau. Kill them as soon as they appear.”

  “And the other two?” Fowler enquired.

  “If what I anticipate is right,” she replied, “they will simultaneously open the carriage doors on each side and shoot at the Duke!”

  “Surely, miss, ’twould be wisest to tell His Grace what you fear.”

  “His Grace will not believe me. I am trusting you. I am trusting you with his life and my own. But if you talk unnecessarily and the attempt is not made tonight, it will be made another time in which case we may not be prepared.”

  “I sees your point, miss,” Fowler said reflectively. “I’ll make sure the lad up in front is handy with the blunderbuss and I’ll see the man who attacks me doesn’t get off scot free!”

  “Thank you,” Verena said. “Leave everything else to me. And not a word to anyone.”

  “I gives you me word, miss,” Fowler promised.

  Knowing by his carriage and the way he spoke that he had been a soldier, Verena was satisfied.

 
She drove back to the house in Manchester Square and, as soon as her Godmother had gone up the stairs to take off her driving clothes, she slipped into the room that had been Lord Bingley’s study.

  She had entered it before and had seen lying on the table what she required.

  It was a box such as most gentlemen possessed containing, when she opened it, a pair of fine duelling pistols.

  They were slightly old-fashioned, but when she handled them, she knew at once that they were well made and well balanced.

  The bullets were beside them.

  *

  The Duke arrived at Manchester Square at seven o’clock.

  Lady Bingley was waiting to receive him in the drawing room. He kissed her hand and smiled at her in a manner that she thought privately was quite irresistible.

  Verena was ready to leave, wearing over her evening gown a cloak of strawberry-pink satin edged with swansdown. She carried a large and fashionable muff which, as it was summer, was also made of swansdown.

  It would have taken a discerning eye to realise that it was extremely heavy and contained two duelling pistols.

  “I wish, ma’am, I could have asked you,” the Duke said to Lady Bingley, “to accompany Verena to visit my grandmother’s this evening. Unfortunately being old, she dislikes entertaining more than two people at the same time. She will not admit to being deaf, but I am convinced that is the reason.”

  “Of course, I quite understand,” Lady Bingley replied. “And I shall hope, Your Grace, to meet the Duchess on another occasion.”

  “I would be most gratified, ma’am,” he continued, “if tomorrow I could persuade both you and Verena to be my guests at Selchester Castle. I have to post to the country and so it would give me great pleasure to entertain you both from tomorrow, Thursday, until Monday.”

  “Visit Selchester Castle!” Lady Bingley exclaimed with a lilt in her voice. “I can assure Your Grace that there is nothing that would please me more and I have heard so many tales of its magnificence and its great historic interest.”

  “I have much to show you,” the Duke answered, “and I thought, if you agreed, it might amuse Verena to drive down with me in my phaeton. But I should not like you to feel yourself neglected, ma’am, and I suggest that you travel with Lady Edith Sheraton, whom I shall have the honour of entertaining as well.”