part0009

“ I t’s nothing,” Bicky insisted, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic streak of stubbornness. “Stop fussing.”

“Your Grace. The wound could become infected,” Dr. Higgins, the village medical practitioner explained. “We need to bandage it properly.”

“Nonsense. I have guests,” Bicky complained.

“And they will understand,” Dr. Higgins assured him.

Evie, accompanied by the Duke’s sister, Elizabeth, pushed past the butler and, ignoring his raised eyebrows, entered Bicky’s room.

Wringing her hands together, Evie asked. “ Will he be all right?” Somehow, she felt responsible.

Protocol, propriety… manners. Honestly, everything she’d imagined Tom damning to hell and back had conspired against her. For once, she should have behaved like the brash American everyone assumed her to be. If she had, then Bicky would have been spared…

“It’s only a superficial wound.” Dr. Higgins turned to Bicky. “I’m afraid it will be quite sore for a few days. Your Grace, I suggest you refrain from shooting for a while.”

Until that moment, Lady Elizabeth had looked quite pale. However, hearing the doctor’s instructions, she gave an unladylike snort. “I doubt my brother will heed your advice.”

Bicky stuck his chin out. “Indeed, I will not. I survived the Battle of the Somme, this is nothing but an inconvenience.” Bicky looked up. “Larkin will look after me. Where’s Stevens?”

The valet stepped forward. “Right here, Your Grace.”

“You’ll be able to fashion some sort of contraption for me, won’t you, Stevens?”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

Bicky held his injured arm up. “Forget I said that. I think I’ll manage to dress properly for dinner. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He watched the doctor at work for a moment and then said, “Larkin.”

The butler stepped forward. “Your Grace?”

“Tell cook to cut my food into small portions. Tonight, I will be a one-handed man.”

“Your Grace. You really should rest,” Dr. Higgins urged.

“And yet, I insist. I refuse to be brought down by a mere flesh wound.” Turning to Larkin, he asked, “Have the police been informed?”

The butler nodded. “The steward has organized his men to search the grounds. I believe the groundskeeper and stable hands have joined in the search.”

“Well, that’s a start.” Bicky tried to sit up but Dr. Higgins placed a staying hand on his good arm.

“Oh, good heavens, man,” Bicky complained, “I should at least be allowed to sit up in my own bed.”

“Bicky,” his sister urged. “You got your way and you’ll be having dinner with your guests. Meanwhile, do as you are told, please.”

“I suppose I should. Any idea what happened?” The Duke looked from one person to the other.

Evie leaned in and whispered, “If I could have a word with you.”

Bicky appeared to struggle to understand her meaning. Finally, with a wave of his uninjured hand, Bicky sent everyone out of the room, saying, “Elizabeth, please make sure our guests are well entertained.”

“You seem to forget, I am a guest here too,” Elizabeth replied, her face showing the relief she clearly felt at seeing her brother had survived the ordeal with only a minor scratch. “Of course, I’ll do all I can.”

The doctor left saying he would call in again in the morning.

“I’m not likely to die from a scratch,” Bicky bellowed. “I’ve had worse from my valet when he shaved me after one of his drinking bouts.” Bicky looked over at his valet and mouthed an apology.

When they were alone, he turned to Evie. “Are you going to reprimand me too?”

Evie smiled. “I should. I really should.” She looked at the door to make sure it had been closed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. Actually, I’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you. On our way over, we had an incident on the road.” She took in his shocked expression and gave him a nod of assurance. “I’m fine but… Well, I wonder if this is related.” She wrung her hands together. “Maybe you’ve been experiencing problems with poachers on the estate…”

“What sort of incident did you have? And… Poachers?” He could not have sounded more affronted.

Evie told him what she knew, and wished she had more details to share.

Again, Bicky tried to sit up. “You think someone shot at you and then tried their luck with me?”

It all sounded too real when he said it. “Or they might have tried to run us off the road. I can’t be sure. There might have been a gunshot. Perhaps they used a mirror to cast a reflection and blind my chauffeur.”

Trying to remain calm, she actually managed to downplay the seriousness of the matter. Evie gave a casual shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. I wanted to think it had all been a dreadful mistake or a mishap of sorts but then, you were shot. Clearly, something is going on.”

“Who stands to inherit?” Bicky shook his head. “I’m sorry to be blunt, but it is the first question anyone would ask.”

“The real question being who would want to see me dead?” Evie asked, her eyebrows slightly curved. She held his gaze for a moment and then moved to stand by the window.

“You’re right,” Bicky said. “Two incidents in one day. There’s nothing coincidental about that.”

She couldn’t help thinking they were all sitting ducks. If anything happened to her… “You know I have a brother but he is as rich as Croesus . He doesn’t need my money. Besides, he loves me.”

Bicky chortled. “What is it with you Americans? You magnetize money and massive fortunes like bees to honey. It must be in your blood.”

Taking the remark with the blitheness it had been intended, Evie said, “Perhaps we’re more open to change and opportunity and… risks.” Evie chuckled. “In any case, we don’t exactly hold exclusive rights to wealth creation.”

This time, Bicky snorted. “And yet, every American I’ve ever met…” he waved his hand. “I just heard myself. My apologies. Of course, I have only met a handful of your compatriots. But you must admit, they all have vast amounts of wealth in common and, clearly, more opportunities than they know what to do with.”

Evie watched as a group of estate workers made their way across to the folly, their dogs running ahead of them. “I won’t argue with that. However…”

Bicky laughed. “This is where you gently illustrate your point.”

Evie shrugged. “I inherited and had nothing to do with creating my wealth. On the other hand, someone like Helena Rubinstein…”

Bicky tilted his head in thought. “The name rings a bell.”

“She is the crowned queen of cosmetics, or at least, she shares the podium with Elizabeth Arden. In any case, she has claims to humble beginnings as an émigré to the new world, not America but rather Australia.” Shifting, she leaned in and looked out toward the other end of the estate where she saw another group of estate workers spreading out.

“Ah, the Antipodes. I have a distant cousin who settled in Australia and met the most wonderful woman. He mentioned the astonishing number of sheep they own and, to be honest, I still can’t quite get my head around it.” Bicky patted his arm. “In any case, this injury of mine must be affecting my head. Please continue with your story before I succumb to another bout of idiocy.”

Evie smiled. “As a young Polish émigré in Australia, Helena Rubinstein saw the opportunity to produce face lotions. She set up a small business which, in no time, flourished and expanded. Then she swiftly established herself here and followed her success to America. We’re merely reaping the rewards of her industrious endeavors. There are many like her who see an opportunity and grasp it with both hands, eventually making a brilliant success of it.”

Studying the landscape from the window, Evie tapped a finger on her chin as she considered Bicky’s earlier question.

She knew of one person who would stand to inherit something from her.

Seth Halton, the current Earl of Woodridge .

Her husband, Nicholas Halton, had died without issue. When the title had been created, provisions had been made for such an occasion to prevent the title from dying out so it had passed on to a distant relative. Unfortunately, he had been a casualty of the Great War. However, well before dying, he’d fathered a son; a young boy still in the schoolroom.

Not exactly the instigator of evil machinations, Evie thought.

As for her brother…

If anything were to happen to her, the bulk of her fortune would revert to her brother and he would, most likely, set up a foundation to assist some worthy cause.

Evie shook her head. “I can’t believe someone would wish me ill.” As for Bicky being shot…

Another impossibility. Everyone loved Bicky.

Bicky huffed out a breath. “Well, before you told me about your incident on the road, I had begun to wonder if someone wanted me dead.”

Evie turned to look at him.

The Duchess would never stoop so low or take such a foolish risk. Evie knew for a fact she had a penchant for diamonds hanging around her neck. Not a noose .

Frowning, she wondered why she had even thought about Bicky’s wife. Drawing in a deep breath, she remembered.

Caro had told her she’d heard talk of infidelity.

Giving a small nod, Bicky said, “You have to admit, the circumstances are rather odd. We were both standing by the window. Either one of us could have been the target, but you’d already had an attempt on your life.”

“We don’t really know that for sure.”

Bicky shook his head and winced, “I don’t mean to frighten you, but let’s assume there has been an attempt…”

Evie thought back to that precise moment when she’d heard the popping sound. She had only seconds before shifted to set her cup and saucer down. Had she been the target all along?

Evie struggled to accept the day’s events. It all seemed too incredulous. Although, the fact remained, someone had made an attempt on someone’s life.

Not once, but twice.

“It might only have been a warning,” she mused. However, she feared they wouldn’t know for sure until the perpetrator was caught.

A thick silence settled between them.

Evie knew she’d made a few enemies along the way, but none who’d be prepared to risk their freedom or even be the type who would snub her in public. But she had made enemies .

What could they gain? To get her out of the way? She didn’t pose a threat. Not anymore. Evie had made it plainly clear to anyone who would listen. She would never marry again.

Frowning, she wondered where the thought had come from. There seemed to be far too many assailing her mind. She supposed the thought had been there since she’d made the decision to return to England. Then, there had been her granny’s warning about being perceived as a threat.

Ah, but what if this had to do with some sort of belated reprisal for her first marriage? Her granny had warned her about the possibility of that happening.

Nicholas had been a catch.

His estates were not entailed. If they’d had a daughter, the title would have gone to her, along with all the property. As it was, the title had transferred to the next of kin, but the property and wealth had remained in Evie’s control.

Of course, she would do her utmost to ensure the estate remained intact. The current Earl would not come into possession until he came of age. Meanwhile, she remained responsible for his wellbeing. The young boy had not only lost his father but soon after, his mother had succumbed to ill health, possibly brought on by the premature death of her husband.

She received regular reports of the child’s welfare. Had someone new come into Seth’s life? Perhaps someone keen to influence the child?

If anything happened to her…

No. She simply refused to think about it. Nevertheless, she made a mental note to contact Seth’s guardian and make sure nothing unusual had been happening in his life.

Bicky broke the silence and asked, “Are we going to let the others know?”

Evie shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Besides, what would you tell them? That someone wants you dead or maybe they want me dead?” Could she trust them to keep the information to themselves? She wanted to think so, but the rumor mills had a way of cranking up and word spreading faster than the industrial revolution.

“What does your chauffeur say about all this? After all, he was a witness to the first incident.”

“I’m not sure yet. I insisted he stay at the pub.” Evie didn’t want to explain her reasons for doing that for fear of appearing to cast aspersions on Bicky’s household. “I suppose I should move away from the window. Although, I imagine we should be safe now. You have all your people running about the place. That’s enough to scare anyone off.” She looked out across the gardens. “It’s strange. You don’t have many trees near the house. One would think those ones near the folly would be too far away to use as a camouflage.”

“Not necessarily,” Bicky disagreed. “Some rifles are quite efficient from a great distance.”

“Yes, I suppose you’d know all about that.”

Bicky plumped up his pillow with his good hand. “The Whitworth,” he mused.

“What’s that?”

“A single shot rifle. It has been in use since the 1850s. You should know something about it since it was used by Confederate sharpshooters in the American Civil War claiming the lives of several Union generals. It possesses excellent long-range accuracy. I believe we have a couple in our collection.”

Evie checked the clock on the mantle. If she wanted to meet with Tom, she would have to set off now so she could be back in time to dress for dinner. Of course, she could telephone him and ask him to meet her here. After all, he had the car.

At the sound of a knock at the door, Bicky answered with a sharp, “Come in.”

“My apologies for disturbing you, Your Grace.”

“Yes, what is it, Larkin?”

“Miss Clarissa Wainscot has just ridden in. Should I show her through to the blue drawing room?”

“Miss who?” Bicky asked.

“Lady Wainscot’s daughter, Your Grace. ”

“What the devil is she doing here?”

Larkin slanted his gaze toward Evie. “Miss Wainscot inquired after Lady Woodridge, Your Grace.”

Bicky turned to Evie who shrugged.

Larkin cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace. I believe Miss Wainscot is after some news. I also believe Lady Wainscot might have sent her… as a scout.”

Evie scratched around her mind trying to place the lady in question but came up empty.

“She’s a neighbor,” Bicky explained. “Lives out at Hainsley Hall. Married to Baron Wainscot. He’s a good sort but the wife…” Bicky cringed. “She has two unmarried daughters. Need I say more?”

No, he needn’t bother.

Mamas with daughters of marriageable ages were notorious for drawing their claws during the process of carrying out their maternal duties to their offspring.

“I’ll go down,” Evie offered.

“No need to bother,” Bicky said. “The others can entertain her.”

The butler gave a stiff nod. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall convey the message as best I can.”

“I suppose I’m about to become the talk of the county,” Evie mused. “It can’t be helped. The locals were bound to be curious about my return.” Although, she still couldn’t imagine why that should be.

“What if it’s more than that?” Bicky asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you must have heard the rumors when you first married Nicholas. You snatched him right from under all those mamas’ noses. Until you came along, he’d been the most eligible bachelor around.”

“Oddly enough, I only just entertained the same thought.” Evie tried to find some humor in it. “Do you think I’m about to get some belated backlash for stealing him away?”

“It’s quite possible. People might think you’re here to fish around for your next husband. You’ve done it once. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

Evie threw her head back and laughed. “If that had been my intention, I would have stayed in town. London always has the most promising candidates and opportunities.”

“You seem to forget we have Mark Harper staying. Heir to his cousin, the Earl of Chatterlain. Not to mention Charles, Viscount Maison and also heir to his father’s title.”

Oh, yes… She had forgotten.

“The more I think about it, the more convinced I become… Oh, never mind.” She couldn’t be the target. Surely not…