A Duke Too Far Read online

  “That’s not true!”

  “It is, as the world sees it. And as I do myself, actually.”

  “That doesn’t—”

  “It matters a great deal. To me. You should look to your friends for comfort. I’m sure they’re glad to help.”

  “Who helps you?” she asked.

  He was surprised into glancing at her. When their eyes met, they both understood that each of them was thinking of the other. More than of themselves. A strong mutual yearning vibrated between them, a longing to solve every problem, heal every hurt, offer every delight. This was love, Peter thought. And also despair. Because of course all that was impossible.

  Then a distant roll of thunder offended Prince, and Peter had to devote himself to managing the horse. By the time Prince had calmed down, they’d entered the valley below Alberdene. And a few minutes after that, they reached the house.

  They’d obviously been watched for. The front door opened as they pulled up, and Miss Ada was swept away by a bevy of exclaiming females. Peter drove the gig around to the stables, thinking it would be best if he unharnessed Prince himself. No need to expose the young stable boy to the horse’s thirst for revenge. This also put off any confrontation with Miss Ada’s aunt, which was a distinct advantage. He would sneak up the back stairs to change out of his wet garments before he faced her.

  Twelve

  Engulfed by the attentions of her friends and the Alberdene maids, Ada was hustled up to her bedchamber, divested of wet clothes with many exclamations about the state of them, and chivvied into a hot bath before the fire. The warmth was welcome, and the barrage of questions was so thick that she didn’t try to answer them.

  She shoved her reticule—carefully kept dry in the pocket of her gown—at Charlotte, who removed Delia’s note and pored over the translation. Sarah sent Una for sustenance, and the girl returned bearing a laden tray. Harriet sent her off again with the sodden garments to tend. Marged combed out Ada’s hair and spread it over a towel to dry.

  All too soon, however, Ada was warmed and fed and dressed. Her aunt had apparently followed her progress, because she came in at that moment. “Go,” she declared with a shooing motion. “Ada and I are going to have a talk.”

  Ada’s friends filed out with many sympathetic glances over their shoulders. Aunt Julia settled her large frame in an armchair and gazed at Ada with sorrowful impatience. “What am I to do with you?” she asked.

  Ada wondered what she was to do. Her aunt wanted to take her home. She thought it was for the best, and she was a woman of strong opinions. Ada was just as determined not to go. She had to change her aunt’s mind. But that was not a thing she had seen happen more than once or twice in her life.

  One thing she mustn’t do was tell Aunt Julia that she loved the duke. She knew what she’d say about that. Ada had also abandoned the idea of pretending to be too worn down to travel. She didn’t think she could be convincing, even if she had been willing to lie to her aunt. She’d realized that she didn’t want to do that.

  But the rest. If Aunt Julia understood the mystery they’d uncovered, surely she would be intrigued? And so Ada gathered her faculties and told her aunt about the page of Delia’s writing, the odd room they’d found full of clues to a treasure hunt, the foreign woman in Shrewsbury who’d translated for them. She considered leaving out her recent dream, but then she included that, too.

  That part of the story earned her a piercing look. “Dreams,” said her aunt.

  If it had been a mistake to mention that, it was too late to take it back.

  “I’ve heard much of this tale before,” Aunt Julia continued.

  “You have?”

  “Miss Tate keeps track of the servants’ talk.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Ada felt a bit deflated. Of course her aunt’s dresser listened in, and of course the maids chattered about what they overheard. How had she not thought of that? Well, nothing to do but move forward. “Only think how wonderful it would be if we discovered the hiding place,” she finished. “And the treasure!”

  “Why?” asked her aunt.

  “Well, because.” Ada was startled by the question. “It would be a splendid thing to do. A triumph.”

  “For Compton.” Aunt Julia watched her as if waiting for a mistake in her answers.

  “For Delia as well. To show everyone that she was right.”

  “Is that so important?”

  Ada leaned forward, realizing as she spoke that she felt this deeply. “I think it is, Aunt. It would mean that her life wasn’t entirely wasted. Even though she died so young.”

  Aunt Julia looked uncertain.

  “She would have saved her family from beyond the grave,” Ada added.

  “There is no need to be melodramatic.” But Aunt Julia looked moved.

  “She was trying to tell me.” Her aunt’s expression shifted, and Ada realized she’d gone too far. “I mean, she would have been, if such a thing were possible. Which it isn’t, of course.”

  “I don’t like all this talk of death,” said the older woman. “Or these dreams. They are not healthy.”

  “I don’t mean to have them,” Ada murmured.

  “They ought to be fading away, not becoming more…fantastical,” replied her aunt.

  Ada couldn’t deny this. Indeed, she wished for it.

  Aunt Julia sighed. “I fear I have carried my enjoyment of contradicting your father too far. I shouldn’t have agreed to this journey.”

  “No, it was very good of you. You wanted to help me, and you are.”

  “How, Ada?”

  She struggled to put it into words. And then understanding came to her. “I feel that when I—we finish Delia’s task, make use of her discovery, then I won’t think of her anymore. Or…I will, but not in a melancholy way. Things will be…complete. And I’ll be glad.”

  Her aunt examined her face as if some crucial message was written there. “If Compton had this treasure you speak of, he would be very grateful.”

  Ada looked down. She hadn’t wanted to bring the duke into this conversation. She wasn’t confident she could hide her feelings. Aunt Julia was too acute. And if she found out about everything that had passed between them, all would be lost.

  “He might feel he owed some…recompense.”

  “Of course we don’t expect any payment!” Ada exclaimed, deliberately misunderstanding. She rushed on before her aunt could point this out. “Please let us stay until we have seen what we can make of the translation. A few more days.”

  Her aunt looked at her for so long that Ada grew anxious. Then she spoke slowly. “Compton seems to have no acquaintance, so there is little chance of gossip. No one in town will hear what you get up to out here.”

  Hope held Ada quite still.

  “But my dear Ada, can you imagine what your parents would say to me if they heard about your disastrous expedition to Shrewsbury?”

  She could, easily. Or uneasily, Ada thought. She suppressed the impulse to argue over the word disastrous.

  Her aunt’s sardonic expression suggested that she followed this process. “They would be justly angry with me for my failure to supervise you,” she went on. “And that takes no account of the carriage accident. You might have been seriously hurt. The hair nearly stood up on my head when I heard about it.”

  “It came out all right. Compton was splendid.”

  This earned her another sharp look. “Or lucky. Ada, as I have taken on the role of your chaperone, I am obliged to do it well. I am finding that remarkably difficult. I feel you are making it difficult.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt.”

  “An apology is no substitute for gaining permission. Despite the old saying. Which I have always thought specious. You do understand that being labeled fast is fatal to a girl’s introduction into society?”

  “I am not fast!” Unless
perhaps she was? Wandering dark mansions and kissing penniless dukes. The idea, and the memory, gave Ada an anxious thrill. But she wouldn’t trade those stolen moments for anything, and as her aunt had implied, no one would know about them. She could safely hug them to herself.

  “That won’t matter much if people say you are,” said Aunt Julia.

  “Why would they?”

  “Because you are behaving carelessly?” The older woman reacted to her puzzled frown. “Oh, the gossips revel in missteps. Enough to make them up, or at least magnify the smallest hint. That is their nature.”

  “How dreadful!” exclaimed Ada. “And grossly unfair!”

  “Fairness is not a central concern of fashionable society,” replied her aunt dryly.

  “Then perhaps I shouldn’t care what they think!”

  “You shouldn’t,” said Aunt Julia, surprising her. “Not deep in your heart. Not when you are deciding what is ultimately right and wrong. But you should still take care, Ada. Getting along is also important. Gossip can be quite painful. I know this.”

  “No one here would gossip,” Ada replied. She could rely on her friends absolutely.

  “As I said,” replied Aunt Julia.

  Ada clasped her hands together. “So we can stay a little longer, can’t we, dear Aunt Julia? I promise to behave with absolute propriety. I give you my word of honor.”

  “That is not a phrase to be used lightly.”

  “I know, Aunt.”

  Aunt Julia gazed into her eyes. Ada saw concern and sympathy and doubt in her expression. After a worry-provoking silence, the older woman said, “Very well, we will try another few days. And see how matters unfold.” She rose. “I am choosing to trust you, Ada.” She sighed. “Or giving in to pathetic sentiment,” she murmured, almost inaudibly.

  Ada stood with her. “Thank you, Aunt.”

  “You are not going to lie down on your bed?”

  “It’s time for dinner.”

  Aunt Julia shook her head as she turned toward the door. “Oh to be young, come home covered with mud after being tossed from a carriage, and still be ready to dine.”

  They walked together along the hall to the stairs. There, they found the Earl of Macklin stationary on the upper landing. Familiar voices echoed up the stairwell.

  “How could you be so irresponsible?” said Harriet.

  “She insisted on going,” replied the duke.

  “You intend to blame Ada for this fiasco? What a gentleman!”

  “Of course I don’t. I merely point out—”

  “You took her out in the cold and rain with a poorly trained horse pulling a gig. A gig, for heaven’s sake! In this weather.”

  Ada started forward, but her aunt put a hand on her arm and held her back.

  “I tried to convince Miss Ada not to come along,” said Compton stiffly. “She would not listen. She swore she would find a way to follow.”

  This earned Ada a fulminating glance from her aunt.

  “And there was nothing you could do about that,” said Harriet. “Such as telling me. I would have kept her here.”

  “Do you make decisions for her?”

  In the short silence that followed Ada gave a satisfied nod. Harriet was being officious. She did that sometimes. But Compton had stopped her.

  “Neither do I,” said the duke. “In any case, we got the translation she wanted.”

  “Which turned out to be gibberish.” Harriet sounded vastly irritated. “I liked Delia, but she could be even more annoying than you are.”

  “I understand that you are concerned about your friend, Miss Finch. But I don’t see that gives you license to—”

  “Well, you see very little,” interrupted Harriet. Her sigh could be heard from the landing. “Really, I think this place must drive people mad.”

  After a short silence, the duke said, “Do you?” He sounded subdued suddenly.

  “I beg your pardon if I offended you,” replied Harriet. “But look at your clothes, the state of your stables, your game with the bats.”

  “My father’s muddled mass of clues,” he responded.

  Another silence. Ada imagined that Harriet nodded. “Oh, let us go to dinner,” said her friend then. “There’s no sense talking about this.”

  “Indeed,” was the cold reply. Footsteps moved away below.

  “I don’t think you have any reason for concern,” said the earl to Ada’s aunt.

  Ada wondered what he meant. Or rather which thing he meant. There seemed to be quite a few worries floating about Alberdene.

  “Disputes can conceal quite a different set of feelings,” replied Aunt Julia.

  “They can.” Macklin started down the stairs. They followed him. “I have certainly seen it. But I don’t think they do in this case.”

  “I believe you may be right.”

  The two elders exchanged a glance.

  “The tone at the end,” said the earl. “Miss Finch sounded like a weary headmistress with an uninteresting pupil. One she intended to abandon to his ignominious fate.”

  Ada didn’t understand her aunt’s bark of laughter. Indeed, she was bewildered by the entire exchange. “Well put,” said Aunt Julia. “I noticed something similar myself.”

  “That’s settled then,” Macklin said.

  “That, yes.”

  Ada’s two older companions exchanged another glance that seemed laden with meaning. She had no idea what it was, however. And they obviously weren’t going to tell her. Ada darted down the stairs after her friends.

  “I have agreed to extend our visit by a few days,” said Miss Grandison as they followed at a more stately pace.

  Arthur nodded. He was glad to hear it. Tom had told him about the new developments, and he was interested in what might unfold as the young ladies tried to solve the mystery.

  “My niece has promised to behave with rigid propriety.”

  He knew better than to comment on that.

  Miss Grandison sighed. “A resolution that will last until some fascinating development occurs, which she must pursue.”

  That seemed very likely to Arthur.

  “I should like your promise to help,” Miss Grandison continued.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She looked over at him as they left the staircase and turned toward the dining room. “Are we to turn mealymouthed now? We’ve spoken frankly before.”

  She had the keenest gaze, Arthur thought. This was not a woman who could be easily deceived. “You want my help in—”

  “Keeping things within bounds. Banning any hint of matchmaking. On any front.” Her eyes bored into him. “Otherwise I shall have to take my charges away.”

  “A touch of blackmail, Miss Grandison?”

  “An agreement between the two most responsible members of our small society. About the care that is owed to my young ladies, in particular.” Her tone was steely.

  She had a point, Arthur acknowledged. “Of course.”

  “I have your word?”

  “You do.” The arch leading to the dining room was just ahead. “If Compton finds a treasure, however, the case would be altered.”

  “I had no idea you were susceptible to fairy tales,” she answered dryly.

  “No, it is quite a recent thing with me,” he replied. His smile appeared to surprise her.

  * * *

  “We’ve gone over and over the translation,” said Miss Deeping the next morning.

  Peter sat with his young lady guests and Tom in the room where his father and sister had covered the walls with their researches. They’d brought in more chairs to accommodate everyone, and the small chamber was crowded. He would have preferred a place with windows. It still sometimes felt as if the mass of information was closing in on him. But obviously all this couldn’t be moved. Charts and lis
ts were spread over the desk, with Delia’s last missive at the center.

  “Ada is certain she copied it down correctly,” Miss Deeping continued. “And Compton concurs.”

  He nodded.

  “Read it again,” said Miss Finch. She sounded weary.

  Miss Deeping picked up the page and read aloud. “‘The hiding place can be nowhere that one would commonly search, because we have. Inch by inch. But then I thought—what has been forgotten? And what always remains? And then I knew the answer.”

  They all contemplated this silently for a moment. As they had numerous times before. No fresh ideas came to Peter.

  “So in terms of these wrong places where they’ve looked, Sarah and I have read all the notebooks in the desk drawer,” Miss Deeping added. “Delia and her father measured every room in the house, including the attics and the cellars. That’s what she meant when she said inch by inch. They made certain there were no unknown hidden spaces. We checked some of that.”

  This sent Peter’s thoughts to the attic and his encounter with Miss Ada there. He was wearing one of the shirts he’d found on that occasion, altered by the seamstress. Which was irrelevant. But his mind wandered when it came up against an intractable problem, he’d found.

  “They mapped the grounds, too,” said Miss Ada. She tapped a detailed drawing on the corner of the desk.

  “Though they didn’t really think the treasure was buried in the garden,” said Miss Deeping.

  “Too easy for someone to stumble on it,” said Miss Moran.

  “No way to lock it up,” added Miss Deeping.

  “Makes sense,” said Tom. “You could sneak in with a shovel and be off before dawn.”

  “Nonetheless, they did excavate several unusual spots.” Miss Deeping touched the pile of notebooks to indicate where she’d learned this.

  “Finding nothing?” Peter asked. He was amazed at his family’s industry. And that he had missed all this activity.

  “The graves of two dogs and a very old refuse heap,” answered Miss Ada.