Raven McAllan - The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M

With the added bonus of not being threatened with the season turning wintry, well not yet, Mary was more than happy. She hummed to herself and Darcy pricked up her ears as if in agreement. ‘All’s good with the world eh, girl?’ Mary tugged gently on Darcy’s ears and directed her to take a track around the edge of the hundred-acre field, still awaiting the ministrations of the harvester. Only a few days to go Mary judged, and then she’d be able to ride straight across the field and not skirt the crop.

Of course before long, if the winter were severe, she’d be on shanks’ pony, because the ice would make the tracks treacherous for the horse. However she’d face that problem when or if it happened. One thing she was determined about – she’d still be at the Grange, and not in London for the season, whatever anyone said.

As she approached Marmalade Cottage – so named, Miss Wishlade said, because of the colour of the stone walls – that lady popped out of the door as if she were on a spring. She waved vigorously as Mary drew Darcy to a halt, dismounted, and eventually settled the horse with some oats in the shade of a venerable and fruitless plum tree.

‘Such news,’ she said excitedly as she waited for Mary to pick up the saddlebag she’d brought full of garden produce. ‘Brody’s out and about again.’

‘Brody?’ Mary asked as casually as she could manage, as she followed her hostess into the trim cottage and put the heavy saddlebag down on the long oak table that dominated the kitchen.

‘The Duke,’ Miss Wishlade said impatiently as Annie bustled in, and kissed Mary on the cheek affectionately. ‘He dropped by earlier and invited us to lunch at the castle. Of course I refused, and explained why. He was most interested in the way you have become one of us.’

I bet he was. His insolent stare still rankled.

‘As I told him,’ Miss Wishlade continued, ‘you’re like a daughter to Annie and me. So the dear boy said he’ll call in later for some cakes and we’re to go for lunch tomorrow instead. So good of him to pop back, though it’s not surprising – Annie was baking, you see. He loves her baking.’

Mary thought she saw rather more than Miss Wishlade did.

‘I hope I get to meet him,’ she said diplomatically. Just not today. If and when they did meet up it would not be in front of innocent bystanders. She rather thought any interchange between them might not be fit for delicate ears. ‘If he arrives before I must leave. It will have to be a short visit today, I’m afraid.’

Miss Wishlade’s face dropped. Mary thought rapidly. What on earth would be a good enough reason to return home at an earlier hour than normal?

‘I’m expecting a missive from my late husband’s solicitors.’ It was partly true; she was, but not that day. ‘There may be a little more money for me.’ Also true but Mary rather thought her idea of a little and Miss Wishlade’s was somewhat different.

Miss Wishlade beamed and patted Mary’s shoulder. ‘There now, that will be handy, eh? Of course you must be there to receive it. Is Mr Niven going to Uppingham to check at the receiving office?’

Oh lord she hadn’t thought of that. ‘Er, no, a courier should arrive. It might not be today, as this is the first day possible, but, well, I must be around in case an immediate answer is needed.’ She hoped Miss Wishlade didn’t feel the need to probe further. Her inventiveness only went so far.

‘Then we’ll have a cup of tea now, and lunch at noon instead of half past. How’s that?’

Mary nodded. ‘Perfect.’

Even though a lot of ladies didn’t bother with lunch, Mary liked the idea and Miss Wishlade and Annie embraced it wholeheartedly. When they ate early, their meal wasn’t heavy, but always tasty and relied on local food and usually hedgerow wines. Those Mary had learned very early on to partake of lightly. They were lethal.

‘Potato and veg soup today,’ Annie said as they took their tea outside and sat down on a long bench in the orchard. ‘I’d thought of pigeon pie, but as we’re eating early I’m glad I didn’t. Plus it’s too hot for such a heavy meal. Today’s wine is oak leaf.’

‘So true about the heat, and good regarding the wine. But didn’t I smell apple pie?’

Annie nodded. ‘Well of course.’

Miss Wishlade chuckled, and after a second Mary and Annie joined her. Mary’s love of Annie’s apple pie was well known.

Darcy lifted her head and regarded them steadily until she was sure no treats were forthcoming and then proceeded to ignore the chatting, sniggering women.

Mary never ceased to be amazed and thankful that the age gap between them didn’t matter and they could pass many a happy hour in chat or crafts.

‘I’ll have to give my tatting lesson a miss,’ Mary said, as Annie rushed indoors, convinced she could smell the soup burning. ‘But I’ve got some to finish before Mr Niven collects you next week. And I want your advice on who to get to make me some gowns. I have material, but no aptitude, and these are the ones you say you aren’t able to create.’

‘Bless you, the tatting is not set in stone,’ Miss Wishlade said comfortably. ‘We just enjoy your company and to teach you tatting is an extra pleasure. As for dresses? Like I said, I’m fine with basics and gowns for people round here. You need something better. Molly Trevor over at Riverside is best. Tell her I sent you. She’s clever, and an ex-pupil of Gloria La Compte. She only came home because her mother took ill and there were seven little ones to look after.’

Mary had heard of Gloria La Compte. If she had trained this Molly Trevor, she must be good. ‘I will do.’

Miss Wishlade nodded. ‘She’ll see you right.’

‘So,’ Mary broached the subject she really wanted some information on. ‘You mentioned the duke is out and about again. What do you mean?’ It hit Mary that in her months at the Grange, no one really mentioned the duke at all, other than he had been abroad for many years. Had anyone ever said he was at the castle? She searched her mind but couldn’t recall any conversations. After all, the locals would know what was going on and have no cause to talk about it to her.

‘Ah, Brody? Well it’s like this. Or –’ Miss Wishlade said with a frown, ‘– I believe it is. Mind I only know what I hear from Mrs Loveage, but he came back a changed man and did nothing.’

‘Came back?’ So he had been away then? ‘How changed?’

‘Oh I forgot you weren’t here before.’ Miss Wishlade looked around the garden and leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Well, the young Duke – not that he was the Duke in those days – he was, not to put it too finely, a hellion my dear. A rake and a womaniser. His poor mama was in despair. He took but never repaid if you know what I mean.’ She coloured as she spoke. ‘Even though the estate is wealthy, no coffers are bottomless. I tried to tell her, he’d been spoiled, that there was nothing malicious in his behaviour. That if you are brought up to believe you are so important you bow to no other diktats than those you chose to, you are not going to listen to reason. Sadly, he was treated in that manner by his mama. His papa, bless his soul, tried to intervene but when a thrashing resulted in the uproar his mama created, why, it was no wonder it had no real effect.’

Mary pondered Miss Wishlade’s words. ‘But surely he went away to school?’ From what her brother had let slip, school tended to beat all delusions of grandeur out of everyone.

‘Well, yes, but whatever it achieved was lost each time he came home. I dare say his schooldays meant he wasn’t quite so obnoxious,’ Miss Wishlade said fairly. ‘But it still meant he had no concept of money management, or how to run the estates.’ She shook her head. ‘Or in those days have any desire to learn. Or so it appeared.’