The Viscount's Scandalous Return

Isabel’s ears pricked up at this. ‘You know the Duke personally?’

‘I was with him throughout most of the Peninsular Campaign,’ he revealed so casually that one might have supposed he had found the whole experience quite uneventful and dull. ‘I was on his staff, as it happens, one of his Exploring Officers. As you might already be aware, my mother was a Frenchwoman. She taught me to speak her native tongue so well that I could pass for one of her fellow countrymen. Which, as I’m sure you can appreciate, proved most useful when I was obliged to ride deep into enemy territory.’

It took Isabel a moment only to assimilate what she was being told. Then a feeling of bewilderment, not to mention irritation, gripped her. ‘You were a spy, you mean. You spied for Wellington. You put your life at risk attempting to discover things he needed to know?’

His faintly ironic bow confirming this only served to irritate her further. ‘Then why—for heaven’s sake!—with all your experience, have you never attempted to discover who tried to frame you for the murder of your father and brother? Your name has been cleared, yes. But mud sticks,’ she reminded him bluntly. ‘There will always be those who will wonder.

‘No, you might not care, my lord,’ she continued when all he did was to raise his broad shoulders in a shrug of complete indifference. ‘But your wife might, should you ever choose to marry. More importantly, so would any children you might one day be blessed to have. Do you suppose they would ever wish to hear their father called a murderer?’

He stared at her for so long in silence, his expression, yet again, totally unreadable, that she was convinced her words had fallen on deaf ears. Then he astonished her by asking, ‘So, where do you suggest we begin? The events, may I remind you, took place almost nine years ago. All the old servants were discharged soon afterwards, and found new positions, I know not where.’

‘With one exception,’ she reminded him.

‘Bunting was questioned at the time by Sir Montague. He neither saw nor heard anything,’ he responded.

Isabel, knowing this to be true, acknowledged it before adding, ‘I’m certain what he did reveal was the absolute truth. But I should still like to know how the murderer managed to get into the house without using force, and left it again, without anyone being any the wiser.’

‘In that case, Miss Mortimer, we’d best go and ask him.’ Leading the way back into the hall, his lordship gave orders for the carriage to be brought round to the door as soon as possible, before he turned to discover an expression of doubt flicker over a finely boned face. He guessed at once the reason behind the troubled look. ‘Had you come here alone, ma’am, I wouldn’t have hesitated to consider the proprieties. However, as you have your own four-legged duenna to hand, I think we might dispense with the services of a maidservant for the short journey to Bunting’s cottage, don’t you?’

Chapter Four

The journey to the old butler’s cottage on the edge of the estate was conducted almost in silence. His lordship couldn’t quite make up his mind whether this was because his fellow passenger felt uneasy at being in the close confines of a carriage alone with him, or she was merely not garrulous by nature. Whatever the reason, he considered her a restful young woman for the most part. For instance, he could never envisage her getting into a state over trifles. Or ever succumbing to a fit of the vapours, come to that. None the less, he could well imagine she could be a managing little madam on occasions, if not sufficiently bridled.

He couldn’t resist smiling to himself. Few in his life had ever exerted sufficient influence over him to bestir him into doing something he had no real desire to do, or to persuade him to look at something from a totally different viewpoint. Miss Isabel Mortimer had succeeded in doing just that, however. No mean feat!

he was silently obliged to concede. Whether he would thank her for it in the long run was another matter entirely. But he had embarked, now, on this quest to solve the mystery of who had killed his father and brother, and he had no intention of changing his mind.

‘You may relax now, Miss Mortimer, we’ve arrived at our destination,’ he teased gently, as the carriage drew up before a double-fronted cottage at the end of a row of newly limewashed dwellings. ‘You’ll not be obliged to suffer my baneful presence alone any longer.’

The implication was clear. ‘I do not feel in the least ill at ease in your company, sir,’ Isabel assured him. ‘Why should I? You’ve never given me any reason to mistrust you. I apologise, though, if I seemed a little distant. It’s merely that I’ve never travelled in such a comfortable carriage before, and I’ve been enjoying the experience hugely, not to mention travelling across part of the estate where I’ve never ventured before.’

As he threw wide the door to allow Beau to jump out, his lordship felt something within him stir. It wasn’t pity, he felt sure. What she had revealed was the simple truth, not an attempt to arouse compassion. Yet it had moved him none the less.

He let down the steps himself, and as he helped her to alight, and she placed her hand briefly in his own, he could feel the calluses in the palm. His old butler had revealed that, for a gentleman’s daughter, she hadn’t enjoyed the most favourable existence. The elderly retainer clearly had not lied.

Yet again something within him stirred.

Making use of his silver-handled walking stick, the

Viscount made their presence known, and it wasn’t long before Bunting answered the summons.

‘Why, your lordship!’ he declared, clearly astonished. ‘This is a most unexpected pleasure! And Miss Isabel, too! Oh, do come in, please!’

‘Don’t wait for Beau,’ Isabel advised the old man as she stepped over the threshold. ‘He’s obviously picked up the scent of a rat, or something or other. He’ll come and find me when he’s ready.’

‘So long as he doesn’t present any vermin he does happen to locate to me on his return,’ his lordship remarked drily, which resulted in Isabel gurgling with mirth.

The Viscount’s immediate smile in response held the old butler transfixed for a second or two before he turned to close the door. Not since his lordship had been a boy had he seen him smile so naturally or so warmly.

His astonishment was no less marked than Isabel’s when she stepped into the low-ceilinged front parlour and first glimpsed the elegant furnishings. She had a fairly shrewd idea from where they had come. At least his lordship had put some of the old drawing-room furniture up at the Manor to good use, and no doubt Bunting had been most appreciative. Undeniably it was a deal more respectable than hers at the farmhouse, and she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy.

After taking a seat, but refusing the offer of refreshment, his lordship didn’t waste time in coming to the reason for the visit, which resulted in the old man’s smile instantly disappearing.

If the truth were known, it was something the ex-butler would far rather forget. A lifetime in service, however, could not be so easily forgotten. He would never consider disobeying one of the Viscount’s requests, even though, strictly speaking, he was no longer in his lordship’s employ. None the less, the young master had been generous since his return by providing a comfortable little home, fully furnished. It was little enough to ask in return, Bunting decided.

‘What precisely do you wish to know, my lord?’

‘I’d like you to go through the events of the evening before, when my cousin Francis came to dine. That much I can remember, and storming out of the house in a rage just prior to his arrival, after a—er—slight altercation with my sire.’ His lordship’s teeth flashed in one of his saturnine smiles. ‘Which I’m positive you must surely have overheard, or, at the very least, learned about later.’

‘Quite so,’ the old butler acknowledged apologetically.

Something occurred to Isabel as rather odd at this point in the discussion, but she decided to keep her own counsel for the present, and listened intently to what the old man had to say.

‘Mr Francis Blackwood arrived around six. Dinner that evening was not what you might term an enjoyable affair, as I recall. His lordship was still angry with you, sir. And I have to say your brother didn’t help the situation by reminding his father of certain of your past—er—misdemeanours, though Mr Francis came to your defence on more than one occasion, as I recall, suggesting a career in the army might be the best thing for you.’

‘How very magnanimous of him!’ his lordship put in, still smiling faintly. ‘I must remember to thank him when next we meet. And thank him, too, for taking some responsibility for the Manor during my absence.’ His lordship ceased to contemplate the logs in the hearth, and looked across at his old servant once more. ‘But I interrupted you, Bunting. Pray continue.’

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