The Mysterious Death of the Duke Read online

  “Nothing justifies murder!” he growled. “You almost sound as though you condone it!”

  Lydia lowered her eyes to stare at her hands, the hurt evident on her face.

  “I do not condone murder,” she murmured. “But I did often wonder if your father would not have killed her first.”

  James’ face flushed with indignation.

  “He would never have done that!” he sputtered. “My father was a stern man, yes, but he would never have killed my mother!”

  “If you say so, my duke.” Lydia rose stiffly and smoothed the ruffles of her skirts, to keep her hands busy in her nervousness. “I will see about supper.”

  “Lydia,” James called after her as she reached the threshold.

  “Yes?” She turned with some reluctance but she did not meet his eyes.

  “I will not rest until I understand entirely what has happened,” he told her, his tone softening some. “It weighs heavily upon me.”

  Slowly, she raised her head to meet his gaze.

  “I understand, but what else can you do in this matter? It has been six months. All the witnesses have been spoken to time and again. We have spoken to everyone.”

  James shook his head, his pulse quickening.

  “No,” he countered. “We have not.”

  She eyed him curiously.

  “What do you propose, James?” she asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. He offered her a tight smile.

  “I propose that you have the servants gather your mother’s belongings, and pack ours as well. I would like us all to leave for Luton on the morrow.”

  “Luton?” she echoed meekly. “My mother?”

  James nodded curtly.

  “If we are to get to the bottom of this mystery, we must interview my mother and sister. We shall go to the Balfour Hotel.”

  3

  They took a coach and six to Luton, a journey which should have inspired some excitement in Lydia. The sprawling green landscapes were certainly ones which she normally would have adored along with the rhythmic clomping of the horses but the duchess could feel nothing but anxiety as they travelled.

  She had a terrible sense of foreboding as they closed the distance between Holden and Luton, her palms damp with distress, made worse by her mother’s incessant complaining.

  “Ridiculous!” Elenora sighed, her lips twisted into a sneer of disbelief. “I have no interest in spending time with a murderess and her daughter! I came to Holden to spend time with my own child!”

  Through her peripheral vision, Lydia saw her husband tense although he did not say his thoughts aloud.

  “Mother,” Lydia said imploringly. “This The Balfour Hotel is the finest hotel in all of London.”

  She deliberately avoided the topic of her own mother-in-law. She did not wish to consume her own words later if James’ theory proved founded.

  Imagine the scandal if Her Grace, Patience of Holden would to be tried for murder!

  It was something she could not bear to think about. James might never recover the respect of the duchy if it were learned he had permitted his father’s death to go unavenged for so long.

  It cannot be. I will not entertain this until I have seen proof in the matter.

  “What if we arrive and there is no room for us?” Elenora continued. “What if—”

  “That is quite enough, Lady Blackwell!”

  Both ladies turned to James, shocked by his outburst but Lydia was quietly surprised it had not come sooner.

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “I have heard nothing but endless quibbling from your lips since you arrived yesterday. I am the duke of the duchy, the head of the household and I will not be questioned by an interloper!”

  Lydia was stunned by his rudeness but before either woman could get a word in, James continued.

  “You have nothing but bile to spout from your lips. I have yet to hear one kind word spring from your mouth for me or my wife. You claim to have come to visit. It seems you have come only to cause friction.”

  Lydia’s face flushed hotly and she looked away but she could not deny the slight rush of pleasure which enveloped her body when she realized that he was speaking on her behalf.

  He does care for me, even in his darkest hours.

  At once, she was humiliated by her thoughts. James was worried about finding the truth and she was concerned about his feelings for her.

  Childish. Indulgent, Lydia chided herself but she could not stop herself from casting him a sidelong glance. To her chagrin, he was not looking at her but glaring defiantly at her mother.

  “How dare you!” Elenora snapped. “My husband offered you a home in Whittaker which you accepted without question. You have some gall accusing me of being unkind.”

  “Shrewish,” James corrected and before Lydia could contain it, a titter escaped her lips.

  “You find this amusing, do you? He speaks wretchedly toward your mother and you laugh!” The disbelief on Elenora’s face was enough to wipe the grin from Lydia’s.

  “Of course not, Mother,” she mumbled. “Our wits are all frayed. This is hardly the time to squabble about trivialities.”

  “Harrumph,” Elenora snorted, turning her head deliberately to stare out the coach window. Lydia raised her eyes to stare at her husband and he shook his head, a bemused twinkle in his eye. Silently, she wondered how long he had wanted to speak his mind so clearly to her mother.

  I imagine he endured just as much as I did while we lived with my parents in Whittaker. Father was not easy on him either.

  The realization somehow made Lydia feel closer to James but he had already shifted his gaze toward the windows, leaving her to feel somewhat lost in her place.

  “There!” James called suddenly and their attention trained on the stone structure which appeared in the distance. “That is the hotel.”

  Lydia’s breath was briefly stolen as she stared the majestic white building. The grounds were as immaculately kept as any manor house she had ever known, the pathways groomed and tidy.

  The scent of roses wafted through the carriage as the horses slowed upon their approach.

  “I do wish you had sent word,” Elenora could not resist muttering once more but the couple paid her no mind.

  “It is lovely,” Lydia breathed, momentarily forgetting why they were there. “I daresay, I did not expect such beauty.”

  “I have been here only once before,” James explained as the coach stopped. “With my father when I was a young boy. I confess, I did not remember it being so grand.”

  “I have seen grander,” Elenora insisted and Lydia stifled yet another sigh. There would be nothing that pleased her mother; that much was certain. She had long ago learned that. Why, then, did she hope that one day Elenora might soften her ways?

  The coachman opened the door and Elenora was the first to alight. Lydia was still staring at the beautiful building, awed by its splendor.

  “Lydia…”

  She turned toward her husband.

  “I had hoped that this trip would give you some reprieve from your mother,” he said in a low tone. “Rather than leave you the two of you alone at Pinehaven, I thought she might inflict her endless criticisms on others.”

  Lydia blinked. “I do not understand. What do you mean?”

  “I would not have had you escort me on such an unpleasant task if your mother were not in Holden,” he explained. A slow smile formed on her lips.

  “I appreciate your concern but you must not forget that I am your wife. There is nowhere else I belong than at your side, particularly during trying times.”

  James’ eyes lightened and he returned her smile.

  “Perhaps,” he murmured. “Would you object to sharing a bedchamber? I know we have not done so in many months.”

  Her heart sped at the notion and she opened her mouth to answer as she nodded eagerly but her words were cut off by Elenora’s shrill tone.

  “Must I stand in this heat alone? Such insole
nce!”

  “We are coming, Lady Blackwell,” James grunted with annoyance. He nodded for Lydia to move along and she gathered her skirts in a gloved hand, reaching out with the other one for the coachman to take.

  She stood at her mother’s side in the blazing summer sunshine, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the blinding rays.

  A bellhop appeared seemingly from nowhere.

  “Good morrow,” he said cordially. “Welcome to the Balfour Hotel. May I take your trunks?”

  James appeared before either woman could reply.

  “I request an audience with Mr. Xavier Balfour and his wife, Lady Elizabeth,” James explained and the young man’s brow furrowed.

  “Of course, sir. Are they expecting you?”

  James seemed upset by the question.

  “They are not.” The bellhop was unruffled, his smile fixed firmly upon his face.

  “In which case, may I tell him who calls?”

  “James, Duke of Holden and brother of Lady Elizabeth.”

  The boy’s lips parted as he took in James’ formidable presence before dropping his head into a bow.

  “Of course, Your Grace. Permit me to see you out of the heat and I will seek out their whereabouts.”

  The bellhop wrangled the trunks which the coachman had left upon the path and struggled up the steps with the ladies close at heel.

  The nervousness she had temporarily forsaken came flooding back as they entered the glorious foyer of the hotel. Despite being well dressed and of status, Lydia could not help but feel out of place.

  Perhaps it is the intention behind our visit which makes me so uneasy.

  She had little opportunity to consider her apprehension, though, as her mother stalked toward the concierge desk to rap rudely upon the counter.

  “We will need rooms at once,” Elenora snapped. “The best you have.”

  “Mother,” Lydia breathed, joining her side. “Perhaps we should wait.”

  “Wait for what? The travelling has been hard on my bones.” Elenora tapped against the counter again and Lydia looked helplessly toward her husband but James was focused on the grandeur surrounding them.

  “Have you reservations, my lady?” the man behind the desk asked pleasantly.

  “This is the Duchess of Holden. I am Lady Blackwell of Whittaker and that there—” Elenora pointed half-heartedly behind her. “Is James, Duke of Holden, the brother-in-law of the proprietor.”

  “Mother…”

  Humiliation flooded Lydia and she wished she could disappear. The concierge, however, seemed unperturbed by her mother’s brashness.

  “Welcome!” he said in a jovial tone which Lydia was certain he reserved only for the most trying guests. “I will see what accommodations Mr. Xavier has arranged for you.”

  “James!”

  The sound of a woman’s voice caused both Lydia and her mother to spin as a very pregnant Lise Balfour shuffled awkwardly down the stairs, her face aglow with happy surprise.

  “Lady Lise,” he sighed and Lydia witnessed the undeniable affection on his face. Regardless of their questionable upbringing, a sibling’s love was forever.

  “What brings you here?” Lise demanded, pausing to catch her breath on the landing. An abigail hovered nearby to assist her but Lise waved the woman away. She smiled warmly at Lydia.

  “And Lydia! As I live and breathe! What a wonderful surprise!”

  “You look well,” James said, stepping toward her and placing a hand on her arm, partially to steady her exhausted form but mostly in greeting.

  “You always were a terrible fibber, James,” she chuckled before rising to her full height. Her stomach protruded before her and Lydia guessed she had less than a month left before the arrival of their child.

  A spark of jealousy seized Lydia and she guiltily cast it aside.

  You should be happy for her good fortune, not mourning your sterile marriage.

  Still, she could not stop her longing gaze at Lise or wistful glance toward her husband.

  “Oh, I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to see you,” Lise gushed. “I must run and find Xavier.”

  “I would much rather see Mother,” James replied and Lydia’s body grew rigid with dread.

  He could not have waited a day? she thought but dared not speak her mind aloud. It was why had come—to speak with Patience and learn what she knew about the incident that night, all those months ago.

  “Mother?” Lise said, her smile faltering some. “Yes, of course.”

  She seemed to detect something in her brother’s tone which she did not like but, rather than speak her mind, her gaze swung to Elenora.

  “Lady Blackwell,” she breathed, curtseying slightly. “Forgive me.”

  “Lady Elizabeth.”

  Elenora’s tone was clipped and she wore an almost disdainful look for the comely woman.

  “Matthew,” Lise called to the concierge. “Please find the Duke, Duchess and Lady Blackwell a suite.”

  “At once, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “On the fifth floor,” Lise continued. Matthew paused, his quill poised in midair over the roster.

  “Yes, my lady.” He quickly returned to his ledger without displaying any emotion.

  They have learned not to question a thing.

  “Why did you not send word that you were coming?” Lise wished to know. “We would have been well prepared for you.”

  “And ruin the element of surprise?” James replied dryly but Lydia could see his eyes were clouded with guilt.

  He does not enjoy lying to his sister.

  “Where is your mother?” Elenora demanded quite unexpectedly and Lise’s smile froze upon her face.

  “She is about. I will see you settled and then find her. We will have a lavish supper tonight in honor of your arrival,” Lise continued but Lydia could plainly see the concern on her face.

  She suspects something already. Will she ask me the true nature of our visit?

  Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat. She had no desire to fib to Lise, or anyone else for that matter, but her loyalty was to James, was it not?

  “Well let us get on with it,” Elenora grumbled. “I do not wish to stand here all day!”

  “Of course, Lady Blackwell.” Lise nodded toward the nearby bellhop and he reached for their trunks.

  “Suites 505, 506 and 507,” Matthew intoned sliding the keys across the counter. Lydia’s mouth formed a small “O” of surprise. Had she and James not agreed to share a bedchamber?

  She looked at him expectantly, hoping that he would correct Matthew, but James was far too fixated on his sister to have noticed.

  A sick feeling twisted Lydia’s gut and she hung her head, defeated. She had naively thought that perhaps this trip would not be entirely abysmal, particularly if she might connect with her husband.

  Foolish, silly girl. James has never seen you as more than an arranged bride. He does not much care where he sleeps. He was kind enough to ask you along so that you would not be alone with your mother, but that is all.

  With a crushed and sinking heart, she followed the group up the curving staircase.

  4

  It was not until they were each secured in their chambers did James realize that he and Lydia had not been placed together.

  Briefly, he considered remedying the arrangements but he considered that Lydia had not mentioned the separation either.

  Perhaps she did not truly wish to share a suite after all.

  That thought bothered him. Lydia was his wife, after all. She should be at his side.

  “You will join us for supper,” Lise told him from the doorway of the suite. “I will ensure everyone is present to greet you.”

  “Truly, Lise, I only wish to speak with Mother,” James told her in a low tone. The abigail at Lise’s side did not acknowledge him. The girl acted as if she was a deaf/mute but James knew better. She was simply well trained.

  “You will see Mother tonight,” his sister replied. “She has spo
ken of you often these past months. I believe she was planning a visit to Holden soon.”

  “Does she need to plan a visit?” James scoffed. “It is barely a stone’s throw away.”

  Lise peered at him speculatively.

  “Why have you come, James?” she asked quietly. “And without announcement?”

  “I cannot come to see my sister and mother?”

  “Certainly you can,” Lise replied shortly. “But I have a rather uncomfortable feeling that you are here with ulterior motives.”

  James’ eyes narrowed.

  “What would you have me say, Lise? You and mother had all but forsaken Holden. It is not I who appears suspicious, is it?”

  Lise balked.

  “Suspicious how?” Lise hissed, stepping into the room, uninvited. Without a word to the handmaiden, she closed the door, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared daggers at her brother.

  “I meant nothing by it, Lise,” he assured her, retracting his words quickly. He did not wish to cause friction between them without cause.

  “You meant something,” she insisted. “What is this truly about?”

  “Lise, you and Mother have not been home since Father died. You sent for your belongings. You have barely sent letters. I have merely come to visit and ensure your safety.”

  “There is nothing in Holden for us but terrible memories,” Lise sighed, her face softening some. “Perhaps it seems harsh but Mother and I agreed that we would put the distance between us and start anew here. She is happy, James, for once. She smiles every day. Laughs, even! Can you ever recall a time when you have heard Mother’s laughter?”

  James pressed his lips together.

  What does she have to laugh about? Her husband is dead! Is she laughing because she has gotten away with cold-blooded murder?

  He did not express his burning questions aloud.

  “I am pleased to hear that you are doing quite well.”

  “You must not forget,” Lise continued as though he had not spoken, “I am about to give birth.”

  James cringed slightly at the reminder. It was hardly conversation in which he wished to engage, sister or not.