Chapter Seven
‡
Dominick blamed himself for not knowing she’d left earlier. It was his own fault for not prioritizing his correspondence, as was his usual practice. But the servant who’d delivered the letters had placed one from the bailiff of his property in Yorkshire on top, and Dominick had not looked at any others in his haste to read that one.
As matters in Yorkshire were still tenuous, he had replied at once and only glanced through the rest of the letters when he’d finished with the most pressing issues. That was when he’d spotted the letter from his secretary in London and one from Mrs. Dashner. It was addressed to him, not Miss Dashner, which he supposed made sense, as it was easier to find a duke than a young lady of no real name or fortune.
He opened the one from his secretary first and read it quickly, nodding the entire time. It seemed Dominick had been right to question the credentials of Doctor Banting. The secretary wrote that the man had few if any credentials and had a reputation for being a fraud and a cheat. In the opinion of the men the secretary had interviewed, consulting with Banting would do a patient more harm than good. Dominick would show it to Rosalyn—Miss Dashner, he had to stop thinking of her so informally—immediately. When they returned to London, she could dismiss the fraud and engage the services of a doctor who could provide real care for her brother.
Dominick supposed the letter from Mrs. Dashner was to ask for more money. These were the sorts of letters he was used to receiving. He only hoped the woman didn’t attempt to threaten him with some lie, like he’d stolen her daughter away. He would not show this letter to Miss Dashner. She had not once asked him for so much as a ha’penny. She didn’t appear to have any designs on him. After that kiss, he’d worried he’d opened himself up for a seduction ploy. Would she try to repeat it when they’d both be discovered, then force him into proposing marriage? But she’d made no attempt to be alone with him or to steal into his room at night, even though it would have been incredibly simple, as their doors were but a foot apart.
He certainly hadn’t slept well thinking about her on the other side of the wall they shared. He could hear her conversing with Alice, her maid, and he tortured himself, wondering if she was dressing or undressing. She might be petite, but he had held her close enough that he knew she still had a woman’s figure. He would have liked to explore those curves and dips at leisure.
Pushing his lustful thoughts away—again—he opened Mrs. Dashner’s letter and then stood. He couldn’t have been more wrong about the reason the woman had written. It wasn’t any sort of scheme. It was a notice that Michael Dashner had taken a turn for the worse. Mrs. Dashner did not expect Rosalyn to rush home, as she knew her daughter had given her word to the duke, but would he ask Miss Dashner if she wanted to pen a final note to her brother in case he passed away in her absence?
“What rot!” Dominick said and swore. He’d do far better than asking Rosalyn to pen a note. She needed to see her brother in the flesh. He’d take her home immediately. Tonight. And he’d pen a note now to have the best doctor he knew, his own, sent to tend to Michael.
He was almost to the door when he realized that leaving now meant he would not acquire The Duke’s Book in time for Professor Peebles’s retirement. The volume on arcane medical knowledge would not be among those presented to the man. Dominick would be the only one who failed in the quest to reunite the complete set.
And he didn’t care a whit.
The revelation stunned him. He’d rarely cared for anything more than he cared for his collection of books, but he had come to care for Rosalyn. He’d come to anticipate her smile, look forward to her morning greeting, long for her kiss. Dominick couldn’t imagine seeing the light go out of her eyes if her brother died. And it wouldn’t happen if he could prevent it.
He could find The Duke’s Book another time. But at the moment, it was as useless as the medical knowledge it contained.
A moment later, he tapped on Rosalyn’s door. When her maid opened it, he realized he hadn’t thought what he would say. But he wasn’t given time. The maid looked as though she had been crying. “Your Grace, thank the Lord you are here. I cannot find her.”
“Miss Dashner? You mean, she isn’t in her room?”
The maid shook her head. “No, Your Grace. I left for a few minutes to bring the tea tray down to the kitchen, and when I came back, she was gone.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“An hour at least, Your Grace.”
Dominick clutched the door’s casement. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
The maid shrank back at his harsh tone. “I-I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
Dominick wasted no more time. He all but ran down the stairs and into the common room. A few questions told him no one had seen Miss Dashner in the inn. In the stable, no one had seen her either, but a quick check showed that one of the horses was missing, as was some tack.
She’d left. She’d taken the horse and left.
And since she didn’t know about her brother, there was only one place she would go. The image of her battered and broken body lying on the rocky ground beneath The Temples flashed in his mind.
“No!” he yelled and began to shout orders.
*
Rosalyn descended the narrow, stone steps leading into the castle keep, then spent some time at the base working to wedge the door open. If she’d had to guess, she would have estimated it had been at least a century since the steps had last been used and the door was stuck closed. Fortunately, it wasn’t locked. And when, with bruised shoulders, she finally opened it, she stepped into a small, dark corridor. The door was at the end of a short, bare hallway with a wooden floor. Closing the door behind her, she made her way along the hallway and encountered another set of stairs. These were wider and cleaner, and she descended them, electing to explore the first landing she reached rather than continue into the bowels of the keep.
The landing led to a small antechamber, which was ornamented with rugs, dark wooden furnishings, and tapestries. No fire burned in the hearth, and with her wet clothing, she shivered in the chill. But she could feel a warmth emanating from the door at the other end of the chamber. A light shone through the sliver of an opening, and she could hear the crackle of logs in a hearth. She tiptoed to that door and peered inside.
A figure sat near the fire, small and clad in black. The woman—Rosalyn surmised it must be a woman—was bent over with concentration. It was a posture she knew well from watching her own mother sewing by firelight. As though sensing she was being observed, the woman turned. “You should have stayed away,” she said.
*
Dominick found the horse Rosalyn had ridden some little ways from The Temples and tethered his own beside it. The rain made the rocks on the path slick, but he ran at full speed, his eyes scanning the stone walls of the structure for any sign of Rosalyn. When he didn’t see her on his approach, he ran around to the back, slowing to take more care on the narrower path. But he did not see her. Holding his breath, he looked over the cliffs to the ocean below. In the darkness and rain, it was impossible to discern anything about the shapes below. They might be bodies or boulders. If she’d attempted to climb the building and had fallen, she was certainly dead.
His heart clenched as he considered that possibility. He didn’t care about the damn Duke’s Book any longer. He wanted only to see Rosalyn smile at him again. He wanted only to know she was alive and well.
Dominick ran to The Temples’s entryway and hammered the knocker on the door. After five minutes, his arm ached, but he wouldn’t give up. If he had to break the door down, he would gain entry. He had to believe she had made it inside. Finally, Mrs. Wright opened the door. She looked white-faced and wide-eyed. “Your Grace, may I help you?”
“I’m looking for the woman who accompanied me on my first visit. Have you seen her?”
The housekeeper’s eyes lowered. “You will have to return later, Your Grace. There’s been a disturbance.” She began to close the door, but Dominick wedged his shoulder against it.
“I’ll not come back later. If she is here, I demand to see her.”
“No one is to be admitted,” she said, as though repeating a refrain. Dominick had heard enough. He took the older woman by the shoulders and gently moved her aside before shouldering his way in.
“Where is she?” he asked. “Tell me.”
Mrs. Wright looked up.
Dominick took the steps two at a time.
*
“I suppose it was too much to hope that I would get away with it,” the woman said, setting her sewing aside and rising. She was perhaps sixty, slim, with gray hair and a straight spine. She was only a few inches taller than Rosalyn, but her rigid posture made her seem taller. “I do wish you would have listened to Payne and gone away.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosalyn whispered. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I need to see the earl.”
The woman sighed. “You cannot. He’s dead.”
Rosalyn took a step back. The woman’s words rang in her ears like a warning. I suppose it was too much to hope that I would get away with it. Had she killed the earl?
“Now you know my secret,” the woman whispered.
Rosalyn shook her head. “I don’t know anything. I can leave now. No one has to know I was here.”
“I wish that were true,” the woman said sadly, “but you will tell someone. I don’t know how I kept it a secret this long.”
“I won’t tell your secret.” Rosalyn began to back into the cold, dark antechamber. “No one need ever know I was here, Mrs.—”
The woman raised her steel-gray brows. “I am Lady Verney, and you have no need to be afraid. I didn’t kill him.”
Rosalyn let out a long sigh. Thank God. This was the earl’s wife, and she hadn’t murdered her husband. But then, why did she keep his death a secret?
“Payne!” the countess called. A moment later, the butler stepped out of the shadows behind Rosalyn, making her jump. “Please bring us tea. This young lady must be cold and wet. Miss—?”
“Dashner,” Rosalyn said.
“Miss Dashner, do come sit by the fire with me.”
With Payne blocking her only escape, Rosalyn did not see how she had much choice. She entered and sat in a chair not far from the one the countess had occupied when sewing. The countess sat as well, and Rosalyn fidgeted, unsure what she was to do next. “I am sorry for your loss,” she said to break the silence.
The countess raised her brows. “I’m not! The man was mad, had been mad for twenty years. His death was a blessing, I will tell you that. He used to run about here babbling nonsense. Half the time, he was dressed in rags or wore nothing at all. We couldn’t keep any staff and spent a fortune on doctors. Nothing helped.”
Rosalyn could understand that feeling.
“The last doctor wanted to take him away, put him in some sort of institution.” The countess shook her head. “I wouldn’t allow that. He died at home, in his own bed, among people he knew.”
“That is a blessing,” Rosalyn murmured.
“Yes.” The lady’s eyes sharpened. They were a pale blue, rimmed with gray. “But you didn’t come to hear about my late husband’s last days. You are here on behalf of the heir, that awful, awful boy.”
Rosalyn blinked in surprise. “No. Actually, I don’t know anything about any heir. I’m here for a book.”
“A book?”
“Yes, a manuscript, actually. It means a great deal to a friend of mine. He’s willing to pay for it. He’s a collector of sorts, you see.”
“I see.” She rose. “Come with me, Miss Dashner.”
Rosalyn’s belly clenched. “It doesn’t matter anymore. If you just let me go—”
“You’ll want to see the library,” the countess said. “Come with me.”
Rosalyn saw no option other than to follow the countess out of the room and down a stairway. The lady descended, then paused, indicating Rosalyn should precede her when they reached the next floor. Rosalyn’s heart thudded in her chest. She was so close now. Could the countess really possess The Duke’s Book? In a matter of seconds she could acquire it and give it to the duke. Then he would pay her the remainder of the fee. Her family would be safe for a little while. And the duke would have what he wanted. She knew how much this manuscript meant to him.
Rosalyn veered in the direction the countess indicated and paused before a closed door. The lady extracted a long key from a chain at her waist and unlocked the door. Then she lifted the burning sconce at the door and shone it into the room. Rosalyn gasped just before she heard the shout.
*
“Rosalyn!” Dominick called. “Are you here? Rosalyn!” Dominick ran up the stairs, his voice echoing off the stark walls. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a woman’s voice. He paused, listening.
“I’m here. In the library.”
The library? Dominick took several more steps, pausing at a landing where light flickered from the open door of a chamber. He moved toward it, pushed the door open, and there stood Rosalyn and another woman, an older, handsome woman.
Behind them was a large library filled with dozens of gleaming shelves, all empty. Not a single book or piece of furniture inhabited the room. It was completely empty, shining from recent polish and echoing hollowly at the sound of his footsteps.
Dominick ignored the room and strode to Rosalyn.
“May I present—”
He took her into his arms, pulling her tightly against him. She was wet and shivering, but she was whole and she was alive. He held her close, his eyes closed as he rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re alive,” he murmured. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m alive,” she murmured. “But the earl isn’t so fortunate.”
He pulled away from her, looking down at her face. She looked so pale and cold. “Tell me you didn’t climb the walls to gain entrance. Tell me you knocked on the door like a sane person.”
Her dark brows drew together. “You really have no faith in my abilities, do you? Of course I climbed the walls.”
He wanted to laugh and to shake her all at the same time. “Of course you did. Never again, do you hear me? I don’t want to lose you.”
“But I did it for you. I know how much the book means to you—”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing compared to your life.”
“Should I leave you two alone?” asked the woman.
Dominick stepped back, and Rosalyn made the introductions. “Lady Verney, this is the Duke of Tremayne. Duke, the Countess of Verney.”
“I am terribly sorry to inconvenience you like this,” Dominick said. His gaze drifted back over the library. The very empty library.
“I suppose there is nothing for it now,” the countess said. “I am found out, but you will at least allow me to explain before you contact the proper authorities.”
“There’s really no need,” Dominick said, thinking of the letter from Mrs. Dashner.
“Please,” the countess said. How could Dominick refuse?
They were led to a drawing room and served tea and biscuits. With the rumble of thunder in the distance and the flash of lightning at the windows, the widow began her tale.
“I married very young,” she said. “Younger even than you.” She nodded to Rosalyn. “The earl was quite sane then, and we were fortunate to have many happy years. But there was sadness as well. We had no children, and we always knew The Temples would go to a virtual stranger, especially as time passed and nephews and brothers passed away, some of them meeting sad ends. When the earl’s real descent into madness began, I had the lawyers discover the identity of the next heir. It took almost two years to unravel the lineage and follow each branch to its conclusion. Finally, they located a cousin, a third or fourth cousin to my husband. I summoned him here, and one meeting told me all I needed to know.”
“What was that?” Dominick asked, drawn into the story despite his impatience to be gone.
“The man was worthless. He’d spent his life and his fortune on women and gambling. He had the gall to ask me for money when he came, and when he looked at The Temples, all he saw was what he could sell to finance his liaisons. I told him no and sent him back to London. I would have prayed for the earl to live forever if it would mean that awful man never inherited.”
“But he didn’t live forever,” Rosalyn said.
“No.” The countess was steely-eyed again. “He died a year ago.”
Dominick could not quite stop the quick intake of breath.
The countess closed her eyes in shame. “It is shocking, I know. We told no one, Mrs. Wright, Payne, and I. We buried him ourselves and told visitors he was not well.”
“But you must have known you could not keep his death a secret forever,” Rosalyn said. Dominick was glad she’d spoken, her voice soft and full of understanding. He was rather less understanding. As a duke from a long, prestigious line, he considered the countess’s actions a shocking betrayal of her rank and station.
“I knew, but I needed time. Time to put The Temples’s finances in order, time to make sure that it would stand, no matter what that awful man tried to do to it. And I confess, I took that time to sell some pieces I should not have, pieces that by all rights should go to the next earl. But I couldn’t allow paintings I loved or the books the earl had collected to fall into that man’s hands. I couldn’t!”
Now Dominick did understand. He too felt a kinship with his books. He would not want them sold off or ignored should anything happen to him. “What did you do with them?”
“I sold them to a W. Stanley & Co. I researched dealers, and he has a very good reputation. I know he will see they are well taken care of.”
Dominick knew the man, and he could not fault her choice.
“But my actions were not wholly unselfish,” the countess said. “Because of the sad state of our finances, I was left with very little when the earl died. I have a niece I can live with, but she is not wealthy. I would hate to be a burden to her, and I will admit I took some of the money and put it away for myself.”
Dominick felt Rosalyn’s gaze on him, and he knew she saw her own mother in this woman. Here was another widow who would be thrown out, through no fault of her own, and all but left to her own devices. Well, Dominick had no desire to bring any further misfortune on the countess. “My lady,” he said, “I cannot say I agree with your actions, but neither do I have any desire to reveal them. I believe I speak for Miss Dashner and myself when I say that your secret is safe with us.”
She stared at them for a long moment. “Bless you. You will not have to keep it long. That I promise you.”
Dominick held up a hand. “I want no details, my lady. As far as I am concerned, we never gained entrance to The Temples.” He rose. “And to that end, I think we had better take our leave.”
The countess rang the bell. “I’ll have Payne see you out.”
Dominick bowed and took Rosalyn’s arm. As he left the drawing room, he felt his dream of acquiring The Duke’s Book slip away. He could find W. Stanley. He could instigate a search for the manuscript there, but the thought gave him no pleasure.
He no longer had any appetite for The Duke’s Book. It was as though The Duke’s Book had been a child’s sweet, and Dominick’s palate had matured. He couldn’t understand why it had ever meant so much to him.
“His lordship loved the library,” Payne said as he escorted them through the foyer. “He spent hours inside.”
“I can see it would have been impressive,” Dominick said. “I think the earl would be pleased that his books are now in good hands.” He could feel Rosalyn staring at him in shock, but he’d explain later. Now he wanted her safe and at his side.