Chapter 21
As the Duke made himself ready, with the help of his valet, for his evening at the home of the Earl of Mortcombe, he realised that he was in good spirits. But, as much as he thought Lady Caroline the only sensible prospect on the list of suitable young ladies that his attorney had drawn up, he knew that it was not on her account that he was in such good humour.
Once again, he had been plunged into thoughts of the masked woman, that wonderful stranger who had so surprised and delighted him at the masquerade ball. She was somehow in his midst again and seemingly watching him.
But how was that possible? How could that anonymous lady watch him without him knowing? Or perhaps that was exactly how she was managing it, which would certainly make her something of a master, or indeed mistress , of anonymity.
She had certainly not been playing at it when he had spoken to her at the ball. No wonder she was so at ease with herself.
And then, on top of all his musings and excitement at the prospect of seeing her again, there was the idea that she was trying to warn him against something. No doubt it was the masked woman who had sent that scruffy little man to her with a message, the first message she had sent.
Was there really some particular danger? Was somebody really trying to mislead him in some way? If that was the case, only one person sprang to mind, and that was the Earl of Dandridge. But how on earth was that ridiculous man in a position to steer Rufus at all? He was a Duke, after all. And he could hardly be deceiving him in any way about either of his daughters because their own behaviour and demeanour proclaimed most clearly exactly the sort of young ladies they truly were.
There was certainly no hiding it, at any rate. Although he knew his thought a little harsh, still it gave Rufus a moment of amusement, and he chuckled suddenly, much to the surprise of his valet who was painstakingly brushing lint from the back of his tailcoat.
“Forgive me, Jones,” Rufus said and chuckled again.
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Jones responded dutifully.
With his merriment over, Rufus returned to the matter at hand. If the Earl was the person who intended to deceive him, then he thought it hardly mattered. But if it was somebody else, somebody quite unknown, ought he to be concerned?
And another thought, a much more pleasing one, was warming at the edge of his mind. What if there was no deceiver at all? What if nobody at all sort to steer him in any direction? What if the masked lady simply sought to dissuade him from making a hasty marriage?
After all, on that wonderful night, he had all but opened his heart to her and told her of his lengthy search for a woman he could actually love, one whom he trusted loved him in return and for himself. What if she was trying to help him, to somehow stop him making a grave error?
Better still, what if she had her own reasons for doing so? Was it beyond the realms of possibility that he had provoked the same interest in her heart and mind as she had in his?
When his valet left him, Rufus went to his nightstand and removed the note once more from the drawer.
“Your Grace,
Forgive my continued interference in the matter of your matrimony, but I must seek to warn you once more. In your attempt to make your engagement with Lord Mortcombe and his family, I would beg that you reconsider the route you take. You must not go in an expected pattern at all, but you must seem to change your mind at the last minute. You must not tell anybody, and do not explain yourself to your driver at all. Please believe that I have your best interests at heart.
With kindest regards,
A Well Wisher.”
The words were intriguing enough, but his eyes flew, as they had done at every reading, to the tiny drawing of the mask. It had to be her; it could be nobody else.
But how did his masked woman know anything of his engagement this week? How could she possibly have known that he was due to have dinner with Mortcombe and his daughter? Unless, of course, she was somehow acquainted with the Mortcombe household.
His head was beginning to ache with so many possibilities, and the idea that he could come to no conclusion at all was not a little frustrating.
He could not work out if his masked lady did not want him to go to Mortcombe at all or if she simply wanted him to get there safely. If only she had been just a little more explicit. And if only she had realised she had only to say the word, and he would relinquish any idea of marrying, any idea at all.
Rufus thought about his intended route through the county and realised that it was, after all, the most obvious choice. But if he changed his route entirely, he would never know why it was that the masked woman had deemed it necessary to do so.
If somebody else sought to end his plans, he would surely only discover it by making his way along the original route in the first place. And if the masked lady sought only to disarrange things, to make him think twice about his engagement that evening, again following his intended route was the only way to discover it. If he made the journey without hindrance, then he would know that the masked lady had invented the entire thing.
If he was honest with himself, Rufus realised that the answer to the second question was very much more important to him than the answer to the first.
But he would have to take it very cautiously. He would have to give as much of an eye to the road as his driver, just in case there was something wrong out there in the world. But at least he was prepared for it if such a circumstance existed. At least he would not be taken entirely by surprise, would he?
Rufus knew that his mind was made up. He would take his original route, but he would leave extraordinarily early. He would instruct his driver to drive very slowly, making use of every extra minute they had. That way he could watch from the carriage window and could focus every ounce of his attention on the task.
Deciding that he did not have a moment to spare, Rufus turned to leave his chamber. He paused at the last minute and returned to his nightstand, opening the little drawer once again.
This time he took out the golden mask that his mysterious lady had worn and awkwardly tucked it into his capacious inside pocket. Suddenly she was real again, no longer a phantom. And he could not help hoping that there was a chance, however slim, that their paths might cross again someday.
And he decided that until that day came, he would keep the only thing he had of her on his person as a talisman, a symbol of good luck that would draw her to him, however fanciful the notion.
His driver had been entirely surprised when Rufus had demanded that they leave almost an hour earlier than intended. He explained it away by saying that he was ready and at a loose end and, as such, would rather take a slow drive than a fast one.
The driver was as good as his word and took them at a very steady pace through the county. It was certainly the tail end of the day, and night was drawing in, although it had not come down entirely. Fortunately, it looked as if it was going to be a clear night, and Rufus had high hopes of a bright moon to light their way.
Ordinarily, the drive to the Mortcombe Estate would have taken no more than half an hour. As they drove, Rufus tried to remember the route in exact detail, trying to draw to mind any points at which an incident could occur. But not knowing what that incident might be, he could come to no conclusion.
Finally, all he could do was focus on the road ahead and the ground around them. It had been his original intention, and he knew that that was the only pastime that would serve him well. But surely even that was not foolproof.
Just as the moon began to show itself, Rufus realised that they were coming upon a heavily wooded area. He could see the black mass of trees in the distance and suddenly had a great sense of foreboding. It was impossible to see what was ahead of them, and he realised that it was the only place along the route that was so ill-favoured regarding view.
He was about to call up to his driver to slow down even further when something caught his eye in the black, indeterminate mass of trees ahead of them. It was a light, he was sure of it. He had seen it wink for just a moment before it had been extinguished.
Was somebody out there waiting in the woods, hiding in the trees? Somebody who had heard them approaching and had sought to conceal themselves fully by extinguishing whatever flame they had at their disposal?
Rufus’s mouth went dry, and he had a sense of impending doom. He tapped hurriedly on the ceiling of the carriage with his cane, and the driver pulled the horses to a stop.
“As quickly as you can, turn the carriage around and head back the way we came,” Rufus called up to the driver. “I have seen something in the distance that I do not like the look of,” he added by way of explanation.
The driver wasted no time in carrying out his master’s demands and, in just a matter of moments, they were on the road again, and the driver quickened their pace. He was no longer heeding his master’s instructions to take the slowest possible drive and instead, quite intuitively, had sensed the warning in the Duke’s voice.
As they sped along the road, Rufus turned to look out of the back of the carriage. Once again, he saw the flickering of a light and was as certain as he could be that there was somebody there who had, after all, been waiting for him, somebody who had lit their torch again as the carriage had turned. But who was it, and what had been their intention?
As much as he wanted to know, he knew that he could not risk the safety of either himself or his driver. He felt sure that anybody waiting in such secrecy in the dark could not have good intentions.
And he could not imagine for a moment that his masked woman would be waiting there for him in the darkness. It was the most unlikely of all explanations, and he dismissed it without a second thought.
No, whatever she sought to warn him against was far more serious than he could have imagined. But why was it that she could not simply tell him? Why could she not seek him out and speak to him in person? Or even write him a much more fulsome and explicit note than the one she had given? Was it possible that she was in danger also and could not risk saying too much?
As he called up to his driver to take an alternative route to the Mortcombe Estate, he wondered if he would ever truly make the acquaintance of that mysterious woman.