The next morning, Maitland was still thinking about his conversation with Daphne as he made his way downstairs for breakfast.
He wasn’t quite sure what to do with what she had told him about Nigel Sommersby’s attack on her. What could be done, after all? The man was dead, and it wasn’t as if Maitland had any claim on Daphne beyond that of friendship. The knowledge had put her awkward proposition not long after they met into some sort of perspective, however. And he wished he’d known about her past before he’d rejected her with so little finesse. One thing was clear, however. They had to learn who had actually killed Sommersby. Not only because of Northman’s suspicions about Daphne, but also because despite what he’d said earlier that day in the heat of the moment, it was all too likely that whoever had killed the man had done so because of the Cameron Cipher.
There were simply too many elements that pointed in that direction. First that Sommersby and Foster were in the area expressly to search for the cipher. Secondly, that the man had mentioned, and then been found murdered in, the library at Beauchamp House, where Daphne had been told by Lady Celeste the Cameron Cipher was hidden. It was too much of a coincidence that the man would be killed while in the midst of searching for the thing.
Was it also coincidence that had Foster away on the night of Sommersby’s murder visiting friends whose existence no one could verify? The innkeeper had seemed to think Foster would return, but what if he’d simply disguised his flight by inventing the story of a quick journey? He’d just stepped onto the first-floor landing, when Serena came hurrying toward him, her familiar countenance flushed with anxiety.
“What is it?” he asked his sister, knowing she didn’t upset easily. Especially not after the hard life she’d lived with her now mercifully dead husband. “Is Northman back?”
A gasp sounded behind him, and he turned to see Daphne, looking pale. “Is he here to arrest me?” Clearly she was more worried about the magistrate’s suspicions than she’d earlier let on.
“No, no,” Serena assured her with a strained smile. “I’m afraid it’s a different visitor, though. And I am not sure whether it will be a happy one for you.”
Maitland’s brows drew together. It was likely Sommersby’s father. Though how he could have gotten here so quickly was a mystery. Still, when family was involved, speed was possible.
“Who is it?” Daphne asked, frowning.
Serena bit her lip. “I’m afraid it’s your father, dear. And he does not appear to be in the best of tempers.”
This didn’t lighten the other lady’s expression. If anything, she looked even more troubled.
“What can he be doing here? I expressly told him that I was not to be disturbed during my time here at Beauchamp House.” She rushed forward, leaving the siblings to trail after her as she headed for the drawing room. “If he has need of funds then he will simply have to win it at the tables himself.”
Maitland exchanged a look with his sister as they followed the somewhat windblown Daphne. Surely she hadn’t meant that she had won money for her father in the past. Though God knew she was a gifted card player. She showed no particular fondness for whist as a general rule, but it had only taken a few hands with her to know she possessed exceptional skill there. Likely because of her extraordinary memory.
It might have been more discreet for him to leave her to speak to her father alone, but Maitland found himself pushing past Serena, who seemed reluctant to go back into the drawing room where Daphne and her father were closeted.
“There you are, my dear,” said the Earl of Forsyth with a beaming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Maitland saw at once that Daphne favored him. Her green eyes were the same shade as his, though there were lines of dissipation bracketing the earl’s. And though his expertly cropped blond hair was shot through with silver, what remained of its original color was the same shade as hers. But whereas Daphne’s gaze was focused off to the left of whomever she conversed with, like a bird hovering just over a branch, Forsyth’s speared one with cold calculation. As he did to Daphne now.
“You are looking well, Daphne,” the earl continued, stepping forward to embrace his daughter, who looked as uncomfortable with the contact as Maitland had ever seen her. “The sea air agrees with you. As I knew it would.”
“The sea is very beautiful,” Daphne replied woodenly. “Why are you here, Father?”
“Is that any way to greet your Papa?” the earl chided, stepping back from her and wandering farther into the room, standing to stare out at the gardens below through the window. “I’ve traveled all the way from London to see you. And this lovely estate. I must admit that when I first learned of your inheritance, I thought it was all some sort of trick. But you would have your own way and leave the loving bosom of your family no matter what I said. Now that I’m here, though, and see it in person, I must admit that it’s a lovely spot. And your chaperone, Lady Serena, is quite beautiful, isn’t she? A widow, I take it?”
His jaw clenched at the man’s mention of Serena, and Maitland thought perhaps it was time to announce himself. Daphne seemed not to realize he’d followed her in, and the earl was too busy waxing rhapsodic over the beauties of Beauchamp House.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, Forsyth,” he said forcefully, stepping up to stand side by side with Daphne. He gave a slight bow, perhaps not quite as deep as was warranted, but not caring. “The Duke of Maitland. I am a friend of your daughter’s, you might say.”
What he meant by that last, he could not say, but the man made every bit of protective instinct within him go on the alert. He was her father, but all the same Maitland knew that Daphne was no safer with him than she would have been with Sommersby if he still lived.
At the sound of the duke’s voice, Lord Forsyth turned with almost comical haste from the window and stared. For the barest flicker, he looked angry. Well, if he were upset at the knowledge that his daughter was not without friends, then he would simply have to swallow it. Because Maitland was damned if he’d leave her alone with the fellow.
“Duke,” Lord Forsyth said with a tilt of his head, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I was a friend of your father’s, and had little notion I’d be meeting you here. He was a good man, your father.”
His father had been nothing of the sort, but Maitland was hardly going to discuss it with Forsyth.
“I am here visiting my sister, Lady Serena,” Maitland said coolly, letting the other man know in tone rather than words that he had not appreciated the older man’s speculative words about her earlier. “And of course my cousin, Kerr. He only recently married another of the heiresses here, and resides here with her.”
Forsyth’s eyes narrowed at the implication that Daphne was well protected should her father wish to cause trouble. At least that was the message Maitland was endeavoring to send. And by the looks of it, Forsyth read him loud and clear.
“Capital, capital,” the earl said with false cheer. “A merry party you must all make here. I had no idea you were in such fine company here, Daphne. No notion at all.”
“Because we have not spoken since I left,” Daphne said, looking from her father to Maitland then back again, as if wondering what went on between them. “And now, father, I really must ask you to leave. I have a great deal of work to do and…”
“Don’t be absurd, Daphne,” her father said with a shake of his head. “I only just arrived. And there is something very important I must speak to you about.” He turned to Maitland with a raised brow. “I’m sure you’ll excuse us, Duke. I’m afraid what I need to tell my daughter is private family business.”
Maitland was opening his mouth to tell the man he would leave Daphne alone with him when hell froze over, when Daphne did it for him.
“Maitland stays,” she said, reaching out to grasp him by the arm. It was as much of a cry for help as he’d ever thought he’d see from her. Wordlessly, he slipped her arm into his, as if they were about to promenade round the room. He covered her hand with his, keenly aware of the thread of tension in her.
Once more, the earl’s eyes narrowed, and he turned an assessing gaze on Maitland, perhaps realizing for the first time the threat coming at him from that direction.
His jaw clenched, Forsyth said grimly, “Very well. If you wish your friend to witness our dirty linen, so be it.”
As if needing to be in motion in order to speak, the earl began to pace the area between the window and the fireplace. “You know, Daphne, you left me without any obvious means of recouping what I lost from years of paying that tutor of yours, old man Sommersby.”
“You agreed to pay him,” Daphne said tightly. “After I threatened to expose…”
Hastily, Forsyth continued, “And I am currently in need of funds. As such, I must insist you return to London with me for the time being and meet a particular gentleman who has expressed interest in marrying you. Though his birth is not as high as yours, he’s quite wealthy and will make you a good husband, I trust. He’s assured me he has no concern about your odd ways, if you’re as beautiful as your portrait.”
Before Maitland could burst out with the string of invectives the other man’s pronouncement inspired in him, Daphne said, “I cannot marry this person. I’ve never even met him. You promised me that I would not have to marry someone for money as long as I won enough at the tables. I did so. You promised me, father.”
“I never actually promised, Daphne.” Forsyth said with a shake of his head. “If you chose to interpret it as such, that is not my fault. Now, go pack your things.”
Daphne’s hand on Maitland’s arm gripped him tightly. And before he even knew what he was doing, he said, “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Forsyth. Daphne is staying here.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, Maitland,” said the earl through clenched teeth, “but I am her father, and I am well within my rights to take her back to London. Now, kindly take your hands off of her and let her go pack.”
“It might once have been your right, Forsyth,” Maitland said coldly, “but Lady Daphne is my betrothed now and as such, she will remain here. With me.”
* * *
“Maitland, what are you…?” Daphne could barely articulate the question she was so flummoxed. Why on earth would he say such a thing?
“Hush, dearest,” he said in a chiding tone, while his hand that covered hers squeezed in some sort of signal. “I know we did not wish to make our betrothal public yet, but you must admit that your father has a right to know. Especially in light of his reasons for coming here.”
Which gave Daphne pause. She might be of age, but he was still her father, and could if he so chose remove her from Beauchamp House and force her to marry this fellow he had waiting in London. It had happened twice before, that he’d tried to force her into matrimony with some wealthy man with no more sense than hair. She’d thought that by leaving him with the small fortune she’d managed to win at the tables before she left to the coast, she would be safe from his importuning for a while. But clearly, she’d underestimated the amount of time it would take him to blow through twenty thousand pounds.
Glancing at her father’s face now, she saw that he was calculating how he might squeeze as much or more money from Maitland than he’d have gotten from the prospective suitor in London. His next words told her she was right.
“What a charming surprise,” said the Earl of Forsyth rushing forward to kiss her on the cheek and pound Maitland on the shoulder.
“I should have guessed it as soon as you entered the room together,” he continued, beaming at them. “It was as plain as the nose on your face.”
Daphne couldn’t help reaching up to touch her nose. She’d always rather liked it. But, there was no accounting for taste.
“So,” Maitland was saying, “you can understand why I should not wish her to go back to London with you. Aside from the fact that she truly does have work to do here, I shouldn’t want her to catch someone else’s eye while she’s in town. You understand, of course.”
Except that her work would need to be put aside for the time being because she needed to find out who had killed Sommersby, Daphne thought. Which reminded her, she’d not told her father about that.
“Of course, my boy, of course,” Forsyth said jovially. “And I suppose you wish to be married just as soon as the banns are read? She’s not getting any younger, is she, eh?”
“I’m only one and twenty, Father,” Daphne said defensively. “Besides which, I can marry at any age. What’s that to say to anything?”
“And I would marry you at any age, my dear,” Maitland said in a soothing tone. “Perhaps you can leave me alone with your father for a bit so that we can discuss the business details. Marriage settlements and the like.”
“But we aren’t act—”
To her shock, Maitland stopped her words with a quick kiss. In a low voice, he whispered, “Stop talking. Trust me.”
Too startled to gainsay him, she nodded, and with one last glance at her father, she hurried from the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
* * *
Once they were alone, Maitland turned back to Lord Forsyth. “Let us speak plainly, Forsyth.”
“By all means,” said the earl, indicating with a flourish of his hand that Maitland could have a seat if he wished. A gesture the duke found amusing considering the man had only just entered the room for the first time a little over half an hour ago. “I cannot say I understand what reason you might have to want my daughter, considering she has only the small marriage portion left to her by her mother’s side of the family, but I daresay you wish to keep Beauchamp House in the family.”
Could the man really have no notion of just how beautiful and intriguing his own daughter was? Maitland had thought the man was more clever than that. Clearly he was wrong.
As if reading his thoughts, the older man waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I know she’s lovely enough. But she’s got no conversation to speak of. Unless one wishes to discuss maths all the day long. Or worse, to be told to one’s face the innumerable ways you fall short. It’s a high price to pay for a bit of skirt, which I should know since her mother was just the same way, though she brought me enough of a dowry that I was able to overlook her strange ways.”
Disgusted at the man’s callousness, Maitland bit back a sharp retort. “Let’s just get down to business shall we? How much to make you leave for London on the next mail coach?”
“How eager you are to get me away from her,” Forsyth murmured, his eyes searching. “One would almost think you didn’t wish to know your future bride’s family. What if I have a wish to remain here for a little while? To meet my daughter’s new friends? Or would that put a crimp in your plans, Duke? Are you enjoying the benefit of her favors before the banns are called? If that’s the case, then I shall expect to be compensated.”
“Thus making you your daughter’s panderer,” Maitland spat out. “I thought it was impossible for you to fall in my estimation but I see now I was mistaken. Though I suppose I should not be surprised given how little you did to protect her from Sommersby.”
At the mention of Sommersby, Forsyth’s anger turned to puzzlement. “What has the old tutor to do with anything? She had no need of protection from him. If anything, it was the other way round. I thought she’d exhaust him with how she demanded more and more lessons from him.”
“Not the elder Mr. Sommersby,” Maitland said with a shake of his head. “The younger. Nigel Sommersby.”
Forsyth rolled his eyes. “There was nothing to protect her from there either. He was a weakling. Barely strong enough to lift his boots. If you’re telling me he posed some sort of threat to her, you’re sadly mistaken. He was enamored of the chit, of course. But he left when she was fifteen. There was nothing between them.”
“Then you will perhaps be interested to know he was found murdered in this house night before last,” Maitland said coldly. He wasn’t sure why he wished to see the earl’s response to the news that Sommersby the younger was dead. Perhaps it was the fact that Daphne’s father had shown up unexpectedly on their doorstep so soon after Sommersby’s death. Or maybe it was because he wished to be the one to tell him that the fellow had attempted to rape her and he’d done nothing to stop it. Or avenge it.
That, however, was Daphne’s secret to divulge, much as he’d like to cram the news down her father’s throat.
Forsyth’s response to the news of Sommersby’s murder, however, was all that Maitland could have wished.
“Nigel Sommersby?” the older man sputtered. “Dead?” Gaping, he looked as if he would collapse, but in a show of determination, he soon recovered his composure.
“What was he doing here of all places?” he continued, his face a mask of mild interest. “And what sort of protection are you offering my daughter if you would allow a man to be murdered beneath the very same roof where she sleeps? I cannot like it, Duke. I cannot like it at all.”
It was somewhat reassuring to see Forsyth react like a father—even as tepid as his indignation was. Of course, he ruined the effect with his next words. “Perhaps I should remain here for the time being. Just to ensure her safety, you understand?”
Or to use as an excuse to extort more money from his supposed future son-in-law, Maitland thought wryly. He had to give it to the earl, he was up to every rig.
“I do not think that will be necessary,” he assured Forsyth. “I simply thought you might wish to know, given that the man once resided in your London residence. I also thought you might know how we might contact the elder Mr. Sommersby. He will wish to know at once what’s happened.”
Daphne might know the fellow’s direction, but Maitland would spare her the necessity of contacting him if he could.
“It isn’t as if I spend time with these men, for heaven’s sake,” Forsyth protested. “We barely spoke. The tutor was there to perform a service. And his son was of no consequence to me. As for the whereabouts of the elder Sommersby, I have no idea. Once he left the house without notice, I never heard from him again.”
“Without notice?” Maitland was startled despite himself.
Forsyth shrugged. “It was of no matter. Between you and me, I was glad he was gone so I no longer had to pay him.”
Which didn’t surprise Maitland in the slightest.
“It was Daphne who was overset by it. And I can’t say I blame the gel,” Forsyth continued, “for she spent nearly all her time with the man for years. Excepting of course those occasional evenings out when I encouraged her to accompany me. She was far too good at the tables to leave at home, you understand?”
Maitland would have liked to speak a few home truths to Daphne’s father about that, but he knew it was no use. Men like Forsyth were unrepentant. Maitland knew that well enough from dealing with his own father.
He ignored the question and asked one of his own. “The man simply packed his bags and left without telling anyone where he’d gone?”
“That’s the long and short of it,” Forsyth agreed. “I don’t know if my daughter’s strange ways got to him or if he found a better position or what. But he left, and there was no way to know where he’d gone.”
Daphne hadn’t mentioned any of this. Perhaps she knew more about the tutor’s disappearance than her father did. He would ask at the next opportunity.
“Is she upset by it, the death of Nigel Sommersby?” Forsyth asked, looking troubled for the first time since Maitland had met him. At this rate, Maitland didn’t know if the man was coming or going. “I don’t think she was fond of him in the same way he was fond of her, if you get my meaning, but they were friends, I suppose. It can’t have been easy to know he died here while pursuing her.”
“Pursuing her?” Maitland echoed.
“That has to be why the fellow was here, after all.” Forsyth shrugged. “He must have got wind of Daphne’s inheritance somehow and come to ingratiate himself with her.”
Just as you have done, Maitland thought, scowling.
Able to stand no more of the earl’s scheming, he clapped the other man on the back. “Let’s discuss the marriage settlements now. Of course, I will be more than happy to give you something to tide you over until the marriage.”