Could she use her skills as a lockpick to crack open the secrets to the murder
as well as unlock his heart?
Lady Katherine Thornton has no interest in men after an
indiscretion at her disastrous Season in London. No man can be trusted.
Instead, she indulges in her fascination for gears and all things mechanical.
Her unique drafting skill is an asset to her uncle Bennett Sutton, who is
automating his textile factory. She doesn't need anything else.
Lord Ian Wallace, the 4th Duke of Blackhall, is a retired
military officer. An accidental duke after the deaths of his father and
brother, he retreats from society and the clawing mothers and debutantes who
stalk him. He’s focused all his energy on his partnership with Sutton. He’s
satisfied and needs nothing else.
An oath to marry, a family legend to preserve, an uprising of
the factory workers, and Sutton’s murder, throw Katherine and Wallace together
to find a blackmailer and murderer. They also will find two things neither knew
they were missing… each other and their happily ever after.
Chapter One
June 20, 1815
Royston Mills, Baycliff Woods
The blast of a pistol
shattered the quiet afternoon. Shouts and screams rose, their sound carrying
into the surrounding area. In a clearing by the lake where the wood bordered
the village, the shock and chaos subsided into a deafening silence.
Lord Ian Wallace knelt
next to his business partner, Bennett Sutton. His bruised and bloody face was a
mess of soot and gunpowder. Wallace glanced over his shoulder, signaling his
valet.
“Water. Quick. His eyes
need to be flushed.” Wallace wavered between restraint and rage as he
ministered to Sutton. “Stay calm and whatever you do, keep your eyes closed.”
His hands ran over Sutton’s torso checking for injuries. He found none, other
than the small tremors he assumed were from shock.
“I’m dying.” Sutton
spoke not in disbelief, but in resignation, as if his dying was an undisputed
conclusion.
Wallace’s chest tightened
at the sound of those words. He had heard them before from the injured men he
commanded in Spain. For a moment he was back on the battlefield going from man
to man comforting them, waiting for medical attention and, in too many cases,
saying good-bye.
“Swear to me.” Sutton,
agitated and breathing hard, reached up and grabbed his lapel. “Swear to me you’ll
marry my niece, Ivy-Rose.”
What niece? Sutton had a
niece?
“Swear it!”
“Yes, yes. I swear.” In
a fit of rage, he’d say anything to escape from the madman. It was luck that
Sutton’s gun misfired. He gazed at his friend and partner in disbelief. From
the moment his valet pulled him to the ground he found it difficult to comprehend
why his friend and partner tried to kill him, tried to shoot him in the back.
Sutton tugged on his
lapels. “No, on your honor as a gentleman. Swear it.” Another tug. Bennett’s
strength was waning.
Wallace’s anger
softened. The man had to be kept calm. Roddy, his foreman, and Lord Ryder
Whitaker had gone to fetch Dr. Price. The doctor had left the clearing when
Sutton called off the duel.
“Swear it.” The man
sounded as if it was his last breath.
“As a gentleman, I, Lord
Ian Wallace, 4th Duke of Blackhall, promise to marry your Ivy-Rose.” He bent
closer to him. “Is that better?”
Sutton released his
lapels and slumped onto the ground, his breath coming in spurts.
Lenard returned carrying
a basin of warm water.
Wallace stood aside and
gave his valet room. They had been together a long time. Lenard was his
personal attendant at Cambridge as well as in Spain during the war. Together
they had seen worse. Now he flushed the gunpowder and soot out from Sutton’s
eyes. It would serve Sutton right if the pain was unbearable.
“Much better.” Sutton’s
voice faded to a calm stillness.
Wallace wasn’t sure if his
partner referred to the oath he gave or the warm water.
“Your Grace. I cannot
find any wound.” Lenard kept streaming water over the man’s face.
The battlefield images
flashed in his head. Some had outcomes that were more severe than others. But
that was war, not a card game gone wrong.
“God’s blood, where is
that doctor?” He glanced about.
Sutton raised his face
to Lenard as the man ran more water over him and, with a gentle touch, wiped
him dry.
“You have my thanks.”
Quiet at last, Sutton winced when he tried to lay down on the ground.
“Over here, Dr. Price.”
Whitaker and Roddy led the doctor to the injured man.
“I thought Sutton had
the good sense to call off the duel.” Dr. Price pushed his way in front of
Wallace. “Where did your bullet hit him?”
“I never fired my
weapon.” Wallace stood back to let the doctor do his job.
“His pistol misfired
when he aimed at Wallace’s back.” Whitaker stepped forward. “I stood in shock
when he raised his pistol and took aim.”
The doctor, on his
knees, paused and glanced up at him.
“That’s not at all like
Sutton. Wallace, what did you say to him?” The doctor resumed examining Sutton’s
head.
“Not a thing. I
convinced him to call off this ridiculous duel. I thought to give him time and
hoped he’d have more sense in the morning. I was leaving the clearing, not far
behind you when the shot went off.”
“There are some
abrasions from the powder blast and irritation from the gunpowder, but no
wound.” Price examined Sutton’s hands. Scrapes, a bit of a burn in places, but
nothing fatal. “Sutton’s a lucky man.”
The doctor stood up
cleaning his hands with a cloth from his bag.
“Help me bring him to my
carriage. We’ll take him to the inn. I want to watch him until tomorrow rather
than have him brought back to Sommer-by-the-Sea now.”
Roddy and Lenard lifted
Sutton, made their way through the gathered onlookers, and laid him in the back
of the doctor’s carriage.
“There’s room enough for
you and me up here.” Roddy tapped Lenard and pointed next to the driver.
“I can go with them if
you prefer.” Whitaker stood next to him. “I know you’re the man’s partner, but no
one would blame you for washing your hands of him.”
“That won’t be
necessary. I’ll go with him. I’m staying at the inn.” Wallace got in the
carriage still thinking through the events. He agreed with Dr. Price: this wasn’t
at all like Sutton.
The door closed,
Whitaker signaled the driver, and the carriage pulled away.
“I don’t know what’s
gotten into him.” Wallace stared at Sutton propped up on the seat across from
him.
“I’ve known that man
since he was a boy and agree this is out of character for him. But don’t you
worry, Your Grace. We’ll have him all to rights soon enough.”
The carriage pulled up
to Weaver’s Inn. News of the incident traveled faster than he imagined. More
onlookers buzzed about them like a swarm of angry bees. Wallace led the way for
Lenard and Roddy to bring Sutton up the stairs to his room.
“I’ll stay with him for
a while. Head injuries can be nasty.” Dr. Price stood over his patient and
checked Sutton’s breathing again.
“Ale for you both and
watered ale for Mr. Sutton.” Lenard put the tankards on the table. “Your Grace,
I have the papers you gave me earlier. I’ll put them in your room.”
“I’ll take them. I can
review the documents while I sit with him.” Wallace nodded toward Sutton.
“If that will be all, I’ll
be in the tavern if you need me.” Lenard put the folio on the table.
“I’ll go with you.”
Roddy looked at the patient lying in the bed and shook his head. The two men
left and closed the door behind them.
Dr. Price sat at the
table and took a tankard of ale. “How did this start?”
Wallace sat next to the
doctor and reached for the second tankard.
“I found him troubled over
several issues when I came up from London. He was in a fit over worker demands.
He also expected a sizeable amount of fleece, but instead received a smaller
delivery than promised.
“I had an issue to
discuss with him, but in his state I knew it would be impossible. I thought to
divert his attention, a game of cards to take his mind off everything. Once he
was himself, we could address the business problems and go over my visit to
Cambridge. But Sutton drank too much, took risks no man in his right mind would
take, and lost miserably.”
“And his mood went from
bad to worse.” Dr. Price glanced at his patient, shook his head, and took a
draw on the tankard.
“Yes, it did. I was at a
loss what to do. Sutton wouldn’t stop playing despite losing one game after
another. I couldn’t imagine the situation getting any worse, but it did.
“I dealt the cards. How
Sutton preened like a peacock, so sure the winning hand was his. He drank and
taunted me. He drained his flask dry and had Mr. Jackson fill it to the top. I
was astounded when the deed to his home landed on the table.”
“His cards...” The
doctor closed his eyes and moaned.
“A beginner would know
better than to bet on the cards Sutton held. He had no chance of winning.”
Wallace let out a strained laugh. “I conceded defeat and laid my cards face
down, but Sutton demanded to see them. I refused. He reached across the table
and turned them over. Then he went mad. Sutton grabbed a pen from the bar, sat
down, and started writing. I stayed his hand. I didn’t want his home. I thought
to entice him with the best two out of three games, but he refused. I pay my
debts.”
“Sutton is a proud man
and a man of his word. But I’ve never known him to be this reckless.” Price sat
back, his legs out in front of him, staring at the tankard in his hand.
“Man of his word. We
wouldn’t be here if our workers believed him. I told them over and over the new
mechanicals would not replace them. But fear does strange things to people. If
things go as Sutton and I plan, there will be more work for more people and
more money, not less.
“I offered to speak with
the workers and explain the plan. That’s when Sutton exploded. I tried my best
to calm him, but now I understand. Sutton didn’t calm down during the game. If
anything, his card playing was more intense, more erratic, more irrational.” He
stared at his partner. “My strategy to calm him with the card game did the
opposite. It pushed him over the edge.”
“Don’t blame yourself.
From what you’ve told me, Sutton was already agitated. It wasn’t one thing. It
was everything.”
“My partner accused me
of siding with the workers and called me out in front of everyone demanding
satisfaction. A duel.” Wallace glanced at the doctor. The incident still beyond
belief. “I refused. I told him I had enough of weapons in Spain. Businessmen
didn’t settle disputes with weapons. To everyone’s horror, he slapped my face. I
remember his odd smirk, daring me to ignore the affront.
“Choose your weapon.
I refused. Pistols. You didn’t think I’d want to be near you with a blade.
At least with a pistol I have a fighting chance.
“I still didn’t give up.
“All the way to the field
and even when we arrived, I tried to dissuade him. I would have gladly shot
myself to put an end to his stupidity. At last, the fight went out of him. You
witnessed how we called off the duel, shook hands, and sent everyone home.
Sutton was still holding his loaded pistol. I told him to take his anger out on
the red maple tree, the one by the lake.” He paused and glanced at Sutton. “I
thought he came to his senses.”
“That is how I remember
the morning.” Dr. Price nodded.
“I turned to leave with
the others, only to hear Sutton’s pistol discharge. Lenard pulled me to the
ground. When we got to our feet, it was Sutton who was down.
“I was back on the
battlefield. His... his gun misfired.” Wallace’s voice was a whisper. The blast
of the explosion filled his mind followed by Lenard tugging him, pulling him
down and covering him with his body.
After several
heartbeats, Wallace cleared his throat and glanced at the doctor with a silent
plea for an explanation. There was none.
“Sutton and I met at
Cambridge. We became as thick as thieves. I thought we had developed a fast
friendship and would have wagered nothing like this was possible. I forgave him
many things over the years, but this? How can I be a partner with a man who
would kill me if he didn’t get his way? And over what, speaking to our workers?”
Dr. Price’s sympathetic
expression didn’t make him feel any better. The doctor went to his patient,
touched Sutton’s forehead then put his ear to his chest.
Wallace stood by, unable
to pull his gaze away. His partner appeared at ease, calm for the first time in
days. Like his old self. Wallace downed half the tankard not out of thirst, but
rather out of the need for something to do.
God’s blood. What happened. His explanation of their early
relationship was not an exaggeration. In Cambridge they were like brothers. But
did he really know Sutton? Neither of them talked about their family. All he
knew of Sutton’s family was they were prosperous sheep farmers. He wasn’t even
aware Sutton had a niece.
Wallace downed the rest
of his ale. They had lost touch after graduation. Five years ago, he went back
to Cambridge to honor a retiring professor. Sutton was among the guests. Like
any reunion, they spoke for hours. The years faded and they easily renewed
their friendship. They found they both were adamant. Industrializing was the
way of the future. He was impressed to learn Sutton had struck out on his own
and started a textile company using mechanicals.
He glanced at his
friend. He should be furious and nowhere near the attempted murderer. Instead,
he sat here drinking ale worried about him.
Dr. Price’s expression
faded from concern into pleased. Wallace let out a breath and sagged against
the chair.
“All seems in good
order. His breathing is normal, I do not detect a fever, and our patient is
comfortable and calm.” The doctor gathered his things into his medical bag. “I’m
going home for dinner and a good night’s sleep. I suggest you do the same.”
“Thank you. I’ll stay a
bit longer in case he rouses. I’m sure everything will turn to right in the
morning.”
He saw the doctor to the
door and went back to Sutton’s bedside.
Lenard had done a good
job of cleaning his face. Scrapes and cuts. Nothing very deep. Bluish patches
on his face warned of bruises starting to form. Sutton slept on his stomach
snoring gently with his head pressed into the pillow. He could well have been
back at university after an evening of debating and drinking.
“What were you thinking?”
There’d be no answers
now. Time for that in the morning.
Wallace took a seat at
the small table near the hearth and removed the papers from the folio. One look
at the documents and his mind shifted from Sutton to the work at hand.
The folio held
mechanical drawings, cut-away views of the carder, spinning mule, water frame
and loom mechanicals showing how they worked.
His partner’s ability to
identify potential problems and present credible solutions excited him. As they
worked together, he realized Sutton responded better to the diagrams then
standing and looking at the apparatus. That was of no concern to him. It was
the results that mattered.
Wallace stopped and
stared blankly at the empty hearth. He appreciated the details in the diagrams.
For years, his responsibility focused on drawing very different mechanicals and
situations. He sketched battle placements and troop positions then brought them
back to Whitehall. At least men’s lives weren’t at stake with the drawings in
his hand. Or were they? This unrest was disturbing and growing more urgent.
Shaking his head, he returned to the drawings.
Impressed with his
partner’s grasp of the mechanical inner workings, he went through the comments
on each diagram and added his own.
“Water.”
Wallace turned toward
the bed. Sutton on his back, licked his lips, and gripped the linen covering
him.
Wallace dropped the
papers on the table, picked up the watered ale, and hurried to Sutton’s side.
Snaking his arm under his shoulders, he raised him a bit and put the tankard to
his lips. Ale dribbled down his chin from taking such large gulps.
“Easy now, not all at
once. This isn’t a race.” He put the tankard down.
His partner gazed at
him. “You’ve always been a friend. After all the years in service. We picked up
where we left off.”
As he lowered him onto
the bed, Sutton groaned and arched his back.
“What is it?” Wallace
went to lift him, but Sutton stayed his hand.
“No. It stopped. We have
much to talk about. I want you to tell me about Cambridge.” Sutton fidgeted
trying to find a comfortable position.
“I have a more important
issue to discuss with you. I cannot be a partner with someone who believes in
settling a disagreement with a duel and attempts to put a bullet in my back.”
Sutton went still. His
eyes trained on Wallace. “What’s this about a bullet in your back? Who would
dare do that?”
Wallace bent down and
glared at him, eye-to-eye. “You.”
Neither of them turned away.
“I may not be a good
shot, but as broad as your back is, I couldn’t miss it if I aimed at it.”
Wallace straightened but
didn’t take his eyes off the man.
“Then what were you
aiming at?”
“I fired at the red
maple tree as you strongly suggested.” Sutton blinked trying to focus his
damaged eyes. “Why would I want to kill you? We’ve been friends since
Cambridge.”
Wallace grunted. Sutton’s
words brought him up short. A surge of guilt left him flushed and confused.
Sutton was telling the truth.
“You thought I would...
We may have our disagreements, but we’ve always been open and trusting with
each other. I’m dying, and I go knowing I have been a fair and honest man.”
Sutton didn’t even try to hide his yawn, his eyes closing.
“You’re not dying. Get
some rest. I’ll return later and we can talk more. About...”
Wallace didn’t bother
finishing his sentence. Sutton was sound asleep.
He shoved the papers
into the folio, left the room, and went to the tavern. Lenard sat at a table
with tankards of ale ready.
“How is Mr. Sutton?”
“He woke for a bit. I
left when he couldn’t keep his eyes open. I find it curious. He denies shooting
at me. But rather, he says that he followed my advice and aimed at the red
maple.” Wallace paused. “I believe him.”
“I didn’t wait to find
out where the bullet came from. I pulled you down when I heard the pistol go
off. I would agree that Mr. Sutton wouldn’t hurt you, but Your Grace, after
these last few days can you trust his word?”
Wallace valued Lenard’s
opinion and took his time to think it through. “We have the means to prove
where he aimed. There is still enough light for a walk in the woods. There’s
only one red maple tree by the lake.”
Did he want to know?
Really want the truth or take Sutton’s word? Lenard stood and waited. He downed
his ale and stood.
“Best we get to it.” He
led the way to the door.
A hard, dry cough caught
his attention. “Lord Wallace.”
Alfred Bromley the
manager of Royston Textiles waited for his attention. “Bromley. I’m on my way out.”
“How is Sutton? Nasty
accident. Is it serious?”
“Your concern is
gratifying. He’s resting at the moment.”
“That’s good news. I’ll
let the others know. Please, don’t let me stop you.” Bromley stood to the side
and let them pass.
The sky was ablaze with
reds and oranges as the sun began to sink below the horizon. The summer breeze
shook the leaves as they made their way through Baycliff Woods. They emerged
from the forest onto the field.
“The spot is up ahead.”
Lenard headed for the area where they prepared for the duel.
Wallace, close behind,
scanned the peaceful field and found where Sutton had stationed himself. He
bent and picked up Sutton’s sooty cravat as well as a piece of flint, the
correct size to fit the flint jaw of a pistol.
He stood and glanced
toward the red maple where Lenard headed. The tree was not anywhere near where
Lenard pulled him to the ground. He trudged over to the tree, but Wallace knew
what he would find.
He ran his hand up the
trunk and found the splintered bark, the wound weeping with sap. He closed his
eyes, relieved he had been wrong.
“We’re finished here. I
want to speak to Sutton. I need to make things right. Not tomorrow, but at
once.”
They hurried back to the
inn through the fading light, content that the bullet was in the tree.
“Curious. The pistol
didn’t misfire. If it had, the shot would still be in the chamber. It’s not
like Sutton to mishandle the weapon.”
“It wasn’t like Mr.
Sutton to call you out. He wasn’t himself.”
Wallace nodded as they
entered the inn. Lenard went upstairs.
“Has the doctor returned
to administer to Mr. Sutton?” Wallace asked Mrs. Jackson, the innkeeper’s wife.
“No, Your Grace. No one’s
been to see him. Mr. Sutton’s been as quiet as a mouse.”
Wallace nodded and headed
to his partner’s room. He opened the door and was shocked at what he faced. A rusty sweet odor hit him. Lenard stood in
front of him, his face white as a clean sheet.
“I’ll fetch the doctor.”
Lenard hurried past him before he had time to ask any questions. He didn’t have
to. The familiar odor of blood and death filled the room.
“Wallace? Is that you?”
He rushed to Sutton’s
side. Sutton skin had a bluish tinge. Blood was everywhere. In a controlled
panic, he tried to find the source of the bleeding. Sutton stayed his hand.
“Is Lenard gone?”
Breathing hard Wallace
began to swab and search. Blood oozed from his partner’s nose, ears, eyes, and
mouth.
“Yes. Rest easy. He’s
gone for the doctor.” Wallace rinsed out the cloth and stared at the basin as
the water turned red.
A dry laugh escaped
Sutton’s lips. “Price. Can’t do. Anything. For me. I’m dying.” His halting
words punctuated with shallow breaths led Wallace to believe his partner may be
right.
Sutton beckoned him
closer.
Wallace placed the warm
damp cloth over Sutton’s blood-encrusted eyes and bent closer to him, as he
asked.
“Secure and protect.
Sacred. Coffer.” Sutton, his voice a whisper, was almost out of breath.
Wallace looked at him,
unable to understand why blood oozed from every opening.
“What? Where?” He let
the damp cloth rest on his eyes hoping he cleared them enough for Sutton to
open them. It was a small act, but something he could do to ease his friend.
“Sommer-by-the-Sea.
Guard. With a silver lock—” Sutton went into a fit of coughing.
Wallace raised him up a
bit to help subdue his discomfort. He glanced at the door silently commanding
Price and Lenard to rush in. No one was there.
“Should I add the coffer
to my promise to marry your niece?” He thought to lighten the mood. He pulled
the cloth away with care.
Sutton’s eyes fluttered
open.
The fear in his friend’s
eyes made Wallace stop. “What is it? What must I do?” Anything to have your
rest easy.”
“By your oath.” The man
was out of breath.
“As a gentleman, I, Lord
Ian Wallace, 4th Duke of Blackhall, promise to secure and protect the sacred
coffer in Sommer-by-the-Sea and marry your Ivy-Rose.” He bent closer to
Sutton. “Is that better?”
All the fight seemed to
drain out of his friend as he laid on the bed staring at him.
“Did you. Find the
bullet. In the red maple?” His voice was a whisper.
“You knew I would go?”
Wallace sat on the chair next to the bed.
“You are. The most
thorough. Person, I know. Next to Katherine.” He tried to laugh, but all he let
out of his mouth was foul air.
Wallace wiped the blood
that trickled down his chin.
“I suppose. This wasn’t.
The greeting. You expected. Your first time here. And to the factory.” His
breaths came in spurts. “Tell me. About Cambridge.”
“It can wait”
“But I can’t. Tell me
now.”
“I spoke to several doctors
about creating a clinic for our factory workers. I received as many opinions as
people I interviewed.” Why was this so important to him?
“You’ll made the right
decision…” Sutton gasped for breath, unable to fill his lungs but forced out
another word. “It must be done.”
“Rest. Lenard will be
here with the doctor any time now.”
Sutton gripped his hand.
He arched his spine and reached for his back. Wallace got on his knees next to
the bed and spoke into his ear. “Hold on a little longer.”
Wallace stood by
helpless as his partner fought for every breath; one tortured breath after another.
Each breath was shallower than the last, until there were none.
The door flew open. Dr.
Price rushed into the room.
Dazed, Wallace got to
his feet. Lenard pulled him away.
“What happened after
Lenard left?” Price examined Sutton.
“I tried to help him. No
matter what I did I couldn’t stop the bleeding. From his mouth, his ears, even
his eyes.” Wallace who had been staring at Sutton looked at the doctor. “He
said he was dying. He said the words before, but I thought he was distraught.
You said he would be better by the morning. But when Lenard and I returned from
the tavern we found him...”
“Go on. I must know the
rest.” Price continued his examination.
“I told him you would be
here soon. We settled into a light conversation. He asked about my trip to
Cambridge and appeared to be comfortable until he started gasping for breath.
He reached for his back before he... died.” Wallace bowed his head still trying
to make sense of what happened.
Dr. Price rolled Sutton
onto his side and gave his back a thorough examination.
Curses fell from his
lips as he returned Sutton to his back, placed his arms at his side, and raised
the linen to cover his face.
“What happened? I couldn’t
find any wounds, yet he bled from every opening in his body. A few hours ago,
he was improving.” He searched the doctor’s face, but the man was as shaken as
he was.
“He died from a venomous
poison. I witnessed this one other time, in Africa. A man brought a young boy
to me bitten by a boomslang snake. The poison is slow-acting and causes this
type of bleeding.”
“Snake? Africa? This is
England. The only snakes here are in Parliament.”
Dr. Price let out a
nervous chuckle.
“I stood by and did
nothing as he died. On the battlefield I gave aid, comfort. This happened so
fast.” He stopped the images of the past. No sense going down that path. It
wouldn’t help Sutton. He closed his eyes. It wouldn’t help him.
“There is nothing you or
anyone else could have done for him. Death was inevitable with this venom.”
He understood the doctor’s
words, but they still didn’t make sense.
“An African snake here
in Baycliff Woods? Surely someone would have seen a snake. Where is the bite
mark? You gave him a thorough examination hours ago and found nothing.” Wallace
wasn’t blaming the doctor simply trying to understand.
“I don’t think he was
bitten.” Price lifted the linen from Sutton’s body and rolled him on his side for
Wallace to see his back.
Wallace and Lenard both
glanced at it.
“Do you see the reddened
spot in the middle of his back? It hadn’t festered when I examined him earlier.
If you examine his back now, you will find a small puncture.”
Wallace bent down for a
better view. Sutton’s back had a modest size round irritation. On closer
examination he saw the small puncture.
“This was intentional.”
Wallace stood to his full height and stared at Price. “He’s been murdered.”
The Lady and Her Duke, Book 3 of The Ladies of Sommer-by-the-Sea https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B3B6DX7M/
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