Page 42 of Unchaining the Heart of the Marquess
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Buckworth bowed, and the three men sat down to eat. Moments later their meal was interrupted by a scream.
Mother?!
Chapter 20
Frederick, Lt. Buckworth, and the Duke all raced up the stairs to the Duchess’ bedchamber. They passed a concerned Greeves and Mrs. Merton standing at Josephine’s door in the hallway. Bursting through the door, they found the Duchess’ lady’s maid standing at the window staring down into the darkness. At her feet lay pieces of shattered glass and a rock with a note tied to it. The note read, ‘This is your last chance. Next time it will be a bullet.’
“Quick! Search the grounds,” the Duke ordered taking his frightened wife into his arms.
Frederick and the lieutenant raced out of the door. “Greeves, stay here and protect the women,” he ordered as he passed the footman once more.
“Yes, My Lord.” Greeves nodded and urged Mrs. Merton back inside of Josephine’s room.
The men of the estate scoured the landscape as best they could in the dark, but did not find any signs of the message bearer. Frederick instructed his father’s footmen and groomsmen to stand guard while he returned to the house to see how his mother was doing after the incident. When he entered her bedchamber, he found her sedated. “How is she?”
“She was beside herself. We gave her one of the doctor’s sleeping draughts,” his father replied.
“This has gone too far, Father. When she awakens, she must tell us the truth.”
“Your mother has made it perfectly clear that she does not intend to share anything with us. I am at a loss as to how to address this, Frederick.”
“As am I, Father. As am I.” Frederick frowned down at his mother’s sleeping face. He loved her more than life itself and felt great sympathy for her situation, but her refusal to aid in her own protection frustrated him beyond words. “But what else can we do than to keep pressing for answers until she is safe?”
“I do not know, but it cannot go on as it is. That has been made quite clear.” The Duke frowned rubbing his temples.
“We could move her secretly to an undisclosed location, but as we do not know from whence the threats are coming, we could be playing right into the hands of her aggressor. In spite of this evening’s incident, I still believe it is best to have her here under guard. Although, I must admit I cannot help but wonder if she would be more willing to address the threat if we took her to Dun Dubh.” Frederick felt for his father’s distress but knew nothing to ease his pain.
“I do not see how that would be of aid. It seems to me that such a journey would only increase her nervous behavior. This is so unlike your mother. She has never for one moment gave me such cause for concern. The doctor claims it is the fragility of the feminine sex.”
“I do not believe that for one moment,” Frederick answered shaking his head. If Josephine had taught him anything, it was that women were as capable as men, perhaps more so in some cases. He knew such a notion was not popular among many of his contemporaries, but they had never met Josephine. Growing up, she had bested him in nearly every mode of competition there was, more than proving herself to be his equal in skill and intellect.
“Nor do I. One thing your mother is not is fragile.”
“I concur. There is something much greater going on here, and Mother holds the key.”
“You said the Evans brothers know what occurred and yet refuse to tell you. Remind me why you did not have them arrested for poaching? There is nothing like the threat of the noose to loosen tongues.”
“They were poaching to feed starving children. How could I in good conscience do anything else?”
“The law is the law, Frederick.”
“When it comes to people starving in the streets, I do not agree, Father, and neither did Grandfather.”
“The indomitable Mr. Smythe,” the Duke sighed in exasperation.
“Yes, Mr. Smythe is a fine example of what can come from giving a starving man a second chance to do the right thing. Were it I, I would want that for myself.”
“You were born into nobility. That is not even a remote possibility of happening to you.”
“An accident of birth.” Frederick waved away his father’s words.
“A benediction of God. It is not your place to sympathize with criminals, Frederick. You were born better than they and always will be.”
His father’s prejudice bothered Frederick more now than it ever had before. “I disagree, Father. Our privilege does not make us better than they are. It simply makes us better able to help others if we so choose.”
The Duke studied his son’s face as if he were looking at a stranger. “I did not raise you to such ideals.”
