Page 9 of Death at Fournier Downs
“The duke insisted,” she said softly to Hugh.
“I understand.” Riding out into the parkland alone, just the two of them, would have inspired gossip and speculation, and the duke would not have invited that. It was also possible he simply did not want his wife alone with another man.
The duchess mounted her own horse without the help of a groomsman. She did not ride sidesaddle either. The skirt of her riding habit was voluminous enough to accommodate, though her raised hem did show a peek of white stocking at the lip of her boots.
Hugh swiftly mounted, and a moment later, he was following the duke and duchess across a rolling stretch of lawn, toward a line of mature whitebeams. Lady Cassandra pulled her mount, a shiny sable, next to his roan.
“Is it very dangerous, being a Bow Street Runner?” she asked, forgoing pleasantries all together. It was something Hugh appreciated.
“The criminals I apprehend are, for the most part, not so dangerous as they are dim-witted.”
She laughed, the sound a bit too bright for the task they were undertaking. He was relieved that he would not be finding a body at the bottom of the quarry, but then, that also limited him in his investigation.
“Audrey refuses to tell me anything specific about last April,” the duke’s sister went on, animated now. “I’ve asked and asked, but she has been so vague. The only thing she has parted with is that she was shot and fell into the Thames—something she made me swear to hold my tongue about—and that you rescued her.”
Hugh’s muscles tightened at the memory. The roan snuffled and pranced, feeling the change in its rider’s mood. He’d watched, helpless, as Miss Lovejoy’s murderer had shot Audrey, the duchess then toppling backward, into the soupy Thames. Thankfully, the gunshot had been a minor wound, but her dress and cloak were so heavy, she would have drowned had Hugh not been there to jump into the river and pull her onto the dock.
“I am glad I was there,” he said, watching the duchess’s straight back as she and the duke rode together into the stand of whitebeams. A path, wide and groomed, opened up before them. They followed it, the humid air cooling a little in the shade of the trees.
“I see you are just as reticent as my dear sister-in-law,” Cassandra said gaily, and loud enough for Audrey and the duke to hear. “It does you credit, sir, not to boast of your heroics.”
“I am hardly heroic,” he replied, growing uncomfortable with her praise.
“Yes, society does have a different opinion of you altogether, doesn’t it?”
“Cassie.” Audrey slowed her mount and turned in her saddle. She speared the young woman with a warning glare. “Leave Mr. Marsden in peace.”
Cassandra pinned her lips together and sent Hugh an apologetic glance.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “No harm done. She only speaks the truth. Society does hold a low opinion of me.”
“Surely, saving the Duchess of Fournier’s life and proving the duke’s innocence has gained you some clemency?” she replied, all too pleased to be forgiven and to launch back into the topic at hand.
The duke turned in his saddle. “Cassie, we’ll speak no more of it. Forgive her, Marsden, my sister makes her debut next season and clearly does not yet know what is and is not proper conversation.” He clucked to his horse and turned forward, only to then turn again, his frustration brimming. “Honestly, Cassie, for one who has lived with our tyrant of an aunt these last two years, I cannot see how you have not learned to curb your tongue.”
The young lady sighed emphatically, and Hugh caught her rolling her eyes. “I blame my curiosity and loose tongue on my perpetual boredom this summer.”
“May I remind you that you’ve been given opportunities to take your leave and find entertainment elsewhere? And that you have continually rejected them?” the duke retorted as he continued onward.
Cassandra made a face at the duke’s back, and Hugh smothered a grin. She was certainly lively.
“I wish you good luck on your Season, my lady,” he said. Then a bit softer, “Perhaps you will find a match who does not mindimproper conversation.”
Cassandra sighed dramatically, drawing a curious glance from the duchess. The thick boughs of the trees had thinned here, letting in golden late afternoon light. It shone on the dappled gray coat of her mare and glinted in the duchess’s eyes.
“I am afraid there will be little variety of beaus and conversation to be found in London,” Cassandra replied. “I cannot say I am hopeful. In fact, I’m not sure the Season is worth it.”
“Cassie, you’ve been anticipating your Season since you were a little girl,” Audrey said, sounding astonished. “I cannot believe you to be so indifferent.”
Cassandra gave another apathetic sigh. “Perhaps if it were a love match, like yours and my brother’s.”
Again, Hugh stiffened in his saddle. He knew the truth: their match had been one of convention, not love. Apparently, they played out the farce well enough for even the duke’s sister to believe it.
“When he’s not so grumpy, he can be rather charming. Wouldn’t you agree, Audrey?”
Charming? He’d come across to Hugh as an arrogant prat the few times he had met him. Perhaps it was just their first meeting that had colored his impression of the duke—covered in blood, incoherent, in the presence of a mutilated opera singer. Hugh supposed that might also be the reason why the duke was so standoffish with him. He’d seen him at his worst.
Audrey and Fournier rode side by side ahead, and at Cassandra’s question, they each turned to look at the other. A grin touched both of their mouths. Hugh saw it then: their partnership.
