Page 30 of Never Dare a Duke
“You are far too clever, Miss Shaw.”
Although he did not step away, he did straighten, allowing her room to breathe again.
“So what were you writing so furiously in your little notebook?”
She was impressed, wondering if he planned such a question after deliberately disorienting her. “You were watching me?”
“Am I not supposed to? We are trying to make this look real, after all.”
“And I, too, am keeping this as real as possible. I was writing my theories about your ghost.”
He arched a brow. “My ghost? The one I don’t even believe in?”
“Your family’s ghost, then. Gwen and Mr. Wesley are quite active in their pursuit of its history.”
“Then I wish them luck.”
He was still studying her closely, and she experienced a moment of doubt. Did he believe her? God forbid he should ask to read her notes. She had not brought her ghost notebook to dinner with her.
She tried not to appear hasty as she said, “I believe it is time to rejoin the guests, Your Grace. We have planted enough suspicion for one night.”
He bowed and gestured her before him. She would have to be very careful not to rousehissuspicions.
The next morning, the men went off to shoot, and Abigail told herself it was good to be separated from the duke. She had constantly to remind herself that they were only using each other: He needed a female companion to hold his suitors at bay, and she needed information about him. A morning apart would clear her head and let her discover other things to use for her article.
While the ladies were sleeping, she had the breakfast room to herself, then the library. She found a book on family history that the ghost hunters had deemed unworthy of their interest. After perusing it, Abigail could see why. There was nothing about the ancient family; it was mainly about the duke’s grandfather and how he almost lost his fortune only to regain it with intelligent decisions and carefully calculated risks.
Just before she was about to set it aside in frustration, she saw mention of the old duke’s tutor, and it immediately started her thinking. The current duke must have had a tutor or a governess before he’d gone to Eton. Perhaps that person could give her insight into the wild escapades of the young duke.
Specifically, the one where someone was hurt, Abigail remembered with a shiver. Obviously he had suffered no lasting repercussions, nothing that had harmed his social status or that of his family.
And then she had another idea, something so wild and daring it froze her in place. She could search the duke’s bedroom. The merest thought started a blush that she resolutely suppressed. She was a journalist, and she would do what she had to.
But not search his intimate rooms—at least not yet. She had other paths to explore.
To that end, she looked for the perfect opportunity to speak with his sister, and only found it during the cheerful confusion of the return of the shooting party. Lady Elizabeth planned a tour of the house itself. Standing in the high-ceilinged great hall, she’d sent for the other ladies, smiled distractedly at Abigail, and looked out the open door as the men walked across a distant field toward the house.
“Lady Elizabeth, you are handling such a large party with ease and experience,” Abigail said.
The young woman beamed her delight. “It is all my mother’s training, Miss Shaw. You know that this is my first chance to be the hostess for a house party.”
“And I’m enjoying the entertaining theme you surprised us with. It is fascinating to research your family history. I was wondering if you knew of any recent employees who had seen the ghost, but who no longer live at Madingley Court. Say…tutors or governesses?”
Lady Elizabeth frowned. “I do not remember my governess ever mentioning such a thing. Madingley and I did have the same tutor, but my brother did not share any ghost stories with me.”
“Do the governess and tutor still live nearby?”
“What an interesting angle of research,” Lady Elizabeth said with admiration.
Frustrated, Abigail glanced at the men coming ever closer. She could make out the duke now.
“My governess died young, poor lady, but the tutor, Mr. Yates, still lives in Comberton, a nearby village. Though he has retired from private tutoring, he occasionally helps teach the village children.”
“Ah, someone to interview!” Abigail said, not having to feign her excitement. “If it is not too presumptuous, might I ask you to please not share my interest in him with anyone else?”
Lady Elizabeth put a hand to her heart. “Of course not! You have my complete silence.”
Together, they turned to watch the return of the men, as one by one the women gathered. At last, the men crowded the main entrance hall, bringing with them the crisp scent of the outdoors and the sound of masculine laughter. All of the women seemed to shine a little brighter in their presence, and Abigail admitted to herself that she was not immune. Mr. Wesley came searching for Gwen to discuss his latest ghost theories. Abigail had felt a little stillness grow inside her when the duke met her gaze. He nodded to her, before being distracted by Lord Swarthbeck.
