Page 29 of Masquerading with the Duke
They rode into the yard attaching to the premises of Giles and Son, Carriage Merchants, and Jared’s attention was immediately drawn to a smart curricle with yellow wheels and matching hood; a lightweight vehicle that would be fast and manoeuvrable. He negotiated with Giles himself and half an hour and two glasses of port later they had agreed terms and shaken hands. He had his gelding harnessed to the conveyance and decided to drive it home himself.
Delighted with his purchase, he scowled when he got back to Musgrove Manor and found an unfamiliar carriage blocking his stable yard. Damn it, he’d given specific instructions that he was not receiving guests. He strode into the house, but Gregson didn’t materialise.
‘Where the devil is everyone?’
He threw open the door to his drawing room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his brother Arthur pawing over his possessions. Thor, at Jared’s heels, let out a low rumbling growl.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Jared demanded.
‘I could have wished for a warmer greeting,’ Arthur replied, turning to face Jared and offering him his hand. Jared automatically shook it, feeling nothing other than increasing irritation at this unwanted intrusion.
‘I thought I had made it clear that I am not yet settled and am in no position to entertain guests. Especially not Miss Elliott.’
‘Everything seems perfectly orderly to me,’ Arthur replied, glancing around the spacious room enviously. ‘Very comfortable. I see you’ve not been too busy to find the time to buy yourself some prime horseflesh.’
‘What do you want, Arthur?’ Jared threw himself into a chair, aware that Arthur wouldn’t leave until he’d said whatever it was that he’d come to say. Thor settled at his feet, but kept looking up at Arthur, growling softly.
‘Some refreshment wouldn’t be unwelcome. I’ve been on the road all morning.’
Jared sighed, rang the bell and when Gregson answered it, order a bottle of his best burgundy brought up from the cellars. He could see that Gregson looked wary and probably thought that Jared blamed him for allowing Arthur across the threshold. He did not, since he knew that Arthur would not have been deterred by the machinations of a butler.
Once the wine had been decanted and served, Jared raised his glass to Arthur in an ironic toast and they both took appreciative sips.
‘A decent vintage,’ Arthur conceded, downing half his glass’s contents in one swallow and holding it out for a refill. ‘An estate with a great deal of potential, too. You’ve turned into quite the country landowner.’
‘You make that sound like some kind of accusation,’ Jared replied, refusing to allow Arthur to rile him with his jealousy and snide remarks.
‘Not at all, little brother. I am proud of your achievements, as would the rest of the family be if they were permitted to see them for themselves.’
‘Give me a chance, Arthur. I haven’t been here a week yet.’ Jared threw his head back and closed his eyes. ‘Anyway, you didn’t come all the way from London just to remind me of my familial obligations, I’m perfectly sure.’
‘I had business with an acquaintance.’
Jared opened his eyes again and raised a brow, his suspicions on high alert. ‘I wasn’t aware that you knew anyone in the vicinity.’
‘How could you know? Our paths have barely crossed these past few years.’
‘I’ve been kept occupied.’
‘Ah yes, about that.’ Arthur rubbed his chin and affected a worried look. ‘There have been rumours, don’t you know.’
‘When are there not, and what are these rumours to me?’ Jared asked, aware that Arthur had finally embarked upon the reason for his call. Equally aware that he wouldn’t want to hear whatever Arthur was about to say.
‘Mud sticks, you know. There were all those ridiculous questions asked about the pater’s loyalty to the crown, and now I hear tell that secrets have been leaking out of Whitehall before the ink has a chance to dry on the paper they’re written on.’
Jared scowled. ‘What are you implying?’
‘I’ve worked hard to restore my reputation following the war and in the face of the aforementioned accusations levelled against the old man.’ Jared withheld the sarcastic comment that sprang to his lips and remained silent. ‘I’m reliably informed that the secrets leaked could be severely detrimental to this country’s interests.’
Jared boiled with rage at the inept attempt to manipulate him, aware that a request for funds would soon be forthcoming. Why Arthur assumed that Jared would loosen his purse strings in response to such a clumsy threat he had yet to decide. But he also knew without a shadow of lingering doubt that the man Arthur had come to Winchester to consort with had to be Redrow; the person he actually suspected of orchestrating the leaks. Martina had mistaken Arthur for him when she saw them together in Redrow’s grounds, which hadn’t surprised Jared. They were physically very similar, and at a distance could easily be misidentified. Arthur’s loyalty to king and country was about as reliable as their father’s had been. Arthur was constantly in dun territory and would do just about anything to keep his head above water.
Including consorting with a traitor.
But Jared was unable to decide what use Redrow would have for his brother. Arthur had nothing whatsoever to do with politics. His preferred method of occupying his time ran to his clubs, gaming and a long succession of females of questionable morals.
‘That is my understanding, too,’ he said calmly, sipping at his wine and not offering Arthur a second refill.
‘I hear people talking at the clubs. Your name is mentioned from time to time. As I say, mud sticks.’
