The Foundling (Rags to Richmonds #3)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he rest of the day crawled past agonisingly slowly. The physician visited Adelaide but gave no reassurance with regards to her pregnancy other than to opine that she ought to avoid hysterics. Frederica had never wanted so badly to kick a person’s shins. He did at least provide a sleeping draught to help Adelaide rest—and since Lady Tipton was almost inconsolable with worry, and upsetting Adelaide all the more for it, Frederica and Scarlett persuaded her to take some too.

“It is likely because she suffered so many miscarriages and stillbirths herself,” Scarlett said when they were both settled. She and Frederica had taken a tray in her room rather than trouble the servants with a full dinner, and even then, neither of them had much of an appetite. “But Adelaide is not bleeding—that is the most hopeful sign.”

Frederica put her plate down on the table between them and curled her feet up beneath her on her chair. “Do you truly believe they might duel?”

Her sister sighed. “I should like to say no, but I cannot rule it out. Oakley is impetuous, Kem is enraged, Uncle Charles is desperate.”

“And Worthe?”

“Worthe would do anything for me. If my family were in danger, he would do whatever it took to help them, for my sake.”

Frederica lay her head against the back of her chair and sighed. “It must be wonderful to be loved that well.”

After a short pause and a shrewd look, Scarlett asked, “Do you think His Grace will agree to help us?”

“I do not know,” Frederica admitted despondently. Then, more hopefully, she added, “Do you think he will?”

Her sister chuckled. “If you do not know, I am sure I do not. But…if he were to involve himself, it would surely show an affection for you that was every bit as strong as Worthe’s is for me.”

Frederica looked away, unsure what to say. Life had better equipped her to deal with difficult truths than false hopes, but she did not wish to appear ungrateful for Scarlett’s support by arguing the point. Her sister took pity on her and changed the subject, and they passed another hour in each other’s company before retreating to their own beds for the night. Sleep did not come easily for Frederica, however; she tortured herself long into the night attempting to guess what Penrith had thought when he read her letter, and whether there was any possibility that he might still love her .

Adelaide passed the night without further discomfort, giving all the Richmond ladies hope in that regard, if no other. It was nevertheless a long day of waiting for news that it seemed would never come—and in the end, did not. Not until late afternoon the following day did Scarlett leap from her chair by the saloon window, shouting, “Someone is coming! Two carriages. It is them! They are here!”

Frederica hastened to the window to watch with her as the carriages rolled slowly towards the house. Unanimous were the cries of relief when they reported that all four men had alighted, each very much alive and none of them appearing to be wounded. Alas, that was where the good news ended.

“Damian was not there,” Lord Tipton announced with evident disgust as he hobbled into the room and collapsed into a chair.

Hope flared in Frederica’s breast, but she held her tongue.

Worthe and Kem were occupied exchanging private greetings with their wives—Kem’s look of dismay suggesting that Adelaide had informed him of her bad turn two days ago—but Oakley joined his lordship in the telling.

“According to the innkeeper at the Red Lion, he left his lodgings to meet someone the night before we arrived and never came back. His belongings were still in his room.”

“The innkeeper said we were not the only people who had come looking for him either,” Worthe said, joining the conversation.

The more they said, the more convinced Frederica became that Penrith had answered her plea and somehow contrived to have Damian arrested. She could not rejoice, however, for, unlike Scarlett’s prediction, he had not hastened to Chiltern Court fresh from having saved the day to claim that he had done it out of affection for her. Rather, he had done it quietly and anonymously, and it did not matter whether he had done it for her or not; he evidently had no desire to see her again. She was not overly surprised and did not blame him, but her disappointment was so sharp it felt as though it was shredding her insides. It did, at least, answer the question that had kept her awake most of the night. She blushed to think of the contempt with which Penrith must have read her foolish declaration of regret.

“Do you think your brother is in some sort of trouble, Uncle?” Scarlett asked.

“Damian is always in trouble,” he snapped in reply.

“And so, what will happen now?” Lady Tipton asked. “He still has a copy of Robert’s will. Is it not likely that he will yet try to blackmail us?”

“If he does wish to, he can come to me to do it,” her husband replied. “I’ll not fork out another penny on travel simply so that he can blackmail me for more.”

“But you are right, Mother,” Oakley said. “It does mean that nothing is resolved. We have not been able to stop Damian. We do not know where he is, or what he intends to do, or when. We could be ruined at any moment, and we are to live with the threat of it hanging over our heads indefinitely.”

But you are all alive! Frederica wanted to say, yet the look on her brother’s face stole every feeling of triumph for having ensured as much. She sighed quietly—or tried to, but her aunt noticed.

“Frederica, are you unwell?”

“No, but I slept very ill. Might I be excused to lie down for a while?”

Her ladyship consented, and without meeting anyone’s eye, Frederica escaped upstairs to her bedchamber. She was still lying on the bed with her eyes closed, failing miserably to fall asleep, when the door flew open, and Scarlett raced in.

“Frederica, he is here! He is come!”

She sat up in alarm. “Damian has come here?”

Scarlett broke into a broad grin. “No, not Damian. His Grace!”

Frederica’s insides lurched violently. She scrambled off the bed, clutching her roiling stomach. “Penrith?”

“Unless you know any other dukes?”

Feeling stupid with surprise and doubt, Frederica asked, “Why is he here?”

Scarlett gave her a withering look. “For heaven’s sake, will you still be doubting him even as he says his vows?”

“He says he has come for me?”

“He has not said anything yet—his carriage has only just pulled up to the house—but we both know you are the reason. Come, make haste! ”

Scarlett grabbed Frederica by the hand and tugged her out of the door. They raced together along the landing, both hitching up their skirts to hurry down the stairs with quick steps. Frederica stopped with a gasp upon arriving far enough down to see Penrith in the hall. He was handing the butler his hat and coat, saying something in his usual quiet but commanding voice that Frederica loved so well. She knew she had missed him, but she could not have guessed what pangs of delight seeing him would bring. Her heart fluttered madly when he turned to look at her.

It faltered slightly when he did not smile and only stared at her intently, his expression inscrutable. She longed to believe that her letter had brought him here, but could not guess what he was thinking, and for the first time in their acquaintance, she cursed his imperturbable poise. Then, abruptly, every awful second of their last encounter crashed into her mind, and she felt her cheeks redden with shame.

“Um…Your Grace,” Scarlett said hesitantly, coming around Frederica and down the rest of the stairs to curtsey to him. “We were just making our way to the saloon to receive you with the rest of our family.”

He blinked once or twice, as though he had not been listening, then bowed to her. “Lady Worthe.” And then to Frederica. “Miss Richmond.”

Once back on her, his eyes did not stray again. Much though Frederica would have liked the reassurance of a smile, she could not deny how well solemnity suited him. His flawless skin and strong, noble features were magnificently statuesque in their stillness. She felt pinned to the spot by his penetrating gaze but forced herself to follow her sister’s example and come down the last few steps to curtsey. “Your Grace.”

Neither had the opportunity to say more, for the butler at that moment stepped forwards. “Your Grace, if you would accompany me?”

The duke inclined his head and silently fell in beside the butler as he made his way to the saloon. The sisters followed behind, Frederica returning Scarlett’s encouraging grin with a helpless shrug, for she felt anything but encouraged by the restrained greeting.

Lord Tipton was standing ready to receive the duke when they entered the saloon—although he did not remain standing long after giving a stiff bow and welcoming Penrith to Chiltern Court, for his travels had greatly exacerbated his frailty. Frederica and Scarlett found themselves seats while salutations were exchanged amongst the rest of the party and Penrith was offered a drink and a seat, both of which he declined. Frederica watched him anxiously, but although he did not avoid her gaze, neither did he linger on it as he had done in the hall.

“Did you happen to be in the area, Duke?” Kem asked, coming to stand with him by the mantel.

“No, indeed, I have come from Cedarvale.”

“You do not say!” Worthe replied with surprise. “Why, we have come ourselves from Oxfordshire today. You must have been one coaching stop behind us the entire way. ”

“I was,” Penrith replied. “It was remarked on by at least one person at every stop.”

“Your Grace has travelled a long way,” Lord Tipton said warily. “We are honoured, but I hope you will not object to my asking why?”

Frederica held her breath and did not look at Scarlett, whose words— we both know you are the reason —echoed in her head as Penrith opened his mouth to speak.

“I have important news for you that I judged it best to impart in person, for it is of a delicate nature,” he said. “It pertains to your brother, Mr Damian Richmond.”

A silent shifting of awareness ran around the room as every person stiffened in alarm.

Frederica discreetly looked down at her lap and let out her held breath as quietly as she could. It came out absurdly shakily. Of course he brought news about Damian—that was, after all, the matter she had begged him to resolve. She winced to think what a fool she had looked, racing to the saloon and sitting with bated breath for a duke , whose affections she had already spurned, to declare himself to her. She ignored Scarlett’s subtle attempt to reach for her hand, for she dared not accept any comfort lest she make an even greater fool of herself by starting to cry.

“Pray, go on,” Lord Tipton said unhappily.

“Before the ladies?” the duke queried, drawing a weary sigh from the earl, though it was Lady Tipton who answered him.

“We are all well past being shocked by Mr Richmond’s antics, Your Grace. I beg you would spare no details on our account.”

“As you wish, madam,” he replied. “Your brother is in gaol. He was arrested two nights ago for larceny.”

Frederica could not help but look up at that. Penrith had done exactly as she asked and found a misdemeanour with which to charge her uncle—and evidently within hours of receiving her express. Disappointment and mortification aside, she would have him know how grateful she was, for it could not have been a simple undertaking.

She was not able to, for he did not return her look and did not see her smile.

“That explains why he did not keep our meeting,” Oakley grumbled.

Lord Tipton rubbed his forehead. “Your Grace has my sincerest apologies. I shall, of course, reimburse you in full for whatever it is my brother has stolen.”

“That will not be necessary, Tipton. It was not me from whom he stole but the Taverstock kitchens.”

“The kitchens?” Worthe repeated, somewhat dubiously. “What could he have taken from there that was so valuable?”

“The cook reported the theft of meat joints worth in excess of three pounds.”

There was an uncomfortable pause as Lord Tipton and all Frederica’s brothers regarded the duke with undisguised incredulity. Her uncle shook his head; Kem pressed the back of one fist to his mouth as though withholding a cuss; even good-natured Oakley let his shoulders sag and sighed exasperatedly. Their incivility was mortifying to behold. Frederica looked at her aunt in supplication, but she was not much more guarded in her vexation and sat rigidly with her lips pursed and her colour high. Frederica wanted to scream at them all for their discourtesy—did they not comprehend what the duke had done for them?

“Three pounds?” Lord Tipton said stiffly. “Was it absolutely imperative that he was arrested for so small a sum?”

Penrith was unmoved. “Theft is theft, my lord, although I should be unsurprised were other offences to come to light. I have heard of at least one recent case of violence that I shall personally insist he be punished for.”

He did not look at Frederica as he said this, making her doubt that he could have been referring to Damian’s attack on her, but whomever he had meant, his point made itself felt; her uncle grimaced contritely—to her as well as him.

“Pardon me. There is no argument that my brother ought to be held accountable for his crimes, which I regret are many. If it seemed as though any of us thought otherwise, it is only because his arrest at this particular time has prevented us from dealing with a family matter of the utmost importance. To know that we were thwarted for the sake of a few pounds is…” He did not finish his sentence and instead said, “At least we know where he is. I shall have to speak to him in gaol.”

“That is your prerogative, but there is something you should know first,” Penrith replied, his expression stony. “ The matter of which I believe you speak, I am afraid, may no longer be merely a family concern.”

“What is your meaning?” Lord Tipton said severely.

The duke’s poise held—he scarcely batted an eye at the earl’s tone. “Mr Richmond was wanted and ultimately arrested for larceny, but he was found when the authorities were called to a gambling den in Bicester where he had been involved in a brawl. In an attempt to evade arrest, he avowed repeatedly that he was the true heir to the Tipton Earldom, that he had proof of it, and that his viscountcy ought to be sufficient reason to stay his debts. He was less than discreet.”

Lady Tipton cried out and clamped a hand over her mouth as though she might vomit. Oakley looked wide-eyed between his parents like a frightened boy, unsure what to do. Lord Tipton, his expression one of absolute devastation, said, “Then it is over. We are discovered.”

Frederica’s heart plummeted—she stifled a cry of her own. What have I done?

The duke cleared his throat. “Nobody will hear it from me, and I made what arrangements I could to secure the silence of those present, but I could not vouch for the word of every person in the establishment, such as it was. So, I am afraid that yes, you must prepare yourselves for the possibility that you are discovered.”

“Devil take it!” Kem muttered furiously. “If we had only got to him a day earlier and dealt with this as we intended?—”

“Then you would very likely be dead or in gaol yourself,” Penrith said flatly .

Brought up short by this interjection, Kem tilted his head at the duke in a clear and angry invitation for him to explain his remark.

“Can you deny that it was your intention to challenge the man?” Penrith asked, looking first at Kem, but glancing meaningfully at each of the other men. None of them answered, which Frederica thought spoke volumes as to their guilt.

Penrith nodded, evidently in agreement. “If, by having Mr Richmond locked up, I have prevented you from killing him in a hot-headed duel, then I cannot be sorry. Take it from me, Kemerton, losing someone you love dearly and being left to bring up their children without them is not a fate you would wish on your lady wife.”

“Well said, Duke,” Adelaide muttered, touching a hand to her stomach and raising her eyebrows expressively at her husband. Kem looked both thoroughly chastened and exceptionally displeased, but before he could respond, Lord Tipton interposed.

“Do I understand Your Grace correctly? That it was your design to prevent a duel?”

For the first time, Penrith hesitated, which only fanned the earl’s ire. Frederica watched in agonies as his countenance darkened and he worked himself into an ever-greater fury, every ounce of it directed towards the duke.

“Pray tell me—why now? Why have my brother arrested on that day above all others, if not to prevent our meeting? ”

“I assure you?—”

“Nay, the only assurance you can offer me is that through no fault of his own, my son will be ruined in the eyes of all the world, and my worthless brother will inherit all this, only to run it into the dirt. If you had not sent your men in search of him, I daresay Damian would never have revealed anything of this. Why would you do it?” His voice grew louder still, and he began jabbing his finger into the arm of his chair with every other syllable. “Why would you involve yourself in a matter that has nothing to do with you—that is none of your business?”

“Because I asked him to!” Frederica cried, propelling herself to her feet, unable to bear it any longer. “I am sorry! I never meant for this to happen—but we thought you or Kem would get yourselves killed, and Adelaide would lose her baby, and Aunt Louisa would take ill, and I could not bear to see the whole family torn apart because of the secrets I gave away. So I asked His Grace for help. Despise me if you must, but I beg you would not blame him. He does not deserve your anger. I do.”

Frederica could see people’s lips moving but, deaf to everything but the pulse raging in her ears, she turned on her heel and ran.