A Baron for Becky (33 page)

“Give me time
to find some confirming evidence, Rede. You’ve waited for three
years. Surely it’s worth another month or two so that you’re not
revenging yourself on the wrong people?”

“Not revenge.
Justice.” He waved off the uncomfortable thought that he was lying
to himself. “I can agree to a month or two. When will you go to
Bristol?”

“In a couple of
days. I have some people to see while I’m in London. But I already
have people in Bristol doing the groundwork. There’s not much I can
do until they’re ready.”

Rede shook his
head. “No, I’m not asking you to rush. I just thought I might head
part of the way with you. The House has two more sittings, then
I’ve nothing to keep me in London till after the election. I’ve two
more estates to check in person—Longford Court and the one in
Cheshire. George, as far as I can tell, hasn’t been to either
estate for years.”

“I have fond
memories of Longford Court,” David mused.

“It’s only a
couple of hours from Bristol; I could be handy when you want to
report on what you’re finding.”

“We spent some
good holidays there with your other cousins.”

“We did,” Rede
agreed. The two of them were quiet for a moment, thinking about
long summer holidays with the large family of Rede’s youngest
uncle.

“I’m meant to
attend my aunt’s ball later this week,” Rede said, shaking off the
nostalgia. “I can head down to Longford after that. Why don’t you
come with us on Thursday? An extra man is always welcome; society
is short of them, with the war.”

David looked
amused. “Yes. Even we bastards occasionally find ourselves in
demand. And a good-looking, wealthy earl. You’re a walking target,
old friend.”

Rede shook his
head, an expression of wonder rather than rebuttal. “Have they
always been this bad and I just didn’t notice? And the
marriage-minded are not as bad as the ones who desire… a less
permanent liaison. What they do to get a man’s attention would make
your hair curl!”

David laughed.
“Are you seeking envy or commiseration?”

“Not envy. I
wouldn’t touch that pack of harpies with a ten-foot pole. So will
you come?”

“I already have
an invitation from Her Grace, so I expect I’ll see you there. I
will take you up on the offer of company down as far as Longford,
though. What day do you plan to leave?”

“Next Monday, I
thought. I’ll send a message today to tell the house to make ready.
Heaven knows what state it’s in.”

“You’ve a
steward to see to it?”

“A land
steward, a distant connection of the family. He seems quite
competent, but then so did the one in Kent who was fudging the
accounts, and the one in Norfolk who spent most of his time chasing
housemaids, and whose books and reports were a complete fiction.
I’ve no idea what’s going on at Longford—or in Cheshire for that
matter. George didn’t pay much attention.”

“From what I
gather, he was only interested in spending his income.”

“Beyond his
income, more like. None of the properties are returning what they
could, but he still spent as if there was no tomorrow, most of it
on credit. I’ve saved the earldom thousands a year just by paying
off his mistresses.” And dug into his own personal fortune to give
them a competence so that they could retire from the sex trade, if
they so wished, but no need to mention that.

“I remember
hearing about his mistresses! He kept mistresses near all his major
houses and several in London, and visited them all by turn. Rumour
has it that he sometimes entertained several at once.”

“Rumour
exaggerates, as usual. From what I can gather, he ignored most of
them most of the time. He’d call on the closest one when the mood
took him. And when he didn’t call, they occupied themselves
shopping and sending him the bills.

“There were two
in London and one in Kent, near his favourite house. I don’t know
of any near the other houses. If there’s one near Longford, she’s
been buried down there on her own for years, though there is an
anomaly in the records—a tenant who hasn’t paid rent in years. It’s
one of the things I’ll be checking with the steward—Baxter, his
name is.”

David nodded
thoughtfully. “I remember Baxter. He’d be old now, surely?”

“This would be
the son. You might remember him, too. He took us fishing a couple
of times. Apparently he had an accident recently—hurt in a barn
collapse, which sounds like Longford has at least a few maintenance
problems. His own son is handling the work at the moment.”

“Father to son
again.”

“As you say.
But inheriting the position doesn’t mean he’s good at it, or that
he’s honest. Though, to be fair, I’ve a stack of reports from him
reporting on maintenance needs and a host of other things. Most of
them still sealed shut when I found them on George’s desk.”

“So you’ll go
down and take a look for yourself.”

“And I’ll be
handy for anything that develops in Bristol. It’s not more than two
hours’ ride.”

“You’ll be
further away from the rest of your empire,” David waved at the
laden desk. “It looks like you’re handling the whole thing
yourself.”

“I am, in
essence. My agent here in London died while I was still in Canada,
and I got rid of George’s man of business as soon as I realised how
incompetent he was—which took less than five minutes, I assure you.
I’m looking for a couple of skilled and trustworthy people to
replace them.”

“One for the
estate, one for your business?”

“Or one really
good man for both, if I could find the right person. Any
ideas?”

“Not off the
top of my head. I’ll think about it and ask around.”

“Meanwhile,
I’ll set up a courier run. It’s a day’s hard ride each way, with
post horses. I’ll get the information I need soon enough.”

“You could say
the same about my investigation.”

Rede shook his
head. “Your investigation is my priority. I’ve been hunting a long
time, David. I’m so close now I can taste it.”

“Revenge.”
David said the word without inflection, his eyes revealing nothing
of his thoughts. Nevertheless, Rede felt the need to defend his
quest.

“Justice.
They’ll never pay in court for what they did. English justice
doesn’t care about some half-breeds on the frontier, whatever
evidence we find. But they’ll pay. I swore it on the graves of my
wife and children.”

“I may find
evidence of a crime against English law. If they’ve cut corners on
the frontier, they’ll have cut corners elsewhere.”

“And if you do,
you can take it to the law. That’ll be a nice seasoning to the
retribution I have in mind.”

“I’ve never
asked what you did have in mind.”

Rede smiled—a
cold stretching of the lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve no
intention of killing them, if that’s your concern. They took my
family for the sake of their business interests. I’ll take their
business interests for the sake of my family, and of the other
families we buried because of their greed.”

He could still
see them: one burnt-out cabin after another, the bodies left
carelessly for the carrion eaters. At every stop they’d had to
decide whether to stop and hastily bury the poor broken remnants,
or continue on the trail of the human scum responsible, perhaps in
time to save a family further on. The rage that had consumed him
when he finally learned that the killers had been employed to
destroy his trapping enterprise rose in him again. So many died,
and for what? To add a few gold coins to the coffers of the men he
hunted.

“I’ll destroy
them piece by piece: one ship, one warehouse, one deal, one pound
at a time. I’ll strip them of everything they have, and see them
begging in the dirt. I’ll take their families from them, if I can;
convince their own wives and children to repudiate them. And I’ll
do it all within the law, so—when they reach the bottom of the
deepest pit I can dig—I can tell them why.”

Longford

At the mill school, the
children had been impossible, chattering and poking each other. The
Great House was being opened. For the first time in their lives,
Longford Court would host its Earl. Anne Forsythe, who taught at
the school three mornings a week, kept her private anxieties to
herself. She bowed to necessity and set the children spelling and
counting exercises that involved the Earl and Longford Court.

Some of the
mothers came to pick up their children and stayed to help Anne tidy
the room.

“Mrs Tyler, she
do look for bodies to clean house,” one of them said. “I be going
this afternoon.”

Mrs Tyler, the
housekeeper, had closed most of the rooms thirteen years ago when
the last of the Redepennings moved away.

Anne had spent
the morning wondering what the Earl was planning, and how it would
affect her and her sisters. “Will she be taking on a bigger staff
permanently?” she asked.

Those who had
been at the inn when the land steward’s son had announced the call
for servants knew how many were needed—more maids, a footman and
two grooms—but not for how long.

“Will he stay,
Mu’um, think you?” one of them asked Anne, who was locking the
schoolroom behind them. “ ’Twould be grand to have Court open.”

“I have no idea
what the Earl’s plans are,” she told them. “What does Mr Baxter
say?”

This made them
giggle.

“Eee, he doesna
tell likes of us.”

Another nodded.
“Clamber-mouthed are t’ Baxters. Our Beks—she cleans for Missus
Baxter—she says they doesna tell no-one.”

“Perhaps they
do not know either?”

They set off
along the river towards the bridge, the children running ahead.

Another comment
on the benefits of having the Court open brought a warning from the
prettiest of the young mothers. “Aye, if’n Earl will leave the
maids be.”

This led to a
discussion of the new Earl as a youth. There were seven cousins,
Anne learned, the previous Earl, the current Earl, and the five
children of their youngest uncle, whose wife had been
châtelaine
at the Court for many years.

“He were a fine
young man, were that Stephen Redepenning as is Earl now. Not like
last Earl or his Pa.”

“The old Earl
and his Pa before him, they didn’t come here much. But they was two
of a kind.”

“After anything
in skirts.”

“Yes, and the
drinking, and the cards.” Fanny added.

“Best to stay
in a group, my Ma said. And so I did.”

“Me, too.”

As they crossed
the bridge from the mill side of the river and turned towards the
village, they went on to reminisce about those who hadn’t stayed in
a group, and what had become of them as a result.

The walk passed
quickly, and they were soon at the row of cottages where they
lived. One girl was telling the story of an angry father
confronting Lord Chirbury with his daughter’s baby. She finished
with a flourish. “And he couldna deny the truth any longer, for the
baby had the Redepenning eyes!”

“I have to go,
Mu’um,” one of the others said hastily, not meeting Anne’s eyes.
The storyteller flushed and put both hands over her mouth.

Anne smiled
calmly. She knew what they thought, but no-one had ever said it out
loud, and after she and her sisters had spent more than five years
being the most respectable women in the village, they weren’t going
to. “Thank you for your help. I hope you enjoy the rest of your
day.”

They mumbled
farewells and hurried away.

Anne continued
to her own porch at the far end of the row of cottages. Did it
matter that the new Earl, as a stripling, behaved far better than
his dead cousin? Thirteen years on, he might have changed.

In any case, a
rakehell in London might be less of a danger to her family than the
most respectable of gentlemen right here on her doorstep. It all
depended on how deeply he intended to enquire into estate
business—and what he would do with any knowledge he gained.

If he suspected
who they were... George had, to her surprise, kept their secret.
Perhaps he really had been sorry. But a new Earl could decide it
was his duty to let their cousin know where they were hiding. As
long as her little sister was still underage, the danger
continued.

She gave
herself a small shake as she reached home. She had saved them
before and, if she needed to, she would find a way to save them
again. Time to be cheerful for Meg and Daisy.

She opened the
door to the smell of warm bread, with undercurrents of stew and
some other kind of baking.

“Mama!” Daisy
shouted, dropping the cutlery she was putting on the table to run
across the room and hug her mother. Meg was close behind, reaching
out for her own hug and kiss. Anne handed Daisy her bonnet and Meg
her cloak, and sat on the bench by the door to undo her boots,
calling out a greeting to Hannah, who was stirring something at the
fire.