The Devil’s Due by Boucher, Rita (free reads txt) 📗

fled. From the look of near worship upon Fred’s face, Duncan’s servant would likely do no less if called upon. “Has the rain already fallen in the village?” Kate asked. “You are soaked to the skin. How odd, since the storm seems to be turning. I suspect that we might not get so much as a drop here.”

To her surprise, the little man turned as bright as a lobster on the boil.

“There are just some things that are beyond prediction,” Duncan said hurriedly. “Eilean Kirk is known for its unusual atmosphere.”

“Aye,” Fred agreed, giving Duncan a measured look. “And the fishin’ too. Never know what you can haul out of the lake.”

“I caught a fish that must have weighed at least four stone,” Kate agreed.

Duncan gave a strangled gargle that sounded to Kate like a smothered guffaw, but that was nigh to impossible, Duncan MacLean seemed incapable of laughter. Obviously, he did not believe her. “Well, I did,” Kate said defensively.

“I’m sure you did, milady,” Fred said, his brow wrinkling as he smiled. “Mighty big fish in them waters. Ah . . . Ah . . choo!”

“No more fish stories, Sergeant Cockney and bull,” Duncan said, taking the burden from the small man’s hands and giving him a gentle nudge. “Dry off and get something warm in you; consider that an order.”

The Cockney cast him a dubious look, nodding his head significantly at the woman who stood in the kitchen door.

“Do as your master says,” Daisy said, setting her skillet on the window sill. “So long as you don’t go touchin’ nothin’ I won’t bite you, little man.”

Fred cocked an eloquent eyebrow. “Wonder what you got to touch to get bit?” he asked in an undertone for Duncan’s ears alone.

Duncan shook his head at the glint in Fred’s eye. There was absolutely no explaining taste.

“Let me give you a hand, milord,” Kate said, undoing one of the knots that held one of the larger sacks in place.

Duncan’s look plainly spoke his doubt.

“My strength would surprise you,” Kate said, her expression amused as she easily hefted the burden from the saddle.

“You are a woman of many surprises, Kate,” Duncan said, putting his own load down to take the sack from her hands. “If it is your aim to make me feel inferior, I must vow that you are succeeding. You have already proven you are my peer as a rider and my better with a bow. I have no doubt that you could school Gentleman Jackson in the science of boxing, paint pictures to rival Lawrence’s portraits, fly a balloon higher than Sadler and explain natural history to Faraday. However, I will do the hauling, madame, if you do not mind. Leave me that small illusion of superiority at the least.”

“I am hopeless with a paintbrush,” Kate confessed with a smile.

“I am most comforted to hear it,” Duncan said in mock relief as he lifted both sacks, trying not to grunt at the effort. “Now if you truly wish to be of assistance to me, you might go and exercise Selkie. In fact, consider his care to be one of your daily duties. He and Fred never got on very well together and I doubt that I will have the time for such mundane chores.”

Her grin spread from ear to ear. “You cannot mean it, milord!”

“What? Do you go womanish on me at the thought of stable dung?” Duncan hid his amusement behind the burden. “If you feel that the stallion might be too much for you-”

“Oh, no, milord,” Kate interjected. “I would account it a privilege.”

“Saying that you actually enjoy mucking stables would be doing it too brown, Kate.” Duncan could not resist the opportunity to use the pun. To his consternation, she caught it.

“Very brown indeed,” Kate agreed.

Chapter 6

Vesey’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. Of late, Chloe always preferred to keep the shades drawn. In his estimation, it was an excellent sign that the drug was taking its course, causing a slow but inevitable decline. The doctors, of course, were easily fooled, unwilling to admit that they could neither diagnose nor treat his wife’s supposed ailment. They clucked their tongues, quacked her with a myriad of nostrums and presented their bills. Unfortunately, the price of getting away with murder was proving to be high, but then he could well afford it. It would be said that John Vesey had spared no expense to cure his unfortunate spouse.

“My darling,” Vesey murmured, forcing himself to take hold of his wife’s bloated fingers and bringing them briefly to his lips.

“John,” she whispered, blinking as if not quite sure of his presence. “Have you had any word?”

“Nothing, my love,” Vesey said bowing his head in feigned sadness to hide his anger. “There is not a trace of Katherine or the child.”

“I vow, I nearly wept when Silence Jersey asked about dear little Anne today . . . or was it yesterday?” Her voice trailed off in confusion.

How in the devil had Lady Jersey gotten in to see Chloe? He had given strict orders that his wife not be disturbed. It was most unfortunate that the notorious gossip had found out about Katherine’s disappearance. The servant that had let it slip had been dismissed without reference. However, most of society still accepted the story that Lady Steele had retired to the country and thus far, Chloe had supported the Banbury tale, eager to avoid scandal. Nonetheless with Chloe’s deteriorating condition, there was no telling what she might say. If word got out, people might start to wonder, begin to ask questions. . .

“John, I meant to inquire . . .” His wife flitted to another topic. “About the maid, Becky, the one who was found floating in the Thames. . . “

This time, Vesey allowed his anger to show. “Who told you?” he exploded. “I vow they will be out on the streets by day’s end.”

“John!” Chloe exclaimed, putting her fingers over her ears.

“I am sorry, my love,” Vesey soothed.