“Have a care, sir!” Nathan snapped. “Do not forget to whom you speak!”
His anger was raging now, anger at the successful manipulation of him and his close friend that Dunkeswick had perpetrated. Anger at the besmirching of Gemma’s good name. And finally, anger at himself for allowing this situation to arise.
Am I as bad as my father was? Conducting an affair with a stranger while the woman I should have been caring for is lost? Or is this finally my punishment for the neglect that led to my father’s death. That my closest friends be turned against me and my only glimpse of happiness shut away?
“I do remember, Your Grace!” Walter spat. “I am talking to the man who could have saved the life of his father and chose not to! I am talking to a man who clearly has inherited his father’s wanton wickedness. I remember your refusal to be baptized into God when you lived with me. I accepted it was not my place to force you but it made me suspicious that the sins of your father lurked somewhere beneath.”
Nathan was struck dumb by Walter’s plucking of his own doubts from his mind. And at the raging vehemence of his words. Walter Carlisle was a godly man, a devout member of the Kirk. Protestant through and through. To hear such uncontrolled anger was uncharacteristic and against the views that Walter had always espoused. Nathan realized just how poisoned his old friend’s mind had been.
“Walter, I do not know precisely what this man has said to you but…”
“Your Grace. I think this audience must now come to an end,” Walter said, seething anger in his voice. “I have accepted the help of the Baronet Dunkeswick in locating my daughter. Already, he believes he has her trail. I…I am disappointed with your conduct. I have always looked on you as a son.”
“You are misled, Walter. By a blackguard. If he is telling you he knows where Emily may be found, it can only be because he put her there,” Nathan said.
“And those are precisely the kind of conspiratorial lies that my poor cousin Gemma is infamous for spreading,” Dunkeswick said in a mournful tone. “She exists in a world of fantasy in which there are enemies on all sides. I am sorry that she has caused such upset between family.”
“Be silent! Or I will silence you!” Nathan spat, turning in the direction of the voice.
“I think it is time you took your leave, Your Grace,” Walter said, his voice losing its anger.
He simply sounded tired. Nathan heard the sound of someone sitting, the creak of furniture, and the soft sigh of an older man with protesting joints. There was a whisper of cloth, the sound of a breath, and a distinctive cologne. Nathan raised the cane, prodding with it, and felt resistance at chest height. Dunkeswick gave a surprised grunt.
“This is not over, Dunkeswick,” Nathan whispered.
The door opened.
“Escort the Duke to his carriage,” Walter ordered.
Nathan heard the sound of measured footsteps approaching him and then a soft polite voice nearby. He put out his hand and found a shoulder, then followed the servant from the room and out of the house. Nathan was incandescent with rage as he descended the steps in front of the house. It was clear to him the villainy that Dunkeswick and his brother were perpetrating. They could not have known who Emily was until after they had been to Hutton and discovered Gemma there.
But supposing that Emily had delayed her journey by a day and then been caught on the road by Elliot Stamford, who was clearly watching the Castle and its environs – Nathan doubted that either of them would give up the opportunity to apply pressure to him, to extort him into surrendering Gemma. His anger was directed at them but also at himself. His actions had left Emily vulnerable to their villainy. His decision to allow Gemma to stay and then becoming intimate with her. It was the actions of a blackguard and now everything was at risk.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace. But, while you was inside, there was a gentleman out here asking after you,” the driver said as he helped Nathan into the carriage.
“Asking after me? Who was he?”
“Don’t rightly now, Your Grace. Rough sort of chap with a Sheffield accent if I remember rightly. Hard face on him.”
Nathan sat back but did not close the door.
“What did he want to know?”
“Asked who the blind man was and who lived in this house. I told him to be on his way, that if he wanted alms he should go to the Minster. But, he told me he wasn’t a beggar and to give you his compliments. Said he would be seeing you.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, fair hair. Straight back. Had the look of someone who can handle himself, if Your Grace knows what I mean?”
“I was in the Army, man. I know what you mean.”
“That’s what he made me think of, Your Grace. Ex-soldier.”
Nathan pulled the door shut and the driver resumed his seat and set the horses into motion. He pulled down the blinds on both sides before sitting back in the darkness. He had much to think about. This mysterious stranger was likely to be one of Elliot Stamford’s militiamen. A hired blackguard. It was the most likely explanation. Something to let Nathan know he was being watched. If his suspicions were correct, Walter would get nowhere in finding Emily. Dunkeswick and his brother would not give up their advantage. They would string Walter along for the length of time that best suited them. Then…
He didn’t want to think about what would happen when they no longer needed Emily as leverage. He would need to find her and, for Gemma’s sake, stay away from the house on Mickelgate. He could not afford to lead her pursuers back to Gemma. Rapping on the roof of the carriage with his cane, he gave instructions to be taken to Castlegate, to the offices of his solicitor. After that, he would have to find alternative accommodation. If, as seemed likely, he was being followed by some ruffian, he would lead them on a merry dance as far from Gemma as possible.
With a heavy heart, he realized that the best way to keep her safe was to stay as far from her as possible.
