ASHEWOOD HALL
A footman burst into Marco’s study, panting and wild-eyed.
“I think you had best come to see this, my Lord.”
Marco frowned, meeting the footman’s gaze.
“What’s the matter, Miles?”
The footman held up a finger, asking for a moment as he sucked in deep breaths, trying to gain enough air to speak again, his face red from exertion, leaving Marco to guess that he’d run a good distance to reach the study.
“The... the gatehouse, my Lord. Things were going well with the rebuilding. But… the new frame which was raised yesterday has been knocked down, the beams broken.”
“Sabotage?”
Marco asked the question through gritted teeth, and the footman nodded.
“Like I said, my Lord, I think you and Morgan had better come to see it.”
Sighing, Marco rose from behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, where the beginnings of a headache was building.
“Thank you for letting me know. After you’ve had a moment to catch your breath, please go and find Mr. Morgan, and let him know to meet me down at the gatehouse, please.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
The footman bowed, and Marco strode out of his study and down the stairs to the entrance hall, tension knotting between his shoulder blades as he went.
I must work out who is doing this, and why, before things get worse for my staff, not to mention the villagers who depend on us for their living.
A footman opened the door for him, and Marco hurried down the front steps, setting out on the long walk down the drive to where the gatehouse was being rebuilt. When he arrived at the gatehouse, or where it was supposed to be if they ever managed to rebuild it, Marco’s long strides stuttered to a stop and he clutched his stomach, feeling as if someone had punched him, knocking the wind out of him. The house’s new frame was destroyed, the shattered beams lying scattered around the house’s foundation. Marco was certain that he was going to cast up his accounts, sick at the sight of such brazen sabotage.
The villagers and staff who’d been working on rebuilding Ashewood’s gatehouse all stood in a semi-circle, staring at the wreckage with faces full of bewildered anger. Marco dragged in a deep, ragged breath and moved to join them.
“Do we have any idea, any clues to who’s doing this, or why?”
“No, my Lord,” one of the villagers answered, shaking his head sadly.
“Thank you for informing me of the setback.” Marco scrubbed a hand over his face as frustration boiled up within him. “I’m so sorry this is happening, that someone has ruined all of your hard work. It is my fault, I’m afraid. I’ve angered someone, and they’re taking it out on Ashewood as a way to punish me. I only wish that I knew who, or why.”
“I do not wish to make more trouble for you, Lord D’Asti, but there is something you should know.”
It was the same villager who’d answered him before, a Mr. Carter, if Marco wasn’t mistaken. The man wrung his hands, his expression pinched with distress. Marco took a deep, steadying breath and met the man’s gaze.
“What’s the matter?”
“I do not mean to make more trouble for you, but… These incidents haven’t been limited to the Ashewood Estate, Lord D’Asti. There have been… issues in Ashewood Village, as well. Fences have been knocked down and livestock turned loose in the night. A few cottages have had windows or shutters smashed.”
Marco swore softly, nausea and regret tying his gut in knots.
“I’m so sorry. I apologise to all of you, from the bottom of my heart. I will pay for the necessary repairs in the village, and I promise you, I will get to the bottom of who is doing this. I will put a stop to it. You have my word.”
CHAPTER SIX
THISTLEWAYTE HALL
“Where is Eugenia?”Esther Wingfield, Viscountess of Gainsbourne, the Duchess’ best friend, frowned at the eldest Calthorpe daughter’s rather conspicuous absence. “I thought you told me that she had recovered from her bout of fever?”
The Duchess sighed and looked away, trying to hide her pained grimace.
