The Archer's Paradox (The Heart of a Hero Book 8) Read online

  He stood up and walked across to the window. A long garden led to the ducal mews, hidden behind a high brick wall. The wall was bathed in warm spring sunshine and barely visible for a riot of reddish purple honeysuckle stems just beginning to come into flower. Beneath it was a wrought-iron seat and a stone sun-dial. He swallowed a lump which rose in the back of his throat. Young as they had been, Robert had been fascinated by the instrument and the movement of the sun, an interest their father had fostered.

  Robert could not be dead. It was simply not conceivable. It was why Adam had dedicated his whole life to the search for him and why he had made the long journey to Ireland six years ago, at the behest of Sir Arthur Wellesley, as his Grace had been then. It was why he had joined Wellington’s secret intelligence brigade at that gathering of like-minded men in the home of the Earl of Hartland. Yet what could have been the motive for kidnap? No ransom note had ever been received – or if it had, his father had taken the knowledge with him to the grave.

  Sighing, Adam turned back to face the room. It was a calm, restful place. He withdrew here whenever the pressures of being the Duke of Wardley’s younger brother became more than he could bear. The walls were yellowing to cream with age and smoke; the furniture was solid walnut and leather. Bookcases lined two walls, filled with reassuring, leather-bound tomes covering fascinating topics of the arts, the classics, sciences, law, religion and many more – more than a man could read in several lifetimes. He could lose himself in here for days, he mused, if only duty – and his mother – would allow him to do so.

  The secretary had twisted around in his chair and was regarding Adam gravely without uttering a word. Once more in command of himself, Adam cleared his throat.

  “I made myself a promise I would keep searching until I found him, one way or the other. It leads me into some nefarious places… and on occasion I overhear conversations… snippets of information which might benefit others. I will ask you to forget what I have just told you – I do so only so you might be prepared should sensitive questions ever be asked.”

  “I understand completely, sir.” The secretary paused for a moment. “In the notes I was copying yesterday, I read there were three servants charged with the care of you and the Duke on that fateful morning; your nursemaid, a footman and a groom.”

  “That is correct.”

  “May I enquire what happened to them? I assume they were dismissed?”

  “Not Evans – the groom. He is now the under-coachman. He was in charge of the carriage and was not responsible for our care. The other two were discharged from service, but my father was lenient and did not prosecute them for negligence, according to my mother.”

  “Have – forgive me if I speak out of turn – have they been located? There might be some information they remembered afterwards or did not divulge at the time which might help.”

  “No, I do believe I had not considered that. We must rectify the omission.”

  “Do you remember the boat the nursemaid saw? I realize you were very young, but sometimes children retain such details, I am told.”

  “You seem uncommonly interested in this matter.”

  The youth fingered the narrow band of lace at his cuff. “I beg your pardon, my lord, if I appear overly inquisitive. My intention was only to be of assistance.”

  “There is no need to apologize. You are very young to be concerned with something which happened so long ago, that is all.” He stopped, deliberating. “I have a vague recollection of an old rowing boat pitching on the water, but I cannot tell you if it is a genuine memory or more a matter of the maid’s assertions having been repeated.”

  The secretary picked up a notebook from the desk before him and sifted through its pages.

  “At the time, Evans stated he saw ‘a ruffianly fellow watching the two boys with undue interest as he rode past when they were playing in the meadow.’ Could this person perhaps have been in league with either the nursemaid or the footman, or indeed, both?”

  Adam considered this. After a moment he shook his head. “No, it is unlikely. It was the first time Mary, the nursemaid, had been in charge of us in the park. She had no prior knowledge of the excursion. Nurse Wilson had been taken ill that morning.”

  “The footman, Francis Mead, had but recently been taken on, I understand?”

  “I believe so. Mr. and Mrs. Ashperton were responsible for the hiring of household servants. They were noted for the high standards they demanded from the other servants, whilst being scrupulously fair. I cannot imagine they would have taken on anyone without good references.”

  “Nevertheless, sir, it is an avenue which should perhaps be investigated. Given sufficient reason, people will do or say things they might otherwise not.” His voice rose towards the end of the sentence. He coughed and continued in a gruffer tone, “As I can attest from my experiences while up at Oxford, young men are prone to… distraction from certain… low pursuits. If, perchance, he owed someone money…” He allowed his voice to fade away and straightened a quill in the standish in front of him.

  Adam looked at him curiously. Was the lad blushing? Well, well! Perhaps there was more to his quiet secretary than he had first supposed.

  “Indeed, I can attest to that myself!” he remarked with a laugh. “Fortunately, I had a generous allowance – and a father usually well disposed towards bailing me out of difficulties, even if it cost me a thunderous jobation. You make an excellent point, my boy. I confess to having concentrated my energies on seeking information on the boat, the men in it and the fellow riding by.”

  The secretary lifted his gaze from his desk. Large blue eyes, suspiciously luminous, surveyed him. Downy, golden lashes framed them, fanning over the youth’s pale cheek. They were far too pretty for a man, he reflected. He must beware not to send the boy to any rough places in his stead or Robert might not be the only one to disappear without a trace into London’s underworld. Giving his head a quick shake to dispel such thoughts, he forced his mind back to the present.

  “I can make some enquiries for you, my lord.”

  “Yes.” Adam returned to the library table. “I think we must widen the field of enquiry. As you suggest, there may be some connection to the servants. It is possible they were innocent of any wrong-doing, yet were somehow duped.”

  “I further read in your notebooks of the late Duke’s belief that his adversary in the quest to progress the science of ballooning was somehow responsible for his heir’s disappearance. You do not appear to have supported that theory.”

  Adam sighed. “No. I cannot think it to be true. The Earl of Brandford and my father had a bitter rivalry at times, but such an action is not to be thought of. So far as I am aware, Brandford is an honest man. He fought beside Grosvenor at the Siege of Copenhagen, and early on in the Peninsular campaign. His son and I were at Eton together. If I remember rightly, the Earl’s fascination with balloons was from a military aspect. He believed they could be used to oversee enemy movements on the battlefield. There is such an obsession, though – a mania, almost – amongst those desirous of taking to the skies, I daresay there were others with fewer scruples.”

  “With your permission, sir, my father’s shop lies not far from Mr. Liversedge’s office. It is remarkable what a tailor hears during the course of pursuing his trade. My brother also employs two apprentices and a boy to make deliveries. The markets are full of gossip. If I might call upon my family while I am in the City, I may be able to seek another path or two.”

  “Do so, Lucien, with my goodwill. Anything you may discover can only be better than having a blank page to consider.”

  *** End of excerpt The Missing Duke (The Heart of a Hero Series) by Heather King ***

  About the Author

  Ally has worked as a horse trainer, director of marketing and development, freelance proofreader, and a children's librarian, among other things. None of them were as awesome as writing romance novels (though the librarian gig came closest). She lives in Texas and is convince
d her house is shrinking, possibly because she shares it with three kids, four dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and assorted reptiles. Oh, and her husband.

  Ally likes to curse in Russian because very few people know what she's saying, and spends most of what would be her spare time letting dogs in and out of the house and shuttling kids around. She has many stories in her head looking for an opportunity to escape onto paper. She writes historical romance set in Regency England and Imperial Russia, and middle grade and young adult literature under the pen name Ally Mathews.

  You can find Ally on her website, Facebook, and Twitter, though she makes no claims of using any of them properly. For information about contests and new releases, join her mailing list.

  Other Books by Ally Broadfield

  The How to Series

  How to Beguile a Duke

  How to Bewitch an Earl

  How to Bewilder a Lord

  It’s in His Kiss Series

  Just a Kiss

  One Last Kiss

  Say You’ll Love Me

  And Then the Moon