“Madness,” declared Judith. “He’s mad. No other explanation for it.”
Prudence returned with a book in her hands. “Right then. Let’s see what we can find.”
“May I?” asked Colly, holding out his hand. “I’d like to feel I contributed something to the discussion.” He took the volume as his niece held it toward him, settling it on his knee.
“There’s not much on Miss Ringwood,” offered Ivy. “I never thought to look at her fiancé and see if there were entries pertaining to him and his lineage. Anyway, he’s probably not listed as such, since their engagement is of quite a recent date.”
“Hmm.” The Duke thumbed through the pages. “Babbacome, Backerton…Banting…ah. Here we are. Barrett.”
Silence fell as the only sound was the turning of a page.
Ivy swallowed. “If you don’t say something soon, Colly, I shall become most distressed.”
Lydia thoughtfully moved the teapot away from Ivy’s reach.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice betraying a measure of surprise. He cleared his throat. “The Right Honourable Trevor Barrett, first surviving son of Lord Henry Barrett, Bart., of Shropshire. Married Jocelyn Chesham, offspring: one son, Timothy.” He glanced up. “That all sounds quite unexceptional.”
“Indeed. Do go on, your Grace.” Judith’s tone of voice left no doubt that her words weren’t a request, but a demand. Ivy bit back a chuckle.
“The aforementioned Trevor Barrett departed this life when his son was four. And the cause—here, I’ll read it—succumbed to an irregularity of the mind—leads me to wonder if he may have taken his own life.”
“How tragic,” said Rose. “And how terrible for his son.”
“Indeed. But here’s where it gets interesting.” Colly shifted the book a little. “A year later, Timothy’s mama remarried.” He looked up, letting the anticipation build. “Her new husband was one Mondale Charles Goddings.”
The words echoed around the room, bringing expressions of stunned shock to every face present.
“Good God.” Ivy recovered first. “Goddings. Barrett-Goddings.”
As one, the girls looked at each other.
“Fiona Barrett-Goddings.”
Prudence sucked in a gasp. “The woman you were engaged to, Uncle Colly?”
He nodded. “The very same. Sir Timothy Barrett would appear to be Fiona’s half-brother.”
“But…” Rose’s brow creased into a puzzled frown.
“I think that says what we’re all thinking,” chuckled Lydia with a shake of her head. “This matter has just traversed the bridge between confusing and utterly absurd.”
“It can’t be because of Fiona,” added Judith. “She left you high and dry, your Grace, not the other way around.” Colour rose in her cheeks as she realised what she’d just said. “I do beg your pardon.”
He waved it away. “Plain speaking is what we need right now, Lady Withersby. No apologies necessary.”
“Judith is right, though,” Rose still frowned over the matter. “The only connection would appear to be Fiona. You were the wronged party, so why would Sir Timothy take you into such violent dislike?”
“That, Lady Linfield, is the question we must solve,” the Duke responded with approval. “Although at this very moment, I’m not exactly sure how.”
He did his best to suppress a yawn, but his ever-vigilant wife caught it.
“I think his Grace should rest now,” she said firmly, backing it up with a determined look and a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll give us time to consider what we’ve learned thus far and perhaps expand upon it.” She looked down at him, warming him with her expression. “I will guarantee that Sir Timothy Barrett will have absolutely no chance at all to inflict any further damage upon my husband, who is not leaving the house unless I say so.”
The Duke couldn’t resist quirking an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t that rather dictatorial?”
“Yes.”
There was a smattering of laughter in the room at Ivy’s simple response.
“You see, ladies?” The Duke held out his hands. “I am now at the mercy of a termagant who controls my every move.” He sighed dramatically. “Lord forbid word of my subjugation leak out to the Ton. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“And Ivy would write a best-selling book on ‘How to Manage A Duke’.” Lydia’s laughing rejoinder made them all smile.
“It’s an interesting thought,” said Ivy, shooting a grin at Lydia.
“Be that as it may,” Judith rose. “I think it’s time we all left their Graces to their well-deserved rest.” She put a hand to her back. “I’m feeling the need for a slight repose myself…”
“Or a nap,” grinned Prudence.
“That too, most probably,” agreed Judith.
“Oh…” Ivy’s sudden exclamation made everyone look at her. “You know, perhaps we should keep Colly’s recovery to ourselves for a little while?”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”
“That you’ll be safer if you’re not perceived as a threat to whoever did this,” she answered, her gaze troubled. “And additionally the knowledge that you’re out of the public eye might embolden the culprit in some way. I’m not sure if that makes any sense…”
“It does,” said Lydia. “Shrewd and wise, Ivy. Nothing like complacency to lure a scoundrel into revealing himself.”
“Very well then,” agreed Rose. “For the time being your Grace, you are still seriously ill. And alerting your household to that fact is probably a good idea as well.”
“Then it shall be so,” he nodded. “I would like to go on record, however, as not being terribly happy with my enforced incarceration. I was bored upstairs. If I have to be confined for long, I shall get quite testy.” He shot a quick smile at Ivy. “You have been warned.”
“Well we have accomplished quite a bit,” Rose gathered her shawl. “And I, for one, am going to do some subtle inquiring amongst Miles’s friends.” She looked around. “You might want to do the same. We don’t move in the same circles as Sir Timothy, but I’ll wager my best bonnet that Ragnor, Matthew, Mowbray and Miles have run across him at
