Free Deception (Daughters of Mannerling 3) by M.C. Beaton Page A

her headache, she complained that she had not been informed that Lord Burfield had decided to stay longer than any gentleman making a call should.
    And so Lord Burfield bowed his way out, as glad to make his escape as he had been earlier glad to stay. On the road home, he remembered all the tales he had heard of the Beverleys and once again saw in his mind’s eye Abigail standing outside the gates of Mannerling. He knew friends who had made disastrous marriages into bad families because they had been seduced by beauty, rather than character. He was suddenly anxious to return to his own home, his own lands, and forget any ideas of marriage for the time being.
    On the following day, Prudence struck him as being so amiable and compliant and her parents so staid and respectable that he found himself issuing an invitation to them to visit him the following month at his home. Lady Evans was pleased. The invitation was virtually to a proposal of marriage.
    ‘He is not in love with her and never will be,’ said Miss Trumble sadly.
    Lady Evans snorted with contempt. ‘What has love got to do with marriage, Letitia? Look what misery love brought you!’
    And Miss Trumble bowed her head and did not reply.
    Harry Devers was bored. He knew he was being socially shunned by the county and he did not like it one bit. He had suggested giving a party, for he was becoming increasingly obsessed with the grandeur of Mannerling and wished to show the house off, but his father had pointed out that few would attend. He was still in bad odour. In order to get rid of his feelings of frustration and anger, he went out riding one frosty afternoon, driving his horse hard over hedges and ditches until, near Brookfield House, the tired animal could take no more and stopped dead at a fence. Harry shot over its head, struck his head on a stone and lay still.
    Abigail and Rachel were out walking in the frosty countryside. There was a chill wind carrying a metallic smell which threatened snow to come. Behind them walked the maid Betty, who was feeling tired and grumpy. She did not share the girl’s enthusiasm for long walks. At times, she was elevated to the grand position of lady’s-maid, but mostly she was treated by Lady Beverley as a maid of all work. Betty missed Miss Trumble’s encouragement and calm good sense. The household was not the same. To her relief, she heard Abigail say to Rachel, ‘I think we should turn back now.’
    Rachel looked up at the lowering sky and agreed, ‘It is getting dark and I think it may snow before nightfall.’
    ‘Listen!’ said Abigail, stopping short. ‘What is that sound? Like moaning.’
    ‘The wind,’ suggested Rachel.
    ‘No, there it is again. From over there. Probably some poor animal caught in a trap.’
    Betty shivered. ‘That’ll be one of farmer Currie’s traps. Let’s go home, ladies. ’Tis mortal cold.’
    Abigail shook her head. ‘There may be something we can do. Follow me.’
    Betty suppressed a groan as the ever-energetic Abigail hitched up her skirts and petticoats and began to climb over the fence. Rachel followed and then Betty. They stumbled across a ploughed field towards a spinney at the far side. The moaning was louder now. ‘That is not an animal,’ said Abigail. ‘That is a man.’
    They hurried into the spinney and stopped short at the side of Harry Devers, sitting on the ground and clutching a bloody head.
    ‘Mr Devers!’ cried Abigail. ‘You are hurt.’ She thought quickly. Their home was much nearer than Mannerling. ‘Betty, run home and fetch Barry and the carriage. We will convey him home and send for the physician!’
    Harry Devers looked up at the twins, at first thinking he was seeing double. They were dressed alike – same gowns, same bonnets, same fair hair and blue eyes.
    He groaned again. ‘Hush,’ said Abigail, kneeling down beside him. ‘Help is on the way.’
    ‘My cursed horse.’ He looked about him.
    ‘Probably gone back to the stables,’ said