Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) by Julia Brannan Read Free Book Online Page B

horrible as he appears to be,” Mary said practically.
    Beth let the conversation move on to lighter topics. She had come to see Mary to escape from her problems for a while, not to dwell on them.
    It was early evening before they finished their visit, ending as was customary to them with a toast to the exiled Stuart King James, and Beth rode back with a light heart. She was truly happy for her friend. It seemed she had found a good and devout man, and someone who shared her Jacobite sympathies. Although that was not difficult in Manchester, which had a high proportion of supporters for the ‘king over the water,’ many of whom were particularly vociferous in their wishes for the current king, George II, to be sent packing back to Hanover where he belonged.
    For the first time in her life she approached her home with a sinking heart. This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m allowing Richard’s mood to affect me.
    She made a conscious effort to cheer up, and entered the house with a bounce in her step. Richard was coming down the stairs, and actually smiled when he saw her. He had a scratch and a bruise on his left cheek.
    “Did you have a pleasant day?” he asked jovially. Beth told herself she was being uncharitable for feeling suspicious at this uncharacteristic behaviour.
    “Yes, thank you,” she replied carefully.
    “I have just called for some light refreshment to be served in the library. Would you care to join me for a glass of wine?”
    Beth accepted the olive branch, and after taking off her riding coat and hat, went into the library, where Grace was arranging a tray of cold meats and bread on a small table. Richard was already sitting down in a chair by the fire, and motioned Beth to the seat opposite him. Unusually he was not dressed in his uniform, but casually, in a pair of brown woollen breeches and a linen shirt. The room was warm, the rich golden wood panelling and shelves of books lending a cosy glow. Candles were burning in the wall sconces, and their father gazed down benignly at them from his portrait over the fire. It was a picture of domestic bliss, and Beth welcomed it with all her heart. She sank into her seat.
    “What have you done to your face, Richard?” she asked, although she didn’t really care. “Have you been fighting?” There was an air of suppressed excitement about him.
    He raised one hand to his cheek, as if he had only now become aware of his injury.
    “Ah. No, I fell off my horse while riding through the woods. A branch caught me in the face. It was my own fault, I wasn’t concentrating on where I was going.”
    “Is that why you’re not wearing your uniform?” she said. “Is it damaged?”
    “No, just a little muddy,” he replied, smiling. “It needs cleaning, that’s all.”
    There was a short silence while Beth tried to think of something else to say.
    “Why are you serving, Grace?” she asked the chambermaid as she finished arranging the food. “Is Martha ill?”
    Grace cast a wary look at Richard, who was sitting back in his chair in a relaxed pose, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.
    “She’s left, Miss Elizabeth,” Grace said carefully, bobbing a curtsey.
    The picture of domestic bliss shattered into a thousand pieces and tinkled to the floor.
    “She’s left?” Beth echoed incredulously. “Why?”
    Grace looked nervously at Richard again, who still didn’t respond.
    “I don’t know, Miss,” she ventured after a pause. “She didn’t say.” Her eyes were huge, pleading silently with Beth not to pursue the matter.
    “Thank you, Grace,” she said formally. “That will be all.” Grace left the room as hastily as she could without running. The moment the door had closed, Beth rounded on her brother.
    “What have you done?” she asked. Richard regarded her over his glass of wine.
    “Me?” he said. “I have done nothing. It is hardly my fault if a maid chooses to leave of her own accord.”
    “Martha would not choose to just leave of her