Eloisa James - Duchess by Night (21 page)

If he ever came to her bed, she wouldnt sleep al night.

God, he said, running his hands through his hair. It sounded like a prayer. Harriet felt another wash of sympathy and choked it back down.

She would have died, she said, her voice steely hard, chil , logical. No governess. Shed had no supper. No one washed her face. A rat woke her from sleep and bit her on the hand. I expect he thought she smel ed like a buttered crumpet. Did you know that you had rats?

He wheeled and stared at her, his eyes huge, the shadow of his lashes fal ing on his cheek. Did I know I had rats? he said, sounding almost dazed. No. I suppose I should have known. I thought we had mice. Eugenia told me that she heard scurrying and little squeaks and I told her that old houses have mice.

Rat-bite fever, she said, bringing her worst fear to the surface, but unable to say more than just the name of the disease.

Which hand was bitten? He moved to the side of the bed. Eugenia was sleeping in a tangle of dark hair. She was smiling a little, the tips of her lips turned up.

The right, Harriet said.

He picked it up. The four puncture wounds were a little swol en. God, he said. Again it sounded like a prayer.

When a man on my estate died of the fever, it came on a fortnight after the bite. Youl have to watch her.

Im such a bumbling fool. I just thought I was keeping her safe!

Harriet couldnt think of anything to say.

You cant imagine what its like to have a child, he said, fal ing into the armchair where shed slept part of the night. When her mother died, I thought Id put her out to a wet nurse and then send her away to some female relative somewhere. That made sense, didnt it?

Harriet nodded.

But then I picked her up and she had this odd face, with al that corkscrew hair going on He stopped. You look a bit like her. I couldnt send her away. I had the wet nurse here. Later I should have sent her to Sal ys aunt, where shed be safe and with other women, but I couldnt. Idiot! he cried, clutching his head.

Its not that terrible, Harriet said, speaking against every instinct she had. She simply couldnt bear the bleak look on his face.

I know what I have to do. She must go live somewhere else, away from this place and its dangers.

Harriet cleared her throat. Couldnt you be less drastic? Why not simply invite people whom you trust to the house so that you can unlock the nursery wing? And get rid of the rats. It seems simple to me.

Simple! You dont know how easy death is. Itsits like a door. A person simply walks through it, and shes lost to you forever.

As it happens, I have lost someone very dear to me, she said. But I did my best to keep him safe.

As I am doing!

By inviting her for picnics in that leaning tower? she burst out. By fil ing your house with people whom you yourself dont trust not to be dangerous? By locking her in, and not even bothering to check on her before you go to bed?

I didnt go to bed, he said. His voice grated. Youre right about everything else.

The fact that you didnt go to bed is just part and parcel of the truth of it, she said. Perhaps you should send her away. A father who spends the night gal ivanting rather than bothering to check on his daughter obviously has no time for her.

He put his head back in his hands. She felt that alarming sweep of vertigo again, as if she would do anything to make him stop looking so stricken.

Youre right. Youre absolutely right.

I

Im a terrible father. My father was no father at al , but I thought I could improve on the model. He straightened up again and his face shocked her, with such black shadows under his eyes that it looked as if hed been punched. Hubris. I should have known.

Men in my family cant be decent parents.

Why? she said sharply. And I dont think youre a terrible father. You simply need to be less careless.

Were a disreputable bunch. Vil iers did you no great service by bringing you here. Il have to send her away. His voice was as bleak as midwinter.

Harriet swal owed. She loves you, she said, faintly. Dont send her away. Just change your life.

I let her be bit by a rat, he said, turning around again. This house is, metaphorical y at least, ful of rats. And I, like they, have no idea how to turn into a more civilized version of myself. I am no quiet country squire, Harry Cope. Then: Is it rage that makes your eyes that color?

Anger has no particular color, Harriet said. She was trying to work through what he just said. Could it be that Jem al owed this house party to continue because he considered himself reprehensible? Flawed beyond the ability to change?

Your eyes are the most peculiar color, he said. Sometimes theyre brown, and sometimes they take on a violet tinge. When you disapprove of something theywhat am I saying?

Harriet was wondering the same thing. What sort of man stayed up al night making love to his mistress and then praised a mans eyes?

He turned away again and gently pul ed the coverlet from Eugenia.

Dont you wish to leave your daughter here until she wakes up? I can go to another bedchamber, Harriet said. Shes so exhausted.

So are you. Il take her with me, he said, and scooped Eugenia into his arms. She murmured something and turned her face against his chest. Her long thin legs fel from his arms like a cranes legs.

We owe you huge thanks, he said.

You owe me nothing.

If nothing else, another lesson at the rapier. His eyes swept around the room, seeing the rapier cast to the side, the rug bundled away.

I find I love the sport, Harriet admitted.

In the afternoon. You have to sleep.

Lay Me Down and Roll Me to a Whore. Or Not.

February 8, 1784

S he woke without finding Jem standing over her, for a change. The room was utterly silent except for the song of a bird on the branch outside her window. Then there was a rustle of paper and she raised her head to see Isidore sitting by the fire, reading a book.

She sat up and stretched.

Isidore glanced over and said, You wil likely shriek when you see your hair; Im just warning you.

Ive lived with this hair my whole life. My maid tames it by binding it back when its wet.

It seems you had an exciting night, Isidore said, putting her book aside. Wil you please tel me what happened? Ive heard of an invasion of rats and a fire and a missing host. It sounds like a bad play. Except for the rat part. That has a dismaying touch of reality to it.

There was a rat, in Stranges daughters bedchamber.

Ugh, Isidore said. I cant abide rats. I stayed in an inn that was infested with them. We were eating dinner and then realized that three or four of them were dancing under the table nearby. They werent in the least afraid of us.

I thought there was a fire, but there wasnt. And Lord Strange couldnt be located. He wasnt in his bed. The words made Harriets chest feel hard, as if it was fil ed with smal , hard stones.

I wonder who hes bedding, Isidore said. I suppose he has a mistress. There are a great many women here, you know. I keep encountering women in the ladies salon whom I never saw before.

Harriet didnt say anything. It was horrifying to discover that she stil wanted Jem, even knowing that he had a lover.

You are an odd female, Isidore said rather obscurely, picking up her book again.

What are you reading?

Machiavel is little book cal ed The Prince. Its al about how Italian princes keep their power. My mother said that a distant relative is mentioned in here somewhere, and so I thought I would read it.

Was your relative a prince?

No, as I understand it, he was an underling with a sideline in poisons, Isidore said. My family is ful of people with various talents.

My family is ful of people of tedious virtue.

Isidore turned a page in her book, but looked up. Tedious virtue?

Exactly.

Perhaps I am a long-lost relative. I find I am not enjoying this sojourn at Lord Stranges house. Last night Lord Roke said such an astounding thing to me about brandied apricots.

What was it? Harriet asked.

It was a suggestion of a physical nature, Isidore said. I retreated into the ladies salon and found myself in conversation with a lady wearing a great quantity of cosmetics. And a swath of gold hair that towered above her shoulders.

Everyones hair towers, Harriet said moodily. She was not looking forward to returning to the duchy and dressing her hair once more. Look at Jemma. She once told me that she had fifteen bows affixed to her hair.

Not like this. The lady in question could have had an entire rats nest in there and no one would have known.

A distasteful thought.

Do you know what I find odd? Strange doesnt even like most of his own guests, let alone know their names.

How can you tel ?

He and I were circling the room and some of his own guests were forced to introduce themselves. I thought that was appal ingly rude.

On Stranges part?

If he bothers to invite people, shouldnt he take the time to greet them when they arrive?

I suppose so.

A juggling troupe arrived yesterday. I gather they are attached in some fashion to a theater he owns in London. This troupe is a group of boisterous lads who have no place in a formal sitting room. They werent even properly dressed. And yet he was trying to pretend they belonged there.

What did they think of the sitting room?

They were delighted by the ale, Isidore said. And they complimented him on the bubble-and-squeak served at dinner. I was not offered that dish, to the best of my knowledge.

I think its rather admirable, Harriet said.

Why? Isidore asked baldly.

Because he doesnt decide who his guests should be simply on what kind of family they come from or what position they hold in society.

Then why not open a hotel? I myself have never stayed in a hotel, due to my mother-in-laws fixed conviction that ladies dont belong in paying establishments. But I was forceful y reminded of a hotel last night. Or perhaps a brothel, to cal a spade a spade. I saw a great deal of glee resulting from Stranges free food, together with a certain thirsty appreciation of the Graces.

When would you like to leave? Harriet asked, knowing precisely where this conversation was heading.

Do you think tomorrow morning would show an unbecoming eagerness? Everyone at breakfast was cheerful y comparing rat bite stories they knew. I dont want to acquire such intimate knowledge of the animal kingdom.

Could we wait another day? Harriet asked. I have engaged to deliver notes to Strange on the behalf of Nel , and I should do the last couplet tomorrow.

I am so staid compared to you. Youre actual y engaged in wooing Strange, albeit for another woman. It sounds Shakespearean.

Perhaps I should inform Nel that Strange has a mistress.

Do you think that she would care? There was a snap in Isidores voice.

Perhaps not, Harriet admitted.

I do not care for the slip-shod manner in which these people conduct their social affairs.

Its not so different from Jemma, Harriet said defensively. At least, from what we heard of Jemmas affaires when she was living in Paris.

Theres a world of difference. Yes, Jemma had a liaison or two. But she didnt have this careless, pleasure-for-the-sake-of-it attitude. You know, Harriet, I never think much about my husband, Cosway. Why would I? I dont know the man. But now I realize that if he is like Strange I simply wont be able to countenance it.

Like Strange? Harriets heart thumped. To have a husband like Strangewith that wild beauty of his, with the way he smiled, with the lean muscles, the laughter in his eyes, the pure bril iance

Exactly. Never knowing whose bed he might be in. I suppose Strange wil take up Nel on her offer. I gather it is for a nights pleasure and not marriage. Her tone was scathing.

Yes, Harriet said. Though she has ambitions to marry him.

Hel never marry her. No man would marry a woman who al owed him to bed her.

You cant say that for certain, Harriet protested. I know of many ladies whose first child came with suspicious haste.

After the marriage had been arranged.

Not in al cases, Harriet said.

Wel , Isidore said, as I said, Im becoming hidebound. Im turning into one of those fierce old duchesses who thinks everyone is immoral. She hunched her shoulders. I simply dont enjoy this kind of gathering. I was approached last night About the brandied apricots?

It was the jugglers. They became very drunk at some point. I was sitting at the side of the room with one of the Graces discussing French lettersin which I have no interest, Harriet, I assure youand a couple of them came over, looked at us and said, I am very drunk, lay me down and rol me to a whore . My companion thought this was remarkably funny. She giggled and giggled.

Oh, Isidore, Im sorry.

Then they started comparing us. One of them said I looked like a virgin, and the Grace giggled at that. Then the other laughed and told me to lie down and he would feese me. Do you know what that means, Harriet?

No.

He said that he would lie with me tonight, and his friend could have me tomorrow. And do you know, I think the Grace was a little peeved? She wanted those drunken fools to desire her.

Oh, Isidore, Harriet said. Thats awful! How did you get away?

The drunker one grabbed my arm and pul ed me to my feet. I was so stupid, I couldnt think of anything to say or do.

Harriet wound an arm around Isidores shoulders.

Luckily he fel down. He just lay there.

Where was Strange?

Isidore shrugged. Mr. Povy appeared and they swore at him and said he was ful of fleas. Povy didnt seem too bothered by this, and he got two footmen to drag them away.

Al in a days work, Harriet said dismal y.

I want to go home, Isidore stated.

Harriet gave her a hug. Wel go tomorrow morning. Il give Strange the rest of the poem in one fel swoop. You ask Lucil e to pack our things, and wel be off.