Eloisa James - Duchess by Night (34 page)

There was something in her face, something almost resigned, that made him feel slightly crazed.

I dont care

I lied to you by omission. Harriet said flatly. My husband was a duke. And I am a duchess.

The moment she said it, he knew the truth in his bones. Of course, she was a duchess. She had the spine of a duchess, and the natural tone of command.

She didnt expect people to love her: she expected them to fear her. To bow and scrape before her. That was why she loved being Cope so much. It set her free, in the same way that not being a woman set her free.

A duchess, he said, fury burning its welcome into his heart.

She inclined her head. It was a duchesss nod. But there was a tear sliding down her cheek.

You pretended to be other than you arewhy? But he knew, he knew. Im not good enough for a duchess. You deceived me, day after daybecause of rank?

It wasnt rank. You areyourself, she said. And I am a bird of a different feather, for al I pretended to be someone Im not.

Youre saying I fel in love with an il usion.

Something like that.

And you? Did you fal in love with an il usion too, Harriet?

No. You never lied to me. I dont think youre capable of lying, Jem.

He folded his arms because it was ungraceful to clench ones fists in polite conversation. Especial y with a duchess, one had to presume. Ironic as this may seem, I would have thought it below myself to pretend to a lower rank than my own. I gave you myself, such as I am.

I know you did, she cried. You have been utterly honest with me. This is your life, andand thats wonderful. You love your life.

Andand thats wonderful. Truly. I m a fool, thats al .

Would you mind explicating the nature of your foolishness?

She looked at him for a moment, as if she were memorizing his face. His heart turned over. She was real y going to do it. She was going to leave him.

Youreyoure the only gentleman Ive ever met who truly doesnt care about rank.

So?

I honor that. But I cant live like this.

Jem felt his tone hardening before he even said it. He knew why she couldnt live in a house without rank: she was a duchess, for Gods sake. That would be like giving away her most precious possession. Like what?

In a house in which people just come and go, like some sort of changing play. You dont even know al of them, Jem.

Theyre not good enough for a duchess. I completely understand.

Its not a question of good. Wel , perhaps it is. He could see her make some sort of decision. She looked up at him. Im a staid person, at the heart, Jem. Al I ever wanted, real y, was to have some children and a husband who loved me. That was it. I never She turned away but he saw the gleam of tears again and it tore his heart.

I never dreamed I would be as wild as Ive been here. Playing primero for huge stakes, having an affaire Its not me. But I alsoI cant live with people like the Graces, not for the long term. I dont want to be in a house that is an inn for itinerant players and drunk jugglers, not to mention the scientists and politicians. Yet I loved every moment of it. Its changed me, changed my life. I dont blame my husband for dying any more.

Ice and anger slammed into his heart. I am happy that Eugenia and I could be of use to you.

DontDont she cried, holding out her hand. Dont leave in anger.

You lied to me. I thought you were the widow of a farmer He spat the word. and al along you were merely playing with the hoi pol oi. Amusing yourself with me.

It wasnt like that!

Bitterness seized his throat. Do you know what I think about people, Harriet? I think the worst lie was not when you pretended to be a dumpy widow. I have that phrase right, dont I?

Her face was stark white. I am

Stop it, he said through clenched teeth. It was when you pretended to be a squires wife. Vil iers was having his little dukes game, bringing along two duchesses. I dont know why I didnt see that; its just the kind of twisted humor people of your rank appreciate.

It wasnt a joke!

It was the kind of joke that only a duke would appreciate, he said tonelessly. I know Eugenia wont.

Oh, you mustnt say that to her. Its not true!

He just looked at her, and the silence grew bitter and thick between them. Il try to keep the uglier parts of the truth from Eugenia.

You go, back to the duchy. Il stay here. And God, I hope that we never meet again.

Her face was tear-stained, but she kept her chin high. I dont see what I did that was so terrible, that deserves this level of rage.

I loved you. I thought I knew you. My anger should be at myself, not at you. I wil endeavor to make it so. And then he said, If youl forgive me, I have an appointment.

Wait!

He waited while she tried to say something that got caught on a sob, raised her head again. Are you sure youcouldnt you come with me, Jem? I love you. I love you so much.

It was maddening to feel sorry for her. To stil feel love for her, even. She was a liar who entered his house and amused herself with him.

Im not a toy that can be bought, he told her, final y. Im a man with a large estate and a child.

And a house party, she said with a touch of bitterness. Dont forget al your guests.

I have a life. Its not a perfect life, and its not a dukes life, but its my own. I am Lord Strange. I earned my reputation and She interrupted him. You didnt! And you know you didnt! I dont believe you slept with any woman since Sal y died. Did you?

My lovers are irrelevant.

Did you! she shrieked at him.

Only once.

So whywhy couldnt you just love me, instead of al these other people? Her voice choked again. Why do you need the Game so much?

I loved the person you presented yourself asa funny, wise, intel igent person who loved learning to fence and ride and play poker. But that persons not real. He felt merciless, and yet it had to be said. Youre a duchess. Youre not Harry.

You knew I wasnt Harry!

I thought you were someone I could love, he said flatly. And someone who loved being here, with me. But youre right. A duchess cant have anything to do with Lord Strange. No duchess should ever darken the door of this house. You shouldnt have come.

He left her smal white face behind him, and walked away. Her voice stopped him at the door.

I love you. Her voice didnt even tremble. I may have misrepresented myself, and I suppose you cant forgive me. Or dont want to forgive me. But I saw you for what you are and could be, Jem, and I love you. I want you to know that.

His eyes burned suddenly so he didnt turn around. You saw me for a loose screw who welcomes riff-raff into his house. Thats not what you want.

I saw you for a man with a heart too generous to turn anyone away based on something as frivolous as reputation or rank. A man who loves his daughter so much that he pul ed her back from death. A man who honored his wifes memory by not having careless affaires , though doubtless many were offered him. Her voice wavered and she steadied it. A man who loved me.

He turned around. Your husband didnt love you, did he?

Oh yes, he did.

But not enough.

Not as much as he loved chess. He was always honest about that. And youyou are honest too. It seems I have a genius for finding men who care more for a game than for myself.

Im certain that you wil find someone of your rank, he heard himself say. The flash in her eyes could have been agonyor dislike, so he opened the door.

He wasnt walking away, because she had left him, real y.

He wasnt good enough for her. And she didnt even know the whole of it. His mouth twisted. His valet took one look at him and practical y threw his clothing toward him.

Then he was away: pounding down the road, down the slick road, hating her, hating himself, his heart bleeding for Eugenia.

How would he explain to her? Harriet didnt love us enough? What do you tel a little girl who thinks Actual y, what did Eugenia think?

She knew that Harriet was a woman. But shed never said much other than that. He hadnt told her that he meant to marry Harriet.

Although he always meant to marry her, he realized with another sickening lurch of his stomach. Almost unconsciously, he had decided long ago that he was going to do Harriet a favor by marrying her and rescuing her from her boring little backwater of a farm. Bring her to a life of luxury. He kicked his horse and they went faster, until the wind screamed in his ears.

A life of luxury, he was offering. In a tawdry house ful of strangers and primero games. While she probably lived in a castle.

If he cried, which he never did, his tears would have turned to icicles on his cheeks.

To Be Better Than a Game

March 18, 1784

Berrow House

Country Seat of the Duke of Berrow

H arriet got home, al the way home, by two days later. Vil ierss man, Finchley, gathered up her clothes, and Harriet gathered up the shards of her self-esteem and her love, and took it al home in the carriage with her.

She didnt even cry until her spaniel, Mrs. Custard, ran to meet her. And then she dropped right down on her knee in the dirt and hugged him. His tail wagged furiously.

He checked the front door for you every day, Your Grace, her butler, Wilson, said from somewhere above her right shoulder.

Harriet bit her lip hard. She couldnt cry in front of the servants. She never cried in front of the servants, not when Benjamin died, not when

When had anything worse than that happened?

Besides having her heart ripped out and rejected, thrown back in the dirt at her feet.

Youd think shed be used to it. Benjamin didnt real y love her; neither did Jem. They both loved their games betterthe game of chess, with al its intricacies and power struggles, the game ofof being Lord Strange. With al its odd generosity, male camaraderie, celebration, and the game of primero, with al its intricacies, power struggles, and bets.

A tear dropped into Mrs. Custards graying fur.

Once, for once, she wished that someone would love her more than a game. The way she loved him.

The servants await you, Your Grace, her butler said. He meant they would be al lined up inside the front door, waiting to curtsy.

My goodness, Wilson, she said, striving for a light tone. It isnt as if Ive been gone for months. Disperse them, please.

But

Disperse them. She didnt use that tone often.

You have a visitor, her butler continued. His training did not al ow him to betray a wounded tone, but she could tel he would have liked to.

A visitor? How odd. No one knew I was coming home today.

She arrived two days ago and has been awaiting your arrival, Wilson said.

And? Harriet said, rising and brushing fur off her hands. She is?

The butler pul ed himself to a standing position. The Duchess of Beaumont.

Oh, goodness, Harriet said, walking toward the great stone arch that led to the inner courtyard. Where is she now?

In the conservatory, I believe, Your Grace.

Harriet walked into the courtyard, and through the west door that led to the conservatory, avoiding the front entry and the waiting servants. She was conscious of resentment. She didnt want to see Jemma, fond though she was of her. She wanted to fal into the nearest bed and cry. She wanted to cry until she had hiccups and couldnt stop. She wanted to cry as many tears as she had for Benjamin.

Which was ridiculous.

Jem was not dead. He just didnt love her enough. A tragedy for her, for no one else. And yet she could feel her blood beating to the rhythm of the tears she wanted to shed.

Because she thoughtshe real y thoughtthat he would come home with her. That he loved her truly, saw her truly. But he didnt.

She found Jemma sitting in the section of the conservatory that Harriet cal ed the orange arbor. She had tried to grow oranges, but they flowered and never grew fruit. She couldnt bear to discard the trees, so they stayed in a corner, al scented shiny leaves.

By the time she saw Jemma, tears were hanging on her eyelashes.

Jemma was seated on a bench under an orange tree, playing chess, apparently by herself. Harriet walked up quietly. It felt odd to be in a dress. Slippers were much quieter than boots. As she watched, Jemma moved a white piece, and then one of the blacks.

She glanced up and sprang to her feet. Darling Harriet, youve come home!

Then Jemma had her arms around her, and a white handkerchief out, and Harriet col apsed against her. Its justIts just I know, I know, Jemma murmured. Isidore told me.

She told you that he doesnt love me? She knew ? Why am I the only dunce? Why am I the only one who never knows?

Isidore didnt say that, Jemma said. She said that you were having a lovely time together but that He didnt love me, Harriet said.

I can only identify a man in lust, Jemma said. I have no idea how reliable Isidore is in these matters.

He was in lust, Harriet said, hiccupping. But I thought he loved me. The words wrenched out of the bottom of her heart. His daughter got sick, and he asked me to be there with her. And I thoughtI thought it was becauseIm such a fool!

What? Jemma said, rocking her a little.

I thought he was thinking of me as being Eugenias mother.

Im sure he was thinking that, Jemma said.

I was good enough, Harriet said, at least while I had my trousers on. He said we could kil off Harry Cope, and then hed marry Harriet, and I could go right back to playing primero with the men every night.

A fool, Jemma diagnosed.

And then when I said I was leaving, and I evenI even begged him to come with me, but he wouldnt. He was so angry with me. He said I was a typical duchess, that I thought he was a toy that could be bought. It wasnt like that, it real y wasnt like that.

She was crying so hard now that she bent over at her waist, arms wrapped around herself, crying in big ugly gulps and odd noises.

I loved him and he didnt love me enough, she said, her voice wavering. And Im sickIm so sick of always being second rate, of never being enough. The moment he found out I was a duchess it al just changed.