My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) (6 page)

The storm that raged outside made the air chill and casting aside their outer garments the two travelers went to stand before the fire, holding their hands to the blaze. Almost immediately, two maids entered the room to lay the covers and bring ale and wine for their refreshment, bobbing a brief curtsey before making their departure. The proprietor arrived in their wake, bowing low before such an eminent personage as an English duke. In broken English, of which he was very proud, he assured the visitors that they would receive the very best his establishment could offer and discussed with them what dishes they desired for their evening repast.

When, bowing profusely, he withdrew, the duke noticed that Jane was chuckling silently to herself as she sat on the settle.

“
What has occurred to amuse you, my dear?” he asked, taking his ease on the opposite seat.

Eyes dancing, she asked, “Are you always accorded such reverence, sir?”

“But of course,” he replied soberly. “Should it be any other way?”

For a moment, she was taken aback by his self-assurance but upon scrutiny, she saw the teasing light in his eyes. “You are bamming me, sir,” she cried, continuing to smile.

He attempted hauteur, but she had seen the birth of the smile before he had been able to repress it. “Not at all. Am I not a personage of rank and fortune and thus entitled to such homage?”

Suppressing her own smile Jane folded her hands demurely in her lap.
“Of a certainty, sir! Where are my wits? I forget myself. I should return to calling you your grace and my lord duke...”

He grinned openly.
“You will do no such thing. Robert will suffice quite well, thank you.” He saw that she frowned slightly. “What now?”

“
I was wondering what would have been my reception had I travelled alone as was my original intent. I doubt I would have been afforded such cordiality.”

He made a rueful grimace.
“I doubt it too, my dear. Without as much as a maid to add to your consequence, you would unfortunately have been regarded as very low rank and been reduced to sharing accommodation with the common traveler.”

“
Then I must thank you, sir, for lending me the consequence I so obviously lack,” she chuckled.

He laughed, bowing in his seat.
“At last you find a use for me. My efforts therefore have not been in vain.”

***

When at last the meal was over, the duke sat at his ease by the table with his legs stretched before him, savoring his brandy, whilst Jane was cozily ensconced on the settle by the fire, its warmth pervading the room and casting out all thoughts of the storm. The tensions of the day had dissipated and an easy silence existed between them, both seemingly lost in their own reverie.

After a short while, the duke became aware that he was the object of his companion’s scrutiny and draining his glass raised an enquiring brow.

“Forgive me, Robert,” said Jane, averting her gaze to the fire. “It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable, I was just wondering…”

“
Wondering what exactly?” he asked, his voice mellow from the effects of the brandy.

“
Whether you would find it would give you any ease of mind to tell me about your brother. You have not mentioned him since we left England and I realize that the very nature of our journey must bring you thoughts of him?”

A dark frown immediately clouded his brow.
“No, it would not give me ease of mind, young lady,” he replied sharply, snapping his glass back onto the table. “I can assure you I have no need to unburden my thoughts to anyone. There is no need for your pity.”

“I was not offering you pity, sir,” she said softly, in no way daunted by his change of mood. “I would just offer you understanding and try to afford you some comfort of spirit. Perhaps, as we are so closely linked by circumstances, we can offer each other some degree of solace?”

The duke came quickly to his feet, his agitation driving him to pace between hearth and table, an intense guilt overtaking him at the mention of his brother. Without realizing it, his thoughts of Stefan had not been as all-consuming over the past few days with his concerns for Jane and her predicament. He could scarce believe that he had allowed himself to be so easily diverted.

He dared not look at the earnest little face before him. Without knowing why, he realized that she awoke in him a response to her words and for the first time he experienced a desire to communicate his grief to one who, being in a like predicament, would understand.

“You at least have been afforded the opportunity to rectify your circumstance,” he said with a great passion. “I… What could I do when presented with Stefan’s death? Where was my chance of deliverance?” Of a sudden, it was as if the floodgates had been opened and all the thoughts that had been uppermost in his mind for so long tumbled out unbidden. He turned a ravaged countenance toward her, laying bare his soul.

“He was dead before even the news of his wounds had reached me; he had been dead a month before I even knew.
A whole month…
imagine!
It was I who had signed his commission and sent him off to this terrible war.”

The intensity of his feelings affected Jane greatly, she had not been aware that he was capable of such a passion of grief.

He paused briefly to strike his fist against the mantle before continuing his restless movements. “If I had not listened to his pleadings, ignored his desire for glory, he would now be safe at Stovely or even on the town doing all the mindless things that other young bucks do. Not lying in a cold grave in Spain, slain by his own hand. How terrible were his wounds to have driven him to take such an action? What agonies must he have endured that death was his only release? Whilst I… I was totally ignorant of his plight, knew nothing of his torments.”

She rose to stand before him, halting his pacing. Taking hold of his hand she led him to the settle to sit beside her. “There is no blame attached to you whatsoever, sir,” she said softly, attempting to alleviate his pain. “You could have done naught to alter the outcome…”

“But he was left in my care, Jane,”
he interrupted passionately, turning his face away from her. “I was his guardian. When our father died he placed him in my care. A fine protector I proved to be. Stefan looked up to me, idolized me and where was I when he needed me most of all? Probably in some gaming hell or drinking club or involved in some other dissipation that has become my life style.”

He turned to face her, the tears standing in his eyes and for a moment, she knew the impulse to put her arms around him to comfort him, as she would have done Harry. However, she realized that it would be inappropriate. He was a very proud man and to her mind would not welcome such a demonstration on her part and she dare not risk his rejection of her actions.

Instead, she once more took hold of his hand in both of hers. “I am sure you took every care of Stefan,” she said to try to soothe him, “but you must remember he was old

enough
to order his own destiny, you are in no way responsible for his death. He was of age and was his own man. When someone close to you dies, it is very difficult to accept their going, no matter their manner of death. Stefan died in such tragic circumstances. It is very difficult to come to terms with the horrors of war, I know, but if that is the path our loved ones have chosen to follow, what can we do but support them? We cannot live their lives for them. There is no need for self-reproach; you were a good and loving brother. No more could be asked of you.”

A silence fell between them, invaded only by the sound of the rain beating relentlessly against the darkened casement.

Of a sudden the duke rose and crossing to the table stood with his back to her and poured himself a glass of brandy. “I have burdened you long enough,” he said once more retreating into aloofness. “Forgive me.”

“
You have not burdened me at all, sir,” she replied watching as he tossed back the contents of his glass.

“
Even so, it is time you took to your bed. We set out at dawn and it would not do to begin the journey not having had sufficient rest. I will keep you from your repose no longer.”

Seeing this as a dismissal and not wishing to impose further on his grief, Jane rose from the settle saying, “Then, sir, I will wish you goodnight for I am indeed tired.” As she gained the door, she turned, “Will you not take your own advice and retire? You too must be exhausted.”

“Presently,” was his only response as he poured yet another glass. Still not meeting her gaze, he returned to his seat by the table, pulling the brandy bottle toward him.

The hour was well advanced when he finally ret
ired to his chamber on the second floor landing, the inn appearing deserted, all other travelers having sought their repose some hours since.

***

Morning brought no respite from the storm. The clouds hung even lower in the sky, and surveying the flooded cobles of the yard from the parlor window, the duke wondered at the sense of traveling on such a day. However, he put these thoughts aside knowing that the mere idea of delay would find no favor with his companion. Instead, he sent word to Hills to be ready within the hour and joined Jane at the breakfast table.

A reserve had existed on the duke’s part at their first meeting this morning but Jane’s amiable greeting and conversation had dispelled any awkwardness.

Jane’s heart had immediately gone out to him when she had joined him in the parlor, the sight of his drawn countenance once more awakening a desire to comfort him. She attempted to lighten his mood and eventually a genial rapport came into being. Each once more finding an ease in the others company.

When the maid arrived to collect the dishes, the duke rose from the table. “I think it would be wise to plan to travel no further than Vendas today,” he said taking up his greatcoat. “The terrain is rough and
unsheltered; if the rain continues, we could well encounter difficulties. As it is, our progress will needs be slow.”

“Even so, at least we will have made some progress,” Jane said, rising to don her cloak. “Elvas and Harry will seem that little bit nearer.”

“Just so,” he replied. “The coach is at the door, make haste and I will join you as soon as I have settled with the landlord.”

***

As they left the confines of Marateca the thunder rumbling in the distance proved that the storm still raged and the driving rain made it necessary to keep the windows fastened tightly. The damp air misted the panes and only the swaying of the coach made them aware of the speed at which they traveled. Sometimes, by necessity, their progress was slow; at others, they advanced at a far better pace, only now and again clearing the windows sufficiently to examine the unfamiliar terrain. There was nothing remarkable about the stark countryside, no landmarks or buildings to be seen only the flat muddy plains visible through the haze of weather.

They were some forty or so miles into their journey when the road led them through a densely wooded area. At least here they would be afforded some shelter
and the coachman slowed his horses to a walk, allowing them to go at their own speed and so regain some of their breath. The trees were so closely set together that they seemed to present a canopied avenue. The light filtered fitfully through their boughs, their density defusing the downpour and the ground felt firmer under the wheels of the coach, providing some respite from the storms that tore at the exterior.

However, some way into the wood
s Hills gave a quiet rap against the hatch. “I do believe we are being observed, your grace,” he whispered as the duke dropped the hatch door. “There seems to be someone moving amongst the trees. What do you wish me to do?”

“Are you armed?” asked the duke in the same hushed tone.

“Yes, sir.”

“
Then place your firearm in full view. Make no move unless we are challenged, perhaps the knowledge that we are carrying weapons will deter them. Tell the coachman to increase the pace. Leave the hatch open and let me know what you see.”

Returning to his seat the duke took the brace of pistols from the door of the coach and under Jane
’s anxious gaze, lay them on the seat beside him. They felt the speed of the coach increase as the horses were sprung to a canter, aware that this pace could prove disastrous in the wooded confines.

“
Do you think we will be attacked, Robert?” she whispered, leaning toward him, eyes wide with trepidation.

“
I don’t know, my dear,” he replied “but ’tis best that we should be prepared for any eventuality.” Taking the small pistol from his pocket, he held it out to her. “Take this, use it only if you feel threatened. If we are stopped, keep out of sight. Hills and I will deal with the situation.”

An apprehensive look was her only reply as, only able to guess at what dangers could
lie ahead, she took the pistol in nervous fingers and drew back into the shadows of the corner.

They heard a volley of shots and taking up the pistols, the duke rose. Steadying himself against the rocking of the coach he called to Hills but before he could receive any reply there came a terrified squealing from the lead horses and he was forcibly thrown against the door as the coach overturned and he was engulfed in a sudden all-consuming blackness.