Romance: Regency Romance: In Bed With The Duke (A Regency Romance) (2 page)

I let the week’s slip by without changing my routine. I laid out George’s clothing in the morning, and had Mrs. Baker set an extra plate at his seat for lunch and tea. She looked at me strangely, but didn’t say anything. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for very long before his mother and sisters would descend up on me. Her letters were coming steadily, and I knew that Mrs. Baker was both reading them, and passing on my reactions to her real mistress. I hated them both. I hated them for letting George go away, I hated them for being happy and proud of him. It was all too much.

Mrs. Baker brought me my letters every morning at breakfast, more often than not, there would be a note from George’s mother, and this morning was no exception. The older woman’s handwriting was ornate, a relic of a time before war, when things were proper and genteel instead of full of chaos and fear. I could almost hear her voice as I read her words.

Charlotte, your steadfast refusal to obey my requests has not gone unnoticed. If you do not comply, Mr. Rutledge and I will be forced to take action.

Of course I had denied her requests. The horrible woman wanted me to go north, back to my family. But my own mother had not replied to any of my letters since before George had left for France, and I had no news from any of my cousins. I couldn’t very well show up on my father’s doorstep without an invitation, they would think the very worst of me. They would think I had been turned away in disgrace, and then what would become of me? No. I would not be going north, not unless George demanded it.

A letter from the Duke had also arrived, and Mrs. Baker had been kind enough to break the seal before delivering it. Like all the others it was printed on heavy, cream colored paper that was soft under the touch of my fingertips; it was just like all of the others I had received. A polite invitation in florid script asking me to take a place at Barclay House, His Grace’s great estate on the hill overlooking the village. Like everyone in the village I was curious about the Duke and about the lavish way he lived his life. But then I remembered the scandals he had caused, and the rumors that wound their way through the village about his conquests – a Marquees who had to be sent away to Spain unexpectedly, visiting dignitaries’ wives who were charmed over wine and dinner, and the seemingly endless line of young scullery maids and house staff that went through the village.

Without George, I was lonely all by myself in the house. Mrs. Baker was poor company – she would rather scold me than keep me company. I did try to coax the woman into a game of cards, but she would have none of it. Soon after I received a letter from Mrs. Rutledge telling me to stop ‘running wild’ and distracting the servants, ‘they have their jobs, and you have yours.’ Except, with George gone, and my bleeding upon me once more, I knew that I hadn’t fulfilled my purpose in the family. Sophia wasn’t returning my letters, saying only that I needed to throw away my pride and come to Barclay House.

I crumpled the Duke’s letter in my fist and fed the beautiful paper into the small fire in the grate. I read my mother-in-law’s letter again, dreading the words at the end of the page.

“If you do not bend, I will be forced to take action. With George away, your allowance will be stopped and your servants will come back to Grantham House until his return.” 

I hated her, with every tear that slid down my cheeks, I hated her. I knew that Mrs. Baker was watching me, but I didn’t care. Let her watch. When George came back I would beg him to let me hire new servants. Let the old cow serve her old and shriveled mistress, I didn’t care. I pressed my hands into my barren stomach – I had prayed that I would be pregnant, so that I would have a small piece of George all to myself if he didn’t…

He must come home. He must. I needed him too much. I was too young to be a widow, especially a widow without children. I looked down at the letter again and read my mother in law’s cruel words once more. She would gladly leave me with nothing and then she would parade an endless supply of cousins and marriageable young women before him and persuade him to divorce me. I didn’t doubt that she could do it. The woman had never liked me, she hated my northern family and my low birth, but George had married me anyway. George had loved me enough to defy his mother, but without him here, I was at her mercy.

Mrs. Baker left a week after that letter arrived. She did not mince words when she left me either.

“It was a mistake for Master George to marry you, mark my words, you will come to ruin. You and that pride of yours will catch you some ruin before you catch happiness. My mistress was right to cut you off.” Lydia, the housemaid, had the good sense to look at her shoes – she had always been kind to me, but she wanted to keep her job, and that meant obeying Mrs. Baker.

Without anyone to light a fire, the house was cold, and I pulled all of the blankets from all of the beds in the house and climbed into bed without braiding my hair. I huddled under the blankets and sobbed. I was truly alone now, and it was only a matter of time before I would have no choice but to give in and go north to my own family. I knew that other girls had been taken in by the loving families of their husbands, but I would have no such help.

I stayed in my bed for two days until my stomach and chattering teeth drove me from my nest and into the kitchens. I hadn’t been in the kitchen since I was a child, and I had no notion of where to find anything. However much she may have disliked me, Mrs. Baker was a fastidious housekeeper, and the kitchen was clean and sparkling. I found some cheese and a loaf of bread that was on its way to stale. I ate ravenously, and then retreated once more to my rooms. The house was cold, so cold, and it was nearing winter, but I refused to leave.

I wandered the halls wrapped in blankets, crying and reading George’s letters. He spoke of the beauty of France and the camaraderie of the men. They were eager for battle, and their spirits were high – but this letter had come weeks ago. I had heard nothing from my darling George and the only letters that came were those delivered by men in the Duke’s livery, and I shredded each of those letters between pale, shaking fingers. The invitations continued, each request as beautiful as the first one that had arrived, and each time the Duke’s men battered their fists on my front door. By the end of the week, I had stopped answering the door, but then again, I was also too weak to leave my bed, and lay there shivering instead as the world fogged from grey to black and back to grey.

All I wanted was to be with my George again, and I lingered in a half sleep and dreamed that I was winding my fingers in his dark hair, and running my nails lightly over his chest. I missed the smell of his skin and the sound of his laugh, and I worried that I was starting to forget those things. I spent my hours obsessing over these small details. These little pieces of my husband that I might never see again. I had seen the change in men coming back from war before – and I couldn’t bear to see it in my George.

My stomach had ceased to growl, and my hunger pains had become nothing more than a dull ache in the pit of my belly… but the headaches came upon me more often and though my body was cold, my head burned with fever and I slept and slept, I prayed that when I woke up I would see my darling George’s face again, and that everything would be all right.

When I woke, sunlight streamed through my window and over my coverlets, and a small fire crackled merrily in the grate. For a moment, I thought that Mrs. Baker had returned, and that life was back to normal, that I would hear George’s sweet laugh in the hall at any moment. A maid in a starched uniform scurried from the room and called down the hallway. A moment later, Sophie’s face appeared at the door and my friend threw herself on the foot of my bed. How was it that she was here? Her warm hands gripped mine and she spoke breathlessly.

“Oh, Charlotte! You’re finally awake! You’ve been asleep for days. I’ve been trying and trying to reach you, and I even visited, but your door was locked and Mrs. Baker didn’t answer.” I shook my head.

“She left me… Mrs. Baker and Lydia… they left me.” Sophie clutched my hands tighter.

“How long have you been alone?” I shook my head, I had no idea. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re safe and being well looked after. I was worried that you wouldn’t wake. I came… I came with the Duke to fetch you. His Grace came himself to bring you here! You should be thankful!” I wasn’t sure how to react, but as Sophie talked, I realized that I wasn’t in my own bed. The coverlets were finely embroidered, and the dark wood of the bed shone in the candlelight. Sophie’s face was suffused with joy at seeing me awake, but I couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her eagerness. How dare she bring me to this place? She knew how I felt about the Duke and his reputation. The Duke.

“Sophie, you said that his Grace came with you to fetch me?” I suddenly realized that I was wearing an unfamiliar nightdress. I touched the fine material gently and looked at Sophie in horror. She nodded.

“Charlotte, you were in such a state… but his Grace insisted. He carried to his carriage himself. Now, don’t make that face, he left you to us women to bathe and dress you. Your precious virtue is intact, Mrs. Rutledge!” Sophie chuckled lightly as I relaxed against the pillows. The embarrassment I felt at the Duke seeing me in the state I must have been in was overwhelming, and as weak as I was I felt a hot blush creep up my neck and spread over my cheeks.

“Sophie, I can’t be here!” my voice was full of desperation, what if my mother in law found out? What if my father found out? What if George… the tears started again unbidden and I turned away from my friend’s eager face. I couldn’t stay here. I tried to get out of bed but Sophie pushed me back down gently.

“You need to rest.” Her smile was warm and comforting, and I was so tired. “I’ll be back to check on you.” I nodded weakly. Tomorrow, tomorrow I would leave.

But I didn’t leave the next day, or the next, or the next. Sophie and the ladies’ maid that had been assigned to me, Mary, nursed me back to health over the next weeks. The doctor informed me that I had been close to death, but I brushed his admonishments away and turned my face to the wall. Without George, I may as well be dead.  

As the days passed, I was finally able to leave my bed and dress myself. The only people I allowed into my room were Sophie and Mary the ladies’ maid. Mary brought me my meals, water for washing and took away my laundry, but she didn’t stay to dress me or chat – but I didn’t want her to anyway. I didn’t want to get used to the pampering of the Duke’s house. I set my own hair and dressed in the only frock I had. Sophie visited me often, and always brought stories of the parties and elaborate dinners that the Duke put on for his ‘treasured guests.’

“You really should come out of your room, Charlotte. The Duke brought you here as a guest. You shouldn’t refuse his hospitality so rudely.” Sophie made a face, “Besides, you only have that one dress, and it’s starting to look shabby with all of the washing. You can borrow one of my day dresses, but please, send one of the servants to your house to bring your wardrobe here. You’ll be here for a while.” I looked down at my knees and smoothed the cotton of my dress over them. Sophie was right, maybe I had been rude.

“I should… I should just go home, Sophie. I know that George will be home soon, he should have written by now, but I haven’t had any letters.” I twisted my fingers in my lap while Sophie arched her eyebrow at me.

“Charlotte, give me your house key. I’m sending one of the footmen to collect your wardrobe. I’ll go with them and supervise and make sure that they bring your ball gowns and gloves. This is the best way to pass the time while our men are away… surely you see that. All you need to do is come to one dinner and you’ll see that this is for the best.” Sophie sat next to me and slipped her arm around my waist. “Everything will be fine, Charlotte, I promise.” I nodded slowly and looked out the window. I missed my things, but most of all I missed George. Perhaps I did need a distraction.

Sophie squeezed me tightly and rose from the window seat as I passed her the key to the front door. “You won’t regret this, Charlotte. I’ll go at once.” I watched her go with wide eyes. It felt like I was giving up what little independence I thought that I had in the name of protection I didn’t want or need.

Sophie returned some time later with a broad smile on her face and two footmen laden with boxes and valises. “Put them on the bed and then leave us. Thank you!” Sophie waved at them brightly as they left the room and then she turned to me. “Now that we have all of your things, you need to make an appearance at dinner.” I got up from the seat in the window and went over to the bed and traced my finger over the pattern on one of the hat boxes. “Besides, the Duke’s birthday is approaching, and I’ve told him all about your singing.” My eyes widened as Sophie kept talking, but she didn’t notice my distress. “I’ve been playing the pianoforte in the evenings and the Duke is quite enchanted with my playing, but he says that charming playing is nothing without the accompaniment of a voice, and of course I had to tell him all about you.” 

“You told him about me?” My throat was tight.

“Of course I did! Don’t be such a goose. I’ve been talking about you for weeks, and His Grace came with me himself to fetch you from your house. And not a moment too soon.” She leaned closer to me, “he’s curious about you, Charlotte. It would serve you well to come to dinner tonight.” I looked down at my things again. “Come now, I’ll pick you out a dress and I’ll set your hair myself.” Sophie shook my arm cajolingly. “Come on Charlotte, please? For me?” She pouted prettily at me, but I shook my head.

“I need more time to think, Sophie. I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t be here. I should go home.” Sophie frowned.

“But Charlotte, all of your things are here.” She gestured at the bed, and I looked miserably at the pile of my belongings. “Besides, I’ve read the letters from Mrs. Rutledge. The woman is horrible.” She pulled a handful of letters out of her dress pocket and held them up. “She says horrible things to you, you should really speak to George about the way she treats you, it’s entirely disgusting.” Sophie turned and threw the letters on the fire. “Before you ask, there were no letters from your family, or from your darling George. I haven’t heard from my own William in almost two months, damn this war and that wretched Napoleon to hell!” Sophie began to open cases and hat boxes, searching for the perfect dinner dress.

Sophie pulled out one of my favorite dresses, a soft cotton dress in a pale lavender. It was one of the first dresses that George had ever bought for me. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of the look on George’s face when I had work it for the first time. The lust in his eyes as he had traced the low neckline with his fingertips, the hungry way that his lips had found mine and the sound of his voice as he whispered in my ear how beautiful I was. My George. Even after two years of marriage, he still made my knees grow weak with the slightest touch of his fingers on my bare skin.

Sophie dropped the dress and gave a sigh of aggravation. “Don’t start this again. I’ll be back to help you dress and set your hair. You… pull yourself together and put on a grateful face. If we’re lucky, the Duke will come down to dinner with the ladies. We never know whether he’s in the house or not, except when there are balls planned.” She pulled a pair of silk stockings out of a case and held them out to me. I took them out of her hands and she left the room with a wave of her graceful fingers.

I sat down on the bed clutching the delicate stockings. I didn’t know what to do, and Sophie wasn’t helping to make the decision any easier. Do I give in and accept a new life at Barclay House? Or do I rebel… thank the Duke for his kindness and then take myself and my belongings back to my house and wait in the cold silence for George to return, or for my sadness to overtake me.