The Duke's Deception (17 page)

‘An abduction?’

‘Yes, Miss
Devenish trusted him and would no doubt have gone willingly not realizing what
he was about. I was able to tell her the whole, reveal his baser motives and
persuade her to leave. Mrs Devenish was only too happy to compose the necessary
letters of introduction. Her sole reason for inviting Marianne to stay with her
was to access her inheritance but she would have known scandal was about to
engulf her.’

‘I am not
acquainted with this man but you can be sure that if ever I meet him he will
regret the experience.’

‘I take it your
feelings are engaged?’

Theo’s eyes
narrowed. ‘Are you suggesting I was trifling with her?’

John hastily
shook his head. ‘No, you grace, but what if news of both incidents reaches
Town? Miss Devenish will be ruined— how will you feel then? You are a man a
consequence, a duke, would you wish to link yourself with someone whose good
name was gone?’

‘God damn it!
What sort of man do you take me for? If she rode like Lady
Godiver
down New Bond Street I would still marry her.’

John’s mouth
fell open and his face flushed at the idea of such an unlikely occurrence.

Theo laughed. ‘I
apologize; that was not an appropriate analogy. But I’m sure you understand my
meaning. I believe I knew the moment I set eyes on her that I would marry her.
But I could not propose until I had completed my mission and could reveal my
true identity.’

‘That’s a
relief. She’s a headstrong young lady and has come up with a cork brained
scheme to retire to a country estate and moulder away as an old maid.’

Theo frowned
then smiled. ‘I have a letter for you to take Horse Guards. I think in the
circumstances I will send you to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office, at
Doctor’s Commons, to purchase a special license as well. You have two days to
post there and back, that is ample time.’

‘Do you wish me
to convey a note to Miss Devenish, your grace?’

‘I think not. I
have no intention of proposing in a letter. I shall do it in person as soon as
this other business is sorted.’

‘How have you
explained your possession of the letters?’ John asked.

‘I merely said
they were discovered at a drop-off point we raided. Unfortunately Friday will
not be the end of it. I still have to ferret out the true traitors in London or
elsewhere and that could take several weeks.’

John looked
blank. ‘So why the need for a special license, your grace? Plenty of time to
have banns called before you will be free to wed. ‘

‘I cannot wait
that long. God knows what scrapes Marianne will get into if she is left to her
own devices. Neither do I wish to risk her being harmed by malicious gossip.
No, I shall marry her then bring her back here. She can reside at Bentley Hall
on her own or return to live with the Griersons. You can be very sure that when
she is my duchess she will be welcome at Frating Hall once more.’

‘If you’ll
forgive me saying so, your grace, I wouldn’t inform Miss Devenish you intend to
marry her and then abandon her. She might not agree to the union if she was
aware of that.’

Theo slapped
John heartily on the back. ‘Good God, man, I am not a complete flat. When the
knot is tied will be soon enough.’

John left soon
after, driven to Colchester a bag of gold coins secreted on his person. Some
were for his journey but four pounds was to pay the stamp duty on the special
license. He wished the duke had agreed to send a letter to Miss Marianne making
his intentions clear, there had been more than enough upset and misunderstanding
between them in the short time they had been acquainted.

Chapter
Seventeen

The clock said a
little after six o’clock and Marianne was waiting in the drawing-room at Brook Street
for Lady Ashton’s carriage to arrive to take her to the opera. She was wearing
her most elaborate evening gown, a silk creation with a sea green underskirt
and silver gauze overdress. Her matching opera cloak lined with silver, floated
around her as she walked anxiously back and forth across the carpets.

Mrs Sampson
looked for the third time at the mantle clock. ‘This is decidedly odd. Lady
Ashton is never tardy; indeed, she is the most punctual of my friends. I do not
understand what is keeping her. Let me see the card again, my dear.’

Marianne handed
over the invitation she had received the previous day. She knew the contents by
rote. She had been cordially invited to join Lord and Lady Ashton for a night
at the opera. The carriage was to collect her at
five thirty
promptly and formal dress was required to be
worn.

‘Perhaps the
carriage has been held up by an accident,’ Marianne volunteered.

‘I do hope not.
But it is such a brief journey, I hardly think there is time to be involved in
such a thing. I think I will send someone round with a note.’

Marianne removed
her cloak but was reluctant to sit in case she creased her gown. As the
Ashtons
lived only a few streets away the footman returned
promptly. Mrs Sampson spoke to him in the hall then
rejoined
Marianne in the drawing-room.

‘I am sorry, my
dear but it appears they have gone without you. I cannot imagine why they

should have been so uncivil. And
you look so very beautiful in your evening gown.’

‘I will retire
to my room, please excuse me, Mrs Sampson. I’m sure there will be a reasonable
explanation but we must wait until the morning to discover what it is.’

Jane was now
permitted to have an evening free. Annie, her new dresser was quickly at her
side to help remove her dress. Despite the early hour Marianne asked for her
nightgown.

‘Would you like
a supper tray to be sent up, Miss Devenish?’

‘No, I’ll retire
early. I shall not require you again tonight.’

Left alone
Marianne went to stand by the window; the two older children were having a last
walk in the garden before going retiring. She glanced down - she felt no older
than them - as if she had been sent to bed for some major misdemeanour.

Her throat
constricted and unwelcome tears filled her eyes. She had been so looking
forward to tonight, to wearing her new gown and hearing her first opera. Why
had Lady Ashton’s carriage not come?

Then she
recalled on her arrival three days previously Mrs Sampson had forgotten all
about her; perhaps this was what had happened. Yes, that would be the
explanation. Lady Ashton had sent the card and then been distracted and the
invitation had quite slipped her memory.

Feeling
considerably more cheerful Marianne got out her writing box, sorted out a pen
and paper and sat down to write a long letter to Emily. She had become fond of
her foster sister and found she was missing the cosy conversations they had
shared. Writing a letter would

help alleviate her loneliness. But
thinking about Frating Hall inevitably led to thoughts of Theo and her page was
soon too blotched to use. She was becoming a veritable watering pot, she had
cried more in the past few days than in the whole of her life.

There was far
too much light to sleep with the shutters open so she unfolded them and pulled
the heavy drapes as well. When the room was dark enough she climbed into bed
but soon the room became unpleasantly hot and stuffy. She had omitted to open
any windows before shutting herself in for the night. Too dispirited to go back
and let in some much-needed air she turned over and closed her eyes.

She spent a hot
and sticky night and by morning had a sick headache. The combination

of
no food
and little air had proved harmful. She felt too ill to ring for Jane or Annie;
her head pounded and she was so sick she was glad she hadn’t eaten.

Jane arrived
early having heard about the disappointment of the previous night. ‘Oh dear,
miss, you have a bad head don’t you?’ She tutted and hurried over to the
windows to throw them up letting in some cool morning air. Then she carefully
closed the shutters again; Marianne couldn’t bear the light when she was ill.

*

Jane and Annie
were so busy taking care of her that neither ventured downstairs until late
morning. By then Marianne had fallen asleep and Jane was free to go down to
explain to Mrs Sampson. She discovered a note had come from Lady Ashton. Annie
went to the kitchen to fetch a jug of freshly made lemonade. They both received
unpleasant and shocking news.

Jane knew Mrs
Sampson to be in the morning room so went to find her. She knocked and received
a decidedly frosty command to enter. Mrs Sampson did not smile or invite her to
be seated.

‘Mrs Smith, I
understand Miss Devenish is unwell?’

‘Yes, Mrs
Sampson, she is prostrate with a sick headache.’

‘That is most
unfortunate as I particularly wished to speak to her but I suppose I must speak
to you instead.’ Jane waited, not liking either the tone or the expression on
Mrs Sampson’s face. ‘Lady Ashton did not come last night because she has no
desire to be associated with Miss Devenish and neither for that matter, do I.
Word is all over London about Miss Devenish’s scandalous behaviour both in Bath
and Essex.’

Jane
pokered
up. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Sampson, but I will not hear
ill being spoken of Miss Devenish. She is an innocent girl and whatever you
have heard is without substance.’

Mrs Sampson’s
smile was thin. ‘So, Miss Devenish did not take drives in the country alone
with Sir James Russell and then when he offered for her refuse to accept him?’

‘He never
offered for her but if he had she would not have taken him. The man is a rake
of the worst kind,’ Jane snapped.

‘As I thought.
You are not denying Miss Devenish behaved improperly. And Essex - the same
again? She allowed one Sir Theodore Devenish to take liberties and then refused
his offer of marriage and came here?’

Put so starkly
and with no room for explanation this was hard to deny. ‘I repeat, madam, Miss
Devenish is an innocent young woman who was shamefully used by Sir Theodore.’

‘Then why, might
I ask, did she not accept his offer?’

Jane could not say,
the secret was not hers to tell.

‘As soon as Miss
Devenish is well I wish her to leave this house. And until she does I shall
require her to remain in her room. I will have trays sent to her. That will be
all, Mrs Smith.’

Her darling
Marianne was sleeping upstairs quite unaware that someone had released upon the
polite world a full and well embellished version of events. Her reputation was
gone, even her status as an heiress was not enough to save her from disgrace.
Jane left the morning room and almost ran back down the corridor. She met Mr
Sampson in the hall.

‘Ah, Mrs Smith,
a word, if you please, it is important. Come to my study.’

Jane followed
him. ‘This is a sad day, indeed it is. I would not have Miss Devenish leave
here like this but it is Mrs Sampson’s decision and I do not interfere in
domestic matters.’ He gestured at a chair and Jane sat. ‘However, my man was
approached by chance yesterday by someone who has a property in Hertfordshire
that will be ideal for your purposes. The owner is prepared to let Miss
Devenish move in before the lease is signed and as we speak the house is being
prepared for your arrival.’

‘That’s lucky,
sir, for we have nowhere else to go.’

‘I shall sign
the necessary papers as soon as they are prepared and send a copy down to Miss
Devenish. I have not visited the place and neither has my man but any port in a
storm, eh, Mrs Smith?’

‘Yes, sir. I
will organize the packing and we will be ready to depart first thing tomorrow.’
She frowned. ‘But we have no male staff to accompany us. It would be
inappropriate whatever the circumstances for Miss Devenish to travel
unescorted.’

‘The estate
comes fully staffed, Mrs Smith, did I not say? I will send two grooms, they may
return when your men arrive. I will of course send Master Edward and his
servants to you as soon as they return.’

‘What about
Annie? Can she stay with us?’

‘Yes, Mrs
Sampson is agreeable to letting her go; we don’t wish to appear unkind.’ He
stood up. ‘I will speak to Miss Devenish myself before she leaves tomorrow.’

*

Marianne slept
the clock round and even the sound of packing did not rouse her. She finally
sat up, her headache gone but not quite recovered. She stared around the room
with growing dismay. Where were her things? Her knickknacks, her travelling desk,
her combs and brushes?

She pushed back
the cover and stood up. Her head spun a little but she decided she was well
enough to leave her bed. Even her ormolu mantle clock had vanished so she had
no notion of the time. There was sunlight so it must be past dawn, but whether
five of the clock or seven she could not tell.

She opened the
door that connected her bedchamber to her dressing room. She swayed and
clutched the frame in shock for there, neatly strapped, stood her trunks. What
had happened in the last twenty-four hours? Why was she leaving when she had
only just arrived?

Feeling sick
again she stumbled back into her room and finding the bell-strap jerked it
several times. She didn’t care what the time was, she needed an explanation.

She was tempted
to creep back under the covers, to hide away, but restrained the impulse.
Instead she sunk onto the
chaise-longue
and waited. Ten minutes dragged by before she heard footsteps in the
dressing-room. Jane entered, Annie close behind her.

‘Oh, miss, I’m
so glad you’re up. I have dreadful news for you I’m afraid. We have to leave
here as soon as you’re ready.’

Marianne
steadied her breathing. ‘Why have I to leave here, Jane? Tell me the rest,
please.’

Jane wrung her
hands. ‘Someone has been spreading gossip, miss. It’s all over Town, what
happened in Bath and what happened in Great Bentley. Mrs Sampson will not have
you here; your name is blackened beyond redemption.’

‘I see. Then
where are we to go? I cannot go back to Frating Hall, they don’t want me there
either.’ Her voice cracked and Jane went forward to offer what comfort she
could. Marianne raised her hand, warning her off.

‘Mr Sampson has
managed to secure the lease of a furnished and staffed property in
Hertfordshire no more than a few hours’ drive from here. It’s what you intended
to do, we’re just removing from Brook Street a trifle sooner than expected,
that’s all.’

‘I see,’
Marianne said a second time, but she didn’t, not really.

Annie fetched
her travelling outfit and laid it across the bed. ‘Will I go down fetch a tray
up, Mrs Smith? Miss Devenish hasn’t eaten for ever so long.’ Marianne was about
to refuse but realized it wouldn’t help to swoon from lack of sustenance.

‘Ask for two
footmen to come up and collect these trunks as well. I wish you to travel with
the baggage cart, Annie, then you can get things sorted before we arrive.’

‘Yes, Mrs Smith.
How will I know which chamber to put Miss Devenish’s things in?’

‘In the best
room, of course. And alert the cook and the rest of the staff of our imminent
arrival.’

Marianne picked
at the bread-and-butter but drank her tea with pleasure. She set her cup back
loudly on the side table. ‘Good heavens! What about Edward and the boys and
John? They will find us gone.’

‘Mr Sampson will
send them on, never fear. And Edward is due to take the empty carriage back to
Frating Hall today. Remember he knows nothing of your discovery and will be
expecting to deliver the letters tomorrow night.’

‘I suppose this
debacle
means Edward will not be able to
charge down to Great Bentley and get himself arrested.’

‘There - always
a silver lining, miss, isn’t there?’

The trunks were
loaded and the luggage cart departed scarcely thirty minutes later. Marianne
wished she could follow and not wait upon Mr Sampson who didn’t rise until
seven thirty.

Her parting
interview with her host was not a happy one. Mr Sampson assured her he would be
delighted to continue to represent her interests, if she so wished. She did -
she had no one else to ask.

‘I would like a
half of my income to go to Lord and Lady Grierson, can you make sure that
happens, Mr Sampson?’

‘Of course, if
that’s what you want. There is more than enough to run your modest household on
what remains. If there’s nothing more, I will bid you God speed, Miss Devenish,
and we must pray in a few years all this will be forgotten and you will be free
to
rejoin
society.’

One of the
grooms from Brook Street was designated to ride Sultan, the other joined the
coachman on the box. Marianne left with no one to wave her farewell. She tried
to rest but the rattle and judder of the carriage as it travelled over the
cobbles made this impossible.

‘Mr Sampson says
my name will remain sullied for years, Jane.’

‘Did he? That
seems a gloomy forecast. I’m sure people will have forgotten all about it long
before then.’

‘Society never
forgets. I remember my mama telling me that. I also recall her telling me that
a reputation once lost can never be regained. It is gone for ever.’ The carriage
sunk into silence, both contemplating what this would mean. ‘I can never marry
now, Jane, no decent man will have me.’ They both knew to whom she was
referring.