Authors: Fenella J Miller
The Duke's Reform (18 page)
'Darling, I can't tell you how happy I am that you came to me tonight. I never
thought to be able to love you again. I …'
'Let me go. I did not
come
to you for this. I am here because you were
delirious earlier.'
His arms tightened and he pulled her closer ignoring
her words. She struggled more furiously and screamed to be released. Only then
did his grip slacken and she scrambled out of bed. She couldn’t see his face in
the near blackness, but she had no doubt he was leaning back on the pillows
certain he had re-established his ascendancy.
'I hate you, Alexander. You’re despicable, you know how I feel about you and
yet you took shameful advantage.'
'You were in bed beside me and you responded to my kisses. This was hardly the
action of a woman who does not wish to make love.' His words were clipped as if
he was angry.
'I was asleep, I thought I was dreaming and when I woke, I was too late to stop
you. The only reason I was beside you in bed was to keep warm. The fire is out,
in case you haven't noticed.'
'But, my dear, the fact you were dreaming about making love to me should tell
you all you need to know. There's no point denying it, Isobel, you want me as
much as I want you.'
This was the outside of enough. Her anger burned as hot as her earlier desire.
‘I’ve lived more happily these past few months away from you than at any time
when you were here. Unlike you I had no recourse to slake my physical needs
with a lover. You promised me you would never be unfaithful, that you would
take care of me and make me happy. You have broken every one of those vows.'
Too distressed to remain in the same chamber as him she fled back to her own
apartment and sobbed herself to sleep.
****
Alexander
cursed his stupidity. He had been half asleep himself when his bare thigh had
touched hers. Unable to believe what his senses were telling him he had reached
out and found his darling girl curled up beside him. He hadn't stopped to
think— had just reacted. When Isobel was in his arms rational thought was
impossible. His hand came away from his leg bright red. Making love had
reopened the wound. This was a job for the physician
now,
he would need fresh sutures to staunch the blood.
Keeping one hand firmly pressed on the gash he stretched out and rang the brass
bell praying that someone was within earshot. He couldn't remove his hand in
order to get out of bed and pull the bell-strap. He was beginning to despair
when the butler rushed into the room.
'My leg— it's bleeding profusely. You need to send for the doctor to stitch it
again.'
'That's not possible, my lord,
the
snow's too deep.
Here, let me bandage the injury, it should hold until I can fetch what I need.'
In the feeble light of a single candlestick his leg was dressed efficiently.
The bed was
ruined,
it looked as if someone had been
murdered within the sheets. He felt lightheaded and not at all well. From a
distance he heard voices, then firm arms propped him up in the bed and someone
tipped cool lemonade into his mouth which immediately revived him.
'I'm going put extra stitches in the wound, my lord
.
It
might hurt, but I reckon to give you brandy or laudanum would do more
harm than good after the bout of fever you had.'
'Get on with it, man,
then
I can remove myself from
this bloodbath.' Several extremely painful minutes later the job was done. 'Can
I get up now? I'll sit in the chair whilst the bed is changed.'
'Allow me to assist you, your grace. Then
Mrs
Watkins
can set things straight.'
Only then did he remember what had taken place between those sheets. Would the
evidence of their lovemaking be visible? Too late to worry, he was married to
Isobel after all and making love was perfectly natural between a man and wife.
His cheeks stained. The housekeeper was Isobel's confidante and she knew how
things stood between them. Would she believe he had forced himself upon her for
the second time? He slumped into the chair, despair overwhelming him. How was
he going to convince Isobel he had believed her to be in his bed willingly? It
might be a week or more before the roads were clear enough him to leave. Would
this be sufficient to repair the damage?
****
The rattle
of the curtains being drawn back woke Isobel the next morning. Her head ached,
her throat was dry and she had no wish for breakfast. Sally had placed the tray
with tea and buttered toast on the bedside table.
'It's fair freezing outside, my lady, and more snow falling. I doubt anyone
will get in or out of here for a week at least.'
'I think I shall stay in my apartments today, Sally. I did not have much sleep
last night and
shall
remain in bed this morning.'
'Very well, ma'am.
There was a right to do last night,
I can tell you. His grace needed
Mr
Brown to stitch
up his leg again for he lost a deal of blood but George says as he's fine now.'
'I'm glad to hear it. Ask
Mrs
Watkins to come and see
me, please, Sally.'
The girl left the tray and vanished through the dressing room, her footsteps
clearly audible as the servants’ passageway ran alongside the bed chamber.
Isobel toyed with the toast but drank the tea. A polite tap on the door
heralded Mary's arrival.
'Good morning, my lady. I think you've made a
wise choice to remain here today, it's far warmer upstairs than down.'
'Mary, tell me what happened? I left the duke because he was sleeping
peacefully, his fever quite gone. There seemed little point in me shivering in
a chair when he no longer required my vigilance.'
'It would seem the injury was worse than either
of us knew. Bill said he had to probe into the wound in order to remove a large
sliver of wood that had embedded itself there. He must have nicked a vein, what
with all that tossing and turning with his fever. I reckon that caused the
bleeding.'
'But the duke's in no danger?'
Mary beamed. 'Bless you, my
dear,
he's sleeping like a
baby. I doubt we'll keep that one in his bed today.'
'You had better find him a cane to lean on if he insists on leaving his
chamber. Has someone taken the dogs out for me?' Her
erstwhile
abigail
looked uncomfortable. This was the
first time since they'd returned Mary had forgotten to address her correctly.
'I regret we don't spend much time together, Mary. You're my dearest friend and
I insist in future you come and take tea with me every afternoon as long as
your duties allow it.'
The smile returned. 'Thank you, my lady. Perhaps I could come along later and
show you what I've made for the little one?'
This arrangement was more than acceptable and Isobel's spirits rose and her
appetite revived. When there was a second rap on the door of her bed chamber
she looked up with a smile but this faltered when she saw Alexander standing
there.
'You should not be out of bed; you were at death's door yesterday.' She could
hardly tell him to go away even though that was what she wished to do. Sally
was in the dressing room sorting out the mending and could hear everything that
took place between them.
'Isobel, we have to talk. No, don't frown at me, my love, there are things that
must be said to clear the air between us.'
She gestured towards the dressing room and he nodded. Before she could prevent
him he limped across and told the unfortunate girl to take herself elsewhere
and not return until she was called for. His highhanded
behaviour
steadied her nerves. Her annoyance made her ready to face him.
She pushed herself straight, then ran her fingers through her hair and pursed
her lips waiting to him to return. 'You may sit on the chair by the fire,
Alexander. I would prefer it if you did not come any closer.'
With an amiable smile he did as she bid and was soon comfortably ensconced.
'There's no point in my
apologising
again, for
whatever I say you'll think the worst of me. Therefore I don't intend to do so.
I shall be marooned here with you for a week at least. Do you intend to skulk
in here until I go?'
'Don't be ridiculous. In case you haven't noticed I'm increasing, what took
place last night has debilitated me.' She glared at him and something prompted
her to continue in the same vein. 'If I lose this child, it will be
your
doing, and you can be very sure there will never be
another legitimate heir whilst I'm alive.'
His face drained of colour and his eyes widened.
'God's
teeth!
Is there a likelihood that you'll miscarry? I don't care what the
weather's like; I shall fetch the physician myself even if I've to dig my way
out.'
She wished the words unsaid; she had wanted to hurt him, to make sure he didn't
attempt to make love to her again but not to send him out into the snow to meet
his death. ‘I shall remain in
bed,
there was no more
than a twinge. I'm sure with rest nothing untoward will happen to this child.'
His expression stabbed her heart. He looked so relieved, so abjectly miserable,
she was driven to broach the subject she'd intended to talk to him about last
night. 'Alexander, your
Mr
Bentley believes that
my
home is intended for him when he comes to live with you. As I always meant to
move back into Newcomb when my time comes, I think it might be prudent for me
to return in May, before you get back. However
… '
Something flashed across his face. Could it have been triumph? 'I shall be
eternally grateful, my dear, if you do so. The thought of being obliged to
share my home this summer with that ninny quite appalls me. At least in there
we shan't be seeing him every time we turn the corner.'
'Alexander, you did not allow me to finish. I shall only return if I can have
my own staff around me. I've no wish to be waited on by those presently in
London.'
He nodded thoughtfully. 'I can dismiss anyone who has offended you.'
'Good grief, there's no need to do that. Most have been with you this
age,
they believe they are doing their duty by keeping me
from damaging your reputation. As long as I've your word the people I've
gathered here won't be under the jurisdiction of your butler or house-keeper, I
shall be happy.'
'You have it, Isobel. Why don't you select those you would rather not have at
Newcomb and they can serve Bentley?'
'Thank you,
that's
an excellent notion. I suppose we
must set up the nursery in readiness for the arrival.'
'Leave all that to me. As you don't intend to be here to watch your child grow
up I believe it's my prerogative to select who will do the job for you.'
She quailed under his frosty stare. 'Of course, Alexander, no doubt you have an
old retainer lurking in a cottage somewhere who can be recalled.'
Talking about the baby was distressing. She wanted him to go, but
suddenly he was sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. 'Don't cry,
sweetheart, things will work out for the best one way or the other. I'm sorry I
was so brusque, but the thought of you not being here to see our baby is as
upsetting to me as it is to you.'
His thumb caught the tear trickling down her cheek and rubbed it away. She turned
her head, when he was being like this she could feel her anger melting, could
almost believe they might have a life together after all.
Chapter Thirteen
The snow
showed no sign of melting and Isobel resigned herself to the fact Alexander
could not depart for several more days. Gradually she became accustomed to
sharing her meals and her home with him once more. He was so pleasant, so
charming and such lively company that being incarcerated with him was no
hardship.
The fourth night of his visit they had been playing an entertaining game of
Piquet, which he had won, when he tossed his cards on the table and walked over
to the window. 'I believe it's raining, the snow will be gone by tomorrow.' He
peered behind the heavy curtains and nodded.
'Listen, you can hear the flames spitting. It must be decidedly heavy to come
down the chimney like this. The roads will be a quagmire; I think you had best
wait until the carriage arrives. Your leg isn't sufficiently recovered for you
to ride back to Grosvenor Square,' Isobel said.
He grinned and stared ruefully at his injury. 'As always, my dear, you're quite
correct.
In which case you must endure my presence for a
further day or two.'
Resuming his seat he stared into the flames while she picked up her novel.
Unexpectedly Sam appeared at the door his face creased with concern. He looked
from one to the other and then addressed his mistress. 'Excuse me for
interrupting, my lady, but I've to tell you the ceiling has just collapsed in
your bed chamber.'
'Good grief! How can that be? The roof was
sound when I moved in, and we have had several heavy downpours since with no
leaks at all.'
'I reckon the weight of the snow cracked the tiles and with all that melting and
then this downpour it came right through.'
Alexander got to his feet. 'Is it just this one
room, or are others affected?'
'There's leaks
springing up all down that side of the
building, your grace.'
'The tiles are ancient. There's been nothing done to this place for
generations, small wonder they have given out under these extreme conditions.
Move her grace's belongings into my bed chamber.'
Isobel shot up sending her novel flying into the grate. Alexander grabbed the
poker and flicked it from the flames before it was seriously damaged. Picking
up the book he extinguished the remaining sparks with his fingers. 'Not
seriously damaged, a trifle pungent but definitely still readable.'
Her protest about his highhanded suggestion that she move into his bed chamber
remained unspoken.
'But what about your hand?
Have you
burnt it?'
He waggled his fingers in front of her face. 'See, no damage to them either. I
must go and see—'
'Alexander, I'm quite sure my
staff are
capable of
placing buckets under the drips where necessary. There's something I wish to
say that's more important than you overseeing the positioning of receptacles.'
Shrugging he returned to his chair and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 'Well, my
dear, what's it you wish to say to me?'
'If you think that I —'
'There's no need to fly into the boughs, Isobel. I've no intention of remaining
in my bed chamber once you're safely installed there. You can be quite certain
Watkins will be moving my belongings as we speak— after all he knows exactly
how things are between us, does he not?'
Isobel ignored his comment. 'Oh! There is something I've been meaning to say to
you about the settlement we agreed to the other day.' His eyes were watchful
but he made no comment. Emboldened by his silence she continued. 'Sam was under
the erroneous impression that you were sending him details of the estates you
own and I did not disabuse him. On reflection I think it might be better if I
moved somewhere within your demesne, I've no wish to cause unnecessary scandal
for you or the child.'
He thumped the table scattering the cards on the floor.
'God's
teeth!
Why did I not think of that myself? There's already an estate
that you have undisputed claim to.
Highfield
House in
Epping is held for each duchess in her lifetime. The revenue from the farms,
which is substantial, will have been banked in your name since our marriage.'
'Why does this estate not pass down to the eldest daughter? It seems strange an
estate should move from one duchess to the next in this way.'
Alexander glanced down at his boots. 'This estate comes down through my
maternal great-great grandmother. You are not the first duchess to wish to live
apart from her husband.'
'Are you telling me unhappy marriages are expected in this family?'
'I believe the Dukes of Rochester are infamous
for their infidelities. My grandmother died at
Highfield
House, as did my own mama.'
Her stomach curdled, she stared at him as if seeing him clearly for the first
time all week. He was incapable of being the kind of man she wanted because he
was genetically disposed to philander and abuse. Tears pricked her eyes as she
recalled what Bentley had said about Lady Fulbright.
Carefully placing her singed book on the table she stood up and walked across
to pull the bell strap. When the footman appeared she gave her instructions.
'Go upstairs and see if the bed chamber being prepared for me is ready, I wish
to retire.'
She could not resume her place, needed to be as far away as possible from her
husband. Music would soothe her and the pianoforte was at the far end of the
drawing-room. She needed no extra
candlelight,
she
would play her
favourite
sonata from memory. Settling
onto the piano stool she raised the lid and ran her fingers over the keys. Soon
she was lost in the melody, her distress slipping away as the beauty of the
music enveloped her.
****
Alexander
slumped back into his chair. He'd seen the accusation in her eyes. That little
bastard Bentley had told her about Gloria. When Lady Fulbright had invited him
back to her home he had accompanied her, gone inside and dismissed his
carriage. However that was as far as it had got, he'd changed his mind and told
her the liaison was over, irrevocably so.
He'd not even removed his beaver or his topcoat, had left the house no more
than three minutes after entering it and walked home regretting the impulse
that had made him accept the offer in the first place. Someone had seen him go
in and drawn
their own
conclusions. He did not blame
Isobel for believing the worst, had he not just told her he came from a long
line of philandering dukes?
He closed his eyes letting the sound of the piano wash over him. Then he was on
his feet limping softly towards the far end of the room from which the glorious
sound was coming. Why had Isobel never played for him this way? He'd no idea
she was so talented; in fact, if he was honest, he barely knew the woman he'd married
so precipitously. This was another serious omission in his part.
He positioned himself against the wall where he could see her face and watch
her hands moving confidently up and down the keys. Her eyes were closed; she
was lost in a world of her own— somewhere he could not reach her. Her glorious
hair had grown and now curled around her face in a russet cap
emphasising
the beauty of her magnificent green eyes. Her
face was thinner than he remembered. Despite the growing mound of her pregnancy
she was obviously losing weight elsewhere.
This was his fault, as was everything else that had befallen her. Whatever she
wanted from now on he would not quibble, would make no demands on her of any
sort,
let
her find happiness where she could. She had loved
him once and maybe in a year or two, when she saw he was completely reformed,
she might love him again.
****
Isobel
finished the sonata and slowly came back to her surroundings. A slight sound beside
her made her turn her head but there was no one there, she must have been
mistaken. With a sigh she closed the piano. Her room must be ready by now.
Alexander was standing by the fire his eyes alight with admiration. 'I had no
idea you could play so brilliantly, my dear. You’re a virtuoso; I don't believe
I've ever heard that piece played so well.'
'Thank
you,
it's a great
favourite
of mine. Music has always been a solace; I can lose myself, forget the world
around me when I'm playing.'
Mary appeared at the door looking somewhat flustered. 'Your chamber is ready,
my lady. Shall I send up a supper tray?'
'No, thank you, I need nothing else tonight. Have you found somewhere for his
grace to sleep?'
Her housekeeper glanced nervously at Alexander. 'I'm afraid the only chamber
available isn't really suitable, but it's the only one that isn't leaking apart
from the room you're occupying, my lady.'
He nodded. 'It matters not where I sleep,
Watkins, I shall be leaving at first light tomorrow.' He stared at Isobel
daring her to contradict, to tell him he was not fit enough to ride.
This was his decision, she would not gainsay him. 'In which case, Mary, make
sure breakfast is available at dawn.' She smiled briefly at her husband. 'As
you'll be leaving before I rise, I bid you a safe journey, Alexander.' She did
not add she hoped he would return soon to visit.
When, heavy eyed, she came down the next
morning she discovered he had already departed. The snow had all but gone, a watery
sun lit up the soggy park. Alexander was mad to leave on horse-back, but he was
a man grown and well able to manage his own affairs without her interference.
It might be several more days before the roads were passable and his valet
arrived with the carriage. Therefore, with so much tension between them, she
was relieved he'd chosen to go.
Even the dogs were subdued. They moped about the place as if their best friend
had departed not someone they had only known a few days. The fine weather meant
repairs could be done to the roof and the other bedrooms with damaged ceilings.
Sam liaised with the estate manager, and soon the place was filled with the
sound of hammering and banging as a dozen local men got busy.
She had insisted the employment was given to those who most needed it. Work was
scarce everywhere at the moment. With the price of corn so high, life was
difficult for the less fortunate. Resigning herself to spending the next few
days with the house shrouded under
holland
covers to
protect it from the dust and debris created by the workmen, Isobel retreated to
the small sitting-room at the rear of the house.
Into the middle of this chaos Duncan arrived with Alexander's missing luggage,
closely behind him was Bentley who had been obliged to spend the past few
nights at a disreputable roadside inn where he'd met with the most unfortunate
accident.
'
Mr
Bentley, how distressing for
you.
To have your belongings stolen in that way is beyond belief. I am
so sorry for your misfortune.' The young man was no longer dressed
immaculately, nor was his hair oiled or his shirt points freshly starched. Now
he was a bedraggled sight, looked as if he had been sleeping in his clothes for
the past week, which it turned out was not far short of the truth.
'I do beg your pardon for returning here like this, your grace, but I had no
option. The robbers left me with no money to pay my shot. They took my trunk,
and everything I own was in it. I was obliged to leave my fob-watch behind as
surety. I can't return to London as I am.'
'Of course you can't. You must remain here until you have fully recovered from
your horrible experience. Unfortunately I don't believe any of Alexander's
garments will fit you, but no doubt we can find something for you to change
into for now.'
He looked pathetically grateful. He was no longer the bombastic young man who
had arrived on her doorstep, unannounced and unwanted, the previous week. Her
heart went out to him. He must stay with her until something could be done
about his wardrobe, but where he would sleep was a conundrum she would leave
Mary to solve.
'Your grace, I do beg your pardon for intruding a second time. I see the house
is under covers. Has there been some sort of disaster here as well?'
'The roof collapsed under the weight of the snow and it is being repaired at
this very moment. This means you'll be obliged to sleep in the nursery, but
Alexander did so without complaint.'
'I thought his grace had returned to London.'
She could hardly tell him Alexander had galloped back because of him and had
also sustained a serious injury in the process. The poor man had suffered
enough indignities already these past days. 'His horse cast a shoe and he was
obliged to turn back, and then the weather closed in and he stayed until the
beginning of the week. We must send word to Grosvenor Square that you're safe
here with me. His grace will be worried when he finds you absent.'