The Theft of a Dukedom (10 page)

‘But, My Lord, you’re already married!’ Burst
from Kitty’s lips almost involuntarily as she tried to step
away from him.
‘Not for much longer!’ he spat viciously, his
hands clenching her upper arms harshly. ‘I’m going to
divorce that slut I made the mistake of marrying,’ he
tried to be placating and inviting, ‘help me with my suit,
Kitty. Persuade your father to accept me?’ He tried to
pull her closer for a kiss and that’s when Kitty started to
struggle. ‘Let me show you passion, Kitty!’ and tried to
kiss her again.
‘Let me go!’ she demanded as her hair started to
work loose of the pins holding it in a chignon. The terror
she felt was almost indescribable. She could feel the
raw strength in his hands and arms and struggle as she
might, she couldn’t break his hold
‘Why do you fight this?’ He asked in what, for
him, was a sultry voice. He slid his hands down her
arms, grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her.
‘You know I will win. You do not have the strength to
fight me.’ Kitty gasped and cringed in horror as his lips
caressed her neck and the tears of frustration and fear
oozed over her eyelids as she squeezed them shut,
trying to deny what was happening.
‘No she doesn’t.’ Charles said coldly from behind
him. ‘But I do! Release my sister or pay the
consequences.’ Kitty’s eyes flew open and she
whimpered in relief as she saw her brother on the path.
Rochdale relaxed his grip and Kitty managed to
yank herself out of his hands. ‘And what would you do?’
Rochdale demanded coldly as Kitty scuttled behind her
brother.
Charles turned to Kitty and stroked his hand
down her arm. ‘Go to Richard. This is not for your ears.’
He pushed her down the path and as she staggered
away from him, she was struck by his sudden militaristic
bearing, holding himself very straight backed and rigid,
his eyes very cold and deadly. ‘Go!’ he shouted at her
and she fled, both hands lifting her skirts and running as
fast as her legs would carry her.
‘My Lord.’ Charles said to Rochdale in a
reasonable voice. ‘If you ever touch my sister in such an
intimate manner again, I’ll call you out.’
‘Maybe I should call you out.’ Rochdale
responded. ‘After all, you spent last night fucking my
wife!’
‘Your wife is a harlot, My Lord. My sister is not!’
Charles said evenly, he didn’t need to provoke this
matter more than he already had. He sighed deeply. ‘I
knew Connie before I went to Spain. I always thought
she would marry my brother, but I understand even he
wasn’t interested in marriage. She’s a harlot because
Robin made her one!’
‘Did you give her the pox and make her sterile?’
Rochdale demanded as his face suffused with blood.
‘I did not.’ Charles said evenly. ‘But just because
your wife turned out to be a whore, doesn’t give you
the right to ruin my sister. If you touch her again, I’ll kill
you.’ Charles nodded affably. ‘The back gate is that
way.’ He pointed out. ‘Good afternoon, My Lord.’ He
said and walked away.
Richard could hear Kitty coming as her feet
clattered on the uneven flags of the path. She burst out
onto the lawn in full flight as if being chased by a
monster. He could clearly see the look of terror in her
eyes.
‘Kitty!’ he said loudly. ‘What happened?’ and she
turned towards his voice, running into him full pelt. He
staggered under the force of their collision, but
remained on his feet as he clutched her trembling body
to his chest.
Thomas had been dozing in the sun and was
jerked awake by Richard’s voice. He practically leaped
out of his chair and strode across the lawn to Kitty.
‘What happened?’ he demanded with all ducal pride.
‘He tried to kiss me!’ she stuttered and Thomas
looked about the guests sat at the table.
‘Rochdale!’ he said forcefully. ‘I’ve already told
him no.’ He stroked his hand over Kitty’s dishevelled
hair. ‘Richard would you escort Kitty to her room,
please?’ he turned to his guests. ‘If one of you ladies
would be so kind as to accompany them, I would be
grateful.’
‘Charles!’ burst from Kitty. ‘Stop him before he
does something stupid!’ Her teeth were chattering as if
she was in the arctic.
Thomas nodded and followed the direction Kitty
was pointing in. He had only gone a few yards down the
path when Charles appeared, walking slowly, but
proudly down the path.
‘What happened, son?’ Thomas asked softly.
‘The bastard tried to take advantage of her.’ He
spat. ‘This is to do with Connie!’ Thomas turned and
walked with his son. ‘It may even to be because all three
of us have had carnal relations with his wife, either
before or after her marriage.’
‘Did you call him out?’
‘No. I told him I would if he tried it again. You
have said no and he was trying to persuade Kitty to
change your mind.’ He laughed then. ‘Not that she was
at all interested, which was why he tried to take her.’
‘It’s a good job you were there.’
‘I was suspicious,’ Charles said with a shrug,
‘right from the moment Havers said he was here.’
When they arrived at the table, Agatha was
escorting her guests to the door. And Richard was just
arriving back at the terrace.
‘Millicent is sitting with her.’ He murmured as he
joined the two men.
‘Do you think Rochdale is behind the accidents
perpetrated on Kitty?’ Richard asked softly.
‘It’s possible.’ Thomas said, ‘he was standing
behind Rathbone and could easily have nudged his arm
at the right moment.’
‘Constance was standing with Emily Blunt at the
punch bowl.’ Charles said and then sighed in frustration.
‘This is ridiculous!’ Thomas blurted. ‘Would an
Earl be so petty? Deflowering my daughter is probably
as far as he would go. He would consider that poetic
justice, if he knows I had carnal relations with his wife.’
He shook his head. ‘If he loves her so much, why give
her a townhouse to use?’
‘I’ve seen this before, in Portugal.’ Richard said
softly. ‘Earl marries a young woman only to find out
she’s the biggest whore in London, so he spirits her
away to Portugal, where nobody really knows who she
is. Rochdale can’t take her to Portugal or Spain, so he
gives her a townhouse to use, so she’s not screwing
men in either the marital home or other men’s houses.’
Richard frowned. ‘I’m sure it is a most painful
experience to be cuckolded by men of power that have
been acquaintances all your life.’ He smiled brightly.
‘Would you like some advice?’ Both men nodded sadly.
‘Stay away from the “Lady” concerned. Give her the
brush off, publicly!’
Havers appeared from the house and walked
slowly across the grass. ‘Excuse me, Your Grace, but a
letter has come for Lord Richard.’ He handed a sealed
note over.
Richard looked at the wax seal. It had the
Earldom’s coat of Arms on it. ‘It’s from my father.’ He
said as he broke the seal and opened the vellum with a
crackle.

‘I have to go.’ He looked up at Charles. ‘My
father is dying.’ He barely concealed the sob. Charles
grabbed him and gave him a fierce embrace as Havers
hurried back to the house.

‘Do you wish for some company?’ Charles asked
softly.
Richard patted his back gently. ‘No. I’ll be fine.’
He pushed Charles away and turned to Thomas. ‘Thank
you, Your Grace, for your hospitality. I’m only sorry to
have to leave under such circumstances.’ He held out
his hand.
Thomas well remembered the day his father had
died. He grasped Richard’s hand firmly. ‘Come to
Durham, whenever you want. We’ll be there all
summer.’ He squeezed his shoulder.
‘Thank you, Sir.’ He turned to walk away and
Charles walked with him. ‘Give my apologies to Kitty.’
Charles nodded.

The wind off the Pennines whipped the
gabardine skirt about her legs as Kitty stood on the
point looking over Deepdale. As always when in
Durham, she donned a pair of cast off britches and a
gabardine wrap around skirt and rode her horse where
ever she felt like going. Once the summer guests
arrived, she would have to be the lady, but until then,
she had freedom to dress how she liked. Her blue riding
jacket was like the britches, a cast off from one of her
brothers. When she’d arrived she’d raided Robin’s
wardrobe, before Agatha managed to tell the
housekeeper that he was dead. So she had a fine lawn
shirt and a cravat on. Her hair was loose for a change
and curled down her back to her buttocks, but the wind
kept picking it up and it flapped like a sail.

Kitty and Aunt Agatha had arrived at Mickleton
during the last week of June and this was her first
chance to get out on her own. It took Agatha a little
time to settle and relax the rules. To live in London and
go abroad on your own a young lady would be exposing
herself to enormous danger and gossip. But here in
Durham, there was hardly any
beau monde
to speak of
and certainly no commoner would touch her. They
knew too well the consequences and nobody was ever
in a hurry to go to the gallows.

She had left the Hall early, the cook, Mrs. Hardy,
had packed a lunch for her in a saddle bag. Kitty had
thrown it over the rump of her black locally bred mare,
Greta, named for the hamlet where she was born. She
was thicker in the fetlocks than the thoroughbred Kitty
rode in Hyde Park, but the fells are no place for delicate
fetlocks. The ground was rough and hard and Kitty had
every intention of galloping. She launched herself into
the saddle, adjusted the skirt to give her a little decency
and clicked her tongue to start the horse moving.

The drive way to Mickleton Hall was almost a
quarter of a mile long and by the time Kitty reached the
main road for the village, she was already galloping. She
burst out onto the road, forcing the horse to turn
abruptly and galloped down to the village. She slowed
to a canter through the village and was greeted affably
by the populace. She nodded and waved to everyone
she saw and pushed the horse back up to a gallop the
other side. She laid her face alongside the horse’s neck
and drove the animal along at a break neck pace, until
they arrived at Romaldkirk, where she stopped in the
centre of the village and let the horse rest. Kitty slid off
her back and led her to the trough for a good drink.
While she waited for the horse to have its fill, she was
approached by the local priest.

‘Good morning, Lady Amelia.’ He greeted her
amiably.
‘Good morning Father. How is your flock?’ She
asked brightly and was patient enough to listen to the
priest tell her about poor Mrs. Green’s feet and how Old
Man Talbot had passed away during the winter freeze.
‘And how is the Duke?’ he finished.
‘My Father is fine. He should be arriving in a
week with his new wife.’
‘He has remarried?’ he asked indignantly.
‘How long is a man supposed to be alone and
mourn his dead wife?’ she asked firmly. ‘My mother
died over ten years ago. I think he has mourned her
enough. Anyway you will like the new Duchess of
Durham, Lady Victoria is very nice.’
‘I suppose the fact that you can praise her means
she undoubtedly is a fine person.’
Greta tossed her head as she finished drinking
and Kitty sorted her reins. ‘You’ll see when she gets
here. The last I heard they were stopping off at Bawtry
to visit one of her relatives for a week.’ Kitty put her
foot in the stirrup and launched herself into the saddle.
‘Where are you going today, My Lady?’ the
priest asked. ‘Just in case someone from the Hall should
ask.’
‘I’m going to Deepdale.’ She turned the horse.
‘I’ll perhaps see you another day, Father.’ She said in
farewell and kicked the horse into a trot. She turned left
at the cross roads and cantered down to the next village
of Hunderthwaite and then it was across country.
Kitty had taken her time and walked the horse
through some of the more dangerous patches, but after
fording three rivers she arrived at Deepdale.
The view was breathtaking and she just stood
there letting the wind fret at her skirt and beat a tattoo
on her boots. She walked the horse along the ridge until
she found the grassy plateau. She let the horse graze as
she took down the lunch and sat on the grass watching
the swallows soar, as she stripped off her gloves and
listening to them screech and chatter as she opened the
bag.
‘What have we got here?’ she asked and the
horse came to have a sniff. There was a small stone
bottle, with a cork in it, full of wine; there was buttered
bread, cold meat, cheese and pork pie. To follow were a
couple of apples, some sugar for dipping and some
pastry tarts filled with jam. Out from her boot, Kitty
slipped the long knife that Charles had gifted her one
summer and she deftly cut an apple into segments. As
she was eating she gave Greta a segment every so
often, so that the apple lasted as long as her food.
With a full stomach, she sighed in bliss, lay on
her back and just dozed.
Greta whinnied, loudly and Kitty sat up with a
jerk. ‘You shouldn’t sleep out of doors, Kitty. It’s not
good for your chest!’ Charles said and she whirled about
to see him sitting on a rocky ledge.
‘Charles!’ burst from her and she threw herself
at her brother. ‘When did you get here?’
‘I arrive an hour after you left.’ He said and
squeezed her tightly against his chest. ‘I saw the good
Father in Romaldkirk and he told me where you were
going.’
‘How did the wedding go?’ she demanded and
Charles sighed and resumed his seat. She sat on the
grass, crossed legged, in front of him, as if he was telling
a story.
‘The wedding went fine.’ He said proudly. ‘Half
of the
ton
turned up, as you’d expect, to fill the
Cathedral. The new Earl of Rutland even attended,
although Richard hadn’t come back to London at that
time.’
‘How is Richard?’ she asked softly and Charles
grinned.
‘Waiting at Mickleton Hall!’
‘He’s here?’ she demanded and lurched to her
feet. ‘Then we should go home!’
‘He can wait another half an hour, while my poor
horse has a rest.’ Charles said jovially. ‘Anyway he’s got
enough company with Louise and her parents, Anne and
Lord Brooks, Millicent and her husband have arrived too
and we’re all waiting for the happy couple.’
‘A house full, then.’ She said distantly.
‘Aren’t you looking forward to visitors?’ he
asked.
‘Not really, Aunt Agatha only let me out for the
first time today.’ She grumbled. ‘I’ve been riding the
park for a week.’ She walked to the edge of the plateau
and looked out over Deepdale again. ‘I forget how wild
this place is. London is so tame in comparison and yet I
feel safer here than I would in Hyde Park.'
‘It reminds me of Portugal.’ Charles said softly
from beside her. ‘Rugged and wild.’
‘How’s your romance going with Lady Louise?’
‘It’s going fine!’ he said indignantly.
‘I think I shall ban the use of the word “fine”!’
She looked at him sharply. ‘Have you asked?’
‘Have I asked what?’ he asked deliberately
obtuse.
‘For her hand, stupid!’
‘I asked the morning before we left London. He’s
thinking about it.’
Kitty laughed, delightedly. ‘That means he’ll say
yes, and announce it while they’re here.’
‘How can you know that he’ll say yes?’ he asked
piqued.
‘I know he will say yes. If Daddy hadn’t been
stubborn about arranged marriages, Louise would have
been engaged to Robin while she was still in swaddling!’
She smiled wickedly. ‘Lord Trenchard wants his eldest
daughter to be a Duchess.’
‘Well, I shall be happy to oblige her.’ Charles said
and smiled wickedly.
‘What happened about the Rochdale’s?’ she
asked cautiously.
‘I gave Connie the brush off the night you left.
Father and I discussed it and we decided not to do
anything until you left.’
‘How did she react?’ Kitty asked coolly.
‘She was not best pleased. Apparently I must
have impressed her and she was looking forward to
another tryst.’ Charles explained. ‘But I made it clear
that her husband was being a nuisance and she has
stayed away from me.’
‘What about Louise, does she know you slept
with Connie?’
‘Yes. I told her almost straight away, so that
Rochdale couldn’t unsettle my plans to marry. I didn’t
want either of them to be able to cause more trouble.’
He pulled his watch and checked the time. ‘Well, I’ve
been here half an hour. I think we should start back.’
She gathered up the reins of her horse and
walked it off the plateau. They chatted amicably on the
way back, until they reached Hunderthwaite and that’s
where Kitty and Charles started racing.
‘I can’t do this for long!’ he shouted in the
slipstream. ‘My thigh won’t permit it!’
‘Only until Romaldkirk!’ she said and kicked her
mount firmly. The horse leapt forward spiritedly and
Kitty again laid over it’s neck to drive it on. ‘Good girl!’
she murmured and watched the horse’s ears flicker.
‘Don’t let them win!’ She could feel the power in the
horse as they pelted along the road with the dust flying
up from their hooves. They were neck and neck as they
barrelled into the village and they pulled up laughing at
the trough.
‘I saw the pair of you.’ A harsh voice said and
Kitty threw herself off her horse and into her father’s
arms.
‘Daddy!’
‘I wish you wouldn’t dress like that.’ He
remonstrated immediately.
‘It’s more comfortable when I’m going
somewhere like Deepdale.’ She said. ‘Did you enjoy
your honeymoon?’
‘Yes, the week at Cambridge was nice and the
fortnight at Bawtry flew past. We stopped because I
could see you racing, so you can follow the coach more
slowly.’
‘Oh! Daddy! We were only racing to the trough.
Once the horses have had water we’ll continue on at a
more sedate pace.’
‘Why don’t I believe you.’ he said shaking his
head as he walked back to the ducal carriage.
Kitty watched the coach jerk into motion and
waved at Victoria and her young son. ‘I hope I don’t get
saddled with entertaining Edward.’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Victoria will have brought
his governess and nanny.’
When the horses had finished they mounted and
cantered sedately back to Mickleton and that’s where
Kitty really engendered her father’s ire.
As they got close to the boundary of Mickleton
Hall, Kitty looked at Charles impishly. ‘Don’t you dare!’
he said forcefully, but Kitty ignored him and forced her
horse into a tight turn and jumped the boundary fence.
‘Kitty! You’re mad!’ he bellowed, but that didn’t
stop him from following and then they were racing
across the park. Kitty could see the ducal carriage on the
drive and she urged her horse on.
Thomas sat in a sweat in the coach. He knew
exactly what Kitty was going to do. ‘Hang on my love.
This will be close.’ He said and swept young Edward into
his arms.
‘Oh! My Lord! What is she going to do?’ Victoria
almost screamed, but it was obvious Kitty was racing to
go across the front of the horses.
Greta was so fleet of foot, the gap between her
and the coach horses was enough not to even make
them falter in their step. But Thomas still closed his eyes
and waited for disaster. Charles galloped past behind
the carriage as they headed for the stables.
‘You realise Father will not let you go off the
park for a week now?’ Charles yelled as they
approached the stables.
‘I won’t be able to with guests anyway!’ she
shouted back as she slowed for the stable lane. She
trotted Greta back to the paddock and walked her
around for a few minutes, before she climbed down and
removed her saddle. The groom arrived and took the
tack away to the tackroom. Kitty continued to walk her
horse until she heard her father’s voice calling her.
Charles was still sitting on his horse.
‘Told you!’ he said arrogantly and continued to
walk around the paddock. She ran out to greet her
father again, knowing what was coming.
‘How dare you!’ he shouted at her. ‘You scared
Victoria to death. You are now on notice. If I see
anymore reckless behaviour I will restrict you to your
rooms!’ and he turned on his heel and stalked away.
She walked back to her horse and picked up the
reins. The groom came back and helped Charles with his
saddle, taking it away. ‘Here, give me your horse. You
should go in.’ Kitty said softly. ‘I’ll be in when I’ve seen
to Greta and Thor.’ She said naming his stallion as she
led them away to the stable block.
‘Don’t be too long. You know Agatha is planning
tea!’ he shouted after her.
‘I’ll be there!’ she shouted back and vanished
into the stable yard.
Charles shook his head, recognising that she
sometimes had the same wildness as Robin and it was
only her sex that kept it under control.
If she’d been a
boy, she would probably have been just as bad as Robin.
He thought as he approached the terrace at the back of
the Hall.
I suppose the only reason I’m not like that is
because I went into the army and learned self discipline!
He looked up at the back of the Hall. Nobody
could ever say it was a modest Hall. It was the size of
the Palace at Versailles and had the same size gardens.
Even standing on the terrace he could see the ornate
fountain in the middle of the formal lawn. All the
windows, and there were seventy two of them, were
leaded. It was a sixty room Ducal Residence. Every suite
had a sitting room, bedroom, dressing room and even a
separate room for bathing. Downstairs was a dining
room of medieval proportions, with a thirty seater
dining table made of good old English oak. The formal
drawing room was the size of the complete downstairs
of the London residence with pockets of seating
scattered throughout the vast room and in between the
two, were his father’s study, the library, numerous
sitting rooms and parlours, the breakfast room, the
music room, a conservatory and that didn’t include any
of the ten rooms set aside for the staff. As usual there
was an army of footmen and maids that were housed in
the attics. As children, the three of them could be in the
Hall and not see another soul all day. Sometimes not
even the staff.
Charles walked through the doors into the
drawing room and couldn’t see another person. He
decided to go and change.
I think I’ll need my stick
again, before the end of the day!
He thought as he felt
his thigh twinge from the riding.
Still! It’s a lot better
than it was.
By the time he was in his room, he looked
out of the window to see Kitty running from the stables.
Kitty ran through the back door, into the staff
working area and yelled. ‘Mary!’ Her maid scurried out
of the kitchen. ‘Mary, good! I need a bath, so could you
send up some water for me, please?’ Kitty said brightly.
‘Yes, My Lady.’ Mary said and curtsied, but Kitty
was already running through the corridors to the main
hall.
She took the stairs two at a time and ran down
the landing to the family rooms. She was surprised to
see Robin’s door open so she went and looked to see
who was in there. She found a governess and a nanny
fussing over one small Duke.
‘Good afternoon, Your Grace.’ She said formally.
‘I’m Lady Amelia, but you can call me Kitty, like
everybody else does.’
‘Edward Bertrand.’ He said proudly and held out
his hand.
Kitty walked forward and took his hand in a firm
grip, shaking it like a man. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’
‘Uncle Thomas said I would be alright in this
room, but I’m not sure.’ Kitty smiled kindly.
‘You’ll be fine in this room. Nobody uses it
anymore, so it’ll now be called Edward’s room.’ He
smiled for the first time.
‘You were the lady on the horse!’ he said and
giggled. ‘Uncle Thomas was spitting nails!’
‘I would never have endangered any of you,
Edward. My father is too precious to me and now so will
your mother be.’ She laughed, ‘but that doesn’t mean I
won’t give him a scare now and then!’
‘I’ve never had a sister before. Can I call you just
Kitty?’ he asked innocently.
‘Of course, so long as I can call you Edward.’
Kitty said. ‘Your Grace is so long winded!’
‘What’s your proper title?’ he asked curiously as
he sat on the bed.
‘The Countess of Stainmore.’ She said and
pointed out of the window, towards the south.
‘Stainmore Forest is south of here, almost on the border
with North Yorkshire. Charles is the Marquis of
Pikeston,’ she turned in the other direction and pointed,
‘and that’s over there on the other side of the Tees.’
‘What’s the Tees?’ he asked as he came to stand
next to her.