The Duke She Left Behind

by Fish, Aileen

  They settled into a comfortable quiet as they traveled the park grounds. Birds chirped nearby, and a squirrel scurried out of their way, scolding them for interrupting his activities. It was too early in the day for Polite Society to be exhibiting themselves, so only nannies and the children they cared for played on the lawn.

  When they exited the other side of the park, he turned left instead of the direction to Marjorie’s home. Eliza asked, “Where are we going?”

  “I have some shopping to do.”

  “Oh.” They’d never shopped together. That was just one of the many things they’d missed out on. “What will you buy? Pipe tobacco? A new cravat? Or a hat? That one looks a bit worn around the brim.”

  He took off his hat and examined it. “You dare insult my hat? My valet would shudder to know I’m wearing it. I dressed hurriedly this morning before he had my clothing laid out. I haven’t needed a fine hat for some time, since I haven’t left my home very often.”

  “Well, in your valet’s defense, perhaps you should let him shop for you. He’ll insist on the finest quality to be had.”

  Beck drew to a stop on the corner of a block of shops and called over a boy to watch their horse. Then he escorted Eliza into a small confectioner’s shop with jars of candy in the window. “I don’t think I ever asked what your favorite candy is.”

  “Cinnamon. And you?”

  “Peppermint.” He requested a small bag of each and walked deeper into the store. He picked up an apple as he strolled near the bushel baskets of fruit. “For the horse,” he explained.

  How he could find groceries so intriguing was beyond her, but he appeared to be a man at leisure without a care in the world.

  Holding up a loaf of bread, he asked, “Shall we have a picnic? Bread, cheese, fruit…?”

  “Marjorie has one planned already. She’ll be disappointed if we don’t go with them.”

  Beck held her gaze, then they both grinned. “No, she won’t,” he said.

  “She’ll be happy we’re together,” Eliza added. “Still, Mama will worry, and Lady Sarah will call it a scandal when she hears.”

  He tucked the loaf under his arm but nodded. “We’ll feed the ducks, then. Or use it for fish bait on the picnic. Come, on to the next shop.”

  There was no rhyme or reason to the stores he picked. They each bought a book, which Beck insisting on paying for, and he did buy tobacco after asking her which aroma she preferred. Then he pointed to ribbons hanging in a shop window. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?” she asked, scurrying to keep up with his long strides.

  “For you, of course.” He reached for the door handle.

  She inhaled the comforting scent of clean, fresh fabric that engulfed them as the door opened. She’d sewn her own gowns often in the past, but her Aunt Wilhelmina pooh-poohed the idea as looking lower-class. She insisted they have everything made by the dressmaker she preferred. Once she had her allowance, Eliza would come back here to buy fabric for a few gowns to supplement the small number she’d brought with her.

  “Here. This ribbon matches your eyes.” Beck held up a length, then reached for more, holding one beside her face. “And this, the blush of your cheeks. No, this one is closer, and the darker pink is the exact color of your lips.”

  He paused, his gaze lowering to her mouth. She licked her lips, wishing they were somewhere he could kiss her. Beck blinked, cleared his throat, and turned back to the pretty trims in the store.

  Ribbons for her hair were one thing, but when he pointed out certain lace he thought she’d like, the moment became very intimate. This was exactly something they should be doing, if they were married.

  But they were not.

  “The ribbon we have is more than enough. I have nothing to add lace to. Mayhap I’ll purchase that one you prefer when I come back for fabric.” Her cheeks heated. They must stop talking about her clothing before she combusted from embarrassment.

  “We need to return to Hartshorne House,” she told him. “Mama will worry that we’ve run off to your estate.”

  Beck’s features softened. “Yes. These past years must have been so hard on her. I imagine she keeps you tucked under her wing, still.”

  “She does. All she wishes is that I am happy, which means free from my brother’s control. I’m of age now, so I should be allowed to make my own choices.”

  His lips thinned as he pressed them tightly together. Then he gave Eliza a gentle smile. “That’s my wish, too.”

  Once Beck had all their packages secured in the box behind the curricle seat, they began the short trip back to Hartshorne House. Again, they settled into companionable silence. A few blocks before their destination, he drew the horse to a halt.

  “What’s wrong?” Eliza asked.

  He cupped the side of her face and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “You have…I need…” He drew her closer and kissed her, a brief kiss, as if to test whether his memory was correct about how their lips fit together.

  When she opened her eyes in shock, he smiled. “I couldn’t wait…my patience was gone.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Her cheeks warmed yet again as she smiled. “But someone will see us. We mustn’t dally.”

  He continued to cup her cheek while searching her eyes for something, then he lowered his hand and shook the reins. “Walk on,” he instructed the horse.

  Eliza felt as if she floated the rest of the way home, drifted on a cloud of happiness. She refused to worry about what the future held, because the present was perfect.

  Chapter Five

  That evening as Beck dressed for the games Marjorie planned, he couldn’t get his thoughts away from the touch of Eliza’s lips on his. Then her brother, the current Earl of Dalcliffe, came to mind erasing all but the tiniest wisp of happiness.

  How long would it be before her brother discovered she and her mother were back in England? And how long before he sent orders for her to come home? While she was old enough now to determine her own choices of where to live and who to marry, Beck doubted Dalcliffe would take that into his decision to track her down.

  What reason did her relations have to hate Beck so? He’d never understood. He didn’t have a bad reputation as a wastrel or philanderer, nor was he abusive. He’d had no conflicts with her father in the House of Lords, whether they agreed on the matter under consideration or not. Beck and her brother hadn’t had any altercations of any sort before the former earl died, nor after.

  There was no excuse for keeping the couple apart. If her father had an agreement for her to marry someone else, he would have said so long before the engagement had been made.

  Why had the earl agreed to the marriage in the first place? He’d sat through all the financial proceedings, made sound requests for the security of his daughter’s future, all as if he planned to follow through on the marriage.

  What had happened?

  With Eliza’s father dead, they might not ever know. His son could be following his instructions blindly, never questioning their father. Perhaps now they could sit down like civil men and straighten out this…whatever this was.

  Perhaps…but Beck refused to do so until Eliza was safely situated where Dalcliffe couldn’t whisk her away.

  Some of the guests were already in the drawing room, their laughter ringing out. Beck wasn’t usually late to activities, especially when they were held in a home of a dear friend, but he was lately over-conscious of his dress, uncertain he’d make a good impression on Eliza. Never in his life had he been this flustered, but he feared losing her again if he did anything wrong.

  Upon entering the drawing room at Hartshorne House, where tables had been set up for cards, Beck’s gaze automatically searched for Eliza. He found her watching him, smiling shyly. She was clearly as insecure in his affections as he was hers. He had much work ahead of him to wipe away her doubts.

  He crossed the room, bowed his head in greeting and stood beside her. “You look lovely.”


  Her face colored slightly.

  “What game are we playing first?”

  She glanced at Marjorie, who sat to one side of the semi-circle of guests, and said, “Your choice of cards.”

  “Delightful.” His slightly sarcastic tone betrayed his feelings about the games. All he wanted was to be alone with Eliza.

  Eliza bit back a grin, her eyes laughing plainly. “I enjoy cards, too. It’s so entertaining to pretend to lose one’s allowance. Still, we must endure.”

  Lady Phoebe, who sat next to Eliza on the settee hissed at them both. “Others can hear you,” she whispered. “You’ll insult Marjorie.”

  Glancing at each guest one by one, he saw they paid him no attention, until he reached Lady Dalcliffe. Eliza’s mother watched him closely with only a polite expression. What were her thoughts about Beck? Had she approved of her husband’s plot to keep them apart?

  Marjorie called for everyone’s attention, so he put his questions aside. “Let’s begin. Everyone form your foursomes for your game of choice, or there’s a larger table set for a round game, if you prefer.”

  Beck held out his hand to help Eliza stand. “What will you play?”

  “Since the choice of chess or tiles doesn’t appear to be had, shall we play whist?”

  Seeing who was gathering at each table, Beck caught Hart’s eye, who nodded. “We’ll join Hart and Marjorie in whatever game they play. Will that suit?”

  Eliza’s eyes lit. “Immensely. I won’t have to worry what sort of prying questions will be asked.”

  They joined their friends and Hart prepared the game for play. For the first few hands, no one spoke outside the required comments of the game. Then Marjorie said, “I’m uncertain how we’ll entertain ourselves tomorrow.”

  Beck knew she was nothing of the sort. She was the organized sort who would have her entire week planned to the minute, with a secondary list of contingencies, should the need arise for an alternate plan. “What do you suggest?” he asked, curious where the conversation would lead.

  “I considered outdoor games. I have a few other friends I trust to be discrete and thought to send a note.”

  “Or simply allowing a person to take a stroll about the garden, perhaps?” Beck asked, seeing where Marjorie was going. “Something very informal?”

  Hart continued to study his cards as he spoke. “If we were in the country you could venture into the maze.”

  “Well, I would never suggest anything improper, but a couple’s absence might go unnoticed for a brief time if the afternoon was unstructured.” Marjorie smiled innocently. “The garden isn’t terribly large, but it has a few private areas.”

  Eliza’s cheeks were bright with color and her fingers white from grasping her cards so tightly.

  “That sounds like a pleasant way to spend the afternoon,” Beck said.

  “Pleasant, the man says,” Eliza muttered, then looked up wide-eyed as if surprised she’d spoken aloud.

  Everyone laughed softly, including Eliza.

  “Well then, I will send invitations first thing tomorrow. If you’re comfortable with it, we may attend Lady Graven’s musicale. She never invites anyone known to spread rumors.”

  Beck nodded, a smile hiding inside…a gleeful smile that might appear improper given his thoughts of spending an entire day with Eliza, possibly alone for much of it.

  Eliza glanced at him, then quickly looked at her cards. “How do you imagine the gentlemen will spend their time tomorrow, your grace? Visiting with the ladies might be too dull.” she asked Beck.

  “Are we back to ‘your grace’ now?”

  “With all these other people here…”

  “People who know we were engaged. People who might believe quite rightly that we still are, by all rights.”

  Eliza’s card she’d been putting in play fell to the tabletop and she met his gaze across the table, unspeaking.

  “Did you cry off?” Beck asked. “I didn’t. If your missing the wedding was not your choice, wouldn’t that mean the betrothal remained in place?”

  “I…that is…” she stammered, looking across the room at her mother.

  “Beck, this isn’t the time or place,” Hart chastised him.

  “Eliza, did I tell you I plan to serve a duck confit for supper tomorrow?” Marjorie said quickly.

  “No, you didn’t. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had duck. It sounds lovely.”

  “I chose a French menu—all the courses. Mutton cassoulet, ratatouille…we’ll have ten courses.”

  “So many?” Hart asked with a scowl. “Are we having guests again?”

  “Must we have a party to enjoy the skills of our chef? You must join us, Beckhampton. We’ll keep the numbers small. Just the five of us.”

  “Thank you.” Beck wondered if his mother was the type to have done the same thing on occasion—plan such an elaborate menu. When guests, however few, were expected for supper, he imagined she would pick a theme and choose the courses accordingly.

  Suddenly, he realized that by now he should know what sort of host Eliza was. What dishes she preferred, if she had a favorite entrée. He could ask, but it wasn’t the same. They should have been married four years ago and have four years of memories as man and wife. Anger and frustration simmered awake and he squashed them back down. While he wanted to tell their friends he and Eliza still wished to marry, this wasn’t the place, as Hart had said.

  Moreover, Eliza hadn’t answered his earlier question about her crying off the engagement. Of course she hadn’t. You couldn’t have been more boorish if you’d tried. He must remind himself that he needed to court Eliza again. Remind her how much she loved him. Prove how much she means to him.

  As the card game wound down, Beck slid back his chair. “I’ve had enough whist for one evening. Lady Eliza, would you care to take a turn about the room?” he asked as formally as possible knowing half the room eavesdropped on them, hoping for some juicy gossip.

  “I would enjoy it.”

  Walking side by side, they sauntered around the edges of the large room. Beck slowed their pace even more when they were away from the game tables. “I’ve forgotten how to court a young lady.”

  Her step faltered. “Is there one in particular you have your eye on?”

  “Need you ask? There’s only one I’ve ever loved. With the activities of the Season not at hand where I might ask you silly questions and offer whatever compliments are suitable to a young lady’s ear, I’m at a loss. I can’t send you posies with a note of how much I enjoyed your company the previous night.”

  “Posies are always appreciated.” A coy smile spread on Eliza’s lips. “Besides, I would never have taken you for a man to walk away from a challenge.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he glanced down at her. Her violet eyes sparkled, goading him to prove his love. “Challenge accepted. Prepare to be inundated with demonstrations of my feelings for you.”

  She continued to smile, and they finished their stroll in silence. Nothing more needed to be said. They were together, and nothing else mattered.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning after breakfast, Eliza and her mother sat in the window seat in Eliza’s bedchamber. She leaned against the window, looking out over the immaculate grounds of Hartshorne’s home but seeing nothing. Her thoughts were so consuming that nothing but Beck existed. She sighed.

  “You look at peace,” Mama said.

  “Hmm? Oh yes, I am. I’m so happy, Mama.”

  “I’m glad. That happiness has been a long time coming. Has he said anything about his plans? Does he still want to marry you?”

  “If he had his way, we would have eloped the moment he arrived here. He’s trying very hard to behave with due decorum.”

  Mama’s face pinched into a frown. “If I may speak on the matter, I think elopement is a wise choice. Or a special license, at the very least. Why does Beckhampton want to wait?”

  “I imagine he doesn’t want to feed the gossips. You know w
hat they’ll say if we elope.”

  “What they’ll say?” Mama shook her head. “What can they say other than at last you two were joined in matrimony? The scandal is on your father’s head. With you only just having returned to England, there can be no baby to think of. No heir to make legal. I shall speak to him this morning and give him my blessing to leave as soon as possible. If he’s truly concerned, I’ll go to Scotland with you two. You can marry before Walter learns of your plan.”

  “Please don’t say anything to Beck, Mama. I’d die of embarrassment if he thought you were pushing him to marry me.” Eliza knew her emotions were ridiculous and unnecessary, but she couldn’t keep them at bay.

  “I will give you two a few more days, but time is urgent. If your brother hears you’ve returned, I don’t trust him not to react.”

  Eliza reached across the bench and grasped her mother’s hands. “Why did Father stop the marriage? You must know. I’ve respected your silence knowing how much you feared Father, but he’s gone now. Beck and I deserve to know why we aren’t married.”

  Mama sighed, her breath shaky. “It’s not easy to rid one’s self of the fear of someone who behaves so cruelly. I can’t just set aside my concerns now that he’s dead. Walter is so much like him. I’m afraid of what he will do when he finds out where we are.”

  Squeezing her mother’s hands, Eliza offered sympathy in her smile. “We have friends here now. Hart and Beck would never allow anyone to harm us or lock us away again.”

  “Part of me knows that, but the part that’s afraid hasn’t gone away.” Mama drew in another breath and was quiet for a few moments before continuing. “You recall the house Walter was building in Northumberland, near Castle Questing.”

  What did her brother’s house have to do with anything? Still, Eliza kept her mouth shut and simply nodded.

  “Your father’s family had long believed that piece of property belonged to them. He gifted it to Walter when he became of age, and about six months before your wedding he started building a house there.”

  “Yes, I remember, but how does this involve Beck and me?”