A Duke Deceived (The Deceived Series Book 1)

by Cheryl Bolen

  "I've been out of London most of the past year."

  "Where?"

  She started to say Spain, but decided against it. It would do neither of them any good to think of Spain. "I have been to my cousin's wedding in Northumbria. My cousin, Bonny Barbara Allan, has recently married the Duke of Radcliff."

  Dunsford's step slowed and she felt a stiffening in his manner.

  When the music stopped, he walked her back to her mother. "May I have the pleasure of calling upon you, Lady Emily?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  And cursed herself for it.

  The following day Emily called to coax Bonny into accompanying her to look for ribbons, but Bonny cried off, begging her cousin to stay with her awhile. Bonny would not budge from Radcliff House until her husband returned.

  Emily, dressed in a fine mint green worsted dress and matching pelisse, took a seat in Bonny's sunlit study. "I only used the ribbons as an excuse to talk to you. You will never guess whom I danced with at the Teagues' ball last night."

  Bonny laid her embroidery on her lap and cocked a brow.

  "Harold's brother," Emily said.

  "The earl?"

  Emily nodded solemnly.

  "And you didn't faint?"

  "No, for I had rather been watching him throughout the night. He looks so very much like Harold. That is, until I heard his voice. It sounded so strange for that unfamiliar voice to come from that so-familiar face."

  "Did you tell him you knew Harold?"

  "No. I was afraid I might break down and cry."

  "Then it's best you remained silent."

  Emily stayed silent for a moment before she calmly said, "He asked if he could call on me."

  "And what did you say?" Bonny ran her needle into the cloth.

  Emily twisted a handkerchief. "I said he could."

  "Then why are you here this morning?"

  "I can't be with him and not want to confess everything."

  "You wouldn't do that with your mother sitting right there."

  "That's just the problem. If an earl came to call, you can be sure she would find a reason to leave me alone in the room with him–anything to compromise my virtue and aspire for a noble offer."

  Bonny knew good manners demanded that she defend her aunt, but good sense told her that Emily spoke the truth. She remained silent.

  Emily got up. "I must make an effort to get some ribbons before I go home. Mama will be furious enough if Lord Dunsford called while I was out." She turned from the door of the duchess's study. "Need ribbon?"

  Bonny shook her head. "Please leave the door open." She wanted to hear Richard when he returned. Long after Emily left, Bonny sat quietly sewing, listening for her husband. She saw Evans stealthily creep down the hall toward his master's room. Shortly afterward he walked past her open study door, a valise in one hand and a suit of Richard's clothing in the other.

  Seeing Evans with her husband's clothing was nothing new. Fine coats and trousers were frequently draped over his arm as he saw to their needs. But the valise? Was he taking Richard a fresh suit of clothing?

  She thought of how extremely neat her husband was about his clothing and appearance. Not that he was vain. Just very clean. The only man she could measure him against was her father, who had a habit of wearing his favorite clothes for days on end.

  Could Richard have sent a note to Evans and not to his wife? she wondered, anger welling within her like a steaming cauldron.

  Before an hour passed, Radcliff returned home wearing the clothes Evans brought him. "Is the duchess home?" he asked Mandley, passing his gloves and riding crop to a nearby footman.

  "Yes, your grace. I believe she is in her study."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes, your grace. Lady Emily left some time ago."

  Radcliff nodded and went to sit at the rich walnut desk in his own study, hanging his head in his hands. Damn but his head ached unmercifully. He was too old and too unused to the excesses for which his crowd was noted. He had been so ripe for aging at Hedley Hall with Barbara by his side and a nursery full of their children. Why had they ever come back to London? She had seemed happy with him in Kent. He thought perhaps she had been growing to love him.

  He pounded the desk at the thought of his rival.

  "Are you all right, Richard?"

  He looked up to see Barbara, lovely as ever, standing before him, a look of concern on her perfect face. "I have a bad head."

  She slid into a velvet chair near his desk, a sly grin on her face. "I feared you would have a bad head today, dear husband. I understand that generally follows a thorough foxing."

  "Thank you for such sympathetic words, my dear."

  She got up and came to feel his forehead. "I'm sorry to be so callous. Would you like Mandley to bring you tisane?"

  "Pray, no. It won't help." His eyes raked over her as she sat back down. "You've been here all day?"

  "How could I leave, not knowing where you were or if you were all right?"

  "Keep it up and I will believe you worried about me."

  She squared her shoulders and shot a cold glance at him.

  Why hadn't she asked where he had been? Didn't other wives pry? But, then, Barbara was not like all wives, he thought with a tightening in his chest.

  "Have you see Twigs today?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "I'm too bloody miserable."

  "Then you need to be in bed."

  "I would feel no better there." He shuffled through papers on his desk, feeling his wife's eyes on him.

  "Twigs walked on his own last night," she announced quietly.

  He turned smiling eyes on her. "This calls for a celebration."

  "Please, no more toasts, sir."

  "I was thinking you could have a small dinner for him. Have your aunt and uncle and Emily, and any others you may wish."

  "Like your cousin, Stanley?"

  He nodded. "You have complete liberty with the guest list."

  All signs of old Lord Heffington were now gone from the late baron's morning room, Stanley Moncrief reflected as he waited for the baron's merry widow to come down. Lady Lavinia Heffington's touch shone everywhere in the room, from its brocaded sofas the color of saffron to the Sevres urns on the marble mantel. Color and light and delicate objects had replaced the heavy wood, suits of armor and deep claret-colored trappings of the morning room.

  Lady Heffington floated into the room, her heavy floral scent announcing her arrival before she greeted Stanley in her deep, rich voice.

  He rose and took her outstretched hand, his eyes skimming past her loveliness to observe her deaf companion, Mrs. Breedlove, as that old woman sat in a French chair near the window and took up her embroidery. "Surely a lady of your prestige no longer needs the appearances of a watchdog," Stanley said mockingly.

  Lady Heffington stiffened and withdrew her hand. "A woman alone in the world always needs a protector." She sat on a sofa behind the tea table recently set by her butler. "Your cousin's ill use of me did nothing to improve my reputation."

  Stanley came to sit beside her. "Ah, my cousin. He is the reason I am here today."

  She shot him a questioning glance.

  "I regret to say his marriage does not go well. I am sure you know he stays away from his young bride for days at a time."

  "Such talk has come to my ears. I am given to understand he prefers the company of other bloods over that of his wife."

  "You of all people must know a man like Richard cannot be content with only a pretty face. He needs a mature woman of experience and intelligence."

  "You and I are in complete agreement on that, Stanley. However, if dark clouds threaten Richard's marriage, I cannot but believe you would rejoice. I know you dislike the prospect of Richard begetting an heir that would displace your hopes."

  "It seems you and I understand each other well, Lavinia."

  She handed him his tea. "Why are you here?"

  "To enlist your help in my plan to sabotage Ri
chard's...I hate to call it a marriage...his misalliance."

  Her brows lifted, then she leaned toward him, a smile spreading across her pretty face. "Pray, how can I be of service?''

  Bonny knew a dinner party for a dozen was child's play for her experienced servants, who had to remove several leaves from the great dining table to accommodate so small a gathering. Nevertheless, this was her first dinner party, and she wanted to be certain everything went smoothly. Above all, she wanted Richard to be proud of her.

  She stood back to study the table. She had arranged the flowers herself and had to admit no one could have done better. She examined each of the twelve place settings. Assured the table was in perfect order, Bonny scurried up the stairs to her chamber, where Marie skillfully arranged her hair and helped her into the low-cut black sarcenet gown with train. She thought of how lovely the Radcliff Jewels would look but knew they were too opulent for one in mourning. Instead, she pulled from her jewel case a simple strand of pearls. Marie fastened them on before she left the room.

  It had been weeks since Richard had clasped anything around her neck, she thought sadly. In fact, it had been weeks since he had touched her.

  She heard the sound of a door opening into the dressing room and looked up hopefully.

  Her husband strolled into her room. "It's too bad, my dear, the Radcliff Jewels are so gaudy for one in mourning, for I would love to see them on you tonight."

  She rose and met him halfway across the room.

  He stopped to look at her. "You will do very well. Very well indeed."

  "Do the pearls look all right?" She felt his eyes on her bodice.

  "No. You don't need them, Barbara." He moved closer, his hands finding the clasp and removing the pearls, his palms sliding down her soft shoulders. "A beauty such as yours needs nothing else."

  She spun around to face him, wanting to fling herself into his arms, but he stiffened and offered his arm. "Shall we go downstairs, your grace? Our guests await."

  Her heart heavy, she took his arm.

  In the drawing room Bonny felt more insignificant than ever. The guests who had already arrived–with the exception of Emily–completely ignored Bonny in their enthusiastic reception of her husband. Would Richard take their slight of his wife as confirmation that he had married beneath his station?

  If only she could distinguish herself in his eyes. Perhaps tonight's dinner would be such a success he would be very proud of her. She stood at her husband's side and looked at the gathering. Twigs, nattily dressed in a rather loud satin coat, leaned on a cane between Richard and Bonny's Uncle David. Emily and her mother, along with her brother, Alfred, had arrived, as had Cressida Carlisle with her sister and brother-in-law.

  "Athena Carlisle," the duke said, taking the matron's hand, "it's been an age since I've seen you. But, of course, your name's no longer Carlisle."

  The woman's whole air changed from subservient to glowing. "Miller's the last name now, your grace, and this is my husband, Gregory."

  Radcliff politely greeted the bald-headed man, then said, "Do me the goodness to welcome my lovely wife, the Duchess of Radcliff." His arm tucked around Bonny as his eyes met hers.

  Once the duke alluded to his wife, the others could not praise her highly enough.

  Bonny's Aunt Lucille listened to all the charming compliments before adding her own. "I am so very glad the duke insisted Bonny get Madame Deveraux to clothe her, for the poor thing had no sense of fashion at all, and look how well she looks now! Of course, she will look better when she can wear color again. Those with black hair don't look good in mourning, not like blondes, don't you think, Mrs. Miller?"

  Mrs. Miller, whose pretty, unwed sister was blond, agreed most heartily.

  "I beg to disagree," the duke said. "I've never seen anyone wear mourning better than my wife." He turned to Lady Landis. "And I find my wife has excellent taste– with or without the services of an expensive modiste."

  "Quite so," said Bonny's uncle, who had acted especially proud of Bonny since her marriage.

  Mandley entered the drawing room and announced the newest guest, "Henry Blackburn, the third Earl of Dunsford."

  Knowing that he was not acquainted with most of those in the room, Bonny went to greet him. "How nice of you to come, my lord." She took his arm and led him toward the other guests.

  "Do you know my husband?" Bonny asked Dunsford.

  Radcliff's cold eyes met Dunsford's. "We were at school together," the duke said stonily.

  Dunsford threw a nervous smile at Radcliff. "That was a very long time ago, to be sure." He bowed. "Please accept my felicitations on your marriage."

  Radcliff merely nodded, prompting an awkward silence.

  "I believe you know my cousins, Lord Alfred and Lady Emily Wickham," Bonny said to Dunsford.

  As Alfred began to speak to Dunsford, and Mrs. Miller chatted with Lady Landis, Radcliff drew Bonny toward the window.

  "Why didn't you tell me Dunsford was coming?"

  "Why didn't you ask?" she snapped. "You've hardly spoken to me since the day you said I could have the party. You're never home anymore."

  Mandley cleared his throat to announce the last guest. "Mr. Stanley Moncrief with Lady Lavinia Heffington."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lady Heffington did not walk into the room, she glided into it quietly like a cat on soft paws, a smile fixed on her face, her eyes riveted on the duke's. Completely ignoring Bonny's presence, the redhead laid a bejeweled hand on Radcliff's arm. "Pray, it was so good of you to ask me," she said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

  Radcliff's eyes darted from Lady Heffington to Stanley Moncrief. "You came with Stanley?" he asked, his face stern.

  "Yes, he's so very obliging." Lady Heffington turned then to Bonny. "I do hope I don't make an odd number for your table."

  "Well–"

  "Do me the goodness of placing Lavinia near me, your grace," Stanley said to Bonny.

  Before Bonny could respond, Mandley announced dinner. Bonny took the butter aside and told him to set a place for Lady Heffington beside Stanley.

  It wasn't until Bonny pulled her skirts beneath her and sat down that she remembered Stanley was to sit next to her husband. Her heart stilled when she looked down the length of the table and saw Lady Heffington at Radcliff's left.

  Oblivious to the three footmen serving wine and buttered crab, a dazed Bonny poked at the food for which she no longer had an appetite. Putting aside her humiliation that her husband had invited his former mistress to his wife's table, Bonny still stung from her husband's utter rejection of her.

  She tried to swallow a bite of parsnips, but they caught in her throat. She felt tears welling up and prayed she would be able to hold them back. The only thing more humiliating than having to entertain your husband's mistress was crying at your own dinner party.

  "Your flowers look beautiful, Bonny," said Emily, who sat beside her.

  "Yes, I must find out who did them for you," said Lady Landis.

  "I did them myself, Aunt Lucille."

  Bonny's aunt's eyes narrowed. "Well, of course, the duke does have the finest garden in London. How stupid of me not to have realized how easy it would be for you to have gorgeous bouquets."

  Lady Landis's words made Bonny realize the garden wasn't hers, though Richard had urged her to consider everything he owned as hers, too. Even her first dinner party was not hers. Her party for a dozen now served an unlucky thirteen.

  As if through a fog, Bonny watched those at her table. She observed every gesture or word that passed between her husband and the woman who had been his mistress. She noticed the easy intimacy between them and wondered if it was Lady Heffington who kept Richard from her each night.

  Though those thoughts tore at her heart, that her husband would humiliate her like this hurt even worse. A man who could wound so had no heart. The man she had married possessed a heart that knew no bounds. What had become of that man? she wondered morosely.


  Lady Heffington lowered her voice, but her words could be heard at the other end of the table. "I am given to understand you have been neglecting your poor little wife, Radcliff."

  "I beg you not to repeat such groundless gossip, my lady," Radcliff said sternly.

  While her husband's reply lifted Bonny's spirits, they fell again a few minutes later when she saw Lady Heffington stroke her husband's hand, and he placed his over hers and said something Bonny could not hear.

  As if to deny her own eyes, Bonny spun to face Dunsford, who sat at her left. Sitting at the end of the table herself, she had put the shy Emily beside her and intentionally placed Dunsford opposite Emily in hopes of furthering their acquaintance. "What was that you said?"

  "I was merely telling Alfred here," Dunsford responded, "that it's not proper to talk about gaming houses in front of ladies."

  "Pooh," Bonny said. "I am a married lady."

  Bonny saw Dunsford's pale eyes indicate Emily across the table from him and knew to whom he referred.

  "She doesn't count, old boy," Alfred said. "She's my sister. Knows all about the hells."

  Emily's gaze met her brother's. "Yes, and I know you should stay away from them."

  "Daresay your sister's right," Dunsford said.

  Bonny attempted a smile. "We women are always right, my lord."

  Determined to present a placid countenance, Bonny drew out the bashful earl by asking him about his school days and to kindly repeat any stories he knew of Twigs that were fit for mixed company.

  While Bonny appeared to listen with lively amusement to Dunsford's narrative, Radcliff watched from hooded eyes. How could his Barbara bring Dunsford into this house? He could not believe the sensitive woman he had married could be guilty of so cruel an action.

  He ached to watch her lovely face smile at the arrogant Dunsford. But he ached far more to think of her twisting and writhing with pleasure beneath Dunsford. God's eyes, but nothing had ever hurt so much. Not even when his parents died.

  Although Barbara had captured his heart, he could at least salvage his dignity. His pride. He couldn't let her know how utterly devastated he was. Far better to let her think he was having a jolly time with Lavinia.