A Duke Deceived (The Deceived Series Book 1)

by Cheryl Bolen

  Pulling on the trousers that lay on the floor where he'd left them late the night before, Radcliff went to his wife.

  She was alone, slipping from her bed to remove the chamber pot now that she had filled it with yesterday's dinner.

  "Here," he said sternly, taking the porcelain bowl from her. "Back to bed, my dear." Turning his back on his surprised wife, he walked to the door, placed the pot in the hallway, came back and plumped up several pillows behind Bonny, then sat on the edge of her bed. His eyes wandered over her pallid face. "How long have you been sick like this?"

  She shrugged. "I don't really know. Quite likely two months."

  "I am worried about you. How long will this keep up?"

  "For many women, about three months. For others, the duration of their confinement."

  "How can a baby survive under such circumstances?"

  "I do not at all understand, but they do. Already, my shift is too tight. Our baby seems to be thriving." She took Radcliff's hand and placed it on her stomach. "Feel, Richard. He is already growing."

  Splaying his fingers over her belly, he felt a hard swell where she had been soft. A lump came to his throat. A tangle of emotions nearly overpowered him. When he gazed back into her pallid face with its great, sad eyes, the urge to encircle her in his protective warmth overcame him. He drew her against him and closed his arms around her.

  For some time, he basked in the peace of her, the feel of her hands moving gently over his back, the sweet rose scent of her. He did not want to break the spell with words.

  But Marie, coming to check on her mistress, broke the spell.

  For once, the duke spoke kindly to the startled abigail. "I appreciate the excellent care you have given the duchess, Marie. I fear I have been very neglectful."

  Neglectful did not come close to describing his deplorable treatment of Barbara. He had been so deuced low over his own doubts, he had not considered her. But worry over her now consumed him like a raging fever. Whether or not that babe was his, he could not bear for her to suffer.

  "But you did not know, Richard," Bonny said, gazing at her husband with laughing eyes.

  He turned back to Marie. "I will see to the duchess's needs this morning, Marie."

  Marie curtsied. "Very good, your grace."

  With Marie gone, Radcliff directed his attention once again to his wife. He brought a hand to caress her face. "I intend to get the pink back in your cheeks, my love. I believe what you need is a ride in the park."

  "With you?" she asked hopefully.

  "Of course." His brows came together. "It is all right for you to ride, is it not?"

  "I think it will be the very thing I need."

  Since it was a cool day, Radcliff insisted upon covering Bonny with rugs before he sat beside her and gave instructions to the coachman. He settled back in his seat as he eyed his wife. She wore a black bonnet, tied under her chin, and a black serge pelisse covered her mourning dress. "I would love to see you again in the blue cloak you wore the first time we kissed."

  Bonny thought about the cold day in Milford when she and Radcliff had stood atop the knoll, the wind slicing through them as they surveyed the misty moors below. She remembered her love bringing his mouth to hers, her hood slipping off. And once again she felt the same happiness she had felt that day.

  During the short ride to the park, Radcliff took her gloved hand in his.

  "Do you realize, sir, this is the first time you have ever taken me to the park in these six months we have been in London?"

  "Is that so? I shall have to rectify my neglect of you, my dear."

  "I had come to think you must be ashamed of me."

  "When have I ever given you reason to suspect that I felt anything but extreme pride in you? Have I not said a hundred times how much I wanted to display your loveliness to all of London?"

  She lowered her lashes. "To be sure, Richard. It is not your fault I have been in mourning."

  Despite the coolness, throngs of riders, walkers and a dazzling array of equipages wound through the park, and almost every person they passed seemed to know her husband, Bonny thought. To most of them, he merely nodded, his face–as always–serious.

  But with one decidedly frilly old woman, his manner was quite changed. Radcliff actually relaxed his stiffness and issued a warm smile before ordering the coachman to stop so he could chat with the matron of advanced years.

  "Radcliff, pray, make me known to this lovely creature. Your wife, I presume."

  He nodded. "But, Lady Eggerton, I believe you have met her before. She is Lord Landis's niece, the former Bonny Barbara Allan. I first saw her at your home."

  The old woman raised her quizzing glass to her eye and stared at Bonny. "To be sure. I remember her now. All the young bucks swarmed around her. And she had that lovely name...but now I suppose it's the Duchess of Radcliff." Her lively blue eyes met Bonny's.

  "How good of you to remember," Bonny said. "And it is very agreeable to see you again."

  "The fact that you are in mourning has reached my ears, dear girl."

  Bonny bowed her head.

  Lady Eggerton turned back to Radcliff. "You have done very well for yourself, Richard. It is too unfortunate your dear mama could not have met your little wife. She is very beautiful. Very delicate looking."

  "I fear my wife has been unwell of late."

  Countess Eggerton gave a shrewd glance at Bonny. "Do I have the honor of felicitating you on the expansion of your family?"

  Bonny blushed and raised her gaze to Radcliff.

  "Yes, my lady. We are to become parents," he said.

  "How happy you must be."

  Radcliff actually smiled again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the depth of his mirth. "To be sure."

  Lady Eggerton nodded to her driver. "It was very good to see you, my dear." She eyed Radcliff. "Take care of her, Richard."

  "I most certainly will, my lady."

  His coachman flicked the reins and they rode on, Radcliff continuing to curtly nod at passersby.

  From the corner of her eye, Bonny saw Twigs enter the lane they traveled on. He perched high on his gig with Cressida beside him and a tiger at the back. "Look, Richard, there's Twigs!"

  Radcliff instructed the coachman to approach Twigs's gig. Twigs pulled up alongside the duke and duchess, and when he perceived that Radcliff was riding with his wife, a wide smile covered his face. "By Jove, good to see you out, Duchess."

  "I have missed you most dreadfully since you moved out," Bonny said. "I've yearned for a good game of piquet with you."

  "Just have to pop in and play a hand or two," he said shyly, averting his reddened eyes from Bonny.

  "Why not tonight?" Radcliff suggested.

  "Sounds like a jolly good plan," Twigs said.

  Cressida laid a possessive hand on Twigs's arm above his ruffled cuff. "Oh, but Mr. Twickingham, I was so hoping you could escort me to the new play at Drury Lane. You know how abominably bad I am at card games."

  "To be sure–" He coughed. "No, no, no, Miss Carlisle. What I mean is–"

  Cressida fluttered her lashes and pouted. "Then, you would consider Drury Lane tonight?"

  Twigs sniffed and cast a dubious glance at Radcliff. "Well, if you are certain–"

  "Then it is settled," said Cressida, patting his arm patronizingly, a smug smile settling on her face.

  Once they had said their farewells, Bonny spoke. "Poor Twigs, he's doomed to be totally dominated by that meek-looking Cressida Carlisle."

  "How right you are, my love. However, I think she is exactly what he needs. Otherwise, Twigs would die a childless bachelor, for he would never have the nerve to initiate either a romance or a proposal."

  Bonny's heart soared. This was the first time her husband had indicated he would be pleased to have a child since he had learned of her expectancy. And he had admitted to Lady Eggerton the baby was due. He must be proud, she thought hopefully.

  A short time later, Bonny felt her husb
and stiffen, and she looked up to see an approaching carriage bearing Stanley Moncrief and Lady Lavinia Heffington, properly chaperoned by Lady Lavinia's nearly deaf companion, who rode alone in the back seat of the carriage. Bonny could not help but remember Stanley telling her that Lady Lavinia was Richard's true love, and she swallowed hard. How would her husband greet his former lover and his cousin?

  To Bonny's surprise, Radcliff gave both of them the cut direct. She wanted to ask him about it, but she dared not speak of that odious widow.

  When Radcliff spoke, it was not of his cousin or of Lady Lavinia but of Bonny's lying-in. "We need to go to Hedley Hall," he said.

  She nodded. Her husband did not have to tell her. All the Radcliffs had been born at Hedley Hall. In the same bed. Her heart filled with pride and happiness.

  Most of all, she longed to return to the idyllic happiness she had shared with her husband at his boyhood home. Now, all of her misery would be behind her.

  While her husband completed his business in the city, Bonny happily prepared to return to Hedley Hall, thoroughly content with his sudden conversion to domesticity. She relished every dinner at which they faced only each other across the candlelit table, the morning rides with him in the park, and most especially the nights he shared her bed, both of them lulled into sleep after being spent with their frenzied, nearly insatiable passion.

  Radcliff had left early this morning to peruse the offerings at Tattersall's but had insisted she rest more, therefore it was nearly noon before Marie entered her mistress's chamber and opened the draperies to rouse Bonny from her slumber.

  The sun cast its warmth over the room as Marie assembled Bonny's clothes. "See, Mrs. 'enson's always right as rain. Said ye'd be well in three months, and 'ere ye are with the bloom back in yer cheeks."

  Bonny smiled as she watched a robin flit from branch to branch on a tree outside her window. She gave her approval to the gown Marie selected and sat patiently at her dressing table as Marie fashioned her hair.

  Once she was dressed, a rap sounded on her door. It was Mandley. "A caller here to see your grace," he announced. "I told him you were not receiving callers so early, but he insisted upon seeing you."

  "He?" Bonny queried.

  "The Earl of Dunsford," Mandley said.

  The person she least wanted as a visitor. Richard disliked him so excessively. "I cannot see him, Mandley," Bonny said.

  "He insisted I was to tell you he needs to see you about your cousin Emily."

  Lord Dunsford must want to offer for her, Bonny mused. "In that case I will see him."

  Rushing downstairs, Bonny decided she would have to dispatch him quickly. It wouldn't do at all for Richard to find him here.

  When she crossed the drawing room to hold out her hand to Dunsford, he answered her questioning gaze. "Forgive me, your grace, but I had to see you. It's about Emily."

  Bonny failed to offer him a seat.

  "She has refused to see me."

  "I daresay it is because I imparted to her that you knew of the baby. She is extremely embarrassed to see you now."

  As Bonny looked at him and saw the dark circles under bloodshot eyes, she was reminded of the first time she met him, when he had been so forlorn over his brother's death. "Surely she knows I have known all this time and have had no objections."

  Bonny only nodded, not wanting to prolong the conversation in any way.

  "I have been every day for the past month. Sometimes several times a day, and never is she in to me. Once I watched her house and called immediately after I saw her enter, and still that lying butler told me she was not in."

  "I am very sorry, my lord, but I do not see what I can do."

  He hung his head in his hands. "I must see her. I have to tell her..."

  "That you love her?"

  He met Bonny's intense gaze and swallowed. "Yes."

  "Are you willing to offer marriage?"

  He clenched his fist. "Of course! What do you take me for?"

  "I only wanted to gauge your sincerity before I agree to intercede."

  Relief washed over his face. "Then you'll...?"

  Bonny nodded. "I will talk to Emily and tell her what you have told me."

  He stepped toward Bonny and took her hand.

  At that precise second, the drawing room door flew open so violently it banged against the wall, chipping the plaster and causing the crystal sconces to clatter.

  Bonny turned to face her husband. Not that he looked like her husband at that minute. He looked more like a satyr. His eyes flashed angrily, his brows drew together, his face grew red as he thundered, "Get out of my house, Dunsford!"

  Not taking his eyes from Radcliff, Dunsford snatched up his riding crop and wordlessly crossed the room.

  When he walked by Radcliff, the duke said, "I would call you out if it would not utterly ruin my wife's character. But let me warn you." His voice shook. "If you ever see my wife again, I will kill you."

  "There must be some misunderstanding, Radcliff," Dunsford said, pausing an arm's length away from the angry duke. "I assure you I would do nothing to hurt your wife in any way."

  "My wife is no concern of yours."

  Dunsford swallowed hard, threw an apologetic glance at Bonny and left the house.

  Radcliff's eyes flashed at Bonny, then he kicked his boot against a nearby table and stormed from the room.

  Bonny's breath caught. She heard Radcliff order his bay to be brought around, and she ran from the room to try to talk with him.

  "Richard, surely you don't think–"

  Radcliff cut her off. "Have I given you so many orders that you cannot remember one, Barbara?"

  He watched her with cold eyes.

  She swallowed. "No, sir, you haven't."

  "Yet you allowed that man into my home."

  Mandley announced that Radcliff's bay was mounted in front. Radcliff faced Bonny and gave her a hard look. "I have nothing more to say to you."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Evans stood stiffly in front of Bonny. "You called, your grace?"

  She put down the embroidery she had hardly touched. "Yes, Evans. I am very concerned about the duke. He hasn't been home in four days. Please tell me if you know where he is."

  "I do not know, your grace."

  "You most probably would not tell me if you did know, would you?"

  He inclined his head. "That is most likely true. As it happens this time, though, I share your concerns. I do not remember when his grace has been absent this many days. And he has no shaving things, nor a change of clothes."

  All manner of sordid possibilities had run through her mind, and in each instance, something dreadful had happened to her husband. Nearly convinced his throat had been slashed and his body dumped in the Thames, she had been unable to sleep or eat.

  With constricted heart, she had directed the servants to unpack the portmanteaus. It was unlikely they would travel to Hedley Hall. If Radcliff came back that very day, he would hardly welcome a cozy coach journey with his wife, nor a lying-in with no one but her to keep him company.

  When he had stormed from the house, Bonny's insides had rocked and trembled like a mastless ship on stormy seas. The malice in his words frightened her. There was more to his fury than a strong dislike of Lord Dunsford. He had threatened the man for seeing her. Then she remembered Lord Dunsford had been holding her hand when her husband walked into the room. Radcliff had given every indication of being in a jealous rage.

  She considered this at length and decided he was indeed jealous, but not because he loved her. Proof that he did not love her were the far too frequent nights he stayed away from her. She was merely a possession, and the Duke of Radcliff would not tolerate any man touching his duchess.

  After she sorted out her thoughts, she lost her anger and turned remorseful. She should have listened to her husband. He had done so much for her and asked so little in return. After Richard had forbidden Lord Dunsford to cross the threshold of Radcliff House, she shou
ld have sent the earl away. If only she could turn back the clock.

  But she could only cry into her pillow or her embroidered handkerchiefs and lament her sorrowful situation.

  She prayed for her husband's safety and paced the floor, often stopping to press her face against the window glass to search the streets for signs of him.

  "You are at liberty to make inquiries about his grace," Bonny informed the valet.

  Evans bowed, and she thought she detected a slight smile.

  "Do you know the address of Mr. Twickingham's lodgings?"

  "Yes, your grace."

  "Perhaps he has seen Richard," Bonny said absently, her eyes darting to the window at the sound of horses' hooves.

  As Evans left the room, Bonny peered out the window. She lifted the lace curtain and was once again bitterly disappointed. It was only Lord Sillsby's groom bringing around his curricle across the square.

  She dropped the lace and began to pace again. During the past four days she had been much too upset to leave Radcliff House for fear of missing her husband. She needed to speak to Emily about Lord Dunsford's suit, but Emily would have to come to her.

  Bonny crossed the study to her escritoire and penned a note asking Emily to call because she herself had been too unwell to pay calls. After she sealed the envelope. Bonny called for the page to deliver it to Cavendish Square.

  While Twigs lined up four empty Madeira decanters on the game table, Radcliff glared into the fire.

  "I say, Richard," Twigs sniffed, "does Duchess know you're here?"

  "Do not concern yourself, my good man."

  "Bloody easy for you to say. Fact is, don't like the way you treat her."

  Radcliff faced Twigs, his eyes hooded. "She cares not."

  "The deuce she don't! Of course, you wouldn't know. Off doing all manner of mischief, but I saw how much she worried over you. Nearly wore out those lace curtains in m' room, lifting them to look for you, her sweet face shadowed with worry."

  "Then my plan met with some success," Radcliff said smugly.

  "Plan? You planned to make her mad with grief?"

  "That is what I hoped."