by Cheryl Bolen
A pity that his Barbara was not one of those people. Radcliff sat on a sturdy chair and allowed Evans to take off his boots. Good boots they must be, he reflected. His stockings were the only dry article on his body.
"Your grace must have spent a great deal of time outdoors today to have got so wet."
"Yes, I've been searching for someone all day."
"And have your efforts met with good fortune?"
"No, but I shall renew my quest tonight."
"You will have the good judgment to take the barouche tonight, will you not, your grace?''
"How diplomatically you scold, Evans, but you do have a capital idea. I'm damned tired of being wet." Sliding into dry breeches, Radcliff met Evans's gaze squarely. "Tell me, why is there no fire nor candles in the duchess's room?"
"But...we were given to understand the duchess has left."
"From whom did you receive this information?"
"All of the servants understood from Marie that the duchess–"
"Say no more! You will instruct my household to keep the duchess's room in perfect order for her return."
"Her return?"
"My wife will be coming back shortly," Radcliff said as he grabbed a coat and stalked from the dressing room.
"A pity it is raining tonight," Lady Landis said as she entered their box at the Drury Lane Theatre. "I had so wanted to go to Vauxhall Gardens, but I am given to understand that tonight's play is very entertaining."
Lord and Lady Landis sat in the front row, then Lady Landis turned around and gazed affectionately at her two offspring. "By the way, dear," she said to Emily, "leave a seat between yourself and your brother. A friend of Alfred's will be joining us."
Emily did as her mother instructed, then began to read the program. Despite being in London the past seven months, she had been very little in society. Pleas of ill health had spared her from many of her mother's efforts to marry her off to a wealthy husband. But no protests had spared her from tonight's activities. No doubt, she thought bitterly, Alfred's "friend" would be yet another prospective husband.
When the curtain rustled open behind her, she did not even turn her head. The young gentleman moved to the seat beside her, and Emily turned to give him a stiff greeting. And she froze. It was Lord Dunsford. How she wished for a magic potion to make her disappear. She felt her face coloring and her chest rumbling from a torrent of emotions, not the least of which was pure embarrassment. She knew she should give him a greeting, but she could not find her voice. She faced him, her eyes downcast.
He gave friendly greetings to Lord and Lady Landis and to Alfred, then he turned his full attention on Emily. Bowing, he reached for her hand, and she gave it to him. "Lady Emily," he said, kissing her hand. "How very good it is to see you again." He sat next to her and inquired, "I trust your good health has returned?"
"Yes, my lord," she said shakily.
The curtain opened, and the comedy commenced. Emily could not say if it were entertaining or not. She could think of nothing save the handsome man who sat beside her, recalling the things Bonny had told her that morning. It was very hard indeed to believe that he knew of her shame and still sought her out. Could it be that what Bonny said was true? Could the earl truly be in love with her, despite her past? Could he really wish to marry her?
As the first act played on, her discomfort ebbed. Somehow, Lord Dunsford's closeness was reassuring. He did not care about her past. He had met Harriet. Bonny said he was quite attached to Harriet, and a liquid comfort spread through her at the thought. And he was here. Beside her. Could she dare hope he would be there always for her?
At intermission, Lady Landis sprang to her feet and announced, "David and I simply must speak to Lady Smitherton, my dear."
As she and Lord Landis left the box, Alfred said, "Must have a smoke." He did not ask Lord Dunsford to join him.
When there were just the two of them left in the dimly lit box, Dunsford turned to Emily. "You may have guessed that your family knows I particularly wished to speak to you alone."
Her heart hammering rapidly, Emily met Dunsford's serious gaze. "Yes, my lord."
He took her gloved hand and placed it within both of his. "Surely you know I wish to make you my wife."
She would have to speak of that which she had never thought to utter. It was as if his handclasp passed his strength to her, giving her the courage to speak her fears. "Considering what you know about me, my lord?"
He ran a loving hand across her cheek. "Especially knowing you. I love everything about you."
She saw the love in his eyes and wanted more than anything on earth to return that love tenfold. "But would I not cause you embarrassment?"
"You could never give me anything but happiness, Emily. But I love you too deeply to allow society to think ill of you. What happened on the Peninsula should remain a secret only you and I and the duchess share. But that doesn't mean that we can't be parents to Harriet and make a home for the three of us."
"Oh, Henry! You are the kindest man in the world."
"I don't want to be the kindest man in the world. I want you to make me the happiest. Say you will marry me."
A slow smile crossed her face. "I will marry you."
He scooped her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss captured all the tenderness in her being, and when it was through, he drew away and gave her a glowing look of love. "I had hoped for your love, and now you have answered me."
She chuckled contentedly, kissed his cheek and said, "I love you very much, my lord."
What a bloody waste this night had been, Radcliff thought as he trudged up the dimly lit staircase of Radcliff House. He had been to every blasted gaming establishment in the city but had not found Dunsford. The closest he had come was at midnight, when Thomas Squires told him he had seen Dunsford driving his curricle near Bow Street– alone–at around eight that evening. That, at least, had been good news. Dunsford was not with Bonny.
At Madam Chassay's, Radcliff had not even inquired after Dunsford because Stanley was there. Radcliff would be damned before he would allow Stanley to know he sought the earl who had been keeping company with his wife. He gave his cousin the cut and left.
Instead of going to his library and sulking with brandy as he normally did, Radcliff went to Bonny's chamber. He knew she wouldn't be there, but he longed for her so badly he was drawn to her room.
Now it was warm from a fire in the hearth. A candle glowed beside her bed. Her torcheres were lit, too. He sat in the slipper chair beside the fireplace and heard a soft knock from the dressing room.
"Your grace?" Evans questioned.
"Yes."
Evans opened the adjoining door. "I thought perhaps you would like me to bring you some brandy."
Suddenly, Radcliff despised what he had become. The man who had driven Barbara away with his sulkiness and drinking. He had no taste for liquor tonight. He wanted only to keep a clear head, to determine how he could find Barbara and bring her back. "I want nothing that is in your power to give me, Evans."
"Would you like me to help you get ready for bed, your grace?''
Radcliff shook his head. "I do not plan to sleep until the duchess returns."
"But, your grace–"
"You are dismissed."
Radcliff walked to Bonny's dressing table and picked up her wedding ring. Even if she did not want to be married to him, he would not let her go. He would find her if he had to spend every shilling he owned. And he would bring her back. He would take her back to Hedley Hall and proceed with his initial plan of enveloping her in so much love she would have to love him in return. And even if she could never love him, he would never stop loving her. It would be easier to stop drawing breath.
He realized that it no longer mattered if she was in love with him. He did not have to have her love. He had only to have her. To never look upon her again would be worse than death. No longer did he want to die.
But how could he find her? Who besides Dunsford might kno
w her whereabouts? Emily. By Jove, he would visit Emily in the morning. She was bound to know where to find Bonny.
Radcliff was not the only one who could not sleep since Bonny's departure. Evans, too, found himself lying awake. He kept remembering his grace's deep, racking sobs when he learned the duchess had left. Then, earlier in the evening, Radcliff had talked as if he wanted to die. Talking about taking lung fever. God forbid that something should happen to him.
Would that he could restore his master to happiness. But, as the duke had so morosely informed him, there was nothing in his power that could bring the duchess back.
But the broken man of the last two days was most assuredly a man in love.
In the morning, Evans let himself into the duchess's gilded chamber. The duke, in the wrinkled clothing he had worn the night before, stood with his back to him, looking out the window onto the square.
"Your grace," Evans said boldly, "it is my opinion you have driven away the duchess by your neglect of her."
Radcliff gave his valet a startled look. "I know that, man, but there are...other factors. Things you don't know about."
"I know that she loved you, your grace."
The duke gave a mirthless laugh. "It sounds as if you are defending her, Evans. I could have sworn that you held the duchess in dislike."
Evans hung his head. "I have done her grace a great disservice and have grown to regret my treatment of her."
"As have I."
"If there is anything I can do–"
Radcliff placed a hand on Evans's shoulder. "Thank you, Evans."
"There is one other matter, your grace, about the missing jewels."
"The Radcliff Jewels?" Radcliff asked.
Evans nodded. "I have learned that your cousin, Stanley, took them the night of that first dinner party."
Radcliff smiled. "And how did you learn of this?"
Taken aback by his master's unexpected good humor, Evans almost whispered, "I would rather not say, your grace."
"Very well," Radcliff said cheerfully. "Assist me into clean clothes. I shall visit Wickham House this morning."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Pale sunlight gleamed through the cloud cover as Radcliff's horse cantered toward Cavendish Square. Since Evans had revealed that Stanley–and not the duchess– had stolen the Radcliff Jewels, Radcliff's spirits had soared. And each step closer he came to Wickham House, the closer he came to finding Barbara.
Evans's revelation did indeed put a different perspective on things. Not to mention that there were now two men in London whom the duke wished to call out. It was while he took an almost pleasant surge from the thought of running a sword through Dunsford that he beheld the sight of the lean earl mounting the steps to Wickham House.
"Dunsford!" Radcliff called in a commanding voice. "A word with you, if you please."
The earl whirled around, his brows plunging together and a scowl of displeasure sweeping across his face when he recognized the duke. But, ever the gentleman, he did as he was bid, freezing in his step as he watched Radcliff leap from his mount and tie it up. He gave a stiff bow as Radcliff walked up to him.
Radcliff, his eyes like cold emeralds, stiffened and spoke with malice. "May I ask what brings you to my relatives' home today?"
Ignoring the duke's steely tone, Dunsford gave him a shaky smile. "Your grace's will be the first ears to hear my wondrous news. You, Radcliff, will soon be my kinsman."
That the earl could smile at him completely stunned Radcliff. It was clearly not the action of a man who had stolen his wife. And what did he mean, they would soon be kinsmen? "Whatever are you speaking of, Dunsford?" Radcliff snapped.
"Of my upcoming nuptials."
The words struck Radcliff a paralyzing blow.
"Lady Emily," Dunsford continued, "has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife."
Radcliff was more stunned than ever. Could it be possible that the earl loved Emily and not Barbara? "But...why is it you have been meeting my wife at Number 17 Kepple Street?"
The earl's face clouded. "Those meetings were of a private nature."
Radcliff grabbed the earl by the lapels of his morning coat. "Nothing that concerns my wife shall be private to you, Dunsford."
Dunsford's eyes softened. "It is not what you think, Radcliff. Your wife is completely devoted to you. In no way has she ever compromised her marriage vows."
"Then why, pray tell, was she meeting you on Kepple Street?"
"I cannot say, your grace. I can only tell you that the duchess in no way has sullied your good name."
His face inflamed, Radcliff shook Dunsford and spit out his anger in even harsher tones. "You will tell me, or we shall speak through our seconds."
Dunsford's eyes rounded. "But, your grace..." He hung his head. "Very well. Since you are family, I will tell you what no one knows, save my dear Emily and the duchess." He stopped and his voice softened. "I have been paying visits to Number 17 Kepple Street to see Emily's baby."
"Emily's baby?" Radcliff exclaimed.
Dunsford nodded solemnly.
"Your babe?"
Dunsford shook his head. "My brother's. He died before he could wed Emily. The duchess–before she was a duchess, of course–was the one who came to Emily's assistance. She took her small legacy from her grandmother to set up a foster home for the baby."
God in heaven, Radcliff thought, he had done Barbara such an injustice. All the while she had been as true as the North Star. She obviously had vowed to her cousin never to tell anyone about the baby, hence the reason for such secrecy.
He had also done Dunsford a disservice. "My good man," Radcliff said to the earl, "may I offer you my apologies as well as my felicitations?"
"Thank you, your grace."
Radcliff placed his arm around Dunsford's shoulders and began to skip up the steps to Wickham House. "Allow me to make it up to you for my uncharitable behavior. Do me the goodness to compute the sum of your gaming debts, and I will settle them as a wedding present to you and my cousin."
"You are all kindness, your grace."
Radcliff rapped at the door of Wickham House. "Not at all, Dunsford. I was thinking of my wife and how happy she will be if you and Lady Emily are in a state of bliss unmarred by financial worries. For, as you know, the duchess and her cousin are extremely close."
"Quite so."
When Styles opened the door, Radcliff said, "Please announce to Lady Emily that her betrothed and the Duke of Radcliff wish to see her."
Not betraying the slightest surprise over the announcement of Emily's "betrothed", Styles showed in the two gentlemen.
Emily stood at the top of the stairway. Radcliff could see that she clutched a piece of folded paper in her hand. She looked at her intended first and started down the stairs. "I trust you slept well, my lord."
Dunsford moved to her side and clasped her hand. "How can one sleep when complete bliss is so near at hand?"
A smile played at her lips and her fingers brushed across her fiancė's cheek, then she turned her attention to Radcliff. "Bonny said you would come. I was to wait a week before I gave you the letter."
Radcliff stepped closer. "But you and I both know you are going to give it to me today, even if it's been only three days. Three long, horrible days."
Emily's eyes twinkled. "So you do love her."
"Of course I love her. She's my wife."
"Did you tell her?"
Radcliff gave Emily a puzzled look. Then he understood so much. If only he could turn back the clock. He held out his hand. "May I have the letter?"
She handed it to him, and he tore it open with shaking hands and began to read.
My dear Richard,
By the time you read this, I shall be gone and you will have your freedom. It was a noble sacrifice you made by marrying me, and I will always be grateful for your generosity to me and to my mother. I will remember your many acts of kindness. I will remember, too, the tenderness we shared, particularly at Hedley
Hall, and I have no regrets. My only regret is that you were so utterly unhappy in London. It is obvious you did not want to be married to me.
I take nothing with me that I did not bring to our marriage, and it is my intention to get along without your financial assistance. Since I don't plan to return to London, perhaps you could explain my absence by allowing people to assume I died in childbirth.
I leave you with two requests. First, I beg that you do not worry about me. I will get on tolerably well. Secondly, I implore you to give up all notions of becoming a soldier.
His stomach still plummeting from the thought of her dying in childbirth, he noted the absence of a signature. Had she been in a dilemma over how to close the letter without using the word love?
He looked up at Emily, his eyes brimming. "Where is she?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"Milford."
He nodded and left.
Throwing open the door to his dressing room, Radcliff smiled and told Evans, "Help me into my riding clothes and pack my things, Evans. I go to my wife."
"May I inquire her whereabouts, your grace?" The valet took off his master's velvet waistcoat.
"She goes to Milford."
"Does your grace know by what means she is being conveyed?"
"I regret to say by the post coach."
"If I might be so bold as to make a suggestion, your grace, it is my opinion you could travel much better were you not fatigued from lack of sleep. Remember, the duchess will have many stops along the way. With yourself fresh and good horses, you could leave tomorrow and still arrive at approximately the same time her grace will arrive in Milford."
Radcliff paused, nodding. "I believe you are correct, Evans. Besides, there is another matter I would like to settle before I depart London." Glancing at Evans, who was unbuttoning a buff coat, Radcliff said, "I will no longer require riding clothes after all, but I shall need them in the morning. Very early in the morning. And I would like you to instruct my household to ready the traveling coaches for the trip to Milford. Only the best carriage will do to convey the duchess to Hedley Hall. My child shall be born there."