Dunsaney's Desire (Historical Romance)

by Brianna York

  Tess watched Matthew leave the room, afraid to move lest she shatter the perfection of the past half an hour. Her mind tried to work itself around the enormous change that her life had just undergone. Smiling gently, she raised her left hand to eye level and admired her engagement ring. It was tangible proof that she had not dreamt her engagement to Matthew, and she felt the first thrill of nervous pleasure as the prospect of her new station in life rippled through her.

  “You seem pleased with the situation.”

  Tess started at the sudden intrusion into her very private thoughts, noticing her brother in the doorway for the first time. “Is there some reason that I should not be, brother?” she inquired, feeling the brilliant happiness of her mood dissipating.

  He smiled vaguely at her and shook his head as he crossed the room and halted before her. Reaching up, he caught her hand and scrutinized the golden band gracing her finger. “Very fine indeed,” he murmured, a gleam in his eye that Tess did not care for. “I do believe that the Duke has even deeper pockets than I had originally thought.”

  Tess frowned and snatched her hand away. “Does it truly matter precisely how much money Matthew has in his coffers, brother?”

  He scrutinized her through narrowed eyes. “Indeed it does, sister dear. We must know how much we can fleece him for without his noticing. I intend to be repaid for what his family has taken from us.”

  Tess felt a surge of disgust at her brother’s words and turned her back on him. She wished that he did not make her feel so dirty.

  “Well, now,” Dartmoor said coldly, “You have rather changed your tune, sister. I seem to remember that you too wanted to be repaid for our years struggling to survive when we should have been able to enjoy the same privileges that the Duke has enjoyed all his life. Surely, with our plan so close to fruition, you have not changed your mind?”

  She pivoted to face him, her chin tilted up and her eyes stormy. “I have not changed my mind. I never wished to steal from the Hargreve family, brother. Surely it is enough that I have succeeded in marrying him. Surely you will be happy with the improved social position my marriage will allow us. It is no longer necessary to steal anything from Matthew.”

  “You seem to have misunderstood me, sister dear,” Dartmoor replied, his voice frigid. “I do not wish to belong to Dunsaney in any fashion. I want to have returned to me the land and the profits that should rightfully have been mine and I wish to wash my hands of the Duke after that. I belong to no man, and certainly I will not live on whatever alms His Grace wishes to throw my way.”

  Tess’s expression was one of shocked horror as she stared at her brother in adamant disbelief. “But Gregory, surely you would not prefer to steal, when you could earn the money, or simply accept it as a gift?”

  Dartmoor’s shuttered expression transformed itself suddenly into his feral smile. “I see what the trouble is.”

  Bewildered, Tess asked, “The trouble?”

  Her brother nodded wisely. “Indeed. You have fallen in love with His Grace, have you not?” He spat out the proper form of address for Matthew’s title derisively.

  Tess looked even more bewildered. “And if I have?” she inquired.

  “It changes everything, sister dear,” he replied politely, his tone too light. He stepped toward her menacingly. “You were not supposed to fall in love with him, sweetheart,” he hissed, reaching out suddenly and grabbing her chin painfully. Tess winced and tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip on her and yanked her closer to him. “You will not let me down, sister, not at this late date. You will fulfill your end of the bargain, in love or not.”

  “And if I do not?” she demanded, defying the pain he was causing her.

  His fingers clamped down tighter on her face and she gasped in spite of her resolve not to show him how much he was hurting her. “You will do as you are told, sister, or you will pay most dearly.”

  She sensed an air of maniacal resolve in him that convinced her that he was not bluffing. She managed to nod her agreement because she could not talk around his painfully tight grip on her face.

  “I have your word?” he snarled at her. When she nodded, he released her and shoved her away from him. She stumbled back and caught herself on the back of a nearby chair. She ordered herself not to appear as afraid as she felt, but it was very hard not to look shocked. She had always known that her brother was extremely ambitious, but she had never before seen this fiendish, neck-or-nothing recklessness in him before. She had to accept that it had always been there and that she had just been too blind to see it.

  She forced herself to stand up straight and release her hold on the chair. Gathering herself, she tilted her chin upwards defiantly and left the room, feeling his eyes like a sharp cold agony on her all the way across the room. Once out of the room, she nearly ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She shoved open the door and threw herself inside, then slammed it and turned the key in the lock. She leaned back against the door and gasped for air.

  Her horrified mind admitted that her brother was not quite in his right mind. She had always known that he was obsessed with reclaiming their family fortune and property, but she had always believed that when they came to London it would prove impossible for her to woo the Duke and that her brother would be forced to admit that there would be no getting their money back. She had not planned on Matthew being the answer to every vision she had ever had of her future. Nor had she counted on her brother’s refusal to look at the situation rationally.

  She drew a shuddering breath and forced herself to step farther into the room. She sank gratefully onto her bed, covering her eyes with her hand in a vain attempt to block out the ugly reality of the thought that her life was spinning out of control. She opened her eyes and stared at the ring on her finger. It shone softly and she felt as if it was the only clean thing in her life. Matthew’s ring was the link to the life that she had always imagined she would one day have earned, and she felt her strength and hope returning as she looked at it. It was clear that she had to escape her brother, and she could accomplish that by marrying Matthew.

  Her brother would come to realize that she would not steal from Matthew, and he would forget about his warped schemes to return their family name to prominence. Feeling considerably better, she closed her eyes and relived Matthew’s proposal as she drifted off to sleep.

  Eighteen

  “A

  lex?” Matthew rapped softly on his sister’s bedroom door, his restless excitement hard to contain.

  “Come in, Matthew,” she called out.

  She had half-turned to watch her brother enter the room, and Matthew smiled fondly at her as he stepped inside. “Getting ready early?” he inquired, noting her loose hair which fell in long crimson waves down her back and the sliver-handled hair brush in her hand.

  She smiled gently. “I just needed some time to think,” she replied, turning back to the mirror and returning to the task of brushing her hair.

  “Here let me do that,” Matthew told her, crossing the room to stand behind her chair.

  “Thank you,” she told him sincerely, passing the brush to him and rolling her shoulders. A few moments passed in companionable silence as Matthew began slowly to untangle her waist length hair, then Alex said, “You would make an excellent abigail, Matthew.”

  His hands stilled briefly in some surprise at her comment and his sherry eyes flew to meet hers in the mirror. He laughed then, a contented, full and rich sound. “A choice I had never considered,” he said quietly, the laughter rounding out the edges of his voice.

  Alex regarded her brother in the cheval glass for a moment, then said, “What is it that you came to tell me, brother? You look bursting with good tidings.”

  Matthew’s smile was rueful. “That obvious, is it?” he asked, his eyes finding hers again.

  She grinned at him. “That obvious,” she agreed.

  He grinned back and returned his gaze to her hair before saying, “Tess and I have set the date
of our wedding.”

  Alex turned around on her chair and smiled up at her brother. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations, Matthew!” She held out her arms in an invitation for a hug, and Matthew obliged her by bending at the waist and hugging her back.

  “I wanted you to be the first to know,” he told her in a gentle voice that communicated the honor he had conferred upon her.

  “Well then, I should tell you that Forrest and I are no longer at odds,” she said, relief and a peaceful joy in her voice.

  “Capital!” Matthew exclaimed, continuing to work on her hair. “Once again, you have worked a small miracle with your magic.”

  She chuckled at that. “Not magical, Matthew,” she assured him, “simply pragmatic.”

  “Are we to the opera tonight?” Matthew inquired.

  Alex nodded. “I believe so.”

  Matthew sighed. “I shall plan on a headache then. Nothing like a fine opera to dull the senses and batter the ears."

  His sister laughed. “‘Tis not nearly that bad, Matthew. It’s supposed to be art, you know.”

  “Supposed to be art, is not near enough to the real thing for my taste,” he informed her, his smile wry.

  Alex chuckled in reply. “At least it’s a good opportunity to people-watch.”

  Matthew shrugged. “That is the only redeeming quality it has to offer and it is small comfort.”

  “Have you informed Mother about the date Forrest and I selected to be wed?” Alex’s expression was sober as she remembered the duty that she had passed on to her brother.

  Matthew nodded. “She was pleased to hear that you had chosen a date in the near future so that she might be in attendance for the wedding,” Matthew informed her drily.

  “I suppose that she would hate to miss the event that she has attempted to force upon me ever since I came of marriageable age.” There was a bite of sarcasm in her voice.

  “It matters not at all what mother thinks of your wedding, nor that she is even there,” Matthew whispered into his sister’s ear. “Forget about her involvement in the situation.”

  Alex smiled affectionately at her brother. “Wise advice that I shall most certainly heed to the best of my ability,” she assured him.

  “Well,” Matthew said stepping back to regard his handiwork. “I believe that it is brushed to satisfaction. Shall I summon Jane to put it up for you?”

  “Will you do it?” Alex asked him, her eyes pleading as they regarded him in the cheval glass. “You are already here and you do a much better job than Jane.”

  Matthew sighed. “Do not let Jane hear you say that,” he said to her in a stage whisper and she giggled. “If I dress your hair, will you do me a favor?”

  Alex pretended to contemplate his suggestion for a playful moment, then said, “I suppose so.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Thank you, sister dear. I was hoping that you would be willing to take Tess to the modiste’s tomorrow.”

  “Certainly,” Alex replied. She mused for a moment. “I think that I shall summon the modiste here rather than go into the shop. It will be much simpler and more comfortable to have a dress fitting here in the house than it would be at the shop. Besides, I have a few older dresses that I do not really need any longer that could be altered easily to fit Miss Dartmoor.”

  “Well that was easy enough,” Matthew chuckled, grasping his sister’s shoulders and forcing her to face the mirror again. He folded his arms and stared balefully at her hair. “Well, what shall I do with your hair?” he inquired.

  Alex shrugged. “It matters not to me. Surprise me.”

  Matthew rolled his eyes good -naturedly as he set to work. “You will make an abigail of me yet.”

  Nineteen

  M

  atthew’s carriage arrived for Tess the next morning exactly at the time he had written her to expect it. She swallowed hard and marched with her chin in the air down her front steps. She climbed regally into the lush interior of the well-sprung vehicle and settled tensely onto the squabs. Matthew had informed her in the note that she was to have her fitting with Alex in the Dunsaney house. One part of her was relieved not to be visiting a fancy dressmaker, but the other part of her was terrified that setting foot in Matthew’s house would brand her a country gudgeon.

  All too soon the carriage drew to a halt in Grosvenor Square. Tess attempted to still the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach as the coachman held open the door for her and she climbed out. She looked at the imposing facade of Matthew’s house and thought dizzily that she might faint.

  “Miss Dartmoor! How good it is to see you!” Alex called out, hurrying down the front steps with her hands outstretched in welcome.

  “It is wonderful to see you again as well,” Tess managed to choke out as Alex took her hands. “It is very generous of you to offer to assist me with my wardrobe.” She blushed a bit. “I fear that I must acquire some town bronze in order not to embarrass your family.”

  Alex snorted at that and tucked Tess’s hand into the crook of her arm. “You will do very well just as you are,” she assured the other woman. “I rather think my brother enlisted me because he knows how much I do love to spend his coin on clothing!”

  Tess managed a chuckle at that and mounted the front steps with Alex. They stepped into the foyer and Tess stifled the gasp that rose to her lips. She stared around her at the stark and unrelieved luxury all around her and wondered how on earth she was ever to feel as if she had any right to call such a palace her home. Alex smiled fondly at the other woman’s rather stunned expression.

  “We will use my bedroom for our fitting,” she said reassuringly to Tess, hoping that a smaller space would make the girl feel a little less overwhelmed.

  Tess’s eyes were very wide as they met Alex’s. “I shouldn’t wish to put you out, Lady Alex.”

  The manners prevail, Alex thought with an inward chuckle. “Nonsense,” she replied. “It is the least that I can do for you now that you are to be my sister in law.”

  Tess blushed at that, her eyes on her hands now. “I do not know how I shall ever repay your kindness.”

  “You could start by calling me Alex,” Alex invited with a gentle smile.

  Tess raised her eyes swiftly to Alex’s, then grinned at her. “Of course, Lady... I mean, Alex. You will of course call me Tess.”

  Alex inclined her head gravely at that. “Thank you, Tess,” she replied, then smiled at the younger woman. She liked Matthew’s fiancé very much indeed.

  “Here is my room,” she announced then, pushing open the doors and stepping back to allow Tess to enter the room before her.

  Tess gasped with pleasure as she crossed the threshold. “Oh, Alex! It is so lovely!”

  Alex smiled, letting her eyes run over her peach and cream toned room. “It is not half so lovely as the room that will be yours,” she assured the other woman. Tess sobered at that, her face taking on a decidedly peaked look. Wishing that she had not said anything at all, Alex attempted to think of something that would put Tess at ease again. She was rescued from the effort by the arrival of the modiste.

  “Lady Alexandra? I fear that I am a bit late. You must accept my most humble apologies.” The woman followed her voice into the room, looking a bit frazzled and definitely regretful about her tardiness.

  Alex smiled at the older woman. “Honestly, Michelle! How many times do I have to remind you that my name is Alex?” she said.

  The seamstress waved a hand impatiently. “It is simply habit. Forgive me, Alex.” She seemed suddenly to notice Tess at Alex’s side, and she cocked her head to one side like a small, plump bird. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

  “This is Miss Theresa Dartmoor, soon to be the Duchess of Dunsaney,” Alex replied, ignoring Tess’s crimson blush.

  “Truly?” Michelle exclaimed. “Oh what wonderful news. You are quite a lucky girl,” she assured Tess. “The Duke is a paragon among men.”

  Tess smiled at the modiste. “That has ever been my impre
ssion, Mum,” she replied gravely.

  “Oh please do call me Michelle,” the modiste admonished her, hurrying over to Tess and circling her, her expression intent.

  “Her wardrobe is a bit short right now,” Alex informed the seamstress, making Tess blush yet again. “I have a few dresses that can be altered to fit her. However, we need to put together a wardrobe for the rest of the season.”

  "Well, then, we will be needing measurements. Come along, dear." The modiste caught a hold of Tess’s wrist and nearly dragged her toward the screen in the corner of Alex’s room.

  “Alex?” The voice was Matthew’s, and Tess’s heart leapt at the sound. “Alex?” he called again.

  “In here, Matthew,” she called back.

  “How goes the fitting?” he inquired before stepping over the threshold. He caught sight of Tess suddenly, and his face relaxed into a smile. “Ah I see that it has not yet begun.”

  “You are correct as always, brother,” Alex returned with good humor.

  "I will wait out here to approve of your choices," Matthew announced. He had time to note Tess’s stricken look before the modiste tugged her behind the screen. He chuckled and settled into the tiny gilt chair that sat before Alex’s dressing table. He propped his head up with his forefinger and thumb on his right hand, and waited. Alex regarded her brother with amusement for a moment, then went behind the screen as well to show the modiste which dresses she thought might be altered to fit Tess.

  Behind the screen, the modiste took Tess’s measurements, then studied her for a long moment. Finally she nodded and smiled around her mouthful of pins. She sorted through the pile of dresses that Alex had laid out on her bed, picking out an armload of luscious fabrics before slipping behind the screen once more.