The Duke (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 6)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Go,” Ginny said softly.

  “I cannot.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Yes! More than anything in the world, but—”

  “Then be a man and fight for her, you idiot!”

  He turned and fled, racing from the room to the corridor outside. It ended in a door to the small balcony above the front door. He flung open the door and hurled himself forward to lean over the parapet.

  “Ruth! Ruth!”

  She was just stepping into the carriage, the last to enter it, but she turned, looked up, saw him, stepped down again. “Yes?” was all she said, but he thought there was some eagerness in her expression.

  “Wait, wait!” he cried. “I am coming down.”

  He scrambled over the parapet at the side of the balcony, hearing her squeak of fear from below, grasping the solid stems of ivy to lower himself to the ground. Hastily running feet crunched across the gravel, and when he turned to face her, she was standing not a yard away from him, absolute terror on her face.

  He was immediately contrite. “I beg your pardon! I had no intention of alarming you.”

  “You did alarm me! I was sure you would fall and hurt yourself.”

  “The ivy is very strong. Ger and I have climbed up and down it all our lives.”

  She laughed in relief. “Never scare me like that again! What was it you wanted to say to me?”

  But her smiling face reduced him to incoherence and then silence. He could not find the words. How could he say all that was in his heart? It was so difficult, and he was acutely aware of the butler and footmen lining the steps, Ger standing outside the front door, the postilions watching with interest.

  “Ran?” she said questioningly.

  “I… am sorry you are leaving. Sorry about… about Ger. About everything. Must you go?”

  A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. “How can I stay?”

  He stared at her, so lovely, so serene, waiting patiently for him to get his jumbled thoughts in order. Yet there was something not quite calm in her manner. She leaned towards him slightly, as if eagerly, and there was some expression in her eyes… was it hope? Or was that merely his own desperate longing?

  “I wish you did not need to go,” he blurted. “I wish you could stay. There is so much I want to say to you. I wish—” He stopped, frowning. “No, I could never wish that Ger had not come home, not for a second, but I wish with all my heart that he had done so a month later, for then we would have been safely wed. You would have been mine, as I have wanted for…oh, years.”

  She stilled, her expression wide-eyed in surprise. Was it possible that she had never guessed the truth of it? Truly she had had no idea. To him, his love for her was so all-consuming that he could not imagine anyone to be unaware of it, but Ruth was. He had tried his level best to conceal it from her and from the world, and he had succeeded better than he had ever suspected.

  He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing, and that encouraged him to continue. “For a few weeks, I was the happiest man on earth, because I was about to marry the woman I loved with all my heart and soul.”

  A little whisper of a sigh escaped her.

  “I could hardly believe my luck in being able to share my life with you. And then Ger came back and of course I was happy about that. How could I not be? The only bad part was losing you but… but… What are you doing?”

  She had begun tugging at the ribbons fastening her bonnet, but now she tore off her gloves with a cry of annoyance, tossed them to the ground and tried again with her bare fingers. “I am getting rid of this bonnet.”

  “Oh. It is a very pretty bonnet,” he said uncertainly.

  She gave a gurgle of laughter. “I daresay, but it is the wrong bonnet, you see, and so I have to get rid of it, but I cannot undo this wretched tangle of ribbons.”

  “May I try? I have a little skill with knots.”

  “Oh, please do.”

  Puzzled but willing, he moved nearer to her and began picking apart the ends of ribbon. “I do not quite see why you have to change your bonnet.”

  “Not change it, remove it. With these stupid, stupid wings, it is entirely wrong, you must see that.”

  “I… cannot say that I do.”

  “It has to go, for how else can I kiss you?”

  His hands froze on the knotted ribbons, and he almost forgot to breathe. “Do you… do you want to?”

  “Yes! More than anything!”

  “Here and now? On the front drive?”

  “This very minute!” she cried. “Let us not waste another moment. Oh, never mind the stupid ribbons!” She tore the bonnet from her head so violently that half her hair fell down and draped itself in the most beguiling fashion on one shoulder. Then she stretched up to wrap her arms around his neck, her nose almost touching his. Her lips almost touching his. “There. Is that not better?”

  His own arms slid round her back without any conscious thought on his part. In fact, his brain seemed to have disintegrated into an incoherent muddle, he could not catch his breath and his heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He pulled her closer, and she made no protest. He was dreaming, he must be dreaming! This could not be real.

  “Ruth…” She looked up at him with such a guileless smile, such warmth in her eyes that he could doubt no longer. “I have nothing to offer you,” he murmured. “No title, no fortune, no great house… only myself and my undying love, and a great desire to protect you from every fire-breathing dragon in Christendom. Is that enough?”

  “More than enough.”

  She pulled his head down to hers until their lips touched. The shock was electrifying. This was not the chaste, delicate kiss of the chapel gallery. There was such urgency in her, such passion, that he was stunned. And he kissed her back with the same force, his pent-up emotions spilling over with a burning desire that would not be assuaged.

  He was dimly aware of voices in the distance, far, far away. Then, a more strident voice closer at hand. And finally, someone screeching in his ear. The dragon duchess.

  “Lord Randolph! Lord Randolph! Unhand my daughter this instant!”

  Ran lifted his lips from Ruth’s by an inch, gazing into her eyes. She was smiling up at him with a delight that was surely reflected in his own expression.

  “Do you wish to be unhanded?”

  “Not in the least. I very much wish to be… handed.”

  That made them both break out in laughter.

  “I very much regret, Your Grace, that I am unable to oblige you in this matter,” Ran said, when he could speak again.

  “Ruth Grenaby, you will not marry a younger son! I absolutely forbid it, do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Mama,” Ruth said complacently, without stirring from Ran’s embrace.

  “You will have nothing, do you understand? No dowry, no title, no money, nothing.”

  “But I shall have the one thing I want above all else, Mama.”

  “What is that?”

  “To be loved. That is a prize greater than any title or riches.”

  The duchess stamped her foot in frustration. “Your father will have something to say about this, you may be sure. Get back in the carriage at once, young lady.”

  “Stay,” Ran said at once. “Stay here, for we have so much to say to each other.”

  “She cannot stay without me, and I am leaving,” the duchess said smugly.

  “Aunt Anne will chaperon her,” Ran said. “And Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Do not be ridiculous! My daughter left to the care of a woman who is asleep half the day, and another whose reputation is already in shreds? I think not.”

  “Then we will just have to get married at once,” Ran said.

  “At once?” Ruth said. “How soon is at once?”

  “As soon as Ponsonby can don his vestments and light a couple of candles in the chapel. Ten minutes? A quarter of an hour?”

  “You have a special licence?” she said uncertainly.

  “
I do. Requested weeks ago, arrived yesterday. Shall we?” he said.

  “In my travelling gown? You must give me time to change into something more suitable, and… to pin up my hair again.”

  “Your hair is charming that way, but very well. An hour then,” Ran said, smiling at her. Uncertainty flickered across her face. “Two hours?”

  “Will you think me terribly missish if I prefer not to be married instantly? My life has been so topsy-turvy lately that I feel the need to catch my breath. It is only eight days until the date we gave out as our planned wedding day, so may we wait until then? But I do not wish to go back to London. I should very much like to be married in the chapel here. Do you mind waiting?”

  “Only if you promise me faithfully not to change your mind again,” Ran said with mock severity.

  “Wild horses could not induce me to do so.”

  “Or dragons?”

  “No dragon can deter me,” she said. “With you standing beside me, I shall never fear dragons again.”

  The duchess stamped her foot in frustration.

  24: Making Friends

  Ruth existed in a bubble of delirious joy. She was loved! Ran loved her as much as she loved him, however impossible that seemed, and they walked about with dreamy smiles on their faces, hand in hand, in a blissful haze.

  Nothing could puncture her happiness, but inside was a little knot of fear. Twenty-one years of filial obedience could not be cast aside overnight. “I shall not be deterred from my present course,” she told Ran, “but it would make my joy complete to have Papa’s blessing on our marriage. I do not like to be at odds with him. It makes me dreadfully uncomfortable.”

  “Then I shall do all in my power to persuade him of the disadvantages of a public rift,” Ran said. “I should very much prefer him to approve the match, but I fear it is not to be depended upon.”

  “That is my fear also,” Ruth said, “especially as Susan’s position is so uncertain regarding Lord Crosby. They are still betrothed, but the quarrel was very fierce and since then she has neither seen nor heard from him. He secludes himself at Crosby Manor, and she has no notion of when they are to be married. Papa would be more tolerant of our marriage if Susan’s future were more secure, but even so, his dislike of younger sons is very fixed. He is not, I trust, so intolerant as to look down on the lesser branches of the Peerage, but a mere courtesy title is not at all what he wants for his daughters.”

  “Then I shall try to convince your father that this is a respectable and unexceptionable match, if not as illustrious as he had hoped.”

  “I wish he could be here to give me away,” Ruth said wistfully. “It is a father’s privilege to give his daughter’s hand to her husband at the altar, after all.”

  “That may be a step too far for him,” Ran said ruefully. “I will do my best, however.”

  Thus it was that just two days after the duke and duchess had left, he followed them to London to plead for their approval, to discuss settlements and to ensure that Ruth’s wedding clothes were sent to her.

  “Not that I imagine your mama to be quite so vindictive as to withhold them, but it is as well to be sure,” he said to Ruth as he left.

  Ruth’s presence at the home of her betrothed before the wedding was rendered respectable by Lady Anne, but Ruth was most glad of Lady Elizabeth’s chaperonage. Each morning she and her friend Mary Bucknell walked across to the main house before breakfast, spending the whole day there, but they were such pleasant company that Ruth was happy to be so chaperoned. Miss Bucknell was a tall lady with somewhat protruding teeth, who was never so happy as when ensconced in a chair with a book in hand and a glass of ratafia nearby, but fortunately Lady Elizabeth was more sociable. She showed Ruth all the family parts of the house, and some of the secret ways that Ger had shown his mistress.

  “The Fourth Duke had all these put in so that he could creep about at night, for he had the most prodigious liking for ladies,” Lady Elizabeth said, showing her a row of small windows that overlooked the State Banqueting Room. “Ladies also had the most prodigious liking for him, although I cannot say why for he was not at all handsome. But there, perhaps his portrait does not do him justice.”

  “Or he may have had a great deal of charm, despite an unprepossessing appearance,” Ruth said.

  “There is no knowing, to be sure,” Lady Elizabeth said. “There must have been some attraction, besides the usual compelling virtues of wealth and a noble rank, for although he had many mistresses who would not have cared if he looked like an elephant so long as he gave them jewels enough, he had also many affairs with women of birth. Now here we are at the Spinsters’ Parlour, and you know the way back to the Queen’s Room from here.”

  “So many hidden stairs!” Ruth said. “There is one in my bedroom, too.”

  “The Lilac Room? I wonder why Mrs Brack put you in there.”

  “That was Ran’s doing,” Ruth said. “So that I could escape from my watchdogs if I felt the need, he said.”

  Lady Elizabeth laughed. “Now with most men, one might suppose the convenience of a secret stair was for the opposite reason — not that the lady might leave her chamber but so that the gentleman might enter it. However, you are quite safe, for Ran is far too gentlemanly to take advantage of such a facility. Have you thought which rooms you would like for your own, once you are married?”

  “Ran suggested your old rooms, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, an excellent idea! But you must call me Lizzie, and may I call you Ruth? We will be sisters very soon, after all. Come, let us have a look at my apartments. They are in the family wing, of course, and directly above the boys’ apartments, which is very convenient. I suppose I should not call them the boys now that they are both grown men, and one of them a duke, after all, but they will always be my baby brothers. I was five when they were born and oh, the excitement! You cannot imagine it! All the church bells were rung, and we had a regiment stationed nearby at the time, who fired all their cannons and loosed off great volleys of musket fire. The celebrations went on for weeks. After four daughters, finally there was not one but two sons to secure the succession. Not that the title was in any danger of extinction for there must be hundreds of cousins of varying degree. No shortage of Litherholms! Still, a son or two in the direct line is very pleasing. But poor Mama was done for. She was never well after that, poor lady. Here we are… my old rooms. This is the sitting room, with a little ante-chamber to the bedroom and a dressing room beyond.”

  She opened shutters and drew back curtains, and light flooded the room, revealing walls the colour of peaches, pale wood and delicately curved furnishings, a very feminine room. A painted screen divided the room into two halves, for dining and sitting.

  “Oh, this is lovely!” Ruth cried. “And all done to your design, as I understand it.”

  “Yes. I love such work. I refurbished my first room when I was but ten years of age and leaving the nursery for the first time, and have done so three times since. This was my final effort, for I left Valmont soon after.”

  “Did you dislike it so much here?” Ruth said. “I cannot imagine anyone wanting to leave after having lived here.”

  “It was not Valmont I disliked but my father,” she said. “Do you want to hear the story? Shall we send for some tea, and then we may have a comfortable coze.” She pulled the bell, and settled on a handsome brocaded sofa, patting the seat beside her for Ruth. “You know my dreadful history, I suppose?”

  “Not at all,” Ruth said. “Mama said that your reputation was in shreds, but she said that about Lucy Decker, who liked to show her ankles as she danced rather more than Mama thought proper. So I daresay you have not done anything so terrible.”

  “You may be the judge, if you please, for I shall tell you the whole of my story, since you do not know it. When I was seventeen, I fell in love with a man who— No, I should name him, for you know him well. Luke Crosby.”

  “You mean Lord Crosby? The same man who is betrothed to my s
ister Susan?”

  “Indeed, although he was not even within hailing distance of the title in those days. He had no fortune and no prospects of getting one, nothing to recommend him but a good figure, a roguish twinkle in his eye and an irresistible charm. Irresistible to me, in any event. I was seventeen, he was twenty nine and both of us game for anything. So when Papa quite rightly said that a man without a career or expectations was hardly a suitable match for a duke’s daughter, we did as thwarted lovers do — we set off for Scotland.”

  “No!” Ruth cried, awed. “But you seem so… respectable now.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Now, perhaps, but… Ah, Thomas. Tea, if you please, and something to nibble upon. Some of Mrs Cromarty’s famous ratafia cakes, or those little iced cakes… whatever she has to hand. Or gingerbread! I am so fond of gingerbread.”

  “She’s just making some almond cakes, milady,” the footman said.

  “Mmm, almond cakes. Mrs Cromarty is a treasure. Thank you, Thomas. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Scotland. Well, we did not get far, of course. We were barely past Basingstoke before something or other broke on the post-chaise, and we had to take shelter at an inn, where Papa caught up with us, and that was the end of that. Aunt Anne told me that if we were patient and could wait until I was of age, that even Papa could not stop us, but we were not patient and Luke, at least, could not wait. He rushed off and married Daphne Swayle within a twelvemonth, only to find that someone had got to her before him and she was already with child.”

  “Oh!” Ruth gasped, hands to mouth, shocked and riveted in equal measure.

  Elizabeth exhaled sharply. “Oh dear! I should not speak of such things to you, should I? You see, that is precisely why your mama warned you against me. My tongue runs on so, and I am sadly shatter-brained, I fear.”