The Duke's Heartbreaking Secret: Historical Regency Romance

by Kate Carteret

  It was such a strange thing to see him there in his dressing gown. And when he sat down on the bed, the same bed upon which Anabelle sat in her own night attire, it all seemed so intimate. Even with Lucy between them, she felt that closeness.

  But it was a sense of ease more than anything else. It was not the same thing she had felt when she had been in his arms. It was as if they were somehow their own little family, that between them they had absolute responsibility for the frightened and heartbroken girl.

  “Lucy, you said that the man told you to be quiet.” Anabelle said gently.

  “I had thought I had dreamed him at first, but then I was awake. It was so real, Anabelle. His face had changed again.” Lucy said, and Anabelle could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

  What a dreadful thing that the poor woman had lain there for hours not daring to speak or move until the pain and fear of it all had caused her to cry out in the darkness.

  “His face changed?” The Duke said, speaking gently and in such coaxing tones as Anabelle had used. “How had his face changed, Lucy?”

  “He was different, fatter. But sometimes he is. And then other times he looks just the same.”

  “The same?” Anabelle encouraged.

  “The same as he used to look.”

  “Does he look very different sometimes?” Anabelle said, feeling herself on the verge of some discovery.

  “Yes, but I know that it is him. It is always him.” Lucy yawned, and her head lolled sideways until it rested on her brother’s shoulder.

  Anabelle turned in time to see the Duke lightly kiss the top of his sister’s head. She turned away again, fearing that the emotion provoked by such a simple and obvious act of love would reduce her to tears.

  How the two of them had suffered, how their lives had been blighted for so long. Anabelle would have done anything, given anything, to help them both.

  They remained silent for a while and it soon became clear that Lucy had drifted off into sleep. Her breathing had become steady and rhythmic and Anabelle knew that they could do nothing to disrupt that peace after Lucy had suffered so much alone that evening.

  Eventually, the Duke rose from the bed and reached over, lifting his sister with ease and laying her flat again. Anabelle pulled the covers back up over her, tucking them in around her to keep her safe and warm.

  “I will turn the lamps down.” The Duke said in a whisper. “It seems she is asleep, but I do not want her to wake in darkness.”

  “Yes, of course. But I will stay with her tonight, Your Grace.” Anabelle said as the two of them walked instinctively across the room so as not to disturb Lucy with their conversation.

  “Thank you.” He said and looked down into her eyes.

  She could see the pale light of the muted lamps reflected there, his hazel eyes looking more inviting. Now that they were standing so close and alone, the intimacy felt very different once again. It was not the idea of family anymore, but quite something else altogether which seemed to have Anabelle in its grip. How she wished he was not so attractive to her, how she wished she had not begun to fall in love with him.

  “I daresay that was progress of some sort, was it not?” He continued to whisper in the gloom. “As distressing as it was, perhaps the idea of this man telling her to be quiet is that fight going on in her mind. Perhaps she really is beginning to remember, and her mind is trying to protect her, to silence her, to make her forget.”

  “That would certainly make sense, Your Grace.”

  “She is going to get better, I know it. I can feel it.” He said and smiled at her so broadly, so handsomely. “I am going to spend more time with you here, Miss Brock. We will work together to help Lucy, you and I.”

  “As you wish.” Anabelle said, already relishing whatever extra moments she might have with him.

  “And it is time for me to tell Miss Newfield, finally. It is time for me to be honest for it is the only way I can explain to her why I cannot spend much time in her company for a while.” He went on, seeming to be speaking more to himself than to Anabelle. “Yes, it is time for me to tell the truth. It is time for honesty.”

  Whether he was speaking to Anabelle or himself, she chose to remain silent. He had changed direction so quickly that it had left Anabelle a little stunned and wide-eyed. Although she had never heard the name of Miss Newfield before, she knew instinctively who she was.

  It could only be the small, blonde, beautiful little porcelain doll. The woman who had looked at her with so much hatred that it had unsettled her.

  “Are you quite sure about staying with Lucy tonight?” He looked down at her again and it was almost if the last exchange had not happened.

  But Anabelle knew that it had, that words had been spoken now which changed everything. Miss Newfield was undoubtedly the woman he loved, and Anabelle hardly knew how to cope with the extraordinary sense of loss.

  “Yes, of course.” She said, wishing that he would just leave now so that she could climb into the bed beside Lucy and listen to the young woman’s rhythmic breathing while she herself silently cried in the darkness.

  The following day, Anabelle could hardly concentrate at all. She had held off on any further questions she might ask Lucy, giving them both something of an easy day of reading in front of the fire. And she knew that she had done so as much for herself as Lucy, if not more so.

  “Here we are, afternoon tea.” Mrs Arklow said brightly when she appeared in the doorway carrying a tray. “You are not even ready to go out, Miss Brock.” She said and looked at Lucy sitting in the armchair by the fire with the book open on her lap.

  “I think I will stay in this afternoon, Mrs Arklow.” Anabelle said, knowing that she did not want to make her way outside and risk bumping into the Duke.

  She’d had a dreadful sleepless night thinking about him and contemplating the loss of something she had never truly had in the first place, and she did not want to set eyes on him now and do anything more than keep her wounds open and raw.

  “Is everything all right, my dear?” Mrs Arklow set the tray down on the table and began to set out the cups and saucers.

  “Oh yes, I am just a little tired.” Anabelle said, thinking that it was in part true.

  “Well, at least you will get your tea hot today.” Mrs Arklow chuckled and began to pour. “Perhaps it would do you good to lie down for a while. I will happily spend the rest of the afternoon with Lucy.”

  “Oh no, I will manage. But thank you so much.” Anabelle recognised an old feeling that she had experienced on her very first day when Mrs Arklow had been so kind to her. It was a feeling that was a little overwhelming, a feeling of maternal love. “You really are so very kind.” She tried to sound cheerful but the last of her words gave her away.

  Her voice broke a little and she coughed loudly. Mrs Arklow, however, was clearly not diverted and, as she settled down to take afternoon tea with them both, she studied Anabelle closely.

  “I really am all right.” Anabelle said in a low voice.

  “Of course, you are, my dear.” Mrs Arklow said brightly. “Now then, who is for cake and who is for bread-and-butter?”

  Lucy, who had seemed to be in a pleasant little world of her own for a few moments opened her eyes wide.

  “Cake please, Mrs Arklow.” She said with a smile.

  “Now that is what I like to hear.” Mrs Arklow said and use the tongs to set a large piece of plum pound cake onto a plate. “There you go.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Arklow.” Lucy said and retreated into her own world again as she munched contentedly on the cake.

  “Better and better, is she not?” Mrs Arklow said to Anabelle.

  “Indeed, she is. I have such hopes for her, really I do.”

  “It would be nice to see everybody finally settled here in this house, really.”

  “It is a good thing that everybody here has you to care for them, Mrs Arklow. I am beginning to see that you truly are the beating heart of Westward Hall.”

 
; “That is a very fine thing to hear.” Mrs Arklow said, struggling under the weight of a compliment as she always seemed to. “But that does not distract me entirely.” She raised her eyebrows to let Anabelle know without another word that she was perfectly well aware that all was not well.

  “No, you are too clever to be distracted.” Anabelle smiled warmly at her, relieved that she had finally managed to get her own emotions under control.

  For however kind Mrs Arklow was, Anabelle knew that she could never open her heart to her fully. She could never tell that dear housekeeper, that kindest of women, that she loved the Duke of Westward with all her heart and knew that heart of hers would break the moment he married Miss Newfield.

  She would have to come up with something else altogether. She would have to think carefully what she would say to Mrs Arklow in the end, for she knew that the housekeeper would certainly not be letting their conversation end there.

  “Bread-and-butter?” Mrs Arklow already began to set some out on a plate before Anabelle had even answered.

  “As always, you know exactly what I need.” Anabelle smiled and gratefully accepted the plate.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It is a rare thing for you to take tea in the drawing room, Your Grace.” Mrs Arklow said the following day, choosing to deliver his tea herself when she had seen from her little office below stairs that he had pulled the bell in the drawing room and not the study as was his custom.

  “It is a strange thing to sit in this drawing room without company, Mrs Arklow. Like the rest of the house, it is too big for a brother and sister to live alone.”

  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but you seem rather out of sorts.” Mrs Arklow set the tray down on the table and hovered.

  “I am perhaps just a little tired.” He said and could feel her staring at him intently.

  Giles knew that he only had a limited time in which to lie to Mrs Arklow before she saw clean through him. But since she had gone to the effort of bringing his tea in, he was certain that she would not be as easily dispatched as one of the young maids.

  No, that fine woman had come to him with purpose and he was certain that he would soon find out exactly what that purpose was.

  “You have been very busy of late, have you not? So much of your time spent with Lucy, but obviously it is time which has been very well spent. She seems to improve daily.”

  “She does, Mrs Arklow. In these last months, I thought I had lost her entirely. But now there is hope. She talks to me as she used to. Well, much of the time, anyway.”

  “It was a very good day when Miss Brock came here, I’m sure.” Mrs Arklow said and Giles almost laughed; he always could sense her wheedling tone making its way towards him.

  She had come to the drawing room to dig information out of his open chest and he knew that she would not leave unsatisfied. The mother in her was coming to the fore and he knew that there would be little arguing against it.

  “She seems to have a natural talent for such things. One can hardly believe that she has never worked before, that she does not have experience of helping people who are suffering.”

  “I think perhaps she does, Your Grace, although she would hardly recognise it as such for she is so modest. But it cannot have been an easy thing for a girl so young to care for a father who was so intent upon his own destruction. And she had done so whilst trying to cope with her own loss, the loss of a mother. A most terrible thing for a girl of a certain age.”

  “You are so clever, Mrs Arklow. You and Miss Brock.” He laughed. “I do believe that you both leave me behind in the dust with your insights and your intellect. I am like a child compared to you both, am I not?”

  “I recognise false modesty when I see it, Your Grace.” The corners of Mrs Arklow’s mouth turned up and Giles laughed in spite of his curious mood.

  “I cannot get anything by you, can I?” Giles continued to laugh. “Oh, for heaven sake, do sit down Mrs Arklow.”

  “I cannot, Your Grace. If one of the maids comes in and sees me perched on a couch in the drawing room, then all standards will slip away.”

  “Why on earth would one of the maids come in when you are the one who has delivered my tea?” He said and shrugged. “And in any case, you are making my neck ache. If you do not sit, then I shall be forced to stand. And if a Duke is forced to stand and drink his tea in his own drawing room, then standards truly have slipped.”

  “Very well, very well.” Mrs Arklow held her hands out in front of her in mock surrender before perching on the edge of the couch opposite him just as she had described.

  “I have decided to spend more time with Lucy in the coming weeks. I believe that Miss Brock is truly on the verge of a breakthrough and I owe it to them both to put in every ounce of the effort that they are expending.” He began.

  “Between you, I am sure that you will have Lucy upright again in no time. It is a good thing, Your Grace, and I have no doubt at all that this cloud is lifting.”

  “That is why I have decided to tell everything to Miss Newfield. Well, to Miss Newfield and her father.” He said, testing the water with that strange sense of being a boy seeking the housekeeper’s approval once again.

  “I see.” She said, although her expression spoke volumes.

  “You do not approve, do you?” Giles said in a low and amused tone.

  “It is not for me to approve or disapprove, Your Grace. I am just the housekeeper.” She said and sniffed defiantly.

  “You will never be just a housekeeper as well you know.” Giles was goading her, but lovingly so.

  “If it is my opinion you are looking for, then I shall give it. I shall tell you that you should be cautious before giving any details of your sister’s condition to outsiders.”

  “I know, it is the very thing I have been afraid of for so long. But there is light at the end of the tunnel and I am certain that if I put my full weight behind it all and neglect Miss Newfield, it will be to my detriment.”

  “Oh, I see.” Mrs Arklow said in such a pinched tone that Giles almost laughed.

  “And now I see.” He smiled, peering into that familiar, warm, lined face. “It is not necessarily my approach you disapprove of.”

  “I hardly know what you mean, Your Grace.” Mrs Arklow stiffened and sniffed again, crossing her arms over her chest, a sure sign that he was beginning to irritate her.

  “You do not like Miss Newfield, do you?” He said, still amused but wanting to have her answer nonetheless.

  “I hardly know her, Your Grace. In fact, I do not know her at all.”

  “I know you well enough to know that it does not require a full introduction and hours of conversation for you to be able to judge the character of another.”

  “I am not sure what it is you expect me to say.”

  “Just tell me whether or not you like her.” He teased.

  “Do you want the truth?” She said and fixed him with narrowed eyes.

  “Oh goodness, no.” He said and began to laugh.

  “In that case I think her a fine young woman indeed and I like her very well.” She finished with a scowl and Giles roared with laughter. “I hope you are happy now, Your Grace.”

  “How could I be anything but happy in your company, Mrs Arklow? And thank you for your honesty, for even without giving it, you gave it.”

  “Well, what does it matter whether or not I like the young woman. It is for you to decide who you spend the rest of your life with after all.” She was not giving in to amusement at all and it was clear that he had vexed her.

  But still he was amused as he always was, his old mischievous side which had been buried for so long making itself known if only for a little while. It felt good to be the man he had once been, or in truth the boy he had once been.

  “I have annoyed you with my teasing, have I not?” He said, looking at her ruefully.

  “I am not annoyed, Your Grace, I am upset.”

  “Goodness, I did not mean to upset you. I really was only t
easing, Mrs Arklow.”

  “It is not your teasing which upsets me. The truth is I am glad to see it again after so long. But still I am upset.”

  “Then you must tell me why.”

  “I am upset that you would walk headlong into a lifetime of marriage with a young woman you do not even like, let alone love.”

  “Well… I…”

  “I see you do not try to deny it.”

  “What would be the point? It is true, after all.”

  “And it is that which upsets me, Your Grace. There has been so much sadness in this house and I have seen you suffer through every moment of it. So much loss and pain and yet, when you have the opportunity to invite happiness in, you turn your back on it.”

  “And what happiness is this?”

  “I know that I do not need to say it out loud. I know that you know exactly what I am talking about. Exactly who I am talking about.”

  “I am afraid I am at a loss, Mrs Arklow. Once again you have the better of me.” He said, knowing that Mrs Arklow would not believe his diversion and claims of ignorance for a moment.

  He knew there and then that she had seen into his heart. She knew. She knew.

  “As you said before, Your Grace, I do not need hours of conversation to judge a character. And I do not need hours of proof to see love blossoming in front of my eyes. I recognise it, you see. It might surprise you to know that I had felt it myself once. A lifetime ago.”

  “And knowing what I have suffered, Mrs Arklow, you must know that I cannot suffer it again. I cannot take that risk.” He said, dropping any pretense now.

  Without mentioning her name, they both knew that they were talking about Anabelle.

  “Do you not see that all of life is a risk, Your Grace? Every single bit of it. Every time you open your heart, you risk having it smashed to pieces. And like it or not, that is life. Like it or not, the risk is worth it.”

  “Not for one who has suffered the same loss time and time again.” He said with all hint of amusement now gone.

  “Especially for one who has suffered the same loss time and time again.” She began to rise to her feet.