“Might I be permitted to have some brandy at this inn of yours?” he asked, dropping his hand from his eyes and glaring at Peters. “Or am I to be denied that also?”
Peters exchanged a look with Higgins, clearly neither of them impressed by his harsh tone.
“I think you might have a little, Your Grace,” Peters said, eventually, as Higgins nodded his agreement. “But you will be watched carefully. Lieutenant Fitchley was very clear. We are not to permit you to arrive home in an inebriated fashion and that is precisely what we intend to do.”
Stephen groaned aloud, feeling as though he were being treated like a very small child who did not know what was best for them.
“A measure of thankfulness would not go awry,” Higgins said, with a note of mirth in his voice as though he knew full well the frustration they were causing Stephen. “After all, Your Grace, it is not every gentleman who is brought home safely by two other officers.”
Stephen turned his face to the window and stared out at the London streets, refusing to answer. His stomach churned uncomfortably and his hands tightened into fists before loosening again. They did not know the difficulties he faced, nor the torment in his mind. All he wanted to do was drink until his mind no longer turned over the horrors that had gone before. Until his heart stopped aching with the sharp pain that continually stabbed at it. He wanted to forget Martha, forget India, forget his past, even if only for a time.
“I shall be grateful for a little brandy,” he muttered, not looking at either man. “I thank you.”
There was a short silence and Stephen allowed himself a small, rueful smile. If Peters and Higgins were to permit him to have a little brandy, then there might also come the opportunity to encourage them to take a little also. And he knew full well that once a man began to have a little brandy, he might go on to have more. And then, mayhap, a little more. If he was careful, he might very well be able to have as much brandy as he wished, and then he might be able to rid his mind of these tormenting thoughts for a time. Maybe he might be able to find the courage to place himself back into the carriage in the morning in order to face his staff, his estate, and his children.
All he had to do was wait.
Chapter Four
“Do be quick.”
Jenny’s stomach was in knots as she hurried both John and Mary out of the schoolroom and down the staircase. They had both been remarkably silent this morning and they were certainly more willing to do as she asked. This, she was certain, came from the knowledge that their father was due to arrive home that morning. Mrs. Blaine had received a note from someone named Peters, who had stated that they would return with the Duke by eleven o’clock in the morning. There was someone stationed at the gates to alert them to his arrival, but as yet, no sign of the carriage had been seen.
“Why must we go out and wait in the cold?” Mary complained, her face a little paler than usual. “Father will not mind if we are inside, I am quite certain.”
“We do what we must in order to greet your father and welcome him back home,” Jenny insisted, a little surprised to hear Mary speak to her in such a calm manner, even if she was complaining. “He has had a long journey and therefore needs to know we are glad that he has returned.” She shot a quick glance towards John, whose eyes were fixed to the floor, clearly unwilling to engage in conversation. She had no idea what he was feeling, nor what he must be thinking about seeing his father again after such a long time. She could only pray that the Duke would acknowledge his children and show some sort of relief or gladness over seeing them again. To reject them now, to turn away from them or barely acknowledge them, would bring the children more pain than they were already enduring.
“The carriage!”
Mrs. Blaine suddenly appeared by the front door, beckoning to them.
“The carriage has been seen!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “Do hurry now, Miss Edgington.”
Her heart beating a little more quickly, Jenny ushered the children towards the door and encouraged them to stand outside, in between two rows of staff. She held herself somewhat stiffly, not at all sure what to expect of Lord Carrington. She knew that Lady Matthews had written to him to inform him of the changes that had occurred in his absence but, having never received a written confirmation from him that he approved of her, Jenny found herself somewhat anxious.
“Do try and remember that your father has had a long and tiring journey,” she whispered to the children, who were both now staring at the carriage with wide eyes, all trace of scorn or frustration gone from their faces. “You must not expect him to be overt in his emotions.” She could not quite tell why she was saying such a thing to the children, forcing herself to silence instead of saying more. Was she trying to protect them in some way? Did she think that the Duke would be disinclined toward his children in some way and was, therefore, trying to protect them? Closing her eyes and drawing in a long breath, Jenny set her shoulders and forced a gentle smile to her lips. There was no need for concern.
“We are home at last!”
The Duke’s loud voice startled her, the smile already fading from her face. As he stuck his head out of the carriage, she was shocked at the way his broad grin seemed to slide from one side of his face to the other. He did not make a move to climb out of the carriage. Instead, his eyes slid from one side of the assembled group to the other. Stunned, she realized he was in his cups, for it seemed he could not quite contemplate the two small steps that had been placed there for him, ready to help him to the ground.
“For goodness sake, Carrington.”
Another man pushed past the Duke and descended to the ground. Turning around, he reached out one hand to grasp the Duke’s arm and practically hauled the Duke to the ground.
“Miss Edgington.”
Jenny, pulled from her shock by the sound of Mary’s quiet voice, looked down at her at once. “Yes, Mary?” she asked, a little surprised to see the girl looking up at her with wide eyes, no longer showing any sign of being difficult or demanding.
“What is wrong with my father?”
Jenny hesitated, not quite certain what to say. Mary’s hand grasped the edge of her skirt as the Duke hollered aloud at the uncomfortable way he was being taken from the carriage. Jenny felt her heart go out to the girl. “He is just overtired,” she said, by way of excuse. “I think he will be quite all right once he has rested.”
“Or the sea has made him unsteady,” said John, his eyes fixed steadily upon his father. “When we came off the boat, I could not walk in a straight line for a few days.”
Jenny blinked rapidly, not having expected such a comment from John, who had made it his intention to rid the house of her ever since she had set foot in the house. He was changed in a moment at the sight of his father, clearly upset at the appearance of the man he had thought so much about but yet not spoken of to anyone for some time.
“That must be it,” Jenny agreed, calmly. “You remembered how you felt, John, and that must now be considered when it comes to understanding your father.” She winced inwardly at the loud guffaws that now came from the Duke, who was leaning heavily on a second man that she had not seen emerge from the carriage. With his other hand, he held onto the carriage door, seemingly unwilling to let it go. “It has been a long journey, as I said.”
Mrs. Blaine shot Jenny a look that told her she too was disgusted by the Duke’s manner, her eyes straying to the children for a moment. As much as she struggled with John and Mary’s behavior, Jenny knew that what she had told her about her own grief and her struggles thereafter, helped Mrs. Blaine to understand why they behaved in such a fashion. There was softness within her that the children had not yet managed to beat out, and Jenny was grateful for that. The children would need Jenny’s guidance and support now that their father had returned and, in turn, Jenny would need the support of Mrs. Blaine! It would be to her that she would cry out her troubles, her struggles, and her sorrow.
“It seems Mr. Thomas was quite correct in his
assessment,” she murmured to Mrs. Blaine so that the children could not hear. “I do not know whether or not to take the children back inside.”
Mrs. Blaine frowned. “He has looked at them but has not approached as yet,” she said, softly, as the Duke continued to hold onto the carriage door, with the two men urging him to let go of it. “Mayhap he cannot.”
Jenny frowned. That was quite possible, given that the Duke seemed incapable of standing upright on his own. Just how much liquor he must have imbibed was quite beyond her reckoning, and why he would do such a thing knowing that he was to return to his home and, specifically to his children, she could not understand. She let her eyes rest on him, seeing him look first at John and then at Mary, although the wide grin still rested on his face. He made no attempt to approach them and did not even call their names or give them a greeting. Instead, his gaze turned away and he said something incomprehensible to one of the other two men.
Anger clawed its way through Jenny’s chest. Even though she did not have a particularly amicable relationship with either of the children, she still felt a sense of protectiveness over them that she could not hide. To have them so treated by their own father made her furious beyond belief, and it was this that had her grasping the children gently by their shoulders and turning them around. They were not to watch their father’s continued ugly behavior with wide eyes. They did not need to see him so disgraced.
“Here,” she said, pushing them gently towards the door. “Your father needs to rest. As you have said, John, it is quite clear that he has not recovered from the voyage across the sea, and we must be considerate of that.” She caught the eye of one of the younger maids and beckoned her towards her. The young woman threw a quick glance towards Mrs. Blaine, who nodded her approval. The Duke would not notice if one of the maids was absent.
“Might you take Master John and Miss Mary to their schoolroom?” Jenny asked, knowing that it would be best if she were to remain so as to greet the Duke in whatever way he was able to manage. “I believe the cook has left some honey cakes and two cups of warm milk waiting for them there.”
Mary, to Jenny’s surprise, still clung to her skirts with one hand, her blue eyes rounded with a little fear. This was not the girl Jenny knew. This was a girl afraid of her father and his strange behavior now that he had returned home. A girl who did not understand why her own parent did not seem to even notice her, nor seem glad that he had returned home to them.
“I will join you very shortly,” Jenny assured her, resting one hand on the child’s back and considering quietly just how altered the girl was. “Beth here will take good care of you until I return.”
Beth, the maid, looked a little doubtfully at the children but Jenny gave her a quick smile so as to encourage her. The children, much to Beth’s apparent surprise, hurried after her quite quickly, with Mary even reaching out a hand to hold onto Beth’s arm. Beth glanced back at Jenny, who watched them go into the house with a fierce anger still burning in her heart. The Duke had brought about this change, and whilst she was glad the children were being obedient for once, she was not at all pleased that the reason for this was simply due to the way their father had ignored them. His drunkenness and ill manners were utterly mortifying to watch and she could not imagine what his children must be feeling at this very moment. She had to pray that they would continue to believe he was simply overcome with the duration of his journey and that his tiredness was the reason for his decision to ignore them completely.
“I believe that was wise, Miss Edgington,” Mrs. Blaine murmured, as the two men began to forcibly remove the Duke’s hand from the carriage door. “I do not know what is to come next but I fear it would not be good for either of the children to witness the master so drunk!”
Jenny did not say another word but continued to look steadily at the Duke who, to her relief, was now standing unaided. In fact, he was no longer manically grinning but appeared to have composed himself a little. He stood tall, his hands placed behind his back. Jenny allowed herself to study him for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. He certainly had all the bearings of a titled gentleman, when he attempted to show it at least. His broad shoulders and strong back were an indication of his time in the army, although there was a haggardness about his face that detracted from that somewhat. Even from where she stood, the dark shadow around his square jaw was more than apparent, and his blue eyes – so similar to John and Mary’s – appeared to be a trifle narrowed, as though he were attempting to clear his vision. His clothes were crumpled and stained and, inwardly, Jenny felt herself recoil from him. Was this truly to be the master of the house? The one she was meant to come to with her concerns regarding the children? Would he care? Would he even listen?
Her thoughts were stolen from her by the sound of the Duke clearing his throat. After having done this for some moments, he then gave a short bow and attempted to speak – only for him to stumble forward.
Beside her, Jenny heard Mrs. Blaine let out a soft groan. The words of Mr. Thomas came back to Jenny’s mind with a good deal of force, reminding her that he had predicted that things might, in fact, turn out to be a good deal more difficult than even their current circumstances. If this was any indication of how the Duke would be behaving as he settled back into life on his estate, then Jenny was quite certain that the butler’s words would come true.
“Thank you all for greeting me.”
The Duke’s voice was slurred, his smile now back on his face.
“The Duke has had a long journey,” one of the other two men said, looking across at the staff as though he were there simply to make excuses for the Duke. “He is tired and will need some days to rest.”
The Duke snorted aloud, as though this was more than ridiculous. “I will need many days to recover from the shock of being brought back here against my will,” he stated, loudly, stretching out one hand and pointing it at random at some of the staff. “Do not think that I have returned willingly. This is the very last place I wish to be.”
A cold sweat broke out across Jenny’s forehead. How glad she was that she had already sent the children indoors. They would have been quite broken to hear their father speak so callously.
“I do not want to be disturbed for the rest of the day,” the Duke continued, loudly, attempting to stride towards the front door but finding that his steps were not at all steady and did not carry him in a straight line. “I intend to sleep. That is all.”
Jenny stepped aside as the Duke came towards them, her anger burning so hotly within her that it was all she could do to contain herself. Fighting the urge to speak out loud to him, she kept her head held high as he moved past. The Duke swayed and stumbled into her, stepping on her feet as both John and Mary had done on their first meeting. His hands reached out and grabbed at her in an attempt to steady himself and Jenny let out a yelp of pain.
The Duke chuckled, clearly not at all apologetic. He looked at her for a moment or two before shrugging and trying to climb the steps, which he could not do unaided.
One of the two men who had been in the carriage with him hurried forward to help, whilst the other remained close to the butler.
“I think it would be wise to explain some things to you,” Jenny heard the second man say to the butler. “It is not quite proper to express them to the staff, I know, but in this circumstance….” He trailed off, and Jenny caught Thomas’ eye.
“We can speak inside,” the butler said, nodding. “Mrs. Blaine and Miss Edgington will be present also. If you will come to the kitchens, then I can have something set out for you both.”
The man nodded and said nothing more before he hurried after the first man and the Duke.
“I must go to the children,” Jenny said, urgently, seeing Mr. Thomas frown heavily in the direction of the Duke. “I will join you in the kitchens just as soon as I am able.”
The butler nodded and sighed, and Mrs. Blaine put one hand on Jenny’s arm, her eyes filling with tears.
“Ju
st what are we to do, Miss Edgington?” she asked, looking up desperately into Jenny’s face. “How are we meant to manage the children and the master, when he is in such a state as this?”
Jenny opened her mouth in an attempt to answer but found that she could think of no response. Her heart was heavy and sore over his treatment of the children, her anger still burning deep within her. Mrs. Blaine shook her head again and covered her mouth with her hand before turning and following the rest of the staff back towards the house. Jenny forced herself to go after her, knowing that she had a responsibility to the children, but also eager to discover what it was the two officers had to say about the Duke of Carrington.
Chapter Five
“Miss Mary?”
As Jenny walked into the room, she saw Beth leaning over a crying Mary who was sitting down in a chair by the window, her face in her hands.
Jenny’s heart broke.
This was the first time either of the children had displayed any emotions to her, having always concealed their feelings by behaving in a manner that was both hurtful and difficult for Jenny and the staff to manage.
“Thank you, Beth,” she murmured, coming closer to Mary and smiling at the maid. “I can see to Mary now.”
Beth nodded and hurried from the room, clearly relieved at having been given a respite from her responsibilities with the children. Jenny bent down, her skirts sweeping the floor as she tried to look into Mary’s face – but the child was still covering her face with her hands as though she wanted to hide the evidence of her sobs.
“You are distressed,” Jenny said, as gently as she could. “Come now, Mary. You know you can tell me what troubles you.”
“She is just being foolish.” John’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gazed at his sister. “She thinks our father was not glad to see us when I have told her repeatedly that he is simply tired.”
A New Home for the Duke: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 4) Page 4