Once she had gone, Archie leaned closer, a little unsettled by the troubled expression the duke wore. He was staring across the room, unseeing, and so it surprised her when he spoke, as she had believed him lost in thought.
“I’ll have to marry,” he said, the pronouncement not one of enthusiasm or pleasure, but rather resignation.
“You don’t want to?” Archie queried, though she was unsurprised. It was as she’d imagined. He was a man who enjoyed indulging his passions without a wife to hinder them, no doubt.
“I’d love to,” Ranleigh said, his frown deepening. He looked up then and gave a rueful smile as he noted Archie’s confusion. “You’ll think me a fool.”
“I doubt that,” Archie retorted, making him smile a little wider.
“My parents were not unhappily married, in fact they were very amicable,” Ranleigh said, pouring himself a glass of wine before filling Archie’s glass too. “That’s rare enough among our class, I can assure you, but….”
“But?” Archie pressed, finding she had leaned forward, across the table towards him.
He filled the glasses and set the jug down, his expression once more seeing some distant place, or a dream perhaps. “But I had always hoped….”
Archie’s chest filled up with the oddest sensation and she realised she was holding her breath, waiting for him to finish.
“But you had always hoped…?” Archie prompted, gentle and enquiring. “To fall in love?”
Ranleigh glanced at her and then away again, the slightest tinge of colour at his cheeks. “I told you it was foolish.”
Silence sat between them for a moment and Archie felt again the tender aching in her chest, compassion and understanding blooming for this man who had everything he could possibly want… and no one to share it with.
“It’s not foolish,” Archie said, and though she spoke softly, there was force behind the words. “It’s the only thing that matters, the thing that makes everything else worth fighting for.”
Ranleigh turned to her, holding her gaze. “Yes,” he said, certainty in his reply. “I felt sure you’d understand.” He hesitated, still staring at her, a little frown between his eyebrows. “I don’t know why.”
Archie flushed a little, too pleased by that comment for her own good.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this either,” Ranleigh said, sighing as he turned his glass back and forth between his fingers. “Why am I telling you this?” He sounded genuinely perplexed now and Archie shrugged.
“Because people tell me things,” she said, knowing it was true. Strange that. She hid behind a suit and a name and men believe her, they believed in her, that she was trustworthy. That their darkest most intimate secrets would be safe with her, and they were right. They just didn’t know why. “Because you knew I’d understand.”
The moment stretched out between them and Archie averted her gaze, knowing there was a look there, a meaning that was not present in Ranleigh’s thoughts. Knowing that there was a longing growing inside her to chase that loneliness from his eyes, to make that dream come true. It was ludicrous. It was dangerous. This man was dangerous to her.
Will had been furious when he’d discovered her deception, but he had held his tongue, his own disgust for scandal and gossip overriding any desire to punish her with exposure. She doubted Ranleigh would feel such compunction. He had already shown her how little he cared what people thought about him. He preferred the truth, no matter the cost. She knew this about him, even after such a short acquaintance. He would despise her for her deception.
The meal came then, to the relief of them both. Archie applied herself to her dinner with more enthusiasm than usual, eager to disperse the strange intimacy of the last conversation. Ranleigh made it easy for her, returning to his habitual good-natured talk. They discussed the weather, the people around them, the journey to come, and by tacit agreement ignored what they both now knew, that Ranleigh was lonely and unhappy and would soon marry some unnamed woman he didn’t love.
Chapter 5
“Wherein goodbyes threaten Archie’s heart, and reunions make amends.”
The journey took four days. It was disturbing how well you could come to know a person when you found yourself alone with them in an enclosed carriage for hours on end.
At least it disturbed Archie.
Ranleigh was too open, too delighted in their burgeoning friendship, despite the gaping abyss between their stations. Whatever it was he found to like in Archie he was well pleased with her. She thought it was her lack of care for his title. She’d seen Will drunk out of his mind, sobbing and in the depths of despair; she had seen him sick as a dog in the aftermath. A marquess was just a man like any other under the fine clothes. A duke held no particular terrors.
Ranleigh didn’t care for such distinctions, that much was clear. He found the bowing and scraping wearisome and the sycophants disgusted him. It had caused him problems before, she discovered, hearing about fights in his youth when those of his own class had made unpleasant comments about some of those with whom he associated. He despised snobbery and was fair-minded, compassionate, and aware of how privileged he was.
Archie both longed for and dreaded their arrival in London. Once the great city was before her, she would be free to escape him, and not look back. The thought made her queasy.
Ranleigh was quiet as the last of their journey lay before them.
“Won’t you change your mind?”
Archie sighed. Punctuating their conversations between their laughter, and some heated discussions over everything from politics to art to the correct way to pour a cup of tea—milk in last, Ranleigh insisted—had been this topic.
“No.”
Ranleigh folded his arms, frustrated.
“I don’t understand,” he said, for at least the fiftieth time. “I want to help you. Helping you will be a trifle. I likely spend more on a single pair of boots than you would run through in a year.”
“No,” Archie said again. She mirrored his posture, folding her arms, her chest tight and jaw set. They were almost there, just a matter of a few hours. They would say goodbye and she would never see this funny, complicated, easy-going man again.
“Why?” Ranleigh demanded, angry now, though he never raised his voice. “Why is it that every other Tom, Dick, and Harry can’t wait to get their hands on my money, can hardly restrain their desire long enough to get through the pleasantries to ask me for whatever it is they want, and the one person I actually want to help, won’t bloody well let me?”
Archie looked up as his voice rose with impatience.
“Maybe that’s why,” she said, smiling a little, though her throat was growing tight.
“That’s absurd,” Ranleigh muttered, folding his arms and glowering.
God help her but she wanted to lean across the carriage and kiss that mutinous expression away. The idea jolted her back to her senses. Oh yes, that would get her locked up for unnatural crimes before she could utter the words “it’s not what you think.”
But in any case, it wasn’t absurd, not to her at least. Her pride would not allow Ranleigh to help her any more than he already had. He had done everything from offering to give her a place to live to offering her a job to salve her pride. Every attempt she had quashed. Archie was too aware that she had not spent so much as a farthing over the course of their journey and yet had eaten and drunk the best that every inn offered, she had slept in clean, comfortable beds and travelled in style. Just because Ranleigh did not understand how impossible that would have been for her to do alone, did not make it any less of a gift. He had been generous to a fault in her view. It was enough.
Besides which, the truth lay heavy in her heart. If she took more from him, it would force her to continue his acquaintance. That was not possible. The devastation and betrayal that Will had felt at the discovery of who she was would be far worse with Ranleigh, from her point of view at least. Losing Will’s friendship had broken her heart. If she kept R
anleigh’s company she knew she was in danger of loving him, and losing him then might break her. Not her heart alone. No. It was the road to disaster and recriminations and God alone knew what else. No matter the temptation, she must deny it.
“Where are you staying at the moment?” Ranleigh said at length, and she hoped he was resigned to her refusal now, though this question held its own perils.
“Oh, I shall visit a few friends, see who can put me up for a few days before I sort myself out.” She said this with airy nonchalance but Ranleigh looked unimpressed.
“Which friends? Do they have room for you? Why not stay with me rather than hunting about?”
“Because I have imposed upon you quite enough,” she said, striving for a light-hearted tone and finding incredulity.
“Bollocks,” he said, startling her somewhat. “I have fifteen, twenty… good God, I don’t even know how many bedrooms I have here!” he exclaimed, irritated. “I have no intention of being your keeper, if that is what worries you. You may come and go as you please, and there is no obligation to dine with me every night if you are finding my company wearisome.”
“Of course I’m not—” she began only to be interrupted.
“Then why not?”
Archie let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I cannot. That’s all.”
“Will not,” Ranleigh replied, disgruntled.
She had him let her out in Chelsea, just around the corner from Cheyne Walk. It was a distinguished enough area to ease any qualms Ranleigh had that she would sleep on the streets, which she was fairly certain was the idea plaguing him despite her assurances. Bertie Darling lived here, and Archie knew the old rogue would give her a bed for the night. After that, she’d seek out Erasmus and the others and see what she could do about finding work. It wouldn’t be so hard.
Archie didn’t give Ranleigh those details, though he pressed for them, and she could see her refusal to give any information about her whereabouts hurt and confused him. She knew that, if he had a name or an address, he would seek her out to reassure himself she was not destitute. The temptation would be too great to resist.
His card was in her coat pocket, pressed against her heart, and she wondered if she would have the force of will to put it in the fire. She ought to. Though even without the card, she knew how to find him. It would be easy. Too damn easy, and so bloody enticing. She took a deep breath and faced him, standing on the street beside his carriage.
“You swear you’ll get in touch?” he said, the words rather gruff. “Let me know when you’re settled… and if anything happens, if you’re in any kind of trouble.”
“I swear,” she said, as the lie stuck in her throat.
Ranleigh sighed, defeated, concern still in his eyes. “Have it your own way, then.” He held out his hand to her and Archie took it, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes. She smiled at him, feeling the expression sit ill on her tense features.
“Take care of yourself,” she said, the effort to keep her voice from trembling far too hard, meaning it.
Ranleigh nodded. “You too, Mr Archibald. It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.”
Archie nodded and touched a finger to her hat before turning away. She quickened her pace: not a run, not enough to make him believe she eager to leave his company, but as fast as she dared. She kept on walking until she was certain he was out of sight and then allowed herself to stop, to lean against a wall as misery welled up inside her. The enormity of it pressed down on her, smothering her and forcing the air from her lungs. The fury in Will’s eyes when he had discovered her deception, the hurt and humiliation she had seen in his expression, heard in his words. Her heart ached, the pain growing stronger as though a large fist squeezed it tight. She would not endure that from Ranleigh too. If she saw that depth of anger and disgust in his eyes, she could not recover.
It would be so much worse with Ranleigh, for she knew she could not disguise her feelings, not for long. Will had been someone she admired and looked up to, and whom she knew needed her friendship, her honesty and her shoulder to unburden himself upon. All of which she had felt true of Ranleigh, too. Yet there had never been this depth of attraction with Will. She loved him, but it was the love of a dear friend, of a brother.
The feelings that had flamed to life for Ranleigh were not of a brotherly nature.
Not at all.
Swallowing hard, Archie fought for composure. Crying in the streets was not an option. She stood straight, wiping any tell-tale wetness from her face. She spent a moment, adjusting her cravat, tugging her waistcoat and coat into place.
“Chin up, Archie,” she murmured, and walked on.
***
3rd July 1819
Well Walk. Hampstead Heath.
“Are you sure you want to go… like this?” Erasmus was looking at her, sceptical at best.
Rupert lounged on the sofa, frowning in equal measure as Erasmus towered over Archie, his eyes filled with concern.
Archie tugged at the dress, feeling like a blasted fool. It was one of Rupert’s sister’s dresses. The girl was rather fuller of figure than Archie, and it gaped where it ought to cling. She held back a laugh of disgust, as if that was the only problem with it. Yet Erasmus’ question annoyed her.
“Yes,” she snapped, though she wanted to die. The idea of setting foot outside the door made fear a living thing under her skin. Any confidence or bravado that Archie had shrivelled and died, her smart tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. She felt more of a fraud wearing this confection of soft fabric and lace than she ever did facing the world as a man. “I… I owe him this much, at least,” she said, hearing the tremor in her voice.
Erasmus sighed, looking unconvinced of anything but his ability to change her mind. He nodded and laid his large hand on her shoulder for a moment. Rupert looked up and then rose, moving to the window and looking down at the street.
“The carriage is here.”
Archie swallowed and looked up at Erasmus. His hair glinted, fiercely red even in the dull light of the front parlour on a grey afternoon. “You’re sure he wants me to come, you’re—”
“He wants you to come.” Erasmus held her shoulders in his hands as he said the words, his eyes calm and warm with understanding. “I had a long talk with your marquess and… I think he’s learned a lot of late. He misses you, Archie. He misses your friendship. He wants to see you.”
Archie let out a shuddering breath, too emotional to speak. Will wanted to see her. It seemed impossible.
She’d contacted Selina over a week ago to tell her that Erasmus was in trouble and Selina had turned to Will. Although he’d disapproved of Erasmus, Will had helped. He’d also gotten blinding drunk with Erasmus. What had been said Erasmus would not divulge, but they’d talked and….
Will wanted to see her.
***
The house on Grosvenor Square was suitably intimidating. Archie felt sick and stupid as she climbed out of the carriage, almost tripping over the skirts of her dress. She cursed, earning herself a look of alarm from the footman who helped her down. Damn it.
By the time she had faced a starchy looking butler and been shown to the door of Will’s study, a cold, uncomfortable bead of sweat was sliding down her spine. Was the air thinner in Mayfair, she wondered, a tad hysterical as she fought for breath. Perhaps it was the proximity of all those lofty titles. She’d never been good with heights.
“Mrs Archibald to see you, my lord,” intoned the butler, before moving back and closing the door behind him. Somehow, Archie found the impetus to move a little farther into the room and then—
She could see the shock in Will’s eyes as he stared at her… in a dress. She felt sick.
For a moment neither of them spoke or moved, and a strange, prickling silence filled the room. Archie fidgeted under Will’s stunned gaze, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirts before she realised she ought to move and bid him a good day. Where had her manners gone? She curtseyed, badly, knowing she looked ungain
ly and feeling a dull flush crawling up her neck.
“Good morning, Lord Henshaw,” she said, relieved the words were audible and she hadn’t stammered.
Will’s gaze travelled over her and he blinked. “What the devil are you wearing?”
Archie flushed harder, not sure how to take his comment. “It… it is awful isn’t it?” she agreed. Rupert had told her it was all the rage but… ugh. Pulling out the skirts of the gown, Archie looked back at him, still unsure of his mood.
“Dreadful,” Will agreed, looking almost offended by the swathes of blue muslin. “Never wear it in my presence again.”
Archie drew in a sharp breath, realising in that moment what he was saying to her, and then laughed, beaming at him, overwhelmed. She took a hurried step closer and then stopped, not knowing what to do or say next. The urge to embrace her dearest friend was tantalising. She wanted to beg his forgiveness, to fall on his neck and weep, to tell him everything that had happened since they parted, but she still didn’t know how things stood between them, or to what extent he had forgiven her.
“My lord, I—” she began, before she even knew what to say.
For a second her heart quailed as she saw indignation flare in his expression.
“For heaven’s sake, my name is Will, as you very well know. Do stop my lord-ing me.”
Archie stared at him, stared at the growing warmth in Will’s eyes, at his pleasure at seeing her. He hadn’t changed. Immaculate and severe, the marquess was an intimidating presence if you didn’t know him very well indeed… as well as Archie did. Now, he let out a sigh of frustration and waved a hand impatiently at her.
“The devil take it, Archie. Go home and get changed, will you? Come back when you’re suitably dressed, and we can have a drink. Reckon we both need one.”
She just stood there for a moment, staring at him with a stupid smile on her face and tears in her eyes. Emotion was rising in her chest, overwhelming her with relief and happiness. Moving on impulse, she rushed towards him and took them both by surprise by reaching up and kissing his cheek.
Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15) Page 5