She reached down and picked up her bundle of clothes. “This is all I have, Your Grace.”
He looked down at the bundle and frowned, before nodding. “Very well.” He turned, his gold-tipped cane making a snapping noise on the cobblestones as he walked away. She followed timidly behind and almost ran into him as he came to an abrupt stop in front of his carriage. He gestured for her to precede him and she hesitated in mortification. “Oh no, Your Grace. I can sit up by the coachman.”
“Don’t be silly. That space is already filled by my coachman and footman. Go on, get in, time’s a-wasting.”
It horrified her to think of sitting inside of the carriage with the Duke. She peered in to see that the panels were decorated with red velvet and the seats were comfortable soft leather. She looked to the floor of the carriage hoping to see some room to sit but it was leg room only. With a sigh, she clambered into the carriage and sat in the far corner, taking up as little space as she could. The Duke climbed in and settled across from her with an amused snort. “My carriage will not bite. You may sit comfortably.” He said impatiently.
She straightened her spine and tried to seem as if she was comfortable.
As if I ever could.
She shot the Duke curious glances as the carriage took off. He was not looking at her, seemed preoccupied with the passing scenery, but Adelia knew he did not miss anything and he was probably aware of her every twinge. She thought about asking questions about his mother’s affliction or what duties she would be expected to carry out, but her throat was too dry with trepidation.
The journey from London to the Duke’s residence at Rosemond did not take as long as Adelia had expected. Soon he was handing her out.
“Welcome to your new home,” he said softly, looking her in the eye and her cheeks flamed. She did not know how to respond. Half of her wanted to answer him as if he was any other man, and tell him that even as he made her heart beat wildly and her hands shake with a mere look, she was not seeking to be his mistress and never would. The other side of her wanted to bow subserviently and avoid eye contact because he was a Duke.
The Mother Superior had said to trust the Lord and she had, and so she felt as if it might be an insult to feel so blindsided. After all, she had apparently landed on her feet. She had a feeling that her days of washing dirty tunics in cold water, out in the cold weather, were over. Still, it was all very disconcerting and she needed her heart to calm down so she could think coherently.
“Th-thank you,” she rasped, her mouth dry.
“Come, I shall introduce you to my housekeeper and she shall get you situated, perhaps also give you a few gowns to wear.”
Adelia snapped a suspicious glance at him, wondering if he was making fun of her. His face was quite impassive and she decided to assume that he meant that in a very general way. She had two gowns, which were sufficient for her usage. She kept them clean and well-mended. But if he wanted to add to her tally then she really had little choice about it.
“This is Mrs. Belvedere,” the Duke was saying, as he introduced her to a rotund, apple-cheeked, smiling woman who immediately took her in hand. “She will see to your accommodations and such. When you are finished, find me in the study.”
He walked away and she watched him go before turning with mortification to the housekeeper. “I’m sorry. My name is Adelia Raby.”
The housekeeper simply kept smiling. “Welcome, Adelia, follow me.” She turned smartly and led Adelia down a brightly lit corridor. Adelia looked around her, taking in all the luxurious well-appointed furnishings, the tall ceilings, paintings on the wall depicting various landscapes and other settings. Clearly this Duke was doing quite well for himself. She understood even less why he had picked her.
Mrs. Belvedere stopped in front of a plain wooden door and gestured to it. “This will serve as your sleeping chamber while you are with us. You may deposit your bags inside.” She stepped back, fingers clasped together at waist length. Adelia hesitated before pushing open the door.
It was a small room, similar to the cells in which the sisters slept. There was a small window from which light spilled into the room. She stepped into it, placing her bundle of clothes and keepsakes down on the bed before taking a look around. There was a small table on which sat a pitcher of water and a basin. It had two drawers beneath it and she opened one to find it empty.
“You can keep your clothes there,” Mrs. Belvedere said.
“Thank you. It’s really incredibly generous.”
Mrs. Belvedere simply snorted. “Come on, I shall show you the kitchens and the outhouse. Are you hungry? There’s some soup on the boil if you’d like.”
Adelia was a bit hungry and hurried to keep up with the housekeeper as she led her to the kitchen. Once the tour was done, she ordered Adelia to sit and put a bowl of soup, as well as a hunk of bread, on the table in front of her.
“Eat. After, you shall go and see the Duke.”
Adelia nodded, swallowed thickly, and picked up her spoon.
* * *
Harry looked down at his sleeping mother. As she slept, she would occasionally snort, start, and then shiver before changing position and sinking back into sleep. Harry was always fearful that one time, she would not be able to push-start her breathing again and would simply run out of air. It was why he had her watched day and night as she slept.
Her current companion had recently gotten with child and had to be dismissed. Harry had given her a good severance that, if used frugally, should last her through her pregnancy but he could not afford the scandal of keeping her on in his household. She had a mother to return to who would not turn her away.
He took a seat, and held his mother’s limp hand between his own.
“Good morning, Mother. I have found you a new nurse. She is an intriguing young thing. The spitting image of Lady Dorothea to look at, but…very different in personality. You’ll see when she comes to take care of you.”
His mother slept on and Harry simply sat in silence, watching her. A tentative knock on the door woke him from his stupor and he raised his voice to bid whomever it was enter.
“Y-Your Grace? They said I should find you here,” Miss Raby said, looking heartbreakingly fearful yet determined.
“Yes, do come in. It is as good a time as any to meet my mother, who you will be watching.”
She stepped into the room and he saw that Mrs. Belvedere had dressed her in a proper blue gown covered by a white apron. Her hair was demurely hidden by a white cap although he could see that it was a strain to get it all in there. A few wisps had already escaped and unlike with her doppelgänger, Harry was quite sure that it was all inadvertent.
She came to a stop beside his chair, her hands neatly clasped in front of her.
“This is Amanda, the Dowager Duchess of Rosemond. She has a breathing affliction that occasionally blocks her ability to breathe and she needs to be shifted about in order to restart her breathing or else she might choke.”
Adelia’s eyes were wide and sympathetic. “Can nothing be done?” she whispered.
“We are awaiting a surgeon who is traveling from the New World to see her. He is known to have treated a few such cases there and has agreed to come and see my mother.”
“Oh…” she seemed nonplussed at this news. “And what should I do for her in the meantime?”
Harry got to his feet, temporarily overcome. The whole situation with the Dowager Duchess was vastly upsetting. “Her former nurse will fill you in. In the meantime, you will sit with her and make sure she keeps breathing. Excuse me.”
Harry hurried out of the room before she could ask any more questions.
It’s the sympathy in her eyes that is upsetting.
He thought it as he blinked rapidly, clearing the blurriness from his eyes. She seemed truly concerned about his mother’s condition and that had pushed him to the edge of breaking down. Ever since this waking nightmare had begun, he had made sure to maintain a stoic demeanor in the face of sympat
hy from various sources. He had not wanted to appear weak.
But the Dowager Duchess was more than his mother. She was his confidant, his rock—she was the only one with whom he could be vulnerable without fear. This affliction had hit her so suddenly, one minute she was laughing at his latest antics, the next she was choking and unable to catch her breath. She had only deteriorated from there and he was honestly at a loss as to what to do. Seeing Miss Raby watch him with compassion and commiseration had been more understanding than he could bear.
He locked himself in his chambers and sank to the floor, eyes dry, and stared with despair at nothing.
* * *
Dorothea paced back and forth, waiting for the Duke to show up. He had not indicated what time he would come for her for their morning stroll but he had been very clear about it being morning. Now it was approaching noon and there was no sign of him. To make matters worse, she might have hinted to her dear neighbor and beloved friend, Lady Francesca Crowley, that she was expecting a proposal today. As a result, she knew that the Viscount’s daughter would be keeping an eye out for the Duke’s carriage, too.
She whirled, pointing at a footman, “You there! I need you to go to the Rosemond manor and find out what has become of the Duke, for I fear something awful must have befallen him for him not to come as promised.”
“Yes’m,” the footman said, hurrying off at once. She continued to pace, rubbing her hands in agitation.
What will I do if he has merely forgotten?
The thought made her scowl in fury. Nobody forgot her! She was unforgettable. Anyone who dared would feel the full force of her fury and they would absolutely regret crossing her. She began to device various scenarios in her mind, to suit whatever news the footman might bring.
* * *
Adelia slowly sunk into the seat the Duke had vacated. Her heart hurt for him. He was clearly upset at his mother’s illness. For a moment, she squirmed with guilt at thinking he might have some ulterior motive for retaining her. Looking at the Dowager Duchess, it was clear that she needed help.
The figure in the bed suddenly stopped breathing, chest arching upward, as the slight snoring sound stopped abruptly. Adelia reached out her shaking hands and put them on the Dowager Duchess’ shoulders, twisting her to the side. The Duke’s mother exhaled deeply and then relaxed back into sleep. Adelia’s heart was beating fast.
“Oh My Lord!” she exclaimed, not having expected to have to assist her patient so soon. She placed her hand on the Dowager Duchess’ back, just feeling her breath in and out.
“Please be all right. Get better soon. Amen.” She prayed before removing her hand and sitting back in the chair, her eyes never leaving the patient. She was on tenterhooks, awaiting another emergency, but the Dowager continued to sleep peacefully.
Adelia looked around, seeing a pitcher of water and a glass by the bedside table, and a half finished bowl of soup.
So she does wake up.
Adelia was relieved at that. She did not know what she would have done if she had to feed the Dowager Duchess in her sleep.
Chapter 5
Confusion
Carl, the footman Lady Dorothea had sent, hesitated at the gate, not knowing if he should make inquiries from the main or servants’ entrance. Seeing as he had no note from his mistress, he decided to use the servants’ entrance.
“Yes, may I help you?” a fellow footman asked when he rang the bell.
“Yes, I’m from the Earl of Cornhill’s residence. I bring a message from the Lady Dorothea to the Duke.”
The footman held out a hand, “All right then, where is it?”
Carl hesitated. “I do not have a note. I was simply to inquire what the delay was that stopped His Grace from calling upon Lady Dorothea this morning.” He was way past the point of being embarrassed about the things Lady Dorothea asked him to do.
The other footman however, looked very surprised. “I…cannot ask the Duke that question.”
Carl sighed. “You could stipulate that it’s a question from Lady Dorothea?”
The other footman hesitated before raising a hand. “Wait here.”
He went off into the house and Carl could hear him whispering, undoubtedly with other servants. They were likely marveling at the audacity of Lady Dorothea and her servants. After a while, a man dressed impeccably, the butler, came to the door.
“I understand you have a message from Lady Dorothea?” he asked, his nose up in the air.
“Yes, I do. She wanted to inquire what—”
“I am well aware of her question. Please convey the Duke’s regrets as other business came up and he was unable to inform her in time. I am sure he will make a point to make it up to her at a future date.”
“Y-yes, thank you.” Carl nodded awkwardly and turned away, relieved to be leaving without too many mortifying conversations. Thank heavens he had not been forced to speak with the Duke himself.
* * *
A knock on the door jolted him from the fugue state he’d fallen into.
“What?” he called.
“A footman was sent from the Cornhill estate. They seem to think you had an appointment with Lady Dorothea this morning?” Perry, his butler, called.
“Oh, is that so?” Harry snorted before remembering that he had, indeed, asked Lady Dorothea to walk with him this morning in an effort to find out once and for all if she was one person split in two. Seeing as he had the other woman, Miss Raby, right here in his house, he had to conclude that they were just what they seemed—doppelgängers. As a result, there was no need to take up any more of Lady Dorothea’s time. At least until he had gotten to the bottom of why they were doppelgängers.
“Yes, that is so, Your Grace.”
“I am sorry, Perry, but I will not make it. Would you kindly have my secretary write a note to that effect and deliver it to the Cornhills with my apologies?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
He heard Perry’ footsteps walking away and got up off the floor. He had to get himself in hand. Such mawkish behavior was unbecoming of a Duke. He crossed to the washbasin and splashed some water on his face before wiping it down. Straightening his shoulders, he strode to the door and opened it.
It was time to get to know the beautiful Miss Raby a little better.
He found her where he had left her, sitting by his mother’s side, her eyes unwavering.
“I apologize for my abrupt exit,” he said and she gave him a quick glance before her eyes went back to the figure on the bed.
“That’s quite all right. I understand.”
“You do?” Harry was honestly surprised.
“Of course. I expect your mother means as much to you as mine does to me. You are understandably upset that she is ill.”
Since she had opened the door, he decided to step into the room. “Where is your mother exactly?”
She looked up, clearly surprised by the question. “They live on a small farm in Cornwall.”
“Ah.” Harry nodded. “She lives with your father?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him, though he was sure she was unaware of it. Her golden eyes seemed lit from within. “Yes, she lives with my father.”
Harry cast about for a way to ask if she had always lived with them or were they perhaps foster parents. But he could not think of a reason why he should ask such a question.
“And you are quite close to them, are you?”
She shrugged, still watching his mother with hawk eyes. “We are fairly close. I had to leave and earn my own way because it got too difficult to feed us all but…” she shook her head and swallowed. For a moment, her eyes filled before she blinked and then they were clear again.
He took a seat opposite her. “You did not want to leave home.”
She moved her eyes from his mother to fix them on him. Slowly, she shook her head. For some inexplicable reason, Harry wanted to reach out, take her hand and squeeze it between his own. He attributed this to his earlier breakdown.
&nbs
p; “Well…we shall do our best to make you feel welcome here,” he said on an exhale.
She smiled, her cheeks coloring, “Thank you, Your Grace. You’re very kind.”
“Not at all. I need you to be at ease so you can put your best foot forward with regard to my mother’s care.”
She stared earnestly at him and Harry’s eyes widened in anticipation of her words. “I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to ensure she is comfortable and well cared for.” The sincerity ringing from her tone touched him deeply.
“I thank you for that, Miss Raby. It means a great deal to me.”
A Vixen For The Devilish Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 4