I should have done more. I should have let her get changed into dry clothes. I should have looked for the assailant. I should have been with her in the first place.
“Your Grace,” Detective Collins broke into his mental spiral and Gerard looked up at him again. “You did the right thing. Her safety was paramount at the moment. I’m not accusing you. I merely need to know as much as possible.”
“Right, yes, of course,” Gerard said, straightening himself. His personal involvement in the case made it difficult for him to keep a clear head about the investigation, but he had to try.
“I have turned up something interesting in my investigations. I don’t know if it’s related to it at all, actually. But it’s just…something a bit odd. Is it known by the family at Stonehill that Lady Rosaline was adopted?”
“Lady Rosaline? Why, I don’t think so. My sister and I have known her since we were young. She’s always been a Raychester.”
“Yes, I suppose the story is that she was found alone by some villagers and brought to the Baron and Baroness Raychester and they took her in as their own.”
Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “How odd that it would be kept secret. I mean, I suppose it makes sense that she may not want everyone to know that she’s not of Raychester blood, but she has to know that neither I nor my sister would think any less of her for that. Perhaps Bridget knows, they’re closer friends than Lady Rosaline and me. You think this has to do with the case?”
Detective Collins shook his head. “I doubt it. I can’t see much of a connection. It was just something odd that I turned up and I thought I would mention it. Leave no stone unturned, you understand.”
Gerard nodded. “Yes. Continue to look into it. Perhaps she has some family somewhere with a vendetta. Or something. I don’t know. Is there really no other promising lead?”
“I’m doing the best I can, Your Grace. After today’s attack, I think it advisable to have a watchman at Stonehill to guard the grounds. I will follow this thread about Lady Rosaline, and if it turns up nothing, I will continue to look elsewhere. This case is my top priority, and I will not be distracted from it until we put it to rest at last.” He flexed his hands nervously. Gerard had to wonder if he was lying about his case still being top priority.
“I know that Christine’s murder has haunted you, Your Grace. And, although the death did not touch me as deeply as it surely did you, the unsolved question has haunted me as well. I am not happy that Miss Peaton has been put in danger, but this invigoration of the case holds promise, I believe. The killer is getting reckless, now.”
Gerard agreed, looking tenderly at the sleeping Elizabeth. Her body beneath the blanket rose and fell gently with deep, regular breaths.
Poor thing.
“I tried to send her to Hadminster, out of harm’s way. She wouldn’t go,” he said, mostly to himself.
“She seems to be a remarkably strong woman.”
“Yes.” Gerard reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder. She stirred slightly but did not wake up.
The room lapsed into silence for a moment and Gerard could just hear the faint sounds of Elizabeth’s breathing. His heart ached with the desire to bring her home to Hadminster. To leave this cursed city behind forever. She would be happy there, he knew, and peaceful.
He imagined her in pale gowns, so unlike the matronly black she normally wore. Her life had been hard, and she had to make herself hard to endure it. But he had seen her softness, in those few, precious moments of safety and intimacy between them. At Hadminster he could coax that softness out of her, and they could be happy together.
Unbidden, the image of Christine laying in her coffin burst into his mind. There was a killer on the loose. He could not simply run away a second time. Elizabeth was being brave, braver than she had any reason to be. He could be as brave as she was.
When night fell and Gerard and Detective Collins had exhausted all avenues of discussion about the mystery, Gerard was forced to deal with the fact that he would then have to bring Elizabeth back to Stonehill.
He roused her gently. Bleary-eyed, she looked up at him and smiled.
“Your things are dry,” he said.
She still looked groggy in the carriage as they drove back to Stonehill, but she fiddled restlessly with the hem of her sleeve.
“You’re nervous,” he said, gazing across at her. The bruises on her neck looked worse by the light of the moon.
“Yes. I suppose he is still there, somewhere?”
“Perhaps. I will not leave you tonight. I will stay outside your door. If you do not wish to stay at Stonehill, if you’ve changed your mind, we can make arrangements first thing in the morning.”
He watched her bite her lip. It seemed so long ago that he has tasted the softness of those lips in the library, long before any danger had crept into their life together.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave you, but…”
“If you do not object, I could obtain for you a room at an inn nearby. I would come and see you every day, but I fear that Stonehill has become too dangerous for you.”
Her chest rose and fell with a slow breath as she seemed to think it over.
“But Lord Limingrose. My work…”
“My sister shall have to begin the search for a new governess regardless,” he said, reaching for her hand. Elizabeth took it and moved to his side of the carriage.
“I will miss teaching. Are you sure that a Duchess cannot also be a governess?” she whispered sweetly and nuzzled into his neck.
Gerard chuckled. “You shall have your own children to rear, Duchess.”
She looked up at him, her warm eyes dark and trusting. “I never thought that I would have children of my own.”
Thoughts of their marriage bed charged the air between them, mixing with and coloring the atmosphere of fear and danger that always surrounded them. Gerard lifted her chin with his forefinger and kissed her.
“Is it too much, too quickly?” he asked, once again fearing that he had been too selfish in trying to bring this innocent woman into his complicated life. “Have you changed your mind?”
She shook her head minutely. “No. I haven’t changed my mind.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The following day, the main parlor downstairs was full of people. Bridget and Jonathan sat next to each other, the baby Anne cradled in her mother’s arms. Thomas sat on the floor. Rosaline stood next to Gerard. Dorothy had tears in her eyes as she oversaw Thomas.
And Elizabeth…
Gerard’s heart felt as though it were swelling as she entered the room. She was dressed neatly in a high-collared black gown that covered her neck, but not completely. Tell-tale bruises could be seen underneath her ears. Despite the evidence of the violent attack that nearly cost her life, her spine was straight, and her chin was raised. She was poised, calm, and almost defiant.
And this was the woman who doubted whether she had the fortitude to become a Duchess.
If only she could see herself as we see her.
Bridget rushed forward, embracing Elizabeth and touching her forehead to the departing governess’s.
“I can’t begin to tell you how deeply ashamed I am that my home has become a place where such a dear friend should be unsafe,” Bridget said.
Elizabeth smiled softly and hugged Bridget. “No one could fault you, Your Grace. Never in a million years. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all that you’ve given me the past year.”
Bridget sniffed, and Elizabeth wiped away a tear from the Duchess’ cheek as Jonathan stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his wife’s slim shoulder.
“There, there, darling. You may be losing a governess, but you shall be gaining a sister in a short time.” This he said with a nod towards Gerard.
“Sisters,” Bridget said, smiling. “You have to call me Bridget now.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Not yet, Your Grace.”
Thomas rushed up then, breaking free from the taming grasp of
Dorothy. Gerard watched as Elizabeth crouched down to take the boy in her arms. He was not even her own child, but the motherly devotion was writ all over her face as she embraced him.
“You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?”
“Will I never see you again?” The boy looked teary as he asked.
Elizabeth laughed lightly. Thomas had been told nothing of the poisoning or the attack in the garden. The heavy mood of the room must have been perplexing to him.
“We shall see each other again often. And I intend to quiz you on your Latin when we do.” She touched his nose and Thomas relaxed visibly.
When the other goodbyes had been said, Gerard took both of Elizabeth’s hands in his own and drew her to him.
“I shall follow you as soon as I can. Tomorrow morning at the latest. I’ve procured for you the finest room in the establishment.” He kept his voice low and kissed the corner of her eyebrow.
“You needn’t have,” she said, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
“You’ll have to get used to being waited on,” he grinned.
When she was bundled into the carriage, Gerard stood on the front steps of Stonehill Manor and watched, with a conflicted heart, as his love was driven away from himself and thus to safety.
He glanced over at Bridget, who also stood watching Elizabeth go.
* * *
Elizabeth was alone. For the first time in years, perhaps her whole life, she was truly alone. The carriage ride to the inn was not long, but when she emerged from it she felt like a new person. A stranger. The coachman hopped down from his position and took her luggage from her. All of her worldly possessions fit inside a single trunk, which the portly and well-dressed man carried with ease.
The room she was led to was spacious and airy and wholly unlike every other inn room she had ever stayed in. There were no rough edges to the furniture, no stains on the curtains. The floor was even polished, of fine blonde wood. Three walls were dominated by generous windows that endeavored to capture and amplify even the weakest of London sun rays. The room was sectioned into two spaces, with a parlor where she might entertain a visitor and a smaller area where the bed and wash basin were, that could be closed off for privacy.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stood like a black smudge in the middle of the pastel room.
A servant had followed the coachman upstairs and now the beribboned girl curtseyed to her.
“May I fetch anything for you, Ma’am?” the pretty girl asked, her polite manners endeavoring to mask her slight cockney accent but not altogether succeeding. “Your lady’s maid can be shown to the kitchens as well, to get the lay of the place.”
“I…” Elizabeth glanced at the coachman from Stonehill. They’d not been close, but she knew his name was Jack and they’d eaten together on occasion. Dorothy fancied him, though would never admit it. Her suddenly elevated position became even more painfully obvious with her ex-fellow worker in the room. “I have no lady’s maid.”
“Have you not?” The girl asked, looking confused for a moment before the polite smile worked its way back onto her face. “Ah well, my name is Rosie and I can do just as well while you’re here.”
“Thank you, Rosie,” Elizabeth said hesitantly. “I can manage on my own for now.”
The girl bobbed into another curtsey before leaving.
“Well, Miss Peaton,” Jack said.
“Well, Jack.”
“While you’re not a Duchess yet, let me speak plainly while I can. We all liked you, and we’re sad to see you go, of course. But, blimey. Imagine. One of our own off and marrying a Duke. Well done, if you don’t mind my saying. Well done, indeed. The maids are all getting ideas in their heads now.”
After the startling deference from the serving girl, Jack’s unguarded speech relieved her and Elizabeth grinned. “I hope not,” she laughed. “And I hope no one thinks that I have any ill feelings for good working-class people now. I’ll never forget the life I had, or the people who cared for me along the way.”
Jack clutched his heart in an exaggerated gesture of appreciation. “A Duchess after my own heart.”
They both laughed.
Jack bowed before leaving. “Farewell, Miss Peaton.”
“For now,” she responded, inclining her head.
Then she was alone in the spacious room. She stood still for a moment, not knowing what to do now that she was by herself. Her footsteps echoed as she walked about aimlessly, letting her fingertips drag along the fine upholstery and delicately patterned wallpaper.
Automatically, she was drawn to the desk and she sat down, thinking to come up with lessons for the next week. The action was automatic, and it wasn’t until she was dipping her quill that she realized that she did not have to do that anymore. For all of her adult life she had been teaching, and thoughts of lessons and new ways of explaining things had been a constant murmur in the back of her mind.
She placed the quill down and stared at it. The murmur which had been her constant companion grew faint, to be replaced with a singular question.
What will I do now?
The question hung in the air for a moment before, bit by bit, the possibilities began to open before her.
I could write novels.
I could paint.
I could read plays all day long.
I could study German.
I could write a book all about the variations of beetles’ wings if I wanted to, for heaven’s sake!
Away from the threat of a mysterious would-be murderer, the real implications of her marriage to the Duke of Hadminster began to dawn on her. She was free. Truly free, for the first time in her life, to follow her whims. To discover her passions.
The truth was, her life had been so bound up in duty and necessity that the thought of discovering who she really was and what she actually enjoyed was a staggering prospect. Who was Elizabeth Peaton, if not a poor teacher, shrouded in obscurity and insignificance?
She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out.
Feeling suddenly overcome, she jumped up from her seat and crossed to the window. Thrusting the curtain aside, she gazed out at the city that sprawled out before her in every direction.
She remembered Gerard, and the terrible burden of the mysterious killer that he carried on his shoulders. She felt guilty for feeling so light and free when her love was so encumbered. With the killer exposed, he would finally be able to move on. He could give his whole heart to her, knowing that his first love had not died in vain.
“Lord, reveal this killer. For his sake. And for mine.” She whispered the prayer under her breath, clasping her hands together in front of her.
* * *
The sun was beginning to set when a knock came to her door. Elizabeth looked up from the book she was reading, her heart leaping at the distraction. Eagerly, she crossed the room and opened the door.
Gerard stood with a warm smile on his face and a bundle of violets in his hand. He handed them to her without a word and she immediately brought the small bouquet to her nose, inhaling the sweet, simple scent.
“I was accosted by a flower girl down on the street,” he said with a light chuckle.
“I adore violets,” she assured him, standing aside so that he could come into the room.
“Is the room to your liking? Are you settling in?” He removed his hat as he stepped into the middle of the room, looking around with an appraising lilt to his eyebrows.
“I’ve never stayed in a room so grand. I hardly know what to do with myself.”
“You’ll adore Hadminster. Of course, if you do not, you can make changes to suit your preferences.”
“Changes?” she asked, arranging the violets in a small cup on the desk.
“Oh, you know. Wallpaper and carpets and things. I don’t have particularly strong opinions on things like that, so you can have the run of the place, if you like.” He looked nervous as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and fiddled with the brim of the hat he held
in his hands.
“Let me take those,” she offered, slipping the hat from his hands and removing his overcoat. “Is it cold out?”
“Just as the sun sets.”
The small talk between them felt strangely charged. Elizabeth’s heart felt constricted in her chest as she looked at him. He was tall and statuesque, his regal mien accented by the golden sunset that slanted through the windows and across the sharp planes of his face. She longed to reach up and touch his cheek, just to feel its warmth and the faint roughness of his skin.
Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess Page 17