by Joyce Wright
Jessie had noticed something wrong, too. That was even worse. How could she tell her sister that the reason this failed was because Oscar had eyes for her? It would only bring guilt.
Clara rolled over in her bed, shoving the covers away. She needed to get out, to see friends or just visit the park for some fresh air. Lying around feeling sorry for herself only made her feel worse. Besides, he was a Duke - it wasn’t as if she was going to bump into him in town, was it?
With a groan, she stood up to dress, pulling out the first outfit she grabbed. It was a pale pink dress with black ruffling.
She was still wrestling with her small boots when a maid knocked on her bedroom door.
“Come in,” she answered, finally unsticking the zip of her boots with a satisfied smile.
“Someone is downstairs to see you, miss.”
“Who?”
“Duke Oscar Harding.”
Clara’s lips twisted into a frown. “Did he say why he was here?”
The maid pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, he only said it was important. Should I tell him to leave, miss?”
Despite herself, Clara shook her head. “No, thank you. Tell him I shall be down in a moment.”
The maid nodded and left, leaving Clara to steam silently. The nerve of him, appearing in her own home after she had told him the marriage was off.
She took a few moments to calm herself down, smoothing down her skirts and taking a deep breath. When she left her bedroom, she forced herself to act as if nothing was wrong.
Oscar beamed as he saw her, and he stepped forward as if to take her hand. “Good morning, Clara.”
She simply nodded in response. “Oscar. Lettie told me you wanted to see me. She told me it was important.”
“It is,” he replied, dropping his hand when Clara didn’t take it. “I wanted to talk to you about... before.”
“By ‘before’, I assume you mean the dinner event?” Clara replied, sighing faintly. Why did he have to drag this out? Could he not just let it be? “I had thought you would be here to see Jessie, if anyone.”
Oscar frowned, deep dark eyes shadowed. “This is what I mean! I keep telling you I have no interest in courting your sister, and yet you do not listen. So please, listen now.”
She blew out a breath, turning her head. “Fine. We should sit in the living room, so we are not overheard.”
“You have not told your parents of this yet?”
“No, and I would prefer they do not find out this way.”
She entered the living room, taking her familiar place by the fire. It was unlit, but just the presence of her usual spot was comforting. She sank into the sofa, wishing she could just close her eyes and pretend this was not happening.
Then Oscar sat across from her, and the image of being alone shattered.
“You wanted me to listen to you, so I will.” She folded her arms and sat back, waiting for him to speak.
For a moment he just gazed at her, lip curled in the way of someone who does not know where to begin. For a moment, Clara was unsure if he even would. Then, “I am aware I keep saying I do not wish to court Jessie, and that is true. I am sorry I ever gave you such a thought - I was simply curious about you and your family. I never meant for you to think I was more interested in your sister than you.”
Clara narrowed her eyes, feeling her heart flutter. Oh, how she hated when that happened! She was falling for him more and more every second - the exact opposite of what she wanted to happen. “Well, you certainly did seem more interested in Jessie. I didn’t even blame you - she has had many potential men in her life, and she is very beautiful.”
“So are you,” Oscar replied with a wide smile, leaning forward to take her hand. This time, Clara did not pull away.
“So you really do not wish to court Jessie?”
“No, and I never have. I know I said marrying now was too soon, but that did not mean I did not want to at all. I cannot apologize enough, and I can only hope for your forgiveness.”
She was silent for a long moment, thoughts drifting through her mind, refusing to settle. She had been so ridiculous, believing that he wanted Jessie. Of course he was interested in her family - they were soon to be his too, after all. She should have listened from the beginning, not jumped to conclusions.
“I forgive you,” she whispered, nodding so her hair fell in her dark blue eyes, “I was being silly, and I assumed the worst. I should not have.”
He gently took her other hand, gazing at her with his impossibly dark eyes. “Are we all right? We can still cancel this if you wish, stay friends or never see each other again if that is what you truly want - but I sincerely hope it is not.”
It wasn’t. She wanted the chance to get to know Oscar, to learn to love him and, eventually, marry him. However long that took, knowing that was in her future made her all the more eager to put this behind her.
“No, I wish for us to continue as we had - to court, I mean. You are a wonderful man, Oscar, and it was cruel of me to treat you so harshly.” She slipped her hands away from his, fiddling with her skirts. “I am so sorry. You do not deserve me.”
“Please do not say such a thing,” Oscar replied with a deep frown, “You are lovely, Clara, and I can hardly hold one mistake against you. It was not your fault, nor mine. A simple misunderstanding that could have happened to anyone.”
She laughed lightly then, but it was humourless. “An easy mistake? If you say so.” She glanced down, avoiding his gaze.
“An easy mistake,” Oscar repeated surely. “If everything is all right between us, I should like for us to plan another afternoon together. Let us forget all of this and focus on each other. Yes?”
Biting her lip, Clara nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I should like that. I feel we should do something in town, or at your manor. Away from here.” She did not need to add ‘away from Jessie’.
“A good idea, I believe. How about a carriage ride?”
Clara felt herself relax, and she replied eagerly, “yes, I should like that. I must ask, though - are you sure you are all right with this? I was so rude.”
“You were not rude! So yes, I am perfectly fine. Now, how about that carriage ride?”
“Now?”
“Of course. Unless you do not want to?”
“I would love to,” Clara replied with a laugh. They stood up, and Clara linked her arm through Oscar’s. In that moment, everything felt perfect.
*****
THE END
Chapter 1
“Is it very obvious, Sara?” Agnes angled her bruised cheek closer to the looking glass, but could see little without her spectacles.
“No, my lady, I can hardly see it myself.”
Blessed Sara would do anything for her, even lie it seemed. Agnes smiled, then gasped in pain. Lifting her lips made her cheekbone burn and ache.
“Thank you, Sara, for your kindness. But, the truth is kindest at this time. If the marks are very obvious, I must refuse to leave the house until they lighten. The men who call on the Duke will little care, but the ladies, “she shrugged her shoulders delicately,” the ladies will take note of every flaw and feel called upon to whisper on them.”
“Very well, my lady. The bruise is gray and blue with a bit of green. It goes way up to the eyebrow. Looks painful it does. Definitely not becoming a new duchess.”
Agnes walked to her bed, but hesitated beside it. She was still unused to the splendor of the four-poster with its canopy and purple velvet curtains. “That decides it then. No outings for me or Lord Richard for a week, and no callers as well.” She sighed deeply. “Turning them away will not prove easy. Many in the village want to pay their respects to the new Duke and Duchess of Remington.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She lifted a book of verses from the bedside table. “Could you inquire how Lionel is coming along with my glasses? My eyes can hardly focus on these words without them.”
“Yes, my lady—“
“Sara! Please
stop. You’ve known me since we were infants. Call me Agnes in the comfort of my rooms. I can’t bear hearing ‘my lady’ one more time today.” She tossed her book down and flopped on the bed beside it. Horribly unladylike she knew, but oddly satisfying.
Sara’s lips quirked, but she only nodded.
After Sara had left, Agnes ventured down the long hallway to the nursery. Richard would be already asleep, but gazing upon his sweet gentle face and smoothing his blankets would also sooth her restless soul. For the moment, he still had his beloved nurse. But now that his father was the Duke of Remington, things would soon change for him. She wasn’t certain she liked the changes that were in store.
Nodding at Nurse who sat by the window reading, Agnes moved quickly through the room to the small cot. She smiled. Richard played hard all day, hiding in and out of the stables, riding his pony, chasing the cats, running with the dogs, but when dusk came, he slept as if every bone was exhausted. She swept the hair back from his forehead, but it flopped down again. Like all the men in his family, his locks were unruly dark blond curls. Unruly or not, Agnes adored every single strand. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her son.
#
After conferring with the constable in King’s Crossing for nearly two hours, Dr. Gilbert Crawford galloped on his horse through the valleys toward Remington Manor. He’d been away for five years, but based on his view in the cloudy dusk, he’d say the area hardly had changed.
His uncle, the Duke, died six weeks ago. Picturing the stern, easily angered man from his childhood, Gilbert couldn’t work up any emotion, least of all grief. Love for his uncle had not brought him back to England.
His return had, instead, been inspired by a plea for help sent to him from his uncle’s longtime valet. It was followed by similar letters from several in his brother Phillip’s staff, loyal servants who had worked for the Crawford family for generations. The valet suspected The Duke’s death was far from natural. The Duke’s son, too, had died in an equally suspicious manner some six months earlier.
Phillip, Gilbert’s eldest brother had inherited the title. Of his two belligerent brothers, Phillip was the worst, both violent and merciless to any he saw as weaker. Like his wife.
Gilbert’s hands tightened on the reins. Tonight he would see his Sister-in-law, Agnes, for the first time in five years. Agnes. Agnes. Agnes. His lips mouthed the words. She, of all the women he had known, was the one of his dearest dreams. He had befriended her in his youth, shared books with her, philosophies, and secrets. As the youngest son of an Earl, he had no promise of a title, so was free to follow his own desires. He’d had only two: to become a doctor and to marry Agnes. He’d achieved the first at an early enough age.
Agnes had waited for him while he finished school. That’s where his realized dreams ended, for while he was gone, his eldest brother, burdened with debt and poor choices, had cast his eye on Agnes.
A wealthy uncle had promised a sizeable dowry on her behalf to make up for, it seemed, her very poor eyesight and the glasses that were a constant need for her. What were glasses to Gilbert? He pushed his own back up on his nose. Her spectacles had made him happy—they hid her beauty from the rest of the world.
His Agnes could walk on air, and her demeanor, at a mere sixteen, was more gentlewoman than most of the titled women he knew.
He bit the inside of his cheek hard. No, she was not his Agnes. Phillip’s Agnes.
Upon hearing the news of their marriage, he had tried to appeal to his brother and to Agnes’ father, the vicar, but his pleas landed on deaf ears.
He had left the village in 1812, left the country entirely and gone to America to aid the soldiers in the War. When it ended, he stayed on, finding the people uniquely earthly and lacking the many airs of the English.
To America he would return, once he ensured the safety of both Agnes and her son. If what he suspected was true—the newly named Duke had arranged for the death of the previous one, and Agnes could be in danger once all the pieces of the puzzle came together. Desperate men often performed desperate acts. He spurred his horse to gallop faster.
Chapter 2
“My lady, your brother in law is here. He wishes to speak with you.”
Agnes closed her eyes. Her brother in law, John, was one of her least favorite people. She need not worry about hiding her bruises from him; he would likely applaud Phillip for inflicting them. Both were brutes.
“Very well. Please tell him I will be along to meet him shortly.” It was after eight o’clock. What could he want?
When Agnes arrived at the doorway to the drawing room, a man stood before the fireplace, his back to her, his eyes on the portrait of her and Richard that hung on the wall. But even from the behind, and not having seen John for a year, she knew it wasn’t him. He was nowhere near as lean and well-built as this man, and his hair wasn’t as blond. A chill ran down her arms. He reminded her of—no, it couldn’t be--
“Yes?” She said, her voice unnaturally loud. “May I be of some assistance?”
When the man turned swiftly around, air swooshed from Agnes’ lips and she placed a hand on her erratically beating heart. “Gilbert,” she whispered.
She could wake each day, breathe, live a little, but only if she never saw Gilbert Crawford. Her handsome, sweet Gilbert. She couldn’t bear it. The room began to grey, and the last thing she saw was Gilbert striding toward her.
#
Agnes was waking up. Her eyelids lifted, faltered, and then lifted again. The right eye was horribly bruised and swollen. Gilbert longed to sooth it but knew there was little he could do. His fingers curled into fists as he fought the urge to stroke her porcelain jaw, her long auburn curls, her lips.
Damn, Phillip. He had no doubt the violence on her face had been inflicted by his brother. He, too, had suffered the pains of standing too long in his oldest brother’s presence. Minutes ago, Lionel had shown him Agnes’ badly broken glasses. The staff, it seemed, was loyal to their mistress.
“Gilbert.” The word was weak and held a foggy note of bewilderment. “I don’t understand. You said you would never return.”
He straightened, cleared his throat, tried to recall his medical training. Indifference. He needed to find his indifference. “My uncle died. Receiving word and securing passage took nearly a month. There are…questions about his death.”
“Questions?” Agnes struggled to sit. “About what?”
“Never mind that for now, my dear. You’ve suffered a fright. Move slowly, or you risk relapse.”
Before he could move to her side, the drawing room door burst open. Gilbert recognized Sara, Agnes’ childhood friend.
“Duchess, oh Duchess, come quickly. The young Lord is missing.”
Agnes did not hesitate. In one movement it seemed, she sat up and stood. “Missing? How could he be? I checked on him only two hours ago. Nurse is with him.”
“Nurse is gone, too.”
Agnes took a deep breath seeming to sense that Sara needed her calm. “Perhaps Nurse noticed he was gone and went looking for him. You know how he dearly loves to hide. I must check the nursery. ”
After she left the room, Gilbert spoke briefly to Lionel before following her.
Chapter 3
When Agnes entered the nursery, she shivered. Not only did she immediately feel the lack of Richard’s presence, but a cold breeze swept through the room, cooling it considerably. The fire had not been kindled and the April air was blowing through an open window, the drape flapping like a flag. Why was it open? She hurried over and closed it.
Sensing Gilbert behind her, Agnes moved to the cupboards and wardrobes, giving them cursory checks while she gathered her thoughts. Had Richard mentioned wanting to return to the stables? If he was concerned about one of the ponies or horses or even a cat, he might have gone out. Her son had a mind of his own, and worried over every sick creature that crossed his path. She squeezed her eyes shut. Much like his uncle.
No, she could not think of that now
. Opening her eyes, she whirled around and crashed into Gilbert.
His hands steadied her. “Whoa, not so fast. You’ve just suffered two shocks in a row.”
Always, Gilbert had treated her as if she was delicate as a weak kitten. Stepping free of his hands which warmed her, as always, from the inside out, Agnes refused to meet his gaze. “I must check the barns and outbuildings.”
“I’ve just sent a search party to check them. If he’s out there, we’ll find him.” His fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his kind gaze. “Richard will be fine, Agnes.”
“How do you know? He’s just so little. And where is Nurse?” She cried. None of this made any sense.
Gilbert held out his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t’ know the answers to all your questions. I need you to trust me. I’m here to help.”
He was right. She couldn’t expect him to know answers Richard’s own parents— Oh no, his parents. His father. She hadn’t considered her husband. As Duke, he was likely a target of such things. His son, too. “I should…” She didn’t want to say it, but knew she must. “I should send for Phillip, alert him that Richard might be missing.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Agnes frowned. Where was he? The truth was that Phillip often left the house at night, beginning long before he became duke. He always returned the next day or several days after. Likely a mistress. She hadn’t considered where he was going, just felt relief that he was gone.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Gilbert looked skeptical. “You’re certain?’
Then it was her turn to feel skeptical. She stepped forward. “Gilbert, what’s your visit concerning? Do you know why my son would vanish from his rooms? We’ve gone five years without a word from you.” Five years, two months, and a few weeks, but she didn’t say the words aloud. “