The Shy Duchess

by Amanda McCabe

  “Well, your parents will be terribly happy,” Amy said. “Not to mention your husband! A little heir already.”

  “Even if it is true, it might be a little ladyship and not an heir.” But even that thought made Emily’s hope burn even brighter. A little lady swathed in lace, with her father’s beautiful blue eyes. She had never imagined such a vast and burning joy.

  Amy laughed. “Even better. Then Rob and I will have a son and one day they can marry!”

  Emily laughed, too. “It might be rather early to sign the marriage contract. I’m not even sure there is a child yet, and Nicholas will have to be told. Oh!”

  A sudden fear struck her, and she clutched tighter to her stomach. She remembered Nicholas’s reaction at Welbourne, when he thought she might be pregnant. He looked horrified, as if having a child with her would be a terrible fate.

  If she was truly with child now, would that horror be a hundredfold? What would she do? She couldn’t bear it if he turned from her now, when she was beginning to see just how much she needed him. And she absolutely could not bear it if he turned from their child.

  “Amy, you won’t tell anyone, will you?” she said. She reached for Amy’s hand and held it tightly.

  “Certainly not. It’s your place to announce the happy news.”

  “Not even Rob. Not yet. Promise me?”

  Amy shook her head. “I promise, if you like. But surely this is happy news!”

  “I just want to be sure first. I don’t want anyone to be disappointed if it’s not true.” Or disappointed if it was true. Things were so new, so delicate between her and Nicholas now. She didn’t want to disturb it just yet.

  “I won’t tell, Emily. But is something amiss? Is there something—not right between you and your husband?”

  Emily shook her head. “It’s just too soon.”

  “Then it can be our secret for now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But in return you must promise me you will write to me as soon as you know for certain! I will be aching to know.”

  Emily noticed suddenly that Amy wore a travelling pelisse and carriage dress. “Are you leaving town so soon?”

  “Within the hour, I’m afraid. We’re to spend the summer in Derbyshire at Rob’s new estate, soliciting votes for the next election. It’s terribly exciting! And Rob is so grateful for your husband’s help in seeing us settled. We could never have expected it so soon.”

  “I’m glad you’re looking forward to the summer. I just wish you didn’t have to be so far away right now.”

  “You must come visit us. If you feel up to travelling, that is. But now I fear I must say goodbye, and beg a great favour from you.”

  “Of course I will help if I can.”

  Amy smiled. “Dear Emily, always so generous! But you may regret it when you hear what it is.”

  “I’ll only regret it if you need someone to clean up after your illness!” Emily said with a laugh.

  “Not at all! I was invited to a tea-and-cards party at Lady Arnold’s house this afternoon. I’m afraid my backing out at the last moment will leave her card tables uneven. Can you go in my place?”

  Emily remembered what happened the last time she was at Lady Arnold’s—scandal and a forced betrothal. She laughed ruefully. “I will go if I must. I’ll have to start going out in society again soon anyway. But are you sure Lady Arnold would accept me as a substitute, after what happened at her ball?”

  “That was the social triumph of Lady Arnold’s life. And she will be in alt to have the Duchess of Manning at her party. I will write to her immediately. If you are sure you’re feeling well enough?”

  Emily pressed her palms to her stomach. There was no hint of nausea now. “Yes,” she said in surprise. “I feel wonderful now, quite energetic.”

  Amy smiled smugly. “It must be pregnancy, then. But do write to me when you’re sure. And don’t forget the tea party!”

  “Oh, your Grace! I can’t tell you how happy I am you could come to my little gathering today,” said Lady Arnold, rushing forwards to greet Emily as she entered the drawing room. “It has not been the same in town since you and the duke left us.”

  Emily almost laughed as Lady Arnold kissed her cheeks in the French fashion of greeting. Surely Lady Arnold had not addressed more than a dozen words to her before that fateful scene at the ball! It hardly seemed to warrant such an effusive greeting now. Besides, she and Nicholas had only been gone for a short time. Surely the whole city had not changed.

  And yet in a strange way it felt as if it had completely changed. Everyone she met looked at her differently, spoke to her differently. It felt strangely—good. But she didn’t even want to consider what the consequences of that attention would be on her work at Mrs Goddard’s. She had planned on slipping away to the school today, while Nicholas was away on his business, but then the invitation arrived to tea and cards at Lady Arnold’s house, not to mention the unexpected illness.

  “Oh, you must go, Emily dear!” her mother said when Emily dropped by her house on the way to Lady Arnold’s and found her ill with a cold. “I know it is shockingly last minute, but it’s your first engagement as a married lady. It’s never too early to begin to claim your rightful place in society, my dear. I only wish I could go with you, but my cold is keeping me at home, I fear.”

  And Nicholas urged her to go as well. “I’ll be gone until dinner, Em,” he said. “Go and have fun. You can tell me all the new gossip this evening.”

  “I doubt there will be anything to tell, not from Lady Arnold’s,” Emily answered wryly. “Unless you are interested in the newest colours of bonnet ribbons.”

  Nicholas laughed. “One never knows what might prove useful. What if I wanted to buy my pretty wife some ribbons? I would hate to buy the wrong colour.” And he kissed her cheek as her mother watched them, beaming.

  That was how she found herself in Lady Arnold’s drawing room now, her hostess leading her to a seat near the windows, by the tea table, while the assembled guests watched her avidly, as if she was a curious creature in a menagerie—duchess in captivity. At least she wore a new outfit from her trousseau, a stylish ensemble of a pale green muslin gown and darker green silk pelisse and feathered hat that gave her more confidence. She was learning this duchess business better than she expected!

  The ladies gathered on the brocade chairs around the table, the sunlight glowing on their silks and feathers and making them look like a collection of parrots, hastily made room for her.

  “Married life does seem to agree with you, your Grace. You look positively radiant,” Mrs Smythe-Hawkins said. Her sharp gaze drifted over Emily’s abdomen, as if she suggested a little heir was already nestled there. And she might be quite right.

  Emily remembered Nicholas’s strange reaction when news of his niece’s birth had arrived. That black cloud had quickly passed that day, and he had not mentioned it again, instead staying light-hearted and teasing with her. But she could not quite forget. Was he disappointed she was not yet pregnant then? Or worse—was he glad of it?

  Or was he shocked by the thought of a child with her?

  Emily resisted the urge to press her arms over her stomach. “I am enjoying married life very much, thank you, Mrs Smythe-Hawkins,” she said.

  “I am sure you must be, your Grace, with such a handsome husband!” Amy’s friend Lady Carter said with a giggle. “Every lady in London is quite envious of you.”

  Lady Arnold passed Emily a delicate china cup. “You seem to have started a fashion for betrothals, too.”

  “Have I?” Emily said weakly.

  “Yes. Miss Swanson and Lord Linley are to be married next month, and Sir Walter Chase’s younger daughter is engaged to an Italian count. Imagine that!” Mrs Smythe-Hawkins said.

  “They also say your friend Miss Jane Thornton wished to be engaged,” Lady Arnold whispered. “But she was disappointed in her hopes, and her parents whisked her away from town.”

  “Miss Thornton?” E
mily gasped in surprise. So that was why there was no answer to the note she had sent around to Jane’s house when they returned to town. And then there were Jane’s words of some “surprise” in her letter. But who could she have been engaged to? She had said nothing to Emily, unless Mr Jameson came to the point at last.

  “They say she was quite in love with Mr George Rayburn,” Lady Carter whispered. The ladies all leaned closer, all wide-eyed with scandalised delight. “And he had been seen with her at the park after—well, after you married, your Grace.”

  “But then her parents took her away, and Mr Rayburn has been seen all about town again.”

  Poor Jane. Emily stared down into her tea, stunned. Here she had thought they were such good friends, that Jane was so open and confiding, and yet she was in love with Mr Rayburn of all men and had said not a word. It was so very odd.

  Unless these ladies were making far more of one sighting in the park than there was. That would certainly not be the first time such a thing had happened.

  She would have to write to Jane herself, at the earliest opportunity. And maybe find her another, more suitable beau. She was in a position to help people now, as Nicholas had with Rob and Amy, and it felt good.

  “I do not blame her parents at all,” Lady Arnold said. “I would not wish my daughter betrothed to Mr Rayburn.”

  “Quite so,” said Mrs Smythe-Hawkins. “My husband says he loses terribly at cards…” She lowered her voice. “He does not pay his considerable debts in any timely manner. He owes so many people, I am sure the day will soon come when he does not dare show his face in town.”

  “Miss Thornton has had a lucky escape, as has her family,” Lady Carter said. “They need her to make a good, solid match, with all those daughters to look after. Mr Rayburn, let us face it, is not good ton. And there are the rumors of all those women…”

  Emily had thought she could not be shocked by anything now, not after her hurried marriage and all she had discovered since then. But she was surprised by this news of Mr Rayburn’s debts and impecunious state. He had courted her once, rather ardently, and she had had no idea of his true circumstance! Such gossip was only imparted to her now, when she was a married woman, long after it could have proved useful.

  She and Jane had had fortunate escapes. But Emily did not understand why a man in need of money would court her in the first place. The Carrolls had no fortune now. Unless he was also not in possession of useful gossip about people’s real financial state…

  Her head spun in confusion. She suddenly wished she was back at Welbourne, with only Nicholas. Things made sense there, and she felt she belonged with him there, belonged to her new place in the world. Here, she was not so very sure.

  “Do tell us where you found that green silk, your Grace,” said Lady Arnold. “Such an elegant shade! I have been thinking we don’t see enough green in the draper’s shops of late, and I hear it is so à la mode in Paris.”

  “You must have had it straight from France!” one of the other ladies said. “You always did have such exquisite taste, your Grace. We can all learn so much from you in our ensembles, I’m sure.”

  “I have heard this shade is called vert à la duchesse,” Lady Carter said. “So appropriate.”

  Emily almost laughed. Amy, her mother, even Nicholas had said that as a duchess she would set the fashion, and she had not believed them in the least. But it seemed they were right. Everyone would show up in green now, all because her husband seemed to like her in green and bought her emeralds.

  No, she understood nothing of this strange world. She was learning, though. She was finding her place as duchess. She had to—she had her baby to think of now as well as herself, and she was determined to be the best mother she could be to him or her. It was of vital importance.

  “Back to Manning House, your Grace?” the coachman asked as Emily stepped out of Lady Arnold’s, her head whirling with gossip and the challenge of fending off nosy questions intended to turn her into gossip.

  She bit her lip. Going back to cold, echoing Manning House alone, especially if Nicholas was still out, held no appeal. Nor did she really want to go to her parents’ house and be in their way as they packed to leave town—and as her mother peppered her with questions about Lady Arnold. And she could not go to Mrs Goddard’s in such grand state. She didn’t want to cause shameful gossip, as a duchess visiting former ladies of the night would surely do! Not with the new baby to think of.

  “No, Smith, to Gunter’s first,” she said. A raspberry ice would be just the thing to clear her head, and perhaps she could buy some pastries to have for the pudding at home. It was very hard to do without Signor Napoli’s delicious creations after becoming so used to them at Welbourne, and it seemed the baby craved sweets. Or that was as good an excuse as any to indulge!

  The scents of warm sugar and ripe, sweet fruit greeted her as she stepped into the confectioner’s shop, comforting scents that wrapped around her reassuringly. There were no long lines as there had been only weeks before, and few people seated at the little tables by the windows for tea and ices. London was indeed much quieter now, which was all for the best. Her duchess début had been relatively painless, and now she deserved a reward.

  But as she ordered her ice and took it to a quiet seat in the corner, she could not quite forget the ladies’ gossip about Mr Rayburn and Jane’s hidden hopes of him. Emily had always thought herself somewhat observant; there was little else to do from behind potted palms and along walls at parties than watch and listen. Yet she had seen none of Mr Rayburn’s financial difficulties, despite the scene in her mother’s drawing room before her wedding, or of Jane’s interest in him. Jane always seemed resigned to marrying her suitor Mr Jameson. It was all rather odd.

  And it also made her wonder what else she had missed, what she did not know. She remembered the stunned look in Nicholas’s eyes at Welbourne when he thought she might be pregnant. It was most worrisome.

  The thought made the sweet-tart raspberry ice suddenly taste like ashes in her mouth. She had expected nothing of Nicholas when they married so suddenly, had expected nothing of herself except to be a good duchess. Those golden days at Welbourne, so fleeting and sweet, seemed to have changed so much. Or they had changed things in her own heart, anyway, so completely. Surely nothing had changed for Nicholas. She was still the wife he had to take, and now she bore a child he didn’t seem to want.

  She carefully placed her spoon on the half-consumed dish. She loved her husband. He did not love her, not yet, though he did seem to care about her. If she could learn to be that good duchess, surely she could learn to be a good wife, too? Nicholas could find deeper feelings for her—and forget Valentina. Or was that merely another silly dream?

  The little bell over the door tinkled merrily as someone came into the shop, and Emily glanced up eagerly, hoping for some distraction from her own twisting, desperate thoughts. Her stomach sank sickeningly when she saw who the newcomer was.

  George Rayburn, the man who was the new talk of London.

  Emily slid to the back of her chair, hoping he would not see her there and she could slip away before she had to speak to him. She had no idea what to say to him, and her duchess acting skills were not yet as sharp as she would like. But she was not so fortunate. He gazed around the room with a supremely confident air, a little smile on his handsome face. It was as if the rumours had never happened. His searching stare landed on her, and that smile widened.

  “Why, if it is not the new duchess!” he said, hurrying towards her. “Is the honeymoon at an end already? So sad.”

  “How do you do, Mr Rayburn,” she said quietly, offering him her hand. She had removed her gloves to eat, and his grasp was too warm, too tight, to be strictly polite. He actually touched his lips to her knuckles rather than merely brushing the air above them, and she tugged her hand free.

  “My husband has urgent business in London,” she said. “We are here only for a few days.”

  “Just a few d
ays? What a sad loss for those of us trapped in town. You’ve been missed here.”

  “Have I? It seems to me the world of London has gone on well enough while I’ve been away these few days.”

  “Then you have not been paying attention. Some of us have found these streets a desolate place without you.” Without being invited, he sat down across from her, his knees pressed close to hers under the tiny table. He leaned towards her, so near she could smell the spiciness of his French cologne, feel the unpleasant heat of his body. She remembered that day before her wedding, when he trapped her just so, and shivered with a rush of cold fear.

  She glanced out the window to where her carriage waited, along with her coachman and footmen. There were also the serving maids at the counter and the few other customers. She was not alone, Mr Rayburn surely dared not grab her in such a public place.

  She bit her lip to keep from calling out and creating a scene, and leaned as far away from him as she could. Her back bumped into the wall. “I am surprised to see you here, Mr Rayburn. I heard you had left town.”

  That confident smile twitched toward a frown. “Have your friends been prattling about me, then? Gossip does move fast, your Grace—like a poison.”

  Emily thought of Lady Arnold and her friends, their avid eyes as they told her all about Mr Rayburn’s misfortunes and Jane’s disappointments. “Not at all. It merely seems as if everyone has already departed for quieter environs. I would have thought you would do the same, you seem so—fashionable in all things.”

  “Well, like your illustrious husband, I, too, have business to conclude before I take my leave.”

  “And will you then travel to Thornton Park, Mr Rayburn?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Thornton Park? Certainly not. It is in Cheshire, yes? Dull place, and I hardly know that family anyway. I shall be for Brighton, or perhaps even for the Continent. They say Baden-Baden is quite the place to restore one’s spirits.”

  “You seem healthy enough, Mr Rayburn.”