“I don’t need a wedding gift.”
“Please, Helen, this isn’t a matter of need. I would like to do this for you.”
She knew it would be churlish to continue to disagree. “Then thank you. I want you to know however, that you don’t need to buy my loyalty, nor could you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They stopped at a coaching inn that night and while Helen stood by the stairs, where Alex had told her to wait, he organised two rooms for them and one for the driver and his valet. Once he had the keys, he showed her up and stayed to make sure that she had everything she needed.
“They are bringing one of your trunks up as we speak-”
“One of mine? But I don’t have any?” She held up her bag, which contained clean underwear, soap and her toothbrush, everything that she would need.
“As well as other dresses, I ordered you some necessities and luxuries before we left London. Enough to see you through for a few weeks,” he assured her.
“Honestly, this is too much.”
“This is only a small fraction of what my wife deserves,” he assured her, carrying on before she could object. “Now, I know you don’t have a lady’s maid and I assume you would like to hire your own once we get settled, but I spoke with the owner and if you need any help dressing in the morning, his wife is happy to assist you.”
His consideration touched her. “Thank you, but I think I can manage.”
He smiled. “I never much liked being dressed either. My valet only cares for my wardrobe.” He took his watch from his waistcoat pocket and checked it. “Would you like to freshen up before dinner? I don’t think changing will be necessary.”
“Um-“ She was cut off as there came a knock on the door.
Alex opened it to a porter and the driver, who carried a trunk between them.
“Where would you like it?” Alex asked Helen.
“Oh, just by the door, please.”
They deposited the case and Alex handed them each a coin as they left.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” The porter said, touching a hand to his hat.
Helen became very still and Alex had realised the mistake immediately. He closed the door behind the men and turned to her.
“Please don’t be angry,” he begged, taking a step towards her.
“You’re a Duke?” she asked.
He nodded but Helen remained silent for a long time, as she thought through the implications.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly, I thought it might frighten you off.”
She made her way to the bed and sat down, since it was closer than the chair. “You were right.” She sounded a little panicked.
Alex came and sat beside her but he left a foot of space between them.
“I will be a Duke’s wife,” she said the words slowly, as though trying to decide how she felt about that. “My father is only a fifth degree peer and I am illegitimate, while you are one step away from royalty!”
“You will make a fine Duchess,” he tried to assure her. “My first wife’s family was in trade.”
“But she wasn’t illegitimate, was she?”
“Well no, but she didn’t have your breeding, your training.”
“But the scandal, Alex, it will ruin your family.”
“As I told you, we don’t socialise much these days anyway, and my rank is high enough that I can get away with much more than many men could.”
Helen began to laugh as she remembered her earlier thought, that perhaps her ancestry had attracted him.
“Helen?” He looked worried by her behaviour, so as best she could between laughs, she explained her earlier thought, that being in trade, he might be attracted to the fact that her father was a Baronet.
He shared her mirth, thankfully not offended by her thinking him a tradesman.
“It’s not too late,” Helen said once her mirth had died. “We haven’t consummated the marriage; you can still change your mind.”
Alex took her hand.
“I have no intention of doing that. Whatever your past, it’s the woman you are that appeals to me, and I like what I see more and more.”
“I’m a Duchess,” Helen whispered, as if she was afraid to say it out loud.
“Yes you are,” he assured her. “And since you brought it up, while I do intend to honour my promise and not visit you at night before you are comfortable, we do need to let the rest of the world believe that we have consummated our union. As such, I would like to accompany you back here after dinner and remain for a while. Just for appearances sake.”
Helen nodded. “Of course, that makes perfect sense. And thank you for not pressuring me.”
He squeezed her hand. “Now, I think that perhaps you could do with a stiff drink, so how would it be if we forgo washing up before dinner and make our way to the dining room?”
Helen nodded. There were so many implications to her new title that she couldn’t think clearly at the moment. Besides, a drink sounded just what she needed right now.
Chapter Three
It was a three day journey to his estate, so they would have to stay at coaching inns for two nights, hopefully arriving in Crowham by the third evening.
Helen didn’t quite know how she felt about being a Duchess but so far at least, she was enjoying being a married woman.
Alex had returned to the room with her last night after their meal, but he had been true to his word and had not lain a hand on her. She was a little disappointed that he didn’t but overall, she was glad. They may be married but she still knew hardly anything about him.
Today she hoped to ask him some more questions about his past while they travelled, to try and find out what kind of man he was and what experiences had made him that way.
“So, do you live with any family, other than your boys?”
“Too many,” Alex sighed. “My sister, my brother comes and goes, my mother claims not to like the Dower House so hasn’t moved. Then there’s my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law and the occasional business associate.”
“Your in-laws still live with you?”
“I'm afraid so. My wife’s father died a few years after we were married and she invited them to come and live with us. I can hardly turn them out now, can I?”
“No, of course not. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”
“You didn’t. It’s a far from ideal situation but every time I offer to get them a house in town or in London, they refuse. They say that they feel closer to… well, it’s complicated.”
She felt for him. Being an aristocrat wasn’t all fun and games, it came with a lot of responsibilities too, and now he was responsible for a family that wasn’t even his.
“You must have loved your wife a great deal,” she said.
Alex gave her a sharp look, then turned to look out of the carriage window.
Refusing to be intimidated by him, she gathered her courage. “How did she die?”
His frown deepened but he didn’t glare at her again.
“She died in a fall,” he grudgingly admitted and Helen began to feel that she might have pushed her luck too far.
She learned the names of his relatives that day (although she was sure that she would never remember them all) and brief descriptions of their characters, but that was it for personal information. The only topic that he would open up about was his boys, and so they spent most of the day with him telling her stories of their more memorable antics.
As she got into bed that night, she couldn’t help but wonder why Alex was so guarded about his family. What made him so defensive when she asked about any of them. She assumed that the loss of his wife was still painful to him but surely discussing his brother or mother-in-law couldn’t be difficult, could it? Maybe he just wasn’t the type to open up easily.
That explanation didn’t feel right but she had no better rational.
***
The next day, Alex was even less verbose and it seemed that the closer
they got to his country home, the more introverted he became.
Today was truly an autumnal day as well; a cold fog had greeted them when they awoke that morning, and it had never completely burned off. Helen felt that it fit the tense atmosphere in their carriage.
As what little sun they could see grew low on the horizon, Helen glimpsed a massive house through the trees, that could only be Howard Hall.
It was both beautiful and intimidating at the same time. Perhaps it was the mist, or the mood in the carriage, but Helen also felt that it had a menacing air about it, that even the warm lights from the windows couldn’t eliminate.
Feeling foolish for harbouring such flights of fancy, she watched the house as best she could until they stopped out front, but the ominous feeling never left her. Alex helped her down from the carriage and Helen took a long, hard look at the house trying to decide what it was that made it seem forbidding, but she could determine no feature that might be responsible.
Alex came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful.” It wasn’t a lie but as he guided her inside, she couldn’t help the small shudder that coursed through her body. Alex gave her a quizzical look. “The mist must be making the night chill before its time,” she lied, drawing her cloak tighter around herself as proof.
He nodded, accepting her explanation, although he didn’t appear to believe her.
They headed into the entrance hall, where the staff were all lined up to greet them. Alex introduced her to the butler, Mr Graves and housekeeper, Mrs Watson, who both told her ‘Good evening, Your Grace’. The rest of the staff were then dismissed.
When they had stopped at an inn for the second night, Alex didn’t ask her to wait by the stairs and she had realised why Alex hadn’t wanted his conversation overheard the night before, lest the owner give away that he was a Duke. Unfortunately Alex’s instructions hadn’t made it as far as the porter and since then, he and his staff had dropped the pretence and everyone was calling them ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Your Graces’.
“Please, Mr Graves, Mrs Watson, call me Ma’am, and ask the other staff to do the same,” she requested.
“Your Grace, I mean, Ma’am,” Mrs Watson stumbled over her words. “Are you sure?” She looked to be in her 50s, with black hair greying at the temple and pulled back into a severe bun. She was wearing a stiffly starched black dress with a high collar. If she could be summed up in a single word, it would be austere.
“Very. This is to be my home now and I don’t want to stand on ceremony here.”
“As you wish, Ma’am,” Mr Graves bowed his head in deference. He was a tall man, slightly older than Mrs Watson and with hair so grey that it was almost completely white. He however seemed more relaxed than his counterpart.
“We have unpacked the clothes that you sent ahead and they are hanging in the closet in your dressing room,” Mrs Watson explained. “We’ve delayed dinner, which will be served in an hour, if that suits. I have also placed an advertisement for a lady’s maid in the local paper and will collect the replies for you. In the meantime, Forbes, the Dowager Duchess’s lady’s maid, will offer you any assistance that you require.”
“Thank you, Mrs Watson.”
“Where is everyone?” Alex asked.
“The ladies are dressing for dinner, Mr Cavendish is reading in his rooms and Mr Russell is in the library.”
“Mr Russell?” Alex asked.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr Graves stepped forward. “He arrived a week ago and the Mrs and Miss Russell invited him to stay.
Alex frowned but didn’t comment any further.
“Would you like to see your rooms?” Mr Graves suggested to Helen.
“Actually, I was wondering if the children are still up?”
Alex checked his watch. “Julian will be in bed but Joseph might still be awake. It might be better to meet them together tomorrow morning, and they shouldn’t be grumpy in the morning.”
Helen nodded. “Of course.”
She was feeling particularly overwhelmed as it was. The Baronet’s bastard was about to meet two new families and try to prove to them that she could be a Duchess. As much as she wanted to meet the children, she wasn’t sure how much more she could handle in one evening.
“Come on, I'm sure you’d like to freshen up before dinner.” Alex placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her across the marble hall and upstairs, following after Mrs Watson.
Her room was enormous, easily the size of the ground floor of the boarding house where she lived in London. The dark wooden floor was mostly covered in thick, opulent carpets that looked Oriental. In the middle of the room stood a four poster bed that was easily six feet wide, with thick, red velvet curtains pulled back and secured to each post. The bed curtains matched those at the window, which were also secured back with corded rope.
On the left of the room was a cluster of chairs around the window and a doorway, which Mrs Watson explained was the dressing room. On the right stood a large fireplace in which a fire had already been lit; it was surrounded by another group of armchairs and between the fire and the external wall, was the room’s third door.
“That leads to His Grace’s room,” Mrs Watson informed her. “There is some warm water in the dressing room for you and if you require anything, just pull one of these.” She showed Helen the rope by the door and beside the bed, which could be used to summon a servant.
“Is there anything else you require, Your- Ma’am?”
“No, thank you, Mrs Watson.”
“Would you like Forbes to help you dress for dinner?”
“Thank you but no. I am rather tired and think it best to keep things simple for this evening.”
“Very well, Ma’am.”
The housekeeper curtseyed then left and Helen remained where she was, examining the room. Alex came up behind her and undid her cloak, taking it from her shoulders and throwing it over the end of the bed. Helen still hadn’t moved so Alex came to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you all right?”
Helen looked up into his eyes. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
He looked hurt for a moment before he smoothed his features out. “How so?”
“I don’t belong in a house like this. Everything about it, from the huge glass dome in the entrance hall, to the marble floors, just reinforces that I don’t belong here. My father had a good living, Alex, but this is… this is pure opulence. I feel like a donkey in a thoroughbred stable.”
Alex smiled. “Can I let you in on a secret?”
Helen nodded. “I don’t like this house either. Nothing about it, save for perhaps the west wing, is how I would have done it. It’s a house, nothing more, simply a roof over my head. No matter how opulent, think of it in those simple terms and perhaps you’ll feel less intimidated.”
Helen swallowed down her fears and nodded.
“Now, come, I’ll show you my room. You need to be familiar with it even if you don’t visit me.”
He went to the door by the fireplace and turned the key in the lock. “I’ll leave the key in your side,” he told her as he opened the door.
His room was a mirror image of hers, set up in exactly the same way, only his was decorated in shades of deep, emerald green furnishings and drapes.
“This room suits my colouring much better,” she said, running her hand over the back of a wing back armchair by the fireplace.
“We can swap,” he told her.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean- it was just a thoughtless comment. Orange hair tends to clash with most shades, so I’m a little more attuned to colour than many people.”
“I honestly don’t mind,” he assured her.
“Neither do I,” she smiled, trying to make him believe that it had just been an unthinking observation. She would no more throw him out of his own room than she could fly. There was one thing that gave her pau
se over her room however. She turned away and went to look at the artwork that hung either side of the door that led to the main hallway, so she didn’t have to look at him.
“Was, uh, my room… was it your wife’s room?”
“No. She preferred the south wing.”
She immediately felt more relaxed. She was already trying to take over the poor woman’s home and children, she wasn’t sure that she could take over her room as well.
“Well, I’d better go and get changed.” She turned to him and smiled.
“Everything will be all right,” he told her. “They’re just people, like you and don’t forget, my wife’s family were in trade, as am I now. You have nothing to prove to these people.”
She didn’t believe him but she appreciated his attempt to reassure her.
“Knock when you’re ready and we’ll go down together.”
Helen nodded her understanding and headed back to her own room.
***
As she and Alex swept down the grand central staircase, for a few moments Helen felt a little like a fairy-tale princess.
She had chosen a simple but beautiful gown, in almost the same shade of green as his room. She had found that she had a startling array of dresses and wondered how he had got so many ordered and finished so quickly. She knew from her work with Mrs Fuller that many dressmakers kept a few pre-made dresses, ones that could be easily altered to fit almost any figure, but she couldn’t imagine any dressmaker keeping so many gowns ready to be altered. To get this many outfits on such short notice, he must have visited half a dozen dressmakers with her measurements.
She kept her hair simple, using two decorative combs from her dressing table to hold the front of her hair back, and then securing it into a simple bun. There were beaded necklaces and other assorted jewellery but she opted not to wear any. As she slipped on her emerald slippers, she caught a glimpse of herself in the long dressing room mirror, and couldn’t help but admire what she saw there.
She was still no beauty but the dress did its utmost to compliment her. The deep green flattered her hair, while the dress, ruched over her breasts and pinched in by the waist, added to her small bust and gave her curves she did not naturally possess, making her look and feel like a young woman. It had been a long time since she had worn anything quite so beautiful, if ever.
Love, Lies and Murder Page 3