The Duke's Reluctant Bride

by Lauren Royal

  Rushed to begin a long journey, he’d nonetheless taken the time to stop and remove the pages. Remove any possibility that by reading his words, she might discover who he was on the inside.

  She should have gone with him.

  She couldn’t allow him to isolate himself. Not if they were to live a lifetime together.

  And now it might be too late.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “HE LEFT,” Kendra told Caithren the next afternoon. “He had no choice.”

  “Of course he didn’t.” Cait stopped beneath one of Amberley’s many arbors and played with the ends of her dark-blond hair. “But why didn’t you go along?”

  “He didn’t want me along.” Kendra squinted at her sister-in-law in the shadows. “Isn’t this the loveliest garden?” Her gesture encompassed more than the vine-covered walkway. “The head gardener told me it was designed by Salaman de Caux himself.”

  “Salaman who?”

  “De Caux. The celebrated Frenchman. Have you not heard of him?”

  “Nay. My garden at Leslie was filled with herbs and vegetables.” Cait’s lips turned up in a self-deprecating smile. “Nary a posy in sight.”

  Amberley House’s gardens were the most extensive Kendra had ever seen. Geometric configurations of flower beds, knots, and borders surrounded a lake where fishes darted beneath the clear water. Avenues lined with painted and gilded stone lions flanked a massive bowling green. Walls of fruit trees divided the charming wilderness garden from those more formal, like the privy garden they were heading toward.

  As they strolled from the arbor into the sunshine, her gaze trailed to the massive mansion that loomed over it all. “I’m afraid Trick’s father depleted his entire fortune building this place.”

  “Has Trick said so?”

  “Not in so many words,” she said, hesitating to say more. Confiding Trick’s financial instability might lead to speculation about his continuing highway robbery.

  “Then I wouldn’t assume so,” Cait said. “The estate is very impressive, but then, Trick is a duke. And you’re very good at changing the subject.”

  Kendra flashed her a wry smile. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” She reached overhead to pluck off a fragrant flower, worrying its soft petals between her fingers. After returning from the cottage last night, she’d gone to sleep early and stayed abed late. But her stomach was still in knots. “Part of me still cannot believe I’m married. Do you know, even as we rode away that day, I was sure Colin would come riding after us to say it was all an elaborate joke. I’d convinced myself the parson was in on it—that somehow the ceremony wasn’t valid.”

  “But it was.”

  “I was furious. I still am. I don’t feel like talking to my brothers—any of them.” Her voice dropped. “Then I found myself alone with Trick, and still I didn’t quite believe it.”

  “How did it go? The first night, I mean.”

  “Not well.” She looked away, studying the way the light filtered through the leafy canopy of a yew. “I was scared. You’d told me it would hurt.”

  “I didn’t tell you that to frighten you, Kendra. Just to prepare you, so you wouldn’t be surprised. I also told you it wouldn’t hurt much, and only the first time, aye?”

  Her mouth hanging open, Kendra shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You just said it would hurt.”

  “I’m sure I said more.” A frown creased Cait’s forehead. “Unless…we were interrupted, weren’t we?” Her hazel eyes widened. “I meant to tell you, but we were interrupted. Jason and Colin knocked on the door.” She focused on Kendra, shading her eyes with a hand. “I’m sorry to hear you were scared and it didn’t go well, but it didn’t hurt that much, did it? And it went better for you the second time, I expect. Surely it didn’t hurt at all then.”

  Kendra bit her lip. “There hasn’t been a second time. There hasn’t even been a first time.”

  “What?” If possible, Cait’s eyes widened even more. “You’ve been married nearly three weeks!”

  “I haven’t let him. He’s being very patient with me.”

  “It seems you married a saint.” Cait shook her head disapprovingly. “Your brothers should have explained everything. Jason will hear from me about this.”

  “Please, no.” Kendra felt her face heat. “He’d make fun of me all my days. What is it he failed to tell me?”

  “It hurts most women at first. But not a lot, and only the once, aye? Only that first time, when your maidenhead—”

  “I may have heard that word.” Kendra frowned. “But I never knew what it meant.”

  “It’s a membrane, inside every female. Every virgin, that is. You could say it guards your entrance. I read once that it’s properly called a hymen.”

  “Hymen is the Greek god of the wedding feast.”

  “Really? How fitting.” Caithren cleared her throat. “Now, the first time you make love it is torn, and you’ll bleed—”

  “I will?” Kendra asked in alarm.

  “Just a little. It’s nothing to be concerned about. And you won’t bleed the next time. And it won’t hurt, either, because the maidenhead will be gone.”

  Trick had been telling the truth, then. A wave of relief washed over Kendra, tempered by a stab of regret. She should have believed him.

  And now she really wished she’d gone with him.

  Cait knelt to inspect some bell-shaped flowers. “He must be the most patient fellow on earth,” she murmured. “The attraction between you two was clear as day. However did you manage to keep him away?”

  Kendra gave an evasive shrug. “We were strangers. We still are.”

  “You will come to know each other. Just give him another chance.” She frowned down at the plant. “You have dwale growing here!”

  “Dwale?” In the year since Caithren had arrived, she’d taught Kendra many uses for herbs and plants. But they’d never come across this particular sort.

  “Black nightshade. Belladonna. Look.” She waited until Kendra knelt beside her, then skimmed a fingertip over a dingy purplish flower with a berry in its base. “Do you see these dark green leaves? They’re lethal. It’s said that Macbeth poisoned a whole army of Danes by calling a false truce and then offering them liquor mixed with an infusion of dwale.”

  “Then why is it here in the garden?”

  “Used properly, the root makes a good liniment. It’s the leaves and berries that are poison.” When Kendra reached out, Cait held back her hand. “Don’t touch. It’s possible to fall ill without even eating it.”

  “What sort of ill?”

  “Shock, fever, slowed breathing, dilated eyes, stomach pain—”

  “Enough.” Kendra rubbed her stomach. She was perversely reminded of her relationship with Trick, parts of which could be gentle, soothing, beneficial, like a liniment.

  But other parts felt an awful lot like poison.

  You’re being melodramatic, she told herself with a rueful smile. Still, she wasn’t about to take a chance on the dwale. “I shall tell the head gardener to remove it.”

  “Make sure he wears gloves.” Cait stood and brushed her hands on her rose-colored skirts. “Now tell me about you and Trick. Besides the trouble in the bedchamber.”

  Kendra met her sister-in-law’s gaze. “He’s just…well, I don’t understand him, Cait. We didn’t wed under the best of circumstances. For either of us.”

  “Nay, you didn’t. But Jase is convinced you’ll be happy. Or so he claims.”

  “Does he?” Even though Kendra had come to accept her life here at Amberley, the anger rushed back. “What possible excuse could he have for deceiving me the way he did? Not even telling me Trick was a duke, for heaven’s sake!”

  “I asked him the same thing myself after the whole story came out. He claims you would never have married Trick if you’d known he was a duke.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I hate it when he’s right.”

  “He also said catching you two in a compromising position was a stro
ke of luck, because Trick would never have consented to court you even if Jason had suggested it. He claimed not to want a wife.”

  “Not in the near future,” Kendra admitted darkly.

  “Jason told me his hand was forced, because he knew you two suited perfectly.”

  “Well, there’s where he was wrong.” Trick might be a good kisser and tolerant of her non-traditional interests, but a husband who kept secrets would never suit her perfectly.

  For a long moment, Caithren was silent. “You must give Trick a chance in your bed,” she finally said. “And I hope you’ll forgive Jase. He loves you. He’s been watching you. He’d never forgive himself if it turned out you were unhappy.”

  Kendra’s jaw went slack. She didn’t know whether to feel outraged or touched. “What do you mean, he’s been watching me?”

  “Nothing as sinister as you’re imagining.” Cait laid a hand on her arm. “He asked Jane to let him know if anything seems awry. And every day, he sends a messenger to check with her.” She offered a tentative smile. “He cares, Kendra.”

  That explained why every day, sure as the sun rose and set, Jane had been asking if she was happy here at Amberley House. Kendra released a long, slow breath. “Were you sent here as a peacemaker?”

  “Aye,” Cait admitted, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. “More or less. But I wanted to see you anyway. I have news, and no one else to share it with.”

  “News?” Kendra seated herself on a carved stone bench. “What sort of news?”

  Cait sat beside her, lacing her fingers protectively over her middle. “I’m with child.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Kendra grabbed her hands and squeezed tightly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” Caithren laughed. “Motherhood agrees with me.”

  “Jason must be thrilled.”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “He—what?” Kendra dropped Cait’s hands. “You haven’t told him?”

  “Nay, and you mustn’t, either. Not until we’ve gone and returned from Scotland. I don’t want to miss my visit home, and I’m afraid Jase wouldn’t want me to travel.”

  “You’re right,” Kendra said slowly, staring at Caithren’s still-flat abdomen. “But won’t he be furious when he finds out?”

  “I’ll tell him I just then discovered it. I’ve never been pregnant before, so how should I know the signs?” She flashed a conspiratorial smile. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

  “Of course not. I’m not speaking to him, remember?” Kendra returned Cait’s grin. “When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow. That’s another reason I wanted to visit. To say farewell for a while.”

  “For a month, do you think? Trick said he’d be gone a month, up and back and with time spent there.”

  Cait nodded. “Aye, for a month.” She looked around the enormous, quiet estate. “Maybe you would like to go stay with Ford? Or with Colin and Amy?”

  “I’m not speaking to Ford or Colin, either.” Kendra’s grin went flat. “Anyway, I’ve much to learn around here. By the time Trick returns, I expect to have this place running like clockwork. It’s been missing a good financial manager, not to mention a female touch. Trick said his father built it, and so far as I can tell, there’s never been a mistress here at all.” She took Cait’s hand and rose. “Come, let’s have an early supper together. I gave Mrs. Chauncey some new recipes, and you can help me see how she did with them.”

  Their footsteps crunched on the gravel as they crossed the privy garden. They went through the back entrance to the house.

  “A letter, your grace.” Just as he’d done for Trick two days ago, Compton held out a silver tray. “It’s addressed to his grace, but since he is gone…”

  “Thank you, Compton.” She took the letter and turned it in her hands. Trick’s name was written on the back, but not in his mother’s beautiful handwriting, or anyone else’s she recognized.

  Well, of course she wouldn’t—she still didn’t know the first thing about her husband or his acquaintances. Chiding herself, she hurried to the study with Caithren following behind.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Cait said as they dropped onto two chairs. “Open it.”

  “It isn’t addressed to me.”

  “You said yourself he won’t be home for a month. It could be important business.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Feeling more than a little uneasy, Kendra slid a fingernail beneath the black seal. “How odd,” she said quietly.

  “Aye?”

  “It’s addressed ‘Dear Patrick Iain,’ rather than by his title.” She read further and released a little gasp.

  “What does it say?”

  “Listen.” She drew a deep breath. “‘I don’t know if you’ll remember me, since eighteen years have passed since I’ve set eyes on your face. But as a dear old friend of your mother’s, I feel honor bound to warn you of possible danger. When Elspeth—’” Kendra paused. “That’s Trick’s mother,” she clarified.

  “Go on.”

  “‘When Elspeth wrote the letter to summon you home, she was in perfect health. In the two days since, she has begun a rapid decline that I find inexplicable and alarming. I beg you, take heed. Yours in friendship, Hamish Munroe.’” She looked up. “What could he mean? Why would she write a letter saying she was dying, if she was in perfect health?”

  “Maybe she wanted to reconcile, but she didn’t believe he’d come home for that alone.”

  “Possibly,” Kendra conceded. But her heart was pounding unevenly. “Yet this Mr. Munroe clearly believes that something is afoot. Trick could be in danger.”

  “I imagine he can defend himself, seeing as he used to be a highwayman.”

  Although she was tempted to tell Cait that Trick still was a highwayman—and share her concerns about that—Kendra knew he wouldn’t want it discussed. Surprised to find herself bound to him by some form of loyalty, she suppressed the urge to unburden herself.

  “I think I should go to him,” she said instead.

  “Pardon?”

  “I think I should go to Trick. He needs to see this letter.”

  “I don’t think Jason—”

  “A pox on Jason! He lost his right to tell me what to do when he married me off to Trick. Now I’m duty bound to warn my husband of possible danger.”

  And she also felt rather obliged to save their relationship. Perhaps if she allowed Trick the physical intimacies he’d been missing, they would grow more intimate in other ways, and he’d begin to open up to her. She had to try.

  Besides, now that she knew she had nothing to fear, the prospect of giving Trick a chance in their bed was more than a little thrilling.

  She rose and began to pace. “I must leave immediately.” Her mind raced with possible plans.

  “Is tomorrow soon enough?” Cait asked.

  “Probably. He didn’t seem in much of a hurry, so if I rush—” She turned and looked at Cait. “What are you thinking?”

  “We’re leaving for Scotland tomorrow. Jason and I. Maybe you can come along. But you’ll have to talk to your brother,” she added with a small smile. “You’ll have to break this vow of silence.”

  “I suppose I will,” Kendra said grimly. “And Mrs. Chauncey’s supper will have to wait.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “HOW DARE YOU marry me off to a duke!”

  Seated at the desk in his study at Cainewood, Jason steepled his fingers atop a leather-bound ledger. “Ah, the return of the formidable Kendra. Leaving your husband already?”

  “No, he left me.”

  Seeing his mouth drop open, Kendra felt a small nudge of satisfaction.

  “To go to Scotland,” she added. “His mother is ill—dying—and she asked to see him. Except she wasn’t dying until after she sent the letter. But Trick doesn’t know that. I received another letter—”

  “Whoa. Slow down.” Jason gave a violent shake of his head, then rose from behind the desk and came around it to embra
ce his sister. “How are you doing?”

  “I’ve been better,” she muttered into his chest. “And I hate you, you know.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He pulled back and kissed her on the forehead. “Now sit down and tell me about these letters.”

  “FORD?” Kendra called softly.

  Surrounded by burning candles and dozens of ticking clocks, her twin looked up from the gears in his hands, his gaze going to the dawn-lit window. “Is it morning already?”

  “It is.” She walked closer, reaching a finger to set a pendulum swinging as she went. “We’re leaving.”

  As he stood and stretched, a clock began chiming, and another, and another, a cacophony of discordant tones. Laughing, Kendra wrapped her arms around her brother. “I’ll miss you and all your experiments,” she said, her gaze sweeping over beakers and magnets, chemicals and microscopes, and the long, impressive telescope she and Colin had given him as a birthday gift two years ago.

  “I’m going to turn base metal into gold,” he said, returning her hug. “And then I’ll restore Lakefield House to a glorious standard.”

  “And fill it with machinery, no doubt.”

  “Of course.” He pulled away, smiling. “Come, I’ll walk you down.”

  Outside, early-morning sun slanted against Cainewood’s ancient stones, bathing the quadrangle in a golden glow. Kendra pressed a kiss to her twin’s cheek and swung up to Pandora’s saddle.

  “I’ll miss you, too,” he said. “Are you sure you’d rather not stay here with me? Jason can take the letter to your husband—”

  “We’ve been over this already. I’m going.”

  Ford looked up at Jason, mounted on his favorite silver gelding. “Impossible, isn’t she?” he asked his oldest brother. “I’ll wager you’re happier than ever she’s another man’s responsibility now.”

  “Not yet, it seems.” The glint of amusement in Jason’s eyes offset his sarcastic tone. “But the minute we reach Duncraven, I’ll be happy enough to turn her over.”