She had seen too much in the course of her short life. She was only five and twenty, but she had seen heart break and tragedy aplenty. Her friend Maisie, before her first husband died, had not led an easy life. Truth be told, he was a mean drunkard and was physically abusive. Not that she ever believed that Marcus was given to drink or would hit her, she thought as she finally looked up in his eyes.
He began speaking again, “If you do not want to be married to a soldier…the war is over and there is not much call for soldiers now. I will probably sell out anyway. Think of your cousins, they do not need another mouth to feed.”
“This is only temporary until I find employment,” she said looking away from him again. She wished he would just take no for an answer and leave. This was so very hard, she thought as she blinked away tears. She needed to do the right thing for him, she could not do anything else. Some day when he found the right woman, lady really, of his own social class and breeding, he would think of this day as a narrow escape.
“I think there are other compensations, as well,” he said as he enfolded her in his arms and put his mouth on hers in a passionate kiss.
It was so unexpected, she could not help but respond to him. Her lips parted under his and she placed her arms around him. He lifted his head and stared down at her.
“I think we should have your cousin call the banns,” he stated firmly.
“No, no and no,” she cried jerking back. “I refuse to marry you, nothing of any significance happened on the road. You do not need to give up your freedom because my father gave up his life to save yours. If you want to repay me for his loss, ask some of your friends and cousins to donate money and time down here at the mission. They won’t feel the pinch of my presence if their bellies are full and the children are assisted.”
“Very well,” he said coldly stung by her rejection of his offer. “If that is what you want, you shall have it. I hope you do not live to regret it.”
He gathered his hat and gloves from the hall table and left shutting the front door quietly. He did not look back to see the tear trickle down her cheek or hear her heartfelt whisper, “Me, too.”
Chapter 4
One month later
“Are you sure I am the heir?” Marcus said aghast.
The self-effacing little man said, “Yes, you are in fact the new Duke of Allendale. Your father kept copies of your birth certificate and your parents marriage lines here in my office. I need you to sign here and here.” He pointed to the bottom of the page of a beribboned and ornately transcribed document. The man stood up and said with an ingratiating smile, “We at Emberton and Sons have been handling his grace’s financial affairs since my father’s day.”
“Mr. Embeton, what would happen if I did not sign the papers?” Marcus said as he looked at the paper with a frown.
“Nothing really, Your Grace, you will still be the Duke, it is just that all of the funds will be tied up, and no business will be able to be transacted by the estate,” the man said pushing the quill pen and stand closer to Marcus.
“Business?” Marcus asked as he reluctantly read through the document which would officially change his life forever.
“The Ducal estate runs like a business, people must be paid funds disbursed and repairs made. Many people are dependent on the estate for their livelihood, Your Grace,” Mr. Emberton said.
Marcus looked at the man his eyebrow raised, “Such as you, perhaps?”
“I would not suffer, the Dukedom is a small part of my business, Your Grace,” the little man said dipping the quill in the ink and holding it out to Marcus.
Marcus winced, as the man called him Your Grace once again. Marcus sighed, he knew he would have to give in to his responsibilities. It was his duty and his obligation. He would definitely have to sell out now. Unbidden, the face of Sarah Montague came into his mind. What would she think now when she finds out that she could have been a Duchess, he thought disdainfully. He took the quill in hand and signed his name with a flourish.
A day later
“To the bride and groom,” Marcus called out as he lifted his champagne glass to his cousin Emily and her new husband. He could be imagining things, but he thought he saw a speculative look cast his way. This look was from a prominent hostess who never even deigned to speak to him. He had thought to keep the news to himself for a little while as he did not wish to upstage his little cousin on her day.
Portly Lord Ponsonby hoisted himself up and made his ponderous way up to where the main wedding party was seated. Lord Ponsonby was well known to one and all as a gentleman who liked to spend an inordinate amount of time at his club as he had a household full of simpering females. He made a point of congratulating the happy couple and made a few remarks to his Aunt Minerva. If it were not for the look of entreaty he flung at his wife, Marcus just might have believed his casual invitation.
“Captain Derning, happens we are planning a small party tomorrow night and we would like it above all things if you and your cousins would come,” he said gruffly.
“So sorry, Your Lordship, happens I have plans tomorrow night,” Marcus said carefully. “I have some family business to attend.” Marcus was promised to his young cousin Peter to help set up a realistic battle with his new soldiers. Marcus sighed, he had not even told his aunt and uncle or cousins yet. His aunt was going to be furious with him but eventually she would understand, he hoped. His cousin Emily is finally getting married to the man of her dreams after being the spare relative for so long. He had hoped to keep the news to himself a little longer. He caught the eye of his Uncle Horace and motioned to an alcove. His uncle had noticed all of the attention that Marcus seemed to be getting at Emily’s wedding breakfast.
Sir Horace Warrick must have thought that there was trouble brewing because he signaled to all of his male cousins to attend him as well. “Well, Marcus, what have you done now?” Sir Horace said affably, “Do not tell me ‘nothing’ because it will not fadge, my lad.”
“Remember that business that had me in the solicitor’s office all day Thursday…” Marcus began.
His cousin Matthew Warrick spoke up, “I did mean to ask you about that but with making sure this wedding got off without worrying Mama over much, it slipped my mind…”
Marcus gave him a cold look, “It seems that my great uncle passed away recently.”
It was Patrick Randolph’s turn to interrupt, “’bout time that ol’ buzzard stuck his spoon in the wall…”
Simon, Patrick’s less volatile twin, went directly to the heart of the matter, “The only reason you would be concerned with his death—oh damn, I am sorry, man, did you inherit?”
Marcus throwing his perceptive cousin a look of gratitude, and mimicked, “That would be ‘oh damn, I am sorry, Your Grace’.”
Sir Horace looked on him with understanding, “You did not want to take the attention away from your cousin on her big day. Not to worry, I think all of the excitement leading up to the big day was wearing on Emily. I think she would love to have you take the lime light.”
The only one of his male cousins not to join them was Nathaniel, Marcus looked over at him and he saw the epitome of male beauty was surrounded by a bevy of females. Nathaniel looked up at Marcus, a hunted expression on his face. Marcus had to laugh; it is possible to be too attractive to the opposite sex. Nathaniel had told him once that a young lady followed him to the withdrawing room. At the time Marcus was happy that he did not have looks or title to recommend him as an eligible party.
Chapter 5
Four weeks later
“Ida, William: do keep up, we are going scavenging today for vegetables,” Sarah said with exasperation as she looked behind her at the distracted boys. “I would prefer not to waste time scavenging for you two.”
“Ahhhhh, why does we ‘aves to scavenge,” Ida groused, “M’Amelia said as that toft soldier—”
“Ida...” warned Sarah.
“Ahem, Miss Amelia told us that Captain Derning had his fr
iends and his relatives send us money,” he stated in an exaggerated upper class accent. “Why do we have to scavenge for food?”
Sarah smiled, she knew he thought to annoy her with the overdone speech, “Winter will be here before we know it, and all of our lovely new acquaintances will go back to the country.”
“H’it is true enough,” William stated slowly trying very hard to correctly enunciate his words. Sarah gave him an approving look. “Those folk will forget all about us when they go ‘ome to their country h’estates.” He had only been with the mission a year and naturally spoke in broad cockney.
“We will look through the discarded and bruised vegetables to save our money for warm clothing and firewood.”
“Old vegetables aren’t pretty but they do taste the same as the fresh,” Sarah firmly intoned. They finally arrived at Covent garden market. There was the smell of flowers and vegetables mixed with human sweat. The three took care to stay out of the way of the carts that were everywhere. The cart salespeople came very early to purchase their wares to hawk to the noble houses. Now, at mid morning, they were returning with what had not sold. Though Sarah had told the boys they were only to scavenge, she had high hopes of getting the children some fresh fruit. Sarah waved at the vendors she had come to know these past few weeks. One of them gestured to her to come his way.
“Miss Montague, I have some things here tha’ be too bruised to sell an’ I set ‘em aside for ya I did,” the beefy looking man stated wiping his hands on his apron. “I had planned on sellin’ ‘em to ya for a penny, but if these two likely lads would break down these crates for me...”
Sarah smiled beatifically, “Mr McCreedy, these two boys are experts at breaking things. I am sure they would love to assist you.”
“Iffen you’d like to look around at the other carts, I could look after ‘em a spell,” he said with a wink.
She looked into the excited faces of her young charges, “I will be just over here. You two mind Mr. McCreedy.” The boys eagerly attacked their assigned tasks without looking back at her. Sarah took one glance back at them before hurrying to a stand just out of sight.
There it was, just as she saw it the other day. She had been hording and scraping pence for days. She hoped to make a good bargain with the old curmudgeon who owned the stand. She understood that he carved every toy himself. How anyone so cheerless could make such wonderful tops and dolls was beyond her.
“Sir I wish to purchase a few of your toys,” Sarah said firmly. “How much for the tops and the wooden dolls?”
“Tha tops be a pence a piece the dolls tuppence,” grizzled old man growled.
Sarah looked at the toys with dismay and girded her loins for some serious bargaining, “I will give you sixpence for four tops and three dolls.”
“Nay, I put verra much work inta those toys, carvin’ paintin’…”
Sarah noted the light Scot’s burr in his tone, Scot’s were by reputation professionals at bargaining, “I see you have a few unpainted toys behind you. I will offer you five pence for the same amount and I will paint them myself—“
“Still tight with your blunt, Sarah,” said an amused voice.
Sarah turned quickly and saw Marcus with a young lad of about six. “Captain Derning, my funds are not limitless. I must be careful with each coin,” Sarah said reprovingly.
The boy said excitedly, “Marcus, sold out of the Foot, he’s a Duke now.”
Sarah felt her face grow pink, “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. And who is this young gentleman?” Sarah smiled at the boy.
“This is my cousin Peter,” Marcus said placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I promised I would buy him one of Mr. MacDougal’s tops. Best balanced tops in London.”
“Miss Sarah!” shouted the boy, Ida No, who came running over. “The butcher said as he would give us some soup bones for our dog if we would break down his boxes.”
Sarah broke eye contact with Marcus and sighed, “We do not have a dog.”
The child stopped and glanced down and started digging his toes into the dirt. “About that, Miss Sarah…” he said hesitantly.
“Oh Lord,” she mumbled, mentally dismissing thoughts of getting tops and dolls. She turned to Mr. MacDougal, ”Excuse me, I have just found I have an unexpected expense.”
“Ye jist remember we have a deal four tops and three dolls for five pence,” Mr. MacDougal said gruffly. “Ye drive a hard bargain, Miss.”
Peter rushed over to the stand and started examining tops as Sarah started towards Ida. Marcus stepped in front of her, “You could have been my Duchess.”
Sarah froze in place. She wanted to say something, anything, finally she replied, “No, I could not. I am just the daughter of a common soldier; we are of different stations in life. I do not belong with you, anymore than you belong in Whitechapel.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let Sarah push past him. Sarah wanted to be anywhere but in his vicinity. She almost blessed Ida for interrupting her bargaining.
***
Marcus watched her walk away, questioning the lad, as she walked. Her back was ramrod straight. She did not try to charm him or get back in his good graces. Maybe she knew that it would do no good. She did not mention her past with the military this time. She spoke of their disparate stations. Could that be why she refused him? He needed to ponder this a bit more.
***
Sarah walked with Ida questioning him, “You need to tell me about this dog. If he is too big, I do not know how we could possibly keep him.”
Ida looked up at her with a worried look, and Sarah thought, oh God it must be a small horse. “Where is William and the dog?” she said resignedly. Ida silently pointed over to where William was standing. Next to him was the largest dog Sarah had ever seen. Sarah slowly strolled over to William and the huge animal. She walked around the thing, its fur was coarse and matted. She gingerly touched its head, the dog wagged its tail vigorously. “Boys, I do believe this is an Irish Wolfhound,” Sarah ventured after a thorough examination. “This dog is valuable to someone. Only nobles and royalty have these.”
She glanced at their hopeful faces, “I suppose we can keep him until we find his owner.”
The boys started jumping up and down excitedly and the dog started barking and running around the boys. Sarah held up her hand tried to restore some order, and shouted to be heard, “This is only until we can find the owner. You need to give him a good bath when we get home. He has to sleep out in the stables.”
Sarah felt Marcus’ eyes on her as she gathered her vegetables, boys and dog. She turned and glanced at him, she imagined she must look quite amusing to a man of his elevated station. As she returned his stare the boy Peter grabbed his hand and pointed to a toy. With Marcus’ attention pointed in another direction, Sarah felt free to feast her eyes on him. She wished she felt some gratification in making the right choice for Marcus--a Duke and a quartermaster’s daughter how absurd that would have been.
Distracted, she dragged her attention to the boys. She gestured to them to get some twine from the vegetable man to tie the dog. She knew that that particular breed was distractible and liked to go chasing a carriage not unlike the two boys. She hazarded one last glance at Marcus. He and Peter were standing in front of some ale barrels. She saw a shadow beside the tall pyramid that seemed to be climbing to the top with a bar. She saw at once the man was trying to move a barrel. Sarah called out to Marcus as she ran towards him, “Your Grace, move.” Oh God, with the level of noise in Covent Garden he could not hear her. She dropped her packages, and yelled to the boys, “Wait here!” Sarah was running as fast as she could to move Marcus out of the way of the barrel. When she started running the dog pulled away from the boys and started chasing her and the boys chased the dog. Just as Marcus turned to watch the chaos heading towards him, the man managed to loosen the barrels to topple onto Marcus. Sarah, the boys, and the dog collided with Marcus and Peter pushing them out of the way of the tumbling barrels. Sarah f
elt a blow to the back of her head and then darkness.
She became aware first of the powerful yeasty smell of ale, “Papa, we need to secure that ale better, some of it has spilled in the night.” Then she remembered, her Papa was gone and she was in London.
She opened her eyes and the first thing to come into focus was Marcus. He was a little worse for wear his stiffly starched cravat askew and his shirt sleeve torn. She looked again shirt sleeves, where was his coat? She felt something soft behind her head and then she remembered, “Where are the boys and that big clumsy dog?”
Marcus looked relieved, “The shopkeeper feels like it was someone trying to steal some ale. Those barrels would have fallen directly on us. It seems you have saved not only my life but Peter’s as well. My Aunt Minerva is going to want to meet you.”
Sarah struggled to sit up, “Nonsense, she would not wish to meet me.” She had visions of some hard eyed society lady, who would think she was on the catch for a titled lover.
“You do not know my aunt,” he said with a smile. Then he frowned and said with a sigh, “Of course, now she would probably burst into tears and cry all over you.”
“Your aunt is a watering pot?” Sarah said incredulously. She could not conceive of the woman she pictured in her mind crying over her.
He laughed, ”Only right now. You must meet her. It’s not for me to say, why now is different.”
She reached behind her and picked up his balled up coat, she looked at it aghast. It was completely ruined stained by ale--and was that blood? It was her blood. Just looking at it made her feel faint. She could paint a stable with anybody else’s blood but could not stand the site of her own. She focused on the gold tassel attached to the top of his very ruined Hessians. Dear Lord, she was looking at hundreds of guineas worth of clothing ruined so badly that the rag man would not take them. “Maybe some other time, Marcus,” she began hesitantly. “I need to go home and get cleaned up and soak this dress. You should do the same.”
Only In Her Dreams Page 5