He turned away. “I don’t wish to discuss this with you. Perhaps you’re correct. Perhaps today isn’t the best day.” He wanted her out of his sight sooner rather than later.
“But the double doors opened, and the nurse entered, carrying his son. And all thought left his mind, everything but the profile of a beautiful boy, looking up from the nurse’s arms, into her face. And all he could see was his wife’s nose, Camilla’s. And suddenly, seeing his wife in another, endeared him instead of repulsed him. “There now, look. He’s just a small baby. Nothing to worry about in him.” He reached for the baby from the nurse, whose eyes widened in pleased surprise.
As he curved his hands around the tiny infant, The boy felt smaller than he was expecting. And more wobbly.
“Support him, like this.” The nurse helped to guide his hands.
Gerald adjusted the child and fumbled a bit.
“Perhaps we should sit down?” The nurse’s voice was gentle, suggesting, and she pointed to a nearby settee.
“How dare you speak to his grace like that? Or sit in his presence?”
“Lady Rochester, I really don’t think now’s the time…”
“Every time is the time to be respectful in this house. Imagine if she’s forgetting her place now, what she might do with your son when you’re not around.”
Gerald heard the tiny intake of breath from Joanna, the nurse they’d hand-picked months ago, who Camilla loved. “Lady Rochester you have overstepped. This woman is like a member of our family and has—”
“You’re taking her side over mine?” Much to Gerald’s shock, Lady Rochester put her hands over her face and commenced wailing out large sobbing sounds.
“What?”
The nurse turned to him in sympathy and offered to take the child but he eyed Lady Rochester and shook his head. Then turned his attention back to his son.
Lady Rochester’s wails grew louder and a footman stepped into the room. Gerald indicated with his head that the caterwauler needed to exit the room and so the footman stepped closer to her as two more maids joined him. He bowed. “Might I escort you somewhere to freshen up. The duke has asked for a service to be placed in the lovely blue room.”
“I will not be escorted from the room as though I’m a common street urchin. I’ll go where I please. This will soon be my house as well as anyone’s and I will be listened to.” Her shouts became more sporadic and high pitched and baby Richard startled twice before his own face pinched in sadness and then Gerald witnessed the saddest and most beautiful cry he’d ever seen. His son’s face turned red and he cried out in response to Lady Rochester.
Gerald handed him back to the nurse with great regret. “Could you bring him to me this evening? I think I’d like to get to know my son.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She curtseyed and fled from the room.
Then Gerald approached Lady Rochester, unsure how she would react. As soon as she saw him, she reached for his arm and clung to it.
“Let’s get you situated in the room my staff suggests as it has been prepared especially for you.” If he could but keep her happy for a moment, keep her amenable to moving to another room, to leaving his home, then he could determine his best course of action after.
She sniffed. “Oh, it has?”
“Yes, certainly. And then we will see what we can do to ease your worry.”
She patted his arm. “You are all that is goodness. Thank you. And don’t you worry. We’ll get your staff and your nurse all situated. They’ll soon understand how they must be treating a duke and a duchess.”
He just nodded to keep her from making any more noise and led her to the front room, the blue room. He was pleased that a pleasant looking tea had been set up as well as a tray of breads and cheeses. “There you are. This should suit just fine while you catch your breath, relax a moment before we try again to meet my son.”
When Gerald turned to go, she shrieked, “Where are you going?”
“I thought I would answer some correspondence in my study while you reconstitute yourself.”
“You’d leave me here alone?”
“Well, I thought—” He knew whatever response he gave would be fruitless. When he turned to re-enter the room, her face filled with satisfaction.
He ground his teeth and returned to his fiancé’s side. His stomach grew heavier, his heart beat faster, and his head started to pound the more he realized that he had made a terrible mistake.
She chattered away about anything and everything nonsensical. He stopped listening within the first few moments. But he wasn’t sure he was permitted to leave her side yet, without her making a scene. And truly, he was hoping to spare the staff. Since when had he become so concerned with the staff?
He knew when. When he’d lost Camilla. She had loved and respected them. They’d treated her well. He was grateful for them.
Palling entered the room. “Excuse me, Your Grace. There’s a matter of some urgency to attend to in your study.”
Gerald stood.
“You are not permitted to interrupt us.”
He turned, slowly. “Excuse me?”
“The staff. They mustn’t interrupt us. When we are having a moment, they are to stay away. I cannot countenance you leaving right now. How do we even know it is urgent as he says?”
Palling’s expression did not change. But Gerald’s did, and Lady Rochester sat back in surprise. He must have looked more fierce than he meant for she dipped her head in her hands. “And now you’re displeased with me.” Her soft cries were almost more painful than her wails. He looked helplessly about until he caught sight of Morley in the hallway. He bowed to her unseeing figure and hurried out of the room, Palling closing the door behind him.
Gerald rushed to his friend. “She’s a storm of the worst kind, a crazy woman. Demanding all sorts of things. I don’t know that I’d have dared leave her side were it not for my summons. Was that you?”
When Lord Morley nodded, he hugged him. “Thank you. I owe you, whatever you want.”
“Come, let’s talk in your study.”
A loud crash came from behind the door. Gerald winced, stiffened, and then shook his head. “Palling.”
“I’ll take care of it, Your Grace.”
“I don’t mind if she must leave.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
Another crash followed by a series of incredibly loud shrieks followed. Gerald was certain the neighbors on both sides heard. He looked to Lord Morley but his friend indicated they keep walking, picked up their pace and closed the door tightly behind Gerald once he was inside.
The caterwauling grew louder outside his door, following by the soothing tones of his housekeeper. Feet from many of the household footmen answered, and then “I will have every one of your fired the day after the wedding. How dare you throw me from this home. I am not finished.”
“We thank you for coming. His grace has asked that we ensure your utmost comfort while escorting you out. Would you like the carriage?”
Before she could answer, Palling answered. “It has arrived. Our finest footman will escort you out and place you inside to ensure you are taken care of in the best manner possible.”
Morley and Gerald eyed each other. “Your staff really are remarkable.”
“Yes. I’ll be giving them a little extra this week.” He ran a hand along his forehead. “What have I done?”
“Thank all that’s good in this world you haven’t gone and married her.”
“But I’m engaged, aren’t I?”
“No amount of scandal can be too much to overcome when the other option is what you’ve just gently thrown from your house.”
Gerald shuddered. “I agree, but what’s to be done? I’m afraid to break it off. What if she hurdles something at my head?”
His oldest friend just shook his head. “If you’re man enough to get yourself into this mess, Your Grace, then you’re of the caliber that can extricate yourself, I’m certain.”
�
�Is that your not so delicate manner in which to remind me that if I’d listened to you I wouldn’t be in this bind in the first place?”
“I am in fact parading that reminder out in front of you this moment.” He moved the fingers of his hand as though they were marching.
“Oh stop. So, Lord know it all, what do I do now?”
Footsteps sounded outside his door and a swift knock followed. “Enter.”
Palling stood in the entryway with a footman and a maid. She had a large scratch across her cheek.
Gerald stood. “Good heavens. What’s happened?”
Palling said, “Go on now, tell his grace, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“No, certainly. Please feel free to be frank. You won’t be punished.”
“She said I’d be thrown out on my duff.” She gasped. “Forgive my language.”
Gerald hid a smile, but the horror inside grew. “Lady Rochester?”
“Yes, she started wailing louder the further we went, then she started swinging her hands about and grabbing at our hair. We weren’t sure what to be doing, with her screaming threats and the like, but she don’t live far, and we’ve that to be grateful for. We arrived in front of her home, she making enough noise to wake the whole street, and I did see many a faces in the windows of her neighbors, mind ye. But her door opened with what looked like half the staff coming out to meet her.”
The footman nodded.
“And they consoled her in their own way, and we were told to go back, that we’d all be hearing from her.”
Gerald cleared his throat. “Your name?”
“Lisbeth.”
“Lisbeth, thank you for what you’ve done. Would you mind going down to the kitchen to see what can be done about that scrape. Please accept my deepest gratitude. And to you as well.” He include the footman in his praise. “And to you Palling.” Gerald shook his head.
“Our pleasure to serve you, Your Grace. I knew you’d want a report and since we have no way of knowing what she will say about her treatment from us, wanted you to hear it from us first.”
“Certainly. And feel comforted that your positions are safe here in my house. Thank you.”
They left and closed the door after.
Lord Morley handed him a brandy without speaking. And they stared at the wall for many minutes before someone knocked on the door again. “Enter.”
The servant had the silver tray with a letter.
Gerald broke the seal, assuming it to be from Lady Rochester.
The more he read, the more difficult he found it to do anything but frown. Words failed him, movement became more difficult. When he didn’t think he would breathe well for very much longer, he handed the letter to Lord Morley to read.
“From Lady Rochester’s brother? The Earl of Hamden?”
Gerald nodded.
“Your grace etcetera. Etcetera.
The treatment of Lady Rochester in your home has worsened her state to such that she is no longer consolable. She is ranting and crying and carrying on. And promises that all will be well again once she’s married.”
Lord Morley opened his mouth to say something, but Gerald waved that he should continue.
“As the scandal of her public episode on our street is likely spreading through the ton and the upcoming scandal of a break in your engagement would surely ruin her, I ask that as a gentleman, you preserve her reputation and put her away in a house, grant her servants and protection, and save all of us from further embarrassment. Her estate can afford such a situation.”
Lord Morley ran a hand through his hair. “He cannot expect you to do this.”
“She has the means. I wouldn’t be even footing the expense, just overseeing it, I gather.”
“But were people to discover, they would assume all manner of things.”
“I know. And I’d be forced to continue in a charade of an engagement.”
“You’d be unable to marry anyone else if that is still a goal.” Lord Morley’s grimace showed Gerald precisely how awful an idea he thought marrying would be.
“All things considered, I believe this is the thing to be done.”
“What exactly ails her?”
“He didn’t say, but he did mention her state worsening, so perhaps she’s a problem already, before her great upset today.”
“Yes, I believe so. But she was perfectly reasonable not two days past.”
“She was, at least during the few moments you spent time with her.”
Gerald shook his head. “Think how many women we know could be absolutely bound for bedlam.”
Lord Morley shuddered. “Makes a man confirm his bachelorhood.”
“Or miss his wife.” Gerald’s face crumbled. He couldn’t hold it together any longer. All the horrifying moments, the struggle to remarry and keep it emotionless, seeing his son for the first time, really seeing him… He stood and rang his bell.
When Palling came, he said, “Will you see if the heir is awake and agreeable to seeing me?”
The butler’s mouth twitched, but only for a second, then he said, “very good, Your Grace.”
He turned to Morley. “You have to see my son. He’s the handsomest lad I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Lord Morley’s grin grew. “He is indeed.”
“You’ve seen him?” He smacked his forehead. “Oh, of course you have!” He’d been there when the child was born.
“I stop by the nursery every day. He’s laughing now, you know.”
Gerald stopped. “You what? He’s laughing?” A part of him thrilled at the thought. “I missed it?” Fists, clenched around his heart, squeezing just enough.
“Well, now, he’ll do it again, I’m certain.”
The fists loosened their grip. A knock at the door made him jump to his feet, and then Palling’s voice announced, “His Lordship, Lord Richard to see you, Your Grace.”
Gerald laughed. “Come in, my son. Let’s hear this laugh of yours.”
10
Amelia put on the best dress she could find which was nowhere near as nice as any of the typical finery of the ladies of the ton. She stood in front of her mother’s mirror.
“That brooch looks good on you. Reminds me of your mother.”
“She was so beautiful.” She lifted the image they had of her, young, happy. “I’m afraid I’ll feel out of place.”
“You might. But they’re your family, sure as I’m standing here, and your mother loved them.”
She stood taller and gathered courage from that declaration. “And they requested the meeting. So they must want to see me. Is—What kind of man is grandfather?”
“Well, now, from the way your mother would talk of him, he was funny. Had twinkling eyes, I do believe she was his favorite.”
“And grandmother?”
“I think she might be the more stodgy one of the family, more bent on the rules, but in the end, she was the one who wrote your mother the most.”
The sound of a carriage approaching made her suck in her breath. She straightened, clutched her mother’s reticule, and tiptoed up to leave a kiss on her father’s cheek.
“Just remember all the titles in the word don’t mean a thing if you don’t like the people who hold the titles.”
“I know, Papa. I’ll be back soon.”
He followed her to the door, ready to take on the tea shop duties for the morning.
She exited and a footman bowed and opened the door to a lovely carriage. The outside was dark, with a sheen that reflected the sun. The horses stamped impatiently. The coachman sat on top, facing forward, the livery a deep blue. She couldn’t believe she was about to step inside such a vehicle. She used the footman’s hand to steady herself as she climbed the steps and blinked to adjust to the darker interior. The plush seats were a rich red. “Lovely.”
“Thank you.”
Amelia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from calling out in surprise she was not alone. She situated herself, facing the woman already seated in the c
arriage and then barely whispered, “You’re welcome.”
More bony than soft, the woman eyed her for many moments without speaking. She was stately. Held herself in one tight rod, but her eyes were kind. She had smile wrinkles which gave Amelia hope as to her nature. The carriage began moving. Amelia felt none of the jerking motions she normally associated with the start of motion in a carriage. But she couldn’t relax into the gentle rocking motions of the finely equipped vehicle. She folded her hands in her lap, crossed her ankles, and waited to be spoken to, belying the intense energy coursing through her.
At length the woman shifted. “I’m pleased you could join us.”
“Thank you. I am honored to be thought of.” She still had no clue as to the identity of the woman. She might harbor a guess, but daren’t.
“You have a great deal of your father in you.” Her tone spoke neither approval nor disapproval.
“Are you acquainted with my father?”
“A very little, though he was quite looked upon by the ladies of the ton. I daresay those in my generation would all recognize him if they knew where to look.”
Amelia nodded, unsure what was expected.
“But I do see your mother in you as well. There, in the set of your chin, in the dancing uncertainty behind your eyes. You’re full of energy, aren’t you child?”
A nervous giggle escaped and Amelia grinned. “Oh, my. Yes, I am.” Amelia forced her legs to remain still and kept her hands firmly clasped.
“Your mother has taught you well.”
“Please. Might I know who you are?”
“Oh, of all the ridiculous… Imagine introducing myself to my own granddaughter.” She dipped her head. “I am Lady Smithson.” She held her hand out. “Come here.”
Amelia moved to sit on the bench beside her and felt the bony arms encircle her shoulders. “Lady Smithson?”
“Yes, but you must call me grandmother.”
Amelia sucked in her breath. “Truly?”
“Yes, child, oh yes, and I am sorry it has taken so long for us to meet. But let’s not linger there. All can be discussed at great length later. For now, your grandfather and I are pleased to invite you to our home.”
The Duke's Second Chance: Clean Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 1) Page 6