What a Devilish Duke Desires

by Vicky Dreiling

  “Dottie, Your Grace.”

  “Make it weak tea, miss,” Dr. Rhodes said.

  She curtsied. “I will, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Harry said, and hurried upstairs.

  When they walked into the room, Harry introduced Mrs. Longmore to his mother.

  “Your granddaughter mentioned you when she attended my recent party,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “Miss Longmore is quite a talented dancer.”

  “She means the world to me,” Mrs. Longmore said.

  Dr. Rhodes felt Lucy’s pulse. “It’s not what I’d like. Keep bathing her forehead.”

  Dottie came in with the tea tray and set it on a table.

  “Add the willow bark,” Dr. Rhodes said, “then let it grow tepid.”

  Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Norcliffe tried to get Lucy to sit up, but she only moaned and fell back on the bed.

  “We have to spoon it into her,” Dr. Rhodes said. “We must bring down the fever.”

  Mrs. Norcliffe gasped when Harry got in the bed with Lucy and pulled her upright on his lap. But his mother must have guessed his purpose, as she handed him the spoon. He managed to get some down her throat.

  Mrs. Norcliffe took the spoon and fed her while he held Lucy. The maid returned with a fresh pot of tea and added more willow bark.

  “This may sound strange,” Dr. Rhodes said, “but I’d like to listen to her heart. Lay her down now. I have a journal in my bag; it’s a trick I learned.” He rolled it up, set it on Lucy’s chest, and put his ear to the rolled journal.

  Harry left the bed and paced. Her pale complexion scared him.

  “Her heart is beating a bit too fast,” Dr. Rhodes said, setting the journal aside.

  Mrs. Longmore brushed back Lucy’s hair and gasped after touching her forehead. “She is too hot,” Mrs. Longmore said, her voice trembling.

  Harry’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. “Lucy, please try.” Her lack of response made his gut twist.

  “Let’s continue with the willow bark tea and encourage her to rouse herself,” the doctor said.

  Harry got in the bed with her again and held her while his mother spooned the tea.

  “Lucy,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

  She shivered and sank against his chest.

  He looked at the doctor. “Surely there is something else that can be done.”

  “I could bleed her, but my observations have led me to believe the patients often grow weaker. Let’s keep on with the willow bark tea.”

  Guilt consumed him. He should have left earlier. Now he was terrified of losing her.

  The housekeeper came inside. “The maids put together a cold collation downstairs,” she said.

  “Your Grace should eat something,” Dr. Rhodes said.

  He shook his head. “I won’t leave her.”

  The doctor sighed. “Your Grace, it won’t help her if you make yourself ill. I know you have no appetite, but do eat a little something.”

  Dottie brought in more tea and curtsied. “If it pleases Your Grace, I could bring in a tray for you and the doctor.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” the doctor said. “When was the last time you ate, Your Grace?”

  Harry ran his fingers through his thick hair. “I can’t remember.”

  Dottie poured two cups of tea. Harry only now realized he was thirsty. After the maid brought a tray, he shared the cold meat, bread, and tea with the doctor.

  When darkness fell and Lucy still had not awakened, he found himself bargaining with God. I swear I’ll give up anything if you’ll let her live. I can’t live without her. Please let her live.

  Mrs. Norcliffe set her hand on his shoulder. “Harry, get some rest. We’ll watch over her.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t leave her, but, Mama, you must be exhausted. Please go home to rest.”

  “I’ll stay,” she said. “I will not leave you, son.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” To his horror, his chest started shaking. He wiped the heels of his hands over his eyes.

  His mother put her hand on his shoulder. “She’s a strong woman and she will recuperate, mark my word.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon,” Dottie said. “There are three more bedrooms if anyone wishes to rest.”

  “Mama,” Harry said. “If you won’t go home, at least get some rest here.”

  “I think Mrs. Longmore is in more need than I am.”

  “I can’t leave her,” Mrs. Longmore said.

  Dr. Rhodes cleared his throat. “I believe it is going to be a long night. I suggest everyone find a bed. If there is any change, I’ll notify you immediately.”

  “That seems a sensible suggestion,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

  Dottie offered to escort Mrs. Longmore to a room.

  “Harry, come get some rest,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

  He shook his head. “I can’t leave her.”

  “I’ll stay with Your Grace,” Dr. Rhodes said.

  Harry dreamed it was raining, and his carriage was stuck in mud. A soft breath against his cheek tickled him. He awoke to find Lucy looking at him.

  “Harry,” she said, her voice scratchy. “I did not give you leave to get in bed with me.”

  He laughed and then his eyes misted as he held her tightly. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Harry, my hair is damp.”

  “You are sweating after a rather dangerous fever,” Dr. Rhodes said.

  Lucy looked at Harry again. “Why is that man watching us in bed?”

  Dr. Rhodes’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I think our patient is mending very well this morning.”

  Harry caressed her face. “You were very ill, Lucy.”

  Dr. Rhodes packed his bag. “I left willow bark in case the fever returns, but I don’t expect it will. I prescribe bed rest, weak willow bark tea, and toast.”

  “I’m hungry,” Lucy said.

  “That is a very good sign, young lady,” Dr. Rhodes said. “I imagine all of your family will be delighted to hear you have an appetite.”

  “All my family?” she said, frowning.

  Harry slid out of the bed, rummaged in his coat, and gave his card to the doctor.

  “Here is my card,” Dr. Rhodes said to Harry. “If you have the slightest concern, do not hesitate to send for me.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Rhodes,” he said.

  “It’s still dark out,” Lucy said after the doctor left.

  He kissed her cheek. “Everyone else is still sleeping.”

  “Who is here?”

  “Your grandmother and my mother.”

  “Your mother?” she said in a stunned voice.

  “I sent her a message to bring a doctor. You scared me, Lucy.”

  “I’m sorry to worry you,” she said, her voice a bit weak.

  He pushed a damp lock off her forehead. “Promise me you will rest.”

  “I will; I’m weary.”

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he said. “Never again.”

  She swept an errant dark lock off his forehead. “You’re sweet, Harry.”

  “Let me help you sit so you can drink more tea.”

  She drank it quickly. “I was so thirsty.”

  He swallowed hard. “No more standing in the rain. Promise me.”

  “I promise. My stockings were squishy.”

  He laughed a little and kissed her cheek. “My beautiful Lucy.”

  “Not so beautiful now.”

  “To me you are.”

  She was astounded to see strong emotion on his face. “Harry, what is wrong?”

  His jaw clenched and his eyes were red. “I feared I would l-lose you.”

  “Lie with me,” she whispered. “I’m so tired.”

  He curled his body against her back, kissed her cheek, and closed his eyes.

  Someone shook him. Harry turned on his back and rubbed his eyes.

  Lucy hovered over him. “Harry, I hear the servants. You must get out of the bed. They’ll thin
k we’re doing lustful things.”

  His chest shook with laughter.

  “I know, but you’re better now. The doctor prescribed rest, and I will ensure you obey.”

  She knitted her brows. “I remember now. Mrs. Finkle sacked me. A messenger boy reported seeing me talking to Castelle.”

  “You are not to worry about anything right now,” he said. “Please rest. We were all very concerned about you last night.”

  She caressed his cheek. “Poor Harry. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

  “Just rest until you are all better. Promise me.”

  “I promise.” She sighed. “Harry, you’re still in bed with me.”

  “So I am,” he said, and kissed her neck. “Let me stay so I won’t worry.”

  Early afternoon

  Lucy ate soup and bread on a tray. She’d wanted to eat downstairs at the table, but she was still weak. After the maid took the tray, Lucy’s grandmother helped her walk a few paces, but her head felt oddly light, so she went back to bed.

  A while later, another knock sounded. Harry opened the door and sat on the edge of the bed. “How is our patient?”

  “My grandmother helped me get up earlier, but I felt a little shaky.”

  “Please stay abed.”

  “I will,” she said. Another tap sounded. “Come in,” Lucy said.

  Mrs. Norcliffe stepped inside. “You look much better, but you’re not ready to dance yet.”

  “No, now I remember. Something bad happened. Harry,” Lucy said, clutching his arm. “Mina and Everleigh are—”

  He put his finger over her lips. “All is settled now,” he said. “They will dance at Almack’s on Wednesday night.”

  “Oh, I’m glad,” Lucy said, sinking back onto the pillow.

  “Mina sent word that she was attempting to instruct the dancers in the Allemande,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “Apparently she lacks your facility for directing others. It became something of a farce, but according to my nieces, everyone thought it good fun. My nieces asked me to give their well wishes to you.”

  “That is very sweet of them,” Lucy said. “Are Mina and Everleigh still the leading contenders?”

  “As of now, yes,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

  Lucy managed a smile. “I do hope they win.”

  “There are still two more dance competitions,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

  Lucy inhaled. “I completely forgot. I’m supposed to serve tonight.”

  “Almack’s will manage without you,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “You must rest. Harry, will you attend me in the parlor?”

  “I will meet you there momentarily,” he said.

  After Mrs. Norcliffe left, Harry cupped Lucy’s face. “You are not to worry over anything. I want you to concentrate on recovering.”

  “I will,” she said.

  “Good, I’ll return a bit later.”

  He met his mother in the parlor. “You have something to say?”

  “I assume you purchased this town house for her.”

  His jaw clenched. “It is an investment.”

  “Harry, it is clear to me that you have formed an attachment to Miss Longmore, but you cannot live in sin with her.”

  “I keep rooms at the Albany,” he said. “As for this town house, yes, I purchased it for safety reasons.” When he finished telling his mother what had transpired with Buckley, she put her hand to her throat. “Dear God. He is the horrid dance master who stole a silver candle snuffer. The footmen had to drag him out of the house.”

  “I could not stand aside and do nothing,” he said.

  “Son, I know you better than you think. You’ve been rescuing wounded animals since you were a boy. I always knew it was your way of dealing with your father’s death. After your uncle passed, I saw that same haunted look on your face. I worry that your feelings for Miss Longmore are yet another rescue attempt.”

  “That’s not true. I care about her. That is all you need to know.”

  Mrs. Norcliffe sighed. “She truly seems like a sweet girl, and she has been through an ordeal, but you cannot marry her.”

  His jaw clenched. “You have no say in the matter.”

  “Harry, do you have any idea what it would be like for her? I can attempt to champion her, but no one will ever really accept her as an equal in the ton. Everyone has seen her serving at Almack’s. They know she earns money teaching dance lessons. This morning one of the footmen brought my letters. Several of them reported that Miss Longmore was seen working at the Albany. If you were to make a misalliance, you would both feel it every day of your lives.”

  “I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks, including you, Mama.”

  “What about your cousins? It may well affect their chances of making good matches.”

  “No, it won’t. I’ve set up generous marriage portions for all three of them. The ton may act as if they’re too good to acknowledge money, but they certainly care about money and property when it comes to marriage settlements. You can’t refute that.”

  “Exactly,” Mrs. Norcliffe said, “and evidently, Miss Longmore doesn’t have a penny to her name. That will tell against her as well. The only way you could ever make this work is if she came to the marriage with a stupendous marriage portion. Even then, others would likely snub her. I do not say this to malign her; it is simply the way of things.

  “Help her find decent employment, call on her and her grandmother from time to time to ensure they want for nothing, but do not make the mistake of marrying beneath you, because she will be the one to suffer in a misalliance.”

  He’d sworn never to give her up, and he would not. “I refuse to believe it is impossible.”

  “Even if you do not come to your senses, she will. Miss Longmore doesn’t strike me as a fool. My guess is she has tried more than once to discourage you.”

  “I won’t give up, and I won’t lose her,” he said in a heated tone.

  Mrs. Norcliffe rose. “You need to return to the Albany and let your valet shave and dress you properly.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That is the last thing I care about.”

  “You cannot stay here. It’s improper. Now, I’ve given you my counsel, but you will do what you will, regardless of my opinions. I do ask that you think this through very carefully. When there is a misalliance, it is always the woman who faces the difficulties. I know you care about her, and perhaps the best thing you can do for her is to cut off all ties.”

  “Never,” he said through gritted teeth. Never.

  Mrs. Norcliffe sighed. “She will never be fully accepted, and she will feel it each time she pays a call, each time she attends a ball, and each time she attends a dinner party. It will be subtle, but she will know that others are attending events to which she isn’t invited. Then there is the matter of children. This will affect them as well. I do admire her, Harry. You may not believe me, but it is the truth. I know you have formed a tendre for her, but you cannot rely solely on your heart. Because you will do her no favors if you marry her.”

  “I will prove you wrong,” he said, banging his fist on the arm of his chair. “Mark me. I will never let her go.”

  The Albany, later that afternoon

  After Harry’s carriage pulled into the yard, he stepped out and asked a groom to direct him to Mrs. Finkle’s office. A towheaded boy ran past, but he had no quarrel with an underage messenger who needed the coin. Harry strode to the office and knocked.

  “Hold yer horses. I’m comin’.”

  When she opened the door, her eyes bugged out. “Your Grace.”

  “May I come in, please?”

  “Of course, but what can you be wantin’ with me?”

  “You dismissed a young woman from your employ without just cause.”

  Mrs. Finkle’s eyes bugged out. “Your Grace, I can’t be havin’ the servant girls fraternizing with the gents. Some of ’em has the morals of stray cats,” she said with a cackle.

  “I assure you, Miss Longmore is a moral and blameless young
woman.”

  Mrs. Finkle’s lower lip trembled. “Beggin’ your pardon, Your Grace, I didn’t know she was a friend of yours.”

  “It shouldn’t matter. I feel quite sure the maids are far too exhausted after a day cleaning rooms to dally with the gentlemen tenants.”

  “Your Grace, I can reinstate Miss Longmore.”

  “She deserves better, but you don’t. We can do this one of two ways. You can write a glowing letter of character for Miss Longmore or you can refuse. If you do refuse, be advised that I will report you for cruel treatment of the maids.”

  Mrs. Finkle’s face took on a greenish cast. “I’ll write the character letter immediately, Your Grace.”

  Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of Mrs. Finkle’s office, walked to his rooms, and sent Barlow with a message to the Bow Street Runner. Harry wanted a report and felt the runner wasn’t making the hunt for Buckley a top priority.

  An hour later, the Bow Street Runner, Mr. Robinson, sat in his parlor making excuses. “These fellows are like rats. There are a thousand places they can hide. I’ll do my best, but I don’t have much faith in finding him unless we catch him red-handed.

  “A couple of big footmen would go a long ways for prevention,” the man said.

  “That is not a permanent solution, but I suppose you don’t have much to go on.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace. If I knew more about him, it would help.”

  “I just remembered something. I saw a man limping in the street a few weeks ago outside the lady’s lodgings. He was drinking from an apothecary bottle.”

  Mr. Robinson’s brows rose. “It’s probably laudanum. I’ve seen him. We nearly nabbed him for picking pockets, but he managed to slither away in the crowd. Aye, I’d like to get my hands on the snake.”

  “His name is Buckley. He broke into a lady’s lodgings and hurt her grandmother. Can you can lure Buckley with a trick of some sort?”

  “If he’s got the taste for laudanum, he’ll be looking to make money to support his habit. I’ll offer him a chance at fencing stolen jewels; they’ll be paste, but I wager he’ll not know the difference.”

  “When will it take place?”

  “I can’t say for sure, Your Grace. It all depends on whether he’s cautious or if he lets greed overcome him. I know you want to be there, but it would be difficult to set up.”