Denying the Duke (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  Patience put her hands over her ears. “Father, please. I find this conversation most inappropriate.”

  He took a deep breath and backed up. He poured a drink of brandy from the sideboard and turned to her. “You will see that this marriage takes place.”

  Patience raised her chin. “I do not understand what the rush is. His Grace has only just taken up his title. He has many pressing matters on his mind. I am sure the last thing he wants to consider right now is taking a wife.”

  “What do you know of important matters? You are an ignorant woman, like all the others. Sneaky and stupid, the whole lot of you.” He gulped his drink down and refilled his glass, then walked toward her. His unsteady steps told her he’d been drinking quite heavily. And it was only near dinnertime.

  He leaned down and rested his hand on the back of the chair where she sat. “Where do you think all those lovely gowns you wear come from? What about all the ribbons, hats, pelisses, riding habits, dance slippers, and everything else you load your wardrobe with? And what do you suppose it takes to run an estate as well as a townhouse? Money. Lots of money.”

  She leaned back as far as she could go, but it wasn’t far enough. The brandy Father had been consuming had turned his breath into something that stung her eyes. She moved her head aside. He grasped her chin and turned her head toward him. “Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you.”

  “Father, you’re hurting me.”

  To her amazement, he released her and stood up straight. He slumped in the chair across from her, the glass dangling from his fingers. “I need money. I have debts and bills you cannot imagine. The only reason I’ve been extended credit for the last few years is because of your connection to the Duke of Bedford. Everyone knew the duke would not allow his father-in-law to be thrown into debtors’ prison.”

  “Oh, Father.”

  “Good. I am glad you understand. I need this marriage to take place quickly. The creditors are hounding me since they’ve heard about the duke’s death. I told them you would be marrying the brother, to just give me a few weeks, since the family is in mourning.”

  “Father, you should not have done that. His Grace has only returned from the military a few weeks. Furthermore, he has given me no indication that his interest in me remains.”

  Her father sat up abruptly, his demeanor again changing to something frightening. He slammed the glass down on the table and stood. “You will make sure his interest in you remains.” Reaching out, he grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up, shaking her, his face no more than an inch from hers. “Do you understand me, daughter? I have no intention of going to debtors’ prison. Is that clear?”

  Tears welled up into her eyes. “Father, that hurts.”

  “What is going on in here?” Alex stood in the doorway, his fisted hands clenching and unclenching, his face a picture of fury. He walked slowly into the room, his eyes never leaving where her father clutched her arms. “Release her,” he growled.

  Father let her go with such abruptness that she collapsed onto the seat. Alex brushed him aside and knelt at Patience’s feet. “Are you all right?”

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out and nodded. Alex continued to study her, then touched her arm where red fingerprints would turn into bruise marks by morning. She would have to find a long-sleeved gown to wear for a few days. His lips tightened. “Stay here.”

  He rose and faced her father. “Lord Wilton, if I ever again witness you placing your hands on your daughter with anything but affection, I shall personally thrash you. Do you understand?”

  Father tugged on the cuffs of his jacket. “It was merely a misunderstanding, Your Grace. I am sure she is not injured.”

  “Based on what I’ve seen, I fail to agree. In my household we protect women, we do not mistreat them. Be advised as long as you are under my roof, you will do the same.” He took what appeared to be a deep, calming breath and added, “I would ask you now to please leave us so I may speak with Lady Patience.”

  Her father nodded and turned on his heel—a bit unsteadily—then left the room, closing the door.

  Alex went down on one knee again and took her cold hands into his warm ones. “Patience, has he harmed you before now?”

  Nothing would come of him knowing of her father’s temper, or the times he’d taken out his frustration and anger on her mother. Or the times he had given her a few hard slaps and locked her in her room. “No.”

  He stared at her, looking for the truth, but she lowered her eyelids, unable to continue to stare at him, knowing she was lying. “Very well.” He stood and held his hand out. She took it and stood. He ran his finger down her cheek. “I will see you to your bedchamber. It is time to dress for dinner.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, Alex entered the breakfast room with a decision made. Although he was still feeling his way around his title, he felt the need to present himself when Parliament opened. It was just one more duty as a duke.

  This morning he would advise all those in residence that he intended to return to London. Possibly as soon as two days hence. Mother would most likely accompany him since she loved London, and all the events that would be starting shortly. Although in mourning, he was sure she would find a way to attend a few of the more sedate affairs.

  One thing was certain. Based on what he’d witnessed the night before, he had no intention of letting Patience return with her family to their country estate. Whatever would become of him and Patience, and their future, together or not, did not factor into his decision to oversee her welfare. He had to be assured that she was safe from her father’s bullying while he was still finding his feet regarding so many other issues.

  That settled in his mind, he turned his attention to the newspaper sitting alongside his breakfast plate. He read but a few articles when one jumped out at him.

  The War Department has confirmed Napoleonic War spy, The Right Honble. Earl of Loverly, recently returned from the United States, has escaped his prison hold. It is believed he is in the Bath area.

  Alex studied the words and read them one more time with growing anger. He could not believe they hadn’t been able to hang onto the man. What the devil was wrong at the War Department that they couldn’t secure the traitor for more than a few weeks?

  Loverly was a nasty individual…and dangerous. Hopefully, the authorities would recapture him before he could disappear once again.

  “Good morning, Your Grace.” Wilton entered the room, bloodshot eyes and shaky hands told the story of how the man had spent the prior evening. Alex was growing more and more disgusted with the man and weary of his presence.

  Since he did not want the distraction of the lovely Patience in his home, he would insist Wilton open his own townhouse so Alex could keep an eye on the family to ensure Patience, and her mother, were treated respectfully.

  “Good morning.” After that curt greeting, Alex returned to his newspaper.

  After filling his plate at the sideboard, Wilton sat and then cleared his throat. “Your Grace, have you considered my suggestion that my lovely daughter would make an excellent duchess?”

  Alex looked up from his newspaper. “Is that, perchance, the lovely daughter you mistreated yesterday?”

  Wilton flushed, and it was obvious that he did not like the turn of the conversation, but since he so badly wanted something from Alex, he kept his mouth closed. Which brought up another point. Since Wilton obviously had no great love for his daughter, why was he so anxious for her to make this match?

  “That was a terrible mistake on my part. I did not mean to cause her any harm. I am most fond of my daughter.”

  Although he did not believe a word out of the man’s mouth, he let the comment stand. “As I told you before, I have a great many issues on my mind at present. When, and if, I decide to select a bride, you can be assured the lady, whomever she is, will know before you do.”

  If Wilton’s face grew any redder, surely the man would explode. Apparent
ly, being thwarted and holding his tongue was not a practice he was familiar with. With his knowledge of bullies, Alex needed to make sure the earl did not take his frustration with him out on his wife. He wouldn’t dare touch Patience.

  The woman of his thoughts entered the room, her bright sunny smile touching something warm in his middle. Something that had not seen the light of day for a long time. “Good morning, Your Grace, Father.”

  It was times like this that he felt like the young man who’d fallen so deeply in love with her after only a week’s time. But years of assuming she was completely out of his reach, and the internal scars from war, had dimmed that love. But had it been smothered completely?

  Time. Only time would tell. Perhaps she no longer felt the same way. And if she did, would she continue to, when she learned what a changed man he was?

  How would she feel if she came to know the horrible things he had witnessed, and because of his time at war, the equally repulsive things he had been forced to do to save himself and his men? Although saving his men had not worked every time. That memory was best left alone, even though it prodded at him on a regular basis. Would she view him as a monster no better than her father?

  Things had all happened too swiftly for his liking. One minute in charge of a traitor prisoner, content to make the military his life, then whisked away to his estate where he was presented with all the duties and responsibilities of a duke, and confronted by the woman he’d spent four years trying to forget.

  How did she consider him? How did he regard her? In so many ways he felt choked, as if his cravat was tied too tight and he could not get enough air.

  If anything were to come to pass with him and Patience, they needed time together to recapture those early feelings. If that were possible.

  He shook his head in confusion. It would be best if he stood by his convictions, and while protecting Patience from her father, still hold her at arm’s length. He continued to think in terms of the military. Each problem must be examined from every angle to make sure no mistakes were made. Mistakes caused serious problems, and in some cases, even death.

  He snorted. Somber musings so early in the morning.

  …

  Patience took an egg, pickled trout, and a roll from the array of food on the sideboard, then joined the men at the table. She glanced quickly at her father and looked away, concentrating on her food. She thanked the footman who placed a fresh pot of tea at her place.

  Father had not spoken to her since their altercation in the drawing room. Dinner had been a quiet affair, with him mostly drinking rather than eating. Mother had been visibly nervous, which made her wonder if she and her father had had words while they’d dressed for dinner. At least Mother did not show the marks of any type of violence.

  Although, with Alex’s warning, she doubted if Father would attempt anything while in residence here.

  Alex wiped his mouth with his serviette and turned his attention to Father. “Wilton, I will be off to London in a day or so. I suggest you open your townhouse so your family can enjoy a bit of the Season, at least attending some of the more moderate events.”

  Her hand holding a fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Why would he want them to join him in London? Of course, she would much rather go to London than return to her family’s estate in the country. There was no telling what her father would do if they all went their separate ways and she had failed to secure a betrothal.

  “Your Grace, I am flattered that you wish us to follow you to London, but I am afraid at present, I am unable to open my London townhouse.”

  Alex studied Father for a few moments, then said, “I will see you in my study when you are through.” With a brief glance in Patience’s direction, Alex stood.

  Her jaw dropped as he winked at her before leaving the room. Winked? What did that mean?

  Lord’s sake, she was second-guessing everything Alex did. Hopefully, leaving for London would remove some of the strain among them all. Due to the timing and circumstances of her betrothed’s death, she would not feel comfortable attending balls and such. However, she could at least find things to occupy her time besides embroidery and dodging her father.

  Once the door to the breakfast room closed, her father leaned forward. “Make the most of this London visit, daughter. I expect to hear of a betrothal shortly.”

  Rather than start anything up again, she merely nodded. Father shoved his chair back and followed Alex from the room.

  …

  A short time before dawn two days later, Patience stifled a yawn as Alex handed her into a well-sprung carriage with the Duke of Bedford crest on the doors, and followed her inside. His mother was already settled in the coach, while Patience’s parents would travel to London in their own carriage. Truth be told, she was grateful to be riding with Alex and his mother. She was afraid of the continuous harangue she would have had to endure had she traveled in the Wilton carriage.

  Despite Father’s complaints about his lack of money, he did consent to opening the London townhouse after speaking with Alex. She wondered if Alex had offered to fund the necessary expenses. But since the men surrounding her felt it was never necessary to take her into their confidence, guessing was about all she could do.

  “There are pillows and blankets under the seat, if you wish to sleep.” Alex directed his comments to her.

  “No, thank you. I merely need a little time to wake up. I’m afraid I am not too lively in the morning. Usually, once I have a cup of tea, I become almost human again.” Certainly, being able to stare across the carriage at Alex had her heart pumping, so she would wake up much faster. He, on the other hand, looked as wide awake as if it were two o’clock in the afternoon.

  “How is it you look so alert?”

  Alex smirked. “You forget I spent four years in service to the Crown. One does not get to lollygag in bed when confronted by one’s superior officers.”

  “I will never understand why you had your grandfather purchase colors for you, other than to provoke your father.” The duchess sniffed and raised her chin. “One thinks you would have had more consideration for his wishes.”

  Alex’s relaxed demeanor abruptly changed. “I had as much regard for the duke’s wishes as he had for mine. But, then again, he had no aspirations where I was concerned. However, madam, since this will be a lengthy trip with us all bundled together, I prefer to not spend the time examining my motives in what I have chosen to do thus far in my life.”

  The duchess’s lips tightened, but she offered no rejoinder. Fluffing the pillow behind her head, she turned slightly and closed her eyes. Patience breathed a sigh of relief. Listening to mother and son bicker in the close confines of the coach would have made for a very unpleasant ride.

  Patience studied Alex as he tapped his finger on his thigh and stared out the window at the gloomy morning. Now that the sun had risen, daylight revealed a cloudy sky with light drizzle, somewhat diminishing her initial enjoyment at heading to London. She took the pillow lying alongside her and placed it behind her head. Maybe a bit more sleep would be just the thing after all.

  …

  With both women attempting sleep, Alex’s thoughts turned to what he’d pushed from his mind. He’d captured the spy, Lord Loverly, in the United States and returned him to the War Department. As far as he’d known, given his scant contact with the War Department since his return, Loverly had been in custody awaiting a trial in the House of Lords once Parliament convened in April. Now it appeared he had escaped.

  It was not unknown for a man charged with treason to commit suicide, rather than face a well-publicized trial and eventual beheading. Since Loverly had only one daughter, who rumor had it, had disappeared, a scandalous trial or a suicide would only hurt himself. Perhaps, the newspapers would report finding his body sometime soon.

  Next, he turned his attention to the matter of Lady Patience. His insistence on Wilton opening his townhouse, the expense of which Alex had assumed, made it a bit easier to keep his eye on
Wilton’s treatment of Patience. At the same time, having her in a separate house would help his confusion about their future, as he wrestled with his feelings about marriage in general, and to Patience in particular.

  He wanted her. Oh yes, how he wanted her. Her body drew him like metal to a magnet. There was no telling what might happen between them if they continued to sleep under the same roof. He didn’t need that complication. Now, it was best to concentrate on his new duties, have Patience nearby to keep an eye on her father, and put all thoughts of her in the capacity of his duchess from his mind.

  Most of all, his wisest stratagem going forward was to keep his hands to himself.

  …

  They had been back in London for two days when the duchess knocked on the study door and requested time to speak with Alex. He gladly pushed aside the correspondence he’d been working on. Until he saw the determined set of her jaw.

  His head pounded and his eyes burned from fatigue. He’d awoken halfway through the night in a sweat, his heart racing, and his stomach roiling. Images of battered dead soldiers, their twisted bodies blankly staring at the sky, had still held him in their grip when he’d jumped from his bed as if possessed by snakes. He was in no mood for her antics.

  Once his mother sat, he settled back in his seat and regarded her. They’d had only a few conversations since his return. Not that they’d ever had a great deal to say to each other. “What can I assist you with, madam?”

  The duchess shifted in her seat and stiffened her back. “You needn’t look so fierce. I am, after all, your mother.”

  “Yes. One tends to forget that.”

  “You act as though I am your enemy.” She glowered at him, a much more familiar countenance than her manner toward him since he’d returned. “I don’t understand your attitude, Your Grace.”

  “Mother. Please. I’ve been Alexander to you all my life. Why has my name changed?”

  She looked genuinely confused, which saddened him. “Your name has changed. You are now Bedford.”

  “That is the problem. It seems to me you believe all the men in your family are interchangeable. Whoever holds the blasted title—or is heir to it—is worthy of your attention.”