The Duke's Revenge

by Alexia Praks

  “It’s very beautiful. We should go together,” Ivy suggested, pretending to be very interested in her food all of a sudden. “Could you pass me that trifle please?”

  “You look happy when you talk about the town,” Christine said as she took one and handed it to her. “What’s there that interests you?”

  “Nay, nothing,” Ivy said, biting onto the nicely thick layer of Naple biscuits, custard, and the heavenly light syllabub. The creamy, thick custard stuck to her tongue, and to her surprise, she liked it. “But they do have this wonderful pastrycook’s shop. The cakes are marvelous.”

  “Pastrycook’s shop?” Christine raised her brows. “Oh, how wonderful, Tyson would love to go. He simply adores ice cream.”

  “Tyson?” Ivy turned to her friend.

  “My foster brother, he’s about twelve years old or there about. I’m not so sure of his age really.”

  “Smart young buck,” Max put in. “When are they arriving? Tyson was eager about my thoroughbred the last time I was at Huntingdon Hall. I will have to show him my stables.”

  “That would be stunning, your grace,” Christine said. “They would be here tomorrow, if weather permits. I do hoped Grandmamma do not get aching muscles again because of the long journey.”

  “Your grandmother is coming?” Ivy asked.

  “And Grandpapa, too. They raised me you know.” Christine smiled. “Before I met my husband, they were the only people I have.”

  “Do you not have parents?”

  “Nay, I didn’t know, you see. We were—what should I say? On the run. My mama had passed away since I was a baby and then I found Tyson.”

  “You found him?” Ivy asked in surprised.

  “Well, not found exactly.” Christine said hesitantly, her cheeks were going quite red.

  “You mean you stole him, love?” Merrick said and chuckled.

  “Merrick!” she gasped in outrage. “I did nothing of the kind.” She ignored her husband and turned to Ivy. “He was a chimney boy, you see. His master had been beating him because he had refused to climb up a chimney in a particular establishment. His skin was all burnt and bruised. He could have died if I hadn’t taken him that night.” She sighed as though the very thought that if she hadn’t the courage to steal Tyson that night something disastrous could have happened to him.

  “Oh, how sad,” Ivy said.

  “Aye, it is a very sad world out there,” Christine said with a shake of her head. “But let’s not drool on such matters.” She squared her shoulders and said, “When you were walking down the stairs this afternoon, I noticed that you were limping, what happened?”

  “Oh, that, I fell down the mare and sprained my ankle,” Ivy said, avoiding Max’s gaze.

  “You are not a good horsewoman?” Christine asked.

  “Nay.” Ivy shook her head. “I’ve learnt how to ride when I was small but then...”

  “Yes I understand. I didn’t know how to ride, too, but I’m learning.” Christine nodded and turned her eyes to look at her husband. He smiled at her. She blushed and turned to look at Ivy again. She cleared her throat and said, “Where did it happen?”

  “In the town.”

  “In the town?” Christine widened her eyes. “Good Lord, did anyone help you?”

  “Oh yes, Lady Hartland was there. Luckily Mr. Oliver was there, too.” She smiled.

  “Ha, Mr. Oliver eh?” Christine beamed, her eyes gleaming with speculation.

  “It was nothing really. He carried me into his clinic and then examined me to see if I had any bone broken.”

  “Carried you, did he? I’m sure he is a very nice, young surgeon.”

  “Yes he is.” Ivy nodded.

  “Did he found your sprained ankle, too?” Christine asked, nudging Ivy’s arm.

  “Actually, yes he did,” Ivy said and bent her head slightly to one side. “He examined my body. It’s his job, isn’t it?”

  “Nice man this Mr. Oliver, don’t you think, Merrick?” Christine turned to her husband with her brows raised.

  “Hmm, his name sounds rather familiar though,” Merrick said, looking at his wife. His gaze told her to stop asking Ivy too many personal questions.

  She ignored him, however, and raised her brows at him in a challenge. When he just shook his head, she said, “Mr. Oliver, yes, he used to work in Hammingshire Town near Huntingdon Hall, didn’t he?”

  Merrick scowled at her. “Hmm,” he grunted and he looked quite annoyed all of a sudden.

  “You know him?” Ivy looked from Merrick to Christine.

  “Why, of course, he is such a good man.” Christine smiled and turned her gaze to Max. She saw him looking at Ivy with a stony face, his sharp eyes on the girl as though he would like to wrench her neck. She smiled and turned to Ivy again. “So, Ivy, what say we go to this town and visit Mr. Oliver?”

  “Oh, that would be marvelous. I like to thank him personally.” Ivy smiled innocently.

  “How about in two days time then? When Tyson is here, he could come with us. I’m very sure he would love to visit the pastrycook’s shop,” Christine said.

  “Hmm.” Ivy nodded and turned back to her food, oblivious to the fact that Max was glaring most intensively at her.

  CHAPTER 18

  The women had retired early and Max and Merrick were in the study, sitting in front of the brightly lit hearth. Both men had their cravats off with their cotton shirts unbutton down to their chest, and their sleeves rolled up to their forearms. Their hairs were in a state of dishevel, and their faces roughly handsome under the candlelight. They were conversing about the state of the peninsula war. Recently good news had reached London for the first time since Napoleon Bonaparte, the power fanatic man, had became Emperor of France. The French Armee du Portugal had retreated from Portugal due to the great defensive work of Lieutenant-General Arthur Richard Wellesley, the Viscount of Wellington.

  Both men cheered to Wellington and his soldiers with a glass of port. Then they were discussing about the Prince Regent. So far, to their surprise, the overindulgent Prince had decided not to change government, and this they knew, must have pleased the Tories greatly. When they got tired of those two subjects, they turned to the topic of farming.

  “Reminds me we hadn’t caught those poachers yet,” Max muttered as he raked his fingers through his blonde hair.

  “What have they stolen so far?”

  “Nothing major; just lives stock missing now and again. The gamekeeper said my partridges are going down one by one.”

  “Probably gipsy,” Merrick suggested, stretching out his long legs.

  “Probably is,” Max said unconvincingly.

  “She’s not your cousin, is she?” Merrick asked as he eyed his friend.

  Max took a sip of his port and shrugged.

  “I hoped you’re not going to do anything silly. That girl is young. She has a whole future in front of her.”

  “She’s my business, Merrick. Don’t question me,” Max declared and rested his head back.

  “Your business, indeed,” Merrick said, laid his empty glass down, and stood up. “My wife is taken with that girl. I don’t want her upset if anything happens.”

  “Believe me, Merrick, nothing is going to happen,” Max said as he frowned darkly at the fire before them.

  “Good night, friend.”

  “You’re turning in early.”

  Merrick snorted and said, “Unlike you, my good man, I have a willing bed to warm.” He nodded and then walked out the room.

  Max turned his attention back to the fire with a severe frown.

  He did not like the fact that his plan had been interrupted by the visitation of his friend. This night he had planned to ravish the raven hair beauty who everyone thought was his damn little cousin. And why the hell did everyone kept talking about sending her off to London for the season? He’ll be damn if he was to send her to London. He was sure this talk of the season and finding her a husband had put ideas into her head. Wasn’t that what sh
e wanted though? That day he had taken her out for a drive against her will, she had begged him to break the contract.

  He remembered her cradling Merrick’s son. He didn’t know how it happened, and he certainly didn’t know why but the moment he saw her, the wind was knocked off him, and he felt quite daze.

  She had allowed that surgeon to touch her. His mind diverted to that Mr. Oliver. She was smiling, too, when they were talking about that young man. Was she in love with him?

  He gulped the rest of the port and then got up.

  She had allowed him to touch her, did she? He narrowed his eyes and walked out the study. He dashed up the stairs, and as he came across her door, he stopped. Without knocking, he went in.

  He came to sit beside her where she lay on the large bed. He lowered his lips toward her forehead and whispered, “I know you’re not asleep, Ivy, so don’t pretend.”

  Silent.

  He snorted and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “So soft, so sweet.” He moved his lips toward her ear. “Just like a rose petal,” he said and gently moved his fingers down toward her breasts. “So young,” he whispered as he slowly and gently moved his palm to cup one breast.

  She fluttered her eyes opened.

  He grinned.

  She pushed him away and rushed of the bed. “Your grace!” she said breathlessly.

  “I see that you’re not asleep.”

  “I—” she stammered.

  “Come here, Madam.” He raised his hand in midair.

  She shook her head.

  “Ivy, come here.”

  “Nay, your grace,” she said, clutching the material of her nightshirt tightly.

  “Why the hell not?” he growled.

  “You won’t touch me, your grace. I won’t allow you,” she said as she backed away from him.

  He raised and moved toward her.

  She shook her head as she stepped backward.

  He narrowed his eyes and grinned, knowing that his prey was trapped.

  Ivy jumped when she realized that she had reached the wall behind her.

  He took three long strides and he was in front of her, inches away from her.

  “Better not make too much noise, love, we have guests a few doors down.” He chuckled as he rested his right hand against the wall which trapped her between him and the wall.

  “No, your grace,” she said with wide eyes. She stood there with him very close to her. She could smell his masculinity which caused her nerves to jumble in vexation.

  She had to get away from him, she told herself. And in a flash, she ducked below his arm and ran toward the door.

  He grinned at her pathetic attempt. He turned, took two long strides, and caught her in his arms.

  She gasped and hit his chest to let her go. Ignoring her piteous struggle, he carried her in his arms toward the bed.

  “Hush, you’re making too much noise,” he whispered as he laid her down. He did not leave her the freedom to run away by imprisoning her body with his on top.

  “No, your grace, I’m still sore,” she cried.

  “Poor thing, I won’t hurt you, you do know that.” He smiled and moved his hand to shift the material of her nightshirt from her shoulder.

  “I don’t have any choice in this do I, your grace?” she questioned him, glaring at him.

  “Nay, love, you’re my mistress, and I want you tonight. So yes, you have no saying in this,” he said as he removed the fabric all the way down to her waist and lower to her ankles.

  She was now naked as he sat there looking at her. She scrambled up and grabbed for the bed sheet. He pulled her back by the waist and made her sit on his lap.

  “You’re my dessert tonight, love, I’m going to taste all of you,” he whispered and turned her around to face him. He lowered her down and started to explore all of her; tasting her soft, smooth skin with his eager hands and fingers, and hot, hungry mouth and tongue.

  CHAPTER 19

  “When you are at the castle, Ivy,” Christine said as she observed the young woman sitting across from her, “you seem almost frighten, but now that we are out you seem quite happy.”

  “Do I really?” Ivy wondered. It was true that at the castle, she was always anxious. She knew she was frightened of the duke, but why specifically, she didn’t know. On other occasions, however, she found that she was more afraid of herself. Why was it that way, she didn’t know either. Everyday she couldn’t seem to get his face out of her mind. He would linger in her head, tormenting her feelings. She loathed him for the way that he treated her. But why was it that every time he was in the same room as she; her heart would beat faster. Why couldn’t she stop stealing a glance at him?

  “Look, we are almost there,” Tyson shouted with glee.

  “Yes,” Christine said, turning her attention to the small town of Staffordshire. “Such a beauty tuck away deep in this part of the country. A little bit like Hammingshire, don’t you think, Tyson?”

  “Hmm.” The boy nodded.

  “How do you like Westwood Castle, Tyson?” Ivy asked as she looked at the boy who had arrived only two days ago with his grandparents.

  Tyson nodded enthusiastically and said, “I like the castle. I visited the stables yesterday, and His Grace said that he’ll teach me how to breed a thoroughbred.”

  “Oh, how kind of him,” Christine said.

  “I want to stay longer and learn all about horses and breeding them, but I have to return to Eton after Easter,” the boy mused with his lips turned downward.

  “I’m sure you’ll have a lot of time to learn in the summer holiday.” Christine patted Tyson’s light blonde head.

  Ivy smiled, and as she gazed at the boy, there was that something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Tyson seemed oddly familiar to her. It was as though she had seen his face once before, but when and where, she couldn’t remember.

  They rode on in quietness and when they reached the small town of Staffordshire, the two carriages were parked at the end of the main street. Christine, Ivy, Tyson, and the three maids went visiting the various shops that were set along the town square. When they left Mrs. Millers store Ivy suggested that they stop at the pastrycook’s for refreshment.

  “I think we should pay particular attention to Betty, my lady,” Emma said as she looked at her friend meaningfully.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Betty snapped.

  “What I mean is that you’re eating a bit too much now a day. Andrew doesn’t like women on the chubby side.”

  “He’s my husband. He likes me to eat a bit more,” Betty defended and raised her plump chin up a notch.

  “Oh really?” Emma raised her brows.

  “Are you both always like this?” Lisa asked, looking from one to the other.

  “Don’t mind them, Lisa, I got used to them teasing at each other. They are always like that.” Christine laughed and walked into the pastrycook’s store.

  “Smells nice,” Ivy commented as she, Christine, and Tyson took their seats around a table outside the little shop. The three maids occupied a table next to them.

  “I agree,” Christine said. “Goodness it makes me hungry.”

  A moment later a shopkeeper came to their table with a tray of delicious assortment of treats.

  “Morning, Ma’am, would you be so please as to try our tarts? Or perhaps these cakes or these lovely buns here.” She pointed to the various colorful small cakes and buns on her tray. “This cheesecake would go lovely with our famous tea, Ma’am.”

  “Do you any ice cream?” Tyson asked with his metallic blue eyes wide in anticipation.

  “Oh yes, we do have ice water and ice cream. There are strawberry and pineapple ice as well if you would like,” the woman said.

  “Really?” he asked in glee. “I’d like strawberry ice, thank you and one of those cakes.”

  “Very good, sir,” the shopkeeper said and then turned to Christine and Ivy, “and you, Ma’am?”

  “Tea and some
of those cakes and buns for us, thank you,” Christine said. The woman nodded and left them.

  “How lovely this is,” Betty said rather excitedly from the other table. “I thought such pastrycook’s shop only exist in London and Bath.”

  Not long afterward, the shopkeeper returned with their tea and treats. After spending half an hour enjoying their refreshment, they took their leave and went further south to explore more shops.

  “Where is Tyson by the way?” Ivy asked some half an hour later as they came out of a bookstore.

  “He was here only a moment ago,” Christine said. “Let’s go look for him.”

  Ivy nodded, and they all traced their way back toward where they had left the carriages.

  “Ah, fancy meeting Her Ladyship here,” a voice said from a small distant.

  Christine turned to see Lady Hartland and Lady Mornington coming toward them.

  “Hello, Lady Hartland,” she said and then turned to the other woman, “Lady Mornington.”

  “Good morning, my lady,” Lady Mornington said, “buying something in particular?”

  “Nay, simply exploring,” Christine replied.

  “My dear Ivy, how are you?” Lady Hartland touched Ivy’s arm. “How is your ankle? Perhaps you should let Mr. Oliver have another look to make sure that it isn’t getting worse or that it has gotten infected.”

  “I’m good thank you, Lady Hart,” Ivy greeted and turned to look behind the woman. “Are Mary and Dan here? Is Mary getting better?”

  “Oh, yes, she is much better now. In fact, so much better that they are now running around and chasing each other like a couple of foxes. They gave the governess countless headaches, you know.” Lady Hartland laughed. “They’re in the bakery store with their governess. Dan simply loves sweetmeat.” She shook her head. “I do hope he won’t enjoy it too much that he would look like the Prince Regent when he comes of age. Rather unattractive I think.”

  “But he is the lead of fashion, my dear Cath,” Lady Mornington put in. “Everyone wanted to be invited to his parties and especially his lovely nest in Bath, the Pavilion.”