Kidnapping the Duke

by Killarney Sheffield

  The dinner bell rang and she hurried down to the dining room.

  * * *

  When she returned to her bedchamber after dinner, she found the door wide open. She entered the room and gasped. The gown she had hung on the wardrobe door was gone and the floor was littered with scraps of pink satin. Felicity dropped to her knees and picked up one of the tattered bits of cloth. It was the remains of one of the puffed sleeves. In utter dismay she crouched amidst the carnage with tears streaming down her face. How could someone do something like this?

  Footsteps approached her room and then paused on the threshold. “Oh my, what an untidy room you have, Felicity.”

  Staggering to her feet, Felicity spun around to glare at Rebecca Carivale and swiped the telltale tears from her cheeks. “I—someone was in my room. They shredded my dress.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened in false shock. “Oh dear, now what will you get married in?” She shrugged. “You must have another peasant dress you can wear when you marry one of the wealthiest men in all of England. I am sure the hundreds of other nobles attending the nuptials will hardly bat an eyelash. After all, it is no less than everyone would expect a killer’s daughter to wear to such a momentous event.”

  Fury rose hot and acid in Felicity and she clenched her fingers around the scrap of cloth to hold it in. “I should have known you would do something so despicable, Rebecca Carivale.”

  “Me?” She batted her heavily darkened lashes. “As if I would stoop to touching one of your vile hand me down rags.”

  “It was not a hand me down,” Felicity ground out between clenched teeth. “I made it myself.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Oh how droll. Well, good night, dear Felicity, do not let the bed fleas bite.” With a simpering smile, she flounced off down the hallway.

  Furious, Felicity slammed the door in her wake. “Fie and Fire!” There was no salvaging her graduation dress, but at least the costly gown William had purchased was safe. A moment of panic engulfed her. What if it wasn’t? She ran to the wardrobe and opened it. There in the back, still wrapped in the sheet, was the gown. Breathing a sigh of relief, she set to work cleaning up the mess.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Graduation day was a flurry of giggling and excitement for all but Felicity. Today would mark her official entrance into society as a woman. While it pleased her, it was also a day of sadness knowing her father never had a chance to see her mature. Girls hurried to and fro, hunting a missing ribbon, a matching comb, or a spot of color for their already flushed cheeks. All except Felicity. After donning her Sunday chapel dress, a demure powder blue velvet ensemble, she brushed out her hair and secured it with a pair of her mother’s old seashell combs. There would be no one at her graduation who would care what she looked like, or celebrate her becoming a debutante.

  Someone knocked on her door. “All girls are to assemble in the meeting room beside the ballroom immediately.”

  Felicity recognized the housemother’s command and stood. By the time she opened the door, the woman was halfway down the hall, rapping on the others to rally the rest of the girls. Amid the group of giggling young ladies, she was drawn down the staircase to the meeting room attached to the ballroom.

  The housemother hushed them to silence. “Now ladies, one by one you will be introduced and delivered to your waiting parents for the ceremony, so please line up in order of your last names.”

  Felicity took her place behind Malinda Applegate and in front of Rebecca Carivale.

  Rebecca leaned forward and whispered, “Too bad you shall be the only girl not given to her parents this day. How embarrassing for you.”

  Gritting her teeth, Felicity pasted a sweet smile on her face and ignored the taunt. Come tomorrow morning she would never have to see the hateful girl ever again. All she had to do was get through this one last horribly embarrassing afternoon with the girl and she would be free.

  Malinda’s name was called. Felicity peered out the narrow slit in the door to view the ceremony. Malinda stepped into the ballroom and walked gracefully across the stage area to her waiting parents. There was a short speech about her impressive abilities playing the harp and her gift with water colors, and then she was seated between her parents at the end of a long row of chairs facing the audience.

  The housemother ushered Felicity out into the ballroom.

  “Next we congratulate Miss Felicity Beinfait, niece of recently passed Lady Harriet Trudor. Miss Beinfait graduates with honors in…um….” The head of the ladies committee who was doing the announcing scanned her page for a moment. “Um, well nothing. Here to collect her is her fiancé, his grace, Lord William Carnduff, the Duke of Lancastor and Brentwood.”

  Felicity stumbled as the duke stepped forward from the crowd amid a spattering of applause. She righted herself, cheeks heating as the crowd tittered. What was he doing here? Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. He was dressed in a black day jacket, red waistcoat and cummerbund, black trousers and a frothy white cravat pinned at his neck with a ruby stickpin. She couldn’t help but sigh at his handsomeness. Glancing over her shoulder she gave Rebecca a smug look. Let’s see her find a suitor as handsome with her horse-like buck teeth. Turning her attention back to the duke she placed her hand in his and allowed him to escort her to their seats.

  As Rebecca was announced she whispered, “What are you doing here? I thought we were not allowed any contact until the wedding?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I could not very well allow you to graduate all alone.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled as Rebecca and her parents took the empty seats beside her.

  A total of thirteen girls graduated that afternoon, and once the ceremony was done, a banquet was set up in the great dining room. Felicity was seated next to William halfway down the table, across from Rebecca Carivale, her brother Monty, and her father the elder Lord Carivale. She concentrated on her turtle soup, wishing the uncomfortable meal were over.

  William dropped his napkin and leaned down to pick it up. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  She glanced at the Carivales. “There is a gazeebo in the south garden.”

  He sat up and set his napkin on the table with an apologetic smile at the other table’s occupants. “Dear me, I seem to be all tied up when my lovely fiancée is near.”

  A couple of people at the table tittered, but most just stared.

  He cleared his throat and whispered, “Tough crowd.”

  Felicity giggled and then stifled her mirth in her napkin when Madame Bernard frowned. It appeared all of London was aware of their scandalous meeting.

  The meal dragged on, seemingly endless, until to her immense relief the clock chimed nine. One by one the new graduates left with their parents, having sent their belongings on ahead. Felicity said a stiff and polite goodbye to William under Madame Bernard’s intense scrutiny. As he brought her hand to his lips, he whispered, “Meet me at the gazeebo in ten minutes.” When she smiled to let him know she would, he released her hand and left.

  Felicity hurried upstairs to grab a shawl. She was just entering her room when two whispered voices caught her attention. Someone was in Rebecca’s old room across the hall. Slipping inside she hid behind the door to listen.

  Rebecca’s voice rose and fell in lilting fashion. “There nerve of the little chit….”

  Her brother’s smooth baritone replied, “They both deserve my wrath….”

  “No,” Rebecca hissed. “Just her. I want her dead.”

  “Of course, she lured him with her pitiful story and siren’s song, but he is the master of his own breeches. It is the Black Rider’s duty to rid England of those who seek to destroy all that is right and proper.”

  “No! Kill her, but leave the duke. I assure you, I can keep him interested enough in my bed to keep him faithful once she is gone.”

  Felicity caught her breath. Who were they talking about and how did Monty Carivale know the Black Rider? She reached out to steady herself as she leaned c
loser to the door. Her groping hand, seeking the dresser, settled instead on the jewel case she had left on the edge. It tumbled to the floor with a dull thud.

  Rebecca’s voice rose in a pathetic whine, “I want Lord—”

  Monty hushed her. “Someone is there.”

  Felicity snatched up her shawl and fled the room. As she hurried down the stairs she looked over her shoulder. Monty and Rebecca appeared at the top as she reached the last step. Pretending not to notice them, she wandered as nonchalantly as she could across the tiled foyer and down the hall to the ballroom. For a few minutes she wandered the ballroom pretending interest in the floral decorations used for the graduation ceremony. When it appeared neither Monty nor Rebecca had chosen to follow her, she slipped out the set of double doors into the garden.

  The paths were deserted this night, for which she was thankful. The graduates were gone and the rest of the girls attending their first year at the school had retired to their rooms with dinner trays to make room for all the guests. The snowfall, which had trapped her and William together at the hunting lodge, had not hit London further south, so a few last remaining roses still bloomed here and there, their heady scent making her draw a deep breath. As she released it, a figure appeared out of the gloom on the gazebo steps.

  “William?”

  “Yes.” He drew her to sit beside him. “I was afraid you would not come.”

  A nervous giggle slipped from her lips. “We are not allowed to see each other until the wedding tomorrow.”

  “I know. I just wanted to settle a few things between us before then.”

  “Oh.” She fiddled with the lace on her shawl. “I suppose you are angry with me for causing such a mess.”

  “I was.” He was silent for a moment and she wondered if he was still. “Then I realized there is no sense being angry over something that cannot be undone, Felicity.”

  “I see.” He was not angry with her, but she had not quite forgiven him for being the son of her father’s killer.

  “Though I am being forced into a marriage not of my own choosing, I just wanted to say I am glad you are not being sent to prison.”

  She swallowed. “So am I.”

  “I guess I just wanted to ask you to at least give our marriage a chance. It is time to bury the past, Felicity. Your father and mine are both gone. There is nothing to be done about it. Can we not leave it all in the past and start anew, without this accusation hanging between us?”

  What he was asking was not too terribly difficult, was it? “I loved my father, William. After my brother and mother died, he was all I had. If he had not been killed that day by your father, my life would have been full of joy and hope, not torment and hopelessness. I cannot forget, or forgive, what your father took from me.”

  His heavy sigh carried on the breeze. “Very well. Until tomorrow, Miss Beinfait.” He stood and was gone before she could call him back.

  Pulling her knees up, she rested her arms across them and stared out into the dark. The hurt in his tone was as clear as his stiff goodbye. Tomorrow she was to become Lady Lancastor, but underneath she would still be Felicity Beinfait. In order to become the lady he wanted her to be, she would have to leave her history behind. It was something she could not do. Somehow her father’s death had to be avenged. She owed him that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The day of the wedding dawned crisp and clear. Felicity tarried in bed until almost noon, when the school hair dresser arrived. A cup of tea was all she managed to force down her weak stomach, as she studied the hair stylists movements in the mirror. A whirlwind of emotion engulfed her, from reluctance, nervousness, excitement, to outright terror. The time finally came to don the costly gown with the help of Madame Bernard’s personal maid. The girl was quiet and rarely smiled as she helped Felicity affix layer upon layer of petticoats, slip the ocean of fabric over her head and lace up the back.

  Felicity surveyed her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was piled into a golden cascade of curls secured by a strand of faux diamonds, with a few delicate wisps left down to frame her heart-shaped face. The necklace of sapphires and diamonds lay about her neck, its glitter matching the nervous snap in her eyes. The gown lifted and pushed her modest breasts into mounds threatening to escape their slippery cocoon. She smoothed a shaky hand across the bejeweled bodice and turned to see the back in the mirror. The rustling and shifting of her skirts caused the little diamonds sewn to it to twinkle and catch the light. “Oh my, how am I to ever get out of this?”

  “Not to worry, miss, I heard Madame Bernard say his lordship put her in charge of hiring a ladies maid for you. She will be awaiting your arrival at the duke’s residence.” The girl tweaked the bow in the back of the dress. “If that is all, I will leave you now with my best wishes upon your nuptials.”

  “Thank you,” Felicity murmured. She turned away from the mirror and paced the small bedchamber. Tonight she would face the marriage bed. The memory of Williams kiss heated her cheeks. Would he kiss her the same way tonight? Would her virginal body please him? It occurred to her she hadn’t the slightest idea what went on between a man and a woman in the bed chamber beyond kissing. A sense of panic rose in her, which she tried to tamp down. She had no one to ask about tonight, what would take place, and how to please her husband.

  She jumped at the knock on the door. “Y—yes?”

  It opened and Madame Bernard entered. “I see you are ready.”

  Felicity nodded.

  “Well, come along, his lordship’s carriage shall be here any moment.”

  “Wait.” Felicity stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Madame…I wondered…”

  The Madame paused with a delicate lift of one brow. “Yes, Miss Beinfait?”

  Dropping her gaze to the floor, Felicity whispered. “I have no idea what to expect, afterward, in the…um…marriage bed.”

  “Oh…dear.” The Madame sighed. “And you think I can help you?”

  Felicity looked up. “Can you not? You teach us everything else.”

  The Madame looked away. “I am afraid that is something I cannot advise you on, my dear, for I have never lain with a man. Come along now, the carriage awaits.”

  Stomach churning, Felicity took one last look at the room that had been hers for the last two years and then followed.

  The duke’s carriage was polished and gleaming with gold fixtures and pulled by four snow white horses. A footman dressed in powder blue set the step and helped Felicity and the Madame, who was to be her chaperone, into it. In silence they settled back against the plush powder blue cushions. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves became the rhythm of her pounding heart the closer they came to the duke’s London house. Before long they pulled up in front of an opulent mansion of white sandstone. The circular drive was jammed with carriages and conveyances of all shapes and sizes.

  Sweat broke out on her brow. Hundreds of people are waiting to witness my punishment…. I mean marriage…. “Oh fie.”

  The Madame gasped. “Miss Beinfait! Such un-ladylike language is not acceptable, as you well know.”

  Felicity bowed her head and mumbled, “Oh dear, so sorry. I did not mean to say it out loud.”

  “Hump! To have even thought it is shocking enough!”

  “Yes, Madame Bernard.” She bit her lip.

  The footman came around to set the step and, numb with fear, Felicity climbed down. The Madame must have sensed her reluctance, for she practically towed her up the wide stone steps and rapped on the door. Within moments it was opened by a harried-looking butler in powder blue. After ushering them inside, he led them across a white tiled foyer to a small parlor to wait.

  Madame Bernard released her hand. “Well, goodbye, my dear. I wish you well.”

  Felicity stood in silence as her mentor walked out the door, leaving her utterly alone. The mantle clock ticked on and on, grating on her every nerve. A peal of laughter echoed beyond the door, rising above the soft murmur of voices. She reached out and turned the door
knob. It twisted easily, refuting her mind’s idea she was a prisoner here.

  The butler stationed outside the door smiled. “Is there something you need, miss?”

  She licked her dry lips and tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry all she managed was a grimace. “A glass of water would be lovely, if you please.”

  The older gentleman stepped inside the room. “I’ll not tell if you’d like something a mite bit stronger, miss.” He gave a little wink and hurried to pour her a glass of sherry from a decanter on the mantle.

  She thanked him and took the offered glass with shaking fingers. The liquor was sharp and unfamiliar to her taste buds, but she drank it down with little hesitation. When the butler retreated out the door, she waited a moment and then poured herself a second glass. She downed it quicker than the first, afraid to be caught in the act, and set the glass on the table. Her queasy stomach rolled, yet the drink stayed down, and within minutes a warm fuzzy feeling engulfed her. Though her legs were shaking and she wanted to sit, she paced, afraid to wrinkle her dress.

  Finally the door opened and the butler summoned her. “Follow me, miss.”

  Taking a deep breath, she followed him down a long hall to a set of closed double doors flanked by two uniformed footmen. At their approach, the footmen opened both doors wide. The rich fragrance of flowers, perfume, and beeswax candles tickled her nose, as the butler stepped aside for her to enter. Alone she stepped across the threshold into a massive mirrored ballroom. Rows upon rows of nobles turned in their seats at her entrance, and hundreds of eyes fell on her. On shaking limbs, she walked up the aisle between them. Releasing a shuddering breath, she fastened her gaze on William, who stood before a raised platform on which a quartet played. He gave her a tight smile, which she tried to return, but failed. By the time she reached his side, her palms were sweating and her chest was tight.