The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)

by Stephanie Feagan

  “Did he tell you?”

  “He did. Oh, no details, mind, but I got the gist of things. I informed him it was all badly done, that no lady would find honor in marrying a man who spoke so cruelly. He was perplexed, of course, quite angry, in fact, but he eventually conceded he handled the whole affair very badly.”

  Sitting before her glass, Jane set her hat upon her head and affixed it with pins before she dabbed a bit of scent to her wrists and turned to pull on her half boots. “I was a fool, Lady Bonderant. It’s kind of you to voice an understanding of my motives, and exceedingly wonderful of you not to hold a grudge against me for wronging your brother as I did. But the truth to the matter is that I behaved like a spoiled, peevish child. I’ve told Blixford I will make it up to him.”

  “Perhaps you will feel comfortable to address me by my Christian name of Lucy? I’d like that very much.”

  “Yes, of course. As you must call me Jane.”

  “Thank you, Jane. Now, as to making it up to Blix, I would offer a bit of sisterly advice to you, if I may speak plainly?”

  Her boots firmly upon her feet, nothing left to do but gather her reticule, Jane sat up on her dressing bench and faced Lucy squarely. “I’m a great advocate of plain speaking. Do tell.”

  Lucy removed her feet from the stool and moved to perch at the edge of the chair, her expression earnest. “You’ve married a complicated man, Jane. As time passes, I’m certain you’ll discover why, but until you have a complete understanding, I counsel you to stay the course. He can be very cold, as you’ve witnessed, but it’s only his manner of avoiding things which cause him discomfort. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “I believe I do.”

  Her new sister-in-law looked conflicted. “I beg you not to lose heart, or back down. He’s determined to feel nothing for you but friendship, and it simply won’t do, Jane. I love him very much. He’s my brother, but he’s also the only parent I’ve ever known. My father was never the same after my mother’s death, when I was but four and Michael eight. We were sent to live with his sister, a hard, bitter woman who forever resented us in her home. Blix never forgave our father for farming us out like that, and I believe his bitterness has hardened him, made him determined not to extend affection to anyone, lest he be hurt.”

  Jane got to her feet and paced along the edge of her bed. Julian had failed to mention that Blixford and his sister were sent away after their mother’s death. Was it any wonder he was so distant from society, that he avoided social engagements and went about his business in all but total solitude? It broke her heart to think of him and Lucy, at the mercy of an ill-willed aunt. She’d met Lady Reid several times, and couldn’t think of a colder, more arrogant woman. The Marchioness of Bloomsbury was a jolly warm soul in comparison. She slowed and looked at his sister. “You don’t appear to have followed the same course, Lucy. I’ve long admired your grace and kindness, and while you do seem a bit reclusive at Margrave Park, it’s understandable, having lost your husband whom you loved so much.”

  Lucy smiled sadly. “Who can say why we are different, Jane? Perhaps each of us is born predisposed to go through life in some manner, and circumstance tends to exacerbate the disposition. I left it behind and retain an optimistic outlook. Blix did not. Maybe because he’s male, or because he’s older and better understood what was taken from us.”

  Jane resumed pacing. “I’ve no idea how to go on. I cannot demand he tender an affection for me, and if he’s determined to keep me at arm’s length, I don’t see a way around it. I did insist, before I agreed to marry him, that he not leave me rusticating at Eastchase Hall, that I expect to be with him, as a wife should be.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “Yes, but it was clear he didn’t like the notion. I thought it was because he thinks me mannish, even unlikable. I see now, he didn’t lie when he assured me he doesn’t dislike me, or find my pastimes repugnant. It’s perhaps because he fears he may like me too much. What a coil! And how unexpected. I suppose I must retain my distance, else I’ll put him off all together.”

  “Ah, this is my point, Jane. That is exactly what you must not do. The key to Blix is the element of surprise, to keep him on his toes and never let him become complacent. You should go about your life as you would if he were not hindered by his fear of rejection. I don’t imagine you love him, but it’s obvious you hold him in high regard. You must be your normal, vivacious self, act as though you are wildly in love with him and proceed accordingly. If he exhibits the slightest tendency to shut you out, you should remember his reasons and defeat his efforts. I’ve said all of this only so you will stay the course and help him realize his full potential. He’s truly a kind soul, with a great capacity to love. I sometimes believe he’s like two persons –the man he shows the world, and the one deep within, wishing to get out. I also believe you are the one to set him free, but you’ll have to be quite cagey about it.”

  Jane stopped pacing and looked carefully at her sister-in-law. She was a woman of quiet, dignified beauty, with the dark hair and eyes of the Devereauxs, a model of propriety. Just now, however, she was uncharacteristically animated. “Lucy, your eyes are positively sparkling. You’ve a devious mind.”

  She laughed, well pleased, it appeared. “It’s a necessity when dealing with Blix, you’ll soon find.” Rising from the chair, she crossed the room and embraced Jane. “I foresee you and he will be supremely happy.” She leaned back and grasped Jane’s shoulders, her expression now quite serious. “But it will take much courage on your part. I beg you not to lose faith, and please, if you ever feel the need for a friendly face who well understands your dilemma, you’ve only to send for me. I expect you to visit me as well, Jane.” She dropped her arms and looped one through Jane’s, to walk with her to the door. “I’ll leave you now and go and say goodbye to Blix and your family.” She looked askance at her. “It must have been . . . interesting, growing up in a houseful of males, all of them, shall we say, rather overtly masculine?”

  “Indeed,” she agreed before she impulsively pressed a kiss to Lucy’s cheek. “All the more reason for my appreciation of you. How dear you are to counsel me.”

  Smiling warmly, Lucy grasped her hand and squeezed. “Goodbye, Jane. Do have a lovely honeymoon and write when you can.”

  “Yes, I will. Goodbye, Lucy.” She watched her slip from the room then turned to gather up her reticule, her mind turning as she faced a different dilemma than what she’d originally thought. He was not so much afraid of losing her in childbed as he was simply afraid to let her too close. She’d thought that once she became pregnant, was delivered of a child, and recovered nicely, Blixford would come around. Now, she saw that she was wrong.

  Still, she couldn’t regret marrying him, even if the necessity of doing so was a bit of a mystery to her. She’d determined she didn’t love him, but there was something about Blixford she couldn’t ignore, as if he had that which she needed desperately. Just what it was, she had no idea. She’d returned home to marry him, and so it was done. Whatever the future held in store, she would face it and make the most of it.

  Beginning right now.

  With a light step, she took one last look around her bedchamber to ensure she hadn’t left anything of import, then went out into the hallway. She heard voices raised and wondered what was afoot.

  At the top of the stairs, she looked down into the front hall and was immediately dizzy.

  Blixford stood there, just inside the front door, embracing his mistress, who sobbed uncontrollably. Sherbourne was shouting, as were James and Jack. Lucy stood by, her face pale, her lips trembling.

  It appeared, from what she could glean from the shouts and the mistress’s wailing voice, that she was expecting Blixford’s child, that she expected him to marry her, and she was most displeased that he had married another.

  Chapter 6

  Jane started down the stairs, wondering if hers was always to be a life of contention. Sometimes, she sincerely wished s
he’d been left on the steps of a French convent, to be raised by quiet nuns. Surely without the presence of men, life would be infinitely more peaceful.

  No one had yet noticed her. Stepping into the fray, she said calmly, “Perhaps this is a matter best left inside the door, Your Grace? I daresay the neighbors are all quite thrilled to know you’re to be a papa, but I don’t believe this is precisely the way you should announce it.” She noticed then that he wasn’t embracing the woman. Rather, she clung to his neck, sobbing and keening her unhappiness all over his coat.

  He stepped back, effectively dragging her along so that the butler could close the door. “Miriam, you must control yourself,” he said sternly, attempting to disengage her.

  Sherbourne looked angry enough for the top of his head to come right off. “The marriage will be annulled, immediately. Reverend Hastings, you are witness to this and will plead the annulment to the bishop, will you not?”

  Poor Reverend Hastings was beside himself with agitation, holding his hands folded in front of him as if in perpetual prayer, murmuring pointless things such as, “Good heavens!” and “Mercy me!” and “Gracious God!” The instant Sherbourne said his name, he looked just as he might if Moses were to appear on the stairs and command him to part the Thames. Wide eyed, he looked up at her father and stammered, “My . . . my lord, sure . . . surely we must think this through? I’ve no idea how this might be . . . be met by the bishop. I shall have to . . . to—”

  “That won’t be necessary, sir.” Jane patted his shoulder and gently nudged him toward the door. “You’ve done your duty this morning, for which I’m most grateful. I shall see you at services three weeks hence.” Rothschild, bless his soul, had opened the door, once again, and waved to John Coachman to pull forward. Jane continued nudging the reverend toward the doorway. “Please have a lovely day, there’s a good man, and I’m certain we can count on your discretion in this matter?” She saw his nervous nod. “I thought so. Well, goodbye then, sir, and do be careful of the steps—” She flinched. “Ah, you’ve not sustained an injury after all. Excellent.”

  Turning away from the door as it closed she looked at her dear papa and brothers and said in a loud voice that brooked no argument, “I believe this is a matter between my husband, myself and his previous mistress. We will discuss it in the study, the three of us, and return shortly.”

  Sherbourne was not to be dissuaded. He moved closer and shouted, “You will not remain married to the scoundrel.”

  Looking him straight in the eye, she said evenly, “If Blixford is a scoundrel because he had a mistress, then I’d warrant at least three other men standing in this hall are also scoundrels.”

  For perhaps the first time, at least the first time she’d ever noticed, her father looked shocked. He fairly shook with indignation. “Daughter, you go too far. I will not stand by and allow you to ruin your life with that man. Go upstairs and let me handle this.”

  Blixford stepped between them, almost as tall as her father, practically nose to nose with him. “We will speak privately, Sherbourne.”

  “Yes, I believe we will. Shall we adjourn to the garden?” He turned and stalked away, Blixford on his heels.

  Her husband of less than two hours called over his shoulder, “Miriam, you will await my return in the study.” Then he was gone.

  “Good heavens. Will there be fisticuffs?” Lucy asked, looking horrified.

  “Certainly not,” James said, turning to offer his arm. “My apologies, ma’am. You are distressed, of course. Please accompany me to the drawing room and I’ll have tea brought up.”

  Lucy thanked him before she looked toward Jane. “Will you come along?”

  “I think not, thank you. I’ll stay and have a visit with . . . ” She looked to the woman beside her, who was still sobbing a trifle hysterically. “Madam, you are overset. Stop it, at once.”

  She did. Staring at Jane, she stiffened her spine and dabbed her eyes with the edge of her handkerchief. “I beg your pardon, m’lady. I’ve created a scene, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, quite.” She touched the woman’s arm and nudged her toward the study, across the hallway from the dining room. “I must beg your pardon, madam, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

  “Miriam,” she whispered. “Miriam Wendover.”

  Jane kept urging her forward. “Rothschild, if you would be so good as to bring tea to the study as well, I’d be most appreciative.”

  Lucy went up the stairs with James and Jack and the rest of her brothers while Jane stepped into the room and closed the pocket doors. Miriam moved toward the window and stared out at the street, affording Jane the opportunity to study her. Her walking gown was the first stare of fashion, a pale pink affair with two flounces, a high neck, and lace around her wrists. Her little hat was a dear thing, a confection of pink and white, with a short, jaunty feather. With her golden hair and fair skin, pink was just right. Jane experienced a stab of something she decided must be jealousy. Or resentment. Here was a woman who’d seen Blixford without his clothes on numerous occasions, had, in fact been extremely intimate with him. Enough to conceive his child. Jane suppressed the instinctive urge to rush forward and snatch the woman’s hair from her head.

  “I’m terribly sorry, m’lady,” his mistress said. “Please understand, it wasn’t my intent to upset your wedding day, except that you have married the father of my child. I sent a note round to him this morning, but he didn’t respond. I assumed he was ignoring me, and I was hurt and angry. I went to his house, and was told he was not home. After I demanded to know where he’d gone, his valet arrived and said he was here, marrying you.” She wheeled around, head held high. “Blix always said if I became with child, he would marry me. That day is now, and he has promised.”

  Jane didn’t believe it for an instant. “Please, won’t you sit down?” She waved her toward a chair and followed suit as soon as the woman took a seat. “Now, suppose you tell me the whole of it, so I may decide for myself what course I should take.”

  Miriam’s pretty green eyes widened. “Do you mean to say, you really would seek an annulment?”

  “Oh, but of course! If the duke promised to marry you in the event you conceived his child, most certainly he must honor his word.”

  She clutched her handkerchief as though it would save her from drowning. “I didn’t believe you could do so. Get an annulment, I mean.”

  “I most certainly can, and will. Please tell me exactly when the duke made his promise.”

  “Well, it was more in the manner of a jest, you see, but all the same, he did say he would do right by me.”

  Jane saw directly through the woman, but she wouldn’t humiliate her by saying so. She was with child, and no doubt concerned about her future, now that motherhood loomed. “You and the duke are friends, are you not?”

  “Oh, yes, m’lady. I may be his mistress, and you of course understand the nature of this sort of relationship, but we have always got along rather famously. He is a kind man, very considerate. And terribly smart. He’s taken some time to educate me, buying me books, insisting I learn to speak and write properly.”

  Jane glanced toward the door when she heard a knock. “Come.”

  Rothschild stepped inside and rolled the tea cart close to her chair. “Will there be anything further, Your Grace?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  When he was gone, Jane poured, then settled back to continue her interrogation. “When faced with a dilemma, I like to apply the anything can happen and all things are possible theory. I suggest we do so now, Miss Wendover. If anything can happen, if all things are possible, with no negative consequences, only what is best for you, how would you see this scenario wind up? Would you be his duchess, responsible for entertaining the beau monde, the members of Parliament, perhaps even the royals? Do you see yourself managing five different households? Will it intimidate you to be presented at court? I daresay you will require extensive coaching on matters of society, but then, you
are clearly very bright and I’m certain an apt pupil.”

  Miriam sipped her tea and didn’t respond. She appeared somewhat befuddled.

  “Perhaps this is not actually what you desire. Do you see yourself settled in a comfortable home, somewhere in the country, with a few servants to see to your needs, and a handsome yearly allowance? Can you imagine raising your child there, allowing Blixford to provide for the child’s requirements, including his or her education? The child will be the bastard of a duke, and certainly entitled to an upbringing above that of commoner children, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, m’lady, that sounds perfect. I’m just not certain Blix will agree to it. He was most emphatic when he left last, that we would not see one another again, that his settlement would be the last money I would receive from him.”

  “You didn’t know about the babe at that time?”

  “I suspected, but wasn’t certain until yesterday, when I went to the midwife for an examination. She says I’ll deliver sometime in October.” Miriam set her tea upon the small table to the left of her chair and bent forward to meet Jane’s gaze. “I’ve no wish to marry him, not really. I beg of you not to get an annulment. If you could perhaps stand beside me and help me convince him to take responsibility for the child, that is all I want.”

  “What of you, Miss Wendover? Have you no thoughts of marriage?”

  She waved the handkerchief as if in surrender. “I knew I would never marry after young Benjamin, a stable hand at my father’s farm, ruined me in a pile of hay, just after my sixteenth birthday. I knew then what men are about, and I’ve no need of one, except to make my living. My papa set me out and told me never to come back, so I made my way to London and have earned my keep by making gentlemen happy.” She eyed Jane carefully. “If you don’t mind a bit of advice, m’lady, a man has needs and if he can’t get them at home, he’ll go elsewhere. You don’t strike me as a broomstick, so perhaps you’ll forgive my bluntness.”