The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)

by Stephanie Feagan

  He stood and came for another round, then paced to the fireplace and looked up at Mrs. Hopping. “Relative?”

  “No. The original owner’s wife.”

  “I thought it was a smudge, but I see it is not. Damned if she don’t have a moustache.” He turned and rested a boot against the fire screen, leaning an elbow on the mantel. “There’s a fine art to groveling, Blix. Get it wrong and you’ll not be down the hall, but outside with the hounds.” He nursed his brandy, appearing to be lost in thought. “I’ll tell you a story to demonstrate. When I’d been married less than a year, with Connie only just delivered of our first child, I made the grievous error of siding with my mother when she insisted Constance employ a wet nurse. My mother thought it common and low for a lady to nurse a child. Before it was said and done, Connie was cast as an ignorant Scottish peasant, less than common, even. I found it rather endearing that she wished to nurse our son, but I didn’t say so. I allowed my mother to interfere, and suddenly, somehow, it all got away from me, all because I didn’t stand up for Connie and tell my mother to mind her own business.”

  Michael retook his seat and listened, wondering where this was going.

  “She packed up and left me. Took the babe and went all the way to Scotland, she did, to her own mama. I was young and proud and stupid and determined she would be brought to heel, so I wrote and told her she should hie herself back home, or suffer the consequences.”

  “What were the consequences?”

  Sherbourne barked a laugh. “Hell if I had any idea. I thought certainly she’d shake in her boots and rush back to me. Instead, she sent me her wedding ring and told me to pawn it for coin and buy myself a brain.”

  Michael couldn’t help a chuckle. “Did you go after her then?”

  “Oh, no, I was righteous at that point, furious, of course, and determined to wait her out.” He swirled the brandy in his snifter. “I waited another six months in a cold bed, until I thought I’d expire of loneliness and missing her. I wrote every week and she sent the letters back, every blasted one. I had a son and I was missing everything, wouldn’t see him grow up. Then I ran into someone who’d done some business with her father and found out, through him, a relative stranger, that Constance was with child again. I’d had enough. I went to Scotland, well prepared to grovel. Or so I thought. I brought her an expensive gift of jewelry, said I was sorry, that I would never go against her in future, and surely now she would come home? She wouldn’t allow me to stay, made me go into the village, where there was no inn, and I lived two weeks with an old harridan of a woman and slept in her hayloft.”

  By now, Michael was laughing right out. “A hayloft? You’re funning me!”

  “No, no, I don’t exaggerate. She had a foul tempered goat whose head butts I tried and failed to dodge every night on my way to the loft ladder. He was quick and wily and I could scarcely sit for the bruises on my bum. Time passed and I went to see Constance every day, bearing gifts, begging her to return home with me. The gifts were not accepted and the answer was always no. I was exhausted, depressed and wondering how everything had become so dismal. She loved me, I knew she did, but she wouldn’t relent. Oddly enough, it was that nasty old woman who made me see the light. She wanted me out of her hayloft, in spite of the coin I gave her, and she told me one morn, if I’d just be sincere, and tell Constance how I felt, how I really, truly felt, she would forgive me. The old woman said too much unhappiness comes from pride, that it’s the downfall of every man, and the one who is able to swallow it turns out to be the one who always wins, who has most to be proud of. I went back to Connie’s father’s house, but this time without a gift, with nothing but humility. She was there, I recall, in the nursery, nursing James in a rocking chair, her belly round with my child, and I thought I’d fair die of loving her. I went down on my knees and told her so, swore she was my life, my heart.”

  “And she forgave you?”

  Sherbourne swallowed the last of his brandy. “She told me I was ruining a perfectly good pair of breeches. Always wasteful, she said to me. If I wasn’t careful, I’d go through all of our money and we’d be destitute and have to live in a cold garret, and she’d have to take in laundry. I stayed on my knees and said I would do half the laundry, if it came to that, but I wasn’t getting up until she forgave me.”

  Michael thought it was perhaps the best story he’d ever heard. Maybe because it was true. Perhaps because it was a bit of Jane’s history. Or maybe because it was so very different from his own parents’ marriage. “Did you take her home then?”

  “Couldn’t. She was too far along. We stayed until after Jack was born, and returned to Hornsby Grange when he was six months old.” He lifted a brow suggestively. “Our twins, Henry and Julian, were conceived on the return trip. Lot to be said for groveling, Blix, but as I said, there’s an art to it.” He nodded toward the door Jane had recently exited. “I suggest you get to it. Don’t allow her to go to Eastchase Hall, or you’ll be spending the next few months in a cold bed and wind up doing what you can do right now.”

  “How will you occupy yourself? This may take a while.”

  “If you don’t mind, perhaps I’ll go and take a look at your crossbreds.”

  Michael stood and set aside his empty glass. “Be my guest. Crofton is no doubt still at the cottage we’re using for the office. Go south of the house and pick up the lane to the west. There’s a small barn you can see from the lane, and the cottage is just there, along with the pens. Help yourself to a mount, but you should avoid Grendel.” He moved toward the door. “She may be breeding. Went into season last week and before I could isolate her, Pendragon got to her.” His mind flashed a picture of Jane, watching, then kissing him atop his mount, moving her body on his.

  “You don’t say. Now that will be an interesting foal, will it not?”

  “Indeed. Jane and I have decided to hope she is pregnant. Until we know, Jane’s not been riding her. If you like, take Pendragon. He’s rather chipper of late.”

  Sherbourne laughed. “No doubt. Well, then, Blix, I have to say, I appreciate your brandy, your hospitality, and your friendship, and I hope, most sincerely, you’ll see your way clear to allow me to marry Lucy.”

  With his hand on the doorknob, Michael turned and met his gaze. Sherbourne’s eyes twinkled. How did he do that? “Will you fair die of loving her?”

  He expected him to laugh. Instead, the man shocked him completely when he said soberly, “She is my heart and my life, and you must believe I will never, so long as I am breathing, allow any harm to come to her, or William, nor any children we may have between us. I won’t pretend this isn’t most humbling for me, and I certainly feel ridiculous, being fifty years old and wanting to marry a woman half my age, but that is the way of it.” He paused. “The answer is yes, Blixford, I may fair die of loving her.”

  Chapter 13

  He expected to find a blaze of fury and a flurry of packing activity when he opened his chamber door. Instead, all was quiet within. He was about to turn to leave and go in search of her when he spotted the top of her dark head, peeking above the back of a chair before the fireplace. He glanced toward the dressing table. Her things were still there, resting next to his.

  Reassured, he walked into the room, closed the door and went to sit on the chair to the other side of the grate. She met his gaze directly. “Is your conversation with my father done?”

  “Yes, Jane.”

  “Will you allow him to marry Lady Bonderant?”

  “If she confirms it’s what she wants, yes.”

  “That’s good. They will be very happy, and it pleases me for lovely people to have their happiness.”

  Silence followed and they gazed at one another for what seemed an eternity. He formed a thousand sentences in his head and didn’t speak even one. He knew, instinctively, he couldn’t make it right to her, couldn’t explain enough for her to understand his motivation.

  He couldn’t tell her he loved her, that she was his life, his
heart. She couldn’t be, and she would know he lied, would despise him further than she did already. Sherbourne’s tale to demonstrate the power of groveling had been marvelous, but nothing of it applied to Michael. He was sincere in his insistence that he didn’t betray her, but she wouldn’t respond to that, regardless of how sincere.

  The situation was hopeless.

  Her words confirmed it.

  “I’m not angry,” she said at last. “I’m not upset, nor sad, nor hurt. More than anything, I’m astonished that a man of your sensibilities could so monumentally miss the significance of what you’ve done. You’ve destroyed any chance we had for happiness and harmony, Blix. We might have lived together for years upon years, raised a large brood and found pleasure in one another’s company. We might have shared our lives. We would have been friends and lovers, as we agreed. But it’s impossible without trust, and I can never again trust you.”

  “Your father believes you love me.”

  “He is, as usual, correct, but love without trust means nothing. I can never tell you anything, share any part of myself, of who I am. Sharing one’s soul is something of a cornerstone to a close marriage, I believe. As it stands now, I would be hard pressed to confide in you my favorite flavor of ice at Gunther’s. I don’t expect you to understand, but try and imagine if I betrayed your confidence. I had never heard that your father was mad, and I suspect your aunt managed to hide it, to keep his condition from the outside world. Suppose I told someone whom you hold in high regard of your father’s madness, and your deep fear of becoming like him? I believe you would be stunned that I could do such a thing.”

  “It is not the same thing. He’s your father. He needed to know something happened to you, needs to reassure you that the blame for it is his, not yours.”

  “How can he be to blame when it was I who allowed it to happen to me?”

  “If he or one of your brothers had been a presence there, do you believe MacDougal would have lied to gain your acquiescence for liberties, subsequently assaulted you, even when you said no, then insulted you grievously? No, Jane, he would not. You were essentially alone there, without protection from a blackguard of no honor. That he’s your kin only makes it worse. You said he backed off after a time, but renewed his insistence after he discovered your ruination. He saw it that you were already fallen, that you were his to take. Because no one of your family was there, he assumed they had cast you aside, banished you, that they wouldn’t care what happened to you.”

  He rose and went to the window, staring out at the gardens and the wilderness beyond. “Sherbourne doesn’t in any way see this as your shame. You have to believe that, if you don’t believe anything else I say. He loves you very much.”

  “You really don’t understand at all, do you? I don’t fret that he’ll think less of me because MacDougal assaulted me, or even because I allowed myself to be duped so completely. I’m his daughter, someone he cherishes and loves and considers very dear. From now on, he’ll think of MacDougal when he looks at me. He’ll feel guilty about it, and treat me differently than he did before. He’ll think me wounded, and won’t be as open with me. It will alter our relationship permanently and I don’t know how I’ll bear it.”

  It was not something he’d considered. She was undoubtedly correct in her thinking, but he still believed Sherbourne needed to know, had a right to know. He was quiet for a time, giving significant thought to her words as he looked out the window.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught a movement along the edge of the house, close to the garden. Turning his head, he saw Lucy and William walk into view. She must have only just arrived, undoubtedly anxious to convince him to allow her marriage to Jane’s father. Why had Hester not shown her into the parlor? Then he saw Sherbourne striding toward her from the direction of the stables. He must have seen her drive up, and returned his mount in order to greet her.

  He knew he shouldn’t look, but he was compelled. Grinning happily, Sherbourne swept her up into his arms, lifted her feet from the ground and twirled her about. Lucy laughed, and her face, he could see even from this distance, was lit with joy. When Sherbourne set her down, he kissed her, then stepped away to reach for William. He ruffled his hair and greeted him before lifting him up to his shoulders. William looked very happy, his ordinarily serious face split with a wide grin. With an arm about Lucy’s shoulders, her arm about his middle, and William riding upon his shoulders, Sherbourne walked away, toward the wilderness.

  Michael suspected he told Lucy they should spend some time away from the house.

  His father-in-law was an eternal optimist, no doubt believing all would be well upon their return.

  When they were out of sight, he turned to look at his wife.

  She had folded her hands in her lap and her head was down, as if she stared at them. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and quiet. “We are married and I’ve agreed to bear you an heir. I will do so. After I’m delivered of a son, my promise will be fulfilled. I will raise him at Eastchase Hall and ensure he receives an upbringing and education befitting the heir of a duke.” She looked up and met his gaze. “I’ll be your duchess and mistress of your homes. I’ll entertain and present a respectable face to the world. I’ll never embarrass you. However, I will not go beyond my obligations as your wife and your duchess. We won’t be friends. We won’t be lovers. We’ll couple as needed that I may conceive, but I expect you to perform the duty with all due haste as I cannot bear the idea of intimacy with you after today.”

  Every word was like another slamming door. He must have flinched, because she sounded haughtily disgusted.

  “You should be happy, I’d think, because there will be no likelihood of forming any feeling for me at all. Over time, whatever affection you now have will dissipate as though it never was, and the possibility of following in your father’s footsteps will become ever more remote. I won’t be emotionally accessible in any way. I won’t trust you at all. I had but one secret to share, and you promptly told the only person I would hate to know it above anyone else. You may fool yourself that you did it for my benefit, but in truth, it was to protect yourself from his censure, to smooth your way, to shift his anger toward another. How could he remain upset with you over the arrival of your mistress on his doorstep, when another man was a far worse villain? He fell right in, didn’t he? As soon as he learned what happened to me, that you nobly married me in spite of it, he saw you in a much more favorable light, which was as you intended, whether you did it with conscious thought, or not. You damaged the bond between my father and me for the sake of your own comfort and pride.”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands again. “It would appear the marriage I ran away from is the marriage I came back to. That it is now I who dislikes you would be hysterically ironic if it weren’t such a travesty. This is all I never wanted.” She sighed. “I expect you’ll want to take a mistress. I don’t care. I ask only that you be discreet and that I never know of her existence, nor of any children she may bear you.”

  She stood. “I’m going to ring for Rose that she can assist me in packing for my departure tomorrow. I’ll travel with my father.”

  “What of Grendel?”

  An expression of pain crossed her features. “I’d prefer she remain here until Benjamin determines if she’s breeding. If not, I will have her taken to the block and sold. She deserves a mistress who will ride her, and I don’t wish even to see her.”

  He moved toward her but stopped when she turned her back to him. “Jane, I’ve barely spoken, not had the opportunity to tell you any of my thoughts.”

  “Why waste time and breath? It won’t matter what you say, or how convincing you may be. I’ve made my plan, and as it follows yours exactly, you can hardly complain.”

  Had he sounded so cold, so distant, so unfeeling? He suspected that he had. She had loved him and married him in spite of his autocratic cold scheme, insisting only that he dismiss Miriam, determined he stay only in her bed, no doubt because sex was the
most she could hope for in the way of affection from him.

  She moved toward the dressing room. “I’ll await you in London, at the house in Cavendish Square.”

  “You’ve abandoned the notion of going directly to Eastchase?”

  “On further reflection, yes. I cannot become pregnant without you, so I will remain in London until I’m breeding. The instant I become aware of conception, I’ll retire to the country and await the child’s birth. If the child is female, we will try again.” She stopped at the doorway to the dressing room and looked at him over her shoulder. “Unless I die in childbed. In that event, my obligation to you will be at an end, along with this farce of a marriage.”

  Their eyes met and held for several long moments. Michael was certain he could say something, do something that would melt the ice in her gaze, but he had no idea what it might be. He was an intelligent man, capable and courageous, but faced with making things right with Jane, he didn’t know how to go on. “You said you love me. Is all this your way of expressing it?”

  “Yes, it is. If I didn’t love you, I would leave you. Because I love you, I will stay and bear you a son so that you may have peace of mind.”

  “You love me, yet you dislike me?”

  “I cannot stop loving you. It has become a habit, a part of me. But I’m unable to like one I distrust.” Her expression softened, infinitesimally. “Poor Michael, you’ve lost something you never knew you wanted, haven’t you? An adoring wife who found as much pleasure in you as you for her, an amiable, intelligent companion, a helpmate, a friend.” She shrugged. “Ah, well, you’re back to where you started, as when you first married Annabel. You can take comfort in knowing your best laid plans will come to fruition, at last. You’ll have a stranger for a wife, and you’ll have your heir. You’ll do your duty, no matter the cost.” She turned away. “I’m going to pack. We are done.” Stepping into the dressing room, she closed the door.