Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. He’d wondered if the man might exact his revenge on Jane for shooting him in his bollocks, and here it was. He was amazed how calm he was. It was simple, really. He would kill MacDougal. He would stretch things out and ensure it was painful and horrible, that the man would beg for death to relieve him of his misery. “Wrotham, you’re a good chap, and I’ve no doubt I’ll have the honor of returning this favor in future.”
He looked nonplussed. “How can you take this so easily, Blix? Good God, man, it is the worst thing. The very worst! It’s untrue, of course, as I well know. Why, I’ve known Lady Jane since she was in the schoolroom, can call Sherbourne one of my closest friends. But there are those who don’t know her true, sweet nature, who only see her pistols and hard riding and talk of farming. Her very unconventional behavior only lends credibility to a rumor such as this.” He drained the brandy and his shoulders slumped. “This will kill Sherbourne, surely. I believe the only reason he’s not aware of it is because of his friendship with Lady Bonderant. They spent a great deal of time together these past weeks, and I daresay he was not attuned to much else, or he’d have heard . . . something. I’d pray God he never hear of it, but that’s not possible. Just as you have surmised there is a problem, so will he. Were I not an abject coward, I would go and tell him myself, that he would be forewarned.”
“Do you suppose her brothers are aware?”
Wrotham shook his head, but only just barely. Those shirt points bordered on ridiculous. “They’re all known for their over-the-top protective stance toward Jane. I’ve no doubt not a soul in London would have the nerve to even whisper about Jane when any of them are present. That person might wind up feeding the fishes in the Thames.” His look was sympathetic. “I’m terribly sorry you’ve had to find out this way, Blix, and it wounds me for Lady Jane to be hurt so.”
He grasped Wrotham’s shoulder. “If I were to ask your assistance, would you be willing?”
His eyes widened. “Blix, will you call him out? Do you ask me to act as second?”
“Nothing of the kind. Calling a gentleman out suggests he deserves the honor of a request for satisfaction.”
Wrotham’s eyes widened further. “Revenge, then?”
“It’s said revenge is a dish best served cold, but in this situation, I believe straight from the oven is what’s called for. May I count on you?”
“It would be my pleasure and honor.” He stood straight once more. “What do you plan?”
“Please, let us have a seat and I’ll tell you.”
Half an hour later, he thanked Wrotham and took his leave, then headed for Sherbourne’s townhouse. He wouldn’t ask his assistance, but he believed her father deserved to hear the blasted rumor from his son-in-law, instead of via sly innuendos in a social setting.
Sherbourne was out, having taken Lucy and William to the park. Michael returned to his curricle and went there directly, driving through, searching. When he located them, he noted William was very adept with his small bow and short arrows. He noted Lucy was beaming proudly, and Sherbourne was staring at her as though he expected her to disappear. If he were not in a cold rage, he’d be warmed and fairly amused by Sherbourne’s obvious besotted state.
His father-in-law, now also brother-in-law –and wasn’t that odd? –turned as he drove up, his expression changing from rapt admiration to concern in a blink. “Blix, what’s this?”
“Will you come up with me for a turn about the park?” He nodded at Lucy. “I’ve need to borrow your husband for a moment, sister. I pray you won’t mind?”
“Of course not. Is everything all right, Blix? Is Jane well?”
“Yes, she’s fine.” Actually, she wasn’t fine at all, but he didn’t wish to say so to Lucy. “I’d ask your forbearance, Luce, and allow me to speak to Sherbourne at once.”
He climbed into the curricle and Michael took off. He didn’t wait, didn’t mince words. Straight out, he told Sherbourne what had happened and what he’d learned.
Her father was quiet as they drove along, then said, “If you don’t kill him, surely you know I will.”
“I admit, that was my first resolution, but I don’t believe it’s for the best. For one thing, if the man’s dead, he can’t refute what he’s said. For another, it will be murder, no two ways about it, regardless of justification, and Jane would never get past it. She hates the man, of course, but she doesn’t hate me, and she’ll be convinced I’m doomed to Hell were I to commit murder. Jane worries much about Hell.”
“You don’t say. I don’t suppose I knew.”
He told him about her nurse.
“Never did like that woman. She was there only a short while before I dismissed her, but it appears she was with Jane long enough to inflict her demented cruelty upon her.” He paused, then asked, “If you won’t kill him, what do you plan?”
“While I was away, I had my solicitor make some enquiries and he tells me MacDougal is likewise invested in a crossbreeding program. I was pondering how I might use this information to gain satisfaction for his ill treatment of Jane, but my plans didn’t involve anything of a public nature, for obvious reasons.” He leveled a look at his father-in-law. “Now it appears his comeuppance must be made very public.”
Sherbourne was a quick study. “You’ll draw him to London.”
“Wrotham has agreed to assist. He’ll write to MacDougal and express interest in his crossbreds, making mention of several other gentlemen who are likewise interested. My solicitor tells me MacDougal is in financial straits since the death of his father and the discovery of some significant debt. The woman he was to marry cried off and he must now find a wealthy bride to save him from debtors’ prison. Wrotham will suggest he come for a visit, to discuss the possibility of him investing in MacDougal’s program, and to enjoy the remainder of the Season.”
“He’ll be unable to resist temptation, with an eye toward Wrotham’s money, and the possibility of securing an heiress.”
“That’s my hope. To ensure he has no worry of meeting Jane or myself, she and I will retire to Eastchase Hall until he arrives in London, when we will return, but not openly. With your permission, we’ll stay with you until it’s done, that no one knows we’re in town. With Wrotham to assist, we’ll determine which engagement might draw the largest crowd, and when things are in full swing, Jane and I will arrive. It will, I am certain, bring the matter to a head, and the truth will out.”
Sherbourne turned to look at him. “Blixford, I’m astonished.”
He listened for a disapproving note to accompany his words, but heard none. In fact, he appeared to be astonished in a rather good way. “Why is that?”
“I’ve long understood your desire to live reclusively and your determination to retain your privacy, and have an even finer understanding after learning more details of your past from Lucy. That you would do something like this, in essence air dirty laundry before all of society, knowing it could well backfire and exacerbate the situation, which will make you as much a pariah as Jane, is, simply, astonishing. I find myself quite proud of you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Focused on the drive, Michael smiled, despite the depressing situation. “I don’t mind, Sherbourne. Thank you. As to becoming a pariah with Jane, I’d far rather join her than leave her alone in her shunned state. But I suspect this will work, that Jane will be as competent at supervising the washing of our metaphorical laundry as she is with the real thing.”
They went along in silence for a while before Michael said quietly, “It remains to be seen, however, if I’ll be able to keep myself from killing him, risk of Hell be damned.” He would never, so long as he lived, forget the look in Jane’s lovely eyes when Lady Bloomsbury gave her the cut. He couldn’t blame the marchioness, as much as he’d like to do so. MacDougal was considered a gentleman, his word above reproach. No one thought to question him, and if he claimed she had been his mistress, it must surely be true. Her elevation to duchess couldn’t absolve
her of anything so low and common as becoming a man’s mistress. Until MacDougal publicly recanted, Jane would never be accepted.
As sure as he was that his plan would work, he decided upon an additional course of action, just in case. He would acquire an ace in his pocket that MacDougal wouldn’t expect.
“I’m sorry to ruin your wedding day, but I wouldn’t want you to learn of this from out of nowhere, from someone not your family.”
“Of course, and I appreciate it, Blix. As to my wedding day being ruined, never think it. As soon as you set me down, I know you will take care of things, that you’ll see to Jane’s comfort and safety, and all will be well. Oh, I’ll worry about her, of course, and be saddened for her hurt, but I assure you, my day isn’t ruined. I’m married now to a woman I hold in high regard, her son is a delight, the sun is shining, my son-in-law is clever enough to plot my daughter’s revenge, and in an hour or so, I will be enjoying an ice at Gunther’s. Not ruined at all, Blix. Do call on me when you learn anything else, and keep me apprised of your progress, won’t you?”
He nodded as he drew the horses to a standstill. “I’ll write from Eastchase. I expect we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“Safe travels, son, and do give a kiss to Jane from her papa and remind her how much I love her.” He bounded down from the curricle and they all waved goodbye as Michael drove away.
He was out of the park gates and halfway home when he realized Sherbourne had called him son.
***
As soon as she arrived home, Jane had undressed and crawled into bed, uncharacteristically weepy and feeling cold and horrid. When Blixford returned, he didn’t knock, but came right in and sat upon the bed and massaged her shoulders until she was relaxed and sleepy. She drifted off, and when she awoke, he was still there, but in his dressing robe. The sun had set, though dusk still lit the room. “I’ve asked dinner to be served here, Jane, so we may speak in privacy and you can continue to rest.”
Listless and depressed, she only nodded. What did it matter?
He drew the portieres and lit the fire, along with the candles. A short while later, dinner was delivered and laid out upon a small table from the drawing room, brought up by a footman and placed before the fire. As they ate, Blixford told her of his activities during the remainder of the afternoon, of what he’d learned from Wrotham. Jane was stunned.
Then he told her of his plan and she was impressed at his cleverness.
Staring at her plate, at her mostly uneaten food, she said quietly, “I’m so very sorry. I’ve brought shame upon you and I’m most humbly apologetic.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for, so I cannot accept.”
She didn’t argue, but drank more of her wine, then got up and crawled back into her bed. “If it’s acceptable to you, I believe I’ll wait until morning to call Rose to come and help me pack. I’ve not the energy to do so just now.”
He got into bed with her and gathered her in his arms. “All will be well, Jane, wait and see. We’ll deal with the blackguard and he’ll never hurt you again.”
“I wish now I had killed him when I had the chance. I believe it might be worth going to Hell, just for the satisfaction.” Her tears returned. “I don’t understand, Michael, truly I don’t. How can anyone be so cruel and horrible, so lacking in honor? I feel . . . this is just how I felt when . . . after he . . .” She clung to him and cried until she was hiccupping.
He never let her go, but somehow produced a handkerchief. He dried her tears and she blew her nose, then settled down in his arms, the storm past. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I love you, Michael,” she said, just before she hiccupped, “but I’m afraid I still dislike you.”
“It’s quite all right, love. I’m working on that problem, as well.”
“You are?”
“Hmm. You’ll see. Just relax now and go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll feel much better, I promise.”
“Will not.” She hiccupped again. “You’re going to make love to me and I’ll dislike you more and more.”
“Will it be how you disliked me this morning?”
“I hope so,” she said, her eyes drifting closed.
She slept hard, dreamless and unmoving, then came awake of a sudden, instinctively reaching for him. The bed was empty. She sat up and saw him in the chair next to the fire, a brandy snifter in one long fingered hand. “Blix,” she called out sleepily, “what are you doing?”
“Watching you sleep.”
“Well do stop and come to bed. I’m cold.”
His smile was interesting. “In a while, love.”
Lying down, she burrowed into the covers and dropped back to sleep. Later, she knew not how much later, she woke again and reached for an empty space. She sat up. He stood at the window, the portiere’s open, moonlight streaming in. “Michael, what are you doing?”
“Watching you sleep.”
“Looks to me like you’re watching the moon.”
He turned and he was magnificent in moonlight. He was naked. In spite of herself, she heated with desire. “Aren’t you chilled?”
“On the contrary,” he replied, “I’m quite warm.”
She noticed then, he was fully erect. “Did I mention that I’m cold? Won’t you please come to bed?”
He did, and it didn’t take long for her to be quite warm as well. Afterward, she went to sleep in his arms and didn’t wake again until the sun was up, having spent the remainder of the night spooned into his warm, solid form.
***
Eastchase Hall was just as she remembered, a pleasing blend of old and new architecture. The stone walls of the central, cavernous hall, built over three centuries earlier, were hung with standards, each bearing the Blixford coat of arms and varying symbols and colors of characteristics considered necessary to the ducal title: courage, faith, honor, loyalty to the crown, and stewardship. A fireplace twice as tall as herself and doubled in width was set into the wall opposite the massive, oak doors, flanked on one side by a curving staircase and on the other by an old fashioned minstrel gallery, its screen an elaborately carved section of juniper. An enormous, intricate iron chandelier, maneuverable by heavy chain and pulleys, hung above all, fashioned to hold two hundred candles. The central building included the hall, the kitchens, a morning room, a dining room, an extensive library, a study, and a drawing room surely large enough to host a small ball. An actual ballroom had been added above stairs, directly above the hall, adjacent to a long portrait gallery, which was notable for its absence of portraits. Three separate wings went off from the central hall section of the house, one occupied entirely by the army of servants employed by the estate, another reserved for guests, and the third housing the ducal family apartments.
Jane remembered worrying she would get lost, the house was so enormous, but Annabel had drawn it out for her, and once she had a clear idea of the layout, she found it easy to navigate. Everything was oversized, from the doors, to the rooms, even the furniture. The bed in her chamber was of ordinary size, but the bed in Blixford’s chamber was huge, long and wide. He said she would sleep with him, and he wouldn’t allow her to hide in the massive thing, no matter how far he had to come after her. She argued that she desired her own chamber, and he relented to her own dressing room, but drew a hard line at her own chamber. What was the point? he asked. If she would sleep in her own bed, he would be there anyway, so why not make use of his enormous, extremely soft one?
Their journey had taken all afternoon and the better part of the following day. They stopped at an inn to spend the night and left mid-morning, Blixford saying they were in no hurry, so may as well go along at a leisurely pace.
Once they arrived at Eastchase Hall, she was introduced to the upper servants; the housekeeper, Mrs. Daniels, a dour-faced woman with small eyes, the butler, Bagwell, a starchy man of indeterminate years, the majordomo, Hopkins, who appeared to be into the wine a bit too much, his breath scented and his chee
ks red, and the head gardener, Moseby, whose hands were entirely too clean for a man in his position. Cook was the sole servant who appeared the least bit friendly and helpful. As much as anything, Jane resented the obvious attitude of the others, as if they clearly didn’t need to pay her much attention. She was the duchess, and mistress of Eastchase Hall, but she was most likely doomed to die within a year, so why bother paying her any mind? Or respect?
Jane had been in residence exactly two days when she caught Mrs. Daniels pilfering the wax candles, no doubt intending to sell them and pocket the money. Wax candles were very dear and Jane was beyond incensed. She dismissed the woman on the spot, but Mrs. Daniels refused to leave, saying the duke hired her, and if he wanted her gone, he would say so. Within ten minutes, he did just that, and informed the remainder of the servants that Jane was the mistress of his home, and her word was as his. Nevertheless, Bagwell was openly surly and after he failed to answer her ring from the drawing room the following afternoon, he too was sent packing. When a clearly inebriated Hopkins stumbled and landed in her lap as he attempted to deliver a letter, he was dismissed. That left Moseby, who apparently saw his future a bit more clearly, and of a sudden, he had dirty hands.
She spent the following week interviewing prospective replacements and was pleased with her choices. Blixford noted Mr. and Mrs. Dashing, a lively, portly couple recently out of work due to the death of their longtime employer, were very similar to Hester and Clive at Beckinsale House. She hadn’t noticed, but his observation was spot on, and she wrote to Hester of the new additions to the staff at Eastchase, and that they were missed, evidently even more than Jane realized. She and Mrs. Dashing, with the able assistance of Mr. Dashing, spent a great deal of time preparing an inventory of the house, making a list of items needed for purchase, or repair. She left it to Mr. Dashing to find a replacement majordomo, and within a few days, Geoffrey had joined the ranks. He quickly and adequately rallied the footmen into shape, seeing that their livery was cleaned and repaired, instructing them in proper footman form.
The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series) Page 31