This thought proved too much for her and she dropped her head onto her arms and gave way to the sobs that rose unbidden.
A light scratching came on the door and the footman entered giving a polite cough to attract her attention, and as she raised her head he bowed courteously. “There is a gentleman to see your grace. He would not give his name, but said that you would receive him, ma’am.”
“Give me a few moments, and then show him in,” said Jane, attempting to wipe away all signs of tears. As the footman retreated she went to stand before the large round mirror placed over the mantle to examine the effects of her weeping. Not entirely satisfied with what she saw, she pinched her pale cheeks to try to restore some of their color and was just attempting to replace a stray strand of hair when the door opened and her husband stood before her.
For a moment they stood staring at each other, both finding it impossible to bridge the gap between.
The duke was the first to recover his voice. “I wish you good afternoon, my dear,” he drawled, advancing further into the room. “I trust I find you well?”
The mockery in his voice was just too much for Jane to bear and irrationally, she felt her temper rising. “And of what interest is it to you, sir?” she replied in what she hoped to be indifferent tones. “How come you to know my whereabouts?”
“Shall we say, through a mutual friend,” he replied, noting her pallor and the redness of her eyes. He so desperately wanted to embrace her, to obliterate the sadness so evident in her dear face, but a reserve existed between them that he could not brook.
“Then it was no friend if they gave you my direction,” she snapped. This was not the man she had come to know, this was the man that had reigned before he met her, his cold indifference making her feel almost as if he smote her.
Momentarily he held his hand out to her in a conciliatory gesture but as she turned her back to him, he let it drop to his side. “Will you not be seated and then we can continue our discussion in a more civilized manner,” he said in a slightly more appeasing tone. “Come, Jane. Let us not be so antagonistic, there is much to be said.”
She turned and for the first time saw the scorch mark on his cheek and seeing her curious gaze, he touched it lightly with his fingers. “Battle scars, my dear,” he said attempting at levity. “Now do be a good girl and sit down and I will tell you about it.”
“Don’t be so condescending,” she replied waspishly, but sat on the couch all the same, holding herself tensely erect in the corner.
Placing himself at the opposite end, the duke studied his wife’s profile as she declined to meet his gaze, then he played what he deemed his trump card, “Darrows is dead.”
That did make her turn to face him and to start up from the couch only to be seated again. “How?” she asked, eyes wide.
“I shot him,” he replied simply. “Hence the crease on my face.”
“Why?”
“I know all, and perhaps a little more,” he replied taking the satchel from where he had placed it unnoticed on the floor and laid it on the cushions between them. “What you don’t know, my dear, is that I am the cause of all this turmoil. If it had not been for my actions in apparently ruining Darrows’ cousin at the card tables, then there would have been no reason for him to try to take revenge. Darrows was attempting to even the score by wreaking his vengeance on my family. I found it necessary,” and those green eyes showed no mercy, “yes, so very necessary, to put an end to the matter.”
“You called him out?” she whispered.
“Not quite. I made it unavoidable that he should call me out, thus reducing the risk of scandal and assuring that your name would not be mentioned. Society and the law can forgive a duel fought over a gambling debt, and if it is the challenger who dies, then it is the more easily forgotten.”
“When?”
“This morning,” then seeing the tears once more course down her cheeks, his anger inflamed, Darrows’ words still so fresh in his mind instantly returning. “What! You weep for him?”
“No!”
“Then why the tears? Am I so easily hoodwinked? Am I such a fool as to think you indifferent to his death?” and he rose to stand threateningly before her.
How could she tell him in this moment of anger that it was for him that she wept? The futility of the situation overcame her so completely that she could not find her voice, and when eventually she did, it was to utter the greatest lie of her life, “I hate you, Robert.”
“That may be so, my dear,” he replied coldly, confirmed now in his fears, “but I warn you, you will be packed and ready to leave here by morning. You will come to Blake House. It will cause too much comment amongst the scandal mongers now it is known that I am in London, should you remain in your aunt’s home and not with me where you belong.”
Choosing to misinterpret his words she cried, “Belong? Must you always treat me as a possession, Robert, I am your wife. You do not own me.”
Snatching her from the couch he kissed her savagely only to throw her back again onto the cushions. “Do I not?” he asked, a dangerous calm in his voice. “I and the law believe that I do. Heart and soul, you are mine. Everything you are belongs to me!”
“Never,” she cried facing him defiantly. “Had I known you were such a tyrant I would not have married you.”
“You did not always find me a tyrant, my dear,” he scorned, his anger and jealousy making him reckless, not realizing how Darrows’ words had served to inflame his resentment.
“Then, sir, I did not know you,” she replied mirroring his anger. “I will come to Blake House only because I have nowhere else to go. I would not wish my aunt to become aware of the situation between us, but I assure you, as soon as I am able, I will find alternative arrangements. I shall require my own apartments to which you will only gain access with my permission.”
He gave a shout of mirthless laughter. “You do not order me in my own house, madam. I will gain access where I wish. Do not think to trick me in that way, but I will give you your rooms, your inner sanctum. Believe me; you will be free of my presence there!”
“That is all I desire.”
“Then you are very easily pleased, my dear! Be ready at noon, Proctor will collect you.”
***
Returning to Blake House the duke ordered a bottle of brandy to be brought to the library and there spent the remainder of the day, his mood turning to the morose. It had not been his intention to conduct the interview with his wife in such a manner; in fact, he had regretted it the instant he had left her company. How wide the gulf now? Her defenses seeming impregnable, making him wonder at his ability to bring about a reconciliation, or whether in fact he desired it; all manner of thoughts ranging through his mind. Darrows had achieved his revenge after all, and it was with a very heavy heart that he at last sought repose, seeking in its elusive depths some kind of peace. But in that final wakeful hour before he finally succumbed to its beckoning, his heart and mind ultimately acknowledged the fact that without her he would surely cease to exist. His life would become insupportable and no matter to what extent he should search his soul this fact remained irrefutable.
***
News of the duel rapidly permeated society. By the close of the following day it was being openly discussed in all of the clubs, although the full details were never known. Each had their own opinion of the outcome but the main consensus was that it had been fought over some gaming debt or other, and was therefore, as the duke had predicted, looked upon with some tolerance, for was not a man expected to meet his obligations in that field?
***
Once it was known that the duke and duchess of Lear were in residence for the remainder of the season, invitations to numerous social occasions flooded in only to remain abandoned on the desk of John Deakin, the duke’s secretary, who had been ordered to decline all. One such invitation, however, could not be ignored and leaving his office, he took the gold edged card to his employer who was at that moment being at
tended by his boot maker in his dressing room.
Being granted entrance to the duke’s apartment he stood to one side awaiting his notice, he did not want to appear to intrude, but the duke called him forward. “Come, Deakin,” he said, “and tell me what you think of these new Hessians. Will they do, or do you think they crease at the ankle?”
“No, no, they fit perfectly, sir,” he said, coming nearer the better to view them. “In fact, sir, I would say they fit to a nicety.”
“Then I will take your word for it,” replied the duke smiling briefly. “Now tell me what business you find so necessary to bring to my attention this early in the morning? I trust it is of some import?”
“I think your grace may think it so. It is a supper invitation from your aunt, the Dowager Lady Bannington.”
“Lord, not Regina,” groaned the duke waving away the would-be attentions of the boot maker. “It’s more like a royal summons; I was wondering how long it would take her to command my presence at one of her events. No doubt she is eager to meet my wife. I will speak to the duchess and let you know my reply.”
***
Gaining entry to his wife’s apartments some short while later, the duke stood on the hearth before her as she put aside her needlepoint.
She looked enquiringly at him and, noting his air of discomfiture, a cruel little smile touched her lips. “You have found it necessary to ignore my presence thus long, sir,” she said. “What is so important that you should seek me out now?”
“I would ask of you a favor,” he replied still with an air of reserve, finding it difficult to broach his request. “In the normal way of things I would not presume to trouble you, indeed if there were an alternative, I would not be before you now.”
“Still you find my presence distasteful, I wonder at your insistence that I should remain under your roof.”
The duke frowned in some consternation. “No… you wrong me… I certainly do not find your presence distasteful,” he appeared thoroughly perplexed by her reply. “Does it seem that way? Yes, I see that it must, yet some civility must be found else how are we to exist. Could we not come to some amicable arrangement, one that at least allows some cordiality, indeed normality, to exist between us? We cannot rage at each other for the rest of our lives?”
“I am quite prepared to be civil, sir,” she replied still with an air of pique. “The question is, are you?”
Walking to the window he stood with his hands clasped tensely behind his back staring sightlessly through the panes. “Of course I am,” he answered shortly. “Let us cry truce, at least then there will be some comfort between us, we cannot continue in this state.”
“But still you don’t think me blameless,” she whispered beneath her breath, then rallying, “Tell me then of this favor you seek.”
“If I could find a way around it, I would,” he said returning to stand before her. “I have refused all other invitations, but today has arrived a summons from my aunt which would be imprudent to ignore. She noseleads society and to reject an invitation from her would spell ruin. She has the saying as to who is accepted into society and who is not and if we do not comply with her wishes, it would seem that you do not have her approval and doors would be closed to you. Therefore, I propose that we accept her supper invitation and present a united front to society. Would it be too much to ask this of you? Could we not put aside our differences for just one evening?”
“If that is what you wish, but what when the evening is over?”
“Then you can return to your inner sanctum, my dear,” he scorned. “I will not intrude upon your peace; you are assured of your sanctuary. I will ask no more of you, indeed once it is seen that you are accepted, you will receive invitations in your own right and will have no need of my company.”
“I don’t wish for invitations,” she said mulishly, dropping her head and confining her gaze to the carpet. “I have no need for society.” Then after a slight hesitation, “It has crossed my mind that since the manor is once more vacant, I could perhaps return there once the season is over. You would not wish me at Stovely.”
“You will not!” he said starting forward in angry frustration. “Stovely is your home and there you shall stay. If your wish is to avoid my company, I can devote my time between London and my hunting box in Hertfordshire. Will that satisfy you? Why must you have this need to be always absconding from me when I have assured you of your independence? I have pledged my protection, and that you will always have.”
“But not your love,” she said to the empty room as he flung out the door.
***
Seeing his wife descending the stairs in the gown she had worn at Stovely’s ball, the duke could not help but draw parallels between the two occasions and his frown deepened.
“You look delightful, my dear,” he said in a perfunctory manner as she gained the hallway, and then in a less blunt way, “But of course you always do,” and reaching forward he took her hand and raised it dutifully to his lips. Jane would have pulled away but he forestalled her action and drew her hand through his arm, pinning it to his side. “Remember, my love, we present a united front.” He smiled briefly. “If only for a few hours everything will be as it should be.”
She did not know what it cost him in that moment to retain his remoteness, what thoughts of earlier days rose to torment him; she was too caught up in her own reverie and followed him mechanically to the waiting coach. She too had been in anguish all day, the agitation making her nauseous and unable to take nourishment and she hoped he would not notice the paleness of her cheeks, the pallid hue only serving to make her violet eyes seem larger than ever before.
***
The Dowager Lady Bannington was graciousness itself, welcoming her nephew’s new bride to her home. It would seem that the supper party had been arranged solely for the purpose of making Jane’s acquaintance and she took no time in drawing her from her husband’s side. So intent was she in her task that Jane was placed beside her during supper and she attempted to draw her out, monopolizing her conversation. At the end of the meal, the ladies withdrew leaving the gentlemen to sit over their port.
Leaving her other guests to their own devices, the dowager patted the cushions beside her on the couch and ordered “Sit here by me.” Then as Jane complied, “I will tell you now, my dear, I had wondered at my nephew marrying in such haste and a relative nobody to boot, but upon making your acquaintance, I can now see why. You are quite a taking little thing and will become the rage. In fact, I will make sure of it! With my patronage, all doors will be opened to you.”
“Your Ladyship is too kind,” replied Jane. “Though I must admit I have seen little of society.” She would have added that she had no desire to do so, but politeness dictated that she should seem grateful.
“Pish, you are the Duchess of Lear and should be seen,” the dowager chuckled. “Besides, Robert needs to show off his bride. Ah, yes, I have seen his pride in you, any dolt can see he has a great affection for you; his eyes forever follow you about the room as if he is reluctant to lose sight of you. Very unfashionable in the run of things, but so gratifying to see such devotion. I congratulate you, my dear. You have succeeded where others have failed in attaching him so firmly to you.”
Jane blushed and attempted a smile but had to avert her face quickly should her ladyship see the tears that came to her eyes. However, she was not quick enough. The dowager reached out, and placing her finger beneath her chin turned her face back toward her. “Now, child, what ails you?” she asked with some concern. “Have I in some way offended you? It was not my intention.”
“No, no, not at all,” assured Jane. “I just feel a little unwell, your ladyship,” and she attempted to rise, but as she would have gained her feet the world slipped from around her and she slowly slid to the floor.
“Quickly, help raise her,” commanded the dowager of the footmen. “Place her here on the couch and hurry for my nephew, he must come to his wife at once.”
; ***
The duke burst through the adjoining door and quickly crossed the room to kneel at his wife’s side, taking her hand in his and chaffing it. “Call for my physician, Dr. Reynolds, immediately,” he ordered. “I care not what the hour, he must come without delay.”
Several of the other ladies present ranged around the couch and he eyed them with some impatience. “May I take my wife to one of your bedchambers, Regina?” he asked, lifting Jane into his arms. “It would not do for the doctor to have to examine her here.”
“Of course,” replied the dowager. “My housekeeper will show you the way, I will stay here with my guests the better to allay any curiosity.” As the duke carried his wife from the room she smiled to herself. So, that’s the way the wind blows, she thought. One would never have suspected it.
***
The duke paced the corridor striving to keep some kind of composure, all manner of tortuous thoughts racing through his mind. Jane had recovered slightly as the doctor had arrived but still seemed somewhat confused and the physician had no compunction in consigning Robert to the corridor. “I find we deal far better in these circumstances without the husband’s presence,” he had said. “Therefore, your grace, if you will just wait outside, I will commence my examination.” The duke had made to stay but the doctor had placed a restraining hand on his arm and guided him firmly toward the door, closing it securely after him.
“Now then, my dear duchess, we will see what ails you,” Reynolds said, approaching the bed and patting her hand reassuringly.
After conducting a brief examination, he sat on the side of the bed. “Tell me, my dear, how long have you been feeling nauseous?” he asked.
My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 17