A Match of Honour (The Hartleighs of Somersham Book 1)

by Margaret Brazear

  Her heart jumped. Was she actually missing him? No, she could not be. He thought she was a whore; he wanted to take her little daughter and put her into an orphanage. Why should she miss him? She never wanted to see him again.

  After a few minutes, she pushed herself away from the wall and looked about. If she couldn’t sell her jewels, she wouldn’t have enough money to feed herself. What on earth was she going to do?

  That was when she saw the three golden balls outside a shop along a narrow, cobbled alleyway. She had heard about this sign before, but never imagined she would ever need to make use of it. She likely wouldn’t get as much as she would have from a jeweller, but a pawnbroker might not be so particular, might not ask so many questions.

  She drew a deep breath, wiped her tearstained face with her silk scarf, and gathered her courage. She would have to be ready with her story this time, not let herself be frightened off. If the man was as judgmental and hostile as the jeweller, she might not be able to go through with it. She had never felt so humiliated, not even when she left Polly’s cottage to find Christopher listening to every word, when she realised he knew her secret.

  Clutching the baby in her arms, she pushed open the door and a bell above it jangled, making her jump. She would rather have crept in quietly, accustomed herself to her surroundings before anyone found her there. Behind the counter, polishing some silver, was a small, kindly looking man with thinning grey hair.

  Susan stood for a moment, her thoughts racing as she gathered her story in her mind, but she was relieved to see the man smile warmly.

  “Welcome, Madam,” he said. “Come, sit down here.” He gestured toward a chair on the other side of the counter. “You look as though you are weighted down. What a delightful child; a girl or a boy?”

  “This is my daughter, Sir,” Susan replied quickly. “I am a widow. My husband died suddenly; he was a lot older than me. He left me with nothing else save my precious daughter.”

  The words tumbled over each other, as though if she stopped to think about them, they would never be spoken.

  The compassion in his eyes was obvious, making Susan relax a little. She put her travelling bag on the floor and settled into the proffered chair with her baby. There was something soothing about this man. For the first time since she had left Shropshire, she felt secure.

  “You poor child,” he said. “Have you no family?”

  “No, Sir. I am all alone and I wanted to sell the jewellery my husband left me.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  Susan reached into her bag and brought out the velvet case which held her gems. She put it onto the counter. The pawnbroker was opening the case when little Alexandra woke up and began to cry. It was time for her feed, but Susan could not feed her here, in this man’s shop and it was a long walk to the inn, even assuming she could get a room.

  “Ssh, darling,” she soothed. “Just a little longer to wait.”

  “I will get my wife,” the man said. “The babe is hungry. Esther will find you somewhere private.”

  “That is very kind,” Susan replied. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “No such thing.” He went to the door behind the counter, opened it and yelled up the stairs. “Esther! Come and help this young lady.”

  ***

  Christopher had to look twice to be sure it was David he saw going into the building which housed his lodgings. He had changed a lot since they last met, some four years ago. Then he had been little more than a boy, whereas now he had filled out, he wore a moustache and presented a fine figure of a man. Christopher thought it likely he was not short of admirers and he hoped he did not share the opinions and attitudes of his friend in the next room.

  He reached David’s lodgings before he had gone inside, when he was still searching his pockets for his keys. He turned suddenly on hearing Christopher’s step behind him.

  “David,” he said. “I don’t know if you remember me.”

  David’s eyes swept him from head to foot and he gave him a puzzled frown.

  “Christopher, is it not?” Christopher nodded. “Or should I address you as ‘Your Grace’? I hear you are now the Duke of Somersham. You have my condolences on the loss of your uncle.”

  “Thank you.”

  At last he got the door open and went inside, beckoning his guest to follow him.

  “What can I do for you, Your Grace?”

  “Christopher, please. I am looking for Susan. I thought you might know where she is, but your friend next door tells me you have been away in Cambridge for the past two months.”

  “That’s right.” He drew a deep breath, gestured to a chair for his visitor, then sank wearily into the other one.

  “You know her predicament,” Christopher said. “You are the only person who does, so I hope I can speak freely.”

  “You can. She wrote to me early on, told me what had happened and asked for my help. I knew of a few suitable families through the law firm who would have given her child a good home, taken it as their own. But then she wrote that you had offered her marriage so it was not necessary.”

  “I thought I could find such a family myself. It seems I was wrong.”

  “And now you have lost her?” David said.

  “She is not mislaid,” Christopher replied irritably. “She overhead a conversation I was having with a maidservant and got the wrong idea. Before I could arrange anything, she left, taking the babe with her.”

  “What conversation? It must have been something pretty bad if she would run off with a baby, all on her own.”

  “I promised to find an adoptive family for the child, but it was more difficult than I ever imagined.”

  David shook his head, his expression one of anger.

  “When she told me you were to be married, I assumed you were going to take the child and claim it as your own. What was it, by the way?”

  “A girl.”

  “A girl? Even better. No threat to the inheritance. But you decided she would have to give it up and instead of coming to me and my connections, you thought you knew best. I seem to recall that always being a character flaw of yours, that you always thought you knew best.”

  “I thought it would be best for all of us if she put the whole affair behind her.”

  “You did, did you? Well, why the hell did you marry her in the first place, when you could have let her come to me as she planned?”

  “The Duke asked that we be married. He was very ill and I didn’t want to worry him, I wanted to grant his request before he died.”

  “Very noble,” David said sarcastically.

  Christopher drew a deep breath. He hadn’t expected to be reprimanded by this law student, but he had to admit that he spoke the truth.

  “She came here,” Christopher told him. “She came here looking for you and your neighbour told her you had moved away, to Oxford.”

  “What?” David looked angry again. “Why on earth would he do that?”

  “Because he saw a young woman with a baby looking for you and assumed she was looking for the father of her child. He did not believe you were her cousin, so he took it upon himself to mislead her.”

  “Idiot!”

  “Yes, he is and perhaps you could acquaint him of that fact. Do you really have no idea where she could be?”

  “I wish I had,” David pushed himself out of his chair. “But there are various private enquiry agents working for my firm. I can employ one of those, if you are prepared to pay for their time.”

  “Of course,” Christopher replied. “But they will be discreet, won’t they?”

  “Their reputations are built on discretion. Tell me all you can, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  ***

  Christopher made his way to his uncle’s house in Berkeley Square. Well, it was his house now, but he couldn’t think of it as such, not yet.

  He thought he could hire a Hackney in the Strand, but as he walked along Chancery Lane, he passed a jewellery shop and the s
ight of it reminded him that Susan had taken her jewels with her. It was just an idea, but having found no sign of David, she might well have called here, chosen this place to sell them.

  A couple were choosing a diamond ring and he waited until they left the shop before he approached the jeweller.

  “How can I help you, Sir?” He said.

  “I am looking for someone,” Christopher replied. “A young lady, with very dark hair like mine. She had jewels she wanted to sell and it occurred to me she might have come here, a few days ago.”

  The man gave him a cynical lift of the eyebrow, then he frowned.

  “There was a woman,” he said. “She tried to sell me some very valuable jewellery, but she had no proof that they were not stolen. She had a baby with her.”

  “You didn’t help her?” Christopher asked him.

  For some reason that made him angry, despite knowing he would likely have done the same in his place. He could have bought one necklace, couldn’t he? He could have given her enough to find lodgings, at least.

  “I did not. A young woman here with expensive jewels, a babe in arms but no nurse or maidservant with her, and no husband either.”

  “Do you know where she might have gone?”

  “No. I told her to go back to her husband, assuming she had one, which I doubt.” The man paused, glanced up at Christopher’s angry frown. “For all I knew she’d got herself with child, stolen the jewels and run away. What else was I to think?”

  Christopher was too angry to answer. Susan had been here, only a few days ago, swallowing all her pride to sell her gems and this pompous little man had turned her away, had the gall to look down on her.

  “How was I to know?” The shopkeeper said.

  “You could have asked.”

  “Who is she, anyway?”

  Christopher stared into his eyes, an ache forming in his throat which came out of nowhere.

  “She is my wife,” he replied.

  The shopkeeper gave a satisfactory grin.

  “I knew it,” he said. “I knew she stole them gems from someone. You should keep a better rein on her in future.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Murderer!

  Keep a better rein on her, indeed! Christopher was furious. He had left the jeweller’s shop in a hurry, before he lost his hold on his temper and did something he would regret. Keep a better rein of her! She wasn’t a bloody horse!

  When Christopher finally arrived at his house, twilight was fast approaching and he wondered if the late Duke had left any caretakers in charge of the place for the summer. Of course, he would have; he wouldn’t have left it empty, would he? It would be Shirley and Joe Compton, the couple who had worked for the Hartleighs for years.

  The house had been empty since last June, when the family moved to Somersham Abbey for the summer. Then the Duke’s health had deteriorated, so they had stayed there throughout the winter. That was before Christopher’s uncle came up with his bizarre idea of marrying his daughter to her cousin, before that cousin had known Susan’s secret, even before she had a secret.

  Life was so easy then. They all knew where they were going and how they would get there, Christopher was still free to regard every woman he met as a potential mate or at least a night of pleasure, and Susan was still pure and untouched. The Duke was ill, but not so ill as to cause concern, and life went on as usual.

  As he opened the front door, he saw at once that the caretakers had made themselves at home in the Hartleighs’ absence.

  “My Lord!” Shirley gave a startled cry. She leapt to her feet from the armchair in the withdrawing room, where she had been resting with a fine crystal glass of claret. She curtsied quickly. “Forgive me,” she said. “I mean, Your Grace. We were so sorry to hear…”

  “Not so sorry that you kept to your place,” Christopher answered irritably. “Well, since you are obviously well stocked, you can get me something to eat. I shall be staying for the time being.”

  Although the house now belonged to him, Christopher avoided the master bedchamber and went straight to the one he had used in this house since he was a child. He would leave the master for the Duchess if she wanted to visit. There was no need to deprive her of everything all at once and he had not yet discussed with her the possibility of her moving to the dower house at Somersham. That building had stood empty for years, since Christopher’s grandmother passed away, and Somersham Abbey was certainly big enough to accommodate the Duchess as well as her daughters, but Christopher could not contemplate living under the same roof as the woman.

  Her disrespect for his own mother made it impossible for him to tolerate her for long. It wasn’t that she actually came out and said anything, but she dropped little hints and made certain derogatory noises whenever Jane was mentioned. As she looked down on Jane, she also looked down on her son and thought him not good enough to wear the title of Duke of Somersham.

  Were there anyone else, Christopher felt quite sure she would have tried to persuade her husband to pass him over and leave the title elsewhere.

  Christopher had hoped to settle down in the Abbey with his bride and begin working on a family of his own.

  Now, as he waited for his meal, he lay on his bed and stared up at the canopy above his head. No matter how much thought he gave to the matter, he could not think of where else to look for Susan.

  David’s neighbour had treated her with disdain, the jeweller likewise, as well as almost accusing her of theft. God, she must have felt so humiliated. Christopher longed to fold her up in his arms and comfort her.

  When she agreed to marry him, she would scarcely have considered that she would be running around London with a babe in arms, trying to sell her jewellery and being insulted by men not good enough to clean her boots. And just where had that thought come from?

  After supper, he would ask around all the other inns and hostelries in the area. Someone must have seen her. She must be staying somewhere, mustn’t she?

  ***

  The Duchess booked herself into a coaching inn in the capital. She had friends with London houses who would have been glad to accommodate her, but she wanted no one to suspect the purpose of her visit.

  She had managed to slip away with the assistance of her faithful servants and despite George’s constant nagging that she best stay home and wait for word. Wait for word, indeed! Not when her daughter was dangerously ill she wouldn’t, no matter what anyone said.

  But Christopher would have taken over the London house and she had no desire to share it with him. She had the distinct sense that both he and his father were hiding something from her and if it was that Susan’s condition was far worse than Christopher had claimed, she was not about to stay home and plan parties.

  She had stayed at this inn before, when she wanted to shop in London without opening up the Berkeley Square house. It suited her better and she often ran into old friends and acquaintances she hadn’t seen in an age. This time, though, she would try her best to avoid those old friends. It was unlikely she would meet any of them at this time of year and she wanted no one to know she was in London.

  She took tea in her suite then ordered a carriage to take her straight to the hospital. She had never visited such a place before and had no idea if they had times for visiting, but she was the Dowager Duchess of Somersham and heaven help anyone who tried to stop her.

  The building was grey, like many other buildings in London, and depressing and as the coachman helped her down in the courtyard, her heart sank. There was a hearse standing nearby into which some men were loading a coffin and she wanted to climb back into the carriage and return to Somersham. Perhaps the men were right; perhaps she should have left it to them.

  But she wasn’t a weak little woman, relying on a man to carry out every unpleasant task which came along. It would have been different if her husband still lived; she would have been happy to leave it all to him, but not to his brother and certainly not to his nephew. The Duchess was still not convinced he had
n’t done something to Susan, that she was in this place because of him, not because of any illness.

  Yes, that must be why he and his father wanted to keep her away. The family would never forget the trouble he had caused only a few years ago when he had lost his temper and almost killed that farmhand. It had cost the Duke and his brother a lot in money and pride to keep the whole affair quiet and the Duchess had never trusted him since. Even so, she had agreed to the marriage, and she told herself it was to settle Arthur’s mind in his last days. But deep down, she knew it was her own superiority which made her agree. She always hoped for her own son to be the next to wear the title, but since that was not to be, she wanted her own daughter to be the next Duchess of Somersham, to be the next resident of Somersham Abbey. And now she was getting her just deserts, wasn’t she?

  There were lots of other suitable young men who would have been honoured to win the hand of the eldest daughter of the Duke of Somersham, but not one of them could have given the Duchess the one thing she wanted above all else: the Duchy of Somersham for her grandson, for her descendants, even if she did have to share that distinction with a piano teacher!

  She walked up the steps and into the building, gazing about in search of someone who might greet her and take her to her daughter. The place was busy with men and women rushing about, not one of them in the least concerned about their illustrious visitor.

  The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with shining white tiles which had thin green tiles along the edges. There was no comfort in the decoration, only a chill and the whole building stank of sickness. She shuddered.

  She stopped a young man who was hurrying toward the stairs.