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

by Margaret Brazear

  “I might,” Susan replied. “But whatever happens, I will never forgive Christopher for what he had planned. I don’t want him to know where I am. He can suffer!”

  “I can understand how you feel, my dear, but I think you will have to come forward.”

  That was when she showed Susan the newspaper with the blazing headline that almost stopped her heart.

  WHAT HAS THE DUKE DONE WITH HIS YOUNG BRIDE?

  This reporter has it on good authority that the young Duchess of Somersham has not been seen since her marriage to her cousin, Christopher Hartleigh, the present Duke, shortly before Christmas. Despite enquiries at hospitals and other likely places made by the Dowager Duchess, her mother, no sign of her has yet been found.

  Remains of a young woman matching the description of the Duchess were identified by the Dowager as being that of her daughter, but that identification was later rejected by the Duke’s father, Lord Hartleigh. Although the Duke was at first arrested for the murder of his wife, and were he an ordinary husband would no doubt and have been tried and hanged already, he was later released when the identification was challenged. But still, there is no sign of the young Duchess and still her mother is concerned for her safety.

  It is understood that this is not the first time the Duke has tangled with the law. So, we ask again: What has the Duke done with his young bride?

  “Susan?” Esther put the paper down. “Are you perfectly all right?”

  “Esther, would you mind looking after Alexandra for a few hours? There is something I need to do.”

  ***

  She stood across the road from the Berkeley Square house, her eyes firmly fixed on the front door and the two young men who sat on the steps outside. The heavy, oak door opened and she stepped back quickly to hide behind a tree while she watched the man who poked his head out and yelled at the journalists to get off his property.

  She hardly recognised him. Christopher, who was always so well groomed and well dressed, who always looked like every maiden’s dream, could have been mistaken for a street dweller. His hair was greasy and tangled and it fell over his face like that shaggy mongrel dog he was so fond of. He hadn’t shaved, perhaps not since she ran away. His face was covered in black stubble, the creases in his neck above his collar were almost as black as his hair and that stubble. His shirt was dirty, she could see that from where she stood. Indeed, it was so dirty, it looked to be grey instead of white.

  But what surprised her more than anything were her own emotions on seeing him like this. She should have been pleased, should have thought it served him right to suffer so, but instead the sight made her heart ache. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, soothe his misery and make him smile again. After what he had in mind for her child? She must be mad.

  One of the journalists got to his feet and, instead of leaving as ordered, he took one step towards the open door.

  “Well, Your Grace!” He said loud enough for Susan to hear. “What have you done with your wife? All we want is a plausible answer and we’ll go away.”

  “It is none of your damned business,” Christopher yelled.

  He had gone through all this, just to keep Susan’s secret and preserve her reputation and her dignity. He had even been accused of murder and suffered the indignity of being locked up in his own house, all the time keeping quiet when the truth would have put an end to his wretchedness at least, even if it served to add to hers.

  Suddenly she felt a swell of gratitude such as she had never known before. She had to put a stop to this, no matter what the cost. Alexandra was safe with the Rosens for the time being, and her future had yet to be decided, but she could not allow this to go on.

  Christopher had married her to preserve the family honour, and here he was headline news and the worst things were being said about him.

  She looked quickly both ways before hurrying across the road and up the steps, until she drew level with the journalist.

  “You want to know where the Duchess is?” She said angrily. “I am the Duchess. Now get off this property before I have you physically removed.”

  “Susan,” came a hoarse whisper from Christopher.

  She turned to face him and saw that, up close, he looked even worse. He stepped out and gathered her into his arms, as he had never done before, and held her tightly against him, clung to her as though she were a life raft in a stormy sea. The dark shadows and lines beneath his eyes made him look ten years older than his true age. She could smell the sweat on him, but it didn’t matter. Being here in his arms felt so natural she wanted to stay there forever.

  “How do we know you are the Duchess?” The impertinent journalist demanded from behind them. “You could be his fancy bit for all we know.”

  Her temper flared and she turned blazing eyes on him.

  “Leave, now! Or I warn you, my husband is not the only one with a bad temper.”

  She watched him go, but Christopher made no move to retreat inside the house. He stood there, holding her, almost as though he was afraid to let go, lest she vanish.

  He didn’t notice how interesting a spectacle this was proving to the people walking past as each one glanced quickly at the couple, but Susan did. He would have hated that sort of attention.

  “Come,” she said softly. “We must go inside. We are proving to be very entertaining to the populace.”

  Inside, they went to the withdrawing room and sat together while she held his hand, but still he clung to her.

  “Where have you been?” He said. “I have been so worried. They said you were dead. Your mother identified a body as you, she was so certain I had murdered you.”

  “I heard. I shall have something to say to her when I see her.”

  “She has been pestering the Runners since she got to London, trying to get them to believe her tales of woe. Finding that body just confirmed what she wanted to believe. And when they said it was you, I almost gave up. I wanted to die myself.”

  “Why didn’t they ask you to identify her? It was your place, surely.”

  “It would have been, had she not convinced them I had done away with you.”

  “So, she thought the corpse was mine? She didn’t know her own daughter? Who questioned it?”

  “David and my father. Although the face was badly battered, David was the first to see that the woman was much older than you and she had a tattoo on her ankle.”

  Susan shook her head in disgust.

  “When I think of the trouble I’ve caused you, I could cry. Christopher, I am so sorry. You would have been better leaving me to sort out my own mess.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t,” he said.

  “Are there any servants in the house?” She asked.

  “Yes, two, why? Do you need something?”

  “Yes, I need one of them to fill a bath.”

  “You want a bath?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, but you do.”

  ***

  They ate supper together with no reference to the subject of the child. Both were afraid the servants would hear and as soon as they had cleared away, Susan told them to return to their own little place at the end of the garden.

  “But, Your Grace,” Dora protested. “Will you not need us later?”

  “No, Dora. I am sure you realise that His Grace and I have much to discuss. We will see you in the morning.”

  She curtsied.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said. “I am so glad to see you home again. I never believed all those terrible things they were saying.”

  “I am very glad to hear it,” Susan answered doubtfully. “Goodnight.”

  She gazed from the French windows at the back and watched the couple make their way to their own little house, before she turned back to Christopher.

  He sat on the settle, freshly bathed and shaved, and looking much more like his usual self. Susan smiled at the sight. He held out a hand to her, which she took and allowed him to pull her to sit beside hi
m.

  “Susan,” he began. “I know what you overheard in Shropshire, me asking that serving girl about local orphanages. But, really, I had no intention of handing your baby over to one of those places.”

  Her eyes met his and she stared at him doubtfully.

  “What other reason could you have for asking about such a place?” She demanded angrily.

  “I thought it would be the best place to find someone who might be able to tell me of families wanting to adopt, nothing more. I would never have left the child there; that was never my intention, I swear it.”

  “Do you promise me?”

  “I do. Why, the Governess of the place even offered to take her, but I refused.”

  “You told her about my baby, then.”

  “No. I said I was enquiring for a friend, but I don’t think she believed me.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “But you must believe me. I swear my motive in going there was only to find a good home for the child.”

  She was still not certain if she believed him, but it made sense, she supposed.

  “Had you shared your plans and ideas with me, none of this would have happened,” she said.

  “I know and I’ll never regret anything so much. I thought I was protecting you, I thought you would be better letting me arrange everything. I was an idiot.”

  She sighed heavily.

  “At least we can agree on that,” she said. “But I will go now. I only returned to stop the rumours, to clear your name.”

  Christopher’s heart sank and it showed in his expression.

  “I am grateful, Susan, really I am, but you are still my wife.”

  “Not really,” she replied. “The marriage was never consummated; it can be easily annulled.”

  He shook his head.

  “No.”

  “No? Do you not want to be free to find a bride of your own choosing, one who still has her innocence?”

  “And what of you? Is that what you want, to put this whole episode behind us, pretend it never happened? I told the family that you had left me, but your mother doubted my word. She declared that you would never cause such a scandal as to leave your husband.”

  Susan laughed bitterly.

  “Only because she was sure you had done something to me.”

  “You ought to send a message to her, let her know you are safe.”

  “No. She can wait; it will serve her right.”

  “I agree, but she is your mother, after all.”

  “No,” Susan insisted. “If I tell her I am home, she will come here, interfering. We need this time alone, to decide what is best.”

  He pulled her into his arms, kissed her as he had never kissed her before, as a man should kiss his wife, not his cousin.

  “Susan, I am so sorry. I missed you terribly and I have been going out of my mind with worry.”

  She was silent for a few minutes, waiting for something that she knew would never come. At last she spoke.

  “You haven’t even asked,” she said.

  No, he hadn’t asked, had he? And that was wrong, so very wrong. Since that first day in the woods, it seemed that every step he took had been in the wrong direction.

  “I am asking now.”

  “Are you? Or is it your conscience asking and only because I am here reminding you?”

  “It matters to me, Susan, because it matters to you, but nothing has changed. If we’d had a child, I would have mentioned it, and everyone knows it. I lied to my father about your leaving, told him you were with child and were afraid because of Princess Charlotte. The more lies I told, the more of a muddle I found myself in. I still cannot claim your daughter as my own, especially now. It is too late for that.”

  “No, you cannot. It was never a sensible option, was it?”

  “Where is she?”

  “She is safe. Some kind people took us in.”

  “What people?”

  Susan shook her head.

  “That is not your concern. You never wanted anything to do with her before; it is too late to be concerned now.”

  Her words tore at his heart. She was going to suggest an annulment, he knew it, and it was all his fault.

  “Perhaps it is not too late,” he said. “Perhaps there is some tale we can make up that will allow me to claim her after all.”

  “You would do that?”

  “Yes. If it means keeping you with me, I will do anything. Susan, this is very hard for me to say, but I have discovered that I love you. You ask if I want to be free to choose my own bride? I already have the bride I would choose. Unfortunately, I have made an enemy of her and all for the sake of my own selfishness and pride.”

  “You don’t want an annulment?”

  “No,” he answered. “That is the very last thing I want. I love you and I want you to tell me about the man, the one who fathered Alexandra. If you loved him, you might still love him. I don’t think I can live with that, with you loving another man.”

  She laughed bitterly, then sank back into the settle and drew a little closer to him.

  “I went out one night, climbed out of my window. I’d had a row with my mother; nothing unusual there. She’d been trying to tell me what I wanted to wear, how I wanted to style my hair, and when she said having it hanging loose about my shoulders was how peasants wore it, I thought, well, at least they were free to do so.

  “So, I sneaked out and went to the village. They were having a dance, somebody’s birthday I think and they were dancing, but not like we dance, not all stiff and proper. They all seemed drunk, even the girls, but I loved the music and as I watched, thinking myself out of sight, a young man came up behind me.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head.

  “No. He was kind, at least at first. He recognised me; I shouldn’t be surprised about that, should I?”

  “I would imagine all the villagers would recognise any of us.”

  “Yes, I realise that now. Anyway, he asked me if I wanted to join in. I know I should have refused, but I was so angry with Mother and I saw no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy myself.”

  “What happened?” Asked Christopher. “Was it this man who tempted you?”

  She hadn’t thought about this since the night it happened. She had tried to forget, until she realised what had actually happened, and talking about it made her so ashamed, she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

  She shook her head and her cheeks flamed.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose it must have been.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? You must know.”

  “He gave me some of the mead he’d been drinking. It was very strong, but I think he must have put something else in it.” She looked up at Christopher and sudden tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision. “I don’t remember anything else. When I found out about the baby, I knew what must have happened, but I don’t remember any of it. I’ve tried and tried.” Once more she gave that bitter laugh. “I must be the only mother in the world who doesn’t know how she got that way. I told my mother I knew about things, because I couldn’t bear to have her explaining them. It was too embarrassing.”

  “This man raped you, Susan,” he said. “You are not to blame.”

  “I am. I should never have gone to the village; I should never have agreed to go with him.”

  He pulled her to him again, kissed her forehead.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. “When I first found you, when I first suggested the marriage, you could have told me then. Why didn’t you?”

  “I was afraid of what you would do.”

  “I would have sought him out and killed him.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “You wanted to protect him?”

  “No, of course not,” she answered and she reached up a hand to stroke his now smooth cheek. “I wanted to protect you. You would have got yourself arrested for murder, you would have been h
anged and then where would we be?” She laughed. “Mason as Duke? Can you imagine it?”

  “No,” he answered with a smile. “But, darling, such a burden you have carried. Do you know who this man was?”

  She shook her head.

  “No,” she lied. “There were many there that night and I woke up in the hay loft. I suppose that’s where it happened, but I remember nothing.”

  That was a lie. It was the man he had attacked before, the one whose dog now lived happily at Hartleigh House, and she was sure he did it for revenge. He still wore an ugly scar over his left eye. Christopher would never let it rest if he knew the truth and did she really want that man to know about Alexandra?

  “I will claim the baby as my own, if that is what you want. Even if it means everyone thinking how dishonourable I have been; I deserve it. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” she said. “As you said, it was never a sensible option. If we take her back to Somersham as our child, it won’t take her real father long to work it all out. Then he will use it as an excuse to blackmail us.”

  “What then?”

  “I think I have found her new parents, a childless couple who are well off and will love her.”

  “Who?”

  She shook her head.

  “I will never tell you,” she said. “It is my affair, my concern and one I will keep to myself in future.”

  “You still don’t trust me?”

  “It is not that. This has always been my problem and one I have to sort out for myself.”

  “But I can help.”

  She put her fingers to his lips and smiled.

  “It is the only way I will agree to come back,” she said. “If that is really what you want, that is my condition.”

  “It is, but what of you?” He pulled her against him, half afraid of her answer. “What do you want?”

  “I want to be your wife,” she said. “I think I’ve always wanted to be your wife, ever since I first noticed you as a man. I would never have expected you to want the same.”

  ***

  The Dowager Duchess woke to the happy, smiling face of her maid. It was beginning to get very inconvenient, having only one maid, and she could do no more by staying in London. She had tried to convince the authorities that her daughter was dead, killed by the hand of her husband, but they seemed particularly useless at finding evidence. She was sure if she were in charge she could have found some by now.