The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1)

by Devlin, Barbara

  “Apologies, Lady Rockingham, if I caused offense, because that was not my intent.” Shaw snapped his fingers, and the pair of dolts returned to the hall. For good measure, she shook her fist in their wake. “Take a moment and settle your things, and when you are ready you may ring for an attendant to escort you to the drawing room, whereupon we will discuss the conditions for your impromptu holiday.”

  “Holiday? Is that what you call it?” Snorting, Anthony drew Arabella to his side, and she slipped her arm about his waist. “I consider it unlawful imprisonment, and I shall seek proper redress from the appropriate authorities, once I return to London. I promise, you will not get away with this, Shaw.”

  “Please, do not overreact, my lord.” The doctor folded his arms and knitted his brows. “Then again, such drama is a symptom of your ailment, so I cannot hold you at fault. As I said, we can talk over the terms of your therapy, after you have tidied yourself and gathered your wits.”

  “My wits are gathered.” Anthony stiffened, and she dug her fingers into his ribs. At once, he calmed. “And I promise, you will pay for this indignity.”

  “Have a light repast prepared to sustain us until dinner, given we were starved of food during our trip here. And I should like tea.” Drawing herself up, she summoned every ounce of high dudgeon befitting a marchioness. “Now, you are excused.”

  With that, Arabella slammed shut the door.

  Pressing a finger to her lips, she bade Anthony remain silent. When he nodded, she grabbed his arm and led him through the sitting room, into the bedchamber, and closed the heavy oak panels.

  “Oh, Anthony, this is dreadful.” She turned to face him and tried not to panic. Then she panicked and gripped the lapels of his coat. “Whatever are we to do?”

  “What can we do?” He glanced about their quarters and splayed his arm. She threw herself into his embrace, and he kissed her forehead. In a low voice, he said, “Somehow, it will be all right, but until we identify a means of escape, we must comply. We must give every impression that we cooperate with and support Dr. Shaw in his mission. Whatever we do, we cannot give him any reason to separate us.”

  “You must be joking, because I am not sure I could survive a single night in this house of horrors, much less on my own. I should run amok.” With a huff, she pushed free. To the rear of the elegant room, she located a large closet. In the opposite corner, behind an oriental screen, she found a washstand and a large tub. At the foot of a massive four-poster bed, she paused to contemplate their predicament. She snapped her fingers and gestured. “What about the window?”

  “That was my first thought.” Peering below, he shook his head. “We would never make it. There is no trellis, and the landscaping is too steep. I suspect we would break our necks were we to try.”

  “Oh.” Perched on the edge of the bed, she slumped her shoulders. There had to be some way to break free of the evil doctor. She just needed to think. “What about the servants? Do you know any? Is there anyone in residence who might be sympathetic to our plight?”

  “None of which I am aware.” Anthony frowned. “It has been years since I spent any time here, and my nanny has long since been dispatched. The butler died last summer, and I am unfamiliar with the current staff, I suspect by design, so I am of no use to us there.”

  “That is too bad. There must be someone willing to provide assistance.” Arabella tapped her chin. From every conceivable position, the situation seemed hopeless. Thus far, she had met only male domestics, and not a single one struck her as complaisant. “Although, I am not sure what anyone can do to help us.”

  “We do not need much.” He surveyed the apartment and strode to a small desk, where he opened a drawer. “We have stationery and an inkwell. I can write a missive to your father, if only we have someone to dispatch the message. While it is a simple plan, we require no grandiose efforts. That is the beauty of it. We need but one person’s assistance to succeed.”

  “My lord, you are brilliant.” She shot from the mattress. “Surely, my father will save us, and he could be here in a day. He would never stand for his daughter being taken prisoner.” She reflected on the possibilities and nursed a glimmer of hope. “I wager a pretty shilling the Earl of Ainsworth would show that Dr. Shaw a thing or two.”

  A knock at the door gave her pause, and her husband pressed a finger to his lips.

  “Come,” Anthony stated, as he turned toward the door.

  “Beg your pardon, my lord, but I am sent to attend Lady Rockingham.” A rather young maid offered a none too elegant curtsey. With her dark brown hair pulled taut beneath a crisp white mob cap, and round spectacles, she strode forward. To Arabella, the servant said, “My lady, my name is Emily. I am here to unpack your belongings and ensure your comfort. Shall I have the footmen prepare a bath?”

  “Perhaps, after Lord Rockingham and I meet with Dr. Shaw, and hello, Emily.” Arabella’s thoughts ran wild, because she had just spied her target. If anyone could be coaxed into aiding their cause, it was the slightly awkward servant. Somehow, she had to win the maid’s confidence, in order to persuade the girl to betray the doctor, and she had to work fast. “Why don’t you have a seat, and tell me about yourself? If we are to be friends—and I do hope we can be friends—I should know something of your history.”

  “You wish to know me?” Emily blinked. “No one ever sees me, my lady. My mama says a good maid blends into the background from whichever angle you look at her.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Determined yet calm, Arabella cast a quick glance at Anthony, who nodded, and approached her prey. “Because I see you, and your mama is mistaken, if I may be so bold. I see a charming woman of refined carriage and discerning taste.” She sat on a bench at the foot of the bed and patted the cushion beside her. “Please, have a seat, and let us enjoy a nice little chat. I do so hope we can be friends, given I am far removed from London and my usual acquaintances.”

  “You want to be friends, and you want me to with sit? And will you tell me of London, because I have never traveled to the city.” Emily bit her bottom lip and shuffled her feet, as she wrung her fingers. “But Dr. Shaw told the staff that we were not to speak beyond that necessary to serve your ladyship.”

  “Oh, bother the doctor.” Holding her belly, Arabella yielded to giddy laughter. “If you are to act as my lady’s maid, then you know you must do as I say, and I require your friendship. Of course, if you do not wish to—”

  “Oh, no, my lady.” Emily sputtered. “I-I mean, yes, please. I should like, very much, to be your friend, because I have never known a fine lady like yourself.” Then she peered toward the sitting room, where Anthony paced before a window, and plopped down. Leaning close, she whispered, “Is it true what they say? That Lord Rockingham is mad?”

  “Oh, my dear, he is no such thing.” Arabella should have guessed Shaw would have swayed the domestics to do his bidding. Still, she believed she could win Emily’s confidence with the right appeal. “Indeed, we are not sure why the duke has taken such drastic measures to secure treatment for Lord Rockingham, when his lordship is already under the care of a very fine professional.”

  “Really?” With an expression of pure curiosity, Emily’s eyes grew wide. “Dr. Shaw told us Lord Rockingham is dangerous, and you must be protected, at all costs.” She clenched a fist to her chest. “Please, know that I will defend you with my life. Can you tell me what is wrong with his lordship?”

  “Stuff and nonsense.” Arabella waved dismissively. “I assure you, there is no reason to fear for my safety, because my husband is the last person who would ever hurt me. And there is naught wrong with Lord Rockingham, other than a missing arm. Since when is that a crime or a condition to strike terror in the heart of man? In fact, he is a brave war hero, but His Grace the Duke of Swanborough does not appreciate my husband’s sacrifice. What manner of society disapproves of a man because he lacks a limb? Are we to institutionalize everyone in possession of a minor difference? Why, we should sooner impr
ison half our countrymen.”

  “Bloody hell, I should say so.” Emily shrieked and bowed her head. She appeared on the verge of tears when she stated, “Forgive me, my lady. I am too forward for a proper lady’s maid, and I spoke out of turn. I regret it has always been a fault of mine, which is why my mother says I have never been able to secure a long-term position. To put it simply, I talk too much.”

  “Posh.” The scheme progressed perfectly, but Arabella suppressed her excitement. “Who am I to judge, given I have often been told I suffer the same affliction, so I can hardly complain of your behavior. In truth, I welcome your company.”

  “Really?” Emily smiled. “My lady, I should be honored to call you a friend.”

  “Then we are a pair.” Spying an opening and an opportunity to foster fellow feeling, Arabella giggled and clasped Emily’s hand. “And no one need know of our kinship. It will be our secret.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The expensive wall coverings stretched and swirled, manifesting a series of unforgiving spiderweb traps, and his throat constricted. Aubusson rugs shifted and lifted from the floors, forming ghostly figures, emitting a morose cacophony of hideous wails, and his insides tightened. Random trinkets and vases sprang to life, dancing a provoking jig, and he clenched his gut. From the shadows emerged imaginary combatants, the devil’s army, to taunt Anthony as he navigated the maze of hallways, and he tensed his muscles. Doorway after doorway sank into a dark vortex, locking him in his own private hell, daring him to plunge into the abyss. To yield to the fright. To lose himself.

  It was all in his mind.

  Shaking himself alert, he reminded himself that the haunting visions were just that—visions.

  They did not exist.

  They could not hurt him.

  Focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, he descended the stairs. He sought solace in the constant tick-tock of the long case clock in the foyer, letting it guide him like a beacon to a place where safety and sanity dwelled, and slowly he emerged from the mental fog. Yet, hope for liberty diminished with each step, because he could not elude reality, and it was all he could manage to put one foot in front of the other, tramping to his doom.

  With the burly escorts at either side, he clutched Arabella’s hand and tried to ignore the usual inclinations. To panic. To shout a warning. But a warning of—what? A drop of perspiration traced a path down his temple, offering a mild distraction from the stress wreaking havoc within him, and he reminded himself to breathe. How he longed to scream in terror. To run from the house and never look back.

  But Anthony would not abandon his bride.

  Every seemingly innocuous piece of furniture morphed into an enemy soldier, advancing on his position, and his anxiety grew to epic heights. In his mind, duty waged war with fear, and fear seized the lead. Gasping for air, he craned his neck against his cravat and tripped.

  “My lord, I apologize for trampling your foot.” Of course, she did no such thing. Searching his eyes, no doubt seeing more than he wished to reveal, as was her way, Arabella grabbed his arm and then frowned. “In the future, I will take greater care to watch where I am going, so I do not injure you, but you knew I was clumsy when you married me.”

  “No apologies necessary, my lady.” In the bright sunshine of her smile, he grinned and broke free of the illusive torment. “I believe I almost sent you for a tumble, after catching the toe of my boot on the rug.”

  “Then we are a fine pair.” She giggled, but her attempt at levity didn’t fool him. He detected the lines of strain at the corners of her mouth and the firm set of her jaw that belied her poised demeanor. She worried, too, and the knowledge only intensified his concern.

  Together, they strolled into the drawing room, where Dr. Shaw loomed as a specter of doom before the hearth. “Ah, you are arrived.” With brittle cordiality, Shaw extended an arm. “Please, be seated.”

  Anthony showed Arabella to an overstuffed chair, and he stood as sentry to her left. Simmering with unchecked agitation and ire, he longed to decry the unfairness of his predicament, but he recalled Dr. Handley’s advice and tamped his temper. He would give Shaw no reason to define him as mad. “I hope that now you will relate the details of our captivity, including the duration and scope of our stay, because we are eager to return to London and begin our married life.”

  “Indeed, we did not anticipate an impromptu visit to Surrey as part of our honeymoon, and I have previous engagements I must keep.” Arabella folded her hands in her lap and inclined her head. “If I am to be inconvenienced, I should like to let my parents know of my whereabouts, else they will worry. I would allay their apprehension surrounding my unexplained absence.”

  “Lady Rockingham, there is no cause for concern.” Shaw cast a brittle countenance laced with unveiled contempt. “It is my understanding that the Duke of Swanborough has apprised Lord and Lady Ainsworth of his plan and secured their agreement, so your alarm is unwarranted.”

  “W-what?” Her voice quivered, and Anthony rested his palm to her shoulder. She took a deep breath as she composed herself. “You mean my mother and father knew of the duke’s intentions, including my imprisonment, prior to my wedding?”

  “Indeed,” Shaw replied with an air of superiority. “We all discussed it.”

  “I-I don’t believe you.” She half-whimpered and clenched a fist. “My parents would never support such nefarious enterprises, and I will not permit you to slander them in this fashion. My parents love me. They would not allow you to hold me against my will, so you must lie, sir.”

  “I can assure you, Lady Rockingham, that I act with the Earl of Ainsworth’s blessing.” With unveiled indifference and callous disregard for Arabella’s feelings, Shaw assessed his fingernails and smirked. “As a matter of fact, the earl attended the last meeting with the Duke of Swanborough, shortly before your nuptials, wherein we finalized the details of Lord Rockingham’s convalescence. Of course, securing an heir is of utmost importance, in the event Lord Rockingham cannot be rehabilitated to the extent he can perform his duties.”

  “What do you mean, ‘In the event Lord Rockingham cannot be rehabilitated’? When has Lord Rockingham failed in his responsibilities? I challenge you to name one instance.” Anthony adored her as she rose to his defense. “Who are you to judge anyone? What, exactly, are your credentials? And what authority do you possess to hold us, when we have committed no crime?”

  How well he knew the expression on her face, because he’d spent months on the other side of it. The relentless bite of hurt. The unchecked ire. The utter devastation, black as a bottomless pit. When he rubbed the back of her neck, she jumped and then met his gaze, and he spied unshed tears. In silence, he cursed.

  His world shifted in that moment, and he focused on her response and her needs, as he tried to comfort her in the midst of the harsh truth of their position. To his surprise, she brushed him aside and leaped from the chair. With no small hint of disdain, she charged the doctor.

  “I demand you release us, at once.” Toe to toe with Shaw, she squared her shoulders. “You cannot keep us here, forever. When I am free, I shall see to it you are severely punished for your illegal actions. I shall shout from the treetops in Hyde Park. I shall appeal to His Majesty for justice, if that is what it takes. Now, I say again, let us go.”

  For an instant, an eerie hush fell on the room, and Anthony braced.

  Then, the doctor smiled a sickeningly sweet smile that did not inspire confidence, and Anthony flinched. Tension grew, and his gut wound tight as a clock spring. The floor beneath his feet seemed to pitch and roll.

  “My dear Lady Rockingham, since you fail to comprehend the purpose and breadth behind His Grace’s commands, permit me to explain, so there are no further misunderstandings between us. First, despite your forceful protestations, you are going nowhere until I allow it. Given you married Lord Rockingham, English law defines you as his property. Since Lord Rockingham has been deemed mentally incapacitated, his custody is rema
nded to his father, the Duke of Swanborough. I am tasked at His Grace’s directive and act in accordance with his wishes.” The villain counted on his hand. “Second, you are restricted to your quarters, and the doors will be locked at all times. If you wish to stroll the garden or peruse the library, you will do so under my supervision. Third, you are to produce an heir. Once the required child is conceived, Lady Rockingham will remain as a guest of His Grace until her confinement results in a healthy birth. Thereafter, she may return to London, leaving the babe in the care of those best equipped to prepare him for future duties. Finally, Lord Rockingham is to be placed in a medical facility, where I will direct his treatment, until I determine His Lordship is safe to resume his place in society. Now, are we clear?”

  Panic surged to the fore, and Anthony yanked at his collar. Perspiration trickled down his cheek, and he suspected he might swoon. His stomach churned and he swayed. Just when he feared he would run amok; Arabella met and held his stare.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  “How dare you!” she screamed and slapped Dr. Shaw, leaving a telltale red print on his flesh. “I am the daughter of the Earl of Ainsworth. I am Lady Rockingham, peasant, and I will not be imprisoned by the likes of you.” She grasped the lapels of his waistcoat, as Anthony’s usual maladies disappeared in the face of her impressive outburst. “Hear me well, I rebuke your authority over me.”

  “Lady Rockingham, control yourself.” Shaw clutched her forearms and set her back on her heels. “As you are a lady and a gentlewoman, I expect you to comport yourself appropriately.”