Devil at the Gates

by Lauren Smith

“Miss Russell.” He gazed upon her with longing.

  “I would like to stay through the spring, if you still wish to extend the invitation.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth in a show of nerves, and he was powerless to resist her. She could have demanded a thousand stars and he would have tried to give them to her.

  “Yes, that would be very good. I’ll have Grindle ask the cook to serve supper in an hour, if you wish?”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “I should speak to Mrs. Breland about moving to a new bedchamber. I am feeling better, and you should have your chambers returned to you.” Her cheeks blossomed with a tender blush that quickened his heart. There was an innocence to her, one that he suspected would always remain within her. Yet she wasn’t naïve or silly like others he had met. She had seen pain, felt loss, had her heart hurt by both, yet she hadn’t given over to anger, hate, or cloying despair as he had. Redmond envied her that strength of character.

  “Very well. Tell Mrs. Breland I recommend the Pearl Room.”

  Something akin to hope flashed in Harriet’s eyes. “Would you show me the way? I believe Mrs. Breland is speaking to the kitchen staff right now, and I would hate to disturb her. If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Strangely, he didn’t. His instincts should have been to run from her and from this entire situation, but instead he nodded and held out his arm to her. She tucked her arm in his, and they ascended the stairs together. He remembered escorting Millicent up like this, both of them still in their wedding clothes. He had been so elated, so overjoyed to have a wife, to have someone to belong to him. Yet there had been a tightness around Millicent’s eyes and a hint of worry that had darkened her brow. He’d mistaken it for a bride’s wedding nerves. How foolish he’d been not to see her anxiety for what it was, not to see that she loved his brother.

  “What’s the matter, Your Grace?” Harriet’s question forced him out of his thoughts. He looked down at her, frowning slightly.

  “I beg your pardon. I was lost in thought.” He was not about to admit that he was thinking of another woman, or the mistakes he had made.

  “Oh…” He could sense the disappointment in her tone.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Russell. It’s just been a long time since I was in a position to entertain company, and it seems I’m out of practice.”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, and her lips hinted at a smile. “That does happen when one routinely chases away one’s visitors.”

  Redmond found his chuckle had become rusty from disuse. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  They went up the curving staircase until they were one floor above his bedchamber. He stopped in front of an ornately carved door and opened it for her.

  “This is the Pearl Room.” He waited for her to enter ahead of him.

  “Why is it called that?” Harriet asked.

  Redmond followed her inside, admiring her figure from behind. “See for yourself.”

  She pulled her arm free of his to go and explore the room. A tall four-poster bed was decorated with curtains of black velvet embroidered with silver and gold. Pearls were sewn into the curtains, creating patterns like falling rain amid the embroidered silver and gold stars.

  “It’s a shower of stardust,” he said, reaching out to touch the curtains. “That’s what my grandmother used to call it.”

  Harriet’s eyes were wide with awe as her hands joined his to brush over the velvet.

  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. No, I cannot stay here. This room is more suited to a…” Her voice trailed off.

  “A duchess? Yes. It is. Please, stay. A room like this should not remain empty.”

  Her blush vanished as she suddenly paled. “Did your wife stay here?”

  “Millicent? No, she stayed in the Green Velvet Room, or my bed when I…” He swallowed hard as shame colored his tone.

  “When you what?” Harriet looked up at him with an innocence that made him want to hold her close in a way he’d never expected.

  “When I asked her to. She was not fond of sharing my bed.” He wasn’t sure why he admitted to such an intimate detail of his life, but he didn’t want her to think he and Millicent had had a perfect marriage. He wanted… What did he want? For this woman he barely knew to see how empty his life had been of love? To pity him?

  To love him?

  “You have a lovely bedchamber, Your Grace. Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think the duchess should have slept apart from you.”

  “You don’t believe in separate rooms?” That intrigued him. Most of society expected separate rooms.

  “No, I don’t. When it’s a love match, I believe a man and woman who love one another should share a bed. Perhaps my view is affected by my childhood perception. My parents were not aristocrats, and our home in the Cotswolds was small by comparison. My parents shared a bedchamber, and I believe it kept them in love, to be so near to one another.”

  Redmond touched a pearl on the nearest curtain. He’d longed for a love match and had foolishly thought Millicent was his.

  “I agree. The intimacy of sleeping beside another person is remarkable. Few barriers exist between two people who choose to share a bed, to share dreams and midnight whispers.” He thought of how Harriet had slept in his bed last night and how he had wished to hold her, to sleep beside her. How could he long for that in a way that seemed so much deeper than it had ever been with Millicent?

  Because Millicent had never truly been his. She’d belonged to Thomas from the moment they had met. But Harriet? She was someone who might yet belong to him and he to her. The thought surprised him, but he did not deny it. After seven years, he wished to shed his solitude, yet he was still afraid to trust in love again. And so was she.

  “I shall light a few of the lamps for you. Please, make yourself comfortable. Maisie will continue to see to your needs for as long as you stay. I’ll have a footman come up shortly to light the fire.”

  He caught her hand and bowed over it, kissing her fingertips. She didn’t pull her hand away, which at least reassured him that she no longer feared him in any way. He left her alone and carried that little bit of hope with him back down the spiral stairs.

  Harriet spun around in the Pearl Room long after Redmond had gone. She felt giddy and excited staying in such a stately, dreamy room. The brooding duke she had feared was fading like a mirage before her eyes. She no longer saw him as a devil, but as a lost soul. A man still lost and still in pain.

  She wished she knew the truth of what had happened to his wife and brother. That was the only mystery that still worried her. But perhaps she would soon coax that story out of him. She also admitted that she could not envision this man as being friends or even acquaintances with her stepfather now that she was coming to know him. When she’d first arrived last night, she’d refused to trust him, but now? She felt it might be possible.

  Maisie knocked on the door a few minutes later and entered with a stack of boxes in her arms. Timothy the valet followed behind, carrying a set of even larger boxes.

  “We emptied the attic, with His Grace’s approval,” she said as she put the boxes on the bed. Timothy added his load to the pile, and with a wink at Maisie, he left the two of them alone.

  “A bit of a rogue, that one is.” The maid giggled as she eyed the valet’s retreating form.

  “Who? Timothy?” Harriet asked as she helped Maisie open a few of the larger dress boxes.

  “Aye. He’s courting me. We only got permission from Mrs. Breland yesterday. Normally that sort of thing is forbidden, but, well, the Christmas spirit seems to have taken over the house in ways it hasn’t in years.”

  Harriet couldn’t help but smile. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

  “What about this one?” Maisie lifted a deep-rose-colored silk evening gown from a pale-blue box.

  “Oh, that’s far too pretty.” Harriet shook her head at the sight of the silken gown that exuded elegant decadence.

  “Well, I’ve got a pota
to sack down in the kitchen you might prefer.”

  Harriet’s eyes widened, unsure of how to respond. Had the brash comment come because she had somehow caused offense? “P-pardon?”

  Maisie covered her mouth as she held back a burst of laughter. “I’m just saying, miss, that you can’t spend your life turning down things being offered just because you think they’re nice.”

  “Well, no. I suppose not.”

  “You should have seen the look on your face just now, miss.”

  “Well, I’d never heard a servant speak so…boldly before.”

  Maisie smiled. “Bold? Aye, that’s one way to put it. I suppose in any other household I’d have been sacked by now. Mrs. Breland’s had words with me on more than one occasion. Course, it’s not easy finding people to work here, so that works in my favor.”

  “Perhaps that’s the real reason she approved of Timothy courting you?” Harriet said with a hint of a smirk.

  “What do you mean, miss?”

  “Well, maybe Mrs. Breland believes that if you’re wed Timothy will help keep you in line, become a respectful and dutiful wife?”

  Maisie considered this. “Oh, well, aren’t they in for a surprise then?”

  They both broke out laughing at this, to the point where Harriet had to wipe the tears from her eyes. When their laughter died down, Maisie removed the dress completely from the box and held it up to Harriet.

  “I never speak my mind to be rude, miss, but because I care. This was the second time you tried to refuse something because you thought it looked too nice. Now what does that say about how you see yourself? Nothing good, if you ask me. If you keep saying things like that, sooner or later you’ll start to believe them.”

  “You’re right,” said Harriet, bowing her head in appreciation. “You have my thanks.”

  “Now, I’m no expert, but I’d say this is perfect for you. Let’s get you dressed for dinner.”

  Once she was wearing the gown, Harriet stared at her reflection in the mirror. The sheer overskirt carried a dreaminess of romanticism and was embroidered with delicate glittering gold leaves. Heavy satin pink ribbons bordered the hem and made the bottom of the overskirt thick and billowy in a way that would have suited a princess. A matching pink sash around her waist was tightened into a bow at the back, which drew one’s eyes to her waist. She looked nervously at the low scooped neckline, and the sleeves of the gown rested on the edges of her shoulders. The décolletage was scandalously low. She’d always worn high-necked gowns at Thursley, fearing what George might say or do if he saw her wearing something so revealing.

  “Are you certain they won’t fall off?” she asked in a hushed tone as she stared critically at the sleeves.

  Maisie fluffed the sleeves into delicate puffs and chuckled. “They won’t. The gown’s bodice is tight enough. It’s designed to rest against the bosom and have the sleeves just barely drape off one’s shoulders, like so.” The maid plucked at the sleeves, but they remained firmly in place just barely on the edges of her shoulders.

  “I’ve never worn a gown like this before,” Harriet admitted.

  “Trust me, miss. This gown will do what it was intended to do.”

  Harriet touched her naked throat and frowned as she pulled on the long white kid gloves. “And what’s that?”

  “It will draw his eye and show him how lovely you are.”

  Harriet’s belly flipped. “Wait. Was this dress Lord Frostmore’s idea?”

  “No, miss. It was mine.”

  “But why?”

  “Because His Grace has been thinking terrible things about himself for so long that he’s come to believe them. I know what you must be thinking, but I’m not trying to match you, honest. I just think you both need a chance to believe you deserve to have nice things from time to time. Even something as simple as having dinner with an attractive companion.”

  Harriet considered the maid’s words. Did she want the duke to see her as lovely? Yes. She did. The realization surprised her. She’d never wanted to feel beautiful before. Beauty had meant danger; it had meant that George would be watching her with those covetous eyes that gave her nightmares. It was different when Redmond looked at her. His hungry gaze excited rather than frightened her. And she realized that Maisie was right—for too long she had denied herself even simple pleasures, and she had begun to think she did not deserve them.

  Maisie flashed her a warm smile. “I’ll unpack the rest of the clothes for you during dinner.”

  “Thank you, Maisie. For everything.”

  As Harriet stepped into the corridor, she heard a distant gong ring out two floors below. She clutched her skirts in one hand and proceeded down to the entry hall. Lord Frostmore waited for her at the bottom stair. He looked exceedingly attractive in his blue superfine coat, gold silk waistcoat, and maroon trousers. His face lit up, and for the first time in her life, she felt the way a woman ought to when she entered a room. That a man’s appreciative gaze was a thing to make her shine and not something to fear.

  “You look…” He hesitated, and she thought he might be as nervous as she was. “Good, very good.”

  “Maisie thought you would approve of my wearing these?” She lifted the skirts and waved them a bit.

  “She was correct. Besides, they were going to waste where they were. It felt like a crime to let the moths get hold of something so…” He paused, and she saw him ever so discreetly swallow. “Lovely.”

  “You have wonderful taste, Your Grace. I am honored to wear the dress. I’ve never worn anything so expensive before.”

  “Redmond, please call me Redmond.” He reached for her hand. “Or Red, if you like. Red was my nickname as a boy. My brother, Thomas, was a few years younger than me and couldn’t say Redmond, so he called me Red. I suppose it was because of my hair.” He chuckled at the distant memory, and Harriet’s spirits lifted.

  “Would you call me Harriet then, Red?”

  “Harriet.” He said her name like he was tasting an expensive brandy and found it to his liking.

  They sat down to dinner, the large table set so very far apart, which meant Harriet had to try to speak to Redmond from the farthest end of the table, where a trio of large bouquets kept him almost hidden from view.

  “How do you find the dinner?” Redmond’s voice echoed loudly as he almost shouted down the length of the table.

  Harriet peered around the edge of the vases, trying to see him better. “I…quite good…”

  “What?” he called back and leaned forward in his chair.

  “I said, quite good, Your Grace. I think—”

  “This is bloody nonsense!” Redmond growled and shoved his chair back quite forcefully, which startled Harriet. Then he collected his goblet of wine and plate and came over to sit down directly beside her. A footman scrambled to collect the duke’s silverware and bring it over to them before dashing back into the corner of the room to wait to serve the next course.

  “Much better.” Redmond looked at her with a grin, and she found herself smiling back at him.

  “Indeed.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to tell the footmen to set our plates beside each other at meals. Tradition be damned.”

  “I would appreciate that.” She couldn’t help but think back to last night when she had dined with him. How he’d sat at the far end of the table, watching her with dark, hooded eyes, while she’d kept a sword within reach at the table. Not that it had mattered. He’d drugged her and carried her up to his bed, where he’d tended to her wounds with the doctor. How different last night had been compared to this. The man who had frightened her beyond reason was gone. In his place was a man with a kind smile, a guarded heart, and a haunted soul. He was a man she wanted to know everything about.

  They dined on soup and salmon, making pleasant conversation throughout the evening.

  “Did you enjoy your ride? I saw you from the window earlier. I hope you don’t mind—I explored the house for a bit after Mrs. Breland gave me a tou
r.”

  “Yes, I did. Riding is one of my favorite pursuits, in addition to reading. Do you ride?”

  “When I was a girl, I rode a neighbor’s pony once or twice, but until the night of the storm, I’m afraid I hadn’t ridden a horse.”

  “And yet you made it here. Impressive.”

  “Heavens, I didn’t even think. I simply jumped upon the beast and came here. What else could I do?” She blushed and chuckled at herself. Her desire to help Mr. Johnson had overridden all common sense.

  “It is as I suspected,” Redmond said thoughtfully.

  “What is?”

  “You are brave. Incredibly so.”

  “I wish that were the case. But in truth, I’m afraid of everything.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it seemed like so much had given her cause for fear of late.

  “You have no need to be afraid here.” Redmond reached out to catch her hand, and the connection sent a tingle up her arm. She didn’t pull away. It felt good, more than good, to feel his warm, strong hand on hers.

  “Would you tell me about your family and your life here?” She hoped he would open up to her, just as she was opening up to him. She stared at his hand, the long strong fingers, then the way his shoulders strained slightly against the confines of his tailored coat displaying his well-developed body.

  Harriet thought again of the contrasting portraits in the hall, the beautiful angelic brother and the duke, who seemed unremarkable by comparison at first. But now it became clear how handsome he truly was. The intelligence in his eyes, the compassion in his features, and the hard-won smiles that seem to burn her body hotter than any of the fires in the great marble hearth behind them. She wanted to know him, to feel that she could call him a friend.

  “My family has lived here for three hundred years. We were given these lands by Queen Elizabeth when my ancestors did her a great service. My grandmother told me that the queen even visited us once and stayed in the Pearl Room where you sleep now. We thrive on the wealth of the tenant properties to the north and on investments I made twelve years ago in shipping companies that sail out of Dover. It was how I knew the port would close due to the storms.”