Duchess for a Day

by Peggy Waide

  For the first time, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the tension around his mouth. The hair, grown longer than normal, the dirt under his nails, the worn elbows of his coat, were inconsistent with the young man she had befriended. The past few months had been difficult for him. "What did Horace promise you?"

  "My life. Freedom from all my debts. And a comfortable monthly stipend that would have provided well for us."

  Like a stern taskmaster offering a silent reprimand, she crossed her arms and shook her head.

  "God's bones, Jocelyn, he was going to kill me if I didn't help him. I agreed. Do you remember the night in your study? Just that morning, he had informed me he no longer required my services. I was frantic when I attacked you. I apologize. You did bloody my head, you know. It ached for days."

  "I see you are sufficiently recovered to once again wreak havoc with my life."

  He waggled a finger before her mocking eyes. "Tsk, tsk, Jocelyn. Pettiness does not suit you. Anyway, your dear relative returned and tried to finish what you started. Luckily, when he threw me over the cliff, I fell a fair distance down. He actually tried to throw a boulder on my already bruised head. When I didn't move, he must have considered the deed done."

  Angrily, she tugged at the delicate beads lining the fingers of her gloves. "Horace claimed you were dead. I was so gullible. I wanted to go to the authorities. He said he'd already hidden your body and that no one would ever believe me. He is an evil, hideous man."

  "On that we agree, and he is back in London."

  "What does that have to do with me?"

  "I need funds to leave the country."

  "You expect me to give you money?" she asked in astonishment.

  Like an abandoned pup, his whining grew in intensity. "Mardell will kill me if he finds me. There is also the matter of a few recent unpaid debts. I must have funds to start anew."

  How could she have ever considered marriage to this man? "Your wits have turned to straw."

  "Only a few thousand pounds."

  "By the staff of Moses, you are serious."

  The fractious schoolboy resurfaced in full force. "Jocelyn, I will do whatever I must."

  Like a captain struggling with his ship through a hurricane, she felt the control slipping through her hands. "Such as?"

  "I considered killing Lord Wilcott and marrying you myself, but that would be so very messy. I would still have to deal with your step-uncle. I know you have a fondness for the dowager. She is such a kind woman. I hate to think of her in harm's way. I could buy my freedom by telling Mardell that your amnesia is all a ruse, but I really have no desire to see you harmed, or since Wilcott is known to be the possessive type with a nasty temper, I could tell your husband we are lovers. What do you think? Do any of those ideas have merit?"

  They all did and she hated being manipulated. To confide in Reyn about Phillip, this meeting, his treachery, would be a great risk. Flinching when she felt Phillip's hand on her sleeve, she watched him with empty eyes while he pressed his case further.

  "Jocelyn, I will do whatever I must. Do you understand? All I need is a few thousand pounds." His voice sounded almost pleasant.

  "How do you expect me to obtain that kind of money?"

  "Surely, your husband keeps bills at home, or I could convert some of your jewels to banknotes."

  "Phillip, come home with me. I promise Reyn will protect you. If I ever meant anything to you, you'll do this for me."

  He studied her for a moment. "I will consider it. Until then you will do as I say."

  Cursing her stupidity for ever experiencing one particle of feeling for this man, she exhaled in resignation. Too bitter for words, she gave a curt nod.

  "Splendid. Meet me at the Two Sisters Inn, near the docks, in three days. Ask anyone, they will tell you the way."

  She reached for the door. She had to escape or be sick. Phillip grabbed her wrist, lightly kissed her cheek, then reminded her through the carriage window, "Three days, darling. I'll be waiting."

  She needed to go home, find the peace she knew she'd find in her husband's arms. Staring blankly ahead, ignorant of the three pairs of eyes that watched her depart, she forced one foot in front of the other.

  The most distressful bit of business that littered Reyn's massive desk was the note from Maddox, the man hired to follow Jocelyn. The daily report clearly stated that Jocelyn met a man in a shop on Bond Street, someone she seemed to know. They left together in a closed carriage and drove a short distance, at which point his wife left the vehicle. Alone. When he read that his wife and the man had appeared to be "more than good friends," Reyn's glare nearly scorched the paper.

  Hearing Jocelyn's voice drift upstairs from the entrance of the house, he promptly tucked the note inside a drawer. When she entered his study, he played the wealthy aristocrat, leaning lazily against the corner of his desk, a brandy in one hand, a cigar in the other, a bland expression on his face.

  "Where have you been?" His question sounded more like a demand. So much for tact and patience.

  "I went shopping for a few things, then I visited with Agatha."

  He took a long drag on the cigar, watched her pull the pink gloves from her slender fingers with her teeth and felt the physical tug on his groin.

  "Is there something wrong?" she asked as she crossed the threshold and closed the door.

  "I was going to ask you the same thing," he countered, thinking she seemed composed, almost serene, for someone just returned from an afternoon rendezvous.

  "As you can see, I'm hale and hearty. I went by to discuss my mother with Agatha. I'm willing to discuss my mother with you if it would help."

  "If you don't mind, I'd rather forget that for now. There will be time to settle those differences after this other business is finished. At least I understand Agatha's motives."

  Eagerly, she agreed. "Did Horace meet you today?"

  "Yes. Your step-uncle is everything you said. He is chomping at the bit to invest in our project. I rushed the papers so the transaction should be completed by tomorrow. He also inquired about Lord Halden. If he wishes to invest in both directions, so much the better." Reyn decided to offer his wife every opportunity to explain her actions. "I imagine the shops were busy today. Did you see any of our acquaintances?"

  "No. Have you scheduled another appointment with Horace?"

  "I meet him tomorrow at the bank. He definitely likes the idea of having a duke as a friend." She plucked the bit of white straw and pink feathers from her head, placing the hat on the nearby chair. His mouth turned to straw as the fabric of her jacket pulled tight across her breasts. "Did you find what you sought today?"

  Seductively, she smiled. "Yes, I did. Did my stepuncle ask about me?"

  "Very casually and very carefully. He still believes me to be a jealous husband prone to overreaction. I made it perfectly clear that no man spends time alone with my wife. I'm not convinced that he believes this entire amnesia business, but he's definitely curious and considering the possibilities. Neither is he foolish enough to ask too many questions." Watching her remove her pink jacket, he considered the feasibility that Maddox had misinterpreted what he had seen. "And what trinkets did you purchase today?"

  "That is a surprise." Crossing the room in slow, provocative steps, she lifted both hands to his cheeks. "I missed you." She pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss filled with promise.

  All the other questions he meant to ask quickly slipped his mind, as did his discipline. Impatiently, he pulled her against his eager body, sealing his lips to hers. Normally, he avoided his wife during the day. Today, he could not deny himself the pleasure of losing himself in her delectable body. There was plenty of time to meet with Maddox. Later.

  "As usual, darling, you look magnificent." Like a trained courtesan, Celeste Waverly reclined suggestively against the red leather of her sleek phaeton.

  "Your note sounded urgent. What do you need?"

  "I need a great many things," she purr
ed as she drew a light caress across the stitching on the leather glove that grasped the side of her carriage. When the hands abruptly withdrew, she scolded, "Good heavens, Reyn, I have no intention of accosting you here in Hyde Park. Be a dear and help me down."

  With great annoyance, Reyn did as she requested and lifted Celeste to the ground. This was the last place he wanted to be, yet after receiving her note, his curiosity had forced him to leave his wife buried beneath the covers of their bed. He also needed to locate Maddox and meet Mardell, Tameron and Walter.

  "Out of deference to our past relationship, I agreed to this meeting. I do, however, have important things to do."

  "I don't doubt they include your little wife?" she said, ignoring his churlish attitude.

  He glanced from the dirt track to the sapphire velvet back that retreated to a copse of maple trees. His stride matched hers. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  Placing her lace-covered hands over his, she nestled closer to his side. "I do not wish to see you hurt."

  "Stop the theatrics, Celeste. Say what you must."

  Her chest heaved as she exhaled in vexation. "Did you know that your wife had a fiance?" Reflexively, his hands tightened on a low branch of a nearby tree. "Did you know this man is here in London and your wife has been with him?"

  Dark, swirling storm clouds gathered within him. The coincidence of this information with that from Maddox was too much. Somehow he managed to keep all emotion away from his face. "How did you come by this tidbit of news?"

  "I will not reveal my sources, but I will share what I know. Supposedly, they were madly in love and planned to be married until catastrophe struck and Jocelyn disappeared. This mere lad, heavily in debt, claims his luck is about to change. Expecting a windfall in the next few days, he will gather his lady love and flee to Paris. What do you suppose he means by that?"

  Having been Celeste's lover, he knew her temperament well. Ambitious, she was not above using charm, cruelty or blackmail. She was also intelligent. She knew nothing would be gained by a pack of lies.

  "What do you hope to gain by offering me this information?" Reyn asked.

  She grazed the outline of his upper lip with a fingernail. "I have missed you."

  "Celeste..."

  "Shhh." She pursed her lips together. "Let me finish. Your wife will meet this man on Friday." She handed him a neatly folded square of paper. "I have written the address for you. If you find I speak the truth, perhaps you will, once again, feel generous with your time." Emboldened by his silence, she traced his jaw with the tip of her tongue. "We were very good together."

  He withdrew as though scalded and fled to the path where he left his horse. Without looking back, he said, "Not a word. To anyone."

  The ground seemed to fly beneath his feet as he strode toward the black stallion, untied the lead and jumped onto his back. Rage born of betrayal gnawed at his stomach as he thundered down the dirt track as if the ounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

  Jocelyn stood outside the Two Sisters Inn, feeling that time dragged at a snail's pace, yet knowing events were happening far too quickly.

  During the last three days, the entire Wilcott household, secretly whispering and plotting, had executed the final touches on Reyn's birthday party. Everything for tomorrow night's celebration was ready.

  As easily as Walter had predicted, her step-uncle now owned shares in their canal project, financially leveraged beyond his limit.

  "Give the man enough rope to hang himself," Reyn had said, "then we wait, watch and tighten the noose. Slowly." The waiting game had begun.

  Under strict orders from Reyn, she had not seen her step-uncle again. Unexpectedly, Mardell stopped by Black House once again and Jocelyn, quite happily, pleaded a headache. Reyn promised her the final satisfaction before the lecher was carted off to prison.

  The waiting seemed to be a strain on everyone. Even Reyn. He came home every night, said very little except to apprise her of the progress of her step-uncle. He ate dinner, then retreated to the privacy of his study and eventually his own bedroom. He had not touched Jocelyn since her first encounter with Phillip, their odd conversation in the study and their fiery lovemaking on the plush rug of that same room.

  Her body warmed remembering the delicious pleasure he had bestowed upon her as she had wantonly stood naked before him, his face nestled between her thighs. Generous in his giving, savage in his demands, he had sent her soaring amongst the stars. Repeatedly. They had moved from the study to their bedchamber, where Reyn had continued his plundering. She had submitted to his mastery, and had almost blurted a confession about Phillip.

  Deep-seated fear quelled that impulse. She had no choice but to succumb to Phillip's blackmail. The loss of the jewels meant nothing to her except an act of betrayal.

  The weight of her purse reminded her of where she was and of her purpose. She entered the small inn, eager to put this business behind her. Other than two doddering sailors collapsed at a corner table and the weary-looking barkeep, the taproom was vacant. Thankfully, most of the customers occupied themselves elsewhere at this time of day.

  She clutched the small reticule, held back the unshed tears and climbed the stairs. A silent warning rang in her head. She knocked anyway.

  Phillip appeared in the doorway, a toothy grin on his face. "Jocie, my love, so good of you to come."

  Like the lamb near the lion, she backed away when he extended his hand. "If you recall, I had little choice."

  "You disappoint me. Do come in." Rubbing his hands together, he asked, "And what have you brought me, my dear Jocie?"

  The door closed behind her. She spat irritably. "Stop calling me that."

  "Tsk, tsk. You used to love that nickname."

  "That was a long time ago. Now it simply reminds me of a foolish young girl I no longer recognize."

  He stroked his thumb across her cheek. "Such passion, A pity we could never share that."

  Anxious to finish their business and leave, she thrust the bag at Phillip. "Take the jewels. Leave England. I swear, if you contact me again, regardless of the consequences, I will tell Reyn everything."

  "This is not the time for a temper tantrum. Remember what we meant to each other."

  "The only thing I wish to remember is the sight of your backside boarding a ship."

  His belly laugh grated on her already tender nerves as his fingers toyed with the lace decorating the dainty hat she wore. "Oh, Jocelyn, how you delight me. Are you sure you do not wish to accompany me?"

  She shrank away. "I would rather take my chances with my husband."

  "So be it." Dumping the contents of her bag on the narrow cot, his eyes ogled the bounty before him. "Very good. Very good indeed."

  He caressed the jewels as if he held the world in his hands. A chill coiled down her spine. Suddenly she realized the extent of his desperation, acknowledging its power to drive him to do any number of things. It was time to leave.

  She edged toward the door, pulled it open and stepped onto the wooden balcony. Her breathing came easier. "I assume you are satisfied. Therefore, I will take my leave."

  "Wait," he called.

  "Yes?" She spoke casually, feigning a calm she did not feel.

  Grabbing her beneath her arms, lifting her high into the air, he whirled about the landing.

  "Put me down, Phillip."

  He slid her down the length of his body and pressed a deep kiss to her mouth. Oddly enough, all she felt was pity.

  "Come with me. I promise to take care of you."

  "It would never work. I have done all I can for you. Leave me be to enjoy the happiness I have found." His mind seemed to clear before her eyes.

  "Very well."

  She thought he had already forgotten her as he fingered the bounty in his pockets. She bounded down the stairs, desperate to be free of her surroundings.

  He called after her. "I do love you, Jocie."

  With her face flushed, her hat askew, a loose tendril over her
brow, she nodded and stepped into the sunlight. At that moment, she knew she must tell Reyn the truth.

  Something was terribly wrong. Try as she might, Jocelyn could find no excuse for Reyn's absence. She blamed her nervousness on her afternoon encounter with Phillip, but deep down she feared it was something else.

  She glanced out the bedroom window for what seemed the hundredth time that night, and once again wondered where her husband was. She needed to tell him so many things. She had realized her stupidity the moment she left Phillip.

  Reyn deserved the truth. All of it. Phillip's return. His blackmail. The baby. That she loved him. Then and only then, could he make a choice about their future. Prepared to tell him everything, she waited. When he failed to arrive for dinner, she nervously paced and fretted the evening away. At midnight, she withdrew to her chamber, succumbing to a restless sleep that lasted an hour or so. Now she attempted, most pitifully, to read.

  A sound disturbed the night. Hoping it was Reyn, she grabbed her robe and slippers and crept down the stairs to find the lower rooms cloaked in darkness. No small wonder. It was well after three in the morning. "Reyn?" she called.

  A dull thud pierced the night. Warily, biting her lower lip, she turned toward the darkened salon. She halted at the door. "Reyn?"

  "No need to linger in the doorway, my dear. Come in. Your timely arrival saves me a trip upstairs."

  The dispassionate welcome almost sent her back to her room. Crossing the room on trembling legs, following the voice and the burning glow of the cigar, she found the back of the closest chair. She heard the sound of a match striking flint, then a candle caught flame to cast the room into haunting shadows. Reyn sat beside the fireplace, now cold and lifeless. One look at his fierce expression confirmed her fears. Brandy, strong and pungent, flared her nostrils. "You've been drinking."

  "Well, give the girl a bloody blue ribbon. Sit down."

  "I will talk to you when you're sober."