His Duchess

by Charlotte Russell

  “Where is he, Halston?” She would make Taviston understand she couldn’t take the time. Today, even her husband the duke would have to wait. Her stomach had been flipping and flopping on a regular basis as she tried to keep her thoughts focused on the last-minute details of the party. Moreover, her mind kept straying to what would happen after the party. She intended to confront Taviston about their marriage, each of their expectations, and her deal with Ripley. Knowing that the situation could be unpleasant was keeping her mind muddled and her nerves taut.

  “He is already in the carriage,” Halston informed her as he waited patiently.

  She had no recourse but to nod and follow Halston, fetching her bonnet and spencer from the maid who waited in the front hall.

  The footman handed her into the carriage, and she sat opposite Taviston, a clearly superior look on his face.

  Victoria simmered. She had no time for his nonsense.

  With a small smile he said, “I apologize for the distraction from your preparations.”

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I have some information concerning your kidnapping. We aren’t going far.”

  She tamped down her anger—he had apologized, but she had to get through this dinner party first before dealing with Taviston on a personal level. She had to. Holding her head up regally, Victoria stared out the window at the passing buildings.

  “How do you do that?”

  She gave an inward sigh, turned to face him and looked down her nose. “Do what?”

  He gaped at her in amazement. “You have acquired the most incredible ability to put me in my place with just a look or a tilt of your head.”

  She bit her lip to keep an unwanted smile from forming. “Do not look so surprised. I learned it all from you.”

  The carriage pulled to a stop and he dragged his eyes from her, but not before she saw the ghost of a smile. Taviston exited the carriage and turned to help her down. She placed her hand in his. His heat snaked all the way from her fingertips to her toes. She tried to pull her hand back, but he kept a firm grip and tucked her arm through his.

  Victoria looked at their surroundings. “Oh, no, no, no. I do not want to visit Louisa. Absolutely not, Taviston!” Her cousin was the last person she needed to deal with right now. “I have no time for this.”

  Despite her protests, he led her up the steps and pounded on the door of No. 6 Somerset Street. She tried to pull away, but he whipped his arm around her waist and held her tight.

  Morgan threw open the door with flare. At the sight of them, he made to close it again. “Mr. and Mrs. Browne are not at home.”

  Taviston used his forearm to force the door open and hustled her inside. “Inform your master and mistress of our presence. We will await them in the drawing room.” He spoke brusquely, commanding Morgan as if he were his own servant. “Oh, also, I have footmen stationed outside both the front and rear of the house and Bow Street is on their way. I suggest you stay put, Morgan.”

  Once in the drawing room, Victoria rounded on her husband, questions stumbling over themselves to be asked. Taviston shook his head. “No questions. You will understand soon enough.”

  The Brownes arrived quickly. Louisa ignored both of them, but Barrett Browne was a bit more effusive in his greetings.

  “Taviston! How good to see you.” He gave Victoria the most cursory of glances. “Victoria.” It was a wonder he even remembered her name. “Have you come to enquire about my shipping venture?”

  “No,” Taviston replied shortly. “We have come to discuss my wife’s kidnapping. Surely you remember? She was taken away from this house under duress, held captive by two men with weapons, and only escaped by using her unqualified resourcefulness.”

  “Oh. Of course.” Mr. Browne wrung his hands fretfully. “Dreadful business, that. Please have a seat.” He waved his arm around the room, sweeping over his wife who already ungraciously lounged in a chair.

  “I will stand, thank you.” Taviston turned her way and she shook her head slightly. She refused to stay here long, so she would stand as well.

  “What is this talk about kidnapping? The girl is unharmed, and it is over and done with.” Louisa exuded boredom.

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Browne.” Taviston’s voice turned steely. “Did you imagine I would sit by and do nothing after someone had perpetrated a crime against Victoria?”

  He glared at Louisa, and Victoria found her brain reeling. What was going on? Mr. Browne continued to look uneasy and clearly would have liked to take a seat. Since Victoria still stood, he could not.

  Taviston gripped the back of the divan before him. “I have spent countless hours this past week investigating Victoria’s kidnapping by the two men named Frank and Spade. Finally, two days ago, one of my men discovered the unfortunate Frank in a nasty little pub down by the river.”

  “Well, that certainly is a relief. I do hope the unseemly ruffian has been thrown in jail,” Barrett Browne interjected.

  Taviston continued on as if the man hadn’t spoken. “Frank was more than willing to talk about the person who hired him. He gave my man a good description of a fellow named Morgan.”

  Browne gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. Victoria couldn’t take her eyes from Taviston. Now that she thought it over, the implication of Morgan, the Brownes’ butler, really didn’t surprise her. He had always despised her. But why?

  Silence stretched across a minute. Taviston finally spoke again. “Due to his cooperation in this matter, Frank is now on his way to Australia. Unlike the two of you,” he nodded at both Louisa and Barrett, “I was curious as to your butler’s involvement. Frank didn’t know anything more but once we tracked down Spade, things became much clearer.”

  Mr. Browne found a feeble semblance of his voice. “What did the man have to say?”

  Taviston glanced Victoria’s way, sending her a reassuring look. She watched as he turned to Louisa and his grey eyes hardened with anger.

  “Morgan did hire Frank and Spade—at the behest of Mrs. Browne.”

  “Taviston!” Victoria could think of nothing more to say. Head spinning, she latched onto the divan to steady herself. As her vision cleared, she focused on her cousin.

  Louisa studied her fingernails dispassionately then flicked a glance Victoria’s way. She said with her usual derisiveness, “None of this would have happened if you had stayed in the country, mouse.”

  “Louisa! You had me kidnapped?”

  Her cousin shrugged. Barrett Browne finally sank into a wing chair as his knees gave way.

  “You are not bothering to deny the charge, Mrs. Browne,” Taviston said.

  Victoria felt a brief pang of pity for her cousin—she did not ever want to be on the receiving end of such a ruthless tone from her husband.

  Louisa shifted in her seat and fiddled with a ring on her finger. “No, I’m not, you sanctimonious prig. I had her kidnapped.”

  Taviston smiled, but there wasn’t a hint of amiability to be found on his face. “I do believe you forget who I am, Mrs. Browne. You most certainly forget who you are, if you believe you can escape punishment for this crime.”

  An odd, strangled squeak emanated from Barrett Browne’s throat. Victoria’s mind went blank, overwhelmed. Louisa’s hatred of her went far deeper than she had ever imagined.

  Her husband caught Mr. Browne’s eye. “Unless you would like to see your wife take up residence in Newgate, you will escort her to Canada forthwith—never to return to England again.”

  Louisa finally showed an emotion. “You cannot do such a thing!”

  “And why not? You kidnapped my wife, your own cousin, and planned for her to be murdered!”

  “Murder?” whispered Mr. Browne.

  “What proof have you? Of murder, no less. Morgan is only a servant and you’ve acknowledged that Fred, or Frank, or whoever, has left the country.” Louisa looked proud of her reasoning.

  “Spade is currently being held
in Newgate and is more than willing to testify against you. I doubt I will have trouble convincing Morgan to so as well. With the two of them, plus myself bringing the charges, I rather think you might hang.” Taviston spoke with such deadly calm that Victoria shivered.

  She didn’t know what to feel: fury that her own cousin had her kidnapped or joy that her husband cared enough to track down Louisa and bring her and her accomplices to justice.

  “Barrett,” Louisa whined to her husband, “I would never stoop to murder.”

  He looked up at Taviston and shook his head without compunction. “No, Louisa. There is nothing I can do. You must pay for your crime. To be sure, residing in Canada seems to be quite lenient. It is not a penal colony, after all.”

  “How can you possibly think that rotting in that godforsaken colony is not a punishment? I cannot live without London!”

  Victoria finally spoke. “Louisa, why?”

  Her cousin’s eyes glittered as she made contact with Victoria’s gaze, but she defiantly sealed her lips.

  Louisa’s refusal to supply her motive almost broke Victoria. This was too much. She wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Taviston’s arms and draw on his strength, but so much between them remained unknown. For all she knew, he was simply protecting what was his, performing an obligation.

  “It’s time we left, Victoria.”

  She found her husband staring intently at her, studying her face. She nodded.

  “Browne, I trust you will follow my instructions immediately. Do not make me regret my decision. She does not return to England, unless she prefers the comforts of Newgate.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Misery dotted her former guardian’s face.

  “As for Morgan, he too will soon be on his way to Australia.”

  Taviston threw open the drawing room door and strode to the front door. Opening it as well, he ushered in two strong Taviston footmen, who snared Morgan’s arms as he entered the front hall. They hauled him outside to a second waiting carriage. Morgan’s many protests were ignored.

  Victoria followed Taviston out the door, stopping on the bottom step and turning to face him.

  “Would you mind waiting a minute or two. I need to speak with Louisa. Alone.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he acquiesced. She marched in through the front door without knocking.

  “Louisa! Louisa, where are you?”

  No one answered, but one of the footmen came down the hall and silently pointed upstairs. Victoria nodded her thanks and swiftly climbed the stairs, heading straight for Louisa’s bedchamber.

  Again, she entered without preamble. Her cousin was directing a maid in packing a bag.

  “Are you now so eager to get to Canada?”

  Her cousin flipped her blonde hair disdainfully. “None of your business. Get out of my house, you stupid interfering mouse!”

  “No.”

  “Get out! You have ruined my life,” Louisa screamed.

  “Really? How is that? Did I clothe you in the most atrocious gowns ever sewn? Did I try to ruin your reputation every chance I had?” Victoria advanced on Louisa, whose eyes darted around the room. She probably noted, as Victoria did, that the maid had slipped away. “Did I have you kidnapped?”

  “Taviston lied. I have more important things to do than plot to kidnap you. You’re hardly worth the trouble.”

  “You admitted that you were behind the plot!” Spasms of anger shook Victoria. “If anything, you should be grateful. If my husband weren’t an honorable, upstanding gentleman who possesses a fair amount of self-control, I don’t doubt that he would have strangled you with his own hands.”

  Victoria had stealthily backed Louisa up against a wall, but that didn’t stop her cousin from scoffing, “Please. Taviston would never create such a scandal.”

  “Perhaps not, but you may have noticed I don’t have the same qualms about making scenes and creating gossip.”

  The confident look vanished from her cousin’s face. Louisa shoved Victoria in the chest and tried to escape.

  Victoria grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back. “Tell me why you did all of this. Tell me why you wanted me to suffer.”

  Louisa stared at her insolently.

  “Tell me!”

  “Stop screaming like a fishmonger’s wife, Victoria,” Louisa admonished her with a smirk. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  Victoria dropped her hand as if it were a snake and stepped away. The futility of her demand did not escape her. Louisa would not relinquish her final drop of power. But that didn’t mean Victoria would succumb to that power.

  “Very well, cousin.” Victoria bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, her anger suddenly twisting into hurt. “Rest assured this is the last time I will claim our family relationship. I wish you a dull life in Canada. You might consider acquiring a cat; it will spice up your life.” She summoned up a genuine smile. “Meanwhile, I must return to my life as Duchess of Taviston. I am throwing a dinner party this evening. The Prince of Wales is coming.”

  She didn’t bother to register Louisa’s reaction, for it didn’t matter. Exiting the bedchamber, she found Taviston waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I thought you might prefer to walk, so I dismissed the carriage.”

  Victoria nodded gratefully. A nice head-clearing walk was just what she needed. Taviston matched her stride and they set off for Grosvenor Square in silence. Strange, that she should live there now. She never would have dreamed it. Her home was in Grosvenor Square. It felt more like home than Somerset Street ever had.

  Louisa’s unexplained actions would continue to gnaw at her, but as she turned into the square her excitement grew. She had so much she wanted to speak with Taviston about and she would do it right now. After that splendid display on her behalf, she would tell him she loved him.

  Halston flung open the door before they had even reached the first step.

  “Your Grace, thank goodness you are returned. The roasted lamb is ruined, and the duck may not be far behind!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Good evening, Your Grace. We do so appreciate the invitation.”

  “It is my pleasure, Lady Egham. We are delighted to have you.” Victoria greeted her guest warmly enough, but for the twentieth time in the last hour she wished she had never decided to have this dinner party.

  As the hour approached nine, the drawing room overflowed with their guests. The only one missing was the Prince of Wales.

  She tried to concentrate on her conversation with Lady Egham and the Duchess of Gordon, but her eyes strayed again and again to her husband. Taviston stood across the room, speaking with the Duke of Bedford and the Marquis of Linslade.

  She hadn’t been able to speak with him at all after the visit to Louisa’s. Halston’s proclamation of a disaster in the kitchen had been on the mark. The lamb had been burned beyond recognition. She and the cook, Mrs. Baxter, had been able to save the ducks though. While the two of them were contemplating how to replace the lamb, the scullery maid bumped into the baker, who had been decorating little individual iced cakes. The result had been another messy calamity, plus one maid in tears. And so the afternoon had continued. Before she knew it, Victoria had barely an hour and a half to get herself bathed and dressed before the guests began to arrive.

  At the sound of a delicately cleared throat, Victoria turned guiltily back to the Duchess of Gordon.

  “I wondered how you were finding married life.” The grey-haired lady’s tone remained civil enough, but her eyes hardened a wee bit. “My dear Georgiana,” she nodded at her daughter, the Duchess of Bedford, “couldn’t be happier with her dear husband and their little darlings.”

  “How lovely for her. I can only hope to achieve such happiness myself.” Victoria smiled cheerfully. “And how many grandchildren do you have, ma’am?”

  She kept the smile pinned to her face as the duchess extolled the appearances and abilities of her numerous grandchildre
n. With her guest once more occupied, Victoria stole another glance at Taviston. He looked very fine in his evening wear, with his black hair neatly combed. She sighed and returned her attention to the duchess. Their guests wouldn’t be gone for another four hours at least.

  Her eyes flickered to the door briefly. Where was His Royal Highness? He had most definitely agreed to come, but if he didn’t arrive soon dinner would be dry and overdone.

  Loud voices drew her interest to the far corner of the room. She looked on with alarm, as did everyone else, as the three members of parliament she had invited embarked upon a shouting match. Fear froze her muscles. It looked as if they might engage in fisticuffs.

  Suddenly Taviston appeared beside her, slid his hand to her back and steered her over to the three gentlemen. Goodness, what did he expect her to do? They passed Mrs. Denton and Lady Southey, identical horrified expressions adorning their faces. Brilliant idea, Victoria, invite the eyes and ears of society to your first party.

  Astonishingly, Messrs. Tressler, Hughes, and Fenville continued to bark at one another even when she and Taviston stopped before them.

  Taviston cleared his throat. “Gentlemen.” No response. Without raising his voice, but intensifying his tone, he repeated himself. “Gentlemen.”

  Three mouths snapped shut and three pairs of eyes swung their way.

  Taviston smiled. “Gentlemen, we are delighted you could join us this evening. I’m sure you will agree that my wife” —he nodded fondly at Victoria— “deserves credit for her clever political tactics.”

  With lips separated slightly, clearly the three men had no idea what Taviston spoke of, and neither did she.

  “Darling, do tell them how you decided that even though Mr. Hughes and Mr. Fenville are tried and true Whigs who bitterly oppose anything their rival, Mr. Tressler, a loyal Tory proposes, you thought they might enjoy discussing their opposing views in a neutral setting such as our drawing room.”

  The politicians looked suitably mortified. Taviston was the brilliant one though. In one sentence he had informed her of the nature of the argument and castigated the men for their behavior.