Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Before she knew it, the carriage had passed, and Phoebe felt a strange sense of guilt. As if she’d gotten caught doing something illicit and clandestine. She pondered the feeling as the barouche swayed down Wigmore Street.

  “You’re awfully quiet.” Judith was reclining back against the leather of the seat surrounded by packages. “I am, quite simply, spent.”

  “Yes, I … I’m a little tired as well. It’s been a long day, Judith.”

  “Yes. But I got such good bargains. Those merchants are so stupid. It’s so easy to get them down in price. It very nearly takes the fun out of it!” She burst out in disagreeable giggling.

  Phoebe said nothing. She wondered where Atwater had been going in such a hurry. If he was headed back to the country, she didn’t know who to turn to for protection from Carlisle. If Atwater was on his way to Hempstead Hall, Lord Thomas was most likely with him. “You’ll drop me off now, won’t you Judith?” Phoebe eyed her companion who had dug some ribbons from a package and was matching them against the fabric of the frock she wore.

  “No! You must stay and sup with me, Phoebe. It’s been such a glorious day. I want to share with you some of my ideas for my wedding. It will be at Hempstead Hall, of course, which is where I’ll reside after my marriage. Most of the time anyway. Of course I’ll be back in London for the season. But I fancy becoming a country wife.”

  “I must go home, Judith. I’m very tired.”

  “If I didn’t know better, why, I’d think you weren’t happy for me, Phoebe.”

  “It’s not that. I’m actually just very tired. And very happy for you.” She looked down so Judith wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. The woman was trying to the nerves to say the least. Phoebe’s already thin last bit of patience was getting thinner by the minute.

  “Very well, then.” Judith knocked twice on the back of the driver’s seat and called to the driver. We’re going to Wimpole Street.

  They pulled up in front of the townhouse; the footman jumped down from the back and assisted Phoebe from the carriage. She turned to face Judith. “Thank you for the afternoon, My Lady.”

  “You are, of course, so very welcome dear, dear Phoebe. I knew you’d have fun helping me prepare for my …” she sighed, “for my marriage.”

  “Of course.” Phoebe smiled and turned back to the townhouse. How did the ton do it? Smiles, come hither glances over the top of fans, eager dances that resulted in moonlight garden walks. It was all geared towards one end. Moving up in society.

  Phoebe glanced at the back of the carriage as it moved up the street. She felt a sordid, uncomfortable intuition tugging at her brain. Something was out of place when it came to Judith marrying the Duke.

  Judith was nothing like Atwater. She seemed preoccupied much of the time. And she said things that confused Phoebe. Today, when shopping, Judith had been disoriented with the shopping areas they visited. She hadn’t acted like a woman who had grown up shopping in the places they went to.

  And the greedy way in which she argued with the shopkeepers, looking for ridiculous discounts. Judith had been alternately pouty, charming, and nasty with the shop attendants. Phoebe had actually been embarrassed ... and that was a feeling she found most upsetting.

  However, Judith had been away for three years. Maybe, in some of the countries she’d visited, the ladies shopped in the manner she had. And the shock of her mother’s death might possibly have played tricks with her mind.

  Even so, Phoebe wondered about what Mary had said. Why had Judith told anybody and everybody about her alleged dismissal by Atwater when she’d returned to London? It was most unseemly. And today, Judith had begun shopping for her trousseau.

  Something wasn’t adding up. If the Duke had treated her so poorly, why was she now marrying him. Phoebe couldn’t figure it out but for the idea of Judith’s coveted title of Duchess. All she knew for sure was that every fibre of her being cried out for her to pay attention to the situation at hand. And to be wary of where she placed her trust.

  *******

  Phoebe went into the house through the area. She went straight to the family sitting room next to the kitchen. The room was dim and cool. She lit three beeswax candles that rested in a small candelabra and went to the old pianoforte. As she sat, toying with the keys, she still wondered about Judith and Atwater. Phoebe was quite sure that she, herself, was in love with Atwater. And she was quite certain that Judith wasn’t.

  She understood how frightening it was to be alone in the world. Even the world of privilege that she and Judith belonged to. One or two premature deaths in the family and the bestowing of property on its heir could ruin a woman’s position in society.

  Phoebe felt she could go through life as a Lady. Marriage was not something she craved, yet she must indulge in it at some point. To remain unmarried was simply not done if at all possible. Her logical mind said that Judith was attempting to procure security. But that thought didn’t explain away the curious feeling in Phoebe’s stomach.

  She heard the area door open, and Mary came bustling into the hall. She’d gotten caught up at the market. She poked her head into the room and smiled. “My Lady. Did you have a nice afternoon?”

  “Put the things away in the kitchen, Mary. I want to ask your opinion of something. Ask Cook to bring us some tea.”

  “Yes, My Lady. I have something I must discuss with you as well.”

  “Very well. What is it?”

  Phoebe went on toying with the keys on the pianoforte, and Mary was back in a few minutes. She carried the tea tray with teapot, cups, milk, lemon slices, and an assortment of cakes. “Here we are, My Lady.” Mary set the tray on a low table and went about pouring it. Phoebe removed herself from the pianoforte and took a seat on the settee.

  “Please, sit here with me Mary. I have something to discuss with you. But, tell me what you need to tell me first.” Phoebe patted the settee.

  Mary sat, folding her hands in her lap.

  “Well?”

  Mary still said nothing.

  “Mary, is there anything wrong. Do you feel ill?”

  “No, My Lady. I was at the market today.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Did something happen? Were you accosted in any way? I’ll have Mr Harris look into it.”

  “Not accosted exactly, My Lady. But I was told some troubling news.”

  Phoebe gasped. “What happened? You’re not hurt, are you? What is it?

  “My Lady, when I was at the market, my path crossed with a girl I used to know in my younger days. She is the daughter of the housekeeper who placed me in my first domestic position. I was ten years old. It was a few years before your sainted father brought me here to Wimpole Street.”

  “Is your friend well? She’s not ill, is she? Or, possibly she seeks a new position? This is not the place she would want to come, I’m afraid. I cannot take on any new help, Mary. I have all I can do to figure out how to keep you, Harris, and Mrs Crabtree.”

  “Yes, My Lady, but that’s not what I want to discuss. My friend is well and not in need of employment.”

  “Then what is it? If she has her health and a good position with a good family ... I don’t understand what the problem could be.”

  “My Lady. My friend, Olivia, has entered a new household. A household on St James.”

  “St James? Why that’s where Lady Judith resides.”

  Mary nodded her head. “Yes, My Lady. Olivia has been taken into the kitchen at the Bennington St James Street townhouse. Lady Judith is her employer, though I daresay, Lady Judith is not aware of it. The hiring of female staff is left to Mrs Thompson, the housekeeper. It was Mrs Thompson who hired Olivia as she knew Olivia’s mother previously.”

  “I see. And what is Olivia’s dilemma?”

  “My Lady, Olivia has seen Lady Judith. On five different occasions.”

  “But Lady Judith isn’t acquainted with Olivia. Is that correct?”

  “Lady Judith hasn’t seen Olivia yet. But she is acquainted with her. Or rather
, they are acquainted with each other.”

  “That sounds fine. From where are they acquainted with one another?”

  “From the country, My Lady. You see Olivia’s mother died a year ago. Olivia was to become housekeeper at the estate of her employment. However, the gentleman of the manor married a woman from Paris. The new lady of the house brought her own French housekeeper with her. The new housekeeper turned Olivia out to place her own daughter in Olivia’s place.”

  “How unfortunate for Olivia. But you say she’s found employment. Are you saying she needs a lawyer to recompense lost wages at the country estate? I must confess to being very confused with where this is leading, Mary.”

  “I apologize, My Lady. No. Olivia doesn’t need a lawyer. But when she found out you’re my mistress, she shared something with me. Not idle gossip, but something duplicitous.”

  “That concerns me. What did your friend tell you? Does it have to do with Carlisle?”

  “No, My Lady. It has to do with Lady Judith.”

  “Please. Try again. Can you make me understand what you’re getting at?”

  “According to the story Olivia told me, a woman by the name of Charlotte Evans came to London four years ago. She was employed by the Earl of Bennington, who you know to be Lady Judith’s father. Charlotte Evans became lady’s maid to Lady Judith and accompanied her, and the Countess, on their journey throughout Europe.”

  “Mary, I’m tired. Please. Where does this lead?”

  “My Lady, it seems as if Lady Judith might be untruthful.”

  “Mary, do you understand you’re venturing into dangerous territory? Do you understand the repercussions of accusations? Especially by one of the serving class against one of the peerage? You may speak your mind with me; however, be wary with others. The wrong words to the wrong individuals could end up making you look like a guilty party.”

  “Yes, My Lady. I’m well aware of my words and the effects they could have.”

  “Very well. Now. Once again, please. You say Olivia went on the European tour with Countess Bennington and Lady Judith.”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  “And then what?”

  “All of the servants on the journey were country servants. The Earl, as you’ll remember, was forced to sell the country manor to pay off his gambling debts. So as not to let the entire staff of the country house go, he offered to have them travel with Countess Bennington and Lady Judith. Shortly thereafter, and before the ladies departed, the Duke died in his sleep.”

  “Yes. I remember. I was away at boarding school, but my father wrote of it to me. And, Olivia knew Charlotte Evans?”

  “As I said, they worked together. So, yes, she did know Charlotte, My Lady. They shared a bedchamber on the journey.”

  There was a ruckus on the street above the sitting room window.

  “I think I should like to speak with Olivia, Mary. Can you arrange that for me? See if she can come here tomorrow at her dinnertime. I will, of course, feed her here.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Mary went to the window. She stood on tiptoes to peek out and spoke over her shoulder. “My Lady, it’s the Duke.”

  “Atwater? He’s here?”

  “No, My Lady, it’s Duke Carlisle.”

  *******

  Atwater was at Brooks’s. It was the place he’d rather be than his own home. The diversions of brandy, cigars, and cards did much to soothe his nerves. He’d come to a decision about Judith. Everyone, even Tom, thought he should marry her and make the best of it. An heir was the most important consideration for him currently.

  His decision was to go through with the marriage. He needed heirs. Judith needed a husband. The coveted rank of Duchess ensured that she would be a happy woman.

  There was still something he couldn’t put his finger on, though. He had an intuition, maybe. But something seemed out of place. Judith had changed so. She was still beautiful, but her beauty had become icy cold. Her sparkling eyes held no emotion he could fathom. And in her voice something was different.

  Atwater heard his name and came back to himself. “Tom. I thought I might find you here.”

  “Right you are, once again.” Tom laughed, his blue eyes crinkled. “How goes it, Robert?”

  “Well, I’ve been giving this marriage idea the go around.”

  “Have you reached a decision?”

  “I suppose I have. I don’t trust the woman. But she loves me; at least, I’ve succeeded in convincing myself that she does. I, however, don’t return the sentiment.”

  “You don’t have to love her, Robert. Take a mistress. In our fathers’ time it was practically de rigueur.”

  Robert shook his head. “That’s not the kind of man I am. My father never took a mistress.” He laughed. “Maybe that was his problem for all those years.”

  “It’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead, Your Grace. Has no one ever told you that?” Tom grinned and gave his friend a wink.

  “Speaking of the dead, Tom. Promise me. If I should die in my bed after my wedding, please remember this conversation. And understand that I was under duress when I made the decision to engage in matrimony with Lady Judith.”

  Tom was still grinning. “It sounds to me as if you’ve come at it from every vantage point.”

  “Maybe. I’ve decided to call on Lady Judith tomorrow to make my intentions known.”

  “And Lady Phoebe? If you will not take a mistress, what is to happen to her?”

  “Lady Phoebe is not the mistress type. Besides, she and Lady Judith were shopping today. Judith didn’t see me, but Phoebe did.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  “Nothing? Then why mention her at all?”

  “You mentioned her, Tom.”

  “Well ... then ... what happened?”

  “My Dear Lord Thomas, do you have ill hearing? I’ve already told you. Nothing happened. Phoebe and I saw each other for a moment.” Atwater gazed up at the ceiling and studied the detail of the moulding.

  Thomas observed his friend, and then laughed again, “No, My Lord. My hearing is impeccable.”

  “Good to know. But, speaking seriously, Tom, there’s something I must tell you about Lady Phoebe.”

  “Do tell. I love a good story as much as the next lady!”

  “As a matter of fact, you do have an affinity for gossip the like of which I’ve seen only in a certain type of woman. The unmarried over sixty type. But, this isn’t gossip Tom. All jesting aside, I know I can count on your confidence.”

  “Your Grace, that goes without saying. Go on,” Tom coaxed his friend.

  “I have certain, uh, feelings. Feelings of a certain nature.”

  “You’ve fallen in love with Phoebe. Am I right? Of course I am.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You’re not the closed book you think you are, Your Grace.”

  “But everyone, including you, thinks I should marry Judith as soon as possible. When I saw Judith and Phoebe today, they were exiting a dressmaker’s shop. There were packages stacked into the carriage. Judith is having a trousseau made. I know it. I haven’t asked for her hand yet. Still she seems quite sure that she’s snared me. I don’t like to feel trapped, Tom. It makes me act ... in a peculiar manner.”