Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “It certainly looks as if Judith is not who she says she is. But being Lord Thomas and I are both lawyers, it cannot be proven. Unless she confesses. Which I don’t believe will happen. But it’s clear that she’s made a hasty departure from the city.” Atwater kept his eyes on Phoebe as he spoke.

  “Your Grace, I’d like to ask Mary to take a turn in the garden. Are you amenable? Lady Who-ever-she-is has run away. While you and Lady Phoebe discuss our next move, I’d just as soon enjoy a walk. And,” he looked at Mary, “some stimulating conversation.”

  Mary looked up quickly. Phoebe winked at her. Atwater nodded, and Tom turned to the maid hooking his arm for her to put her hand through.

  “Miss Mary? Shall we?” Tom smiled at the young woman.

  She took Tom’s proffered arm, and the couple walked downstairs to the door that led to the garden.

  Atwater watched them leave the room. Then he immediately went to Phoebe. “Do you believe me now? Do you believe Lady Judith is Charlotte Evans?”

  “It certainly looks that way, Your Grace.”

  Atwater took Phoebe’s hand and brought it to his lips. “And have you come to an answer to my question?”

  Phoebe smiled. Her bright blue eyes sparkled. “I believe I have, Your Grace.”

  *******

  Tom and Mary walked a bit, and then found a little bench near the rose bushes. They sat, Mary with her eyes down until Thomas broke the silence.

  “Mary, there is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “I don’t know if you’re aware that my father, the Earl of Somerset, was not always in line for the title. He is a second son, as am I, and as Duke Atwater is. Like His Grace, my father’s older brother, the first Earl died young. He was killed in an untimely riding accident.”

  “Oh, My Lord. Please accept my most sincere condolences.”

  “Thank you, Mary, but as with many men in the position of second son, my father experienced no love lost between his brother and himself.”

  Mary was quiet.

  “What I’m getting at, I suppose, is the fact that anything can change in a moment. Any situation, even one within the peerage, is subject to the same changes as any other. Maybe more so. An average man can become a Duke as easily as a Marquess can if the fates so choose! I refer, of course to, our dear Duke Carlisle, the former Earl of Portree.”

  Mary couldn’t help giggling. Still, she wondered what Lord Thomas had on his mind.

  Lord Thomas continued, “You realize that due to the fact that I’m a second son, I’m technically not part of the peerage.”

  “No, My Lord. I’ve never heard that.”

  “Never mind. Because it matters not.”

  “Mary nodded. “As you say, My Lord.”

  “What I’m trying to say, Mary, is I’m a commoner. I’m a lawyer. They call me Mr Radcliffe at my office. They don’t call me my lord.”

  “I see. Mr Radcliffe? Is that what you wish me to call you, My Lord?”

  Tom chuckled. No, I would rather you call me Tom. At least in private. Even after you, well if you assent to, become Mrs Radcliffe.” He grinned at the widening of Mary’s eyes.

  “Pardon me, My Lord. What have you said?”

  “I would like to,” Tom took one of Mary’s little hands in his two. “‘I’d like to change your life in a moment, Mary. I’d like to take you out of domestic service. I’d like to make you my wife.”

  Mary’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped her head in an attempt to gain control of her emotions.

  “Mary? Are you well? I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I … I am very well, My Lor, uh, Thomas.” He handed her a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. “But people will talk, My Lord. I’m sorry.” She giggled through her tears.

  “I don’t care what people say, Mary. I intend to buy the Wimpole Street House. For you. Even if you refuse my proposal, I wish to take care of you, Mary. I’ve thought long and hard about it. There’s no one else I would rather be with. If you take me, I will live at the townhouse with you. If you decide not to take me, the house will be signed over to you.”

  “No, Lord Thomas. That is too generous.”

  “Is that is your only complaint?”

  “Uh, I do have one other, My Lord.”

  “What, Mary? Tell me what it is. I’ll take care of it immediately.”

  “Well …”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t believe I’d want to live at Wimpole Street all by myself. Tom.”

  “Are you accepting my offer, or my terms?”

  “Your offer, silly man.” And Mary threw her head back laughing.

  Tom picked her up in his arms and swung her around in a sweet embrace. Then the two walked back to the house to share their news.

  Chapter 10

  When news of Tom and Mary’s relationship was shared with Phoebe and Atwater, the two couples decided to celebrate with a lavish dinner. But first, they shared a toast of sherry amid hugs and tears and talk of the future. The house on St James was Atwater’s property now that Lady Judith was not there to occupy it, but Phoebe wished to go back to Wimpole Street.

  Once back at the intended destination, Phoebe went to the kitchen to speak with Mrs Crabtree. Phoebe was thrilled for Mary. She was so happy that the housekeeper asked her if she was feeling well.

  “Yes, Mrs Crabtree, you dear lady. I don’t know which I’m happier about. There’s my own imminent marriage to His Grace, Duke Atwater. And we also have Lord Thomas and Mary’s upcoming nuptials.”

  “Oh, My Lady. How wonderful. I am pleased and happy for all of you. This calls for a fancy dinner, now doesn’t it? A celebratory meal? Oh, I’ve so wanted to plan a party. Don’t you think your news calls for a small party, at least?”

  “It does, Mrs Crabtree, which is why I came down to discuss some details with you. It doesn’t have to be too elaborate, but you know I trust you implicitly. I’m leaving it all up to you. As fancy as you can get in three hours.” Phoebe winked.

  “Oh, never you fear, My Lady. Young Susan the parlour maid is here as well as Olivia, who you’ve met and spoken with. Cook has plenty of help what with them and me.”

  “I’m sorry we’re short-handed, Mrs Crabtree. After my father’s untimely death, some staff wanted to move on to other households. I’m afraid, though, that it’s made extra work for everyone who’s remained.”

  “Never you mind that, My Lady. We’ll make do. What a happy occasion to prepare for. Now, out with you, My Lady. Dinner will be at seven o’clock. A little late in the evening, but everything must be perfect. And you know Cook. Perfect it will be.”

  Phoebe smiled at the sweet woman. “Thank you very much, Mrs Crabtree.” Then she left the housekeeper’s private sitting room off the servants’ hall and went in search of Mary.

  “Mary.” Phoebe was looking everywhere around the house. From her sitting room window, on the second floor, Phoebe saw Mary sitting in the back garden. She went down the way she’d come and out to the garden.

  Mary sat on a small bench against the wall. She was almost obscured by a large flowering plant. Her head was down. Her shoulders shook slightly.

  Phoebe watched her for a moment then walked forward. “Mary?” She saw the younger woman quickly raise her hand to her face, then wipe the hand on her skirt.

  “Yes, My, Lady. Um, I mean Phoebe.” She looked up. It was obvious she’d been crying.

  “Mary!” Phoebe ran to her and sat on the bench next to her. “What’s wrong? Do you not feel well?”

  Mary sniffled. “No. It’s … it’s not that. I feel fine. I just don’t know if … if Thomas and I have made the right decision. If Thomas has made the right decision.”

  “Whatever are you talking about? Tom loves you, Mary. He had a long talk with His Grace about it. Before ever he spoke to you. He was terrified you’d deny him. He’s had feelings for you for a long time.”

  Mary�
�s tears began to flow again.

  “Mary, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Oh, My Lady. Ah,” she threw the bit of sewing she’d been working on to the ground.

  “What is it dear? You can tell me. Please?” Phoebe was sincerely concerned about her friend.

  “I … I’m not cut from the same cloth, My Lady, as you, and Lord Thomas and His Grace. I’m a servant. How can I switch roles? I don’t know how to be a lady.”

  “I know born ladies who don’t know how to be ladies, Mary. They study their peers and learn. Or they don’t. You’ve been a lady’s maid. You know what it entails to act like a lady. Acting like one and believing you are one, are the only ways to become one. Even if one has a parent or grandparent in the ton. We all must believe in ourselves.”

  “No, My Lady. Olivia told me I can act like a lady, but the fact remains, I’m of the serving class. She said my past would follow me everywhere I go in life. Everyone will whisper behind their fans about me. She said the staffs of every house I live in or visit will despise me because I’m trying to be something I’m not. Lord Thomas and me? It’s not possible, My Lady. The talk. The scandal.”

  “One of the first lessons in becoming a lady, Mary is the knowledge, and acceptance, that everyone in our circles talk. The ability to rise above pettiness is something all ladies, indeed all people, should strive for. Gossip is the life’s blood of unhappy people. It is mother’s milk to them. And they are going to talk whether you marry Thomas or not.

  “Think of it like the servants’ gossip you’ve been privy to. It makes no difference what Olivia says. Not now. She was useful to us. Very useful in assisting us to get to the truth as far as Lady Judith is concerned. And I sincerely liked her. I offered her the position here because I thought she could take your place once you’re married. Now I see that Olivia is as jealous and petty as many of the peerage. I understand that the only reason she helped us was because she was resentful.”

  “Resentful? Of Charlotte?”

  “Of the fact that Charlotte was successful in impersonating Lady Judith.”

  “Oh no, My Lady. Do you really believe that?”

  “I’d wondered why she was so willing to help the way she did. I did give her a reward for the information she gave us. It was enough money to start over somewhere else. A completely new life. Now that I’ve seen her true self, I don’t want to employ her. She has no place here.”

  “But Olivia is right, My Lady. Who do I think I am that I can go to tea at the homes of born ladies? I’m overstepping my place.”

  “You are not overstepping. Olivia is wrong, Mary. She’s a spiteful girl. In all fairness, I suppose I understand it somewhat. Here, you’ve been rescued from a life of servitude by a handsome man who loves you. That sort of thing doesn’t happen too often. Olivia wants to raise herself up, much as Charlotte does. Maybe I should send one of them to work for my cousin Duke Carlisle!” Phoebe giggled.

  “Oh no!” Mary laughed.

  “Of course I jest; I don’t think I could wish such a fate on anyone. Even Charlotte Evans!”

  “My Lady, stop. My ribs are hurting!”

  “Come then.” Phoebe took the girl’s hand. Let us get dressed for dinner. I would like to assist you, Mary. May I?”

  “My Lady.”

  “No, no.”

  “I mean, Phoebe. You’ll help me dress for dinner?”

  “I’d very much like to, Mary.”

  “That would be very nice. Thank you, Phoebe.”

  “See? It gets easier, doesn’t it? You just need to practice. I’ll help you. Now, let us go to my bedchamber. I’ll lend you a dress of mine for tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  And, this week, you and I are to go shopping. Lord Thomas has asked me to take you and make sure you have all that a lady needs. Of course he is paying for everything.”

  Mary’s forehead puckered.

  “I know it’s all very new, but you’ll like it once you accept it. I will however miss you as my lady’s maid. I’ll never have one as fine as you, but I must say, I do prefer you as my best girlfriend.”

  “Thank you, Phoebe.”

  “Now, let us go to my chamber. As you know, I sleep in my mother’s former chambers, Mary. You and I must swap bedchambers. When you marry, you will be mistress here at Wimpole Street. You must move into my mother’s former chamber, where I’ve been sleeping. I’ll move back to the rooms I had as a girl.

  “Oh no, I can’t put you out like that, Phoebe.”

  “Mary, you have to accept the good that’s come to you. You deserve to have a beautiful, carefree life. I’d say you’ve paid your dues. Lives can change in an instant. Yours has. So has mine. I’m to marry a Duke. That holds another set of rules and etiquette. We are, you and I, in this social transition together. We can help each other.”

  “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

  “See? Not so difficult. Is it? Now, let’s get ready for our engagement dinner.”

  *******

  The dining room of the Wimpole Street townhouse looked elegant indeed. Beeswax candles in the chandelier cast a soft glow throughout the room, and the table was set for a formal dinner. Mrs Crabtree had outdone herself in spite of being short-handed.

  After her conversation with Mary, Phoebe had sent her friend upstairs, telling the young woman she’d be up directly.

  Then she went straight to the servants’ hall.

  “Mrs Crabtree, may I have the use of your sitting room for a bit?”

  “Of course, My Lady.”

  “Very good. Will you send Olivia to me there?”

  “Yes, My Lady. I’ll go tell her immediately.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Crabtree.” Phoebe made herself comfortable on the small sofa in the sitting room.

  “Yes, My Lady?” Olivia entered with a little curtsy.

  “Sit down, Olivia.”

  “Yes, My Lady. May I ask what this is about?” She sat in the chair opposite to Phoebe.

  “It is about your service here, Olivia.”

  The girl shrugged. “And what would that mean, My Lady?”

  “Don’t get cheeky with me, Olivia. I am not Mary, whom you seem to feel you can verbally push around.”

  “I beg your pardon, My Lady?” The girl met Phoebe’s eyes with a direct gaze.

  Phoebe sat back in the little desk chair and crossed her arms in front of her torso. It was clear that Olivia was a first rate con artist. As was Charlotte Evans. Phoebe felt sorry for the real Lady Judith. Alone in Spain with Olivia and Charlotte most likely manipulating her. The poor woman.

  Phoebe looked at the girl from under her eyelids, sizing her up and figuring out how best to handle the situation.

  Olivia, for her part, stared straight back.

  Phoebe grew bored with the game. There was no manipulative negotiation to be indulged in.