The Duke's Secret Heir

by Sarah Mallory

  Ellen forced herself to finish her breakfast, silently berating herself for betraying her agitation. Speculation would no doubt be rife below stairs. Then she gave a mental shrug. This was nothing to what would ensue once it was known she was a duchess.

  Ten minutes later she went into the morning room, her stomach swooping when she saw the Duke and memories of her dream returned with shocking clarity. She had to remind herself sternly that it was only a dream and he knew nothing about it. Nevertheless, his superbly fitting coat and skin-tight pantaloons only enhanced the athletic body she remembered so well. Her mouth dried and she was unable to utter a word. Thankfully he did not seem to notice.

  He coughed, as if ill at ease. ‘I have brought something for James.’

  Ellen looked at him, bemused. He gestured beside him and she dragged her gaze down to the small hobby horse propped against a chair.

  ‘Oh. Th—thank you. That is very kind.’ She struggled to marshal her thoughts, to put aside her own concerns and think only of her son. ‘Would you like to come and see him?’ His hesitation disarmed her and she said gently, ‘I am sure he would like to receive it from you.’

  ‘Very well.’

  He followed her up the stairs to the nursery. It wasn’t until her fingers were on the door handle that Ellen wondered if she should have summoned Matlock to bring Jamie downstairs. Heaven knew what chaos they might find. Resolutely she turned the handle. Whatever rules might prevail in a ducal nursery, Max should see his son as she saw him every morning.

  They entered into an atmosphere of cheerful busyness. Hannah, the young chambermaid appointed to help in the nursery, was clearing the breakfast dishes while Matlock held Jamie on her knees as she eased him into his little blue coat. When Hannah spied their visitor her eyes widened and she hastily bobbed a curtsy before scurrying away. Matlock was made of sterner stuff. Unhurriedly she fastened the last of the coat buttons and set the boy on his feet, then she rose from her chair.

  ‘It is the Duke,’ said Jamie, recognising his companion from the recent carriage ride.

  Ellen ignored the inquisitive gleam in her old nurse’s eyes and said brightly, ‘Yes, Jamie. His Grace has come to see you.’

  Max dropped down to the little boy’s level. ‘I have a present for you.’

  He held out the hobby horse and with a delighted cry Jamie ran forward to take it.

  ‘Say thank you, Master Jamie.’

  Matlock’s reminder brought the boy up short. He stopped in front of Max, his little face creasing with effort as he made a bow. Ellen’s heart swelled with pride and she wondered if Max appreciated this show of manners in one so young.

  ‘I know you would prefer a drum,’ Max was saying gravely, ‘but every soldier should learn to ride, you know. Here, try it now.’

  Ellen watched Max hand over the toy. He was smiling at Jamie and the resemblance between father and son was so strong that she pressed her clasped hands against her breast, trying to ease the sudden ache that assailed her.

  Looking up, she realised that she was not the only one to notice the likeness. Matlock was staring hard at the Duke, realisation dawning in her sharp eyes. Ellen had not taken her maid to Egypt and upon her return she had told Matty only that her lover had died before they could be married. She saw now that before the day was out she would have to tell her faithful servant the truth. But not now. Not yet.

  For a moment they all stood and watched Jamie gallop around the room.

  ‘Have you had him on a horse yet?’ Max asked Ellen. ‘No? Well, we will remedy that when we get to Rossenhall.’

  Matlock drew in a long hissing breath. ‘Rossenhall, ma’am?’

  Ellen ignored her maid and said, ‘We must not delay His Grace any longer, Jamie. Say good day to the Duke.’

  The little boy brought his trusty steed to a halt before Max and gave him a sunny smile.

  ‘Goodbye, Duke. Thank you for my horse.’

  ‘You are very welcome,’ said Max solemnly, then with a nod to Jamie and Matlock he walked to the door and held it open, waiting for Ellen to pass out before him.

  She felt the change as soon as the nursery door was closed and a glance at the Duke’s face showed that the cold mask was back in place. They went downstairs and walked silently to the front door. There was no sign of Snow, but Max’s hat and gloves were resting on the narrow side table.

  She said, as he picked them up, ‘It was very kind of you to bring a gift for James.’

  The green eyes swept over her, cool and indifferent.

  ‘Whatever I may think of you, madam, the boy is an innocent victim. I would not have him suffer.’

  With that he was gone, letting himself out of the house and closing the door firmly behind him.

  Whatever I may think of you...

  He could not have made it plainer that he regretted his hasty marriage.

  * * *

  Max strode away from the house, seething with anger and frustration. If only she had trusted him. If only she had given him a chance to explain himself once he returned to England, instead of hiding away. Hiding his son away. Jamie seemed a delightful boy, but Max knew nothing of children. Confound it, he had no idea what he was supposed to do!

  His experience of family life was limited. He and Hugo had rarely seen their parents. Their early life had been spent at Rossenhall with an army of servants to attend them, but none of the warmth and love Ellen lavished upon her son. On the rare occasions when the Duke and Duchess were at home the children had been presented to them for no more than an hour each day, washed and dressed and paraded before any guests who might happen to be staying. Once the boys went to school they saw even less of their parents, and with three years’ difference in their ages the brothers grew apart. As the future Duke, Hugo was welcomed home to learn what was required of him and Max was packed off to the army. It could not have been made more clear that he was not needed or wanted at Rossenhall. Max did not want that for his children.

  Children! He stopped suddenly, earning a sharp reprimand from a gentleman walking behind who almost cannoned into him. A muttered apology, a touch of his hat and Max set off again, more slowly. More children would mean taking Ellen to his bed again. He had eschewed all women since she had left him. In truth, he had never found one to compare, so it had not been a hardship, and the thought of taking temporary comfort in the arms of some lightskirt repelled him. That had been his father’s way and his mother, too, had had her lovers and never made any secret of it. In Ellen Max thought he had found a life partner. That was why it had been such a bitter blow when she had left him. But seeing her again he knew he still wanted her.

  He recalled that kiss in the dark, jolting confines of her carriage. If she had not pushed him away, if they had not arrived at his hotel, he would have taken her then and there. The attraction was as strong as ever, although she had left him, although she had kept his son hidden from him. He could not help himself. Even dancing with her had been like some erotic mating ritual, each glance, each touch a tiny pinprick of desire until his whole body was on fire and it was as much as he could do not to drag her from the dance floor and sate his lust with her against the wall of the nearest alley. He closed his eyes and shook his head. By heaven, her hold over him was as strong as ever. How was he going to live with her as his Duchess?

  Chapter Seven

  Church on Sunday morning was a welcome return to something like normality for Ellen. She was relieved that Max was not present amongst the crowd filling the little chapel, but even so he haunted her as she greeted friends and acquaintances after the service. She could almost feel his presence hovering about her, ready to carry her off and leave the congregation a prey to gossip and speculation. As she moved through the crowd, smiling as if she had not a care in the world, she wondered how many more times would she be here to greet her friends and ac
quaintances? What would they say when it was learned she was Duchess of Rossenhall?

  It had been difficult enough explaining the truth to Matty, who loved her like a mother. Ellen had expected the old retainer to censure her strongly for her behaviour, but so far she had been uncharacteristically reticent, for which Ellen was very thankful. She could not expect her friends and acquaintances in Harrogate to be so understanding. Well, it could not be helped. And at least she had one good friend who was privy to her secret. After visiting the nursery to give Jamie his luncheon, Ellen went off to take tea with Georgiana Arncliffe. As it was a warm day she decided to walk down to Low Harrogate, hoping the exercise and fresh air would help her to throw off her increasingly dismal thoughts.

  She arrived to find the house in uproar.

  ‘Fred collapsed this morning,’ Georgie explained as soon as Ellen had stepped into the hall. ‘Dr Ingram is with him now.’

  ‘I can tell from your face you think it is serious.’

  Georgie nodded. ‘The bullet has shifted. Poor Fred, we put him to bed immediately, but he is coughing up blood and his breathing is difficult.’

  Ellen caught her hands. ‘Tell me what you want me to do.’

  ‘Would you take Lottie home with you, as we discussed? I need Gregson to help me, so there will be no one here to look after her.’ Georgie wiped away a tear. ‘Fred has already kissed her goodbye.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I will take her, but is there nothing I can do for you here?’

  ‘Thank you, but, no. I have sent for the Duke, and if you will look after Charlotte that would relieve Fred’s mind greatly.’ She smiled through her tears. ‘He does not want her to see him in distress and this is such a small house there can be no avoiding it. Lottie knows you, I am sure she will go happily.’

  Ellen blinked back her own tears as Georgiana said goodbye to her daughter. Lottie went off happily, chattering all the way. As they had expected, Jamie was delighted to see his friend, and Matlock was only too pleased to take the little girl under her wing.

  Ellen took the children to feed the ducks on the pond outside the hotel, but when the children settled down to their supper in the nursery under Matlock’s watchful eye, she hurried back to Low Harrogate. She arrived just as Max was showing Dr Ingram out. The doctor tipped his hat to Ellen, but did not stop, and she looked up at the Duke.

  ‘Frederick?’ she asked, their disagreements forgotten.

  ‘Very restless.’ He stood back for her to enter the house. ‘Georgie is with him now. Ingram does not think he will last until morning.’

  Ellen stripped off her gloves and closed her eyes for a moment before asking if she might go up to the sickroom.

  ‘Of course. Perhaps you can persuade Georgiana to take a little dinner, she has eaten nothing since yesterday.’

  * * *

  Max followed her up the stairs to the main bedroom. Frederick was lying almost flat in the bed, eyes closed and his breathing laboured. Georgiana sat beside him, wiping his brow with a cloth soaked in lavender water. As they went in Frederick’s eyes opened and a smile flickered across his dry lips.

  ‘Max. Come to see me off?’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘You will plague us for some time yet.’

  ‘Liar,’ murmured Frederick, without heat. His gaze shifted. ‘Ellen. How is Lottie?’

  ‘I left her and Jamie falling asleep over their supper,’ said Ellen, coming forward. ‘They have been out of doors all afternoon and I hope they will both sleep soundly.’

  ‘Good.’ For a few moments everything was silent, save the rattle of Frederick’s breathing, then he gently pushed Georgie’s hand away from his brow. ‘Let me have a few words alone with Max, my love.’

  Georgie looked distressed and Ellen went to her.

  ‘I saw that your table is laid for dinner,’ she said softly. ‘You must eat, my dear, so let us go now and leave the gentlemen to talk.’

  Max thought Georgie would refuse, but when Ellen murmured that a little food would sustain her through the long night she rose and went towards the door, stopping on the way to clutch at his hand.

  ‘You will call me, if there is any change?’

  ‘You have my word.’ He waited until the ladies were out of the room before he crossed to the bed and sat down beside it. Frederick’s breath rasped out and Max frowned. ‘Should you not be sitting up?’

  ‘Doctor said to keep me lying flat. Damned musket ball, he’s afraid if it moves again it will be the end, but I’m done for anyway.’

  ‘Never say that, Fred.’

  ‘Aye, you kept me alive at Corunna, did you not? Against all the odds.’

  ‘And we’ll do it again, my friend.’

  ‘Not this time. I’m finished, Max, I know it. And truth to tell I don’t want to live if it means being a damned invalid for years, a burden on everyone.’ He put out his hand and Max grasped it. ‘You’ll look out for Georgie, Max, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course, Fred. You’ve no need to ask that.’

  ‘No, I know. And Clare? I know she still has Mama, but there’ll be no man in the family, once I am gone.’

  ‘I will look out for her,’ said Max. ‘You have my word on that, Fred, but—’

  ‘I know.’ The claw-like fingers clutched at his hand. ‘I talked of you taking Clare as a wife. I won’t hold you to that, my friend. I thought it would be a solution, because I knew you would need a duchess, however much you had set your face against the idea. But recently you’ve been showing more interest in the fair sex.’ Fred gave a short laugh which ended in a gasp of pain. ‘Ellen Furnell. She’d suit you, old friend, although I am not sure you’ll succeed there. She’s had her fair share of admirers.’

  ‘I am sure she has,’ muttered Max grimly.

  ‘Never shown the least interest in any of ’em.’ Frederick stopped, his breath coming in long, laboured wheezes. ‘Either she loved her husband so much that no one else can match up. Or...’ another gasping breath ‘...some scoundrel hurt her so badly she won’t risk having her heart broken again.’

  ‘Or she has no heart.’

  ‘Like you, then.’ The words brought Max’s eyes to his friend’s ashen face. Fred gave a twisted smile. ‘I blame that damned cold family of yours. They made you afraid to love, afraid to reach out to anyone, lest they reject you. It doesn’t have to be that way, my friend. Look at me.’

  Max gave a wry smile. ‘What you and Georgie have is very special, Fred. I do not deserve such a love.’

  But Fred’s eyes were closing and he did not reply.

  * * *

  Ellen had insisted her friend eat at least a small supper and take a glass of wine. She remained at the dining table while Georgiana picked at her food. Ellen had already sent her carriage away, determined to keep vigil with her friend through the long night. She soon discovered that Max had formed the same intention and they agreed to share the night watch and rest on the sofa in the little sitting room between shifts. Georgiana protested, but they would not be swayed.

  ‘You will wish to be with Fred all night,’ Ellen told her. ‘Someone must be with you and it will be better if Gregson sleeps now, for you will need her later.’

  * * *

  Ellen and Max took it in turns to sit with Georgie at the bedside while Fred slipped in and out of consciousness. Evening turned to night and gradually the sounds from the streets died away to no more than an occasional shout or the rumble of a cart. When Max came upstairs to relieve Ellen just before dawn, Georgie was slumped over the bed, sleeping, her hand holding Fred’s on top the coverlet. Silently Ellen withdrew and fell into an exhausted slumber on the sofa. She was awoken some time later by urgent footsteps on the boards above her head, the sound of voices and an anguished cry. Ellen flew up the stairs, knowing what she would find.

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nbsp; * * *

  By the time the first rays of the sun were gilding the eastern sky it was all over and Ellen’s carriage was at the door, ready to take her home. She went into the sitting room to collect her bonnet and gloves and found Max standing there, head bowed, staring at the floor.

  He said, without raising his head, ‘How is Georgie?’

  ‘She is sleeping. Gregson is with her and can do all that is necessary now. I shall keep Charlotte with me until her mama is ready for her to come home.’ She hesitated. ‘Can I take you back to the Granby?’

  ‘Thank you, no. I have commissions to carry out for Georgiana. The minister, the undertaker...’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course.’

  Max had his back to her, but there was an almost imperceptible droop to his shoulders. Ellen’s heart ached for him; he had lost his closest friend. He and Frederick had known one another since childhood and, following so close upon the death of his brother, she guessed this new loss had hit him hard.

  She picked up her bonnet. It was not her concern. He had made it very clear he did not want her sympathy. She had no right to comfort him. The bonnet hovered a few inches off the table, then she put it down again and crossed the room. She slipped her arms about him, pressing her cheek against the solid wall that was his back. He trembled slightly, possibly with revulsion that she should dare to intrude upon his grief. Silently Ellen drew away. Blinking back a tear, she scooped up her gloves and bonnet and left the house.

  * * *

  Max heard the soft thud of the door, felt the shadows lift as the carriage moved away from the window. He drew himself up, trying to shake off the black fog that clouded his mind. After so many years of soldiering he should be accustomed to death, but this was different somehow. Grief at his brother’s demise still gnawed at him and now Frederick’s death had torn the wound open again. At least he had eased his conscience by telling Fred about his marriage. He was not sure how much his old friend had heard or understood, but when Max had finished and begged forgiveness for keeping such a secret, he had felt the faint but definite pressure of Fred’s fingers on his hand. It had been the last communication of any sort.