The Duke's Secret Heir

by Sarah Mallory

  The Dowager’s strident voice cut off abruptly. She was staring past him and Max turned to see Ellen had come into the room.

  * * *

  Ellen forced herself to move away from the door. Dorcas was glaring at her, a mixture of chagrin and defiance in her face as she realised her words had been overheard. Max was scowling and Ellen wondered if he would contradict the Dowager, but the heartbeat’s silence that followed gave her the answer. He, too, thought their marriage a disastrous mésalliance. But she was already aware of his opinion. Silly of her to think last night would make a difference. She put up her chin.

  ‘Eliza was in the nursery, eager to make up for her lapse yesterday,’ she said. ‘I left Jamie with her and Matlock and promised to look in later to kiss him goodnight.’

  Max took a few steps towards her. ‘Ellen—’

  Ellen turned aside, determined not to let him finish. Last night’s moment of weakness was over. She was herself again. In control.

  ‘Perkins tells me dinner is ready for us,’ she said, moving to the door. ‘Shall we go in?’

  * * *

  And so we continue.

  Ellen smiled and conversed during dinner as if she had not overheard Dorcas’s comments and no one referred to it. The Dowager was stiff but polite and when the meal ended she retired immediately. Ellen went up to the nursery, where Jamie was sleeping peacefully. After a brief word with Matlock she slipped away, wondering if she should return to the drawing room and wait for Max, but in the end she too decided to go to bed.

  Memories of the previous night returned, making her body ache with longing, but she had little hope of Max coming to her room. However, she kept her candle burning and her reading book open before her, although she scarce read one word in twenty, but after an hour she gave it up and settled down to sleep. The darkness pressed around her, tense and expectant. Ellen realised she was waiting, listening, and at last she heard it. Max’s firm tread in the passage. She heard him pause outside her door and her hands clenched at her sides. Would he knock? Would he come in? After what seemed like hours he walked on, his footsteps quickly dying away into the night and she heard the soft, distant thud as he closed the door of his own bedchamber.

  * * *

  The days fell into a pattern. Max spent most of his time with Tony or out on the estate. He came in only for breakfast and dinner, where he and Ellen made polite conversation on unexceptional matters. Any questions about the estate he answered politely, but advised Ellen to address her enquiries to Tony Grisham.

  ‘I thought you might like to ride out with me, Your Grace,’ she said, after one such conversation. They were in the drawing room after dinner and she glanced out at the glorious sunset. ‘It promises to be a fine day tomorrow. I have another gown to take to Mrs Phelps for repair and I thought I might call upon Mr Martin to see how the work is progressing on his roof. I should like to show you how well Belle has come on.’ When he said nothing she added quietly, ‘You have not seen her in action since that first ride we took together and that was almost two weeks ago.’

  Dorcas tutted. ‘My dear Ellen, you must realise the Duke has more important matters to concern him than riding out with you. Your son and this house should be more than enough to fill your days.’

  ‘Jamie is my first concern, naturally,’ Ellen replied, ‘but you know yourself, ma’am, that Mrs Greenwood is such a superior housekeeper there is really very little for me to do. I want to learn more about Rossenhall and the estate.’

  ‘Then the steward is quite the best person to acquaint you with everything you need to know.’ Dorcas told her, adding with a note of censure in her voice, ‘the Duke is far too busy to indulge you with pleasure jaunts.’

  ‘I was not suggesting we ride out purely for pleasure,’ said Ellen mildly. ‘But the more I learn about the land and the future plans, the more I can help. Then the Duke would be less busy.’

  Her eyes were on Max, who felt the frown furrowing his brow as he tried to ignore the attraction between them. He knew he was being unfair. She was trying to atone for the past by helping him to run Rossenhall and perhaps she could help him, if only he could be in her presence without wanting to drag her off to bed. Just the thought of it sent hot desire slamming through his body. He wanted to lose himself in her again, to forget the past. But how could he? What right had he to be happy?

  He said at last, ‘I am busy for the next few days, but Tony will ride with you, if you wish.’

  He saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes before the thick lashes dropped, veiling her thoughts. Nothing more was said of it, Ellen turning the subject and discussing with Dorcas the plight of a local family. Listening to their conversation, Max admitted to himself that even after such a short time at Rossenhall, Ellen already had a better understanding of its people than her sister-in-law.

  * * *

  The long case clock was chiming four when Max went to the library the following day, ostensibly looking for a book to while away the time until dinner, but in fact he positioned himself by the window so he would be able to see Ellen when she returned. He knew she was not riding out with Tony until later in the week, but when, shortly after noon, he had chanced upon Stevens, the groom had told him his Duchess had taken Belle out with only a stable hand for company.

  Hell and confound it, why had he not gone with her? They could have ridden to the woods beyond the seven-acre field and he could have told her about his plans to sell the timber, and from there they might have enjoyed a gallop up to the ridge. Instead he had spent a fruitless afternoon poring over the accounts, unable to draw any conclusions since his mind was continually wandering to Ellen, wondering where she was and what she was doing.

  A movement at the edge of the park caught his eye and he saw Ellen cantering towards the stables, the groom a respectful distance behind. By heaven, she looked good, the blue skirts of her habit billowing out around the white mare. He wished more than ever that he had gone out with her, to hear her merry laugh as they raced neck and neck across the park. He would give no quarter and she would ask none.

  He forced himself to turn away from the engaging sight. He was only torturing himself and for what? He was determined to keep his distance and he must learn to ignore her, to go about his own business and let Ellen get on with hers. But as he browsed the shelves, picking up one novel after another and putting it back, he was alert, listening for her footsteps as she crossed the hall. Perkins would be looking out for her, ready to greet her as she came in, as much under her spell as the rest of his staff. He could not help his spirits lifting, his heart beating a little faster when he heard her voice as she spoke to the butler. He pulled another volume from the shelves and flicked through it, imagining her crossing the hall, lifting her skirts and revealing her dainty ankles as she ran quickly up the stairs to change for dinner. He needed to change, too, but he must wait until she was in her room, he did not want to meet her on the stairs, not while the hot blood was hammering through his body like this.

  ‘Perkins said I would find you in here.’

  At the sound of her voice he snapped the book shut. With slow deliberation he replaced it on the shelf. Ellen had come in and closed the door behind her. She was standing now with her back against the door, a shy smile on her lips.

  The riding habit is the exact colour of your eyes, do you know that?

  He cleared his throat. ‘You wanted to see me?’

  ‘Yes, if you can spare me a moment. I know you are very busy.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He clasped his hands behind his back to stop himself reaching for her. With a grateful nod she came further into the room.

  ‘I called upon Mrs Arncliffe and Georgiana on the way home. Mr Grisham was there, taking tea with the family.’ She chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made something in his chest contract. ‘He and Georgie looked most discompos
ed when I walked in.’

  Max watched her, enjoying the graceful way she moved, the slight tilt of her head while she considered her words. She turned to him, clearly requiring him to say something.

  ‘Discomposed?’ He tried to concentrate. ‘Why should that be?’

  ‘I do not know,’ she replied. ‘From their conversation I think they have been meeting quite frequently. Perhaps they believe you would object to their friendship.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, surprised. ‘I should be delighted if they were to become good friends.’

  ‘And perhaps something more,’ she suggested. ‘I know it is very early days, but should you object, if at some point they should wish to marry?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  Her sudden smile lit up the room.

  ‘Good, I am very glad of it, because I think it would be an excellent solution. However, I would not promote it if you were not in favour.’

  ‘Promote it? Are you matchmaking, Ellen?’

  ‘No, not at all. Georgie was so devoted to Frederick I know there is nothing further from her mind than marrying again, but I do think they are a comfort to one another. And Mrs Arncliffe thinks so, too. I wish they might all come to the summer ball, but with Frederick so recently buried that will not do at all, will it? Never mind, I shall invite Georgie and her mama-in-law to join us for dinner beforehand and Mr Grisham shall escort them home before the ball itself begins. I do not think he will mind that, do you? And there will be other opportunities for them to meet here, especially now I have ascertained that I shall not be going against your wishes.’ She threw up her head as the clock chimed the hour. ‘Heavens, is that the time? I must fly if I am not to be late for dinner.’

  ‘Is that all?’ he asked, unable to resist a smile. ‘You have a genius for promoting everyone’s happiness.’

  She blushed, shook her head and went out. Max’s smile faded as soon as he was alone.

  Except mine.

  * * *

  With the August Ball fast approaching Ellen found herself busier than ever and it helped to keep her thoughts from the continuing coolness between herself and the Duke. She still felt that familiar swooping in her stomach whenever she saw him, especially if she surprised in him that glinting smile, but, knowing it could never lead to anything more, she threw her energies into looking after her son and managing Rossenhall. There had been a gratifying response to the invitations, including one acceptance that pleased her immensely, and a week before the ball the new Duchess welcomed her first guest to Rossenhall.

  Ellen was at the door just as the dusty post-chaise drew up and she hurried down the steps to hurl herself into the arms of the little figure who alighted.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Ackroyd, I am so happy to see you!’

  Mrs Ackroyd was a small woman with a mop of unruly black curls and dark, bird-like eyes that saw everything. She had been widowed at an early age and left with a large property, but no money to run it. Instead of selling up she had decided to open her house as an academy for young ladies, taking in the daughters of the very rich and giving them an education that she hoped would prepare them for the world. Her girls were taught all the usual accomplishments necessary for any young lady wishing to make a good match. However, as well as the lessons in music, dancing and drawing, her pupils were provided with the very best teachers of languages, the classics, arithmetic, logic and all the other subjects available to their male counterparts. There was no doubt that some of Mrs Ackroyd’s charges had no interest in such an education, but those students who wished to learn were given the means to do so and Ellen was eternally grateful for that.

  Ellen knew her greeting was not the dignified welcome her old friend would expect from a duchess, but Mrs Ackroyd said nothing. She returned the embrace warmly and accompanied Ellen into the house, leaving her maid to oversee the unloading of numerous trunks and bags.

  ‘Have you come direct from Portsmouth? How long did it take you? Would you like to rest and change your clothes before we talk?’

  As they moved into the hall Ellen fired questions until her guest stopped and raised her hands.

  ‘My dear Ellen, you must give me time to breathe! I am not at all fatigued and would very much like to take a glass of wine with you, if you do not mind my sitting down with you in all my dirt. Then I may answer the rest of your questions in a civilised manner.’

  Ellen laughed and begged pardon. ‘Come along, then; I know where we may be comfortable and Perkins shall bring us a decanter of claret. That was always your favourite wine, if I recall.’

  And with a glance to ensure the butler knew what was required, Ellen swept her guest off to the morning room. Her heart was lighter than it had been for a long time and she knew it was because her friend and mentor had arrived.

  ‘Now,’ said Ellen, when they were seated with glasses of wine and a plate of tiny sweet biscuits before them, ‘tell me first of all how long you will be in England. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish, you know that.’

  ‘Thank you, but it can only be for a few weeks, I am afraid. I am off again on my travels in September.’

  ‘And you have had no recurrence of the fever that laid you low when we came home from Egypt?’

  ‘None at all. The Harrogate waters were most efficacious.’

  Ellen smiled. ‘I think your iron constitution had more to do with it. Where do you go next?’

  A mischievous twinkle lit the black eyes. ‘I am going to Turkey.’

  ‘You are going out to join Lady Hester Stanhope,’ said Ellen, laughing. ‘I knew you would not be able to resist, when you told me she had written to you.’

  ‘It was too tempting.’ Mrs Ackroyd savoured her wine, nodding in approval at Ellen before she continued. ‘She is trying to arrange a visit to France to see Bonaparte, you know.’

  ‘Truly? And will you go with her?’

  ‘I cannot think she will succeed, but if she does, no, I shall not go with her. I have no interest in pandering to that monster’s conceit. Instead I will go on to Alexandria and renew my acquaintance with Monsieur Drovetti. I thought I should tell you that at once, Ellen, then we need not mention it again.’

  ‘Thank you, you are right in thinking Max would not want to hear of that.’

  ‘Did the Duke cut up rough about our leaving Egypt under French protection?’ she asked in her forthright way.

  ‘Max has every right to be aggrieved that I did not follow his advice.’

  ‘Monsieur Drovetti got us away safely, though, did he not? The Duke should be grateful to him.’

  Ellen’s hand fluttered. ‘He does not see it quite like that—’

  She broke off as the door opened and Max came in.

  ‘I heard our guest had arrived,’ he said, bowing over the lady’s hand. ‘How do you do, ma’am? I trust you had a good journey?’

  ‘Very good, thank you, Your Grace. I travelled post from Portsmouth and spent only one night on the road.’

  ‘Ellen told me you have been in Greece.’

  He took a seat, perfectly at his ease as he asked Mrs Ackroyd about her travels. Ellen watched them, waiting for some comment that would bring up all the ill feeling and acrimony of the past, but it seemed that her old teacher and her husband were determined to maintain the harmony of their first meeting in four years.

  * * *

  It was not until Ellen showed Mrs Ackroyd to the charming guest bedchamber that the subject Ellen had been dreading was broached. As soon as they were alone in the room the older lady fixed her bright, shrewd eyes on Ellen.

  ‘When I left you in Harrogate you were convinced your marriage was a sham. Clearly that cannot be true, or Jamie would not be heir to a dukedom.’

  ‘It turned out that was a misunderstanding.’ Ellen had been preparing her explanation for some time
and it came out smoothly. ‘We met at Harrogate and resolved our differences.’

  ‘That could not have been easy.’

  ‘True, but that is all past now.’

  ‘What you mean is you would rather I did not ask you any more about it.’

  Ellen knew she was blushing under Mrs Ackroyd’s direct stare.

  ‘I would be grateful if we did not mention it again, yes.’

  ‘Very well, my love, if that is your wish. As long as you are happy.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ellen. ‘Now, it wants but an hour until dinner and your maid will be eager to get you out of your travelling clothes, so I shall go away. I will come back later to take you to the drawing room. Then you shall meet Max’s sister-in-law, the Dowager Duchess of Rossenhall.’

  Ellen knew she was running away and it made her uncomfortable. She had never before hidden anything from Mrs Ackroyd, who was almost like a mother to her, but if she took Ellen’s part against Max, it could reawaken old resentments and Ellen wanted to avoid that at all costs.

  * * *

  The meeting between Dorcas and Mrs Ackroyd went as well as one might expect between one widow, indolent and prone to ill health, and another so full of restless energy she found it hard to sit still.

  ‘I am glad you are here to support the Duchess,’ declared Dorcas with regal calm. ‘The Rossenhall Ball will be the first real test of her marriage.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Mrs Ackroyd raised a brow. ‘It is to be a grand occasion, then.’

  The Dowager gave a thin, deprecating smile.

  ‘Well, not grand, precisely. A few of my London friends have been persuaded to grace the occasion. However, you may be sure that everyone will be watching to see how the new Duchess conducts herself.’

  ‘I am sure the Duchess will conduct herself perfectly,’ replied Mrs Ackroyd, bridling. ‘She has been very well trained.’ Max gave a crack of laughter, which brought those shrewd dark eyes around to him. ‘And will you be at her side, Your Grace?’

  ‘Of course.’