by Tamara Gill
A light knock sounded on the door, and he turned, answering more sharply than he ought. “Yes.”
His butler entered, a slight smile lifting his lips. “Your Grace, I have joyous news.”
Merrick shut the window and leaned against the seal. He fought to show some emotion other than indifference to what he was about to be told. “What is it?” he asked, smiling a little at his old retainer.
“The duchess has given birth to a healthy daughter. She is in the nursery with the wet nurse now, if you wish to visit her. The duchess is in good health and recovering. She’s asked for peace and quiet.”
“Thank you,” he said, watching as his butler bowed and left, shutting the door with hardly a noise. Merrick stared at the dark wood, his mind conflicted as to what to do. Do I want to see the child? No, in all honesty, he couldn’t give a damn about the babe, but morbid curiosity got the better of him and, within minutes, he found himself climbing the stairs and going to see the daughter who would bear his name, if not his blood.
The wet nurse stood beside the small cot, rocking it slowly as a small figure slept under the white blankets. She greeted him warmly, stepping aside as he went to inspect the child. He thought he would see Lord Barkley staring back at him—a horrible image and one that was wont to give anyone nightmares—and yet it was not what he found.
Instead, a small delicate little girl, with a button nose and perfect lips, lay sleeping, a little dried milk on her bottom lip. Her small perfect hands clutched at the woolen blankets as if she’d never let go, and her ears, the tiniest things he’d ever seen, were covered slightly by dark curls.
Shame washed over him that he could ever be indifferent to this child. He rubbed his jaw, reaching down instinctively and, without thought, picked her up, popping her onto his shoulder. Merrick rubbed her back just as he used to do with William when he had a stomachache.
She made sweet gurgling sounds, and he walked to the nearby chair, sitting and holding her in front of him to take a better look. She was the most adorable little thing he’d ever seen in his life, and he kissed her sweet cheeks and nose until she made it clear such actions were not appreciated.
“You’re as pretty as a flower. I think we’ll call you Lily. Lady Lily will suit you very well.” He counted her fingers and toes and marveled at their miniscule size. “You’re my daughter, and I promise from this day forward that nothing will ever come to harm you. You will have everything your heart desires and more.” Lily fussed in his arms, and he smiled, looking up to the wet nurse. “Under no circumstance is the duchess to take this child outdoors or be left alone with her. Do you understand?”
The wet nurse’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. Whatever you say.”
“Her name is to be Lily, and I wish for her to be brought down to my study whenever she’s not sleeping so I may visit with her. I will, naturally, check on her here throughout the day, as well. If there is anything you need, or are worried about, do not hesitate to come to me. I will assist you, without question.”
“Thank you, sir. I assure you I will.”
Merrick stood, giving Lily another little kiss before handing her to the wet nurse. “I think I may have woken her a little. She may be in need of another feed before she settles.”
The wet nurse smiled. “I think you may be right.” She took the child, and Merrick watched her for a moment before leaving the woman alone with his daughter.
He strode to Leonora’s room, knocked once, and entered. She lay on the bed, facing the windows. Striding to that side of the room, he sat and faced her. “I wish to call the child Lily. What are your thoughts on this?”
“Do what you like with the child.” She sighed. “I’m tired, please leave.” She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
“You’re not to take the child out like you did William. In your condition, you’re not to be trusted. Do you understand?” He was being harsh, and this was probably not the best time to have an argument with his wife. Certainly not after she’d given birth. But now that he’d seen his daughter, an overwhelming urge to protect his children against the woman before him overrode all other cares.
She glared at him, her face distorted with so much hate he hardly recognized her. “My condition? Pray tell what you mean by such a statement.”
“That you’re addicted to opium and laudanum. That you have a tendency to take our children out and leave them in the bowels of London, for who-knows-what to happen to them.”
“I forgot William once, and he survived. Do not be such a bore, Merrick. You’ve been fun only once, and I had to spike your drink with opium to get the result I wished.”
“When did you tamper with my drink?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be. Had suspected it for years.
“On the night I seduced you at Mountshaw. I knew to have you sleep with me, and not guess who entered your bed, something a little stronger than spirits was needed. What a triumph that my plan worked.” She grinned. “But you are very tedious to put up with; maybe I should’ve allowed you to marry your boring Isolde, after all. You’re more suited to her than you and I.” Leonora laughed, the sound maniacal.
It was a question he had asked himself often. Why had Leonora wanted to marry him? From the first moment after taking their vows, she’d made it clear that she didn’t care for him or his thoughts. It had taken him only a few weeks to realize that she’d wanted the title of duchess and the triumph over Isolde more than anything else. Even if she’d had to threaten them all to realize such a win. “Your supposed friends do you an injustice thinking that such behavior is an acceptable and healthy way to live. I’m embarrassed to call you my wife.”
“Well then,” she said, still laughing, “what a shame it is that there is nothing for you to do about it.” She met his gaze, no emotion behind her black orbs. “Now leave. I want to be well again so I may have some fun without you, and your presence halts my progress.”
He ignored her. “I have purchased a house for you, where right at this moment your maids are packing up your things to move you there. I will no longer live under the same roof as a woman, who, frankly, repulses me. I will not let the underbelly of this Society grace this home. The children shall be protected from your seedy dealings, and if that means you must live elsewhere, then that is a price I’m willing to pay.”
“Your children? Only William is yours.” She snickered. “What a lark laying with you when you were so foxed. ‘The duped duke,’ I should call you. La, what a triumph! Poor Isolde, still pining for you, all these years later.”
Merrick ground his teeth, hating that part of what she said was true. He had been duped and a damn fool to not know when he was being deceived, even now. “The children are mine, and I’ll not have anyone slander their name, not even their mother. Heed the warning, Leonora. It’s in your best interest.”
“Do you want to know who the father is of your precious Lily? You’ll never guess.”
Merrick stood, not willing to hear any more. She was as vicious as a snake just out of hibernation, wanting to strike and injure any who were about. “As soon as you’re well enough, you will be leaving. We cannot divorce, and you’ll have an allowance, but should you exceed it, do not think to ask for any more funds, as I will not grant them.”
“How dare you, you bastard. How dare you dictate to me. Your wife.”
“Very easily, and I should’ve tightened the reins on you years ago. I’m ashamed of myself that I did not.” Merrick stood, striding toward the door. Leonora threw back the blankets and shuffled out of the bed, following him.
“I hate you. You’re as pompous as that sniveling fool, Isolde. Always right, always kind to those in need. You make me sick.” She came up hard against him and slapped his face. Merrick narrowed his eyes against the sting and walked out, calling a footman over who hovered in the passageway. “The duchess requires rest. She is neither to leave nor receive visitors.”
The footman’s eyes widened, but he nodded, going to stand be
side the duchess’s door.
Leonora leaned out into the passage, grinning like a woman without wits. “The girl’s father is Wardoor. How do you think Isolde will take such news?”
Merrick halted.
“It’s quite a funny story, and one I’m sure you want to hear, so I’ll tell you.” She walked out into the passage, running a hand across the footman’s chest, the lad blushing furiously. “I found your closest friend, passed out in the opium den where you found William that day. Quite naked, I might add. Well…” she paused, smirking, “from the chest up, in any case. I was curious if an unconscious man could still perform as I like them to, and so you can imagine my pleasure when I found out he could. Lord Barkley enjoyed the show as well, and we’ve had many a good laugh about it since then.”
Merrick stared at her a moment, not wanting to listen or commence another argument. He met his butler at the top of the stairs as he started down them. The more distance between him and his wife, the better. She was beyond help. No woman with any self-respect could do such a thing to another human being, or gloat about it afterward, as if it were as common as cake and tea. “Please have the duchess helped back to bed. I fear she’s not herself.”
His butler nodded, walking toward Leonora who followed Merrick, leaning over the balustrade.
“He has a lovely large cock, Merrick. Thick and long. Isolde will be well pleased when she beds him, now that they’re to be married.” She started down the stairs, her laughter echoing through the house. “I know you are aware of it. The news is almost front page in the morning’s paper.”
Merrick turned and met his wife’s wild gaze. “Go back to your room, Leonora. I think it’s fair to say we have nothing further to say to each other, now or ever. In fact,” he continued, “if you’re so well to be out of bed, I’m sure I can have you moved from here sooner than I thought.”
She huffed. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I’m not going anywhere, dearest husband. I intend on being your lovely wife for a long time to come.” Leonora ran down the stairs, her eyes feral with anger. “You always thought—”
Merrick took a step toward her when he noted her misstep. A piercing scream rent the air and horrified, he watched as Leonora tripped over her own shift, toppling forward and hitting the marble stairs with a sickening crack.
He ran to her as she lay at the bottom of the stairs, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, her body at an awkward angle to her head. With shaking fingers, Merrick reached to feel her neck, and the protruding bone told him it was broken. Leaning down, he listened for a heartbeat, but no comforting sound resonated in her chest. His stomach roiled. What had just happened? This could not be. Not this. No matter how much he hated Leonora, he never wanted her dead. The butler kneeled beside Leonora, his eyes wide with shock.
“Your Grace?”
Merrick slumped onto the floor, feeling, more than seeing, the ducal staff surrounding them. “Send for the doctor.” When his servant didn’t move, he yelled, “Now, man!”
The butler sent two footmen to do his bidding. Not sure if he should move Leonora, he stood and walked into his library and collected a blanket. Coming back into the foyer he placed it over her and sat down, closing her eyes, as if in sleep.
He stayed there until the doctor arrived, and confirming his own supposition that she’d died during the fall, the doctor helped the servants organize for Leonora to be placed back in her room. Merrick summoned his man of business who would prepare the funeral.
Merrick dropped into his leather desk chair, the last words between him and Leonora loud and tormenting in his mind. He cringed, standing and pouring himself a large glass of brandy, hoping the amber liquid would drown the horrible situation in which he now found himself. Downing the beverage quickly, he refilled the crystal glass, walking to the settee before the fire, staring at the flames but feeling no heat.
How could he have been so cruel? How could he have said such words to his wife? He stared at the orange flames licking the wood, wishing he could take back the last two hours of his life and knowing with sickening dread that he could not.
The thought of laying Leonora, such a young woman, to rest, was not something he wished to contemplate. Nor the fact that he would have to tell William that his mama had died, and so tragically, as well.
A light knock sounded against the door.
“Enter,” he said, not looking to see who intruded.
“Your Grace,” the doctor said, coming over to where he sat and taking a seat himself, even though Merrick didn’t offer him one. The rotund man placed his bag on the floor, steepling his fingers before his chin. “I believe it would be best, under the circumstances, for you to say the duchess passed away during childbirth. I’ve just spent the past hour with an inconsolable maid who told me of your purchasing a house for your wife and having her move there, instead of living with you.”
Merrick frowned, looking up at the doctor. “What of it? It was no secret that our marriage was not a love match, and I’m sure you’re aware that the child born only hours ago is not mine. The whole ton knows of our disastrous union, but I fail to see why I should lie about her death.”
“Can you not?” The doctor leaned back in his chair, and Merrick wondered how he could seem so calm at such a time. His own blood pumped fast in his veins, and no matter how many glasses of brandy he consumed, something told Merrick they would not help him in the least.
“No. I cannot.”
The doctor sighed. “Some may think it not an accident. And before you state otherwise, I know there were witnesses to what occurred, but it wouldn’t be the first time a man of influence has paid off his servants to keep quiet.”
“I didn’t kill my wife.” Merrick leaned forward in his chair, slamming his glass upon the mahogany table before them. “Is that what you’re implying?”
“I know you did not kill Her Grace, but to keep your name from any more tarnish, it would be best if you stated she died of complications during the birth of your daughter. Society does not need to know everything.”
Merrick stood, walking to the mantle and leaning against it when he swayed. “I would know.”
“Think on it.” The doctor stood, picking up his bag. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Your Grace. May the duchess rest in peace.”
“Thank you,” he replied, tugging the bellpull. Within moments of the doctor leaving, a footman entered. “Have the carriage readied. I’m leaving for Mountshaw on the morn. And please notify the wet nurse in charge of Lady Lily to prepare the child for travel also.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler bowed, fleeing as fast as he’d come.
Merrick scribbled a note to his man of business, telling him of the circumstances that had befallen them all and ordering him to hire the best funeral furnishers he could find to have Leonora brought to Mountshaw for burial as soon as possible.
And after he’d said his final good-byes to his wife, Merrick would close up the London home and leave for Mountshaw where he would stay indefinitely. London and its detrimental pressures and temptations could go hang.
Chapter Thirteen
Isolde was numb as she traveled with her family to Merrick’s country home, Mountshaw Estate, for Her Grace’s funeral. She had never wanted to see the place again, and to be going back for the burial of a woman who’d been her childhood friend and adult enemy wasn’t something to which she looked forward.
The crunch of the wheels on the graveled drive was loud as they made the turn through the gates. No one spoke. Her sisters Victoria and Alice were quiet with their own thoughts, their mother idly looking out at the gray, drizzly weather.
“Oh, this is a sad day,” her mother said at last, breaking the silence. “To think Leonora will not get to see her sweet children grow up. Oh, it’s sad indeed.”
Isolde patted her hand, consoling her as best she could. Not a lot of information had been forthcoming over Leonora’s death, other than she’d passed after the new babe was born. It
was almost impossible to fathom that the duchess was gone. No matter how much Isolde and Leonora had despised each other, death was not something Isolde would ever have wished upon the woman.
“I would like to know how it happened. The rumors going about London are tragic and scandalous at the same time.” Alice met her gaze. “Some even say she had packed a small valise and was leaving the duke!”
“Don’t be absurd. She tripped down the stairs, lost her footing in some way or another, and fell. After birthing a child I should imagine you’re not as stable on your feet as you are normally. I won’t have you partaking in these rumors about the duchess. You’re better than that.” Isolde stared down her sibling before looking back out at the familiar drive. The last time they had traveled down this very road, her heart had been broken in two, and now she was to pay her last respects to the woman who had been the cause of her ruined dreams.
“Since we’re to attend the placing of the duchess in the mausoleum, the duke has offered for us to stay, and I have agreed.”
“Mama.” Isolde gaped at her. “Why would you do such a thing? You know it is awkward between His Grace and me and, with him mourning his wife, this will make it even more so. Others in attendance will think I’m trying to force my way back into his affections.” Isolde crossed her arms. “I’ll not do it. We’re staying at the local inn.”
“We will not. Your brother will be here also, and no impropriety will be thought of during such a time. Do be serious, Isolde.”
She gritted her teeth. “I am being serious. I don’t want to stay here, Mama.” She paused, wondering how else she could persuade her parent to leave. “How did you manage to get Josh to attend? He hasn’t been pleasant to the duke since the night we caught Moore with Leonora.”
“Josh has agreed, for duty’s sake, to hold his opinions of His Grace and his actions toward you at bay, until he’s returned to London. Just as he should as the head of this family.”
“With us staying, tongues will start to flap. I don’t like the situation at all.”