Taming the Duke

by Jackie Manning

  “I can hardly wait to meet your family. It will be wonderful having young people about. How old are your sisters?”

  Alicia rose and took a seat at the window. “Kimbra is almost ten and five. Lyssa is eight.” In the courtyard below, handsome carriages waited in line for each of the dowager’s houseguests to board and be off for the next round of parties.

  A short, dark-haired maid entered the room. Olivia kissed the bundled infant’s cheek, then handed him to Sarah. Olivia came back to sit on a stool beside a dollhouse large enough for a child to crawl inside.

  “Do you think your sisters will enjoy being in the wedding?”

  Alicia chuckled. “Kimbra is a young lady and she’ll adore it. But Lyssa…” She laughed at the thought of her tomboy sister. “I’m not quite certain about her.”

  “I’ve talked to Cook and the wedding breakfast will be a full course meal.” Olivia tilted her head in thought. “He wants you to check over the menu with him. He’s already started on the bride’s cake. You need to decide what flowers you’d like for the arrangements.”

  “Anything will do,” Alicia said with a wave of her hand. She felt suddenly overwhelmed. Before she knew it she would be Dalton’s wife.

  “The seamstress is ready for your final fitting. Oh, I can’t wait to see you in your gown.” Olivia’s cheeks flushed as pink as her dress. “You must decide what flowers to have for your headpiece. I thought a wreath of roses over the bridal veil, since the season is past for orange blossoms.”

  The knot in Alicia’s stomach tightened. She managed a weak smile. Olivia didn’t notice, counting off items on her fingers.

  “Dalton promised to speak to Reverend Drew.” Olivia bit her lip as she thought. “Do you think your family will arrive by tomorrow, Alicia? You and your father will need to practice with your attendants.”

  Alicia nervously pleated the folds of her skirt. “It will be a simple wedding, Olivia. Just my family, a few of Dalton’s friends, you and your husband…”

  “Simple, yet elegant.” Olivia’s smile returned to her face.

  A feeling of gratitude welled inside her for this kind and sensitive woman who would soon be her sister-in-law. “Thank you for your help, Olivia. I don’t know if I could get through this without you.”

  “I’m thrilled to be of service, my dear. Besides, Robert and I are looking forward to our stay here for a few more weeks. It will give us time to get to know one another.” She patted Alicia’s hand. “I meant it when I said I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  Alicia’s throat tightened. “Thank you, Olivia.”

  The door suddenly creaked open and Alicia glanced up to see the dowager duchess step inside the room and close the door. Dressed in a black silk gown and matching turban, the older woman appeared commanding. The glower on her face contrasted sharply with the smiling Punch and Judy puppets hanging along the wall behind her.

  Olivia shot up, her mouth open. “Mother, what a lovely surprise. Shall I ring for tea?”

  “This isn’t a social call, Olivia. The carriage is waiting. I’m leaving for London. I’ve only stopped in to say goodbye.”

  Olivia nervously touched her throat, her gaze following her mother as the dowager crossed the room to stand beside Alicia.

  “I’d like a word with Miss Spencer, Olivia. Please leave us.”

  Olivia glanced uneasily at Alicia, a thread of worry creasing her brow.

  Alicia managed a smile. “It’s quite all right, Olivia. We’ll talk later.”

  “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Olivia hurried to her mother’s side and brushed her lips against the older woman’s cheek. “Have a safe journey, Mother.”

  A knot of uncertainty tightened in Alicia’s belly. “Your grace, I was hoping we could have a nice visit before you leave.” She took a deep breath. “Please sit down, your grace.”

  “Behaving as though you’re already the duchess, are you?”

  Olivia’s face paled. “Perhaps I should stay?”

  “Leave, my dear.” The dowager’s tone gave no quarter.

  Olivia glanced helplessly at Alicia before she silently left the room.

  The dowager waited until the door clicked shut. Alicia felt chilled by the woman’s frosty demeanor, but decided she would not allow her future mother-in-law to anger her.

  The older woman sniffed as she took a seat in a wing chair. Alicia remained standing, waiting for the real reason that Dalton’s mother had sought her out.

  The dowager glanced around the room. “Rather ironic that our first private meeting takes place in the nursery—a room for children and their toys.” Her thin lips twisted. “Like a pretty doll, you’ve obviously entranced my son. He wants to marry you, and Dalton gets what he wants. However, he’s my only son, now that Drake is gone. In my unique way, I care for Dalton. I don’t want to see him hurt.” She paused, casting her cold blue eyes directly at Alicia.

  “Dalton and I are very much alike, Miss Spencer. Even as a child, Dalton wasn’t capable of love. So if you’re under some romantic notion…” The dowager studied her carefully. “Dalton is determined to marry you because he knows it will upset me.” Her smile showed no hint of humor. “He knows me quite well. And I can understand why you accepted him. Dalton is one of the most wealthy men in England and the family estates are some of the most enviable in all of Europe. He’s handsome, dashing and I’m certain a great lover, for he’s the best in everything he undertakes.”

  Alicia felt her cheeks warm, but she said nothing.

  “Very well, I’ll get down to the crux of the matter. I’m willing to pay you a fortune not to marry Dalton. I want you to leave by nightfall and I’ll pay you any amount you ask. Of course, I’ll want a signed agreement that you’ve broken the marriage contract.”

  “And if I refuse?” Alicia managed to ask.

  “Why would you refuse? I’m giving you what my son has offered, and more. With my proposition, you will be free—a very wealthy young woman who could marry whomever you choose.”

  “I’m not for sale, your grace.”

  The older woman arched a thin black brow. “Are you denying that my son put a price on your services like some common harlot?”

  “We have a marriage agreement.”

  “So how can you say you’re not for sale?”

  “You’re attempting to buy me off. I’m Lady Alicia Spencer, not some trifle who is bedazzled by title or wealth.” She fought off the light-headed feeling that threatened her. “I’m sorry that you’re disappointed in Dalton’s choice. I’m sorry that Elizabeth was hurt—”

  “Obviously you haven’t heard.” The dowager’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Elizabeth’s parents bundled her off for a hasty marriage with Lord Rothbury. But marriage to a man she doesn’t love won’t prevent Elizabeth from finding happiness. She’ll always remain close to Dalton, I would imagine.” Her thin lips curled, and she reminded Alicia of a cat ready to pounce.

  Beneath the dowager’s anger, Alicia sensed something else—a feeling…like an animal in pain. Yes, she felt the same sensation emanating from the duchess as she did when finding an animal snared in a trap. Fascinated, Alicia ignored the woman’s words and concentrated on her own instincts. Beneath the dowager’s hatred, she could feel a soul filled with anguish. Defying all reason, she felt sadness and compassion for this woman. The woman was like an injured she-wolf, defending her young the best way she could.

  But why did she sense the dowager was wounded? The idea was outrageous, yet she couldn’t ignore her intuition. “I believe you love Dalton,” Alicia began gently, “and I know he cares for you.”

  The dowager paused, surprised. “You know nothing of who we are!”

  “It’s not something I know, it’s what I sense.” Alicia stood and held out her hands. “I can’t explain logically what I feel, but I trust my instincts. Even now, in this room so filled with your pain, I sense the reason behind this visit was your love for Dalton.”

  Surprise, then warines
s crossed the older woman’s face. “What trick are you trying to pull?”

  Alicia ignored her and pressed on. “You truly believe that Dalton would be happy married to Elizabeth. I can’t change your belief, but if you refuse to allow Dalton to make his own decisions, then you’ll eventually lose him. That’s a terrible price to pay to have your way. You need Dalton in your life, and he needs you. I hope you see that before it’s too late.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need! I need no one. And if Dalton marries you, he never need bother to see me again.” She rose, and before she reached the door, Alicia dashed to her side.

  “Please…don’t leave Havencrest with this anger between you and Dalton.”

  The dowager drew back, regarding her quizzically.

  “I’d like very much if you would attend our wedding.” She was as surprised as the dowager with her spontaneous invitation to this woman who openly despised her, but as soon as the words were spoken, Alicia knew that she wanted Dalton’s mother to share in the celebration.

  The dowager’s thin face was a study of surprise mixed with suspicion. After a long, uncomfortable silence, the older woman marched from the room.

  When the door slammed, Alicia felt her body tremble as the repercussion of what just transpired seized her. She felt as though she had been face-to-face with an injured beast, only this time, she was helpless to give comfort.

  She sat down in the chair, her mind heavy with questions. What had happened in that woman’s life to harden her so? And even if she knew, would the dowager want her help? Of all her questions, that one held the definitive answer. Most certainly not!

  Someone pounded on the door. Alicia jumped up, for a moment, wondering if the dowager had returned. No, the duchess hadn’t bothered to knock the first time, surely she wouldn’t now.

  Alicia opened the door, her fingers still shaking.

  “Alicia!” Dalton stormed into the room, his handsome face creased with worry. “Olivia said that my mother came to see you.” He glanced around the room. “Where is she?”

  Alicia sighed with relief. “She was here but she’s left.”

  He put his arms around her. “Are you all right? I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Of course I’m all right.” She smiled, relieved that he didn’t have to witness his mother in her present mood. “I’m sorry Olivia disturbed you. But I can fight my own battles, you know.”

  He smiled as he brushed a stray hair from her face. “Yes, I know, and I’m certain Mother took note of that fact, as well.”

  Alicia laughed, hoping to ease his mind by making light of the matter. “Now, let’s find Olivia and reassure her that everything is fine.”

  She took his arm and sighed in relief. Thank heaven that Dalton hadn’t thought to ask why the dowager had wanted to see her in the first place.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rain poured during the three days before the wedding, but Alicia barely noticed in the whirlwind of activity that filled each day. With Penn’s help, she fit in, between bridal gown fittings and the endless details that Olivia found necessary for her to oversee, Bashshar’s daily exercise and training. Thankfully, Alicia was too busy to see much of Dalton or to worry about the bewildering changes that would present themselves when she became the duchess of Wexton.

  Marie sang as she fastened the back of Alicia’s bridal dress. Although the words were in French, Alicia had no trouble understanding the translation: “‘Happy is the maid who is wed in the sunshine, but unlucky is the bride who marries in the rain.’”

  Olivia gave the maid a sharp look. “Stop that, Marie,” she said in French. “That’s a silly superstition, which only applies to the French. Besides,” she said, peering out one of the lead-paned windows of the sewing room, “I believe the sky is clearing.” Her words were almost drowned out by a clap of thunder.

  “I hope you’re right,” Alicia said, as one seamstress adjusted the high waistline of the bridal gown while another gathered the lace veil around her head. “My parents should have arrived two days ago. Ives said all the roads are nearly washed away. What if my family doesn’t arrive in time for the wedding?”

  “What would Ives know about roads?” Olivia grinned at Alicia. “Since the rain began, Ives hasn’t left the house.”

  Marie sighed. “Oui, but I heard the gardener say the rain has ruined all of the flowers. Not a single lily—”

  “Marie!” Olivia pulled the maid around by the shoulders. “Finish pressing Alicia’s yellow gown.”

  “But my lady, I’m not finished—”

  “Off with you!” Olivia scowled as the maid flounced into the alcove off the bedroom.

  Alicia frowned. “It’s no use, Olivia. Marie is right. The rain is ruining everything.”

  Olivia put her finger under Alicia’s chin and smiled. “The rain can’t ruin how lovely you’ll look when you repeat your vows with my brother, my dear. Now don’t worry. Your family will arrive in time, the church will be filled with fresh flowers, and everything will be perfect for your wedding tomorrow.”

  Dressed in her gown of bishop’s blue, Olivia flitted about the room, and Alicia was reminded of a delicate hummingbird.

  “If the rain continues,” Olivia said, looking at the stream of water pounding on the windows, “we’ll put up tents on the grounds for the local people. It will be like a country fair, only much more festive.”

  Alicia felt her spirits sink, but she didn’t want to dispel Olivia’s stubborn attempt at optimism.

  Suddenly Olivia squealed, her eyes bright. “Oh, Alicia! A line of coaches just passed the gatekeeper’s house. They’re coming up the drive.” Her blond curls bounced. “Your family has arrived!”

  Alicia flew to the sill and peered through the rain-spotted windowpane. Four matching coaches, each pulled by a set of six prancing horses wheeled in front of the main entrance. Excitement and happiness flooded her. “Look, they’ve brought Jupiter!” She pointed to the handsome bay stallion tied to the last coach.

  Olivia peered closer. “A handsome animal. Is it one from your racing stock?”

  “Yes, Jupiter was the first colt I trained for racing. I had hoped to enter him in the Newmarket Classic this fall.”

  Olivia turned from the window and studied her. “You sacrificed your own horse’s training to come to Havencrest and aid Bashshar, didn’t you, my dear?”

  “There’s a time and a place for everything. Jupiter will have other years, other chances to win the Newmarket Classic.” Despite her words, Alicia could tell that Olivia wasn’t convinced.

  Rain pounded the courtyard below as grooms swarmed around the coaches when they came to a stop. Her parents and sisters stepped from the first vehicle—such a handsome coach. Wherever did her father find such impressive rigs to rent?

  Alicia’s heart leaped with joy when she recognized her maid, Hortense, gawking from the open coach windows of the second coach. How she had missed her abigail. Trunks of assorted shapes and sizes bulged from the last two vehicles.

  Her family had arrived for the wedding. Her wedding. Dear God, it was really happening. By this time tomorrow, she would be walking down the aisle to become the bride of Dalton Warfield.

  “Hurry, my dear,” Olivia coached, watching the seamstresses lift the delicate bridal gown over Alicia’s head. “Marie, bring Lady Alicia’s new gown,” she called to the maid, who was setting up the ironing board in the anteroom. “The willow-green gown and matching slippers.”

  “Oui, Lady Olivia,” Marie said, bustling into the room.

  Four maids, carrying the bridal gown and veil, dashed into the anteroom. Alicia’s hands shook as she held up her arms for Marie to help her into the first of the elaborate gowns that had been fashioned from the fabrics Olivia had helped her choose at the drapers. The willow-green silk had been turned into a delectable confection that Olivia had said brought out Alicia’s brown eyes and reddish-gold highlights of her chestnut hair.

  Alicia blushed when she saw herself in the m
irror. It was the first time that she wore the zona, the Grecian brassiere. It was such a puzzle of silk ribbons that she would never have been able to dress herself if not for Marie’s expertise. When the maid had finished, Alicia’s modest bosom was uplifted in the height of fashion.

  She wondered what her mother would think if she noticed her lack of petticoat in place of the new style of wearing only flesh-colored tights. When Marie had finally finished with the elegant gown, Alicia could hardly wait to rush downstairs.

  “Your skin glows like a freshwater pearl against that delicate willow-green silk,” Olivia said, smiling.

  Vanity is a sin, Alicia thought suddenly. She glanced one last time in the mirror, then averted her eyes as Marie brushed her hair, entwined with a ribbon secured through the soft waves.

  “Oh, Lady Alicia, you are a picture of loveliness,” Marie said, waving her hands as though overcome with her own handiwork.

  Alicia glowed briefly with the compliment. “Thank you,” she replied, gliding her feet into the matching green slippers Marie held out for her.

  Alicia took a deep breath, then strode through the hall to the staircase. She had no sooner made it to the middle steps when, in the hall entrance, she saw four grooms assist her mother and sisters in removing their soaked mantles. Ives stood, frowning at the dripping puddles on the marble floor.

  “Alicia!” Lyssa and Kimbra cried in unison when they spied her. They dropped their wraps, and in a flurry of skirts, stormed up the stairs to greet her.

  Overjoyed, Alicia clasped both girls into her arms as the two bundles of energy crashed down upon her in a burst of shrieks and giggles.

  “Girls!” Alicia’s mother cautioned from the hallway. She stood, shoulders back with her usual dignity, and Alicia hid a grin as Ives frowned at the scene with admonishment. Alicia hugged the girls, then arm in arm, went to meet her mother.

  “My dear, you look most well,” her mother intoned, eyeing Alicia’s gown with maternal curiosity. Alicia wondered if her mother already knew, by that strange sense all mothers have, that her eldest daughter wasn’t wearing a petticoat.