Duke with Benefits

by Manda Collins

  And she had come, in the past weeks, to value his reliability and even temper. If he’d been a different sort of man, one like her father, for instance, she could have ignored the other benefits. But his passion coupled with his personality made the match that much more appealing.

  Then there was the matter of a possible child. Something far too monumental for her to consider as anything more than an abstraction now. Though the very idea made her chest tighten with emotion she dared not name.

  So, in answer to Ivy’s question, she didn’t need to be rescued.

  “There is no need for anything like that,” she told Lady Kerr with a shake of her head. “We are agreed upon the matter. Indeed, I am sanguine.”

  “Did you…?” Gemma looked troubled. “That is to say, did you tell him about what Mr. Sommersby did to you?”

  At the mention of Sommersby, Daphne was surprised to find that she no longer felt the same sort of dread on hearing his name as before. Had Dalton managed to exorcise the demon of the other man’s assault once and for all?

  “He knows,” she said with a small nod. “And it is likely a very good thing that Sommersby was dead before he learned of it.”

  “Speaking of Sommersby’s death,” Ivy said, “I believe the magistrate wished to speak to you again this afternoon. He called while you were both still gone. He would not tell Quill why he’d called however. Though I suppose that has more to do with their history than anything else.”

  Quill had had a liaison with the other man’s wife in his salad days.

  “Perhaps tomorrow we can call upon him,” Daphne said, thinking that since Maitland would be away, and it felt somehow disloyal to travel to Battle without him, this would be a way for her to continue their investigation without breaking his trust. “He very likely will not be able to shed any light on the search for the cipher, but he should be aware that the killer likely has another clue.”

  From downstairs, the dinner gong sounded, and Ivy, Sophia, and Gemma rose.

  “I believe I’ll have a tray in my room,” Daphne said, suddenly feeling exhausted from the events of the day. And if she were honest, dinner without Maitland there to entertain her with amusing stories and silly teases sounded dreadfully dull.

  Hanging back from the others, Ivy waited until the Hastings sisters were gone before saying in a low voice, “If you have any questions, Daphne, or would like to know if anything is … irregular…”

  Daphne’s brows drew together. It took her a moment to catch the other lady’s meaning. And when she did, she felt her whole face turn red.

  “Oh, no!” she said with a shake of her head. “There is nothing … that is to say I do not have any…”

  Ivy nodded. “I thought I’d offer my counsel, nonetheless. It can be unsettling at first, but it can be quite enjoyable if you let it.”

  “I’m not sure I understand you,” Daphne said with a frown. Her experience with Dalton had been more than simply enjoyable. “It was … magnificent.”

  At her pronouncement, Ivy grinned. “I am relieved to hear it. I don’t mind telling you Kerr was brilliant that first time, too, but my mama refused to hear it. I thought perhaps my experience was singular. And feared yours would prove to be more as she described.”

  Daphne shrugged. “Perhaps it is a generational difference?”

  Ivy nodded. “I confess I don’t like to think of it too closely since it means thinking about my parents together like that.” She gave a delicate shudder.

  Having never met Ivy’s parents, Daphne couldn’t say one way or the other.

  “In any event,” Ivy continued, “I am glad to hear you are content with that aspect of the relationship. But I do hope you’ll come to me if that should change. I like to think we ladies should stick together in such matters, though there seems to be a societal taboo about talking openly about them.”

  “I will keep that in mind,” Daphne said. “Though I am perhaps not the one who needs to be encouraged to strive for more candor.”

  “And on that note,” Ivy said with a laugh, “I’ll be off.”

  When she was gone, Daphne crawled into her bed, and as soon as she closed her eyes she was back in the little room at The Bo Peep.

  She fell asleep remembering just how safe she’d felt in Dalton’s arms.

  Chapter 14

  Maitland made good time to London, and though it meant rousing the sleeping servants, he decided to stay the rest of the night at his London house rather than going to a hotel. His mother slept soundly, so he didn’t see her until the next morning when he stepped into the breakfast room and found her eating her customary toast and tea.

  “Maitland,” she said with surprise as he stepped over to kiss her cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you. Though I suppose I should have guessed given the amount of food on the sideboard.”

  His mother disliked excess, which made her a most unlikely duchess. Especially given his late father’s love of it.

  He filled a plate for himself and sat down near her. “I arrived quite late,” he told his mother. “And didn’t wish to wake you.”

  Her blond brows rose in question. “Was there some reason for you to ride in haste?” He watched as she considered the matter. Before he could speak, she said, “There’s nothing amiss with Serena or Jeremy is there?”

  “No,” he assured her, feeling like a cad for letting her worry. In truth, he’d been trying to come up with a way to explain his actual reason for coming to town, but it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d interpret his silence as dire. “Both Serena and Jem were well when I left them, I assure you.”

  She relaxed at his words. “I don’t believe I’ll ever stop worrying about her after what that monster Fanning did to her,” she said with a scowl. “Horrid man. Your father was a fool to let her marry him.”

  Not wishing to rehash the circumstances of his sister’s marriage, Maitland was silent, and took a bite of eggs.

  When he looked up he found the duchess watching him. “Why did you come back in such a hurry?” she asked again, scanning his face for an answer. “Has another of Celeste’s bluestockings got herself into trouble? I hope she knows better than to try to trap you into marriage!”

  The duchess had been rather jealous of her children’s close relationship with her sister, and the news that one of them had actually married Quill, her nephew, in haste had only served to prove that Celeste’s choice of heirs had been faulty.

  At her choice of words, Dalton winced. He had imagined this conversation in a more comfortable setting than at the breakfast table while she interrogated him like a cardinal of the Spanish Inquisition.

  “I would hardly call Kerr’s happy marriage a trap, Mama,” he said with a frown. “Indeed, Quill and Ivy are quite blissful, which you would know if you had accepted their invitation to come for a visit at Beauchamp House.”

  “Oh, piffle,” the duchess said with a wave of her hand. “I have no wish to travel to the seaside unless it’s Brighton. And you may make all the assurances you like about the happiness of your cousin’s marriage, but your Aunt Estelle is convinced that that hussy lured him into a trap. A mother knows these things, Maitland.”

  Estelle was Lord Kerr’s mother, the dowager Lady Kerr, and incidentally the sister of Celeste and the Duchess of Maitland.

  Pushing aside his plate, Dalton took a fortifying gulp of tea before saying, “I wish you would not speak of Ivy in that manner, Mama. She is a lovely lady and has made Quill very happy, I assure you.”

  At her grunt of disbelief, he sighed before pressing on. “As it happens, my reason for coming to town is somewhat tangentially related to Quill’s recent marriage. I have come to procure a special license, in fact. For myself and Lady Daphne Forsyth, another of Aunt Celeste’s heiresses.”

  The Duchess of Maitland’s jaw dropped. “What? I was only engaging in a bit of hyperbole when I asked if you’d been trapped into marriage. Maitland, please tell me this is some jest on your part!”

  “I’m delighte
d to say it is not,” he said firmly. “Lady Daphne and I will be married as soon as I return to Beauchamp House.” Despite his fervent wish that she would reject the invitation, he added, “I hope you will return with me to celebrate the nuptials.”

  “I most certainly will not!” she said, her eyes wide and her back ramrod straight. “Because you will not be marrying the daughter of that … that rapscallion Lord Forsyth. Do you know who the man is?”

  “He is currently in Little Nodding, so yes, I do,” Dalton said through clenched teeth, not wanting to admit that her assessment of Daphne’s father was not far off his own. “And it makes no difference to me who her father is. I am marrying her, not the earl.”

  “It is a mésalliance of gigantic proportions,” the duchess said, her voice rising with every syllable. “Even worse than your cousin’s marriage to that scholar’s daughter. At least her father is respected and conducts himself with dignity. The Earl of Forsyth is a drunkard and a gamester. And he has made a practice of carting the chit all over town to play cards at his behest. Like some sort of gambling pander.”

  At her slander of Daphne, Maitland stood, glaring down at his mother. “Hear me well, Mama,” he said, his voice barely controlled in his anger. “You will speak that way again about Lady Daphne Forsyth at the risk of damaging our relationship forever. She is not her father, and she is not to blame for his bad acts. No more than Serena or I are to blame for our father’s.”

  At the mention of the late duke, his mother flinched.

  “Yes,” he said with a feral smile, “remembering now, are we, that the previous Duke of Maitland was also a rapscallion?”

  “Maitland,” she said, looking contrite, but unbowed, “I never meant to say that Lady Daphne was—”

  He cut her off with a gesture. “I do not wish to hear you say it again. I am quite serious about the consequences should you defy me on this matter, Mama. I am the head of this household, and I have chosen my bride. If she does not please you, then that is lamentable, but it is my choice to make.”

  “But her reputation,” the duchess said with a shake of her head. “Your father’s reputation makes it doubly necessary for you to behave like…”

  “Like a gentleman?” he asked with a raised brow. “That is precisely what I am doing. I have compromised her, Mama. And my own scruples mean that I must marry her. But aside from that, I wish to marry her. She is quite the most intelligent person I have ever had the pleasure to know. And the loveliest.”

  At the word “compromise” the duchess raised a hand to her chest in horror. “Oh Maitland, did you not heed my warnings about the schemes young ladies will try on an eligible nobleman? How could you have let this happen?”

  Seeing that she found it impossible to believe that he could have been the one to do the compromising, Maitland sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, “Mama, I will not go into the details with you, but rest assured that every step of the way, I was the one at fault. Not Lady Daphne.”

  His words must have given her pause, because she shut her mouth on whatever it was she was about to say, and nodded.

  With a sigh of relief, he continued. “Now, I hope that you will write a cordial letter to Lady Daphne welcoming her to the family if you still refuse to return to Beauchamp House with me for the wedding.”

  He thought for a moment that she would change her mind—something he very much did not want to happen—but fortunately, she said with a shake of her head, “I truly cannot leave town at the moment, my dear. Though I hope you will bring her to meet me as soon as you think you are able. I will oversee her introduction at court. And doubtless she will need a new wardrobe.”

  Though he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions, he would not put it past his mother to attempt some sort of intervention to keep the wedding from happening.

  “I have little doubt that Daphne will welcome your assistance,” he lied. Daphne would very likely chafe under his mother’s guidance, but that was a bridge he’d cross when he came to it. “Now, I would like to discuss this further”—another lie—“but I must go find the bishop so that I can get back to the coast.”

  “I am sorry I reacted so badly, my dear,” she said with a sad smile. “I suppose I do not only worry about your sister. It is quite hard to accept that my children are all grown up now and able to take care of themselves.”

  He looked at her, noticed the threads of silver in her blond hair that was so like his own. Her marriage to his father had not been a happy one. And she considered Serena’s disaster of a marriage as something she should have been able to prevent. It was little wonder she greeted with shock and dismay the news that he was to be married by special license to someone she knew only by reputation.

  “I know,” he told her, bending to kiss her on the head. “But we are quite grown. Though it doesn’t mean we don’t need your affection and guidance.”

  She nodded and surreptitiously dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.

  When he left to find the bishop, she was bent over her escritoire, penning a letter to Daphne.

  He could only hope it did not include references to Lord Forsyth.

  When it came to speaking frankly, his mother and Daphne had that trait in common.

  * * *

  “I’ll inquire as to whether the Squire is available to receive visitors,” said the Northman’s butler with a scowl.

  Daphne and Ivy had risen early and set out after breakfast for the magistrate’s house. After yesterday’s storms, the sky above them was clear and blue, and they decided to walk rather than take the carriage.

  “Perhaps I wasn’t the best person to accompany you,” Ivy said as they watched the dour man leave. “I still don’t think I’ve been forgiven for the scene at their dinner party.”

  Ivy and Mrs. Northman had argued over something having to do with Lord Kerr, Daphne recalled. And the elder lady had been quite angry about the fact that Lord Kerr had become engaged to Ivy—though from Daphne’s point of view, the woman had no right since she was already married herself.

  “We are not here to see the lady of the house,” Daphne reminded her. “And even if we were she would be obliged to be polite to me since I outrank her rather significantly.” Daphne found that reminding unpleasant people of her due as an earl’s daughter sometimes led to an improvement in their attitude.

  Ivy hissed a laugh. “You should not say that,” she said in a low voice, shaking her head. “And yet, I would very much like to see you tell Mrs. Northman that to her face.”

  “Where else would I tell it to?” Daphne asked, puzzled. Why did people insist upon speaking words that made no sense? It was most frustrating.

  Then the butler returned to inform them that the magistrate would see them, and soon Daphne and Ivy found themselves seated before a very large desk in the Squire’s study.

  “I was quite displeased to find you gone from home yesterday, Lady Daphne,” he said once they were settled. “I needed to ask you some questions about Sommersby’s death, and you were not there.”

  “Yes,” Daphne said, puzzled. “Because, as you say, I was gone from home.”

  “There is no need to be flippant, Lady Daphne,” he said, his heavy brow furrowed. “This is a serious business. A man was killed in your home, and it seems very likely it was related to an artifact you yourself are searching for.”

  If he was going to investigate the matter, Daphne thought petulantly, then he should use the proper terms. “As it happens I am searching for a coded message, a cipher, if you will. Not an artifact. Though it is around seventy years old so it is not precisely of current origin. A cipher is a…”

  Ivy touched Daphne on the arm, startling her into pausing in her explanation. Ivy was quite good at placating men when necessary, Daphne thought with a touch of jealousy,

  “I think what my friend is trying to say, Mr. Northman,” Ivy said with a sweet smile, “is that she is very sorry for not being available when you wished to speak to he
r. But she has some news that might help in your investigation.”

  Daphne scowled. That was not what she had meant to say at all, but her friend’s placating tone must have worked, for the Squire sat up straighter.

  “What is this news? I’ve had my men search high and low for this other man whom you and the duke say shot at you,” he said with frustration, “but if he is still here, he’s hidden himself well.”

  Ignoring the magistrate’s complaint, Daphne quickly outlined how they’d found the note from Lady Celeste behind the painting and how it had led them to visit Mr. Renfrew in Bexhill.

  “Why in the blazes would Lady Celeste hide all of these bits of verse across the county?” the Squire asked with a moue of distaste. “If you ask me it’s a havey-cavey business. She should have just left the coded message with her will and had her solicitor hand it over when you inherited. Then there would have been no need for Sommersby to search high and low for it, breaking into other people’s homes, and what not.”

  Though it felt disloyal to her benefactress, Daphne tended to agree with the man. Except for one particular point. “At the time, secrecy about the location was quite necessary because the gold was intended for treasonous purposes,” she said, trying to be polite. But really, was the man so foolish that he didn’t know as much?

  “And,” Ivy added, with a speaking look her friend, “Lady Celeste enjoyed creating puzzles. She thought she was leaving a game for one of her heirs to solve. I’m sure she had no notion that Mr. Sommersby would come to harm in the course of searching for it.”

  “Hmph.” The Squire didn’t argue, but nor did he seem convinced. “So you intend to follow these clues until you locate the cipher?” He folded his arms across his chest, the picture of skepticism.

  “I do, indeed, sir.” Daphne raised her chin a bit. “And I will solve it, and find the gold.”

  “And what of the murderer? He has the original version of the cipher. What if he beats you to the treasure?”