A Damsel for the Daring Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “And he didn’t need to force you either, John. One mention of the money, and you were all for it,” Hetty said.

  Charles stood and watched and listened. He suddenly thought he probably did not need to ask any more questions but simply bear witness to the marital argument that was ensuing.

  He did not need to interrogate them at all, for the Clarkins were giving away all their secrets without any sort of careful manipulating on his part. The lower orders really were every bit as stupid as Charles Holt had always thought them to be.

  “Well, there isn’t any money now, is there? If a secret is supposed to be kept, it needs to be paid for,” John said firmly and looked at his wife with such a thunderous expression that Charles had a sudden fear he would strike the woman. “Go on out into the kitchen, Hetty,” he said, and Charles breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That’s the problem with my wife, Sir,” John Clarkin continued after his wife had scuttled off into the kitchen. “She still thinks she works up at the big house. She is a loyal type, always was, and that’s why she was the first person he came to when he found himself in a spot of bother.”

  “He? A spot of bother?” Charles said a little impatiently. “Do you mean the Baron? Lord Cunningham?”

  “Yes Sir. I mean Lord Cunningham alright.” He gave a judgemental little smile. “And we raised the child; we made up all sorts of little lies so that everyone in Hollerton would think she was our own. Raised her right too, and that’s a fact. But she has got herself away now, living up at Thurlow Manor as if she was born to it. Thing is, what Ruth doesn’t know, and I do, is that she was very nearly born to it. The wrong side of the blankets, but one of their own nonetheless.”

  “Are you telling me, Mr Clarkin, that Ruth is not your child?” Charles could smell success, and it was a bigger success than he could ever have imagined.

  Whatever he paid out now to John Clarkin would be returned to him tenfold, even twentyfold, perhaps even more, when the Duke got to hear of it all.

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And we raised her here for the first eleven years of her life.” John Clarkin paused for a moment, and Charles thought, disconcertingly, that he could see a little regret in the man’s face.

  “For all the good it did us. Well, Hetty has always been a loyal sort. She worked hard for the Baron up at the Manor, but then she married me, and her service there finished. Still, years later, when he had nowhere else to turn, the Baron arrived at our door all desperate and inside-out with a squealing infant in his arms. Newborn, that’s how young she was.”

  “And he asked you to raise the child? For money?”

  “That’s exactly what he did. He asked us to raise her as if she was our own. We were to keep his secret, and he would pay handsomely for her upkeep. Once his wife had died, and the girl was old enough to work, it came as no surprise to me that he came back for her. Said he wanted to give her a good life, keep her as lady’s maid to his daughter. Lady’s maid, I ask you! His daughter has no title to speak of.” The man seemed ludicrously dismissive at that point.

  “Miss Charlotte?” Charles said pointlessly.

  “Yes, that’s right, Miss Charlotte Cunningham.”

  “And what of Ruth? Does she still believe that you and Mrs Clarkin are her parents? Or has she found out otherwise?”

  “Well, we never told her. But I was not surprised when she didn’t come back here. She never really fit with us, even though Hetty tried to love her. But that’s the thing when you’re raising somebody else’s child; they don’t feel like yours. And we were getting on in years, well, past the age of raising young ’uns, at any rate.”

  “So, to be absolutely explicit, Mr Clarkin,” Charles said and fingered the purse in a very obvious manner, pleased to see that the man’s eyes fixed upon it hungrily. “Am I to take it that Lord Cunningham himself fathered the girl?”

  “Yes Sir, that is the truth of it.”

  “And might I take it that the mother of the child was not his wife? Not the woman who had given birth to Miss Charlotte Cunningham?”

  “That’s right, Sir. And that’s the thing which bothered him more than anything, the idea that his wife might get to hear of it. She was still alive then, you see, and the Baron kept telling my Hetty over and over again that it had just happened, that he had not meant to hurt his wife, and that he could not bear for her to find out.”

  “And who was the mother of the child? And where is she now?” Charles was determined to cover every eventuality.

  “He never did say who the mother was, but Hetty and I always had an idea that it was somebody who worked up at the house. A servant, you know?”

  “Did you have your own suspicions as to who the woman might be?”

  “No, none at all. By that time, Hetty had been out of Thurlow Manor for so long that she didn’t really know many of the staff there. I think it was that little bit of distance, not to mention Hetty’s kind and loyal nature, that led Lord Cunningham to our door in the first place.”

  “Well, Mr Clarkin, you have been very helpful. Very helpful indeed,” Charles said, and with a certain amount of ceremony, handed John Clarkin the purse.

  Chapter 17

  “Shut the door, James.” The Duke barely looked up from the study as his son walked in.

  As always, it annoyed James greatly; his father was no stranger to treating him in the same way as he treated everybody else.

  “You sent for me, Father?” James had been sent to the Duke’s study by a very embarrassed looking footman, and it was a struggle to keep the annoyance from his voice.

  At times like these, the ceasefire between father and son proved to be a little irksome. Before James had a happy life to protect, he would have soothed his own annoyance with a heavy serving of sarcasm.

  To smile and keep his bad humour from showing was proving to be increasingly difficult, and James could hardly wait for the day when he could present Charlotte Cunningham to his father as his new fiancée and watch as the old man could do nothing about it.

  Assuming Charlotte ever said yes, of course.

  “I did. I did.” The Duke finally looked up from his papers and smiled before waving his son amiably into the seat opposite the desk.

  James sat down and returned his father’s smile. This business of them getting along was going to take some adjusting to.

  “Forgive me, Father, but I am packed and ready for my journey to Hanover Hall. I had promised Hector and his father that I would be there in time for a charity reception they are holding this evening.”

  It was true; he had promised. But that was far from being his reason for haste. Charlotte and her father were attending, and he had sent her the briefest of notes to let her know he would see her there.

  After the disappointment of missing his previous intended visit, James was certainly looking forward to seeing her beautiful face again. And, not trusting his father, he had left his message to her until the last minute, not wanting to have to send her yet another long letter of apology for letting her down.

  The Duke did not speak for some moments, and James eyed him with suspicion. Surely, he was not going to interfere in his plans again. It had been many weeks since his last visit to the east, and the Duke could have no complaints this time.

  “You will not be going to Hanover Hall today, James.” The Duke smiled, but it was not the conciliatory smile he had employed of late; it was something far crueler and more self-satisfied.

  It was a smile of victory, something James had almost forgotten about in the weeks and weeks of cordiality.

  “I have made a firm arrangement,” James said in a steady voice; he knew his anger would not stay buried for long.

  “And with whom have you made a firm arrangement, boy?” The Duke’s voice was low and his pale eyes shining with excitement.

  “I beg your pardon.” James felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  “With whom have you made your firm arrangement? Hector Hanover or Mi
ss Charlotte Cunningham?” The Duke looked as satisfied as a cat with a helpless mouse between its paws.

  “Both.” James was furious; had his father known all along?

  All the time James had wasted doing his father’s bidding and keeping him on his side, or so he thought. But the spiteful old man had been interfering with full knowledge for some time; James had no doubt about that.

  He could see no sense in trying to hide Charlotte now. Everything was clearly known after all. But how had it become known? Who had passed such information to his father in the first place?

  There were too many unanswered questions flying through his mind, questions that would have to wait until later. For now, he needed to state his case and make his position clear.

  “Honest at least.” His father raised his eyebrows and smiled again. “But then, you are not stupid. No point denying something that is clearly known, eh?”

  “I will let neither Miss Cunningham nor Hector down again, Father. You might well know that I have an interest in Miss Cunningham, but I should tell you that I intend to marry her. Your interference will make no difference.”

  “You will not marry her,” his father said so matter-of-factly that James felt his heart sink.

  Why did the Duke seem so very sure of himself?

  “I will marry her if she will have me,” James reasserted.

  “No, you will not.”

  “I care nothing for her father’s money,” James said; he guessed that would be the larger part of his father’s objection.

  “I realize that. But it is time you started to think of such things. Duchies run on money, and it is up to you to seek it out. I sought out your mother because her father was a wealthy man. A man as wealthy as Lady Felicia’s father as a matter of fact.”

  “I will not marry Felicia Trent.”

  “I care not, but you will not marry the daughter of Lucas Cunningham.”

  So, his father had done a little work, had he? Enough to find out the basics about Charlotte if nothing else.

  “I do not see how you can stop me. Unless you want to have me removed as the heir to the Duchy. And even if you do care to embark on such a process, and even if you are successful, which I think extremely unlikely, I do not care. I shall still marry Charlotte if she will have me.”

  “No, you shall not.” The Duke laughed, and it was a rotten sound that gurgled in his chest. “If you care about her as you claim to, you will stay away from her from now onward.”

  “Stay away?” James was tripping over his words; his father had an ace card up his sleeve, and he knew it.

  “If you care about the young woman’s reputation and standing in society, not to mention her undoubtedly delicate feelings, you will keep away from her.” The Duke was dragging the whole thing out and clearly enjoying himself.

  “Get to the point,” James hissed and could feel his hands balling into fists on his lap.

  “Alright, my dear boy, I shall.” The Duke leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his swollen gut. “If you continue to meet with Charlotte Cunningham, then that young lady is going to be made aware of some facts that will undoubtedly be shocking, if not heartbreaking, to the poor creature.”

  “And what facts are these?” James said and wondered just what on earth his father, or one of his emissaries, could possibly have discovered.

  “I am sure that your young lady will be most surprised to discover that she has a sister in the world.”

  “A sister?” James was dumbfounded.

  “Well, a half-sister to be absolutely correct about the thing.”

  “Charlotte has a half-sister?” The possibilities were racing through James’ mind.

  “Although I believe the young lady is under the mistaken impression that she is an only child. Perhaps she might like to have a sister.” The Duke laughed in a most ugly, bawdy way. “Although I am not sure that she will be pleased to hear the details of how that sister came into the world. Especially not if she has previously thought highly of her father.”

  “She thinks very highly of her father and with good reason,” James said angrily, although he knew what was coming. “He is a very fine man, a very fine father, one who only has his daughter’s happiness at heart and not his own wants and wishes.”

  James was hoping to make an unfavourable comparison with the Duke but could see already that he would get nowhere with it.

  “Then I can only suggest that there was a time when the fine Baron was not so selfless. A time when his own wants and wishes were very much at the forefront of his mind.” The Duke laughed so hard he began to cough. “Or the forefront of his breeches, at any rate,” he went on when the coughing had subsided.

  “That is enough!” James said angrily. “You do not even know the family, Father, and I will not hear you discuss them in such an ugly way. Your behaviour is disgraceful, Sir.”

  “Oh dear, that rather sounds like your mother talking. Goodness me, that woman and her dainty ways. If only she had not passed such dainty ways onto her son.”

  “It is not dainty to be respectful. And it is not manly to be disrespectful and disgusting.”

  “Whatever constitutes manliness, my dear James, the facts are as they are, and I think that you will find that I am the winner. I and my insensitive sense of humour would appear to be the victors.”

  “Victors? For heaven’s sake, this is not a game; you are talking about people’s lives,” James said desperately. “Mine included.”

  “Then it is a good thing for you that I am here to look out for the life that you would so easily squander, is it not?”

  “I do not wish for your intervention in any aspect of my life, Father. I do not want it; I do not welcome it.”

  “And yet I will intervene anyway, whether you care for it or not.”

  “And so, this is a threat?” James wanted to know the worst now.

  “It is a promise. Continue in this courtship now I have told you to desist, and Charlotte Cunningham will be the one to suffer. Her father will suffer too, obviously, for no man likes to have his dirty laundry inspected publicly, but I think the daughter will suffer the most.” The Duke looked inappropriately pleased by the last.

  “I cannot simply turn my back on her.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “I could never be so cold.”

  “Then your very warmth of personality is going to be the most painful thing that young lady ever experiences.” As the Duke spoke, James realized how he hated him. “Because she will be told everything. She will not be spared a single part of it. Charlotte Cunningham will know how her father sired another daughter with one of his servants when her own mother lay terribly ill in her sick bed.”

  “Servant? Which servant?”

  “I do not know which servant.” The Duke shrugged as if the details were unimportant. “Surely that is neither here nor there.”

  “In deciding whether or not you are telling the truth, I think that the identity of the servant is very important.”

  “You think I am telling a tale, do you? You think I have simply come up with a story and nothing more? You really ought to know better, James. You really ought to know that I am a very determined man, and that I have conducted the most thorough of investigations.”

  “And what proof do I have of this thorough investigation? You surely do not expect me to simply take your word for it, given that you are a most determined man; determined to have your own way in everything at least.” James had the awful feeling that he was fighting pointlessly; he really did know his father better.

  “Well, if you will not take my word for it, perhaps you would do better to speak to the Clarkin family in Hollerton. I am sure that they will be as keen to furnish you with the details as they were my own representative.”

  “Clarkin?” James said vaguely, knowing he had heard the name somewhere.

  “Yes, yes. You have heard the name before, have you not? Allow me to assist.” The Duke smiled slowly and antago
nistically. “Does the name Ruth Clarkin ring any bells for you?”

  “Charlotte’s maid?” James said in disbelief.

  “Yes, Charlotte’s maid. All these years the young woman has been fetching and carrying for the Baron’s daughter, little knowing that she is every bit the aristocrat herself. Well, she would be had she been born on the right side of the blankets, but you take my meaning. Ruth Clarkin is Charlotte Cunningham’s younger sister.”

  “That cannot be true.”

  “Why? Because Charlotte has never mentioned it? My dear boy, the girl knows nothing of her father’s dalliance. That is what makes my own victory so complete, do you not think?”