by Cheryl Bolen
Radcliff instructed the coachman to approach Twigs’s gig.
Twigs pulled up alongside the duke and duchess, and when he perceived that Radcliff was riding with his wife, a wide smile covered his face. “By Jove, good to see you out, Duchess.”
“I have missed you most dreadfully since you moved out,” Bonny said. “I’ve yearned for a good game of piquet with you.”
“Just have to pop in and play a hand or two,” he said shyly, averting his reddened eyes from Bonny.
“Why not tonight?” Radcliff suggested.
“Sounds like a jolly good plan,” Twigs said.
Cressida laid a possessive hand on Twigs’s arm above his ruffled cuff. “Oh, but Mr. Twickingham, I was so hoping you could escort me to the new play at Drury Lane. You know how abominably bad I am at card games.”
“To be sure—” He coughed. “No, no, no, Miss Carlisle. What I mean is—”
Cressida fluttered her lashes and pouted. “Then, you would consider Drury Lane tonight?”
Twigs sniffed and cast a dubious glance at Radcliff. “Well, if you are certain—”
“Then it is settled,” said Cressida, patting his arm patronizingly, a smug smile settling on her face.
Once they had said their farewells, Bonny spoke. “Poor Twigs, he’s doomed to be totally dominated by that meek-looking Cressida Carlisle.”
“How right you are, my love. However, I think she is exactly what he needs. Otherwise, Twigs would die a childless bachelor, for he would never have the nerve to initiate either a romance or a proposal.”
Bonny’s heart soared. This was the first time her husband had indicated he would be pleased to have a child since he had learned of her expectancy. And he had admitted to Lady Eggerton the baby was due. He must be proud, she thought hopefully.
A short time later, Bonny felt her husband stiffen, and she looked up to see an approaching carriage bearing Stanley Moncrief and Lady Lynda Heffington, properly chaperoned by Lady Lynda’s nearly deaf companion, who rode alone in the back seat of the carriage. Bonny could not help but remember Stanley telling her that Lady Lynda was Richard’s true love, and she swallowed hard. How would her husband greet his former lover and his cousin?
To Bonny’s surprise, Radcliff gave both of them the cut direct. She wanted to ask him about it, but she dared not speak of that odious widow.
When Radcliff spoke, it was not of his cousin or of Lady Lynda but of Bonny’s lying-in. “We need to go to Hedley Hall,” he said.
She nodded. Her husband did not have to tell her. All the Radcliffs had been born at Hedley Hall. In the same bed. Her heart filled with pride and happiness.
Most of all, she longed to return to the idyllic happiness she had shared with her husband at his boyhood home. Now, all of her misery would be behind her.
While her husband completed his business in the city, Bonny happily prepared to return to Hedley Hall, thoroughly content with his sudden conversion to domesticity. She relished every dinner at which they faced only each other across the candlelit table, the morning rides with him in the park, and most especially the nights he shared her bed, both of them lulled into sleep after being spent with their frenzied, nearly insatiable passion.
Radcliff had left early this morning to peruse the offerings at Tattersall’s but had insisted she rest more, therefore it was nearly noon before Marie entered her mistress’s chamber and opened the draperies to rouse Bonny from her slumber.
The sun cast its warmth over the room as Marie assembled Bonny’s clothes. “See, Mrs. ‘enson’s always right as rain. Said ye’d be well in three months, and ’ere ye are with the bloom back in yer cheeks.”
Bonny smiled as she watched a robin flit from branch to branch on a tree outside her window. She gave her approval to the outfit Marie selected and sat patiently at her dressing table as Marie fashioned her hair.
Once she was dressed, a rap sounded on her door. It was Mandley. “A caller here to see your grace,” he announced. “I told him you were not receiving callers so early, but he insisted upon seeing you.”
“He?” Bonny queried.
“The Earl of Dunsford,” Mandley said.
The person she least wanted as a visitor. Richard disliked him so excessively. “I cannot see him, Mandley,” Bonny said.
“He insisted I was to tell you he needs to see you about your cousin Emily.”
Lord Dunsford must want to offer for her, Bonny mused. “In that case I will see him.”
Rushing downstairs, Bonny decided she would have to dispatch him quickly. It wouldn’t do at all for Richard to find him here.
When she crossed the drawing room to hold out her hand to Dunsford, he answered her questioning gaze. “Forgive me, your grace, but I had to see you. It’s about Emily.”
Bonny failed to offer him a seat, nor did she offer him tea.
“She has refused to see me.”
“I daresay it is because I imparted to her that you knew of the baby. She is extremely embarrassed to see you now.”
As Bonny looked at him and saw the dark circles under bloodshot eyes, she was reminded of the first time she met him, when he had been so forlorn over his brother’s death. “Surely she knows I have known all this time and have had no objections.”
Bonny only nodded, not wanting to prolong the conversation in any way.
“I have been every day for the past month. Sometimes several times a day, and never is she in to me. Once I watched her house and called immediately after I saw her enter, and still that damned butler told me she was not in.”
“I am very sorry, my lord, but I do not see what I can do.”
He hung his head in his hands. “I must see her. I have to tell her...”
“That you love her?”
He met Bonny’s intense gaze and swallowed. “Yes.”
“Are you willing to offer marriage?”
He clenched his fist. “Of course! What do you take me for?”
“I only wanted to gauge your sincerity before I agree to intercede.”
Relief washed over his face. “Then you’ll...?”
Bonny nodded. “I will talk to Emily and tell her what you have told me.”
He stepped toward Bonny and took her hand.
At that precise second, the drawing room door flew open so violently it banged against the wall, chipping the plaster and causing the crystal sconces to clatter.
Bonny turned to face her husband. Not that he looked like her husband at that minute. He looked more like a satyr. His eyes flashed angrily, his brows drew together, his face grew red as he thundered, “Get out of my house, Dunsford!”
Not taking his eyes from Radcliff, Dunsford snatched up his riding crop and wordlessly crossed the room.
When he walked by Radcliff, the duke said, “I would call you out if it would not utterly ruin my wife’s character. But let me warn you.” His voice shook. “If you ever see my wife again, I will kill you.”
“There must be some misunderstanding, Radcliff,” Dunsford said, pausing an arm’s length away from the angry duke. “I assure you I would do nothing to hurt your wife in any way.”
“My wife is no concern of yours.”
Dunsford swallowed hard, threw an apologetic glance at Bonny and left the house.
Radcliff’s eyes flashed at Bonny, then he kicked his boot against a nearby table and stormed from the room.
Bonny’s breath caught. She heard Radcliff order his bay to be brought around, and she ran from the room to try to talk with him.
“Richard, surely you don’t think—”
Radcliff cut her off. “Have I given you so many orders that you cannot remember one, Barbara?”
He watched her with cold eyes.
She swallowed. “No, sir, you haven’t.”
“Yet you allowed that man into my home.”
Mandley announced that Radcliff’s bay was mounted in front. Radcliff faced Bonny and gave her a hard look. “I have nothing more to say to you.”
&nbs
p; Chapter Twenty-Four
Evans stood stiffly in front of Bonny. “You called, your grace?”
She put down the embroidery she had hardly touched. “Yes, Evans. I am very concerned about the duke. He hasn’t been home in four days. Please tell me if you know where he is.”
“I do not know, your grace.”
“You most probably would not tell me if you did know, would you?”
He inclined his head. “That is most likely true. As it happens this time, though, I share your concerns. I do not remember when his grace has been absent this many days. And he has no shaving things, nor a change of clothes.”
All manner of sordid possibilities had run through her mind, and in each instance, something dreadful had happened to her husband. Nearly convinced his throat had been slashed and his body dumped in the Thames, she had been unable to sleep or eat.
With constricted heart, she had directed the servants to unpack the portmanteaus. It was unlikely they would travel to Hedley Hall. If Radcliff came back that very day, he would hardly welcome a cozy coach journey with his wife, nor a lying-in with no one but her to keep him company.
When he had stormed from the house, Bonny’s insides had rocked and trembled like a mast bless ship on stormy seas. The malice in his words frightened her. There was more to his fury than a strong dislike of Lord Duns ford. He had threatened the man for seeing her. Then she remembered Lord Duns ford had been holding her hand when her husband walked into the room. Radcliff had given every indication of being in a jealous rage.
She considered this at length and decided he was indeed jealous, but not because he loved her. Proof that he did not love her were the far too frequent nights he stayed away from her. She was merely a possession, and the Duke of Radcliff would not tolerate any man touching his wife.
After she sorted out her thoughts, she lost her anger and turned remorseful. She should have listened to her husband. He had done so much for her and asked so little in return. After Richard had forbidden Lord Duns ford to cross the threshold of Radcliff House, she should have sent the earl away. If only she could turn back the clock.
But she could only cry into her pillow or her embroidered handkerchiefs and lament her sorrowful situation. She prayed for her husband’s safety and paced the floor, often stopping to press her face against the window glass to search the streets for signs of him.
“You are at liberty to make inquiries about his grace,” Bonny informed the valet.
Evans bowed, and she thought she detected a slight smile.
“Do you know the address of Mr. Twickingham’s lodgings?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Perhaps he has seen Richard,” Bonny said absently, her eyes darting to the window at the sound of horses’ hooves.
As Evans left the room, Bonny peered out the window. She lifted the lace curtain and was once again bitterly disappointed. It was only Lord Sillsby’s groom bringing around his curricle across the square.
She dropped the lace and began to pace again. During the past four days she had been much too upset to leave Radcliff House for fear of missing her husband. She needed to speak to Emily about Lord Duns ford’s suit, but Emily would have to come to her.
Bonny crossed the study to her escritoire and penned a note asking Emily to call because she herself had been too unwell to pay calls. After she sealed the envelope, Bonny called for the page to deliver it to Cavendish Square.
While Twigs lined up four empty Madeira bottles on the game table, Radcliff glared into the fire.
“I say, Richard,” Twigs sniffed, “does Duchess know you’re here?”
“Do not concern yourself, my good man.”
“Bloody easy for you to say. Fact is, don’t like the way you treat her.”
Radcliff faced Twigs, his eyes hooded. “She cares not.”
“The deuce she don’t! Of course, you wouldn’t know. Off doing all manner of mischief, but I saw how much she worried over you. Nearly wore out those lace curtains in m’ room, lifting them to look for you, her sweet face shadowed with worry.”
“Then my plan met with some success,” Radcliff said smugly.
“Plan? You planned to make her mad with grief?”
“That is what I hoped.”
“’Pon my word, don’t understand a thing you utter.”
Radcliff picked up the Gazette. “It’s just as well.”
The latest dispatches of the battles in the Peninsula distracted Radcliff. Finally, he turned to Twigs, excitement leaping to his eyes. “Still want to buy colors?”
Twigs eyed his friend suspiciously. “Why?”
“I have a fancy to join you.”
Twigs dropped his full cup of coffee. “Can’t do that, my good man!”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not a younger son. Everyone knows only younger sons serve in his majesty’s army and navy. Besides, you’re a duke. Dukes don’t rise to arms.”
“The first Duke of Radcliff did. That’s how he got the title.”
“Different thing altogether.”
“They’re making Wellesley a duke. Says here he’s to be called the Duke of Wellington.”
“Still altogether different.”
“Will you join me?”
“Does Duchess know?”
“Why must you always bring her up?” Radcliff said angrily. Though, truly, his anger was vented as much at himself for giving in to the weakness of loving his duchess too dearly. He really must get away from her. Perhaps then he could cleanse her from his being. And how better could he leave her than under the cloak of patriotism? That way, his honor would be preserved, and she need never know of his weakness.
Perhaps he would be lucky enough to die a hero’s death in battle. Anything would be better than the torture of loving a woman whose heart belonged to another.
“You’d leave Duchess alone to have the babe? Why, she don’t even have parents to care for her,” Twigs said.
Radcliff crushed the newspaper and flung it into the fire. “If you’re so bloody worried about Barbara, why don’t you go take care of her?”
He stalked from the room, grabbed his hat and coat and began to walk about London aimlessly. Twigs was right to worry about Barbara’s confinement. Radcliff himself could not bear to think of her alone in her agony.
But what of his own private agony? How was he to hold another man’s babe in his arms and give it his name? His heart wrenched every time he pictured Bonny standing in the drawing room, the sun streaming through the window to highlight her glistening black hair. Then he turned cold when he pictured her taking Dunsford’s hands in hers. He would never forget the haggard look on Dunsford’s face. Bonny must have been saying goodbye to him before departing for Hedley Hall.
Radcliff knew Barbara’s parting with Duns ford would be their last. She was too good to continue such deceit. Although he should be happy he would now have a clear field, the victory was hollow.
For still she carried the baby that very likely might not be his own.
Twigs’s man, balancing a tray of empty wine bottles in one hand, opened the door to Evans.
“I say,” Evans said, “is my master, the Duke of Radcliff, within?” He counted five empty bottles and winced.
“He left just moments ago.”
Still eyeing the evidence of his master’s recent occupation with the bottle, Evans asked hopefully, “There was a large group of gentlemen here?”
The valet shook his head. “Only Mr. Twickingham and the duke.”
“Has his grace been here these four days?”
“Yes.”
Evans lowered his gaze. “I do not suppose that his grace has a fresh suit of clothing?”
The man shook his head.
“Or a shave?”
Another solemn shake of the man’s head.
Back on the sidewalk, Evans headed toward Radcliff House, his step slow, his mind a muddle. Wasn’t this the life he wanted for his master? The carefree bachelor, runnin
g rather wild with other fashionable rakes, leaving brokenhearted women in his wake? Bloody fun his set had always had.
But it no longer seemed so fun. Evans feared the liquor would ruin the young duke. And the thought of how many times of late his master had neglected his rather exceptional appearance quite rattled Evans. Not to mention how the duke’s careless grooming would reflect upon himself.
This would never do. The duke was too old to act the rake and too young to mimic a disoriented old man. His grace really should settle down. Got him a wife and a baby on the way. Why, he had no business sleeping in Mr. Twickingham’s lodgings when he had his own grand town house. And, God only knows, the duchess was besotted with him. He really should be kinder to her.
Within half an hour, the page returned to Bonny with a note from Emily informing Bonny that she regretted she was unable to leave Wickham House, for she had developed a mild case of spots. The note conveyed Emily’s displeasure over her cousin’s poor health and promises to come to Radcliff House as soon as her spots cleared.
Bonny quickly wrote a note to Lord Duns ford to inform him that she had been unable to talk to Emily. She absently started to ring for the page, then realized she could not use one of Richard’s servants to transport the letter to Duns ford.
Evans knocked on Bonny’s study door, then entered the room as she shoved Duns ford’s letter into a drawer of the escritoire.
She perceived a flicker of satisfaction on the valet’s granite face. “You have located my husband?”
“In a manner of speaking, your grace. He has been at Mr. Twickingham’s the past four days but had just departed when I arrived.”
Bonny clutched at her breast. “Thank God nothing has happened to him.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Nothing’s happened to whom?” Radcliff boomed from the door of his wife’s study.
Evans bowed and left the room as Bonny flew to her husband, but instead of throwing her arms around him as she wanted to do, she was startled by his stiff manner. If she did not love him so fiercely she would have been repelled by his appearance. Four days’ growth of a cinnamon-colored beard shadowed his craggy face. His clothes were wrinkled, his cravat carelessly tied. He smelled of stale liquor. Something in his eyes, in the grim set of his mouth, filled her with fright. For a flinch of a second she felt he stared death in the face, and her heart caught. Had she made him so miserable he didn’t wish to live any longer? She spoke in a soft voice. “I was very much afraid I was a widow, Richard.”