To Marry a Duke

by Fenella J Miller

  Evans named a sum that made even Richard blush. ‘Good God! That much? I had no idea keeping an establishment in Town was so costly. This man, Tremayne, he owns the London house and the other estates in Suffolk and Kent as well?’

  Evans nodded. ‘All of it, your grace.’

  The clock chimed five times and Richard swore. ‘God’s teeth! Our guests will be arriving in an hour. I have yet to put them off.’ He yanked the bell strap and nodded dismissal to the lawyer. ‘Can you come back tomorrow, Evans, and go through things when I’ve had time to adjust?’

  ‘Yes, your grace. This has been a black day, a very black day.’

  ‘So you have said. I bid you good day. Show Mr Evans out, and send Yardley to me at once.’

  The footman, who had answered the summons, bowed the lawyer from the room.

  Richard paced, waiting for the butler to arrive. ‘Yardley, I wish you to send messages to both Great Bentley and Frating Hall. Inform them the dinner tonight is cancelled. Also let the kitchens know.’

  Yardley bowed, his lined face impassive. ‘Yes, my lord. I’ll see to it at once. Will there be anything else?’

  Richard ground his teeth. ‘No, Yardley, thank you.’

  He needed to get out of the house, clear his head and drown his sorrows. He didn’t wish to be alone. He’d unearth Gideon and they could ride across to Weeley. There were always officers at the barracks ready to share a bottle, or three, of claret.

  *

  Miss Murrell forgot decorum and ran along the draughty corridor. Jenny had said the matter was extremely urgent. ‘Abbot, what is wrong?’

  ‘Oh, madam, I’m glad you’re here. Her ladyship is that distraught, she’s searching for the laudanum. The state she’s in I fear to give it to her, but if I don’t, I’m certain she’ll dismiss me.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Abbot.’ Miss Murrell held out her hand and closed her fingers around the small, deep-blue, ridged bottle. ‘I will ring if I need you again.’

  She could hear the crashes and thuds of articles being thrown and her heart sunk even lower. It was years since Allegra had resorted to hurling objects to vent her spleen. With some trepidation she pushed to bedchamber door open.

  ‘Miss Murrell, please give me the laudanum.’ Allegra’s smooth chignon was in disarray and her pale cheeks had a hectic flush. She saw the bottle hidden is Miss Murrell’s hand ‘’

  Miss Murrell ignored the hand and gestured towards the old-fashioned Dutch bedstead. The moulded panels and carved lion masks were enough to give the most sanguine of sleepers nightmares. Small wonder Allegra slept poorly.

  ‘Hush, my dear. You shall have it in a moment. First, let me assist you to disrobe. You don’t wish to sleep in your gown, surely?

  Allegra stared in confusion; first at her gown then at her companion. Slowly she regained control. ‘Papa killed himself because he had gambled away the estate. Richard and I have nothing, we are destitute. We have been ordered to vacate the Priory by the end of the month.’

  ‘Good heavens, child, that’s scarcely two weeks away. Where shall we go at such short notice?’

  Dry eyed Allegra collapsed onto the bed. ‘I do not know. Richard insists I must sell my jewellery to fund the removal. How can I part with mama’s heirlooms so easily? Does he not understand they are all I have left to remember her by?’

  ‘Put your faith in the lord, my dear. That’s the best thing. Pray hard for an answer and he’ll give you what you ask. It might not be what you want, but he will answer your prayers, I promise.’

  ‘I will try. I wish I had your certainty, but after what has happened these past two years I find myself unable to trust as I once did.’

  Miss Murrell completed her task and assisted Allegra into bed. Then she carefully removed the stopper from the bottle and tipped a generous measure onto the silver spoon kept ready on the side table.

  ‘Here, my dear. I don’t approve of your use of this, but tonight I consider is one of those exceptional occasions when it’s allowed.’

  Gratefully Allegra swallowed the syrup and lay back on the pillows. Miss Murrell pulled up a small tapestry chair and sat down beside the bed.

  ‘I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, my dear. Now, close your eyes, let the laudanum do its work. Tomorrow is soon enough to worry about the future.’

  Her dear girl didn’t hear her brother and the captain gallop off into the twilight. She was in a deep, dreamless sleep.

  *

  The Red Lion, Colchester

  Jago Tremayne prowled back and forth in his private parlour, stopping every few minutes to stare out of the window and down into the yard. Damn the man, where was he? He had carefully chosen Southey to deliver his message, not Evans, because he wished his victims to be suitably crushed by his news.

  His breath hissed through his clenched teeth. There, the carriage had returned at last. Unable to remain in his rooms he pounded down the stairs and met Evans and Southey as they entered the inn.

  ‘Well, is it done?’

  ‘It is, sir, exactly as you requested.’ Southey smiled. ‘Hardly a peep out of either of them. I promise they’ll not kick up a dust, they’ll leave like lambs on the appointed date.’

  Jago’s expression hardened. ‘Your job is done, Southey. Take your money and make yourself scarce.’ He tossed a bulging purse at the man, who caught it deftly.

  ‘You know where to find me, sir, if you should have need of my services again.’

  Jago turned to the lawyer his expression almost friendly. ‘Come up, Evans, and tell me exactly what happened. I wish to know every detail however insignificant.’

  Over two bottles of port the story unfolded. He was not displeased by what he heard. ‘So, they are expecting to be evicted in less than two weeks?’ Evans nodded. ‘Don’t look so downcast, man, it will not come to that. I could not tell you the whole before, you had to believe what Southey told them.’

  ‘Believe? Is it not true then, sir? Will Lady Allegra and Lord Witherton be able to stay on at the Priory?’

  Jago smiled slightly and poured himself another brimming glass. ‘As you know I have more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes. Good God, I could buy and sell half the aristocrats in London and still see change.’ He swallowed deeply and wiped his mouth on his cuff. ‘But, do you know, Evans, I’m still persona non grata at the best homes. I belong to all the right clubs, dress at Weston’s, and own a townhouse in the fashionable part of London, but the tabbies won’t have me. I am a cit! They would rather welcome an impoverished émigré than invite me into their houses.’

  He paused as he considered the injustice of it all. Leaning forward, he stared blearily at his companion. ‘Why is that, Evans? Why is that?’

  ‘You do not have the pedigree, sir. Money counts but in some circles bloodlines are everything.’

  Tremayne banged the table, sending both glasses flying. ‘Exactly! So I decided if I could not buy my way into society I would marry into it. My daughter, Demelza, will marry a duke and my grandchildren will be aristocrats. How is that for a man descended from Cornish tin miners?’

  Evans righted the glasses and refilled them. ‘I should have guessed, sir. A real villain would never have allowed Lady Allegra and Lord Witherton to remain so long or paid all their living expenses.’

  ‘He will agree, won’t he, Evans? My girl’s pretty and has little to say for herself. That would be considered an advantage by many men, wouldn’t it?’

  The lawyer drained his glass and beamed. ‘He will bite your hand off in his eagerness. But forgive me, sir, I must warn you, the duke is a pleasant enough young man but not what I would call good husband material. He gambles and drinks to excess and runs a string of expensive ladybirds.’

  Tremayne yawned. ‘But he will not continue in that vein, I promise you. I shall keep a tight hold on the purse strings. I might be rich but I’m not stupid.’ He pushed himself upright, swaying a little. ‘Good God, I’m foxed! I’d no idea I’d consumed so much. I’m goi
ng to my bed, Evans. I will bid you goodnight.’

  ‘What time will you be visiting the Priory tomorrow, sir?’

  ‘Not before noon. Come here at eleven o’clock, there are some documents I’ve had drawn up and I would like a second opinion.’

  Evans bowed, almost losing his balance. ‘I should be honoured, sir. Goodnight until the morning.’

  Jago walked unsteadily to the door that led to his bedchamber and, neglecting to lower his head, swore viciously as he reeled back. ‘God dammit, Sam Perkins, why didn’t you warn me to duck?’

  His valet, and friend, grinned unsympathetically. ‘I would have, sir, if I’d known you was coming in at that precise moment.’

  ‘I need a…’

  ‘It’s in that closet, sir. Mind your head!’ Years of living with his formidable master had inured him to his moods. He knew, as probably no other did, that under the brusque exterior lurked a much gentler man.

  Breakfast was taken in the private parlour. ‘I’ve a damnable headache, Sam. Have you any of your quackery to fix it?’ Jago flinched as he turned his head too quickly.

  ‘I do, sir. It’s by your plate. It don’t taste too clever but it’ll do the trick.’

  Jago peered suspiciously into the pewter pot. ‘If it tastes as vile as it smells, Sam, I might well cast up my accounts.’

  ‘Drink it down in one. It’ll clear your head and settle your digestion, sir.’

  He did as instructed and the bitter liquid, for a moment, threatened to return. Then miraculously his head stopped thumping and he could view the assembled dishes with more favour.

  ‘Are the trunks packed, Sam? We’ll be leaving here this morning. Our residence from today will be at St Osyth’s Priory.’ He drained his tankard of porter before continuing. ‘Demelza will be arriving this morning, keep an eye on her for me, I’m going to look at the castle. It’s Norman you know.’

  ‘Maybe Miss Demelza would like to see the castle with you, sir; I know she likes historical things.’

  ‘Does she?’ How do you know that? She never mumbles more than yes or no to me.’

  ‘You’re still a stranger to her, sir. Remember, she sent her away to school when she was but seven years old. And how often have you seen her in the past few years?’

  Jago frowned. ‘There was no place in my life for a child. I was abroad or occupied with business. I saw her when I could.’

  ‘As I said, sir, she’s barely acquainted with you. She’s still shy. She’ll come round when she knows you better.’

  ‘Come round? Confound it, Sam, she’s my daughter. My own flesh and blood, why is she shy with me?’

  ‘Have you looked at yourself in the glass lately, sir?’

  ‘In the glass? What the devil are you talking about? Why should I do that; I leave my appearance to you.’

  Sam grinned. ‘There’s a glass over the mantel, take a look. You might be surprised.’

  He strode over to stand glaring into the mirror. What game was Sam playing with him? Then, as he looked, his expression changed. He began to see what Sam was getting at. The tall dark man staring back at him was almost a stranger. Somewhere, over the years, the slim, casually dressed Cornishman he had been, had metamorphosed into a broad shouldered, immaculately dressed, worldly gentleman. From the top of his elegantly cropped black hair down to his shiny top boots he was perfectly turned out. His dark blue, square fronted coat, his crisply starched cravat with its single diamond pin, his pale blue waistcoat and calfskin inexpressibles screamed wealth and quality.

  ‘I’ve turned into a veritable tulip, have I not, Sam? Small wonder my Demelza doesn’t recognize me. Ten years has seen changes in us both. I left a little girl; she has returned from her seminary a young woman.’

  Sam busied himself stacking the dirty crockery on the trays. ‘Does Miss Demelza know she’s to be married?’

  ‘No, of course not. Why should she? Surely it’s every debutante’s dream to marry a duke? She’ll be delighted. What girl would not be? I wouldn’t have selected young Witherton if he had not been personable. I’m not completely heartless, Sam.’

  St Osyth’s Priory

  The splash of water being poured into a bowl woke Allegra. ‘What time is it, Jenny?’

  ‘A little after ten o’ clock, my lady.’

  ‘Kindly send Abbot in to me.’ She closed her eyes again until she heard the dressing-room door softly open. ‘Abbot, please put out a riding habit. I shall go out for an hour or two. It will clear my head.’

  ‘Are you still wearing black, my lady? Or shall I put out the green or the blue?’ ‘Anything, itdoes not matter. Is the duke down yet, do you know?’

  Her abigail sniffed. ‘I don’t believe he returned last night, my lady.’

  ‘I suppose Captain Pledger went with him?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Allegra knew if this was the case her brother would have got quite disgustingly inebriated and gambled away even more money that he did not have. She gasped as an appalling thought struck her. The man who owned her home had been obliged to pay Richard’s gambling debts for the past nine months. How dreadful! Quite bad enough throwing away one’s own money but to do the same with another’s that did not bear thinking about.

  She threw back the richly embroidered comforter and jumped out of bed. She swayed and steadied herself against the bedpost. Ignoring the proffered hand she straightened and stepped away. She sluiced her face with the tepid water in the bowl and it helped, a little, to banish her dizziness.

  Abbot and Jenny deftly dressed her in a plain, dove grey morning gown. The close fitting three quarter sleeves and scooped neckline emphasized her thinness and lack of womanly curves. This was not a frock she would have selected for herself but that morning she was too preoccupied to notice her apparel.

  As she descended the stairs she recalled requesting Abbot fetch a riding habit. She paused, frowning down at the grey silk. Had she changed her mind? She wished her head was clearer. Although she craved the oblivion the syrup gave her she hated the way it clouded her intellect, making it difficult to think.

  She hesitated, debating whether she should go back and change. Did she really wish to ride? She shook her head the gesture almost causing her to fall. No, it would be foolish to ride out as she was. It would be best to wait until the afternoon. She usually felt fully restored by then. She continued down trying to remember what it was she wished to discuss with Richard, but it eluded her. Perhaps after she had eaten it would come back.

  Yardley, waiting in the vast, cold entrance hall, bowed and silently held out a salver upon which was a letter sealed with a blob of red wax. Allegra took it, not recognizing the bold black scrawl on the front. Surprised the missive was addressed to her, not her brother she took it straight to the window to open. There were no flowery greetings, no commonplace remarks.

  It stated simply;

  Lady Allegra Humphry

  I shall be arriving at noon today. I shall require two apartments prepared.

  Respectfully yours,

  Jago Tremayne Esq.

  Her eyes blurred and she blinked furiously, such weakness should never be revealed in front of one’s staff.

  ‘Have Wright attend me immediately. I shall be in the small-drawing room.’ The butler turned to go but she called him back. ‘Yardley, has Lord Witherton returned?’

  ‘Yes, my lady, he is in the breakfast parlour with the captain.’

  The thought of food nauseated her, but if she wished to speak to her brother she would have to join him. She sincerely hoped his head was clearer than hers. It seemed that they were not to be allowed even the promised two weeks grace to put their shattered lives in order. For in less than two hours the new owner of their beloved home was coming to take up residence.

  Chapter Three

  Richard dropped. his fork ‘Good God! Gideon, are you beef witted?’

  Captain Pledger’s eyes darkened and his fists clenched under the table cloth. ‘Why not, Richard? My pedigree�
�s impeccable and that’s of more importance to your sister than whether I am purse pinched, surely?’

  ‘Well, I wish you luck, but don’t be surprised if you receive a scaly reception.’ The rattle of crockery alerted Gideon to the fact that they were no longer private.

  ‘Is Lady Allegra down yet?’

  The young footman bowed. ‘I’ll go and enquire, your grace.’ He returned with the news that she was with the housekeeper.

  ‘I’ve a damnable headache, Gideon. I had far too much brandy last night and far too little sleep. I’ll stretch out in the study for an hour so; maybe I’ll feel more the thing later.’

  Gideon watched his friend stroll, yawning and rubbing his eyes, from the breakfast parlour. Everything seemed so easy for him, even the possibility of penury and eviction slipped over him leaving him unscathed. Witherton appeared to believe a solution to this problem would be presented to him on a silver platter. It always had, so why should it be any different now?

  He scowled at the injustices of life. He had deliberately befriended Richard when he had first arrived at school. It had been a lucrative move, over the years his friend had supplied him with funds that had been more than enough to allow him to live above the modest income of a servingcaptain in the Royal Horse Artillery.

  Now his finances would be in ruins. This month’s gambling debts and mess bill were already double his expected income. His lips curled in a thin smile. If he could persuade Lady Allegra to marry him, he would get his hands on the Witherton jewels. He had seen her wearing a sapphire and diamond parterre at her come-out ball several years ago worth a king’s ransom.

  The sale of those jewels alone would set him up nicely, but first he had to convince the lady his offer was the solution to her problems. He pushed his chair back and surveyed his reflection fragmented in the window panes. He had dressed with care. His navy regimental jacket was spotless, the gold braid that ran from shoulder to waist shining brightly. His blue trousers, with their bright red seam, were carefully pressed and they hung, as they should, over his black polished boots. He had only to arrange his pelisse, with its black fur lining, over his left shoulder and he would be ready. What woman would be able to resist him in his finest regimentals?