To Marry a Duke

by Fenella J Miller

  ‘Sweetheart, I think it best if we go in; we appear to have an audience.’

  Demelza glanced round, unconcerned, and smiled at the gawping gardeners. ‘Good; now I am thoroughly compromised Papa will have to agree.’

  ‘Hoyden! Have you no shame?’

  ‘None at all,’ she giggled. ‘I suppose you must speak to my father, ask his permission to address me?’

  Richard’s cheeks coloured and he took her arm to cover his embarrassment. ‘Indeed I must, and it would seem to be a matter of some urgency to do so.’

  *

  Demelza left her betrothed under the magnificent oriel windows that dominated the face of the ancient section of the Priory. She ran upstairs to share her news in a letter to her bosom bow, Lucy Carstairs. All thought of breakfast forgotten in her excitement. Lucy would be so jealous that she had not been the first to find herself a husband.

  She was so happy. She had stepped into the pages of one of her favourite romance novels. She was the beautiful heroine who had been swept off her feet by a handsome prince to live her life, happily ever after, in a castle. Admittedly her future husband was only a duke, but he was as handsome as any prince - indeed a great deal better looking than the overweight Regent she had once seen a picture of in Ackerman’s Repository - and her intended did live in a castle. Well, almost a castle, and if it only had two towers and a gatehouse, at least it was ancient. All heroes dwelt in ancient houses, of that, she was quite certain.

  She ran her tongue along her still tingling lips and delicious warmth spread through her limbs.

  Lucy would hardly credit the news that scarcely three weeks after leaving the hated seminary for ever, her best friend had become affianced to a duke and received her first real kiss.

  She picked up her skirts and twirled around, laughing out loud with happiness. When finally exhausted and giddy she ceased, it was to find two young footmen grinning at her quite rudely. She had not noticed them removing one of the dark brown portraits from the wall of the blue gallery. She chose to ignore them and stalked past with her nose in the air, praying her father never learnt of her outrageous behaviour.

  *

  Richard paused outside the study, took a deep steadying breath, and knocked over loudly.Tremayne invited him to enter.

  ‘Ahh, Witherton, how can I be of assistance?’

  Richard was not invited to be seated. ‘I have come to ask your permission to address Miss Tremayne.’

  ‘The devil you have! Good God, man, you’ve only known her five minutes.’

  ‘It’s long enough, sir, to know our affections are engaged.’ He felt sick. This was not how the interview was supposed to go. He hurried on, hoping to remove the look of disapproval from his future father-in-law’s face. ‘In fact, sir, I’ve already asked Miss Tremayne to marry me and she has done me the honour of accepting.’

  Tremayne’s basilisk glare did not bode well. His silence was unnerving. Richard stumbled on. ‘This is what you wanted, sir, what we agreed. I cannot understand why you look so grim. This is good news, surely?’

  Tremayne slowly pushed back his chair and strode round to stand barely a yard away. Richard had to restrain himself from reversing; he would not allow himself to be intimidated. He straightened his shoulders and tilted his head to stare directly at him, refusing to back down

  ‘I hardly think such a precipitate move is good news, but I’m prepared to be convinced. Explain yourself, Witherton.’

  Richard stumbled through an account of what had taken place. When he finished Tremayne shook his head as if baffled. Then he laughed and the tension between them vanished.

  ‘She’s the image of her mother, you know, Witherton, but is like me in personality. I, too, make impulsive decisions, but I’ve never lived to regret them. Let us hope my daughter does not do so either.’

  The threat behind his jovial words was not lost on Richard. ‘I have already given you my word. I’ll not let you down, sir; I believe I’m more than ready to take on the mantle of responsibility that marriage entails.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. However, I’m not giving my permission now; I wish to think about it. No, don’t look so dispirited; I’m not saying no, after all it was my idea to forge a union between you in the first place. All I’m saying is I’ll not allow your betrothal to be official until I’m sure Demelza is happy.’

  Richard nodded. ‘Very well, sir. I can understand your reservations. How long will you require to make this decision?’

  Tremayne shrugged. ‘I’ll extend your departure date until the middle of May. At that point I shall either ask you to leave or confirm your engagement to my daughter.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Tremayne. Are you going to explain matters to Miss Tremayne, or shall I?’

  ‘I shall. See that you don’t overstep the bounds of propriety. I don’t wish my daughter’s reputation damaged in any way. I hope I make myself clear?’

  Richard fingered his neck cloth nervously. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll leave you to your papers. Pray excuse me.’

  He was shaking when he left the study. He dreaded to imagine his next encounter with Tremayne when it became clear that his passionate embrace, the only aspect of the morning’s events he had refrained from sharing, had been witnessed by half the outdoor staff.

  He needed to clear his head, sort out his strategy for dealing with Demelza’s formidable father. If he couldn’t meet him without quaking like a blanc-manger he could imagine what his life would be like in the future. He would have to go cap in hand for every penny, be for ever begging his pardon and asking his permission. He couldn’t live like that.

  If this marriage was to be successful, or even go ahead, he had to prove he was not a bacon-brained Johnny Raw, but a competent young man, well able to manage his estates and provide for a wife and family.

  *

  Allegra watched her brother, bounding across the turf of the inner courtyard to the stables, from her sitting room window. Something, or someone, had obviously disturbed him. She looked at the mantel clock; time for her appointment to the library with Tremayne. She was also intending to ride as soon as she was free so had dressed in her royal-blue habit.

  With her gloves and whip in one hand and her skirts held up in the other, she hurried down for the meeting. The library door was open but, unlike her brother, she had no intention of knocking when entering any room in the Priory. This was her home until she left, whatever the legalities of the matter.

  Tremayne was waiting for her. ‘Good morning, Lady Allegra, I have a document I would like to read to you.’

  ‘I presume it is on the same subject as my brother’s?’

  ‘Yes, it is. Would you care to be seated?’

  ‘No, thank you, I’m not staying. Please give me the paper; I am quite capable of reading it for myself.’

  She held out a hand and to her surprise he picked up the parchment and placed it on her palm. His hand brushed against hers. She flinched at the contact and snatched back her arm.

  ‘I take it you require me to sign this in front of Evans?’ He nodded. ‘What time is he expected, sir?’

  ‘At noon.’

  ‘Then I shall return with the document fully scrutinized, at that time. Now I am going to ride down to the creek; it is too fine a day to remain indoors.’

  The hand he had touched still felt unpleasantly hot, as if she had placed it too close to the fire. In the hall she spotted the butler. ‘Yardley, have this taken up to my apartment.’

  ‘Yes, my lady. Will you require a nuncheon to be served today?’

  ‘I shall breakfast when I return, but if neither Miss Murrell nor Miss Tremayne come down before noon then, yes, have a cold collation served.’

  The gallop across the marshes, her long-suffering groom struggling to keep pace, added colour to her cheeks and gave her the appetite she needed before facing any meal. She ate sparingly, as usual, and her plate was half full when she left the table.

  Richard met her in the hall. ‘I’ve been searc
hing for you, Allegra. I must talk to you. Come into the small drawing-room, we can be private there.’

  ‘Well, Richard, what is troubling you?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m to be congratulated. I have asked Demelza to marry me and she has accepted.’

  Stunned, she reached out to grip a convenient chair back. ‘Good heavens, you have only known her for a day? How can you be so…so foolhardy?’

  He smiled. ‘I love her. I knew it the moment I set eyes on her and she feels the same way.’

  ‘But she is little more than a child - what can she know about love between two adults?’

  ‘She’s seventeen; many girls are married even younger. I consider her age no drawback.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Tremayne?’

  ‘Of course I have, he’s happy, in principle, but won’t give his permission for our engagement to become official until the middle of next month.’

  ‘I see. But we are to leave here in two weeks…’

  ‘No, we’re to stay until he has decided. If he agrees then we stay, obviously, if not, we leave.’

  ‘In which case, Richard, I shall also reserve judgement. I wish you to be happy, and if Miss Tremayne is essential to achieve this end, so be it. I shall offer no objections if her father gives his permission. She is a charming girl. Not what I would have chosen, but you will not be the first man to marry out of his station when his affections are engaged.’ She carefully refrained from mentioning money: it would be too vulgar.

  ‘Thank you. I’m content with that. You wait and see, Allegra, you’ll realize Demelza and I are meant for each other.’

  They embraced fondly and she resumed her journey upstairs. Before changing she spied the roll of parchment awaiting her attention. She had better read it; no doubt Tremayne wished to make sure she agreed to leave without a fuss. Tossing her hat, gloves and whip onto a chair she removed the ribbon and unrolled the document.

  She scanned the neatly scribed words and after a few lines her stomach somersaulted and for a minute she forgot to breathe. The words danced before her eyes. She read again, refusing to accept what she saw. How dare he? How could he suggest such a match?

  She recalled her unkind words to Captain Pledger. Was she being punished for her cruelty? She felt a suffocating pressure on her chest and perspiration beaded her forehead. Her heart raced and she believed she was dying, suffering an apoplexy. She closed her eyes and prayed, asking God’s forgiveness and waited for death to claim her.

  However, as she relaxed, her pulse steadied and the weight lifted, and slowly she regained her faculties and was able to open her eyes. Was she being granted a miracle? Being spared for some higher purpose? As air returned to her system the effects of her panic receded and her brain began to function more rationally. Her sudden illness was a result of shock and her recovery a natural progression, and no divine intention had been involved.

  Smiling at her fantastical imagination she sat considering the import of what she had read. There was something moving just outside her understanding, something she knew was relevant, but she could not quite grasp it.

  She sat bolt upright. Good heavens! When she had told Tremayne she knew the contents of the document as it was similar to Richard’s he had looked surprised. Of course he had! Her brother had, for the first time in his life, deceived her. He had lied about the agreement; it would appear that he was also being coerced into marriage. How could he pretend to love the poor child? Was he so desperate to save his heritage and provide for his sister he would marry without love?

  She leant back and closed her eyes, trying to marshal her chaotic thoughts. Her father had killed himself rather than live without the Priory, so marrying to save it was surely a better option?

  Was this why Tremayne was withholding his permission, did it all depend on her? She read the rest and discovered she was right. If she refused to marry him then Richard could not have Demelza. Were they both to be sacrificed for the sake of their heritage? She sighed - then so be it. She could not allow Richard to be the only one to suffer.

  Idly she scanned the last paragraph. Her mouth curved. She had not taken Tremayne to be a stupid man but this clause proved she was incorrect. She had her escape. It was going to be easy

  to force him to retract his offer. All she had to do was appear even colder, more haughty and treat him with disdain and contempt. He was a proud man; he would surely refuse to marry her, however much he desired her, if he knew she despised him.

  She smiled mischievously. If that failed she could arrange to have him taken by the press gang. One way or another she would make sure he was not at the ceremony. Knowing she would never actually be forced to share his bed she was quite content to go downstairs and sign the man’s wretched document.

  She paused, then picked up the parchment and reread the clause to confirm she had it clear. Yes, it did state that if any party failed to turn up on the date specified for the wedding, things would change. If a Tremayne reneged, the estate would be returned, intact and free from mortgage, to Richard. If a Humphry did so, they would be forced to leave the Priory, penniless, without even the family jewels.

  Reassured, she walked towards her bedchamber where Abbot waited to help her wash and change. She was still puzzled Richard believed he had to pretend he was in love with Miss Tremayne. Anyway, all that was irrelevant, they would have the estate back and neither of them would be obliged to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Papa, I have explained what happened. I offered for Lord Witherton first.’

  ‘But why, Demelza? If you agree to marry Witherton you will not have a season. I had already arranged for you to be sent vouchers for Almack’s and they were not easy to come by I can assure you.’

  ‘I should have hated it, Papa. All that simpering and curtsying and knowing everyone thinks me vulgar and that I’m only there because you’ve bribed a patroness.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Good God! How do you know about such things? You’ve only been out of the seminary a few weeks.’

  She giggled. ‘This was the main topic of conversation, or one of them. I was never part of the inner circle; that was reserved for the titled and wellborn girls regardless of their financial status. Lucy and I were tolerated because of our enormous wealth and so learned all about the rules and expectations of the haut ton, and also the names and ranks of all the eligible parti available this season.’

  He stared at his daughter. She might be only seventeen but was wise beyond her years. ‘So you would know about Witherton?’

  ‘No, he was never mentioned. I imagine this was because he has been out of Town for more than a year.’ She smiled winningly at her father. ‘You will give your permission for Lord Witherton and I to become betrothed?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ve told him you must spend more time together, get to know each other better, and if after four weeks you’re both of the same mind, then you shall have my blessing.’

  She opened her mouth to protest but saw the set of his jaw and decided against it. ‘We’ll not change our minds, Papa. We are in love. Although it can affect a person instantly it does not make it any less durable than a love that grows over time.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re right, my dear. But remember I shall expect you to behave with decorum at all times. You will not walk out with Witherton again unchaperoned, is that understood?’

  She dropped her head, but her face suffused with guilty colour. ‘Of course. May we ride together?’

  ‘Yes; however I would prefer it if Lady Allegra were to accompany you. Otherwise Miss Murrell must be at your side.’

  He watched his only child hurry from the room, obviously agitated. Was she hiding something from him? He rang the bell, waiting impatiently for a footman to appear. ‘Ask Miss Murrell to join me here.’

  He walked back and forth the library deep in thought. Today was turning out to be full of surprises and he was not overly fond of them. He heard light-footsteps heading towards him and knew La
dy Allegra’s middle-aged companion was arriving.

  ‘Pray come in, Miss Murrell. Take a seat.’

  Miss Murrell sat, her plum coloured, heavy damask gown settling around her neatly shod feet. ‘How can I be of service, sir?’

  He nodded. Sensible woman - she did not prevaricate. ‘I would like to ask you to be Miss Tremayne’s companion. Would you be prepared to take the position if Lady Allegra is agreeable?’

  ‘Lady Allegra has already spoken to me about such a possibility. As she is now five and twenty she considers she no longer needs a chaperon, but she is wrong. Unmarried ladies always require a female companion. It is expected.’

  He was confused. ‘Are you saying that you are not available to take on Miss Tremayne as well?’

  Miss Murrell beamed. ‘No, Mr Tremayne. I shall be delighted to act in that capacity for your daughter as long as you realize my first duty is to Lady Allegra. I have been here since she was a little girl. I was companion to the duchess first.’

  ‘That’s acceptable; I must take you into my confidence, Miss Murrell. Lord Witherton and my daughter wish to become affianced. I have told them they must wait until the middle of May for my decision. I wish them to be chaperoned at all times until then.’

  ‘Naturally you do, sir. A young lady’s reputation is to be protected like a precious jewel.’

  ‘I’m glad we understand each other. I’m sure you do not wish to discuss remuneration with me. I shall have Evans talk to you later, if that’s acceptable?’

  Miss Murrell rose, and curtsied politely. ‘Thank you, Mr Tremayne. That is most considerate of you. I have arranged for the mantua-maker to come from Colchester this morning. She’s an excellent seamstress and makes all Lady Allegra’s gowns. Although the gowns Miss Tremayne has been given fit very well they are somewhat outmoded. A young lady in her position should be a la mode, as I am sure you would agree, sir. So if you will excuse me.’

  Jago stared out of the window, his brow creased. How could he have been so thoughtless as to place his daughter in the position of having to borrow garments? He should have noticed Demelza was unfashionably dressed, that she had only her school apparel to wear.