The Duke's Daughter

by Sasha Cottman

  ‘When we made the crossing, it took us all day to reach the cottage. Mind you, the weather was milder than at this time of year. The cottage, if I recall correctly, is a mile or so on the other side of that wood.’

  She looked up at the sky.

  ‘We picked a good day to be out travelling; with luck we should make it well before nightfall.’

  Avery screwed up his nose. He had been in the oddest of moods all day, unable to point a finger to the reason why. In the end he put it down to having to face the duke and duchess again.

  ‘Papa wanted to wait until nightfall to see if Alex and David could navigate their way to the cottage by the stars. We had to wait out here in the open until the sun went behind the mountain. It was unbelievably cold.’

  ‘And did they?’ he replied. The Duke of Strathmore certainly had an interesting way of teaching his children life skills.

  ‘Yes, they worked together and we made it safely to the cottage. Do you like Alex and David?’ she replied.

  He nodded. He was not judging her brothers. Assessing other men’s strengths and weaknesses was something which had been instilled in him early during his army career.

  ‘You have no idea how much I admire and respect the pair of them. For all the advantages that they have had in their lives, they are both very much aware and considerate of others less fortunate than them. They are the sort of men Thaxter should have aspired to become.’

  Lucy walked back to where Avery stood. She gave him a reassuring slap on his upper arm.

  ‘And which you already are.’

  They finally reached the travellers’ cottage in the late afternoon. As it came into view, Lucy clapped with delight.

  ‘I’ve found it!’ she exclaimed. Pride rang in her voice.

  Avery stopped beside her.

  ‘Well done, Lucy. And you didn’t need your father or brothers to help you.’

  Once inside the tiny cottage, he felt the sharp edge of his anxiety dull a little. They had made it to safety for the night. They would not be left to stumble around in the dark on the dangerous mountain.

  ‘Do they still have wolves in Scotland?’ he asked.

  ‘Not that I am aware of; well, not in these parts.’

  She began to laugh. ‘Is that what you have been scared of all day? I wondered why you kept looking over your shoulder. And why you had the rifle primed with shot. I think you were in greater danger from drowning in the fens than getting eaten by some hairy mountain beastie,’ she chuckled.

  He put the travel bag down on the rough wooden table which sat just inside the door. Truth be told, he had been concerned about wild animals. After the incident on the hunting trip, he wasn’t certain he could handle the rifle well enough to protect them if they had come under attack.

  ‘Mind you, the wild boars are a different story. We shall have to watch out for them as we reach the lower parts of the mountain. They are not the friendliest of creatures and are prone to attack without warning,’ she added.

  Avery quickly set about building a fire in the hearth, all the while trying to forget Lucy’s warning about wild boars. He cursed himself for not having bought a replacement bayonet for the rifle.

  The pot of stew had travelled well and they were soon seated at the small table in front of the fire, sharing a hot meal.

  ‘So how does this hut, in the middle of nowhere, come to be stocked with dry wood and bedding?’ Avery asked.

  ‘Travellers cross the mountain quite regularly. The villagers make sure that anyone who happens to get caught on the mountain doesn’t freeze to death. If anyone stays here, they let the steward at the castle know how much wood they have used and how much is left. Several times a year a working party comes up and makes sure the building is still weatherproof and there is a good supply of cut firewood and straw.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘What for?’ she replied.

  He pursed his lips. ‘I doubted your ability to get us here today. I spent most of the day waiting for you to give up and ask me to take the lead.’

  She smiled and, leaning over, gave him a forgiving kiss on the lips.

  ‘I know. And I also know it must have driven you half mad to follow a spoiled young miss all day, but you did it. I am proud of you. Many other men would have refused.’

  ‘I think I may have said this more than once, but you are not a spoiled young miss. Some day you are going to have to accept that I was angry when I said that to you in the garden and forgive me.’

  She slipped a hand inside his shirt, touching the soft hairs on his chest. ‘I may be more amenable to forgiveness if you give me the right reasons.’

  He glanced over at the small bed in the corner of the room and all worries of wild Scottish animals left his mind.

  ‘I forgot to bring the salt,’ Lucy said.

  Avery glanced at his pocket watch and put it down as Lucy placed a bowl of steaming hot porridge in front of him. Though it pained his Yorkshire-bred self to admit it, he had developed a liking for Scottish oats. Although, much as he understood the need for porridge to be made to the peculiar recipe favoured by the Scots, the compulsion to add salt had thus far escaped him.

  ‘Avery?’ she said, taking a seat opposite him.

  He lifted his head and smiled as his gaze took in the face he had grown fond of over the past few weeks.

  Lovely.

  It had been a long time since he had walked as far as they had the previous day. But with Lucy lying sated in his arms in the early hours of the morning, he had not felt the least fatigued. Her willingness to give herself so completely to him in their bed left him feeling a calm he had never known before.

  ‘Yes?’ he replied.

  She pointed to the pocket watch.

  ‘I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I was thinking . . .’

  He stilled. Even the mere mention of the watch left him wary. Until Lucy, he had kept the watch’s existence secret from all but Major Barrett. Upon discovering the pocket watch among his possessions at Rokewood Park, he had been gripped by the overwhelming compulsion to hide it away.

  It was his own shameful secret.

  And yet he sensed Lucy was the one person who could truly understand how much the ill-gained timepiece troubled him.

  When she held out her hand, he gave it to her. A sense of foreboding crept slowly into his mind. What was she planning?

  Taking the watch, she sat it on the table midpoint between them.

  ‘This,’ she began and tapped the table, ‘will always stand between us.’

  He frowned. Was she jealous of a piece of metal? He forced the preposterous notion from his mind. ‘I don’t understand,’ he replied.

  ‘No, I don’t expect you do. You see, I think you are blind to the effect it has on you. Of how much you diminish when you take hold of it.’

  The words of denial burned on Avery’s lips. What did Lucy know of such things? How could she know it made him feel less of a man every single time he looked at it? How much he resented it?

  Damn.

  For one who had lived her entire existence with wealth and privilege, Lucy possessed an uncanny ability to read others. He could say whatever he wished about the pocket watch, but her eyes told him she understood a great deal more of the truth than he had already revealed to her.

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  She had to have something in mind. This was Lucy. She always had something simmering away in that brain of hers. A brain whose sharpness he was increasingly beginning to appreciate.

  She softly folded her fingers together.

  ‘One night when I sat up alone at the Key, I took the watch and I opened the back of it. Did you know that there is a name engraved inside?’

  A flush of surprise mixed with anger coursed through Avery’s brain. Without asking and without his knowledge, Lucy had taken his treasured possession and pulled it apart.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that; I haven’t,’ he growled.

&nb
sp; She sat back in the chair for a moment. A strange expression, which he could not place, crossed her face before she suddenly leaned forward and slammed her clenched fists down on the table.

  ‘No! I am not going to just sit here and silently accept what that thing does to you every time you hold it. Sit idly by as it consumes you.’

  Avery closed his eyes.

  Lucy knew exactly what the watch was, and what it did to him. Her perceptiveness hit him like a hard slap to the face. He opened his eyes to see Lucy wiping a tear from her cheek.

  ‘If there is anything I can do to help free you from this burden, then as your wife it is my duty to do so,’ she added.

  She spoke of duty and concern, but his heart told him there was much more to Lucy’s words. More than either of them were prepared to admit. They had come some way to a mutual understanding of one another. Yet Lucy, the open book, was able to read him better than he could read her.

  She had him at a disadvantage. Having spent her whole life in a boisterous and loving family, she was equipped with strategic social skills he could only dream of possessing. While he was busy sizing people up for their weaknesses, Lucy was looking for ways to be their friend.

  ‘I know this make of watch; my cousin William has a Vacheron. Avery, you need to get rid of it. We need to go to Paris.’

  ‘Paris?’

  ‘Yes. The name in the back is P Rochet. If we can discover the full name of the watch’s previous owner from the watchmaker, we may be able to return it to his family,’ Lucy replied.

  Avery saw the light which shone in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the pain he felt in his tightly constricted chest.

  He had never seriously considered the idea of trying to rid himself of the watch. There had been many long, guilt-ridden nights during which he had prayed he had never set eyes on it. But to willingly relinquish possession of his ill-fortuned talisman filled him with dread.

  How could he face the family of the French soldier, knowing he had killed their son? Worse still was the almost suffocating fear that once he was free of the watch, he might remain unchanged. His sense of honour would not be restored.

  ‘William is resident in Paris. I’m certain he will be more than willing to assist us. He has many contacts in the city.’

  Avery did not find that part of the plan at all to his liking. William had been the one Lucy was going to seek sanctuary with if their divorce had gone ahead. He didn’t relish the kind of welcome he would likely receive from Lucy’s cousin.

  ‘It’s all right, Avery. William is a good man; he won’t pass judgement on what has happened between us. To be honest, I expect he will take to you with a glad heart, knowing he won’t have to live with me under his roof for an intolerable number of years.’

  Avery picked up his spoon and scooped up some of the cooling porridge. After taking a bite, he sat rolling the oats around on his tongue, unwilling to swallow them lest he choke. Lucy’s words had him at a loss. He had only begun to get comfortable with the concept of having a wife. Now she wanted to travel with him to France and help him relinquish his ownership of the pocket watch.

  Finally he forced the porridge down his throat.

  ‘I’m not sure that is such a good idea,’ he replied.

  Lucy huffed in frustration. ‘Why? What are you not telling me?’

  Avery rubbed his forehead. How could he put his fears into words? Lucy held a higher opinion of him than he did of himself, but it was he who had to live within his own skin. He looked at the pocket watch before finally forcing himself to meet her gaze.

  ‘Because I’m a bloody coward, that’s why. I cast up my accounts on the side of the mountain because I was too scared to go and look at a dead deer. How on earth do you think I will be able to face the family of the man I killed?’

  ‘Because I will be standing beside you when you do. You just have to find your soldier’s spirit again. Or is there something else you haven’t told me?’ Lucy replied.

  Avery sighed. She was going to drag it out of him piece by piece.

  ‘You of all people should know I’m not good at dealing with others. I was a soldier for many years, but until I had to fight for my life that day, I had never fought hand-to-hand combat. As a sniper I was always away from the real heat of conflict. Even though I was killing the enemy, it was at a distance. I didn’t see them up close as they died. At the end I saw the Frenchman die and it haunts me every day.’

  Lucy pursed her lips. He could see that she now understood the reason for his reluctance.

  ‘All the more reason for us to go to France. You cannot spend the rest of your life avoiding the matter; I won’t let you,’ she replied.

  Lucy would not be denied. Whether it was now or in ten years, she would see to it that they made the trip across the English Channel and sought out the Rochet family. She was adamant the watch had to go.

  ‘All right; we should go to Paris,’ he relented.

  He was a military man, and military men were easy targets for logic and reason. Everything that Lucy proposed made crystal-clear sense. He needed to free himself of this burden. Apart from making travel arrangements and securing funds from Lord Strathmore, there was nothing to stop them leaving as soon as possible.

  Much as it seemed a hastily planned errand, he knew they must not delay. If he remained in Scotland, the watch would prey on his mind, and he would likely lose his nerve.

  Lucy reached out and took hold of Avery’s damaged hand, raising it to her lips. It was only a matter of days ago that he would not have let her touch his hand without it being hidden in a glove. Now he no longer felt the need to hide from her.

  ‘Good, then let’s be on our way,’ she replied.

  She got up from the table and began to busy about their belongings. Within minutes she had packed all their clothing and only the breakfast dishes remained. There was a definite sense of victory in her demeanour.

  ‘We can wash them in the brook which flows just the other side of the woods. There is a stone bridge not far from here,’ she said.

  Avery grabbed the bowls and piled them inside the small iron pot. He headed down to the water to scrub the pot clean. When he saw the so-called brook he laughed. It was a roaring torrent. Trust the Scots to think a river such as this was only a small trickle.

  As he dipped his hands in the icy water, he paused for a moment.

  His life had changed so irrevocably since the last time he had sat by a stream and washed out his army meal kit. The years he had lived this way now seemed so foreign. Another life, another man.

  Lucy’s cheery Gaelic halò had him looking up. She walked with a spring in her step, oblivious to the light rain which fell. The water beaded on her woollen cloak and ran down in small veins. Small trailing ringlets of her hair escaped from under her Scottish blue bonnet.

  My bonnie girl.

  He turned away from her, stunned by the shock of thinking such words about his wife. Every day she got deeper under his skin. The emotions he felt were no longer just those which came from a sense of duty. Odd and unknown.

  Was it possible he could be falling in love with her?

  Lucy dropped Avery’s travel bag on the river bank, and climbed down to meet him at the water’s edge. She pulled out the water flask from the pack and plunged it into the water.

  ‘A wee bit nippy for a swim I would say; what a pity,’ she said.

  He shook his head. Lucy was a constant source of amazement.

  ‘Can you actually swim?’ he replied.

  She gave him a half-disgusted look.

  ‘Yes. Though not in this water; I doubt it ever gets warm enough up here to venture in for a dip. We tend to swim in the loch lower down in the valley.’

  They gathered up the rest of their belongings and, after closing up the hut, continued on. By mid-morning they were clear of the mountain and could discern the outline of Strathmore Castle in the distance. They crossed over to the road and quickly began to make good time.

  ‘Wha
t do you think your parents will say when we tell them about France?’ Avery ventured.

  Lucy stopped.

  ‘Considering how things were between you and me before we went up the mountain, I would suggest my mother will be more than happy to know we are travelling to France together. Don’t be surprised if she has us packed and on our way before the day is out.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lucy wasn’t far off the mark; within a matter of days she and Avery were on their way to France. They travelled first to London to arrange funds. Before leaving for Dover, they called in to see the Saunders family, who promptly loaded them up with letters and gifts to give to William. Eve pressed upon Lucy the need to convince her brother to return to England.

  They sailed with the evening tide to Calais just over a week after they had arrived back at Strathmore Castle. As the ship sailed away from the dock, Lucy gave a huge sigh of relief. Avery had said little while they were in London, and she was in constant fear that he would get cold feet and attempt to cry off the trip. She dreaded the row that would follow if he did. They were going to France even if she had to haul him on board the ship.

  Avery had taken to carrying the watch with him. Pulling it out of his jacket every so often, briefly examining it and then putting it away again. Standing beside him on the ship’s deck, she could see the movement of Avery’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed what appeared to be a large lump in his throat.

  ‘Would you like to go below deck?’ she asked.

  ‘No. I’m fine up here. The last time I sailed out of England, I left from Southampton. The view here is a little more interesting.’

  He turned to her and took her by the hand.

  ‘And it’s nice to be travelling with someone. No matter what happens in Paris, I shall always be grateful that you convinced me to undertake this journey. And especially grateful that you came with me.’

  They stood on the ship’s deck watching as the crew hauled in the lines while the first mate bellowed his orders.

  It was raining heavily the afternoon they finally reached Paris. Introductory visits to the duke’s banker and connections would have to wait until at least the following morning when, with luck, the weather would clear.