The Illegitimate Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  Chapter 20

  Juliette paced back and forth in the parlor while Gabriella looked on. She was agitated for numerous reasons, the least important one being Florian’s response to her declaration of affection and his subsequent departure from London.

  “She should have arrived an hour ago,” she said in reference to Vivien, who still remained absent. “It is unlike her to break an appointment like this without sending word.”

  “Calm yourself, Juliette, or you will wear a hole in the carpet.” Gabriella poured some tea into Juliette’s recently emptied cup. “Come sit with me for a while. I am sure there must be a reasonable explanation.”

  Like the possibility of Vivien succumbing to any number of accidents on her way over. “Perhaps we should send someone to inquire about her?” Juliette dropped down onto her chair and reached for her tea. It was remarkably soothing.

  Gabriella frowned. “You are not the sort to expect the worst without cause, making me wonder if there might not be some other reason for this mood you’re in. Especially since I feel it began last night after you returned from the ladies’ retiring room at the theater.”

  Blast her sister-in-law’s observational skills. “I banged my toes on a door by accident if you’ll recall.” At least that was the explanation she’d given for the peevishness she’d exuded upon returning to the Huntley box.

  “Because it could not possibly have had anything to do with a run-in with Florian. Could it?”

  Stripped of all ability to speak, Juliette simply gaped at Gabriella.

  Eventually, the duchess took pity. “I saw him arguing with someone in one of the opposite boxes and when he left, so did you. Meeting him in the hallway would have been inevitable, whether you intended to do so or not.”

  “Did Raphe notice?” She didn’t want her brother to figure out what she’d been up to. If he did, he might encourage a courtship that Florian, at least, would be very opposed to.

  “I think you would have known by now if he did. But, you were gone for a very long time, so I do feel I ought to address the issue, delicate as it may be.” She watched Juliette with careful consideration before asking, “Did he take liberties with you?”

  Giving the carpet her full attention, Juliette shook her head.

  “Very well. Allow me to rephrase that. Did you give him leave to do anything that might be construed as scandalous or ruinous?” Juliette’s gaze snapped onto Gabriella’s, conveying everything her sister-in-law needed to know. “I see.”

  “Not that it matters. The wretched man does not want me, and since there were no witnesses, no harm was truly done.” Except to her heart which remained in ruins.

  Gabriella stared at her for a moment and then, to her amazement, she laughed. “I am sorry, Juliette, for I know this is no laughing matter, but either Florian is completely ignorant of his own feelings or determined to ignore them.” All traces of humor vanished as she turned completely serious. “Either way, he has been dishonest, for which I shall have to chastise him later. It is obvious to everyone with an ounce of common sense that he is mad about you.”

  “Perhaps, but not in the way I want him to be.”

  “In every way, I assure you.” Gabriella reached for Juliette’s hand. “I have known him most of my life, Juliette, and I have never see him look at another woman the way he looks at you. Rest assured, his feelings for you run deep, which may be why he is so determined to resist your charms. If he is like most men I know, he is likely terrified of the impact you’re having on his otherwise orderly life.”

  It was possible, though Juliette was reluctant to let herself hope. She’d experienced too much disappointment lately to start asking for more.

  “Ladies,” Pierson said upon entering the room and distracting them from the subject at hand. “The Dowager Duchess of Tremaine has come to call. Shall I tell her that you are at home?”

  “By all means, show her in.” Gabriella turned to Juliette as soon as Pierson had quit the room. “I believe she must be here to see you more than me. Would you rather I take myself off to another part of the house so you can speak with her in private?”

  “Only if she says she would like to address me alone. If not, I see no reason why you should not stay and enjoy the rest of your tea with us.”

  Viola entered immediately after Juliette had finished whispering to Gabriella. She stood at once and welcomed the young woman into her brother’s parlor. “Are you acquainted with my sister-in-law, the Duchess of Huntley?” she asked Viola with a glance toward Gabriella.

  “Regrettably not,” Viola said. “My lack of participation in social events has prevented me from making anyone’s acquaintance. It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

  Gabriella smiled. “Likewise, Your Grace.”

  Try as she might, Juliette could not refrain from laughing. “Excuse me, but can we not permit ourselves to be less formal? We are friends and family if only recently introduced, and if I am to listen to you two Your Grace-ing each other for the remainder of the afternoon, I will likely succumb to a permanent bout of giggles.”

  Viola grinned. “I quite agree.” She looked at Gabriella. “If you will permit?”

  “Of course. Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Gabriella Matthews.”

  “And I am Viola Cartwright.”

  “A pleasure,” Gabriella said. She indicated a nearby armchair. “Please join us for some refreshment.”

  Thanking her, Viola sank down onto the proffered seat and watched while Gabriella poured the tea. “With Florian away at the moment, I thought I’d stop by and give you an update on how things are going at the hospital.” She reached for a biscuit, took a bite and set it aside on her plate. “In addition to purchasing the quarantine ship and stocking it with supplies, the funds you raised have enabled me to hire two new physicians and three nurses, which is especially helpful now that Blaire’s no longer with us.”

  “He wasn’t very loyal,” Juliette said. “His decision to leave when he did may very well have harmed a great many people in the process.”

  “Ah.” Viola sipped her tea and turned her gray eyes on her. “So you have been apprised of the situation. I was not sure Florian would manage to speak with you before leaving town.”

  “I believe he did so last night,” Gabriella murmured. There was mischief in her gaze accompanied by the knowledge of what had transpired the previous evening at the opera.

  Juliette blushed while Viola assessed her with an inquisitive stare. “I see.” She paused for a moment, took another sip of her tea, then said, “You need not worry, Juliette. He will be quite all right, I assure you.”

  Realizing her anxiety must be painted all over her face, Juliette could only ask, “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because he is the best physician there is.” She paused before asking, “Did he ever tell you how he contracted typhus?”

  Thinking back, Juliette realized he hadn’t. She shook her head. “No.”

  Viola paused for a second. “He witnessed the devastation wrought on Napoleon’s troops when he invaded Russia, and, in his efforts to save some of those men, Florian caught the disease himself.”

  “He helped Napoleon’s army?” Juliette leaned forward, eager to learn more.

  Nodding, Viola continued. “His path crossed with the soldiers when he was on his way back from St. Petersburg in 1812.” She paused before adding, “It wasn’t possible for him to turn his back on those men, no matter what the political climate was like between Britain and France at the time.”

  “He did a brave thing, risking his own life like that,” Gabriella said.

  Juliette couldn’t speak. She knew he’d risked a lot more than that—the possibility of being labeled a traitor if it became publicly known that he’d helped the enemy. She wondered if this was what he was keeping from her, if this was what he feared would alter her good opinion of him.

  If it was, then he was wrong.

  “Turning his back on those in need is
not in his nature,” Viola said. “No matter the circumstance.”

  Juliette knew this. It was in fact one of the reasons why she thought so highly of him. His selfless dedication to others was most impressive and worthy of everyone’s admiration. “I only wish it did not have to be him.”

  “Because you care for him.” It was a blatant statement spoken with the utmost certainty.

  “Does everyone know?” Juliette asked, directing her question to both Gabriella and Viola.

  Gabriella grinned. “It is rather obvious.”

  A moment of silence passed between them and then Viola quietly spoke once more. “You would be good for him, I think. There is no one more deserving of happiness or love than Florian.” Juliette blushed and Viola cleared her throat as if to cover the awkwardness just as Pierson returned to the room, carrying a letter on a silver salver.

  “This has arrived.” He handed it to Juliette, who tore it open the moment she saw who had sent it. Her eyes scanned the page. “It is from Miss Saunders’s aunt. Apparently Vivien has caught a chill, which explains her reason for missing our meeting this morning. Her aunt believes she ought to be well in another couple of days, provided she gets enough rest.”

  “Oh dear. Poor Miss Saunders.” Gabriella’s brow knit with concern. “Perhaps you ought to send a care basket her way? She and her aunt are not in the best financial state, so I am sure some good food, tea and honey would be welcome.”

  “That is an excellent idea,” Juliette agreed. She would deliver the basket herself so she could check on her friend and maybe offer her help.

  Rolling up his sleeves, Florian plunged his mop into a pail of vinegar solution and spread it across the deck, drenching the wood planking. The air, heavy with the putrid stench of human suffering, had also been filled with the pungent smell of tar water fumigating the air. Around him, stretched out on cots, were the people who continued their fight for survival, two of the five nurses who’d been brought onboard to care for them, and Haines.

  The physician had been tending to patients when Florian had arrived, the poor man barely keeping himself upright while he coughed and sputtered his way around. A sheen of sweat had been visible upon his brow, his eyes red from exhaustion and fever. Florian had promptly thanked the man for his commitment and then ordered him to get some rest and focus on his own recuperation.

  Sloshing more of the vinegar solution onto the floor, Florian cursed Blaire again and then chastised himself for not taking Haines’s place. But the man had told him he’d had the disease as a child so Florian had thought him immune. Unless of course Haines was wrong and he hadn’t had typhus at all but some other ailment instead, like measles. Both produced similar rashes and could be confused with each other if the physician diagnosing the illness lacked competence.

  In any case, there was no denying the gravity of the situation currently facing everyone onboard this ship. With only himself and two nurses to care for the sick, they lacked the necessary workforce, which could potentially lead to worsening conditions. As it was, Florian had been horrified to find lice present in some of the bedding. He’d promptly demanded that every scrap of fabric recently used be boiled in hot water and replaced by fresh ones. This had required the undressing of the thirty people who remained onboard, rubbing them down with mercurial ointment and providing them each with clean gowns and clothing—something which had not been done in days.

  “I am sorry,” Haines told him as Florian passed by his cot. “The infection progressed so fast I”—he coughed—“could not keep up. My negligence—”

  “You are not at fault here,” Florian told him sternly. It was difficult for him to hide all the anger he felt, all the fear for these people now under his care. “Blaire was meant to offer support. He is to blame for what has happened. Not you.”

  Haines closed his tired eyes on a groan. “What will you do?”

  “Whatever I must.” Florian glanced toward the deck where one of the nurses was hanging the recently washed clothing to dry. “Right now I am going to finish cleaning the floor, and then I intend to prepare some food. Soup will do everyone good, I should think.”

  Haines’s only response was a sigh and a nod. He turned his head away as if preparing to sleep, so Florian left him in order to see to his chores. Twenty people had perished so far while only five had experienced a full recovery. They had returned to land the same day Haines spotted his first symptoms.

  “Another life lost,” one of the nurses whispered close to his ear so nobody else would hear. She pointed toward the unmoving figure some short distance away. “Will you help me remove him so he can be buried?”

  What a delicate way of describing how the man would be wrapped in his sheet along with a weight and then dropped feet first into the Channel. There would be no priest to say a prayer, no loved ones to shed a tear.

  The depressing thought brought to mind his last encounter with Juliette. He missed her, he realized, her radiant laughter and the way she took charge. She was like a shining star in the darkness, showing him the way home, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many tears she would shed if the worst were to happen to him.

  She’d be devastated.

  He felt it in his gut without even thinking. And the truth was that he’d be crushed too if anything bad were to happen to her. He’d grown accustomed to having her in his life, to sharing his thoughts and ideas with her, to the excitement he felt whenever they met. It was what he looked forward to most right now, the prospect of returning to London so he could share his experiences with her, so he could confide the fear he’d felt for his patients and let her soothe and comfort his soul.

  What he’d said to her at the theater about sending a note when he got back was absolute rubbish. It wouldn’t do at all. Not when he longed to be near her.

  His muscles flexed. He’d treated her poorly by keeping her in the dark for this long. It felt dishonest in light of how truthful she’d been, all because he feared losing her even as he refused to claim her. It kept them apart, prevented them from moving forward, which wasn’t fair to either of them.

  Witnessing the burial, he stared down into the rolling waves for long moments after and clutched the railing. The salty air licked his face and pulled at his hair, and as he stood there, it occurred to him how much he not only wanted Juliette in his life, but how much he needed her. She pushed him when he needed pushing, showed him that there was more to life than work, that he was allowed to enjoy himself too. She wasn’t just good for him. She was right for him, and as this sank in, cementing itself in his core, he knew he had to be brave. Sharing an honest future with her depended on it. Which meant he would have to start by telling her everything.

  This decision brought some measure of ease with it. It loosened the tightness that had been constricting his chest since their parting. It gave him additional purpose. Because the truth of it was she’d been right when she’d said she deserved to make her own choice. Life was fleeting. He was surrounded by the evidence of it. So if there was a chance he might share some happiness with her, perhaps it was time he decided to grab it.

  Taking a large basket of goodies with her, Juliette went to check on Vivien. In addition to the food, tea and honey Gabriella had suggested, she had also included a bottle of red wine, a pile of clean handkerchiefs and a copy of The Female Quixote, which had been given to her by Lady Everly for her birthday and which Juliette was sure Vivien would enjoy. Since she did not want to subject Sarah to Vivien’s cold, she’d left her behind at Huntley House with some mending.

  The carriage ride was not particularly long. Juliette arrived at Lady Arlington’s modest home without incident, paid the driver and strode toward the front door, basket in hand. She rapped the knocker three times, waited and then rapped it again before Lady Arlington herself finally appeared, as was expected since she had long since let her entire staff go in order to save the expense.

  “Good afternoon, my lady.” Juliette offered her most polite smile. “After receiving
your letter, I thought I would come to pay a call. Vivien could use the distraction and the food I have brought along. As could you, no doubt.”

  Lady Arlington opened the door wider and stepped aside so Juliette could enter. “That is very kind of you, Juliette. Vivien is fortunate to have such a good friend, especially now when she is feeling so horribly unwell.”

  “You mentioned a chill, so I trust she must have a cough and a runny nose.” Juliette reached inside her reticule and pulled out a length of linen.

  “Indeed the cough has proven quite a nuisance for her, poor thing. But I do not recall a runny nose.” She invited Juliette to leave her basket in the small parlor just beyond the entryway. “If you ask me, she caught the ailment from that scruffy child she brought home with her a week or so ago. The lad had the same sort of cough, and naturally, Vivien insisted on caring for him herself once she learned he had no parents. Honestly, her heart is too big for her own good sometimes.”

  Juliette considered this information. A cold without a runny nose was quite unusual. “Are there any other symptoms besides the cough?”

  “I do not think so.”

  “And the boy?”

  Lady Arlington sighed. “He was gone from this house the next morning. Took a silver candlestick with him, ungrateful thief.”

  A thread of unease wound its way through Juliette. Lady Arlington had described the boy as scruffy and thieving, which meant he was likely poor. Very poor. And sick. She shook her head, unwilling to accept the possibility she faced. London was filled with such children. The chance of him being the one who’d escaped getting shot as he fled St. Giles was unlikely. And yet, he’d passed on a cough.

  Covering her mouth with the linen she’d brought with her while Lady Arlington looked on with hesitation, Juliette tied it securely in place. “Please show me up to her room so I can check on her.”

  The lady did as Juliette bid, ushering her into a darkened room that smelled of sweat and disease. A cough raked the air, and Juliette turned her attention toward the bed where her friend’s flushed face was illuminated by a nearby candle.