The Duke's Revenge

by Marlene Suson

  The woman, by now thoroughly cowed by his autocratic authority, obeyed.

  “Let me get my horse and go with you,” Alyssa exclaimed. “I can carry the baby.”

  “No!” Richard said so sharply that she jumped.

  “Why not?”

  “Consider what an odd spectacle we should make, riding in the park like a mother and father with their two small children at an unheard-of early hour. I am very well known. If anyone were to see us, it would undoubtedly start unfortunate rumours.”

  Two dots of bright colour rose in Alyssa’s cheeks, but her voice was calm. “I see. You fear I would be thought to be your mistress and the children two of your by-blows.”

  He grinned at her. “Are you always so blunt?”

  “Yes,” she replied serenely. “I have often been told it is one of my great failings.”

  “I see,” he said gravely, his lip quivering. “You do not seem overly concerned about your great failing.”

  “No, for I do not consider forthrightness a failing. I shall remain here while you leave. I should not like to damage your reputation.”

  “Paperskull!” he exclaimed. “I don’t care about my reputation. It is yours that concerns me!” He turned to the nurse. “Lead the way.”

  The strange procession set off, the nurse guiding them on foot and the man following atop his big black, Eustice in front of him and the baby nestled in one arm.

  Alyssa watched until they had vanished’ from sight. What a singular man Richard was. She had been impressed by his expert handling of Eustice and his baby sister. What an excellent husband and father he must be. Initially she had been disturbed by his cynical mockery, but once that had given way to concern and then amusement, she had been charmed by him.

  But he had not been sufficiently curious about her even to ask her name. For some reason, that omission stung her painfully.

  Chapter 6

  Alyssa would have been gratified to know that, contrary to what she thought, the stranger rode away from their encounter in the park every bit as curious about her identity as she was about his. But Carlyle had deliberately not asked her name, knowing that this omission would pique her. Since she rode every morning in the park, he would know where to find her and would have ample opportunity to learn who she was.

  As he sat down to a breakfast delayed by the necessity of restoring Eustice to his runaway home, the duke was much amused by the morning’s unexpected adventure and much intrigued by the lady of the laburnum, as he had dubbed her.

  When he had first seen her, he had thought her uncommon. Now he thought her unique: no other woman of his acquaintance could have retained her seat on that rearing, plunging horse and brought him under control as she had done. But more remarkable still was her calm during the crisis. Most women would have dissolved in strong hysterics, thereby turning a dangerous situation into a disaster for both the child and herself.

  He remembered her indignation when he teased her about fainting and smelling-salts. Remembered, too, her concern for the unconscious child lying on the ground. Carlyle thought of her kneeling in the muddy path beside Eustice, heedless of the damage to her skirt, as she removed his head from the muddy puddle. His Grace had been touched by her willingness, despite the cold of the morning, to shed her own jacket to spare his coat. A smile, free of his usual cynicism when he contemplated women, curled the duke’s lips.

  When she had stripped off her gloves to help the boy, he had hastily checked for a wedding ring and was surprised to see that she was not married. Lack of dowry undoubtedly was responsible for a woman of such beauty, breeding and calm good sense being on the shelf. Her candour and humour had delighted as well as surprised him. Although she was clearly a lady of propriety, she was not missish or she would not have used words like mistress and by-blow so frankly.

  He suspected she was too proper a lady to indulge in an affair, but perhaps she could be persuaded. Women came so easily to his bed that it would be a novel experience to be rebuffed. He wondered if, in the end, after she learned his own identity, she would have the strength of character to resist him or whether she, too, would be seduced by his title and fortune.

  The door opened and Jeremy came in. His father’s pleasant thoughts of spirited emerald eyes were instantly replaced by the decidedly unpleasant memories of two garishly dressed harpies at Vauxhall Gardens. After meeting them, Carlyle’s sympathy for Jeremy’s puppy love had faded. His Grace could not fathom how the boy could have developed a tendre for such a vulgar creature as Alyssa Raff must surely be.

  After exchanging greetings with his father, Jeremy turned to the sideboard and began filling his breakfast plate with a generosity that demonstrated love had not affected his healthy appetite.

  His Grace wondered what Miss Raff would tell his son about his confrontation with her mother at Vauxhall. She would, of course, attempt to portray him in the worst possible light, making much of his threats. But she had been so adamant about keeping the betrothal from him that it would be embarrassing for her to have to admit that her own mother had told him.

  Clearly there was a sharp difference of opinion between mother and daughter on the most effective tactic to be used in shackling Jeremy. The mother had thought to seal the nuptials by broadcasting the betrothal and threatening scandal; the daughter had sought to keep it a secret. But why? Without his father’s permission, Jeremy could not wed for two years, and Miss Raff must know that the duke would never give it. Nor could she hope to keep the boy infatuated until he reached his majority. Carlyle was more convinced than ever that she hoped to persuade Jeremy to elope to Gretna Green.

  The only other possibility was that she thought the duke would quietly buy her off for an extortionate sum. To deliberately take this sweet, naïve calfling’s heart and break it for financial gain, leaving him humiliated and disillusioned, seemed to Carlyle cruel beyond belief. He wanted to curse the greedy hussy aloud as he studied Jeremy’s happy, open face across the table from him. If ever that conniving Jezebel dared solicit him to buy her off, he would wring her vicious neck!

  He intended to serve immediate notice on the vulgar trollop that regardless of whether elopement was her strategy or whether she hoped to exact payment from him for breaking the betrothal, she would gain nothing—and would lose much—if she pursued either course. Once she learned that, she would move on to more lucrative and less dangerous prospects.

  His Grace longed to tell his son what a shocking lack of both sense and taste he had demonstrated by offering for such a creature. But to do so would only make Jeremy more stubbornly defensive of his vulgar choice. So when Carlyle spoke, it was in a deceptively languid voice. “I confess to having succumbed to an overwhelming desire to see your divine Alyssa. If I go to Almack’s tonight, will you point her out to me?”

  “She—She won’t be there. She is going to a party.”

  “Does she not have vouchers to Almack’s?” Carlyle asked, certain that the only entry Miss Alyssa Raff enjoyed was to certain establishments of ill-repute in Covent Garden.

  Jeremy blushed. “No,” he admitted.

  “I rather suspected as much after meeting her mama and sister at Vauxhall last night.”

  Jeremy choked on the egg he was eating, and the duke observed that his blush grew even deeper. Clearly the boy was not blind to the excessive vulgarity of the Raffs. But why, then, if he saw them for what they were, had he made his offer?

  When Jeremy recovered himself sufficiently to speak, he stammered. “How did you come to meet them?”

  “Mrs Raff introduced herself because she wished to inform me of your betrothal. I found her eagerness for me to know of it curious in light of her daughter’s reluctance.” Carlyle leaned back in his chair and regarded his son, who stared at him in silent surprise. “Mrs Raff seems quite certain that you are merely toying with her daughter’s affections and will soon try to cry off the betrothal. It pains me to tell you that she made some ugly threats about intending to force you to the altar
with her daughter, whether you wish to go or not.”

  Jeremy’s obstinacy was immediately raised by Mrs Raff’s threats, as Carlyle had known it would be. “That woman cannot force me to do anything!” the youth cried indignantly.

  “Of course not,” his father said soothingly. “I assured her that if you should decide against marrying her daughter, nothing she could do would induce you to do so and she would be a fool to try.”

  “She is an excessively vulgar, odious woman!”

  “I noticed,” the duke said dryly.

  Jeremy’s colour deepened. “Be assured, Papa, that Alyssa is nothing like her mother.”

  Carlyle was far from assured, but he said blandly, “I am relieved. I must confess to having had some qualms after meeting her mother and sister.”

  “You will see at a glance that Alyssa is a lady of quality!”

  His Grace was certain that Miss Raff was neither lady nor quality. He had known other cyprians whose wealthy lovers had managed to give them a veneer of polish and sophistication. But beneath it, Miss Raff would be as vulgar and grasping as her relatives, and he would have to find a way to show his son this. “What party is Miss Raff attending tonight?”

  “Oliver Hagar’s,” Jeremy replied.

  “Hagar? I do not recognise the name.”

  “He is an aide to the first minister. It is at his house that I met Alyssa.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He and his wife are acquaintances of Uncle Sidney. He took me to their house while you were at Beauchamp.”

  The duke silently cursed both his youngest brother and the unknown Oliver Hagar for their contribution to his son’s besotted state.

  “The Hagars give such bang-up parties,” Jeremy said enthusiastically. “I know that you would enjoy them.”

  “Then, by all means, I must sample one sometime,” the duke said carelessly. He planned to do so that very night, but he did not tell Jeremy of his intention. He preferred to surprise Miss Raff.

  Chapter 7

  After returning Oliver’s chestnut, Alyssa stopped to talk to Charlotte, her best friend and the only person to whom she dared confide the situation with Jeremy.

  When Charlotte heard Alyssa’s subtle strategy for dissuading him, she said frankly, “I know that you are too kind-hearted to hurt the boy, but I don’t like it. God help you if Carlyle ever finds out that you are supposedly betrothed to his son. He is a very powerful and dangerous enemy.”

  “I know, but he is at Beauchamp, and I am certain that I will get Jeremy to cry off before he can learn of it.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” Charlotte replied, an uncharacteristic frown marring her lively face framed by a halo of brown curls. “Is Jeremy bringing you to my party tonight?”

  “Yes, but remember our supposed betrothal is a secret.”

  “I won’t tell,” Charlotte said. “How was your ride this morning?”

  Alyssa told her about her adventure with Eustice and Richard.

  “How diverting!” Charlotte said when Alyssa concluded. “And how unfortunate that you did not learn Richard’s identity. I have never before seen your eyes glow the way they did when you talked of him. Can it be that a man has finally pierced the armour of your heart?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Alyssa exclaimed. “He is married.” If only he were not.

  When Alyssa returned to her mother’s house, she found a note had been delivered for her in her absence. Opening it, Alyssa discovered that it was from Lady Braden, who had come up to London only the day before with her two youngest children, Letitia and George, for a few weeks.

  Lady Braden, a sensible, intelligent, plainspoken woman, was a favourite of Alyssa’s. Since the death of Her Ladyship’s husband two years ago, she had been living with her very elderly father whose property, Salis, adjoined Ormandy Park. Her late husband’s modest estate in Berkshire had been inherited by her eldest son, whose wife was an ill-tempered, overbearing female, who had resented the establishment’s former mistress’s remaining there. So Lady Braden had left it for Salis with the two youngest of her six children: George, who was now twenty and helping to manage his ailing grandfather’s estate, and seventeen-year-old Letty.

  Alyssa was especially fond of Letty, a good-hearted, intelligent girl with a lively sense of humour. When she had first come to Salis, she had been more boy than girl, both in body and behaviour. As the baby and only female among six children, she had been used to holding her own with big brothers and male playmates as she was growing up. A tall, thin stick of a girl, still awkward in her movements and embarrassed by her height, she had sought to disguise it by slouching.

  After Letty’s arrival at Salis, Alyssa took her in hand, encouraging her self-confidence and teaching her feminine poise. Seeing how straight and gracefully Alyssa, who was an inch taller than Letty, carried herself inspired the younger girl to mimic her graceful carriage. Alyssa had Letty’s hair cut so that it curled softly about her face, accentuating its pixieish charm. By the time Alyssa left for London, Letty had been transformed from a plain girl to a very pretty young lady. If only Lady Braden had the resources to give her daughter a London coming-out.

  But knowing how limited those resources were, Alyssa was surprised to learn that she had come to London at all and wondered what had brought her. Her note gave no clue but begged Alyssa to call upon her as soon as possible. Delighted at the prospect of once again seeing her friends from Northumberland, Alyssa decided to do so that very afternoon.

  Hugh Page, summoned to his employer’s presence, found Carlyle pacing the floor of his book-room, the sound of his footsteps deadened by the Aubusson rug on the floor. As Hugh closed the door behind him, he saw that the duke was seething.

  “Good God, Hugh,” Carlyle exclaimed, “When you told me how dreadful the Raffs were, I hoped you were overstating the situation. If anything, you understated it.”

  He described his meeting at Vauxhall with Mrs Raff and Rosina, concluding, “I will do anything, anything at all, to prevent Jeremy from being shackled to that vulgar doxy. I must find a way to bring my son to his senses. It is not that I wish him to marry title and fortune—you know that.”

  Hugh did. His Grace had sanctioned love matches between two of his sisters and a brother, with spouses far inferior in wealth and social standing.

  “I want only that Jeremy be happy.” The duke was still pacing. “I want him to have a wife who truly loves him, who will be devoted to him and his children.”

  Such a wife, Hugh reflected, was what the duke himself had needed in his own marriage instead of the selfish princess that he had had foisted on him for diplomatic reasons.

  “Jeremy is a born romantic and eager for a family of his own,” the duke continued. “Having never been exposed to domestic strife, the poor boy cannot appreciate how unhappy the wrong wife will make him.”

  There was such a wistful echo to Carlyle’s tone that Hugh was certain His Grace was also thinking of his own marriage. The duke was silent for a moment before asking briskly, “Have you been able to discover who Miss Raff’s protector was?”

  “No, I have learned nothing more about her, only about her mother,” Hugh replied. “Mrs Raff’s late husband was a wealthy merchant until she dissipated his fortune with her extravagances. Apparently, she fancied herself quite the grand lady, too far above her former neighbours to associate with them.”

  “How fortunate for them! The vulgar harridan! Tonight I confront Miss Raff herself. I shall make it very clear to her that she will never enjoy the title and fortune that she hopes to gain by marrying Jeremy, even if it means I must disown him.”

  Knowing how much Carlyle loved his son, Hugh exclaimed in disbelief, “Surely you would not do that!”

  “But Miss Raff does not know that.”

  “But she will tell Jeremy of your threat, and it is certain to cause a breach between you and him.”

  The duke’s mouth tightened in a grim line. “I am all too aware of that risk, but it is
one I must take for my son’s sake. I am not convinced that she will tell him. It would reveal the crass reason why she is crying off the betrothal. That would begin to open his eyes to her true character. I intend to open them even further by presenting him with proof of her past liaisons.”

  “But we do not know who they were—or even whether she had more than one.”

  “I rely upon you to see that we quickly acquire such information.”

  Hugh instantly comprehended what the duke wanted of him. “I know of a former Bow Street Runner who is very good at such matters and handles them discreetly, but his price is high.”

  “Employ him at once. I count any price that will save my son from that strumpet as cheap.”

  By the time that Alyssa left for the Bradens’, she was delighted to be escaping her mother’s house, if only for a short time. Both Mrs Raff and Rosina had been in sour humour all day, and Alyssa had not been able to get a word out of either as to what was wrong. Rosina walked about with a frightened look in her eyes. Mrs Raff alternately whined about how cruel the world had been to her and snapped at the hapless maid-of-all-work and at her daughters, even at Rosina who normally could do no wrong in her mother’s eyes. When Alyssa, seeking to divert her mama from her complaints, asked her how she had enjoyed Vauxhall the previous night, Mrs Raff, who loved the pleasure garden, stigmatised it as a wretched place, not worth talking about.

  When Alyssa reached the Bradens’, she was led into a sitting-room where a plump, motherly woman with greying hair hurried to greet her. Lady Braden hugged Alyssa warmly, exclaiming, “How good it is to see you again.”

  Returning the embrace, Alyssa felt more welcome here than at her own mother’s, especially today. “Are Letty and George here?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Lady Braden said, as she and Alyssa settled on a sofa. The room’s furnishings, like those in many London lodgings for let, were more utilitarian than attractive. The brown sofa and two horsehair chairs of the same colour were its only seats. “Letty has gone for a drive in the park this afternoon with a friend from Berkshire. She will be so disappointed when she learns that she missed you. And George has gone off with Lord Stanwood.”