The Gamekeeper's Lady

by Ann Lethbridge

  Robert frowned. ‘I don’t know what John thought he was about.’

  ‘Helping you. You always did command the respect of your peers, even if you never realised it. Poor John, he was devastated when he realised he’d practically cut you outside White’s. You have forgiven him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Write to me from Canada, won’t you, dear, if you must go. I will miss you.’

  His chest tightened. ‘I must, but I will miss you, too, Mama. And the others.’

  ‘They will be sorry not to have seen you. Come home to us when you can. You will always be welcome, Robert. Have no doubt.’

  He took his mother’s hand in his and leaned to kiss her cheek. The familiar lavender scent washed through him followed by the same calm she’d instilled in him as an angry and confused boy.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

  ‘And so Miss Bracewell goes to Italy alone.’

  Robert felt a faint prickle of unease at the back of his neck. ‘That was her plan.’

  ‘You are not putting her aside because you think her unworthy? Because she was born on the wrong side of the blanket?’ Mother asked a little hesitantly.

  He stiffened at the faint tone of censure in her voice. ‘Good God, no! I—well, to put it bluntly, she is far above my touch, and I won’t be a parasite.’

  Mother smiled sadly. ‘My proud, beautiful boy.’

  Robert felt as if he’d missed something. ‘Snively will make sure she is safe.’

  A crease developed between her fine brows. ‘I am surprised at you though, Robert, seducing an innocent and then abandoning her.’

  His cheeks stung as if she had slapped him across the face. ‘You are wrong, Mother. I was not her first lover.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘What the hell do you think I am? She told me…’ Damn it, what had she said? I’m not so very innocent. ‘Frederica was not a maid when I met her.’ His face fired scarlet. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with his mother. ‘A man knows these things.’

  ‘But Robert, you also know she quite often rides astride, like a boy.’

  The truth hit him like a body blow. Shock jarred him off kilter.

  His mother looked at him silently, her lips pursed.

  Dear God. He’d seduced an innocent. He really was a blackguard. ‘I have to go.’

  She raised a brow. ‘I should think you do. But, Robert, a piece of advice. Pride and love don’t make good bedmates.’

  And with that incomprehensible admonition ringing in his ears he kissed her and left.

  Sitting at the table in her private parlour, Frederica jabbed her fork into the roast beef on her plate, lifted it to her mouth, and then put it down again. She just didn’t feel hungry.

  She left the table and moved to the sofa by the hearth. The sofa where she’d sat just the other night in Robert’s arms. She’d been so contented, secure. Without him, she would never have been brave enough to face the lawyer. So why did she now feel so uneasy? The worst was over.

  Wealthy beyond her wildest imaginings, she could do anything she wanted. Snively had hired a maid for her and a lady’s companion to accompany them on their journey. The old man had beamed when she asked him to go with her as her major domo. Everything was perfect.

  Or it would be if Robert hadn’t walked way.

  Because he wanted his freedom.

  Maggie had kindly told her a little bit about his past. The parade of women through his life. She was just one of many. He was a rake.

  The piper must be paid. Or was it no good crying over spilt milk? He didn’t want her. He’d said so in front of everyone.

  She sighed and gazed at the trunks standing in the middle of the parlour floor all packed and ready to go at any moment.

  A knock came at the door.

  The man for the trunks.

  She went to the door and unlocked it.

  ‘R-Robert?’

  He looked so handsome in his gentleman’s clothing, dark blue coat and cream waistcoat and newly shaved.

  ‘May I come in? We need to talk,’ he said grimly. He inhaled a quick breath as if he had something unpleasant to say. ‘I just left my mother.’

  She backed away cautiously. ‘W-what is it?’

  ‘There is something I have to ask you. I want the truth.’

  She perched on the sofa’s edge, wary, uncomfortable. ‘What did you want to know?’

  He kept her hand clasped in his. ‘Were you indeed a virgin before we met?’

  His mother had betrayed her confidence. A confidence the formidable lady had extracted with a cleverness that had left Frederica in awe. But her Grace had promised to say nothing to her son.

  ‘She had no right to tell you.’

  He drew in a sharp breath. He looked appalled. ‘We must be married right away.’

  Married. Her heart gave a happy little lurch. Her gaze took in the tightness of his mouth, the darkness in his eyes, and she knew it would be a mistake.

  She attempted a laugh. It sounded brittle instead of light and carefree. ‘La, this is sudden, my lord. Such a declaration.’

  He glowered. ‘On my honour, I must make this right.’

  ‘Must?’ She’d spoken to him of love and he spoke of honour. She pulled her hand from his grasp. ‘Why must you?’

  ‘It is obvious. I took your innocence. I can do nothing else.’

  ‘I was never an innocent, Robert. I have eyes in my head. I saw the beasts in the fields. I can read. I knew what men looked like and what happens between a man and woman.’

  ‘Good God, woman, it doesn’t matter what you knew. I debauched you. It is my duty.’

  ‘Duty?’ The word was a shriek in her head. It hurt worse than years of hearing her family’s horrid slights. She lifted her chin and put chill in her voice. ‘Why is it your duty to marry the daughter of the Wynchwood Whore?’

  ‘That has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Did the thought of the money make you change your mind?’ she said cruelly, knowing it would hurt him as much as he was hurting her.

  ‘I don’t want a penny of your damned money.’

  ‘To hell with duty, then. I don’t need your name to make me respectable.’ She clenched her fists in the folds of her skirt and turned her face away. ‘My wealth will do that. I will never marry. I’ll take my pleasure where I want and with whom I want. The way my mother did.’

  He flinched. ‘You can’t mean that.’

  Drawing in a breath to garner every ounce of her strength, she turned to look at him. ‘Yes, R-Robert. I do. Think back. I wanted you. I seduced you. Now, I don’t want you any more. Surely you of all people can understand?’

  A muscle in his jaw flickered. There was anger in his eyes and something else. Anguish? Surely not. The pain in her chest grew so bad she thought she might fall to her knees, but she must not, for then he would know what it cost her to send him away. He’d know and he’d try to change her mind.

  To tie the man she loved to her in wedlock against his will, knowing he didn’t love her…It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Frederica got up and went to the door of her adjoining bedroom, unable to look at his beautiful face in case she weakened. Hand on the doorknob, she spoke quietly, calmly. ‘I must ask you to leave. Please, do not come here again. I will not see you.’

  She went inside and shut the door.

  She stood rigid and shaking on the other side. No tears. No sobbing. He mustn’t guess how much she was wounded.

  After a moment or two, she heard the outside door close.

  He’d be glad she refused him. Later.

  He’d be thankful for his escape.

  She sank down on to the bed and buried her face in the pillow and sobbed.

  She didn’t want him.

  Furious, Robert slammed out of the parlour. He’d offered her his name and she’d given him his congé.

  Now he knew how all those women in his life had felt.

>   God damn, it hurt.

  He tore down the stairs in fury.

  Why wouldn’t she let him put things right? She’d talked of wanting other men and thrown him out. His body shook. His heart raged. His fists opened and closed. Wanting to strangle her. To make her listen to reason.

  He needed a drink. Something to take away the turmoil in his head.

  On his way to the taproom, he collided with Snively. He glared at him and pushed by.

  Snively grabbed his sleeve. ‘You been up there upsetting her again?’

  ‘Hardly,’ Robert said. ‘She doesn’t give a tinker’s cuss for me.’

  ‘Hoity-toity bugger. Up in the boughs, are we?’

  Robert brushed him off. ‘You’ve no idea what you are talking about.’

  ‘I know she looks like she lost half a crown and found a penny.’

  Robert paused.

  ‘She ain’t eating much either.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘She’s miserable when she should be as happy as a grig.’

  ‘What has that to do with me?’

  Snively shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. You’re the man who understands women.’

  ‘Understand them? No one understands them.’

  ‘Maybe not. Can I buy you a drink?’ Snively walked to the bar, pulled out a pipe and shoved it between his teeth. ‘I’d have a little think before you acts with haste.’

  ‘Think about what? I asked her to marry me. She turned me down.’

  ‘Happen you’re right. Though I never saw her look so down as when you left the lawyer’s office. Went down on your knees did you? Begged for forgiveness after what you said?’ The older man looked at him sideways and sighed. ‘Too high in the instep for that, I reckon. You a duke’s son and all and her nothing but a base-born child.’

  Robert slammed his fist on the bar. Tankards jumped and rattled. ‘That has nothing to do with anything. I offered her my name.’

  ‘Not good enough, my lord.’ Snively shook his grey head.

  ‘Drink, sir?’ asked the barman, wiping at the bar in front of Robert with a rag.

  ‘Brandy,’ Robert said. ‘For two.’

  The barman poured and moved away. Robert downed his drink in one gulp. It didn’t make him feel one iota better. ‘What do you suggest, then?’

  Snively’s eyes twinkled. ‘If you don’t know, I’m sure I don’t.’

  Robert’s fingers curled around his glass. He wished the slender stem was Snively’s neck. ‘Fat lot of help you are.’

  ‘All right. Why do you want to marry her?’

  ‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘Empty words.’ The old man turned away. ‘You don’t deserve her. Bugger off.’

  He picked up his glass and wandered to the settle by the hearth where he picked up a discarded newspaper and proceeded to immerse himself in its pages.

  Robert signalled for another brandy and when it came he stared into its depths. Why else would he want to marry her? He liked her. He felt good when he was with her. Hell, he felt terrible when she wasn’t around.

  It was as if they were joined by an invisible thread attached to his heart and the further it was stretched, the more painfully tight it became. Was that what people called love?

  He raised the glass to his lips. Then put it down.

  Love was romantic nonsense.

  Wasn’t it?

  What had Mother said—pride and love make bad bedfellows? Was that his problem? Was he too proud?

  Or did he fear she’d reject his love, the way Father had?

  Which meant taking a terrible risk.

  What if he couldn’t have her any other way? What if she met some handsome Italian count and fell into bed with him? Or worse, married him?

  She had said she loved him.

  How could he offer her anything less?

  And if she turned him down again?

  At least he’d be able to look at his face in the mirror and not be disgusted by his cowardice.

  He glanced over at Snively, who had finished his drink and was now dozing with the newspaper over his face. No help there.

  He climbed back up the stairs and let himself in quietly.

  The remains of her supper still lay on the table beside the window. She hadn’t eaten more than a mouthful or two. The sight gave him heart. Perhaps Snively was right. She wasn’t happy.

  Silently, he tried her bedroom door. Locked. He knocked.

  ‘I’m finished with the supper dishes,’ she called out. ‘You can take them away.’

  Her voice sounded thick and damp as if she’d been crying. A good sign? The tightness in his chest said not.

  ‘I’ve not come for the dishes,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to make a confession.’

  Silence.

  ‘Frederica, there is one more thing I need to say.’

  Frederica stared at the door. When would he stop torturing her? ‘G-go away.’

  ‘Please, sweetling. It won’t take more than a minute or two.’

  Ah, how could she resist the plea in his voice? She wasn’t going to change her mind, though. Whatever he said. Not even if he tied her up and stood her in front of the altar. All she had to do was remain calm. Strong. In control.

  She ran to the mirror. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy. She dipped a cloth in the ewer and dabbed at her tear-streaked face.

  He tapped on the door. ‘Frederica.’

  ‘A moment if you please.’

  A quick smooth of her gown, an extra pin in her hair. She looked in the mirror and shook her head. He’d know she’d been crying. She fixed a cool smile on her face and opened the door.

  He stood a little back from the door, dark, aloof, his face grim. Much as she’d seen him that first day by the river, except in his fine clothes he looked every inch the duke’s second son. Generations of knights lived in his bearing.

  Inside, she began to shake.

  Did he now hope to force his will on her? The way her uncle had intended with her cousin?

  She kept her face calm, politely interested. ‘Lord Robert, back so soon? I really cannot think of anything else that needs to be said.’

  ‘There is one thing.’ His voice was deep and dark and her insides quivered at the sound; her wicked body yearned for his touch.

  ‘I’ll hear no more talk of duty and honour. I have neither. Please close the door on the way out.’

  She went to the sofa and gazed into the fire’s depths, waiting for the slam of the door.

  Instead, she heard his step across the floor as he drew near. She held herself rigid, ready to resist a seduction if necessary, primed herself to be deaf to his words.

  A faint rustle and a small thud sounded behind her.

  She couldn’t stop herself—she turned to look.

  He was on one knee, his head bowed, so that all she could see of him was dark waves of hair and the breadth of his shoulders.

  She started to rise.

  ‘Lady, grant me one boon,’ he said softly. ‘Hear me out.’

  She sank back on the seat, too amazed to do more than stare at his lowered head.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I came to you in pride. Now I come to you in humility.’

  ‘R-Robert, no,’ she whispered. Never had she wanted this proud man to abase himself before her. ‘P-please, get up.’

  He didn’t move, didn’t raise his head, didn’t look at her, but knelt before her like some knight of old before his liege, humbled, penitent.

  She couldn’t breathe the sight pained her so much.

  ‘You said my offer wasn’t enough. I thought you meant I wasn’t good enough. It hurt. My pride was hurt. But far worse was the sense of loss deep in my soul. Only when I realised that I stood to lose you forever did I realise my greatest wrong. I offered so little of myself in return for the priceless gift you bring to my heart.’

  ‘Oh, R-Robert,’ she breathed, unable to believe what she was hearing.

  He looked up
then and the humility and love shining in his eyes almost sent her to pieces.

  She reached out.

  He took her hand, kissed the back of it with gentle reverence. ‘It was family pride that kept your parents apart and pride that set me adrift from my family’s love.’

  He looked up and gazed into her face. He looked beautiful and sad. ‘Today I walked away too proud to beg for what I needed. I let pride speak instead of saying what was in my heart. Can you forgive me, Frederica, for being such an arrogant fool? If you can, I beg that I may spend the rest of my life trying to win your love. I will abide by your wishes. If you send me away, I will never trouble you more. But I want you to know, I love you with all my heart.’

  These were the words she had longed to hear. And the truth shone in his eyes and rang in his voice.

  Her heart swelled with joy. And yet how could she let him make such a sacrifice? By marrying her he would be giving up his place in society, possibly in his family, if what she knew of the duke was half true.

  She had turned him away because he spoke only of duty; now he spoke of love, but she still wasn’t convinced it was right. She loved him too well to ruin his life.

  She was a bastard. Illegitimate. Unwanted. He was the son of a duke.

  She would bring him nothing but shame.

  Frederica slid off the seat onto her knees and cupped his cheeks in her hands, felt the warmth of his skin and the faint haze of stubble, inhaled the scent of his cologne. ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘Ah, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘If you won’t have me as your husband, I’ll come as your servant. You can pay me to carry your bags, arrange for your carriage, keep the damned banditti at bay.’

  ‘You would do that for me?’

  ‘I would do that and more to remain at your side. To protect you when asked. To serve when needed.’

  Tears blocked her throat and burned the backs of her eyes. ‘And will you bring me chocolate in bed in the morning?’ she whispered huskily.

  ‘I will.’ He smiled. ‘As long as I get to lie beside you as you drink it.’

  ‘Oh, R-Robert, are you sure this is what you want? I will never be entirely respectable, you know.’