“Enter.” She started across the room, reaching the door as it opened.
“My lady,” Richard greeted, nothing revealed in his serious expression. He was dressed for traveling in frock coat, buff breeches, and topboots, but he carried a locked box under one arm.
“My lord, I trust all is well?”
Richard smiled. The slight curving of firm masculine lips sent a jolt through Maria, warming her from head to foot. Was it only a week ago she'd literally fallen into his arms? They'd both been so startled that neither moved for several long moments.
And then he'd kissed her. Just like that. No whispered apologies, no permission sought, just a heated pressing of his lips to hers, culminating in a night of passion that should have dispelled any social barriers between them.
Indeed, Maria's doubts were assuaged until the following morning brought a dawning awareness that physical intimacy did not mean the same thing for him that it did for her. He still held her at arms length and so she placed a few more bricks in the wall she'd built to protect herself.
Now, while she reminisced about kisses and caresses, Richard's smile grew strained at the corners, his impatience making itself known. Maria glided forward, her many years of training in ladylike deportment coming to her rescue.
“I was woolgathering, my lord. My apologies.”
Richard's strained smile eased. “You seemed many miles away just now.”
“Not so far, I assure you.” She couldn't meet his eyes, for fear of revealing exactly what it was that distracted her. “You have something to show me?” She gestured to the ignored box under his arm.
Glancing around the room, Richard frowned, just a bit, before noticing the table placed in a ray of sunlight, just under the window. He grasped her hand and tugged her across the room, pushing her down in a straight-backed chair. Placing the box before her on the table, he inserted a key. The lock gave with barely a sound, a clear indication that this box was opened often. In a melodramatic gesture completely at odds with his normal dukely mien, he threw the lid back.
Maria's eyes widened. Emeralds, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and garnets winked up at her in the sun's light. The array of wealth startled her, as she'd been given to understand that the duke faced penury, thus his marriage to the daughter of a man in trade.
“They're all paste, of course,” he said, solving that particular mystery, “but they're very good and exact copies of my family's heirloom jewels. As the debts mounted, the real gems were replaced with glass. By the time I had need...” He trailed off, a quick glance at her the only indication he'd spoken without thought and regretted his words.
“They are beautiful, my lord,” Maria told him sincerely as she trailed one finger over a sparkling emerald pendant.
“They are for you.”
Her head shot up. “For me?”
“Of course. You are the duchess. My duchess.”
Maria's breath caught. His duchess? Had she just imagined that note of tenderness in his voice?
“I know they are nothing compared to what you father bought for you, but these will be recognized for what they represent.” He stepped back as he spoke. By the time he said his final word, he'd reached the door to the corridor. A second later, he was gone.
It was a full twenty seconds before Maria managed to drag her eyes from the door and focus again on the jewels. Pushing a few pretty baubles from side to side, thinking of her husband more than what she was doing, she almost missed the dull gold shine of an object at the bottom of the box.
At first glance, she thought it was a pocket watch. It was certainly a cheap little thing, assuredly not a bauble for a duke. She released the catch. Not a pocket watch, she mused, but a compass. She turned in the chair, smiling as the little needle jumped and jiggled its way north.
And then she saw the engraving.
For Richard. May you never lose your way. FH.
FH? Felicia Hensley?
Richard burst through the door. Maria snapped the compass shut, dropping it back in the box as she rose to her feet, hiding her trembling hands in her skirts. “My lord? What's amiss?”
“Forgot something, that's all,” he said, reaching into the box and extracting the compass she'd just dropped in. Shooting her a smile, he exited as quickly as he'd entered.
A dark cloud passed over the sun, mirroring the darkness in Maria's heart.
Part 4
In which we
meet Maria's family...
Any courage Maria had felt before finding Richard's compass disappeared. Her husband's mistress was in the habit of buying him gifts. Maria may not have been very knowledgeable in the ways of a duke and his mistress but she was fairly certain this was not usual behavior.
Did Richard buy gifts for Lady Hensley with Maria's money? The horrifying thought took up permanent residence in Maria's mind. There was no way for her to find out. The money her father settled on her became her husband's the moment they'd married. What he did with it was his business.
Maria's melancholy kept her to her bed, thunder pounding through her brain while a storm roiled in her middle.
“Your grace? Milady?”
Maria stirred, opening her puffy eyes and raising tear-stained cheeks to her concerned maid, Colette.
“Oh, mistress,” the maid sighed.
“Leave me, Colette,” Maria ordered, burrowing deeper into the bedclothes.
Colette's pretty features hardened. “No, I refuse,” she said roundly, yanking the coverlet from her mistress's determined grasp. “You must rise, madam. How shall you win him if you hide away?”
Shock snapped Maria's eyes open and brought her to a sitting position. “What did you say?” she asked, stunned and angry at the woman's audacity. She'd never felt such overwhelming rage and the fact that it stemmed from embarrassment mattered not at all. Servants did not speak so to their employers. Not if they valued their employ.
Colette squared her shoulders, hands on her hips. Her dark eyes flashed but she said nothing, letting her defiant stance speak for her.
So even her personal servant viewed her as unworthy of the respect due a true lady. Maria's anger dissipated, replaced with the usual calm acceptance for which she was well known. The same calm acceptance that saw her through a wedding to a near-stranger and thrust into a new life amongst people who neither liked nor understood her.
The same calm that masked her love for her husband and the pain of knowing he kept a mistress.
“You overstep yourself,” she warned Colette, her returned calm allowing her training to regain its hold on her emotions.
“Yes, madam,” Colette said, her servile air belied by a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Will madam wear the emerald velvet with the gold piping?”
“Yes, madam will, you impertinent girl. I've half a mind to turn you off for your behavior.”
“You never would,” Colette said confidently as she prepared a bath for her mistress before the fire. “What other French lady's maid would work for the upstart duchess?”
“Is that what they call me?” It was possible, Maria supposed. Richard had been the Season's prize; handsome, titled, and in possession of a very desirable property, he was every young debutante's dream husband.
And he was kind. He treated Maria with respect and gentleness.
No doubt he treated Lady Hensley the same.
On that singularly melancholy thought, Maria fell back on the bed. How could she possibly coerce her husband away from a woman of Lady Hensley's charms? She knew how to go about in Society and, despite her reputation, enjoyed Society's approval.
“You are more of a lady than any title can produce,” Maria heard as Colette left the chamber.
Pleased that her maid, at least, approved of her, Maria allowed a tiny smile to emerge. One that quickly disappeared a moment later as her thoughts returned to her absent husband.
Society had left for country estates and house parties several weeks ago. Only a few families remained in Town. Maria had de
cided against attending Lady Hensley's ball, the knowledge that the woman stayed while Richard went enough to appease her agitation.
“Madam!”
The groan that emerged from Maria's throat was neither ladylike nor voluntary. But it was heartfelt. Her stomach protested, the storm within building until Maria gasped, diving for the chamberpot beneath her bed. The maid was before her, holding her hair while Maria cast up her accounts. The moment passed, leaving Maria weak and feeling more melancholy than ever. Tears sprang to her eyes but she refused to let them fall.
“Leave me be, Colette. Let me die in peace.”
“Nonsense!” the maid scoffed. “One does not die from your malady. Now, rise and dress, madam. You have guests.”
Images of supercilious ladies and leering gentlemen filled Maria's mind. Surely no one else would deign to call on the upstart duchess. Cracking one eye, she asked, “Who?”
“Madam's sister and brother are waiting in the drawing room.”
Despite the weakness in her stomach, Maria came out of the bed like a shot. “Why ever did you not say so?” In the blink of an eye, she'd bathed and dressed, sitting impatiently while Colette pomaded and piled her blond curls on her head.
She missed her family. She missed her father's gruff affection, her termagant mother whose love wasn't always on display, and her younger brothers and sisters with all their chatter and merriment. She missed the loud holidays with aunts, uncles, and cousins. She missed taking for granted that she was loved.
Marrying a duke raised her up socially but coming from a family in trade resulted in her feeling like a fish on dry land.
“Beautiful,” Colette breathed, stepping back. “Madam is ready.”
But madam had already left the room.
Maria smiled, truly smiled, for the first time since Richard left. Her brother and sister—no doubt Henry and Eliza as they were the oldest of her siblings—had come to visit her, despite the social gulf that now existed between them. Joy flowed through her, erasing any lingering thoughts of a melancholy nature, and even easing the ache in her head.
As she neared the drawing room, she heard familiar laughter, but so intent was she on her joy that she failed to realize it wasn't her brother.
A footman stepped forward and opened the door. Maria smiled at him as she passed, stopping short at the sight that met her eyes.
“Richard!” she blurted, inwardly horrified that she'd used his given name and in front of guests.
“Darling,” he replied, his smile so warm that Maria could almost believe he meant the endearment as more than just a show.
As he strode forward to meet her, she caught a glimpse of her smiling brother and sister. They seemed completely comfortable in the duke's company, not at all ill at ease. The realization eased her sudden tension, allowing her to smile at Richard in a way she normally would not have done.
“I am relieved you are well enough to to join us, my dear.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to her knuckles.
The gesture sent tremors through her but her surprise was too great for her to enjoy the sensation. He never indulged in such outward displays of affection, especially before guests. Why he chose to do so now was baffling.
“Of course, my lord,” she murmured, struggling desperately to retain her ladylike poise.
Tucking her hand into his elbow, Richard leaned close. “Why have you never invited your family to visit?” he chided gently. “I was never more shocked than when I stepped into your father's drawing room to learn that you've not spoken with your family since our wedding, not even a letter. Why?”
Tears gathered in Maria's eyes. “I understood the connection to be severed upon our marriage.”
“Whatever gave you that notion? They are your family. You will need them with you for I am often called away unexpectedly.”
His statement, while true, rang false to Maria's ears. Called away, yes, but business was not the only thing that called Richard from his wife's side. And his excessive concern on the matter caused more suspicion in her mind.
Despite her doubt, his argument was a valid one. She would need her family. She already needed them. Especially if her other, brand new suspicion proved correct.
On that thought, she threw her ladylike training to the four winds and ran across the room to embrace Henry and Eliza. Tears of happiness mingled with tears of heartache, all three faces damp with joy, voices chattering away.
So caught up was Maria in their reunion, she failed to notice the duke leave the room, his shoulders slumped in weary resignation.
Part 5
In which Maria
meets the real Lord Derringer...
London in the late autumn months may have been nearly devoid of fashionable company, but enough lingered that parties were still a sad crush and a lady was never without an escort during the promenade through Hyde Park. Lady Maria was no exception. Her beauty, grace, conversation, and charm more than made up for her lack of birth. Her marriage to a duke was no deficiency either.
Maria sat in the drawing room, waiting, the very picture of fashionable elegance in her gray and ruby walking dress with a fur-lined pelisse and matching bonnet. Her gray gloves of softest kid and gray and black half boots completed the ensemble, giving Maria the look of a living fashion plate.
Her features were composed, as usual, ladylike contentment masking the very real nerves pulsating just beneath the surface. Maria was doing something she'd never done before. She was going driving in Hyde Park with a gentleman who was not her husband.
Richard's feelings on the matter were unknown to Maria. But he often took his mistress driving so why shouldn't Maria be allowed to enjoy the same activity?
As if on cue, the drawing room door opened, the butler entering with a morbidly dressed young man following close behind.
He wore nothing but unrelieved black, from the black riband tying back his unfashionably long black hair to the thigh-hugging black leather breeches tucked into black hessian boots. Even his linen was black and the black depths of his eyes revealed a cruelty she'd failed to notice in the dim candle glow of the ballroom where they'd met.
“His grace, the Duke of Derringer,” Jasper intoned, a seldom heard note of disapproval coloring his tone.
Lord Derringer strode forward, bowed over Maria's hand, and pressed a kiss to her gloved fingers. “Are you ready to depart?” he inquired, his tone so bland as to suggest boredom.
“Yes, of course.” Good manners dictated that she not keep his horses standing longer than absolutely necessary.
Maria's maid entered, sidling around the duke with wide eyes. She held out a pretty ruby velvet driving cape, saying, “You best dress warm, madam. There's a shocking chill in the air.”
The maid's statement and disapproving glare in Derringer's direction earned her a wide smile from that young man. It was the most human expression Maria had seen from him and it brought her much relief. She'd begun to wonder at her decision in accepting his invitation.
Moments later, Lord Derringer helped her into his open carriage. Maria sat stiffly, never fully comfortable on such a high perch as offered by the phaeton.
The daily promenade through Hyde Park was still a well-attended event, despite the lateness of the year. It didn't take long for Maria to note the curious stares and whispers behind gloved hands.
“If you wished to elicit jealousy from your husband, you have succeeded,” came the deep voice of her escort.
“One cannot be made jealous when one does not care,” Maria stated firmly, anger vying with sadness in her breast.
Derringer's answering chuckle was neither kind nor amusing. It had a cruel edge that made Maria's gloved fingers clench as she shot him a sidelong glance around her bonnet's brim.
“One need not CARE for one's property,” he continued, “in order to care that another man not touch said property.”
Shocked, Maria turned her head to better see her infuriating companion. He gazed bac
k at her, indifferent to the antics his horses decided to get up to with their master's attention elsewhere. Several ladies and gentlemen screamed as the beasts nipped their way through Hyde Park. Maria almost mentioned this when she realized Derringer was well aware of his cattle's bad behavior. Indeed, he seemed quite amused by all of it.
Including her own predicament. What a horrible, horrible man!
With a huff of exasperation, Maria turned forward again, just as Derringer muttered some command to his horses. They settled into perfectly trained, black as sin minions of the devil himself. She stared over the beasts' ears, her eyes not really focusing on anything in particular, while praying for the end of this ill-conceived decision to drive with such an ill-bred gentleman.
“My lady, I've known jealous men. And your husband, despite appearances to the contrary, is a very jealous man.”
“Forgive me if I do not believe you, my lord,” Maria replied stiffly. Shifting to better see him, she added, “What do you know of my husband? And how is my life any concern of yours?”
“I do hate to see a beautiful woman so unappreciated,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Maria distrusted that smile, distrusted the way his eyes slid over her face and continued down her form. What he could determine through her clothing was a mystery to her but instinct warned of the danger she was in.
And when had they wandered off the main thoroughfare? Maria glanced around to find they were relatively secluded, stopped beneath a tree on a little used side path. The horses stamped their impatience to be off again, agitated at their forced inactivity.
“My lord, what—”
But Maria could no longer speak. Lord Derringer's lips silenced hers, giving her no chance to question the wisdom of their having stopped in their current location. The fleeting thought came to her that coal scuttle bonnets were surely invented to protect young women from just such an occurrence but she'd gone with a smaller brimmed bonnet that flattered her features without making it impossible to see what was happening around her. Had she dressed less fashionably, this wouldn't be happening. Then Maria's brain threatened to cease functioning altogether, her whole being caught up in the startling range of emotions elicited by Derringer's assault.
My Lady Coward: An Episodic Regency Romance Page 2