Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

by Julia Justiss

  A shiver went through her as she reached the dark hallway outside her chamber. Sighing, she stood surveying the stout oak door. Could she obtain a key to double-lock it? One that he could not duplicate?

  She was about to unlatch the door when the all-too-familiar smell of strong spirits alerted her to his presence an instant before she recognised Lord Randall’s voice, approaching out of the dimness.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t my sweet little sister-in-law.’ Reaching her, he leaned a hand against the doorframe and peered down into her face. ‘Looking surprisingly energised after an evening of political discussion. Or is it some politician you’re lusting after, now that Edward isn’t here to keep your depths well plumbed?’

  Outraged by his crudeness, she remained silent, staring at his hand on her doorframe. After a moment, he removed it.

  ‘What are you doing outside my room?’ she said at last.

  ‘Didn’t our esteemed mother tell you? I live here now. When I confessed my current...pecuniary difficulties, dear Mama insisted I should become your houseguest, for as long as needful.’ He laughed. ‘And with Mama footing the bills that should be a long time indeed.’

  ‘The estate footing the bills, you mean. Edward would never have permitted it!’

  ‘True, but he’s not here, is he? Might be a little dab of a thing, but you were never a hypocrite, so you’ll not convince me you’re sorry about that. Still, I shouldn’t object to our giving each other a little comfort in our bereavement.’

  He leaned towards her, the liquor fumes threatening to make her gag. ‘Life with two widows should be far too dull for your taste,’ she said, stepping back. ‘Why not move in with one of your doxies?’

  He rubbed thumb and fingers together. ‘Takes the ready to support those doxies, m’dear sis. Which I’m alarming short of at the moment.’

  ‘More gaming losses?’ she said derisively.

  ‘Lady Luck’s as unfriendly as you are at the moment. Maybe you should give me a kiss, to console me for my losses.’

  ‘Have you no sense of decency at all? Speaking like this to your own brother’s widow?’

  He shrugged. ‘Never any love lost between us. Had the same inclinations, so why must he be the heir, and the one with the deep pockets to fund them? Besides, I know he wasn’t giving you as much of it as a lusty young woman needs. While I wait for something better to happen along, I’m happy to fill the empty well.’

  ‘You disgust me!’

  He merely laughed. ‘Maybe. But I could also pleasure you. Suckle those sweet little breasts, taste that—’

  Revolted, she slapped his face as hard as she could. ‘Get out of my sight!’

  He stumbled from the force of the blow before righting himself, rubbing the cheek she’d struck. ‘My, what a little wildcat you are. Didn’t know you had it in you! But that will make taming you all the sweeter. Maybe not tonight. But soon. And afterwards, you might find yourself begging me for more.’

  ‘You might remember that I have a pistol, and know how to use it,’ she retorted. Pushing past him, she went into her room and closed the door. To her infinite relief, he did not try to follow her.

  This time.

  With trembling hands, she turned the latch. At the sound of the lock clicking into place, Lord Randall laughed. ‘Sleep well, sweet sister,’ he called through the thick wooden panel.

  Faith leaned against it, her heart pounding, furious—but worried. Would he try something, or was he just playing with her, the tomcat toying with the defenceless mouse? What if he were able to get into her chamber in the middle of the night, while she was sleeping and unaware?

  She would shoot him in a minute with no regrets. But if he chose to, could he force himself on her before she could defend herself?

  Why this, just when life finally seemed to be offering her alluring new possibilities? Tears threatened, and angrily she brushed them away.

  She’d have to think of something. She was done being the pawn of some idle aristocrat who thought his position entitled him to take whatever he wanted.

  And she’d rather shoot herself than let that slimy ferret have his way with her.

  Chapter Six

  In the morning three days later, having overruled the protests of the boys’ tutor about his charges missing their lessons, Faith went up to the schoolroom to fetch her sons for the journey to visit her sister. The carriage was ready; Davie was walking his horse in the mews, waiting on them, and the boys were almost as excited as she was to be meeting their cousins for the first time since the birth of five-year-old Colin, her youngest.

  For today, at least, she could put out of mind the unpleasant fact that her brother-in-law was now in residence, a worry that seldom was far from her mind. Though, as yet, Lord Randall had provided no reinforcement for her fears. As far as she could tell, he’d been absent from the house since she’d encountered him that first night.

  She suspected that his mama had provided him with funds, which he was happily occupied in spending on women, spirits, and games of chance. Since in that case, he’d probably not return to Berkeley Square until he ran out of blunt, she sincerely hoped his luck would hold.

  ‘Will there be a pond, and horses?’ seven-year-old Matthew asked when she entered the schoolroom.

  ‘Dogs? Trees?’ Colin piped up, pulling away from the nursery maid who’d helped him into his jacket, and running over to her.

  ‘I don’t know about a pond,’ she said, ruffling his blond curls, ‘but there will certainly be trees, horses and dogs. Probably ponies, too, which the grooms might help you ride while I visit with your aunt Sarah. The older boys will probably be with their tutor, but your younger cousins will be able to show you about.’

  ‘I should not like to be helped by a common groom,’ eight-year-old Edward said, standing with his arms crossed.

  ‘One should never refuse the help of an expert, even if he is a commoner,’ Faith replied. ‘If we’d spent more time in the country, Edward, you would already be a proficient rider, with your own pony. I hope soon, we will go to Ashedon Court, and you may begin lessons.’

  ‘I want to climb a tree!’ Colin announced. ‘Mama’s climbed lots of trees. I want to be up in the branches, taller than everyone!’

  ‘Looby, Mama is a duchess,’ Edward said with an exasperated look. ‘She doesn’t climb trees.’

  ‘I don’t know—I might still be able to manage it,’ she replied, a bit disconcerted by her eldest’s pronouncements. ‘I certainly climbed any number while I was growing up. We shall see about that later today, Colin. Now, into the carriage, boys. Mary, bring their extra things.’

  Excitement rising higher, Faith helped the nursery maid usher the boys from the room. Though she was disappointed to learn from his note that Davie planned to ride escort, she could understand why he’d not want to be confined for several hours in a carriage with three active boys. He’d keep pace at her window, his missive said; they would be able to chat.

  But not touch, her frustrated senses knew. Although she was thrilled to be taking her sons to meet the family they hadn’t seen in so long, having them with her meant that she would have no time alone with Davie.

  Which might be a good thing, she acknowledged as she descended the stairs behind her sons, the younger two whooping as they chased each other. She was still undecided on what to do about this...passionate connection between them. It would be a good deal safer to content herself merely with a revival of the camaraderie they’d shared long ago.

  In truth, Davie’s unfailing good humour, intelligent conversation, and supportive concern were so many miles beyond what she’d experienced in these last meagre years of isolation, despite the frustration of her senses, she felt blessed enough to have that.

  ‘Mary, take Colin’s hand and help him avoid the puddles,’ Faith instructed a
s they caught up with the boys and exited the back stairs into the garden. Reaching over to snag Matthew’s, she added, ‘I’d at least like to begin the journey with the boys not all-over mud.’

  But puddles and mud and boisterous boys fled from her mind as they walked out the gate to the mews where the carriage waited—and she saw Davie, dismounted beside his horse.

  He was dressed for riding in breeches, jacket and boots, a simple neckcloth knotted at his throat and a modest-sized beaver hat on his head. The coat sat easily across his broad shoulders, the breeches loose-fitting enough that they suggested, rather than outlined, his powerful thighs. Neither garment was fashionably tight enough to have required the efforts of a valet to force him into them, and for a naughty instant, she regretted his body was not encased in garments that would have more closely outlined his form.

  Then he was bowing before her, smiling. Her hands itched to brush the dark hair off his forehead as he straightened, and for a moment she allowed herself to focus on nothing but the steady warmth of those blue, blue eyes.

  ‘Even the weather smiled on you today, Duchess,’ he said. ‘I was afraid we might have to journey in the pouring rain, which would have made conversation impossible.’

  ‘Then I am glad, too, for the fair weather. But let me make you known to my boys. Mr Smith, may I present Colin Evers, Matthew Evers, and my eldest, Edward, now Duke of Ashedon. Boys, this is Mr Smith, a Member of Parliament for Hazelwick. He graciously agreed to escort us today since he has matters of government business to discuss with your Uncle Nicholas.’

  After the men large and small made their bows and exchanged greetings, Edward said, ‘You have no title, Mr Smith?’

  ‘No, Your Grace,’ Davie replied.

  Edward looked over to his mother. ‘Carlisle says that a duke and duchess should travel with outriders. Not a simple “mister”.’

  Faith frowned, not pleased with the pattern of her eldest’s comments this morning. She suspected that his tutor, almost as toplofty in his opinions as the Dowager, must have stepped up his efforts to instil in the boy a sense of the consequence due his position, now that he was the Duke. Quite prematurely, in her opinion.

  ‘Perhaps, during Tudor times, when the whole court went on progress, there were outriders and equerries,’ she replied. ‘But not for a simple visit to your uncle’s house, a short drive out of London.’

  ‘Can we go now, Mama?’ Matthew said. ‘I want to see the horses and dogs and ponies.

  ‘Up with you, lads,’ Davie said, helping Matt and Colin to clamber into the carriage, his good humour seeming not at all affected by Edward’s slighting remark. Her annoyance with her son, his tutor, and her intentions to challenge the man faded as Davie stepped over to assist her.

  Pushing all problems aside, she let herself savour the pleasure of his one hand on her arm, the other pressed against her back to steady her as she mounted the steps. She had a sudden notion to lose her balance, so he might catch her in his arms.

  She was seated, regretting the loss of his touch, before her mind wrenched control back from her senses. Behave yourself, it reproved. You’re a mother of three, not a silly, swooning girl—or a doxy on the stage.

  Her cheeks burning as she acknowledged the truth of that assessment, she nonetheless couldn’t keep her gaze from veering back to Davie, as, with an easy grace, he threw himself up into the saddle. Then the coachman snapped his whip, and they set off.

  The narrow streets and congestion of the city prevented Davie’s riding beside her window until they’d reached more open country. While her boys crowded the windows, pelting him with questions, Davie pointed out pastures, woods, grazing cows, inn signs and, once, the excitement of a mail coach passing with a blare from its horn. Even Edward relaxed his demeanour, becoming once again an eight-year-old excited by an excursion into the country, rather than a peer preparing to don his ducal coronet.

  Fortunately, before Davie tired of their barrage, the carriage turned off the main road and headed down a drive that led to a red-brick manor house set at a distance in a pretty park. The drive threaded around old trees and crossed a rushing brook before passing a stable block and approaching a handsome porticoed entrance.

  ‘Would you ask the coachman to stop here?’ Faith called to Davie. ‘I’d like the boys to stretch their legs before trooping into the house, and I could do with a short walk myself.’

  Davie passing on her request, the coach halted. ‘Can we visit the stables, Mama?’

  ‘Will the dogs be out?’

  ‘Can our cousins take us to fish?’ the three boys’ questions overlapped as they jumped down.

  ‘To the house, first, boys,’ she replied. ‘You must greet your aunt properly before you go haring off across the property.’

  With a collective sigh, the boys fell in line, Colin skipping as he followed his older brothers. Faith slowed to relish the feel of her hand in Davie’s as he helped her down, then began walking beside him. ‘I’m sorry about Edward’s impertinence,’ she murmured.

  Davie waved a disparaging hand. ‘He’s just a boy, and mimicking what he hears, I suspect.’

  ‘Yes, I believe it’s his tutor’s influence. Carlisle has a starched-up sense of consequence which my late husband appreciated, and I don’t. I would wish my poor son the freedom to be a boy before he has to shoulder all the responsibilities of a duke. Which I would like him to shoulder responsibly, without the toplofty sense of superiority his father and uncle possess.’

  ‘If you don’t like the tutor, dismiss him.’

  Faith halted, surprised. ‘Can I do that? Would the trustees allow it?’

  ‘Find a respectable replacement and notify them. If they do object, you can always apologise and promise not to exceed your authority in future.’ He grinned. ‘Ask forgiveness, rather than permission; that’s always been my motto. In the meantime, you’ll be rid of an employee who doesn’t please you.’

  ‘Perhaps I shall,’ she said, cheered by the idea of dispensing with the impediment Carlisle had become. ‘But I don’t have any idea how to find a replacement.’

  ‘Ask Englemere, or your sister. Surely they’ve engaged several tutors for their sons over the years.’

  By then, they’d reached the entry steps, the butler holding open the front door to admit them. Before Faith finished handing over her wrap to the butler, her sister Sarah came hurrying out.

  ‘Faith! My darling Faith! I’m so delighted to see you! And your sons—my, how they’ve grown. Come give your Aunt Sarah a hug, boys!’

  As she knelt down, her smile warm and her arms open, the boys scampered over like eager puppies, even Edward unbending to accept her embrace.

  She rose, leaving her arms loosely around the shoulders of the two youngest. ‘Mr Smith, how kind of you to escort my family here safely. And to bring out those committee reports, sparing my husband one day’s ride in and out of London. We both very much appreciate it.’

  ‘It was my privilege. Your princess is doing better, I hope?’ Davie said.

  ‘Yes, Lizzie seems much improved this last week. With it being so sunny today, I may even let her go outside with her cousins—I’ve given them all a holiday from their lessons, in honour of your visit. Cook made some special jam tarts, too. Once you boys have had some tea in the nursery, you can go outside.’

  ‘To see the horses?’ Matthew asked.

  ‘Horses, ponies, dogs. I think we have some hoops and sticks in the stables, too. A pond with frogs, or you might drop a line in it.’

  ‘Fishing?’ Edward said, his eyes brightening.

  ‘Whatever you wish,’ Sarah replied. ‘It’s not often that my nephews visit. Now that you know the way, I hope you’ll come back.’

  ‘Me, too,’ Colin said. ‘I love tarts!’

  ‘We will come back, won’t we, Mama?’ Matthew asked.
>
  ‘Yes. Yes, we will,’ Faith replied, meeting her sister’s questioning regard, a wave of warmth and affection sweeping over her. This was her family, the older sister who’d been more mother than sister to her, whose children she barely knew. Freed from the shadow of her disapproving husband, she intended to rectify that error.

  ‘I’ll leave you to your family party,’ Davie said. ‘Though I will regret missing those jam tarts! Is Englemere in the library?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll have Wendover show you the way. And don’t worry, I’ll have some of those tarts sent in for your tea, too.’

  ‘Thank heavens! You’re an angel, Lady Englemere. Duchess.’ Giving Faith a nod and a little wink, Davie walked down the hallway after the butler.

  Faith stared after him as he disappeared. The pang at the loss of his company was eased by a growing sense of warmth and well-being—the feeling of coming home again, she realised with a little shock.

  She looked back to see her sister watching her watching Davie. Colouring a little, she turned to her sons. ‘Shall we go up to the nursery and meet your cousins?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ the boys chorused as, laughing, Sarah took each of the younger ones by the hand. ‘Follow me, then.’

  ‘You must tell me how they are doing,’ Faith said as they climbed the stairs. ‘Aubrey, Charles and Nicholas will be studying with their tutor, since you chose not to send any of the boys to Eton. And Elizabeth is still with Nurse, recovering?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve kept Elizabeth away from her brothers, so she’s not tempted to exert herself too much yet, though as I told Mr Smith, she is much better. Charles and Nicholas are very much anticipating taking a holiday from study today with your boys, but Aubrey isn’t with us; he left for Oxford earlier this year.’

  ‘Oxford?’ Faith exclaimed in shock. ‘Impossible! He can’t be old enough yet!’

  ‘He’s turned seventeen,’ Sarah said, a mingling of pride and sadness on her face. ‘A young man now, off preparing himself to enter a man’s world. I miss him dreadfully. Charles is fifteen, and even little Nicholas is now seven. My babies are growing up!’