Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

by Julia Justiss

  Faith shuddered. ‘I’m happy my eldest is only eight!’

  The party reached the schoolroom, where Sarah’s sons bounded out to meet them. As the sisters reintroduced the cousins to each other, Edward gravitated towards the oldest of his counterparts. ‘Do you have a tutor?’ he asked Charles.

  ‘I do, although Mama and Papa read with us, too,’ the boy replied, then halted, dismay on his face. ‘I’m so sorry—Mama told me you lost your papa this year. You must miss him awfully.’

  Edward shrugged. ‘I never saw him much.’

  Charles’s eyes widened. ‘Did you not? How unlucky! I get to see mine every day, unless he must stay overnight in London for a meeting. I suppose your papa travelled a lot.’

  ‘I guess,’ Edward answered vaguely.

  Regret, anger and anguish stirred in Faith’s gut. How long would she be able to shield Edward before he discovered just what sort of ‘travelling’ had led to his father’s premature demise?

  After a concerned glance at Faith’s face, Sarah said quickly, ‘Boys, I’ve sent for your tea to be brought up—’

  ‘With jam tarts, Mama?’ Nicholas interrupted.

  ‘Yes, with jam tarts.’ While he and his brother Charles cheered, she continued, ‘After tea, you must take your cousins to the fishing pond and the stable. I think all the boys would like to take a turn on your ponies.’

  ‘That would be beyond everything wonderful, Aunt Sarah!’ Matthew cried.

  ‘I would like to see that fishing pond,’ Edward admitted.

  ‘You boys enjoy yourselves, while your mama and I have a comfortable coze.’ Sarah leaned over to give her two sons a kiss. ‘Don’t let them break anything important, like an arm or a leg.’

  ‘Nothing bigger than a finger, Mama,’ Charles promised with a grin.

  Leaving the boys in the schoolroom with the nursery maids, Sarah led Faith to her private sitting room. ‘We’ll have our tea here, and catch up.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah, it is so good to see you and the children again! I am sorry I stayed away so long.’

  ‘So am I. I did call on you several times in those early years, when Nicholas was in London for Parliament. I was always told you were “unavailable”. Which I know was on Ashedon’s instructions, not yours.’

  ‘“Unavailable”?’ Faith cried. ‘You truly came to the house, and were turned away? That’s—that’s incredible!’ She seized her sister’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry! And, no, it was certainly not on my instructions. I would never have been too busy to see you!’

  Sarah squeezed her hand before releasing it. ‘I thought as much. I wasn’t angry, just sad, and worried about Ashedon exerting so much control over your life—just as I’d feared he would.’

  ‘He’d certainly discouraged me from contacting any of my family. How like him to make sure that dictate was enforced, by forbidding the staff to let me know you’d called,’ Faith said bitterly. ‘And how gracious you are, not reminding me that you’d strongly advised me not to marry him.’

  Sarah gave her a sympathetic look. ‘It’s hard to dissuade a girl as much in love as you were.’

  ‘A girl too stupid to recognise the truth when her sister told it to her.’

  Sarah waved a disparaging hand. ‘Not stupid at all! Even I, who was suspicious of his intentions, had to admit his display of affection was convincing. For your sake, I’d hoped it was genuine. But from what I knew of his character, I suspected it was not.’

  ‘He got exactly what he wanted—a girl so bedazzled she tried to anticipate his every desire, a girl too meek and obliging to resist him even long after she realised he’d only married her to get a well-bred brood mare to produce his children, one spineless enough not to create scenes or tax him about his affairs.’

  Sarah gave her a hug. ‘You are too hard on yourself. You offered him the love and warmth and sense of joy you radiate to everyone around you. It was his loss that he did not appreciate such a gift.’

  ‘Well, enough about the sorry past. We’re seeing each other again, and I intend that we shall continue to. Bad enough I didn’t begin until it was too late for my boys to know Aubrey; I want to make sure the rest of the cousins can become as close as we siblings were, growing up.’

  ‘I should love that, too! So, what do you intend to do with yourself, now that you no longer have to please a husband? You...haven’t given a thought to remarriage yet, have you?’

  Recognising that as a subtle enquiry about her relationship with Davie, Faith felt her face flush. ‘Having just got out of one highly unsatisfactory marriage, I’m not sure I ever want to risk the institution again. I doubt that my powers of discernment are much better now than they were at seventeen. How could I trust that a man valued me for myself, and not for my wealth and position? And even if I could trust his affection—’ in her mind’s eye, she saw Davie’s face ‘—how could I trust that it would endure, once he spent as much time with me as a husband would?’ She shook her head. ‘I think I would do better to content myself with mothering my boys.’

  And what of passion? her senses demanded. She pushed the question away, not ready to make a decision about that yet.

  ‘Nicholas told me that you’d attended a dinner at Lord Witlow’s,’ Sarah’s voice recalled her. ‘And seemed to enjoy discussing politics. Don’t I remember you used to discuss that, and all manner of things, with Mr Smith?’ She laughed. ‘For six months after the summer you spent with Cousin Joanna, I heard nothing but “Mr Smith thinks this” and “Mr Smith said that”.’ She pinned Faith with her frankly assessing gaze. ‘You seem to have resumed your friendship.’

  ‘Yes,’ Faith replied. ‘But don’t give me that look. I’ve already said I have no interest in remarriage; even if I did, I know that Mr Smith, despite his rise in politics, wouldn’t be considered suitable. But surely now I am free to choose whatever friends I like! And friendship is all I’m interested in.’

  And maybe something warmer than friendship? the sharp voice of honesty added.

  ‘You can’t fault me for wishing, after all the unhappy years you spent, that you might find the same happiness I have with Nicholas,’ Sarah protested. ‘But as long as you are getting out, mingling with friends and engaging in activities you enjoy, I shall be content.’

  ‘As long as I can do that, and spend time with the dear family I have been estranged from for too long, I shall be content, too,’ Faith replied.

  ‘Speaking of family, shall we go see what the boys are up to?’

  Comforted and encouraged by their talk, Faith rose. ‘Yes, let’s join the children.’ Arm in arm, they descended from Sarah’s salon to the terrace and down the gravel path to the tree-bordered garden.

  They encountered the boys, a pack of dogs running and barking around them, as soon as they turned the corner at the edge of the walled kitchen garden—all except Colin. A spurt of alarm zipping through her, before she could ask Charles what had become of her youngest, she spotted him, proudly perched on the first branch of a nearby oak tree. ‘Mama, look!’ he called. ‘I can do it! Charles only had to help me a little. I’m taller than everyone!’

  ‘So you are. Bravo!’ she replied, smiling with fond affection at her fearless, adventuresome son.

  ‘Can you climb up, too, Mama? There’s room.’ He patted a place on the limb beside him.

  ‘Since this is a day for finding my roots again,’ she said, grinning at Sarah, ‘maybe I should.’

  ‘Oh, Mama, don’t be silly,’ Edward said.

  Irritated at his dismissive tone, she turned to him. The look of distaste on his face, the disparagement of his tone, made him seem the image of his late father—who’d been so unappreciative of who she was, who’d tried in every way to squelch the freeness of spirit she was finally rediscovering, or smother it by forcing her always into company with those just as disapproving.
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  Sudden fury filled her. Before she knew what she intended, she’d marched to the base of the tree, kicked off her slippers, and reached up to grasp the lowest branch. After examining the trunk to find the best toe-holds, she steadied her grip, swung herself up and dug her feet into the furrowed trunk.

  While the boys whooped and clapped, Colin laughed in glee and Edward looked on, astonished, as she managed to pull, push and shimmy herself several feet up the trunk, where she eased to a resting position on the branch beside her son. A beaming Colin scooted over to give her a fierce hug. ‘You’re the bestest mama ever!’

  ‘It appears I still have the knack!’ she announced, hugging him back.

  ‘So it does.’

  Shocked at the sound of Davie’s voice, Faith twisted, nearly losing her balance. She felt her cheeks flush as she watched him and Englemere stroll into the garden, suddenly aware of the dirt on her hands, what would doubtless prove to be stains on her skirts—and the fact that her climb had ruched up those skirts so she was now displaying a very indecorous amount of ankle and leg.

  ‘Well and truly caught, my dear sister-in-law,’ Nicky said, coming over to wrap an arm around his wife.

  ‘You do climb as well as you did as a girl,’ Sarah said, laughing.

  ‘Not quite,’ she replied, still embarrassed. But as she saw Davie’s gaze trace her leg from the stockinged toes to the curve of her calf, heat of a different sort washed through her. Suddenly breathless, she said, ‘It—it was much easier to climb in breeches. I’m not sure how I shall get down without creating a spectacle.’

  ‘Let me help.’ Davie walked over to the tree and stationed himself below her. Raising his arms, he said, ‘Lean down a little, and give me your hands. I’ll have you safely on the ground in a trice.’

  Looking down, she was surprised to realise he was indeed tall enough that she needed to stretch down only a small distance to reach his extended hands.

  ‘Slide forward off the branch,’ he coached. ‘I won’t let you come to any harm.’

  ‘I know you won’t.’ She leaned forward and placed her hands in his.

  ‘I have you now. You can push off.’

  And he did have her. She couldn’t take her eyes from the face, confident, slightly smiling, that gazed up at her encouragingly. He tightened his grip, pulled, and then she was falling, falling into the void—and into his arms.

  He cushioned her descent, letting her slide down his strong, solid body until her feet touched the ground, and then steadied her, his eyes never leaving her face.

  She stared up at him, suddenly unable to draw a breath, the memories racing back. He’d rescued her once before, when in the gathering darkness of a summer evening long ago, she’d misjudged her descent from the tree in cousin Joanna’s back garden where she’d been reading to him, and slipped. Waiting below, he’d caught her and eased her to the ground, bracing her until she found her footing.

  And then, as a spangle of stars sparkled over them, he’d leaned down and kissed her.

  From the sudden tightness of his grip, the blaze of heat in his eyes, she knew he was remembering it, too. The babble of the children’s voices, the gambolling dogs, the presence of her sister and brother-in-law watching them—all of it faded, until she could feel only the energy pulsing between them, see only his rapt gaze focused on her face, her lips.

  With every fibre of her being she yearned for him to kiss her again. Even though she knew it was impossible.

  He must have concluded that, too, for he stepped back and pushed her away, breaking the spell. ‘Safe on the ground again,’ he said gruffly.

  On the ground again, perhaps, she thought. But not at all safe.

  ‘How about you, young lad?’ Davie called up to Colin. ‘Are you ready to hop down?’

  ‘Will you catch me, like you did Mama?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Here I come!’ With that, Colin launched himself from the branch.

  Davie caught him easily, then swung the boy round and round while he shrieked with glee, before setting him on his feet again.

  ‘I love climbing trees! Will you bring us again tomorrow?’

  Oh, how I would love that! Faith thought. ‘I’m afraid Mr Smith has to work, Colin.’

  ‘Climbing trees would be heaps more fun,’ the boy coaxed.

  Davie laughed. ‘You must know the committee members I have to deal with.’

  ‘All right, boys, back to the house,’ Sarah ordered. At the sighs and protests of dismay, she added, ‘Did I mention that Cook might have an additional treat waiting in the nursery?’

  ‘More jam tarts?’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘Bet I beat you there, Nicholas!’ With that, he took off running, the other boys pelting behind him.

  ‘Did your discussions go well?’ Sarah asked, turning to the gentlemen.

  ‘I think we’re getting ever closer to a compromise Englemere will be able to persuade his colleagues to accept,’ Davie said.

  ‘That’s excellent news!’ Sarah exclaimed.

  ‘We’ll take up the work again when I ride in tomorrow,’ Englemere said. ‘Thank you again for bringing out the latest documents, so I might be prepared, Mr Smith.’

  ‘It was my pleasure.’

  ‘And mine,’ Faith said. ‘Let me add my thanks, for allowing us to accompany you. It was so wonderful to spend time with my family again!’

  ‘You must visit them often,’ Davie advised.

  Every day, if I could claim your escort, Faith thought.

  ‘Shall we join the children back at the house?’ Englemere said. ‘Much as I hate to break up the party, it’s probably time to call for your carriage, if you are to return to London for the boys’ supper.’

  ‘I should do some additional work on those documents before tomorrow, too,’ Davie said.

  Realising with regret that their interlude together was nearly at an end, Faith recalled Davie’s earlier advice. ‘Nicky, Sarah, could I ask your help?’ she said, taking her sister’s arm. ‘I’ve never got on well with the tutor Ashedon engaged for the boys. Then, since Ashedon’s death, he seems to be trying to instil in Edward an excessive concern for his own consequence. Though I am sure the Dowager encourages him, I cannot like it.’

  ‘You must have someone who agrees with your ideas for the boys’ education,’ Englemere said. ‘Edward has plenty of time to develop a sense of what is owed to him as a duke. Shall I make enquiries and send you some recommendations?’

  ‘That would be wonderful! I’d like to give the current tutor his notice immediately.’

  ‘Then do so,’ Englemere said. ‘Edward’s only eight; he’ll not suffer any permanent damage from missing a few lessons while you look for someone who will suit you better.’

  ‘Thank you!’ And you, too, Davie, for encouraging me, she thought, giving him a grateful nod.

  * * *

  All too soon, they had collected the boys, who begged to be allowed to walk down to the stables to meet the coach before being confined again for the journey back to London. Bidding her sister’s family goodbye with vows to visit again soon, Faith and Davie set off behind the boys for the short stroll to the stables.

  ‘You have a fine horse, Mr Smith,’ Matthew said as they walked. ‘Did a groom teach you to ride?’

  Davie laughed. ‘No, I grew up on a farm, my first mount a gentle old plough-horse.’

  ‘A farm?’ Colin said. ‘With trees and horses and dogs?’

  ‘And fields and chickens and goats and ducks and pigs, too.’

  ‘You could ride and fish every day?’ Matthew said, awe in his voice. ‘That must have been wonderful!’

  ‘There was a lot of ploughing and weeding and milking and feeding stock, too, along with the riding and fishing,’ Davie told him. ‘But it was wonderful—for a time. Whe
n I was still young, there were bad harvests, and my family lost the farm. My parents went into the city to work in a factory, and were killed in an accident.’

  ‘How awful for you!’ exclaimed Faith. Though she knew Davie had been orphaned, he’d never before mentioned the circumstances.

  ‘The tragedy did allow me to get back to the country. An older widow took me in to help her with her cottage and the farm work.’

  ‘Where Mr Smith later encountered Sir Edward, who was so impressed by his abilities that he sponsored him at Oxford and, with your Uncle Nicholas, supported him to become a Member of Parliament. He now has a very important role in the governing of England,’ Faith told the boys.

  ‘Do you not have any land?’ Edward asked, frowning. ‘My tutor said every gentleman must own land.’

  Before Faith, once again annoyed at Carlisle’s officious teaching, could rebuke her son for his implied criticism, Davie said, ‘I didn’t for many years, Ashedon. But I was recently able to buy back from Sir Edward the farm my parents used to own.’

  ‘So you have a farm, too?’ Matthew said. ‘Can we visit it?’

  ‘Some day, if you like,’ Davie replied, giving Faith a wink to forestall her objections. ‘It’s rather far away, though.’

  ‘Do you have horses and trees and dogs?’ Colin asked.

  ‘Yes. In fact, the horse I’m riding today was bred there. A tenant manages the land for me, since I spend most of the year in London, working on government business.’

  ‘I’m sorry you don’t have a title,’ Edward said. ‘But I s’pose it’s all right, if you own some land.’

  They’d reached the stables by then, the boys running off to have one last look at the horses before being corralled into the carriage for the journey home. Turning to Faith, Davie said with a smile, ‘I think I’ve just been accorded the ducal approval.’

  ‘Please, don’t encourage him!’ Faith said with a groan. ‘I’m going to give Carlisle his notice tonight! I shall do everything I can to make sure Edward doesn’t grow up to be a replica of his father.’ Looking up into Davie’s strong, kind, handsome face, she added softly, ‘I shall try to help him grow up to be like you. Compassionate towards his fellow man—those of his own rank, and those who are not. Diligent in his duties to his land and its tenants. Responsibly involved in the governing of his country.’