Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

by Julia Justiss

  ‘Another reason to be glad he’s gone—even if I shouldn’t say so,’ he added, holding up a hand to forestall the objection politeness obliged her to make.

  After a reproving glance, she said, ‘I meant to thank you.’ At his enquiring look, she continued, ‘Emboldened by your and Lady Lyndlington’s encouragement, I even dared confront some of those who made snide comments.’

  She must have been recalling the event, for what began as a twitch of her lips turned into a laugh.

  Her sudden mirth was like the sun brightening a grey winter day, he thought, warmed to his toes by her delight.

  ‘When I did confront them, the ladies were even more shocked than Hargrave—and wary of me afterwards. Though the Dowager took me to task on the carriage ride home for incivility, warning that if I couldn’t curb my waspish tongue, no one of breeding would invite me anywhere, I think quite the opposite might prove true. Society will be curious to see the novelty of meek little Faith Wellingford Evers behaving as imperiously as a true duchess.’

  ‘You are a true duchess—much as I wish you weren’t,’ he added softly.

  A grave look replaced the mirth. ‘I wish I weren’t, either,’ she said with a sigh, her brow creasing again with worry. ‘It’s such a heavy responsibility, making sure my sons are brought up correctly. I want Edward to have all the training he needs to discharge his duties to the estate and the tenants, while remaining free of the arrogant sense of superiority that afflicted Ashedon. And his brother,’ she added in an odd tone, her eyes flashing with something like anger.

  More concerned than ever, he wanted to press her, but Giles was calling the group to order, Maggie begging all the guests to find a seat, so that the distinguished members could present their overview of the pending legislation. Though Davie perched himself on a chair near Faith, he had to wait through the exposition and the question session which followed before Maggie invited them all into the dining room, where light refreshments had been set out.

  Seizing the opportunity, Davie gave Faith his arm and escorted her in. ‘That was a great deal of information packed into a very short time. How about a stroll in the garden, after your tea and cake? By then, you’ll have had time to think through what was presented, and can ask me any questions you might have.’

  Though the invitation might have been framed to sound to anyone who overheard it as a helpful follow-on to the discussion, by the brightness in her eyes and her quick smile, Davie knew Faith understood it represented their one opportunity for some private time together. To his relief, she immediately replied, ‘That sounds sensible. Over tea, I shall carefully consider everything that was said.’

  Impatient for that brief sliver of time alone and determined to coax Faith to reveal whatever it was that brought the troubled look back to her face, Davie scalded his mouth, gulping down tea, munched a cake without tasting it, and had to work hard to curb his edginess while Faith daintily disposed of hers. He was nearly pacing with restlessness when, finally, she announced she was ready for a walk.

  As he led her from the dining room to retrieve her wrap, he felt Maggie’s speculative look on him. I trust you to keep your promise, it said.

  Recalling his vow not to think of seducing—or marrying—Faith provoked a ferocious rush of conflicted feelings. Honour demanded he never do anything that might harm her, and reminded him that a promise is a promise. The imperatives of love and desire argued they belonged together, no matter what the world might say.

  Should he have given such a promise? Would he be able to keep it?

  Shaking off those thoughts, as soon as they’d begun to stroll, he said quietly, ‘I don’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help but notice you’ve seemed troubled the last two times I’ve seen you. Is something wrong?’

  The surprise in her eyes before she schooled her expression told him he was right, regardless of whether she confided in him at once or not. Which increased both his worry and his determination to induce her to tell him what was disturbing her.

  ‘Nothing, really. That is, there is something—not of great import, so you mustn’t feel concerned!—but I think I shall be able to handle it. I shall handle it,’ she added, the determined note in her voice at odds with the anxious look in her eyes.

  While she spoke, she absently rubbed at the wrist of her right hand, where the long sleeves of her spencer met the edge of her short kidskin gloves. As she moved her hand away, Davie noticed a darkened area of skin that looked almost like—a bruise?

  Without a thought for whether or not it was proper, Davie snatched her arm and peeled down the glove—revealing what was indeed a large, deep purple bruise that appeared to entirely circle her wrist.

  Shock and fury blasted out of his mind any intention to try subtle persuasion. ‘What is going on?’ he demanded.

  She blanched before managing a tremulous smile. ‘I suppose I can’t convince you now that n-nothing is going on?’ A sheen of tears, hastily blinked away, momentarily glazed her eyes.

  ‘No, you’ll not convince me. In fact...’ he gently brushed away one errant tear with the finger of his glove ‘...I’m becoming more concerned by the moment. I imagine you’ll say there’s nothing I can do. But I can listen, at least. Sometimes just sharing a problem lightens the burden.’

  She shook her head. ‘There you are, being “Davie” again, wanting to solve the problems of the world.’

  ‘Not all the world’s. Just yours.’

  ‘I appreciate that. And I can’t tell you enough how much your encouragement has...strengthened me. Made me remember the confident, competent person I once was, long ago. The person I want to be again.’

  ‘I’m not happy with encouraging you, if it makes you soldier on alone with a problem others could help you solve.’ He touched his hand lightly over the bruise. ‘Don’t try to tell me you fell against a cabinet. I’ve been in enough fights to know someone had to have grabbed you hard and held on, to create such a mark. Is the Dowager violent towards you?’

  ‘The Dowager?’ she repeated, and laughed. ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Surely not one of the servants!’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ She pressed her lips together, staring into the distance, obviously debating with herself.

  ‘Please, Faith, tell me. How can I go back into that salon as if nothing is wrong, worried that someone might harm you? Do you need to leave London? Should I take you and the boys to your sister’s?’

  ‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, it’s absolutely essential that you do nothing at all. I...I probably shouldn’t even have agreed to walk in the garden with you.’

  Struck to the quick, he must have recoiled, for she took his arm, adding urgently, ‘I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. If I could, there is no one else I’d rather rely on. But...but in this instance, I just can’t.’

  Stiffly he withdrew his arm, stung far more deeply than he wanted to let her see. He ought to nod, and bow, and return her to the salon—but he just couldn’t let it go. ‘Before I remove you from my polluting presence, could I at least be informed why my assistance would be inadequate?’

  ‘You know I don’t feel that way about you,’ she said softly, her eyes filling with tears, which immediately defused his anger. ‘Very well, I’ll tell you. But before I do, you must promise not to intervene.’

  Another promise he might not be able to keep?

  ‘If I think my intervention would make the situation worse, then I promise to do nothing,’ he said, modifying her request to something he could live with.

  She took his arm and led him further away from the house. ‘I told you that first night I’d had an...unpleasant encounter with my brother-in-law, Lord Randall. Shortly thereafter, the Dowager invited him to take up residence with us in Berkeley Square. She believed she would see more of him, but he is generally around only when he needs more money. But on those occasion
s, he has taxed me to...become intimate with him.’

  ‘The devil he has!’ Davie burst out. ‘The unprincipled reprobate! Making improper advances to his own brother’s recent widow?’

  ‘Well, that’s Lord Randall,’ she said drily. ‘Ever on the lookout for his own advantage.’

  ‘I’ll take advantage of his impudence to beat him within an inch of his life!’ Davie said furiously. ‘Then tell him, if he ever darkens the door of Berkeley Square again, it will be the last doorway he ever walks through without the help of a cane.’

  ‘But that’s exactly what you cannot do!’ Faith cried. ‘You can’t confront him, or beat him, or have any contact with him whatsoever. He started by just toying with me, or perhaps he really thought I was desperate enough for male company to take him for a lover. But when I consistently refused, he found a more promising approach. He...he has seen us together, me and you and my boys—coming back from the visit to Sarah’s, from the trip to Astley’s. He threatens that if I don’t give in to his desires, he’ll go to the boys’ trustees and claim I am having an affair with you, and am so devoid of proper motherly feeling that I’ve dragged my sons along while I conduct it.’

  ‘That’s preposterous! Surely no one of sense, who knows you, would believe such a faradiddle.’

  ‘But the trustees don’t know me. Not personally. Probably all they know is what society thinks, that I never cut an adequate figure as duchess, that Ashedon disdained me, and then humiliated me in the manner of his death. After that, they might be convinced I decided to get back at him, dishonouring my rank and his sons, by behaving in the most flagrantly immoral way possible, consorting with a commoner and bringing my sons along to witness it. If you champion me, it just gives more credence to his claims.’

  For several moments, Davie paced the pathways with her, his mind feverishly working over all she’d revealed. ‘Surely you don’t intend to give in to his blackmail, sacrificing yourself to ensure you keep your sons!’

  ‘Of course not. I’d shoot him, as I threatened to, or myself, before I let that happen. But I have some time to figure out a solution. He’s delivered his ultimatum, and believes after I think it over, I will conclude I have no choice but to acquiesce to his desires. He said he would wait a while before confronting me again, and I believe he will. First, because he doesn’t come to Berkeley Square until he’s run out of money, and his mother funded him again just two nights ago. Second, he enjoys this cat-and-mouse game, and will prolong it as long as he can, confident of my eventual surrender.’

  ‘He can’t be confident if he’s dead.’

  ‘You shooting him is an even worse solution than me shooting him,’ she retorted.

  ‘Not really. Either of us could hang for it.’

  ‘I have no intention of dying—either for his murder, or at my own hands, for giving myself to a man I loathe. I will come up with some other plan. But I will not let him force me from my own house, or force himself on me.’

  ‘I applaud that resolution,’ he retorted, not in any way convinced. ‘But how, exactly, do you mean to ensure that doesn’t happen?’ He glanced down at her bruised wrist, almost unhinged with fury at the idea of Lord Randall hurting her, threatening her. ‘Surely you don’t think you’re strong enough to resist him, if he did try to compel you.’

  She sighed. ‘I thought at first I could, but you’re right. If it comes to brute force, I wouldn’t prevail. So I’ll have to see it doesn’t.’

  She must have been able to tell from his expression how inadequate a response he found that statement—and how much he felt like ripping a branch off the unoffending shrubbery bordering the pathway and breaking it over Lord Randall’s head. Halting in the pathway, she took both his hands.

  ‘Please, promise me, Davie,’ she said earnestly. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything to Lord Randall. Don’t trail him, harass him, come to fisticuffs with him—in short, don’t assault him personally in any way that would confirm a strong connection between us, giving further credence to an accusation that we are lovers. Any number of people—here today, at Astley’s—can testify that we’ve spent time together, and you are even more an outsider to society than I am. Nothing you assert would be believed over Lord Randall’s sworn word.’

  ‘Doesn’t anyone in society realise he’s a liar, a wastrel, and a reprobate?’ Davie spat out.

  ‘Yes. But he was born a duke’s son, and that’s all that will matter,’ she replied bitterly. ‘We should go back in. Before we do, you will promise me, won’t you? Else I’ll worry even more than I am now. And...and I probably can’t risk any more outings alone with you and the boys, even to Sarah’s. Much as I hate to concede even that much to Randall, I should probably see you only at gatherings like these.’

  She looked at once both so fierce, and so forlorn, it was all Davie could do not to pick her up and carry her back to his rooms in Albany, where he could keep her safe. But she was right, at least initially. He couldn’t intervene now, lest he risk giving the despicable Lord Randall more ammunition with which to threaten Faith.

  With the loss of her sons. The phrase settled in his chest like a blow.

  It would destroy her.

  He couldn’t do anything that would lead to that.

  He couldn’t stand by and do nothing, either.

  But for now, he would ease her anxiety with a promise, he thought, his mind already racing through possible scenarios. A very carefully worded promise.

  ‘Very well. I promise I will not personally assault Lord Randall.’

  Fortunately, she didn’t analyse how much leeway that pledge left him. ‘Thank you, Davie,’ she said, visibly relieved.

  ‘But I want a promise from you in return.’

  ‘What?’ she asked, looking wary again.

  ‘If you’re wrong, and Lord Randall confronts you in your bedchamber, scream to raise the roof, shoot first and worry about the consequences later. Or take the boys, today, and go to Sarah. I may be nobody in the eyes of society, but Englemere is a marquess. He can protect you.’

  ‘Your good opinion is everything to me,’ she whispered, pressing his hand. ‘Knowing that you believe in my innocence gives me the courage to keep on. I won’t go to Sarah—yet—but I promise I will shout the house down, if Randall should try to force himself on me. Now, we must go in.’

  Knowing he’d pushed her as far as he could, he gave her his arm. Together, they walked back to the house, Davie wondering how he would manage to sit calmly through the rest of this meeting, when all he wanted was time alone to figure out how he would counter Lord Randall’s threat without compromising his promise to Faith.

  Because he fully intended, before he set eyes on Faith again, to have eliminated the problem of Lord Randall.

  Chapter Twelve

  Having had difficulty refraining from tapping his heels for the rest of the meeting at Lord Lyndlington’s, for the first time, Davie was content to leave Faith with Maggie as the gentlemen made their departures.

  ‘Keep her here as long as you can,’ he murmured in Maggie’s ear as she kissed his cheek, adding, ‘I can’t explain now, and don’t ask her,’ when she moved to arm’s length, her eyebrows raised. ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

  ‘Duchess,’ he said, turning to Faith, ‘I trust you will try to bend as many ears as possible this coming week, encouraging attendance at Parliament.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Smith. Thank you again for taking the time to walk with me and fully explain some of the particulars.’

  ‘It was my privilege.’

  ‘Mine as well, to talk with so learned and principled a gentleman. Your electors in Hazelwick must have great confidence in you, knowing you are a man who always keeps his promises.’

  While Maggie cast a puzzled look from Faith to Davie, he bo
wed. ‘I trust that I keep my promises to everyone,’ he said pointedly to them both.

  Then, telling Giles he had an errand to discharge before meeting him back at the committee room, he walked out.

  * * *

  Already fairly sure of his destination, Davie chose to walk for a street or two, wanting some quiet time to review his preliminary impressions and confirm a plan of action.

  He felt only disgust for a man—he wouldn’t dignify Lord Randall Evers with the title ‘gentleman,’ no matter how high his birth—who would try to coerce a woman into his bed. That the woman the man was trying to coerce was his recently widowed sister-in-law made the attempt even more despicable.

  That the woman was Faith made him want to take the man apart limb from limb.

  There was nothing that would give him more pleasure than personally showing Evers what it was like to be confronted by a more physically powerful opponent. Though he was confident that such a man was a self-indulgent bully, who, once he was opposed by someone who could inflict more punishment than Evers could deliver, would back off and not menace her again, he’d promised Faith not to undertake the punishing himself.

  That was disappointing, and he’d need a good, long session boxing with a worthy opponent to work off the frustration of having to honour that pledge.

  On the other hand, the man was sly enough, and vindictive enough, that if Davie did assault him, he might make his accusations anyway, counting on his elevated status and the evidence of Davie’s abuse to give credence to his preposterous claims. To protect Faith into the future, it was probably wiser that the retaliation for Evers’s threat not be traced to him personally.

  His authority and opinions might not carry any weight in circles more elevated than Parliament. But there were certain places in which he was well known, his proven competence respected, where he would be able to recruit exactly the assistance he needed.