The Duke's Mysterious Lady

by Maggi Andersen

  Would he be asleep?

  She didn’t trust him a jot. They walked carefully through the deserted kitchen. Sally unlocked the back door.

  “I don’t wish to get you in trouble. I’ll leave you here. Bless you, Sally.” Rosie gave the young maid’s arm a squeeze. “I won’t forget you.”

  Rosie darted out into the yard, shuddering from fear and cold as the misty darkness swirled around her. She crossed the slippery cobbles.

  She entered the warm stables smelling of manure, horse and straw, straining her eyes in the poor light. Suddenly, a hard hand grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around.

  “Taking an evening constitutional before bed?” Rupert’s voice came out of the darkness. “We share the same thought, Cousin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “You are much too silent,” Rupert said. “I would have some conversation from you.” Rosie’s pleas of an upset stomach had succeeded in keeping him away from her for the rest of the night, but he had planted his man back in the corridor to make sure she didn’t escape again. Her disappointment was bitter in her mouth, mixed with the fear that the oaf outside might choose to enter and sample his boss’s wares as Rupert had threatened, should she misbehave again.

  Rosie had tossed and turned until dawn and rose exhausted. She forced down bread and butter, and drank several cups of strong tea to fortify herself for the difficult journey ahead.

  She and Rupert were now rattling along in the coach again, much closer to their destination, and she couldn’t hide her fury.

  “You have been vile, Rupert. You cannot hope for success. I’m asking you to consider another plan. Let me go. There is enough left of the estate to make both of us comfortable. You can have the money. I shall keep my house.”

  “But it should be my estate, I am the earl.”

  “Earl of Merryville you may be, Rupert. However, the house is mine. Take the money, establish yourself elsewhere.”

  He raised his brows. “There is a way I can have both.”

  She shivered, and waited for him to elaborate.

  “My reasons for marrying you were not just to gain control of the Merryville Estate.”

  This was another of his tricks! “What then?”

  “If we have a child, the Merryville name will remain linked to the Estate.”

  Her whole body recoiled with horror. “I think not.” Her voice was loud with anger and scorn.

  “It shall be as I say. I wished to persuade you to the sense of it, but you left me no alternative.”

  “Surely you don’t think I’ll ever love you, Rupert. Your behavior has made me hate and fear you.”

  His expression was hungry and lustful. “It matters not, Rosie. We shall deal nicely together.”

  “You are mad!”

  “Mad? No, my dear, my course of action is very sensible.”

  Repulsed, Rosie clenched her hands into fists, longing to strike his chest, if only she was a man! “It will not work! I shall be miserable and I will make you so.”

  “I would advise you to try and accept it. You must resign yourself to your fate. You are my wife. You have no one to champion your cause. Thank your dear departed papa for that, for he kept you too long out of society. Even your nearest neighbors know you hardly at all. You will not run away again, for you will be watched too closely.” He shrugged. “And if you did, where would you go?”

  Incredibly, this seemed to be his way of reasoning with her.

  “Come, let this be an end to your protests. I will be good to you. You shall want for nothing.”

  Rupert was mad. How could he think for a moment she would acquiesce to his delusional proposal?

  She listened to the kerchunk, kerchunk of the coach wheels, her mind drifting back.

  Hugh. His voice. His face.

  The passion they shared in their forest bedchamber. A bittersweet reflection she tucked away into a corner of her heart forever.

  ****

  Hugh rode back to Vale Park eager to tell Viola the news. Now that Felicity was settled with her new beau, there appeared to be little standing in the way of him and Viola marrying, but he was plagued with doubt, a feeling foreign to him. He would not feel confident until all obstacles had gone and they stood before the altar.

  The first thing would be to return Viola to her family, and learn what had caused her to run away.

  Surely, her memory would return when she was restored to her home and family. He dismounted and walked his tired horse, thinking of the locket that had brought him to an old lady’s door in Park Lane.

  The Bow Street runner had done his job. He’d discovered the crest to be that of the Merryville family.

  The Merryville’s of North Yorkshire could trace their lineage back to the Duke of Normandy in the eleventh century, so Lady Redcliffe proudly informed him.

  She lived in a comfortable townhouse in Mayfair, alone, apart from her servants.

  He found her dressed from head to toe in deep mourning, with a lace shawl about her shoulders and jet dangling from her ears. She’d worn black, she informed him, since her husband passed away these ten years past.

  He guessed she would never have been considered a beauty, but for her eyes, which were the same violet blue as Viola’s. Her abrupt manner mellowed after several glasses of Madeira. He had told her only the sketchiest of details, but she was intent on aiding him in what she called ‘his quest’.

  “She has none of the Yorkshire burr, Lady Redcliffe.”

  “Possibly not. William, Albert, and I spent most of our childhood in Somerset and never acquired it. I didn’t care much for my younger brother, Albert. He was an unpleasant fellow. I heard of his death some years ago.” She twisted a rope of grey pearls at her throat with fingers bent and misshapen by rheumatism. “William may have departed this world also. He became a semi-invalid after a riding accident, which damaged his spine when he was just a stripling.

  “I was against his marriage, I have to confess. Not because the girl was French, but because she was a delicate little thing herself. Terribly unsuitable for him. We were not brought up to marry for love. Quite the opposite, in fact. My marriage to Redcliffe was arranged. We had no say in the proceedings at all. These days, conventions seem less important.

  “I thought at the time that William, as elder son, should have made a more responsible choice. He married a girl with beauty, but no fortune.”

  Lady Redcliffe’s face flushed pink, and her voice cracked. “I don’t feel that way now. Jasper and I came to love one another, and I couldn’t deny anyone that.”

  “Life is worth little without love, my lady.”

  “Eh?” She looked at him sharply. “You know then, don’t you. My brother William was a scholarly fellow,” she went on. “I know his wife, Juliette, died in childbirth. I’ve never met their child, the girl of which you speak. I don’t even know her name.”

  She paused, looking at him directly, squaring her shoulders.

  “From what you’ve told me, she’s an exceptional young woman.

  I’d love to meet my niece, Vale. When you find her, will you bring her to me? I’d like to make amends. I’m old now, and may not live much longer. Jasper and I weren’t blessed with children.”

  After another sip of Madeira, she tapped him on the arm with her fan.

  “I’d enjoy introducing her to society. I doubt she’s ever been to London. Do you think she would like that?”

  “I don’t know, Lady Redcliffe,” he said, a smile hovering on his lips. “She may have other plans.”

  “Oh, well, I hope she will come,” she replied. “She will want to marry.” She cast him a sideways glance. “Especially, if she’s inherited the Merryville’s passionate nature.”

  *****

  Hugh fought the urge to ride hammer and tongs to Viola’s side, but he had to consider his horse. When he finally arrived back at Vale Park, he was shocked to discover that Rosie had been missing for three days.

  Nanny was beside herself with
worry. “They are still searching,” she told him breathlessly. “At first they followed the way she usually rode, you know, along the river and through the woods. I was terrified she had fallen and hurt herself, but they had no luck in finding her or her horse. Now they are searching everywhere.”

  Hugh gasped at the pain, as if a sword had been plunged into his chest. He could not believe Viola had run away. Would not believe it! She gave him her word. She must have met with an accident.

  Could she be lying somewhere hurt, or worse?

  The thought skittered away as he refused to accept such a possibility.

  Not his Viola. She was a fine rider. Had what happened between them in the wood driven her away? Might she have thought the situation too impossible?

  She was afraid of bringing scandal to his name.

  As if reading his thoughts, Nanny said, “She was dressed in her riding clothes, Hugh, and took none of her things with her.”

  Quelling his fears, Hugh called for his agent. “I want every inch of the grounds covered, Drew”, he said. “Every acre. Get everyone on it. Send a man to neighboring houses and to the village.”

  Hugh called for a fresh horse and roamed the fields along the river, his heart growing heavier by the minute. He returned long after darkness had fallen knowing he would not sleep one night until she was found.

  The next morning, as he ate a quick breakfast before riding out again, a man came to the house, carrying Viola’s hat.

  “It was in the home wood, Your Grace.”

  Hugh held the hat in his hands, turning it over, remembering the day Viola had plucked its feather to give to a little girl. “Take me to the spot.”

  The hat had been found a mile or so from the main gates.

  Hugh questioned the gatekeeper. He had seen nothing and had not opened the gates to anyone except Hugh. They searched down the miles of stone walls that bordered Hugh’s property with the road.

  Hugh examined the ground for hours, eventually discovering part of the wall had fallen away. Near it were snapped twigs and hoof marks. There had been more than one horse. She had not left alone.

  “She left with someone, Your Grace,” his groom said.

  “Hell’s teeth. She’s been abducted,” Hugh said through tight lips. “Someone in the village may have seen what happened.”

  When he dismounted at the inn, a stable boy hurried from the stables. Hugh tossed the reins to him.

  “Have you seen any strangers in the village in the last few days?”

  “Yes, Y’Grace, one man.”

  “Don’t just stand there. Tell me.”

  The lad shifted his feet. “’ e drank in the pub for some hours. Talked to anyone who would listen to ‘im. Said ’is master was ’ere for a romantic tryst.”

  Hugh sucked in his breath. “A tryst? With whom?”

  “’is master was meeting a lady. Staying up at Vale Park, she was. She’d sent for ’im. Asked to be taken ’ome.”

  “Who is this master for whom you speak?”

  The young man shrugged. “Didn’t say, Y’grace.”

  Hugh stared at him. His heart sank to a place somewhere near his boots, where he was sure it would remain. He couldn’t get his head around it, even though the truth stared him in the face.

  Had Viola not been the woman he thought her?

  She had left him without a word.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rosie’s mind would not give her a moment of peace.

  Memories of her last escape, of Hugh and Vale Park, replayed in her mind whenever she shut her eyes. Worries of the future and of Rupert’s expectations consumed her whenever she happened to catch him giving her a sideways glance.

  But all of this faded when in the late afternoon, the carriage approached the old house through the familiar gardens. She entered the oak paneled hall and crossed to her father’s cozy study where they had spent so much time together.

  Through the twisting pain of grief, the objects he loved brought her a small measure of comfort. His favorite chair. The smell of his tobacco from his pipes still placed on their stand on the old, green-tooled leather desktop. As if he’d just left the room.

  Her reverie was broken by Rupert’s approach. She said the first thing that came to her mind in order to escape him.

  “I want to see to the horses.”

  “You’d best get out of those clothes first,” he said with a distasteful lift of his lip.

  She flew upstairs to change her clothes. She had to see Jim.

  Walking to the stables with one of her jailers trailing behind, she found Jim squatting, his dark head bent as his hands moved slowly over a horse’s foreleg. He was far enough out in the paddock for them not to be overheard.

  Jim rose, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Lady Rosalind! I haven’t slept a wink since you left. I worried, knowing you was out there all alone.” His brows met in a heavy scowl and he jerked his head. “I hoped he’d never find you.”

  “As did I.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said with resolve. “That’s why I stayed. I’ll get you away from here, tonight. When he has his port after dinner, you must make some excuse. Meet me in the garden…”

  “No, Jim. I’ll not run away again. I…I am wed to him.”

  “Zounds! He tricked you. The ceremony was a sham.”

  “A sham?” Could it be true? Did she dare hope? Her legs wobbled and she feared she would fall. “He had a common licence. Two of his men stood as witnesses. Tell me what you know of this.”

  “The marriage license is a fake. My brother Simon has heard of that parson. He’s a rum one, no more a man of the cloth than I am.”

  Her heart pounding, Rosie fought for breath. Could it be true that she and Rupert were not married?

  She was afraid to believe it. If Jim were wrong, the disappointment would kill her.

  “I must talk to him.” She turned, intending to rush in and accuse Rupert, but then slowed her steps; she needed to outwit him.

  “Say nothing,” Jim said. “At ten o’clock tonight, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I can’t, Jim.” She was torn between the desire to flee and her fears for him. “Rupert has employed two dangerous brutes.”

  Jim snorted. “Couple of fools, they be.”

  “Dangerous, none the less.” She glanced behind her and saw Rupert leave the house. “Rupert is coming. Tell me quickly. Is Jessie all right?”

  “Your horse is quite safe. Rupert rode her too hard, and hurt her mouth. It seemed wise to remove her. He accused me, but he needs me here. For now.”

  “Bless you, Jim.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Jim said again, and turned back to the horse.

  “What are you two talking about?” Rupert stood with his foot on the bottom rail of the enclosure.

  The hope that they may not be married made her lightheaded; it was easy to lie to him, to bluff him into relaxing his iron grip on her. “We are discussing what is to be done with this horse. Do come and lend us your opinion.”

  With a lift of his brows, Rupert went through the motions of examining the horse. Rosie knew he had not the interest, nor the knowledge to assist them.

  “I’ll leave that to Jim, I think, my love. Come.” He held out his hand to her.

  She allowed him to tuck her arm in his, but his touch made her want to retch. If she had to stay here, she would die, either by Rupert’s hand or her own. If not with Jim, she would find a way to leave. Until then, it would be wise to humor Rupert.

  He was master of all he surveyed, and greatly pleased with it.

  They walked together back along the path through the orchards to the house.

  She did not interrupt him when he spoke of his plans for the estate he believed had been too long neglected. It was true the house and grounds were in need of repair. Her father had been unable to see to those things for some time and she’d been caught up with his care and the horses.

  Rupert broke into her thoughts. “So you ag
ree?”

  “With what?”

  “That a further marriage ceremony might be performed in a month or so, under better circumstances.”

  “Let’s talk about it later, Rupert. I need to bathe and change for dinner. And here we are almost back at the house.”

  As soon as they reached the door, she made her excuses, and fled to her bedchamber. Flinging herself onto the bed, she stiffened, when a knock came on her door.

  Her voice trembled as she called, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Sarah, milady.”

  “Oh, come in, Sarah.” She was relieved to see a familiar face as the maid entered and curtseyed. “Do any of the old servants remain?”

  “Just me and Jim, milady. He kept me on saying I’d be useful when you returned.”

  “I see.” Rosie firmed her lips to stop them trembling.

  “Which of the gowns will I lay out, milady?”

  “The dark grey.”

  It was the most somber of her gowns. She shivered. It was not just out of her respect for her father that she chose it. Plain and unembellished, Rupert had expressed dislike of it in the past.

  Would he force his way in and try to make love to her? She tucked a solid brass candlestick under her pillow, and felt calmer.

  She was aware that Jim would come for her, if only she could leave with him. But Jim was no match for Rupert and his cronies, this was why she hadn’t gone to him for help before. And, thinking rationally, what might Jim have done? Gone to the magistrate in York?

  Rupert was her first cousin, second in line for the Merryville estate. It was rare for a titled estate to be bequeathed to a woman, and few men countenanced it.

  They wouldn’t take the word of a mere stable hand over Rupert, or even Rosie for that matter.

  Rupert could be charming when he chose. He had ingratiated himself in the town. They all thought him a fine fellow.

  This was evident when she had turned in desperation to the doctor. He dismissed her claims as those of a hysterical woman, and the only help he provided came in the form of smelling salts and laudanum.

  “You are very lucky to have Rupert here to care for you,” he had told her. “This world is not a good place for a young woman to be alone. You are too fragile and emotional. Why, you will benefit greatly from the support of a man willing to take on the responsibilities of running this large estate.”