Authors: Cheryl Bolen

A Duke Deceived (18 page)

BOOK: A Duke Deceived

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Bonny joined the others in saying goodbye to Stanley but refused to speak to that contemptible widow.

Radcliff was so absorbed in the cards, he neglected his hostly duties and completely ignored his departing guests, much to Bonny’s satisfaction.

When their guests left, Bonny glared icily at her husband, then mounted the stairs to her chamber, where Marie awaited. The abigail deftly removed the pins from Bonny’s hair and brushed it out, then assisted Bonny into a simple muslin nightgown.

With Marie gone and her head clear, Bonny thought back over the night’s events. She could stand the humiliation. Where Richard was concerned, she had little pride. But worse than his bringing that woman here was the picture burned in Bonny’s mind like a recurring nightmare of Richard’s broad hand gently lying over Lady Heffington’s as they strolled across the drawing room to have a private têteà-tête.

The more Bonny remembered, the madder she got. No matter if she hadn’t been raised to be a duchess. No matter that her husband might not be in love with her. She was Richard’s wife, and he had absolutely no right to bring his mistress into her house.

Bolstered by her mounting anger, Bonny stormed from her room and down the stairs to her husband’s study, throwing open the door. The sight of her manly husband looking so wretched completely disarmed her. His cravat had been thrown off, along with his coat. His eyes were red and glassy, the look on his face forlorn. Was he so terribly unhappy with her?

Perhaps, then, she should free him. After all, their marriage could not continue like this. “Richard, I came to tell you that I think it a contemptible practice to invite your former mistress to dine with your wife, and I won’t have it.”

His eyes caught the light from the fireplace as he lifted his gaze to her. “And who is supposed to be my former mistress?”

“That odious Lady Heffington.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, deepening the dimple in his craggy cheek. “When you quit inviting unmarried
gentlemen,
I will quit inviting unmarried ladies.”

“What are you talking about?”

Radcliff glared at her. “Lord Dunsford.”

“I invited an unmarried man, hoping to make a match for Em. I did not know you disliked him.”

Radcliff lifted the decanter and poured a bumper of straight scotch. “Go to bed,” he commanded. “I wish to drink alone.”

Bonny stomped her foot and left the room.

Chapter Eighteen

H
is clothes were much too fine to expose to the elements, Stanley told himself as he rode his mare through Blooms-bury. One day he would have his own four-horse carriage. Too damned expensive to keep stables and a driver now. If only he could come into money while he was young enough to enjoy it. Because of his cousin’s intercedence, Stanley held a thousand-a-year post that offered a comfortable living. And he could always hope for an heiress. Trouble was, all the heiresses out this season were bloody ugly, and not one of noble birth.

He thought again of how he would have thrown away his hopes for an heiress if Bonny Barbara Allan had so much as given him a kind word. Despite her lack of fortune, she was, after all, the granddaughter of a viscount. With him being the grandson of a duke, their marriage would have been looked upon quite favorably by the ton.

But it was Richard who had won Bonny Barbara’s heart. Always it was Richard. Richard who got the title and the properties. Richard whom the cursed servants revered. Richard who distinguished himself at Oxford. Richard who was damned near worshiped by his parents while Stanley was left in the constant care of his nurse, then later his bloody governess.

While his thoughts were thus engaged, Stanley caught sight of Richard’s fine barouche parked in an unfashionable square in Blooms bury. He reined into the square and drove alongside the barouche, where the driver and tiger prattled.

“I say,” Stanley interrupted, “I believe this is my cousin’s carriage. Is the duke within?” His glance indicated the house the carriage was in front of.

“No, sir,” the driver replied. “And it’s her grace, the duchess, we’re driving. She likes to walk in the square by herself.”

Stanley looked past the iron gate to the square, which was hedged in chest-high yews. “But I don’t see her grace. Do you know where she is?”

The driver shook his head. “I couldn’t say. I’m not paid to snoop into her grace’s activities.”

“She went out the opposite gate and turned left, like she always does,” the tiger said.

Stanley tossed a shilling to the tiger. “Thank you.”

Turning his bay around, Stanley went to the other end of the square and turned left. One block down, he beheld a curious sight. Parked in front of a slender little row house was another crested barouche. For the life of him he could not remember whose crest it was, although he knew he had seen it recently.

He rode a short distance past the house and dismounted, positioning himself behind his horse so that he could peek over the saddle to see who came out the door of Number 17 Kepple Street.

He didn’t have to wait long. Very soon he saw Bonny come through the doorway alone and scurry down the stairs. At the end of the block, she turned toward the square where her barouche was parked.

Stanley did not have to follow her; he knew where she was bound. He would have to be patient.

Presently, he heard the door to Number 17 open again, and he recognized the tall, thin body of Lord Henry Duns-ford. No wonder Richard had been in such deuced low spirits last night. He must know about his wife’s infidelities, Stanley thought with satisfaction. By God, it was time Richard lost at something!

And Stanley knew just the person to share his good news with. How fortunate he was to have been traveling through Blooms bury today.

Bonny settled back in her barouche, pleased with herself. She had bought every single hat she liked at the most expensive milliner’s on Conduit Street. Still angry with him, she couldn’t wait for Richard to get the bill.

Across from Bonny, Emily settled in the carriage seat. “Em, I believe Richard does not at all like Lord Duns ford.”

“Upon my word, I cannot imagine why. Lord Duns ford is uncommonly nice. You know, he called upon me this morning.”

“How very agreeable. Did your mother behave tolerably well?”

“I am happy to say my meddlesome mother was away when he called,” Emily said with a mischievous smile.

“You didn’t see him alone?”

“Oh, no, to be sure. I had Martha come sit with her sewing.”

“Did anything interesting occur during his visit?”

Emily gazed into her lap. “He asked me to ride with him in the park this evening.”

“Did you agree?”

“I did, though I can’t think why. I don’t know what I’ll say to him.”

“There’s always the weather,” Bonny suggested.

“That’s what we talked of this morning.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll want to tell him you knew Harold.”

“I’m afraid to.”

As they rode, Bonny wondered if Duns ford had guessed about Emily. He had to have, given the fact he knew her first name and knew she was close to Bonny. The man was not an idiot. “I really cannot imagine why my husband has taken such a dislike to him.” If she wanted to prevent that horrid widow from returning to her house, she could never again invite Duns ford.

Stanley sat in the elegant drawing room at Wickham House awaiting Lady Landis. He had a particular interest in talking with her. The flamboyant peeress was noted for her wicked tongue and even more noted for her propensity to gossip. She would serve his purposes very well.

“My lady,” he said, getting to his feet as she entered the room. He took her hand. “How lovely you look. Much too young to be Alfred’s mother.”

She gave him a coy look. “I must say, my Lord Landis took me practically from the cradle.” She settled on her plum-colored damask sofa and begged Mr. Moncrief to sit in an armchair near her. “What a pleasure it is to have you call,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Now that we are related through the duchess, I thought I should strengthen our family bonds. Where is your lovely daughter today?”

“She has taken the poor duchess under her wing and is escorting her to Madame Herbert’s millinery shop.”

“How very obliging of your daughter to share her excellent taste.”

Lady Landis shot a questioning look at Stanley. “Did you desire to see Emily today?”

He scooted closer. “Actually, you are the one I particularly wanted to see, for what I have to discuss is of a private nature.”

He could almost see the woman’s ears perk up as she leaned closer. “It is because we are family and because I am so concerned about your niece that I am here.”

“Why are you concerned about Barbara?”

“I don’t wish to see her hurt my cousin. Richard’s very taken with her.”

“Whatever are you talking about, sir?”

Stanley leaned closer and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “What I say dies in this room.”

“To be sure.”

“I came straight here because I was so distressed at what I observed with my own eyes.”

“Pray tell,” said Lady Landis, mock concern across her face.

“I saw the duchess leave an unfashionable house in Blooms bury in the presence of Lord Duns ford, which in itself might be explained, but for the fact her coachman told me that going to that house is a regular practice of the duchess’s.” Stanley complimented himself on how well he embellished the story in his telling.

Lady Landis began to fan herself rapidly. “Poor Radcliff! I hope I don’t faint at such ghastly news. He’s done nothing to deserve such shameful treatment from that...from my niece.”

“Indeed.”

“I do hope you can take tea with me, Mr. Moncrief.”

He tugged at his fob and noted the time on his watch. “Alas, I have an appointment and must be on my way.” He got to his feet. “If your man could only retrieve my riding crop, I’ll be on my way now. I am heartily sorry to be the bearer of such disturbing news.”

Lady Landis shook her head somberly, though the glint in her green eyes belied her concern. “How very obliging of you to come to me with this...situation.”

Bonny scooped up Twigs’s markers from the table. “Pray, sir, you will owe me your next quarter’s portion if you keep this up.” That she had no intention of collecting, she was not telling him.

“Can’t fathom it. Beat by a lady. Not supposed to be that way.”

“Ladies, in many ways, sir, can be quite as smart as men.”

“Don’t mean nothing against you, Duchess.”

Bonny looked at the mantel clock. “You had best hurry if you want to ride in the park with Miss Carlisle while it is still light outside.”

“Oh, quite so,” he said, rising from his overstuffed chair and limping from the room.

With mixed emotion, Bonny listened to his uneven steps along the marble hall. She was glad he was mending so well, but she would miss him dreadfully. He had been her only companion during the weeks of her husband’s sporadic appearances at Radcliff House.

She mounted the stairs to dress for dinner. How ridiculous it was to continue with these customs. Night after night she wore lovely gowns to sit and dine alone or to share the gloomy table with Twigs. He did his best to make excuses for her husband and tried mightily to cheer her.

Marie fixed Bonny’s hair in an elegant enough style to go to court. Bonny donned one of the evening dresses Madame Deveraux had created for her and allowed Marie to stick a black ostrich plume in her hair. How silly she would look, all dressed up, to sit alone at that huge dining table.

But always she hoped Richard would come. She dismissed Marie and sat before her dressing table, listening, as she often did, for noises from her husband’s chamber. She began to open the drawers in her dresser out of sheer boredom.

She took out the velvet box containing the Radcliff Jewels. Just to look at them. To try to feel as if she were a Radcliff. If only she could have conceived a child. But now there was no opportunity. Would she go to her grave barren? she wondered as she opened the box.

Her heartbeat stilled. The jewels were gone!

With trembling hands, she quickly opened the rest of the drawers, searching for the jewels, but they had vanished like her husband’s warmth.

Who could have taken them? Could it have been one of her servants? A fleeting, sickening thought crossed her mind. Could Richard have taken them to give to Lady Heffington? No.
No.
Whatever his feelings were toward his wife, he could never be so dishonorable.

Why hadn’t she made Richard put them back for safekeeping? She thought of how many servants had access to her room. There was no way she could learn which servant might have removed the jewels. Should she tell Richard right away so he could take steps to apprehend the thief? She deplored the idea of telling him about the theft. The jewels had been in his family for two hundred years, and now that she had entered the family, the jewels were gone.

She couldn’t tell him. Not while he was so distant from her. It would be another wedge driving them further apart.

Her door creaked open and she turned, thinking it might be the upstairs girl with wood for her fire. But it was her husband.

She shoved the jewel case back into the drawer.

Without speaking, Radcliff crossed the floor and stood behind his beautiful wife, studying her reflection in the looking glass. He wanted to hold her so badly he physically ached. “How lovely you look, my dear. Expecting company?” He forced his voice to sound casual to mask the rapid beating of his heart, invariably caused by her presence.

“No, Richard,” she said evenly. “I only hoped my husband would be here to share my table. Why do you stay away so much?”

He had planned to dine with her tonight, but perhaps he should withhold his company a bit longer. His plan appeared to be working, judging from Barbara’s words. It actually sounded as if she cared. Could it be that absence was the path to her heart? Absence and carefully orchestrated disinterest. “We are in town now, my dear. My town habits are different than my country habits.”

“If town habits mean getting foxed every night, neglecting your wife, spending all your time with your bachelor friends and bringing your mistress to dine at our table, then I must say I prefer country habits.”

By Jove, but she acted as if she did care.
His plan was working. If only he could be strong enough to leave her once again tonight. “My, but my little wife is getting some spunk in her married life. By the way, you forgot. Lynda is my
former
mistress.”

Bonny turned around to face her husband. “You expect me to believe that in light of your present behavior?”

God give me the strength not to take her in my arms and dissolve in her embrace.
He met her stern gaze and could not resist trailing his finger over her smooth cheek, down to her chin. “It’s the truth, Barbara.”

“Will you dine with me tonight?” she asked somberly.

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips over it. “I regret I have made other plans.”

BOOK: A Duke Deceived

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