Authors: Cheryl Bolen

A Duke Deceived (22 page)

BOOK: A Duke Deceived

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Emily sat dazedly staring in front of her.

“Oh, Em, I’m so sorry, but really, Lord Dunsford needed to know about his own niece. He’s in a position to see that she gets what she is entitled to as the niece of an earl.”

“To be sure,” Emily said distractedly.

Emily turned to Bonny. “I shall never again be able to see him. I should die of shame.”

“But all these times he’s been with you, he has known, and he thought no less of you. If you ask me, he’s falling in love with you.”

“I could not look him in the face.”

This was not a good time to tell Emily about the earl’s scheme to adopt Harriet, thought Bonny. Emily was distraught enough.

Chapter Twenty-Two

R
adcliff heard the sound of draperies sliding back and closed his eyes tightly against the sun. “Good God, man, what are you doing?”

“Perhaps your grace has forgotten that your solicitor is to meet you here at one o’clock,” Evans said evenly.

Radcliff opened first one eye then another to the harsh sunlight. “What ungodly hour is it, pray tell?”

“Fifteen past twelve, your grace.”

“Blast Mr. Willingham.” Radcliff attempted to lift his head from the pillow but was overtaken by great pain. “Be a good man, Evans, and bring me a tisane. I’m afraid I’m not feeling quite the thing.”

“I already have it, your grace.”

His head aching abominably, Radcliff managed to sit up and drink the elixir in one long gulp.

“May I say that it is good to have you home, your grace. In your own bed. It has been quite some time.” Humming happily to himself, Evans went to Radcliff s dressing room and came back with a clean shirt and breeches.

“Thank you, Evans. Town was deuced dull last night, and at one time I did remember that I had to meet with Willingham early today.” Radcliff threw off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Tell me, has her grace had breakfast yet?”

A smirk came over Evans’s face. “It has been quite some weeks since her grace has eaten breakfast.”

Radcliff shot a quizzing glance at Evans, his brows low. “She doesn’t eat breakfast anymore?”

“No, your grace. She appears to be very sick each morning, but her tolerance for food will improve.” The valet held out a crisp white shirt.

“How do you know so much about my wife?” Radcliff slid his arm into the shirt Evans held open for him.

“Oh, the whole house knows about the baby, your grace.”

“The baby?” Radcliff could not understand what a baby had to do with poor Barbara being sick. And who had a baby around here, anyway? Then, like a shot from a cannon, the meaning hit him. Barbara was with child. The thought made his insides go mushy, a warmth spreading from his heart. He thought of how thin Barbara had been looking, and he ached to think of her being so sick.

And everyone in Radcliff House knew except her husband. He must not let the servants think Barbara had not shared the news with him. He sprang from the bed and threw on his trousers, stalking toward the dressing room that linked with Barbara’s room. “I must tend to my wife, Evans. I will dress myself later.”

The sight of Bonny sliced into Radcliff’s heart. Thin and pale, she lay rigid, several lace-covered pillows propped behind her. Her arms looked like twigs poking from the snow white muslin gown. Shadowy gray circles hung under her tired eyes and her cheeks were hollow.

“You look terrible!”

A wan smile touched her lips. “Thank you, your grace.”

Radcliff sat on the bed beside his wife. “I’m told you’ve been sick for some time.”

“I realized yesterday that it might not precisely be sickness. It seems the entire household knows more than I about my own condition.” She took Radcliff’s hand. “I believe we’re going to be parents, Richard.” Her face transformed—her eyes no longer tired but lively, a smile playing at her pale lips.

He withdrew his hand. It suddenly occurred to him that the babe might not be his. He had not shared Bonny’s bed in months.

“I was very surprised, since we have not been together. Then I remembered that night.” Her eyes softened. “Not that I had forgotten it.”

That night, Radcliff thought. That night the brandy had numbed his brain and he allowed himself the luxury of sinking into Bonny with a hunger that gnawed at him even now.

Then he thought of Dunsford lying with Bonny, and he wanted to skewer the man on his saber.

He lightly touched his fingertips to her cheeks. It was strange he did not want to kill her. Only Dunsford. Barbara had done everything he asked of her. She had agreed to become his wife. She had opened her body to him completely and without inhibition. She had once even used the word
love.
He would carry to his grave the memory of her meeting his gaze and saying, “Did it never occur to you that I might be in love with you?”

He had known when he asked her to become his wife that she had given her heart to another. He had taken advantage of her mother’s condition to force her into marriage.

And she had been a good wife. Except she had not kept her vow to “forsake all others.”

He kissed her hand and got to his feet. “I am very sorry that you have been so unwell, my dear, but I must hurry. My solicitor awaits downstairs.”

As he walked toward the door, she called to him in a shaky voice, “Are you not happy about the baby, Richard?”

With his back to her, he swallowed and said, “It is just that it is such unexpected news. I daresay it will take me a while before I get used to the idea.”

As he descended the broad marble staircase, Radcliff cursed to himself. “Damn her eyes!” No matter how hard he tried to purge Barbara from his thoughts, the image of her long black lashes shading aquamarine eyes, her sensuous mouth beneath the aristocratic nose crowded everything from his mind. Now he thought of her with Dunsford, her lovely ivory body beneath his.

And he recalled the words to the ballad of “Bonny Barbara Allan.”

On his deathbed lay
for love of Barbara Allan.

A few blocks away, Dunsford skipped up the steps to Wickham House and rapped on the door.

It was opened by Styles.

“Please tell Lady Emily that Lord Dunsford has arrived to take her riding,” Dunsford said cheerily.

“I regret to say her ladyship is not in, my lord.”

“But...” Emily had agreed to ride with him in the park at five o‘clock today. He pulled his watch from the fob and glanced at it. Five o’clock. She had not sent him a message canceling their meeting. He had just come from his house. Vastly disappointed that he would not get to see her, and concerned over the cancellation, Dunsford handed his card to Styles. “Please leave this for Lady Emily.”

Radcliff sat behind his desk and directed his gaze at Jonathan Willingham, the white-haired gentleman who had been solicitor for Radcliff’s father before Radcliff succeeded. And Willingham’s father before him had served the House of Radcliff since the days of the third duke.

“I have asked you here today, Jonathan, because I do not wish the title to go to my cousin Stanley Moncrief.”

Willingham coughed, and his bent-over shoulders straightened. “But, your grace, it is out of my hands. It’s the law of the kingdom. Primogeniture. In kindredship, Stanley is the closest male to you in the Moncrief line. The only way to prevent him from succeeding is for you and the duchess to have a male child.”

“My good man, we are working on that, but in the absence of my yet-to-be-born son, I desire that you find a way to cut Stanley out.”

“Your grace—”

“And while you are working on that, draw up a will that is exceedingly generous to my wife.” Radcliff stood up and held out his hand. “Good of you to come, Jonathan.”

“Really must go before you win the cravat off my neck.” Twigs shot a disappointed glance at Radcliff, threw down his cards and rose from the whist table in the card room at White’s.

Old Lord Higby also got to his feet. “What’s that you say? Winning a habit with Radcliff? Upon my word, fellow’s got devilishly good luck.”

Stanley Moncrief was by no means ready to leave. Quite the contrary. He had waited all night to get his cousin alone. When the others were safely out of earshot, he leaned toward the duke and said, “I say, would you have any objections to my calling on the lovely Lady Lynda?”

Radcliff’s eyes studied Moncrief with blatant insolence. “You ask that of a newly married man?”

“Well, when I saw your wife with Dunsford the other day, I quite naturally assumed...”

Radcliff did not move an eyelash as his gaze hardened. “You assumed incorrectly.”

“Then this marriage of yours is a love match?” Moncrief’s spirits sank. If the two loved each other, surely an heir would be produced within the year, cutting his likelihood of succeeding to the dukedom.

“Did you suppose I married Barbara for her dowry?” the duke replied mockingly.

A sly smile curved Moncrief’s lip. “It is widely known she had no dowry, your grace, but I thought you might merely want to possess her because she is undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in all of London.”

“In all of England,” the duke amended, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “And I will thank you to keep your hands off her in the future.”

“I daresay if I were married to the most beautiful woman in England I would not be sitting at White’s tonight, nor all the other nights of late.”

The duke leveled cool green eyes at Moncrief. “Your appetite for gossip is not unlike a woman’s, Stanley.” He leaned toward Moncrief, his gaze brittle, his voice chilling, and said, “The story about the duchess and Dunsford had best not reach my ears again. I would hate to have to call you out.”

That said, the duke scooped up his winnings, nodded at his cousin and left.

Though it was a cool night, Moncrief wiped fresh beads of perspiration from his brow. He knew he balanced on a very thin wire between victory and oblivion. He would have to be most careful to avoid vexing his cousin any further. The duke’s skill with the sword and with pistols was as well known as his appreciation of beautiful women.

A moment later, Radcliff returned, hat in his hands. “And one more thing, Stanley. The duchess and I are to be parents.” He turned on his heel and left.

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he sound of violent retching woke Radcliff the next morning. Not accustomed to sleeping in his own bed, he sprang up to see where he was. Who in the bloody hell could hold his liquor no better than a blade in his first season? The warm claret velvets and rich dark woods of his own chamber made him realize where he was. He shuddered as he listened to the waning sounds of his Barbara’s agony.

Pulling on the trousers that lay on the floor where he’d left them late the night before, Radcliff went to his wife.

She was alone, slipping from her bed to remove the chamber pot now that she had filled it with yesterday’s dinner.

“Here,” he said sternly, taking the porcelain bowl from her. “Back to bed, my dear.” Turning his back on his surprised wife, he walked to the door, placed the pot in the hallway, came back and plumped up several pillows behind Bonny, then sat on the edge of her bed. His eyes wandered over her pallid face. “How long have you been sick like this?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really know. Quite likely two months.”

“I am worried about you. How long will this keep up?”

“For many women, about three months. For others, the duration of their confinement.”

“How can a baby survive under such circumstances?”

“I do not at all understand, but they do. Already, my shift is too tight. Our baby seems to be thriving.” She took Radcliff’s hand and placed it on her stomach. “Feel, Richard. He is already growing.”

Splaying his fingers over her belly, he felt a hard swell where she had been soft. A lump came to his throat. A tangle of emotions nearly overpowered him. When he gazed back into her pallid face with its great, sad eyes, the urge to encircle her in his protective warmth overcame him. He drew her against him and closed his arms around her.

For some time, he basked in the peace of her, the feel of her hands moving gently over his back, the sweet rose scent of her. He did not want to break the spell with words.

But Marie, coming to check on her mistress, broke the spell.

For once, the duke spoke kindly to the startled abigail. “I appreciate the excellent care you have given the duchess, Marie. I fear I have been very neglectful.”

Neglectful did not come close to describing his deplorable treatment of Barbara. He had been so deuced low over his own doubts, he had not considered her. But worry over her now consumed him like a raging fever. Whether or not that babe was his, he could not bear for her to suffer.

“But you did not know, Richard,” Bonny said, gazing at her husband with laughing eyes.

He turned back to Marie. “I will see to the duchess’s needs this morning, Marie.”

Marie curtsied. “Very good, your grace.”

With Marie gone, Radcliff directed his attention once again to his wife. He brought a hand to caress her face. “I intend to get the pink back in your cheeks, my love. I believe what you need is a ride in the park.”

“With you?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course.” His brows came together. “It is all right for you to ride, is it not?”

“I think it will be the very thing I need.”

Since it was a cool day, Radcliff insisted upon covering Bonny with rugs before he sat beside her and gave instructions to the coachman. He settled back in his seat as he eyed his wife. She wore a black bonnet, tied under her chin, and a black serge pelisse covered her mourning dress. “I would love to see you again in the blue cloak you wore the first time we kissed.”

Bonny thought about the cold day in Milford when she and Radcliff had stood atop the knoll, the wind slicing through them as they surveyed the misty moors below. She remembered her love bringing his mouth to hers, her hood slipping off. And once again she felt the same happiness she had felt that day.

During the short ride to the park, Radcliff took her gloved hand in his.

“Do you realize, sir, this is the first time you have ever taken me to the park in these six months we have been in London?”

“Is that so? I shall have to rectify my neglect of you, my dear.”

“I had come to think you must be ashamed of me.”

“When have I ever given you reason to suspect that I felt anything but extreme pride in you? Have I not said a hundred times how much I wanted to display your loveliness to all of London?”

She lowered her lashes. “To be sure, Richard. It is not your fault I have been in mourning.”

Despite the coolness, throngs of riders, walkers and a dazzling array of equipages wound through the park, and almost every person they passed seemed to know her husband, Bonny thought. To most of them, he merely nodded, his face—as always—serious.

But with one decidedly frilly old woman, his manner was quite changed. Radcliff actually relaxed his stiffness and issued a warm smile before ordering the coachman to stop so he could chat with the matron of advanced years.

“Radcliff, pray, make me known to this lovely creature. Your wife, I presume.”

He nodded. “But, Lady Eggerton, I believe you have met her before. She is Lord Landis’s niece, the former Bonny Barbara Allan. I first saw her at your home.”

The old woman raised her quizzing glass to her eye and stared at Bonny. “To be sure. I remember her now. All the young bucks swarmed around her. And she had that lovely name...but now I suppose it’s the Duchess of Radcliff.” Her lively blue eyes met Bonny’s.

“How good of you to remember,” Bonny said. “And it is very agreeable to see you again.”

“The fact that you are in mourning has reached my ears, dear girl.”

Bonny bowed her head.

Lady Eggerton turned back to Radcliff. “You have done very well for yourself, Richard. It is too unfortunate your dear mama could not have met your little wife. She is very beautiful. Very delicate looking.”

“I fear my wife has been unwell of late.”

Countess Eggerton gave a shrewd glance at Bonny. “Do I have the honor of felicitating you on the expansion of your family?”

Bonny blushed and raised her gaze to Radcliff.

“Yes, my lady. We are to become parents,” he said.

“How happy you must be.”

Radcliff actually smiled again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the depth of his mirth. “To be sure.”

Lady Eggerton nodded to her driver. “It was very good to see you, my dear.” She eyed Radcliff. “Take care of her, Richard.”

“I most certainly will, my lady.”

His coachman flicked the reins and they rode on, Radcliff continuing to curtly nod at passersby.

From the corner of her eye, Bonny saw Twigs enter the lane they traveled on. He perched high on his gig with Cressida beside him and a tiger at the back. “Look, Richard, there’s Twigs!”

Radcliff instructed the coachman to approach Twigs’s gig.

Twigs pulled up alongside the duke and duchess, and when he perceived that Radcliff was riding with his wife, a wide smile covered his face. “By Jove, good to see you out, Duchess.”

“I have missed you most dreadfully since you moved out,” Bonny said. “I’ve yearned for a good game of piquet with you.”

“Just have to pop in and play a hand or two,” he said shyly, averting his reddened eyes from Bonny.

“Why not tonight?” Radcliff suggested.

“Sounds like a jolly good plan,” Twigs said.

Cressida laid a possessive hand on Twigs’s arm above his ruffled cuff. “Oh, but Mr. Twickingham, I was so hoping you could escort me to the new play at Drury Lane. You know how abominably bad I am at card games.”

“To be sure—” He coughed. “No, no, no, Miss Carlisle. What I mean is—”

Cressida fluttered her lashes and pouted. “Then, you would consider Drury Lane tonight?”

Twigs sniffed and cast a dubious glance at Radcliff. “Well, if you are certain—”

“Then it is settled,” said Cressida, patting his arm patronizingly, a smug smile settling on her face.

Once they had said their farewells, Bonny spoke. “Poor Twigs, he’s doomed to be totally dominated by that meek-looking Cressida Carlisle.”

“How right you are, my love. However, I think she is exactly what he needs. Otherwise, Twigs would die a childless bachelor, for he would never have the nerve to initiate either a romance or a proposal.”

Bonny’s heart soared. This was the first time her husband had indicated he would be pleased to have a child since he had learned of her expectancy. And he had admitted to Lady Eggerton the baby was due. He must be proud, she thought hopefully.

A short time later, Bonny felt her husband stiffen, and she looked up to see an approaching carriage bearing Stanley Moncrief and Lady Lynda Heffington, properly chaperoned by Lady Lynda’s nearly deaf companion, who rode alone in the back seat of the carriage. Bonny could not help but remember Stanley telling her that Lady Lynda was Richard’s true love, and she swallowed hard. How would her husband greet his former lover and his cousin?

To Bonny’s surprise, Radcliff gave both of them the cut direct. She wanted to ask him about it, but she dared not speak of that odious widow.

When Radcliff spoke, it was not of his cousin or of Lady Lynda but of Bonny’s lying-in. “We need to go to Hedley Hall,” he said.

She nodded. Her husband did not have to tell her. All the Radcliffs had been born at Hedley Hall. In the same bed. Her heart filled with pride and happiness.

Most of all, she longed to return to the idyllic happiness she had shared with her husband at his boyhood home. Now, all of her misery would be behind her.

While her husband completed his business in the city, Bonny happily prepared to return to Hedley Hall, thoroughly content with his sudden conversion to domesticity. She relished every dinner at which they faced only each other across the candlelit table, the morning rides with him in the park, and most especially the nights he shared her bed, both of them lulled into sleep after being spent with their frenzied, nearly insatiable passion.

Radcliff had left early this morning to peruse the offerings at Tattersall’s but had insisted she rest more, therefore it was nearly noon before Marie entered her mistress’s chamber and opened the draperies to rouse Bonny from her slumber.

The sun cast its warmth over the room as Marie assembled Bonny’s clothes. “See, Mrs. ‘enson’s always right as rain. Said ye’d be well in three months, and ’ere ye are with the bloom back in yer cheeks.”

Bonny smiled as she watched a robin flit from branch to branch on a tree outside her window. She gave her approval to the outfit Marie selected and sat patiently at her dressing table as Marie fashioned her hair.

Once she was dressed, a rap sounded on her door. It was Mandley. “A caller here to see your grace,” he announced. “I told him you were not receiving callers so early, but he insisted upon seeing you.”

“He?” Bonny queried.

“The Earl of Dunsford,” Mandley said.

The person she least wanted as a visitor. Richard disliked him so excessively. “I cannot see him, Mandley,” Bonny said.

“He insisted I was to tell you he needs to see you about your cousin Emily.”

Lord Dunsford must want to offer for her, Bonny mused. “In that case I will see him.”

Rushing downstairs, Bonny decided she would have to dispatch him quickly. It wouldn’t do at all for Richard to find him here.

When she crossed the drawing room to hold out her hand to Dunsford, he answered her questioning gaze. “Forgive me, your grace, but I had to see you. It’s about Emily.”

Bonny failed to offer him a seat, nor did she offer him tea.

“She has refused to see me.”

“I daresay it is because I imparted to her that you knew of the baby. She is extremely embarrassed to see you now.”

As Bonny looked at him and saw the dark circles under bloodshot eyes, she was reminded of the first time she met him, when he had been so forlorn over his brother’s death. “Surely she knows I have known all this time and have had no objections.”

Bonny only nodded, not wanting to prolong the conversation in any way.

“I have been every day for the past month. Sometimes several times a day, and never is she in to me. Once I watched her house and called immediately after I saw her enter, and still that damned butler told me she was not in.”

“I am very sorry, my lord, but I do not see what I can do.”

He hung his head in his hands. “I must see her. I have to tell her...”

“That you love her?”

He met Bonny’s intense gaze and swallowed. “Yes.”

“Are you willing to offer marriage?”

He clenched his fist. “Of course! What do you take me for?”

“I only wanted to gauge your sincerity before I agree to intercede.”

BOOK: A Duke Deceived

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