Authors: Cheryl Bolen
A Duke Deceived (25 page)
Coming to a decision, she turned away from the painting. She had made her husband’s life miserable. For she was persuaded that his misery resulted from his loveless marriage. Of late he had talked about joining forces in the Peninsula. He would rather be dead than be married to her. The thought of him seriously injured or—much worse—dead was a blow to her heart. If he were that unhappy, there was only one recourse. She would have to leave him. To restore his freedom.
The door to the library opened and she turned to face Mandley.
“Mr. Twickingham to see you, your grace.”
“Show him in, Mandley.”
Twigs limped into the room, leaning on his silver-handled cane, his face redder than usual from the outdoors.
A wide smile on her face, Bonny took his hand. “So very good to see you, Twigs. You haven’t come for piquet, have you?”
He nodded solemnly and sniffed. “Much as I would love it, no, Duchess. Fact is, I need your help.”
She continued to press his bony hand within hers, a look of concern on her face. “Come, let’s sit down.” She led him to a pair of cozy wing chairs near the fireplace. “Would you like a drink?”
He swallowed, accentuating his prominent Adam’s apple. “Am a bit thirsty.”
“Madeira or brandy?”
“Brandy, a capital idea.”
Bonny tugged the bellpull and, when Mandley entered, requested two glasses of brandy. “Now, how can I help you?”
“You may have noticed I spend a great deal of time with Miss Carlisle.”
“I would be blind not to have.”
“Well, Cres—Miss Carlisle has impressed upon me that one who is four and thirty needs to be settling down, and I realized if I were to settle down, who better to make an offer to than one as pretty as Cres—Miss Carlisle.”
“So you made her an offer.”
“Quite so.”
Bonny had to credit Cressida. She could skillfully manipulate Twigs.
“My...” He sniffed and cleared his throat before continuing. “My intended tells me it is my responsibility to place an announcement in the newspapers. Can’t credit it. Bound to make a big blunder. Need you to help me.”
Through all this, Bonny was able to determine the purpose of Twigs’s visit. “Would you like me to write the announcement for you?”
“Capital idea, Duchess. Can’t let Cressy know I’m no good at that sort of thing.”
Mandley reentered the room carrying a tray with a fresh bottle of brandy and two snifters.
Twigs took his glass and downed a third of its contents before Mandley left the room.
Bonny got up and went to her husband’s desk for a piece of vellum. “I will be happy to compose the announcement. Have you set a date for the nuptials?”
“The what?”
“The ceremony.”
“Cressy said May would be a good time. She’s to arrange everything with her vicar.”
“Very good.” Bonny took up the pen, dipped it and began writing. “Forgive me for asking, Twigs, but what is your proper first name?”
“James. Family calls me James Edward.”
She nodded and took up the pen to write with haste until she had filled a page. When she finished, she put the pen down and held the paper at arm’s length and read it to him, observing a look of sheer admiration on his face. “That’s all there is to it. Twigs.”
“Sounds very professional.”
The library door opened, and Radcliff said, “What sounds professional?”
Bonny squarely met her husband’s demanding gaze. “The notice I wrote to the newspapers announcing the forthcoming nuptials between Mr. Twickingham of St. Dennis Meade and Miss Cressida Carlisle.”
The corners of Radcliff’s mouth lifted. “This calls for a celebration. Shall I ring for champagne or cognac?”
“We’re drinking brandy,” Bonny said, “but, of course, an announcement such as this does call for a toast.”
Radcliff eyed the nearly full bottle of brandy on his desk. “I’ll just ring for an extra glass.” Observing Twigs’s nearly empty glass, Radcliff said, “More brandy, Twigs?”
“Capital idea.”
“So when’s the wedding?” Radcliff asked Twigs.
“May.”
Mandley entered the room, a single brandy snifter on a tray.
“Very good of you to anticipate me, Mandley.” Radcliff poured a glass. After the butler left the room, Radcliff turned to Twigs. “How agreeable it is that you should be waiting here in our library. I have been looking for you. I went round to your lodgings this hour past.”
“Fate,” Twigs uttered. “Cressy would say it was fate.”
Radcliff looked at Bonny with eyes less cold than they had been of late; in fact, there was even an amused look on his face.
Bonny returned his bemused smile. “Would you two care to speak privately?”
“Whatever I have to say can be said in front of you.” Radcliff’ s face inscrutable, he placed a hand on her shoulder and walked her to where Twigs sat, lifting his glass for a toast. “Stay seated,” he commanded Twigs.
Twigs and Bonny swung their glasses to meet Radcliff’s.
“May your union be satisfying in every way,” Radcliff toasted, no mirth in his voice. He thought of how utterly unsatisfying his own marriage was.
Following the toast, Radcliff sat down on a sofa near Twigs’s chair and motioned for Bonny to sit next to him.
His jaw tightened as he watched his frail-looking wife. She had again grown pale and seemed to be getting thinner except for the small mound in her lap.
He couldn’t call it their baby. It couldn’t be. She had told him it had been that night...that-one night when he had almost forced her, when he’d been enraged with repressed, mind-numbing desire. But it was not likely that a babe was conceived that night when they had failed to conceive all those other nights that he had come into her over and over again.
It was too much of a coincidence that the baby was conceived at a time when he knew her to be enjoying Dunsford’s company regularly at the house on Kepple Street.
He fisted his hands. The more he thought of it, the more convinced Radcliff became that the baby had to be Dunsford’s. But he was also convinced Bonny was no longer seeing the earl. The letter must have put an end to the illicit relationship.
Radcliff thought back to the letter he had seen in her desk drawer. When he discovered it gone the next day, he had known she had sent it. The letter had been written just before he and Bonny were to have left London for Kent. Of course she would be sending her farewells, but Radcliff felt sure the letter had been more than an announcement of itinerary. It was surely Bonny’s final break with Duns ford. Having decided to return to Hedley Hall and give birth in the Radcliff ancestral bed, Bonny would have determined to sever all links with her lover in order to finally give in to being the Duchess of Radcliff, mother of the future Duke of Radcliff.
But as much as Radcliff desired to remove Bonny from London and harbored the hope of recapturing that magical intimacy they had shared at Hedley Hall, he could not allow Duns ford’s baby to be born there.
Damned if he knew what he wanted. No, that wasn’t precisely true. He still wanted Barbara with all his heart. But he kept telling himself it was a sign of weakness to be so besotted with a cheating woman that he would accept her, knowing she was enlarged with another man’s seed. And how could he be in love with a woman so wicked she would break their marriage vows? He had valued honesty and family and had thought his vicar’s-daughter wife did, also. What a paradox his wife was. Such a sense of what was always proper in all cases except where that monster Duns ford was concerned. If he hadn’t seen her with Duns ford himself, he would never have believed her capable of such deceit.
His initial plan to win her by his absence was now his answer for ridding himself of her debilitating hold over him. He had to regain command of his life.
He rued the night he had first beheld Bonny Barbara Allan.
His eyes swept over her. She was not drinking. She looked so weak. So young and helpless. And still so very beautiful. “You’re looking pale, my dear.” He could not let her know how it tugged on his heart to see her like this. He wanted nothing so much as to take her in his arms and to love her to completion. But he had to be strong. He had to conquer his overwhelming thirst for her. He was as addicted to her as some men were to opium.
She lifted her chin and glared at him with cold eyes. “I daresay it’s because I no longer get fresh air since you discontinued our rides in the park.”
He touched her cheek with a light finger. “Don’t let my absence keep you from the outdoors. Did you not used to ride with Emily?”
She turned to Twigs. “Do you see how shabbily Richard treats me? Trying to push me off on Emily. Always too busy for me. I do hope you never treat Cressida as Richard does me.”
“I have been very busy, my dear,” Radcliff said.
“Doing what?” she asked challengingly.
“If you must know, I have been looking into military affairs.”
She inhaled sharply. “To go to the Peninsula?”
“Yes.”
“I beg of you not to,” Bonny said softly.
He ignored her and looked at Twigs. “That’s why I wanted to have a word with you. Wanted to persuade you to join me. Didn’t you fancy the redcoats not too many weeks past?”
Twigs’s eyes darted from Radcliff to Bonny as her eyes moistened and her face went white.
She sprang to her feet, grabbed a Sevres urn from over the fireplace and ran toward the door, retching into it as she left.
Concern on his face, Radcliff followed her.
In the hallway, she had emptied the contents of her stomach into the urn, which she still held with shaking hands.
Radcliff stalked over to her, removed the urn and placed it on the stairway to the basement. He walked back to Bonny, who braced herself on a side table. He pushed back loose tendrils of dampened hair from her cheeks. “I knew you were looking unwell,” he said chidingly.
She stroked his arm and spoke in a quavering voice. “It’s the army talk. You will be killed if you go, and I could not bear it.”
He caught his breath. He wanted to believe her words a declaration of love. But, then, he thought again. Could she mean that she would blame herself if anything happened to him because she had driven him away?
His arms encircled her, drawing her close, so close he could smell her floral perfume. “Drive such foolish notions from your beautiful head.” His gentle hands moved over her back until he knew she no longer cried. “Come, my love, let me get you to bed.”
Marie was in Bonny’s room. “If you will, Marie, get the duchess into bed. She is unwell.”
Marie curtsied. “Yes, your grace.” Turning to Bonny, she soothed, “Come now, poor thing.”
Overwhelming emotion washed over Radcliff when he caught sight of his forlorn-looking wife and remembered her words.
You will be killed...and I could not bear it.
He strode up to her and brushed her pale cheeks with his lips, then suddenly left the room.
You will be killed...and I could not bear it.
He strode up to her and brushed her pale cheeks with his lips, then suddenly left the room.
Bonny sat, dazed and quiet, as Marie removed her half boots and stockings. For a brief moment, she had thought Richard would stay with her, and her heart had rejoiced. She had hoped to duplicate some of the tender intimacy they had shared in this very room. But now he was gone, and her crippling melancholy returned. She silently lay atop her bed in her muslin day dress and turned her face toward the window so Marie would not see the tears in her eyes.
Back in the library, Radcliff refilled his and Twigs’s glasses and returned to his seat on the settee.
“See what that army talk does to the poor duchess,” Twigs scolded. He turned the snifter in his hands. “Know you all find me a tad dull-witted, but a raving idiot could see how much she loves you.”
How utterly disappointed Radcliff was that he could not believe Twigs’s words. “She’s taken a notion that I’ll be killed if I purchase my commission.”
“’Pon my word, she could be right.”
Radcliff drew on his drink. “Perhaps I no longer wish to live.”
“Don’t say that, Richard. Think of the babe. He’ll need a father. Think of the duchess. Not a soul to take care of her. Can’t leave her alone to have the baby.”
While he had no desire to be around when Duns ford’s child came into this world, Radcliff could not bear the thought of Bonny going through it alone. Since the first time he held her in his arms during the waltz, she had evoked in him a deep sense of protectiveness. “You’re quite right, my dear Twigs. I must take better care of my wife.” He placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Good of you to care. She has no other champions in her own home.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
N
either sleep nor peace came to Bonny as visions of Richard dying at the hands of French soldiers intruded on her every thought. Underlying the disturbing reverie was guilt that she was the cause of his misery. He had become so unhappy being married, he saw service to his majesty as the only gentlemanly way of leaving her. The sooner she liberated him, the better.
either sleep nor peace came to Bonny as visions of Richard dying at the hands of French soldiers intruded on her every thought. Underlying the disturbing reverie was guilt that she was the cause of his misery. He had become so unhappy being married, he saw service to his majesty as the only gentlemanly way of leaving her. The sooner she liberated him, the better.
At midnight she heard Richard speaking softly to Evans in the dressing room. She knew the likelihood of him sharing her bed was as great as Lord Byron staying celibate, and when the voices faded away, the sound of the door to Radcliff’s chamber closing was as melancholy as a death knell.
Just before dawn, she got up, dressed in an old black serge gown and packed a small valise. All the fine mourning wear Madame Deveraux had fashioned would stay here at Radcliff House. There would be no need for such finery in Milford.
Then she sat down and wrote a letter to Richard. When she finished, she hesitated over how to sign it. Every closing that came to mind had the word
love,
a word they never shared. She hadn’t said it; she had shown it. As much as
love,
a word they never shared. She hadn’t said it; she had shown it. As much as
she wanted to tell him that she loved him to the depth of her breaking heart, she stopped herself. She must not do anything to make him feel compelled to come after her. He must feel no guilt over her leaving, only joy over his release.
None of the servants were above stairs at this hour, only Cook in the basement kitchen. Marie would not bring up a tray before noon, and even then she would not know Bonny was not coming back. Marie would likely suppose she had merely taken a morning walk as she had frequently explained when she used to go to Kepple Street.
Bonny walked to the door of her chamber and turned back to look at the room of Richard’s wife. She wanted to remember everything clearly. Her gaze moved to the bed, the bed where their baby had been conceived. The ivory silks surrounding the bed. The rich lace of the pillows. The gilded vanity. The Carrara fireplace. Taking a deep breath, she clutched the door knob and left.
No one was in the hall. The soft Persian hall runners muffled the sound of her footsteps. When she got to the top of the stairs, she stood still and listened for any sound from the ground floor. All she heard was a distant clanging of pots in the kitchen far below.
She proceeded down the stairs and across the broad marble floor to the front door and quietly let herself out.
Rousing the groom to deliver her to Emily’s house could easily have been done, but Bonny wanted to avoid leaving a trail for Radcliff. He would be honor-bound to follow. Besides, walking the few blocks from Berkeley Square to Cavendish Square was something Bonny Barbara Allan would readily have done. She had to forget now that she was the Duchess of Radcliff. Forever.
The night was yawning into day, its smoky light settling over the city. She pulled her cloak tightly around her to protect against the cold. There were no lights inside the foggy windows she passed. She had never been on the streets of London alone at this hour. Indeed, no other gently bred people were about. Only ill-dressed laborers with sooty faces and the occasional hay cart or milk cart clopping along. Bonny was very glad she had chosen not to dress in her duchess finery. Dressed as she was, she would draw little attention.
In ten minutes she was in Cavendish Square, looking up at Wickham House. All the windows were shut, and there were no signs of life within. Setting down her valise in the park area, Bonny decided to sit on a bench and wait another hour or so before waking Emily.
At the first signs of life in Wickham House, she presented herself at the door to a placid Styles. “Allow me to go up to Lady Emily’s room, Styles,” Bonny said with the full air of a duchess.
He moved aside, swept the door back and bowed—all seemingly in one swift movement. “Your grace.”
She handed him her valise. “Put this aside for me, if you please, Styles.”
“Very good, your grace.”
Once in Emily’s room, Bonny found her cousin hard to wake. “Go away, Martha,” she barked.
“It’s not Martha. It’s me, Bonny.”
Emily rubbed her eyes and sat up, groggily gazing into Bonny’s fresh face. “Whatever time is it?”
“It’s very early in the morning, but I had to leave before Richard or anyone in the house woke up, for I am leaving Richard and returning to Milford.”
Emily jerked up, fully awake. “You cannot mean that!”
Bonny nodded.
“But you can’t. You two love each other.”
Bonny took Emily’s hand and squeezed it, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Trust me in this. Richard does not love me. He has grown to regret that he married me.”
“I will never believe that! One has only to look at him when he is with you.”
“There was...an attraction in the beginning, but it has waned.”
Emily gazed deep into Bonny’s troubled eyes. “Can you tell me your love for him has cooled?”
Bonny shook her head. “But in the seven months we have been in London, he has chosen to share my bed fewer nights than there are in a single week.”
Neither spoke for a moment.
Bonny opened her reticule and took out the letter. “I have written this letter to Richard. I want you to give it to him should he inquire about me. And if he doesn’t, send it to him next week. I don’t want you to tell him where I’m going, though I daresay he will likely guess I have gone to Milford. Where else could I live so cheaply?”
“As the Duchess of Radcliff, I should think you could afford to live anywhere in the world you wished.”
“That is if I wished to infringe upon Richard’s generosity, which I do not wish to do.”
“But, Bonny, he’s richer than a nabob. What would he care if you asked for a few hundred pounds a year? Or even a thousand?”
Bonny’s lips were a straight line. “I wish nothing from him.”
“What about his child?”
“I am persuaded that Richard does not care about the baby.”
Emily pushed the stray blond hair from her face. “You cannot be describing the same duke I know. He could never be so insensitive.”
“I find it difficult to countenance myself, but he has greatly changed since coming to London. If only we had never come. Things were so wonderful at Hedley Hall. I almost believed him...”
“In love with you?”
Bonny nodded solemnly.
“I cannot believe any of this about Radcliff.”
The tears in Bonny’s eyes now spilled. “Believe it. If there were any hope, I would never leave, but it’s leave him or allow him to kill himself. He is so unhappy with me he is ready to sacrifice himself in service to his majesty and the Wellesley general in order to get away from me.”
Emily got up and placed Bonny’s letter in a desk drawer. “I suppose I must believe you.”
“There is another matter that brings me to you,” Bonny said.
Emily came back and sat on the bed beside Bonny, lifting her brows.
“I have talked to Lord Duns ford.”
Emily thrust out her chin. “I would prefer that you didn’t.”
“Since you have not received him these dozens of times he has called on you, he came to see me. He is very distressed over not seeing you.” Bonny watched Emily’s face for a reaction, but her cousin’s expression remained inscrutable. “He has been most unhappy since you refused him your company.”
“I am sorry that he is unhappy, for he is a fine man.”
“He’s also in love with you.”
“Pray, do not say such things,” Emily begged, her voice shaking.
“I am not imagining it. He told me himself he is in love with you.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Was this before he knew that I am not pure?”
“He has always known about you. Because you loved Harry, he looked favorably upon you since the beginning. Then he fell in love with you.” Bonny reached for her cousin’s hand. “He wants to make you his wife.”
A look of stark grief passed over Emily’s face.
“Em, just think! You two could marry, and Lord Duns ford would adopt Harriet. The three of you could be so happy.”
“How would he explain Harriet?”
“He would say that Harry married a Spanish woman, who died during her lying-in with Harriet. Naturally, Lord Duns ford would be the baby’s guardian.”
“Nothing could be more wonderful,” Emily said softly, “but I cannot allow him to throw himself away on me.”
“I am persuaded if you don’t accept his suit, he would most likely do away with himself. He is very deeply in love with you.”
“But how can he be?”
“Why wouldn’t he be? In his eyes, you’ve done nothing wrong. You loved the only person in the world he loved. Because of you, part of Harry lives still through Harriet. For that, I think he loves you even more.”
“But I’m not pure.”
Tears slid from Bonny’s eyes. “Richard always told me that nothing that happens between two people who love each other could ever be impure.”
Emily’s face brightened. “But don’t you see, Bonny, if Radcliff said that, it means he loves you.”
“He never once said, ‘I love you.”’
“Did you?” Emily’s eyes held rebuke.
Bonny bit her lip and shook her head.
“Why can’t you just talk to Radcliff before leaving? Tell him how you feel.”
“He is too much the gentleman not to feel obliged to pretend an attachment to me.”
“There is no pretending to it, you idiot.”
“I pray that you believe me when I say he desperately seeks to remove himself from my presence.”
A light rap sounded at the door to Radcliff. s library. He put down his ledgers. “Come in.”
Marie, her head bowed, slowly entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her. Curtsying, she asked, “Does yer grace have another post for me while ’er grace is away?”
Radcliff s brows lowered. “Her grace away? What are you talking about, woman?”
“Then ye didn’t know no more about her leaving than I did?”
“What do you mean?” Radcliff snapped. “What makes you believe my wife has gone away?”
“She wasn’t there when I took up her breakfast this morning, nor ’as she returned all day.”
“Most likely she is spending the day with her cousin.”
“Why would she need a valise to visit Lady Emily?”
Radctiff’s heart stopped. “Her valise is gone?”
Marie nodded.
“What else is missing?”
“Not one of her new gowns from Madame Frenchy. Best I can figure, she’s wearin’ that old black dress she arrived in at ’ediey ‘all. The black serge. The former duchess’s pretty jewels is still ’ere. And the new duchess’s pretty nightgowns, too. But ’er old ones is all gone.”
Radcliff leapt to his feet, stormed from the room and up the stairs, leaving Marie standing in the library staring after him.
In Bonny’s room he went straight to the wardrobe, flinging aside the gowns Madame Deveraux had fashioned. The blue cloak—his Barbara’s old blue cloak—was not there. He slammed the door and stalked to the dressing table. On the center of its glass top rested her wedding ring. Had one of his own limbs been severed and served up there, he could not have hurt any deeper.
He fell into her chair. Though he had lost her long before this day, he had had the satisfaction of knowing she was his wife. He had had the torturous pleasure of gazing upon her. Now he had nothing. He had allowed Duns ford to win. Why hadn’t he fought harder for her? His heartless treatment of her had only made it easier for her to leave. A lump formed in his hollow chest.
And for the first time since his mother died, he buried his head in his hands and wept.
From outside in the hall, Evans listened to the duke’s deep, racking sobs. He was most alarmed but restrained himself from going to his master. How painful it would be for the rugged duke, a leader among his peers, to let his valet see him crying like a woman.
Evans knew his grace’s state of distress was intrinsically linked to the duchess’s disappearance. His first reaction to her absence was disbelief. The woman was far too much in love with his grace to leave him.
A pity for both of them, Radcliff did not realize that.
As surprised as he was that the besotted duchess could leave her husband, Evans was more surprised over his master’s reaction to her departure. Radcliff had sadly neglected his wife—to such an extent that Evans had grown to believe the duke was no longer in love with her.
But the broken man sitting in his wife’s empty room was most assuredly a man in love. And most assuredly thoroughly miserable.
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