Lucy and the Duke of Secrets, page 11
“Interesting.” There was a gleam in the Dowager Duchess’ eyes. “If you two have finished slaughtering each other in public, may I suggest we proceed to having some tea? I believe we could all do with a midnight snack, now that we’ve discovered the ghost of Ashmore Hall is not a ghost at all.”
“Oh, dear.” Lucy looked around for a mouse hole.
A deep, red flushed crept up Henry’s throat. He lifted a hand and rubbed his neck. It was as if only now he’d realised his surroundings.
“I seem to have forgotten myself,” he said into the shocked silence. Turning to Lucy, he said, “Pray accept my apologies for having raised my voice, Miss Bell, even though the occasion warranted it. It was ungentlemanly of me.”
“See!” she hissed. “There you go again.” She whirled out of the room.
“What did I say now?” he addressed no one in particular, frustrated. For one moment it looked like he was about to rush after her. Then he remembered his audience.
“You never told me you two seem to know each other—from somewhere.” Arabella frowned.
“As I mentioned, this is entirely a mistake on my side. If you will excuse me.” He bowed stiffly to the ladies and fled.
“But, I don’t understand.” Louisa looked after his retreating figure. “What did she mean with Ashmore pretending to be someone he is not?”
“I’ve never seen him so angry before. In fact, I didn’t know the Duke of Ashmore was capable of getting angry at all,” mused Jane.
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it. Come on, Jane, let’s return to bed.” Lady Bleckingham pulled her daughter away.
“But—but,” Louisa gasped for air like a fish. “She called him an arrogant o-oaf!”
“Shocking.” The dowager cleaned her spectacles on her shawl.
“Indeed! Such an excess of emotion is unbecoming for a lady. How can such appalling behaviour be tolerated, even if in a friend?”
Arabella groped for an answer. The dowager answered in her stead.
“You must be right, Lady Louisa. In medieval times, people used to be thrown into the dungeons every time they criticised their betters. No doubt you would prefer we re-introduce such customs. Now, if we may proceed to the tea tray, I’m fairly starved, even if it is…”—she flicked her pocket watch open— “long past midnight.”
Chapter 16
“Lucy, how could you say all those things! In my entire life, I’ve never heard him shout in such a way.” Arabella had followed Lucy to her room.
“I said terrible things. My infernal mouth! I suppose he’s right and the entire idea was stupid and childish to begin with.” Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “I just couldn’t resist Lady Louisa. Teach her a lesson. I’ll have to apologise to him, will I not?”
“Honestly, I’ve never seen him so angry before. Why didn’t you tell me you knew Ash from somewhere? The way you talked, or rather, shouted presupposes a degree of familiarity that only people of greater intimacy have.”
“Because we—he—I didn’t—I mean—” Lucy sighed. “It’s really not in the way you think.”
“But you’ve met before.”
“Yes.”
“In London? At the season?”
“No. Look, Arabella—”
“I’m disappointed. I thought we were friends and told each other everything.”
“It’s not like that. I mean, I didn’t know who he was when I met him. I thought he was someone else then.”
“Oh! Tell me!”
Lucy hesitated. Tell her she’d met him when he was a gardener? That she’d lost her heart to someone who didn’t exist? That the very thought of him made her heart race? But that she didn’t care a tuppence for the duke? That she fairly detested him? How muddled was that? How could she explain to Arabella what she didn’t understand herself? Lucy placed her hands against her burning cheeks and shook her head.
“I can’t. Really, I can’t.”
Arabella sent her a long, pained look.
“There was a time when we had no secrets between each other. I wish you trusted me more.”
She left the room.
Lucy stared after her. Oh dear, what a muddle. She was not only bitterly at odds with the brother, now she’d also hurt her friend.
Lucy tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluding her. Would the duke throw her out, now? She’d proven him right. She wasn’t a good person to have around. She’d set the entire household on its head, antagonised and terrified the guests, and called him names. Good God. The letter! She slapped her forehead. Strange how she’d forgotten all about it. He’ll never writer her that dratted letter now. He’ll throw her out instead. She wouldn’t wait for that to happen. She’ll go quietly, first thing in the morning.
Lucy climbed out of bed and drew the curtains aside to let the moonlight flood through the windows. She froze. Outside, on the roof, there was a figure. A lone person leaning against the roof, looking into the sky.
It was the duke.
Without thinking twice, Lucy left her room, ran up the stairs to the tower room and climbed out.
She walked along the narrow edge, holding onto the parapet, and stopped next to him.
“I thought you were afraid of heights.”
“I am. That is why I’m looking at the sky, not on the ground.” He gripped the chimney edge so tightly his knuckles were white.
She looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, and the stars twinkled brightly.
“This is Ursa mayor, the great bear.” Henry pointed. He wore a shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up.
“No, it’s not,” Lucy replied. “It’s Orion the hunter.”
“There is Polaris the North star right there.” He pointed again. “On line with the two other stars. That means that Ursa is there.”
“That’s Betelgeuse. It’s part of Orion. Polaris is right there.” Lucy pointed to the sky.
“You have it all mixed up.”
“They taught us well in the Seminary. I know my stars when I see them,” Lucy insisted.
“So do I. We used to spend many nights camping and sleeping under the starry night. David and I.” There was a weighty silence between them. “This is where he died.” Lucy looked at him in horror. “We used to come out here. This very spot. Except back then there was no parapet.”
Lucy covered her mouth with her hands.
“He fell.” He stared at his hands, motionless. “I could not hold on to him.”
Lucy’s breath came out gasping. “I—didn’t know. I am so sorry. So truly sorry, from the bottom of my heart.” She wrung her hands. “I wouldn’t have done that childish prank had I known. Really, I wouldn’t.”
Henry sighed.
Lucy dropped her head and turned to go. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow. You were right about me all the time. I’m no good for Arabella. Or your guests here. Or, or you. I can’t seem to help getting everyone who knows me in trouble. But this—” She shook her head. “This is unforgivable.”
He reached out and took her hand. “I want you to stay.”
Her hand twitched in his big one. “You can’t really want that,” she said thickly.
“I want you to stay.” His voice was low, insistent.
Lucy puzzled over what exactly he meant. Stay up here with him on the roof? Or stay at Ashmore Hall? As a guest? As something more? Her heart squeezed at the thought of leaving this place. Leaving him.
They stood in silence, the night air brushed gently over their faces.
Lucy peeped at him. He had his eyes closed, as if thinking intently. “Will you tell me what happened?” She whispered.
At first, he didn’t reply. “This used to be our favourite place for playing. We used to lie on the roof like this. Hiding from our tutors. They never guessed we were up here. How reckless we were. Back then, there was nothing to prevent you from falling. David slipped. I still don’t know how that happened. Whether he fell over a brick or tripped over his own feet. I used to wonder over it endlessly, Lucy. Whether there was something I could’ve done to prevent it.”
Lucy gripped his hand tighter. “It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.
“It was. It was my duty to take care of him. I was his elder brother. I failed him and it cost his life. I never should’ve let him come out here. He hung onto the edge for a while. I tried to help him up. He held my hand. But then—” his voice broke, but after a moment he pulled himself together with an iron will, “but then he slipped through my hand.” His voice was bleak. “He was only fourteen. My mother died soon afterwards, giving birth to Arabella. The grief had weakened her. A year later my father died. He completely let himself go. I’m responsible for wiping out half of my family.”
Lucy lifted his hand against her wet cheek. “No. You’re too harsh with yourself. None of it was your fault. You were a child.”
“My childhood ended that day.”
Now she understood. Why he was so overprotective towards Arabella. His fierce sense of duty and honour. The marble mask he wore. Why it was difficult for him to just be himself.
“So that’s why you became the consummate duke.” Lucy felt a leaden sadness weigh her down. “Then the role squashes you so, you have to escape from it, in small increments of freedom – as Henry the gardener. But you always return to retreat behind your dukely mask. It’s your duty. Duty or death. If you don’t fulfil your duty, it costs other people’s lives.”
His hand jerked in hers. “Duty or death.” He laughed harshly. “How melodramatic. But it’s more or less true. After David and Mother died, my father cast aside his role and the duty that came with it. And look what happened: he killed himself in the process.”
“What happened?”
“My father never wanted to be a duke. Like me. That’s the only thing we shared. He’d always led a fast life. My mother turned a blind eye to it all. The gambling. The Drury Lane doxies. After she died, he just got worse. He gambled and spent his time in the taverns, getting drunk. And actresses.” His lip curled.
“Harriet Westington.” Lucy threw him a sideways glance. The legendary actress of Drury Lane.
“Harriet Westington. A bigger strumpet never lived. He nearly ruined himself over her. She’s entirely corrupted, and that is no doubt because of her profession.”
Lucy fidgeted. “You can’t throw them all into one pot, Henry. Not all actresses are like her.”
“I daresay the majority are. Thanks to her, I have no great love for that breed of people. They’re a lying, cheating lot.”
Lucy swallowed. “What happened?”
“One night, on the way back from the village, he fell off his horse and broke his neck. He was too drunk to stay on top of it.”
“And then you became duke.” Lucy’s heart ached for the boy he must’ve once been.
“Shortly before he died, he’d sold a small portion of our land that wasn’t entailed to maintain that woman. To Tilbury.”
“Lady Louisa’s father.”
“Yes. In practical terms, it’s a negligible chunk of land. But it includes a part of the forest where, as a child, I liked to play—with David.”
“Of course you’d want it back,” Lucy said softly.
“Not only because of that. It should have gone to Arabella. It’s my duty to fix my father’s mistakes.”
“By marrying Lady Louisa.” Lucy guessed that Tilbury must be offering the land as part of her dowry.
He was silent. He didn’t have to say aloud that that had been the original plan. Until Lucy came along and turned everything upside-down.
She swallowed. “That’s why you are cross with me. You’d rather marry Louisa because of the land.”
“We’ve discussed this. The fact is neither of us have a choice. You and I have to get married.”
“You always say this, and it’s infuriating.”
“It would solve your problem. You’d have a home and wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your life at the Seminary leading a lowly life as a teacher.”
“You offer marriage without love. I find that even more lowly.”
“Love?” He laughed harshly. “My father believed in love. Look where that led him. To near ruination. He nearly dragged the rest of us down with him. I’ve spent my entire life rebuilding what my father nearly ruined. I won’t make the same mistake.”
Lucy shivered. She pulled her hand away. “What about Lady Louisa and the land?”
“I’ll get it back another way.” He sounded hard.
She shook her head. “You’ll blame me for the rest of your life. I don’t want to be responsible for you not getting it because of me.”
“No need to worry. I usually get what I want.”
“You are so—so—” Lucy spluttered.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Arrogant.”
“Very well, Lucy. If it makes you feel better. We will not announce the engagement tomorrow at the ball. We’ll take it slowly and wait until the guests have left.”
“Do I have any choice in the matter?”
“No.”
Lucy huffed and returned to the window. Before she climbed back, she saw him gazing at the sky, tall, pensive and utterly lonely.
Chapter 17
The ladies greeted Lucy with chill politeness at breakfast. The gentlemen were out on an early morning deer hunt. Lucy wished she could’ve joined them, even though she detested hunting. No one mentioned the previous night’s fiasco, yet everyone gave her the cold shoulder. Lady Louisa didn’t even nod to her. Arabella sat straight and stiff in her chair and had not met Lucy’s eyes when she entered.
Lucy took a big breath, walked up to Lady Louisa, who lifted her teacup to her lips. “I apologise for frightening you yesterday night. It was a silly schoolgirl’s trick. Badly done. I hope no harm has come of it.”
Lady Louisa set down her cup carefully. “Miss Bell. I am surprised you are still here. Didn’t Ashmore ask you to leave?”
Lucy crumpled the napkin between her fingers.
Arabella’s voice was haughty and cold. “Miss Bell is my guest. Ash has no right to ask my guests to leave without my permission. And I never throw out my guests, no matter what they do.”
Lucy looked at her friend, surprised, but grateful that she defended her. She bit into a slice of toast. It tasted like a mouthful of dry ash.
“What’s the plan for today?” she asked Arabella with forced cheerfulness.
“I’ll accompany Lady Louisa on a walk to the Abbey after breakfast.” Arabella didn’t meet her eyes. That Lucy wasn’t welcome to join was left unspoken.
Lucy nodded woodenly.
A footman entered and approached Lucy. “The dowager duchess would like to see you, Miss.”
Glad to have an excuse to leave the dining room, Lucy set down her napkin and went to the dowager’s drawing room.
“Sit down, sit down.” The dowager pointed to an ottoman across from her. She studied Lucy with a pierced look.
“Show me your teeth.”
“Why?”
“Oblige me.” She grabbed her chin to look at her teeth. Lucy tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip.
“I cleaned them with tooth powder, if that is what you want to know.”
The dowager dropped her gnarled hand. “Hump. You have crooked teeth.” Her shrewd eyes looked over her figure critically. “Your figure is too small and your hips are too narrow. But that’s no reason for not being able to carry babies.”
“I’m not a horse, Your Grace,” Lucy replied, stung.
“If they were to choose duchesses like horses, we’d all be saved a considerable heap of trouble. Horses breed well and reliably, if one chooses them wisely.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I may be deaf at times, but I’m not blind. Regardless of how improbable it may seem, you seem to have caught my grandson’s attention.”
“I did. He dislikes me excessively.” She was certain that the duke did. But the gardener? She felt a tingling in her chest.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Something jolted through Lucy. “Why?”
“Why? Because we witnessed a lover’s quarrel in the middle of the night.”
A bright flush covered Lucy’s cheeks. “It’s not like that at all, Your Grace.”
“Ah, it is not? Then what is it? Pray enlighten me.”
“It is just—I suppose we don’t get along, that’s all.” She experienced a gamut of perplexing emotions. Lover’s quarrel. Was it really true? Was that what she felt towards Henry? Was that what he could feel towards her? Unthinkable.
Her heart started to hammer painfully.
“That is the understatement of the century. You seem to be able to draw a side out of Henry that he shows to no one else. He’s not usually prone to temper tantrums and most certainly not to lover’s quarrels. Nonetheless, I witnessed both yesterday. Has he proposed?” Lucy kneaded her hands in her skirt as she attempted to stutter a response. “I see he has.” The older woman tapped her cane against the floor impatiently. “You’d better marry him.”
Lucy jumped up. “Oh no, no no. I never meant—this is terrible!” She paced the floor, then plopped down on the ottoman again and wrung her hands. “Yes, he proposed, but he didn’t mean it. He was excessively cross about it. I’m certain the last thing he wants to do is marry me.”
“My girl. Let’s get one thing straight. No Ashmore ever does something he—or she—does not want to do. It is a law of life. Now. If Ashmore proposed, he wants to marry you.”
Lucy backed away. “I’d make a terrible duchess!”
“I entirely agree. You’re like a hurricane within this house and estate. You create minor disasters wherever you go. You’re entirely unsuitable to be a duchess.” She sniffed.
“Well then, we’re in agreement.” Lucy clutched at her dress.
