Charlotte Louise Dolan (24 page)

“And you are Cousin Edith?” Darius turned to the older woman, who appeared to be still standing upright only by sheer willpower. Even while he greeted her she swayed slightly. He started forward to catch her, but the dowager duchess was there first, solicitously putting her arm around her relative.

“Oh, my dear, Whyever did you not tell me you were feeling unwell?” Amelia turned to Darius and said in a confiding tone, “I tell her over and over that she must not try to do so much, but she simply adores helping me. Now, my dear,” she said kindly, turning back to her cousin, “you must give these packages to the footman and go up and lie down. And if you are not feeling quite the thing at dinnertime, you must simply tell my maid, and she can arrange for you to have your meal on a tray in your room.”

With one footman to carry the packages and another to support her, Cousin Edith was escorted up to her room, where she would undoubtedly remain for the rest of the evening, unless she were so stupid as to ignore the veiled command Amelia had issued, Darius thought.

With luck the grieving widow could be as easily disposed of.

“Do come into the salon, Cousin Darius, and I shall ring for some refreshments.”

She continued to chatter pleasantly, but several things irritated Darius. To begin with, although she was dressed properly in black, the style and cut of her dress made a mockery of her “mourning.” She was also treating him as if he were a guest in his own house. Moreover, she was flirting with him outrageously.

Worst of all, she was forcing him into a position where he had to be as deceitful as she was—to pretend that he was charmed by her, fooled by her honeyed phrases—when all he wanted to do was rip away the veil of lies and be bluntly honest.

“Oh, Cousin Darius, it just occurred to me ...” Distress was written all over her face, and she was actually wringing her hands. “I am so dreadfully sorry, but I... Not realizing you would be here this soon, I am still occupying the selfsame rooms I shared with my beloved Algernon, which, I suppose, are actually your rooms now.”

Tears welled in her beautiful blue eyes and her rose-petal lips quivered in distress. “Forgive me, but every time I think of someone else living where we were so happy ... I do not think I could bear to see it.” Here her voice broke off.

“There is no need to upset yourself, Cousin Amelia,” Darius said smoothly. “After all, if you had moved out of the rooms already it would just mean you would have to go to the trouble of moving twice.”

“Twice?” She looked at him blankly, her tears momentarily forgotten.

“Why, yes. I have given orders to have your things moved to the dower house immediately.”

Her mouth dropped open, and for once she was speechless.

“But you need not even lift a finger. I am sure Kelso can handle all the arrangements without the slightest effort on your part.” Darius stood up. “You are looking a trifle pale now, Cousin Amelia, and I fear you must be fatigued after your trip to Bath, so I suggest you lie down a bit until you are quite restored.”

Before she could marshal any arguments or summon back her tears, Darius bowed and made good his escape.

Only one thing still nagged at him. The dower house was only slightly more than half a mile distant from the main house, which he suspected was not going to be far enough to ensure that Amelia would not be underfoot constantly.

Wandering through the familiar corridors of Colthurst Hall, he toyed with the idea of sending her to live on another of his estates, but discarded that idea immediately. Such action would be too shocking for society to accept. No, as long as she was under his protection as the head of the family, she would have to live in the dower house.

Arriving at the long gallery filled with pictures of his illustrious and not so illustrious ancestors, Darius realized the only answer was to foist her off on some other man, which meant finding someone besotted enough to marry her.

The flaw in that plan, however, was that since she was technically in mourning, she could not be sent off to London or Brighton, or even be allowed to attend the assemblies in Bath.

Obviously, he had either to wait a year until the following spring, or he would have to bring a suitor to Colthurst Hall.

Reaching the end of the gallery, he stood staring out of the large windows at the dower house, whose roof was just visible beyond the intervening trees.

Damnation, but he didn’t even know any men in England that he could invite. Other than a couple of fribbles like Charles Neuce and some old men in the War Office, everyone he knew was either married or not of high enough rank to attract Amelia.

It was too bad the supply of eligible dukes was so limited—or at least if there were any out there, he had no idea who they might be.

On the other hand ...

He stared out the window but no longer saw the trees or the dower house. Instead, he was seeing a pair of cool gray eyes and hearing a remarkable old woman say, “I am an inveterate matchmaker. Bachelors have been known to faint when I so much as glanced at them.”

With purposeful steps, Darius strode rapidly back down the length of the gallery. When confronted with a desperate situation, the only thing to do was turn command over to the best tactician available, which in this case was Lady Letitia.

* * * *

Amelia wanted very badly to hit someone. Standing in the small grove of trees, watching the new Duchess of Colthurst descend from the carriage, the dowager duchess had no doubt as to exactly whom she wanted to hit.

Never had she felt such hatred for another woman as she now felt for the new duchess, because never had another woman succeeded in taking something away from Amelia that was rightfully hers.

And Colthurst Hall was hers. She had earned it. No one had had to work harder than she had done when she had snared Algernon. It was not fair that after only a few months of enjoying her success he had taken to his bed like a weakling and died.

As she thought of her late husband, her lip curled in a sneer. He had been such a soft man; he had seemed almost effeminate—so gentle with her in bed that at times she had almost wanted to scream.

Not at all like his cousin, the new duke. There was nothing gentle or soft about Darius; he was as hard as tempered steel. Delightful shivers went up and down her back at the thought of what it would be like to have him in her bed ...

Well, why not? Why should she meekly stay in the dower house and let another woman be mistress of Colthurst Hall?

The dower house—bah! A mere ten bedrooms, a dining room that would not seat more than sixteen comfortably ...

Why should she be stuck there with only a dozen servants? Why should she not take back what she had lost?

After all, stealing another woman’s man had always been so ridiculously easy. All she would have to do would be to crook her little finger, and like all the other men who had thrown themselves at her feet, begging for her favors, Darius would be so besotted that he would be willing to do anything she wanted. And what she would ask would be for him to divorce his wife and marry her.

She smiled to herself with satisfaction. It was the perfect solution. Divorces were not common, but with sufficient money and influence they could be obtained. There would be some gossip at first, of course, but nothing of any consequence. Everyone knew a duke could do whatever he wanted without fear of incurring the censure of society.

Why had it not occurred to her before? It should be especially easy to detach the duke from his duchess, since Elizabeth, whose looks were so terribly flawed, could not hope to compete with Amelia, whose complexion had been described as peaches and cream and whose lips were usually compared with rose petals.

Besides which, Darius was not in love with his wife, of that she was sure. She had never been able to find out the details of their marriage, because not even Algernon had known how it had come about so suddenly and unexpectedly, but she was willing to bet her diamond ear bobs that it had something to do with the scar on Elizabeth’s face and nothing whatever to do with love.

Lost in her reverie, it took her a moment to realize that the duchess and her companions had vanished into Colthurst Hall. Amelia smiled again before turning to retrace her steps to the cursed dower house. Well, let dear Cousin Elizabeth enjoy playing the duchess for a few days. Before the month was out, Amelia would again be the one issuing orders there.

* * * *

Lounging back in his uncle’s chair in his uncle’s study, Darius stared at the glass in his hand, which was filled with his uncle’s best brandy. The chair was large and comfortable, the room was dimly lit and quiet, and the brandy was almost older than he was.

He didn’t want the brandy.

He didn’t want to be sitting alone with only ghosts for company and nothing to occupy his mind except his memories.

He wanted his wife.

Even reminding himself that she was as deceitful and treacherous as all women were did nothing to lessen the desire that had been building in him ever since he had seen Elizabeth again at the Wynchcombes’ ball.

Not that he was in danger of succumbing to her charms. He could control his baser nature. He could resist the temptations of fleshly delights. He could ignore the memories of making love to his wife.

Unfortunately, the ghosts who haunted him tonight were not willing to let him choose honor before duty. They ranged themselves around his chair, not only his cousin and uncle, but a myriad of St. Johns long dead, nagging at him, reminding him....

“Secure the succession...
.”

“Remember your duty...
.”

“Secure the succession...
.”

“You are the last St. John...
.”

“Secure the succession...
.”

With a muttered oath he set aside the brandy. He would fulfill his duty, but he was determined not to enjoy it. And once the succession was secure—once he had an heir—he would never again touch his wife.

* * * *

Elizabeth lay in the wide bed and watched the door closing behind her husband. Her wishes had been granted. He was home safely from Spain and he had resigned his commission. But the price to be paid was higher than she had anticipated.

That he was deeply unhappy she could not doubt. That she could make him contented with civilian life, she had begun to doubt very much.

Never had she seen him so withdrawn, so cold, not even when he had left her at Christmas. Then at least he had been angry; now he seemed to feel no emotions at all.

To be sure, he had just made love to her, but she had felt as if a stranger were in her bed. Not a word had he uttered, not a moment longer than necessary had he stayed beside her.

“A St. John does not give up,” she whispered aloud into the darkness. “I shall find a way to bring you back to me.”

The closed door silently mocked her.

* * * *

Lady Letitia finished reading the letter and handed it to her secretary. “Well, Mary, it would appear that we have another task to complete before we close the books on this 1812 Season. And I am afraid it will be the hardest we have tackled since we popped off that redhead with the squint in ‘06.”

“Dear General Lady Letitia?” The secretary looked up from the letter in puzzlement.

“A private joke.”

“I should like very much to hear the story behind that joke.”

“Just read the letter. The story can wait.”

The secretary perused the missive quickly. “I see what you mean. Lady Algernon, if I am remembering the correct person, has nothing to recommend her except her looks, which is more than offset by her blatant determination to wed money and a title.”

“You have the right person. The trick will be to find someone with a high enough title who is rich enough to attract Amelia and yet stupid enough to be taken in by her charms. Fetch out her file and see what new information we have on her.”

“Here it is. Rather a thick file for someone so young. The most recent communication concerning her is the report we received only last week from Mrs. Crosier-Phelps in Bath. She writes that Lady Algernon has been conducting a clandestine flirtation with a certain Mr. Weeke, who is rich enough and apparently infatuated enough.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”

“But he is of the merchant class. Before that we heard from Lady Barbara Yardley. She is of the opinion that the diamond ear bobs which Lady Algernon was observed wearing after Christmas were a present from the said Mr. Weeke, who was seen purchasing them a few days earlier.”

“Has that idiot child no common sense?”

“It would appear not. Here are a stack of reports from Sussex, where the fair Amelia grew up. In general, they consist of complaints about her behavior, with the words ‘common’ and ‘vulgar’ being frequently employed. Are you sure we wish to become involved with her?”

“I have met the present Duke of Colthurst when he was still a captain in his Majesty’s service, and I was much impressed. He definitely does not deserve to be saddled with his cousin’s widow. Besides which, Elizabeth is not only the daughter of my goddaughter, which makes her virtually family, but she is also a dear child and one of my favorite people, so it is clear where our duty lies. Read me our current list of eligible males. Only the ones with titles.”

“Lord Lilborne?”

“He got engaged last week to Miss Sperling.”

“Ah, to be sure. I shall mark his name off. Lord Fitzsimmons?”

“Too intelligent. Besides, I am saving him for Lady Tamaris Smallwood, who will be coming out next year.”

“Lord Halsted?”

“Possible.”

The secretary made a mark beside his name. “Lord Palfrey?”

“Impossible. He is still totally infatuated with Elizabeth. She would not thank me for sending him to Colthurst Hall.”

“Lord Eldredge?”

* * * *

The Duke of Colthurst was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair that was draped with a cover, in a bedroom that appeared not to have been opened in ten years. There was no denying, not even to himself, that he was hiding from his cousin’s widow.