The Reluctant Duke (Love's Pride Book 1) (11 page)

“I have to leave,” she said, in a firm, confident voice that was betrayed by the quivering lip.

“Why,” he demanded, a little more forceful than he had intended. He was having problems keeping his temper under control.

She turned away, “Because I won’t be your mistress, and I can’t be your wife,” she said, her shoulders shaking as she brought his cloth up to her eyes again. “I can’t stay here knowing what …”

“Where will you go, you can’t leave! Not now.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she hung her head for a few seconds before turning around to face him.

“Don’t worry Your Grace that is not your concern.”

The Fourth Duke of Bathurst was knocked for a loop. His world had been shaken to the core. What did she mean leaving? Did she truly hate him for last night? She had come to him willingly. See this is why those unwritten rules were put in place, to stop men feeling like this.

Once again duty and responsibility was ruining his life. It had led him to the war-torn battlefields; it forced him to try and repair a huge conglomeration of estates and business interests. Now it was going to keep him from the woman he wanted.

“Gwen, I need time,” he said.

“We’re from two different worlds, you can’t fix this,” she said, tucking some more clothes into the valise. Her straight back shielded her from his troubled expression.

His insides were being torn apart. He could feel his world slipping away. Enough was enough. Taking a deep breath, he stood up straighter and said, “You will stay here one more day. I need time to make everything right.”

He wished he could see her eyes. All he could see was her back tense up at his order, but he didn’t give her time to argue. Instead, he turned and left, firmly closing the door behind him.

Thomas paced back and forth in his aunt’s parlor, mulling over possibilities. He was dreading the battle before him, but it couldn’t be avoided. Finally his aunt arrived, resplendent in a light blue day dress. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thomas, why the summons?” She asked.

“Aunt Celeste, you look lovely today. Is that a new dress?” He asked, trying to soften her up a little.

She saw right through him and walked across the room, sitting in a chair by the window and directing him to take the chair next to hers. He smiled at her imperious nature and sat on the edge of the seat. These small, frail pieces of furniture always made him feel like a lumbering oaf.

Placing his hands on his knees he turned to his aunt.

“We have a problem,” he said. “I wish to marry Miss Gwen Harding.” There it was. Out in the open. It was the first time he said it, and it made him feel warm inside. Right somehow. The thought of marrying Gwen filled him with comfort.

“Gwen, your housekeeper?” Both her eyebrows shot up, and her voice squeaked as she asked the question. “You can’t be serious, Miss Harding is completely inappropriate. A man does not marry his mistress. It is most unbecoming.”

“Gwen is not my mistress, and I won’t have her besmirched.”

The Duke fought to remain calm, drawing on years of battlefield experience. He knew the first attack was rarely successful; it was the follow through that carried the day.

“Aunt Celeste, you yourself said I would need to take a wife. That the family desperately needs an heir or two. I have chosen Miss Harding. It is very simple,” he said.

Celeste sighed and continued to shake her head.

“Thomas, Thomas, it is not that simple, and you know it or you wouldn’t be here looking for my help. It is totally inappropriate for the Duke of Bathurst to marry his housekeeper. It is not right, and you know it. Think of your duty, man.”

That was the one word that could set him off.

“Duty, you talk to me of duty, I have done my duty for the last nine years. I have led men to their death, ordering them to do things I knew would result in them dying. I’ve lived in mud and filth that would make your stomach turn. Don’t talk to me about duty. Every day of my life has been devoted to doing what is right, what is expected. I tell you I am marrying Miss Harding, nothing you or she says about it can change my mind, to hell with the consequences.”

Standing, he leaned on his stick as he walked across the room to pour himself a brandy.

Celeste’s eyes clouded in concern as she watched his back. Sighing, she looked out the window.

“Thomas, I don’t pretend to know what your life has been like. But I really can’t allow this to go on. You must realize what this would do to the family. Think of Elizabeth, it would ruin her chances at an appropriate match.”

He placed his back to the fire and propped an arm on the mantle. “Aunt, I am perfectly aware of the impact to Elizabeth, believe me. But I think she would be overjoyed in my selection. As for an appropriate match? The only thing I am concerned about is that the man love her as much as I love Gwen and that he be able to support her. Political connections are not needed. I seem to have enough for any three men.”

The older lady was starting to get desperate; He could see it in her eyes. He stood there waiting for the next salvo.

Celeste hung her head in temporary defeat, then looked up at him with a glimmer of hope. “Prinny will never allow it,” she said, shooting her final shot.

The Duke smiled, “The Regent will do me this favor,” he said with confidence.

“How do you know for sure? It would be terrible to announce it to the world only to have it stopped by the Royals.”

He continued with his knowing smile.

“Because Aunt Celeste, He doesn’t really care what I do, right now, all he is concerned about is that Parliament approve his latest request for an increase in his living. While many things could endanger that effort, stopping the love match between a beautiful young woman and a war hero would turn the public against him. He can’t afford that right now. If that is not enough, I will throw in a small estate or two, sweeten the pot as it were. Believe me The Prince Regent is not a concern.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, her eyes focused on the floor before her. “If you insists on going through with this absurd scheme. I will not assist you in any way.”

He slowly walked back and sat next to her, reaching out he took her hand.

“But you will,” he said. “Gwen does not believe she is worthy to be my Duchess. Like you, she thinks it is not right and would never feel adequate to the task. When in reality I can think of no one better suited.”

“I told you; I will not be a party to this,” She said.

“I think you will,” he said and waited for her to look up.

“If Miss Gwen Harding will not marry me because I am a Duke then I will cease to be a Duke. As you pointed out on numerous occasions, as there are no male heirs, the Duchy and all of the estates would revert back to the crown.”

“What! You can’t do that. Our income, the family, would be ruined. You can’t throw all of that away.”

He sat there and smiled. He knew what he was capable of. He had faced a lot worse things than losing a title.

She searched his eyes trying to gage the truth, to find that one weak link in his statement. But finally she seemed to accept what he said for the truth and let out a big sigh before stiffening her spine and asking him what assistance he might need.

“Simple, convince Gwen that she should be my wife.”

“I would think that is your responsibility,” she said in a huff,

“Granted, let me correct that, convince her she should be my Duchess, I will convince her to be my wife,” The Duke said.

Then, to carry home the point. He said, “The day Miss Gwen Harding speaks her vows to me before a clergyman of the church, I will double your living.”

Lady Celeste blanched, he must be serious. Her brother had been parsimonious with his funds. She had always had to live a simple, boring life. That much of an increase would mean she could do some of the things she had always wanted, travel, changes to her house. Her forehead crinkled in thought, and her eyes stared off into the distance as she pondered what it would mean.

His aunt laughed slightly. He could tell she was warming to the thought of the challenge he’d had brought her. He could see her mind start to scheme, to think of the strings connecting everything. The powerful matriarchs, the ladies of fashion, what string would need to be pulled and which merely strummed. Yes, it might be possible, it the instrument was played correctly.

“Thomas, there is oh such more,” Celeste said with a resigned set to her shoulders. The first string that needed to be played would obviously be him.

“You always were a stubborn boy,” she said with a smile. “I’m surprised to find that I rather like you. If this is not handled just so, it could all be thrown away. If your marriage is to be accepted, we have to convince the ton that not only could she be your duchess, but that she should be your Duchess. And believe me, that is going to be much harder.”

“I don’t care what those stuck up old biddies and their lap dogs for husbands think. I wouldn’t care if we never get invited to another boring party.”

“You might not care, but believe me, Miss Harding will. No woman wants to start out her marriage by ruining her husband’s social standing.”

One of the critical lessons Major Thomas Marshal had learned early in his career was to accept a partial victory when he had it. Especially when continued attacks might open him up to losing the field. He nodded his head in acceptance and asked, “What do you need me to do.”

Later that afternoon Gwen received word that the Duke would like to see her in the parlor. She had spent the day on pins and needles. Several times she had gathered her things and prepared to leave, only to change her mind and slink back to her room.

The summons had shocked her and made her heart race with the thought of seeing him. She knew she would never be happy again. Checking the mirror, her hands ran over the back of her hair to make sure everything was in place and then down her dress to smooth out invisible wrinkles. Taking a deep breath, she left her room and made her way to the parlor.

Knocking softly, she entered and was surprised to find Aunt Celeste sitting on the settee, her back straight as an ironing board and her eyes as guarded as an Indian Cobra.

Gwen hesitated, then entered the room.

“You asked for me your Grace,” she said, addressing the Duke.

He stood there in full glory, dressed in his typical tight black coat, a crisp cravat about his neck. Looking like a man without a care in the world. Her insides rumbled at the thought of him being so at ease.

“Yes Miss Harding, will you please come in and have a seat,” he said, indicating a chair across from his aunt.

Gwen glanced at him, what was going on? Had he told his aunt about last night? How dare he do that? She could feel the blush spreading down her chest as she walked over and sat across from Aunt Celeste.

The old woman was looking at her like she was some kind of diseased dog, then shaking her head she smiled as if it was her greatest pleasure to have Gwen sit down next to her. How did a person do that, go from an evil old crone to a spry, welcoming dear friend, all in the blink of an eye? It must be something they learned early. Something required to move in the ton.

Gwen sat forward on the chair and waited. Calming herself with controlled breaths and a quick glance at Thomas.

“Miss Harding,” Lady Celeste started. “We have a problem.”

Gwen shot a look at the Duke, Did you tell her about last night her eyes asked.

The older woman continued, “I am in need of some assistance. It seems that I need to greatly increase my duties. As the leading lady of the family, I am responsible for the successful season for both Elizabeth and now Isabel. In addition, His Grace has informed me that I will be expected to help him put on several parties here and a house party at Brookshire.”

The older woman’s words washed over Gwen. What did her duties as housekeeper have to do with throwing parties? She could help arrange everything just fine from her position.

Oh of course! He was trying to keep her here because he needed her to put on the parties; this was all for Lizzy and Isabel. Again her heart dropped.

This wasn’t about last night then. He wasn’t able to fix things. Her heart let go, and she had to bite her lower lip to stop it from trembling. Gwen nodded her head and waited for the rest, her mind shooting off in a thousand directions. What was she going to do, where would she go?

Lady Celeste took a deep breath and then said, “It appears I am in need of a companion. Someone who can assist me in these duties. Normally I would seek out an impoverished young lady of impeccable breeding, but…” Here she looked at accusingly at the Duke. “But, I believe you might be the best choice. You are obviously well educated; you know the family, and the family knows you.”

Her pause at that moment could have meant any of a number of things Gwen thought.

“Additionally, we have the whole issue of the Duke having such a pretty young woman for a housekeeper. An event that never should have been allowed to occur I might add,” she said, looking daggers at her nephew. “Anyway, that mistake cannot be laid at your feet.”

“So you see my dear, would you be interested in the position?” Lady Celeste asked.

Gwen had to take a moment to gather herself and review everything she had heard. Looking at the Duke only confused her more. Was this his solution? If so, she didn’t know what it meant.

“Of course, this would mean you would have to attend the dances with me, I really can’t keep up with those two younger girls. You would have to be able to interact with my friends. Converse over tea, that sort of thing,” Lady Celeste said. Her eyes scanned Gwen for any clue as to her thoughts.

The young woman was in shock, dances? Only a few months before she’d been scrubbing the stone floors of the country mansion, now she would be expected to attend fancy balls in London. Would she be expected to dance, would she be allowed too? What would she wear?

The Duke! She would have to leave and live with Celeste. Was this his way of getting rid of her she wondered. Gwen’s mind whirled as she tried to come to grips with everything.

Sitting up straight like her mother taught her, she said, “I would be honored Lady Celeste.”

“Good, very good,” Celeste said with a big smile. “You must allow me to call you Gwen, and you will call me Aunt Celeste, just like Elizabeth and Isabel,” she said, looking expectantly at the younger woman.

“Yes Mam, I mean, Yes Aunt Celeste.”

“Very good, now you must tell me about your family, where they are from, are you sure there isn’t any chance of some nobility, or even landed gentry? Maybe something on the wrong side of the blanket,” she said and then reached out and patted Gwen’s knee at the mere suggestion of a bastard in her ancestral tree.

Shock didn’t begin to describe what Gwen was feeling. Her heart raced, and she was having a hard time keeping up with the constant revelations and changes in conversation.

“No Aunt Celeste, My mother did mention that she was descended from a distant Baron. But I never learned his name and it was a long time ago.

Celeste sat back in her chair, her brow creased in thought. Gwen looked over at the Duke; he continued to stand there staring at her. She couldn’t read his expression, he seemed happy that she had accepted the position.

“Tell me about your mother, what was her maiden name,” Celeste asked.

“Wakefield, Mary Wakefield, born to John and Eleanor Wakefield in York. My grandfather was a barrister. My father was Matthew Harding, a Merchant, importing items from the colonies, tobacco mostly.” Gwen answered.

Folding her hands in her lap and resigning herself to answering questions. She knew she was running a risk, but she couldn’t see how this would lead back to her stepfather.

A shudder crossed the back of her shoulders as she thought about the evil man. She should be able to keep things under control. She would only provide the bare essentials. Enough for Aunt Celeste to know that there was nothing to hang her hat on there.

A quick look at the Duke showed him frowning in confusion. She was sure he was wondering how the daughter of a successful merchant ended up scrubbing the floors of a country manor house.

“Hm,” Celeste mumbled to herself. “Well then, we will tell everyone that I was a friend of your grandmother, Eleanor. A little white lie, but it is so much easier than explaining all the boring details, don’t you think so?” She asked, her eyes shining as she warmed up to the plan. It seemed that she would enjoy the intrigue. “Of course, it is imperative, that the whole Housekeeper issue should never be spoken off. You will tell the girl’s won’t you Thomas?” She said over her shoulder to the man by the fire.

“Yes Aunt Celeste, I will make sure of it,” He said, reminding Gwen of his promise early that morning. Her insides turned to mush. He had made this all happen. She was going away, true it was to a better position with much more standing, but still, it was away from him.

“Good. Gwen, you gather your things and come home with me; tomorrow we will go shopping for some ball gowns, nothing to fancy, but appropriate. Remember dear, always appropriate. A companion must never draw attention to herself or embarrass others. You understand.”

“Of course Aunt Celeste, and it won’t take me long to pack,” Gwen said, looking at the Duke.