The Wicked Duke (4 page)

The revelation horrified Marianne. Nora had only been fifteen then, and barely that. “Is it thought she rode out to meet someone?”

“I think the rogue pursued her secretly, then lured her away from home for his nefarious purposes.”

“That would mean it was someone local, Uncle.” Marianne wished she had some of those spirits now. “Surely you are in error. Who would dare such a thing?”

“Someone so highly placed that my daughter would be little better than a kitchen maid to him. Someone known for years to be indiscriminate in his seductions, and wild in his excesses. A man with no morals, and little sympathy with decent people.” His jaw clenched. “She mentioned who it was while in her fever.”

“If so, why did you not swear information against him? She was
a child
.”

“When you hear the name, you will know why I did not act thus, especially on the word of a girl not right in her head.” He peered at her, his eyes narrow and gaze sharp. “She spoke of him several times as she raved in her delirium, and when she did, she would grow agitated in her bed. It was Lord Lancelot Hemingford. He has bettered his situation of late, of course. Due to the convenient death of his brother Percival, he is known now as the Duke of Aylesbury.”

Marianne stood. She paced in an effort to control her emotions. She wanted to curse, or cry. “I refuse to believe even his station allows him to have his way with a girl, and leave her to the elements as he did. Good heavens, Uncle, you are a magistrate now. If you cannot see justice done, who can?”

“I intend to have justice, as you put it. The only kind that can be had under the circumstances, but a fitting kind.” He gestured that she should retake her seat. After she had, he leaned forward and spoke confidentially. “I am going to make him marry her.”

Nora had surmised her father's intention correctly, then. “She is not fit for marriage. Surely you can see that.”

“Tosh. When the duke proposes, she will be her old self again. What woman would not come around at once at the expectation of being a duchess?”

“Truly, she will not. She guessed your plan. She told me upstairs after you left that she will kill herself first.”

“People always say things like that when they want their way.”

“Dare you risk she would do it? If ever a woman might, it is she.”

“That is why you are here, Marianne. Why your mother is already making free with my home and giving the servants orders. Why you will dance at parties again, and meet some man who will support you throughout your life. Unless you want to live on the pittance my brother left you, you are to convince Nora to have that wardrobe made, and to step outside of herself enough so I can see her get her justice. Nora is still beautiful, if a little vague. Once he meets her, he will not be averse to my plan, I think. Assuming she is not raving, of course.”

He sank back into the chair. His pose formed a dismissal. Marianne stood.

“What if it is not what she wants, Uncle? What if she accepts the wardrobe, and steps out, and meets this duke, but when the proposal comes, she does not want it?”

“What she wants does not signify. This is a matter of family honor.”

Biting her tongue, and furious that her uncle expected her to be an accomplice in this scheme, she strode to the door. As she did, she heard Uncle Horace muttering to himself. “Wants it? Hell and damnation. Of course she will want to be her seducer's duchess, or she is truly mad and it will be Bedlam for her.”

R
iding with Uncle Horace proved useful in some ways, Marianne decided.

Although a wealthy man now, he fawned like a green squire whenever they passed a person of a higher station. He introduced her to everyone, and many remembered the daughter of Malcolm Radley.

Horace insisted on riding right through Dutton, the village near Trenfield Park, so neighbors could either approach to complain about something or make the same joke about his position.
Have a good batch of rogues for the petty sessions, do you?
His role in organizing a local militia during the war had gotten him knighted, and that in turn had gotten him made a justice of the peace. He loved the status, and presiding over trials.

Sometimes he responded at some length about the sessions. Marianne had a particular interest in local legal proceedings, and she paid close attention to those conversations.

He stopped to talk with other people on social matters that interested her too. She did not approve of gossip, but she always listened to it. This day it helped bring her up to date on the region.

Eventually all the conversations rounded toward one topic she truly cared about, and her uncle's responses to the questions worried her.

“And how is your daughter, sir? Is she visiting with Miss Radley here? Has she come back?”

“Nora is doing very well, thank you. Very well indeed. She was a bit tired from the journey, but I expect she will be riding out with me soon. A few years of quiet has done her the world of good, and she is her old self again, I am happy to say.”

When they finally left the village and rode farther west, Marianne kept quiet for fifteen minutes, but then could do so no longer.

“Why are you telling people that Nora is fine? You know she is not.”

“If she chooses to be fine, she will be, is what I think.”

“You are wrong there. It will be cruel of you if you persist in this plan of yours, or force her to a level of sociability beyond what she wants.”

“Am I to take the advice of a girl barely of legal age, after all my years leading men and knowing what is in people?
Once she has a decent riding ensemble, I will expect her to join us. If you come as well, that should reassure her.”

“I do not care for how you expect me to lure her into doing what you want, especially since I do not think it is the wise course for her.”

“I only expect you to ease her back into normal behavior by providing the friend she has come to know in you. Would you have her do it without your presence? Say the word, and that can be arranged. You and your mother can go make your own way without any further worry of my daughter.”

Marianne was about to argue, but her uncle's attention became arrested by something across the field on their left. He narrowed his eyes on the dark form, and a thin smile broke on his face.

“You complained at our slow pace most of the morning,” he said. “Well, follow me.” He kicked his mount into a gallop.

Marianne pushed Calliope to follow, and they tore across the barren field, charging toward the man on horseback. As much as she enjoyed the speed, Marianne did not look forward to what could be another half hour of Uncle Horace being obsequious with one of his betters.

Uncle Horace had become a parvenu. Knighthood had given him airs. He obviously wanted to shed his current circles for far better ones.

The man they approached saw them coming. Did she imagine his whole body sigh at the prospect of engaging with Horace? Certainly his seat on his horse shifted and his posture sagged. Then, immediately, he caught himself
and sat erectly again. He even trotted in their direction to meet them.

Horace hailed him as they closed in. “Your Grace, what a fortuitous coincidence.”

Your Grace? The Duke of Aylesbury?
Uncle Horace aimed too high now. She blanched at the idea of meeting the duke, let alone sitting by while Uncle Horace imposed on him in order to further the terrible scheme about Nora's marriage.

“A coincidence that has become quite frequent of late, to my delight,” the duke said, putting a subtle pause before
delight
that had Marianne mortified and staring at her horse's neck.

“Allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Radley,” Horace said.

She had to look up then. The eyes that met hers startled her speechless. Dark and intense, she had seen them before. In the graveyard. The poacher-huntsman-steward was actually the Duke of Aylesbury.

More embarrassment flowed, but soon indignation followed. He might have told her. With what she now knew about him and Nora, she had no desire to be introduced. She could not imagine why Uncle Horace kept grinning.

“I see the beard is gone, Your Grace,” Horace said.

“You are the first to see me denuded. I had my valet do the deed this morning.”

“Your brother's influence?”

“Ives is unaware, and will be shocked when he visits. A more compelling reason forced me to give up the warmth and comfort. A lovely lady indicated that she would not
allow me to kiss her otherwise.” He looked right at Marianne. “I suspect she thought I would never do it. It is the sort of thing only the most conceited woman would really expect of a man. Don't you agree, Miss Radley?”

“Since Your Grace would not want to kiss the most conceited of women, the one you speak of will probably be astonished to see you thus.”

Marianne felt her face getting hot. He spoke as if she had promised a kiss if he shaved. She had not, she was sure, not that she could remember much of what she said in the last few minutes of their first meeting.

She forced herself to look right at him with her best expression of indifference. It was then that she saw one reason he might favor beards. A scar, thin and ragged, meandered across his right cheek. An old scar, from the looks of its pale and puckered path. It did not totally mar his face, which, she had to admit, was otherwise handsome now that she could see all of it. Shaving revealed his firm jaw and his full lips. He was not typically handsome, but attractive in a rough, sensual way.

No doubt many women found his attention enticing. Girls might too. Girls like Nora had been three years ago.

“I trust you are not planning any nuptials with this lady who demanded you give up your beard.” Horace sounded far too interested.

Marianne hoped the duke would declare himself in love with someone, so perhaps Nora would be spared her father's ridiculous scheme.

“You are nothing if not proper, Sir Horace. I speak of one kiss and you hear vows.”

“I assumed if you mentioned this lady in front of my niece, the lady was someone you intended for more than one kiss.”

A naughty twinkle entered the duke's eyes. “I do, Sir Horace. Eros be willing, that is.”

Uncle Horace flustered and flushed. “Sir, I ask that you restrain your innuendos while my niece is present.”

“She appears less shocked than you, sir. However, let us ride. I promise to behave when we stop.” He turned his horse and used his crop to take it to a gallop.

Horace charged after. Marianne followed. She wished her uncle had chosen a different path today.

The rogue had all but named her as the woman for whom he shaved, and all but announced dishonorable intentions. Did he think her such easy pickings that she would not mind? Perhaps some women cooed and giggled when he began his seductions in such a public and bold way, but she was made of different stuff.

And for him to think that she would entertain even one kiss after what happened to Nora marked him as bad and without conscience. He must have known who Nora was, and now that he knew their relationship, his silly flirtation with her should have ended.

They pulled up at the base of a hill. “The prospect from up there is impressive,” the duke said. “Other than family, few have seen it since it is deep into the estate, and no charted road comes to it.” He began leading the way up.

“We are honored you invite us to share this private prospect,” Uncle Horace oozed.

Marianne wanted to hit him. Just yesterday he had
almost been in tears when he described how this man had misused his own daughter, but now he fawned like the worst sycophant.

“Do I speak out of turn in asking how things fare between you and Lady Barnell, Sir Horace?” the duke said over his shoulder.

Uncle Horace chortled. “I like to think the lady is not without interest in my attendance, mild though it may still be.”

“Be bold, Sir Horace. Nothing less will do with a widow.”

“Thank you for your advice, Your Grace. I fear if I were as bold as some men, the lady would leave the county for good, however.”

“You refer to me, I think. I disagree, but it is not my place to give you advice. I can only wish you well.”

Marianne forced Calliope up alongside her uncle. “Are you speaking of Baron Barnell's widow?”

Horace glanced askance at her, annoyed. “We are.”

“You have indeed set your sights high, Uncle.”

“I remind you that I am not without position in the county, Marianne.”

“I only wonder if you are too optimistic regarding the lady's views on the matter.”

“Give me a few weeks, and her views will be much improved, I assure you.”

The prospect from the top of the hill indeed proved impressive. At its crest one could look down on farms and fields for several miles. Marianne made all the right sounds of appreciation, but her mind remained on other things.

If Uncle Horace proved successful in wooing Lady Barnell, Mama would immediately be displaced.

If in turn he were successful in marrying off Nora, there would be no need at all for Mama and herself in that house.

It sounded as if Uncle Horace had neglected to inform them of part of his plan. He intended their residence in his home to be a fairly short one.

It would not do to tell any of this to Mama. Uncle Horace was bound to fail on both counts. As long as he chased after the widows of peers, and with the likelihood of his preposterous plans for Nora going nowhere, Mama's rule of Trenfield would probably last forever.

“Do you like it?”

The voice by her shoulder startled her. While Uncle Horace paced along the crest, admiring the landscape, the duke had moved his horse next to hers. He looked into her eyes, disconcerting her.

“The view is lovely.”

“I meant do you like that I have shaved?”

“You certainly appear less rustic.”

“I am to receive no more praise than that?”

“You do not need praise from me. I expect that you possess very fine looking glasses, and can assess your own visage, whether bearded or not.”

She could not say what she really thought. He appeared far more handsome now, with his bone structure and firm jaw apparent, but also less friendly. More ducal and severe. Perhaps that only came from her knowing his identity. She sensed a touch of imperiousness in him, however. An
expectation that as a duke, he should of course get what he wanted, including her compliments on his shaven face.

“I will expect that dance at the next assembly now.”

“Do you always attend the local assemblies? That is good of you.”

“Make no mistake about it, Miss Radley. I am not good. Ask anyone and that is what you will be told. Ask your uncle. As for assemblies, I never attend them. This one, however, promises to be more pleasant than the others.”

“If you rarely attend, the circle around you will be thick when you do. Dancing may prove impossible.”

“It will not be nearly as thick as you would think.”

“Perhaps my cousin Nora will come with me. She is my uncle's daughter. You may know her. Nora Radley.”

“I have not been introduced, and the name brings up no memory of her. I am sorry if she thinks it should. I did not spend much time here over the recent years. Until I inherited, my preferred abode was in London.”

He did not even remember her name. Marianne bit her tongue so she did not upbraid him then and there. The scold screamed in her mind, however.
You scoundrel. You toyed with her and flirted and arranged an assignation when she was barely out of the schoolroom. She rode out to meet you and you seduced her, and left her to find her way back alone with a storm brewing
.

“Unfortunately, she may not come. Three years ago she was caught in a tempest and took to her bed with a severe fever that affected her mind. My uncle tells everyone she is much recovered, but she really is not. At least not entirely.”

She looked for embarrassment again. She only saw signs of some sympathy. At least when Uncle Horace attempted to make this match, the duke would know of Nora's condition, however.

“That is sad to hear. Perhaps with rest and time she will indeed recover entirely,” he said. “Now that you and I have been properly introduced, I will call on you and we can take her on a carriage ride. Perhaps she would like that.”

You seduced her, you idiot. You ruined her.
She will not want to be within a mile of you
. “We are barely settled in, and have much to do still. I am afraid that carriage rides for pleasure will have to wait a good while for all of us.”