Two Notorious Dukes (13 page)

‘Have you decided yet?’ Lady Verity asked Sarah
for the fifth time that week. Robert had left two days
previously and she knew that her son had bedded
Sarah. It was so obvious. Their relationship was
suddenly relaxed and familiar, they sat and mooned in
each others eyes and Johnny had even sat and played a
duet with her at the piano. But it was the little things
that gave it away, not so much the constant
companionship, but the ease of discussion and how
blatantly provocative she could be and he would smile
indulgently, instead of frowning, as he would if he didn’t
have intimate knowledge of her. Verity was content. He
had asked for her hand and eventually they would tell
her of their plans. But she liked to pester them.

Sarah smiled coyly, shook her head again and
skipped out of the room like a child. Verity looked at
John.

‘Do you have anything to tell me?’ she asked,
quite piqued and she was gratified to see John laugh
happily. He was more happy and content than she had
ever known him.

‘As a matter of fact I do mother. We are going to
have a new Duchess in the family.’
‘Oh! John! I’m so happy for you.’ Verity said and
leaped to her feet, crushing her tall son in her arms.
‘When?’
‘We haven’t set a date, because of Robert and
Elizabeth. We’d like them to be there and if we’re lucky
we could even make it a double wedding.’
‘Have you bedded her yet?’ Verity asked sternly.
Argyll raised an eyebrow at her. ‘That is not
something I should discuss with my mother.’ He said
rather stiffly and in the next breath he smiled in such a
way that she had no doubt that he had. She shook her
head and smiled indulgently.

Robert heaved his aching backside out of the
saddle and turned the poor beast over to a groom, ‘give
him a long rest and a good dinner. He deserves it.’

‘Yes, Your Grace.’ The groom murmured and the
family retainer, Wilson was at the door, the lantern in
his hand throwing a weak puddle of illumination onto
the porch.

‘Good evening, Your Grace.’ Wilson greeted
Robert. ‘Your Grandmother is in the drawing room.’
Robert followed Wilson into the hall, stripping
off his cloak, hat and gloves. ‘Thank you, Wilson.’
‘Would you like some refreshment, Your Grace?
I could have the cook put together a cold platter?’
‘That would be wonderful, Wilson. Thank you.’
Robert said wearily as he headed towards the main
drawing room. He carefully opened the door and was
confronted with a fairly lively party.
Typical that she’s
having a party!
He thought and shook his head. He
sauntered arrogantly into the room, saw one of his
childhood friends and announced his presence with
‘Bertram, it’s amazing how many times I arrive here and
find you drinking my brandy!’
‘Robbie!’ Burst from his grandmothers throat
and he went straight to her chair. She was surprisingly
agile for a woman of the advanced age of 74; she stood
up quickly and grabbed her only remaining grandchild in
a very strong embrace. It made him groan and in the
next breath she was tearful. ‘It’s been too long since
you were here last!’
‘Well, you know what it’s like in London.’
‘I do and we even hear the gossip up here. So
you tell me, is there any truth that Lady Beresford is
expecting your child?’ she demanded.
Such was his relationship with his grandmother,
that in private he would tell her everything, but in front
of friends he was always more cautious.
‘Not a chance!’ he said smartly. ‘She was too
busy tupping Randolph, Cranwell and Farrington, to be
caught by me!’
Wilson appeared with a large platter of cold
meats, pork pie and other edible delights. Robert sat
himself beside his grandmother and tucked into the
food.
‘When did you get here, Robbie?’
‘About five minutes ago, Nana.’ He said using the
pet name he’d called her since he first learned to talk.
‘What’s the party for?’ he asked with a mouthful of
bread.
‘Do I need and excuse for a party? And what
have I told you about talking with your mouth half full?’
she glared at him, picked up a slice of bread, shoved it in
his mouth and said. ‘Top it up!’ which brought gales of
laughter from every one there.
His laughter snuffled around the food. He tore
the bread and chewed until his mouth was empty, and
licking the butter off his lips said. ‘You don’t change
much.’
‘I’ve no reason to, my boy. You go to London for
most of the year and don’t even think about poor old
me, sitting here all alone.’
‘Yes, I can see how alone you are!’ he said
looking around at the faces. He wrote to his
Grandmother every week, so it was unfair to say he
didn’t think of her.
‘So tell me what’s been happening in London?’
she demanded and while he finished his food, he
regaled them with the latest gossip and fashions, of
which his grandmother didn’t approve, especially after
he mentioned Lady Wentworth’s see through dress. He
told her all the new alliances in marriages and births.
‘Hasn’t that young rascal Monmouth proposed
to poor Verity Argyll yet?’ she demanded.
‘No, Nana, and I doubt he ever will. He’ll up and
marry some young girl for an heir to his estate and
carve out Verity’s heart at the same time!’
‘And what about you Robbie? Any wife in the
foreseeable future?’ she asked, expecting his usual
reproof and was surprised when he evaded the
question and turned to Wilson for a glass of Claret.
‘Have you met somebody, Boy?’ she asked softly.
‘Later, Nana.’ He murmured. ‘I’ll tell you all
about it, tomorrow.’
The party continued as the young ladies present
started to play and sing and Robbie sat and compared
them to Elizabeth’s final performance and found them
wanting. But he had to remember that none of the
innocent ladies had lived her life, so they had no
experience of horror, fear or rage.
He was falling asleep after his third glass of
Claret and his grandmother sent him to bed. He dragged
his leaden feet up the stairs and managed to take off his
jacket and boots, loosened his cravat and was asleep
before he could even take his shirt off. He didn’t really
think about it until the morning, but he’d had two
sleepless nights with Elizabeth and he’d ridden for
almost two days to get here. But that didn’t stop him
from dreaming about her and as the sunlight forced its
way through his curtains, he thrashed and jerked under
the cover Wilson had thrown over him.
His dream was very disturbing, He saw Elizabeth,
in the finest wedding gown he’d ever seen and she
looked beautiful, he stood proudly at the altar waiting
for her. The vicar took his time, but eventually the
service was over and they left to start their new life. He
carried her over the threshold of his London Mansion,
and practically ran up the stairs with her. He took her to
the newly furbished bedroom in the ducal apartment,
which had an adjoining door to his bedroom. He bathed
and put on his finest dressing gown, he even wrapped a
silk scarf around his neck. He tapped on the door and
called her name. ‘Elizabeth, are you ready?’ he asked.
He heard a muffled reply so he opened the door, to find
Alexander Craanford, whipping his wife at the same
time as he was fucking her and Elizabeth looked at him
with horror in her eyes and stabbed herself in the throat
with a letter opener. ‘Elizabeth!!’ was torn from his
larynx as he tried to get across the room, but it was as if
his feet were encased in mud and Craanford stood up,
covered in blood and said coldly. ‘If she can’t be mine,
she’s not going to be anybody else’s!’ He levelled a
pistol and shot Robert in the shoulder. And he screamed
and screamed, until Burke shook him awake.
‘Captain! Wake up, Sir.’ Burke often called him
by his rank to wake him; it was ingrained in his
subconscious, unlike his title. ‘Captain Bosworth! Wake
up, Sir!’
Robert jerked awake and the scream died in his
throat. He sat up abruptly, panic making his chest
heave.
‘The same old dream, Sir?’ Burke asked calmly.
‘No!’ Robert gasped. ‘No it wasn’t, although the
outcome was the same.’ He said distantly as he rubbed
the scar in his shoulder. ‘Burke! What time did you get
here?’’ he asked breathlessly, the panic starting to
subside.
‘I arrived with the dawn, Sir.’ He said cheerfully.
‘I’ve had a good breakfast and will sort all your
belongings out during the course of the day, Sir.’ He said
and went to the door. The bath was manhandled into
the room and filled with hot water. Robert again
dropped into the water and soaked his aching shoulder.
Burke used the soap to massage some of the stiffness
from it, cause by the prolonged riding. Roding Hall was a
long way from London and Robert did only visit it once a
year.
I must try and talk Nana into coming back to
London for this season.
He thought, but he knew his
grandmother wouldn’t go. The journey was too far and
too taxing for her. At her age she couldn’t sit in a
carriage for three days.
But maybe I could devise a way,
by making many stopovers, so she never sits in the
carriage longer than a trip to the city.
He’d have to give
it some thought, just where they could lie over. If he
was going to marry Elizabeth, he wanted his
Grandmother to witness it. And that brought his
nightmare into his forebrain. He couldn’t understand
why he would dream of her being abused by Craanford.
But of course, that was Craanford’s parting shot.
It’ll
never be over until you’re mine!
Robert remembered it
and he supposed Elizabeth saying she was going back to
London, reminded him of the danger there. And
Craanford was dangerous.
I’ll have to ask Nana what
she knows about the Craanford’s.
He thought as he
started to wash his body vigorously.
It didn’t take him long to finish and dry himself.
Because of his service in the army, he liked to shave
himself, rather than let Burke do it, although Burke had
become very proficient on the journey home from
Copenhagen, when his shoulder wouldn’t permit him to
do half the things a man normally does,
and that
includes getting your britches open.
He thought and
sniggered as he remembered just how many times poor
Burke had to open his britches so that he could use the
pot!
He looked at his face in the mirror before he
slapped soap over it and remembered Elizabeth stroking
her finger over the dimple in his chin. He shook his head
to dispel the vision of her and quickly soaped and
shaved his face. He dressed in the clothes Burke had laid
out and then sauntered down to breakfast to find all the
guests from the previous night still there.
He sat down and was served a full English
breakfast and decided he was famished. His
grandmother was pleased to see him eat with such
gusto.
‘Are you feeling well, Boy?’ she asked and he
looked up at her.
‘I feel fine. Why do you ask?’ he said quizzically.
‘Because I haven’t seen you eat that well since
you were a teenager!’ He just looked at her, without
making a rejoinder.
Breakfast was slowly finished and the guests
went to pack, leaving Robert and his Grandmother
sitting at the table.
He looked up at her a few times, and she could
tell he was steeling himself for something. ‘Spit it out
Robbie, I won’t bite.’
‘It’s not that, Nana. I have to ask you some
things and I need to do them in order.’ She nodded and
sat back to wait.
‘Do you know the Craanford’s?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes. I know of them. Ancient family from
Ireland, the last Earl was a rake, like you Robbie; he’d
roger anything in a skirt and he always had a couple on
the go, then he suddenly upped and married Margaret
Richards. Good match for her, being untitled, and it
seemed as if it was a match made in heaven, but if you
looked closely you could see the cracks.’ She shook her
head. ‘He was violent and she always wore high backed
gowns, which is unusual at night.’
‘Is that why three of her children died, do you
think?’
‘Undoubtedly.’ She said succinctly.
‘I thought they went back to Ireland after they
got married.’ Robert said quietly.
‘Who told you that poppycock?!’
‘Verity Argyll.’ He whispered.
‘Well, she was very young and a little too
innocent still at that time. They went back to Ireland
when he lost a fortune at the card tables. Why do you
want to know about them?’
‘Be patient, Nana.’ He said with a frown. ‘Do you
know anything about the son?’
‘Who? Edward?’ she asked surprised. ‘I met him
when he first came to London. Never particularly liked
the look in his eyes and your father certainly didn’t like
him.’ She shook her head and sighed deeply, as if she
knew something she didn’t really want to disclose.
‘Peter called him out.’
Robert’s eyes widened at such an admission. His
brother was a ducal heir, what would possibly make him
call somebody out?
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Edward Audley not only made an improper
suggestion to Clarice, but he tried to get her in a
compromising position and it was only the fact that she
was terrified of him that convinced Peter that Clarice
was the injured party. It caused terrible trouble with
your father, the Duke, but Audley was a coward and
didn’t show up. I heard he’d got himself a sweet little
sixteen year old the year your father died.’
‘Yes, he did. And Clarice was very lucky.’ Robert
said softly.
‘What do you know, Robbie?’
‘I know he’s dead!’ he said rather harshly.
‘Somebody called him out and shot him in the stomach.
He died a week later of a putrefied wound.’
‘That makes his cousin Alexander the current
Earl.’ She said softly. ‘He’s no better than Edward. They
are both very brutal men, especially with women.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ He muttered.
‘So, from the expression on your face, I would
imagine you have met the sweet sixteen year old?’
Robbie took a deep breath. ‘She’s not sweet
sixteen any more, but yes. She is beautiful, but she is
full of fear and rage. She is a soul in torment after what
that...
Blackguard!
... did to her.’ Robbie sat and told her
everything that Elizabeth had said to him and everything
that Verity said and finished it with ‘... I love her, Nana.’
‘Well I’m glad about that. We need an heir.’ She
said and Robert shook his head.
‘That’s not why I love her, Nana. That’s just the
icing on the cake. I love her for her, as she is. I want to
love and cherish her, chase away her nightmares and
give her what she needs.’
‘And what does she need?’
‘She needs somebody to love, be it me or our
children. She has so much love and compassion and its
been kept in a prison. I want to set her free.’
‘There is no freedom in marriage, Robbie, you
know that.’
‘There can be, if I choose for her to be free.’ He
said softly. ‘She wanted to go back to London to think
about us, before she decided whether to give up her
limited freedom.’
‘She’s a widow, why is it limited?’
‘Edward left everything to his cousin. Alexander
has been pestering Elizabeth for her hand and I believe
it will get violent, if somebody doesn’t take her under
his wing.’
‘And you want to do that?’
‘I do, Nana and I’d like you to come back to
London with me, so that you can attend the wedding.’
She was already shaking her head.
‘No, Robbie, you marry her and then bring her
here for me to meet.’ She smiled at him. ‘I don’t need to
go all that way to see a wedding.’
‘But you missed Peter and Clarice’s wedding
because they held it in London!’ he said distraught.
‘If you want me to be a witness, then you bring
her here and marry her in the chapel.’ She firmly. ‘I
can’t travel all that way, boy. My health won’t permit it.’
‘Not even if you do the journey in plenty of
stages, so that you don’t spend too long in the
carriage?’ he asked.
She looked at the expression on his face and felt
guilty that she wouldn’t make the effort for her one
grandchild. She patted his hand. ‘Robbie, even if it took
me a month, it would probably kill me and you know it.’
She sighed deeply. ‘You know I swore never to go to
London again after....’