An American Duchess

by Caroline Fyffe

  The village residents, including the livery owner, Leo Lewis, and his wife, Phoebe; Phoebe’s mother, Mrs. Parker; and Constable Kerrigan and his wife, Alice, looked to be having a lovely time. The gamekeeper, Arson Henderley, sat in a chair waiting for his wife, Rose, and the other kitchen staff to finish up and join them. Charlotte had said Ethel Smith had refused to come or allow her younger daughter, Verity, to attend. That news had made Emma sad, but the woman was Verity’s mother, and nothing could be done. And Beranger’s uncle Lord Charles had sent his regrets—again. He’d canceled the tea with them last Thursday and now this. His continued absence made his feelings about Beranger rightfully inheriting the title quite obvious. More’s the pity. Still, Lord Harry assured her his absence was nothing to worry over, that Lord Charles fancied himself an important man, and that when he was good and ready, he’d show up, ready to accept Beranger as his duke.

  As her gaze crossed the room, Trevor and KT caught her fancy. Warmth filled Emma’s chest—and suspicion too. Something strange was going on with them. The two ranch hands had been all smiles since last night after they had returned from somewhere with Tristen, as windblown as if they’d spent a day gathering cattle in Colorado. Where they’d gone or what they were up to was a mystery, and no one was saying. Whatever it was, they were well pleased with the outcome. And that made Emma deliriously happy as well.

  At her side, Beranger spoke with Lord Harry, their low words indistinguishable because of the music. Lord Harry had arrived from Portsmouth several nights before. The two had been locked up in the library every day since, plotting how they would make millions on imports and exports. Emma was learning there was nothing her new husband liked better than a challenge. She smiled, thinking she’d been quite a challenge for him not all that long ago.

  My rake! I wouldn’t want my life any other way.

  Lord Harry smiled and took his leave, leaving Beranger all to her.

  The duke turned and lifted her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry to go on so long with Lord Harry over the ship on our grand night. That wasn’t fair to you. I hope we didn’t bore you to tears.”

  “I’m never bored when it comes to business, Your Grace, Lord Husband, owner of my heart,” she teased. “You should know that by now. I’ll have made crates and crates of dresses I’ve designed especially for my shop and the women of Eden by the time we’re ready for the maiden voyage of our ship.”

  “You mean the American Duchess,” Beranger interrupted.

  She laughed, thinking he’d never looked so handsome. “Yes, yes, then, the American Duchess. Does she have a crew, or is that something you’ll have to remedy? I know how you love to remedy a situation.”

  Beranger chuckled. “Yes and no. A skeleton crew only. I’ll have to hire a captain. But I’m excited about the prospect. Now I’ll have an excuse to spend time in the coastal towns by the sea.”

  She lifted a brow.

  “I mean we’ll have an excuse. I’ll not leave you behind again.”

  Worry chased away the good feelings. She’d begun to suspect in recent days that Beranger was experiencing vertigo again, but he’d kept it hidden from her until last night, when it had sent him swaying to his knees just before bed. He’d been his old self this morning and insisted he felt fine, but until she knew the cause, she was still on edge. She leaned closer. “Beranger, did you see that nasty man from the Gilded Goose in Goldenbrook has arrived? He’s been glaring our way ever since he came in. I don’t like him.”

  “Give him a chance, Emma. My brother didn’t treat him or his like fairly. He’ll change once he learns I’m not Gavin—or my father. Have you seen Rodrick, his father, here too?” He stretched his neck, trying to see over the crowd of guests. The musicians had already begun to play another song, and a group of dancers lined up.

  Her smile fell away. “I don’t know.”

  “Is something wrong? Why do you look sad?”

  She looked over to the musicians playing a reel. “I can’t do those fancy dances where everyone lines up and bows to each other, Beranger. I’m sorry. I hope my inability won’t embarrass you. The duke should make the grandest appearance.” She glanced around. “Go find someone to dance with. I’d love to watch.”

  He laughed and then kissed her. “And neither can I. But we have our whole lives to learn. And I don’t want to dance with anyone else but you. I know you can waltz, because we did at our wedding. Besides, you look so beautiful just standing here, you outshine all the other women in the room. I’m a very lucky man. Look, here come Trevor and KT.”

  The two ranch hands were on their way across the room, looking very distinguished in formal Western wear of black trousers, starched white shirts, and black string ties. Their boots were shined to a high sheen, hair combed perfectly, and their lean cheeks looked softer than a baby’s bottom. She’d never seen either of them look so handsome. And there wasn’t a hat in sight. “Where on earth did they get those fine clothes?” Emma whispered, incredulous. “And especially when they came back so rumpled yesterday. Those two never cease to amaze me. Do you know where they were off to or what they did?”

  He shook his head.

  Trevor and KT, both wearing large smiles as if they owned the place, stopped to speak with Baroness Eugenia Coldred and elderly Harriet Ninham, the Dowager Countess of Sarre, the two women Emma had entertained at her first formal tea. Harriet, the sweet woman that she was, had a new wig that was covered with an overwhelming amount of black curls and topped with a tiara. Her elegant dress looked beautiful. As little as Emma knew the woman, she’d already grown attached to her.

  “What on earth is Trevor saying to the countess?” Emma whispered, amazed. “Have they met the baroness and countess before, Beranger? Do you know? If I don’t watch out, they’ll know all of Brightshire and Goldenbrook before I do. Those scamps.”

  The Dowager Countess of Sarre placed a shaky hand on her chest and looked up into Trevor’s face, her smile sentimental and sweet. She was obviously enjoying his attention. The baroness reached out and touched KT’s arm.

  Trevor looked Emma’s way and winked.

  She laughed. “He’s shameless! I’d certainly like to know what they’re up to, because you’ll never convince me they aren’t involved in some kind of shenanigans. Now, please point out some of the others, Beranger, so I’m not caught off guard.”

  He nodded toward a stooped, gray-haired old man in a black suit and leaned close to her ear. “That’s Alfred Batkins, our solicitor in London. With his advanced age, he hasn’t been out to Ashbury for many years. We should feel honored he made the trip. Lord Harry thinks highly of the man and said I should as well. We shall see.”

  “And that gentleman? Speaking with Lord Harry? He doesn’t fit the image of a lord, and yet he looks more distinguished than some of the others.” She looked up into Beranger’s face, marveling at how much she loved him. “Do you know?”

  “Well, I’ll be. That’s Stanton Wellborn the third, the man that was jumped by thugs in London when Lord Harry and I went to speak with Batkins. That seems like so long ago.”

  “The man whose life you saved.”

  “I’d hardly say that. Lord Harry must have gotten word to him. I’m glad he did.”

  “You don’t know. He could have easily been killed if you hadn’t thrown in to help. I’m so proud of you, in everything.” She couldn’t stop herself from going up on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “So very much.”

  He actually blushed. Some rake! He wasn’t at all the flirt she’d taken him for when she first encountered him in Santa Fe.

  “Wellborn,” Beranger hurried on as if to change her train of thought, “is a scientist at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich. They’re working on a standard time for the whole country, as London has had for years. It’s quite amazing.”

  “I don’t really understand all that.”

  “You will. Train schedules, polling places, and the like.” He nodded in deep thought. “I
believe soon all the world will take this seriously.”

  “Well, he certainly sounds like an interesting man. I’d like to meet him.”

  Emma turned toward the dancers to see Justin and Charlotte dancing. Last night, when Charlotte had come to stay, Emma had requested Beranger’s valet teach the younger woman the waltz. Now, with Justin leading, she looked as if she were floating on air. Her flushed face was lovely, and she looked gorgeous in another dress of Emma’s. So much had happened to the young woman since Emma had arrived. She was glad she’d been here to witness everything and to offer her help.

  “Justin has been captivated since meeting Charlotte,” Beranger said, watching, “and now there’s nothing standing in the way of his marrying her.”

  Emma cut her eyes up toward his face. “Doesn’t Charlotte have a say in the matter?”

  He scoffed. “Of course. Why would you ask that?”

  “The way you said it. As if just because now that she’s a lady, she’d fall into Justin’s arms. If he was so attracted, why didn’t he do more when she was a baker? I don’t like the whole title thing.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. Life is just that way. And I saw him giving her plenty of attention when she was still just a baker, even if they didn’t see me watching. He’s been trying to get her attention for weeks.”

  “We shall see. I happen to think there are more irons in this particular fire.”

  Emma looked around for Tristen. At the dinner party, she’d felt the energy crackling between their two friends, and whenever Justin paid Charlotte any attention, Tristen turned his gaze away as if he couldn’t tolerate the sight. And when he’d walked her to the castle after the revelations from Mathilda, he’d practically jumped down Justin’s throat to protect her. She was sure he had feelings for Charlotte and she for him.

  But I haven’t seen him all night.

  She glanced again at Charlotte and Justin dancing. Emma had to admit she was rooting for Tristen—Charlotte would be cherished all her life by a man like him. Justin was charming, but was he steadfast?

  Time, she supposed, would tell. By the way Justin was holding Charlotte, Tristen had better show up soon. A girl could easily lose her head—and her heart—on the dance floor.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  By the light of a single lantern, Tristen sat on the porch of the gamekeeper’s cottage, staring off into the night sky. Bagley lay at his feet, lost to sleep as a light breeze moved the top of the trees. The dog was finally exhausted after a day of running through the forest. Yesterday, he, Trevor, and KT had successfully delivered the stolen invitations. But instead of feeling satisfied, Tristen found himself confused. He’d felt the need to be alone—to walk the forestlands.

  In the last week, he’d continued visiting the bakeshop to train Romeo, but Charlotte, who’d been teaching the young woman who would take over her job, had barely spoken to him since his outburst toward Winters.

  He was sad to lose a friend, but he was happy for Charlotte, he kept telling himself. She deserved the best. And now she could have everything life had to offer. Her days of working herself to exhaustion were over. If he really tried, he could acknowledge that Winters wasn’t all that bad, and might even be a good match for her. Tristen didn’t like him, but then he didn’t have to. He wasn’t marrying the man. Charlotte was the one who needed to love him, and just the thought of her wearing all those lovely gowns, like the duchess, should have made him smile—because he knew how much Charlotte had dreamed of that. But those thoughts didn’t make him happy. Anything but. There was no help for it. The events of her life and his were beyond his control.

  He reached down and fingered the warm fur behind Bagley’s ear.

  Without moving his head, the young dog opened his eye, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

  “So you’re just going to let her go?”

  Tristen straightened and then stood, shocked someone had been able to sneak up on him without a sound.

  Bagley climbed to his feet and yawned. Some watchdog he was turning out to be.

  Mathilda Tugwer slowly moved into the circle of light made by his lantern. “What do you mean?” he asked, although he thought he knew.

  “Our Miss Charlotte. You’ll let her be swept away into a meaningless life with that shallow upstart. I thought more of ya.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I’ve watched over her since the moment she came into this world. She’s the daughter I never had. I’ve been observing the two of you together as well.”

  He guessed that made sense. The woman did have a heart.

  Tristen descended the steps and went to her side. “Winters can give her everything I can’t. A home fit for a lady, acceptance by all the aristocracy, a future with hope.”

  “Those are just things. Not worth a halfpenny. He can’t or won’t give her what means more than those.”

  She stared a black hole through his forehead.

  The soft cry of the lost baby undulated through the trees.

  “I have a history. A match between Charlotte and myself wouldn’t be good for her.”

  “Don’t we all, my boy, don’t we all . . .”

  Bagley barked and bounded off the side of the porch into the dark night.

  With a shout, Tristen spun and called him back, to no avail. Turning again to Mathilda, all he found was the dark night where she’d been one moment before.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Winters, but I must sit this one out,” Charlotte whispered when the music started up directly after the last dance had concluded. “I really must catch my breath.”

  “Please, Miss Charlotte, why do you insist on calling me Mr. Winters? We sound like acquaintances. After all we’ve been through, won’t you consider calling me Justin? It would please me very much.”

  What have we been through? I don’t know what he means.

  He gave her the same smile he’d so graciously bestowed on her whenever they spoke alone. She remembered their first encounter in the scullery and how he’d made her blush. Why didn’t his smile move her now the way it had then? Perhaps because he’d totally ignored her request to sit the last few dances out and she now found herself whirling around the dance floor feeling like an impostor. She had to concentrate not to miss a step.

  “When will you go to Essex to find your grandparents?” he asked, smiling into her eyes. “Soon, I’d think. They’ll be delighted to meet you.”

  She let the music polish away the rough edges of his question. He was curious, just like everybody else. Her heritage seemed to be on everyone’s minds. Well, she amended, everybody’s except Tristen, who hadn’t asked her one thing about her plans. She’d seen him coming and going at the bakeshop as she’d been training Sandra. As distressing as his lack of interest was, he’d hardly said more than a few words to her since the day at Ashbury when she’d put him in his place. His outburst had frightened her at first, but then she’d seen the look of remorse in his eyes. She had no doubt he was a good man. Each time he came to train Romeo, she found herself in the barn, cleaning the rabbit hutch for the second time that day or fussing with the chickens. Making sure Sherry had enough feed. “Will they be delighted to meet me?” she said now. “I’m not so sure.”

  She ignored it when Mr. Winters pulled her the tiniest bit closer as they waltzed around the floor. Speaking of Tristen, where was he? Maybe she could find a moment tonight to rectify things between them. She spotted Mr. Henderley, sitting in a chair, but there was no sign of his nephew. Was this her opportunity to get to know him tonight, and perhaps even ask a question or two without seeming suspicious? She scanned the throng of villagers, drinking punch and laughing, Thomas among them. The constable had let Thomas know that he planned to continue seeking other witnesses who could support Thomas’s claim that he hadn’t been with the duke on the day of his death. But Thomas was to remain close to town. At least he’d been allowed to attend the party, over Aunt Ethel’s objections. For that, she was grateful.

  �
�Of course they will. You’re beautiful and sweet. The kind of granddaughter any person would be thrilled to have. I’ll escort you myself. But only when you’re ready,” he hurried on. “Just say the word and I’ll drop my responsibilities here and we’ll set out—with a chaperone, of course, now that your station has been elevated. We don’t want to do anything to tarnish your reputation.”

  Her head snapped up at that. You were all too willing to tarnish my reputation before by inviting me out into the moonlight.

  Why did everything he said suddenly grate on her nerves? She’d been anticipating tonight all week, dreaming about dancing in a beautiful gown in Mr. Winters’s arms. And yet, if she were honest, all she wanted right now was to be back in the barn loft talking to Tristen, or holding his hand as they ran through the forest in the rain.

  “Charlotte?”

  Pulled back to the present, she tried to think of what Mr. Winters had just said. Unfortunately, with the music and all that was going on in her head, she had no idea. “Yes?”

  “I just asked if you’d had a chance to get to know Lady Audrey any better now that you’ve moved into Ashbury?”

  “I only arrived last night.”

  As he kept talking, Charlotte glanced away once again. Where was Tristen? Why had he stayed away?

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  A pretty bride you bring with you,

  What better way to crush your heart?

  With emerald eyes and locks of golden hue,

  She will regret your days apart.

  Beranger, your pain I’ll see,

  And my revenge will be complete . . .

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  What are your friends up to now?” Beranger asked, still holding Emma in his arms.

  She didn’t know. As the latest song ended, they’d made their way over to the musicians. People stopped to stare. Trevor clapped his hands together and asked for everyone’s attention. She was too far away to overhear what they were saying to the musicians, but by the way the performers calmly moved back and let them take over, she figured this had been planned ahead. Out of nowhere, a Spanish guitar appeared in Trevor’s hands.