An American Duchess

by Caroline Fyffe

  She was scared. And so was I. I’d faced Indians, pestilence, cougars, and bears, but I didn’t want to deliver my child alone. I looked around at the silent landscape, and then up into the frightened faces of my tiny daughters. The fact that women died in childbirth badgered my heart.

  Emma’s hands began to quiver.

  Well, I didn’t have to wait long. With one blanket under your mother and another tented over, blocking your sisters’ view as they howled on the front seat, I caught you on your mother’s third push, only fifteen minutes after the whole thing began.

  With you nestled in my palms, I told Celeste she had something new. So she asked if we had a son, and I said no, we had a beautiful redhead, pretty enough to be a queen. When you were born, your hair was very red and curly and made a fiery halo around your head.

  Beranger reached over and fingered a strawberry-blond lock, now straight and sleek. His eyes shimmered with love. “Certainly a queen, or perhaps a duchess?”

  Unable to stop herself, Emma launched herself into his arms. After a few kisses, she picked up her letter again.

  And so, you now wonder, had your mother and I wished for a son? I can tell you clearly the answer is no. From the first moment you felt the chill of the air right out of the womb, I loved you with all my heart. I wouldn’t—we wouldn’t—trade our Emma for anything. I could feel you were destined for something great. I hope and pray that your destiny finds you.

  “Oh, Beranger,” she sobbed. “How I wish I’d met him before he died. I love him as well, with all my heart.”

  Beranger stroked her hair and murmured softly, until she drew a deep breath and kept going.

  My story is not quite over yet. After you were wrapped in my shirt and fed, we remained in the wagon, warming ourselves in the sunshine. Your sisters quieted and fell asleep on the front seat. After about an hour, I prepared to turn back home, tuck your mother into her own bed, and get started on the routine I’d gotten used to with the last two births. But no. She was set on apple pie, and who was I to say no?

  Wishing you the most splendid birthday, my dear daughter.

  Always remember, I love you with all my heart.

  Your Father

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Tristen waited until the footman took the tea tray with the used cups, plates, and empty pots and left him alone in the library with Charlotte. The time wasn’t quite midnight, and he knew it wasn’t proper for him to stay so late after everyone else had left or gone to bed. He needed a few private words with Charlotte. But she seemed distracted and worried. Was there something else on her mind?

  “Thank you for staying,” he said, watching the door close behind the footman. “I’ll only keep you a moment. You’re exhausted with all you’ve been through and need your rest.”

  Her smile wobbled. She looked uncomfortable. Was she worried about her reputation, being alone with him? “Charlotte, I’d like to talk to you about something serious.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow, Tristen?”

  He was surprised; she’d never put him off before. And after tonight, he was sure she felt the same about him as he did about her. She’d clung to him long and hard when he’d carried her out of the laundry. He’d seen the look in her eyes.

  “I love you, Charlotte. Ever since our kiss—no, actually before the kiss—you’re all that I’ve been able to think about. The day Bagley spooked your pony and spilled your bread changed my life. I haven’t let myself believe it, but Mathilda changed my mind tonight. She gave me the courage to speak with you. Tell you how I feel. I can only pray you feel the same.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and she put up a hand as if that would make him take back his words. “Stop, please!”

  “You don’t love me?” Have I been so wrong?

  She stared at her folded hands.

  He sat down and laid one hand over hers. “What is it? You must be relieved about Thomas. And finding out about your parents and grandparents. Is that it? Please don’t keep me on the hook. So many things are going through my mind. Do you love Winters and want to marry him?”

  She sat back. “No. Never that.”

  “Then what?” He lifted her hands and kissed her fingertips. He didn’t know how he’d go on if she turned him down.

  “It’s about the day the duke died.”

  Relief washed over him. As long as she didn’t have feelings for somebody else, he felt he stood a good chance of winning her love. There was just some little thing he could help her work through. “Thomas has been cleared, Charlotte. You don’t have to worry about him any longer. You’re free of it.”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t tell you this, because I didn’t want to start something I didn’t know the answer to, but the same day I saw Thomas in the forest, I also saw your uncle, and he was limping. He was wearing a long brown coat like the man I’d seen on the hill with the duke. I’ll never tell the constable, now that I don’t have to because Thomas is cleared, but the secret will always be between us. What if somehow I’m forced to say something? You’d never forgive me.”

  He sat back. She was right. This wasn’t some little thing. He stared at her, thinking.

  She turned her face away from his. “See! I can’t, I just can’t love you knowing there is a secret that will drive us apart.”

  Snapped out of his thoughts, he squeezed her hands gently. “Uncle Arson wouldn’t kill anybody. Even the duke, who he didn’t like at all. You saw what you saw, but there has to be another explanation. I wished you’d trusted me and told me sooner.” A peace descended over him. There was an answer, and they’d find it. He looked at her pink lips, marveling at their beauty. “This won’t drive us apart. If I find out the truth and clear my uncle, will you marry me?”

  She blinked several times.

  Before she could speak, Tristen raised his hand to stop her. He had a confession of his own to make, and it was now or never. “Before you answer, I have something in my past I’ve been hiding, for fear of your rejection. So you see, we’re not all that much different.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “There’s nothing that would keep me from saying yes, except for what I just told you.”

  He was feeling better all the time.

  “Over ten years ago, I was in a fight. No—I want you to understand completely—I started a fight. My punch knocked the other man down, and he hit his head. The man, the son of a politician, died, and I spent ten years in prison for manslaughter. My uncle and aunt know, and Pencely does too. Perhaps the duke now too, I don’t know.”

  “Over ten years ago! You were little more than a boy.”

  “I was fifteen and should have known better.”

  She pulled away from him. “Did you try to kill him—was that your intent?”

  He shook his head. “No, but that’s what happened. I paid my debt, as much as it could be paid, and then Uncle Arson invited me here so I could start my life over with a clean slate. I hadn’t intended on falling in love.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “My uncle, and Pencely, gave me a chance to do better and be a better person. That’s all I’ve tried to do, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure they don’t regret trusting me. I’m asking you for your trust too. I want to build a new life here in Brightshire. Will you share that life with me?”

  Her gaze was serious. “Marrying you and building a life together would be a dream come true. I love you, Tristen, but I can’t say yes until this other business is settled.”

  “Then first thing in the morning, we’ll go into Brightshire and search out Thomas. See what he has to say since we know about him and Lady Audrey. From there we’ll talk to my uncle. I want to hear his side of the story.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  The next day, in the confines of the barn loft, Charlotte and Tristen listened to Thomas, unbelieving. “Say that again, brother. Why on earth didn’t you tell me this before? I’ve been sick with worry about you and al
so about Tristen’s uncle. The man already has enough problems with his health. He shouldn’t have to be a suspect in a murder.”

  “No one would have believed me unless I revealed I’d been meeting with Lady Audrey—and she confirmed the fact. That would bring all kinds of trouble onto her head, which I wasn’t willing to do. Her mother is always threatening to send her away for various reasons. Besides, I never had any love for the duke. He did nothing but belittle me every time our paths crossed. His death truly was an accident, even if he did have a confrontation with someone.”

  Charlotte swallowed down her surprise. She’d imagined he had a sweetheart, but not that she was Lady Audrey. The silence in the barn was almost deafening. “Are the two of you in love?”

  Thomas sighed and shook his head. “We thought we were once, but with this whole trouble, we realize we’re mostly friends—very good friends. I’ve never done anything that would hurt her, or compromise her future. The fact I had nothing to offer was only too clear.”

  Charlotte reached out, thinking of what that admission must have cost him to say. “So Gavin came upon Leo Lewis poaching.”

  Thomas nodded. “I’d just left Lady Audrey in the forest behind the castle and had gone deeper into the woods. We had talked about our future, and I needed time to think; I was hurting. When I heard voices, I hid. The duke and Leo were arguing. The duke was furious to discover him with an armful of game. Intended to have him arrested and put into prison as an example for others. Leo was hot, but he held his tongue and tried to talk his way out of it, placate the duke by telling him about all the children he had to feed. When Gavin began to laugh, Leo threatened to kill him then and there. The duke drew his knife and lunged at Leo, sticking his thigh. Leo bellowed in pain and knocked the knife out of the duke’s grasp. They wrestled. Gavin fell sideways on the uneven footing and landed on his own knife, which had wedged in the rocks. I wanted no part of that, so I took off. I’m sure Leo must have a recent scar on his thigh, to support my story.”

  Charlotte reached out and took his hand, her heart filled with compassion.

  “I’m glad the truth is out,” Thomas said on a deep breath. “It’s a weight off my shoulders.”

  Charlotte nodded. “The truth will always come out, Thomas. That’s why the truth is always a good place to start.” She couldn’t stop her smile. By her side, Tristen’s presence had her senses humming. This meant she could accept his offer of marriage—which they’d put off until having this conversation. She couldn’t feel more blessed or happier. He’d be at her side when she went in search of her past.

  Romeo fluttered in the loft door and landed on his cage.

  Charlotte laughed. “Look! There’s a message on his leg. Who could have done that?”

  “It’s a mystery,” Tristen said, shrugging. “Why don’t you read it?”

  She glanced at Thomas, and he shrugged as well. Very gently, she lifted the bird, being careful not to frighten him. Romeo cocked his little head from one side to the other and cooed as she withdrew the tiny piece of paper and set him next to her on the hay. With shaking hands she opened the note.

  “‘Heart of my heart,’” she read aloud as heat rushed to her face. “‘I love you. Marry me and make me the happiest man in the world. Please don’t keep me waiting, my love, because this ache in my soul is very painful. Say yes and put me out of this torture.’”

  “Oh, Tristen. Yes! My answer is yes, now and always. I love you with all my heart.” She flung herself into his arms, and Romeo, frightened at the burst of excitement, flew back out the window, having completed his job.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Two weeks later

  Feeling pretty in one of the several new dresses the duchess had had her dressmakers construct for her, Charlotte stood next to Tristen in Ashbury’s drawing room, a jumble of butterflies playing tag in her tummy. The duke and duchess had so lovingly allowed her to remain in their house since she’d moved from the bakeshop. So much had happened in the last six weeks. Her heart and mind were full of wonder and excitement. Her life was an open book, and all that needed to be done was for her and Tristen to write their story.

  Beranger and Emma entered, all smiles. Behind came the ranch hands, minus Mr. Winters. After the ball, he’d had a telegram from home, or so he said, and was needed there. He promised to return as soon as his responsibilities, which he never spelled out, were taken care of, but he didn’t know when that might be. He’d never given more of an explanation than that, although he didn’t really have to. He’d steered clear of Charlotte, and that had made her sad. She didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, although that was what she expected.

  After Lady Audrey’s revelation about Thomas Aldridge, the dowager duchess had apparently decided that moving into Lily House wasn’t far enough away. Instead, she announced that she and Lady Audrey were taking an extended, and long overdue, holiday to London, followed by a visit to Beranger’s uncle Charles, and possibly other relatives as well. Lord Harry had gone with them to London but was scheduled to return within a week. On the day of their departure, Thomas had appeared and, standing tall in defiance of the dowager, had bid Lady Audrey goodbye like a proper gentleman. Charlotte had never been so proud of anything in her life.

  Emma hurried over and took Charlotte’s hands. “Hyacinth has seen that your things, and hers, are well packed and nothing is left to chance—per Carmichael. She’s ready anytime you two are.”

  “It’s so kind of you to send her with us, Your Grace,” Charlotte said, thinking of the pretty blond sixteen-year-old. She was young, but since Emma’s efforts to find and persuade her to return had been fruitful, Carmichael had taken the girl under her experienced wing and was training her to be a lady’s maid as well. The girl couldn’t have been happier. “Are you sure you can do without her? And does she really want to go?”

  Emma laughed, adding a sparkle to her eyes that hadn’t been there when the dowager was always peering over her shoulder. “Want to go? She’s so excited she nearly swooned when I mentioned Essex. I was happy to see her enthusiasm. And as for us doing without her, it’s only for a couple of months, until you return for your wedding.” She gave a satisfied sigh and glanced up at Beranger, who was standing patiently by her side, his expression indulgent, as if all women ever talked about were weddings, lady’s maids, and swooning. “I can’t think of a more beautiful time to be married than Christmas. It’ll be lovely.”

  Charlotte blushed and glanced at Tristen. “It seems so far away. Everything is changing so fast. I can barely take it in.”

  Emma added, “And Margaret Malone will be taking over Hyacinth’s work, even though we do have a new girl, so there’s another person who is tickled about the new developments. She’s moved up to chambermaid.”

  At the breakfast sideboard, Trevor and KT helped themselves to a cup of tea, poured for them by Jos Sleshinger, the footman. Unlike most guests to Ashbury, the two cowboys drew him into spirited conversation. On his off time, they’d been teaching him to twirl a rope, and Charlotte wondered how he was progressing. The tall footman was all smiles.

  Beranger fixed her with a serious stare. “And what if you find the same resistance your mother did to the man she married, Miss Charlotte? Sir Luther Hastings may very well still be alive and have the same prejudices about the man you picked that he had with his own daughter.” He glanced at Tristen. “Are you ready for that?”

  “Beranger!” Emma’s smile fell away. “How can you ask such a question? Of course he’ll be thrilled. They all will.”

  “Because Tristen and Charlotte need to be prepared. No knight rides into battle without some sort of plan—several, in fact. Well, a foolish one might, but that’s not what I know of Llewellyn.”

  “Hastings’s opinions don’t matter to us,” Tristen answered. “And we’re only going to meet them, not live there, or ask for anything. Who knows, perhaps they’ve softened.”

  Charlotte nodded. “That’s correct. We don’t need their blessi
ngs to be happy. If they want to give them, they will be well received and cherished—and if not, we’ll shake the dust from our feet and never look back. Who’s to say my grandmother didn’t feel differently than her husband and, too frightened of the man who held power over her, went along with him and has been grieving since the day she lost her daughter? I’ll never know the truth unless I go. I’m prepared to hear either story. I’d love to know more about my mother—and my father.”

  “And if they have mischief in their hearts, we will know it,” Tristen added stoically. “Nothing will tear us apart.”

  For the time that Tristen would be away, Thomas would watch and walk the woods. Things were changing. To help the villagers, the duke and duchess had opened Ashbury’s forests two days a week, allowing hunting of the seasonal animals.

  But the talk about mischief brought a troubling thought to Charlotte’s mind. “Please look after Verity for me. She didn’t say so, but when I told her I was leaving, she became very quiet. I worry about her. I know Amelia is fine here with you.”

  Beranger’s brow lifted. “Not to worry at all. Those two”—he nodded toward Trevor and KT—“have developed a sweet tooth for your aunt’s baked goods, and until they decide it’s time to go home, they will no doubt be visiting the bakeshop daily.”

  “And don’t forget about Romeo and Juliet, Charlotte,” Tristen added. “Verity has a simple way to speak with the duchess and Amelia. And Thomas is there. There’s no need to worry.”

  Pencely stepped into the room. “Your coach is ready anytime you are,” he said with a respectful dip of his head.

  “Thank you, Pencely,” Beranger responded.

  The butler cleared his throat.

  Everyone looked his way.

  “There is a person waiting to say goodbye. Outside.”

  Emma started. “Please, invite them in.”

  “She won’t come, Your Grace. It’s Mathilda Tugwer, the midwife.”