A Duke Too Far

by Jane Ashford

  He left his guests eating and walked through the public rooms of his home. Automatically, his eye noted lacks and needed repairs everywhere. The downward pull at his mood was so familiar that it was a moment before he remembered that he had the power to restore the place now. Those ancient hangings could be replaced. The cracked paneling could be repaired. The fraying cushions could be recovered. His life was undergoing a revolution of re words.

  But the triumph wasn’t complete without Ada. Where had she gone?

  Delia’s room, he thought suddenly. He should look for her in Delia’s room.

  He climbed the long stair as quickly as he could and found her in the tower chamber gazing out one of the windows, her little dog sitting at her feet. She turned with an absent smile when he came in. “I dreamed of Delia again last night,” she said.

  “Oh.” Peter gazed at her, concerned.

  “It was partly the same,” she continued. “She was lying at the bottom of the cliff. I suppose I will always see her there.”

  “Perhaps in time—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “But in this dream, she wasn’t all…tumbled about from the fall. She looked peaceful. As if she was simply asleep.” Ada folded her hands at her waist as if demonstrating. “I know dreams are just dreams and nothing mystical, but I choose to believe that she knows we found what she’d been looking for all those years. And that she’s happy.”

  He nodded. And added a hope that this might apply to his father as well. How Papa would have savored the vindication!

  Silence fell. This room was so quiet, Peter thought. No fire crackled. Would it ever again? Would they use this chamber? Not right away, he thought. It would remain Delia’s until…something else felt appropriate.

  Household noises were inaudible from up here. He could practically hear his heart pounding on the edge of the most important question of his life. “I wanted to speak to you,” he said.

  Ada smiled at him, and words went flying out of his head.

  There were rituals, Peter thought, prescribed courses of action. How did it go? He went down on one knee. Ella came over and put her front paws on his thigh, as if his sole intention had been to pat her head. Peter complied.

  Ada laughed. He looked up at her, flushed and beautiful, and nearly lost his voice again. But he had to speak. Nothing happened unless you hoped, and then dared; he’d learned that over these last weeks. “Will you marry me?” he blurted out. He fumbled at his waistcoat pocket. The dog lunged after his hand.

  “Ella!” said Ada.

  Peter pulled out the ring he’d fetched from the recovered hoard and extended it. “I recognized this from a portrait in the gallery,” he said.

  The great sapphire winked in the sunlight from the window. The circle of small diamonds around it sparkled.

  “The second duchess was wearing it,” he added. “Family stories say she and Tobias Rathbone were very happy together.”

  “Oh, Peter.”

  What did that mean? He thrilled to hear her use his name, but Oh, Peter was not a yes. Thankfully, it was not a no. Surely she must say one or the other? Not the other, please, he prayed.

  “Of course I will marry you,” she said. “I have been determined to do so for ages.”

  Relief crashed through him, followed by wild exultation. Seeming to sense the emotion, Ella began to bark and dance around him.

  “Ella,” said Ada again. She held out her hand. After an instant, Peter understood and slipped the ring onto her finger. When she held it up to admire it, he thought he would burst with joy and pride.

  “You should stand up now,” she said with laughter in her voice.

  It was strange. He didn’t mind the laughter in the least. On the contrary, he hoped no day went by without that warm lilt. He would try to see that they did not. Her laughter would be the music of his existence.

  He sprang up, and she moved toward him, and they fell into each other’s arms. He held her, conscious that there were many more things he ought to say, if he could just think of them. And knowing that he would find his way there, eventually, as he now had all the time in the world.

  She raised her head from his shoulder. He kissed her. She kissed him as well. It was the kind of kiss that absorbed every faculty, fired the body, fed the spirit, sealed the promise of a future that he’d never thought to claim. His luck had turned, after a lifetime, because of Ada.

  The kissing went on. And on. Desire surged through Peter. The great four-poster bed was right there, beckoning. Ada pressed eagerly against him. All the longing they’d held back was released.

  But this was his sister’s bed. Ada’s dog danced around them. Her friends might come looking. This was not the time or place.

  He drew back on the edge of losing control, and yet without the desperation he’d felt in the past. They were pledged to each other. Every delight would come in time. The path had opened out before them against all the odds.

  They stood apart, breathing rapidly. She gave him a little nod, as if she understood his conclusions. “We should begin making our plans,” she said.

  It turned out that Ada had many plans. He was amazed by the extent and detail of them. She’d been thinking about their future when he hadn’t dared. They spent a blissful half hour setting out choices before they went to rejoin the others.

  Downstairs, they didn’t have to announce the news. The glow on their faces and the ring on Ada’s finger told the story. As congratulations filled the air, Ada’s Aunt Julia said, “Of course we will have to consult your parents. Nothing can be final until then.”

  “Of course,” said Ada, though her expression said that they had better agree at once.

  “As if anyone would refuse a duke who is now rich as Croesus,” murmured Charlotte, loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to absolutely require a reprimand.

  “Thanks to all of you,” said Peter.

  Ada smiled. He didn’t realize that one was supposed to ignore such muttered asides. He never would. Oddly, it was one of the things she loved most about him.

  “I would like to offer each of you a jewel,” he added, bowing to the ladies. “For your help and for insisting we must persevere.”

  “Well, I didn’t, really,” said Aunt Julia.

  “You let us stay on,” Ada said. “That turned out well.” She smiled at Peter and watched warmth fill his dark eyes. She would never tire of that.

  Aunt Julia pursed her lips as if considering, or perhaps suppressing a smile. “I was rather taken with those cloisonné earrings.”

  “You shall have them,” said Peter. He turned to Tom and the earl. “If there is any object you would like—”

  “Can I have that hat hanging on the wall amongst the papers?” Tom asked.

  Peter remembered it—a swashbuckling topper that looked as if it had been worn by a cavalier of Charles the Second. He tried to picture Tom’s homely face beneath the broad brim. Incongruous was the word that occurred to him. Yet there could be only one answer. “Of course you can.” He turned to the earl. “And you, sir?”

  Macklin waved the question aside. “An invitation to the wedding,” he said. “I have a surfeit of things.”

  “Naturally you are invited. But I should like to give you some token of gratitude.”

  “Your friendship is sufficient.” For some reason, the earl gave Miss Julia Grandison a satirical sidelong look.

  “You will have that always,” Peter replied.

  “And mine,” said Ada.

  “Then I am content,” the older man said.

  * * *

  Three days later, Peter said farewell to his love on Alberdene’s doorstep. Though it wasn’t nearly the rupture he had once feared, the parting was still difficult.

  “I will see you in a month,” she said as they stood together beside the hired post chaises.

 
“That seems like forever.” It had been agreed that he would visit her home to become better acquainted with her parents and to conclude the marriage arrangements. His joking comments about elopements had been given the consideration Ada thought they deserved. Namely, none.

  “We both have much to do,” said Ada. And with one last kiss, she stepped into the carriage and was gone.

  Peter watched the post chaises move down the drive. The weeds along the verge made him think of gardeners. He needed to hire those as well. The lists of his tasks were lengthening daily.

  But Alberdene wouldn’t be left empty at the departure of his guests. The newer servants were staying on, and the first workmen had already arrived to begin repairs. He had to ready his home for a bride after all. Ada had promised to send along a first-class housekeeper, with the aid of her mother. He would begin refurbishment of the estate’s tumbledown cottages and much else. The knowledge was almost overwhelming after years of scrimping and decay.

  Only one fly in the ointment, Peter thought. He had to go to London for the next season. Ada had decreed it. She would not miss her presentation. They would enjoy the festivities together and then be married in town. Peter didn’t think enjoy would exactly describe it from his point of view. But he wanted to do what she wished, even when he didn’t want to at all.

  Well, he had to go to town to deal with his recovered fortune. Macklin had promised to help him find people to handle sales. He would also gratify his banker with substantial deposits. All very well, but the ton parties loomed over him like a huge cresting wave ready to smash him down.

  “You will be in London for the season?” he asked Macklin over dinner that evening.

  The older man nodded.

  “I suppose you find it entertaining.”

  “In general I do.”

  “Perhaps I can take advantage of your advice when I make my bow to society. Continue to do so, that is. You’ve done so much for me already.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” replied the earl. “I did very little.”

  “You give a fellow confidence,” said Peter. It was true. The earl made him feel…capable and…trusted.

  “I do?” The older man looked touched.

  “It seems like an age since that dinner in London, doesn’t it?” Peter added.

  “It does. A good deal has happened since then.”

  “I’d eaten a bad eel pie that afternoon. I worried all through the meal that I might cast up my accounts on the roast beef.”

  “Really?” The earl’s smile was sympathetic. “You did very well under those conditions.”

  “You think so?”

  “Indeed.”

  Peter let out a sigh. “I suppose I can get through a ton party or two on a settled stomach then. Particularly if you’ll help me.”

  “I promise. I’m sure our companions from that dinner will offer their support as well.”

  “They’ll be in town?” Peter asked.

  Macklin nodded. “I’ve had letters about their plans.”

  “All married now.”

  “And very happily. As you will be.”

  “Are you a kind of matrimonial wizard?” Peter smiled to show it was mostly a joke.

  The earl smiled back. “Nothing like that. I had no notion what would come of it when I organized that dinner.”

  But Peter had been diverted. “I nearly forgot. A tailor! I must have a new wardrobe. Ada was extremely clear about that.”

  “I can recommend my own. He is a master.”

  “Thank you.” Peter felt relief and perhaps a hint of anticipation. With a bit of help, perhaps he’d be all right, even among the town beaus.

  * * *

  “Well, Tom, it seems it’s time for us to move on,” said Arthur the next afternoon, when his young traveling companion stopped at his chamber before leaving on a ramble about the countryside. “I think you’ll like my home,” he went on. “It’s near Oxford, you know. One day we shall ride in and I’ll show you the colleges.” He wondered if Tom might be interested in some academic study, eventually. The lad had shown no such bent, but he was still young. And he did enjoy learning. “We’ll set off as soon as a post chaise can be arranged. Clayton will be glad to return home, won’t you, Clayton?”

  “Yes, my lord.” The valet folded away an unused neckcloth.

  “And in plenty of time for Jocelyn’s grouse hunt.”

  “I’m sure his lordship will be pleased.”

  Fleetingly, Arthur regretted traveling by post rather than in his own carriage. But as he’d suspected, his equipage and team would have been a burden at Alberdene.

  Tom shifted from one foot to the other, looking uncharacteristically uneasy. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but I don’t believe I will.”

  “Will what?”

  The lad’s face, usually calm and smiling, creased with concern. “Go with you.”

  “Not?” Arthur was startled.

  “I surely appreciate all you’ve done for me,” Tom went on quickly. “You’ve treated me better than most anybody in my life. I’ll never forget it, I swear. Not as long as I live. But—”

  “But you are ready to move along now,” Arthur finished for him.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Of all the ungrateful—” began Clayton.

  Arthur held up a hand to silence his valet, just as he struggled to put aside his own disappointment. Tom had always stood on the side of freedom. He’d made no secret of his position. And he wasn’t Arthur’s ward, or employee or even…friend. As Miss Julia Grandison had pointed out. “Where do you mean to go?” he asked the lad. “I must say I don’t like the thought of you wandering the countryside with winter coming on.”

  “I mean to try my luck in London, my lord.”

  “London?” This was a surprise.

  Some of his customary enthusiasm emerged in Tom’s expression. “At the theater.”

  For once, Arthur was rendered speechless.

  “Mrs. Thorpe reckoned as how she could get me a position,” Tom continued. “She was most kind about it.”

  Macklin blinked. His friend Mrs. Thorpe was one of the leading lights of the London stage. Unusually, she was also married to a highly respectable banker. She certainly could help Tom if she wished to. “You want to become an actor?” Of all the predictions he might have made for the boy, this would never have been among them.

  “Well, I don’t know about that.” Tom rubbed his hands together. “There’s quite a few other jobs to be done when you’re putting on a play. Though I might try acting, sometime, if Mrs. Thorpe thinks I can.”

  “You’ve talked with her a good deal about this.” And not with him, Arthur noted with a brush of pique.

  “Only a bit. Along with some others. I hung about the theater when we were in town.”

  That, Arthur did remember. Tom had mentioned how much he liked it.

  “They’ve got people building and painting the scenes and running the curtains up and down. I can turn my hand to most anything. I don’t mind.”

  This was certainly true. Tom had demonstrated that willingness over and over.

  “And the great thing about it—there’s a whole new story coming along every few weeks. Made out of thin air.” Tom’s eyes glowed with a fervor Arthur had never observed in him before. “You’ve seen what they do. It’s grand!”

  Clayton gazed at Tom as if he thought he’d gone mad. “You’d choose to throw in your lot with the theatrical scaff and raff rather than accept his lordship’s patronage? Have you any notion how stupid that is?”

  “Mrs. Thorpe ain’t no scaff and raff,” replied Tom hotly.

  “She is the exception that proves the rule.”

  “And that’s a thing people say that don’t—doesn’t mean anything.”

  The valet drew himself up, clearly ready
to deliver a blistering scold.

  Arthur spoke before he could. “Are you really certain this is what you wish to do, Tom?”

  The lad nodded. “The people at the theater… I liked them. I felt…” He paused as if searching for the right word. “At home,” he finished finally.

  It was true that many actors were as rootless as he, Arthur thought. They formed a class of their own outside the bounds of conventional society. Tom’s lack of antecedents wouldn’t brand him there as it would almost anywhere else.

  “And there’ll always be new things to learn,” Tom added. “Remember how Mrs. Thorpe put on those scenes up at Lindisfarne?” He shivered pleasurably at the memory. “Warn’t…wasn’t she amazing? And then it turned out there was a real king who did those things. Ages ago. Some of ’em, at any rate.”

  Mrs. Thorpe would look out for him, Arthur thought. She’d see that her friends did, too. And the lad could always change his mind later, should he wish to. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll arrange an allowance for you.”

  Tom waved this aside. “You’ve done enough, my lord.”

  Clayton snorted as if he agreed.

  “I don’t want charity,” Tom added. “I mean to work hard for my keep.”

  “Until you’re settled at the least. It’s expensive to live in London.” Unless one was in a back slum, Arthur thought. He didn’t want to think of Tom in such circumstances. “We’ll ask Mrs. Thorpe’s advice on a suitable place.” He turned to his valet. “I shall make a short detour into London to establish Tom before returning home.”

  Clayton’s sigh was long-suffering.

  “You can take the luggage and await me at Macklin Abbey.”

  “I would prefer to accompany you, my lord!”

  Arthur shook his head. It would be easier to settle Tom without Clayton’s disapproving comments. “Unnecessary. I shan’t be more than a day or so.”