The Duke (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 6)

by Mary Kingswood

  He could not even say the words.

  It was Alice who finished the sentence. “Or she prefers him to you.”

  “Yes. That hurts so much, you cannot imagine. It should not, I know, but—”

  “It is natural,” she said quickly, covering his hand with her own. “Of course you wanted her to like you better. But if she does truly like him, and he likes her, then even without love their marriage will prosper, Ran. It is a good start.”

  “So long as nothing comes between them,” said Max, frowning.

  “You mean so long as no one comes between them,” Ran said. “Such as Ginny Chandry, I suppose. She is sensible, Max. She knows her place.”

  “But Ger does not!” he growled. “I am sorry to say it of your brother, Ran, but the fellow is an idiot sometimes. He must be aware of how you feel about Lady Ruth, yet he takes her away from you anyway, so now he has two women within shouting distance of each other, and nothing he has done so far convinces me that he can manage even one woman with discretion. Lady Ruth will have a miserable time of it, if you ask me. Which you have not, of course,” he added wryly, catching Alice’s look of irritation.

  “Not helpful,” she said crisply. “I daresay the affair with the mistress will come to the usual end, in time. She will move on, or return to Cornwall, perhaps.”

  “But she can cause no end of trouble before then,” Max said. “From all I have seen and heard of her, she is sufficiently high in her own self-esteem to consider herself fit to move in society at some level, yet has not enough wisdom to do so without disgracing Ger and the family name. She is a bad influence on him, Ran, and will do him nothing but harm.”

  “She seems sensible enough to me, and she deals well with Ger’s uneven temperament,” Ran said. “What in the world makes you take her in such dislike?”

  Max sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I shall show you.” He got up, leaving the room momentarily and returning with an opened letter. It read in its entirety, ‘Kill the fatted calf, the Prodigal Duke is coming home. Tell Ran, will you.’

  Ran laughed. It was so like Ger to get into one of his mischievous moods and write light-heartedly about such a major decision in his life. Naturally he would joke about it, it was his way of dealing with awkward communications. But… he frowned. There was something wrong with it. It was too short, too uncommunicative.

  “You would think it is funny,” Max said crossly. “You were always too lenient with him. Of course, by the time we received this letter, you had already gone haring off to Cornwall, and we had no need to tell you anything, but really, what a letter to be sending on such an occasion! I was so cross with him! It is so frivolous and it is all that woman’s fault. She is a bad influence on him, Ran, and… What is it?”

  “You were cross with him? A man you believed to be dead for a year writes to you out of the blue, and you were cross? Not astonished, Max? Not disbelieving? Not shocked speechless?”

  The silence around the table was suddenly uncomfortable. Ran could scarce believe it, but their faces gave it away.

  “You knew,” Ran said tersely. “You knew he was alive, yet you said nothing. How long have you known?”

  It was Peter Lorrimer who answered. “Almost from the beginning… within a month of the shipwreck. He wrote to me here, and I went to see him in—”

  “To see him!”

  “—Cornwall. There were money matters… legal matters he wanted arranged. He swore us all to the utmost secrecy, Ran, and no one could possibly be more pleased than we are that his survival is now known to the world at large, and we no longer have this terrible secret burdening us.”

  “But… if I had taken the seat in the Lords… married Ruth… you would have stood by and said nothing?” He could not even be angry with them, for it was too shocking for anger.

  “That was his wish. He said you would make a better duke than he ever could, and a better husband for Ruth. He wanted you to have it all, Ran! He said—”

  “Never mind what he said or what he wanted! How dared you keep such information from me! You of all people know how I grieved for him, how reluctant I was to step into his honours. You should have told me, at least.”

  “You were the very last person we could tell,” Peter said sharply. “Think, Ran! What would you have done? What could you have done? You would have been frozen, unable to accept the title, unable to marry openly knowing you were not the duke. No one could know.”

  That was true, and Ran was honest enough to admit it, despite his anger. “Then why even tell you? What were these money matters and legal matters?”

  Peter sighed and the Lorrimers exchanged glances.

  “I think we may tell a little of it without breaking confidence,” Peter said. “Ran, your brother always had money that was separate from the estate. There were a couple of small bequests from relations when he was a boy, and he had a huge allowance that he rarely spent. Later there were his winnings from cards. He had secret accounts set up so that, if ever he should manage to pretend to be dead, as he used to joke about, he would have money to live upon. He had long since given up hope of ever achieving such an outcome, of course, because of the difficulties of arranging it. But when he found himself, most unexpectedly, in exactly such a position, he contacted me to release those funds. Later, he wanted to draw up a will to the benefit of Miss Chandry, and most recently, he added a clause to benefit any children of hers as well. I met him in February for that purpose, and he was very agitated about the child, Ran. He had not intended any such thing since marriage was… problematic, under the circumstances, but she had…” He glanced at Alice, and fell silent.

  “I am not twelve, Peter,” she said. “Besides, Max told me the whole of it. Ran, Miss Chandry simply slipped into Ger’s bed one night. My imperfect understanding of such matters is that no normal man would be able to resist such temptation.”

  “But you may appreciate now,” Max said, “why I disapprove so thoroughly of Miss Chandry. She has put Ger in an intolerable position. She wanted to force him into marriage, of course, and many a young woman has used just such a strategy on a reluctant swain, but she could not have known how impossible that was for him, in his peculiar situation.”

  “No,” Ran said thoughtfully. “You wrong her, Max. Her intentions were good. She knew almost from the start who he was, but she wanted to make him choose. Knowing him well, his propensity to dither and postpone difficult decisions was familiar to her. So she forced the issue. If he were fully committed to staying as Jonathan Ellsworthy, he would have married her and that would have been an end to it. But he did not, and so she knew he would, one day, return to his true identity. Even then, he dithered. It must be three months or so since she played her little trick, but it was only when he realised that I had not yet been summoned to the Lords that he acted.”

  “Ah. Interesting,” Max said. “But still, I cannot approve her actions. She is not a virtuous woman.”

  “I fear that as a family we are a tad more strait-laced than the nobility,” Peter said, with a rueful smile. “For myself, I cannot approve Ger’s actions, either.”

  “Keeping a mistress is a sensible approach to a marriage without affection,” Ran said. “A nobleman must marry suitably for his position.”

  “You would not take a mistress, I think, Ran.”

  “I would not, but that is easy to say when one has never been tempted,” he said, with a slight lift of one shoulder. With a fresh burst of grief, he thought of Ruth and how little temptation he would have to seek comfort elsewhere if she were his wife.

  Ran and Max rode back to Valmont in unusual silence, and it did not feel like a comfortable state. A lifetime’s friendship could not be undamaged by the revelation of such a momentous secret, but Ran was not one to let a grievance fester. He pulled his horse to a halt, and Max stopped as well, although it was too dark to read his expression.

  “Max, we are friends of too many years’ standing to fall out over this, but I cannot li
ke it. I can see that your hands were tied, and of the others I have no censure, but you! For a full year you have been my secretary and adviser in all matters, yet aware of information that, had I known it, would have affected every decision I made. You cannot have been unaware of the deceit of your position.”

  “I was all too aware of it,” Max said quietly. “In fact, I wanted to resign at once, but Peter and Alice persuaded me to stay. I could give you no reason for leaving that would be credible, and we were all agreed that we must do nothing at all to make you suspicious.”

  “It would have been better if you had known nothing of it.”

  “Perhaps. But when Ger wrote, he used the old code we used for childhood secret messages — addressing it to William Titmuss. The accident had damaged his hands and affected his handwriting, and he had no seal, so it was the only way he could think of to convince us that it was truly him. Naturally, Alice thought it was from you so she gave it to me. We decided it was for the best for at least I would know if you had any suspicions that Ger was not dead.”

  “You were to keep watch on me, I suppose,” Ran said acidly.

  “With the most benevolent motives,” Max said. “As to advising you, when have you ever listened to my advice? I have spoken against these mines and cotton mills a hundred times, yet you buy them anyway.”

  Ran gave a bark of laughter. “True! They are very profitable, you must admit it.”

  “Indeed, and you have installed enough managers and directors to lift you a notch or two above trade, so I suppose it will do. But as far as your personal affairs are concerned — the title or your marriage — if ever you asked me what you should do, I answered that you could do this thing or that thing or this other thing, and you replied that you will do the other thing, which was precisely what you wanted to do anyway. I have never, ever steered you in one direction or another. My conscience is clear on that score.”

  Ran merely grunted, not entirely mollified.

  Max went on, “Not withstanding all that, I am not just your secretary, I am also your friend, and I hope, a true and honest one. On that basis, I am going to give you some advice now. This situation you have got into with Ger and his mistress and Lady Ruth is untenable. It can only end in disaster.”

  “Ger understands the position, and can handle it, Max.”

  “I am not interested in Ger. He must make his own decisions and live with consequences. I am concerned for you, Ran.”

  “What has it to do with me?” he said, with only the merest hint of bitterness.

  “You know the answer to that. You are in love with Lady Ruth, and Ger is in love with this woman of his, and you know what Ger is like. Sooner or later, he will do something to distress Lady Ruth and there you will be, a conveniently placed source of comfort.”

  “You cannot imagine that I would behave as you imply!” Ran cried. “A fine opinion of me you have!”

  “And yet you said yourself that you have never been tempted. If she were to ask it of you—”

  “Ruth would never do such a thing!”

  “You cannot predict what anyone will do in a desperate situation, and the risk is too great, Ran. My advice to you is to leave Valmont at once.”

  “Leave? Impossible! I manage all the estates.”

  “Other managers may be found,” Max said. “If you truly love Lady Ruth, then you should remove yourself and your affection for her to a safe distance, if only for her sake. You will still be obliged to meet sometimes, but not every day, not in a situation where you will become a natural confidante and eventually something more. That is my advice, honestly given, with nothing but your welfare in mind. You may take it or leave it, as always.”

  So saying, he urged his horse into motion again. Ran followed and they entered the stables and handed the horses to the yawning grooms in silence. It was only when they had entered the house, mounted the Stable Stair and reached the point of separation that Ran turned to his friend.

  “I will consider all you have said,” he said quietly. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  Max smiled and they parted in silence.

  Ran found Molly sewing all alone in the sitting room.

  “Has Ger gone to bed already?” he said.

  Molly shook her head. “Taking money off your Uncle Arthur, I expect.”

  “He needs no help with that, but if he has become trapped by a chatty duchess, he may need reinforcements.”

  He made his way downstairs to the Grand Saloon, but found only Uncle Arthur, the duke and duchess and Captain Edgerton engrossed in whist, and the rest of the room in darkness. Puzzled, he tried the Queen’s Room and then the Royal Withdrawing Room, but encountered only emptiness. The door porter in the entrance hall confirmed that Ger had not passed that way since just after dinner. Defeated on the ground floor, he climbed the Grand Staircase where the footman stationed there pointed him towards the Long Gallery, and soon he saw the flickering light of candles and heard voices. No, some kind of music… humming, perhaps. And then giggling, a low voice and more humming.

  A romantic assignation. He stopped uncertainly, but a gleam of something shimmering caught his eye. A lady’s evening gown, the spangles on her train catching the light even though she herself was in darkness. But he knew her. Even though he could distinguish only the pale outline of her form, it could only be Ruth. She stood in the shadow of a draped curtain, silent and motionless, peering down the Long Gallery, watching.

  Ran took a cautious step forward, but he already knew what he would see. Ger and Ginny stood side by side, dancing the waltz. Ger was humming the tune, while she practised the steps, and if that had been all, it might not, perhaps, have been so terrible. But they were gazing into each other’s eyes with such fiery intensity that his breath caught in his throat. So much joy was written on their faces… so much desire… so much love. He dared not intrude, and yet he was mesmerised, quite unable to look away.

  Clearly Ruth had the same difficulty. She was oblivious of Ran’s presence, blind to all but the ecstatic pair before her, and they were too engrossed in each other to know that they were observed.

  Ruth gave a little sob. Then, turning, she fled, not towards the brightly lit Grand Staircase but along the darker passage that led to the chapel. Ran could not bear to see her so distressed. He followed, thankful for the deep carpeting on this floor that muffled the sound of his boots as he ran. Ruth came to the door to the chapel gallery. Owing to the tradition of burning candles constantly in the chapel, a dim light illuminated the gallery and Ruth slipped inside. Again Ran followed.

  She sat on the cushioned bench against the wall, head down, sobbing piteously. Without the least hesitation, he sat down beside her and took her in his arms, and she turned to him at once, weeping into his shoulder.

  “Hush now,” he murmured. “It will be all right. Hush, hush.”

  She lifted her head. “He will never love me that way, never!” she whispered.

  He stroked her cheek. “But he will love you. How could he not? In time, he will grow to love you just as much as—” He caught himself in time. “—as any man who knows you must. It will be all right.”

  And as she looked trustingly into his eyes, her cheeks washed with tears, he bent his head and kissed her.

  21: Two Galleries

  Surprisingly, she allowed herself to be kissed. Ran had expected her to push him away as soon as his lips had touched hers, but instead she leaned against him and relaxed in his arms. All the tension seemed to drop out of her as she closed her eyes and surrendered to his kisses.

  Ran was shocked by his own actions. How could he possibly be so weak and foolish? But he could not withdraw, for she seemed to need the comfort. All he could do was to suppress the passion that boiled up inside him. It was the chastest kiss imaginable, gentle and light and delicate, but if a kiss could help her to cope with the wildness of her emotions, then a kiss she should have. It was wrong and he dared not imagine the consequences, but he could deny her nothing she w
anted.

  Eventually, with the utmost reluctance, he drew back and she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder, her face buried in his coat. For a long, long time they stayed thus, as his heart gradually slowed its frantic beating, and his ragged breathing steadied a little.

  Eventually, she lifted her face a little, although her eyes were still lowered. “Thank you, Ran,” she murmured, her voice calm. “You are such a good friend to me.”

  It was like a stab through the heart. He had anticipated emotion — anger, perhaps, or dismay, but not this placid understanding. She made no move to escape from his embrace, so he held her fast in his arms, quite unable to form any sensible words. She might be calm, but he was a maelstrom of raging emotions.

  “It was the realisation, you see,” she went on. “Knowing that I will always be second best.”

  “You will be his wife!” Ran said fiercely, stung into speech. “You will have his name, you will bear the children who will continue the family line, you will preside at his table, you will be his equal. She will only ever be his mistress. She will be second best, not you.”

  “To the world it may be so, but you and I will know differently. He will never love me as he loves her.”

  “As he loves her now, perhaps,” Ran said. “Mistresses come and go but a wife is for ever. He will always hold you in respect and affection.”

  “Will he?” she said, sitting a little more upright.

  “Of course he will. It will be all right.”

  “Will it?” she said, moving away from him slightly, and again his throat was too tight to answer her. She rose to her feet, wiping the tears from her face with her hands. “Thank you for… for comforting me, but I must get to my room before I am missed.”