Never Deny a Duke

by Hunter, Madeline

  “Indeed you did, last night.”

  She searched her sated, foggy mind. Had she, in the throes of passion, actually said that? “I don’t remember it.”

  “Davina, twice I left you because, as a gentleman, I could not, should not, take you. Do not pretend that you did not understand that if I ever did, I would be obligated to marry you. You came to me last night fully aware of what it would mean. I even found enough sense to ask you outright if you understood. Now, wash and dress and we will seek out the old man.” He stood. “That is one good thing about Scotland. No bans, no license, nothing much except the exchange of vows.”

  “But I did not accept your proposal.”

  “Yes, darling, you did. You made your decision when you seduced me last night.” He bent and kissed her, then left.

  She stared at the door after it closed. She should probably be angry, or astonished. At least a bit of indignation was in order. Instead, the first thought that entered her still-dreamy mind was that she might have that amazing experience again. Or even a better one, now that the first time had been dealt with.

  She rose and padded into her dressing room and began washing. When she saw remnants of blood on her thighs, she smiled. Memories invaded her mind so much that the washcloth on her skin became a sensual stimulation.

  She might get with child. She might already have done so. The notion provoked neither fear nor panic, the way it should with an unmarried woman. She had seen them, those girls trying to hide the bulge, worrying that their families would cast them out. More than once, her father had played the role of mediator with girls and their families, because such things couldn’t be hidden forever.

  She would like to have a child. She had never expected to, but the idea warmed her. She could raise a child on her own, she was sure. No, wait, she would not have to. Brentworth said they would marry today. If she had a boy, he would someday be a duke. And she would be a duchess.

  Did she want that? She wanted him, that was all she knew. Wanted that intimacy and the rare knowing that comes with it. The safety and comfort within his embrace had seduced her as surely as the pleasure. Of course she wanted more of that. Only a fool would not.

  And the rest? She knew this required clearer thought than she had mustered, but she did not care. Still half-drunk from the heady experiences of last night, in a stupor of contentment, she dressed and went below.

  He waited there. He had done for himself faster than she had. To her surprise, Miss Ingram also waited in the coach, and Mr. Roberts paced his horse around the drive.

  “Witnesses,” Brentworth said. He handed her into the coach. “Even Scotland requires them.”

  She settled in next to Miss Ingram. That lady gave her one long look of sly approval, then turned her attention to the view out the window. “Well done, Miss MacCallum. Well done indeed.”

  Brentworth rode with them. Davina had a hard time not staring at him. Was he real? Had she woken for certain or did she still dream? A thick disappointment formed at that idea, one that reassured her that if this was real, she did not mind at all.

  At the church, Mr. Roberts dismounted and went in search of the minister. He came out of the house and waved them in just as the old man emerged and headed to the church.

  Davina did not walk into the church beside Brentworth. She floated. Everything still felt different. The whole world seemed soft to her, like an invisible cloud cushioning her mind. A very comfortable cloud that made her happy and subdued.

  Only while she took the final steps before the vows, did she think about the consequences of this match. The ones other than wealth, luxury and pleasure.

  “Will you still help me to learn if the last baron was my ancestor?”

  “Either way, we will learn the truth if we can.”

  She walked a few more paces. “If we learn that he was, will you interfere with my starting a pharmacy and infirmary here?”

  “If your plans are sound, I don’t see why I would. We will bring in physicians so you do not put yourself in harm’s way, though.”

  Three more steps. They were almost there. The old minister smiled indulgently at her.

  “Will I have to pretend I never cared for the sick, and saw things no proper lady should see?”

  He stopped walking, turned to her and took her hands. “I do not expect you to be other than you are, Davina, or to play some role that is not in your nature so that society is appeased. The Duchess of Brentworth does not conform to the world. The world conforms to her.”

  He smiled and handed her forward, and they stood side by side. They spoke the vows that would change her life forever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, after another astonishing night, Davina woke up not the least dazed. In fact, she felt very much herself. While she had relished every moment in that stupor, she did not mind its passing. A woman could hardly live every day like that.

  The changes in her life became apparent as soon as she went down to breakfast. Miss Ingram drank tea in the morning room. She set down her cup when Davina entered. “I would be honored if you joined me, Your Grace.”

  Davina almost giggled. Miss Ingram gestured for the footman standing idly near the door. “Her Grace prefers coffee, but I would like more tea. What do you want to eat, Your Grace? I am sure the cook will make anything you prefer.”

  Davina went to the sideboard. “I will help myself from what is here.”

  “The eggs are a bit runny. Perhaps you will have the housekeeper speak to the cook about that. I can’t abide runny eggs.”

  Davina caught the footman’s eyes after he served them beverages, and let him know he could leave.

  “Now he is gone, so you do not have to Your Grace me every five words,” she said while she filled a plate.

  “And why wouldn’t I? I don’t sit to breakfast with a duchess every day, do I, Your Grace?” Miss Ingram cackled with delight. “Oh, how pleased my brother will be. He thought he saw something between the two of you, but did not dare to hope it might lead to this. I expect that wife of his to thank me excessively for being such a perfect chaperone.” She gave Davina a big wink.

  “About that, Miss Ingram. Rather suddenly, I no longer need a chaperone, even a conveniently negligent one. You are welcome to stay, of course, and return to Edinburgh with us. However, you no longer need to make yourself scarce in the hopes the duke will be naughty if you are not present.”

  “I would prefer to leave now, if that can be arranged. This house is too big for my liking. It is easy to become lost in it. I enjoyed this journey, however. I had a wonderful time abetting this match.”

  “I will see if you can be brought back to Edinburgh. It may be in a hired carriage. I think all that is here besides our coach is a phaeton.”

  “I would love to go in a phaeton. What fun that would be.”

  “It is hardly suitable for a long journey, or comfortable for a woman of mature years.”

  “Oh, tosh. Well, if you won’t indulge me with the phaeton, any carriage will do.”

  Brentworth entered then. He greeted Miss Ingram, then went to the sideboard. Miss Ingram made a display of taking her leave. “I will leave the two of you alone,” she whispered to Davina before slipping away.

  Brentworth sat with his food and looked around for the footman.

  “I sent him away,” Davina said. “I wanted to speak with Miss Ingram alone. If you are looking for coffee, it is right there. I will get it.” She hopped up, fetched the silver pot and poured. “She would like to go home.”

  “I don’t know why. One chamber with good light is as good as another. However, if that is her choice, I will have Roberts arrange it.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “I am going to be with Roberts much of the day. I need to ride the estate and see the farms.”

  The lord intended to survey his property. Only it really was her property. “I would like to see the farms too.”

  “I will teach you to ride, and you can join me another time.
”

  “I can keep myself busy in other ways, I suppose. Perhaps I will start a new essay for Parnassus. I am thinking that women should know more about pleasure, and how to achieve it in their marriages.”

  He cocked half a smile. “You are joking, of course.”

  “Not entirely. Such an essay or book is long overdue. Why should women have their sexual natures subject to whether a man is enlightened or ignorant?”

  He still smiled, as if she were not serious. “The journal will never publish it.”

  “I think they would. I will not be too explicit in my language, but I will make sure it is clear what I am explaining. I daresay it will improve many marriages throughout the realm.”

  “The bookshops will not sell it. There will be religious reformers breaking their windows and burning them down if they do.”

  “Then perhaps I should write it for men, not women. No one breaks windows over men learning about pleasure.” She leaned toward him. “Perhaps I will dedicate it to you.”

  “Maybe first you can think about this house, and what needs to be done here to change it to your liking. Also, Roberts said the housekeeper expects you to sit down with her and explain how you want the household managed.”

  “I will sit with her if that is expected, but I have nothing to say.”

  “Just give her one or two things to change, so she knows you are taking on your role.”

  “I’ll tell her that the eggs are too runny. Will that do?”

  He looked down at the remains of his breakfast. “They are somewhat, aren’t they? See, you do have things you want changed.”

  He finished his meal, then gave her a long and rather arousing kiss. “I will be back in several hours,” he said as he left. “I want to write to Haversham this afternoon to reassure him that our war is over.”

  Haversham? He intended to inform the king’s man before he told his own friends, it seemed. Only it was not Haversham who would benefit from this sudden marriage. It had been most convenient for the king he served, however.

  Quite convenient for the duke, too, if she wanted to face facts squarely, which, despite the mysteries unfolding at night, she could not help doing in daylight. Oh, he would help her learn the truth about her family, and he would see that the lands were returned to her, but it would not cost him anything at all. He would still ride his estate and collect his rents and rebuild his manor house. A parliamentary action returning these lands to the baron’s descendants would change nothing for him now. Indeed, it would signify so little that she would not be surprised if such a bill were introduced and passed even if no more proof were found.

  She let herself out into the library. She knew even less about decorating than she did about running a large household. It seemed eggs and drapes, however, were duchess duties.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She did not know how to ride, but she could walk the estate. The next day she did just that. While Brentworth and Roberts sequestered themselves in the library with ledgers and paper, she donned her half boots, tied on a bonnet, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and carried her father’s bag out of the house.

  She had indeed sat with the housekeeper, Mrs. Ross, yesterday afternoon. Not to give lists of commands, but to learn something about the people here. First, she encouraged talk about the servants, because that sounded like something a new lady of the manor would want to know. Then, as Mrs. Ross became more comfortable and loquacious, she asked about the tenants.

  Thus had she learned about Mrs. Drummond. “Dying she is, poor dear. Belly large with something. Stopped eating, I’m told, and in terrible pain. Her man has been staying by her side and his fields were not harvested, so no telling what will become of them.”

  Her spirit lightened as she trod up hills and down dales. Not because of Mrs. Drummond. She knew the sad news she might find there. Rather, it had been too long since she had put her knowledge to good use. She had helped a few poor people in the city, but mostly there she tutored. Education was a noble calling in itself, but her heart would always be in medicine. Even carrying her father’s bag, heavy though it was with his bottles and instruments, gave her satisfaction. She had brought it for a reason, and this was it.

  The land was beautiful in its wind-torn way. Few trees broke the view of the heather-strewn land swelling up and down all around her. She passed a few farmhouses and thought they appeared in decent condition. At least Roberts had not neglected them, even if his master had.

  The Drummonds lived almost a two-hour walk away, but she barely noticed the time pass. Eventually, she found the farm she thought might be theirs and presented herself at the door.

  A gaunt, graying man of middle years opened the door. He looked tired and worried and already in mourning. He looked her over from head to toe. “Who might you be?”

  “I am the Duchess of Brentworth.”

  He almost laughed. He looked past her. “Where is your carriage?”

  “I walked.” She held up her bag. “I have come to see your wife. I hear she is very ill.”

  “Nothing to help her.”

  “Perhaps not, but let us see if we can’t make her more comfortable at least. Will you invite me in?”

  He stood aside. “I heard he’d just married. The duke that is. My friend John was by with some food from his wife, and she’d heard from her sister who lives near the church, who’d heard that he—you—just showed up two mornings ago and asked to be wed.” He kept examining her, as if he expected something else. Something more.

  “Where is your wife?”

  “Back there.”

  “I will see her alone, if you don’t mind. While I do, I want you to sleep. Even if it is only for an hour, it will do you much good.”

  Mr. Drummond did not argue. He let her go into that back chamber alone. As soon as she opened the chamber door, she knew that her long walk had probably been in vain.

  * * *

  “I think we’ve an excellent and practical plan, Your Grace.” Roberts smiled in a self-congratulatory way. “Should be a fine new wing in a couple of years. There’s plenty of men in these parts who will be glad for the work too. Not masons proper, but with good supervision they should be able to do some of it.”

  “Use the locals whenever possible.” He looked over the black stones one last time. He might have never taken on the rebuilding if not for Davina. He probably never would have come back here. Or stayed here. He certainly would never have married here. Now this property represented more in his life than it ever had before. This wing stood now for nothing more than a ruin that a negligent owner had not dealt with for a decade.

  “We can probably get the walls down before spring, and start new foundations once the ground thaws.” Roberts spoke thoughtfully, working out the battle strategy, eyeing those burned walls like an enemy he would vanquish. “Need proper masons for those. Men around here will be busy with their sheep and crops then anyway.”

  “I will leave it all to you. As for the new wing, I will seek out an architect to plan it.”

  “It will be needing a chapel. Not right to have no chapel here anymore.”

  “I promise not to forget that chapel, Roberts.”

  He left the steward to muse about the future and to plan his attack. He wandered through the grounds to the garden, to see if Davina was there. He wanted to tell her of the day’s results and see her expression when he shared his plans.

  He checked the morning room, then the library. Davina was not in either, but Miss Ingram had taken a spot in the latter.

  “Your Grace,” she greeted. “Mr. Roberts told me he has arranged for a carriage to take me home tomorrow morning. I am very grateful.”

  “You are welcome to stay if you wish.”

  “I miss my own bed, and my cats. Mischief doesn’t do well when I am gone.”

  He smiled down on her. “Be honest, Miss Ingram. You named your cats as you did in order to poke at society, didn’t you?”

  “I am far too old and confused
to know how to do that, Your Grace. My days of poking society are long over.”

  “I think you should get one more cat and name him Gabriel. Everyone will think you reference the angel and feel better about the other two. However, you will really be naming him after a friend of mine, who has been known as a devil for most of his life.”

  “He sounds like someone I would like to meet.”

  “If your brother comes to London, join him and I will make the introduction. You are always welcome as our guest, Miss Ingram. Had you been even a middling chaperone, I don’t think this marriage would have taken place.”

  She pretended to find that a confusing statement, but a bit of the devil entered her eyes.

  “I am looking for Davina,” he said. “Do you know where she is?”

  “She went out some time ago. She was dressed for a walk. I heard her asking the footman at the door for the directions to a farm.” She paused. “She was bringing them something. She carried a bag.”

  “A sack?”

  “A small valise of sorts. It was similar to what some physicians have when they visit.”

  Her father’s bag. He barely got his gratitude out before he was out of the library, bearing down on the footman sitting in the reception hall. The lad saw him coming and shot to his feet.

  “Do you know where the duchess went?”

  The boy swallowed so hard it was visible in his neck. “She asked where the Drummond farm was. I think she went there.”

  Drummond. The name pricked his memory. Roberts had said something about Drummond. Suddenly, he remembered. The tenant’s harvest had not been brought in because his wife was deathly ill.

  A sick foreboding spread. “Where is this farm?”

  “West, Your Grace. About three miles. One of the last farms with tenants.”

  “When did the duchess leave?”

  “I did not note the time, Your Grace. I would say at least two hours ago.”

  Two hours. She would have arrived at the farm in that time, even walking, even carrying that bag.