The Perfect Duchess

by Jen YatesNZ

  Then he was in her and there was just Dom, her, and the rhythm of their striving bodies and the wild, crazy thundering of their hearts.

  The pressure of his thumb slipping between their pumping flesh wrenched a sudden gasping cry of release from Sheri and then they were holding one another desperately, their bodies erupting together.

  It was several moments before they recovered enough for him to lift her off him and lay her back on the bed with her skirts still raised high, exposing her lower body to him.

  She started to pull the crushed silk down and he stayed her hands.

  ‘Wait, love.’

  Taking a clean linen square from his pocket, he shook it out and cleaned them both up, pulled down her skirts and buttoned his falls. She lay back on her elbows on the bed watching as he inspected himself in the mirror. She was way too lethargic to move—and he was way too enthralling.

  ‘No evidence.’ His reflection grinned back at her, deviltry dancing in the green depths of his eyes. She would never tire of the new ways she was seeing this man. ‘Come on. Let’s smooth you down and put you back as you were so your maid will think I’ve just been standing here innocently brushing your hair.’

  Sheri gurgled into laughter, as she slipped off the bed and crossed back to her stool at the mirror.

  ‘Unfortunately for us, my Maggie is way too knowing to be fooled by any suggestion of innocence on either of our parts!’

  His mouth twisted in a half grin.

  ‘Oh—damn,’ he whispered, with a total lack of repentance, right by her cheek. Then he was gently brushing her hair again.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, solemnity settling back onto his brow, ‘I came to tell you a message arrived from Burton, the agent I had doing some sleuthing for me. I think we may have tracked down the nurse who had the care of Sylvaine Walsingham after she was born. I must leave for Derbyshire first thing tomorrow. I know we intended to stay here a little longer before returning to London. What would you prefer? To stay? Or travel back to London with your Mama and Lord Hadleigh? Most were planning to leave tomorrow anyway.’

  There was no hiding her shock and disappointment from Dom. His hands dropped to her shoulders, pulling her back against his strong muscular form. How quickly she’d come to depend on his presence. Hopefully she could as quickly remind herself marriage and vows notwithstanding, men rarely changed the way they lived their lives and why would she consider Dom might be different?

  ‘Ah, Sher,’ he murmured. ‘Our life together is just beginning. But now I’ve found the nurse I can conceivably find her wretched charge—or at least what became of her. Then I’ll have discharged my obligations in the affair—and we’ll have the rest of our lives together. I’ll come straight back to you—although since it’s up into Derbyshire I must go, I’m likely to be gone a couple of weeks. Will you await me here—or at Wolverton House in London?’

  Thrusting her disappointment aside, Sheri forced a smile to her face and said, ‘London.’

  The relief in his eyes was almost comical, then his smile wide and approving.

  ‘No tantrum?’ he teased, raising one wicked eyebrow at her. ‘I’m greatly blessed in my wife!’

  Then sectioning a wide swathe of hair from each side of her face, he twisted them one through the other so they were secured in a loose knot at the back of her head.

  ‘There,’ he said, standing back to admire his handiwork. ‘Your hair is done. Let’s go down to dinner. We’re late but since we’re the hosts they have to wait on us anyway.’

  ‘That won’t stop them smirking and commenting. Especially your cousins,’ she muttered, annoyed at the heat creeping into her cheeks. ‘They’ll think there was no time to do my hair properly because you—we—’

  ‘And they’d be right,’ he smirked just as wickedly as she’d been imagining Bax would do. ‘Serenity, my lovely Ice Queen! You know so well how to project that. I’ve a mind to forbid you to put your hair up—ever again. It’s beautiful. You are beautiful.’ He dropped a hot, lingering kiss to the soft skin behind her ear. ‘Come.’

  …

  It wasn’t until the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the salon following their after-dinner port that Dom mentioned his plans for the next day. Sheri, sitting by her mother, was assuring her of her happiness and that Augusta had done the right thing in pushing her to accept Dom’s offer of marriage, when the gentlemen entered.

  Seeing the two women side by side, Dom and Lord Hadleigh came directly to them.

  ‘I was just telling Hadleigh I’ve found the nurse and that within a few days, a couple of weeks at the most, I hope to have some answers for him with regards the whereabouts of the missing Walsingham heiress. He’s also agreed you should travel back under his protection tomorrow.’

  ‘I thought you’d given up on that wild goose chase, Dominic!’

  Augusta’s sharp outburst caught all their attention. Her cheeks were pale but with a spot of bright color along each cheekbone; and her eyes—if Sheri hadn’t known such a thought to be totally fanciful, she’d have said her mother’s eyes were colored silver with terror.

  ‘I don’t know why you don’t let that poor woman be! Digging through the cold ashes of old scandal can only bring her pain and unwanted notoriety. And what is to be gained by placing her in Astonbury’s power or—or under any obligation to him? He simply wants to marry her to that—that bounder, Pritchard! You would drag some decent young lady out of obscurity for that?’

  She was almost spitting in her disgust. Sheri didn’t think she’d ever seen her mother so overset. Lord Hadleigh moved closer and placed a calming hand on her arm.

  ‘Your brother is a longtime friend of mine, as you know, Augusta!’ he said gently. ‘He asked my assistance and I enlisted Dom’s help. If you want someone found you go to the best. And Dominic is the best. There’s a sizeable inheritance waiting for her, regardless of any marriage prospects.’

  ‘She may already be married anyway,’ Dom put in reasonably. ‘In fact I’d consider that a most likely scenario. She’d be almost twenty-four now.’

  ‘Well, I firmly believe we should leave well alone. Maynard apparently went to great trouble to keep her away from Astonbury’s twisted and embittered jurisdiction. Who are we to overturn that?’

  ‘Perhaps Astonbury will do things differently this time around,’ Hadleigh suggested, albeit with little conviction. Then more firmly, he added, ‘But however that may be, we’ve undertaken the mission and we’ll see it through to the end. It needn’t concern you, Augusta.’

  ‘Need—not—!’ Augusta’s mouth snapped shut and she rose to her feet. ‘I’m going up. This—this conversation has given me the headache!’

  ‘Do you want me—?’ Sheri began.

  ‘I’m perfectly fine.—Thank you.’

  Augusta swept from the room in a rustle of silk.

  ‘Mama must’ve been close to Maynard Walsingham. She was terribly upset the first time you mentioned this to her, Dom.—Could she be right? Is it best left alone?’

  ‘No, Sher,’ Dom said with easy conviction. ‘If nothing else, the woman’s entitled to her inheritance. Pritchard will get all the entailed estate of Astonbury, but he won’t get more than his due, if I can prevent it!’

  His fulminating gaze rested on her for a moment and she knew he’d heard the old scandal of her and Pritchard. She shuddered, remembering how close the man had come to overpowering her on Lady Galway’s terrace and the white-hot fury that had fueled her determination not to give in. She’d never regretted the scene she made when they re-entered the ballroom, nor forgotten the moment when the entire room had fallen silent and every last person had stood stock-still while she demanded someone, anyone, protect her with his honor.

  Dom would have been first in line had he been present and she thought Pritchard would be wise never to cross the Duke of Wolverton’s path, even now.

  …

  As their guests milled about in the great Hall after breakfast next morning while every
available footman and maid helped with the stowing of luggage in the carriages lined up in the bailey, Broughton stopped briefly by Sheri.

  ‘Not a good morning for young Mossop to turn up missing, Your Grace. We could’ve done with his brawn with all this luggage.’

  ‘What do you mean, Broughton?’

  ‘Up and went he did, overnight, and not a word to anyone. Took all his traps so there’s no cause to think foul play.’

  ‘Goodness! Is that usual?’

  ‘Absolutely not, Your Grace! Never happened before as I can remember! He was a likely young man, too. But there you have it! Young ones today!’ he muttered, hurrying off to oversee the loading of a particularly large trunk into the Briersley’s carriage.

  ‘You’re frowning, Sheri. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing serious, Mama. Least I don’t think it is. Broughton says one of the footmen simply left overnight taking all his belongings. It’s a bit peculiar and I’m wondering if I ought to do something about it?’

  ‘Do something?’ Augusta repeated vaguely. ‘What can you do? If a servant takes it into his head to leave there’s nothing to be done. He could be anywhere by now. I was thinking I could ride back to London with you. Dominic’s carriage is so comfortable—and it’d be company for you.’

  ‘And leave Lord Hadleigh to ride alone? That’s rather impolite, Mama! Especially since you asked him to come especially to accompany you home! Maggie and I will deal quite happily together.’

  ‘Oh, that man!’ Augusta spluttered. ‘He won’t listen to anything I say. He’s determined to find—Sylvaine—for Astonbury. It’s not as if my brother would even have a care for the girl. It’s—He’s—Oh—Please may I ride with you, Sher? I’ll be at daggers drawn with the man within the hour and then we shall be stuck in the carriage together until we stop at—’

  ‘I thought you were enjoying his company, Mama!’

  ‘I was. I do! But—’

  ‘Of course you may ride with me, if that’s what you really want. But pray don’t fall out with Lord Hadleigh over it! It’s not worth spoiling a friendship over.’

  For a moment Augusta looked as if she might argue, then Lord Hadleigh himself strode up and took firm possession of her arm.

  ‘Don’t be a pea goose, Gussy! We won’t quarrel if we don’t mention a certain topic!’

  ‘How can we not?’ Augusta demanded.

  ‘Easily,’ Lord Hadleigh assured her. ‘We’ve much more interesting things to discuss, do we not?’

  Glancing from one to the other, Sheri was bemused by the warm look in Lord Hadleigh’s intelligent grey eyes and the flustered, girlish flutter of her mother’s eyelashes.

  …

  Disregarding the lateness of the hour, Dom rode straight to Burton’s house in Covent Garden.

  By the light of a candle from the hallstand Burton led the way into an untidy parlor, a typical bachelor’s establishment. Taking a bundle of papers from a rough deal table acting as a desk, he turned to Dom.

  ‘I done checked every agency and staff register I could find and there were a lot of Perkins’s, but only one called Alice. T’was the only one I thought could be shortened to Lally. Turns out she was employed for a while by the Parmenters. That might be significant, given Lady Parmenter is—’

  ‘Astonbury’s sister. She could’ve been told to apply to Lady Parmenter for work. What else did you find out about her?’

  ‘She only stayed about six months, then married one Josiah Albertson and they took up positions as butler and housekeeper at Hopton Grange. Albertson died in 1802 and Mrs. Albertson was pensioned off to a cottage in Hopton village.’

  His jaw came unhinged.

  ‘Hopton Grange was my mother’s estate. What the fuck, Burton?’

  ‘Thought as you’d be interested, Your Grace.’

  ‘Probably not the right word for what I’m feeling at the moment. That woman’s annuity is paid out of Hopton coffers. My coffers!’

  Dom took a small pouch of gold coins from an inner pocket and dropped it into Burton’s palm. ‘Thank you. I’ll take it from here.’

  …

  Leaving London again at first light, it had taken four days to reach Hopton Grange in Derbyshire. The place was remote, nestled among the hills and likely buried feet deep in snow in winter. He could only be grateful this was June with the fields lush with daisies and buttercups, the hawthorn in flower and the birches shimmering in the summer sunshine. He’d been grateful for the balmy weather, but the further north he rode, the more unsettled it, and he, became.

  He’d spent the first day threshing the facts around in his head and trying to fill in the blanks with supposition, what-ifs and maybes. In the end he’d decided to simply concentrate on the ride and leave all useless speculation until he could interview Mrs. Lally Albertson.

  The roads deteriorated the further north he rode and once he began the ride across the Derbyshire countryside to Hopton he was following rutted cart tracks.

  Drystone walls dissected grassy meadows bright with wildflowers, sheep grazed peacefully about the hills, hawks constantly circled overhead and he’d long since lost any appreciation of the bucolic beauty of the countryside. His backside was sore. It was a three years since he’d spent so long in the saddle at a stretch. Ominous clouds were massing and looming over heather-clad peaks to the north. He was going to be drenched before he reached shelter at the Grange.

  Perhaps he should have opted for the dubious comforts of the old Pig and Whistle in Hopton Village, but the opportunity to check on this property was too good to pass up. He’d not visited since inheriting it and hadn’t visited it before.

  The rain caught him as he began the ride up the long carriage drive from the cart track, relieved to find the place looking tidy and cared for even though they weren’t expecting him. Old Coker, his steward here who sent regular monthly reports, was the backbone of the place and grooming his son to take over. Hopefully the house staff were as well organized. He needed a hot bath and a good meal and wasn’t sure which he wanted first, though the hot bath was probably prudent!

  Seated before a fire in the study while Jordan, the caretaker, who’d succeed Josiah Albertson, poured him a brandy after dinner, he said, ‘A word, if you please, Jordan.’

  ‘Certainly, Your Grace.’

  The man all but clicked his heels and his agitation was almost palpable.

  ‘For goodness sake relax, man!’ Dom growled. ‘You’re acting like a schoolboy hauled before the master.’

  ‘Well, Your Grace, it’s just, Your Grace, we were wondering what brings you up here—unannounced like. We thought as everything was running well. Old Coker runs a tight ship, he does, Your Grace.’

  Dom observed the man for a moment, wondering if he should be concerned he seemed nervous.

  ‘My arriving here this evening is purely coincidental, Jordan. I’ve come to visit someone in Hopton Village. Why would I stay at the Pig and Whistle, which looked to be little better than the hog pens at Wolverton, when I have an estate of my own with perfectly comfortable accommodations, close by?’

  The man’s face immediately cleared.

  ‘Well, of course, Your Grace. Was just, you’ve never visited—and just arriving like that, we thought—’

  ‘I was hoping to catch you unawares? Checking up on you?’

  The man flushed a deep red.

  ‘Aye,’ he said gruffly. ‘T’is just me and the missus, Mrs. Jordan like, we love it here and treat it like it were our own home!’

  Dom waved a silencing hand at the man.

  ‘I’m more than satisfied with how I find the house, Jordan. You may tell Mrs. Jordan the meal was most satisfactory, especially given the late hour of my arrival, and I deeply appreciated the hot bath she was able to arrange for me as soon as I arrived.’

  He’d initially intended to ask Jordan for directions to Lally Albertson’s house in the village but some sixth sense suggested he stay silent on the matter.’

  Chapter 15 />
  For which he gave thanks as he dismounted outside Mrs. Albertson’s neat stone cottage next morning just as a couple of brawny young men were hefting a large trunk up onto the roof of a hired carriage.

  A middle-aged woman dressed in black, even to the drooping feather in her bonnet, stepped out of the house on the arm of a young man wearing ordinary workman’s clothes and a slouch cap, who nevertheless, looked vaguely familiar.

  His eyes on the woman, it took Dom a moment to register the man glancing about as if desirous of escape.

  Dropping Suliman’s reins to the ground, Dom stepped quickly forward.

  ‘Wait!

  ‘Y—Your Grace!’

  Not only was he familiar, but he knew who Dom was.

  ‘Who’s this then?’ the woman demanded.

  ‘The Duke—of Wolverton,’ the young man muttered, hectic color washing his cheeks.

  ‘There!’ the woman grumbled. ‘Told you t’would be no use. When chickens come home to roost, ain’t no gainsayin’ ’em! Unload my trunk! All this bally-hoo—and for what?’

  Having given her opinion of the situation, the woman stomped back into the house, unpinning her bonnet as she went.

  The young man, his color high, and still obviously evaluating his chances of escape, eyed Dom warily.

  ‘Since you know who I am, show your respect,’ Dom barked, deciding it was time to find the ducal haughtiness he’d always scorned to assume.

  The man almost cringed, snatched the cap off his head and bowed hurriedly but deeply, mumbling, ‘Beg pardon, Your Grace.’

  When he came upright with his cheeks almost as bright as the crop of red curls on his head, Dom felt a grim smile start inside him. He hadn’t put the puzzle together yet, but he knew he now held all the pieces in his hand.