Instinctively she dipped in a curtsy. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, I am too outspoken and forget myself.’ Her stammered comment was received with disdain. She gathered her skirts and fled knowing she had made an enemy and sincerely wishing she had held her tongue.
Should she regale her parents or pretend nothing had happened? She ran upstairs not sure in which direction to go in order to find her new bedchamber. Daisy, her abigail, must somehow have heard her approach as she stepped out of a door at the end of a wide passageway that faced the sea.
Thankful to be safe inside her own domain she slowly regained her equilibrium. ‘My word, miss, whatever’s wrong? You look ever so pale and you’re shaking.’
‘I’m fine. I need to wash, and change my garments. Have you put out something suitable?’
By the time she was freshly garbed in a pretty, blue sprigged muslin and had her hair redressed she was calm. Her maid knew better than to enquire any further into the unusual behaviour of her mistress.
‘I’m going up to see my sisters. I’m not sure if I’ll be required to dress for dinner, but I think it unlikely. I expect Mama will have retired after the exhausting journey and Papa will eat in his study.’
‘Very well, miss. Shall I fetch you something on a tray for supper?’
‘I’ll send word when I know.’
Presumably the nurseries were on the upper floor of this substantial building. It had been built for a wealthy cit who had subsequently lost his money through bad investments. Papa had bought it without viewing in order to give his young wife a chance to recover her health after an unpleasant miscarriage earlier in the year.
The stairs to the nursery were carpeted, which they weren’t at home, and she was impressed everywhere she looked by the elegance of the furnishings and fittings. Whatever the house had been like it would have remained the same as her father was oblivious to such things and her dearest mama took no interest in anything apart from her husband and her children.
Her sisters were sitting at a large table eating nursery tea. Freddie was sitting on a pile of cushions in between Lydia and Bella. He waved and laughed when she came in. ‘Lucy, Lucy, come see Freddie now.’
‘I shall, my love.’ She rushed over and embraced him and received a sloppy kiss in return. ‘Well, girls, what do you think of the beach?’
‘I like it, but I didn’t like that man or his big horse. Why was he not looking where he was going? Is he a bad man?’
‘Why do you ask that, Lydia?’
‘Sydney bit him. He wouldn’t bite a good person, would he?’
‘The dog was just protecting us. I think the whole thing should be forgotten. I’m certain whoever it was won’t make the same mistake again. He is now aware that this house is occupied and that he can no longer gallop about on our private beach.’
Lydia waved her fork in the air and a piece of ham flew off and landed on Juliet’s head. Everyone considered this funny and the girls were happy to talk about something else when the offending piece of meat had been removed and Juliet had been placated.
‘Schoolwork is suspended for two weeks. We shall consider it a well-deserved holiday and make the most of the good weather. I thought tomorrow we could take the carriage and drive into Margate town and explore the sites.’
‘Can we buy a barley sugar cane, Lucy?’ Bella asked with a sweet smile.
‘We certainly can. I really want to see people using a bathing machine. That sounds like a quite extraordinary procedure. Did you know that ladies go inside and change into a bathing suit whilst a horse draws the machine into deeper water?’ She had their full attention now. ‘When it is deep enough a set of steps is let down at the back and the unfortunate ladies are dunked in the water. Now isn’t that extraordinary?’
Lydia was staring at her open-mouthed. ‘Don’t they swim? I shouldn’t like to be pushed under the water.’
‘Not many ladies can swim like you all can. Having a lake at home meant it was essential that I taught you just in case you had the misfortune to fall in.’
‘Freddie can’t swim, are…’ Juliet said with her mouth full.
Lucy shook her head and the little girl stopped speaking at once. They were delightful children and only rambunctious when with their parents who were ridiculously overindulgent. They left her to instil gentle discipline and this was another reason why she had no intention of marrying and abandoning her duties here.
‘I must leave you to your tea. I’ll come back and read you a story at bedtime.’
She spent a pleasant hour exploring the house and was pleased with everything she saw. There was a spacious drawing room which ran along the width of the house so every window overlooked the sea. There were two sets of doors that opened onto a wide terrace upon which were placed attractive pots of summer flowers.
Not only was there this delightful room but also a breakfast parlour, a formal dining room that would seat thirty at least, a music room with a piano and a harp, but also a small library, another smaller sitting room and a study. She discovered her father in this chamber blowing a cloud and reading the latest copy of The Times.
‘Welcome, my dear girl, might I be permitted to say that you look remarkably pretty this afternoon.’
‘You may say so, Papa, but I shall take no notice as I know you are severely biased in my favour. I have come to ask you if you know anything about our neighbours.’
‘Absolutely nothing at all. I bought this house without viewing it or making any enquiries. I’m hoping that the sea air will improve your mother’s precarious health.’
Lucy spoke what was in her heart without giving consideration to the fact that she was an unmarried girl and had no right to be discussing such things with anyone and certainly not with her father.
‘I think what will improve her health is to have no more children. You have your precious heir in Freddie and I fear that she could die next time.’
‘It is not your place to say so, my love, but I agree entirely with your summation of the situation. I can give you my word that there will be no further siblings in this family.’
‘I apologise unreservedly for speaking of such a matter. It is not my place…’
‘I stand on no ceremony with you, Lucy, you are closer to me than anyone. You look like me, think like me and I sometimes think that the good Lord made a mistake when he sent you to us in female form.’
She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or dismayed by his remark. ‘I do try to behave like a well brought up young lady, and I can assure you that I’m on my best behaviour when I’m in charge of the children. I would love to be a gentleman and be able to ride about the place on a huge horse and completely disregard everything in my path.’
‘Would you indeed? Are you suggesting in a roundabout way that I allow you to wear a man’s garments and ride astride my stallion?’
Until he’d suggested it, it hadn’t occurred to her that she would like to do so. She was as competent bareback as she was on a side-saddle and thought his suggestion sounded admirable. ‘I should love to do so. You told me that there are two hundred acres surrounding this house as well as the mile of beach. If I promise to stop within these boundaries and only ride astride very early in the morning – are you giving me your permission to do so?’
He should have said no, but for some reason he nodded. ‘You are a good girl, you take care of your sisters and brother without complaint, act as their governess and do so successfully where all others have failed. How can I refuse to allow you to do something that would give you such pleasure?’
*
Edwin regretted having frightened the girl but was in full agreement with the chit that he had no wish to ever set eyes on her again. It was fortunate for those that served him that they averted their eyes when he strode in still dripping from his immersion in the sea. No doubt the fact that his horse was already happily munching hay in his stable had warned them something was amiss.
Rogers, his efficient valet, helped his master disrob
e without comment. ‘Your grace, I have put out your evening clothes.’
‘Put them away. As you very well know, I don’t like to dress for dinner. I don’t entertain and if her grace objects then she can eat in her own apartment.’
He wouldn’t appear in his dirt in the dining room but the hated black garments could wait in his closet indefinitely. He’d forced himself to wear them since his parent had arrived, but no more. He was irritable and his thigh ached intolerably. He stripped naked and washed in the hot water from head to toe.
Rogers was waiting with the necessary items to sew up his gash when he was done. ‘If you would care to sit, your grace, it will be less painful for you and easier for me.’
With a towel wrapped around his waist Edwin did as suggested. Four sutures were required. Another scar to add to the several he’d gained during his youth. When he’d been up at Oxford he’d led a wild and dissolute life not expecting it to end so suddenly when his father broke his neck out hunting.
He’d found himself a duke before he’d reached his majority. He’d known his duty and after the year of mourning was up allowed his mother to arrange a variety of social occasions where he could examine the debutantes on show that year and select himself a bride.
It hadn’t occurred to him that his feelings would be engaged. When he was introduced to Sarah, Lady Sarah Fitzwilliam, the eldest daughter of the Earl of Rotherham, he had known at once that she would make him the perfect wife. She was small, perfectly formed and with ash-blonde hair and blue eyes. The fact that she was also intelligent, kind and quiet only added to her charms.
He pushed these unpleasant thoughts away. ‘Are you finished?’
‘Yes, your grace. I doubt you’ll have a scar.’
He didn’t hurry, dining with his parent was tedious in the extreme. He didn’t understand why she’d insisted on removing herself from the Dower House last week and on joining him in his exile. He’d made it abundantly clear that she couldn’t entertain, if she wished to socialise whilst she was visiting, she must do it elsewhere. From what he’d been told there was an assembly room in Margate where she could parade in her best gown as if she so wished. He’d lived in happy isolation for two years since moving when the period of mourning was over and so far had not ventured into the town.
Every day she droned on about the fact that he had no direct heir, that a distant cousin would inherit everything on his demise. What she didn’t know was that he’d taken note of her tirade and invited his heir to visit Rochester. If Edward Gilbert and his family were acceptable, then he would invite them to live at Rochester Towers. Gilbert was married, three years older than himself, and already had two sons and a daughter. The oldest boy must learn how to be a duke.
He rather thought his parent would be horrified if she heard that the Gilbert family could be about to take up permanent residence at the ancestral pile. He had no intention of inviting them here – his estate manager and his closest friends, Lord Anthony Ambrose and his wife, were going to inspect them for him. Only if they thought them satisfactory would he return and meet them for himself.
If these distant relatives were beyond redemption then he would have no choice but to find himself a wife. Not a young girl, but a widow who had already produced at least one child successfully. That way he could be sure there would be no risk to her in childbirth and that he would father a living son.
He strolled into the drawing room to find his mother waiting to pounce. ‘You cannot dine dressed as you are, your grace. You must go at once and change into proper attire.’ She was splendidly arrayed in burgundy silk, with a matching turban upon which three egret feathers were bobbing wildly.
She should know better than to issue orders. He raised an eyebrow and ignored her strident command. ‘In future I shall not dress, you may do as you please.’
‘How can you stand there in your blue jacket and buff unmentionables and say such a thing to me? Your poor father would be turning in his grave at your reprehensible disregard of protocol.’
He removed a glass of sherry from the tray held out to him by a footman. ‘My father didn’t give a damn about such things. I am master of my house and you would do well to remember it, ma’am.’ He sipped his drink and then turned to face her. ‘I did not invite you to visit me. Please feel no obligation to linger. I prefer to be solitary.’
The wretched woman always addressed him formally as if she was no relation of his. He had never called her anything but ma’am and she had not called him by his given name since he was in leading strings. He wasn’t surprised that he was an only child – it was an arranged marriage and Papa had kept a ladybird in Town. This arrangement had apparently suited both his parents.
‘I had hoped to bring you to your senses and persuade you to find yourself another wife. Good heavens, you are but eight and twenty. Do you intend to stay unmarried indefinitely?’
‘What I intend to do is entirely my own business, ma’am. What must I do to stop this constant refrain from you?’
‘If you accompany me to an assembly or two, not to search for a bride, but just to become less of a recluse, I give you my word I shall depart content that all is well. Once I am persuaded that you are not sinking into melancholia then I shall leave you in peace.’
Had he misjudged her? Did she actually care about his welfare? ‘Very well, I will agree to attend one assembly. Then you may go confident that I’m happy in my isolation.’
‘There is to be one held soon. I shall obtain vouchers for it.’
At dawn the next day he was riding Othello bareback, dressed only in shirt and breeches, his bare feet dangling on either side of the massive stallion. He loved the beach at dawn and today it would be high tide. This was the perfect time for his horse and himself to swim.
He was confident there would be no obstacles to his intention as the insolent girl and her noisy siblings would be abed. He slipped from the horse and removed the rest of his garments before vaulting back astride.
‘Come along, my boy, I’m eager to swim.’
They plunged through the breakers and the horse was soon swimming strongly out to sea. Edwin had one hand entangled in the animal’s wiry mane and the other holding firmly to the rope attached to the halter. Once they were a hundred yards from the shore he pulled gently on the rope and pressed his heel into the horse’s side to indicate they should now swim parallel to the beach.
He knew better than to get in the way of the metal-shod hooves and, when he wished to swim, he always slid backwards and dropped off over the stallion’s hindquarters. Othello would sense his rider had gone and wouldn’t swim far on his own. Edwin did this now.
The water was cool against his skin and he struck out strongly intending to swim a mile or so and then whistle his horse back and scramble onto his back. He ploughed through the calm sea oblivious to his surroundings. His mother would have a conniption fit if she knew the Duke of Rochester was swimming as nature intended in a public place.
He completed his morning constitutional and turned to call his horse. To his astonishment the stallion was nowhere in sight. He looked on the horizon – nothing. Even Othello wouldn’t have swum so far out to sea he was no longer visible. Then he paddled around to face the coast.
The horse was on the sand being fussed by the girl he already cordially disliked. He whistled loudly. She looked up and waved gaily to him. The dammed horse ignored him. He had no option but to swim to him if the wretched beast wasn’t going to come.
Miss Armitage had overstepped herself again. How dare she leave him stranded for a second time? Then he remembered the dog and swore. Where was it? He was an expert swimmer and was twenty-five yards from the sand when the large grey head of the dog was shoved into his face.
He braced himself to fend it off but this time it just nudged him and then swam alongside. ‘Good dog, Sydney, what an excellent fellow you are.’
The beach was flat so he couldn’t swim all the way in. He stood up, shaking himself, and prepared to wa
lk in the remaining distance.
Chapter Three
Lucy had been startled when a huge, black horse had swum towards her and then joined her on her morning walk with Sydney. Her first thought was that the stallion had fallen overboard from a passing yacht but then realised this was highly improbable.
Her dog was delighted to have company and she was fussing both of them when a piercing whistle attracted her attention. Bobbing about, a goodly distance from the beach, was none other than the objectionable gentleman she’d had the misfortune to meet the other day.
‘I think your master is calling you,’ she said to the horse who ignored her comment and the whistle. She waved but got no response in return. Sydney was no longer at her side and she saw him swimming towards the man he’d bitten last time they’d met.
There was little point in her calling him back as when he was set on doing something nothing could dissuade him. Mr Gilbert was certainly a very good swimmer – possibly better than herself. She watched with interest as he emerged from the waves like an Adonis – perhaps the son of Neptune might be a better description.
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open. Had he forgotten he was without clothes or was he approaching deliberately to shock her? She wasn’t going to stay where she was and find out. She spun, picked up her skirts, and raced up the steps. She heard his mocking laughter following her.
She stopped, straightened her shoulders and quite deliberately turned around to face him. She kept her eyes on his face, of course, as she’d seen more than enough of the rest of him already. She smiled and waved and then continued towards her house at a more sedate pace.
Imagine what Mama would say if she told her she’d just seen a naked man on the beach. Her lips curved and she tingled all over. He might be irascible, objectionable and in every way impossible but Mr Gilbert was undeniably a handsome and attractive man. She should be in palpitations, running screaming to her parents for support and comfort after such a hideous sight, but instead she revelled in the experience.
A Solitary Duke Page 2
