Tommy nodded, his blonde curls bouncing around his face. “Of course. Good fellow, I thought, though a trifle reserved. Seemed a bit out of sorts.”
Ranleigh nodded. Archie had not been himself that night, even before the row.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen him around since then?” he asked, knowing he was clutching at straws but not knowing what else to do.
He watched as the earl sipped at his coffee and kept quiet, allowing him to think about it.
“You know, I did think I saw him. Couldn’t be sure, mind,” Tommy said, as he reached to pick up his knife and fork once more. “Must have been a couple of months ago, but I thought I saw him leaving Henshaw’s place.”
Ranleigh felt his eyebrows hit his hairline.
“The Marquess of Henshaw?”
Tommy shrugged. “Of course. Don’t know any other Henshaw, do you? Though, like I said, couldn’t swear to it. I was in my carriage and just caught a glimpse, but it looked like the fellow.”
“You know him, don’t you? Henshaw, I mean,” Ranleigh asked, feeling a sudden surge of optimism.
“Don’t you?” Tommy asked in surprise.
“Only in passing. I’ve never really spoken to the man,” he admitted. “To be honest, he seems rather a cold fish. I’ve always suspected he disapproves of me.”
Tommy snorted and shook his head. “Henshaw disapproves of everyone, but he’s not so bad. In fact, he’s rather decent when you get to know him. He’s certainly become a deal more bearable since he married. Besotted, he is,” he added with a grin.
Ranleigh sighed inwardly. It felt like the world and his wife were all blissfully leg-shackled. Though he knew that was far from true, it didn’t help the resentment that rose on discovering another pair of happy newlyweds.
“Didn’t he marry in some sort of scandal?” he asked, recalling the gossip that had surrounded the event. “Darling Bertie’s daughter, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Tommy agreed, reaching to add some more bacon to his plate. “Though, if you want to keep your head attached to your shoulders, I’d not allude to that. Anyone not giving his duchess due respect tends to get short shrift, so I’m told.”
“Can hardly blame the man for that, if he loves her.”
Ranleigh certainly couldn’t, at any rate. If he ever fell in love, he knew he’d feel the same way.
“Not that Selina needs it. She’s quite forthright, a dashing sort of woman. Beautiful, too.” Tommy gave a heavy sigh, a rather wistful look in his eyes.
“Do I detect a broken heart, Tommy?” Ranleigh asked, watching him with interest.
Tommy shrugged and returned a rueful smile. “Not broken, no. Just a little… regretful. I’d have married her in a heartbeat, only—”
“Your mother wouldn’t let you.”
Tommy flushed beneath his curls but didn’t deny it. “I shall learn to stand up to her one of these days. Just you wait and see.”
Ranleigh reached over and patted his shoulder. “There, there, Tommy. I have to give you your due; your mother terrifies me too.”
Tommy let out a breath of laughter. “Lord, don’t I know it? Not just you, either. Seen her reduce grown men to tears.” He paused, shaking his head, apparently much struck by this image as he stared off into space with a look of anxiety.
“Are you doing anything this morning, Tommy?” Ranleigh asked, jolting the earl out of whatever disquieting thoughts were now occupying him. “I’d rather like to ask you a favour.”
“Anything, old man,” Tommy said, quite affable now that the conversation had steered away from his mother. “Just name it.”
Ranleigh smiled and grinned at him in thanks. “Excellent. Thank you. In that case you can take me along when you call on the Marquess of Henshaw.”
***
Archie shook the excess powder from the letter Will had just dictated and funnelled it back into the pounce pot. Once it was clean, she handed it to him to sign and seal, and reached for another sheet of paper. Her fingers were already ink stained, and she stretched them reflexively. Will always had a good deal of correspondence, but this morning it seemed endless. Not that she was complaining. The more she had to focus on her work, the less time she could spend pining like a lovesick puppy.
“Damn it,” Will cursed, looking up. “I left the letter from my steward at Castle Hadley on the table in the drawing room.”
“I’ll get it,” Archie said, getting to her feet, grateful for a few moments reprieve. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”
She left the study and crossed the hall, hurrying up the stairs. The letter was on a side table, as Will had directed, and so a moment later Archie was retracing her steps. She was half way down the stairs when she realised the butler was greeting someone in the entrance hall and a moment later escorted two men inside.
Archie froze, her stomach doing an unpleasant kind of flip as she recognised the Earl of Tindall, and the Duke of Ranleigh.
Oh, God.
For a moment she had the absurd notion that if she kept very still and very quiet, they might not notice her. Naturally, she wasn’t that lucky.
“Mr Archibald!” the earl exclaimed, his cheerful face wreathed in smiles and good humour as he looked up and caught sight of her.
Ranleigh’s gaze inevitably followed, though he said nothing.
“See, Ranleigh? I was right. When you asked me if I’d seen him, I wasn’t sure, but, by Jove, I turned up trumps, eh?”
Ranleigh looked a little abashed by the earl’s comment, and Archie was astonished to note a slight tinge of pink high on his cheeks.
“Good morning, Mr Archibald,” Ranleigh said, the words strangely stiff and awkward. He looked as if he wished he hadn’t come.
“Archie, where the devil have you got to?”
Everyone looked around as Will emerged from his office, the tone of his voice good-natured and warm. He froze, however, as he took in the scene before him, and Archie’s stomach continued its disagreeable acrobatics by dropping to somewhere near her boots. She was going to be ill. This was a disaster.
For a moment Will was silent, and Archie knew he was stuck. He had to acknowledge her as Mr Archibald and become complicit in the lie she had drawn him into.
“Good Morning, Tindall, Ranleigh,” he said, sounding every bit the starchy marquess everyone thought he was.
“Forgive us for bursting in on you, Henshaw,” Tommy said, oblivious to the growing tension. “But I mentioned to Ranleigh that I’d seen Mr Archibald here, and as the fellow disappeared off the face of the earth, we thought we’d pop in and see if you had a forwarding address, but lo and behold!” he exclaimed, beaming at Archie again.
Archie pasted some semblance of a smile to her own face and forced her unwilling legs to move forward. On reaching the ground floor she bowed.
“My Lord Tindall. Your grace.”
“Oh, come now, Archie, none of that formality,” Tommy said, reaching out his hand and taking Archie’s, shaking with enthusiasm. “I don’t stand on ceremony and I’m dashed sure Ranleigh don’t. Besides, thought you two were thick as thieves back at Newmarket?”
It was Archie’s turn to blush now.
A ringing silence filled the entrance hall and Archie prayed for a bolt of lightning, or the collapse of the British Empire; something drastic enough to need her and Will’s urgent attention. Nothing.
Will cleared his throat. “Well, was there something I could do for you both, or did you just wish to track down your erstwhile acquaintance?”
“No, nothing, thank you, Henshaw,” Ranleigh said, finding his voice again. “It’s a small world, isn’t it? Here I was, wondering what had become of young Archie after he vanished without a word, and he was here in Mayfair the whole time. On my doorstep almost.”
There was, without a doubt, reproach behind the words and Archie forced down the swell of guilt that rose. It was for the best. It was. Oh, Hell!
To her consternation, Ranleigh then took out a sil
ver case and extracted his card, handing it to her.
“Just in case you mislaid the first one,” he said, smiling at her now, though it was far from the easy expression she was used to. “If you have a few moments to spare, perhaps you would do me the honour of calling on me on your way home?”
Archie gave a stiff little nod, quite unable to think of a reason she couldn’t call on him. If she said she was too busy tonight, there would be the next night, and the one after. Best get it over with.
With a growing sense of disquiet, she watched the two men leave, and turned to face Will, who was quite obviously deeply unhappy.
“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing it was inadequate but, really, she hadn’t invited the blasted man here.
They’d known it could happen sooner or later, though.
Will made a harrumphing sound, and they returned to his office to find Selina waiting for them.
“Was that Ranleigh?” she asked, too much sympathy in her eyes for Archie’s peace of mind. She’d known that Will had told his wife, she had given him permission to, but it was the first time it had been acknowledged in front of her. Archie could only pray that Selina wouldn’t hug her, though she could see the desire to do so in her eyes.
“This can’t go on, Archie,” Will said, and she was further appalled to realise there was only compassion and concern in his expression, rather than anger. Anger would have been easier. “You’re going to come a cropper sooner or later.”
“I know,” she said miserably. “I just don’t know what to do for the best.”
Will took a deep breath and then moved to pour them all a drink, though it was barely noon. He must be upset.
“You must tell him the truth.” The words were uncompromising. Terrifying.
“What?” Archie exclaimed, her heart hammering at the idea. “No!”
“He might be understanding,” Selina suggested, offering her a tentative smile. “You don’t know for certain that he’ll react like….”
She trailed off as Will cleared his throat, not turning to face them as he put the stopper back in the decanter.
“Yes, well, she doesn’t know for certain he won’t either. I think perhaps….” He hesitated, clearly unwilling to say whatever came next, but determined. “I should tell him.”
Archie gaped at the back of his head as he was still avoiding looking at her. “No. Absolutely not!”
He swung around, a drink in each hand and frustration on his face. “Well what the devil would you have me do?” he demanded. “I can’t allow you to carry on deceiving the man. It’s… it’s not right, damn it. Oh, don’t look so stricken. I’ll make him see you’re under my protection and that, if he even thinks of harming you, he’ll have a fearful enemy facing him.”
“Oh, no!” Archie blanched at the idea. “Good God, Will, can’t you understand how that will sound? I’m a woman, in your employ, living as a man and… under your protection? Heaven alone knows what sordid imaginings that would conjure.”
“That does sound a little….” Selina began and then shrugged, unwilling to put it into words, but Archie didn’t need her to.
It would sound sordid and peculiar and, by the time the story had done the rounds, it would be downright depraved. Let alone if the gossip mills ever got hold of the full story. The bits no one knew but her.
A frisson of terror rolled down her spine.
Will made a sound of inarticulate frustration that Archie could only second. It was the devil’s own bind, and entirely of her own making. Why couldn’t she be like everyone else. What was so bloody difficult about putting on a dress and abiding by the rules? Why couldn’t she do it? Yet, even thinking about it, every instinct rebelled against the idea, a smothering, constricting sensation that made her chest tight.
“There now, Archie, none of that.”
With bewilderment, Archie looked up to find Will pressing a drink into her hand. She realised she’d let out a most uncharacteristic sob of misery and straightened her spine at once. No, no. That would not do. She’d eschewed all maidenly habits many years ago, knowing full well what she was about, and she was damned if she would have a fit of the vapours at this late stage.
“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat and taking a deep swallow of the brandy.
“Will you see him?” Selina asked, her voice soft and full of concern.
Archie considered that. If she returned to being Ranleigh’s friend she would be right back where she started, putting herself and those she cared for in danger of a salacious scandal. It was time Ranleigh realised they would not be friends.
“No,” she said, that one word heavy with regret but seeing no other way out. “I need to go away.”
“Oh, no!” Selina exclaimed, jumping to her feet.
Will sighed but nodded, though his agreement was softened by the obvious regret in his eyes.
“I’ll find you something,” he said. “Somewhere you can live quietly during the season, start over. You can come back to Castle Hadley when we’re in residence. Easier to be out of the public eye there.”
“Oh, but, Will… she can’t.”
Will moved to his wife and kissed her forehead. “She must, love, for her own safety.”
Archie smiled at them, at their regret and their attempts to keep her safe, refusing to allow herself to do anything else but smile, and certainly not blub. It was for the best. If she kept repeating it, sooner or later it would be true. It would.
“Selina, he’s right. We both know it and believe me, I appreciate everything you’re doing, Will. You’re too good.”
“No, I’m not, curse it,” Will snapped, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I don’t want you to go. Neither of us do. Damn it, Archie, all your friends are here.” He let out a breath, sending her an apologetic glance. “Sorry. I’m damned angry.”
“I can see that.” She finished her drink and walked over to him, taking his big hands between both of hers and squeezing. “I’ll miss you too, both of you,” she said, turning to smile at Selina. “But you’ll write to me. Often?”
“Of course,” he said, still sounding angry. Archie knew it was because he was upset. He cleared his throat, his voice steadier as he became business-like. “It will take a while to make arrangements for you.”
Archie nodded. “Erasmus has a cottage close to Rye.”
“We know it,” Selina said, giving Will a fond smile. “It’s a pretty little place.”
Archie nodded, remembering that Will and Selina had been reunited there. She held back the bitterness of knowing no such fate awaited her and smiled instead.
“I’ll go there for a few weeks. Keep my head down, read some books, take some walks. It will do me good, clear my head.”
Selina and Will smiled at her, something too close to pity in their eyes.
Archie ignored it and raised her drink to her lips, and just like that, it was all settled.
Chapter 9
“Wherein Henshaw and Ranleigh lock horns.”
Ranleigh was unsurprised when Archie didn’t show. It seemed inevitable. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more peculiar his behaviour seemed. If Archie didn’t want to be friends with him, for whatever reason, why not just say so to his face? Because you’re a bloody duke and nobody tells you what you don’t want to hear, he thought, the words sour in his mind. Archie had, though. Archie had said what he thought since the moment they’d met, and been quite rude about it too. He had never appeared impressed by the title, and certainly not cowed by it.
Ranleigh couldn’t shake the memory of the look in the young man’s eyes when he’d walked into Henshaw’s place with Tommy. Archie had been standing on the stairs, his lean limbs poised for flight. He’d looked hunted, almost afraid, yet there had been something else in his eyes. What the devil was going on?
The conviction grew that Archie was in trouble.
Unless Archie did have feelings for him, and simply wanted to get away, out of danger?
Ranleigh
looked back over the days they had spent together and knew Archie had enjoyed his company just as much as he had Archie’s. There was no reason that the fellow should make such a volte face and go to such lengths to avoid Ranleigh unless he was either hiding something, or protecting Ranleigh by staying clear of him, or both.
Either way, Ranleigh hated mysteries and he wanted to understand it. Perhaps Archie did have romantic feelings for him? Perhaps the marquess was blackmailing him? Perhaps there was something sordid going on? Archie had insisted that his employer was a good man, but there were rumours enough about Henshaw to make him question that. The man had hardly seemed pleased to see him. Far from it. He’d looked like his worst nightmare had landed on his doorstep, and Ranleigh bloody well wanted to know why.
He would find out.
***
Archie held her breath as Mrs Potter stared at her, eyes wide. Had she misjudged? She was a small, slender woman in her late fifties with a kind, open face and shrewd dark eyes.
It had occurred to Archie that Mr and Mrs Potter had kept house for Erasmus and Rupert in this little country getaway for over ten years. Ten years in which the men’s relationship had to have become clear to the couple. Yet neither of them had ever said a word about it, according to Erasmus. They’d often invited friends here, too, many of them unusual artistic types, who would have made most people run for the hills, screaming “scandal!” at the top of their lungs as they went.
Surely, she couldn’t be that much of a shock in the circumstances?
Archie wasn’t even sure why she was so set on telling the woman the truth; it was an enormous risk when she would only be here a few weeks. Yet she was sick of hiding herself, sick of pretending to be one thing when she was another, of sneaking about and hiding sanitary cloths when she had her monthlies, or just being able to speak freely without constantly watching what she said. God, wouldn’t that be a gift? One that Will and her friends had given her, and at considerable risk, and that she had ruined with her ridiculous crush on an unattainable duke.
“Well, then, how would you prefer I address you?” Mrs Potter asked, brisk now her initial shock had passed.
Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15) Page 10
