The Duke's Decision (The Reluctant Duke Book 2)

by Fenella J Miller

  'Wait, you're going to ruin your gown. It's trapped beneath the end of the crutch.'

  'Botheration! I don't see how I can overcome this difficulty. If I wear something shorter then my lack of stockings and shoes will be apparent.'

  He vanished into Amanda’s bedroom and returned with a piece of ribbon that almost matched her gown. 'Allow me, sweetheart, I'll shorten your skirt on this side.' Before she could protest, he was on his knees and fiddling about with her gown.

  'Richard, desist. You're embarrassing my sister. Your solution might be ingenious but will not do. Sarah, I think you'll have to allow him to carry you and then use your chair.'

  He had continued at her feet until he was satisfied. Only then did he stand up. She looked down and thought his efforts quite ingenious. Her initial discomfort at having him so close seemed silly now.

  'Thank you, that will do perfectly. I doubt that anyone will see my bare feet as long as I remember to keep my skirts in order when I'm seated.'

  It took her a few attempts to master moving with the aid of a crutch but she was soon proficient enough for her companions to agree she was ready to descend.

  'There's no need to hover so anxiously beside me, Richard, I'm not going to fall head first down the stairs I can assure you.'

  'In which case, I'll walk in front then if you do stumble you won't go far.'

  Miss Westley joined them. 'I'm so glad to see you mobile again, Lady Sarah. How long do you think you will be incapacitated?'

  'Doctor Adams, the man who came from Town, assured me I should be good as new within the week as long as I keep my weight from it.'

  Negotiating the curved staircase was slightly trickier than she'd anticipated but she managed it, albeit more slowly than she would have liked. As soon as she was in the hall Amanda and Richard left her to progress more slowly with Miss Westley at her side.

  As the weather was clement the doors at the end of the drawing room were open and drinks were being served on the terrace. She viewed the length she had to traverse with disfavour.

  'I think I'll remain inside. The thought of hopping all the way to the terrace and then back again when it's time to dine is just too much for me. Please, you go and join the others outside. I'm quite content to sit on my own.'

  Miss Westley hesitated. 'Are you quite sure, my lady?'

  'I am. Dinner will be served in half an hour and I'm happy to spend that short amount of time in my own company. Having been upstairs for two days, just being down is treat enough.'

  She had barely settled when Captain Marchand appeared at her side. He had not come from the terrace but from behind her.

  'Lady Sarah, do I have your permission to join you?'

  'You do, captain. In fact you don't need anybody's permission to do anything in this establishment – my cousin stands on no ceremony and is the least toplofty duke you're likely to find anywhere.'

  Only then did she notice he was no longer wearing his smart red uniform but dressed in what looked suspiciously like her papa's clothes. His smile, for some unaccountable reason, made her heart skip a beat.

  'I know, reprehensible of me to appear in these when I should be in my regimentals. His grace insisted that I replace his man of business as it's entirely my fault – according to him – that he's been left to manage on his own.'

  'I prefer you in civilian clothes, and from now on shall refer to you as Mr Marchand as it will seem odd to use a military title.'

  'Exactly so. I expect that you're aware of what his grace is organising on the behalf of myself and Mr Robinson?'

  'My sister told me everything. I think it an excellent notion and will benefit all concerned.'

  'I came expressly to apologise for my part in your accident. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that your injury is no more serious than a bad sprain.'

  'The accident was entirely my doing, sir. You have nothing to apologise for. From the ink stains on your fingers I assume that you've been scribbling away all day. My cousin's handwriting is barely legible.'

  'I have, my lady. Tomorrow I'm to accompany him to Ipswich on some legal matter or other. I sincerely hope that I'm not recognised out of uniform as I might well be cashiered if I was.'

  'I rather think that having you as his secretary is somewhat worse than insisting that you remove your uniform.' No sooner had she said these words than she realised they could be misinterpreted. No well brought up lady would dream of mentioning anything so risqué as a gentleman removing his clothes.

  Instead of being shocked by her immodest comment he laughed out loud. 'Worse than that, my lady, it was your sister that made the suggestion, not his grace.' He'd understood immediately her distress and put her at her ease.

  'In which case, Mr Marchand, I'm going to suggest something even further from the pale than that.'

  'I am agog, my lady, as to what that might be.' His eyes brimmed with amusement.

  'I wish you to refer to me as Sarah, and I shall call you – I do not know your given name but would dearly like to use it. I cannot remain on formal terms with someone marching around in my departed papa’s ensemble.'

  'My name is Paul. I'd be honoured to address you so familiarly but I think it might be wise to speak to his grace…'

  Yet again her cousin had arrived so quietly neither of them had been aware of his coming. ‘Upon what subject do you wish to speak to me?' Richard's enquiry was bland but his expression was watchful.

  'I have asked if we can ignore the rules and address each other as if we were friends. He to call me Sarah and I to call him Paul. For some reason he thinks that your permission is needed before we do this.'

  'He's quite correct to ask me. I should refuse but, as you so rightly pointed out, my dear, it's hard to remain on normal terms in the present circumstances so I've decided to give you my blessing. However, I suggest that you keep this informality between yourselves and don't involve the others.'

  The look he gave Paul would have terrified a lesser man. 'I thank you, your grace, I can assure you that using our given names will be the only rule that we'll be breaking.'

  Richard didn't suggest Paul addressed him in any way but formally and this was noted by herself and her companion. His agreement was to indulge her, not to encourage Paul to take even the slightest liberty.

  The two men nodded and then Richard was his usual relaxed persona once more. 'You cannot hide away in here, Sarah. Miss Westley says you believe it to be too far to walk so I've brought your carriage.' He gestured to the bath chair. This object, the last time she'd seen it, had been in her shared sitting room.

  She pushed herself upright carefully keeping her weight off her damaged ankle and then dropped with more haste than dignity into the chair. She'd moved so swiftly as she feared that one or other of them would snatch her up and she'd no wish to be carried.

  Unfortunately, the vehicle took off across the smooth carpet and only Paul's lightning reactions prevented another mishap. 'I believe that the old adage “look before you leap” might be one you bear in mind in future.'

  'Thank you once again for your intervention, Paul. Could I prevail upon you to wheel me outside to join the others?'

  She bit her lip not sure if she was trying not to cry or laugh. Then she heard smothered sniggers from behind her – Richard was definitely finding the situation funny.

  'I thank you not to poke fun at me, cousin, I can hear you quite well.' She twisted in the seat and fixed him with a frosty stare.

  He shook his head. 'I'd no idea you were as amusing as your sister. You almost catapulted from that chair…' He was unable to continue and no longer made any attempt to hide his laughter.

  He was right – the situation was risible. By the time they reached the terrace all three of them were mopping their eyes and their laughter drew the others to the door to see what was causing so much merriment.

  This was the perfect start to a quite delightful evening. For some reason champagne was served and she accepted a small glass although she rar
ely consumed anything alcoholic. Miss Westley conversed happily with Mr Robinson who was looking smart, but overheated, in his regimentals.

  When dinner was announced they moved as one towards the dining room. A slight sound above her made her look up. She caught a glimpse of her mother – it was like looking at a stranger. Her stomach clenched and her appetite deserted her.

  She was being pushed at the rear of the party by Paul. He looked at her. 'What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?'

  'I am. I should not have had the champagne it doesn't agree with me. I must return to my apartment.'

  'It will be quicker if I carry you.' He reached down and scooped her into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder hoping that neither Richard nor Sarah came out to investigate before she was safely in her bedchamber. Her crutch had been left in the bath chair.

  Her maid was absent as she wouldn't have expected her to return so soon. 'Thank you, Paul, if you would be kind enough to put me on the chaise longue and then send a servant up with my crutch, I should be most grateful.'

  'I'll do that. I sincerely hope that you feel well enough to join us tomorrow.'

  She leaned back and closed her eyes trying to push the image of Mama from her mind. To be stared at with such hate by one's own parent was not something she'd ever thought to experience.

  The door opened but she didn't look up. 'Put my crutch beside me. I don't require anything else.'

  *

  Paul decided it would be simpler for him to return the forgotten item himself. He picked it up, was about to leave, but then decided it would be sensible to let the other diners know what was happening.

  The duke was on his way to investigate as Paul stepped in. 'Lady Sarah was feeling unwell. She believes the champagne has upset her digestion. I carried her to her apartment and am now taking up her crutch. I'll join you in a few minutes.'

  'We were concerned when you didn't appear. Alcohol does disagree with her; I should not have allowed her to drink it.'

  Her sister, who had been rising to her feet, settled back in her chair with a smile. 'Don't be long, Mr Marchand, as the food is about to be served.'

  The sitting room door had been open when he'd left a few moments ago and now it was closed. Sarah couldn't have done it. Who the hell was in there with her? He didn't hesitate. He didn't knock. He quietly opened the door and stepped through.

  In two strides he was across the room and threw his arms around the woman who had hold of Sarah by the shoulders. 'No, your grace, that will not do.' He stepped back using his considerable weight to break her grip.

  'How dare you put your hands on me. You insolent creature. I'll have you horsewhipped.'

  'Your grace, I think it would be best if you return to your apartment until you have recovered your composure.' He kept his words even, spoke calmly, but it was taking every ounce of his strength to hold her. He backed towards the door praying that she wouldn't start screaming.

  Sarah was ashen-faced. Her eyes wide – seemingly unable to speak so distressed was she by this unprovoked attack from her mother.

  Then the duke was at his side and stepped between the dowager and her daughter. The struggling ceased.

  'Madam, if you continue in this manner, I'll have you locked in a lunatic asylum. Is that what you want?' He spoke so quietly Sarah could not have heard his threat but it did the trick.

  His burden sagged against him and he was obliged to support her rather than restrain her. He was about to explain when the duke shook his head.

  'Not here, let me take her. You go to Sarah.'

  'Come along, your grace, you will be more comfortable elsewhere.'

  Paul relinquished his hold and stepped aside. What the hell was going on here? He'd come to arrest an innocent man as a traitor and was now up to his neck in some other drama. He'd made enquiries about this family before setting out for Suffolk and no one had mentioned that the Dowager Duchess was mentally unstable.

  'Paul, thank you for coming. We don't know why she attacked me. I think she's lost her mind.'

  'Let me see, did she hurt you?' He pointed to her shoulders. She shook her head and brushed away her tears.

  'A few bruises, nothing serious. I don't understand why she would do that to me. She's never raised a hand to any of us before this. In fact, we were never physically chastised by either parent as they didn't believe in punishments of that sort.'

  He was relieved that she sounded composed. 'If this behaviour is so out of character then there must be something physical that's causing this aberration. I've seen men run mad from fever, and once after being bitten by a rabid dog.'

  'We have no dogs here, but my younger sister, Beth, suffered from inflammation of the brain and has forever remained a child of six in her abilities. I pray that my mother hasn't contracted something similar. I can think of no other reason why she should have come in here and tried to hurt me.'

  They were interrupted by the sudden arrival of both Miss Westley and Lady Amanda. 'Surely I didn't hear aright? Tell me at once what happened and why Mr Marchand and Richard have abandoned us to our own devices downstairs.'

  Paul left Sarah to explain. He and Robinson shouldn't be here witnessing this family catastrophe. They would remove themselves at once to the inn in the village where they had reserved rooms on their arrival two days ago.

  He met his ensign wandering about outside the dining room. He quickly explained what had transpired. 'I'll get the horses saddled, sir, whilst you change back into your uniform. My belongings are still inside my pack so if you would be so kind as to collect them you can leave as soon as you come down.'

  Before they could move there was a flurry of movement and the duke, Lady Amanda and Miss Westley hurried towards them.

  'Dinner is congealing on the table, my friends, shall we set to before it is completely ruined?' His grace gripped him firmly by the elbow and he found himself in the dining room whether he wanted to be there or not.

  'Your grace, I think it would be best if we left. I can assure you that…'

  'Mr Marchand, my mother is temporarily unwell. My sister is unharmed and there's absolutely no need for you to do anything apart from enjoy your dinner.' Lady Amanda’s smile appeared genuine.

  If the family were unperturbed by the extraordinary behaviour of the dowager then he would follow their lead and pretend everything was as it should be.

  There were three courses with several removes and all of it, no doubt, perfectly cooked and quite delicious but he tasted none of it. Wine was offered but he refused as did the others. Conversation was somewhat stilted and he was relieved when her ladyship put down her napkin and stood up.

  He expected that Robinson and himself would remain behind with the duke but this wasn't to be the case. He tossed his damask square aside and pushed his chair back.

  'Can I ask you to play for us, my love?'

  'I should love to, but first I will run up and see that Sarah is well.'

  'I am perfectly well, thank you for asking, dearest sister. As you see, I have made my way unaided to join you for the remainder of the evening. Listening to you play is exactly what I'd like.'

  Sarah was looking pale but as beautiful as ever. He hesitated not sure if he had the right to go to her side and offer his assistance. He was glad that he had done so as the duke strode across.

  'You should have asked for your chair to have been brought. Did you eat anything?'

  'I'll have something later, Richard, and I've become an expert with my crutch and had no difficulty at all descending the stairs safely.'

  Paul had noticed the splendid piano halfway down the drawing room and had wondered who amongst the girls was proficient on the instrument. He sat with Robinson, Miss Westley sat with Sarah and the duke sprawled on a chair that didn't seem sturdy enough to bear his weight.

  Then Amanda began to play and he knew at once he was in the presence of a truly great pianist. Her fingers flew across the keys – she played from memory – and within minutes the aud
ience was entranced.

  When the impromptu concert ended, he applauded enthusiastically. The atmosphere was different now, less strained, more relaxed. When the supper tray was wheeled in later he was pleased to see Sarah eating hungrily.

  He nodded to his junior officer and he got the message. It was time for them to retire and leave the family to discuss private matters without them present. Miss Westley followed them out.

  Chapter Six

  Richard had been able to push the difficulty of his future mother-in-law's behaviour to one side whilst Amanda was playing but now they were alone he needed to address the problem.

  'Sarah, what exactly did your mother say to you?'

  She was unsurprised by his question and had obviously been expecting to be asked what had happened earlier. He'd understood immediately that this was the reason she'd made the effort to join them.

  'She said nothing at all. She just rushed across the room and started shaking me. She was like a madwoman – not someone I recognised. Do you think she might have contracted the fever that so damaged dear Beth’s brain?'

  'I don't think so, sweetheart, she has no fever or any other signs of illness. Amanda, my love, do you have any suggestions as to why your mother behaved this way?'

  'She has always had an unpredictable temperament but never has she acted in such a fashion. It's hard to credit that she has lost her mind simply because you've forbidden her to gamble. However, everything points to that being the answer.'

  He had a nasty suspicion his beloved might well be right. 'I've sent for a doctor from Ipswich who, so I've been told, is a forward thinker and has written papers about mental derangement. Doctor Peterson should be here first thing tomorrow morning.' He looked from one to the other of the girls reluctant to tell them what he felt obliged to put in place with regard to their parent.

  Amanda sensed at once that something was wrong. 'Tell us, Richard, whatever you've done we will support you.'