The Mysterious Death of the Duke

by Amanda Davis

  “I am pleased to hear it,” Emmeline said as she and her husband joined the table. “Perhaps today we might enjoy a meal in peace.”

  Embarrassment touched Lydia’s cheeks but there was no mockery in Emmeline’s tone and the owner’s daughter smiled warmly at the duchess.

  “Where is His Grace this morning?” Elias asked as Samuel approached the table, distracting Lydia from the question. She could not stop herself from trying to catch his eye.

  For shame! She thought, mortified at her reaction to the waiter’s nearness. You are a married duchess!

  “Your Grace?”

  Humiliated, Lydia raised her eyes, certain her face was a deep crimson. She hoped that Samuel would not see her embarrassment and that thought only shamed her further.

  We must leave this place at once. You have lost your mind entirely.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Compton?” she mumbled, struggling to find her voice and composure simultaneously.

  “His Grace, the Duke. Has he joined us yet this morning?”

  “Oh…” Lydia steeled herself from giving Samuel another covert look. “I have yet to see him this morning.”

  She did not miss the quick exchange of glances between the Comptons, as though they shared an unspoken message. Lydia had no doubt what thought they shared. They were unmistakably questioning why the duke and duchess slept apart.

  How intimately they look at one another. Surely, they have never slept apart a day in their union. They have married for love, not like James and me. Moreover, they are blessed with a child and likely have plans for more.

  She wondered what it would be like to be in a marriage where everything came so naturally, without work or feigned politeness. Certainly it was not commonplace but it did happen.

  Not to ladies like me. I was meant to be at the side of a man who all but ignores me. My only hope for the future is in the children I hope to one day bear.

  Again, Lydia shot Samuel a covert look. She wondered what it might be like to love someone who loved her back.

  For it certainly seems like James will never be that man, despite how I long for requited affection.

  “Will you be in Luton a while?” Emmeline asked brightly, apparently sensing Lydia’s discontent. “There is much to do in the summer months and I fear that I have lost my companion in Lady Elizabeth in her condition. It would be my pleasure to take you into the towns.”

  “No,” Lydia said quickly. “We will be leaving forthwith.”

  She did not know what led her to make such a bold announcement without first consulting her husband. The table gaped at her in surprise.

  “Forthwith?” Elenora demanded and Lydia cringed inwardly. “We have only just arrived!”

  If you had not spoken with such freeness, mother, we might not be in a grand rush to leave, Lydia thought but of course she did not speak the words aloud.

  “There are matters to attend to in the duchy,” Lydia lied. “Matters which cannot wait.”

  “What a pity!” Emmeline said and Lydia saw that she was genuinely upset at the discovery. “I was rather smitten with the notion of a family reunion.”

  “Perhaps on our next visit,” Lydia offered as Elenora snorted.

  “I will not be back. I despise being carted about like cattle, Lydia. Whose idea was it to leave?”

  “Mother, I implore you to mind your tongue this morning,” Lydia growled in a low voice, quite uncharacteristic of her meekness. “You have done quite enough damage in a few short hours.”

  Elenora’s face clearly depicted shock at her daughter’s cutting remarks but, to her credit, she finally did hold her tongue.

  “Where is Xavier this morning?” Elias asked, looking perplexed as he noticed the clock. “I saw your father in the office, Emmaline, but your mother and the Duchess?”

  He glanced apologetically at Lydia.

  “Pardon me, Your Grace—I meant the dowager duchess.”

  Lydia could not be offended by the misappropriated title. She and Patience had spent so little time together that it was hardly a matter of concern. Still, she found herself wondering the same thing.

  Where is James? Has he confronted his mother? Is that why they have not arrived?

  “Perhaps I will see to my husband,” Lydia offered, rising from her chair but Emmeline shook her head at Lydia and placed her hand on Elias’ arm as he stood to see her off.

  “That is hardly necessary. I would very much like to enjoy a meal with you, Your Grace. The others will be along, I am sure. If you are to leave soon, surely you cannot fault me for wishing to spend our fleeting time together.”

  A burst of affection toward Emmeline ignited in Lydia and she was overjoyed that she might find a friend in the seemingly cold hotel.

  Possibly two friends, she thought, her mind on Samuel.

  “Of course,” she murmured, having difficulty subduing the excited smile that insisted on forming. “Forgive me for being so thoughtless.”

  “On the contrary, Your Grace. I notice you consistently putting the needs of others ahead of yourself,” Emmeline offered softly.

  “Darling…” Elias said in a slightly warning tone but Emmeline maintained a soft smile on her face, her eyes fixed on Lydia.

  “There is no harm in enjoying one meal without your husband, Your Grace,” she continued and Elenora snorted rudely.

  “Particularly if that husband has no regard for others,” Lydia’s mother conceded.

  “I am certain that—” Lydia started to say but Emmeline raised her hand.

  “There is no need to fashion excuses on anyone’s behalf,” she insisted. “This is the Balfour Hotel, after all. It is a place for a holiday, an escape from the cruelness of the world—if only for a short while.”

  Lydia tucked in her lower lip, carefully nibbling on the skin inside her mouth.

  Perhaps we might stay another day or two, she thought hopefully. I have never been away. James and I did not even have a honeymoon after our wedding.

  There was a sharp sensation in her chest as she thought about it. She and James might have used this time at the Balfour as an escape to discover one another properly as man and wife. They might have tried to begin a family or, at the very least, learned about one another as people the way Lydia had always secretly hoped they would. Instead, he was off on a chase for a murderer who might not exist.

  She did not know why the fact hurt her. She had known for years that she was nothing more than his dutiful wife. Perhaps it was seeing the way the Comptons interacted or Xavier’s anger toward James following Elenora’s announcement at dinner.

  This is how husbands are meant to behave with their wives, not ignoring them and dragging them about like a trunk or hat case.

  “Duchess, are you well?” Emmeline called out across the table. “You have gone a darker shade of pale.”

  “I am well,” Lydia assured her, straightening her back elegantly.

  “I imagine she is merely starving,” Elenora commented dryly. “We have not had a morsel to eat in days!”

  “Then we must rectify that at once,” Elias replied smoothly, ignoring the blatant hyperbole and signalling the waiters.

  Suddenly, the double doors flew open with an unceremonious crash and all eyes turned toward the threshold in surprise.

  “Xavier!” Emmeline called, rising to her feet at once. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Lydia watched, a surge of dread threatening to choke her as Xavier strode toward them.

  “It is Lise,” he croaked. “Something is terribly wrong!”

  Waves of dread swept over Lydia and she jumped to her feet, her mind awhirl.

  “With the baby?” she whispered.

  “Sit down, child,” Elenora growled. “This matter does not pertain to you.”

  She did pay mind to the irony of her meddling mother’s statement.

  “Have you sent for the midwife?” Emmeline demanded and Xavier nodded, wide-eyed and pale with fear.

  “And the surgeon. They ar
e with her now.”

  Slowly, Xavier turned, a terrible anger replacing his panic as his gaze rested on Lydia.

  “You must go collect your husband,” Xavier hissed. The words sent chills through Lydia’s body.

  “W-where is he?” Lydia asked meekly. “What has happened?”

  “I cannot say for certain,” Xavier glowered. “But Lise was perfectly well before she was alone with him.”

  The insinuation stunned Lydia to her core.

  “He would never!” she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth but Xavier did not falter.

  “I suggest you go for him before I do,” Xavier insisted and Lydia started blindly for the door, tears filling her eyes.

  “Your Grace!” Xavier yelled after her, attracting all eyes in the dining room. Begrudgingly, Lydia turned back to him warily.

  “Yes, Mr. Balfour?” she breathed, her voice barely a squeak.

  “Perhaps you did not need to travel so far from Holden to find out who murdered your father after all.”

  “Xavier!” Emmeline and Elias cried in unison but Lydia did not respond. Instead, she ran from the hall to find her husband, wishing she could escape the doubts that Xavier’s words had caused her.

  8

  James paced outside the bedchambers, worry plaguing him as the surgeon, midwife and his mother remained inside the room with his sister.

  Did my being here overly upset her? If I had not been here, would this have happened still?

  It was impossible to know, of course and when he saw his wife hurrying toward him, he exhaled with relief.

  “Oh, Lydia!” he called, rushing to meet her. “My sister—”

  “I heard,” she told him quickly. “But we must not stay here in the halls, James.”

  He stared at her in confusion.

  “I must wait on word. Her own husband has abandoned her. Someone must wait.”

  “Mr. Xavier has not abandoned her,” Lydia replied and he noticed a note of anger in her tone. “He has asked me to collect you for he does not trust himself in your presence.”

  James blinked dubiously, certain he had misunderstood Lydia.

  “I am the one who was here for her!” he cried and Lydia gave him a scathing look.

  “Lower your tone,” she hissed at him. James barely recognized the woman before him. “We will discuss it in your chambers.”

  She moved toward his rooms and he thought to argue, but seemed to think better of it when he caught Lydia’s scathing look.

  “At once, James. We must not antagonize the others more than we already have.”

  “I did nothing.” he insisted but he followed his wife, shaking his head in disbelief. “How can he think I would harm my own sister?”

  Lydia did not respond until they were inside the suite, the door closed firmly behind them.

  “What happened? Why were you alone with her?” Lydia demanded, her questions fiery and pointed.

  He looked at her in surprise.

  “Not you too?” he snapped. “I am your husband. How can you believe I would hurt my own flesh?”

  “I did not say you did anything,” Lydia countered, her face softening slightly. “I am merely attempting to make sense of what has happened.”

  She did not meet his eyes and James was awash with worry.

  “Lydia,” he growled, approaching her to place his hands over her shoulders. “Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she did as she was told and met his eyes.

  “She is simply having complications with the child. I did nothing to harm her.”

  “Perhaps not with your hands,” Lydia conceded. “But what did you say to her?”

  “Nothing! I assure you, our discussion was civil. In fact…” He inhaled deeply to steady the rush of words fumbling from his lips. “I told her we would be leaving this very afternoon.”

  Lydia eyed him uncertainly.

  “You lied to her?”

  “I did not,” James sighed. “I had every intention of leaving the hotel this very day. Lise and I spoke about Father’s death and how my mother could not have been responsible for his passing. I believed her, Lydia. I realized how ridiculous I have been these past months, consumed by this notion of my father being murdered merely because people like your mother have nothing better to do than flap their gums incessantly.”

  He paused again and lowered his hands along the sleeves of Lydia’s dress, his eyes boring into hers.

  “Coming here was a mistake—the way we did, bringing your mother…”

  “Indeed,” Lydia agreed and her skepticism seemed to be fading.

  “I told her we would leave and she rose to embrace me but then she doubled over. There was nothing untoward, I assure you. You must free your mind of such a terrible thought.”

  “She will tell Mr. Xavier the same when she wakes?” Lydia asked quietly and James bristled.

  “You do not believe me!” he huffed, hurt by her question. “I am your husband!”

  He could see that his argument did not sway her in the least and he exhaled with a groan of frustration. Not that he could entirely fault her—after all, they were married in nothing more than name. How well did his wife truly know him?

  It was a sickening realization, one that caused him great shame.

  “Lydia,” he murmured, his hands still firmly about her upper arms. “Perhaps we have not been as intimate as we should but you must know at the core, I am a good, decent man.”

  She nodded but looked away.

  “Of course, I know that,” she murmured. “I would not have agreed to our union if I had thought otherwise.”

  He exhaled with relief.

  “We should never have come,” he continued. “The blame is mine alone but we will return to Holden once there is word of Lise’s recovery.”

  “Let us pray that there is,” Lydia said with a certain flatness which chilled his heart.

  “She is strong. Lise has always been strong. She and her child will prevail.”

  He did not believe his own words, but he had faith that God would save her. James shuddered at the memory of his sister’s limp body, the ghastly grey of her pallor as though death had come knocking for her right before his very eyes.

  Two soft hands cupped his face and he stared down at his wife worriedly.

  “I cannot stand idly by, Lydia,” he told her hoarsely. “I must know what has happened.”

  “You remain here,” Lydia told him firmly. “I will see if there is word on Lise but you must promise not to leave, James. Mr. Xavier is certainly out for your head and I fear he will not heed any reasoning. Why, his temper might match yours.”

  James scoffed.

  “I have no temper!” he insisted and Lydia cast him a small smirk.

  “Swear to me you will go nowhere,” she demanded and with a reluctant sigh, he agreed.

  “But you must return the moment there is any word on my sister,” he begged. Nodding, Lydia lowered her hands, but not before James seized them, his heart swelling with gratitude.

  I have taken her for granted. She is good and kind and I have been oblivious to her charms since the day we wed. I will not permit myself to be so foolish again.

  “Thank you,” he told her gruffly and watched her expressive face tinge pink.

  “I am your wife,” she said with some stiffness. “It is my duty.”

  She moved toward the door, leaving James with a heavy feeling in his heart as he watched her go. He could not suppress the feeling that he may have somehow lost her.

  If I ever had her at all.

  “Lydia!”

  “Yes, my duke?”

  She met his eyes, a shadow still clouding them to his chagrin but she did hold his gaze.

  “I had hoped…” he cleared his throat and she waited, her head slightly tilted in expectation.

  “Yes?”

  “I had hoped that once we return to Holden, we might begin our own family.”

  A fusion of emotions played over Lydia’s face, each one as
fleeting as the next and James was unsure how she felt about what he had said.

  “Lydia?” he urged when she did not speak, a sense of dread growing in his gut. “What say you?”

  “Of course, darling,” she murmured. “That would be lovely.”

  Without another word, she disappeared from the rooms and James was vastly unsettled.

  It was a peculiar feeling, being left alone in the strange bedchamber, locked away like he was a prisoner. There was a helplessness to the situation that he had never felt before and it was more than unnerving.

  He paced about like a caged tiger and waited as the sun rose higher into the summer sky, the walls closing in around him with stifling heat.

  What could possibly be taking so long? It could only mean something terrible had happened, he was certain.

  To make matters worse, he still had not made amends with his mother who had gone to tend to his ailing sister without so much as a word exchanged between them.

  He thought of the promise he had made Lydia, to not leave his room but the anticipation was burning a terrible hole in his gut.

  I must poke my head through over the threshold at the very least, he reasoned. See if I cannot attract the attention of a—

  He cut his own thought off as his eyes rested upon the room service bell and he almost laughed at his foolishness.

  Of course! The servants would know something, regardless of the way they pretend to know nothing.

  He hurried toward the bell and pulled on it with too much eagerness, nearly yanking it clear from its delicate string.

  There was little else he could do for the time but wait for one of the waiters to appear.

  In a surprisingly short time, there was a knock at the door and he called out for the servant to enter.

  “You rang, Your Grace?”

  It was the same man he had seen with his wife in the lobby that very morning.

  “What is your name?” James asked without preamble.

  “Samuel, Sir. Samuel Cassidy.”

  “Samuel, you know my wife, do you not? The Duchess of Holden?”

  “Of course, Sir.” James noted a slight twitch in the maître d’s cheek but he dismissed it.

  “And you must know my sister, Lady Elizabeth?”