Lord Love a Duke

by Renee Reynolds

  “Oh, George, if you would only cease your machinations and instead seek a bride the proper way, I'm sure someone would have you,” began Margaret, only to be stopped on a gasp as her brother's fingers tightened.

  “I had plans to wed a very proper bride, but everyone was against me from the outset!” Melville abruptly released his hold on her neck and began to stalk back and forth across the carpet by the bed. “You were supposed to chat me up to Juliet, tell her of my charms and wit, and make her see a union between our families would be amenable.” He stopped in front of his sister, a look of rage washing over his countenance. “But you set out to thwart me and gave me no assistance. Your downcast eyes and meek nature cast me as the overbearing brother. You played me for a fool!”

  He made a move for her throat but Margaret threw her hands up to catch his hands. “Please, George, I beg you to stop! No one wished you ill, least of all me. Lady Juliet was not interested in marriage; she told us all that very thing. She did not wish to lead you on a merry chase and sought to set you down with care and ease. You just refused to see or believe it.”

  “So, now I am a fool?” he snarled, brushing her hands aside and grabbing her arms above the elbow. He gave her a rough shake. “Lady Juliet was simply casting about lures. She is stubborn and far too indulged, but I knew her claims to eschew marriage were false. And I am proved right! She snared a Duke with her dramatics, after all.” The look in the Viscount's eyes had gone slightly crazed. “I detest how you speak my name, Margaret. You will show me the respect I deserve as your brother. I am Melville.”

  “I – of course, I apologize. Pray forgive my familiarity, my lord, but you must forget about Lady Juliet. She is betrothed and will be wed in but three days. And as you found her pretentious and pandered to, you should consider yourself quite fortunate to have escaped marriage to such a spoiled girl,” she reasoned quietly.

  Melville opened his mouth to comment but shut it with a snap, his eyes narrowing in consideration. “Perhaps I should have grabbed Lady Miranda when I had the chance,” he mused to himself with a chuckle. “Yes, she could do just as well.”

  Margaret stiffened in her brother's hold but he paid her no heed. “You must not do anything rash. Please, Geo - Melville, I am begging you. These families are nice, caring, and good. Leave these people be!”

  The Viscount's attention focused back on his sister and he slapped her with a suddenness that sent her reeling from his grip. She hit her hip hard on the bed stand as she went down to the floor. Margaret made no sound despite the pain both blows must have caused. She had learned over the years to keep her feelings and reactions to herself.

  “Who's the fool now, dearest sister,” he scorned. “These 'good people' to whom you have attached yourself would happily cast you to the wolves if it suited their purposes. They care nothing for you.” He waited the briefest of moments before continuing his attack. “What have you to recommend yourself to others? Nothing! You are worthless, useless, ugly, and poor!” She tucked her head to her chest as his vitriol rained down.

  “You are correct in all things save one: I have found friends here. They will not turn me out for actions not of my own devising.” She did not speak specifics but her meaning was still clear: the sins of her brother were not being held against her. Margaret saw the choler reforming across her brother's face so she hurried to continue. “But their goodness could extend to you, my lord, if you would only seek their forgiveness. End this scheming and apologize,” she begged.

  He reached down and offered his hand to help her. He brought her up to stand before him and drew a finger down the cheek that blazed angry and red from his earlier assault. His fingers then dropped to her neck, lightly tracing the faint bruises forming there are well. His face suddenly hardened and he wrenched the gold chain and pendant from her throat, breaking the clasp with a snap.

  “I neither want nor seek their favor, but you have given me a brilliant idea. An apology would not go amiss, and the Duke and his mother are desperate to see Lady Miranda wed. My previous plans were sound, but I erred in seeking out the lady rather than the marriage-minded mama. Perhaps I should focus my pursuit on the one interested in a wedding in order to obtain the hand of the one needing to be wed,” he mused. He tossed the broken chain and tiny jewel into the air, catching it before it fell. “I thank you for this contribution to my cause, dear sister. I shall leave you to your rest, and see you when you return to Town, in a week, say?” He moved to the large french windows that opened onto a tiny balcony on the opposite side of the chamber.

  Lady Margaret blinked once but did not wonder at his change of topic nor demeanor. She was terribly accustomed to his swings in mood and they rarely caused her pause. She fleetingly wondered at this new plan, whom it would involve and how it would be enacted.

  “Seek you now Lady Miranda's hand?”

  Melville turned to stare long and hard at his sister, his gaze fixed firmly on hers until she flushed and looked away. He smirked in triumph; she always yielded. “Do not concern yourself with my plans, Margaret. You have shown yourself to be quite ineffectual as a helpmate.” He opened the doors and looked out into the darkness. The moon was but a sliver, but it yielded enough light to aid his escape. A sturdy trellis thick with vines clung to the brickwork by his sister's room. He turned back to issue his final statement. “Do not think to speak of my appearance here nor of our conversation. You have been a hindrance rather than a help to me of late. I should hate to have to remove you from Society,” he warned menacingly.

  Melville threw his leg over the side of the balustrade and climbed down effortlessly to the ground below. Margaret came out onto the balcony and watched him slink off into the inky blackness of the back garden. She was no slow top; she heard his threat and acknowledged its sincerity. As much as she appreciated her new friendships, she could not tell anyone of her visitor. He erred, however, in making her aware of his plans, no matter she knew not the specifics. He could not prevent her from building up plans in her own mind to take back some measure of control over her life in the future. In the meantime, she would watch and wait, preparing herself to protect her new friends.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee.

  William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well, Act 1, Scene 1

  “You made many, many people in this house quite happy when Jonas repeated your plans to marry. I for one have been on trembling on tenterhooks for just such an announcement,” Miranda voiced to the group of ladies gathered in Lady Ashford's sitting room. The cloister of friends included Ladies Temperance Warren and Gertrude Lovelace, and the Misses Elinor Gates and Harriet Shaw. Several gasps of surprise echoed around the cozy room. Lady Margaret Stansbury was also in attendance, but her attention was elsewhere as she gazed off toward the other side of the room.

  “As most of you were unaware I shall explain Miranda's bald statement. My wily niece was quite the holdout for the hand of the Duke. She flat refused to marry him unless he wooed her this past week,” explained Lady Ashford, Juliet's aunt.

  “Aunt Cathy you know that is not true,” sputtered Juliet. “In actuality I refused to marry the Duke at all, but he goaded me into giving him a week to change my mind.” She paused and glanced away from the fixed stares of the ladies. “And he convinced me of his sincerity,” she added with a bright blush.

  “There is nothing like the feeling of being pursued by a man in love,” crowed Lady Ashford. “I encourage you all to hold out for just such a situation. There are few things in life as difficult to bear as marriage without regard. At the most, we need passion. In the very least we need fondness and friendship. Juliet has managed to secure all three.” She winked audaciously at her niece. “And I daresay His Grace has as well.”

  “I have spent two seasons trying so very hard to differentiate between true regard from a gentleman and those who merely pursue my dowry or social connections. Despite the Duke having no aspirations for either from
me, it was hard to trust he was not being simply honorable in offering for me.”

  “So you really would have cried off had you not been convinced of his sincerity?” asked Lady Temperance. “You would have suffered the ostracization and ridicule and closeted yourself in the country?”

  “Most certainly!” cried Juliet. “I would rather suffer solitude than suffer resentment, infidelity, or loneliness all while under the yoke of marriage. It was fortunate that my family cared enough for me and had means to make this possible. I do not fool myself that every lady may have the same luxury of eschewing marriage, but I saw enough of the bitterness and foul living that accompanies the arrangements lacking at least fondness and kind spirits to know it would never suit me. I would wither under such conditions.”

  “It is fortunate, indeed, that you are wealthy and loved enough to make such decisions,” observed Lady Ashford. “You all know that Juliet's father is also my brother. Our parents were the miserable members of just such a union feared by Juliet. They were married at the direction of their parents and Society. My mother had no come out, just a formal wedding at St. George's. My father kept a mistress both before and during their marriage. I saw my mother behave with shocking immorality, in her own home, as she sought from others what her husband denied. It hardened me fiercely but I knew I would be doomed to the same fate were I not fortunate enough to find a suitable gentleman.” The Countess paused to drink a sip of wine. “I thought I had found my 'knight errant,' as it were, in my Earl. I was sorely wrong.”

  Several ladies gasped and Lady Gertrude uttered an anguished, “No!” before covering her mouth with her hand. “But Lord Ashford was kind enough to pass on before you,” offered Juliet with a wink of her own, her bald statement causing another round of gasps, these with overtones of disbelief. Lady Ashford barked out a laugh, yet the fact that Lady Margaret remained detached from the conversation, absently rubbing her neck, did not escape her notice.

  “Juliet knows, ladies, that she speaks the truth. The Earl lived but ten years after we married, and while most times it seemed each day was worth twenty, I managed to persevere and survive, and now I thrive on the knowledge that I have his money as well as my own, and I have made many a decision that I know has him most miserable in his grave.”

  Miranda and Lady Temperance laughed out loud at this while the other ladies, not quite as familiar with Lady Ashford's candid speech, smiled politely but nervously.

  “So what advice do you have for Juliet? As she is the first to wade in the matrimonial waters, I think it only fair those remaining benefit from any wisdom you see fit to impart.” Miranda leaned forward in her seat, her eyes alive with curiosity. “Especially those things concerning the wedding night.”

  Miss Gates began to fan herself prodigiously while Lady Gertrude blushed scarlet. The remaining ladies and Miss Shaw all leaned forward in effort to hear the news with a quicker ear. This topic, it seemed, had garnered the attention of the preoccupied Lady Margaret.

  “I fear I can offer only three sound rules for marriage, my dears,” began the Countess with a broad smile. “First, you must investigate any gentleman who draws your interest. Learn all there is to know about him: his likes and dislikes, the depth of his purse, and most importantly, his vices. How does he treat his own family, especially his mother or sisters? Is he respected amongst his peers? Does he keep a mistress? Knowledge of these areas is most advantageous. Do not trust the man who woos you while confining his nearest relations to the country. If he maintains a high-flyer, turn and walk away; he will never give you his utmost regard and the jealously from his mistress will be untenable. Cut your losses if he gambles more than he can afford. Ask after the state of his properties, whether they be in good repair and if the tenants are content. I cannot stress enough to learn all you can.”

  “What are reliable sources for such information?” questioned Lady Temperance. “His friends will most likely spew Banbury Tales.”

  “Ask other ladies of his station, those who are married to or the sisters of his friends. They will tell you the truth of his character.” Lady Ashford looked to Miranda. “What warnings would you give Juliet on these matters?”

  Miranda looked surprised by the question but soon grew serious in contemplation. “I would set her mind at ease that Jonas takes good care of his family, staff, and tenants. The ducal properties are managed very well and Jonas fosters hard work for fair wages. He rarely gambles and I have never seen him drunk, although I have heard some tales from his school days that are quite entertaining. I would warn that he is very protective of those he calls his and will likely never let her out of his sight for long. He also detests entertaining so she will need to find habits that keep her busy at home.” Miranda's eyes widened at her last statement. “Ha! That should not prove too difficult.”

  Juliet blushed but did not run from the subject. “Indeed I foresee I shall be quite happy to entertain at home.”

  “Second,” Lady Ashford intoned, drawing the attention back to their earlier topic. “Observe how he treats his cattle and his dogs. Mind you, he should not spend all his time at the hunt or training his hounds, but if proper care and concern are shown to his animals, even greater care will be taken in future with his children.”

  “Animal care leads to love for children?” scoffed Lady Temperance. “My father adores his horses, but I doubt he could tell you my age or eye color if put to the question.”

  “I said proper care, not sole care. If the gentleman goes from bed to table to riding to party to bed, breaking only for meals, only to begin the same the following morning, he has his schedule firmly entrenched and focused on his cares only. If he rides each day but allows his groom to maintain the proper stable, his priorities are in order, and changes in his schedule would not cause him distemper.” Lady Ashford paused for another drink and indicated Juliet should fill all the other glasses as well. “The third and final rule for marriage falls solely on the lady's shoulders. You must strive to be a wife on his arm but a mistress in his bed.”

  Those in the midst of swallowing their wine began to choke. Those who had merely sipped began to spew their beverage into the air in a most unladylike fashion. Miss Gates, who had merely raised her filled glass, proceeded to drop it to the carpeted floor at her feet, her mouth agape. Lady Margaret blinked several times before bursting out with laughter; she was soon joined by the rest of the group.

  “Quiet, girls. This is perhaps the most important yet little-known rule of all. No one ever imparted this vital information to me. I overheard it at a ladies tea after I had been married for nigh on three years. My mother had told me what countless other good English matriarchs had told their daughters: when your husband is performing his 'duties,' simply lie back, be calm, and think of England, or some other such rot. My mother actually suggested I compose my shopping list for the next day, mentally deciding which ribbons and furbelows I needed. And so I did, and my marriage bed was miserable. My participation was neither expected nor required, and I grew to hate it. My experiences oscillated between painful, boring, and embarrassing.” Lady Ashford smiled and patted her niece's hand, noting the shocked and even dismayed expressions of her audience. “But my advice is to ignore that advice, even should you hear it from your own mother's mouth. If you are fortunate enough to marry the right gentleman, he will be kind and considerate your first time, and will look after your needs, and you will have such a wonderful experience, you will wonder why you did not marry the first man who made you feel a swoon.

  “I will warn that your first time in the marriage bed will likely hurt; that is your maidenhead, the proof of your innocence, being breached. But after that first time, ladies, I predict you will each thank me for revealing this 'secret.' Remember, he has most likely been trained to expect docility and timidity in a wife. The gentlemen are as brainwashed as the ladies, if you ask me. Act the wanton. Tell your husband what you like. Ask him what he likes. If it occurs in your marriage bed and by mutual consent, fea
r nothing. I guarantee the first time your toes curl, you will not be thinking of England.”

  “It is rather warm in here, is it not?” asked Miranda as she fanned her flushed face with her hand. “Juliet, you must let us know how this advice plays out on your wedding night. I will just disregard the fact that you are with my brother, so pray never use his name when you tell us everything that happens.”

  Juliet had such a look of affront that Lady Ashford could not contain her laughter. “Miranda, should you wish to hear the details, and should Juliet be convinced to impart them, you cannot expect to be spared the rapturous use of your brother's name.”