It's Always the Duke: Historical Regency Romance

by Lisa Campell

  It was dangerous for her to continue to remain in London, simply dangerous. He feared that if he ever lay with her, he would never be able to bring himself to stop.

  She made him insatiable. It didn’t matter how much he drank. He only wanted to drink more.

  So, if he ever made love to her, he would continue to do so. Eventually, he would confess his true feelings. Then, they would have to live as husband and wife in truth.

  It would only be a matter of time before she would begin to suspect the truth. He would have to tell her then, of course. She would be hurt, disappointed. She would come to despise him.

  He would only be left with regrets.

  No matter what he did, they were doomed from the start. It was best to stop now, before they went too far. Before they got to a point where it would be impossible to return.

  An hour later, he was done preparing for the day. As he stepped out of his chamber, a strange feeling fell over him.

  That was when he realized that he hadn’t heard any noise from her chamber all morning. The servants had also acted suspicious when they brought up his bath water. Mr. Giraud, who was usually quiet, was even more so.

  Something is definitely amiss. I wonder what it is.

  He thought to ask right there and then but decided against it.

  I shall find out soon enough.

  With this in mind, he went down to the dining hall. He arrived first, as always, and took his seat at the head of the table. Patiently, he waited for her.

  When a short while passed and she had still not joined him, he wondered if she’d decided to eat in her chamber out of anger. She hadn’t been at dinner the evening before, either.

  Certainly, she would be right to be vexed. He could not fault her for acting so. Nonetheless, he missed having her by his side as he ate. It was the only time he could be close to her.

  Clearing his throat, he sat up. That was when he realized that only one serving had been put out.

  There had been two the evening before. She must have told the servants not to bother making hers.

  Still choosing to say nothing, he continued to eat.

  When he was done eating, he rose to his feet. He was nearly leaving the dining hall when something struck him. He halted, then turned around to face Mr. Giraud.

  “My wife is not ill, is she?”

  Mr. Giraud was quick to shake his head. “Not at all, your grace.”

  “Would you happen to know why she has chosen to eat her meals in her chambers…?” he paused as a thought crossed his mind. “Don’t tell me she’s been skipping meals altogether.”

  Mr. Giraud lowered his head then. “She did skip her meal last night because she was busy…”

  Edward’s brow furrowed. “Busy? With what?”

  Mr. Giraud cleared his throat before speaking. “Preparations for her departure. She set out early this morning. For Yorkshire.”

  It was as though Edward had been hit by a bullet.

  “She has left? Already?”

  Mr. Giraud nodded, still bowing his head. “Yes, your grace.”

  “And nobody thought to inform me!” Edward’s voice was louder than he had intended, but he could not bring himself to care. Why had nobody told him?

  She’s gone. Caroline is gone.

  He had known she would leave, but he hadn’t reckoned it would be so soon. At most, in three days. Or so he had thought.

  She must have truly been hurt to take his words so seriously.

  Or perhaps she just couldn’t wait to get away from you, another voice in his head whispered.

  It hurt to consider that it might be the truth.

  Mr. Giraud’s voice shook a little as he responded. “She said not to. She made us promise not to say a word.”

  Edward’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Pity, Mr. Giraud. I had thought your loyalties lay with me. It appears I was wrong.”

  He began to walk again, going as fast as his legs could carry him. His mind was clouded. There was a pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away. It hurt so much.

  He knew he had asked her to leave, yet it hurt him to know that she had done so without even thinking to say goodbye.

  “Your grace, please forgive me. You must understand… she is our lady now. We could not go against her wishes.”

  Edward didn’t pay the butler any heed. In truth, he was not angry at any of his staff. They had simply done as they’d been asked.

  He was only furious at himself. He managed to reach his study, and as he stepped in, he slammed the door after him.

  He walked to the settees and fell onto one.

  His chest was tight and his breathing labored. The harder he tried to breathe, the more difficult it was to draw in air.

  His eyes stung as he undid his cravat, and he marveled at the strange sensation. Even with his cravat loosened, he still couldn’t breathe. The pain in the side of his chest where his heart lay wouldn’t go away either. He rubbed against it with his hand, wishing the ache away.

  Why does it hurt so much? It’s what I wanted, isn’t it?

  No. It wasn’t. It never had been. Yet it was what he had had to do. To protect her.

  Or to protect yourself? that voice asked again.

  Edward was afraid to answer that question. Afraid that if he did, the truth would be revealed and he would be proven as the coward he was.

  His eyes stung even harder and he squeezed them.

  When he felt wetness against his cheeks, he blinked, unable to believe what was happening.

  With his fingers, he touched his face. Then, he brought those fingers to the eyes.

  Tears.

  Edward couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. He hadn’t even thought it was possible to do so any longer.

  Yet, there he was, crying over a woman he had done nothing but push away since the moment he had reunited with her.

  His heart broke all over and he let the tears flow even more.

  He wanted to go after her, tell her the entire truth, confess his love, beg her forgiveness and bring her back home with him, where she belonged.

  Howbeit, to what end?

  He couldn’t do any of those. He had asked her to leave and she had done so. He should be happy, celebrating his freedom. He should go back to his old life of drinking and whoring.

  It would only be a matter of time before he forgot all about her. The ladies at Madame’s would make certain of it. Or perhaps he would find himself a mistress like Nathaniel.

  He broke into a sad chuckle.

  It was a miserable life to live, but one he would have to, anyway.

  Deciding to begin right away, he went to the cellar and grabbed the first bottle of wine his hand touched. Then, he returned to his seat.

  He would drink all his sorrows away if he could. Or at the very least, he would drown in them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was harder than Caroline had reckoned it would be, unloving Edward. She continued to give it her all, but on many days, she found herself thinking about him, worrying.

  Did he fare well? Was he getting enough rest or was he working too hard? Did he miss her? Did he regret sending her away? Did he wish for her return, or had he gone back to the arms of women like Miss Rosa?

  Whenever the last thought crossed her mind, a sharp pain seared through her chest. That was how she knew that she still loved him.

  It was going to take a long while, she soon realized. Perhaps another few months, before she ceased to care. She could hardly fault herself. After all, she had loved him even before she knew what it was to love.

  So, as exasperating as it was—and it was, utterly so—she’d decided to be patient with herself. She would continue to take it one day at time, allowing herself to miss him in times when her heart began to long for him.

  It had taken a while to grow accustomed to not seeing him at breakfast and dinner. Her first nights back in Yorkshire, she had caught herself staying awake, listening for his footsteps as she waited for him to re
tire to his bedchambers.

  Some nights, she had cried herself to sleep.

  Other days, she could be out in the open and something would remind her of him. Then, she would fall apart all over again.

  Caroline was aware her father and Aunt Trudy were curious about what must have happened. She knew they were willing to listen and comfort her if she ever decided to tell them. They wouldn’t ask though.

  For this, she was entirely grateful.

  She had seen the look of shock on their faces when she had arrived that evening from London with her trunks, without first sending word. When she had announced that she would be staying a long while, the shock had grown.

  They had questions. She saw it in their eyes whenever they looked at her. Still, they remained patient. They would never know how much this meant to Caroline. She was afraid that if she tried to speak about it all, she would never recover.

  After a fortnight of doing nothing but hurting, she had decided to keep her hands and mind busy. A trip into the village had been all it had taken for her to realize what she had to do.

  The next day, she had visited the orphanage in the heart of Yorkshire and announced that she wanted to volunteer.

  She’d always loved children. She felt particularly enamored of the children in the orphanage who had no parents, no family, no one to call their own.

  She had lost a mother, so in her own way, she understood how much it hurt to be without a parent.

  The children soon fell in love with her, and as she continued to shower them with love and devotion, she found herself healing. She thought of him less often, and in the times when she did, it didn’t hurt as much as it used to.

  Once in a while, she caught herself thinking of the beautiful children she and Edward could raise, if only he’d give their marriage a chance.

  She was always quick to chase those thoughts away, choosing to be grateful for the progress she was making and the children she could love like her own.

  One evening, as she prepared to return home after a full day’s work, Mrs. Cleaver, the orphanage’s caretaker, came to her.

  “Set to leave for the day?”

  Caroline nodded, smiling. “Yes. The skies are starting to draw their curtains.” She dried her wet hands with a napkin. “I best get home before it gets entirely dark, as I will be riding.”

  Mrs. Cleaver charmed her with a grin. “That you must. Thank you so much, your grace. Many nobles come here, offering to help, but the most they do is visit for a few hours for two days, drop some coin, and we never see them again. You are different, though. It’s been two fortnights and you have never missed a day. Not to mention, you stay from morning till night! The children adore you. I have never seen them happier. It is a wonderful thing you’re doing for them, Lady Brandon. You have no inkling how much it means to the children. To be loved so.”

  Caroline’s heart warmed as Mrs. Cleaver’s voice broke, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Oh, Mrs. Cleaver, don’t cry.”

  Mrs. Cleaver managed a small laugh as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. When she was done, she released a shaky breath.

  “Forgive me. I did not mean to be overcome with emotions. It simply could not be helped.” Mrs. Cleaver took her hands then. “You have touched their lives, your grace. Even if you decided to leave for good tonight, many of them will remember you always.”

  Caroline held back her own tears before they could rush to her eyes.

  “They have touched my life as well, Mrs. Cleaver. In ways I could never have imagined. Being here, it’s as much for me as it is for them.”

  The older woman’s eyes were filled with understanding. “Then in that case, it is my hope that you continue to help each other. Ride safely, the Virgin be with you and grant your earnest wishes.”

  Caroline bobbed her head. “Thank you.”

  As soon as they were done saying their farewells, Caroline got on her horse and began to ride home.

  All the way, Mrs. Cleaver’s last words continued to ring in her ears.

  If the virgin were to indeed intercede for her, what was her earnest wish?

  It was a question she was weary of answering.

  “I bid thee goodnight, gentlemen!” Edward chimed as he rose from his seat.

  Mayweather and Tewkesbury looked up at him in surprise.

  “It’s quite unlike you to call it a night so quickly,” the former said.

  Edward managed to smile at him. “Indeed, it is. I have… matters to attend to.”

  The two men exchanged knowing grins. Tewkesbury spoke then.

  “Matters, eh? These… matters wouldn’t happen to have red lips, breasts, and warm thighs, would they?”

  Edward’s smile deepened. “I do not know what you speak of. I am a married man, my lords,” he said jokingly.

  “Yet your wife has been away almost three fortnights—and so soon after your wedding! Surely your bed has not been left cold all this time. You do not need to pretend with us, Brandon. We know better than anyone that a man has needs.”

  It was Mayweather.

  Tewkesbury nodded in agreement. “It is no secret that the duke has an appetite, either. Remember how he was when he first returned from service? Perhaps his wife ran away because she couldn’t satisfy him!”

  Both men broke into hearty laughter and Edward tried to maintain his smile even as he winced.

  He hated that he was bringing shame upon Caroline’s name, but it could not be helped. The men would assume, anyway.

  “Gentlemen, I put it to you that you’re both drunk. Best to take your mouths off the bottles now and return home. Shall I call your coachmen for you?”

  Both men shook their heads in unison, but it was Mayweather who spoke. “Eh… Bother not! We still have at least a half a dozen more bottles to go. Then we shall visit Madame’s. It will be a long time before we return home, Brandon. The night is still young, after all. We must continue to make merry.”

  Edward knew it was useless trying to convince them otherwise, so he simply said, “Of course.” Tipping his hat at them, he added, “Very well then. I bid you goodnight.”

  With those words, he started to make his way out of the club.

  As he walked away, the conversation with the men in the club echoed in his head. He knew it was hard for anyone to believe he had been without a woman since his wife left.

  After all, it was the common practice for many noblemen to keep mistresses even after marriage.

  He was not entirely innocent either. In the first weeks after Caroline had left, the thought had almost appealed to him. He had reckoned there would be no harm in calling Rosa to warm his bed.

  Thankfully, he had been sensible enough to banish the thought before it took root. He was no longer that kind of man. Besides, when he considered what had happened the last time he tried to lie with another woman, he was even more discouraged.

  He belonged to Caroline now. Only her.

  In a way, he was glad that he’d remained faithful to his wife. However, as Mayweather had said, a man had needs.

  How long would it be until he would look to his wife to satisfy those needs for him? Especially when he desired her still, even in her absence.

  He missed her, very much.

  He missed everything about her. Her soft chuckle, her happy laughter, her warm smile, her quiet giggle.

  He missed her soothing voice, those beautiful eyes. He missed her presence and the scent of roses that often filled his nostrils whenever she was near.

  He missed running into her in the hallway, sharing a quiet meal with her.

  He missed the happy, carefree girl she had once been. He was aware that ever since he had returned to her life, Caroline had ceased to be that lady.

  Edward only had himself to blame for that. When he should have made her happy, loving her all the more for all those years she waited for him, what had he done?

  He wondered about her often. How she fared. If she was sad. If she thought of him. He wo
ndered if she would ever forgive him.

  Day after day, he wrestled against the urge to go to her.

  It was a miserable life he was living, even worse than it had been when he had been at war, marching to battle every other day.