The Hazardous Gamble of the Alluring Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “Oh, Mother,” Roger said, “I am so sorry.” He held her close.

  “I did my grieving a long time ago in the dark tunnels,” the Duchess said. “But you, my son, my solace was that you were not with us. I thought of you often, and I would not give them my name or yours. I think he knew, but I would not give it. He used the Boot on my feet.”

  “The boot?” Roger asked, confused.

  The Major coughed. “It is a device, sir, placed on the foot and then tightened until the bones break.”

  “Yes,” said the Duchess, “the Boot. I will not walk again, my son, or dance. My feet were broken and then bound like a Chinese lady’s feet. I was quiet for a long time. Then one night they forgot and left the door unlocked. I crawled away, and I hid in the cellars. I found my way to the sewers. I am so small, I could slide through places. I was always good at hide and seek. Just ask my sisters.”

  Then her face crumpled. “But you cannot ask my sisters, because they are no more. Only Amelia, the baby, is left. And she doesn’t know anything because I was a grown-up lady while she was barely out of swaddling clothes.”

  “Shhh, shhh, Mother,” Roger soothed her, “You will be able to see Aunt Garrity soon. She is keeping house for me. She and Uncle Garrity fell on hard times, and he passed away.”

  “Pooh,” the Duchess sniffed. “Alloysius was hard times. I have lost count of the times we slipped Amelia a shilling or two for food, or took over a basket from our own pantries. Your father never minded, he could see what was going on. Alloysius Garrity would give a beggar the shirt off his own back. That was not so very bad. But then he would give the shirt off his wife’s back, his children’s backs, and off the back of the next passing stranger who looked like he had a shilling or two. I never quite understood it.”

  “I thought Uncle Garrity was just stingy,” Roger said.

  “Oh, he was generous enough,” The Duchess sipped her soup again, savoring it. “Just not with those closest to him. I’m trying to think. Did he introduce Lord Goldstone to my Duke of Shelthom? No, I think it was the other way around. Alloysius did not like the Earl, and for once he was right. What a despicable man!”

  She sipped her rum toddy. “Oh, my, that is good! Warms you right down to your toes.”

  “What did Goldstone want?” Roger asked.

  “You know, I never did understand that.” the Duchess considered the question for a moment. “He had a title, land, and money. The father, the one I first knew, was a widower. The son had trouble fixing the interest of young ladies of the ton. Even though he seemed successful, guardians steered their charges away from him. He would be near your age, Roger, and perhaps desperate for an heir. If he dies without issue, all of the estate goes to a distant cousin.”

  “I think some things might be clearing up, then,” Roger said. “I do not have an understanding of the full import, but I am beginning to have an inkling of what some of this has been about.”

  “I’m glad someone does,” Aaron remarked, “for it is quite beyond my comprehension, and I am generally deemed as one who can sort fact from fancy.”

  “And therein lies the problem,” Roger replied, “for a great deal of this turns upon fancy and very little on fact. Finish your soup, and let me ponder on what I know and what the two of you have told me.”

  The ship’s captain rummaged in the general sea chest and came up with a chemise and skirt, as well as a loose shirt for the Duchess, and some dry clothing for Bochil. The Duchess declared she needed no maid, having had none for two years, but that she would welcome a trim for her hair.

  It was well into the night before they came to dock. The ship’s captain invited them to pass the night aboard, but Roger was anxious to get back to the townhouse. With all that occurred in the last few days, he was worried about Dahlia and the rest of his household.

  When they were back on dry land, he sent for his horse and hired a horse drawn sedan for his mother and Aaron. Aaron protested that he would be fine on horseback.

  “In truth,” Roger said, “I would appreciate it if you would keep an eye on my mother. I cannot but think that she is fragile after her recent ordeal.”

  “Very well,” Aaron said. “I could do with a little rest. I will own that my head throbs and my throat feels a bit raw.”

  With that settled, they hired a pair of mounted linkboys and hurried back to the townhouse.

  When they arrived, they found it as brightly lit as the night that Roger had first brought Dahlia there. But now, instead of the usual quiet exterior, guards were posted outside, and night lamps were lit in the gardens as well as the front.

  Peter opened the front door, and intoned in his very best butler diction, “The Duke of Shelthom is home.”

  Roger had just dismounted when Dahlia came flying out the door, with no thought for dignity. “Roger!” she cried, “I am so glad to see you.”

  She ran down the steps, and Roger had only time to open his arms before she leaped into them. “Oh, Roger,” she said softly, “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you safely arrived. Have you news of my brother?”

  “Better than that,” Roger said. “I have brought him home.”

  “That is wonderful! So, very, very wonderful! That vile man has been saying such things about him and about you.” She buried her face in his shirt front and gave a great sigh.

  “Wait! Wait! What vile man?” Roger asked.

  Dahlia tipped up her face to him. “Lord Goldstone, of course. He decided to come calling while you were gone. I believe he thought that with both you and my brother gone, and my father disabled, he would get the better of us here.”

  “Egad!” Roger exclaimed. “No wonder you are all of a twitter. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “I am fine. He has a giant lump on his head, thanks to Scarlett. And his two cronies tucked their tails and went away. But Herbert said not to trust that, and we’ve kept watch ever since. But, my brother! What of Aaron?”

  “He is well. A bit shaken, and no doubt very tired. But well. And I have someone I want you to meet.” Roger led her to the sedan, where the driver and the coachmen were patiently waiting.

  One of the coachmen, let down the steps, and Aaron carefully handed the Duchess out to Roger.

  Roger set her down so that she had some semblance of standing, positioning the Duchess so that her right hand was free. “You must be Dahlia,” she said. “I have heard so much about you. And we have brought your brother home, safe.”

  Dahlia looked up at the Duke wonderingly. Roger introduced them, “Lady Dahlia Lovell, please be known to Priscilla Kingman, Duchess of Shelthom, and my mother.”

  “Oh, Roger! How wonderful for you. We must get her inside and not keep you all standing about out here.”

  Aaron stepped down from the sedan, and Dahlia ran to him and hugged him. “Oh, Aaron, I feared the worst when you did not come home with Roger. Please don’t ever do that again.”

  “Merely repayment for the worst afternoon in my life,” Aaron said, “Now you know how I felt. I am well, little sister. Nothing the matter that a night’s sleep under a sound roof won’t cure.”

  Roger scooped his mother up in his arms, and Dahlia followed holding tightly to her brother’s arm. As they came to the door, Aunt Garrity met them. “Priscilla? Oh, sister!” Amelia Garrity did not fly at her sister, as Dahlia had at Roger and Aaron, but instead came forward with a grave step, looking as if she could scarcely believe her eyes. “Oh, Priscilla. We thought you were lost.”

  “Hello, Amelia. What are you doing in my house?” the Duchess asked.

  “Keeping house for your scapegrace son, Your Grace,” Mrs. Garrity bristled.

  “And what of Mr. Garrity? Is he fending for himself in the country?”

  “In the graveyard, sister mine. I am a widow now.”

  “As am I,” sighed the Duchess. “Peter!” she called with a glad voice.

  “Your Grace,” Peter swept her a deep bow. “I cannot begin to say how glad I am
to see you come home.”

  They all gathered in the dining room where Cottleroy lay on his cot. “Christopher!” the Duchess exclaimed. “Whatever has happened to you?”

  “A small misadventure,” The Duke of Cottleroy said, “Forgive me for not standing to greet you.”

  “It is quite all right,” she said graciously. “I fear I cannot properly curtsy to you either.”

  Peter brought in refreshments. “I am afraid I do not have Your Grace’s favorites on hand,” he said gravely, “but I hope these will find favor in your eyes.”

  “Oh, Peter,” the Duchess said, “I cannot tell you how often I lay awake nights dreaming of strawberry scones. Sometimes I even dreamed of brussel sprouts, which I truly cannot abide. This is wonderful.”

  Roger was pleased to note that the odd dreaminess that had at first characterized the Duchess’s speech was passing away now.

  Roger had ensconced the Duchess in a wingback chair that two footmen had brought in, and now he sat beside Dahlia, holding her hand while she told how Goldstone had forced his way in.

  “And then,” she concluded, “Miss Scarlet thumped him on the head with a frying pan. We tied him up with the curtain pulls from the little sitting room and have left him there under guard.”

  “Who did you leave to guard him?” Roger asked.

  “Two of the stablemen. They still have not forgotten what was done to your team of mares. But whatever shall we do with him?”

  Herbert entered the room. “The Major will take him to the Tower shortly. He has already sent messengers. It seems, Your Grace, your trap ship turned tables on their boarders, and have come into port with their would-be captors in irons.”

  Roger nodded. “When it was just a matter of having challenged me to a duel and a dispute over a betrothal, his actions were picadilloes. But he has committed treason and murder, as well as harming other members of the peerage. I do not think he will get off lightly.”

  Dahlia clung to Roger’s hand tightly and to her brother’s hand on the other side. “I cannot think of a better place for him,” she said.

  Meanwhile, the Duchess was chattering gaily with her sister, Scarlett, Lisa and the Duke of Cottleroy. She broke off in mid-sentence and turned to Roger and Dahlia. “His Grace, The Duke of Cottleroy, tells me that congratulations are in order, children. Have you set the date yet?”

  “Not yet,” Dahlia said, at the same time that Roger put in, “been a bit too busy since she said yes.”

  “Then we should have it soon,” the Duchess announced firmly. “Life is far too uncertain for the Shelthom estate to be in contention. Would you not say so, Cottleroy?”

  “Indeed,” said the old Duke from where he lay on his cot.

  There was a clattering at the door, and Peter could be heard saying, “Right this way, gentlemen.”

  A few more minutes passed, and then Goldstone’s voice could be heard, cursing everyone roundly. “Now, then, that will do,” the Major’s voice this time. Suddenly the curses were silenced.

  Peter appeared at the doorway. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Major Tomlinson would have a word.”

  Roger nodded his consent. “See him in, Peter. We will be glad to hear what he has to say.”

  Major Tomlinson paused at the doorway. “Quite a crowd here,” he said.

  “All friends,” Roger said. “Do come in, Major. Everyone here has had a part and would, no doubt, be glad to know the whole story.”

  Peter gestured to the footman who waited by the dining room door, and soon the Major was made comfortable in an easy chair. Drinks were brought for everyone, including The Duke of Cottleroy.

  “Well,” Major Tomlinson began, “It started with a village meeting. Seems like Harry Warwick had some newfangled ideas he’d gotten while visiting France a few years back. When the late Lord Goldstone passed, Napoleon was losing badly. The new Lord Goldstone took it into his head that Napoleon’s was a noble cause and the wave of the future.”

  Major Tomlinson paused, and took a long drink of brandy. “Proper stuff, that. You keep a good cellar, Duke Shelthon. Anyway, Goldstone fancied himself a privateer, and he started running an insurance racket on the side. Nothing new, mind. His ancestors did a good bit of it, luring ships in onto the rocks and robbing them.”

  “But why me?” Dahila burst in. “Why did he want to marry me?”

  “Well as to that, Lady Dahlia, he liked the look of your little island. It was placed just right off the coast of Old Fortress Island, not too far from the Star Fortress. He wanted it as a staging area for his invasion of England.”

  “His what?” Roger set his glass down forcefully on the table.

  “His invasion. Oh, and it gets even better. He planned to marry Lady Dahlia, get an heir from her, and then do away with the Duke of Cottleroy, Lord Bochil and Lady Dahlia. In his mind, that would give him inheritance rights. Or at least his son would inherit.”

  “I should have killed him,” Roger said. “I could have easily enough. For all his reputation, he is only a passible swordsman.”

  “How did you get so good at sword fighting, Roger?” Aaron asked. “That move when you dropped to the floor was as pretty as any I’ve ever seen.”

  “Well, I seem to have a knack for it, so I was a trainer in my regiment. Not much call for sword fighting, but it did keep my hand in.”

  “You are the most complete hand,” Major Tomlinson raised his glass in a toast. “To the finest swordsman of my acquaintance, and I’ve known a few.”

  Chapter 37

  The evening grew late. With Lord Goldstone bundled off to the tower and his crew in custody as well, they were able to relax a little but remained watchful.

  Dahlia had helped Mrs. Garrity put the Duchess to bed in Dahlia’s own bed behind the curtains, and four strong footmen had carried her father, the Duke of Cottleroy, into the men’s dining room dormitory, and placed his bed near Aaron’s. All the doors were closed with windows shuttered throughout the house. Dahlia and Roger sat quietly before the fire in the same small sitting room where they had tried to make a barley posset the first night after she had left her home.

  Dahlia caught the Duke looking at her with that strange expression, the one she could not interpret. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  “You,” he said. “Any other lady would have fled home to her father or to her friends. I had no idea what I was setting in motion when I came to London to find me a wife.”

  “Like the old nursery song,” Dahlia laughed. “Our nanny used to sing it to us when we were all quite young, before Miss Emma came to be our governess. Were there rats and mice at the Shelthom estate? And did you keep your bread and cheese on a shelf?”

  “No rats or mice. Or if there were, the staff didn’t tell me about it. As for the bread and cheese, I believe there are shelves in the pantry. I’m sure if there were not, the cook would have complained of it.”

  Laughter bubbled up again out of Dahlia’s throat. “You are not like any gentleman I have met before. How is it that you can know things about your horses and how to fight, but not know if there are shelves in your pantry?”

  “I needed to know about horses, and a soldier who does not to know how to fight is soon a very dead soldier. How did you come to know how to count linens and mend sheets?” Roger smiled at her, tracing the curve of her cheek with one finger.

  “It was a punishment. I spilled ink in the linen press in my room, and Miss Emma wanted me to understand how much work I had caused the staff. Dear Miss Emma. I wonder how she and the girls are doing?” Dahlia caught the hand that was caressing her cheek and leaned into it.

  “Aaron sent my coach for them. He said that one of his mates from Oxford has a sister who had invited them to the seashore. Now that your Goldstone is in the Tower, there is no need for them to be so far away. They should be here by noon tomorrow.” Roger shifted on the sofa so that he could encourage Dahlia to nestle beside him.

  “That is good to know,” Dahlia said, following Ro
ger’s lead, and leaning into his shoulder. “But you still have not explained what you were thinking. You get this look on your face the like of which I have seen on no one else.”

  “Since I can’t see my face, I have no idea what you are seeing, but I know what I see.” Roger traced her lips with his thumb. “Miss Scarlett told me about your fight with Goldstone. How did you learn to fight with a quarterstaff?”

  “Aaron taught me. We used to play at being Robin Hood and Friar Tuck. Sometimes I would be Maid Marion, but she was really boring.” Dahlia nestled a little closer. “How did you learn to fight like you did?”