The Courtesan Duchess

by Joanna Shupe

  God, he’d made a hash of it.

  One thing for certain, if Julia couldn’t forgive him then he’d leave for the Continent as quickly as possible. It made sense. Julia had made it clear she didn’t need him, and he’d already straightened out the estate finances. She’d never want for anything ever again. So what more could he do by staying in England?

  When he finally knocked on his wife’s door, he was not sure what to expect. Would she even see him?

  The door cracked an inch and Theo’s round face appeared. “Come in, Your Grace,” she whispered, holding a finger up to her lips.

  Nick stepped inside and saw a tiny bundle in Lady Carville’s arms. His breath hitched. Fuzzy black hair covered the baby’s head. He couldn’t look away from the small delicate face, with long dark lashes resting on her cheeks as she slept.

  Theo took his arm and led him past Julia’s bed, where his wife was currently sleeping. There were hollows under Julia’s eyes, her skin a ghostly white. She appeared exhausted.

  They entered Julia’s sitting room, and Theo closed the door.

  “Pardon me for asking, but where the devil have you been?” Theo gave him a hard glare though her voice remained soft. “She needed you, Your Grace.”

  Nick frowned. “What are you talking about? She told me to leave. I went back to the inn last night.”

  Theo sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “She called for you. For hours. She had a rough time of it and wanted to see you.”

  He must have more alcohol left in his system than he thought because none of this made sense. “Lady Lambert said—” And then it hit him. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had he assumed Angela spoke the truth? He, of all people, should know how deceitful she could be, despite her assurances that she had changed.

  “I am an idiot,” he mumbled.

  “Yes, you are. Now sit down and I’ll give you your daughter.”

  Nick froze. “Oh, no. I—”

  “Nonsense.” Theo steered him to a rocking chair that had been placed by the window. “Sit down.”

  He did as she bade, though he could hardly breathe. Surely he would hurt such a small thing with his big hands. How did one even hold a baby?

  Theo gave him a few directions on the placement of his arms, then leaned over and gently transferred the tiny bundle to him. God in heaven, she was small. And bellissima, as the Venetians would say. His daughter shifted, snuggling further into him, and emotion clogged his throat.

  “Her name is Olivia,” Theo whispered.

  He nodded, unable to speak or look anywhere but at his daughter’s adorable pink face. Her perfect features, from a tiny nose to the delicate bow of her upper lip, reminded him of Julia. The hair, however, was his.

  Regret clogged his lungs. Julia had needed him. Called for him for hours, apparently. He should have been here last night for her—and for Olivia. And here he’d been hopeful that she would forgive him. She ought to have him horsewhipped. How could he have been so stupid?

  Lady Lambert would be dealt with today.

  Theo patted his shoulder. “I shall be back, Your Grace. I need to check on my niece. Just keep doing what you are doing.”

  Nick continued rocking while watching his daughter’s chest rise and fall. His eyes grew suspiciously watery. It seemed surreal to think this perfect creature was a part of him. What had he ever done to deserve anything this precious?

  If he’d known Julia had wanted him last night, nothing would have driven him from the Hall. He planned to tell her so, to apologize every minute, every hour until his wife forgave him. They might not get back what they once had in Venice, but they were tied together for life, both through marriage and their child. He would make her understand.

  Right now, however, he was content to sit here with his daughter and hold her while she slept.

  After about twenty minutes, Theo returned. “Your wife is awake, if you’d like to see her.” She bent and removed Olivia from his arms, leaving Nick little choice but to go face Julia.

  He crossed through the adjoining door and into his wife’s bedchamber. She looked tired, propped up on pillows and sipping tea. Her blond hair had been pulled up into a hasty knot, and her eyes raked over him as he entered.

  “You look as if you’ve been dragged behind a team of horses, Colton. Did you have an amusing evening out, then?” Her voice was rough and scratchy.

  “No,” he said quietly, shutting the door behind him to give them privacy. “I did not. I—I was told you didn’t want me here, Julia.”

  “It hardly matters now, does it?”

  “It matters to me. It matters a great deal.” He shifted on his feet, waiting for her to say something else.

  When she didn’t, he moved closer to the bed. “I fear I owe you a greater apology than I could ever make. I cannot blame you for your anger or resentment. Obviously, I never should have doubted your word.”

  She gave him a bland stare devoid of all emotion. “Is that all? I should like to feed Olivia if you’re through.”

  He almost winced at the lack of feeling in her voice but determinedly pushed on. “She’s beautiful.”

  Julia smiled, a real smile that softened her face and reminded him of the enchanting woman from Venice. “Thank you.”

  An awkward silence descended. Nick clasped his hands behind his back. “I plan on having my things brought over from the inn.”

  “You are moving back into the Hall?” She frowned. “For how long?”

  He shrugged. The idea had just come to him, actually. At some point while holding his daughter, Nick had decided to stay and fight. But he would not tell Julia his plans. Not yet. “It’s my home, you know. And the food’s better here.”

  “Which didn’t seem to be a problem during the past three weeks while you were in hiding.”

  So she knew. “I was not hiding. I did not want to upset you or the babe before the birth. It was out of consideration for you that I stayed away.”

  She snorted. “Consideration? You must think me dense. Pray just save us all the aggravation and go back to London, Colton.”

  “Not just yet,” he replied. At least the exchange had brought some color back to her cheeks. “Occasionally, the aggravating things are the ones most worth pursuing.” With that, he bowed and continued on to his bedchamber.

  Let his wife think on that.

  He rang for Fitz, and then went to the looking glass. Team of horses, indeed. He splashed cold water on his face and dried off with a towel.

  When Fitz arrived a few minutes later, Nick instructed him to have his things brought over from the inn.

  “So you’ll be stayin’ here?”

  Nick nodded. “I am.”

  “About damned time, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

  “When have you not said precisely what you wanted, Fitz?” he muttered, dryly. “Before you go, however, I need you to do one very important task.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  There are times when avoidance is necessary in order to teach him a lesson.

  —Miss Pearl Kelly to the Duchess of Colton

  Nick was flipping through the pages of a book when Lady Lambert entered the library. “Have a seat,” he said, not even bothering to stand.

  No, he would not show her respect or kindness. In fact, he wanted her as uncomfortable as possible, so he intentionally let the silence stretch for a few moments. Finally closing the book, he set it on a side table and met her eyes.

  “I cannot fathom what game you played last night, madam. In fact, I doubt there is any explanation you could offer that I would believe or excuse. I do not yet know the reasons why, but you used the birth of my daughter to exact some small measure of revenge against me.”

  She produced a sly smile. “Even if Julia had a moment of weakness where she called for you, I know she does not truly want you. I’ve heard her say so upon many occasions.”

  “While that may be true, it was not for you to decide. I will not have you interfering in my ma
rriage.”

  “Your marriage?” she said, adding a laugh. “Your marriage is a farce, Your Grace.” She stood up and moved slowly toward him. “Come now,” she purred, and the hair on the back of Nick’s neck stood up. “There’s nothing standing in our way now. Harry is dead and your wife cannot stand you. We can finally be together, as we always planned.”

  Bloody hell. Nick slipped out of his chair and stood behind it, the wood serving as a barrier between him and his sister-in-law. “We planned nothing of the kind, madam. I told you nine years ago I did not want you. Nothing has changed that—not even Harry’s death.”

  “I do not believe you. Even Harry knew there was something between us.”

  Nick clenched his fists, his muscles tightening. The guilt over his brother’s death was a black shadow on Nick’s soul. “There was never anything between us, and anything Harry believed were lies from your lips.”

  “Don’t you see? It’s not too late for us.”

  “I want you out of the house, Angela.” He strode to the pull and rang for Thorton. “I will not have you spreading more lies.”

  Thorton appeared. “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “Have Fitz come and escort Lady Lambert to the dower house.”

  Angela gasped as Thorton closed the door. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am. And if I did not hold my brother in such high regard, I would toss you out on the street after what you have done. So be grateful I’m permitting you to stay at the dower house. Your maid will pack up your things and send them over.”

  “Colton, be reasonable—”

  “I am being more than reasonable,” he snapped. “But if you ever interfere with my family again, I’ll cut you off without a farthing. You’ll be out on the street to fend for yourself.”

  Her lips tightened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I more than dare, madam. I promise to ruin you if you cause more trouble in this house.”

  A knock sounded and Nick bellowed, “Enter.”

  Fitz came in, his expression positively forbidding. “You wanted me, Your Grace?”

  “Escort Lady Lambert to the dower house, Fitz.”

  “Very well.” Fitz crossed his arms across his massive chest and waited.

  “Nick, please—”

  He held up his hand. “It is ‘Your Grace.’ And I want you to leave this house, madam, and never come back.” Nick looked at Fitz. “If she refuses to go or gives you a whit of trouble, you have my permission to throw her over your shoulder and carry her out of here.”

  “He what?” Julia leaned forward, anxious to hear more while she gently patted Olivia’s back.

  Theo nodded. “Threw her out of the house. Told Fitz to carry her out like a sack of flour, if need be. Fitz said she was spitting mad. Seethed all the way the dower house.”

  It was hard to muster up sympathy for Angela, Julia thought. Not when she’d purposely lied. Julia was every bit as furious as Nick at the woman’s deception and intended to get answers as to why at her first opportunity. It would need to wait, however, until she’d recovered from the birth. She placed a soft kiss on Olivia’s head and settled into the pillows behind her.

  “Has Colton come back to see you?”

  “No. Not since yesterday.” Truthfully, she didn’t expect to see much of her husband whether he was in the house or not. She was bedridden for at least the next few days, and dinners would be taken in her room.

  One question nagged at her, however. Why was Colton here? He’d lurked in the village weeks before the birth, unwilling to even sleep under the same roof as his wife, so why not return to London now that their daughter had been born?

  Julia gazed down at Olivia, sleeping peacefully on her chest. Her heart swelled with love and pride. No, she hadn’t given Colton an heir, not that her husband wanted one. But Olivia was precious all the same. Her daughter would always be a reminder of those glorious seven days in Venice.

  Before it had all gone horribly wrong.

  There was no hope of fixing their marriage. Forgiveness would never come, at least not from her. Things had gone too far. He’d been cruel and then ignored her when she’d needed him most. The man was rude, arrogant, and utterly self-absorbed. No matter how much her heart yearned for him by day—and her body ached for him by night—she could not forget the past months. No, he’d broken her heart once. She would not risk that happening again.

  A knock sounded. Mrs. Larkman poked her head in. “Oh, the little lamb,” Olivia’s nursemaid said softly and drew near the bed. “Let me take her up, Your Grace, and get her settled.” She reached out and carefully took the sleeping baby away from Julia.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Larkman,” Julia whispered, and blew a kiss toward her beautiful little girl.

  “The woman seems very capable,” Theo commented when Mrs. Larkman had left the room.

  “Indeed, she is. I like her tremendously and she seems to truly adore little Olivia.” She picked up her cup of tea and regarded her aunt. “I swear, Theo, I have never seen you look so well. You are positively glowing. And you’ve stopped drinking so much over the last few weeks.” Her aunt’s eyes widened, and Julia smiled. “Of course I noticed, silly. I suppose I don’t need to ask how goes your affair with Fitz.”

  Theo grinned. “I am happy. He is a good man. In fact, if you do not need me . . .”

  “Go,” Julia ordered with a smile of her own. “I plan to take a short nap anyhow.”

  “Very well, my dear. Get some rest and I will come by later.” She patted Julia’s arm and then departed.

  Not long after, Julia was almost asleep when the adjoining door to her husband’s chambers opened.

  Her lids flew open in time to see Colton stroll inside, all beautiful male arrogance. Instantly, her shoulders stiffened. “Do you not knock, husband?”

  One black brow shot up, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “No.”

  Annoyed, she settled farther down in bed and shut her eyes. “I am taking a nap, Colton. So if you do not mind . . .”

  “I do not plan to stay. I merely wished to inquire after your health and bring you something to read.”

  Julia peeked and saw a small book in his hands. Colton . . . being thoughtful? Well, it was a waste of his time. She let her lids fall. “I am fine. And leave it on the nightstand on your way out.”

  His footfalls drew closer and she heard a soft thump. “It’s one of my favorites,” he said. “I found it in the library.” Then she felt his large hand pass over her forehead in a gentle caress, and the familiar scent of his soap filled her senses. Julia had to fight to remain still.

  What was he about?

  Without another word he retreated, and the door snicked shut behind him. Since sleep was no longer an option, she stared at the ceiling, wondering over his actions. Curiosity had her reaching for the book. It was Voltaire’s Tancrède, the play on which Rossini had based Tancredi—a not-entirely-subtle reminder of the first opera they’d attended together in Venice.

  She softened for a moment, her heart giving a silly stutter. No doubt Colton could be charming when he chose. Yet she must strive to remain unaffected; she would not risk loving a man so undeserving of the emotion.

  Even if she still craved him with every breath.

  The clock struck one, the lonely sound echoing in the darkness of Julia’s chamber. She blinked, exhausted yet unable to sleep. It had been three weeks since she’d given birth to Olivia. She loved every precious minute of being a mother, from holding and feeding her daughter to just looking at Olivia’s perfect little face as her daughter slept. The moments when she wasn’t with Olivia, Julia ached until she could hold her baby again.

  But it wasn’t the yearning for her daughter keeping her awake tonight. No, someone else was responsible for the anxiety that had her tossing and turning.

  Her husband was driving her to distraction.

  Every time she found herself alone, Nick appeared. He inquired after her health, asked about Olivia, brought her tr
eats from the kitchens, even produced another book for her to read. Today, he’d brought her a flower—a dahlia, he’d called it. A fairly new addition to the Seaton Hall gardens, its dramatic round shape made up of deep red, pointed petals.

  She didn’t know what to make of his attention. He never tried anything physical or touched her in any way, not since he’d run a hand over her hair. Rather, he seemed content to spend time with her, almost as if he were wooing her. Whatever the reason for it, she found his presence disconcerting.

  In fact, Julia could have resumed taking dinners in the dining room each evening, but she’d continued to eat in her own room. It was cowardice, pure and simple—a desire to spend as little time with her husband as possible.

  Since she was awake, she decided to go up to the nursery to see Olivia. Donning a wrapper and grabbing a taper, she slipped into the corridor. The house was quiet, everyone long abed. She took the stairs quickly and made her way to the room she and Sophie had so carefully decorated.

  A soft yellow glow streamed from the open nursery door, a sign Mrs. Larkman must already be there. As Julia drew near, she was surprised to hear a deep male voice carry into the corridor. It was . . . Nick. What in heaven’s name was he doing in the nursery? Julia quickly blew out her candle, stopped just outside the door, and peeked in.

  Her husband relaxed in a rocking chair near the fire, a sleeping Olivia in his big arms. Their daughter was cradled against his chest while he rocked gently. He’d removed his coat, leaving him in a white linen shirt, cravat, and ruby red waistcoat. Seeing his dark head bent so close to their daughter, emotion gripped Julia and tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. She stepped away from the door to avoid being noticed and held still, listening.

  “—and on the east side of the house are the roses, Livvie.”

  Livvie? He already had a pet name for their daughter?

  “All different colors. Pink, white, red. But you must mind the thorns if you decide to pick one. Now, your mother favors gardenias, at least in her perfume. We have those out in the greenhouse. I’ll show them to you one day.”