“My father would have approved of Harold’s decision. He was convinced Harold was in increasing danger the longer he pursued his relationship with Stewart.” Dev’s voice was flat. “I’ve always trusted his judgment, and he believed your marriage was for the best. He was Prescott’s conscience. He has always been my touchstone. But now…”
He seemed to swallow hard before he could go on. “Sophia, I must contact Harold. He cannot remain in hiding. He is all the duchess has left. He is the duke.”
Sophia did not want to hear any of this right now. She wanted him to turn and embrace her. She wanted to give him comfort.
She placed her other hand over the one she held and massaged it, as though for warmth. “Have you written to them?”
“I have. But I don’t know if it was soon enough. In fact, I’m almost certain it was not. I’ve no way of being assured he will receive my letter. He is going to learn of his father’s and brother’s death in some newspaper in a distant land. We can only wait, and hope he sends word back to us soon.”
Sophia had never been at a loss of words with Dev. But, upon the thoughts he’d voiced, she did not know what to say.
Harold needed to return. She’d known it all along. The complications of their situation were becoming more real with each passing day.
Her courses were yet absent.
This could be due to the traumatic events that had occurred over the past month, but even Sophia was beginning to doubt such reasoning.
This was not the time nor the place to discuss such a possibility with Dev…
And then he turned to her. “Is it true? Are you…?”
…or so she had thought.
Lacking privacy in her life was becoming intolerable. If it wasn’t the housekeeper, it was her maid; if not the maid, then the duchess. She was going to have to rectify this situation somehow.
But, she could do nothing about it now. “I am not certain. But the duchess is hopeful — more than hopeful — desperate for me to be.”
Her words must have held a hint of resignation, for he leaned closer to her in concern. “You’re all done in, aren’t you?” His tone softened. This was her Dev. This was the voice that would be her undoing.
“I’m well enough. It has been a long journey… I never would have thought anything like this could happen. Everything, Dev, has spun out of control, and I… I miss you so.” She could not contain it. Just as on that first occasion, when she’d told him she loved him.
When had that been? How soon had she known?
From that first instant, when he’d dropped into the corner behind the lion’s cage with her, she’d known.
She’d known he was safe.
She’d known he would protect her.
She’d welcomed his nearness even then. And now, at the worst possible time, she needed him more than ever.
“Sophia, I cannot take Harold’s birthright.” He pulled her into his arms. They must be ever so careful. The door was not locked. They could be interrupted any moment. “And yet, you may be carrying my child.”
He had the right of it, for certain. They needed to locate Harold and bring him back somehow.
She pressed her face into his chest and rubbed her hands over his back. “Dev,” she said and then tilted her head back.
It was as though neither of them could stop it, this connection, this need. His mouth was there, waiting for hers. Their kiss was tender, comforting, two people afraid to release their emotions, afraid to allow anything more.
Sophia knew it would end, any moment, any second.
She pressed herself into him, as close as was humanly possible. She’d pulled back her veil when they’d entered the house, and now it covered only her hair. His hands searched beneath it until he found her nape.
Sounds from outside the door penetrated their need, and they pulled away from one another abruptly. Sophia turned from him, and found herself facing the duke.
Her mother was here!
Dev had turned back toward his father and ignored the newcomer.
Her mother seemed flustered, but to Sophia, appeared familiar and comforting. “Darling, oh, darling, such a horrible time for us all.” She pulled Sophia into her arms. The tears Sophia had been holding back finally escaped.
“Mama,” she said. Her mother’s sympathy was her undoing. A wanton woman one moment and a weepy child the next.
“Come, dear, let’s get you to your chamber so that you may rest. The duchess has told me everything. I’m going to assist you into your bed, and you are going to have a well-needed night’s sleep before leaving for Kent tomorrow.” Her mama did not acknowledge Dev as she led Sophia out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dev was duty-bound to assume the burdens of the dukedom until matters of the estate were settled. As he was the closest living male relative, his responsibilities were social, legal, and financial in nature. No one questioned that any other person ought to step into the ducal shoes his uncle had left behind. Most, in fact, looked to him as though he’d already inherited the title, for the moment, anyhow.
He drew the line, though, and snapped at anyone who dared address him as “your grace.”
No legal declaration as of yet had been made and would not be for an undetermined length of time.
Two issues remained in doubt, first the question as to whether or not Sophia was carrying, and the second, the fact that a death certificate had not yet been issued for Harold, as a body had never been recovered.
Dev was diligent in focusing on immediate matters as they arose and deliberately chose to put off any decision that would affect the dukedom long-term.
Initially, the most pressing concern he faced was to support his aunt through the funerals. The duchess had insisted upon attending the full pomp and circumstances of the services but refused to allow Sophia to join her.
It was unusual even, for her grace to be present.
She did, however, lean heavily upon Dev.
The long, drawn-out ceremony concluded with a formal procession transporting the bodies to Eden’s Court for burial. All of this took over twelve hours and made for an exhausting day. Her grace remained poised and stoic through it all. Dev was only grateful Sophia had been sent ahead with her maid to Kent. She fretted too much already. None of it could be good for the baby she might be carrying.
His presence at the funeral was only the beginning of Dev’s new responsibilities.
Over the next weeks, he’d had to abandon all thoughts of working Dartmouth Place, instead focusing his energies upon resolving the quagmire he’d landed himself in. He’d yet to hear from Harold, in code or otherwise.
Meanwhile, the solicitors were most concerned with an issue Dev was quite reluctant to address.
“Your grace — sir,” the man corrected himself. No one knew how they ought to address him.
“Captain Brookes,” Dev supplied.
“Captain Brookes, then.” The short balding man cleared his throat. “Many issues could be resolved if we were allowed irrefutable determination as to the, er, condition of Lord Harold’s widow. It is my understanding that she has not yet called in a physician, and yet it has not been reported that she is… not with child.”
Dev did not suppress his annoyance. “Lady Harold will inform us when she is ready. I’ll not press her on this matter.”
The solicitor failed to hide his frustration at Dev’s response. Nonetheless, he pulled out another document and moved to his next item of business.
“The other matter can be considered resolved, however,” the solicitor said as he handed an official-looking document to Dev. It was titled, Certificate of Death. Dev assumed it was a copy of some sort, of either Prescotts’, St. John’s or his father’s, but when he looked down, he read Harold’s name.
Glancing up at the solicitor, he raised his brows in question.
The solicitor jumped to answer. “It seems, your… er, Captain Brookes, that what remains of Lord Harold has been recovered. The mag
istrate assumed you would wish to have what’s left of his body brought here. He asked me to deliver this to you and inform the duchess as well.”
A ghastly mistake had obviously been made. “Who identified the body?” Dev asked.
The solicitor frowned. “Well, you see, the body was virtually unrecognizable and not completely intact, what with the sea, and fish and whatnot. Three of the servants at Priory Point, however, confirmed that the ring discovered with the body belonged to the deceased –– belonged to Lord Harold.”
Dev had not expected that.
Harold had safely escaped Priory Point.
Would not Stewart have contacted him if Harold had failed to show? Of course, Stewart would have returned as well.
The body could not possibly be his cousin’s.
He’d assisted Harold out of the cave, himself. He’d watched as he’d rushed away on foot, in order to rendezvous with the mount waiting for him a short mile from the cliff.
Dev’s heart dropped into his shoes at the possibility of Harold meeting up with some sort of catastrophe when he departed. But Stewart would have contacted him; Dev was certain.
“The remains are being sent here?”
“They are outside on the coach, sir.”
Dev took in a deep breath.
The solicitor pulled a small cloth sack from his jacket pocket and handed it to Dev. Inside was a ring Dev had known Harold to wear for most of his adult life. “The remains are not… something any refined person would wish to examine. They have been transported as a courtesy. You will present the ring to her grace and to Lady Harold?”
Dev nodded. “Of course.”
“And the other?” The solicitor looked at him hopefully.
“Will be known in due time.” Dev clamped his lips together to keep from biting the man’s head off. When the solicitor went to withdraw another form from his pile of paperwork, Dev stopped him. “We’ll continue tomorrow. All of you may return then.”
The man paused and then looked to his colleagues and shrugged. It took a few moments for all of them to collect their belongings and leave.
Ignoring them, Dev sat behind the oversized desk and waited for the room to empty.
It must be a mistake.
He did not wish to contemplate more death. But whose body had the solicitors brought to them? And why had the person been wearing Harold’s ring? It could not possibly be Harold’s. It could not!
This had all been done so that Harold could live a life without fear, so that he could live!
It had been done for Sophia, and for himself, yes, but mostly, they knew, it had been done for Harold. Had it not? And if Harold had not survived, if some tragedy had befallen him somehow, then all of it had been for naught!
He was saved from further contemplation when, with a short knock, the door opened again.
“Dev.” It was the duchess. She looked more herself, these last few days, apparently finding some hope in Sophia’s condition. “I would have joined you with the solicitors earlier but did not know they had arrived.”
The duchess, even more so than the solicitors, was concerned with the matters of ascendancy. As well, any duchess would be.
Dev rose and waited for her to sit down.
Once she’d settled her gown around her, he handed her the certificate. It made no sense to hide this from anyone, especially, with the body on hand as well. He placed the ring in front of her while she perused the document. If a mistake had been made, she might clear it up rather quickly.
But Dev was quite certain this was Harold’s ring.
“A body was discovered near Priory Point. This was discovered with him.”
His aunt blinked away tears and reached for the ring. “Prescott gave it to him when he reached his majority.” She confirmed Dev’s opinion. “And so, for now, you are Prescott.”
Dev did not want to hear that. He ran both hands through his hair. “But Lady Harold—”
The duchess interrupted him. “I wish to speak with you about her.”
“Is she all right?” Sophia had looked pale as of late and had seemed to lack her normal energy. She’d been watched over closely, however, by both his aunt and her maid. He knew she was not happy. Despite residing in the same house, they’d not been alone together since before the funeral.
“She is fine.” His aunt smiled softly. “I am certain she is carrying. I think she is fearful something will go wrong. I believe that is why she is so reluctant to make a declaration. But her maid assures me…” She shrugged. “It has been over a month since his passing, and nearly two since they wed. It is the only logical conclusion.”
Dev waited. She’d said she wanted to discuss Sophia with him. Was there more?
“I think, Dev, that you and Sophia should wed.”
* * *
It took a minute for Dev to absorb his aunt’s words.
It was the desire of his heart to take Sophia as his wife. He already considered them wed, which made no sense, and yet, all the sense in the world. But this was not something he’d expected to hear from the duchess. Had she seen something? Had she heard something? Had Sophia spoken to her?
“She is in mourning,” Dev reminded his aunt, as though she would not have considered something so blatantly obvious. “We are all in mourning.”
“She is mourning, Dev, but she is also increasing. And I think she is fond of you. I think she is lonely and frightened.”
But if Harold lived, and if he returned, Sophia would be a bigamist. Dev was torn in that he wanted more than anything to take her under his protection, to be able to give her affection without hurting anyone, without hurting his aunt. It was as though the duchess were handing her to him on a silver platter. Giving both of them what they’d wanted all along.
He needed, however, to hear from Harold.
But would he? Ever? Frowning, he glanced at the certificate sitting on the edge of the desk.
If the body that had been recovered was not Harold, then exactly who was it, and why had he been wearing Harold’s ring? Despite what the solicitor said, he was going to have to make some attempt at identifying the deteriorated remains. But for now, the duchess awaited a response from him.
Dev knew his aunt all too well.
That would be rather neat and tidy, would it not?” If Sophia gave birth to a boy, then Dev, as trustee, would raise the young duke. And if Sophia gave birth to a girl, then Dev would become the duke, Sophia the duchess, and Harold’s child would be raised as the daughter of a duke.
His aunt merely shrugged. “It would warm my heart to know that the two of you could comfort one another. To know that Harold’s child would be raised by two parents.”
Why was he resisting this? Marrying Sophia was something he’d wanted all along. “Have you spoken to her about this?” He doubted it. And on that thought, he understood why the suggestion bothered him.
More manipulation.
He did not want his relationship with Sophia, marriage to her, to be determined by his aunt, the dukedom, or anything other than the love he and Sophia had for each other.
“I had thought to run the matter before you first,” she answered.
Dev had sent coded messages, with the name Harold had told him he would take, to every possible location he could imagine Harold might be. But locating him was going to take time.
“With all due respect,” he began, “I insist you refrain from suggesting any such thing to Lady Harold. She is not even willing to admit to herself that she is increasing. The last thing she needs is to be pressured into another marriage.”
“But—” his aunt began.
Dev held up one hand to stop her. If the duchess wished to treat him as though he were the head of the family right now, then he would use his power to reign in some of her machinations.
“There will be no further mention of it.” He would not be crossed on this matter.
She looked at him in frustration before relenting. “Very well, Dev, for now, anyhow. I’m going to
revisit this with you once Sophia admits to her condition.” She then stood up, as though to let him know that she was still the duchess and was the one who would end this meeting. She smoothed her dress and turned regally before leaving the room.
Dev felt some small satisfaction in that he’d been able to protect Sophia in this one small matter.
For once.
* * *
Sophia noticed the unusual coach behind the solicitor’s from her chamber, which overlooked the large open lawn spread before Eden’s Court. One did not forget what such a conveyance was used for. If it had been carrying ice for the kitchens, it would have been driven around to the servants’ entrance.
No, such a conveyance signified death. She set aside the letters she’d been about to open, one from Rhoda and another from Cecily, and called for Penny.
After having her hair pulled into a tight chignon and donning one of the newer black dresses she’d had made, Sophia stoically headed downstairs toward the foyer. As she did so, she came upon the duchess, who was just emerging from the study where Dev spent most of his time. “Is something amiss? Your grace…” Sophia reached out and touched her mother-in-law’s arm tentatively.
Without speaking, the duchess led Sophia into a nearby drawing room. Once they entered, she pulled her down onto one of the sofas beside her.
“What is it?” She began again, unable to contemplate what could possibly have happened now.
“Sophia,” her mother-in-law began. But then, seeming to reconsider her words, she turned her fist and then opened it for Sophia to see what she held.
It was Harold’s ring.
Sophia had seen it on him often enough; in fact, she could not remember a time when he had ever removed it. “Where did you get that?” she asked, her mind quickly trying to ascertain whether or not she’d seen Harold wearing it on that last fateful day.
She was almost certain that she had not.
Perhaps her grace now wished for Sophia to have it. But Sophia did not want it. His mother ought to keep it.
Dashing Dukes and Romantic Rogues Page 67
