For the Love of a Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Turning to make her way out of the room before his imminent return, Eliza decided to think no more of any of it for a while. She would just enjoy her afternoon of bridge for what it was and concentrate fully on the company of her dearest friend, Ariadne.

  Chapter 6

  “So, how do you find yourself settling in here at Lytton Hall, Eliza?” Augustus had joined her in the drawing room after dinner and seemed intent on making conversation.

  Eliza had been the Duchess of Lytton for almost three months now, and she realized just how little time she had spent with her new husband.

  Throughout the day he seemed to always be absent, and she had very little idea what it was he did with his time in between breakfast and afternoon tea, sometimes even dinner if she did not see him in the afternoon. And she was not at all upset by that arrangement, preferring to have the day to herself if she was to spend all night at his side.

  “I have settled in well, Augustus,” she said simply, never wanting him to think that she was happy for a moment.

  Whilst he had never treated her badly, he had still purchased her from her father, and for that, she would never forgive him. As much as she pitied him at times, sensing that he would have given anything to feel even the slightest attraction on her part, still Eliza would never lose sight of the fact that he was the man, alongside her father, who had taken control of her life.

  She did not want to be at war with him for she knew it would be a very long life at Lytton Hall if that were the case, but she did not want him to feel a great deal of comfort in her company either, he did not deserve it.

  “And you are pleased with Lytton Hall?” he went on, his words seeming to run into each other a little.

  “Yes, you have a very fine home, Augustus.”

  “But it is your home too now my dear, is it not?” he said and frowned a little before swallowing down the rest of his brandy and reaching out for the decanter immediately to pour himself another.

  It seemed to be his way of doing things. After dinner, Augustus Tate, more often than not, retreated to the drawing room to his armchair, alongside which was a small table already set with a full decanter and a single glass.

  Not that Eliza would have thanked him for a glass of brandy for she did not like it, even the smell as it made its way across the room was unpleasant to her.

  Some nights he drank more than others, and it was easy to see when she allowed her gaze to flicker to the decanter to note the degree to which it had been depleted.

  Looking again, she could see that Augustus had already made his way halfway down the beautiful crystal container and also that he showed no signs of stopping. That at least accounted for his slurred words and his heightened colour.

  “Oh yes, of course,” she said and gave him a light, brittle smile. “I daresay it takes a little time to get used to such things, Augustus. After all, every day of my life has previously been spent in my father’s house.”

  “But that is not your home anymore,” he said, and his voice was low and dull.

  “No, it is not my home anymore.”

  “I would have hoped by now that you would be settling into your new life,” he went on, and she could hardly tell if he was saddened or annoyed by her seeming lack of commitment.

  “Forgive me, Augustus, but I am still coming to terms with the sudden change in direction,” she said, wishing she could simply let it go but knowing that was impossible.

  He could not demand that she show every enthusiasm for the dreadful changes that had taken place in her world, and she certainly did not want him to think that she would ever display any true signs of pleasure at either being his wife or living at Lytton Hall.

  “Meaning what, precisely?” There was something in his tone which made her suddenly feel a little cautious.

  But he had never been cruel before, and so she continued in the same vein.

  “You must surely know, Augustus, that I was already engaged to be married to somebody else when you and my father came to your arrangement. I am sure that you are in no doubt that I had little say in the matter unless, of course, I wished to see my entire family in financial penury.”

  “You seem a little annoyed that I rescued your family, Eliza.”

  “I am not annoyed that you rescued my family, Augustus. I am just trying to adjust to a sudden change in circumstances as I said before. I had expected my life to move in a certain way, and it did not. I hardly think that it can be expected of me to be instantly enthusiastic when I am still coming to terms with some very great losses.”

  “Perhaps not instantly enthusiastic, but you could certainly be a little warmer than you are.” He put his brandy glass down on the small oak table rather heavily, and the noise it made startled her.

  “I can only be as I am, Sir,” she said and thought that really ought to be explanation enough.

  Eliza was fighting the old anger, the old sense of injustice that she had felt from the moment her father had laid his own burdens on her shoulders. Not only was she expected to ignore her own heart and her own wants, but now she was expected to display gratitude and warmth at the same time.

  It was all so insufferable, and yet she knew she must exercise a little caution now. After all, she had never seen her new husband in such a mood before, and she knew she did not know him well enough to either know how it would end or to find some way of counteracting its effects.

  She looked over at him and smiled as warmly as she could manage. Once again, she tried to engender that feeling of pity as she looked at him.

  He really was so far away from being a fine figure of a man with his somewhat short stature, overly thickened middle, and thinning pale hair that she could not quite decide was red or blonde. It was just a washed-out sort of colour which clung in tufts around the sides and the back of his head, deserting the front and the top almost entirely.

  He was only a little older than her father, and yet, in terms of physical health, they could not have been more different. It was true that her father’s hair was almost entirely grey, and yet the rest of his physique had not followed in its wake. He was still an upright man who had not allowed himself to run to fat as the Duke had done.

  Eliza was well aware that the Duke’s first wife had died many years before, and she realized that his life must surely have been very lonely ever since. Whilst he had many acquaintances who visited Lytton Hall often, they were of the sycophantic variety, the sort that one could never truly call friends.

  Perhaps that was why he kept Daniel Winchester so close to the hall, giving him work that was clearly outside the remit of any other attorney. It struck her that he deferred to Daniel so much that he treated him almost as a confidante, and for that she really could feel pity.

  “You can only be as you are, can you?” he said gruffly, gaining her attention fully.

  “Well, I am sure that I will settle in time.” Again, she spoke without commitment.

  “Perhaps your ability to only be as you are would explain why it is that you are not yet with child, Eliza,” he said and reached for his brandy glass again, this time draining its entire contents in two gulps.

  Eliza was so taken aback by the question, the whole thing seeming to be so sudden and out of place, that her cheeks immediately flushed, and she felt curiously humiliated.

  “I beg your pardon, Augustus?” she said, her voice high and querulous like that of a child.

  “You have been here for three months, Eliza. I would have expected some news from you by now. After all, you must have realized that there would be more to being the Duchess here than simply a fine home and excellent gowns.”

  “I … I …” Eliza was so taken aback that she could hardly find her words.

  Her first instinct had been to tell him that his fine home and the excellent gowns he had provided for her meant less than nothing to her. She was almost as furious at his insinuation that she found anything about her circumstances to like as much as she was furious at his sudden intrusive quest
ioning.

  “As you know, I had no children with my first wife, and the idea of me continuing with no heir is insupportable. That is why I chose such a young bride this time, someone whose father had assured me was in the peak of physical fitness and an exceptional candidate in terms of childbearing.” His countenance had darkened to such an extent that she barely recognized him.

  For the first time since she had arrived at Lytton Hall, she wondered if there truly was an ogre of some kind beneath the seemingly mild manners. Perhaps she was not as safe in her world as she had assured Ariadne she was.

  But her fear was quickly tempered with anger once again at the very idea her father had discussed her in such terms. What a fool she had been to save the estate of a man who would, in the end, discuss his daughter as if she were no better than cattle, breeding stock.

  “You sit there with such a haughty look, Eliza, and yet I see you have no answer for me,” Augustus said, clearly perceiving her annoyance. “Well?” he spoke loudly, startling her again.

  “I am afraid that I do not have an answer for it, Sir. It is impossible for me to say when such a thing might happen, is it not?”

  “I realize you do not yet know me well, Eliza, but I feel I ought to inform you that I do not suffer belligerence in women.” He lifted the decanter once more and filled his brandy glass to the very brim.

  There was something dangerous in his manner, something she could not have described to anybody. It was not a tangible thing; it was just a feeling, an instinct. It unsettled her so much that she hardly knew how to proceed.

  “Forgive me, Sir, I did not mean to give offence,” she said, almost choking on the words but knowing that she must capitulate for her own sake.

  “Very well,” he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed that his sudden flash of anger had been quelled. “But I expect you to try a little harder in future. I do not want too many more months to go by with no sign of my heir, do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” she said, wondering how on earth she could possibly do anything to influence such an uncertain outcome.

  “Well, now that we understand one another, you may go to bed,” he said and looked away from her as if he was doing no more than dismissing a servant.

  It was still a little light outside, and something about it made her feel diminished, like a child who had been naughty and was being sent to bed early.

  Without a word, she rose to her feet and nodded in his direction without letting her gaze fall upon him. She walked noiselessly from the room, and by the time she had closed the door to the drawing room behind her, tears of fear and shame were rolling down her cheeks.

  He really had frightened her, perhaps almost as much as he had angered her. The maelstrom of feelings, all of them negative, seemed to be having an almost physical effect on her, and she was by turns so furious that she clenched her little fists, and so afraid that she wanted to do nothing more than run out of Lytton Hall and keep running until she was far away.

  She began to move at speed, not wanting to run into any of the household staff in such a distressed state. She was still so shocked by the turn in the conversation and realized that she had never once, since becoming his wife, contemplated the idea that she would bear him a child. It had been ridiculous, of course, to ignore such a notion, for it was not beyond the realms of possibility.

  And she had always wanted a child so much, that was true. But she had always imagined that child to be the product of the love between herself and Miles Gainsborough, not the product of awkward nights spent with a man who repelled her so utterly.

  There was suddenly so much to think about, another shift in the earth beneath her feet that she had not been expecting. Drying her face as she went, she kept her head down.

  When she collided with somebody in the corridor just beyond the grand staircase she was aiming for, she cried out in surprise.

  Daniel had not been expecting to meet anybody as he made his way out of Lytton Hall for the evening. He was still working on the dreadful tenant farmer contracts, and keen to have the whole thing over and done with, Daniel had worked a very long day, much longer than usual.

  He looked down at the Duchess with every intention of apologizing, even though the collision had surely been as much her fault as his. But as she raised her head to look at him, Daniel could see that her ordinarily flawless peachy cream skin was red and blotchy and looked a little damp, and her eyes were shining with tears.

  “Forgive me, Mr Winchester,” she said and made to walk around him.

  Hardly knowing why he did it, except that it had been some sort of reflexive instinct that he had no time to control, Daniel took a firm hold of her upper arm as she passed him.

  He knew that his action was nothing short of outrageous and that he would have to find some explanation for it.

  “Your Grace are you quite well?” he said in a firm tone, decidedly firm so that he would not appear too familiar or too friendly.

  If he was honest, at that moment, Daniel was all at sea. As much as he had made his own determinations on the character of the young lady whose arm he still held, he knew that he had been deeply affected by the sight of her tears and the idea that she was so upset.

  “I am quite well, Mr Winchester,” she said and the assertion clearly seemed ridiculous even to her. “Perhaps just a little under the weather, that is all.” She smiled at him but could not meet his gaze.

  This time, however, he did not put it down to her coolness of character, but rather he sensed a little embarrassment there in the turn of her head and the slight slumping of her shoulders.

  “Is there anything that I can do for you, Your Grace? Perhaps I could call your maid for you? Miss West, is she not?”

  “That is very kind of you, Mr Winchester, but you need not go to the bother. I am going to retire to my chamber, and I shall ring for Nella when I need her.” She was fighting so hard to regain her ordinary composure that Daniel could not help feeling sorry for her.

  He knew that she was keen to be away from him, keen to nurse her embarrassment in private. He knew he must let go and allow her that much privacy at least, and yet there was something in him which wanted to know more, to get to the bottom of what was truly upsetting her.

  He was in no doubt that she had come from the Duke, but what on earth could have passed between them to have her so upset?

  Of course, in the end, Daniel knew that it was none of his business. He was nothing more than the attorney to the Duchy of Lytton, not a relative or a family friend. His conduct in keeping her there was entirely inappropriate, and he knew it, although he noted that she did not pull away from his grip or seem as angry with him as he would have expected she might.

  “Well, if you are sure, Your Grace,” he said and gently released her arm as he fought to keep his tone nothing more than polite and professional.

  “Thank you kindly,” she said and looked down before walking around him and hurriedly making her way to the staircase.

  Daniel continued on his way, looking back only once to find that she had stopped halfway up the stairs and had looked back at him. They locked eyes for a moment, and he found himself trapped, unable to look away. But Eliza broke the momentary spell, turning and hurrying away until she disappeared out of sight entirely.

  Remaining still, Daniel stood for some moments and tried to come to terms with what he had seen, and even more so with what he had done. He hoped that his little indiscretion would not find its way to the ears of the Duke, for it would undoubtedly cause him some problems.

  And yet there was something about the moment that had passed between them that was strangely intimate, private almost. It was as if they had both witnessed that tiny gap in the wall between them, and he was sure that it would not be something that either one of them would ever care to discuss with Augustus Tate.

  Realizing that he would likely never know the source of her anguish, Daniel turned to make his way through the long corridor which would le
ad to the side entrance of Lytton Hall.

  It would do him no good to think any more of the matter, and it would certainly do him no good to allow his feelings for his employer’s new wife to change in any way from what they had initially been. However tempting it was, it could only ever be fruitless.

  Chapter 7

  Eliza stared down at the unopened letter on the tea tray. She had been in the morning room since breakfast, at which she ate very little, and now that it was nearing midday, she knew she must either read the letter or discard it.

  She had recognized her mother’s handwriting as soon as the butler had approached her in the dining room with it laid regally on a silver salver. She had been so surprised to see it, for she had been expecting a letter from Ariadne, and when the distinctive copperplate script drew her eye, she felt her eyes immediately well with tears.