by Delle Jacobs
A thick muscle worked in his jaw as his eyes narrowed. "Five. And five for you when you marry."
"Eight."
"Seven."
She nodded. But it was far too easy, and she wondered why. Would he truly give anything to get her out of the way? "Feme sole," she repeated.
He stared at her with that unfeeling gaze until she thought she would wither. But she set her jaw and stared back.
"Then it shall be seven for each of them and for you. It is very foolish of you, but I shall hope by the time they marry, they will have learned the good sense of giving their husbands the management of their funds. But since you have not had the example of proper management, I do not expect it of you."
Startled, she pulled back. He had actually given in to her? The man Reggie had said would never cede anything? Yet she clearly had nothing with which to bargain. What an odd man he was!
"Pauncefoot!" shouted the duke.
The door sprung open, indicating the spunger must have been right behind it. Both he and his now properly dressed wife scurried into the parlor.
"Miss Englefield will wish a bath, as she still retains the odor of your stinkhouse. You will have her and her belongings ready for my arrival promptly at six of the clock in the morning. And if one word of this exchange is ever shared with another person, you will find yourself going about the world utterly devoid of possessions."
The duke pivoted on his heel and strode from the parlor.
Chloe shivered. Only then did she realize the duke had never relinquished his tall hat, for he slapped it against his thigh as if to dislodge accumulated dirt.
She was glad enough for the bath, even if it was not more than tepid, and was delivered with the grumbling of both Pauncefoot and his equally portly wife. Even when she ordered Pauncefoot from the room for her privacy, he whimpered as he ran out. A portmanteau of her own belongings magically appeared, and surprisingly, everything that should have been in it was actually there. At least she had a change of clothes, and could wash those she had worn. Perhaps someday she might even manage to get the stench out of them.
She slept little, and was already dressed when, even before the cock crowed, she watched the duke step out of his gleaming black coach. She could not help but see Reggie in the shape of his bright blue eyes, in the cheekbones, and the cut of his jaw. What a shame it was that God should make such a beautiful face, but hang it on such an ugly person.
Chloe clutched her reticule and held it to her breast, fingering the little red book inside it through the fabric. Circe. She would be Circe, the Perfect Heroine. For Reggie, for Madeline and Allison.
As if he were taking up a niece who he held in great affection, the duke led her to his coach, and assisted her inside. Despite the morning coolness, she ignored the duke's offering of a brightly colored lap shawl that lay in the corner of the black tufted leather seat.
She sat, and squared her shoulders, holding her head high. If she was going to her symbolic execution, she meant to do it with the utmost dignity. The duke sat across from her, the picture of the perfect gentleman.
"I have taken the liberty of gathering some things you will need, Miss Englefield, since you have retained so little."
As if it were not his doing that she retained so little. "Thank you, Your Grace, but I have no need of your largesse."
"You have every need of my benefaction, Miss Englefield, and you know it. That is not the point. When you arrive at your destination, you may do as you please with your funds, but I shall manage things until then."
"Just where would that be, Your Grace?"
"A small village called Upper Dicker, near Eastbourne."
"But I presume, far enough to keep me out of mischief."
"You will create no problems for me. But to ensure that, you will also have few opportunities to engage with anyone likely to know my son. It is a pleasant little community."
She allowed a wry twist to her mouth to show, and wished she had not, for it would only give him more reason to rejoice in his victory over her. Caressing a finger over the reticule, she sought out the familiar outline of the little red book, her only remnant of her time with Reggie. She opened the strings of the beaded cloth bag and extracted the book, and smiled to herself as the gold-leafed title came into view.
"What is that, Miss Englefield?"
She covered it with her hands. "Just a book."
"Might I see it?"
She gripped it tightly. "No."
His blue eyes gleamed, as if he sensed prey.
"It was loaned to me by a friend, and I have promised to read it. If you do not mind, I should like to finish it now."
The duke raised his brows, then sat back against the squabs and pulled out a pair of spectacles and a book of his own. Chloe focused her attention on finding the place where she had left off, determined she would see nothing but its pages for the remainder of this trip.
Word by word, as they passed each turnpike gate and hostelry, she lost herself in the pages of The Adventuress, enmeshed with Circe's struggle to protect her beloved injured captain and his crew, to keep the ship afloat. Page by page, Circe's love for Nicholas blossomed, as her dilemma grew, until Chloe thought surely she would break. Circe would not break. No, she would not. She would somehow survive.
"I do hate to interrupt your reading, Miss Englefield, but the incline is too steep for the horses, and we must walk it."
The coach pulled to a stop. Chloe re-deposited the book in her reticule, drew the strings, and slipped them over her wrist.
"You may safely leave your reticule in the coach, Miss Englefield."
"I prefer to keep it with me."
Silently, Chloe started up the steep hill, glad that she had always made a habit of walking in the country. The duke started up behind her. She wished he would stay behind her, but she knew there was that odd part about him that insisted on doing the pretty, so she was not surprised when he trudged up to walk beside her. Her lip curled in a sneer.
"I suppose it is one of those romantical novels silly young girls like to read."
"It is romantical, of a sort."
"I am curious as to what sort of book holds your attention so thoroughly."
"You are entirely too inquisitive about my life, and I have not the slightest inclination to share it with you."
Chloe turned her attention away from him to the subtle beauty of the grassy downs. She had always had a peculiar attraction for the downs. As she climbed up the hill, road metal crunching softly beneath her feet, she breathed deeply of their fragrance. It was the aroma of ripened wheat, of meadows strewn with poppies, one that evoked cotton-wool clouds and skies as blue as Reggie's eyes. At the crest, she stood against the wind that blew back her bonnet and snagged tendrils of her hair as she surveyed the rolling hills with their patches of dark green forest in their valleys. If this became her destiny, to live her life here quietly, she could manage it with reasonable happiness.
She became aware that the crunch of footsteps behind her had stopped. She turned. A shiver ran up her spine. The duke was staring at her, with that same strange expression she had seen before, as if he suddenly come face to face with a frightening ghost. The same ripple of fear coursed through her, as it had the day he had come to her home.
"Why are you staring at me?" she demanded.
His head cocked to the side, and the strange expression became quizzical, as if he had been stunned out of a trance. "Perhaps it is because your hair is the exact color of the field of wheat behind you."
Something cold gripped her heart.
"But I am rather glad your eyes are green."
He'd lost his wits! He was as queer as Dick's hatband! Chloe took a step back, away from the coach which waited at the crest of the hill where the horses took a needed rest. Clutching her shawl, she wrapped her arms tightly about herself. "I do not know what it is you are thinking, Your Grace, but I do not think I wish to ride with you any further."
The alarming intensity in hi
s face faded almost as suddenly as it had come on. "I have no nefarious designs upon your person, Miss Englefield. I did not mean to frighten you. It is just that you reminded me of someone I once knew."
"Who?" She backed up another step.
He took a breath so deep, she could see his chest move. "My daughter, actually."
"Your daughter? I was not aware that Reggie had a sister."
"She died, quite a long time ago. She was just an infant."
He was queer in the head! "I remind you of an infant?"
Chagrin with a touch of anguish twisted his hard face. "It is more the way I always thought she would look, I suppose. Terribly sorry. Let us be going, as we are not very far from where we must turn off."
Yet what if he did have some more sinister plan for her? Never had she been in the company of a man so strange or unsettling. "Nevertheless, if you wish to proceed, I should like more of an explanation than that."
He shook his head, still looking vaguely confused. "I do not have one to give you, a sensible one, that is. It would not seem sagacious at all to say that I find myself reminded of her constantly when I am in your presence."
"It is above strange, Your Grace."
"Yes. It is. But let us continue. You were anticipating your reunion with your sisters, were you not?"
His Grace held out his hand and helped her into the coach. Chloe wrapped the Cashmere shawl over her legs, for she seemed to feel an odd chill that came from an undefinable source. The duke settled rather awkwardly against the squabs.
"Many a woman would have found that climb a difficult one, Miss Englefield."
"I am not of a delicate nature, Your Grace."
Once again, Chloe squeezed herself back into the corner of the squabs as far away from the duke as she could manage, and drew out the little red book. The duke balanced his spectacles on his nose and picked up his book, a much larger one than hers, and began to read.
She forgot the bouncing and jarring of the coach and the presence of her nemesis as she returned to being Circe.
* * *
At a crossroad on the road to Reading, Castlebury and Bibury rode up alongside Reggie's bay. Reggie gave them a grim nod.
"Any news?" Castlebury asked.
"I found the spunging house where she was taken, but she is no longer there,” Reggie replied. “The spunger, Pauncefoot, will tell me nothing. He is clearly terrified of the duke, and so I’m sure it is the right one."
"Well, it's a start," said Bibury on Reggie's other side. "But what next?"
"We will think like the duke."
"I certainly hope not," Castlebury replied. "I have always prided myself in my sanity."
"He's not insane," Reggie replied, although he was not entirely convinced, himself.
"You don't really think he's going to harm her, do you?"
Reggie released a frustrated sigh. "He is not a violent man, but something is not at all right with this. He has always been determined to have his way, but this time, he has carried his maneuvering to an extreme.” With a frown, he turned about in the saddle, surveying the crossroads in every direction. "We'll check every ostler and inn in every direction from Reading. As distinctive as his coach is, someone will have noticed. No one can drive a coach very far without changing horses. I have placed Miss Hawarth at the Bear Inn in Reading, and we will all keep in contact with her, so that if we need to call upon each other, we can do it quickly."
"Reggie," said Castlebury, laying a hand to Reggie's shoulder, "I did not wish to say it, but your very words tell me you believe the duke is empty in the cockloft."
Reggie shook his head and frowned. "It has something to do with my sister, who was born on the same day as Chloe. My sister died on the fifteenth of August. And gentlemen, the fifteenth is only two days away."
Chapter Sixteen
"Miss Englefield."
Chloe looked up from her book, startled out of the story that had so engrossed her, she had forgotten both the duke and the rough and jarring road. And she had also forgotten her resolve to ignore him. She turned back to her book.
"Miss Englefield."
She stretched her lips thin and closed the book. Looking up, an impression flashed in her mind, of a little boy tugging at the skirt of a mama who was busy with more important things.
The odd duke still studied her with his strange intensity. But curiously, she no longer found it quite so frightening.
"I wished to say, you were right to want your sisters removed, Miss Englefield. When I found them, Miss Madeline had a deep bruise on her face."
Chloe tried not to react. "From Cottingham?"
"Indeed. I admit I did not formulate my plan until I saw the twins. But I determined they must be removed at once."
She sniffed as disdainfully as she could. "I cannot imagine that you actually care whether my sisters were beaten."
The duke's eyes flared with sudden outrage. Chloe flinched.
"You do not mean to tell me you condone this," he responded, his voice almost growling. The thick muscles in his jaw worked like cords being jerked.
"Of course I do not," she replied calmly, clutching the little red book. Circe. Be Circe.
"You will not lay a stick to them, nor allow it to be done. Do you understand me, Miss Englefield?”"
Chloe blinked. The man was perfectly serious. Why should he have such concern for children who were not his? Hadn’t Reggie said something about that? Chloe had the feeling she should choose her words very carefully.
"You may recall, Your Grace,” she said, “it was my intention to remove them from Lord Cottingham by whatever means I could find. I do not believe children of that age can profit from being hit."
"No child of any age should be hit, Miss Englefield. I will have your word on this."
Chloe was not at all sure the man would apply the same rule to adult women. She swallowed the lump of fear and reminded herself she was stuck in this coach with the man for an indeterminate amount of time. "Very well then, I give it to you, as it is a worthy request, and I have no intention of ever striking a child anyway."
She watch the outrage fade from his face and change to the narrowed look of skeptical satisfaction. The tension of a poised beast ready to strike vanished and he settled back into the squabs somewhat grumpily. A wave of the silvered dark hair flopped onto his forehead, marring his image of perfection, and, irritated at it, the man brushed it back.
"Just so," he said. "Else I would not consider leaving them in your care."
He was truly the strangest man she had ever met. The same man who had so ruthlessly set out to destroy her now presented himself to her as the savior of her sisters. Was it some sort of sham? If so, what possible reason could he have for bamming her?
Everything about the man puzzled her. Everything contradicted everything else. Why had he gone to all this trouble when he might more easily have had her out of the way by destroying her reputation?
No, that one was easily answered, for she wouldn't have let that stop her, nor would Reggie have cared. He would have married her anyway, and been stuck with a wife who was unacceptable to society. Did that matter to this oppressive man?
What did he care about, anyway? If he had gained control over her by finding out what she wanted, perhaps she could do the same to him. If she was ever to escape his trap, she must find that out. Chloe felt the edge of fear surfacing again, but quelled it as she made the decision to probe at the strange and highly defended walls he seemed to be exposing to her.
"Still, I find your position unusual, Your Grace."
"Do you?" It was hardly a question.
"A beating for misbehavior is common practice."
"Indeed." The duke folded his arms stiffly. "Have you ever been beaten, Miss Englefield?"
"My father took a cane to me once, but I deserved it."
"I doubt that. Your father died when you were quite young."
"I was seven, and it was shortly before he died. I shall carry with me forever t
he humiliation of knowing I had disappointed him so greatly. I had been disobedient, and my carelessness nearly caused the death of another child."
"I vow he could have found another way. I presume you have not forgotten what it felt like."
"No, I have not. It was barely three strokes on my softer parts, but I could not sit for days."
His blue eyes seemed to penetrate her, yet he looked more the hunted animal than the forbidding duke. "Hardly a beating, Miss Englefield, perhaps almost justifiable, but not. But can you imagine those same strokes laid repeatedly over a little body?"
She shuddered. Her own memory was bad enough.
"I vowed many years ago no one would ever strike a child of mine. As I have guardianship of your sisters, the same applies to them. They will not be struck, under any conditions. If I charge you with their care, then I charge you with this also."
"Why?"
"I thought I had explained that."
"No, that is not what I mean. I am in complete agreement with you. But I cannot help but wonder why you have reached this conclusion, for many children are beaten quite regularly, and few people give it the least regard. Why is it so important to you?"
His eyes sidled, a flinch, but an odd one, as if he sought an escape route. "You overstep your bounds, Miss Englefield."
"No doubt." Carefully she suppressed the little smile that wanted to creep onto her face, for the man read her too easily. But a genuine curiosity rose in her. She said nothing more and let silence work its power as a struggle played out in his face.
The dark eyes met hers fiercely, as if they dueled. Chloe let hers reply only with patience. He looked away, then back. A streak of pain lashed across his face, so quickly she almost missed it.
"Because I know what it is like."
"I see," she said softly. But what struck her was how difficult the admission had been for him. "I am sorry."
Chloe remembered Reggie's story. She had thought it awful that his grandmother would detest him so, and be so willing to see him beaten for a simple childhood mistake. What had that hateful woman done to this man?
There was so much left unsaid. Most children would have, like she had, set it aside, to be only occasionally remembered. But whatever had happened to the duke was something very different that had left scars on his soul.
