The Duke's Challenge

by Fenella J Miller

  ‘There’s a gig somewhere, I saw it in the barn, all it needs is cleaning. A pair of my greys will happily pull it.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘Then it is settled? You agree we must be married, that we have no choice?’

  She nodded. ‘If there’s no alternative, if by marrying you I can protect Beth’s reputation as well as my own, then I agree.’ She tried to stand but her legs felt weak and wouldn’t hold her. Before she could protest he took her elbows and lifted her to her feet.

  ‘It won’t be so bad, little one; we’re becoming friends, are we not? We want the same things - to restore Thurston - give Beth and Harry a decent home?’

  She was finding it difficult to think with him so close. She was unable to step back as the sofa blocked her path. ‘Yes, we are getting to know each other, but I never thought to be obliged to marry in this fashion. I’ve always considered marriage should be a union of souls, of minds, not a business arrangement.’

  He stepped back, staring at her as though she had just escaped from Bedlam. ‘You, my girl, have been reading too many romances. Marriage is a business, like any other. If you invest sufficient time and effort it will succeed; souls and minds and all that nonsense don’t come into it.’

  ‘And love? Does that not come into it either?’

  His expression changed and he moved back, fast. Before she could voice an objection her breasts were crushed to his chest. One hand held her captive the other tilted her face to receive his kiss. She tried to turn her head away, not respond, but his lips were insistent. The tip of his tongue ran up and down until her own mouth relaxed and she was once more carried away, made to feel she belonged in his embrace, that her mouth was made for his kisses.

  Dr Andrews coughed loudly a second time. Jack heard him and, without relinquishing his hold, half turned, sheltering Charlotte from view. Anger and dislike crackled in the air. Jack spoke first.

  ‘You are de trop, Andrews. My betrothed and I do not wish to be disturbed.’

  The doctor stood his ground, his pale-blue eyes icy. ‘Miss Carstairs asked me to call, Lord Thurston. It is a medical matter. I shall wait in the hall until she is free.’ The door banged behind him.

  Charlotte felt Jack’s fury and knew if she didn’t intervene he would do something they both regretted. ‘Dr Andrews is correct; he has come to remove my sutures. I asked him to.’ She believed it unwise to mention the doctor’s suggestion that he take her to church the next day.

  Jack dropped his arm and laughed, it was not a pleasant sound. ‘I shall remove those for you. I have done it more often than that quack. I have a set a medical instruments in my pack somewhere.’

  This was too much; first she was forced to marry him and now he wished to be her physician as well. ‘No, thank you. That will not be necessary. Dr Andrews is here and his instruments are clean and ready. Goodness knows what infection you would pass on to me if you attempted it.’

  ‘I do not like it, Charlotte. That man…’

  ‘That man,’ she interrupted, ‘is an excellent physician and that is all he is. Please ask him to join me here as you leave.’ She waited for the explosion at her summary dismissal.

  He nodded, his expression guarded. ‘I shall ask Mrs Thomas to sit in with you.’

  ‘Very well; it’s unnecessary but, this once, I shall agree to your demands.’ She knew she’d said too much and wished her words back.

  He strode over and she shivered - this time it was from fear. ‘I think you are under a misapprehension, Charlotte. I will brook no disobedience from you or anyone in this establishment. Is that understood?’

  She did not answer, her teeth were clenched to stop them chattering. His voice dropped an octave, became almost menacing. ‘I am waiting for your answer, Charlotte. Did I make myself clear?’

  She nodded, forcing her words out from frozen lips. ‘Yes, my lord, you did.’

  ‘Excellent - do not forget it.’

  She groped in her reticule for her handkerchief and with shaking fingers held it to her eyes. She collapsed onto the sofa and buried her head in her hands. She had just agreed to marry a terrifying stranger, no vestige of humour or gentleness apparent. What had happened to change him so drastically overnight?

  The tears fell faster as she considered the implications. Was she to be linked for the rest of her life to a man who thought marriage was a business, did not believe in love - only lust?

  When the housekeeper came in five minutes later she was still crying, the small white cotton square sodden with tears.

  Mrs Thomas was shocked. ‘Come along, Miss Carstairs, you will make herself ill. Are you feeling unwell, does your head hurt?’

  Charlotte swallowed drawing several shuddering breaths before answering. ‘I believe I am suffering a reaction from all the upsets of the past twenty-four hours, Mrs Thomas. The murder of poor Jenkins, the attack last night, and thinking of my head wound reminded me of the stone that was thrown at me.’

  ‘Lord Thurston told me he had been shot at, and I saw the state of the kitchen. I was deeply shocked, miss. It’s hardly surprising you’re overcome. The doctor’s waiting, but shall I send him away?’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, please ask him to come in. I am quite well now.’

  Chapter Ten

  Jack’s anger carried him to the stables where he demanded Othello be saddled. He needed to gallop out his blue devils or he might be driven to his room and down a decanter of brandy. No groom dared meet his eye; they hurried about their duties heads down, hoping to remain invisible. Jethro led the huge black horse out of the loose box, barely avoiding being stamped on.

  He took the reins, placed one hand on the horse’s massive withers and vaulted into the saddle. He only just managed to ram his boots into the stirrup irons before the stallion took off, scattering grooms and gravel in equal proportions. It took a mile or so to calm both horse and rider.

  He sat back in his saddle applying pressure to the reins, obediently the horse dropped into a canter, then down to a trot and, finally, to an easy, long-strided walk. He could hear the sound of the militia in the distance quartering the park in their search. He guessed he was safe from interruption for a while. He dismounted and looping his reins over his arm, walked over to a log lying conveniently under a tree. Ignoring the moss and fallen leaves he sat, stretching out his legs and rested his head on the trunk.

  He could hear himself snarling at Charlotte, issuing orders, demanding her obedience like an enraged parent. What had he been thinking of? He knew what had triggered his appalling behaviour; it was her mention of love. His head had immediately been filled with images of Sophia, of her rejection, of his heartbreak and humiliation.

  He had no heart to give her, no love left, it had withered and died when the sabre had sliced into his face. He could offer her companionship, friendship, even passion, but love, that was never going to be part of their relationship. When he had been rejected by the woman whose face was forever burnt on his soul he had vowed never to allow another to enter his heart.

  Charlotte’s unexpected arrival had turned his plans to chaos. He had been forced to abandon his hedonistic lifestyle and return to reality, take charge of not just his life, but three others as well. He had no choice. He must marry the painfully young, inexperienced girl. He had not sunk so low that he could allow an innocent to be ruined by his actions or lack of them. For some reason he didn’t even consider the lawyers suggestion that Charlotte move out and set up our own establishment with a female companion.

  Othello nudged him and he laughed. ‘Are you bored, old fellow? Come along, let’s go back. I have some serious fence mending to do and it does not involve hammer and nails.’

  *

  Dr Andrews left after completing his task.

  ‘Do you wish me to assist you to your room, Miss Carstairs?’ Mrs Thomas enquired.

  ‘No, I’m quite recovered, thank you. I wish to see the children. I consider they are spending far too much time in idleness at the moment.’

&
nbsp; ‘They are prettily behaved, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. No trouble to anyone and ever so polite.’

  Charlotte’s lips curved. ‘That is good news. I am hoping that now you are here to run the house and supervise the cleaning, I can resume my role as their governess.’

  ‘I have it all in hand. I can’t believe how the situation has deteriorated since Lord Thurston… since I left.’

  ‘Is there sufficient staff to rectify matters?’

  The housekeeper nodded. ‘I believe so, Miss Carstairs. I have four parlour maids at my disposal and Cook has a scullery maid and two kitchen maids, and Mr Meltham has a full complement of footmen. Between them and my two cats we will soon rid this house of vermin and restore it to a pleasant place for you to live in.’

  ‘I’ll be going upstairs to the nursery and school rooms after I have spoken to the children. I shall require a footman and a maid to assist me.’

  Beth and Harry were occupied folding clean linen with Annie and more than happy to abandon this task to accompany Charlotte upstairs to investigate what was eventually to be their own domain.

  An hour later the three of them were on hands and knees, sharing pails of sudsy water, scrubbing out the schoolroom. Mary, a maid, was clearing the years of neglect and cobwebs. A footman was filling in the rat and mice holes with gravel and brick then smoothing over the whole with a mixture of mud and lime. Charlotte hoped the makeshift repairs would hold until Mrs Thomas’s cats could do their work.

  ‘Harry, try not to slop water on your sister, she is quite damp enough already,’ Charlotte admonished.

  ‘But my cloth’s all wet, Lottie, and I can’t help it, ‘Harry whined.

  ‘Of course it’s wet, stupid boy; you can’t clean floors with a dry cloth,’ Beth answered crossly.

  ‘That’s enough you two- please don’t argue, I am so pleased with the hard work you have done, do not spoil it now by churlishness.’ Charlotte realized they were all fatigued. It was past time to stop for refreshments. ‘That’s enough for today. We should get cleaned up and go downstairs for luncheon.’

  Beth was so relieved to be able to get up from her knees she jumped to her feet without checking and tripped over a pail of filthy water. Charlotte watched it vanish between the boards before she could attempt to mop up the spill.

  Harry was astonished. ‘Where’s my water gone, Lottie?’ He pressed his nose to the floor as if expecting it to be visible.

  ‘Oh dear! What a disaster - so much water has to come out somewhere.’ She scrambled up, untying her apron as she did so. She tried to remember which rooms were directly underneath the schoolroom. There was no point in asking the servants, they knew even less about the geography of the house than she did.

  She shrugged. ‘It’s too late to worry, children. If it comes out in our bedrooms, then so be it.’ She left the cleaning up to the staff and hurried down the winding stairs to their bed chambers. Annie was waiting for the children in their room.

  ‘Good gracious! What a sight! Whatever have you both been up to?’

  Harry grinned. ‘We’ve been scrubbing floors, Annie. It was good fun but then I lost my water.’

  ‘Lost your water? Where did it go, my love?’

  Beth giggled. ‘I kicked it over and it went through a crack in the floor and disappeared in seconds.’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘It was very odd, Annie; but as there are no occupied rooms below the schoolroom wherever it reappears won’t matter overmuch.’

  The children’s nursemaid looked worried. ‘His grace is inspecting the rooms along this passageway, with Mr Meltham. I think he’s seeing which should be redecorated and which are too far gone to bother with.’

  Beth paled. ‘I feel sick, Lottie. I don’t want any lunch.’

  ‘Nor do I, I’m sick too,’ Harry parroted.

  Charlotte felt her own insides lurch unpleasantly. Surely they could not be so unlucky? The missing water could not possibly reappear in the very room in which Jack was? She bundled the children to their room. ‘Hurry up and get cleaned up children. I shall do the same. I’ve sent Mary to ask for a cold collation to be set out in the breakfast parlour. And water or no water, I am as hungry as a hunter.’

  ‘I am hungry as a horse,’ Beth added.

  ‘Me too- I am as hungry as… as a haystack,’ he finished triumphantly.

  Giggling the children went into their dressing-room to be washed and changed. Charlotte, still smiling at Harry’s remark, headed back to her own chamber three doors away. She noticed that at the far end, directly under the schoolroom, the entry was open. Jack and the butler were obviously inside. She could hear the murmur of male voices - should she go and warn them about the possible deluge?

  She hesitated. Jack had been so abrupt with her, so angry, so dictatorial and that was not the way she thought of him at all. After all they were going to be married in three weeks and somehow, in that time, she had to convince him she needed a husband in the fullest sense and not another father.

  It would seem he thought of her as a child one moment and a woman grown the next. She must convince him she was the latter, but how she was to do this she had no idea. She giggled. Would it be considered childish to leave him in ignorance or mature to ignore the whole episode? She stopped outside the door; she would risk a peek to see what was happening.

  The only reason for his presence upstairs was that he intended to move his quarters to this floor, to abandon his lair on the ground floor. Cautiously she stuck her head round, her eyes drawn irresistibly to him, standing in the middle of the room gesticulating, whilst Meltham wrote notes on a pad. He was talking too softly, and the room was too big, for her to catch what was being said.

  Then her glance strayed upwards. She frowned. He was standing directly under a large bulge in the plaster, a suspicious damp bulge, one that was certainly full of the missing dirty water.

  ‘Jack,’ she called tentatively. He didn’t hear. ‘Jack’ she shouted.

  This time he spun round his expression anxious. ‘God’s teeth, Charlotte! What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing, err… well - I came to warn you. Look out!’ She alerted him too late as with hardly a sound the ceiling exploded covering him with a mixture of dirty water, plaster and rat droppings.

  She watched in fascinated horror as he stood, his fine clothes ruined, water dripping down his face. Like a dog he shook his head sending drops across the room. It was far too late to retreat; she knew exactly how fast he could move.

  ‘I am so sorry. I came to warn you. Beth knocked Harry’s bucket over upstairs…’ her voice trailed as he came towards her. He stopped within arm’s reach.

  ‘Do you know these are the only respectable garments I own?’ His tone was conversational. She assumed the question to be rhetorical and shook her head, offering no answer. He held out a sopping arm. ‘This coat is wet - whose responsibility is that, I wonder?’

  She was unsure whether she was required to speak. She risked a cautious comment. ‘Mine?’

  ‘Exactly, my dear. Here I am doing my very best to impress you and you pour scorn, or in this case, filthy water and a large part of the ceiling, on me. Am I to understand from this that my efforts are to no avail?’ He sounded so earnest, so sincere that she almost believed him. She was about to explain again, apologize profusely, when she noticed a strange rigidity about his shoulders.

  ‘You wretch! You are bamming me!’

  He exploded with laughter and lunging forward gathered her in a bear hug thus transferring a goodly portion of his dampness to her own person.

  ‘Let me go, you’re making me wet.’

  Ignoring her protests he picked up and swung around, much to the consternation of the elderly butler. Such goings-on were unseemly, even between a recently betrothed couple. Finally Jack set her down, having achieved his objective of making her as wet and dirty as he.

  ‘There? Now I consider we’re even.’ Jack released her and walked back to stare up into the gaping hole had once b
een the ceiling. ‘Meltham, I think we shall have to find another room, this is no longer suitable.’

  ‘Yes, your grace. But the hole will have to be repaired or the rats will pour down into the house. Even good ratters like Mrs Thomas’s cats will not be able to prevent us being overrun.’

  ‘Good grief! Surely there are not so many rats up there?’

  ‘There are, my lord, a veritable colony has taken root in the attics. It is going to take more than two cats to dislodge them, I fear.’

  Jack scowled. ‘Could we smoke them out?’

  The butler considered and shook his head. ‘We would be more likely to burn down the house, your grace. It is tinder dry, and riddled with woodworm up there.’

  Charlotte had heard quite sufficient about rats and woodworm. One or two was bad enough - but an army? It didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I’m going to change my clothes, my lord. I suggest you do the same.’

  ‘If I do, it is unwashed clothes or my old uniform; which would you prefer?’

  She pretended to give the question due consideration. ‘As I don’t intend to spend any further time in your company today, I suggest the unwashed garments will suffice. There are more than enough soldiers here at present.’

  ‘Forgive me, your grace, but your new man can clean and press your clothes in no time,’ Meltham told him.

  Jack nodded. ‘Thank you, I’d forgotten that I’m now equipped with a man-servant of my own. Charlotte do…’

  But she had gone, taking the opportunity to return to her room, not wishing to be the recipient of any further juvenile behaviour. The children were relieved to hear he had taken his dousing so amiably. Annie was more concerned with the state of Charlotte’s gown.

  ‘Miss Carstairs, let me help you change. Miss Beth and Master Harry can sit quietly and look at the picture book.’

  ‘Beth, Harry, can you be trusted not to squabble for five minutes?’