At the dower house, he jumped down to help the ladies out.
Once on the ground, Miss Branson gave him the once-over. “You’re a fine specimen of manhood,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice.
But Janice never looked at him. She simply held out her gloved hand and he helped her alight.
“Are you all right, my lady?” he murmured for her ears only.
It was all he wanted to know. It had been growing inside him from the moment he’d heard about her engagement. Waiting through the sleigh ride had taxed his patience more than anything else he’d ever done. He needed to know: was she all right?
But she didn’t say a word.
She walked right past him to the front of the horses, where she waited for Grayson to join her, never once looking back at Luke.
The knowledge sat like a great stone on his chest. She was a lady, and he was a groom. Even if he proved to be a duke, he was still a groom at heart. A boxer. A soldier. A man who’d made money throwing troublemakers out of pubs.
Face it, Callahan. She’s beyond you. He watched her take Grayson’s arm. And you don’t need her anyway.
Chapter Twenty-two
Janice was desperate to talk to Luke. But she couldn’t. Grayson was like a hawk, watching her every move. When Luke had asked her if she was all right when he helped her down from the carriage, she could hardly bear it. She wanted to say, No. I’m not. And there’s nothing I can do about it. If I do, you’ll be in danger.
She’d gone round and round in her mind, looking for a way out, but she hadn’t been able to find it. Her best idea had been to run to Mama and Daddy and tell them what had happened. She’d have to let them know the whole truth, and they’d be devastated at the choices she’d made, but they wouldn’t make her marry the duke, surely. And somehow Daddy would make sure that Halsey couldn’t hurt Luke.
But could her father really protect him?
Daddy was an Irish marquess. As a duke Halsey outranked him. And if Halsey wanted to see something done to Luke, he could do it.
Janice also had to consider the awful possibility that Daddy would agree with the duke. Halsey would tell him how the groom had taken advantage of her, and Daddy would—God forbid—want to hurt Luke, too.
So why get her family involved at all?
For now, at least, Janice was trapped.
“We’ll see the house first, and we’ll finish our tour in the stove house, where the orchids are kept,” His Grace told the company, and held tight to Janice’s arm.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luke tending to the horses.
How could she get over there to see him? She had no idea. She wished now she’d accidentally left something in the sleigh, but she hadn’t, except for her muffler.
As they walked through the house—which was charming—her frustration grew. She looked discreetly out of every window on the north side, which faced the stove house and the small stable, to keep an eye on Luke. As a consequence, she wound up missing some of what the housekeeper told them about each room, lovely though they were. Janice did learn that the dowager had moved there long ago, when Halsey’s father had been duke and had brought his own duchess home, the current duke’s mother. That was the usual way of things, of course. Old duchesses must make way for new.
Over strawberries and sparkling wine in the front drawing room—which she was required to thank the duke for—Janice truly felt that coming to live here wouldn’t seem like a step down for any dowager. She liked the house very much.
The dower house was populated with caring servants. It was sunny. And beautiful. Yet Halsey had moved the dowager to a dark room with no company in a house in which the duke’s questionable guests got far more attention than she did.
“Are you enjoying the strawberries?” He leaned closer to Janice.
Because he’d provided them, she loathed eating the precious fruit and drinking the fine sparkling wine. But she must make a pretense to or risk his wrath, which was subtle, cold, and struck one unaware.
“Delicious.” She quickly bit into another strawberry so she wouldn’t have to talk to him.
He looked mildly satisfied. But now that she knew how perceptive he was, she had no idea how well she was hiding her utter misery.
And then she saw a beautiful painting of an Irish cottage.
Her heart nearly burst with homesickness. She was a grown woman, but how she wished she were at Ballybrook right now, in the bosom of the family who loved her! She drained her glass of sparkling wine so she wouldn’t think too hard about how lonely she felt. And she determined that as soon as she got back to Halsey House she’d have a tea break with Isobel and talk about silly little things.
Only Isobel knew the truth about Janice’s engagement and the fact that she had spent private time with Luke. The maid was ecstatic about the latter development and clever enough not to ask Janice for details. But about the duke—Izzy felt as wretched as Janice did.
“I don’t want you to be the Duchess of Halsey,” Izzy had said this morning, “if it means you have to be married to such a wicked man. I wish I could do something to help. But I don’t know what.”
“You can help by staying out of it,” Janice told her. “He means what he says. And I’d never forgive myself if Mr. Callahan got sent to jail on trumped-up charges.”
“He could even be shipped out of the country”—Isobel winced—“or … or hanged, if the crime he might be accused of is particularly loathsome.”
“God forbid.” Janice’s pulse raced at the thought.
They shared a worried look.
Isobel sighed. “I suppose we’re here for a while then.”
“Yes,” Janice said. “I suppose.”
“Perhaps your whole life.” Isobel looked pityingly at her.
“I should hope not.” Janice plucked at the bedcover. “The duke does have a house in Town and other properties scattered about southern England.”
Isobel sank onto the bed beside her and patted her arm. “That’s good. You’ll be able to see your family. Let’s look on the bright side. At least now we can keep looking for that diary.”
Isobel was searching for it at that very moment, and Janice desperately hoped she’d find it, because then Luke could learn about his mother. That would make her very happy. If she couldn’t talk to him, at least she could find him that journal.
She imagined sort of secretly throwing it at him as she walked by and began to get that lump in her throat again, thinking about how she couldn’t talk to him or kiss him—good Lord, she couldn’t hold the puppies, either! or laugh with Aaron!—when the duke stood and held out his hand.
“We’ll go to the stove house now,” he said.
Of course they would. They’d do whatever he wanted. Janice placed her hand in his and stood, a slow-boiling fury starting to replace her self-pity.
Miss Branson wasn’t yet done with her sparkling wine, and Lord Rowntree had requested tea, which had only just arrived. Mrs. Friday, the dear, was opening her mouth to bite into a strawberry.
But Halsey had to have his way.
Everyone else stood, too, and no one complained.
Janice inhaled a deep breath through her nose and wondered how long it would take her to get used to being the Duchess of Halsey. How many years would she spend with this intimidating man with no heart? Would they grow old together? And what about … children?
Dear God, of course she’d have to produce at least an heir and a spare!
She hadn’t thought that far. The idea of getting into a bed with Halsey and having him touch her that way was awful. She prayed he’d tire of her quickly and that they could live separately.
The walk to the stove house was an easy one, down a stone path that had been cleared of snow. Janice looked swiftly about to see where Luke was—
“He’s in the kitchen, having tea,” said the duke.
How on earth did he know what she was thinking? And how did he know where Luke was?
The m
an never rested, did he? Janice felt positively suffocated, knowing she was being watched so closely. And he had minions everywhere, it seemed. The members of the sleigh party certainly hadn’t dipped into the kitchen on their tour—a servant must have come to tell Halsey where Luke was.
Either that or the duke was lying, just to keep her in her place. She wouldn’t put it past him.
She could lie, too. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she told him.
He chuckled. If one didn’t know him, one would think him a pleasant man, judging from that chuckle. But Janice recognized that it wasn’t a nice sound. It was horrid. It promised retribution of an unknown sort to anyone who crossed him.
And she realized at that moment that she was a prisoner forever. If she ran away, Halsey would hurt someone she cared about. Even if she tattled on him to her parents, they couldn’t protect Luke. And Aaron. And Mrs. Friday.
The only way out was if Halsey died. And Janice couldn’t kill him. She felt so guilty even thinking in that direction, she said a quick prayer just as they ducked into the stove house.
It was such an interesting place.
In the warm, moist air, she immediately forgot about the duke. The orchids were so exotic. Many appeared fragile, their stems and petals stark in a hauntingly lovely way. Others were wildly beautiful: the bold pinks and oranges were Janice’s favorites. She’d seen orchids in London and heard how different they were from other flowers. But walking up and down the rows of them, she got to learn from the elderly gardener who watched over them exactly how much work went into producing them. And there was no guarantee that work would pay off.
“Sometimes it do; sometimes it don’t,” he said in that simple way that good country folk often did.
“Keeping the fire stoked appears to be a full-time job.” Janice admired his stamina.
“It’s my privilege to do it,” he replied.
He was such a nice, hardworking man who seemed to genuinely love the orchids. He must have liked how interested she was, because he drew her aside, almost as if she were his special guest, and showed her some remarkable drawings he’d made of the orchids using a stick of coal.
“You’re a true artist,” she said, marveling at the pictures.
“Thank you.” He beamed. “I like to pass the time while the fire’s heating up by sketching my favorite ones. My fingers don’t work like they used to, but I think the drawing helps keep them limber.”
As he flipped through the book, he explained what he liked about each different orchid. And then he’d say, “This one didn’t last long” or “This one’s over in the corner” or “The dowager’s favorite is this one here.”
Janice was intrigued, to be sure, and so grateful to be able to relax for a moment and enjoy his company.
“Do you have any more?” she asked him when they were through perusing the sketches.
“I have an entire collection on that shelf.” He angled his chin at a small buckled shelf that held a few clay pots and a stack of simply bound sketchbooks.
“My goodness,” she said, “I’d love to see them!”
But she sensed that she was missed. Indeed, when she looked over her shoulder the duke was gazing their way, his pocket watch in his hand.
“Perhaps another time,” she said to the gardener. “I believe we’re leaving now.”
He nodded, and she could tell he was disappointed.
“I promise,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
“You are the duke’s intended bride, are you not?” he asked.
She smiled. “Word travels fast, doesn’t it? It’s not official yet, but yes, we’re to marry.”
The gardener’s face lit up. “Good. Because I hope to make some improvements here.” He lowered his voice. “Her Grace’s greatest joy when she lived at the dower house was coming out to see the orchids every day, but His Grace is adamantly opposed. He thinks this entire operation is a waste of money. But with a missus in the house, perhaps he’ll think differently.” He winked at her.
A wave of guilt rushed over Janice. She was about to lie to this wonderful man. “I’ll do what I can,” she said with a nervous smile.
But she knew she wouldn’t be able to help him. If Halsey didn’t want something, it didn’t happen.
The gardener must have sensed her fretting. “Don’t you worry, my lady.” He shut the little sketchbook with fingers stiff and bent with age. “If you can’t do anything, we’ll get by. We always have in these parts.”
He smiled as if to reassure her, she who had wealth and status and privilege—and she was so touched by his simple courage and good cheer that she took his hand and squeezed it. “I like you,” she said, feeling inspired by him.
“And I like you,” he said back. “But I’d better let you go. The duke is waiting.”
“All right.” She winked at him and felt miles better.
She couldn’t wait to see Luke again. She wished she could tell him about the orchids. He was such a good listener. And this time, when he helped her to her seat, she hoped somehow to convey to him (without the duke being aware) that she didn’t want to be this way: cold, removed, and seemingly oblivious to his existence. She didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she wanted to try.
But she never got the chance. She was holding Halsey’s arm when she walked up to the sleigh, and he helped her into it. This time Lord Yarrow and Mrs. Friday joined them.
When Luke climbed up to his seat, he didn’t even look at her.
Janice struggled not to let her disappointment show. It helped that Lord Yarrow kept asking her questions about her family’s Irish estate, but she felt the duke’s eye on her as she answered and wondered if he saw through her contrived amiability.
The sleigh took off smoothly—theirs was in the lead—when the duke called out sharply, “Driver!”
Janice’s heart jumped. What could Halsey mean, calling out so sharply? Nothing appeared wrong with the sleigh or the horses.
Luke looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Your Grace?”
The horses pranced merrily along.
“Stop by the gazebo,” the duke commanded him.
The gazebo was looming, so Luke pulled gently up on the reins, and the sleigh came to a graceful stop. The other sleigh, too, stopped behind them.
Janice couldn’t help feeling nervous, and she knew her eyes were wide as she gazed across at Mrs. Friday. The widow’s face, as always, was reassuringly calm and kind. But how would she look if she knew that the duke had threatened harm to her?
The very idea made Janice’s stomach burn with anxiety.
Halsey jumped down from the sleigh and held out his hand. “Lady Janice, you will join me in the snow.” It was no request. It was an order.
What choice did she have?
“Very well,” she said, and took the duke’s hand.
It was an awkward descent from her seat. All eyes were upon her. She could feel Luke’s, especially.
When she stood before Halsey, he looked down at her with that cool smile of his. “We’re off to the gazebo.”
“Are we?” Everyone was watching. She had no idea what was going on, and judging by the silence, no one else knew, either.
The duke held out his arm and, of course, she took it. Together they walked through the slushy snow to the gazebo, which since they’d arrived must have been swept clean of the snow that had blown into the interior. No snow graced the railings, either.
The duke turned to face the occupants of the sleighs. “It’s early days yet. But all of you know that our engagement to be married will soon be official. As a token of my esteem for my future duchess, I’m presenting her with a gift. And I do it here, in this gazebo, because this is where my own grandmother received this same token from my grandfather, the fifth Duke of Halsey.”
It would have been a lovely gesture in any other courtship. But theirs? An alliance based on threats on his part and fear on hers?
No.
Janice’s temples and hands w
ere damp from nerves. Luke was looking directly at her. Could this be her moment of communication with him? In front of all these people? What could she do to let him know that none of this was her choice?
Before she could manage anything, the duke took her elbow and spun her slowly around. She felt his arms lift over her head and then move to the back of her neck. When she looked down, atop her coat was a magnificent ruby necklace, so large that she gave a little gasp.
“Do you like it?” Halsey murmured in her ear.
“It’s impressive,” she said back. Never would she say that she liked it.
He turned her around to face him again. He raised her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, after which he held her hand aloft in his. “It is done!” he called to the crowd. “The lady is well pleased!”
Janice’s cheeks burned with mortification.
Everyone began to clap—everyone, that is, except Luke, who sat with the reins loose in his hands, his face an inscrutable mask. And then before the clapping even ceased, he turned to face the front of the sleigh.
His neutral profile said it all. That brief, idyllic time with him in the stables might as well never have happened. Her love for him—because that was what it was, she realized—was for naught.
They were strangers again.
Chapter Twenty-three
As the sun hid behind the clouds and the day was laden with gray, the ruby necklace seemed to glow with its own light on the rest of the sleigh ride home. In Janice, too, an idea blazed, fueled by fury and a broken heart.
If she couldn’t speak to Luke—if she must consign herself to being Halsey’s wife—then she would be the future Duchess of Halsey. Starting now.
Lord Yarrow had just finished discussing—in his pompous way—the exhibit of the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum with Mrs. Friday, who’d never seen them.
“A travesty that you haven’t,” he said, not even bothering to look at her.
“I don’t live in London,” she replied, “and I was recently widowed. I don’t know when I’ll get there.”
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