Last Duke

by Andrea Kane

  “Nothing. I came here directly from—” Another hesitation.

  “Daphne knows about our plans for her mother’s divorce,” Pierce informed him. “So if your visit relates to that, feel free to speak.”

  “Very well. I just left Tragmore. The marquis didn’t take kindly to what we have planned.”

  “I didn’t expect that he would.”

  Daphne inhaled sharply. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll see to the missives we just discussed.”

  Pierce caught her elbow. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. But I need not hear of my father’s temper. I’ve experienced it firsthand. And I am eager to pursue that other matter we spoke of.”

  “Fine.” Pierce nodded his understanding.

  “Good day, Mr. Hollingsby.” Daphne gathered up her skirts. “ ’Twas a pleasure to see you again.”

  “And you, Daphne.” Hollingsby watched her go, then turned back to Pierce. “I hope I didn’t unnerve her.”

  “You didn’t. But it’s just as well that she not be involved. I don’t want Daphne upset in any way, especially now.”

  “Now?”

  A tender smile touched Pierce’s lips. “Daphne is carrying my child.” Abruptly, he cut off Hollingsby’s anticipated response. “And if you so much as mention that bloody codicil I’ll have you thrown out.”

  “I didn’t plan to.” With a flicker of surprise, the solicitor studied Pierce’s face. “You love your wife a great deal.”

  “A great deal.”

  “It’s obvious she feels the same. You’re a lucky man, Thornton.”

  “Very lucky. Daphne’s love is the most precious of gifts, one I intend to pass on to our child. He’ll be part of a home, with both a mother and father who want him. Never will he be forced to struggle for survival, nor will he know the futility of abandonment.”

  “And if he is a she?”

  Pierce grinned. “Then I’ll probably spoil her shamelessly, especially if she resembles her mother.”

  “I’m delighted for you. May the future more than make up for all the past has denied you.”

  “Up until recently, I would have claimed that to be impossible. But now, since Daphne,” Pierce shook his head in wonder, “I’m starting to believe in tomorrow, in happiness, even in prayers.”

  “Is that why you’re working so hard to answer Lady Tragmore’s?”

  Instantly, Pierce’s smile vanished. “No. In Elizabeth’s case, I’m determined to free her from a man I know to be a monster.”

  “Tragmore detests you as much as you do him. Oh, he was irate when I terminated our business association. More so when I brought up the divorce. But he became livid when I mentioned your name, though he did his best to hide it.” Hollingsby chuckled. “I truly think he was restraining himself from striking me.”

  “I expected something of the kind.”

  “You have quite a history together, I gather.”

  “You gather correctly.” Pierce cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I missed that meeting we’d scheduled for last week. Have you any preliminary information for me regarding the divorce?”

  Hollingsby frowned thoughtfully. “When I received your note saying you had left Benchley directly after the ball and were home, ill and too weak to travel to London, I met with Colby, the barrister I engaged, alone. He’s now fully apprised of the situation. I’ve brought you a list of his fees and an outline of the procedure he suggested.” Extracting several sheets of paper from his portfolio, Hollingsby offered them to Pierce. “Your illness must have been a brief one,” he added casually. “You look in perfect health.”

  “Hmm?” Pierce was scanning the documents. “Oh, I’m feeling fit as ever. Evidently, something I ate at Benchley severely upset my system. It took several days for me to recover.” He raised his head. “Incidentally, did you bring a draft for the past week’s allocated allowance?”

  “I did.” Hollingsby withdrew the requisite check. “Why? Are you short of funds?”

  A corner of Pierce’s mouth lifted. “Fear not, my friend. As you well know, I’ve sent my father’s assets soaring. I merely intend to transfer the sum to some workmen I’ve hired. I’m investing in a business undertaking of Daphne’s.”

  “That’s quite a vast amount to contribute to workmen. What is this undertaking?”

  “My kindhearted wife plans to supervise the installation of a new roof on her village schoolhouse, one that will sustain the winter. Then, come spring, she intends to finance the construction of a whole new schoolhouse. As you can see,” Pierce indicated Markham’s classroom with a grand sweep of his arm, “education for those who can’t afford it means a great deal to Daphne. The reason I need the bank draft now is that my impatient duchess is determined to begin overseeing the new roof’s installation within the week.”

  “How benevolent of her and of you.” Hollingsby regarded him pensively. “ ’Tis rare to see such generosity.”

  Pierce shrugged, wincing a bit at the resulting stab of pain that shot through his shoulder, alerting him to the fact that he had overtaxed the wound after all. “I enjoy helping those who cannot help themselves. It gives purpose to the hell I endured.” He returned to his reading.

  “Are you in discomfort?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I asked if you were in discomfort. Your arm seems to be causing you some trouble.” Hollingsby gestured to where Pierce was absently rubbing his shoulder.

  “Oh, no, not really. I helped carry in that large desk,” Pierce lied swiftly, pointing with his opposite hand. “I must have strained myself.”

  “I see.” Hollingsby waited only until Pierce resumed scanning Colby’s documents before he began strolling nonchalantly about the classroom. “As I was saying, your generosity is admirable. Rarely does one see that type of behavior, except, of course, from the Tin Cup Bandit.” A pause. “Speaking of which, did you happen to read of that cunning thief’s latest escapade? He made off with a fortune of the Viscount Benchley’s jewels and silver. And in the midst of the Christmas party you abandoned, no less. Of course, the reckless fellow was nearly apprehended. Something about a bullet grazing his shoulder.”

  Pierce lowered the page he’d been perusing. “Yes, I recall reading about the incident in the Times while I was convalescing.”

  “Convalescing? Oh, from your illness, you mean.”

  “Hollingsby.” Pierce’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

  “I? Why nothing. Only that I must admit to having felt some degree of relief that the scoundrel escaped. I must be getting soft in my old age.”

  “Indeed.”

  Hollingsby fingered one of the drapes, intently studying its intricate pattern. “Were I advising the bandit, I might point out that he is tempting the odds in a most foolish manner. I might suggest that he appraise his assets. And I don’t mean his financial ones. I might even recommend that, having realized all that is truly his, he find some other way to accomplish his purpose, without jeopardizing his freedom, perhaps his very life. And, with a modicum of luck, I might just get through to him.” Sighing, Hollingsby dropped the drape. “Pity I don’t know the fellow.”

  “Yes, isn’t it.” At this point, Pierce had abandoned all pretense of reading. “Hollingsby—”

  “Do you know, I’ve just remembered an appointment I have in Town,” the solicitor interrupted. He shook his head in apparent disgust, closing his portfolio and heading toward the door. “I don’t know what is happening to my memory these days. Why, I seem to forget things in the blink of an eye.” He halted, turning to regard Pierce quizzically. “What was it we were discussing?” He shrugged. “You see? It’s already left me. Ah well, I suppose it wasn’t important. Was it, Thornton?” Boldly, he met Pierce’s gaze.

  A slow smile curved Pierce’s lips. “No, my friend, I don’t believe it was.”

  “Good.” Hollingsby gripped the door handle. “Take your time reviewing those papers, by the way. We’ll schedule another meeting
early next week.” A flicker of humor. “Before you begin the sensible, charitable venture of installing the schoolhouse roof.”

  21

  “LANGLEY, ARE YOU CERTAIN no visitors have arrived at Markham this morning?”

  “None, Your Grace,” Langley assured Daphne, gloved hands clasped behind his back.

  Shifting impatiently, Daphne chewed her lip. “I sent the missives to Mama and the vicar more than four days ago. ’Tis the fifth day, and it’s nearly noon. Where on earth could they be?” She inclined her head. “Possibly you didn’t hear their carriage?”

  “Most unlikely, Madam, given that I’ve not left the entranceway since shortly after dawn.”

  Daphne blinked. “Whyever not?”

  “With all due respect, Your Grace, I haven’t had the opportunity. I’ve been surveying the drive for approaching guests since your first request at sunrise.”

  “Oh, Langley, I apologize.” Daphne was torn somewhere between laughter and embarrassment. “I’ve abused you shamefully. Please, go enjoy some of Cook’s wonderful scones and a cup of tea. I’ll take up the vigil.”

  “Indeed you will not, Madam,” the butler countered emphatically. “His Grace left strict instructions that, given the delicacy of your health, you were not to take part in your customary ritual of assisting the staff.”

  “The delicacy of my health?” Daphne echoed. “I’m carrying a child, Langley, not a fatal illness.”

  Langley flushed at the forthright referral to her pregnancy. “I’m only following orders, Your Grace.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “Very well. I’ll have Cook bring you some refreshment.”

  “That would be greatly appreciated. In the interim, I shall continue scrutinizing the entranceway. Should either your mother or the vicar arrive, you can be sure I will locate you at once.”

  “Thank you, Langley.” Daphne gave him a grateful smile, then headed down to the kitchen.

  Cook scowled when she saw Daphne. “Out, Your Grace,” she commanded, mincing no words. “The duke left strict orders.”

  “I know. I know. I’m not to lift a finger owing to my delicate condition.” Daphne sighed. “Well, fret not. I’ve merely come to request that you provide Langley with some sustenance. The poor man has been keeping vigil at the front door for over five hours. If he doesn’t eat something soon, he will probably swoon.”

  As soon as she realized Daphne was going to abide by the duke’s demands, Cook relaxed, filling a plate with warm scones, and readying a pot of tea. “You should eat a bit of this yourself, ma’am. You scarcely touched your breakfast.”

  Daphne’s stomach lurched. “No, thank you, Cook.”

  “You need to keep up your strength, and the babe’s. Here.” She handed Daphne a plate containing two of the flaky treats. “At least eat these.” Clucking away Daphne’s protests, she shooed her from the kitchen, plate in hand.

  Making her way down the hall, Daphne searched for a discreet spot in which to deposit her unwanted aromatic snack. At the same time, she tried desperately to hold her breath, certain that to inhale would be disastrous at that moment. With each step she became more convinced her plight was futile.

  “Oh! Pardon me, ma’am.” Mary, the head gardener’s youngest daughter, scooted out of the schoolroom just as Daphne passed by. The girl came to a screeching halt, just brushing the full skirt of Daphne’s gown. “Forgive me, Yer Grace. I didn’t see ye.”

  Waves of nausea were undulating through Daphne’s system. “Mary. No apology is necessary.” She swallowed.

  The awkward twelve-year-old blanched as she saw Daphne’s distressed expression. “I just finished my lessons. I didn’t know ye were out here.” Slowly, she backed away. “I didn’t mean to bump into ye.”

  “You didn’t.” Despite her unsettled state, Daphne realized she had to convince Mary she had done nothing wrong. “Mary—here.” Abruptly, she thrust the dish of scones at the startled child. “Cook made extra. Enjoy them.”

  “Why, thank you, ma’am.” Tentatively, Mary smiled.

  Daphne never heard the rest. In a flash, she bolted, racing past the schoolroom to the nearby water closet Pierce had just had installed.

  She’d eaten nothing that day, yet her body seemed not to know that, heaving again and again in protest. At last the retching stopped, and Daphne sank weakly to her knees, leaning her head against the cool surface of the wall.

  “Try this. It will help.”

  From the open doorway, Sarah handed Daphne a cold compress. “Place it against your forehead and stay still for a minute or two. The feeling will pass.”

  Gratefully, Daphne took the cloth, pressing it to her overheated face.

  “That’s it. Now take deep breaths and relax.”

  The queasiness vanished as abruptly as it had arrived.

  Lifting her head, Daphne blinked. “The sensation is gone.”

  Sarah gave her a wry grin. “Not to worry. It will visit again. As early as tomorrow, perhaps.” She reached out, helping Daphne to her feet. “Come into the classroom and sit down. You haven’t eaten breakfast, have you?” she guessed, guiding Daphne from the water closet into the sunlit chamber beside it.

  Blinking in surprise, Daphne shook her head.

  “I suspected as much. You’re more apt to be ill when your stomach is empty. Eat simple foods, but never neglect your meals, even if you aren’t especially hungry,” Sarah advised.

  “Is the cause for my sickness so obvious?” Daphne asked, settling herself in a chair.

  “Only to those who have endured it. I saw the greenish cast to your complexion when you dashed into the water closet. I’ve worn a similar one these past weeks.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Daphne murmured with a twinge of disappointment.

  “Why? Did you wish to keep your condition a secret?”

  “Oh, no.” She smiled faintly. “Not that I could if I chose to. The entire staff has been alerted by my anxious husband. But, in your case, well—I did hope to tell you myself.”

  “And why is that?” Sarah asked curiously.

  “Because you and I are connected in an intangible way. We seem destined to repeatedly touch each other’s lives. First at the House of Perpetual Hope, then at Benchley, and now here, both of us carrying our first babes. ’Tis silly, perhaps, but I suspect fate is guiding us along parallel paths. For our sakes, and for our children’s.” Daphne smiled. “Somehow it comforts me to know that we are both bringing new lives into the world at the same time.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah replied, visibly moved. “That’s a lovely thought.”

  “ ’Tis an honest one.” Daphne studied Sarah’s face. “Are you happy at Markham?”

  “Oh, yes.” Sarah’s eyes glowed. “I never realized how much I would enjoy teaching children until you and the duke offered me the opportunity to do so. To be given a chance, without censure or scorn—” Sarah paused. “I wonder if you can imagine what that means to me.”

  “I can and I do.” Daphne inclined her head. “But I wish you would realize how very much you give others in return. Not only the children, who have come alive after mere days of your teaching, but me.” Rubbing the folds of her gown between her fingers, Daphne added, “My father is a horrible man, Sarah, as I’m sure you recall. I’ve never been allowed companionship. Father even forbade me to visit our local vicar, who is truly my only friend. Having another woman to laugh with, to chat with, to share confidences with—that would be miraculous. Would you consider such a friendship?”

  “You’re asking me to befriend you?”

  “Is that so astonishing?” Daphne asked with a quizzical expression.

  “In all candor, Your Grace, we have nothing in common.”

  “I beg to differ with you. In my opinion, we have everything in common. All but our social position, which is a mere accident of fate. I invite you to name another disparity between us.”

  A flicker of a smile. “You win.” The smile faded
, and Sarah lowered her gaze, carefully weighing her next words. “I would like to be your friend, truly I would. But frankly, I’m not certain I’d know how. I’ve never shared laughter or confidences with anyone.”

  “Perhaps you’ve never met someone worthy enough to share them with.”

  A sad smile. “I don’t easily accept people into my heart. And truthfully, no one’s ever taken me into theirs.”

  “Not even James?” Daphne questioned softly.

  “James.” A film of tears veiled Sarah’s eyes, and she quickly brushed them away. “I suppose he was the exception. But when it truly mattered, the feelings between us weren’t strong enough.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. He turned sheet white when I told him I was with child. Then he muttered something about needing to think. That was the last time I saw him.”

  “Perhaps he was dazed. The reality of becoming a father, especially since it was unanticipated, must have left him reeling.”

  “Unanticipated,” Sarah echoed. “I suppose it was. But, as I told you at Benchley, he made his intentions clear from the onset of our involvement. His restless spirit would not be tamed, nor would his independence be compromised.”

  “Did he love you?”

  “In his way, yes.”

  “Did he tell you so?”

  Again, a sad flicker of memory. “On occasion, yes.”

  “Sarah.” Daphne rose to her feet. “Does James know where to find you?”

  Sarah turned away. “Don’t you understand, Your Grace. He doesn’t want to find me.”

  “My name is Daphne, and that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “No—Daphne. He has no idea where to find me. Unless, of course, he inquired at Black’s, the tavern in London where we met. When I accepted the position as a serving maid and left for Benchley, I provided Black’s tavern keeper with the location of my new residence.”

  “I see.” Daphne ingested that thoughtfully. She wanted to inquire further but refrained, sensing Sarah’s reticence. Moreover, an idea was forming in her mind, and she was impatient to find Pierce to explore it. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “I’d best make certain Langley has eaten some of Cook’s scones.” A grin. “I’m sure his reaction to them was more flattering than mine.”