The snow showed no sign of melting and Isobel resigned herself to the fact Alexander could not depart for several more days. Gradually she became accustomed to sharing her meals and her home with him once more. He was so pleasant, so charming and such lively company that being incarcerated with him was no hardship.
The fourth night of his visit they had been playing an entertaining game of Piquet, which he had won, when he tossed his cards on the table and walked over to the window. 'I believe it's raining, the snow will be gone by tomorrow.' He peered behind the heavy curtains and nodded.
'Listen, you can hear the flames spitting. It must be decidedly heavy to come down the chimney like this. The roads will be a quagmire; I think you had best wait until the carriage arrives. Your leg isn't sufficiently recovered for you to ride back to Grosvenor Square,' Isobel said.
He grinned and stared ruefully at his injury. 'As always, my dear, you're quite correct. In which case you must endure my presence for a further day or two.'
Resuming his seat he stared into the flames while she picked up her novel. Unexpectedly Sam appeared at the door his face creased with concern. He looked from one to the other and then addressed his mistress. 'Excuse me for interrupting, my lady, but I've to tell you the ceiling has just collapsed in your bed chamber.'
'Good grief! How can that be? The roof was sound when I moved in, and we have had several heavy downpours since with no leaks at all.'
'I reckon the weight of the snow cracked the tiles and with all that melting and then this downpour it came right through.'
Alexander got to his feet. 'Is it just this one room, or are others affected?'
'There's leaks springing up all down that side of the building, your grace.'
'The tiles are ancient. There's been nothing done to this place for generations, small wonder they have given out under these extreme conditions. Move her grace's belongings into my bed chamber.'
Isobel shot up sending her novel flying into the grate. Alexander grabbed the poker and flicked it from the flames before it was seriously damaged. Picking up the book he extinguished the remaining sparks with his fingers. 'Not seriously damaged, a trifle pungent but definitely still readable.'
Her protest about his highhanded suggestion that she move into his bed chamber remained unspoken. 'But what about your hand? Have you burnt it?'
He waggled his fingers in front of her face. 'See, no damage to them either. I must go and see—'
'Alexander, I'm quite sure my staff are capable of placing buckets under the drips where necessary. There's something I wish to say that's more important than you overseeing the positioning of receptacles.'
Shrugging he returned to his chair and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 'Well, my dear, what's it you wish to say to me?'
'If you think that I —'
'There's no need to fly into the boughs, Isobel. I've no intention of remaining in my bed chamber once you're safely installed there. You can be quite certain Watkins will be moving my belongings as we speak— after all he knows exactly how things are between us, does he not?'
Isobel ignored his comment. 'Oh! There is something I've been meaning to say to you about the settlement we agreed to the other day.' His eyes were watchful but he made no comment. Emboldened by his silence she continued. 'Sam was under the erroneous impression that you were sending him details of the estates you own and I did not disabuse him. On reflection I think it might be better if I moved somewhere within your demesne, I've no wish to cause unnecessary scandal for you or the child.'
He thumped the table scattering the cards on the floor. 'God's teeth! Why did I not think of that myself? There's already an estate that you have undisputed claim to. Highfield House in Epping is held for each duchess in her lifetime. The revenue from the farms, which is substantial, will have been banked in your name since our marriage.'
'Why does this estate not pass down to the eldest daughter? It seems strange an estate should move from one duchess to the next in this way.'
Alexander glanced down at his boots. 'This estate comes down through my maternal great-great grandmother. You are not the first duchess to wish to live apart from her husband.'
'Are you telling me unhappy marriages are expected in this family?'
'I believe the Dukes of Rochester are infamous for their infidelities. My grandmother died at Highfield House, as did my own mama.'
Her stomach curdled, she stared at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time all week. He was incapable of being the kind of man she wanted because he was genetically disposed to philander and abuse. Tears pricked her eyes as she recalled what Bentley had said about Lady Fulbright.
Carefully placing her singed book on the table she stood up and walked across to pull the bell strap. When the footman appeared she gave her instructions. 'Go upstairs and see if the bed chamber being prepared for me is ready, I wish to retire.'
She could not resume her place, needed to be as far away as possible from her husband. Music would soothe her and the pianoforte was at the far end of the drawing-room. She needed no extra candlelight, she would play her favourite sonata from memory. Settling onto the piano stool she raised the lid and ran her fingers over the keys. Soon she was lost in the melody, her distress slipping away as the beauty of the music enveloped her.
****
Alexander slumped back into his chair. He'd seen the accusation in her eyes. That little bastard Bentley had told her about Gloria. When Lady Fulbright had invited him back to her home he had accompanied her, gone inside and dismissed his carriage. However that was as far as it had got, he'd changed his mind and told her the liaison was over, irrevocably so.
He'd not even removed his beaver or his topcoat, had left the house no more than three minutes after entering it and walked home regretting the impulse that had made him accept the offer in the first place. Someone had seen him go in and drawn their own conclusions. He did not blame Isobel for believing the worst, had he not just told her he came from a long line of philandering dukes?
He closed his eyes letting the sound of the piano wash over him. Then he was on his feet limping softly towards the far end of the room from which the glorious sound was coming. Why had Isobel never played for him this way? He'd no idea she was so talented; in fact, if he was honest, he barely knew the woman he'd married so precipitously. This was another serious omission in his part.
He positioned himself against the wall where he could see her face and watch her hands moving confidently up and down the keys. Her eyes were closed; she was lost in a world of her own— somewhere he could not reach her. Her glorious hair had grown and now curled around her face in a russet cap emphasising the beauty of her magnificent green eyes. Her face was thinner than he remembered. Despite the growing mound of her pregnancy she was obviously losing weight elsewhere.
This was his fault, as was everything else that had befallen her. Whatever she wanted from now on he would not quibble, would make no demands on her of any sort, let her find happiness where she could. She had loved him once and maybe in a year or two, when she saw he was completely reformed, she might love him again.
****
Isobel finished the sonata and slowly came back to her surroundings. A slight sound beside her made her turn her head but there was no one there, she must have been mistaken. With a sigh she closed the piano. Her room must be ready by now.
Alexander was standing by the fire his eyes alight with admiration. 'I had no idea you could play so brilliantly, my dear. You’re a virtuoso; I don't believe I've ever heard that piece played so well.'
'Thank you, it's a great favourite of mine. Music has always been a solace; I can lose myself, forget the world around me when I'm playing.'
Mary appeared at the door looking somewhat flustered. 'Your chamber is ready, my lady. Shall I send up a supper tray?'
'No, thank you, I need nothing else tonight. Have you found somewhere for his grace to sleep?'
Her housekeeper glanced nervously at Alexan
der. 'I'm afraid the only chamber available isn't really suitable, but it's the only one that isn't leaking apart from the room you're occupying, my lady.'
He nodded. 'It matters not where I sleep, Watkins, I shall be leaving at first light tomorrow.' He stared at Isobel daring her to contradict, to tell him he was not fit enough to ride.
This was his decision, she would not gainsay him. 'In which case, Mary, make sure breakfast is available at dawn.' She smiled briefly at her husband. 'As you'll be leaving before I rise, I bid you a safe journey, Alexander.' She did not add she hoped he would return soon to visit.
When, heavy eyed, she came down the next morning she discovered he had already departed. The snow had all but gone, a watery sun lit up the soggy park. Alexander was mad to leave on horse-back, but he was a man grown and well able to manage his own affairs without her interference. It might be several more days before the roads were passable and his valet arrived with the carriage. Therefore, with so much tension between them, she was relieved he'd chosen to go.
Even the dogs were subdued. They moped about the place as if their best friend had departed not someone they had only known a few days. The fine weather meant repairs could be done to the roof and the other bedrooms with damaged ceilings. Sam liaised with the estate manager, and soon the place was filled with the sound of hammering and banging as a dozen local men got busy.
She had insisted the employment was given to those who most needed it. Work was scarce everywhere at the moment. With the price of corn so high, life was difficult for the less fortunate. Resigning herself to spending the next few days with the house shrouded under holland covers to protect it from the dust and debris created by the workmen, Isobel retreated to the small sitting-room at the rear of the house.
Into the middle of this chaos Duncan arrived with Alexander's missing luggage, closely behind him was Bentley who had been obliged to spend the past few nights at a disreputable roadside inn where he'd met with the most unfortunate accident.
'Mr Bentley, how distressing for you. To have your belongings stolen in that way is beyond belief. I am so sorry for your misfortune.' The young man was no longer dressed immaculately, nor was his hair oiled or his shirt points freshly starched. Now he was a bedraggled sight, looked as if he had been sleeping in his clothes for the past week, which it turned out was not far short of the truth.
'I do beg your pardon for returning here like this, your grace, but I had no option. The robbers left me with no money to pay my shot. They took my trunk, and everything I own was in it. I was obliged to leave my fob-watch behind as surety. I can't return to London as I am.'
'Of course you can't. You must remain here until you have fully recovered from your horrible experience. Unfortunately I don't believe any of Alexander's garments will fit you, but no doubt we can find something for you to change into for now.'
He looked pathetically grateful. He was no longer the bombastic young man who had arrived on her doorstep, unannounced and unwanted, the previous week. Her heart went out to him. He must stay with her until something could be done about his wardrobe, but where he would sleep was a conundrum she would leave Mary to solve.
'Your grace, I do beg your pardon for intruding a second time. I see the house is under covers. Has there been some sort of disaster here as well?'
'The roof collapsed under the weight of the snow and it is being repaired at this very moment. This means you'll be obliged to sleep in the nursery, but Alexander did so without complaint.'
'I thought his grace had returned to London.'
She could hardly tell him Alexander had galloped back because of him and had also sustained a serious injury in the process. The poor man had suffered enough indignities already these past days. 'His horse cast a shoe and he was obliged to turn back, and then the weather closed in and he stayed until the beginning of the week. We must send word to Grosvenor Square that you're safe here with me. His grace will be worried when he finds you absent.'
Hiding her smile behind her hand she turned away. Alexander was more like to be enraged his heir had returned to Newcomb than worried he was not in Town with him. Bentley was harmless enough now the starch had left his person as well as his apparel, and might even be amusing company for however long it took to find a tailor to replace his missing clothes.
'I've no wish to cause you any aggravation, your grace, especially as matters stand. I shall endeavour to bother you as little as possible whilst I'm here.'
Whatever could he mean? Then she saw his eyes resting on her bump, she had forgotten to disguise her pregnancy. Too late to repine, she must try and make him feel wanted in spite of the fact he now knew his position as the duke's heir was possibly to be of short duration.
'My husband, when he set about the search for you, did not know I was in an interesting condition. We both believed we would not be blessed with children. By the time we realized, the lawyers had contacted you.'
This feeble exclamation was the best she could do. He would no doubt draw the correct conclusion, that they had been estranged at the time which was why her pregnancy had been a surprise to Alexander.
He accepted the information with equanimity. 'I'm more than delighted for you both. To tell you the truth I never really expected to inherit the title. However, his grace has seen fit to set up a generous annuity for me and for that I am extremely grateful. This means I can live comfortably, mix in the highest circles, something that would not have been possible if the lawyers had not discovered me.'
'I'm glad that pleased you're not that that disappointed by the news. Whatever happens both Alexander and I shall consider you a member of the family in future.' What had prompted her to say such a foolish thing? The very last thing she needed at the moment was someone else watching the disintegration of her marriage. It would be impossible to hide from him her intention to depart after the baby was born. If the child turned out to be a girl, how would things be then?
He bowed, looking decidedly silly in his dishevelled state. 'I thank you, your grace. I've no close family of my own. In future I shall consider Cousin Alexander and yourself as my dearest relatives.'
This embarrassing conversation was brought to a halt by the appearance of Duncan. 'Your grace, I've found some garments that will do for Mr Bentley. Shall I act as his man for the present?'
'Yes, that would seem a sensible solution. Mr Bentley, if you would care to go with Duncan, he will take care of you.'
The unkempt young man followed the immaculate valet disconsolately. No doubt he was anticipating with some dismay what he would be obliged to wear for the foreseeable future. Duncan must have discovered items Alexander had worn in his youth, nothing he possessed at the moment would do, he was a head taller and almost double the width of his erstwhile heir.
****
The ride back to London was decidedly unpleasant and Alexander and his two grooms were more than grateful to dismount in the stable yard behind his palatial home. The head stable lad appeared to take the reins of his mount.
'He will need walking to cool down, also check his tendons carefully, it was sticky going.'
Leaving Rufus to be taken care of he limped to the side entrance surprised word of his arrival had not reached the house. He stepped in to come face-to-face with Foster.
'Your grace, I must apologise for not being here to welcome you. We did not expect you back today.'
The butler made it sound as if he was remiss by not sending word ahead of his arrival at his own home. He stared frostily and Foster recoiled, unused to such treatment. 'I shall need someone to act as my valet, Duncan is elsewhere.'
'I will see to it, your grace. We have several suitable footmen who can act as your man until Duncan returns. Shall you be requiring luncheon?'
'Soup and fresh bread and cheese will be sufficient. Have it sent up to my chambers, I shall eat there whilst I wait for my bath to be drawn.'
He was halfway up the staircase when he recalled Bentley must be in residence somewhere. 'I wish t
o speak to Bentley, have him come to my study one hour from now.'
'I'm sorry, your grace, but Mr Bentley isn't here. We thought he was with you at Newcomb.'
God dammit! Surely he should have made his way to Grosvenor Square by now? He was no doubt waiting for the roads to clear and would be along later today to annoy him. 'He must have been obliged to stay somewhere en route. Make sure his apartment is prepared, he will be here shortly.' The butler hovered as if he had something on his mind. 'Well, what's wrong?'
'Your grace, there have been three letters delivered for Mr Bentley; I have put them in his rooms.' Foster shifted from one foot to the other. 'I must also report that two unsavoury characters called demanding to speak to him. They were sent about their business, but I fear Mr Bentley might have fallen in with some rogues.'
Dammit! Alexander frowned. He'd been correct in his first assessment situation—Bentley had, in a few short weeks he'd been mixing in Society, got himself in financial difficulties. 'Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention, Foster. I shall speak to Bentley when he returns.'
If the wretched man wasn't in Grosvenor Square by tomorrow he would have to send someone out to look for him. The young man might be irritating, and from the looks of it was going to be a serious drain on his purse, but he was his responsibility. He could not allow his putative heir to languish somewhere without offering assistance. He was damned if he was going to make the journey again himself, he'd done enough gallivanting these past few days after that particular person.
There was no sign of either his valet or Bentley the next day. What could be keeping them? The toll roads were fit to travel on, the weather was clement and he could see no impediment to their return. By the next morning he was decidedly concerned so when Foster arrived with a letter sent express he hoped it was news of the missing pair. He did not recognize the writing. Impatiently he broke the seal and read the contents.
Dear Alexander,
I do hope that you returned safely and have suffered no ill effects from your travel. I am writing to ask for your assistance. Mr Bentley was robbed of all his
The Duke's Reform Page 13
