by Wendy Vella
Panting with fury, Gilbert Huxley glared at her. “How dare you allow your servants to speak to a nobleman in such a manner, Berengaria!”
“How dare I?” Eva swallowed the hysteria and then moved to stand in front of Betsy, whom she thought just might shoot him if the moment presented itself. “You dare to preach to me of your noble birthright when you have just demonstrated you do not carry a noble bone in your body!”
“You dare to question me? You, a worthless little slut whose father gambled her into marriage?”
So that was how Spencer Winchcomb had forced the old duke into marrying his son to her. Eva would think about that later; for now she had to deal with Huxley.
“Worthless I may be but I am also a duchess and my duke is one of the most powerful men in this country. Therefore, it should not be me who treads carefully, sir.”
She’d surprised him with her words. His eyes widened briefly and his hands fisted at his sides.
“You, Gilbert Huxley, make my skin crawl,” she continued, “and if I did not believe it would go unpunished, I would shoot you myself.” Inside, Eva might be a quivering mess but she would never show him that. Never again would she be that frightened young girl in his presence.
“Hear me well, Gilbert Huxley, for I mean every word I speak,” Eva said slowly. “You will leave my property and never return, and if you disobey these orders, I will have you shot.”
He laughed in her face. “You could not get away with killing a nobleman, Berengaria, and it is my belief that you are too timid to do so.”
“I am a duchess, my Lord. I am sure my misdeeds would be overlooked, should my husband wish it to be so.” Eva braced her shaking knees together as he glared at her. She shivered at the murderous rage in his eyes.
“This will not end here, Berengaria, and you will be sorry you ever crossed me.”
“Have him removed from Stratton, Luton, and see he leaves the area completely,” Eva ordered holding his eyes. Taking the shotgun from Betsy, she then left the room.
…
Daniel had hoped returning to London would prove to be a diversion. His anger would abate and he would forget what he had left behind at Stratton. Eight weeks he had been back and instead of easing, his anger and frustrations were growing. He was heartily sick of everyone asking after his wife. Instead of waning, the interest in his nuptials appeared to be gaining momentum. He had attended balls, routs and card evenings. When questioned as to the whereabouts of his wife, he gave a polite but curt reply, saying she had chosen to remain in the country. Some had given up asking, especially as his explanation was always followed with a dark scowl, but the more determined had kept probing.
“So soon, Duke. We wondered at the rush to wed…”
“Is her condition too delicate for travel, perchance?”
“Miss Winchcomb, Duke. Most unexpected. We had thought you would set your sights higher...”
He had ground his teeth so many times at each innuendo and question, he was sure they would shatter. And then there were the eligible young ladies, the ones who’d all thought to catch him in their snares. They now sent him teary, reproachful glances. Their mothers and some of the more promiscuous widows, however, were sending him covetous glances, and he was besieged by invitations to share beds. It seemed now he was to be hunted by another sort of female - the bored, attached kind whose husbands turned a blind eye to their wives’ little affairs. Of course he was usually more than happy to oblige, but somehow it all seemed a bit tawdry that due to his marital status, he was now fair game - which just showed what a hypocrite he was, as he had spent many long pleasant interludes in the beds of wives, widows and any number of society ladies.
Last night at the Simpkin ball, Lady Louisa Hall suggested she and Daniel have an encounter at the Trengally house party that was to take place in a month’s time in Essex. Daniel had smiled politely and said he was honored but would have to decline. Rather than be put off by his refusal, Lady Louisa had merely fallen on his chest – accidentally, of course – before blowing in his ear.
Shuddering, Daniel remembered her thick, cloying scent. He had left the ball to visit his mistress, but Amelia had pouted and cried over his long absence from her bed and then asked after his wife, indicating her displeasure that he had not informed her of his nuptials. He had simply pulled his breeches back up his legs and stalked from her room, aroused, frustrated and bloody furious with the world.
At present, he was drowning his sorrows at his club - or he had been until his friend Simon, Lord Kelkirk arrived. Having just returned to London, he’d heard of Daniel’s marriage and demanded to know why he had not been invited to the celebrations.
“I told you I was leaving London to get married,” Daniel said.
“Yes, but I did not believe you!” Lord Kelkirk scowled at his friend. “Good Lord, man, you are always saying one thing and doing another. How was I to know this time you were telling the truth?”
Daniel didn’t respond, just stared into the depths of his glass.
“And that, Stratton, is the fourth sigh in as many minutes.” Lord Kelkirk added.
Daniel had left his estate with the intention of pushing all thoughts of his wife from his head. However since his arrival in London, she seemed to have taken up permanent residency there. He remembered that night in her room, when the darkness had allowed them to speak honestly. Daniel had been surprised how good it had felt to share some of his feelings with her. He could still feel her soft weight in his arms, the swell of her breasts against his chest, the feel of her tears on his skin. She had smelt of roses and every cloying scented woman since had seemed distasteful to his senses.
His guilt had steadily risen at leaving her behind, her words replaying themselves over and over inside his head. “At least you had the choice to live your life, your Grace. Traveling here with you is the first time I have left my father’s home.” He imagined her walking aimlessly from room to room at Stratton with only her thoughts for company.
“Five sighs.”
“Shut up, Kelkirk!” Daniel scowled.
Viscount Kelkirk and Daniel had been friends since they’d studied together at Eton. Both Simon and Daniel’s fathers had cared more for appearances than their sons’ happiness and so the two of them had formed a bond as close as brothers. Like Daniel, Simon was big, but where Daniel’s hair was brown Simon’s was grey, and had been since he turned nineteen. Women loved his silver tresses threaded with black strands, believing they gave him a distinguished air.
“You should just return home and apologize to her,” Simon told him.
“How do you know I have anything to apologize for?”
“Because you are preoccupied and withdrawn, two traits I have never before attributed to you,” Simon stated. “And as the last person you saw before coming back to London was your new wife, I surmised she was the source of your ill humor. So either you owe your duchess an apology or she owes you one.”
Daniel had not told him the whole story of his marriage, only that his father had been behind it and that his wife now resided at Stratton Lodge. “Haven’t you business somewhere? I’m sure there is someone else you could pester.”
“Why should I wish for another’s company when you are such a delightful companion?” Simon enquired with a smile that made Daniel’s scowl deepen. “So what is she like, your new duchess?”
“Timid.”
“Warts, moles, bent back or other inflictions?” probed Simon, his eyes fixed on his friend’s face.
“None of the above. Skinny wrists and a terrible fashion sense.” Daniel took a long swallow of brandy, which burned down his throat in a most satisfactory manner. And she fitted perfectly into his arms. He still had no idea what color eyes his wife had and for some reason, this made him feel guiltier.
“Have I met her family?”
“No.”
“No, they are not part of society or no, we have yet to be introduced?”
“Kelkirk, my mood can at best
be termed mean. Therefore, it would be in your interest to stop this line of questioning.”
“Did she have a season?” Simon asked, seemingly unworried by his friend’s threats.
“No.”
“Because her family is not part of society or because - ”
“Because she was already betrothed to me.” Daniel’s words sounded weary, as if dredged from his soul. Lord, it seemed he was either seething with rage these days or so tired he felt like he could sleep where he stood.
Simon studied Daniel. “And you had no idea that you were betrothed?”
Daniel’s laugh held no humor. “No. I found out as I stood dutifully beside my father’s deathbed. He did not ask after me or my future plans. He merely said I was to marry her. It was a touching paternal moment I will carry with me until my own death. I have arranged for you are to marry Miss Winchcomb.” Daniel mimicked his sire’s voice. It was a promise made at her birth, a promise you must now honor.”
“But why?”
“Now that - ” Daniel took another deep slug of his drink “- is something I do not know, since my father, with excellent timing, passed away before I could press him further.”
“Did your lawyers look over the document?”
Daniel sent his friend a foul look
“Of course. Forgive me.” Simon waved a hand. “It is just such a shock.”
“Try standing in my shoes.”
“And I presume the duchess was as shocked as you?” Simon said.
More guilt landed on his shoulders. “Yes, I now believe she was.”
“Now?” Simon questioned.
“Now that I have distanced myself from her and my anger has eased, I can see things more clearly.”
“Stratton!” came a voice beyond Simon.
“Have mercy!” Daniel hissed as he looked up into the faces of two of his new brother-in-laws. Thankfully, it seemed he was to be spared their father.
“Lord, Monty! If it isn’t our brother-in-law,” Bartholomew Winchcomb said. He then brayed loudly, sounding like a farmyard animal.
The elder Winchomb siblings were like two peas in a pod with their short and stocky frames, thinning red hair and wide, bulbous eyes. They looked nothing like the duchess, even though they shared a father.
“Have to thank you, old man. Your name has given us entry into places we had only ever dreamed of before,” Bartholomew added. “See you’ve left the wife at home. Good move. Eva’s an ugly little thing and would put you in a very bad light.”
“Eva?” Daniel asked.
“Course, you only know her as Berengaria. The bloody Mulholland started calling her Eva ten years ago and it just sort of stuck.”
Eva. Daniel didn’t like to think of his little wife as Eva. Somehow that made her seem more vulnerable. The name Berengaria had always reminded him of a maiden aunt, but Eva…
“Won’t have to worry too much about keeping her busy now the wedding night’s over, as Lord Huxley will soon pay her a call,” Bartholomew Winchcomb said with another bray of laughter before punching Daniel in the shoulder.
Daniel thought briefly about punching Winchcomb back. Just one well placed jab and he would fall easily with minimum fuss. He could then have them both thrown out of his club.
“And why would Gilbert Huxley pay my Duchess a visit?” Daniel said as he climbed to his feet.
“He’s partial to Eva, always has been. Spent a lot of time in our house, you know.” Bartholomew Winchcomb puffed out his chest. “Our father is in business with him.”
“I’d hardly call cheating men out of their money ‘business’, Winchcomb,” Daniel said. What had Eva’s life been like at the hands of these idiots?
“It’s business is what it is, Duke! And about now Huxley will be seeing to unfinished business with your duchess, too!”
Montgomery Winchcomb was not as slow as his older brother and had picked up on the change in the large duke’s demeanor. Eyes as cold as sleet were at present fastened on Bartholomew. “Uh, Barty,” Montgomery said desperately, trying to get his brother’s attention. Bartholomew, however, was not listening.
“Really?” Daniel raised a brow.
Happy for once to be the centre of attention, and most especially in front of his very powerful brother-in-law, Barty was not about to relinquish the reins to his younger brother.
“Indeed. Father, you know, let Huxley play with Eva a little, but said he wasn’t to touch her - ”
“Barty!” Montgomery said with more urgency.
Two very large hands were now clenched at the duke’s sides.
“At least until she had wed you, then after the wedding night you would dump her somewhere. Well who wouldn’t want to, ugly little thing like that? It makes one shudder thinking of her amongst us.”
“Are you saying Huxley will make inappropriate advances to the Duchess of Stratton?”
Bartholomew Winchcomb stilled. Suddenly, all the air squeezed from his lungs as he looked up at the Duke. His brother-in-law’s eyes were like looking into the pits of hell. “Uh, well, um…as to that, I’m just, uh…”
“Of course Lord Huxley was just rambling. Harmless fellow, loves Eva like a sister,” Montgomery added with a high-pitched laugh. “He wouldn’t dream of touching our sweet Eva, would he, Barty?”
“Nooo,” Bartholomew shook his head. He then allowed Montgomery to grab him and together, the brothers made a hasty retreat.
Daniel watched the Winchcomb brothers flee, their coattails flicking as they ran through the quiet, exclusive club.
“Do you know if Huxley is in town?” Daniel asked Simon as they both headed for the door through which the Winchcomb brothers had recently fled. The Duke had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach all of a sudden. Was his duchess in danger?
“I returned this morning, Daniel, and have not had a chance to catch up on the gossip.” Simon fell in beside him as they collected their horses and started through the busy streets of London. “Do you think there was some truth to their claims, then?”
“I cannot afford to discount it. I have only elderly retainers at Stratton Lodge except for Tibbs, my stable master, and he goes to the village most nights. There would not be a lot of protection, should she require it.”
Simon digested this for several seconds.
“They are fools, both of them, Daniel. I find it hard to believe that Huxley would pursue your wife, a duchess, to Stratton Lodge and attempt to take her against her will.”
“I may not have wanted a wife, Simon, but I have one and can not discount any possible threat to her. She is under my protection now and I have left her vulnerable in my haste to leave Stratton.”
“We need to find someone who knows about both the Winchcombs and the threat from Huxley,” Simon added, looking around him as if that someone was milling on the streets before them.
Several curses filled the air as Daniel’s shoulders slumped. “Grandmother will know.”
“Well this, my friend, is where we part ways,” Simon said, patting his friend’s shoulder in sympathy.
“Coward.”
“Sad but true,” said Simon, waving farewell and setting off in the opposite direction before Daniel had time to draw another breath. The duke’s grandmother had that effect on people.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Dowager Duchess was Daniel’s father’s mother. She’d always been a formidable woman, terrifying every new season’s debutantes with her vicious tongue. She went through a new household of staff every few weeks and was perhaps the only constant in Daniel’s life, though that constant was like a barb being repeatedly jabbed into one’s side. She challenged her grandson on every front, just as she had challenged her son. It was she who had visited him regularly at Stratton Lodge, checking his tutors were schooling him correctly to be the next duke, and later she was the one who’d pushed him through Eton.
There were plenty of carriages filling the streets at two o’clock on a sunny afternoon, yet it took Daniel only minutes to di
rect his horse to his grandmother’s doorstep. After handing the reins to a groom, he knocked on the large, white front door.
“Your Grace,” the immaculately clad butler said with a deep bow.
“Thompson.” Daniel responded with a nod and handed over his outer clothing. Thompson was the only long-term member of the duchess’s household, and had remained in his position for as long as Daniel could remember. “Is my grandmother at home?” he asked, not sure what answer he hoped for.
“If you will come this way, I will take you to her at once.”
Damn, she must have heard about his wedding, Daniel thought. Otherwise he would have been left to cool his heels in one of her elegant parlors for at least an hour before she condescended to see him.
“His Grace, the Duke of Stratton, your Grace,” Thompson said, ushering Daniel forward.
The Dowager Duchess of Stratton was a big woman who had lost little of her indomitable presence with age. Daniel had no idea of his grandmother’s exact age and she was not likely to ever disclose it to him, but she had to be over seventy, he thought, though her black hair was only lightly sprinkled with grey. Her big shoulders, large hands and long, hawk-like nose all added up to a formidable matron who was not to be messed with. They shared the bond of blood but little else. They rarely hugged or touched, she never offered words of kindness of sympathy and in truth, he would not have known how to take them from her. She had a sharp tongue and little wit and Daniel had never really worked out how he felt about her.
“Grandmother.” Daniel bowed over her hand.
“So you have been back eight weeks and now you finally visit me?” the duchess barked.
“Yes, I am well, and you also seem to be the picture of health.” Daniel moved to take the chair opposite her.
“Do not bandy words with me, Grandson. I was at your father’s funeral and you did not say one word, so I had to hear of your marriage like everyone else, through the newspapers.” To let him know how angry she truly was, she picked up a book from the table beside her and whacked it soundly on his knee.
“Did you know of this marriage contract?” Daniel rubbed his knee, noting he’d been taken to task by The Marauding Adventures of Captain Veesley on the High Seas.
