The Duke's Revenge

by Alexia Praks

“He is rather charming when he wanted to be,” Christine said. “We dined with him only two weeks ago up at Carlton House. He drinks rather too much,” she muttered.

  “Talking about dinner.” Lady Mornington touched Christine’s arm to get her attention. “I was thinking of a dinner party on Easter night.”

  “A dinner party?” Christine looked at the older woman. “Oh, that would be marvelous. Actually, I was thinking of the same thing although I need to ask the duke’s permission first. I simply need some practice as hostess, and Ivy could help me.” She turned to look at her friend.

  “Me?” Ivy raised her brows.

  “Yes, you.” Christine nodded. “How else are we to talk His Grace into doing it?” She touched Ivy’s arm and said, “How about it, Ivy?”

  “Well, I don’t know...”

  “Oh, come along now, we can invite many people to the party,” Christine suggested. “It would be ever so much fun.”

  “Yes, don’t forget Mr. Oliver,” Lady Hartland added, “a very charming young man.”

  “Yes, tonight we will ask His Grace for permission,” Christine said. “I know it is rather short notice but—ah, there is Tyson now.”

  They turned and saw the boy walking toward them, his blonde hair shone gold under the sun.

  “Where have you been, Tyson?” Christine asked. Her voice was stern though there was a hint of motherly affection in it as well. “You have us all a bit worried.”

  “I was just admiring those fine Cleveland horses over there.” He pointed to the four handsome horses near a carriage parked across the street.

  “Is that your carriage, Lady Mornington?” Ivy asked. When the woman didn’t answer her, she turned and saw that both Lady Hartland and Lady Mornington were staring at Tyson, their faces were very pale.

  “Tyson, be a good boy and say hello to the Marchioness of Hartland and the Countess of Mornington,” Christine said firmly and urged the boy toward them with a touch of her hand at the back of his shoulder.

  Tyson looked from Lady Hartland and then to Lady Mornington. He was a bit worried that both women, and especially the lady with dark brown hair and metallic blue eyes, looked very pale. It was as though they had just seen a ghost.

  “Hello,” he said to both of them and saluted with a bow of his head.

  “My—” Lady Hartland uttered as she moved one of her shaking hands to place on her chest. Her body was shaking and her head was starting to spin. “Caroline--” she said to her friend. Then she blinked. “I don’t believe this. I—”

  Lady Mornington widened her eyes in shock when she saw her friend fell. “Cath!” she shouted and quickly caught her before she could reach the ground. “Cath!”

  Christine and Ivy rushed around and kneeled beside them. The three maids hovered over them, wondering what they could do to help. Other people in the street came to stand around them to look at the unconscious lady.

  “Quick, Lisa,” Ivy said, “get Mr. Oliver. His clinic is just around the corner.”

  The maid nodded, begged her way out through the throng of unknown people, and rushed to find the surgeon.

  “What’s the matter with the woman?” A voice in the spectator said.

  “Ain’t you saw she fainted?” one muttered.

  “Dear, this is not all going well.” Christine looked around at the people surrounding them. “Please move back, the lady needs some air.” When no one listened to her, she yelled, “Please move back.” As she hopelessly looked around her, even more people seemed to be crowding in, trying to have a peek at Lady Hartland lying unconscious on the ground. She sighed in vexation and put her hands to her hips. “Please!” she shouted, “move back, she needs air.”

  “Is she going to be all right?” Betty asked and her face was as pale as those of Lady Hartland herself.

  Ivy got up and helped Christine begged everyone to back away so that Lady Hartland could get some air. No one listened, however.

  Tyson got a bit frustrated at the over-crowded people and shouted, “Move back!” as he pushed them back by walking toward them to clear the way. “The lady needs some air. Move back,” he shouted and shooed them all back.

  Emma and Betty did the same, and instantly, the crowd dispersed.

  “Has she not been well?” Ivy asked Lady Mornington.

  “Nay, I—” Lady Mornington glanced up at Tyson and then turned her attention back to her friend. “No, she has been very well. Just shock, I think.”

  “Thank God Mr. Oliver is here,” Christine said when she saw the young man rushing toward them.

  Tim Oliver came to kneel beside Lady Hartland and quickly started with his examination. He checked her pulse and then opened her closed eyelids.

  “She’s going to be all right,” he said. “She should be awake soon. Here, you take my satchel,” he said to Tyson. The boy took the bag quickly, and Tim moved to lift Lady Hartland in his arms and then carried her across the street to his clinic.

  They were following Tim to the clinic when Lady Mornington saw the governess, Dan and Mary rushing toward them.

  “What happened?” the governess asked.

  “It’s Catherine, she fainted,” Lady Mornington said.

  “Oh, dear! Come along Dan, Mary,” the governess said as they, too, followed the others toward Mr. Oliver’s clinic.

  Once Tim had placed Lady Hartland on a comfortable examination bed she regained her consciousness. She blinked a few times and turned to look around her.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You’re in my clinic, Lady Hartland,” Tim said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I think I’m all right,” she replied and then turned to her friend. “Caroline, I—” She shook her head and blinked. “Was it a dream?”

  Lady Mornington came around to her friend and rubbed the woman’s arm gently. “Nay, dear, ‘tis no dream, I can assure you.” She nodded her head toward where Tyson was standing beside Ivy and Christine.

  Lady Hartland took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Then tears started to flow down her pale cheeks. “I had lost hope and now...thank God,” she whispered.

  “Is Lady Hartland going to be all right?” Christine asked. “I was so worried.”

  Lady Hartland opened her eyes and turned her attention to Christine. “My lady,” she started, her voice was shaky and her hands were clutching her midsection. “Tyson, is he your brother?”

  Christine frowned in confusion and said, “Why yes.” She touched Tyson’s shoulder. “Rather, he is my foster brother. We are not related at all, you see. I found him. I beg your pardon, Lady Hartland, why do you ask?”

  Lady Hartland did not answer, however, and tears flowed down her cheeks. She turned to her friend and sobbed.

  Lady Mornington patted her friend’s back. Everyone stared in silent at the woman crying. A moment later, Lady Hart turned and said, “Mary, please come here.”

  Mary, who was standing beside her governess and clutching the governess’s hand with her small, shaking ones, walked to her mother. “Mama, are you all right?” she asked in her small, quivering voice.

  “Aye, my love, I am quite all right now,” Lady Hartland said and moved her daughter around to face the crowd.

  Everyone stared wide-eyed at Mary.

  Ivy knew instantly why she had thought that she had seen Tyson somewhere before. But the fact was that it was not Tyson himself that she had seen before—it was Mary.

  “My Goodness!” Christine said. “I—”

  Tyson stepped forward as he stared at the young girl before him. Mary stepped back as she stared at him.

  “But how?” Christine asked in shock surprised.

  “Where did you find him, my lady?” Lady Hartland asked.

  Christine just shook her head. “In Hammingshire town, it was about six years ago and...”

  “My son was kidnapped six years ago,” Lady Hartland sobbed. “I had been searching for him, and I have never stopped. I was beginning to loose faith and now...”

>   “I just can’t believe this. If Tyson didn’t look so much like Mary, I wouldn’t have thought that...” Christine said as she stared at the two young people. They both had silver blonde hair, oval face, and metallic blue eyes which she had no doubt they had inherited from Lady Hartland herself. Their features, as they now stood almost side by side, were exactly the same that they seemed like identical twin.

  “Your son, Lady Hartland,” Ivy began, “what is his name?”

  Lady Hartland turned to look at Tyson, her eyes glistening with tears. “Tyson Frederick Bradford, the Marquise of Hartland,” she said.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Don’t you think you look rather fetching?” Lisa said, glancing at Ivy through the mirror.

  “Hmm,” Ivy replied with a nod as she stared at herself. She was wearing a rosy pink evening gown styled in the latest fashion of high waist and long trained that enhanced her slim figure. She didn’t like the mere three inches of material that barely covered her breasts, however. To cover her over exposed chest, she wore a Pomona green robe over her gown but that didn’t seem to help because the darker shade color only enhanced her petal white skin even more.

  “That gown certainly is perfect for you. You will turn heads tonight.”

  “Nay, Lisa, who would want to look at me? The countess is very beautiful, isn’t she?” She turned to look the maid.

  “Oh yes she is but you are beautiful, too, in your own way,” Lisa insisted. “Now come along, the guests are here though I must say it is rather a small dinner party.”

  “Have you finished yet?” Ivy asked, and when Lisa nodded, she stood up. “The guests are here, I will have to go down.”

  “Yes, you will have to.” Lisa smiled and her eyes twinkled.

  Ivy was very nervous when she was descending the stairs. Her body couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and she was sure she would probably fall down the stairs if she wasn’t walking slowly as she was, at a snail pace.

  At the door to the drawing room, Donald bowed his head at her. She glanced at him and saw him winking at her. She sighed, and with her heart still pounding in her chest, she walked into the elegant drawing room.

  “Ah, there she is,” Lady Mornington said, beckoning her to come to where she, Lady Hartland, Christine, and Mrs. Smith; Christine’ grandmother, sat. Without looking at who was present in the room, she approached them and took a seat beside Christine.

  “We were just talking about the season,” Lady Hart began.

  “Oh,” Ivy said and sincerely hoped that the duke was not near enough to over hear their topic of conversation.

  “You must prepare, Ivy, the season is very expensive,” Christine said. “You needs ball gowns, day dresses, gloves, parasols, shoes, and many other small accessories you could never think of.”

  “Her Ladyship is right,” Lady Hart put in. “I remembered my first season, rather expensive, but I’m sure it is no problem at all for the duke would take care of that.” She nodded her head, glancing at Max.

  “Though I must admit, “Lady Mornington said, looking at Max standing in a group with the Earl of Huntingdon, the Earl of Mornington, Mr. Smith; Christine’s grandfather, and Mr. Tim Oliver. “The duke does not seem at all eager for Ivy to attend the season.”

  “You are a very good observer, Caroline. I, too, feel the same,” Lady Hart commented.

  “Why is that so?” Mrs. Smith voiced, looking at Ivy.

  “Perhaps you can tell us, my dear,” Lady Hart said.

  “Well, I err...” Ivy glanced up at Max. She saw him looking at her from the other side of the room. She quickly lowered her eyes.

  “What is the problem?” Christine asked.

  “I, err--oh, there is Donald.” She sighed with relief as the butler appeared at the door.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, dinner is served,” the butler announced to the whole room.

  Ivy quickly stood up to avoid any more questions. The men approached them. Max offered his hand to Lady Hart. Merrick took Lady Mornington’s hand, and the two men led the ladies into the dinning room. Lord Mornington escorted Mrs. Smith, Christine took her grandfather’s arm, and Ivy with Tim followed them through.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Ivy,” Tim said.

  “Thank you,” she replied, blushing with the compliment.

  “How is your ankle?”

  “Much better thank you.” She smiled. “Such a coincidence don’t you think?”

  “Coincidence?” He raised his brows at her.

  “That Lady Hart happens to meet her long lost son here of all places. I think that it’s such a pleasant thing to have happen. I only wish we all could have such happy fate,” she said with her eyes downcast.

  “Hmm, you don’t think that your fate would have a happy ending?” He looked at her with amusement.

  “Nay, I do not think that the Lord is that kind enough to me.”

  “You are losing faith in him, my dear, perhaps one day he will see you as who you are, and that is a beautiful, kind hearted woman. He will bring you something that will make you very happy,” he said and his brown eyes twinkled.

  She looked up at him and said, “Perhaps...”

  “What would make you very happy, Ivy?”

  “Freedom and love.”

  “Have you none,” he asked in surprised as they came around to the dinning table already set with the arrays of delicious food, and on the sideboard, with various choices of wine such as champagne, Madeira, port, and whisky.

  She shook her head, and her eyes met Max across the table. He stared at her for a moment. Her stomach knotted and she shifted her gaze away.

  “Please sit down,” Tim said, pulling out a chair for her.

  “Thank you.” She nodded and sat, still with her eyes downcast. Tim took a seat beside her.

  Their meal began with the first course of white soup, roasted geese, turkey, and beef, fricassee of turnips, and vegetable salad with dressing. During this time talks were of various topics from the many dinner parties and balls that they were invited to for the upcoming season, to the peninsula war, and then the increasing in taxation, especially for tea, and then there was the topic that was notoriously unavoidable at any dinner table, the Prince Regent himself.

  “I do declare that it is official the Prince will have a grand ball up at Carlton House,” Lady Mornington was saying to the general audience.

  “He shouldn’t really have such grand ball during his father’s sickness,” Lady Hartland said.

  “What does that man care about his father?” Lord Mornington grumbled, his face, though already red from the many glass of Madeira he had drank, turned even redder now.

  At that point Donald nodded a command to the footmen and parlourmaids, and they cleared away the dishes. There was a moment of hustle and bustle when they replaced the table with the second course of ice cream, petit pastries, vegetable pie, and macaroni. The guests helped themselves to the food once the servants had backed away.

  Tim cut a piece of vegetable pie and placed it on Ivy’s plate. She thanked him with a nod of her head.

  Christine, who was sitting on Max’s right hand side, made a comment, “Don’t you think they look rather handsome together?”

  Max glanced at her with his brows raised.

  Christine looked at him. She knew he didn’t know what she was talking about and said, “Them.” She nodded toward Tim and Ivy who were deep in conversation.

  Max stared at the two people with is eyes narrowed. Ivy was blushing and smiling profoundly, and he knew those reactions well for he himself was a rake, after all. Many women had responded to him in such a way when he was flirting with them. She looked very happy indeed. He gritted his teeth and turned his gaze away, disgusted at the way that chit was obviously hanging on to very word that young, handsome surgeon was saying.

  He turned to Lady Mornington who was once again urging him to send Ivy off to London. He had just about enough with this season thing and Ivy.

  “Honestly, your gra
ce, the young dandies in London would fall heads over heels for Ivy,” the woman said.

  “Yes, I know that, Lady Mornington,” Max remarked sourly as he fixed his gaze on Ivy. “She is, after all, very beautiful.”

  “Are you enjoying dinner, Merrick?” Christine turned to ask her husband and smiled at Max’s cynical composure.

  “Hmm, very nice,” he said, looking down at his wife and wondered just what she was thinking in that pretty head of hers.

  After dinner the women departed while the men stayed behind, enjoying their male talks and drinking wine. It was rather quiet and boring in the drawing room for Ivy since she had no one to talk. The women had taken up all the space on the sofa near the hearth. They were discussing about the up coming seasons and what was the rage in fashion for the year 1811. She took the chance to slip out into the rose garden to get some fresh air and to calm down her near breaking nerve.

  Outside, she breathed in the cool evening air and closed her eyes. She smelt the beautiful aroma of rose, lavender, and honeysuckles. Already her head had lightened up, and she felt more relaxed than she had ever felt before since she had met him.

  At that very moment, she just wanted to get away from him. Her nerve was tense every time she met his gaze. His eyes were so cold and sharp that she thought if it had the power too, it would probably have killed her by now.

  She wandered deeper into the bushes. The array of colorful roses nearly blinded her eyes with its beauty. It ranges from white to dark pink to bright red and yellow, and not to mention the purple of lavenders along the side walk.

  She stopped near a willow tree with its long branches hanging low and nearly touching the ground. There she stood and folded her arms across her chest. And slowly, she closed her eyes with a content smile playing about her face...

  “You are so like your mother.”

  She opened her eyes with a start. She twisted around. Her heart was pumping hard in her chest as she stared at the man standing not five feet away from her.

  “You are very like your mother,” he repeated, approaching her and his eyes were intense on her face.

  Ivy panicked, and without saying a word, she stepped to his left and quickly walked pass him.