The Duke's Revenge

by Alexia Praks

  ‘Why did you marry her?’ Grace’s voice echoed in his head.

  Why, indeed, did he marry her? It was true that they were forced into marriage because of that night Lady Mornington had seen them. But he was a notorious rake, after all, and as Grace had put it, he could have done anything and didn’t have to marry Ivy.

  He closed his eyes again, and when sleep did come, he dreamt of making love to his wife in the wilderness of Westwood Estate where tall grasses and wild flowers brushed against their naked bodies. This time she was smiling at him. He was smiling too in his dream.

  CHAPTER 24

  For one week Ivy woke up feeling lonely and depress. All she seemed to be doing was wandering from room to room in the castle. That morning was no different, she woke up with a splitting headache and feeling very tired.

  And then her mind would drift off to her husband, and her heart would skip a beat. Would he come to Westwood Castle, she wondered. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried she could not stop herself from thinking about him. At night her body and mind would burn feverishly for him. She missed him caressing her, she missed his rough hands against her skin, and she missed his hot mouth touching her naked flesh.

  She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about him. She hated him. But why did she miss him so much? Was she in love with him?

  No! That would be impossible.

  She turned over and stared out the window. The sunlight streamed into her room. She sat up. Instantly the world started spinning before her. She took slow, deep breathes. It took her a while for the dizziness to go away.

  There was a knock at the door and Lisa came in. She was carrying the breakfast tray.

  The moment the smell of food touched her nose, Ivy gagged. Her stomach churned, and she felt as though she was about to throw up. She rushed out of bed and ran to the camber pot. She closed her eyes and supported herself on the table as liquid came out her mouth.

  Lisa rushed to help her. “What’s wrong, m’ lady?” she asked, her voice quivering with concern.

  Ivy could not answer. Another churn came and more liquid came out of her mouth. She wiped tears from her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Come,” Lisa said and helped her back into bed.

  “Would you take the food away?”

  “But ‘tis your breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry, please, take it away. It smells,” she said.

  “Perhaps a doctor should attend you.”

  “Nay, Lisa, ‘tis not that bad. I will be fine soon enough,” Ivy said, closing her eyes.

  “Very well.” Lisa turned and left. She was frowning when she reached the kitchen.

  “What’s your problem there, Lisa?” Mrs. Price asked.

  “I don’t know, it’s her grace,” she muttered as she placed the tray on the bench.

  “What’s wrong with her grace? I seem to notice that she’s staying in her room a lot.” Mrs. Price watched Mrs. Woods lifted the lid of the tray to look at her untouched food.

  “What’s wrong with my cooking?” Mrs. Woods growled.

  “What?” Lisa frowned.

  “My cooking, her grace didn’t touch one bit of it. Is there something with wrong my cooking? If so, I wanna know,” she demanded, firing her glare at Lisa.

  “Oh, Mrs. Wood,” Lisa muttered, “you can’t expect her grace to eat when she feels sick, could you? Perhaps you should make her grace some broth or chicken soup or something. She couldn’t seem to handle any food at all. In fact, she was throwing up the moment the smell of food touches her nose.”

  “What?” Mrs. Price looked at Lisa, her eyes wide.

  “Err?” Lisa turned to the housekeeper in confusion.

  “Her grace can’t stand the smell of food?” the housekeeper asked, her eyes met Mrs. Woods’.

  “Err, now that you’ve mentioned it she was saying that the food smells, and she was vomiting these past mornings. Not to mention that she was feeling rather tired.”

  “Now, those symptoms sound very familiar, don’t you think?” Mrs. Price said to Mrs. Woods.

  “Of course,” the cook said, nodding her head.

  “You mean you know what causes her grace’s sickness?” Lisa asked.

  “It’s very common. Her grace must be—”

  “There you all are.” Donald appeared at the door. “Lady Grace Westwood is here!” he announced.

  “What? What is she doing here?” Lisa frowned.

  “Don’t ask me, she’s outside. Lisa, you’ll have to carry the bags in. Mrs. Price, you’ll have to arrange the guest room,” Donald instructed and he quickly left again.

  “What is she doing here?” Lisa snapped. “Had she not done enough?” she mumbled to herself and left.

  “Where ever that woman is, trouble is sure to follow I tell you,” Mrs. Price said, shaking her head. “I wonder what she is up to this time,” she muttered and left the kitchen. As she came out, she encountered two maids and ordered them to arrange a guest room. She then went to the drawing room. There, she saw the elegant lady sitting on the sofa near the hearth, fluttering her decorated fan before her.

  “M’ lady,” she said with a bow of her head. “Tea would be arriving soon.”

  “How is my daughter?” Grace asked, looking at the housekeeper.

  “She is very happy, m’ lady,” Mrs. Price lied.

  “And the duke, my son-in-law?” she said with her eyes narrowed, “how is he, is he looking after my daughter well?”

  Mrs. Price wanted to scream at the woman to leave her duchess be, but instead she said, “’Tis not my place to comment on such things, m’ lady.”

  “Indeed, why is he not here to greet me?” Grace asked, looking around her as though Max was hiding in the room.

  “He is not here, m’ lady, he is in London.” –As you well know, my lady—Mrs. Price wanted to say. “He believes it is better for her grace to return to the country. The air is good for her here.”

  “Indeed, I did not know that the duke is still in London. I’ve heard that Ivy has returned and so I assume that he, too, would have returned. Husband and wife, you know,” Grace said, waving her hand at the housekeeper to leave her be. “I assumed you have arranged for my room?”

  “Aye,” the housekeeper said, bowing her head.

  “You may leave, I know my way around here. ‘Tis, after all, my house before the duke bought it.”

  “Aye, m’ lady,” Mrs. Price said and left.

  A couple of minutes later, Ivy entered the drawing room.

  “Good morning, dear daughter,” Grace said, her sharp eyes taking in the pale beauty before her.

  “Good morning to you too, Mama,” Ivy responded, her voice was soft in the large room.

  “You’re pale, child, have your husband left you to your sickness for his beautiful mistress in London?”

  That comment was like a poison arrow shooting straight at Ivy’s heart. She felt the hurt, and it burnt deep within her soul.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Couldn’t a mother visit her daughter now and again?”

  “I believe you have other intention in doing so. I know you too well.”

  “Such strong words, Ivy, I am amazed. Did your dear husband teach you how to fight back? I see that you are braver now. But are you really that brave, Ivy? Could you really stand up to me?” She laughed.

  Ivy shivered. This woman had been controlling her all her life. But no more, she told herself.

  “What is your purpose here?” she asked again, her hands clutching on the material of her gown that her knuckle turned white.

  “Aye, I am here for a reason, daughter,” Grace said and came around to where Ivy was standing. “I have debts, Ivy. I need money.”

  “I cannot help you.”

  “Of course you can. Your husband is rich and--”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t ask him for money.” Ivy turned her gaze to her mother.

  �
�You are a fool!” Grace snapped. “He is rich and you, as his wife, should get as much money from him as possible. Ask him for me.”

  “I won’t because it’s not my money.”

  “You dare to disobey me?” Grace said through gritted teeth, her eyes flaring.

  “I won’t.” Ivy tilted her chin up a notch.

  Grace heaved her breath in and out. “You will, you understand. I am your mother, and if you don’t I will punish you, do you hear me? I will punish you. I will give you three days. Find that money for me. Ask that dear husband of yours. It is five thousand pounds.”

  “I told you, I won’t do it,” Ivy said, turned, and walked to the door. “Go find the money somewhere else.” And she shut the door behind her.

  CHAPTER 25

  Three days was up, and Ivy refused to find the five thousand pounds her mother had demanded despite the intimidation she received from the woman. Now she watched from her bedroom window as the footmen loaded the carriage with her mother’s belongings.

  Her mother had decided to leave for London because her endless threats did not work where it had been working before.

  Ivy closed her eyes and allowed the sun to warm her face. This morning she felt a bit better. Her morning sickness, as Mrs. Price had mention the day before, was not as intense as it usually was. She was glad because it was market day at Staffordshire, and she wanted to attend the affair.

  Odd that the castle seemed rather quiet. Odd too that Lisa did not attend her this morning.

  “Your grace,” Meg said from the door.

  Ivy turned and smiled at the maid, “Hmm?”

  “Her ladyship is waiting to see you in her bedroom.”

  “Yes, she is leaving, isn’t she?” Ivy asked. She had to know for sure that her mother was really leaving.

  “Aye, your grace, her ladyship has already packed,” Meg said, nodding her head and smiling with glee.

  “Yes, I’m coming,” Ivy said, walking toward the door. “Don’t you think it’s rather quiet today?” she asked as they walked along the corridor. “Where is everyone?”

  “They’ve gone to the market, your grace.”

  “The market, they left already?”

  “Aye, your grace wanted to go as well?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Oh, they left since dawn and since you are not feeling well, they thought it’ll only tire you.”

  “I suppose.” Ivy nodded. “Thank you, Meg, you can return to your duties.”

  “Not a problem, your grace,” Meg said and walked in the opposite direction toward the stairs.

  Ivy looked at Grace’s bedroom door. She wondered what her mother wanted now.

  It was quite dark inside even though it was daylight, and she had to adjust to the dimness. She saw her mother standing near the window.

  “You want to talk to me?” she said.

  “I’m leaving for London, as you well know,” Grace began. “I ask you one final time, Ivy, as a mother to her daughter, won’t you help me?”

  “I told you that I cannot,” Ivy said firmly. “I have no money of my own, and I will not ask the duke for it.”

  “So you would let the creditors take my home from me?” Grace narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to one side. “You would allow them to strip me of all my belongings? I cannot allow that to happen, Ivy, I won’t allow it to happen.”

  “What else could you do?” Ivy asked seriously, too tired and sick of her mother’s insistent groaning for money.

  “No, Ivy, I cannot do anything now,” she said slowly, her eyes gleaming, “but you, Ivy, you can. There is a way.” She slowly made her way around Ivy as though examining her and searching for her weak point with her sharp green eyes.

  “What do you mean? You know I won’t ask the duke for money.” Ivy’s body became tense when her mother stopped in front of her and slowly studied her from head to toe.

  “I can’t help you. Not any more. You’ve already sold me to him, what more do you want?” she asked as she stared into the other woman’s eyes, and her inside burnt with emotional pain.

  “There is a solution to this problem,” Grace said.

  Ivy saw the cold evil glared in her mother’s eyes, and she felt the hair at the back of her neck rise.

  “Don’t pretend, dear daughter, you will help me, no matter what.” Grace moved her head, slowly as a snake would, toward Ivy.

  Ivy stared at her mother and took a step back.

  Grace smiled and moved forward.

  Ivy took another step back and turned. She took two strides when Grace caught her by the arm and hauled her back.

  “No, what are you doing?” Ivy gasped out in pain.

  “Getting rid of you, my dear. You are my hindrance. He will marry me when you’re gone.” Grace laughed, her voice high pitched in the room.

  “No, he won’t, no!” Ivy screamed and wrestled with her mother to get herself free.

  “Be quiet!” Grace hissed, grabbed a bunch of Ivy’s hair, and stuffed the girl’s mouth with a handkerchief.

  Ivy shook her head. She tried to scream but the handkerchief gagged her silent. She hit Grace on the stomach with her elbow and broke free.

  Grace stumbled backward. “How dare you?” she hissed, lugged forward, and slapped Ivy’s face, throwing the girl to the floor. “I told you to be quiet!” she snapped.

  She came to kneel beside Ivy, grabbed a bunch of the girl’s hair, and tilted her face up. “And now you must pay for your insolence. Oh, how I hate you the moment you came into this world. I hated you even more these past weeks. Just because you are a duchess doesn’t mean you can be so high and mighty in front of me. You have not listen to me these past three days, Ivy? I shall have to teach you a lesson after all.”

  Ivy shook her head. “No, you will not. You have done enough. You have never loved me. You’ve hurt me enough, and I won’t stand it anymore. You will leave my house.” Ivy stared at her mother.

  “Your house now, is it?” Grace said and let Ivy’s hair go.

  “Yes, my house, and it will always be mine,” Ivy said and sat up.

  “I don’t think so. This is my house, Ivy, and I will be the duchess of Lynwood,” the older woman said with her eyes narrowed. “Gale!”

  Ivy stared wide-eyed as the shadowy, thin form appeared from the darkness. In her skeletal hand, she held a long, thin strap.

  Fear suffocated her, and her body started to shake uncontrollably. “No...” Ivy whispered, shaking her head. “No!”

  “Oh yes, my sweet daughter, for you have disobeyed my orders and now you will get the punishment.”

  “You cannot, ‘tis not right. I won’t stand for it,” Ivy said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I won’t allow you to hurt me,” she screamed, fighting the other woman to free her.

  “Gale! Quick, seizes her!”

  The skinny maid rushed to grab Ivy by the arm and forced her to lie down.

  “No! Max, help!” Ivy cried as she fought against the maid.

  “Shut up!” Gale hissed near her ear. “The duke is not here to help you.”

  “No!” Ivy bit Gale’s hand.

  The maid yapped and released her captive.

  Ivy got up and ran toward the door.

  “Ivy, you can’t get away,” Grace screamed and caught her by the hair. She pulled the younger woman back and slapped her hard on the cheek.

  Ivy stood stunned for a moment because of the intense pain.

  Grace shoved her onto the floor and grabbed the strap from Gale’s hand. “I told you you won’t get away.” She heaved. She raised the strap high in the air, and then, she slashed it down. The thin whip sliced on Ivy’s arm.

  She winced. More tears flowed down her eyes. She saw another one coming and quickly rolled on her side to avoid the strap. It hit the floor with a thud.

  “Don’t be too clever, Ivy, you won’t get away,” Grace said and swung the strap again. It touched the side of Ivy’s leg. She cringed at the pain.

  “Stop it
, mother, stop punishing me. Why are you doing this to me?” Ivy shouted.

  “You want to know why? Because I hate you, that’s why. It’s your father’s fault, Ivy. It’s because of him. He hurt me, and I have to hurt you because you are his daughter.” Her eyes were wide and wild. “Gale, get her, keep her still!”

  Gale nodded and rushed to hold Ivy where she was lying on the floor.

  “No!” Ivy kicked the woman away from her.

  “Hold still,” the maid said, forcing her to lie with her back facing up.

  “Good!” Grace said and raised the strap.

  “No, stop,” Ivy cried.

  Grace didn’t listened, however, and she let the whip fly on Ivy’s back. Whish--whish--whish!

  The world started to spin around her. Ivy felt so tired. It was as though she had no energy left to fight anymore. By that time Grace had stopped, she was half unconscious.

  Grace walked around and kneeled beside her, lifting her pale face up. “What did I tell you, Ivy? You won’t get away from me. By the way, do you remember that room?”

  Ivy closed her eyes and knew exactly what her mother was talking about. Her heart sank, and she felt as though she would rather die than go into that room. The punishment room, her mother called it.

  “Aye, I know you remember that room. That is where I’m taking you, Ivy,” Grace said.

  “No...” Ivy whispered.

  “Oh, yes,” Grace said, nodding her head and smiling. “Gale, help me take her to that room.”

  “Indeed, my lady.” The maid nodded her head with enthusiasm.

  “No, please,” Ivy pleaded as they dragged her toward the door. “No, don’t, how could you?”

  “Shut up!” Grace snapped, pulling Ivy’s hands and dragging her out of the room.

  “Why are you doing this? What did I do to you? Papa, help me. Max, please help me,” she whispered.

  “No one can help you now. You will die in that room and no one will know. They would think you had locked yourself in there,” Grace said and laughed.

  “Papa, Max, where are you, please help,” Ivy sobbed. She blinked and saw that they were dragging her up the stairs toward the fourth floor. No, not the fourth floor—not that room!