The Inheritance

by Joan Johnston

  “Are you all right?” Jane quickly spied the mark on Daisy’s throat, which Daisy had forgotten in her agitation. “That brute! Look what he did to you.”

  As soon as Jane mentioned it, Daisy’s hand flew to her neck. “It’s nothing.” But she flushed as red as a beet.

  “Nothing, is it? That man should be horsewhipped!”

  “Then you’d have to whip me, too,” Daisy murmured, sinking onto her bed.

  “What?”

  “I marked him, as well.”

  “Oh. So that’s how it is. Well, if you took to each other so fine, what are you doing back here? Where is His Grace? Did he come with you?”

  “I left the duke at The Wolf and the Lamb, the inn where he took me last night,” Daisy explained. “He … he …” She couldn’t say Nicholas was going to London, because he might return to Severn. She couldn’t say he was returning to Severn, because he might go on to London. “Something came up. The duke asked me to return home and wait for him.”

  “You had a fight with him.” Jane stated it as a fact.

  “No,” Daisy contradicted.

  “He abandoned you on your honeymoon?” Jane was aghast. “I’ll murder His Grace myself.”

  Daisy was moved by her maid’s defense of her. “Don’t blame His Grace, Jane. The choice to come home was mine.”

  Jane didn’t presume to sit beside the duchess on the bed. But she had been Her Grace’s confidante for too many years not to offer a sympathetic ear. “I wish I understood what all this means.”

  Daisy lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, oblivious to everything around her. Jane began to undress her, as though she were a child.

  “There, there now, Your Grace. It will all work out. You’ll see. He’ll come back home, and everything will be fine.”

  Daisy wasn’t listening. She was back in the soft feather bed at the inn, with the duke’s sweat-slick body wrapped around her. She could feel his strong arms and smell the musky scents of their lovemaking on the sheets. She was warm and languorous and felt loved and protected.

  Illusion. It was all illusion. He was not what he seemed to be. Their marriage was not what it seemed to be.

  Daisy felt the tears well in her eyes and tried to blink them back. One spilled over anyway. She turned her face away so Jane wouldn’t see.

  Jane had already seen the tears. And cursed the man who caused them. She would let them know downstairs what the duke had done. Then see if his hot shaving water didn’t come cold and late, or if his food didn’t manage to get burned and if his horse was ready when he wanted it. There was no way to retaliate directly, but His Grace would pay for hurting their darling Daisy.

  “Please leave me, Jane,” Daisy said. “I want to be alone.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” Jane had stripped Daisy to her chemise and pantalets. She had seen where the duke’s whiskers had abraded Daisy’s fine skin and where his teeth had marked her shoulder. Lord knew what other claims the duke had made on the duchess. He was a savage, all right. No question about it.

  Jane unfolded a quilt and laid it over Daisy. “Rest now, Your Grace.” As she stepped through the portal to Daisy’s bedroom, she looked back and said, “We won’t let him hurt you any more.”

  Daisy slipped into a deep, blessed sleep, unaware of the torrent of gossip and speculation that ran rampant through the house. How she had fallen into bed exhausted, without the bath she had asked for and without taking tea. The entire sequence of events from the moment Her Grace had left the church was dissected and analyzed by one and all. What none of them could figure out was why the duke had sent his duchess home. Why hadn’t he taken her on to London with him?

  It was Jane who suggested the duchess must have run away from the duke. John Coachman confessed he had only Her Grace’s word that His Grace had left in the middle of the night. The duke might very well have been upstairs sleeping at The Wolf and the Lamb when his carriage set out for Severn. In which case, John speculated, he had left His Grace without transport.

  John Coachman abruptly rose from the table in the servant’s dining hall. “I’d better go back and see if His Grace has need of his coach. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Don’t hurry,” Jane said. “His Grace deserves to wait, after what he did to Her Grace.”

  “But you said she marked him, too,” Thompson pointed out. “Surely that suggests that whatever passed between them was shared.”

  Jane frowned. “You didn’t see her. He used her … cruelly.”

  “You’re exaggeratin’,” John Coachman said as he slipped his hat on and headed out the door. “Her Grace looked fine to me.”

  Jane sniffed. “You’re a man. You have no idea of a lady’s sensibilities.”

  John Coachman shook his head. “A mark or two only means they were lost in passion. If you’ll join me sometime, I’ll show you myself.” He winked at Jane.

  Jane picked up her teacup and would have thrown it at him except he had already disappeared through the door. “That scoundrel!”

  “He’s only speaking the truth,” Thompson said. When Jane threatened him with the teacup he said, “Hold your horses. I’m only saying maybe it would be better to wait a little while and see what happens when they’re together again.”

  “Then you think he’s coming back?” Jane asked.

  “Of course. His son is here. He has to come back.”

  “He could send for the boy. They could sail from London for America.”

  The two of them sat in silence, contemplating their fate if the duke followed through on his threat to sell Severn while he was in London.

  “He’ll be back,” Jane said in a quiet voice.

  “How do you know?”

  Jane thought of the marks she had seen on the duchess. “He won’t be able to leave Her Grace without seeing her again.”

  When Daisy woke, it was morning. She had slept the day and the night away and felt refreshed. She bolted upright, wondering if Nicholas had returned overnight and simply not woken her. She shook her head slightly. No, if he had returned, she wouldn’t have been allowed to sleep. He would have woken her and demanded answers.

  She pulled the cord to summon Jane and stretched like a cat, groaning as muscles that hadn’t been used for seven years protested. She rubbed her jaw where the duke’s day-old beard had scratched her face. She winced as she rolled onto her hip. She moved her pantalets and found the imprint of his fingers still on her skin. When he was loving her she had felt no pain, only passion. She wondered if he was feeling equally sore. And hoped he was.

  Jane arrived promptly with tea and toast and a boiled egg.

  “How did you know I’d be hungry?” Daisy said with a grin.

  “As far as any of us could figure out, you haven’t had anything to eat since your wedding.”

  No wonder she felt so empty, Daisy thought. She was half starved. She dug into the food, refusing to speculate on what kind of discussion had rendered up the knowledge that she and Nicholas hadn’t even bothered to have supper on the day they were wed, but had retired for the night immediately after they had arrived at the inn. It was humiliating. It was embarrassing. It was all she could do not to close her eyes and relive every single minute of that marvelous, fantastic night.

  When Daisy had eaten, Jane helped her to dress. As Nicholas had suspected, she wore a high-necked Worth gown of chocolate velvet and gold satin that hid the mark on her throat. She felt jittery, still not certain that Nicholas wouldn’t appear at any moment and demand an explanation.

  Both she and Jane started at the quiet knock on her door. Daisy was surprised because she had expected the duke to pound it down. Well, she was as ready as she would ever be.

  “See who it is, Jane.”

  Daisy stood waiting with her hands folded before her. She wouldn’t cower. And she wouldn’t apologize. She would simply state why she wasn’t going to come to his bed again.

  The door opened to reveal Colin Calloway. Worry creased his brow
, and his eyes looked troubled.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Daisy. Could we talk?”

  “Certainly. Let’s go down to the drawing room. We can have a cup of tea together.”

  Daisy preceded Colin down the stairs, wondering exactly how much he suspected, and how much she could tell him about what had transpired between her and his father.

  Not much.

  Daisy had sent Jane with a message to Mrs. Motherwell for tea and did her best to make Colin comfortable while they waited for the service to come. She wasn’t about to start a conversation with him that might be overheard by the servants.

  With tea poured and a plateful of sugared biscuits in front of Colin, Daisy said, “What is it you want to know?”

  “I know my father planned to take you to London for a honeymoon. Why are you back here less than forty-eight hours later without him?”

  “There was an emergency and—”

  Colin dropped his teacup and saucer on the end table with a clatter and rose to his feet. “What kind of emergency? What’s wrong?”

  “Sit down, Colin,” Daisy said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried lying to you.” She waited until he was seated before she continued. “The truth is, your father and I had a disagreement.” She grimaced. “Actually, that isn’t true either. I … I changed my mind and decided I would rather not have a marriage that is … quite so convenient. If you know what I mean.”

  Colin grinned. “Pa’s hell on women, all right.”

  Daisy’s head jerked up, and she stared at Colin. “What did you say?”

  “Jeshoshaphat! Pa’ll kill me if he finds out I said anything like that to you. I’m sorry. Please don’t tell him.”

  In that instant he looked like the boy he was, rather than the man he was becoming. Daisy smiled. “I won’t say a word. If you’ll explain yourself.”

  Colin hesitated. “I can’t—”

  “Please, Colin.”

  “It’s just that, back in Texas where we live there’s a place, a brothel I guess you’d call it, where a man can go—”

  “I know what a brothel is,” Daisy interrupted. She wasn’t sure anymore that she wanted to hear Colin’s explanation, but curiosity goaded her to say “Go on.”

  “Anyhow, Pa got kind of a reputation with the women there, for being good in bed, I mean.”

  “How did you ever find out something like that about your own father?” Daisy asked, appalled and amazed at the same time.

  “Oh, well, Trish told me when I went to see her at—” Colin’s throat reddened first, then his cheeks, then his ears, until his head looked like a ripe tomato. “Jehoshaphat. I’m sorry, Daisy. I guess ladies aren’t supposed to hear about things like that. Pa’ll kill me,” he repeated.

  “Don’t worry, Colin. I won’t breathe a word of this to your father.”

  The frown of worry was back on Colin’s face. “Did Pa scare you off?” he asked anxiously. “I never heard tell of him hurting a woman. Not once.”

  Daisy laid a comforting hand on Colin’s arm. “He didn’t hurt me, Colin.” She kept her eyes lowered as she admitted, “The ladies were right about your father. I just couldn’t pretend anymore that what we have is a real marriage. It’s going to end in the spring. It seemed better not to go through the farce of a honeymoon. Can you understand that?”

  From the appraising look on Colin’s face, Daisy thought he had things pretty well figured out. And what he didn’t know, he suspected.

  “Pa really likes it here,” he said.

  Daisy’s eyes widened. “I’m surprised to hear that.”

  “It’s not easy to tell what Pa’s thinking. He kind of keeps his thought to himself. But I figure this place must mean a lot to him because he never says a word about it.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Sure it does. Pa never speaks about the things that matter most to him.”

  “Then how do you know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling?” Daisy asked, intrigued.

  Colin shrugged. “Mostly you don’t. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you.” Colin set his teacup down again. “So where do you suppose Pa went when he woke up and found you gone?”

  Daisy shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  As the days passed and Nicholas didn’t return, Daisy began to worry. She told herself the duke had probably gone on to London to see the sights. She refused to torture herself with images of Nicholas in some other woman’s embrace. But she was well aware that Tony had established a mistress in London. There were plenty of actresses and opera singers available to fill the role.

  Daisy realized that if she didn’t give herself something to do to pass the time, it wouldn’t matter when or if the duke returned, because she would already have been carted off to Bedlam. She had in mind two projects, either one of which would have been sufficient to keep her busy. She put the easiest, and the one less likely to irk Nicholas, into action first.

  Daisy sought out Lady Celeste and found her in the drawing room, working on new needlepoint cushions for the dining room chairs. Daisy seated herself on a settee across from the older woman and waited to be noticed. She had learned from experience that Lady Celeste didn’t like to be interrupted and tended to be sharp and unpleasant when she was.

  It took nearly five minutes for Lady Celeste to set down her stitchery and acknowledge Daisy’s presence.

  “Did you wish to speak to me?” Lady Celeste said.

  Daisy reminded herself that Lady Celeste hadn’t had an easy life, and that as Nicholas’s aunt she was entitled to some say in the arrangements for the reception. “I have a project for which I need your help.”

  “I’ve been quite busy with the new chair covers.”

  “I know that. But this wouldn’t take much time. I’d like your assistance planning a party for our neighbors and the Severn tenants to celebrate my wedding to the duke.”

  Lady Celeste arched a skeptical brow. “Are you sure the duke will be here to attend?”

  “He said he would make every effort to be back by then,” Daisy lied.

  “And if he doesn’t return?”

  “I’ll host the party myself.”

  Lady Celeste made a small sound in her throat. “I think you’re making a mistake. But I’ll help you.”

  Daisy kept her sigh to herself. At least Lady Celeste had decided to get involved with the preparations. “I’ve already made a list of those I want to invite. I thought we could spend the afternoon writing invitations.”

  Lady Celeste took a last look at the needlepoint in her lap and heaved a great, aggrieved sigh. “Very well. I shall put my work aside.”

  Despite her apparent reluctance to help, Lady Celeste worked quickly and efficiently beside Daisy at the dining room table the rest of the afternoon. When they had finished and servants had been sent to deliver the missives, Lady Celeste said, “I’ve been thinking. You’ll want to open the ballroom and hire musicians to play so there can be dancing after supper.”

  Daisy stared. “There hasn’t been a dance in the ballroom since I married Tony.”

  “Then it’s high time there was another, don’t you think?”

  Daisy chewed on her lower lip. If Nicholas didn’t show up and there was dancing, she was going to be left looking very foolish without a partner. On the other hand, the guests she had invited would be delighted by the dance because they would have a chance to see a part of Severn Manor that was rarely used. Stories would fly for weeks after the party about the honor that had been done them. It was exactly the sort of thing she needed to help put Nicholas back in everyone’s good graces.

  “Thank you, Celeste. That’s a wonderful idea,” Daisy said. “Now we need to plan decorations and a menu for supper and refreshments during the dance.”

  Daisy listened while Lady Celeste made suggestions and agreed with everything she said. “I’ll be glad to help with the decorations. But do you think you could confer with Mrs. Motherwell and with Cook about the menus your
self?” Daisy asked. “I have some other business I need to take care of.”

  Lady Celeste looked perturbed for a moment, but Daisy had learned that was her automatic reaction to any request. The older woman pursed her lips and said, “I believe I can make time in my schedule to do that.”

  Daisy gave Nicholas’s aunt an impulsive hug. “Thank you, Celeste.”

  Lady Celeste frowned. “What are you about, Your Grace? You’re going to wrinkle my dress. And yours, too.”

  Daisy grinned. “If I promise not to hug you again, will you smile?”

  Lady Celeste laughed. It was more of a cackle really, and her lips quickly returned to their normal pursed position. “Really, Your Grace. You are incorrigible.”

  “Oh, Celeste, I feel good again.”

  Daisy had no explanation for why she felt so carefree. She should have been desolate, considering all the things that could go wrong with her planning. But she just knew the duke would be back. She was counting on it. She had her fingers crossed and decided if necessary she could host the party herself and make excuses for the duke. No one could think any worse of him than they already did.

  Daisy was annoyed to discover that she was receiving both sympathetic and pitying glances from the servants. She wanted Nicholas back if for no other reason than to dispel all the rumors that were circulating about his cruelty to her on her wedding night. Unfortunately, the more she protested against them, the more everyone seemed to believe he had ravaged her. She had finally stopped trying to excuse Nicholas and avoided the subject of His Grace whenever it came up.

  Meanwhile, she had decided to look on the bright side of things. She was married to the duke. She had nearly nine months to convince him to stay at Severn. And she had the authority, as the duke’s wife, to instigate some of the changes that would make Severn more profitable. She intended to do exactly that as her second, more volatile project in the duke’s absence.

  For this job, she enlisted Colin’s help.

  “I want to speak to each of the nine tenants about changing his crop from wheat to oats or some other grain that is less competitive with American imports,” Daisy explained. “I’d like you to go with me.”