Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance)

by Lisa Andersen

  “It must be hard, fighting in a war,” Elizabeth said.

  “I used to think so,” the Duke said. “And then the fighting stopped, and I returned to my Castle, and I was forced to mingle with lords and ladies for whom a crisis constitutes having to eat apple cakes instead of lemon cakes.”

  Elizabeth laughed, and then swiftly covered her mouth.

  “You may laugh, if you wish,” the Duke said. There was almost a hint of warmth in his voice, but not quite. It was more like there was the potential for warmth in his voice.

  Elizabeth was so used to the cramped, suffocating atmosphere of her home life that the idea that she could actually laugh aloud was strange to her. She imagined the scenario at home: Father somberly drinking and smoking before the fire, Mother knitting, the only noise coming from her the click-click-click of the needles, and then Elizabeth reads something that makes her laugh, and she laughs aloud for the two of them to hear. No doubt Father would start raving about how his daughter finds their misfortune funny, and Mother would simply retire to her bedroom.

  “Laughter does not come easily to me,” she said.

  “Okay,” the Duke said. “What does come easily to you, my lady?”

  Elizabeth tried to think of something, but nothing was magnificent: nothing was worthy of a scene like this. But then, she decided, did she want to be the sort of woman who pretends her life is grand and adventurous when in fact it was rather dull? Did she want to be a Charlotte-type woman? “I care for the pigs and chickens,” she said. “And I read a lot. Father did not sell our books, so I still have many to choose from. There are some Greek scripts, and I have taught myself the basics. Enough to get along with some simpler texts, anyway. I love to read. I forget everything when I read. I do not feel as though I’m even in the same world when I read. The pages eat me.”

  The Duke nodded. “And lots of adventures happen in these books, do they?”

  “Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said. “Adventures of all sorts.”

  “What about soldiers-cum-dukes wooing beautiful ladies?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I have not read that tale yet, my lord.”

  The Duke placed his hand on Elizabeth’s leg. Elizabeth felt the heat from his hand move up her thigh, up, toward her private area. She knew she should bat his hand away, or tell him to move it away from her. She was not that kind of woman. But he was not trying anything else; and his hand really did feel quite nice there. They sat like that for a time, and then Elizabeth laid her hand over the Duke’s. He squeezed her leg, and together watched the course of a bird as it ducked from the clouds, into the trees, and then back up into the clouds again.

  “Will you dine with me tonight, my lady?” the Duke said.

  “Yes, of course,” Elizabeth replied. “It would be my pleasure.”

  The Duke stood and together they walked back through the gardens. Elizabeth did not know how to feel about all of this. One side of her was ecstatic and overly happy that she was here, in the Duke’s gardens, with this captivating man. Another half of her was wary. She had never dreamt, when she was among the pigs and chickens, that she would be in the Duke’s Castle alone.

  Anything could happen here, she thought, with a mixture of excitement and fear. Anything at all.

  *****

  That evening Elizabeth donned one of the dresses the Duke had lent her – that he had left waiting for her in the dresser – and joined him in the dining room for a dinner of duck and potato. They ate in silence for a time, and then the Duke ordered wine and drank greedily. Elizabeth, who had never had lots of wine, decided to indulge for the first time tonight. She drank down a large glass and then another, and soon the room had become unfocused. The Duke laughed. “I believe you are drunk,” he said.

  “Me! No, my lord, never!”

  He laughed again and Elizabeth laughed with him. The sound of her own laughter startled her, so rarely did she hear it. It was like listening to the laughter of a stranger. She sounded happier than she had sounded in a long time, this stranger; and Elizabeth was happy for her. After dinner, the Duke took her arm and led her from the dining room.

  He led her through the Castle, past old paintings of previous Dukes and ladies, past ornate suits of armor, past mounted animal heads, to a cavernous room. The room was dim, and the Duke rushed around lighting torches in the walls. When the torches plumed their orange light, Elizabeth took in a quick, frantic breath. The room was lined with shelf upon shelf, and upon each shelf sat dozens and dozens – or hundreds and hundreds – of books. Perhaps it was the wine, or the shock, but Elizabeth threw herself down in a nearby chair and looked around at the books.

  “This is incredible,” she said. “This is absolutely incredible. How many are there? There must be thousands!”

  “You like it?” the Duke said. “I am glad. This library is yours, if you will accept my proposal.”

  “Your proposal?”

  The Duke stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I wish you to be my wife, Elizabeth Hawk. Yes, we do not know each other well at all, but that need not hinder us. How many men and women become husband and wife simply through the exchange of letters? We are steps above them already, as one hour spent in person is worth one-hundred letters. I also believe it will be beneficial for your family. Of course I will settle your father’s debts.”

  “But why?” Elizabeth blurted, the only thing she could think to say. “You could have anybody.”

  “I do not want anybody.” The Duke’s voice had not altered from the crisp deadpan monotone, in which no emotion was heard. “I want you. You are not like other women. You have not got their pretentiousness, their entitlement. You enjoy the quiet and nature and that is enough for me.”

  Elizabeth knew she should say yes, but for some reason the word simply wouldn’t part her lips. She didn’t feel comfortable marrying a man she had only known for two days, no matter how fine of a match it was. She knew he was right; marriages were often built upon the man and wife never having met once. But she had never wanted a marriage like that. In fact, had she ever wanted a marriage? She couldn’t recall fantasizing about it, like other girls must have done.

  “I need to think,” she said. “May I give you my answer at the end of the week?”

  The Duke bowed slightly. “Of course. Now, let us enjoy the books.”

  Together they walked through the stacks of books, occasionally picking one down and reading, sometimes just looking at the worn, ancient covers. Elizabeth found masses of French novels, which she picked up and looked over. She had enough French to read sentimental novels – some of her favorite novels were French – and she had a grand time reading over these. She began to amass a pile of a nearby table, which she would take back to her bedroom to read later. The Duke watched her with a sort of pride as she navigated the books. Whether it was pride for the books or pride for her, Elizabeth didn’t know. All she knew was that she liked the look in the Duke’s eyes. It was almost human. And a slight smile touched his otherwise straight-line lips.

  “Are you having fun?” the Duke said, when she had piled up around ten books.

  “Yes, yes!” Elizabeth beamed. “I have never seen so many books. Even if I lived a hundred years I would never be able to read so many books!”

  “I know,” the Duke said. “It is a travesty that people must go without books when I have so many which I rarely read.”

  “You have lived it, though, haven’t you?”

  “I have lived through much which is present in novels, yes,” the Duke said. “But I have not experienced all there is to experience. Who has?”

  Elizabeth nodded and was about to pick up the books when the Duke rushed over and picked them up for her. She led him to her bedroom, and he walked in behind her and placed the books on the desk. “May I sit?” the Duke said.

  Elizabeth nodded and the
Duke sat on the chair; she sat on the bed. They looked at each other for a time in silence. Elizabeth was feeling as though she had known this man her whole life. Perhaps it was because she so rarely attended social functions, or perhaps it was God’s interjection, but she felt as though she were not getting to know a person for the first time, but reacquainting with an old friend. The Duke regarded her with his hard face. “I hope the room is to your liking,” he said.

  “Very much so,” Elizabeth said. “It is a lovely room.”

  “And the hospitality? It suits you well, I trust.”

  Elizabeth assured him that it did.

  The Duke stared down at his hands, and then back up at Elizabeth. “I must confess, Elizabeth, I have not much experience in wooing a woman. Most of my life has been spent fighting and serving the King. When it comes to matters of the heart, I am afraid I am damaged.”

  Elizabeth wanted to go to him then and hold him in her arms. But that would be crossing a line she was not sure she wanted to cross. You have already kissed, you silly woman! What other line is there to cross! But couldn’t go to him so soon after the proposal; it would send a signal. Instead, she sighed and said: “I am damaged, too. The prospects for my family were good when I was young. I was the only girl of four boys, the youngest of the family. Then two of my brothers were killed in the war. The other is abroad; we don’t know where. After their deaths, Father started to gamble. He gambled my birthright away before I was fifteen, and since then I have been drawn inward. Within I cannot feel the pain that I so often feel without. Within, I am safe. It makes it difficult to interact with people. I find myself being cold just to keep people away. I only feel like I can tell you this because you are as cold as me, if not colder. I only feel I can tell you this because you are the Duke of Ice.”

  “Is that what they call me? The Duke of Ice?”

  “Some call you that, yes,” Elizabeth said.

  “It is a silly nickname.”

  “It is,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “If I am cold,” the Duke said, “it is because the world has made me cold. I have watched all of my closest friends die. I have killed more men than a man should ever kill. I have lived amongst enemies for two years and found most of their people to be kind, just, not unlike our own people. I have been warped and illused by war. If I were not a Duke I would be a madman. As it is, people merely whisper of me in nicknames. I remember one day, I had been hiding in a barn. The farmer discovered me and made me leave. I did not blame him. If the army found me, they would punish him.

  “So I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. I couldn’t come home, because the King was sending troops, and I am a loyal man. So I just kept running. Until one day I came to another barn. This one had two women hanging from it. It was awful. I never discovered why they had been killed or who was responsible for it. It was then that I decided it was better for a person not to feel anything at all. It is easier.”

  “It can be,” Elizabeth whispered. “It can be much, much easier.”

  The Duke nodded. “You look very beautiful when you look into the distance like that. Like you’re in a dream.”

  “Duke,” Elizabeth said.

  “Harold.”

  “Harold,” she went on. “Please, tell me the truth, why do you want to marry me? There is a connection between us – I cannot deny that – but there must be some other reason. A man in your position cannot afford to marry based upon emotion alone.”

  The Duke rubbed his jaw and let out a long sigh. “There is a reason,” he said. “But it is no longer valid. If the reason were not there I would still wish to marry you as soon as you would have me. But fine, I will give you the reason I threw the party and invited so many unmarried women. The King wishes for me to marry. It is making him look bad, apparently, to have a renegade around him in peacetime. He needs me to marry so that the rumors about me can cease.”

  “I am merely a pawn!” Elizabeth cried. “I am a piece in your game of houses!”

  Elizabeth felt as though she’d been punched in the chest. She had kissed this man – she had kissed this man, for Heaven’s sake – and now he was telling her he had lied to her face. She had dishonored herself with him. If anybody were to find out that she had kissed a man without being married to him, she would be ruined forever. “I was just one of many, was I, at the party? One of many that you thought you could marry!”

  “That is not how it is,” Harold said, his voice never changing tone or inflection. “I needed a wife. I saw you. You were by far the most interesting woman at that party. I spent time talking to the others and I was disappointed. Yes, it started in a rather sordid way, I will give you that. But we have had a nice time of it over these past two days, haven’t we? I truly believe we are getting to know each other.”

  “I do not know you at all,” Elizabeth said. “You lied to me and you—kissed me!”

  “I should not have kissed you,” Harold said. “I own that. It was wrong of me. But do not tell me that you did not enjoy the kiss. I know you did, and you know you did. We both enjoyed it. Is that wrong?”

  “We are not married,” Elizabeth said. “Whether or not it is wrong makes no difference when the consensus is that it is wrong. I will be ruined if anybody ever discovers this!”

  “Nobody ever will,” Harold said calmly. “And it will not matter if we marry.”

  “Is this your ploy, to kiss me and then blackmail me into marriage?”

  “Now you are being silly,” Harold said. “I am not blackmailing you. I would never do something like that.”

  “How can you just sit there and talk with such a calm voice? Are you not excited? Are you not sorrowful?”

  “I am patient,” Harold said slowly. “I am patient and I am sorry. But I will not weep if that is what you wish. I wept my last tears a long time ago.”

  Elizabeth breathed heavily and composed herself, summoning her inner-calm. “Leave me now, if you if would,” she said. “Please, I wish to spend this night alone.”

  “Very well,” he said, rising. “I will see you on the morrow.”

  Elizabeth waited for the door to close behind him and then threw herself onto the bed, feelings twisting through her like gnarled branches.

  *****

  Elizabeth woke in the middle of the night with a feeling of almost overwhelming dread. Like every women, she had heard horror stories about men using them and then ruining them. To some men, she knew, using a woman was just a sport, something to be done and then laughed about afterwards. You didn’t need to take a woman’s feelings into consideration when you were a certain kind of mind. You merely did what you wanted and damned the consequences. Elizabeth had to hope that Harold was not a man like that. If he was, she was already ruined. She had already crossed a line. Perhaps there is a land where a woman can kiss whomever she wants, but it is not this one.

  She tried to reclaim sleep, but it wouldn’t come. She walked to the desk and lit a candle, and hunched over a French novel about a woman who is stolen from a small town and carried to Paris, where she learns how to become a proper lady. Only at the end was the small town French woman rumbled, when she failed to read a piece of Greek script. She was thrown aside by the man who had stolen her and was forced to return to her town, disgraced.

  Elizabeth closed the book. The sun was rising. She fell into bed and closed her eyes. From pure exhaustion, she was able to sleep for a few hours.

  She woke to a knocking at the door. The Duke wanted her to join him for breakfast. Part of Elizabeth wanted to scream: I’m not coming to breakfast. In fact, I’m going home this very minute! But the pull of the Duke was strong. Harold was a man who was extremely well-suited to her, despite his dishonesty. And as much as she hated to admit her weakness, she wanted to see him again. She wanted to look into his eyes and have him look back into hers. She wanted to feel his hand on her leg. God help her,
she was attracted to this man.

  She dressed in a simple gown and walked to the breakfast room like a woman walking to the gallows. She was doomed by her own attraction to him, she realized. But if she was doomed, so was he. And she knew one thing: if she had to, if it really came down to it, she could completely shut off her emotions and sever her ties with this man. Dishonor or no dishonor, Elizabeth could do it if she had to.

  Harold looked anxious upon her entry. He nearly jumped out of his chair and rushed around the table to pull Elizabeth’s chair out for her. Elizabeth gratefully sat and waited for breakfast to be served. They ate a simple meal of bread and meat, and then the Duke leaned forward on his elbows and stared at Elizabeth. “I am sorry for my dishonesty,” he said. “Truly, I am.”

  “If you are lying about this, what else are you lying about? That is what worries me the most. We have not known each other for very long. What secrets am I to discover after we have married?”

  “You can ask me anything, and I will answer honestly. But the King’s direction is the only secret I have that pertains directly to you.”

  “I will judge that,” Elizabeth said. “For example, have you been with a woman before?”

  “Yes,” Harold said, looking down at the table.

  “How many?”

  “Six.”

  “Six!”

  “How is that possible?”

  Harold shrugged. “I have traveled, Elizabeth. But they were always flings, over within a day and never thought of again. I want to marry you, to make you my wife, and to serve you well. That is the truth of it.”

  She looked into his eyes and tried to gauge if he was being dishonest or not. As far as she could tell, his feelings were sincere, but how was one to know? For all she knew, he had used these same exact lines on the other six women. But there was the lust, as well, that was calling out even now, as she looked at him. How she wanted to touch him more, and have him touch her more. How she wanted to go further than a kiss…