The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1)

by Devlin, Barbara

  “You are not mad, my lord. Although you are a vast deal more than a little ardent in your affections, but that is an observation, and your lack of a limb does not impair you, in that respect, as I well learned last night.” She folded her arms, adopting an authoritative posture that might have worked had she not dropped the sheet and bared a single, rosy nipple. “In regard to your injury and what you witnessed in battle, you are misunderstood, and I will defend you, no matter what the world throws at us. Just let your father try to separate us. There will be a fine wake in this house.”

  “From the start, you believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. You supported me.” He inclined his head and studied her delicate features. “Instead of giving up on me, you sought knowledge to understand me. Had the storm not triggered a response, I may have been able to practice Larrey’s suggestions on managing my symptoms. However, I would have remained oblivious to his solutions had you not brought them to my attention, and I am forever in your debt, but I may have something to offer in modest repayment, compared to your priceless gift, if you will wait here.”

  “Anthony, you owe me nothing.” She reached for her robe. “I promise, I enjoyed last night. Indeed, I shall never forget it.”

  “Stay where you are.” He snatched the garment from her grip. “And don’t get dressed.”

  “But Emily should be here, in an hour or so, with our morning meal.” She cast a lopsided grin. “Would you have me break my fast sans clothing?”

  “Of course not.” Halfway to the armoire, he halted. “But let us not entirely abandon the idea.”

  “Scandalous,” she replied.

  “And yet you appear interested.” He chuckled. After turning the key, he opened one side of the hand-carved chest and drew a velvet covered box from between a stack of neatly folded shirts. “I was saving this to commemorate the night we consummated our vows. I had no inkling it would occur under such inauspicious circumstances.”

  “Don’t say that, because it was truly memorable for me.” She scooted to the center of the bed, and he perched at the edge of the mattress and handed her the parcel. “Whatever it is, I love it, already.”

  “I hope so.” Tension built in the pit of his belly. “Because I moved heaven and earth to purchase it for you.”

  “You are thoughtful.” She lifted the lid and gasped. “Oh, Anthony. It is magnificent. Never have I seen anything so beautiful.”

  “They are but fancy baubles.” He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger. “You are beautiful.”

  “You are too kind, my lord, but I am not sure I can accept something so extravagant.” From a bed of cotton, Arabella retrieved a necklace, the centerpiece of a parure comprised of a matching bracelet, earrings, brooch, stomacher, ring, and diadem boasting large, oval faceted sapphires accented by green chrysoberyl and diamonds set in precious gold filigree. “And you have me at a disadvantage, because I have naught to give you.”

  “My dear, you gave me your most precious gift, and you gave me peace of mind. Also, it is my duty, as your husband, to dress and adorn you.” He longed to kiss her, even as he cautioned himself against getting her with child. “I am told the jewels were once worn by Grand Duchess Anna Petrovna of Russia.”

  “They are magnificent.” The look with which she favored him almost brought him to tears. “I shall treasure them, always.”

  “I am pleased they meet with your approval.”

  “Does this mean you are no longer vexed with me?” she asked in a small voice. “I am forgiven for hiding Larrey’s book from you?”

  “My sweet wife, I admit I was disappointed—”

  “You were furious with me.”

  “I concede that point, and I regret it. Perhaps I overreacted. If I may, permit me to explain.” He scooted closer, so he could hold her hand. “From the moment we met, you have planted your loyalties firmly in my favor. I knew it when you stood in the window of the drawing room in your family’s home, after I rudely walked out on you. When you stared at me through the glass, my insides stirred. You touched me without actually touching me, and I found that infinitely more unnerving than our forced engagement. I suppose I knew then that there was something between us, even though I tried to deny it.”

  “I felt it, too.” She nodded. “And that belief set my course, from the start.”

  “Because you had faith in me, I had faith in you.” He squeezed her fingers. “That you kept a secret, however well-intended, from me hurt more than you realize. I need you in my corner, because often it seems as though you are the only person on which I can depend. I count on you for the unvarnished truth, in all enterprises.”

  “That has never changed, and you have my solemn assurance that I shall never again conceal anything from you. I am truly sorry I disappointed you.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and he cursed himself. “However, you are mistaken, because I am not your lone supporter. The Mad Matchmakers champion your cause, too. They would follow you, anywhere.”

  “I will not dispute that, but no one knows me like you know me. After last night, and the intimacy we shared, that is doubly so.” She choked on a sob and bowed her head, but he cupped her chin and held her gaze. “Now I’ve made you cry.” A knock at the door halted his attempt to make amends, but he would not be deterred. “Hell and the Reaper, can we not enjoy an uninterrupted interlude? Who is it?” he barked with unveiled impatience.

  “It is Emily, my lord,” the maid called from the sitting room, and he rained silent invective on her person. “Breakfast is served. Shall I pour her ladyship a cup of tea?”

  “Her timing is perfect,” he said to Arabella. “No, thank you,” he responded to Emily. “We will tend ourselves and ring to have the dishes cleared. You are dismissed.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Faint footfalls signaled the maid’s exit, and he stood.

  “My lord, there is something I must tell you.” His bride inhaled a shaky breath. She opened her mouth and then closed it. “I care for you.”

  “I know you do.” He mulled putting into words what she did for him. How and what she made him feel.

  Reflecting on the current circumstances, and what passed between them, they had to reaffirm their commitment to each other. He needed it, and so did she, and he knew of no better way to show her what she meant to him. After tugging on the belt of his robe, he shrugged free of the swath of black silk. With a delightful blush coloring her face, she peered at him.

  “Anthony, what are you about?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Correcting a gross miscarriage of husbandly duty, enchanting Arabella.” Lifting the covers, he eased beside her, balancing on his elbow, and she rested her palms to his shoulders. “Now I am going to make love to you as I should have, as it should have been for your first time.”

  *

  A gentle summer breeze whistled and thrummed through the thorny hedges, as Arabella clutched Anthony’s arm. On that glorious morning, they strolled through the maze, sharing ideas or assessments of Larrey’s work, as had become their routine after breaking their fast. Given their confinement, they spent every moment of every day, together, and she loved it.

  “I was wondering what you thought of Larrey’s argument that men suffering from nostalgia are neither homesick nor malingerers.” Her husband peered over his shoulder, at Emily and one of Shaw’s henchmen, who followed at a discreet distance. There were others nearby, waiting to pounce if Anthony or Arabella took a single wrong step, so they stayed on the path. “We are not mentally infirm or weak-willed milquetoasts. And I take offense to the universal assumption that we are afflicted with lifelong character defects or, worse, cowardice.”

  “Never thought that for an instant, and you are no coward,” she assured him. It was to their good fortune that they were quite thrown together, because such proximity fostered a spirit of fellow feeling they might never have otherwise experienced in the beginning of their marriage. “To have survived the horrors of war, you would have to be uncommonly strong. I suspe
ct it is ignorance of the lingering effects of continuous battle, which is an important distinction, and how to treat our fighting men, that leads to such impractical therapy and medicaments. It makes no sense to drown a tormented soldier in laudanum.”

  “Or to administer regular beatings.” He winced. “To inflict physical pain strikes me as the cruelest blow, which would only intensify the associative agony. Instead, Larrey recommends regular rotation of troops, to avoid constant exposure to military action. I’m not sure how that would work, in a practical sense, but it is worth a try, if only to spare the wounded additional torment.”

  “When we return to London, you should meet with someone in the Ministry of Defense or the Royal Academy.” An unforgiving wave of nausea rose in the back of her throat, and she halted. Covering her mouth with her hand, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. “Oh, dear.”

  “Again?” Anthony inquired with an undercurrent of concern. How she adored his expressions of solicitude. In the darkness, while he slept, she told herself he cared for her, even though he neglected to say as much. “Perhaps, we should return to the house.”

  “No.” She swallowed hard, and the world tilted. Spreading her legs, she splayed her arms to avoid falling flat on her bottom. “It will pass.”

  “We have walked long enough, and I am not willing to risk your health for a bit of fresh air.” When he tried to turn her toward the back parlor, from whence they exited the main residence, she resisted. “Maybe we should ask Dr. Shaw to examine you. What if you are ill?”

  “I would sooner trust a chimney sweep to perform surgery.” That reply garnered a healthy laugh from her husband, and how she loved the carefree sound. So much had changed in his demeanor since their arrival at Sanderstead that she almost felt a sense of gratitude toward his father. Almost. “But I would sit on the stone bench overlooking the fountain, if you are amenable.”

  “Lady Rockingham, I am at your service.” Despite his claim, he seemed preoccupied, because he didn’t look at her. When they navigated the hedgerow arch, shielding them from the ever-present guards, she expected him to sneak a quick kiss, but he escorted her straight to the flagstone walkway. “Is it possible that last night proved too much for you? I mean, I was deuced rough. Did I hurt you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” She knew exactly to what he referred, and nothing about it injured her. “Apart from my initial hesitance, because I never conceived of any such position, and nary a book mentioned it, you gave me naught but pleasure, as always. Had I experienced any discomfit, or had I not wanted to participate in what you must admit is one of your more inventive maneuvers, I would have declared such reservation. However, after you explained your objective, and we cushioned my knees with a pillow, I was quite comfortable. While I do not believe the table was ever intended for that purpose, you are nothing if not resourceful, because you have transformed every unexceptionable piece of furniture in our chamber into a means to demonstrate your ingenuity and virility.”

  “Is that a compliment?” He led her to the bench, where she sat and smoothed the skirt of her sprig muslin dress. “Not that I require any.”

  “Liar.” She giggled and admired his sun-kissed brown hair, which harkened a comparison with his evening brandy, which he took after dinner, sitting beside the hearth, with her firmly planted in his lap. “But I wish you would cease your attempts at abstinence, however noble, because I cannot sleep due to your tossing and turning when you forgo intimacy, and then I get no rest when you resume physical relations.”

  “I am trying to do right by you and thwart my father, but you are impossible to resist.” Anthony rolled his eyes and groaned. “And that nightgown you wore to bed, last night, should come with a warning. How am I supposed to restrain myself when you dangle such delectable bait?”

  “Well, what do you expect?” She shrugged and laughed, as she recalled his reaction when she emerged from behind the screen. “You schooled me in the ways of desire, such that I wager I could teach my mother a thing or two, and I’m supposed to stand as the chaste debutante? It had been almost a sennight. Who is the past master and who is the pupil, my naughty lord?”

  “You have me there.” He motioned with his head. “Emily approaches.”

  “Oh?” Arabella glanced toward the house and waved a greeting. “She and I are becoming fast friends, but I have not brought up the prospect of dispatching a letter since last month. I don’t want to rouse suspicion or, worse, alienate her.”

  Indeed, she extended considerable effort getting to know the reserved but affable servant. A good-natured soul, Emily was loyal to a fault. While Arabella needed the shy domestic’s help, she genuinely liked the provincial ragamuffin. When the ordeal ended, she planned to take Emily to London, so the maid would avoid any retribution and an unknown fate.

  “My lord. My lady.” Emily curtseyed. “Cook asks me to inform you that the noon meal is prepared. Dr. Shaw says you may dine on the terrace, if you prefer.” Then she glanced from side to side and stepped closer. In a hoarse tone, she said, “But I suggest you remove to your chambers, so I can assess the torn hem you mentioned yesterday.”

  “A torn—oh, yes. The hem.” Something was wrong, because Arabella required no seamstress, and she peered at Anthony. “My lord, the sun is rather warm today. If it is all right with you, I prefer to return to our quarters.”

  “Of course.” He furrowed his brow and patted the back of her hand. “Shall we, my dear?”

  In silence, they strolled through the topiary garden, posing as a besotted couple, to the terrace door. Yet, she was wound tight as a clock spring. Inside, they crossed the parlor and walked into the hall. In the foyer, they turned left, just as the long case clock chimed its dulcet melody, and ascended the stairs.

  A footman rounded a corner, and Emily said, “Their lordships will take the noon meal in their sitting room. Please, tell Cook.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The footman bowed and rushed to the landing.

  At the entrance to their private apartment, a guard sat in a chair. As Anthony and Arabella neared, the henchman stood and opened the door. She never acknowledged her jailer, because he deserved no notice or respect.

  After navigating the sitting room, Emily waved Anthony and Arabella into the inner chamber. At last, the maid faced them.

  “My lord and my lady, I have given much thought to your confinement and your wish to contact your family, and if you write a letter, now, I shall collect it after you take lunch and post it, myself, in the morning.” Emily bit her bottom lip and shuffled her feet. “I believe it best for you to leave Sanderstead, as soon as possible, and I am willing to help you escape.”

  “You are scared.” Arabella glanced at her husband and then back to the servant. “What has happened to frighten you?”

  “It is Dr. Shaw.” The maid wrung her fingers, and Arabella’s thoughts raced. “He does not have your best interests at heart, and he has the morals of a gotch-gutted toss pot.” The maid shrieked and covered her mouth. “I beg your pardon, your lordships.”

  “It is all right, Emily.” Anthony pulled Arabella into the crook of his arm. “Pray, continue.”

  “While I knew of his plans for Lord Rockingham, and I do not support Dr. Shaw’s conclusions, it is what he intends for Lady Rockingham that most concerns me. I cannot, in good conscience, live with myself if I allow him to succeed.” The footman entered the sitting room, and Emily stretched tall. “Leave the tray on the table, and I shall serve their lordships.”

  “As you wish.” The footman bowed and retraced his steps.

  “My lady, forgive my indelicacy, but Dr. Shaw asks every month if you bleed, and he tracks your habits.” When Arabella gasped, Emily blinked, and her fingers shook as she smoothed her hair and straightened her white cap. “Worry not, because I told him you have, even though you have not used the rags in more than a month.”

  The world tilted in that moment, and Arabella’s ears rang like the bells in a Wren steeple. At her side
, Anthony tensed. In her mind, she counted the weeks, and her knees buckled. The upset stomach. The nausea. The general feeling of weakness in the morning. It all made sense in light of Emily’s observation.

  “You are with child.” Anthony put Arabella’s immediate thoughts into words. “That is why you fell ill.”

  “Did it not occur to you?” Emily asked in an unnaturally high pitch. She bowed her head and cleared her throat. “Again, forgive my discourtesy, my lady.”

  “To be honest, no.” But she should have known, given Anthony’s nocturnal games, and it wasn’t as though she knew nothing of the consequences of their behavior. “I presumed we were safe, because we were not consistent in our…activities.”

  “My lady, I change your linens.” Emily averted her stare and said in a low voice, “I knew it was a possibility.”

  “Oh, good heavens, how could I have missed it.” Well, it was no great mystery. Although Arabella could count, she focused her attentions on her husband in the months since they were confined at Sanderstead. Her days were spent either perusing the library or reviewing Larrey’s book. She never spared a second thought for the unused strips of fabric. “What can we do?”

  “Wait, because there is more.” Anthony rested his hand on his hip. “Emily, you mentioned that Shaw has plans for Lady Rockingham. What can you tell us?”

  “Well, one of my duties is dusting the library and the study, and what falls under my eyes falls under my eyes, if you take my meaning.” The maid checked over her shoulder and then looked at Arabella. “I found a letter from Dr. Shaw to His Grace. In it, he advised His Grace of a new plan. After Lord Rockingham is locked away in an asylum, and Lady Rockingham increases, Dr. Shaw intends to supervise Lady Rockingham’s confinement and the babe’s birth. Her ladyship will not be returning to London, even after providing an heir.”