Summoning every ounce of determination, Max swung about, jammed his hat on his head and strode out of the house. The black fog hung about him, heavy and impenetrable as he performed his various duties. But through the blackness there were two small, wavering flickers of comfort, fragile as candle flame. The first was that he had made his confession to Fred and the other was the memory of Ellen’s arms clasped around him.
* * *
The rituals of death filled the next week. Georgie had no family and Frederick’s mother was too frail to make the long journey north for the funeral so it fell to Ellen and Max to support the grieving widow. They were obliged to meet often, but any conversation between them was brief and to the point, and often they exchanged nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement. The Arncliffes were liked and respected in both Low and High Harrogate and St John’s Chapel was packed for the funeral service, which Ellen hoped would be of some comfort to Georgie.
Sad as the week was, Ellen did not want it to end, because the following Monday Max was carrying her off to Rossenhall. On the Sunday she took Jamie to visit Georgie and Charlotte, and while the two children played in the nursery under Gregson’s watchful eye, Ellen explained the arrangements Max had put in place for their journey.
‘We shall be quite a cavalcade,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘It is a journey of nigh on two hundred miles and will take us several days to reach Rossenhall. The Duke has sent Mr Flynn, his valet, ahead to arrange our accommodation en route.’ She drew a breath, thinking of the journey ahead, of being in close proximity with Max for days, nights on end. ‘I vow I am a little nervous.’
Georgie shuddered. ‘As I would be, if I suddenly discovered I had several large properties under my command.’
Ellen did not wish to correct her misunderstanding, so she said merely, ‘No, that does not worry me. I helped my step-mama look after Papa’s houses, and at the Academy Mrs Ackroyd was very keen that we should understand household matters. All her pupils were from wealthy families, you see, and we were expected to know how to run any establishment, from the humblest cottage to a palace.’
‘And what will you do with your house in Paradise Row?’ asked Georgie.
‘It will be sold. Snow has already informed me that he is going to retire, but Max has agreed that I may find the rest of the staff positions in one or other of his houses, if they do not wish to stay here.’
‘And have you explained the situation to Jamie yet?’
‘I have told him that Max is his papa, but he insists upon calling him “Duke”. I do not think he really understands what is going on at present.’
‘Poor little man, it is very hard for him, but once you are settled at Rossenhall I am sure it will be easier. And I shall be following you very soon. Frederick’s mother has written to offer me and Lottie a home with her in the village. I believe Max may have suggested it to her, because he has insisted upon sending his carriage to convey us to Rossenhall when the time comes. Did he discuss it with you?’
Ellen shook her head. ‘We have not had much opportunity to converse.’
The truth was that Max had so far preferred to communicate via written messages. He was avoiding her company, Ellen knew it and was thankful for the respite while she put her own feelings for him into perspective. They could not hope to return to their former intimacy, but perhaps in time they might achieve an amicable partnership. She found herself praying that it might be so.
* * *
The summer sun was beaming down as an impressive line of carriages drew up at Paradise Row. Knowing that the truth could not long be kept a secret, they had agreed that both households should be informed of the situation before Max carried Ellen away from Harrogate, and she knew as she stepped out of her house that she was being scrutinised by the Duke’s retinue. She was subjected to particularly close inspection from the groom, who was holding the heads of the glossy bays harnessed to the low-slung curricle standing at her door. Since the Duke intended to drive himself, Ellen had invited Jamie and Matlock to accompany her in the travelling barouche.
* * *
As Ellen had anticipated, the journey to Buckinghamshire proved exhausting. She and Matty spent their days keeping Jamie amused in the carriage. When they stopped each night Matlock took charge of the boy while Ellen faced an even more daunting challenge: dinner with the Duke. She could not blame Flynn for arranging a private dining parlour for the Duke and Duchess each evening, but she would have much preferred to be in the public rooms. However, there was no help for it, so every evening she and Max were studiously polite to one another, talked of unexceptional subjects and retired early to their separate bedchambers before starting the procedure all over again the following morning.
* * *
Max was determined not to be alone with Ellen any more than was necessary. When they met at mealtimes he restricted his remarks to the mundane and said nothing to rouse her spirit. If she fired back at him, if he saw even a glimpse of the woman he had fallen in love with, then he was sure the defences he had put up would begin to crumble and he did not want that. He did not want to allow her back into his heart and if that meant driving two hundred miles over roads that varied from the good to the abominable in a vehicle designed for racing, then so be it.
* * *
On their final evening on the road Ellen appeared in the dining room in the sapphire silk she had worn to the ball at the Crown. The night he had kissed her. Just the thought of it brought a familiar flare of desire. She must have noticed something because she coloured a little and said defensively, ‘I feel a little overdressed.’
‘You look delightful.’
He meant it, but the indifference he forced into his tone made her wince. He regretted it, but with the servants traipsing in and out of the room it was impossible to retrieve the situation. Ellen appeared to recover, but he knew she was uneasy, Max could feel the tension building between them. He tried to diffuse it by asking her how she had enjoyed the journey.
‘It has been much better than I anticipated.’ She smiled for the benefit of the landlord and his servants who were fussing around them, bringing dishes and pouring wine. ‘I am grateful, Your Grace, for your consideration, I am sure you could have made the journey in half the time.’
As she helped herself to a little rice and chicken he noticed the ring on her wedding finger, the ornate gold band with the Arabic inscription he had given her to seal their union. Had it cost her an effort to wear it again? Did it remind her of the vows they had taken, vows she had been so quick to break? He quashed the voice in his head that whispered in her defence. She should have trusted him.
Her soft voice broke through his thoughts. ‘I am surprised you did not travel on ahead, since you have your curricle.’
‘I could have done so, I suppose.’ He paused while the servants withdrew. ‘But it would not look well for me to arrive at Rossenhall without my bride. I have instructed that you are to be received there tomorrow with all the honour that is due to your station.’
‘Even though I do not deserve it.’
He could not bring himself to deny it, even though he knew it was unreasonable. Circumstances had decreed his presence in Egypt should be a secret, so how could he expect her to believe him, when the facts seemed to prove otherwise? But he could not undo the consequences of her desertion, the black depression that had enveloped him and led him to embark upon so many reckless raids. To risk so many lives besides his own.
That is your guilt, not hers. Why do you punish her?
The question slammed into his mind like a revelation, but it was too sudden, the pain too raw and he pushed it away again. He struggled to speak, his tongue tied by the torrent of emotion that flooded in and her words hung in the silence like an executioner’s sword.
She said quietly, ‘I shall do my best to be a good duchess. If you will let me.’
>
‘I am sure you will.’ He wanted to smile at her, but coughed instead and looked away, hating himself but disguising his feelings, as he had learned to do as a boy. ‘Now where is the rascally landlord with our wine?’
* * *
Ellen bit back a sigh. For a moment she felt like throwing her plate at Max. That would provoke a reaction, but perhaps not the sort she desired. Instead she fixed on her society smile, complimented the landlord on the excellence of the food, and discussed the recent floods in Shropshire and the possibility of the King’s recovery from his latest bout of madness. Nothing personal, nothing that might remind them of their previous time together, and as soon as the meal was finished she retired to her lonely bedchamber, where the exertions of the journey allowed her to slip away into blessed oblivion for a few hours.
* * *
Max was in the private parlour when Ellen came downstairs the next morning and when he asked after Jamie, she explained that Matty had already given him his breakfast and was now taking him for a walk.
‘It is good for him to use up some of his high spirits before the journey,’ she explained.
‘Is he very hard work for you?’
She smiled at him, touched by his consideration.
‘Why, no, not really. Matty and I take turns to keep him amused, tell him stories and sing songs. It has been a long journey and he has done very well for such a little boy.’
‘Let us hope his good behaviour lasts for this final stage, then.’
No more was said, but when Max escorted Ellen to the waiting carriages they found Jamie engaged in a battle of wills with his nurse. He was clutching the hobby horse and glaring at Matty, a mulish set to his mouth.
‘Now what the devil is going on here?’ demanded Max.
‘Master James wants to take his toy into the chaise with us, Your Grace,’ Matlock explained. ‘I’ve told him there’s no room, but he won’t listen. We shall be black and blue if we let him have his way.’
‘We shall indeed,’ Ellen agreed, wondering how best to resolve the impasse without tears.
Jamie’s lip was already trembling as he declared he wanted to keep horsey with him. To Ellen’s surprise Max stepped into the breach.
‘Of course you do,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But the ladies wouldn’t like that. What do you say to helping me with my horses?’
‘Do you mean...sit up in the curricle with you?’ demanded Ellen, shaken.
‘Yes, of course.’ Max smiled down at Jamie. ‘A fellow can get very tired driving a team on his own all day.’
‘B-but he is too little,’ she objected. ‘He might fall out and you will not be able to watch him all the time, if you are driving.’
‘Then let his nurse come with him.’ Ellen saw Matlock’s look of horror at the idea. Max clearly noticed it, too, for he shrugged and said, ‘Or you could come with us.’
For a few moments Ellen could think of nothing to say.
‘I shall help you, Duke,’ declared Jamie, his good humour restored. He held out the hobby horse to Matlock and kindly informed her she might put it away, then he ran to Ellen and took her hand. ‘Come along, Mama.’
Ellen looked at Max. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
‘Do we have any choice now?’
A ragged laugh shook her. ‘No, not unless we want a tantrum.’
Minutes later they were off, Jamie sitting proudly between the Duke and Duchess and waving goodbye to the grinning ostlers, who had witnessed the little scene.
Ellen kept one hand on the wide rail and an arm about Jamie, pinning him firmly to the seat as Max deftly negotiated the narrow roads. She heard a chuckle from the groom behind them.
‘Don’t you worry, Your Grace,’ he addressed her cheerfully. ‘The master ain’t never overturned us yet. Not that we’re used to driving females and young ’uns, of course.’
‘That will do, Stevens,’ said Max repressively.
He was looking quite severe and Ellen wondered if he was regretting his generosity. She tried to think of something to break the silence.
‘Did your father teach you to drive?’ she asked him at last.
His bark of laughter had a bitter note to it.
‘He took no interest in anything I did. His only concern was that I should not disgrace the family name.’
‘It is quite reprehensible,’ she burst out, indignantly.
‘Oh, he did what he thought was his duty,’ said Max drily. ‘My education was the best money could buy, in every field, including the bedroom.’
A frisson of excitement ran through Ellen as she recalled his skill as a lover, but she could not ignore the unhappiness in his voice and sought for some way to dispel it.
She said daringly, ‘Then it was not all wasted.’
As she had hoped, the haunted look left his eyes and he laughed. ‘No, not all of it.’
Jamie tugged at his sleeve. ‘When can I hold the reins, Duke?’
‘Very soon now. Once we are clear of the town you shall do so.’
Knowing Jamie would be impatient for his treat, Ellen distracted him, pointing out two little dogs scrapping over a bone and a pie-man balancing a tray of freshly baked pastries on his head. Five minutes later they had left the town behind and were bowling along the open road. They soon drew away from the other carriages and when they reached a straight stretch of empty road Max slowed his team.
‘Now, Jamie, let us see how you can handle the ribbons.’
He lifted the boy on to his lap and showed him how to hold the reins in his little hands. Ellen watched anxiously, determined not to spoil Jamie’s enjoyment by showing her concern. The groom leaned forward and murmured in her ear, ‘No need to fret, ma’am. The master’s covering him all right and tight.’
Ellen turned and gave Stevens a grateful smile. She had expected the Duke’s staff to treat her with cold reserve, but those she had met so far had shown her a kindly respect, which was very encouraging.
* * *
It was not to be expected that such a small boy could sit still holding the reins for very long and after ten minutes Ellen judged he had had enough.
‘You have done very well, Jamie,’ she said. ‘Perhaps the Duke will let you try again later.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Max nodded as Ellen lifted the boy on to the seat between them. ‘But for now we must pick up the pace a little.’
Immediately Jamie’s face lit up. ‘Yes, let’s race!’
‘We shall do nothing so indecorous,’ declared Ellen, trying to sound severe.
Max looked across and she met his eyes. It was a moment of understanding, of shared pleasure, and it warmed her.
* * *
With his wife and son beside him in the curricle, Max had not expected to enjoy the drive, but to his surprise the miles flew by and they soon reached their final stop. The Rising Sun was barely fifteen miles from Rossenhall and Max was well known there. He saw the speculation in the landlord’s eyes as he regarded Ellen and Jamie, but they were escorted into the private parlour with many a low bow and assurances that they would receive every attention.
Max nodded, drawing off his gloves. ‘The rest of the party are some way behind us, but we will take our refreshment immediately.’
‘Yes, Your Grace. Immediately, Your Grace.’
‘Your distinction has served us well on this journey,’ remarked Ellen, as the landlord bustled away, shouting orders to his staff.
Max grimaced. ‘I could do without all the bowing and scraping, but it does have its uses.’ He looked down at Jamie, who was tugging urgently at Ellen’s skirts. ‘Now what is wrong?’
Ellen swung Jamie up into her arms. ‘He needs the privy.’
He frowned. ‘Can he not wait until his nurse arrives? Or let a servant take him.’
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‘Certainly not.’
Jamie stretched out his arms towards Max. ‘Duke take me.’
But Ellen was already heading for the door, saying with a laugh in her voice, ‘I do not think your papa is quite ready for that, Jamie!’
Then she was gone, but the memory of her irrepressible laughter remained with Max, causing a reluctant smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. He threw his hat and gloves on to a side table. This was not what he had intended at all. He wanted to keep his distance from Ellen, he wanted them to be politely civil to one another, but it was impossible when that little imp was present. There was no doubt the child had inherited his mother’s engaging ways. Max had noticed during the journey south that Ellen had won the approval of his staff, even Stevens, his suspicious groom. Of course they none of them knew the truth, that she had left him within weeks of their marriage. He must harden his heart against her. She was the only woman he had ever loved and her desertion had almost destroyed him. He had no intention of falling in love with her all over again.
When Ellen brought Jamie back to the little parlour, Max was once more in control. He politely invited them to sit down and enjoy the selection of pies and cold meats provided for their refreshment. Ellen refused a glass of milk for Jamie and persuaded him to take a little herb tea.
‘We still have an hour’s journey ahead of us and milk might upset his stomach,’ she explained to Max. ‘I do not wish to introduce a bilious little boy to your staff.’ She glanced towards the window as she picked up her coffee cup. ‘Here are the rest of our party. Jamie and I will be able to finish the journey in the barouche.’
Max pushed away his empty plate.
‘That would be the most fitting way for you to arrive,’ he agreed. ‘Or—’ He stopped, fighting with himself. Trying to resurrect his defences.
‘Yes?’
She sounded a little breathless, but he dared not raise his eyes to look at her.
The Duke's Secret Heir Page 11
