The Duke's Secret Heir

by Sarah Mallory

  She stared at the paper, but made no attempt to take it from him.

  ‘You were away, you instructed me to deal with everything.’

  ‘And you did not think to send this on to me?’ He stared at her, incredulous.

  She shrugged. ‘I did not want to trouble you.’

  ‘This letter says I have a son and you did not want to trouble me?’

  He spoke quietly, but anger was bubbling up like hot oil as he thought of how Ellen must have felt, first of all to receive that rejection from Hugo and then to think he himself was ignoring her.

  ‘It was not my decision,’ cried Dorcas, shrinking from the fury she saw in his face. ‘It was Hugo who said we must ignore her, after that first letter!’

  ‘So you knew of that, too?’

  ‘Of course. Hugo discussed the whole matter with me.’

  ‘But why did Hugo not discuss it with me? I was in England then, he had my direction.’

  ‘We agreed it was an imposter, trying to wheedle her way into the family.’ She added defiantly, ‘What else were we to think? After all, you had not informed us of your marriage. When this second letter came, naturally I thought she had seen the notices of your elevation and had decided to try again.’

  Max forced down his anger, acknowledging the truth of her argument. Hugo would never have believed he would marry anyone outside his own sphere, and he—Max rubbed a hand across his eyes. If only he had told them, but pride, blind, stubborn pride had made him keep his marriage a secret. Dorcas sat up, her lip curling derisively.

  ‘Do not blame me for this, Maximilian. You were clearly ashamed of your marriage, or you would have spoken of it.’

  ‘I was ashamed to admit she had left me,’ he said slowly. ‘But she had good cause to doubt me.’ He fixed her with a steely look. ‘And you did not think to tell me any of this, even when I brought my bride to Rossenhall?’ Max paced the room, unable to keep still. ‘I thought Ellen had made no attempt to contact me.’ He stopped before her, frowning. ‘You encouraged me to believe that.’

  ‘I should have burned those letters,’ she muttered.

  His shook his head, his spirits lifting as he realised with blinding clarity that he had not needed the letters to prove Ellen had told him the truth.

  He said, ‘It would not make the slightest difference, not now. I trust my wife. I know she would not have hidden herself away if she had not been convinced that I did not wish to find her.’

  He turned and made for the door.

  ‘Maximilian! What are you going to do?’

  ‘I am going to find Ellen and tell her what a damned fool I have been.’ As he grasped the handle he looked back. ‘You will make arrangements to remove to the dower house as soon as the ball is over, madam. I will no longer have you in my house.’

  Max went back to the east wing, but he was too late to catch Ellen alone. He was informed that the Duchess had already joined their guests downstairs. Curbing his impatience, Max went off to change.

  * * *

  The drawing room was bustling, full of noise and chatter. All the guests invited to join the family for dinner were gathered there, including Tony Grisham who was talking to Georgiana and her mother-in-law.

  Ellen watched them for a moment, noted the slight blush on Georgie’s cheeks and the way Tony was looking at her. It would be a match, she felt sure. The Lodge was certainly large enough for a family and would do very well for them if it was redecorated. She must talk to Max about it.

  Max. The knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened a little more. She had been trying to find him all day, but he had been avoiding her, she was sure of it, and now time was running out to tell him how she felt. She looked around the room again and a momentary anxiety flickered. She could not see him or Dorcas amongst the throng. With the ball to follow it would be difficult to put dinner back, but she was considering the possibility when she saw the Dowager come in. She looked pale, but after a venomous glance towards Ellen she sought out her brother and began to talk to him. Ellen shrugged. She was growing accustomed to her sister-in-law’s coldness and if there was nothing she could do about it then it must be ignored. A movement caught her eye and she turned just as Max entered the room.

  Her heartbeat quickened when she saw his tall upright figure filling the doorway, the shoulders of his dark coat almost touching the frame on either side. His hair gleamed golden in the bright light of a summer’s evening and she thought he had never looked better. Or perhaps that was because he was leaving her tomorrow. He stopped to exchange a word and a smile with Mrs Ackroyd, who was standing near the door, then he turned to scan the room. When his eyes fell upon Ellen her heart stopped altogether. She had become used to him avoiding her, not meeting her gaze unless it was necessary, but tonight there was no hesitation. He came directly towards her, his eyes fixed on her face.

  Even as the Duke reached out to her, Perkins came in to announce dinner. Ellen was finding it difficult to breathe with Max holding her hands, but she managed a shaky laugh.

  ‘I was on the point of delaying our dinner, Your Grace.’

  He carried her fingers to his lips in an unexpectedly tender gesture.

  ‘Could anything be more badly timed?’ he murmured. ‘We must talk, as soon as possible.’

  ‘Indeed we must.’ She kept her smile in place for the benefit of their guests. ‘As soon as we can both slip away.’

  There was no time for more. Max went off to give his arm to an aged duchess and Ellen organised everyone into an orderly procession to the dining room. There were twenty couples to be seated and Ellen could not even see Max at the other end of the table, such was the quantity of candles and silverware between them. Not by the flicker of an eyelid did she show her impatience to discover just what it was he wanted to say to her, but her mind rampaged upon endless speculation.

  * * *

  The dinner dragged on interminably. Max listened to the elderly Duchess, a distant relation whom he had felt duty-bound to invite, but his mind was on Ellen. She had told him nothing of the gown she had ordered for the ball, but as soon as he had entered the drawing room he was transported back to the Nile and the nights they had shared beneath the stars. Seeing her standing across the crowded drawing room, the dark silk enhancing the blue of her eyes, it had been as much as he could do not to drag her away there and then and lay his heart and his hopes at her feet once more.

  But it must wait. There were several more courses to be sampled and he could not sit there smiling like an idiot through it, he must drag his mind away from his wife, sitting at the other end of the table, and make conversation, however much it irked him.

  * * *

  ‘At last I have you to myself.’

  In the general hubbub of guests leaving the dining room, the Duke caught Ellen’s hand and whisked her into the small sitting room. Much as she wanted to talk to him, she was acutely aware of her duties as a hostess.

  ‘Yes, but we must not be long, Max,’ she told him. ‘People will soon be arriving for the ball, to say nothing of our dinner guests, who will be expecting us to join them in the drawing room.’

  ‘Let them amuse themselves for a while. This is important.’

  ‘Please.’ She put a finger to his lips, knowing if she delayed she might lose her nerve. ‘Before you say anything more, let me speak. I—I wanted to tell you that I love you, Max. I have always loved you, from the very first moment I saw you. I know you c-cannot love me, I am reconciled to that, and I will do my best not to embarrass you again with an excess of emotion, but please, I do not want you to go away. I would rather live in the shadows than without you...’

  She trailed off, unnerved by his frowning look, but the next moment he was dragging her into his arms and kissing her. It was the miracle Ellen had dreamed of throughout the protracted dinner and now she almost swoon
ed with relief as his mouth found hers in a ruthless, demanding kiss. When at last he raised his head she gave a small sigh of disappointment, but she put her hands against his chest to prevent him kissing her again.

  ‘You said you wished to speak to me,’ she reminded him.

  He caught her hands and stared down at them, silent and brooding.

  ‘Max?’ she prompted him, trying to ignore the distracting way he was rubbing his thumb over her fingers.

  ‘I found your letters today.’

  ‘I see.’

  His grip tightened. He looked into her face. ‘Why did you not tell me? When I accused you of not trying to find me, why did you not say that Hugo had replied and in such degrading terms?’

  ‘The letter I received was from your steward,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘Atherwell wrote it at my brother’s behest. I saw for myself Hugo’s instructions and I am ashamed that he should be so ill mannered. Why did you not tell me what he said to you?’

  ‘Because I did not want to tarnish your memory of your brother.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘Besides, would you have believed me?’

  ‘No, not then.’ He sighed. ‘But you had every right to expect that your second letter would reach me. Ellen, I cannot tell you how sorry I am.’

  ‘It is not your fault, Max. When you told me you had not returned immediately to Rossenhall, I guessed you had not seen my letter. I never believed you would ignore it.’

  ‘But you suspected Dorcas had kept it from me?’

  ‘Once I had met her I was sure of it, but I had no proof.’

  ‘And you have borne all her unkindness with patience and goodwill.’ He shook his head. ‘I could not have been so generous.’

  ‘What good would it have done to stir up the coals? You would have had to choose between her and me—’ her smile went a little awry ‘—and I had already given you cause to hate me.’

  He dragged her close again. ‘Not hate,’ he murmured, kissing her. ‘I hated myself, but I never stopped loving you. I know that now.’ After another long kiss he raised his head, but only to enfold her against his chest and rest his cheek against her hair. ‘Having lived with you these past months I know you would never lie to me. That is not why I needed to find the letters. I did not want to believe that Hugo would serve me such a trick. Damn his abominable pride!’

  ‘He must have thought it for the best.’ She sighed. ‘And the Dowager made it very clear she thought me too far beneath you to be worthy of notice.’

  She spoke lightly, but could not keep the quiver of hurt from her voice.

  His arms tightened. ‘She is so very wrong. You are far, far above all of us. I knew it when I married you. But we can do better than this, love. I want us to start again, if you will agree to it. I have already told Dorcas she must remove to the dower house as soon as possible. Then we can make Rossenhall our own. Oh, Ellen, I have been such a fool. I have been blaming you for my own failings and do not deserve that you should love me. Can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘Oh, Max.’ She reached up and put her fingers against his mouth to silence him. ‘You deserve much, much more than I can ever give you,’ she whispered. ‘But first you must forgive yourself. Fred said you were an excellent soldier. He told me you saved his life and countless others.’

  He sighed. ‘Yes, Tony said as much to me the other day.’

  ‘Then you should believe it.’ She buried her face in his shoulder. ‘I only hope you can forgive me for doubting you in the first place.’

  ‘There is nothing to forgive.’

  He cupped her face, turning it up towards him, and as he did so she could not prevent a few hot tears escaping and rolling over his fingers.

  ‘Ah, my love, do not weep.’ He took out his handkerchief and began to wipe her cheeks.

  ‘I thought I had lost you,’ she whispered.

  ‘I was sure I had lost you.’ He bent his head to place another kiss upon her lips. ‘My love,’ he whispered, covering her face with kisses. ‘My Duchess.’

  The faint sounds of voices and laughter dragged them back to the present. He raised his head.

  ‘We had best get back to our guests.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘Would you like me to go on ahead? Do you need a few moments to compose yourself?’

  She shook her head, taking the handkerchief from him to dry her eyes before she smiled mistily up at him.

  ‘No. Let us face them all together.’

  ‘Dorcas knows the truth about our separation,’ he warned her. ‘She could damage your reputation.’

  ‘She could try.’ Ellen smiled, supremely confident now that she knew he loved her. ‘Let us go in, Max. If we show the world we are united, no one can harm us.’

  Epilogue

  Max and Ellen were back at Rossenhall the following summer in time for the August Ball. Ellen’s redecorations were complete, the reception rooms looked very much as they always had, only more magnificent with fresh paint and gilding on the ornate plasterwork, but the family’s apartments had been transformed. The oppressive ornamentation and tapestries had been removed and the ceilings and walls repainted in pale colours that made the most of the elegant stucco. The heavy damask curtains had been replaced with light floral silks around the bed and windows. The Duchess’s light touch was also evident in the nursery, where the young Marquess and his baby sister were sleeping peacefully while their parents welcomed everyone to the ball.

  Ellen was again wearing a gown of midnight-blue silk, but this time it was seeded with diamonds, not crystals. Max wanted to signal to the world that the Rossenhall fortunes were once more in the ascendant. As he led his Duchess into the marble hall, ready to meet their guests, he lifted her hand to his lips.

  ‘You look magnificent,’ he murmured, his eyes gleaming with love.

  ‘I think I have done very well, for a tradesman’s daughter,’ Ellen teased him.

  ‘A tradesman’s daughter with a very shrewd brain,’ he replied. ‘The investments your father’s advisors recommended are already paying dividends, you and Tony run my properties with such efficiency that you leave me nothing to do except marvel at my good fortune.’

  ‘That is not true and you know it,’ said Ellen, slipping her hand through his arm. ‘I think we make a very good team, you and I.’

  There was no time for more, the guests were arriving. It was less crowded than the previous year, the Duke and Duchess having declared the occasion was for Rossenhall people, their close friends, neighbours and tenants. The ball had been preceded two days earlier by a party for the servants, for Ellen was anxious that their labours should not be forgotten.

  The Duke could only marvel at his Duchess’s stamina. He watched her circling the room, talking, laughing and dancing with their guests. She was a beautiful, elegant hostess, endearing herself even more to the people of Rossenhall. At last he caught up with her, insisting that they go in to supper together.

  ‘It is a success,’ he told her, sitting down beside her. ‘You are a success.’

  ‘Are you sorry we have kept it to local families?’ she asked him, ‘I know Dorcas was disappointed that it was not to be a grand society event.’

  ‘If the Dowager had had her way the house would be filled with lords, ladies and even royalty,’ he said. ‘No, we see enough of those people in town. This celebration is for us. For you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The fact that Dorcas declined to attend, because we have not invited “her sort of people” shows why she was never loved at Rossenhall, as you are.’

  ‘I was sorry Mrs Ackroyd could not be here,’ said Ellen as Max refilled her wineglass. ‘Her last letter from Greece was full of condemnation of Lord Elgin for removing so many artefacts from the Parthenon. I think she would like you to raise the matter in the House.’

  Max shook his head. ‘I have
enough to do supporting the war in the Peninsula. When we have finally defeated Bonaparte, perhaps I may have more time for your friend’s crusades.’ He put up his head. ‘Listen, the next dance is about to begin. Will you join me, Duchess?’

  ‘With pleasure, Duke. But only one dance: I am determined that you must stand up with little Clare Arncliffe tonight. It will be good practice for her come-out later this year.’

  ‘And may I also dance with Georgiana?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course, if you can tear her away from Tony. You know how it is with new brides.’

  ‘Not only new ones,’ he growled.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and Ellen felt the familiar rush of desire. Max was right, she thought, as he led her on to the dance floor. It was not only new brides who were besotted with their husbands.

  * * *

  Later, when the guests had gone, they made their way up to the ducal apartments. Max’s only stipulation in the refurbishment had been that the Duchess’s apartments should adjoin his own and a connecting door had been added, although they never made any pretence of retiring separately. Max led her directly to his bedchamber, where he proceeded to undress her between long, languid kisses that made Ellen shiver voluptuously. The slow thrust and parry of tongues was like a ritual dance that aroused them both with its sensuous demands.

  Leaving their clothes pooled on the floor, Max lifted her effortlessly on to the bed and in the pale moonlight they continued to caress one another, his hands skimming her soft flesh while her fingers explored the muscular hardness of his back. Almost too soon the languid kisses gave way to fierce desire, a giddy rush of blood that carried them to the final consummation and left them to fall into a sated, exhausted slumber, entwined in each other’s arms.

  * * *

  In the morning Ellen stirred, stretching luxuriously, revelling in the closeness of Max’s body, measuring his length against her. She rolled over and kissed him.

  ‘Max, wake up. It must be late. I can hear Flynn moving about in your dressing room.’