Redemption of the Duke

by Gayle Callen

  “You are correct, of course, Lady Sophia,” Lord Shenstone answered, bowing to her. He turned to Faith. “Forgive me if I offended you, Miss Cooper, although I’m still uncertain how I did so.”

  She glanced at Lady Duncan, who did not seem like she would restrict anything Faith would say. To Lord Shenstone, Faith answered, “I simply feel sorry for your cousins, my lord, since you do not seem to hold them in high esteem.”

  “That’s very true,” he agreed, “but since you have not met them, you cannot understand, can you?”

  She nodded. “Then perhaps I am simply sensitive on behalf of companions and women everywhere.”

  Lord Shenstone studied her, that condescending smile still in place.

  “I like the way you think, Miss Cooper,” said Lady Duncan. “You and I will do so well together. Now tell me, Adam, what were you two gentlemen about today? Fencing?”

  “Of course,” Lord Shenstone answered. “And though I used to occasionally defeat him in our misbegotten youth, no more. Now it is like taking lessons from a master.”

  The duke shrugged. “I have simply had more practice.”

  He made it sound like he’d been sparring genial friends with wooden swords or buttoned points all these years, instead of opponents trying to kill him. He’d once been like Lord Shenstone, she suspected, a ne’er-do-well, a scoundrel—she found herself wondering how he’d first taken the reality of the army.

  “It is called skill, Rothford,” Lord Shenstone said genially. “I promise I will try to give you decent competition again someday.” He glanced past their little group. “Today is truly the day to run into acquaintances on Regent Street. I do believe my vicar is in town.”

  Lady Sophia gave a little gasp and turned her head away with a blush.

  Faith understood Lord Shenstone to mean the vicar of his local village, but she wasn’t sure about Lady Sophia’s reaction.

  “Do you know this man, my lady?” Faith asked softly.

  “He is Mr. Percy.” Lady Sophia saw her brother watching, pressed her lips together, and said nothing more.

  Then Faith saw the vicar in question and understood immediately. He was a handsome young man, plainly dressed but with a lively step. His chestnut hair gleamed in the sun when he doffed his hat, and his dimples winked into view as he smiled upon spying their party. By the time he slowed to a stop, he’d concealed those dimples, as with a respectful expression he bowed to the duke.

  “Your Grace, the pleasant morning has only increased upon seeing your party.”

  “Mr. Percy,” the duke said, with a brief nod.

  “And what are you doing so far from Lichfield?” Lord Shenstone asked.

  Mr. Percy smiled. “I am visiting my sister, my lord. Do not fear, I will be back home for the Sunday service.”

  “You are always the model of duty, Mr. Percy,” Lady Sophia said.

  There was an interesting edge to her voice that had Faith giving her a second glance.

  Mr. Percy bowed to her. “Lady Sophia, I always wish to do what is expected of me.”

  “Of course.” Her voice grew even cooler, and she suddenly took Frances’s hand and drew the little girl toward the window of a pastry shop.

  Faith saw the duke watching his sister, brows slightly lowered, even as Mr. Percy gave his regards to the other ladies of the party. He took his leave, and his last regretful glance was for Lady Sophia, who only gave a distant nod, then ignored her brother’s direct stare.

  A young woman emerged from a nearby shop, her head turned away as she spoke with a companion, and ran directly into the duke.

  “Oh dear!” she cried.

  The duke grabbed both her arms before she could tumble to the pavement. The woman looked up at him from beneath her stylish hat, her expression full of surprise and then delight.

  “Your Grace, how wonderful to see you again! And to think I once called you Lord Adam, but now you have a far loftier title. How things change, although I regret that a tragedy was the cause.”

  “Lady Emmeline, good day to you,” the duke said. “And I appreciated your note of condolence.”

  Lord Shenstone, though he eyed the young lady with interest, gave a smirk when Rothford glanced his way.

  “Your Grace, London has long missed you these many years, but I do say, you seem the picture of health after your heroic sojourn on the other side of the world.”

  Rothford gave her a smile, and although Faith had seen a more wicked one, it certainly worked its effect on Lady Emmeline, who blushed and giggled.

  Lord Shenstone openly rolled his eyes behind the woman’s back, although he did say, “You’re looking particularly sunny this day, Lady Emmeline.”

  She made a great show of acting like she hadn’t seen him. “Lord Shenstone, imagine you blending into a crowd like that. Do forgive my silliness and accept my wishes for a good day.”

  “Of course,” he said, nodding, a muscle in his jaw clenching.

  Lady Emmeline looked at their party. “Greetings, my ladies!”

  Lady Duncan chuckled at the young woman’s exuberance, Lady Tunbridge looked bored, but to Faith’s surprise, the duchess smiled with sunny pleasure. Faith hadn’t often seen the woman look interested in anything but her son.

  “Rothford, is your dear sister—Sophia!” Lady Emmeline cried. “I’ve been so long in the country. Thank goodness the Season has brought us together!”

  Lady Sophia took her friend’s gloved hands and they smiled at each other. “Emmeline, it’s been too long since your last visit. Please say you have time to come calling on me.”

  Faith couldn’t miss the shy, blushing glances Lady Emmeline cast upon the duke, while he looked on with a bland smile.

  “Of course, dear friend, I had planned to come today!”

  Sophia turned to Faith. “Emmeline, here is one member of our party you have not met, Miss Cooper, my aunt’s new companion.”

  Faith curtsied. “Good morning, my lady.”

  Lady Sophia caught her friend’s arm in her own. “Emmeline and I have been friends our whole lives, school and holidays together. I know her family as well as she knows mine.”

  “How wonderful to have a friend as close as a sister,” Faith said.

  And by the way Lady Emmeline glanced at the duke, perhaps the woman wished to be Sophia’s new sister in truth. It was none of Faith’s business, but she was surprised to feel vaguely bothered by the idea. The duke had to marry someone, after all. Perhaps Lady Emmeline just didn’t seem . . . mature and sensible enough. He obviously needed a woman who could take him in hand.

  After a few more pleasantries, Lady Emmeline reluctantly left them, the gentlemen took their leave and headed back to the coffee house, and Faith was able to linger at the rear of the party.

  Lady Duncan allowed the others to stroll ahead and fell back to walk at Faith’s side. “That must have been interesting for you, Miss Cooper. Quite an introduction to our complicated relationships.”

  “Doesn’t every family have its complications?” Faith answered, smiling, tamping down her curiosity.

  “Of course, of course, but ours . . . well, our family is far too special.”

  “Lord Shenstone seems fond of Mr. Percy,” Faith began, hoping to seem polite rather than overly curious.

  “And who can blame him? Such a congenial young man one might never meet again. Hard-working, respectful—such a shame he has nothing to his name beyond that.” She shook her head.

  And that was all Faith needed to know about Lady Sophia’s response to Mr. Percy. If there was a depth of feeling between them, it was surely being discouraged by her family. Even Mr. Percy seemed accepting—it was Lady Sophia who appeared to bear ill will.

  “Lord Shenstone is an interesting fellow,” Lady Duncan continued. “The friendship between
my nephew and him began at school.”

  “Many find their life’s friendships that way, do they not?”

  “But I have never been certain Lord Shenstone is a suitable companion. As youths, they did wild things together, as typical young men do. Adam had a difficult childhood, and it was only natural that he find some freedom and release on his own at school.”

  “A difficult childhood?”

  “He was not the heir, you know, and his two older brothers—not of the same mother—did not offer brotherly love. I still had my own household then, and was not around enough to offer my support to Damaris and her children. But regardless, Adam decided that drawing attention to himself in outlandish ways was the best way to keep his father’s notice.”

  “And did it work?”

  “It did. His father was amused by his ‘exuberance’ for life, his pranks, his popularity. Lord Shenstone contributed much of that, of course, and their escapades only became more . . . adult as they grew older. The army changed all of that for Adam. He found purpose and maturity.”

  But he didn’t let go of “arrogance,” Faith thought sadly.

  “I am not certain that during the intervening years of Adam’s absence, Lord Shenstone changed in any way except to become more dissolute.”

  “Surely the duke will realize that himself.”

  Lady Duncan shrugged. “I hope so. It would be a shame if Adam allowed that man to bring censure on him after all this time.”

  Faith was surprised at Lady Duncan’s tone. The woman had seemed so open and unencumbered by prejudices of any sort. Apparently, not where Lord Shenstone was concerned. And Faith’s only thought was that both friends had courted trouble, and Lord Shenstone could not be blamed for what His Grace had willingly done.

  Chapter 8

  After a quiet luncheon with Lady Duncan, Faith was glad to escape Rothford Court. She headed for Hyde Park, her usual rendezvous with the Society of Ladies’ Companions and Chaperones, feeling trepidatious, and not just because of the dark, low-hanging clouds over London.

  Jane was the first to wave to her, and Faith waved back. “So sorry I’m late. I shared a meal with my new employer, and she was gracious enough to allow me to have this afternoon off, though I only just started with them yesterday.”

  “You have a new situation?” Charlotte asked, eyebrows raised. “When I last saw you with the Warburtons, they seemed content with your services.”

  “Oh, they were, but as you know, I was not happy with all the work they’d assigned me.”

  “Our position as lady’s companion should not include laundry and hairstyling,” Jane said, shaking her head with a tsk. “I am glad you made the change.”

  But Charlotte was watching Faith closely.

  Faith sighed. “I did not initiate the change. I struck up a conversation with Lady Duncan, and since we shared many of the same philosophies, she asked me to be her companion.”

  Jane smiled innocently.

  Charlotte frowned. “Jane, do you not realize that Lady Duncan is the aunt of the Duke of Rothford?”

  Jane’s smile faltered. “Oh dear.”

  Faith forced her own smile. “Sadly, I was in Jane’s shoes, and did not realize the truth until I had already left the Warburtons’ employ. I certainly don’t know my peerage well enough yet. Lady Duncan has promised to help me with that.”

  “Then you’re living with the duke?” Jane asked in a faint voice.

  “I am employed at Rothford Court,” Faith corrected. “And if you’ve seen the mansion, you know one could easily get lost in there, let alone see the same people each day.”

  “I believe I should have resigned upon hearing that I’d been deceived,” Charlotte said.

  Faith studied her for a moment. “Perhaps in your situation, with your connections, that would be feasible, Charlotte. But I know no one else in London, and, of course, the Warburtons would not give me a reference since I’d left them so quickly. How would I support myself?”

  Charlotte gave an aggrieved sigh.

  “And frankly, I enjoy every moment with Lady Duncan. It is a far superior position for me. And if it doesn’t work out, I trust that she will give me a good reference.”

  “So you plan to leave as soon as possible?” Charlotte asked. “The duke’s motives are highly questionable, given his conduct and his secrecy.”

  “I understand your concern, dear friend”—and she partially said that to remind Charlotte of their relationship—“but he has distanced himself since he feels he’s now done what he must for the sister of a man he’d wronged.”

  They all fell silent for a moment, and Faith regretted the strain on their once-easy friendship. Another wrong to attribute to the duke. She brought up the health of Jane’s employer, and the woman launched into a long-winded recitation. But Faith saw that Charlotte’s lips remained in a thin line of disapproval.

  At dinner that night gathered a table full of women, including Lady Sophia’s friend, Lady Emmeline, who’d allowed herself to be “persuaded” to join them for the meal. The duke was absent, and Faith hadn’t missed the fleeting glimpse of Lady Emmeline’s disappointment before she’d settled down for a conversation with Lady Sophia.

  Lady Duncan casually asked about the friends Faith visited, and before she knew it, she was discussing how she’d met Jane and Charlotte. She laughed as she told Lady Duncan their pet name for themselves.

  “Excuse me, I didn’t quite hear that, Miss Cooper,” the duchess said, from her place at the head of the table.

  Faith swallowed, realizing everyone was staring at her. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I was simply telling Lady Duncan the amusing name my friends and I have for ourselves.”

  “And it is?”

  “The Society of Ladies’ Companions and Chaperones. There are so many different societies in London, we thought we . . . deserved . . . to be one. In jest, of course.”

  Lady Tunbridge arched a dark brow. “I would think you had more common sense, more—shame, shall we say.”

  “Shame?” Faith echoed, sitting up straighter. “Why should we be ashamed of necessary occupations?”

  “I don’t know how ‘necessary’ it is for Lady Duncan to have a companion, Miss Cooper, when she has us,” the duchess said, casting wounded eyes upon her sister by marriage.

  Lady Duncan sighed.

  But Faith didn’t want the woman to have to manufacture a tale to cover up the duke’s manipulations. “Your Grace, whatever you believe of the need for my presence in this household, there are many other places where companions do the work the family can’t—or won’t. My friend Jane is the companion to an elderly, bedridden woman, whose family cannot be bothered to visit her more than once a month. Jane is the only friend this woman has left.”

  “Is she a friend if she’s paid to be there?” Lady Tunbridge asked.

  “Yes, she’s a friend,” Faith said coldly. “She’s there to comfort the old woman in the middle of the night—and that is not the description of her position. She helps feed her, dress her, because no one is overseeing the maid, so she hurries, hurting the dear old lady. All that woman has is Jane between her and total isolation. I don’t think there’s any shame in that.”

  There was a moment’s awkward silence.

  And then Faith saw the duke standing just outside the dining room, his focus on her as potent as if he’d touched her. Her throat went dry, and she realized that because of her display of disrespect to his mother, the woman could very well insist she be dismissed. And then the duke might fight for her position, which would look terrible. All she had to do was stay quiet and out of the way—out of everyone’s way.

  The duke stepped back, enveloped in darkness once more.

  Faith swallowed, mortification growing. To the duchess, she said, “Please forgive my outburst, Your Grace.�
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  “You don’t need to ask anyone’s forgiveness,” Lady Duncan said, slamming her hand down on the table. Her bracelets rattled together.

  “Hear, hear!” said Lady Sophia, who smiled at her friend.

  Lady Emmeline cast a quick glance at the duchess before letting her own smile grow.

  “We did not mean to attack your situation, Miss Cooper,” the duchess said stiffly, sending an unreadable glance at her daughter-in-law. “I was simply curious about your pet name.”

  “I—I thank you for your interest. My other friend, Miss Charlotte Atherstone, is not so fond of the name. She is a respected chaperone of good birth and very well connected, who has seen at least a dozen young ladies through successful seasons.”

  “I have heard of her,” said the duchess. “Her talent and discretion are well known.”

  Faith nodded, and went back to her roast hare, eyes downcast. To her surprise, Lady Sophia reached beneath the table and squeezed her hand where it rested in her lap. She didn’t risk smiling at the thoughtful young woman.

  That evening, after enjoying needlework with Lady Duncan in the private drawing room, Faith escorted the woman to her bedroom, walked the few doors down to her own, and found herself standing on the rug before the hearth, wide awake.

  The room was lovely, a coal fire glowing, the grate ticking softly. Although the bed was not turned down, Faith did not mind Ellen skipping that duty. In fact, she was nowhere to be found, but that was just fine. Faith had been given leave to treat Rothford Court as her home, so if she couldn’t sleep, she would explore the library, something she was dying to do. She lit an oil lamp and carried it through the shrouded corridors, where other lamps already lit the way, making hers unnecessary.

  Though the second floor of the library rose above her into darkness, there were lamps on several of the tables and gaslights on the walls near the massive bookshelves. With a sigh of happiness, she gave the globe a spin—

  And heard a feminine gasp from below.

  Startled, Faith bent, looked beneath the table, and saw her lamp gleam in a pair of frightened eyes. Faith let out her breath, holding back a nervous chuckle.