Redemption of the Duke

by Gayle Callen

  “A decent relationship with your maid?” he asked blankly.

  “You are a man; perhaps it does not even make sense to you, but I like to be on easy terms with everyone around me.”

  “And this maid does not treat you well?”

  “Please do not put words into my mouth. We will be fine.”

  He frowned, but Faith held up a hand just as Frances hung back when they approached the gate at Rothford Court.

  Frances looked up at him solemnly. “Uncle Adam, maybe my mother will not mind my wet sleeves so much if I am with you.”

  “That makes perfect sense.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, even though his own gloves grew damp.

  Faith gave him a reluctant smile, and he knew she was still perturbed at him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the maid, and why her behavior both bothered him and raised his curiosity. And suddenly it started him on a different thought, that perhaps this blackguard had connections to someone inside the house. But surely not a maid.

  Once they were inside, where there were already several lady callers, Marian didn’t put up much of a fuss about Frances’s wet sleeves, and the girl happily went up to the nursery. Faith retired to her own room, it still being her afternoon off, and Adam was lucky enough to catch his aunt returning to the drawing room.

  He pulled her aside and spoke softly. “Aunt, I need you to do something for me without asking me questions.”

  She lifted her monocle and stared at him. “This is highly peculiar.”

  “I do not wish the ladies of the household to run errands or go on walks without a footman. As a duke, I have a high profile in London, and perhaps my past deeds have not endeared me to the public.”

  “Nonsense, you were a young man, never imagining you’d inherit the dukedom.”

  “Regardless, I would feel better if the ladies had a degree of protection on the streets.”

  “Well . . . that makes sense, my dear boy, but I have the feeling there is more you’re not saying.”

  He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I always have things I don’t say. I’m a scoundrel, remember?”

  Chapter 14

  Three days later, on their next shopping outing, Faith was surprised when Lady Duncan insisted Sophia and Faith take along a footman. Well, perhaps “surprised” was the wrong word—nothing the old woman did could be surprising anymore. Against all accepted etiquette, she liked to place calls upon eligible young men, to better acquaint herself with which man might suit which debutante—to Sophia’s mortification. Not that it was all for Sophia; she offered matchmaking advice to all the young ladies, when she paid calls on them. Faith was relieved that Lady Duncan didn’t ask her to come along on those fact-finding missions—it would have been terribly awkward. No young gentleman was looking to marry her. It made her feel a bit old.

  And then she’d catch the duke looking at her, his gaze, usually so respectful, hinting at a smolder that made her feel hot and cold and yearning. What was wrong with her? A man’s admiration was one thing, but she should not respond to it with such eager feelings, feelings that she had to work so hard to suppress.

  She tried to tell herself that admiration for her person was fine—and even flattering—as long as he didn’t act upon it. But she still shivered when she remembered the dark, moonlit conservatory, and how the simple touch of his hand upon her cheek had seemed as intimate and forbidden as the act of sex itself.

  Which was ridiculous, of course.

  All these thoughts ran through her foolish brain as she walked beside Lady Sophia, the footman trailing behind.

  “Faith, I heard an interesting piece of news from my lady’s maid today. She claims that my brother had private words with your maid and the housekeeper, and that poor Ellen was actually shaking with distress when the interview was over.”

  Faith winced. “I asked your brother to let me handle Ellen.”

  “You two actually discussed the maid?” Sophia said, eyebrow arched in almost the same way her brother’s did.

  “Well . . . even he seemed to notice my hair styling. He probably doesn’t want me to represent his household poorly.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. But being lately of the army, he does have a sense of military authority with the servants, as if they’re all his soldiers. Anyway, you should not fret. I just wanted you to know that I’m certain Ellen will be much better now.”

  And scared to death, and thinking that Faith tattled on her. Faith wasn’t happy.

  Suddenly Sophia took her arm and gave a little squeeze. “Look, it’s Mr. Percy, just crossing the street ahead of us. How do I get his attention without appearing foolish?”

  Faith hid a smile. “We can just keep walking toward him. He will have to acknowledge us. Unless he’s upset at your accepting Lord Shenstone’s courtship.”

  Sophia gave a little gasp. “That would mean my plan is working.”

  And then Mr. Percy saw them, and Faith had the pleasure of watching his gaze both brighten and soften when looking upon the beautiful Sophia. Sophia blushed becomingly, and Faith found herself hoping that the young woman could have this relationship, if it made her happy. And she had to admire her for going after what she wanted.

  For just a moment, she thought she saw a touch of sadness in the young vicar’s eyes, but he banished it.

  “Mr. Percy, just the person I wanted to see,” Sophia said boldly.

  Mr. Percy bowed to Faith, then took Sophia’s outstretched hand and briefly held it in his own. “I am always happy to be of help, my lady.”

  “Could we discuss the Female Aid Society? I am active with the charity here in London, but I was wondering how it can be broadened in the countryside.”

  He looked pleased at her concern, and the two of them turned to begin walking down the street. Faith dropped back behind to give them some privacy.

  Soon she spotted a gentleman she knew, but she could not brighten like Sophia did for Mr. Percy. Timothy Gilpin was alone as he moved forward, and there was a languidness about him that confused her. And then she wondered if he’d been drinking at such an early hour of the day. When he saw Faith, there was no look of pleasure for her. She bitterly wished their time as children could be remembered fondly, but her foolish intimate afternoon with him had clouded everything good they’d once shared—at least in his mind.

  Sophia and Percy turned into a bookshop, and Hales, the footman, hesitated near Faith.

  “Do follow your mistress, Hales. She might have packages for you to carry. There is a friend of mine approaching. We won’t go far.”

  The footman hesitated, then dutifully followed the other couple. By this time, Timothy had seen her and approached. Though his feet came to a stop, his upper body seemed to keep moving forward until he pulled back.

  “Good morning, Mr. Gilpin,” she said hesitantly.

  “Faith.”

  His disrespect surprised her.

  He glanced into the bookshop. “You move in high circles now, don’t you?”

  There was a faintly belligerent, almost menacing quality to his voice, and for the first time, she felt almost . . . unsafe. In broad daylight on Regent Street.

  “We’ve discussed my situation before,” she said quietly.

  “I guess all along you wanted better than what you had, than what a simple gentleman from the country could give you.”

  Her lips briefly parted in shock. She was forced to move closer to preserve their privacy, when she wanted nothing more than to escape him.

  “Timothy, there was never any talk of an attachment between us. You were engaged when we parted, not I. But we were on friendly terms. What happened?”

  “You know what happened,” he sneered, his words faintly slurred.

  She spread both hands, her reticule bumping against her hip. “But I do
n’t. I know you’re unhappy now, but that’s no reason to mistake what happened in the past.”

  And then he put his hand on her arm, and his grip was not gentle. She did not want to be seen pulling away, but her fear was rising steadily.

  “Timothy, release me,” she said, a cool command. “Our footman is just inside the door.”

  “Threatening me now with the power of your duke?”

  “No, trying to remind you that you’re a gentleman. You do not wish people to see you behaving otherwise.”

  He inhaled deeply, then released her. “You are correct. It was . . . thoughtless of me.”

  That wasn’t exactly an apology. “Timothy, I know you are unhappy, but only you can make things better for yourself.”

  He sighed. “I don’t need to be preached to. I have that on a daily basis.”

  And then he turned away, and his first step was practically a stagger, until he righted himself and carefully put one foot in front of the other.

  Faith rubbed her arms, feeling chilled. What was wrong with Timothy? He was actually making it sound like she’d rejected him! It had to be the alcohol he’d imbibed making him say such foolish things, making him change the past to suit whatever was going on in the present. Was he trying to pretend his marriage was her fault?

  Sophia and Mr. Percy emerged from the bookshop. She carried a paper-wrapped package, and her face positively glowed with happiness.

  “Faith, I was going to insist you come in the shop with us, but then I saw that you had company. I hope it went well.”

  But there was a seriousness hidden within her cheerful voice that said she had noticed the tension between her and Timothy even from inside the shop.

  “All is well, my lady,” Faith said.

  Mr. Percy cleared his throat. “Then I will leave you two ladies to your shopping. Thank you, my lady, for consulting me on the Female Aid Society. There is much good to be done there, and it cheers me to see your interest.”

  When he walked away, Sophia didn’t bother to conceal the adoration. The footman almost seemed to blush as he moved past her to take up his place behind.

  “He is such a good man,” Sophia said reverently.

  “So it has seemed in our brief acquaintance.”

  Sophia took her arm. “I refuse to give up hope, especially when he speaks to me so gently.”

  “Perhaps . . . that is not fair of him, if he’s determined not to court you?”

  “Oh, no, it says to me that his feelings are more powerful than he can contain. I am truly flattered.”

  Faith hid a sigh and hoped that her friend wasn’t setting herself up for disappointment.

  Back at Rothford Court, Faith returned her bonnet and shawl to her room and found Ellen hanging a newly pressed gown in the wardrobe.

  “Ellen, may I speak with you?”

  The pale girl nodded and stepped toward her, shoulders back like a soldier.

  Faith sighed. “Please do not tell me that His Grace talked to like you were one of his men.”

  Ellen tilted her chin but said nothing.

  “I heard today that he spoke with you, and I want you to know that I asked him not to.”

  Ellen shot her a brief, bewildered look. “He’s the duke, miss. Why should he not say whatever he wants to me?”

  “I know he’s the duke, but . . . I thought you and I were slowly reaching an understanding. I did not complain to anyone in authority about you.”

  Ellen shrugged, and Faith wasn’t certain the girl believed her.

  “That is all, Ellen, and thank you.”

  The girl slunk away, and Faith desperately wished she could march down to the duke’s study and tell him exactly what she thought of his high-handed behavior. But it wouldn’t do to seek him out. And he wouldn’t care anyway, for he always believed he was right. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to be a man, let alone a peer, and know you could do or say anything you wished.

  Two nights later, Adam was escorting the entire household on a visit to the pleasure gardens at Vauxhall, on the southern bank of the Thames. Even little Frances was in attendance, because Sophia insisted that it was the last night that Mademoiselle Caroline, the “Greatest Female Equestrian in Europe” (so said the newspapers), would be performing.

  “Every young girl should see a famous equestrian, as well as the fireworks,” Sophia said, as they one by one left the barge Adam had hired to take them to Vauxhall pier at dusk.

  The women all wore or carried masks on sticks, many with feathers, and Adam thought they looked like a flock of colorful birds. He wore his own plain mask tied across his upper face. As they entered the grounds, he was glad to see Faith lower hers, to see the expression of wonder on her face as she saw the gas-lamp globes high in every tree, lighting the way down the Grand Walk. Near the Grove, where the orchestra already played in its Gothic temple, four colonnades housed the supper boxes where they would dine later. But first the Rotunda, to see the horsemanship show.

  As they were awaiting entrance, crowds all about them, both high and low born, Sophia said to him, “I hope you do not mind if Emmeline joins us.”

  He forced a smile. “Of course not. She is here with her family?”

  “Yes, but she made sure she took a supper box near ours.”

  Faith looked away, but not before he saw the smile she tried to hide. Even his aunt’s companion recognized his reluctance, but not his sister.

  But then, he’d felt a connection with Faith almost from the first, an understanding he’d never felt with any other woman. It caused him to think of her as more than his aunt’s companion—he thought of her too much.

  As for Emmeline, he’d been grateful to Shenstone for guiding her away at the last dinner party, and he’d sent along his best port as promised. He’d invited his friend to attend tonight, and perhaps more arrangements could be made between them. Shenstone didn’t seem to mind being seen on the arm of a popular, beautiful young lady.

  But Emmeline found their party just as they’d barely set foot on the grounds, and her family agreed that she could accompany them. They all followed the crowds that meandered through the grounds, along paths that led to gloomy grottos and shadowy temples. Frances giggled with wonder, especially when she saw the gaslit pond with a gigantic Neptune and eight sea-horses rising out of it. Then Emmeline got too close pointing out fish to Frances, and Adam had to grab her arm just before she toppled in. She looked at him like he’d rescued her from a charging elephant in the Punjab.

  He was infinitely glad when the equestrian show began, and he could keep Frances between himself and Emmeline. But Frances proved far too curious about the shadowy grounds of Vauxhall rather than whether a lady equestrian could dance on an unsaddled horse and jump over boards. She kept asking Adam question after question, and he was relieved when it was time to head to their supper box, decorated at the rear with a curious painting of fairies in a forest. At least that distracted Frances for a while, until they were served their shaved ham, tiny chickens, and assorted biscuits and cheese cakes. He gave her a few shillings for the fruit girl when she might next make an appearance.

  And through it all, he watched the crowds. There were so many people, he couldn’t imagine a threat to Faith manifesting itself here, with so many witnesses. But he wouldn’t let his guard down.

  “Frances?” Lady Marian said sharply.

  Adam looked down the table toward his sister-in-law.

  She rose to her feet, napkin falling to the floor of the supper box. “Frances!” Now her voice was louder, and a touch wild.

  Adam looked under the table and to the supper boxes on either side of them. “She’s not here?”

  “No, and I didn’t see her leave.”

  “Did anyone see the fruit girl go by?” Adam asked. “Frances had money for it.”
>
  “You gave her coins to spend?” Marian demanded. “Without consulting me?”

  “Marian, don’t be foolish,” Lady Duncan said. “He was treating the girl. I’m certain she’s nearby.”

  “But she kept talking about Neptune in the pond,” Faith reminded them all. “Do you think she would have gone back for a second look?”

  There was a frozen moment before Faith grabbed her mask and marched to the stairs at the rear and headed down without asking anyone’s permission.

  “We’ll go, too!” said Sophia.

  She and Emmeline got between him and Faith, who definitely shouldn’t be wandering the grounds alone. All three young women disappeared down the stairs.

  “Aunt Theodosia, remain here in case the child returns,” he ordered.

  His aunt saluted him.

  His mother looked concerned. “What should I do, Adam? My poor grandchild . . .”

  “You and Marian walk together among the supper boxes and see if any of the guests have seen her. I’ll search the grounds.”

  “Perhaps you’ll need to search for our young ladies, too,” Aunt Theodosia said.

  He knew she was trying for levity to lighten the tension, but he couldn’t smile for her benefit. Not only was a ten-year-old girl alone amidst the rowdy patrons, Faith was making herself a target. Not that she knew it, of course. It would be so much easier if he could warn her of the possible threat, but he knew she’d leave London to protect the household—and then there’d be nobody to protect her.

  Adam walked briskly down the gravel paths, following the Grand Walk, the South Walk, and then the Hermit’s Walk, figuring that the lit transparency of a hermit might intrigue a little girl.

  And it had. He found her right up front, trying to peer around the image and see how it was lit from behind.

  “Frances,” he called.

  More than one person got out of his way, several ladies curtsying. He realized he’d forgotten to don his own mask, and did so at once. It covered the upper half of his face, plain black, no frills or feathers like some of the dandies trying to impress their women.