*
Rosalind was glad when morning visits drew to a close and she could be private with Mrs Adams. Peter had joined her in her bedchamber the previous evening, but there had not been the resumption of the passion they had both craved. Instead, Peter had held her as if she were a highly-prized possession. He had left her bed early in the morning and been behind closed doors in his study with his solicitor since.
Rosalind informed Mrs Adams of what had happened the previous day. The elder lady had received the news with a shake of her head. “Well, that boy was never going to bring anything but heartache to this family,” she said finally. “Too much like his father and too little like his mother for my liking.”
“Just very selfish as far as I can see,” Rosalind said with disgust.
“If the woman is telling the truth, and she probably is, it changes everything,” Mrs Adams said, mulling over the events.
“I know; it will cause all sorts of upheaval,” Rosalind responded but without the panic that Mrs Adams had expected to hear in her voice.
*
If Rosalind could have heard the conversation that was occurring in her husband’s study, she might have been a little more alarmed. Peter and his solicitor had gone over the documentation that Isabelle de Lucca had provided and agreed on what action to take to verify her claims.
The conversation after that pained Peter, but the questions had to be asked. “We will need to contact Rosalind’s father. Mr Johnson may quite rightly take a dim view on what has happened,” he said.
“Yes, Your Grace, but I would suggest that is left until after we have confirmed the legitimacy of the claim. There is no point causing upset until we know exactly what we are dealing with,” the solicitor said, not relishing the conversation any sooner than it had to be.
“I have to face the fact that she is probably telling the truth,” Peter said quietly. “For the second time in my life, it seems that Robert is destroying what I have; only this time he has managed to do it from the grave!”
The solicitor had some sympathy with the Duke. If the claims were correct, all he had striven to preserve would be lost anyway. The consequences would be felt throughout the family and not for the better.
Peter did not see Rosalind until he was retiring. He had purposely kept away from her, locked in his study for hours after his solicitor left. Most of the time he had sat at his desk with his head in his hands. His life and the lives of those who were most important to him were spiralling out of control and there was nothing he could do about it.
He eventually roused himself. He could not stay there all night and, although it was selfish, he needed to be near Rosalind. He always felt as if he could achieve anything with her by his side. It was not purely for selfish reasons that he wanted to be with her; he had to be honest with her, and it was only fair that she heard the news from him.
Peter entered Rosalind’s bedchamber through her dressing room door. He stood leaning on the door jamb, watching her for a few moments. She sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair. When he had questioned her as to why she did not have her maid do the job, she responded that it relaxed her, as if she were brushing her cares away.
He smiled at her through the glass and walked over to her, taking the brush from her hand. Peter stood behind her and, with gentle strokes, took over the task. He hoped that he would be able to brush both their cares away, but he was doubtful that anything could do that.
Rosalind was tempted to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of her hair being touched with such reverence, but she watched Peter instead. His smile as he approached her had been tinged with sadness, which put her on the alert. His day could not have been productive, and she was apprehensive for him.
Peter enjoyed the feel of the thick dark hair falling through his fingers, but he could not allow himself to be distracted. He placed the brush on the dressing table and took hold of Rosalind’s hands. “Come to bed,” he said quietly.
Rosalind let herself be pulled to her feet, expecting to be wrapped in an embrace, but Peter just led her to the bed. He motioned for her to turn around and pulled the dressing gown from her shoulders and waited until she climbed into bed. He rid himself of his own banyan and climbed in beside her. He held her close and kissed the top of her forehead before breathing in the scent of her hair. He sighed as if he never wanted the moment to end but knew it had to.
“What is it?” Rosalind asked gently, moving a little away to enable her to look into his eyes but without breaking contact.
“I don’t know where to start,” Peter admitted.
“If her claim is correct….” Rosalind started.
“I am no longer Duke; the son Roberto is,” Peter said.
Rosalind gasped. “What will happen?” she asked, her mind racing. She had suspected as much, but having it confirmed was something else.
“I revert to the title I had before Robert died, Peter Gilbert, Lord of Scarisbury. Roberto becomes Duke of Sudworth,” Peter responded.
“Annie?” Rosalind asked.
“I have no idea,” Peter almost groaned. “I thought she was totally secure, but now, who knows?”
“She will live with us, wherever that is,” Rosalind said firmly. “We will make sure she is not unsettled.”
Peter smiled and moved his hand to brush along Rosalind’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s not going to be as easy as that,” he said quietly.
“Why not?” Rosalind demanded. She felt as protective of Annie as if she were her own flesh and blood.
“We will be bankrupt,” Peter finally said. “I will have to repay your father the money he has supplied; he settled the large sum on you because you were to get the title of Duchess not that of a Lady. Annabelle received a substantially smaller dowry than you did. The crux of the matter is that we cannot afford to pay anything back.”
“I’ve spent a lot of it!” Rosalind exclaimed, remembering with a grimace the amounts she had spent on the redecorating.
Peter laughed a little, “Well perhaps we can persuade him that we shouldn’t pay that portion back.”
“He won’t want the money back; I shall write to him if Roberto is the Duke,” Rosalind said. She was not about to lose her family because of someone else’s mistake.
“It was purely a business arrangement, Rosalind,” Peter said. “He is not the successful businessman he is because he gives money away.”
The words were still able to make Rosalind feel cold inside even though she knew they were true. “I will try my best to persuade him,” she said, not fully convinced of her being able to influence her father; she had not been able to deter him from marrying her off after all.
Peter reached for his wife and wrapped her tightly against him. She was too good to be connected to his family, but he was thankful that she was. He could face anything with her next to him.
Rosalind pulled away slightly. She had spoken the truth when she said to Peter that she did not always know how to be married, but she knew her husband was suffering and wanted to make it better. She wriggled free of him a little and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We have some unfinished business of our own,” she said provocatively, a blush colouring her cheeks.
“Do we?” Peter asked, but his pupils dilated at her actions.
“Yes,” Rosalind whispered, kissing him gently. “It doesn’t matter what happens; you should be Duke.”
Peter deepened the kiss, moving his hands over Rosalind’s body. “You are my Duchess,” he whispered before talk was replaced with actions and both were able to forget everything else apart from each other.
Chapter 22
If Peter held on to any vain hope that Roberto was not the son of his brother, once he had seen him, there was no longer any doubt. He was the image of his father, more so than Mathilda. They settled the Dowager Duchess, as Peter had accepted she was, into a cottage on the estate. It was a grand building, one built for housing a Dowager Duchess, but there had not been one for a few
generations, so it needed work before its present occupants could be moved in.
He grieved over spending further money, but he could not avoid it. Until the claim was proved correct, he did not wish to introduce Annie to living with further strangers; she had experienced such a lot of upheaval, he did not wish to add to it if it was not necessary.
For Rosalind, the time passed as if she were living the life of someone else. She continued to act out the role of Duchess; but at every moment, she expected it to end. Any worries she had about her future she pushed to one side in her efforts to try and comfort Peter. His constant frown showed the strain he was under.
Three weeks after the revelation had been made, Rosalind sought Peter out in his study. She usually went in search of him after morning visits had taken place. Peter was at his desk, dealing with paperwork. Rosalind often wondered if he was trying to find a miracle between the sheets of parchment; unfortunately she had a feeling that he was going to be disappointed.
She went over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. Peter stopped and leaned back into Rosalind. “Good afternoon Duchess,” he said.
“Any news?” Rosalind asked.
“Not yet. I’ve asked for as much proof as possible to make sure there cannot be any doubt,” Peter explained. “A longer wait now may be beneficial in the future.”
“So you will go back to being the heir once more,” Rosalind teased.
“Yes, I would not mind the circumstance at all if it wasn’t for the money,” Peter said with a sigh.
“We will sort it out,” Rosalind said. “Perhaps we could look for a farm like the one you previously owned?”
“Would you mind?” Peter asked, moving from his chair and standing in front of Rosalind.
“Why would I mind?” Rosalind said.
“If we could find some way around this that would not involve losing everything we have worked on here, there would be nothing I would like more,” Peter said with feeling.
“It will work out, I’m sure,” Rosalind reassured him.
“I wish I had your confidence,” Peter said, moving away and standing before the fireplace. He rested his foot on the hearth, deep in thought. “My family have inadvertently caused yours a great deal of trouble. If only my brother shared the same opinion as I with regards to our heritage,” he said with a growl.
“I don’t understand.”
“I want the bad blood, the name and all its problems to die out. The world would be a far better place if Robert hadn’t gone around making sure society will have to suffer with Gilberts and their irresponsible attitudes for a long time to come!” Peter said, angry at his dead brother.
Rosalind paled a little at the vehemence in his words. “You are wishing innocent children dead,” she said quietly.
“I’m not,” Peter said, his voice calmer. “I just wish that I could see an end to all this,” he swung his arm around, taking in the room. “While Robert’s children keep appearing, the bloodline continues, and who knows how many unfortunate souls he has created throughout Europe? There could be half a dozen brats making their way here for all we know! I swear that I will start locking the doors against further children!”
“They may not be the same as Robert and your father,” Rosalind reasoned.
“They have the same blood; we all have the ability to be selfish and self-absorbent: it is just that some of us keep a tighter rein on it than others,” Peter said with disgust.
“You aren’t like them,” Rosalind said firmly.
“Am I not?” Peter asked with derision. “I married you because I wanted your father’s money; I didn’t give you a second thought did I? It’s a miracle we have managed to create something out of it. And now, now I just want to be left alone so that I can enjoy your company without anyone else’s interference.”
“You did most of it for Annie; those aren’t the actions of a selfish man,” Rosalind insisted.
“I took advantage of someone else. That is selfish,” Peter responded. “I stand by my first thoughts; we should never be allowed to have families of our own.”
Rosalind realised there was no point trying to convince Peter of anything different. He was obviously feeling that all his hard work had been in vain; only time would tell if his fears were correct. His words upset her more than he could possibly know, but she was not going to inflict that guilt on him as well as everything else.
She decided that she needed some escape, so she instructed the carriage to be readied. It was a good time to visit Mrs Adams. She informed Peter that she would be out for the whole afternoon. For the first time since those difficult few weeks, Rosalind needed to be away from Sudworth Hall.
*
Mrs Adams lived only two short miles from the Hall in a house that had been in her husband’s family for generations. They had one son who was a tutor to young gentlemen spending his time in one family or another. Although he did not need to work, he enjoyed encouraging young minds and had spent a number of years accompanying his charges on their Grand Tours. The result was that Mrs Adams lived in the family home, enjoying the autonomy her position gave her, while hoping that one day her son would settle down and allow her to be a grandmother.
The house was built of red brick with a dark slate roof. It had a grand portico entrance, perhaps grander than the size of the house warranted. It was due to the aspirations of a previous generation who had discovered that house alterations cost far more than the purse would stretch, so the building work had soon stopped. Now, the imposing doorway seemed to warn visitors of the formidable lady who lived within its walls.
Rosalind felt no aversion that some might feel when visiting her friend. There was a large age gap admittedly, but she felt that Mrs Adams offered advice only when the advice being given was sound. After the last few weeks and the conversation with Peter, Rosalind was in more need of Mrs Adams’s counsel than she usually was.
Mrs Adams was seated in her drawing room when Rosalind was shown in. The room was elegantly furnished, with its deep mahogany furniture blending in with the rich blue of the walls and the hangings.
The two ladies greeted each other, and Rosalind was supplied with fresh tea and cakes. While Rosalind sipped her tea, Mrs Adams looked assessingly at her visitor. “These few weeks are taking their toll on you my dear,” she said honestly, noticing Rosalind’s pale face and drawn expression.
Rosalind smiled, “Nothing escapes your notice does it?” she asked. “It’s not only the threat of upheaval that is causing my consternation,” Rosalind confessed.
“You aren’t worried about losing your title?” Mrs Adams asked, watching Rosalind closely. Her friend had always insisted that she had not wanted the title, but not wanting something and having something that had belonged to you for a substantial period of time taken away was something completely different.
“My title, goodness me, no!” Rosalind said immediately. “I never thought I would get used to it anyway; if it goes, I don’t have to become accustomed, do I? No, I shan’t be sorry to see it go.” The only sadness she would feel would be that Peter would never be able to call her his Duchess any longer.
“Glad to hear it; it does seem to be a title that holds little luck for those bestowed with it,” Mrs Adams said, referring to the sadness surrounding her own friend who had held the title.
“Peter is convinced that there is bad blood running through their veins,” Rosalind said not meeting Mrs Adams’s gaze.
“Possibly through Philip and Robert’s veins but not through that boy or Annie,” Mrs Adams said, voicing what Rosalind had been trying to tell Peter for weeks.
“I know, but with Robert’s offspring appearing at regular intervals, he has a constant reminder of Robert’s follies,” Rosalind explained, her voice dropping. “He wanted the line to die out.”
“Those are strong words,” Mrs Adams said; she was immediately more aware of Rosalind’s pale complexion. “What is your opinion on the matter?”
Rosalind smiled, but it was a wan smile. The action caused tears to flood her eyes. She shook herself; she never cried. “It doesn’t matter what I think; he is so steadfast, I cannot change his mind.”
“And yet, he is going to be a father himself,” Mrs Adams said quietly.
Rosalind burst into tears at the words. Mrs Adams let her cry for a few minutes, realising that Rosalind had been holding a secret for a while, and the pressure of her knowledge alongside the views of her husband was becoming too much.
Rosalind eventually calmed and shamefacedly wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry; you must think me a fool,” she said with a sniff, trying to pull herself together.
“You’ve been under a lot of pressure,” Mrs Adams said. “As long as you aren’t here every day being a watering pot, I think I can overlook it once.”
Rosalind laughed, “I can promise you that!”
“Peter doesn’t know?” Mrs Adams asked.
Rosalind became serious once more. “No, he doesn’t. Every time I pick up the courage to mention it, he always seems to choose that moment to curse Robert for creating children and curse the fact that there is another generation,” she explained.
Mrs Adams coughed, a little embarrassed at what she was about to say. “And yet he did nothing to prevent himself becoming a father.”
Rosalind blushed, “No, but I honestly don’t know how he will take the news. For the first time since knowing him, I have no idea how to broach the subject.”
“He needs to know: the sooner the better,” Mrs Adams said.
“I know; but the main reason I came here today was because there had been yet another conversation about Robert’s offspring. The anger in his voice just makes me think that he will not be happy. I am considering returning to my family for a little while.”
“That won’t solve anything. It didn’t solve anything when you ran off last time; what makes you think that this time will be any different?” Mrs Adams scoffed.
“I don’t,” Rosalind admitted. “I don’t think I have many other options open to me. I couldn’t bear it if he rejected his child, our child.”
Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1) Page 19
