Taming the Duke

by Jackie Manning

  Alicia averted her gaze to hide her doubt. Perhaps Dalton knew his mother would adamantly refuse, and therefore, he wouldn’t have to endure his mother’s presence. She cast the idea aside. If that were true, it really didn’t matter. The love between this woman and Dalton existed—she could sense it in both of them. “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”

  For a moment, a trace of hope glinted in the old woman’s eyes; and for the first time since she’d arrived, Alicia felt encouraged to continue. “You must miss Havencrest this time of year. The ash are beginning to turn golden, the red and yellow dahlias along the south border are breathtaking in bloom.” She sensed a slight change in the older woman. “Besides, your grandson, Drake, will be walking soon. You might see him take his first steps.”

  The dowager stiffened. Alicia sensed that despite the dowager’s refusal, an inner struggle waged behind that mask of indifference.

  When she spoke, the older woman’s voice held no hint to her thoughts. “I’ll consider the invitation. My secretary will submit my formal answer to you in a few days.”

  Alicia stood, feeling dismissed by the curt answer. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, your ladyship.” As she was about to leave, the dowager called her back.

  “Are you well, Alicia?”

  Surprised, Alicia glanced back at the dowager. “W—well, yes. I’m quite fine, thank you. And yourself?”

  The dowager ignored the question, her eyes studying her with more than polite interest. “You look rather…tired. You have dark circles under your eyes. Are you certain you’ve been well?”

  Alicia’s only answer was a weak smile. Although she had a headache, she preferred not to say anything. No doubt the dowager would believe herself to be the cause.

  “You’re rather pale, too.” The dowager asked, “How is your appetite?”

  “My appetite is most excellent.” Alicia waved her hand dismissively. “Truly, I’m quite well.”

  The dowager regarded her for a moment. “I can have my maid bring you a plate of pickled eels, or perhaps a raw egg yolk mixed with cream and brandy for you to drink?”

  The image of eels and raw eggs turned Alicia’s stomach. “Please…” she said, her hand over her mouth.

  The dowager chuckled, then grabbed her cane and rose to her feet. She came beside her and pressed a cold hand on Alicia’s forehead. “You’re not feverish,” she said, regarding her daughter-in-law carefully.

  Her scrutiny made Alicia extremely uncomfortable. “Perhaps I need more rest. I slept little with all the noisy carriages clattering up and down the street last night.”

  “Hmm.” The dowager strode back to her chair and gave Alicia a closed look. “How long have you felt dizzy and sick to your stomach, Alicia?”

  “Not long. Only a few—” She hadn’t mentioned feeling dizzy or sick to her stomach.

  A slow grin crossed the dowager’s face. “My dear, you’re enceinte.”

  The idea left Alicia reeling. “Pregnant?” She blurted the word.

  The older woman raised a delicate brow.

  “But I’ve only been married for—”

  “Long enough.” The dowager’s mouth twitched. “You have the look, Alicia. I noticed it when you first entered, but it wasn’t until I mentioned eels and egg yolks that I knew for sure.” She chuckled when the offending image shot another wave of nausea through Alicia.

  “Please don’t speak of this to anyone until I tell Dalton,” Alicia pleaded.

  The older woman shrugged. “It’s no concern of mine. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I—I—I must be going. Please, excuse me.” Alicia bolted from the room, past the butler in the hall, and hurried toward the waiting coach.

  When she arrived at Dalton’s town house, she dashed past the butler who opened the door, and rushed up the sweeping staircase, hoping to avoid her mother and sisters. Her mother would be curious about the sudden visit to the dowager, and Alicia was in no mood to speak to anyone.

  The maids looked up, startled, when Alicia hurried into the master bedroom suite. She dismissed them, saying she would prepare for bed herself. She needed to be alone.

  How would Dalton take the news that she was carrying his child? How many times had she prepared for this moment? Yet she felt totally unprepared. She needed to calm herself.

  A knock sounded, then her mother stuck her head into the room. “Alicia, dear. The maid said you’ve returned.”

  She smiled weakly. “I’ve a terrible headache, Mother. I thought I would retire early.”

  “You looked rather pale today, Daughter. I hope you’re not ill.” Her mother bustled toward her, a worried frown on her face.

  “I’m tired, that’s all.” She pulled the combs from her hair, and the thick waves cascaded around her shoulders. “Mother, I think I’ll return to Havencrest. If I leave tomorrow, perhaps I’ll arrive before Dalton leaves for London. You and the girls can remain here for as long as you wish. But I really would like to leave the city as soon as possible.”

  Her mother smiled knowingly, her eyes twinkling. “You miss him that much, eh, Daughter?”

  Yes, she missed Dalton desperately. She had never known such emptiness than in these last two days. “Thank you for your understanding, Mother.”

  Her mother patted her cheek. “Your sisters will be disappointed, but I’ll try to explain.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Her mother leaned over and kissed her cheek, and the gesture reminded Alicia how very much she loved and appreciated this special woman. And now the time had come for her to be a mother. She watched the older woman cross the room.

  Would she be as gentle and understanding as this strong and quiet presence who had always been at the center of her childhood? “Mother?” she called out.

  The older woman hesitated by the door. “What, my dear?”

  In the soft candle glow flickering from the hall lamps, her mother looked almost as young as when she had come to tuck Alicia good-night, listen to her prayers and comfort her when she was small. “Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are?”

  She smiled. “Yes, my dear. Many times.” Her smile broadened. “And someday your children will think that you’re just as wonderful.” She winked. “Good night, Alicia.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Although Alicia had been gone only two days, Dalton felt her absence to the marrow of his bones. Despite Olivia and Robert’s attempts to distract him with their lively dinner conversation, he felt alone and empty. He knew that hosting the week-long sheepshearing festival was his estate duty, but he decided to accept Robert and Olivia’s generous offer to oversee the matter for him. Yes, he would leave first thing in the morning, and with good weather, be in London to surprise Alicia.

  “Ives, tell the groom to have my coach ready to leave at first light,” Dalton said as he strode into the master bedroom suite to shave. He barely noticed the knock at the door or his valet leaving to answer it. A few moments later, Ives returned.

  “Your grace, Inspector Leary is here to see you. Shall I tell him to wait?”

  “No, no. Tell him I’ll be right down.” It had been almost ten days since Ulger’s son, Neville, had been captured. Perhaps the inspector had found out who put Neville up to the deed.

  A short while later, Dalton sat in his study across from the inspector and studied the latest report. “Where did you find this man Gibbs?”

  “We traced him to the dock area in London, your grace. After we questioned him, Neville identified Gibbs as the man who paid Neville to shoot at you. There’s no doubt we’ve got our man.”

  Dalton reread the confession again, not believing his eyes. “There can be no mistake?”

  Leary shook his head. “I did what you asked, and it worked. We offered to drop all charges if Gibbs confessed who put him up to it. Then he jabbered like a sea captain’s parrot.”

  Templestone. Dalton swore under his breath and pushed the paper away. “So why did Templestone hire this man to shoot
me?”

  “That, we don’t know. Apparently Lord Templestone never told Gibbs. Figured his money was all that Gibbs was interested in.” He paused, then asked gently, “Should we arrest Templestone?”

  Dalton leaned back and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want him taken to prison. The less people know of this, the better. I need to speak to my mother first. Prepare her.” He glanced at Leary, who nodded his understanding.

  “I can arrange to lodge Templestone in the hotel across from our office at Bow Street. We often hold witnesses there, and the manager is very discreet.”

  “Excellent.” Dalton got to his feet, impatient to be done with the matter. “Let me know when Templestone is apprehended, then I’ll speak to my mother.”

  “I’m returning to London immediately, your grace. I can have him picked up at dawn.”

  “Very well.” Dalton felt a heavy weight in his chest. “My mother is residing at Templestone’s London town house for the time being. I want your men to arrest him when he’s alone. I don’t want my mother to witness…”

  “Of course, your grace.”

  After the inspector left, Dalton poured himself a glass of brandy and glanced at Gibbs’s signed confession on the desk. Templestone, his mother’s fiancé. Why?

  A heavy fog covered London the following evening when a handsome coach with the Wexton ducal crest emblazoned in gold pulled in front of Lord Templestone’s town house. A liveried footman jumped down from the back and opened the door while another footman raced up the walk and pounded on the brass door knocker.

  Dalton stepped from the coach and hurried up the walk. The damp mist seeped into his bones. He could hardly wait to finish this unpleasant business with his mother, meet Alicia at his town house and return to their bucolic world with her at Havencrest.

  A butler opened the door a few inches and peered out at him. Dalton pushed the door open, stepped inside and removed his traveling cape. “The duke of Wexton,” he said. He placed his card on the silver tray on the sideboard. “My mother is expecting me,” he lied. He couldn’t chance the delay if his mother wouldn’t see him, so he simply hadn’t given her any warning of his arrival.

  The butler picked up the card, his frown deepened. “I’ll tell her you’re here, your grace.”

  Relieved, Dalton glanced about the small hall. Tastefully restrained. His mother would approve, he thought glumly. The butler returned and Dalton followed him into the drawing room.

  “This is unexpected.” His mother sat in a fireplace chair. Dalton ordered the butler to close the doors on his way out. He ignored the surprised expression on the servant’s face as Dalton crossed the room to warm himself by the fire, feeble as it was.

  His mother regarded him with curiosity. “You’re the last person I expected, Dalton. I trust you didn’t rush over to extend your best wishes on my upcoming wedding?”

  “I didn’t come here to be rude, Mother.” He realized how much he detested their usual rude banter. “I have unpleasant news, I’m afraid.”

  She lifted her chin, her eyes on him as he pulled the footstool near her chair and sat down.

  “Lord Templestone has been arrested for hiring one of my servants to shoot at me.” He watched her face for any sign of emotion, but she presented the same iron mask that he always remembered. An unbidden image of his mother, the night when she had received news of Dalton’s father’s fatal riding accident in Hyde Park came to mind. She had worn that same impassive mask when she broke the news to her children.

  “Where is he?” Her voice rang with command.

  “Inspector Leary of Bow Street has provided lodgings for him. He’s not allowed visitors.”

  “Then he’s not under arrest?”

  “I’m hoping to handle the matter discreetly. However, I’m told that Templestone isn’t willing to oblige.” He noticed her interest peak. “I want to know why he’d do such a fool thing. If he tells me, then I’ll drop the charges and forget the entire matter. I thought maybe you might help him see reason.”

  He saw a flicker of astonishment cross her face. “Why would you want the charges dropped?”

  “Because I hate scandal, and you are associated with him.”

  “You would do that for…me?”

  He wanted to protect the Warfield name—for Alicia and Olivia—but he hesitated. “I did it for you,” he said finally, and he realized the statement was true.

  Unblinking, her eyes glittered with an unspoken emotion. “And what if Templestone still refuses to tell you?”

  “I’ll be forced to press charges. The London newspapers will make a circus of the scandal. And the truth will come out. It always does.” He was surprised by the gentleness in his voice.

  “Yes, the truth always does.” Her gaze dropped to the smouldering logs in the grate. After a few minutes, Dalton didn’t think she was going to speak to him again.

  “Why are you giving Templestone huge sums of money?”

  She gasped, unable to disguise her shock. “How do you know about that?”

  “How is not important. I know the amounts and dates.”

  She said nothing. The only sign that she had heard him was the clenching of her fingers on the head of her cane.

  “I also know you had an argument in public with him.” At one time he would have relished the uncomfortable expression on her face. Now, he ached to see her suffer. “I know you’d never show any emotion in public if your life depended upon it.” He heard the compassion in his voice, and he understood why. “I’m much like you in that manner.”

  She arched a brow. “I’ve always known we were alike, Dalton, but I never thought I’d ever hear you admit it.” Her mouth twitched as her gaze dropped to her hands. After a few minutes, she looked up at him. “I trust what I tell you will be kept confidential?”

  He was dismayed to see what looked like pleading in her blue eyes. “If I can.”

  “I must have your promise, Dalton.”

  “I can’t give it, but you know that I’m discreet. After all, I’ve never told your other secret—” he hesitated, remembering “—except to Alicia, and I know your secret is safe with her.”

  “Alicia?” The word was so faint, if he hadn’t seen her mouth the word he might not have heard her. Anguish crossed her face, and he wished he could take back the words.

  Her gaze dropped to the huge diamond ring on her finger. As she twisted the stone, sparkles glinted about the room. “Templestone has been blackmailing me for several years. He found out that your uncle George and I were lovers. I paid him the money he asked for, but the more he received, the more he wanted. Finally, he ordered me to marry him. I refused. He said if I refused, he would…” Her eyes brightened with what Dalton thought were tears. His throat tightened with compassion for her.

  “He would what, Mother?”

  Her eyes raised to meet his. “He would kill you.”

  Dalton was too stunned to speak.

  “When I heard that someone had shot at you and Bashshar, I told myself that it must have been an accident. A careless hunter. A poacher stealing game. But Templestone took great relish to tell me that the near miss was no accident. Only the next time they wouldn’t miss.” She swallowed, the diamond brooch at her throat glittered.

  “I said I didn’t believe him. I threatened to call the constable, but I knew that eventually, as you say, the truth would come out. I couldn’t bear to have that happen, so I finally agreed to marry him.”

  Dalton tried to clear the lump in his throat. “Mother, why didn’t you come to me?” The words came out before the guilt and shame tore at him. But how could she have turned to a son who had been as cold and distant as he had been?

  Her regal head bowed, her shoulders slumped in despair. “No one could have helped me.”

  He closed his eyes, feeling selfish and childish in his long resentment of what his mother had done. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could confide that Templestone found out about you and Uncle George—”
/>
  A sound strangled deep in her throat. “It’s more than that.”

  Dalton studied her, confused. “What, then?”

  She grimaced, her lips pressed into a line. “He found out that your uncle George is…Olivia’s father.”

  He stiffened, trying to take in the full force of her words. The memory of himself as a young lad scurrying up the staircase, rushing down the darkened hall to his mother’s suite. He opened the door and there, in bed, his wonderful uncle George, naked. He turned around and Dalton saw the shock and grief tear across the ruggedly handsome face.

  “Of course. Olivia is ten and three years younger than I.”

  Tears glistened down his mother’s cheeks, but she wouldn’t acknowledge them by wiping them away. “I loved George ever since I first saw him, many years before my parents contracted my marriage to his older brother—your father—the firstborn son.

  “George was my one true love, Dalton. He never married, although I begged him to. Your father was a wonderful man, and I loved him, but not as I loved George. I never did anything to embarrass your father-I don’t believe he ever suspected.”

  She trembled, and he wanted to go to her, comfort her, but he realized, sadly, that she might not want comfort from him.

  “I know what you saw in my bedroom that afternoon, Dalton, so many years ago, destroyed any love you have for me. But maybe…maybe, now that you’ve found happiness with Alicia, you might be able to understand…?” Her voice broke with a sob.

  He wanted to say something, do something, and he realized he didn’t know how. He didn’t trust his voice to speak.

  “Oh, my son.” Her eyes glittered with tears. “When I lost you, my only consolation was that I had gained a daughter.”