by Cheryl Bolen
Discoursing with women of quality did not come easily to Twigs, who shot a worried glance at Radcliff.
“I believe he is much improved. We shall force him to walk today.”
A deep frown wrinkled her ivory brow. “Won’t it hurt?”
“At first, but the doctor assures me he needs to begin using the leg.”
Bonny walked to the bed and laid a gentle hand on Twigs’s forehead. “Poor lamb.” Assured that he had no fever, she turned to her husband and saw him readying the backgammon board. “So you will amuse one another with backgammon?”
Radcliff did not lift his eyes from his task. “Yes. Tell me, my dear, where have you been this morning?”
“I woke very early and could not go back to sleep, so I decided to go riding in Hyde Park.”
“Alone?” Now her husband met her gaze.
“Yes.”
“I don’t like that at all. You should at least have had a groom with you.”
“Don’t be angry. Rusty said you wouldn’t be happy. He wanted to accompany me, but I particularly wanted to go alone. It would embarrass me exceedingly for anyone to see what an unskilled rider I am—especially you. I’m determined to learn not to embarrass you with my lack of skill.”
Radcliff’s voice, like his eyes, went soft. “You could never embarrass me, Barbara.”
She stepped toward him and leaned to place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” Her lips softly brushed his weathered face. Then she swept from the room. “Do call me when you begin to force poor Twigs to walk. I want one of us on each side of him.”
After she left the room, Twigs said, “Capital wife you’ve got there, Richard.”
Radcliff still looked at the door where his wife had left. How he loved to fill his eyes with her beauty. And how his heart ached at the thought she might have given her money and her heart to Dunsford.
After dinner that night, Bonny and Radcliff played three-handed loo with Twigs. Bonny had been surprised at Twigs’s card-playing skill. Nothing in his personality suggested a glimmer of intelligence. He did not quite have the skill her husband had, but Twigs’s skill surpassed her own, and she had been considered an uncommonly good player of all manner of games.
Radcliff broke the seal on a bottle of Malmsey, the three of them enjoying the best Madeira money could buy. Town life wasn’t so bad after all, Bonny reflected, if it could stay as it was now. As at Hedley Hall, she enjoyed her little cocoon with her husband and had not objected to bringing Twigs, the dear fellow, into their circle.
Warmed by the blazing fire and the contentment of good friends, she felt quite happy, despite the pain low in her stomach.
But suddenly her face went pale and she set down her cards. “Gentlemen, I was enjoying the game so much, but I’ve got a dreadful headache.”
Her husband’s worried eyes locked with hers. “Should I have Mandley bring you up tisane?”
“Don’t bother him. I’ll be as good as new in the morning.”
Radcliff put down his cards. “Perhaps I should come with you.”
“No. I beg you to continue your game. I don’t want to be the cause of ending so pleasant an evening.”
“It has been great fun,” Twigs said.
Radcliff looked from his wife to his friend, then back to his wife again. “If you’re sure you’re all right.”
“I’ll be fine.”
But she was not fine at all. She hurried to her room to see if her suspicions were accurate. Slamming her chamber door behind her, Bonny removed her gown, then her chemise. As she suspected, it was covered in blood. She had started her monthly flow.
With anger, she flung the chemise atop the dress heaped on the floor. She began to clean herself and prepare for bed. She did not want Marie’s help. All she wanted was the comfort of her bed. Her body ached so. As did her heart. She had not had a flow since she had married. She had hoped she was already with child. With Richard’s child. And now she felt bereft. They had had so many opportunities to conceive a babe. And yet she had failed. What if she were barren? In every way, she was not worthy to be Richard’s wife. Now she could not even give him an heir.
She fell into her bed and began to weep.
Something in his wife’s manner worried Radcliff. Or was it in her face? As lightning whitens the dark sky, his wife’s lovely face had suddenly paled. He could not continue his levity after she departed, and he ended the game early.
“Worried about the duchess, aren’t you?” Twigs said.
“You always could read me like a book.” Radcliff placed a steady hand on his friend’s shoulder and left the sickroom.
He knocked on his wife’s chamber and entered. The golden light from the hearth and her bedside candle bathed the room. Radcliff’s eyes shot to the bed where Bonny lay, dressed in a woolen nightgown buttoned to the neck. His wife always wore lovely gowns of lace and satin for him. Then he saw her reddened eyes and heard her sniff.
He hurried to her bedside. “You’re not well.”
“Truly I am. Don’t worry.” Then, as a cloud burst, her tears erupted and she began to sob.
He sat at her bedside and scooped her into his embrace, burying her wet face in his shirt. “I shall call the doctor.”
“Pray, don’t. It’s just...it’s just that I have my monthly flow.” Her sobs nearly prevented her from completing her declaration.
His arms tightened around her. “Is that all? I was so worried about you.”
“I’m so dreadfully unhappy, Richard. I had h-h-hoped...” she sobbed. “I had hoped I was with child.”
“We’ve been married less than two months. Sometimes these things take time.”
“You’re not terribly disappointed?” She lifted her gaze to his.
He smoothed her hair with gently caressing hands. “Not at all. I’m only relieved you’re all right.”
“But what if I’m barren?” She began to cry softly.
“It’s much too early to worry about that, my dear.”
“I knew I’d be a terrible wife for you.”
He kissed her head. “You’re no such thing, and it displeases me when you talk like that. I’m quite happy with my bride—even if you cannot make love to me tonight.”
He stayed there holding her, stroking her, whispering endearments until she fell asleep in his arms. He gently eased her down, his heart swelling with pride as he gazed upon her and thought of her great disappointment over not bearing his babe.
Maybe she had begun to care for him, this woman who owned part of his soul.
Chapter Fourteen
Nothing had ever fit her so well or looked more becoming than this gown, Bonny thought as she stood back, admiring Madame Deveraux’s creation in the looking glass, softly rubbing the rich fabric between her finger and thumb. How nicely this fine-quality silk draped.
She glanced at Emily and Madame Deveraux.
“Oh, Bonny, you look the perfect duchess now,” Emily said.
No words could have pleased Bonny more. Even if her new clothes were black, Richard would have to be proud of her appearance. He would have to find her dress worthy of his wife.
“I do hope your grace is pleased, for the fit is most excellent, no?” Madame Deveraux queried as she handed Bonny the fur-trimmed muff that matched her dress.
“The fit is indeed most excellent, and I shall be happy for you to design my entire wardrobe when I am out of mourning.”
With a beaming Madame Deveraux nodding agreeably, Bonny wore the modiste’s creation out of the shop while one of the footmen in the crimson Radcliff livery trailed behind her, shuffling an armload of parcels.
Settling into the soft squabs of the barouche, Bonny studied her quiet cousin. To someone who knew her less well, Emily would appear the perfect lady with her simple beauty and elegant clothes. But Bonny saw beyond the outward signs of prosperity. She noted the dark circles under her eyes and her cousin’s wan countenance. “I thought this morning when we visited with Harriet, the color was coming bac
k to your face,” Bonny said, “but now you’re sallow as a dove. How can you continue to live like this?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Emily’s voice was strained. “I cried off the Gilberts’ rout last night, telling Mama I was out of sorts with a ghastly headache, but I can’t do that forever.”
“Though I daresay it’s not far removed from the truth. The only time you are your old self is when you are with Harriet.”
“Just so, but I could never tell my parents about her.”
From her carriage window, Bonny watched the warmly bundled equestrians threading through Hyde Park. “Em, perhaps you could go with Harriet to live in Milford. Don’t make a decision today. Just think on it. We’ve kept everything at the old rectory just as it was. Mrs. Green is there, courtesy of Richard’s purse.”
The corners of Emily’s mouth lifted into a smile, and a winsome look crossed her features. “That sounds so wonderful. Just Harriet and I in a little cottage. How happy I would be.”
The carriage drew up before Emily’s magnificent house in Cavendish Square. Bonny watched Emily mount the steps, holding her bonnet to her head to keep the strong wind from snatching it. Once Emily disappeared into Wick-ham House, Bonny withdrew from her reticule the note to the Earl of Dunsford she had penned that morning. Having one of her own servants deliver it was out of the question. They all loved Richard too thoroughly, and she could not have them thinking her a disloyal wife. Therefore, she determined to hire a street urchin to carry the dispatch to Harriet’s uncle.
Bonny instructed her footman to summon a young hostler hovering about Cavendish Square. A lad whose face was red from the stinging wind approached her window, and Bonny asked him to take the letter to Dunsford House on Half Moon Street. She gave the happy youth a shilling. “Please tell the person who answers the door that Lord Dunsford is to be delivered this note at once.”
“Yes, me lady,” the boy said, skipping off behind a gig clopping in the direction of Mayfair.
Next, Bonny had her barouche taken to the square near Kepple Street, where she asked her coachman to wait while she took a stroll through the park in the center of the square. Tying her bonnet under her chin, she stepped from the carriage and enclosed both hands in the muffs warmth.
Her stroll, once again, ended up at the house on Kepple Street, and for the second time that day, Bonny paid a visit to Mrs. Davies and Harriet.
Bonny wasn’t there five minutes when she heard the Earl of Dunsford’s strident voice, followed by heavy steps on the wood floors of the narrow entry hall.
“Excuse my appearance,” he told Bonny, straightening his cravat as he entered the parlor. “I came as soon as I received your note. Blasted early in the morning.”
Bonny handed over a babbling Harriet to her uncle. “It wouldn’t seem so if you went to bed at a tolerable hour, my lord.”
“I would not have stayed out so late if my luck had been better. Fact is, I failed to win back my losses in spite of playing till dawn. Just dug myself further into debtor’s prison.”
Bonny frowned. “I am sorry your luck is so poor and your sleep so short, but it now is the most appropriate time for your visit here, since Harriet’s mother left just an hour ago.”
Balancing the blond baby on his left arm, Dunsford poked Harriet’s chubby stomach with his right hand. The baby grabbed his index finger, wrapping her pudgy fingers around it.
“Look how strong she is!” the earl exclaimed. “It was the same with Harry. Always smaller than me, but he could outfight me any day. Very strong he was.” He turned loving eyes on the baby and attempted to speak in a falsetto voice. “She is such a strong little miss. And so precious.” His lips brushed the fine, soft hair on top of her nearly bald head.
They passed barely a half hour in the presence of the happy baby when Bonny said, “You are free to stay, my lord, but I must go.”
His lips thinned with disappointment. “I have an appointment myself.” He handed the baby over to Mrs. Davies.
Harriet clung to Lord Dunsford and commenced the worst crying spell Bonny had seen, worse even than when Emily left. “It seems Harriet has become very attached to you, my lord.”
“You may be sure her love is returned tenfold,” he said in a sad tone. “Deuced hard to leave her.”
It had been a good session sparring with Jackson, Radcliff reflected as he cracked his whip over the high-stepping bay that drove his phaeton through the narrow streets of London. Too bad Twigs hadn’t been there. Capital fun.
From the corner of his eye, Radcliff caught sight of something that struck his subconscious as being incongruous. Within a few seconds he realized what it was. The Earl of Dunsford’s barouche was parked in front of a house on this unfashionable street.
Radcliff slowed down to examine the crest on the barouche door. Indeed, it belonged to that no-good blackguard. As he passed on, Radcliff heard a door open and turned to see Dunsford’s tall frame coming through the door to a narrow little row house.
Radcliff stared hard at the earl.
What he saw caused his heart to nearly stop beating. Beside Dunsford at the top of the stairs stood his own beautiful wife.
Busy talking to each other, the pair did not see him, and by the time they looked up, he was gone from view.
Though Radcliff could no longer see Dunsford and Barbara, the picture of them standing atop the steps, looking into each other’s eyes, was etched into his memory like letters on a gravestone. His hold on the bay slackened, allowing the horse to take him wherever it desired. He did not care.
What did he care about anything? The wind pierced through him, but he did not even button his coat. He’d felt on top of the world since the night Barbara had cried so pitifully with disappointment that she was not with their child. He’d thought she wanted to be his wife in every way. But now his world crumbled beneath him.
Bonny sat staring at the leather backgammon board.
“Your turn to roll,” Twigs said.
She picked up the dice, then met Twigs’s gaze. “You knew the duchess, Richard’s mother, did you not?”
He looked puzzled. “Never played backgammon with her, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, no. I don’t mean that. I would just like to know how a duchess acts.” Bonny threw the dice and moved her men along the points accordingly.
“Same as anyone else, I expect.” He grabbed the dice and shook them vigorously, watching with delight and then triumphantly moving one man past Bonny’s and knocking off another. “By Jove, this is capital fun.”
“What I mean is, can you remember anything about her that may have set her apart?”
He pondered her question. “Sat at one end of the dining table. That set her apart.”
“You mean while the duke sat at the other end?”
“Right you are.”
“I believe that’s the customary procedure for the host and hostess, but I mean, did she act any particular way that made one think she was...like royalty?”
He sniffed his perpetually runny nose, then stroked his chin. “Never took breakfast. Leastwise, not downstairs. Took a tray in her room and never came down till afternoon.”
The fourth duchess sounded to Bonny like any woman of quality. Bonny threw the dice and moved her men.
“Old duchess was very nice—like the new duchess.”
Bonny looked into Twigs’s watery eyes. “That’s so kind of you. I want to act like a proper duchess. I should die if I embarrassed Richard.”
“What the deuce kind of talk is this? ’Pon my word, you could never embarrass him. If you ask me, he’s deuced glad to have you.”
At this, Bonny got up from her chair and came to hug a red-faced Twigs. “You are so very dear, Twigs.”
As she spoke, Bonny heard her husband’s voice.
“I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my wife.”
Bonny turned smiling eyes to her husband. “Oh, but it was me hugging Twigs. He is the dearest man.”
Radcl
iff scowled and moved toward them. “What diversion is it for you, today?” He looked at the backgammon board and frowned. “A game of sheer luck.”
“Perhaps that explains why I’m losing so dreadfully,” Bonny said, trying to sound flippant to soothe her husband’s anger. Surely he couldn’t be jealous of poor Twigs. “I would hate to think it was because I have no skill.”
Still embarrassed over being kissed by the duchess, Twigs said, “Now that you are here, shall we play something else? Loo?” He knocked his men down and went to fold up the board.
Bonny squeezed her husband’s hand and gave him an imploring look. “Do play with us, Richard.”
Radcliff threw himself into a nearby chair. “I don’t wish to play anything.”
Startled by his harsh tone, Bonny sat down beside him, folded her hands in her lap, forced a smile and said, “Very well, Richard. We’ll just chat. Have you been boxing today?”
He nodded solemnly.
Twigs’s gaze shifted from Radcliff to Bonny. “Capital boxer, Richard. He’s the only one I’ve ever seen who could plant a facer on Jackson.”
“What’s a facer?” Bonny asked.
“Nothing you need concern your pretty head with, Barbara.”
She still did not like her husband’s tone, or his dismissal of her.
“Very competitive, Richard. Doesn’t like to lose,” Twigs said.
“I never lose,” Radchff stated flatly, glaring at his wife. He rose and addressed Twigs. “It’s time for you to walk.” He bent over the bed and assisted his friend to his feet. Twigs’s man had helped him into long pantaloons earlier in the day.
Bonny got on the other side of Twigs to hold him. Twigs put one foot in front of the other while grimacing in pain.
“He’s moving much better than last time, don’t you think, Richard?”
The duke agreed. “You’ll be back in the ring with Jackson before you know it.”
“By Jove, need to get my movement back,” Twigs said haltingly. “Got a mind to buy colors.”
