A Duke Deceived

by Cheryl Bolen

  Radcliff stole a glance at his wife across the brightly lit dinner table. He had not really allowed himself to gaze upon her face in weeks. Now he felt no rush of possessive happiness when he looked at her. She appeared to be losing weight. No wonder, for she barely touched her food. He did not feel like eating himself, but he knew he needed to after drinking all afternoon.

  “Will I have the pleasure of your company tonight?” Bonny asked her husband.

  “Yes, I plan to work in my library. I have neglected many things that need my attention.”

  “Like me, your grace?” Bonny cast an insolent look at her husband.

  The duke met her gaze. “I was not aware you required my attention, my dear.”

  Her cheeks hot, Bonny put the cover back over the steaming plate of French beans and turned to Twigs. “And do you have plans tonight?”

  Twigs took a big sniff and sighed. “I regret to say I am to go to Almack’s.”

  Radcliff laughed. “Whatever possessed you to go there? They serve nothing stiffer to drink than lemonade.”

  Twigs gulped his wine. “Bloody dull it’ll be, but Miss Carlisle particularly requested that I go.”

  Making a steeple of his fingers, Radcliff nodded and said, “I see.”

  His wife met his gaze with mirth. “We are so very happy to see you getting about so well, Twigs,” she said.

  A footman poured more wine into Twigs’s glass.

  “Storing up now for the temperance of Almack’s?” Radcliff asked with a smile.

  “Bloody well better,” Twigs said, taking a drink. “Good care I’ve got here. Suppose I’m well enough to go back to my own lodgings.”

  “I cannot abide such talk,” Bonny said, “for I should be so dreadfully lonely if you left.”

  Radcliff studied his wife’s thin face. It pained him to see her look so forlorn. She had been left alone too much, but what else could he do? If he hadn’t seen her in Dunsford’s company with his own eyes, he would never have believed it of his sweet Barbara, but she must have given her love to another. A thousand times he told himself there must be some other explanation. He had considered posting a servant to watch the house at Number 17 Kepple Street, but he did not want to hear of his wife meeting Dunsford.

  The thought of her in another man’s arms drove him mad. He could no longer trust himself around her. He still wanted her, but the tenderness was gone, and he was afraid what he might do to her.

  “Need your privacy. Newlyweds and all that.” Twigs’s face turned very red.

  “I daresay I see more of you than I do of my husband.” Bonny peered over her soupspoon into her husband’s inscrutable eyes.

  Twigs’s attention was drawn to his own clear turtle soup.

  After dinner, Bonny removed to the drawing room while her husband and Twigs remained at the table and imbibed their port and smoked cigars.

  When Twigs left for Almack’s, Radcliff entered the drawing room. “I shall be working in my library, my dear.”

  She looked up from her needlework, but all she saw was his back as he left the room.

  Sometime later, Bonny put up her embroidery and went to Radcliff’s library. She opened the door and saw him sitting behind his desk in the dark room. A fire blazed in the hearth and a single taper burned beside him, but there were no other lights. Despite the darkness, Bonny could tell by her husband’s eyes he had drunk too much. A snifter of brandy was at his right hand and an open book in front of him.

  “I wanted to read,” Bonny said, advancing into the room, “and since your study is so much warmer than mine, I thought I would join you. That is, if it does not displease you.”

  “It does not displease me,” he said formally, then resumed his reading.

  She closed the door behind her and walked around the library, looking at the volumes. She found one section where the books appeared well-worn, as if they had been purchased used rather than new, like all the other works here. Upon examining the titles, she realized her husband had acquired all of her father’s writings.

  And she was touched. It was the act of a man pledged to uniting his family with another. He must be interested in begetting a child with her, she thought with happiness.

  She selected a book and sat down on the sofa before the fire and tried to read, but instead watched Richard as he drank more and more. The crackle of the fire and his turning of pages were the only noises in the room.

  When she could no longer stand his silence, she said, “What are you reading, sir?”

  He did not answer right away. “If you must know,” he said with irritation, “I am reading your father’s work on Corinth.” He continued to read.

  Determined to outlast him, Bonny sat there several hours, attempting to read a tome on democracy. As the fire reduced to embers, and Radcliff’s bottle of brandy stood empty, he glared at her, a strange look in his reddened eyes.

  “Come here, Barbara.”

  She got up and slowly walked to his desk, keeping her eyes fastened on him. She skirted the desk and came to stand beside him.

  “You are a clergyman’s daughter. How well do you remember your Bible, my dear? Matthew six, verse twenty-four?”

  She gave him a puzzled look.

  “Did your father ever preach about ‘No man can serve two masters’?”

  Her brows furrowed. “I don’t remember.”

  His eyes challenged her. “I want you to serve me.”

  “Of course, I am your wife,” she replied shakily.

  “Come closer.”

  She moved so close she could smell the brandy on his breath. Her hand gently swept stray strands of his sandy hair off his forehead.

  He grabbed her wrist tightly and spoke in a frightening voice she did not recognize. “Serve me now, dear wife.” He pulled her to him with great force and buried his head into her bosom. Freeing one hand, he lifted her skirts and began to stroke upward from her thighs.

  “The servants might come in,” Bonny cautioned in a whisper.

  “Then let us go to bed, dear wife.”

  She did not like his tone, but she started for the door. As Bonny mounted the stairs, her fear increased with each step. The thought of lying with this gruff man her husband had become sickened her. In the past their lovemaking had been spontaneous, pleasurable. It had felt so right. But what was certain to occur in her bedchamber tonight seemed sinister.

  In Bonny’s room, they found Marie waiting up for her mistress.

  “You are dismissed,” the duke snapped at the abigail, who directly removed herself from the room.

  Bonny walked to her bedside table to blow out the candle.

  “Don’t!” Radcliff commanded. “I want to look at you.”

  Bonny felt herself coloring as she began to unfasten the tiny buttons of her gown. She had dreamed of this night for weeks, but now that she was about to share her bed with him, there was no happiness. The man who stood before her with blazing eyes and rough voice was not her beloved Richard, she thought with empty longing, remembering what a tender lover her Richard had been.

  “Here, I will do that,” Radcliff said. He patiently unfastened half a dozen buttons before he let out an oath and tore off the rest of the gown.

  “Richard! You ruined a brand-new dress.”

  “You married a very rich man, Barbara. You can buy all the dresses you want.”

  She stepped out of the gown and her satin slippers, then turned her back to remove her ivory-colored shift.

  “I said I want to see you,” Radcliff said sternly.

  She turned to face him, flushing, and trembled as she took off the rest of her clothing while her fully dressed husband stood watching.

  “Now lie on the bed,” he ordered.

  She did as he instructed, keeping her eyes on him.

  “It grows cold. Get under the counterpane.”

  Bonny slid between the silken sheets.

  His eyes never leaving her, Radcliff shed all his clothes and stood before her.

&nbs
p; She saw that he was fully aroused.

  He got in the bed and pulled her face toward his for a bruising kiss, sliding his hand between her legs, stroking her. “You are not ready for me, my dear,” he said, displeasure in his rough voice.

  “Yes I am. I have removed all my clothes.”

  “Do you not know what I mean, Barbara?”

  She gave him a questioning gaze.

  “A woman who wants a man gets slick inside. In that special place.” His fingers stabbed into her and she cried out.

  “What’s the matter, dear, don’t you want to make love to your own husband?”

  “To my old husband, yes, but not to the man you are tonight.”

  “But you are my wife, Barbara.”

  “Can’t you be gentle as you once were?” she pleaded, her voice shaky.

  He cupped one of her breasts as if he were weighing it. “You will accept me no matter how I am, for I am your husband.” His harsh voice frightened her. It was as if a strange man lay beside her.

  Tears seeped from her moistened eyes.

  His face softened, and he drew her rigid body into his embrace and kissed a path of light, butterfly kisses from her neck to her mouth, where he slowly, tenderly kissed her.

  Brushing the hair from her face, he whispered, “Forgive me. I daresay it’s the brandy that has made me so crude.”

  “You will be your old self now?”

  He reached for the candle and blew it out, then gathered her into his arms. She relaxed, her head resting on his chest. Lifting her face, he dried her tears with gentle hands, then dropped a soft kiss on her nose. Her lips sought his. When her lips parted, the kiss deepened, his hands gliding possessively over her back, her hips, drawing her even closer.

  Her body came to vivid life, his warmth filling her soul, driving away all awareness, save for the scent of him, the liquid movement of her body against his, her obliterating need of him.

  With a lover’s wisdom, he knew she was ready for him now.

  And he buried himself within her.

  When Bonny awoke later, she felt the moistness of her husband’s seed and smiled, reaching for him.

  But he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  Another day and night and another day passed before Bonny was to see her husband again, and by then he suffered from the effects of heavy drinking. She had taken another solitary dinner and retired with her needlework to the drawing room, when she heard Mandley talking with Radcliff in the outer hall. By the time she put up her sewing and left the drawing room, Radcliff was no longer there. She walked down the hall, opened the door to his library and was taken aback at the sight of her husband.

  He sat before his desk. which bore a single candle and a full bottle of Malmsey. His cravat hung loose, his hair was disheveled, and the heavy growth on his face indicated he had not shaved since she last saw him.

  “Are you all right, Richard?” Bonny questioned, worry in her voice.

  He glared at her. “Actually, my dear, I am not well. In addition to feeling wretched, I find my life very repetitive.”

  She strolled into the room and sat in a wing chair near his desk. “I am not surprised you find it so. One would expect as much from the hollow existence you’ve led these past fifteen years.”

  “You sound like a cleric’s daughter, my dear.”

  “Not a nagging wife?”

  “That, too,” he said.

  “A wife would be expected to show concern when her husband continues to live as he had before his marriage,” Bonny replied.

  Radcliff lifted the full bottle to his lips and drank. “It’s a worthless existence I’ve led. If I died tomorrow, there would be nothing to show for my life. Not even an heir.”

  “I hope you do not fault me for that.”

  He shook his head. “No, I cannot fault you. You have never refused me, my dear.” His cold tone did nothing to assure her.

  “Why do you speak so maudlin, Richard?”

  “Think on it. What would be left of me if I died? At least my ancestors built grand houses that will stand for centuries. They fought valiant battles for the kingdom. They left heirs.” He took another drink. “I have a very strong longing to fight on the Peninsula. Nothing could be more noble than to die for England.”

  Bonny caught her breath, her insides flinching at the grief caused by his words. “I pray you will say no more.”

  His glassy eyes met hers. “Would it bother you if I died, Barbara?”

  “It does not bear thinking of. It is far too painful.”

  “But you would be the richest woman in the kingdom.”

  “You think I care about that?”

  He shook his head sadly. “No. I cannot say that I do. I don’t think you are interested in wealth and title. I have often wondered, my dear, just why you married me. I suspect it was to please your mother.”

  Her heart pounded. “Did it never occur to you that I might be in love with you?” She had not wanted to force her love on him, but she’d been unable to hold back the words.

  “Only when you are in my arms. Then, I must admit. your ardor is most pronounced.”

  Bonny colored. “You underestimate your charms outside the bedchamber.”

  He laughed a mirthless laugh. “Barbara, my love, you must remove yourself from this room. I have papers that demand my attention, and it is much too difficult to look upon your face and not want to seduce you beneath this very desk.”

  “I grow very tired of your homage to my face. I am a real woman with real feelings, Richard.” With a defiant tilt of her chin and a scolding tone, she added, “I think all you wanted in a wife was a beautiful woman to display, and because I am in mourning and you cannot trot me out like one of your prize horses, you have no desire for my company .”

  “I do greatly look forward to the day I can present you to all of London.”

  That he did not deny marrying her for her beauty hurt her more than all the lonely nights she had lain in her empty bed and imagined him in the arms of other women, but she could not allow him to know how deeply he wounded her. “Perhaps you could present me at a small dinner party. Twigs wishes to leave Radcliff House, and I believe we should host a farewell dinner for him.”

  “Whatever you wish, just do not ask Dunsford,” he warned in a menacing voice, his eyes scowling.

  “Had I known how strongly you dislike him, I should never have asked him, though I do not understand why you detest him so. He seems a most amiable man. I hoped that Emily might look upon him with something more than friendship.”

  Radcliff gave his wife a puzzled glance, then opened his drawer and took out some papers, which he began to read. “Pray, leave the room, Barbara. You distract me much too much.”

  Evans dragged the sharpened razor across the heavy stubble on Radcliff’s cheek. “It is to be hoped no one of consequence has seen your grace today in such deplorable condition. Had you only sent for me, I should have been most happy to have brought you around a fresh change of clothes and seen to your appearance.”

  “I fear I slept too bloody damned late, Evans. It was after dawn before we got to bed.”

  “I must say I am happy you still see your old friends. A fun-loving lot they are, your grace.”

  Radcliff thought of his father and how he would have viewed those fun-loving friends and disapproved of his son’s rakish behavior. No man had ever been nobler than the fourth duke. Nor had Radcliff ever known a happier man. “Still carrying on as we did when we came from Oxford.”

  A rather pleasant grin flashed across Evans’s normally placid features. “Oh, yes, indeed, your grace.” He stood back and surveyed his master’s smooth face. “Now you will look proper for your dinner party tonight.”

  “Has the duchess been worried that I may not show?”

  “Not five minutes could go by that she did not scurry from her chamber, inquiring if you had come.”

  “I do not understand why my wife does not scream and cry or come flying at me w
ith a dagger over my lamentable conduct.”

  “She knows her place. You are the master.”

  “Her place?” Radcliff screwed up his face. “By God, man, she’s my wife. You are speaking of the Duchess of Radcliff. She has as much right to be here as I do.”

  With his mouth in a straight line, Evans moved to take up the suit of clothing his master would wear to the dinner party, which was due to begin in half an hour. After he assisted Radcliff in getting dressed, Evans was dismissed.

  Radcliff entered his wife’s chamber through the adjacent dressing room. His breath caught at the sight of her sitting before her dressing table. She wore a low-cut black crepe gown, a black plume in her hair.

  After Marie left, Bonny turned to stare at her husband. “I feared you had forgotten about tonight.”

  He walked up and kissed her forehead. “You can depend upon me, Barbara.”

  Her simmering eyes met his. “Can I?”

  Radcliff’s finger trailed over his wife’s ivory shoulders and along the length of her neck. “I should like my friends to see you in the Radcliff Jewels tonight, my love. I want them all to know you are mine.”

  Bonny’s face went white. Averting her gaze from his, she said, “I...I cannot find them, Richard.” She burst out crying.

  “You cannot find them?” he said angrily.

  “I...I opened my drawer to look at them—” she stopped, her voice breaking “—and they were gone.” Her hands covered her face as she continued crying.

  “What do you mean, ‘they were gone’? You believe someone stole them?”

  She nodded.

  “Where were they?”

  “I kept them in the drawer.”

  Radcliff began to open all the drawers. After finding nothing that resembled the Radcliff Jewels, he gave Bonny a cold stare, his face reddening. “No one will ever get away with stealing from the House of Radcliff.” His cold eyes traveled over her. “Get control of yourself,” he said sternly. “You cannot greet our guests looking like a watering pot.”