by Cheryl Bolen
He took her gloved hand and placed it within both of his. “Surely you know I wish to make you my wife.”
She would have to speak of that which she had never thought to utter. It was as if his handclasp passed his strength to her, giving her the courage to speak her fears. “Considering what you know about me, my lord?”
He ran a loving hand across her cheek. “Especially knowing you. I love everything about you.”
She saw the love in his eyes and wanted more than anything on earth to return that love tenfold. “But would I not cause you embarrassment?”
“You could never give me anything but happiness, Emily. But I love you too deeply to allow society to think ill of you. What happened on the Peninsula should remain a secret only you and I and Bonny share. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be parents to Harriet and make a home for the three of us.”
“Oh, Henry! You are the kindest man in the world.”
“I don’t want to be the kindest man in the world. I want you to make me the happiest. Say you will marry me.”
A slow smile crossed her face. “I will marry you.”
He scooped her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss captured all the tenderness in her being, and when it was through, he drew away and gave her a glowing look of love. “I had hoped for your love, and now you have answered me.”
She chuckled contentedly, kissed his cheek and said, “I love you very much, my lord.”
What a bloody waste this night had been, Radcliff thought as he trudged up the dimly lit staircase of Radcliff House. He had been to every blasted gaming establishment in the city but had not found Duns ford. The closest he had come was at midnight, when Thomas Squires told him he had seen Duns ford driving his curricle near Bow Street—alone—at around eight that evening. That, at least, had been good news. Duns ford was not with Bonny.
At Madam Chassay’s, Radcliff had not even inquired after Duns ford because Stanley was there. Radcliff would be damned before he would allow Stanley to know he sought the earl who had been keeping company with his wife. He gave his cousin the cut and left.
Instead of going to his library and sulking with brandy as he normally did, Radcliff went to Bonny’s chamber. He knew she wouldn’t be there, but he longed for her so badly he was drawn to her room.
Now it was warm from a fire in the hearth. A candle glowed beside her bed. Her torcheres were lit, too. He sat in the slipper chair beside the fireplace and heard a soft knock from the dressing room.
“Your grace?” Evans questioned.
“Yes.”
Evans opened the adjoining door. “I thought perhaps you would like me to bring you some brandy.”
Suddenly, Radcliff despised what he had become. The man who had driven Barbara away with his sulkiness and drinking. He had no taste for liquor tonight. He wanted only to keep a clear head, to determine how he could find Barbara and bring her back. “I want nothing that is in your power to give me, Evans.”
“Would you like me to help you get ready for bed, your grace?”
Radcliff shook his head. “I do not plan to sleep until the duchess returns.”
“But, your grace—”
“You are dismissed.”
Radcliff walked to Bonny’s dressing table and picked up her wedding ring. Even if she did not want to be married to him, he would not let her go. He would find her if he had to spend every shilling he owned. And he would bring her back. He would take her back to Hedley Hall and proceed with his initial plan of enveloping her in so much love she would have to love him in return. And even if she could never love him, he would never stop loving her. It would be easier to stop drawing breath.
He realized that it no longer mattered if she was in love with him. He did not have to have her love. He had only to have her. To never look upon her again would be worse than death. No longer did he want to die.
But how could he find her? Who besides Duns ford might know her whereabouts? Emily. By Jove, he would visit Emily in the morning. She was bound to know where to find Bonny.
Radcliff was not the only one who could not sleep since Bonny’s departure. Evans, too, found himself lying awake. He kept remembering his grace’s deep, racking sobs when he learned the duchess had left. Then, earlier in the evening, Radcliff had talked as if he wanted to die. Talking about taking lung fever. God forbid that something should happen to him.
Would that he could restore his master to happiness. But, as the duke had so morosely informed him, there was nothing in his power that could bring the duchess back.
But the broken man of the last two days was most assuredly a man in love.
In the morning, Evans let himself into the duchess’s gilded chamber. The duke, in the wrinkled clothing he had worn the night before, stood with his back to him, looking out the window onto the square.
“Your grace,” Evans said boldly, “it is my opinion you have driven away the duchess by your neglect of her.”
Radcliff gave his valet a startled look. “I know that, man, but there are...other factors. Things you don’t know about.”
“I know that she loved you, your grace.”
The duke gave a mirthless laugh. “It sounds as if you are defending her, Evans. I could have sworn that you held the duchess in dislike.”
Evans hung his head. “I have done her grace a great disservice and have grown to regret my treatment of her.”
“As have L”
“If there is anything I can do—”
Radcliff placed a hand on Evans’s shoulder. “Thank you, Evans.”
“There is one other matter, your grace, about the missing jewels.”
“The Radcliff Jewels?” Radcliff asked.
Evans nodded. “I have learned that your cousin, Stanley, took them the night of that first dinner party.”
Radcliff smiled. “And how did you learn of this?”
Taken aback by his master’s unexpected good humor, Evans almost whispered, “I would rather not say, your grace.”
“Very well,” Radcliff said cheerfully. “Assist me into clean clothes. I shall visit Wickham House this morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Pale sunlight gleamed through the cloud cover as Radcliff’s horse cantered toward Cavendish Square. Since Evans had revealed that Stanley—and not the duchess—had stolen the Radcliff Jewels, Radcliff’s spirits had soared. And each step closer he came to Wickham House, the closer he came to finding Barbara.
Evans’s revelation did indeed put a different perspective on things. Not to mention that there were now two men in London whom the duke wished to call out. It was while he took an almost pleasant surge from the thought of running a sword through Dunsford that he beheld the sight of the lean earl mounting the steps to Wickham House.
“Dunsford!” Radcliff called in a commanding voice. “A word with you, if you please.”
The earl whirled around, his brows plunging together and a scowl of displeasure sweeping across his face when he recognized the duke. But, ever the gentleman, he did as he was bid, freezing in his step as he watched Radcliff leap from his mount and tie it up. He gave a stiff bow as Radcliff walked up to him.
Radcliff, his eyes like cold jade, stiffened and spoke with malice. “May I ask what brings you to my relatives’ home today?”
Ignoring the duke’s steely tone, Dunsford gave him a shaky smile. “Your grace’s will be the first ears to hear my wondrous news. You, Radcliff, will soon be my kinsman.”
That the earl could smile at him completely stunned Radcliff. It was clearly not the action of a man who had stolen his wife. And what did he mean, they would soon be kinsmen? “Whatever are you speaking of, Duns ford?” Radcliff snapped.
“Of my upcoming nuptials.”
The words struck Radcliff a paralyzing blow.
“Lady Emily,” Duns ford continued, “has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife.”
Radcliff was more stunned than ever. Could it be possible that the earl loved Emily and not
Barbara? “But...why is it you have been meeting my wife at Number 17 Kepple Street?”
The earl’s face clouded. “Those meetings were of a private nature.”
Radcliff grabbed the earl by the lapels of his morning coat. “Nothing that concerns my wife shall be private to you, Duns ford.”
Duns ford’s eyes softened. “It is not what you think, Radcliff. Your wife is completely devoted to you. In no way has she ever compromised her marriage vows.”
“Then why, pray tell, was she meeting you on Kepple Street?”
“I cannot say, your grace. I can only tell you that the duchess in no way has sullied your good name.”
His face inflamed, Radcliff shook Dunsford and spit out his anger in even harsher tones. “You will tell me, or we shall speak through our seconds.”
Duns ford’s eyes rounded. “But, your grace...” He hung his head. “Very well. Since you are family, I will tell you what no one knows, save my dear Emily and the duchess.” He stopped and his voice softened. “I have been paying visits to Number 17 Kepple Street to see Emily’s baby.”
“Emily’s baby?” Radcliff exclaimed.
Duns ford nodded solemnly.
“Your babe?”
Duns ford shook his head. “My brother’s. He died before he could wed Emily. The duchess—before she was a duchess, of course—was the one who came to Emily’s assistance. She took her small legacy from her grandmother to set up a home for the baby.”
God in heaven, Radcliff thought, he had done Barbara such an injustice. All the while she had been as true as the North Star. She obviously had vowed to her cousin never to tell anyone about the baby, hence the reason for such secrecy.
He had also done Duns ford a disservice. “My good man,” Radchff said to the earl, “may I offer you my apologies as well as my felicitations?”
“Thank you, your grace.”
Radcliff placed his arm around Duns ford’s shoulders and began to skip up the steps to Wickham House. “Allow me to make it up to you for my uncharitable behavior. Do me the goodness to compute the sum of your gaming debts, and I will settle them as a wedding present to you and my cousin.”
“You are all kindness, your grace.”
Radcliff rapped at the door of Wickham House. “Not at all, Duns ford. I was thinking of my wife and how happy she will be if you and Lady Emily are in a state of bliss unmarred by financial worries. For, as you know, the duchess and her cousin are extremely close.”
“Quite so.”
When Styles opened the door, Radcliff said, “Please announce to Lady Emily that her betrothed and the Duke of Radcliff wish to see her.”
Not betraying the slightest surprise over the announcement of Emily’s “betrothed”, Styles showed in the two gentlemen.
Emily stood at the top of the stairway. Radcliff could see that she clutched a piece of folded paper in her hand. She looked at her intended first and started down the stairs. “I trust you slept well, my lord.”
Duns ford moved to her side and clasped her hand. “How can one sleep when complete bliss is so near at hand?”
A smile played at her lips and her fingers brushed across her fiancé’s cheek, then she turned her attention to Radcliff. “Bonny said you would come. I was to wait a week before I gave you the letter.”
Radcliff stepped closer. “But you and I both know you are going to give it to me today, even if it’s been only three days. Three long, horrible days.”
Emily’s eyes twinkled. “So you do love her.”
“Of course I love her. She’s my wife.”
“Did you tell her?”
Radcliff gave Emily a puzzled look. Then he understood so much. If only he could turn back the clock. He held out his hand. “May I have the letter?”
She handed it to him, and he tore it open with shaking hands and began to read.
My dear Richard,
By the time you read this, I shall be gone and you will have your freedom. It was a noble sacrifice you made by marrying me, and I will always be grateful for your generosity to me and to my mother. I will remember your many acts of kindness. I will remember, too, the tenderness we shared, particularly at Hedley Hall, and I have no regrets. My only regret is that you were so utterly unhappy in London. It is obvious you did not want to be married to me.
I take nothing with me that I did not bring to our marriage, and it is my intention to get along without your financial assistance. Since I don’t plan to return to London, perhaps you could explain my absence by allowing people to assume I died in childbirth.
I leave you with two requests. First, I beg that you do not worry about me. I will get on tolerably well. Secondly, I implore you to give up all notions of becoming a soldier.
His stomach still plummeting from the thought of her dying in childbirth, he noted the absence of a signature. Had she been in a dilemma over how to close the letter without using the word love?
He looked up at Emily, his eyes brimming. “Where is she?” he asked in a trembling voice.
“Milford.”
He nodded and left.
Throwing open the door to his dressing room, Radcliff smiled and told Evans, “Help me into my riding clothes and pack my things, Evans. I go to my wife.”
“May I inquire her whereabouts, your grace?” The valet took off his master’s velvet waistcoat.
“She goes to Milford.”
“Does your grace know by what means she is being conveyed?”
“I regret to say by the stagecoach.”
“If I might be so bold as to make a suggestion, your grace, it is my opinion you could travel much better were you not fatigued from lack of sleep. Remember, the duchess will have many stops along the way. With yourself fresh and good horses, you could leave tomorrow and still arrive at approximately the same time her grace will arrive in Milford.”
Radcliff paused, nodding. “I believe you are correct, Evans. Besides, there is another matter I would like to settle before I depart London.” Glancing at Evans, who was unbuttoning a buff coat, Radcliff said, “I will no longer require riding clothes after all, but I shall need them in the morning. Very early in the morning. And I would like you to instruct my household to ready the traveling coaches for the trip to Milford. Only the best carriage will do to convey the duchess to Hedley Hall. My child shall be born there.”
My child. Something stirred deep within him at the words. A pride as great as acknowledging that Bonny Barbara Allan was his wife.
“Evans,” Radchff said, “have Marie pack everything the duchess will need for her lying-in.”
A slow smile spread across Evans’s solemn face. “With pleasure, your grace.”
On the last two occasions he had seen his cousin, Radcliff had given Stanley the cut direct. But not today. He sought him out at his lodgings on Marylebone.
“Richard,” Stanley greeted him in a puzzled tone. “What a pleasure it is to see you.”
“This is not a pleasant visit, Stanley.” He refused to take a seat in the chair Stanley indicated but stood facing his cousin, so close he could smell the liquor on his breath. “Do not protest what I am going to say, cousin, for I shall never again believe you. You are a liar. You are vile. And you are a thief.”
Stanley started to argue, but Radcliff silenced him. “I know with certainty you have stolen the Radcliff Jewels. I also know your pockets are full since this is the beginning of the quarter. You will restore the jewels to Radcliff House by tonight, or suffer the consequences.”
Stanley’s cold, hate-filled eyes met Radcliff’s, but he only nodded.
“And,” Radcliff ordered, “you will leave England within the week. It grows tedious meeting you in society, cousin.”
“But, Richard, we share the same blood. There’s only the two of us left.”
“A pity it would be to see my own cousin’s head on Tower Bridge, the same as that of a common thief.”
“You have made your point, cousin,” Stanley said through gritted teeth.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Radcliff would surely win a wager that no one could ever reach Milford from London in less time than he. He had taken his best horse and would have ridden it day and night without stopping, had only the horse no need to rest. So great was his haste to see Bonny that he slept but a few hours at each coaching inn before pressing onward, his thirst to see her driving him like a rushing avalanche.
During the countless hours of his lonely ride he phrased what he would say to Bonny in hundreds of ways. Through misty mornings and blustering winds, over rugged glens and along soggy lanes, his thoughts remained constant. Always, it was how he would tell her how much he loved her. Confess how cruel and jealous he had been. Beg her to come back to him.
The last three-quarters of a year he had been such a fool. He hated his damned pride, pride that had prevented him from telling Bonny from the beginning that he loved her with a fierceness that was frightening. And it was his same, bloody pride that had kept him from confronting her when he saw her with Dunsford at the house on Kepple Street. If only he had not been so blasted proud. Why had he not laid bare his wounds so Bonny could have soothed them with the truth?
All the problems in their marriage had arisen over his inability to communicate with his wife. Now he was determined to open his heart to her and let her know how dearly he loved her.
Though he feared her rejection more than ever, he told himself that he had nothing more to lose. What pain could be greater than that which he had already suffered?
And another growing fear gnawed at him. He worried that the journey had been too much for Bonny in her condition. He worried, too, about their child. He prayed that his Barbara would be safe and well, and their baby thriving.
No muscle in his body was free from the aching of several days of heavy riding. The bitter northern cold had settled in his lungs, leaving him with a rumble in his chest and a deep, racking cough. And he was certain now he had taken a fever.
