Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness: The Baxendale Sisters Book 3

by Maggi Andersen

  As they were led to their vehicle, the duke strolled onto the porch. Footmen stood to attention while others scurried for the carriage. His fingers on her ankle had been gentle and impersonal, and he’d showed no sign that he found her irresistible. Why would he? It had been kind of him to bother with her. He was a puzzle, however, welcomed with respect in English ballrooms and sought by those in high office, but at the same time, there seemed a wall between him and the rest of the world.

  ****

  Daniel thought of Lady Hope as he guided his hack along the path in Hyde Park toward the Serpentine. She had a disturbing effect on him. Kneeling at her feet, he’d found it difficult to remain at a distance, when what he really wanted was to crush her within his embrace and kiss her, and assuage the hunger which suddenly had him in its grip. Unsettled and annoyed with himself, he gave up on the rout, which was a ridiculous affair, and spent the rest of the evening at White’s. While there, he’d sought recommendations for a mistress, and his friends, encouraged by his interest, had suggested visiting a well-run brothel. He hadn’t succumbed to the temptation, but saw them on their way and returned home.

  He rode across the meadow. This didn’t come close to the pleasure of riding Tonnerre over his estate lands but would have to do until he could return home. News had come from France. With treatment, the horse continued to fare well, although Anton couldn’t promise the gelding would survive. He was employing a water treatment to strengthen Tonnerre’s injured leg.

  A breeze whistled through the bare branches and stirred the leaves of the evergreens. It was too early for the ton to make an appearance. Many favored the afternoon, rising from their beds when half the day was over, a habit he didn’t adopt.

  Miles Cosgrove appeared at Daniel’s left, riding through the trees on a roan. He brought his horse alongside Daniel’s mount. “Bit chilly, Your Grace. The sun is barely over the yardarm.”

  “Good for the constitution,” Daniel said. “What news?”

  “Little has changed. Britain does not wish to fight for Spain, and Canning intends to keep France guessing as to his government’s intentions, for as long as possible.”

  “Then I shall leave matters to the French ambassador and return to France.” Daniel felt a swift rush of regret.

  “Hold fire. Canning will wish to see you again.”

  Daniel nodded, wondering how long it would be before he was told what was expected of him. “I fancy a gallop, shall we?”

  Miles nodded, his eyes holding a hint of sympathy. “I daresay you are eager to return to France to oversee the restoration.”

  “The rebuilding continues, with or without me,” Daniel said, releasing the reins.

  They galloped across the grass, with no one around to object. It was past midday when they walked their horses back toward the park gates. Miles invited him to partake of luncheon with him at his favorite hotel.

  Daniel declined, suggesting they dine together soon. The hotel food would likely be horrid English fare washed down with ale, and he had some other business to attend to before he left Hyde Park. He turned his horse to ride down Rotten Row. There were more riders about, and some early enthusiasts traveling in their vehicles along the South Carriage Drive.

  He found her conversing with two other ladies as they walked their hacks. Hope, in a voluminous dark-blue riding habit, a wisp of white veil tailing from her high-crowned hat, turned his way. Seeing him, she smiled.

  Daniel would long remember the warmth of her smile when he returned to France. He pulled his mount in beside hers and touched his hat with his crop. “Good afternoon, Lady Hope, ladies.”

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Allow me to introduce my friends to you.”

  Both ladies greeted him with broad smiles then excused themselves and rode on.

  “I wondered how your unfortunate injury fared. But I see you are restored to health,” he said.

  “Just a small bruise. I must thank you for your assistance.”

  He raised a brow, recalling her father’s thunderous expression. “I wasn’t required to do much. Your father had the situation well in hand.”

  Hope grinned. “Or one might say well in foot.”

  Daniel laughed. “I’m relieved that you haven’t suffered permanent injury. I believe you will be pleased to hear that I’ve received news from France. My horse fares better.”

  “Oh, does he? I am glad to hear it. I just knew it would be so.”

  He smiled at her optimism. “Did you?”

  “I could not conceive of another outcome. It was too sad to contemplate.”

  He would have liked to remain, to spend more time with her, but her friends waited farther down the Row. And really, what was the point? “I shall take my leave. I’m not sure why the ton persists with those foolish routs.”

  “You share my father’s view, Your Grace.”

  “It seems I do.” Daniel bowed in the saddle. “Enjoy your ride.”

  “Thank you.” Hope turned her horse to join her friends.

  Daniel rode back toward the stables. Lady Hope’s optimism was infectious. But she was an innocent without any idea of how cruel life could be. She would make a very good match, at least on paper, of that he had no doubt. He’d enjoyed coming to her aid, though she was hardly in mortal danger. He fully understood why he did; it was due to his own sense of failure, which seemed now to be engraved deep in his psyche. He could only pray that the man Hope married was capable of a deep, abiding love, for that was what she deserved. Daniel held little faith that Winslow was that man.

  As he left the park and walked home, he managed to dismiss Lady Hope from his mind and turn his attention to his newly acquired half-sister. He hoped Sophie would allow him to finance her. When she returned to London from York in response to his letter, the matter must be settled between them. He wanted no further regrets to follow him back to France.

  ****

  Hope groaned under her breath as she rode to where her companions, Miss Amanda Higgins and Lady Susan, waited for her. Their faces revealed what they’d been discussing and verged on the hopeful. They expected her to entertain them, tell them all about her conversation with the duke. What could she say? Had she made a fool of herself, saying that about her foot? He’d laughed, but he must have thought her an idiot. She’d needed to say something droll, to counteract what she thought was tender concern in his dark gaze. How silly to imagine he felt any such thing when he’d not so much as flirted with her. While other men said her eyes were like stars and her hair like gold, no such flattery had occurred to him. She frowned.

  Let that be the end to it. No doubt, he considered her too silly to bother with. She tightened the reins in her gloved fingers and sighed. Nothing in life had quite prepared her for the Duc du Ténèbres. He exhibited excellent manners, but something smoldered beneath the surface, like glowing embers about to erupt into flames. Her foolish body reacted, and her brain went to mush. She had to admit she wanted to impress him, to see warm approval in his eyes when he looked at her, although why she did, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  “Well?” Lady Susan asked, tilting her head with a crafty smile. “Have you stolen the handsome duke’s heart?”

  “No. He’s not smitten with me, I assure you,” Hope said. “He just came to my rescue the other evening, as I told you.”

  “What a pity.” Miss Higgins’ eager smile faded. “He is very handsome, and a duke. He can whisk me off to France any time he chooses.”

  “But here comes an English duke,” Lady Susan said in a breathy tone.

  They turned as the Duke of Winslow rode toward them atop a chestnut with two members of his entourage riding abreast. The two men dropped back as the duke joined them. He bowed in the saddle with his careful smile. “Lady Hope, it’s good to see you braving the cool weather for some exercise.”

  After Hope introduced them, Lady Susan edged her horse closer to his. “We are very keen on exercise, Your Grace.” She patted her cheek. “It’s wonderful for the comp
lexion.”

  If Lady Susan hoped Winslow might take note of her perfect skin, she was disappointed, for another rider had joined them.

  Pamela, in a stylish green habit, reined in beside them, her groom a respectful distance behind. “How very pleasant to find friends,” she said, pointedly looking past Hope to smile at Winslow.

  “Lady Pamela.” The duke bowed and gathered his reins in his hands. “I believe I’ll ride on. One must enjoy the fine weather while it lasts.”

  “I shall ride with you, if you’ll permit me, Your Grace.” Pamela glanced at Hope. “I come to Rotten Row to ride rather than gossip.”

  The duke bent his head in regal acknowledgement, and the groups’ horses trotted forward.

  “Well!” Amanda snorted with disgust. “How rude.”

  As they walked their horses, Hope stared ahead to where Lady Pamela rode beside Winslow. Her brittle laugh and flirtatious conversation drifted back to them. Her father, the marquess, would hardly approve of such forward conduct. It was obvious that Pamela was intent on marrying Winslow, and if anyone got in her way, she would not fight fair.

  Hope firmed her lips. Pamela would find that she wasn’t so easily pushed aside.

  Chapter Six

  Daniel had kept his father’s house, Prunier Hall, located near Ham, staffed. He left London for the country the next day, driving his phaeton. He had yet to decide what to do with this monument to his father and all the bitterness that provoked. He’d been putting it off, but learning of his father’s appalling behavior made it more urgent.

  The eighteenth century mansion on the River Thames was little more than a half-day’s drive from London. Daniel guided his horses through the ornate, wrought iron gates and along the winding, elm-lined drive. He pulled the team up outside the pale stone house with its long windows and towering Doric columns. His father’s old butler, Green, opened the door. Daniel entered the wide black-and-white marble-tiled reception hall. He had retained his father’s faithful servants, some of whom were now aged.

  “Your Grace.” Green looked overjoyed to see him. The butler had watched him grow from a boy to a man.

  “Green, mon vieux. How are you?”

  “I am well, Your Grace. Are you staying long?”

  “Only tonight.”

  “Will you partake of wine in the salon? I shall tell Forbes to light the fire.”

  “Bring coffee to the office, Green. There’s correspondence to be deal with. I’ll take a Cognac later, before dinner. I plan to address the whole staff, one by one. I’ll begin with Mrs. Simms.”

  “The housekeeper is in the village, Your Grace.”

  “Very well.”

  Daniel walked through the house to the office, a small room at the back of the building. His secretary, on his instructions, had left correspondence to be signed. He sat behind the desk, where the neat stack of papers awaited his perusal and opened the ledgers. At the cry of a sparrowhawk, he turned to gaze through the window. In the distance, the sun sparkled on the Thames. Why had he avoided selling the house? It wasn’t as though he’d ever brought Elizabeth here. His father had written to him making it plain that he wouldn’t welcome her. Elizabeth had been a timid soul, and he’d refused to subject her to his father’s displeasure. He would have to let the house go, and he knew to face the rest of his life, he must also let Elizabeth and Tobias go. The thought was painful, but a little less sharp than before. Perhaps time did heal all wounds. But he wasn’t ready to believe that old adage.

  He sipped his coffee. Green appeared to be crippled with rheumatism, but his duties these days were light. “Do you wish to retire from service, Green? You will have a good pension.”

  Green looked horror-struck, and then defeat seeped into his features. “I believe it’s inevitable, Your Grace.”

  “But not imminent unless you wish it.” Daniel put down his cup. “I have yet to decide what to do with the house.”

  Green shuffled and looked at his feet. “I see.”

  “Do you remember when I was first sent off to school?”

  “I do.” Green nodded with a smile.

  “In the years I was away, were you aware that my father remarried?” Daniel saw no way around it other than to be blunt.

  Green silvered eyebrows rose. “Why yes, he brought his new bride here to Prunier Hall.”

  “When was that?”

  Green looked confused and scratched his head. “I believe it was later that same year. Her Grace lived here, but sadly, as I assumed you knew, she died in childbirth soon after.”

  “And the child?”

  “I don’t know where the girl was sent.” Green’s eyes went dark. “Your father never said. He was in a very bad way, Your Grace,” Green rushed on, as if he felt the need to defend his employer. “He was not himself afterward.”

  Daniel drew in a deep breath. “He never told me.”

  “Perhaps he felt it better that you didn’t know. He said once the house should be filled with your children….” He flushed.

  “And?”

  “Children of French aristocratic blood, Your Grace. Your father swore me to secrecy, but I owe more to you now.”

  Daniel curled his fingers into his palms; he wanted to punch a wall. His father’s actions now made perfect sense. When his English wife died, he had obviously decided Daniel was never to know anything about her, lest he give into the same impulse. And when Daniel had done precisely that and married Elizabeth, his father had reacted with fury. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you, Green. That will be all.”

  It was past midnight, when Daniel lay in his bed, his arm resting over his eyes, and allowed the horror of the past to flood back in vivid detail. He breathed deeply to ease the weight on his chest and let the nightmare return; perhaps it was better to face it. He must not allow the past to influence the future, as his father had done.

  He’d looked forward to showing them his home in the Loire Valley, but Elizabeth and Toby never got to see it. The fearful storm that had hit the boat when they were crossing to France had been worse than any experienced for some years. Gigantic waves swept over the deck and the wind howled around the mast, threatening to bring it down. Daniel had been forced to take his family below deck to shelter in their cabin. When the boat rolled alarmingly and sent them flying, he’d ushered Elizabeth toward the stairs with Toby in his arms. With a huge shriek, the ship went under, and a wall of water crashed down upon them. Elizabeth was suddenly gone, but Daniel had clung to his son. Moments later, he was flailing in the sea. Alone.

  Daniel broke out into a sweat and gritted his teeth. He leapt from the bed to stalk the carpet. He’d swum to the surface and grabbed a floating piece of timber, yelling their names while waves crashed down on him and spun him around. Hours later, in the freezing water, his hands were so numb that he feared he’d lose his grip. He’d been almost silenced, his throat raw with saltwater when he heard a cry. For a moment hope had flared, and then it died.

  A fishing boat had come alongside. As they pulled him aboard, he urged them to keep searching. Then he blacked out.

  Daniel regained consciousness on the French beach, to face the horrible truth he saw in the fishermen’s faces. He’d wanted to stagger back into the sea and lose himself.

  In Mayfair two days later, Daniel rose from his chair as the butler showed Sophie into the drawing room. She curtseyed low before him.

  “Please.” He came forward and took her hands, bidding her rise. “I don’t expect you to stand on ceremony.”

  “It’s this house, Your Grace.” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s very grand.”

  A brief smile flickered on his lips as he gestured to a chair. “I expect it is, but we are still the same people who conversed in my hotel, are we not?”

  She sat on the sofa, placing her hands in her lap.

  “May I offer you a libation? Tea, perhaps?”

  She shook her head. “I dislike tea. Might I have coffee?”

  “But of course.” He rang th
e bell. Well, they had that in common at least.

  “You wished to see me,” she said. “I trust you’ve given our prior conversation some thought.”

  “I have. It’s not often that a man suddenly finds he has a sister.”

  “A half-sister,” she reminded him, eyeing him carefully.

  “I wanted to reassure you that, before I return to France, I will reestablish the allowance my father gave you every quarter,” he began, although he planned to treble it. “If there’s anything else you have merely to….” He paused in surprise.

  Sophie had held up her hand and thrust out her pointed chin. “I thought I’d made myself clear, Your Grace, I am not after money.”

  “Oh?” He stared at her exasperated, although he’d had an inkling she’d want something else from him. “Are you so well placed that you can afford to refuse my money?”

  She flushed. “It’s true that am not rich, but I don’t wish to live as you do. My needs are simple. I—”

  Daniel waved his hand. “That won’t do. Life can be cruel for those who have little. You might wish to marry. And you should marry well.” He raised a brow. “Or is there someone?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “Daniel, please.”

  She edged forward on the seat. “I came to find you because I’ve felt very much alone since my father died.”

  Daniel hesitated, measuring her for a moment. A young lady alone in the world was very different to his situation and need for solitude. He took the coffee from the footman and sipped from the cup while watching her as she stirred sugar into hers. What could he do for her? “Suppose I arrange for someone to take you under their wing before I leave?”

  Her mouth puckered, dismay darkening her eyes. “I can see that it’s unfair to expect you to feel anything for me—to want us to get to know each other. After all, we are strangers.”

  She’d been quite forceful the last time they’d met, but her act crumbled before his eyes. Compassion and shame gripped him. While he still intended to return to France alone, he sought a solution. “Then I shall remain in London long enough to see you settled. Will that suit?”