Avery could not put a finger on what it was, but he soon noticed that Lucy had become more animated. From the moment they took the road which led toward Falkirk, she started talking. She had said little on the long journey up from London until this morning. From the moment he declared his intention to come to Strathmore Castle, her whole demeanour altered.
She was like a prisoner who had suddenly received word of a stay of execution. Relief showed on her face and in her manner. The notion that she had been hoping he would come to Strathmore Castle crossed his mind more than once.
He sat back in the carriage and listened intently while Lucy explained the history of the area, highlighting the famous battles which had occurred at Stirling. She seemed especially taken with William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. An English rose she might appear to be, but within her chest beat a plaid-covered heart. He chuckled softly and closed his eyes.
Late that morning they stopped at Falkirk for lunch. ‘They make delicious beef pies,’ she said, pointing to a nearby bakery. He followed her inside and after escorting her to a nearby table, went to order the food. While he waited, he watched her out of the corner of his eye.
Lucy did not engage in conversation with anyone in the shop as he’d expected; instead she sat calmly with her hands in her lap, head cast downward. The morning’s effort at joyful conversation had apparently exhausted her.
‘So you are off to Strathmore Castle?’ the lady behind the counter said.
She nodded toward the front window, where the Strathmore travel coach was waiting.
‘Yes. How far is it from here?’ he replied.
‘You should make it by nightfall tomorrow if you can avoid the late afternoon rain. The road between here and Stirling is quite good this time of year. Not so good when winter comes, mind you.’
She placed the pies on a small tray and Avery took it over to where Lucy waited.
‘These look and smell good; I’m glad you recommended this place,’ he said.
‘I hope they meet with your approval. This is my father’s favourite place to stop for food on the journey up from London. Not being able to share a meal with my family is one of my regrets of this trip. If only . . .’ Lucy replied.
Avery felt a shadow cross his heart.
If only.
He schooled his expression in an effort not to show that her words had had an effect on him. She more than likely had not been aware of what she had just said. Not realised that by uttering those very words she had confirmed his suspicions. He now knew the identity of his dream lover.
He took a bite of his pie and hummed his approval. It really was a well-made pie. A thick crispy crust covering a delicious beef and gravy stew. Little wonder the duke made a point of stopping at this establishment.
She smiled at him, obviously pleased that he found the pie to his liking. A vulnerability he had never noticed before was now reflected in her every word and movement. The strong and sure Lucy who had offered him a divorce on their wedding night was gone. Something primal within him stirred. Only a fool could fail to notice that she was making every effort to keep his favour.
If Lucy was up to something, he couldn’t discern what it was. As she sipped a cup of tea, eyes lowered to avoid his gaze, he guessed she had called his bluff by stating her intention to travel to Strathmore by herself. No woman of her class would ever do such a thing, married or not.
That being the case, she must have known what his reaction would be. Now, coupled with the knowledge that she had kissed him on the lips every night as he slept, he was intrigued to see what else his wife had planned.
‘So, Strathmore Castle by the end of tomorrow. I must say I am looking forward to seeing your family seat,’ he ventured.
Lucy gave a tentative smile.
‘Yes; some say it is better than Edinburgh Castle,’ she replied.
With the change to their plans, Avery began to wonder if he would indeed be seeing Edinburgh Castle any time soon. For the time being, he was content to see where things with Lucy led.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Finally, at the end of the journey to Scotland, broken by short stays at friends’ houses en route, the Duke of Strathmore’s travelling party arrived at Strathmore Castle.
Avery and Lucy had arrived a mere two days ahead of them. Time Lucy had spent showing Avery the castle environs and introducing him to the residents.
At night they slept in separate rooms in the private family quarters, but with the arrival of the duke and duchess, they would be back to sharing a bed and a bolster.
They stood side by side on the stone steps of the keep, waving as the Strathmore convoy of coaches came to a halt inside the bailey.
Alex helped Millie down from their private coach. She gave a loud whoop of laughter as he swung her around by the waist once they were clear from the carriage.
‘I can’t believe I am finally here!’ Millie exclaimed.
She raced up to Lucy and threw her arms around her. A warm and heartfelt hug soon followed.
‘I hope you had as lovely a trip to Scotland as we did. Alex has told me so many interesting things about the Great North Road.’
Avery cleared his throat. ‘Did you try the beef pies at Falkirk?’
Millie shook her head.
‘I’m from Calcutta, where it’s not the done thing to eat beef. I did however enjoy a very spicy eel pie – delicious,’ she replied.
The rest of the family slowly alighted from the main Strathmore family coach and made their way over to the steps. Lucy gritted her teeth and forced a happy smile to her face.
When her mother stopped, she whispered in Lucy’s ear. ‘When you are ready to talk, I am here to listen.’
Like all good mothers, Lady Caroline could instinctively read Lucy’s mood. It didn’t take words for her to know that her daughter was desperately unhappy.
As she waited for the rest of her family to make their way inside, Lucy stopped and took Avery to one side.
‘I just thought you had better know that from tonight we are sharing my old chamber in the castle. Unfortunately, for such a large place it is rather poorly set out for space. My chamber is small, to say the least, and so is the bed.’
‘I see,’ he replied.
Later that evening, Avery stood outside watching the large bonfires which had been lit in several giant fire pits in the centre of the castle bailey. The smell of the burning wood and sting of smoke in his eyes brought back memories of his years living rough. Around the various fires, the estate staff and Radley family members gathered and shared welcome greetings.
The chill of the night air did not appear to bother anyone, apart from him. Most of the men, including the duke, were wearing kilts. Avery shivered. Within minutes of arriving outside, he was freezing. Unwelcome memories of the mountains of Portugal flooded back into his mind.
As he buttoned his coat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck, he was glad he’d refused the offer to wear one of Alex’s spare kilts. He hoped the duke would not take it as a personal slight.
‘It’s a tradition on our first night back at the castle for the staff to build this fire. It’s a way of them welcoming home the Radley family. It’s been a tradition at the castle for several hundred years. To be truthful, I think it is the one thing Papa looks forward to the most when we return home,’ Lucy said, coming to stand beside him.
He looked at her. The glow of the fire reflected in her face.
She looked over his shoulder and gave an approving nod. Avery turned to see a young man, not much past his early twenties, standing cap in hand several feet away.
‘Come forward, James; Mr Fox will be happy to speak with you,’ Lucy said.
James stepped forward and stood in front of Avery. He gave a short, respectful bow which made Avery feel decidedly uncomfortable. He was no lord of the manor; people should not bow to him.
‘Lieutenant Fox, sir. I just want to thank you for everything your men did for us on the day of the battle,’ the youn
g man said.
Avery swallowed. In young James’ eyes he saw the haunted look of one who had seen war. Not just from afar, but the worst of the bloody skirmishes up close.
‘And what regiment did you fight with?’ Avery replied. He straightened his spine, surprised by his own eagerness to show that he was truly interested to hear the young man’s words. The fact that he was more than likely only a few years older than James counted for little; it was the respect in which he was held that truly mattered.
‘The Scots Greys, sir,’ James replied, the pride of his regiment evident in his voice.
Avery nodded. The Scots Greys were a fearsome group, battle-hardened and reliable. It was their famous charge that had pushed the French columns back.
‘You were in reserve for most of the day, from what I can recall. But came through when the 93rd Highlanders were struggling to hold their ground.’
‘Yes, Lieutenant Fox, but my unit got separated from the main charge. We were stuck in an awful position for most of the early afternoon. Bonnie’s troops were a tough nut to crack. Every time we thought we had made headway, they pushed us back. We couldn’t make it through to the main British cavalry. By late afternoon, just before the 95th arrived, we were giving ground with every minute. If it hadn’t been for you and your men I surely would not be standing here today.’
Avery felt the lightest touch of Lucy’s hand on his arm. He looked to one side of James and saw an older man, clearly James’ father, standing next to his son. His eyes brimmed with tears.
‘James is Mr McPherson’s only son. As soon as they discovered who you were they asked that they be allowed to come and thank you properly,’ she whispered softly.
The earnest look in both men’s eyes left Avery with little option but to gracefully accept their heartfelt gratitude. He reassured them that he would drop by the blacksmith’s workshop at the first opportunity and share some more stories of Waterloo with them both.
As the blacksmith and his son walked away, Avery turned to Lucy.
‘You should not go telling the castle staff that I am some kind of war hero.’
She frowned. ‘I didn’t. But why not? Major Barrett said you acquitted yourself with great valour.’
‘Major Barrett was not with us for the last part of the battle, so he does not know what I did. Trust me, Lucy, I am no war hero. I just happened to be on the battlefield that day. That is all.’
She turned away, but Avery could see the tears which were running down her face. If there was one thing he could be certain of, it was his ability to make her cry. He reached out and took her gently by the arm.
‘I’m sorry, I should not have been so harsh with you. I was just taken aback by the sudden declaration of gratitude from McPherson and his son. I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
Lucy shook her head.
‘It’s all right; crying is something which seems to come naturally to me at present, much like breathing. James and his father have worked and lived at the castle for as long as I can remember. The day that James returned from war unscathed, a huge celebration was held here in the bailey. Papa even allowed the villagers to hunt down two large wild boars on the mountain and have them roasted out here to celebrate.’
Avery listened to her words; they made uncomfortable sense to him. If Lucy had not made mention of his war record, then who had? He needed to know.
‘You said it wasn’t you who mentioned my war record to the staff. May I ask as to who did?’
She pointed toward her brother Stephen.
‘He has taken quite a shine to you. He thinks you are a younger Wellington. As soon as my family arrived he was telling everyone what an amazing man he has as a new brother. You will have to excuse his hero worship, but you are the first man he has met who served directly during the war. Some of our other cousins worked in different capacities at the War Office, but to Stephen’s mind it’s not the same. He is young and impressionable.’
Avery’s heart sank.
While Lucy and he had come to an understanding, Avery doubted Lord Stephen would be so forgiving when his hero suddenly disappeared from the Radley family circle.
‘I shall talk to him. Put him straight,’ she added.
When the welcome gathering finally ended in the early hours of the morning, Lucy led Avery up the inner staircase of the keep to their new room. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, she hurriedly closed the door and locked it.
When Avery looked at the rest of the small chamber he saw why. The bed was positively medieval in its proportions. Sleeping in the same bed meant they would struggle to fit a bolster between them and sleep comfortably.
‘I’m sorry; this is normally my room alone. Alex was adamant that he and Millie take the other private apartment. As heir to the title, it is his right. We shall have to make do with this one until the time comes that you leave.’
Avery shrugged off his coat. After a tiring evening he was too exhausted to care. His mind ached for the relief of sleep. A dark mood had lowered down upon him as soon as the McPhersons offered him their heartfelt gratitude. He felt like a fraud in front of these people.
In his hometown the McPhersons were his kind of people, not the likes of the privileged Radley family. Kind and friendly though Lucy’s family were, he was not one of them.
He wasn’t angry with Lucy, nor even with Lord Stephen. As always, when it came to the events of the day at Waterloo, he was angry with only one person. Himself.
In the two years he had spent at Rokewood Park, the unspoken code was that no one mentioned what had happened that day. Any allusion to heroic deeds or valour was quickly quashed. Blood and death were too real to wrap up in the poetry of bravery and valour.
No one wanted to talk about war. Least of all Avery Fox.
‘Lucy,’ he ventured.
‘Yes.’
‘I am sorry I upset you at the gathering tonight; it was not my intention. My only excuse, and it is a poor one, is that I am tired from the matter of our divorce, which constantly occupies my mind. Now that your family are here, we may be able to bring things to a timely conclusion.’
She gave him a small, forgiving smile, before seating herself in front of the dressing mirror. Avery sat down on the edge of the small bed, silently watching as Lucy began to pull the pins from her hair.
‘I could help if you like,’ he offered.
She looked at him from the reflection in the mirror and shook her head. Of course, she was right to refuse his assistance. They were married in name only; to allow any sort of intimacy would only cause further discomfort.
And yet as he slipped beneath the waves of sleep a short time later, he felt the all-too-familiar touch of gentle, feminine fingers on his face. Lucy’s soft breath filled his lungs as her lips locked tenderly with his.
Now that he knew his phantom lover was real; that it was Lucy who gave him deep sensual kisses each night, he knew he should put a stop to it.
But as he speared his fingers through her hair and drew her down to deepen the kiss, nothing could stop him. He brushed his fingers over her breast. Touching her nipple, he gave it a gentle squeeze.
She stopped.
He slowed his breathing and kept his eyes gently closed, determined to maintain the illusion of being sound asleep.
‘Avery,’ she whispered.
He didn’t stir.
Silence hung in the room for a moment. Sensing she was looking for any sign that he was awake, Avery made a point of mumbling in his sleep. He added a gruff snort for effect.
Her warm lips met his once more and their tongues tangled in a slow, enticing game of tease. For all that he was tempted to touch her breasts once more, Avery dared not risk it. He kept his hands firmly by his sides, while his brain screamed for her to continue.
When Lucy unbuttoned the top button of his nightshirt, Avery’s breathing became ragged. She kissed the hairs at the top of his chest, gently humming with every kiss.
His body began to harden. If Lucy
continued with her ministrations she would soon feel the extent of his burgeoning arousal. She would know he was awake.
With great reluctance he brought proceedings to a halt. Yawning loudly, he stirred in his feigned slumber. Lucy pulled away and clambered back to her side of the bed. Avery turned over onto his side and faced away from her.
In the dark he lay staring at the solid stone wall of the bedroom. The inner keep of the castle had few modern concessions, something which the inhabitants seemed to like. As he pulled the blankets up around his shoulders, Avery was left with one question as to Lucy’s behaviour.
Why?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
If Avery had intended to avoid the rest of the Radley family while he waited for an opportune moment to leave for Edinburgh, he was sadly mistaken.
While his own experience of family life had been a seemingly never-ending round of rows and beatings, the Radley family were an entirely different proposition. They were a sociable, amiable group of people who liked to spend time in one another’s company. Coupled with the hero status which both Lord Stephen and now Lady Emma appeared to have bestowed upon him, Avery found himself constantly surrounded by family members.
The only person who seemed to make a concerted effort to avoid him was Lucy. At least during the day. When he woke most days, she would be dressed and gone from their room. At breakfast, she would sit quietly beside him and concentrate her attention fully on her toast and coffee. She made little effort at conversation. Avery felt it best to leave her alone and not press matters in front of her family.
What they would make of the situation when he suddenly up and left for Edinburgh filled him with dread. What sort of cad abandoned the beautiful daughter of a duke on their honeymoon?
One morning, as Lucy sat idly stirring a spoonful of sugar into her breakfast coffee, the quiet was broken by the arrival of the Duke of Strathmore, carrying a hunting rifle.
Out of the corner of his eye, Avery saw the Duchess of Strathmore give her husband a disapproving look. It was obvious Lady Caroline did not take kindly to guns at the breakfast table.
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