The Duchess's Diary

by Allison Lane

  “How would – you know?”

  “I’ve studied the Westcourt archives most of my life. There is nothing about your family I don’t know, including the traps you laid for Richard when you were boys. It is entirely appropriate that you’ve been stung.”

  “Where did he encounter a bee this time of night?” asked Alex.

  “He tossed a hive into John’s bedroom. I tried to keep him from locking the door. While we were fighting over it, several bees escaped. One stung him.” She turned back to Chester. “You failed in your purpose, though. John escaped unharmed.”

  “Not for long,” Chester whispered, wheezing harder. “You will – not steal – my patrimony. I won’t – allow it. Won’t—” With a final rattle in his throat, he fell silent.

  The footman arrived with the doctor. While Faith described what had happened, John leaned over to close Chester’s eyes. To think he owed his future security to an insect he’d feared most of his life…

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, a fully clothed John took a seat in his study. The doctor had left after ordering Treburn to bed and suggesting that Alex’s watchman likewise retire. Simmons sulked in the corner, too shaken to object when again told to be quiet. Alex and Faith ranged themselves on either side of him.

  “Not the ending I had expected,” said John wearily.

  “Nor I.” Alex sighed. “If I’d assigned two men to the house, Bitstaff might have survived.”

  John still couldn’t believe his footman had found Bitstaff’s body in the garden when he’d ventured out to the privy.

  Reginald had seen Bitstaff in pursuit when Chester passed White’s. Since he’d been looking for Chester himself, he’d followed, losing both men near Hanover Square. He’d wondered if Chester meant to call on John, despite the late hour. So he’d settled in to watch the house. When Chester rushed out the front door, Reginald had been there to accost him. He was not pleased to find that Faith had also been inside…

  Faith poured wine for the men, then tea for herself. “I can’t regret that he is gone. He was nearly as evil as Chester.”

  John nodded. “And it’s clear who killed him. Even if Simmons hadn’t seen them together, everyone knows that Chester reneged on a gaming debt that Bitstaff was determined to collect. Others must have seen him follow Chester tonight.”

  Alex drained his glass. “With Chester gone, there is no point in describing Bitstaff’s demise. We can claim he died in a drunken brawl. Few will be surprised. It’s not far from the truth in any case.” His gaze bore into Reginald’s.

  “I won’t say a word.”

  “Nor will you mention Chester’s embezzlement,” added Faith. “The money is gone. Raising the issue now would create a huge scandal. You won’t do that to the family, will you?”

  Reginald shook his head.

  “Excellent.”

  Alex sent a subdued Reginald to stand guard over the drawing room so no servants would disturb the body. Then he moved to the fireplace. “There are several things you need to know, John. Chester was responsible for at least three deaths outside the family. He was adept at varying his methods to prevent suspicion. But unless you demand otherwise, I will cease that line of investigation. It can only bring new pain to his victims.”

  John nodded. “I can’t believe anyone could be so dishonorable.”

  “I can.” Faith touched his hand.

  “There’s more,” said Alex, shaking his head. “When Chester hired me, he claimed that a search fifteen years ago had traced Francine as far as Portsmouth, where she took the packet to Le Havre six days after leaving Westcourt. Since we were at war with France, no one could follow, but he was sure that I could trace her now that travel was again possible.”

  “Le Havre?” asked Faith. “I know of no such search.”

  Alex nodded. “He was furious when I produced proof that the Le Havre packet didn’t sail that day – bad weather. No women with young children sailed for several weeks afterward, so I passed it off as yet another trail to nowhere and started my own search into Francine’s past life.”

  “Which led to her family,” said John.

  “With help from Miss Harper. But Chester threatened to fire me for dismissing his claims. He swore she must have crossed with smugglers rather than wait for the next packet. His insistence raised alarms. Why was he so sure I could pick up her trail in Le Havre thirty years later? I decided to ask him, in case Cunnington had also heard those claims – I want this matter settled at tomorrow’s meeting. So I called at Westfield House this evening, claiming an appointment. The butler left me in the library to await Chester’s return. I found false papers showing that Francine and her son both died in France. If I’d gone to Le Havre, I would have found his carefully constructed trail.”

  John stifled a curse.

  Faith didn’t bother to stifle hers. “That’s why he was so sure he would have the title soon. He meant to produce his proof, claiming that he’d hired another investigator to scour France while you concentrated on England.”

  “He would never had got away with it,” swore Alex. “I’ve seen French immigration documents from that period – I studied them often during the war. These carry none of the stamps and seals they should have had. Even the one that supposedly documents passengers on the Le Havre packet – he’d prepared those before I told him the packet didn’t sail – is missing the seals used by Louis XVI’s officials.”

  “What will you do with the papers?” asked John.

  “Destroy them. They have no bearing on your case, for they are clearly false. I see no need to produce them. It would precipitate the very scandal you are trying to avoid.”

  “Thank you,” said Faith.

  “What now?” asked John.

  Alex nodded. “It is late. Get some sleep. I will see after Chester’s remains and make sure Simmons behaves himself. Cunnington and the herald should rule tomorrow, so be prepared for a parade of callers.”

  “I’ll need to thank the witnesses,” said John. “But no one else is welcome just now.”

  “That will work for a day or two, but you must appear before Parliament, and you should accept some of the invitations that will pour in.”

  John grimaced, but it was sound advice. “Bring the witnesses here once the herald has ruled.”

  Alex nodded, then took his leave.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I am dying, but I welcome it. I can do nothing more for Montrose, so when Richard came to me last night… We will be together as soon as I hide this journal. It has brought me much comfort, but I see now that I was indiscreet enough that Chester could use it to intercept Francine when she posts her next

  message. It is too late to destroy it, but I will find the strength to open the secret place. Then I will

  Duchess of Westfield, Mar. 13, 1792

  “You can’t go back to your room,” said Faith as they headed upstairs. “It could take days to find every bee. Some will be lurking in the chimney.”

  “Unlikely. The smoke will kill any that try. The rest will find their way outside by morning. But for tonight, I’ll stay with you.”

  Joy vied with irritation at the announcement. She still had to slip away, and it was already three.

  “Did any of the bees sting you?” he asked as he pushed open the door to her room.

  “Two, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been stung before, as you well know.”

  “You should have said something while we had the doctor here.”

  “There is nothing he can do. I’ve an ointment to remove the pain. In a day or two, all trace will disappear.”

  “Get the ointment. I want to see.” He sounded angry.

  Sighing, she dug it out of her trunk. At least it had remained in her Westcourt room from the last sting. Such things were usually kept in the still room.

  “You haven’t unpacked.” The anger was more pronounced.

  “There is no point. You know I cannot stay.”

  “Faith—�
� He snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he took the jar of ointment and smoothed some over the sting on her arm. “Where is the other one?”

  “My back.”

  Nodding, he stripped off her gown and treated her back. “You need to be more careful, Faith. These welts are larger than before. You could easily develop the same problem as I have.”

  “I doubt it, but I don’t intend to seek out bees to test that theory. Encounters are rare enough that I need not worry. Tonight was unusual.”

  “True.” He paused “I haven’t pressed you, Faith, but now I must. Tonight changes everything. There is no way to hide that you were in my room when Chester attacked. Alex knows it. Simmons knows it. The staff knows it. Whatever shreds of reputation survived Chester’s rumors will die unless we marry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She didn’t want to have this discussion yet again, but she had to make him understand that his reputation and his future were more important than hers. And a reputation for wantonness could actually help her find a protector once she reached York. “I can change my name and slip away. It is doubtful that I will meet anyone who knows Faith Harper by sight.”

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  She stared, shocked. “I could never hate you, John. But neither can I force you into marriage.”

  “What force? I want to wed you. I love you.”

  “You have to say that, of course, but I wish you wouldn’t lie. Let’s not part with falsehoods.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and shook. “Do you trust me, Faith?”

  “Of course, except—”

  “No exceptions. I have never lied to you. Not about my feelings. Not about my past. Not about anything.”

  His eyes burned into hers, sending shudders down her spine. Dared she hope…?

  “I love you,” he continued. “I loved you long before Bitstaff arrived at Westcourt. I’ll love you tomorrow and next year and fifty years from now. If you cannot tolerate being a duchess, then we will find trustees to oversee everything and move to America. You are more important than any title or any career. Don’t you know that I battered that door down because I knew you would take sting after sting fighting those bees. Even those without my sensitivity can succumb to numerous stings. I could not go on living if you had died trying to save me.”

  “John—” Her voice shook as hope battled years of training.

  “You read my mother’s diary, so you should know that Willowby men love obsessively, eternally, and only once. We will do anything to satisfy those we love, even let them go if that is what they truly need. But if you leave, make sure it is for the right reason, Faith. I love you. I want you. I need you. If society can’t accept that, then society can go hang. I would rather endure ostracism with you at my side than acceptance alone.”

  She had only to look at him to know he spoke the truth. Love shone from his eyes, burning past her defenses until she stood helpless before him.

  His hands touched her shoulders, sliding upward until he cupped her head between them. “It is your choice,” he murmured, choking. “If you cannot love me, then at least let me help you – find you another husband, give you one of my properties, arrange a post if that’s what you want. But give me a chance to court you properly before you decide.”

  He would help her do whatever she wanted? Even leave him for another man?

  The magnitude of his love settled in her soul, exploding into more misery than she’d thought possible. Even the thought of leaving him behind paled in comparison. “I believe you, but we cannot wed, John. A duke must sire an heir, but I cannot give you one.”

  “What nonsense is this? No virgin can know whether she is fertile.”

  “But I do know. They tried to hide it, but I heard my nurse telling Mama.”

  “When?”

  “In India. I, too, caught that fever – the first of us to do so. It’s my—”

  “It is not your fault that your family died. Just as it is not your fault that you fell ill.”

  “Perhaps not. But the fever was very fierce, lasting more than a week. Mother remained at my bedside even when I seemed unconscious. But I heard them clearly. Mourning and worse. My nurse prayed that I would die, for the fever would leave me barren. She’d seen it happen before, she said. Her uncle, a cousin, the commander of Papa’s regiment. None who survived this fever ever produced children. No one would wed a girl who could not provide an heir, so I would be better off dead. The maid agreed. Mama was in tears.”

  His hand raised her chin until she had to look at him. He was shaking his head. “How did you survive such ignorance, my love? She was half right. Raging fevers can affect men’s virility. But I’ve never heard of it affecting women. Not that it matters. I don’t care if you give me an heir or not, for it is you I need. Without you, I am nothing.”

  Tears flooded her eyes.

  “There are no guarantees in life, Faith. Neither of us can prove our abilities in that area. You are my one true love. Nothing else matters.”

  His eyes bore into hers, brilliant blue in the candlelight. His words banished the last of the darkness. “I believe you,” she whispered, tears of joy springing to her eyes. “I believe you! You truly do love me.”

  “Forever, Faith.”

  “People will criticize you for taking me on.”

  “Let them. Anyone who cannot see your value is not worth my time. I’ve never had much respect for society – they welcome fools and rogues if their breeding is sound. Ignoring them won’t cause me a moment of distress. I will serve however I must in Parliament, but my primary duties will be to you and to my properties. With Chester gone, there should be little strife over that.”

  “And you are absolutely sure?”

  “Absolutely. Positively. To the depths of my soul and the ends of the earth. I love you, Faith. Nothing else matters beside that one simple truth.”

  Her face lit. “I love you, John. With all my heart. To all eternity.”

  “Thank God.” He pulled her into a blazing kiss.

  Faith poured all her love into her response, basking in the glory of achieving her most fervent dream. He loved her. He truly loved her. As his mouth crushed hers, the storm of emotion that had battered her since the day he’d walked into Westcourt broke free.

  She ripped his shirt from neck to hem, baring his chest to her palms. Beneath her hand, his heart kicked and galloped until its pace matched her own. Her head spun as he scooped her onto the bed. The hands framing her face trembled as badly as her own.

  “I need you,” he gasped, then kissed her again. Harder, deeper, sending her over the first edge.

  But it wasn’t enough. She gripped his hips, her fingers digging nearly to the bone, then rolled so he was under her.

  John barely took in their reversed positions before she rose above him, then slid slowly down, taking him inside. Heat scorched him from head to toe as she pushed deeper, seating him to the hilt. He wanted to speak, wanted to cry out in pleasure, but his heart pounded so high in his throat no word could escape.

  She arched back, rising and falling until the glory drove him mad. When he could stand it no longer, he grabbed her shoulders, rolled, then plunged. Harder, faster, until she screamed, clenching around him and driving him into oblivion.

  Faith blinked. John was a dead weight atop her, but she wouldn’t push him aside. He was hers now. All hers. His scent wrapped around her, every breath reminding her that miracles truly could happen. Her hands brushed his shoulders, wanting him again but no longer in a rush. He would be there tomorrow and all the tomorrows of their life. And if her nurse had been wrong…

  Another dream resuscitated.

  “I’m crushing you,” he murmured.

  “No. You feel good.”

  “I’ll feel just as good beneath you.” He rolled until she was sprawled atop him.

  “Yes, this has advantages, too.” She traced the cleft in his chin.

  “We’ll wed by special lice
nse as soon as I can arrange it,” he said, lazily tracing her back.

  “Which might take a few days. Discuss it with Portland. Will it be better to announce your title and marriage at the same time or give society the spectacle of a large wedding?”

  “You are still worried about what they think. It doesn’t matter, Faith. I want this settled now. We will call on the archbishop as soon as possible.”

  She sighed, but presenting the world with a fait accompli would prevent her relatives from raising objections. Once she was a duchess, they would accept her fast enough. “All right. Portland and the witnesses will come here after the hearing tomorrow. We can see about a license after that.”

  “And once we have it, we will wed immediately. So I suggest you unpack, my dear.”

  “Are we living here rather than Westfield House?”

  “For the moment. If Chester let the inside deteriorate as much as the outside has, it will take time to make the place livable. In the meantime…”

  He skimmed his hands into her hair, then slowly pulled her into a kiss. Sweet. Full of promises. And this time he could savor. There was no rush, for they would have a lifetime together.

  As dawn crept through the window, he pulled her against him. Never again would they sleep apart.

  * * * *

  Two nights later, Faith gripped John’s arm as he paused at the entrance to Lady Debenham’s ballroom.

  “The Duke and Duchess of Westfield,” intoned a footman.

  For one moment, as hundreds of eyes turned haughtily in their direction, she wanted to run. Then smiles creased every face, and the crowd surged forward.

  “I knew your father – a fine man and a sad loss.”

  “You won’t remember me, my boy, but I attended your christening.”

  “Condolences on your uncle’s death, not that he is much loss.”

  “You must attend—”

  “—at home tomorrow—”

  “—will call—”