Wicked Temptations For The Seduced Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  “Not a whisper. Folks have been worried, but they ain’t seen hide nor hair of her. If you see her, you tell her she owes me for the last night she spent here. I’d ask the gentleman who came with ‘er, but he were wearing a hood. Never got a good look at his face.”

  James nodded. “I will do that, Madam. Can you recall which room she used?”

  “Aye, it’s the one on the top floor. I can show ye, if ye wishin’ to check it? I’d be keen to have her found, given what she owes. It ain’t cheap to run a place like this, as I’m sure ye know.” A sharp cackle rippled from her turkey-necked throat.

  “I would like to examine it, yes,” James replied, shuddering.

  “Then follow me.” With keys jangling on her hip, she made her slow way up the rickety staircase to the top floor. All around, James could hear the sounds of foul passion, reminding him of the night he had spent here. How could I have allowed Edward to force me into this?

  They reached the room in question, and the old woman let him in. It did not look like anything special. The bedclothes were ragged and worn and covered in a multitude of questionable stains. The window was boarded, so he knew which one he had seen from the street.

  “I’ll be downstairs if ye need ought,” the old woman said, before disappearing back down the narrow staircase. He wondered how she got up and down them with such ease, given the emaciated state of her figure. An old crone, and no mistake, guarding the gates of hell.

  Left alone, James began to walk around the room. It was the very one where he had spent his troubling evening, what seemed like a lifetime ago. In truth, he had enjoyed himself, but the ensuing guilt and disgust had haunted him since. He could not even remember the face of the woman he had brought here.

  Walking around, he opened the scant drawers and checked every possible nook and cranny for some sign of Edward. At last, he found what he was looking for. A golden pin, shaped in the family crest of a phoenix rising from the flames. It was stowed away behind one of the chest-of-drawers, having fallen into one of the cracks in the floorboards. He was glad the old woman had not found it, for she would undoubtedly have sold it for a hefty sum.

  Slipping the item into his pocket, he retreated down the stairs. “Thank you, Madam. I did not find what I was looking for.”

  “Well, you remember to tell that wench about my money if you catch up with her,” the old woman muttered. “It were bad enough when her brother came knocking. He didn’t find nothing, either, nor would he give me what I were owed.”

  James frowned. “Her brother?”

  “Aye, he came here a few days back. He were looking for her, same as you.”

  “Did he say where he was going, after he left here?”

  She shrugged. “North were all he said. Mentioned a letter or some such thing. That’s the trouble with these young ladies, Sir. They get all high and mighty, thinkin’ these wealthy folks will make honorable wives out of ‘em. In all my years here, I’ve never seen one do so, though I’ve seen me fair share of unwanted childers.”

  “Thank you for your time, Madam.” James bristled at the thought of these young ladies disgracing themselves in such an atrocious way. It was somewhat hypocritical of him, but he would never admit so.

  “Ah, she’ll be in trouble somewhere, ye mark me words.” Another sharp cackle burst through the air like a musket shot. Having had quite enough of the grim surroundings, James left without another word and swung back up into the saddle of his horse.

  “Any luck?” Adrian asked.

  James nodded. “I found Edward’s pin. He was here. And the proprietor mentioned that Veronica’s brother had come looking for her, but she has not been back here in a fortnight. A letter was mentioned, also.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes, and I believe I know who may have sent it. Apparently, the brother mentioned that he was riding North, in pursuit of his sister.”

  “Do you think this brother has done something terrible to Edward? If he was the hooded rider, lurking outside the gates of Summerhill Hall, maybe he gave chase and—”

  “Edward is not dead, Adrian. He cannot be. I will not accept it.” James shot his cousin a warning stare. “If this brother has gone North, then we must go there, too. Although, I would prefer it if we visited Veronica’s father first. There may be something in her bedchamber that may tell us where she has gone. And, if fortune favors us, we may discover my brother there, too.”

  Adrian nodded. “Agreed. Do you know of his residence?”

  “I do. We should travel there immediately.”

  As they rode away, James pictured the night that Edward had disappeared. He had been watching from his study window, and had seen Edward approach, only to turn back and ride away again. He had seen the hooded rider, too. Indeed, he was certain he would know the man, if he were to see him again.

  The net is tightening, and you will be punished for what you have done. You cannot evade me forever. You will not.

  With refreshed determination in his heart, he spurred his horse on towards the merchant’s house. There, he was certain he would discover what he needed.

  Chapter 17

  Edward glanced up at the house as he continued with his daily duties, his hand still smarting from last night’s attack. Mrs. Benton had done her best to patch him up, but he could tell he had frightened her. She had been at work, making bread for the morning, when he had stepped into the kitchens, covered in the blood of himself and his assailant.

  He had almost finished stacking up the haybales, when Danson entered. He moved with the same, slow shuffle as always, his face a blank, expressionless canvas. The mood had been tense between them since his moment with Lydia, especially as he still did not know what Danson knew.

  “Morning, lad,” Danson said, cheerily enough.

  “Morning, Sir.”

  “You finished with those bales?”

  Edward nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Well, this is serendipitous then. A note came for you this morning. It was handed to Mrs. Benton, who brought it to me to give to you.” He plucked a folded square of vellum from his jacket pocket and handed it to Edward.

  “For me?” Edward did not know who it could be from, for nobody knew he was here. His heart swelled as he thought of Lydia. It had to be from her; a secret love note intended to keep his chin up and his spirits high. He took the letter gratefully and slipped it into his own pocket.

  Danson frowned. “You not going to open it, lad?”

  “Not yet, Sir. I have still got to clean the leatherwork for the horses. I will read it when I go in for luncheon.”

  “Suit yourself. At least your mind is on the job and not on that nasty cut of yours.” Without another word, Danson departed the stables and disappeared back into the house. Edward had no clue what Danson did to keep himself busy during the day, but he certainly wasn’t spending much time in the stables anymore. That had fallen firmly to Edward, and Edward alone.

  Who told you about the cut, Danson? He thought of Mrs. Benton and presumed she must have spread the word throughout the house by now. Unless…

  Unless Lady Lydia was right, and Danson had played a role in what had happened to him last night. He had tried not to dwell on her suspicions too much, but now he began to wonder if she was onto something.

  Unable to help himself, he hurried out of the opposite door and ducked behind the stable wall. There, he plucked out the letter and unfolded it. A delicate, neat hand danced across the page, and his heart soared.

  My dearest Edward,

  I thought this might be the easiest way for you and I to communicate, though I confess my hand is trembling as I write these words to you. You have captured my heart, and I cannot bear to be without you. I fear that Danson knows of our feelings, so we must endeavor to be more careful in our correspondence. He cannot pry within these letters, for you would notice the broken seal.

  I must see you again. My heart yearns for it. I long to feel the touch of your hand upon mine, and for you to
hold me the way you did the other day, when we stood close to my horse. I am sorry that Danson interrupted us, for I longed for more.

  Meet me by the riverbank this night, where the river meets the woods, after the clock has struck twelve. I will be waiting for you there, my dearest love. I hope you shall come to me, for I do not know how I shall live if you do not. I do so long to feel your kiss again.

  Yours in hope,

  Lydia.

  He reread the letter, over and over again, letting the words sink in. He had fallen desperately in love with this young lady, and he shared the sentiments within her words. He was almost sorry that he had not thought of this means of communication himself, for it was the simplest way they could speak in private. Nobody could read her letters, and nobody would know that they had come from him or were sent to him. There were ways of sending letters to the house, by discreetly tucking them onto the silver tray when the day’s post came.

  My clever Lydia.

  Despite his yearning for her, he had vowed not to do anything that might besmirch her. Kisses were one thing, but he would not allow anything to progress further between them. He would not do that until they could be wed. If you can be wed. The more he thought on it, the more determine he became that it should come to pass.

  Love did not come along very often, and he would not allow Lydia to slip through his fingers. He knew that Lydia had her meeting with Lord Chalmers today, and the letter could not have come at a better time. He had been worried about her meeting with the Earl’s son, but this had put his mind at ease. She would not marry anyone else. He was certain of it.

  And when you are done with your meeting, you will come to me. And I will be waiting. If she wished to talk about what had gone on between them, he would listen, but he could not promise he would not feel envy. Lord Chalmers was in a position that he was not. Lord Chalmers was wealthy, and part of the ton. That was something Edward could not give her, but he prayed she did not care.

  Do not fall for him, my love. It nagged away at the back of his mind, for what he could offer would likely pale in comparison to what John could offer. Still, he was convinced that their fledgling love could overcome just about anything. Even the pressure of family, and the crevasse of difference between them.

  Feeling more lighthearted, Edward continued on with his daily duties and thought of the evening to come. There, he would hold Lydia in his arms again, and feel the weight of the world fall away. There, he would discover the depths of Lydia’s feelings, and he prayed they aligned with his own.

  * * *

  With nerves pummeling through her body, Lydia bustled around her elder sister’s bedchamber to make the appropriate preparations for the afternoon’s meeting with Lord Chalmers. She had already laid out the beautiful gown of lavender muslin and set Mary’s necklace on top of it. Caroline would return from luncheon at any moment, and Lydia was eager for her plan to work.

  “Do you think he will fall for her?” Mary whispered, the two of them bristling with excited anxiety.

  “How can he not? Caroline is so very fair when she wants to be,” Lydia replied.

  “And how shall you escape the encounter?”

  Lydia smiled. “Your malaise has worked in my favor, Mary. I shall make quite the scene by collapsing in a suitably damsel-like manner, and Mother will be forced to allow me to take to my bed. Then, Caroline will have to take my place. It is perfect.”

  “You have always been a rather competent actress,” Mary conceded. “But what if she scents the ploy you are trying to execute?”

  “I asked one of the maids to prepare some hot water for you to bathe in. Once Mother feels my temperature, she will find me feverish and be unable to dispute my ailment,” Lydia replied. She had thought of everything.

  “You are cunning indeed.” Mary chuckled, as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I am not, I am merely trying to defend my right to love, whilst forging the happiness of a beloved sister.” She did not like to be called ‘cunning’ and ‘devious,’ not when she was doing this with the best of intentions.

  They waited patiently in the bedchamber until, at long last, they heard Caroline coming up the stairs. She entered the room and stared at her two sisters in surprise, before her gaze drifted towards the dress that lay upon the bedclothes.

  “What is the meaning of this? Mary, you ought to be in your bed, taking rest,” she scolded, her forehead furrowed in bemusement.

  “We thought you might like to dress nicely for when Lord Chalmers arrives,” Lydia replied. “Mary was eager to assist me, so I said she could take some respite from her sickbed. Although, I confess, I am starting to feel a little unwell myself.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened. “Goodness, then you must also take to your bed. We cannot have any form of illness spreading throughout the house. It would be a bad omen, indeed.”

  “Will you greet Lord Chalmers for me, in case I am unable?” Lydia pleaded. “It is much too late to cancel the meeting, and I would hate for him to have a wasted journey. I am sure you can entertain him with your glowing conversation.” She was not being obtuse—she meant it. Caroline could be very engaging when she chose to speak on matters other than God, though even then, she had a charm to her. An earnestness that gentlemen found pleasing.

  “I do not know about that, Lydia. He is here to see you. I am certain he would feel rather disgruntled if I were to meet with him instead.” Caroline dropped her gaze, and Lydia noted the hint of sadness in her voice.

  “Impossible, Caroline. You are, by far, the most engaging of all of us. He will be delighted, I know he will.” Lydia was not about to give up, not after all the work she had put into this endeavor.

  “Mother will not be happy.”

  Mary grinned. “Then do not tell her. She will not be able to send you away if she does not know that we have sent you to meet with him, in Lydia’s stead.”

  “I do not know about that, dear sisters.”

  “You must, Caroline. He is said to be a very pleasant man, and I would see him entertained whilst he remains here at Greenwick Abbey. It is only an afternoon. Please, Sister,” Lydia urged. “My, I do feel rather unwell. Might you excuse me for a moment?”

  Caroline nodded. “Of course.”

  Lydia cast a conspiratorial glance at Mary, before she exited the room. She hurried down the corridor and slipped into Mary’s bedchamber, making a beeline for the copper tub that had been set up before the fireplace. Furtively, she dipped a cloth into the searing water and pressed the fabric against her brow. She left it damp, to give the impression of perspiration, and walked back to Caroline’s room.

  “My dear sister, you look terrible!” Caroline proclaimed.

  “I feel it, Caroline.” Lydia stumbled forwards, playing up her role.

  “Here, allow me to check for your temperature.” Lydia did not stop her elder sister as she crossed the room and pressed her palm to the smooth contour of Lydia’s forehead. She snatched her hand away a second later. “You are burning up, Lydia. I must tell Mama.”

  “Not yet, Caroline, I implore you.” Lydia clung to Caroline’s hand. “It would reflect so very badly on our family, if Lord Chalmers were to arrive and find that he will not be meeting one of us. Mother will be grateful, once the initial surprise has worn away.”

  Caroline arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you are right.”

  “This is what I have selected for you to wear. You will look so very charming,” Lydia said. “Come, try it on, so we can show you how beautiful you really are.”

  “Oh, please do, Caroline,” Mary agreed.

  For a moment, Caroline said nothing. And then, to everyone’s’ pleasant surprise, she took the dress from the bed and went behind the modesty screen at the far side of the room. Her dull, brown cotton dress was slung over the top a moment later, and she emerged shortly after. Lydia gasped, for her sister did indeed look pretty, like a butterfly emerging from its drab chrysalis.

  “Oh Caroline.” Mary clasped her ha
nds together in delight.

  “I look foolish,” Caroline murmured.

  “You look anything but, my dear sister,” Lydia protested. “Now come, you must let us do your hair and pinch your cheeks. Lord Chalmers will be delighted by you, I am certain of it.”

  A small smile crept onto Caroline’s lips. “I suppose I have already agreed. What is the harm in a little primping?”

  “Precisely!” Lydia cried. Together, she and Mary seized their elder sister and placed her in a chair in front of the looking glass. There, they set to work on her hair, for the curling iron was already heated from the fire. They had come prepared.

  An hour-and-a-half later, Caroline was ready, and Lydia had never seen her look more remarkable. She wore the necklace of diamond and pearl that belonged to Mary and had been powdered and pinched so that her cheeks were rosy, and her complexion was smooth. A dab of rouge to the cheeks had highlighted their youthfulness, whilst a touch of it to her lips had made her look positively divine.