A Duke by Default: Dangerous Dukes Vol 3 Page 12

  ‘You see, you have no sense of gratitude!’ Her features twisted into a mask of hatred. ‘Was not killing my only son revenge enough for you?’

  A deadly silence fell over the library. The dowager had gone too far with this unjust accusation and they both knew it. He felt ready to explode and needed to distance himself from his aunt before words were spoken that couldn’t be recalled. Appearing to sense she had pushed him beyond endurance, the duchess shifted in her chair, dabbed at her eyes with her ever present handkerchief and spoke again.

  ‘That was uncalled for and I apologise,’ she said gruffly. ‘I am not thinking straight.’

  ‘I accept your apology,’ he replied curtly. ‘But we have nothing more to say to one another. My mind is made up, and I won’t change it. The dower house is at your disposal. I will arrange for your meals to be served to you and your companion in that establishment. I shall not expect to see either of you in my dining-parlour and see no further reason for us to meet while you are at Endersby. Such meetings would bring no pleasure to either party.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  ‘I shall be glad to know if, having reflected upon the matter, you intend to be at my wedding. If not, then I shall arrange for your carriage to be ready in the morning to return you to town. Good afternoon, madam.’

  ‘Not so fast, Broadstairs. I shall return when it suits me and not before. I have another call to make while I am in the area.’

  ‘You are not to go anywhere near Miss Aston,’ he warned.

  ‘The girl ought to be made aware that your relations don’t approve of the match and are unlikely to acknowledge her.’

  ‘She is already in possession of that knowledge and will doubtless get over the disappointment, given time. I repeat, I will not have you troubling her.’

  ‘I shall do as I see fit. There is too much at stake here, and you can’t prevent me moving freely about the county.’

  ‘My advice to you,’ he responded in a minatory tone, opening the library door for her with unnecessary force, ‘is not to put that assertion to the test.’

  ‘Do you dare to threaten your own aunt, Broadstairs? Have matters between us degenerated to that extent?’

  ‘Treat my warning in any manner you wish,’ he said with a careless shrug. ‘But don’t make the mistake of underestimating me. I will not have Miss Aston disturbed with your incivilities.’

  Chapter Eleven

  The days leading up to the wedding passed in a whirl. In spite of being the focus of attention and knowing her life was about to change beyond recognition, Harriet felt oddly disconnected from the frenetic activity surrounding her. The duke’s offer of marriage was honourable, and he certainly hadn’t needed to make it. He had saved her family from an uncertain future and vastly improved her siblings’ prospects. She ought to feel deliriously happy.

  She felt nothing at all.

  Lady Calder took responsibility for ordering a new wardrobe for the bride, which was just as well. Left to her own devices, Harriet would have been married in her breeches. Lady Calder cajoled Harriet into taking an interest in the silks and brocades produced by the local dressmaker, but it took more guile to manage Charlotte, who brooded and sulked, unable to understand the duke’s choice. Lady Calder brought her around with a combination of kindly interest and firm resolve. She curbed the younger Miss Aston’s resentment by reminding her that her own future could only be enhanced as a result of Harriet’s elevation to the ranks of the aristocracy.

  When the question of Harriet’s attire for the wedding was raised, in a rare moment of lucidity, Mrs. Aston produced the gown she had worn on her own wedding day, to gasps of delight from Charlotte. Even Harriet grudgingly conceded that it was beautiful. It required alterations in order to fit Harriet, and calling upon Charlotte’s skills as a seamstress was a stroke of genius on Lady Calder’s part. Charlotte had a true purpose now, was widely acknowledged to have saved the day with her exquisite stitching, and forgot all about being sullen.

  Harriet tried to concentrate her efforts on the workings of the cider press, but it was impossible for her to avoid the claims made upon her by the rest of her family. There were constant decisions requiring her approbation, even though she had given Lady Calder leave to make whatever arrangements she deemed best without troubling her.

  Every day the duke appeared—a tangible reminder of the future to which she had irretrievably committed herself. No, the future he had arrogantly decided she would commit to. She still hadn’t actually agreed to it. She glanced at James and Tom. Was it her imagination, or did they already walk a little taller because they would soon be related to a duke? She thought of all the advantages for them and for Charlotte and knew she would not back out. Besides, a small part of her didn’t want to be released from the engagement. When she was alone in her bed at night and allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the dark, brooding expression the duke habitually bestowed upon her, exquisite feelings of anticipation swamped her senses. She recognised those feelings as desire. She desired him and was confused by the fact that her body’s instinctive reaction was at direct variance with her firmly held belief that they would make one another miserable.

  The duke was as distantly formidable as ever, fastidiously correct in his attentions, but unsmiling and difficult to approach. In spite of his insistence that the wedding should go ahead, he appeared no happier than she at the prospect. One day, when they had sat together for several minutes, neither of them speaking a word, she asked him why he was being so stubborn.

  ‘I shall not hold you to your offer if you have had a change of heart,’ she said.

  He looked surprised. ‘Thank you, but I am perfectly satisfied with our arrangement.’

  ‘But not terribly happy about it?’

  He lifted a brow. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because you don’t look like a man in the throes of passion,’ she replied with asperity. ‘In fact you look as though you would rather be anywhere else than sitting in this parlour with me.’

  ‘I can hardly help the way I look,’ he replied mildly.

  ‘You could at least make an effort.’

  ‘Then I would not be true to myself.’

  ‘Oh, this is hopeless!’ She threw her hands in the air, stood up and paced the room. How could he remain so stoically emotionless at such a time? He didn’t love her but he might at least let her know he found her company engaging. Could he not see she was nervous, querulous, in need of a few pretty words, even if they didn’t come from the heart? ‘You are the most infuriating, disagreeable, stubborn, unreasonable man it has ever been my misfortune to encounter.’

  ‘So you constantly tell me.’ His lips twitched, but quickly resumed their customary straight line. ‘Now, do you wish to discuss procuring additional assistance in the cider mill, or would you prefer to continue dwelling upon my shortcomings?’

  She tossed her head. ‘I have no desire to discuss you at all.’

  ‘Fine, then let’s concentrate upon business. How many men have you already lost?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘That many?’ He looked surprised. ‘Then you have done remarkably well to manage while so short-handed.’

  ‘Was that a compliment?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Then thank you, Your Grace.’

  ‘You are entirely welcome.’ He sent her a faintly mocking glance. ‘Do you know where they are now? Perhaps we could persuade them to come back.’

  ‘Two are now employed in the grounds at Endersby,’ she replied in an accusatory tone, which she knew wasn’t fair. The duke hadn’t enticed them away but Sanderson, without the duke’s knowledge, most certainly had. ‘One is at home farm, and the other three have been engaged on Mr. Jessup’s estate.’

  ‘Three to one estate? There are more able-bodied men seeking employment in the area than there are opportunities available to them. How could three vacancies have occurred just when they were required by your deserters?’ he a
sked, his intelligent eyes glinting with suspicion.

  ‘I know nothing of the circumstances at Mr. Jessup’s establishment. Anyway, it’s of no consequence since I shall not take those men back. If they were averse to working for me when I did not enjoy your support then their loyalty is at best questionable.’

  ‘You are right.’ He nodded, and she felt ridiculously pleased to have earned his approval. Not that she cared two figs if he approved of her or not, which made her pleasure all the more confusing. ‘Which means we must widen our search for replacements.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult. Many men in the county are in need of employment, and the work isn’t skilled. The main requirement is muscle power,’ she said with feeling, rubbing her sore arms as she thought of the hand pump she had helped to man earlier in the day.

  ‘I will make enquiries and find a number for your consideration.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You should be aware the duchess is in residence in the dower house at Endersby and will attend our nuptials.’

  Harriet’s head shot up. ‘Now that does surprise me. I assumed she would thoroughly disapprove of your choice.’

  ‘She is in raptures at the prospect,’ he responded dryly, standing to take his leave.

  ‘I am sure she is,’ Harriet muttered as her future husband bowed over her hand and brushed her knuckles briefly with his lips.

  The duke was clearly a man of action because two days later a series of able-bodied men reported to Harriet and she engaged the most suitable of them. At the same time, although Harriet never understood how, Lady Calder managed to procure the services of a genteel lady to keep her mother company. Having spent some time in the best social circles before the downturn in her circumstances forced her to seek paid employment, Mrs. Forbes held Charlotte’s attention with colourful tales of tonnish society. Charlotte was enchanted by all she heard about smart parties, balls, and routs and her behaviour improved almost overnight.

  Two days before the wedding Marc appeared with a scholarly young man in tow.

  ‘Swift is a schoolmaster who might suit to take over your brothers’ education,’ he told Harriet, after introducing her to the young man. ‘Subject to your approval, naturally.’

  In spite of her reservations about the upcoming marriage, Harriet felt a burst of gratitude for this latest demonstration of the duke’s thoughtfulness. Nothing escaped his notice or his immediate attention. If only he would be a little less severe, perhaps then she would be able to look forward to her wedding day with less apprehension.

  He regarded her almost reverently whenever they met, his gaze unhurried, as though committing every inch of her person to his memory. But there were no loving words and nothing to indicate their union meant anything more to him than the marriage of convenience she knew it to be. His quiet determination to see it through, despite her very vocal misgivings, disquieted her, keeping her awake long after her usual hour on the eve of her wedding.

  Even the weather didn’t dare to defy her future husband, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky when Harriet, composed and resigned to her fate, entered the Endersby chapel on her brother’s arm. James, almost as tall, looked serious and proud in his new suit of clothes as he acted in loco parentis. Harriet reminded herself that by marrying the duke she would be making his life, and the lives of all her dear family so much easier. That thought enabled her to somehow dredge up a smile as she made her way down the aisle, slowly approaching the sombre-faced individual standing rigidly erect at the altar.

  The duke, with Lord Merrow at his side, turned to watch her as she walked towards him and the rest of her life. She was too nervous to fully appreciate the way his fierce expression softened at the sight of her, or to acknowledge that he actually produced a smile. She did notice the dowager duchess, her expression rigid in its disapproval. She also noticed how empty the little chapel was. Just her family, the duchess and her companion, and that was all. Not a very grand affair for a duke.

  The couple made their vows, the duke’s voice loud and assured, Harriet’s more hesitant, and they were man and wife. The clergyman invited the duke to kiss his bride, which he did, with considerable enthusiasm and a wicked glint in his eye. Turning together to retrace their steps down the aisle, Harriet smiled because brides were supposed to smile. She glanced up at the man who was now her husband, looking for signs of regret in his noble profile. She saw none. His habitual frown had been replaced by a slightly less forbidding expression, but even the most biased observer would have been hard pressed to describe him as being gripped by incandescent joy.

  ‘Smile, Your Grace,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You look scared half to death.’

  Your Grace. Would she ever become accustomed to being addressed as such? Was she really a duchess? It seemed so surreal she felt like pinching herself. Instead, she met her husband’s gaze, her eyes moist with unshed tears that were not the product of happiness.

  ‘I am not scared,’ she whispered back. ‘I’m petrified. What have you made me do?’

  ‘There is nothing to be frightened of.’ She felt his arm tense beneath hers, as though trying to transfer some of his strength to her. ‘The last thing I would have is you being afraid of me.’

  ‘The dowager duchess looks as though she would like to take a dagger to me.’

  ‘The dowager duchess will be returning to London today and you need never see her again if you had rather not.’

  Harriet inclined her head, happy to learn he put her comfort ahead of his aunt’s. She appeared to be his first priority, even if he had a strange way of showing it.

  As they stepped from the chapel, a small gaggle of villagers had assembled to cheer and wish them well. The duke acknowledged their cheers and distributed coins amongst them. Harriet’s smile came readily for the people whom she had known her entire life—people she felt comfortable with. But there was a new reserve in the way they addressed her as Your Grace that she found dispiriting. She would never fit in the duke’s world and no longer had a place in her own. She couldn’t recall a time when she had felt lonelier or more unsure of herself.

  What have I done?

  They entered their waiting carriage and were driven the short distance back to Endersby. Her home, Harriet thought with wonder, glancing up at the familiar façade and feeling a moment’s sadness because she had never known that the man she often came here to visit was actually her father. Now she would live in his house and she ought to be happy about it. But how could she be when her husband didn’t love her? For Harriet, that emotion conquered all. Perhaps she was being naïve but she didn’t think she would ever be truly happy settling for less.

  The guests gathered at Endersby for the wedding breakfast, which wasn’t a success. The dowager duchess, who had sat tight-lipped throughout the service, clearly felt no need to disguise her feelings now that the family was alone. She appeared incandescent with anger at having to share the room with not just Harriet, to whom she had yet to address a single remark, but her mother, too. Mama didn’t help matters by wafting about the room, looking lovely in lilac muslin, repeatedly demanded to know what had become of Frederick.

  The subdued party broke up far too quickly for Harriet’s comfort. Even the torture of the dowager’s frosty stare was preferable to being alone with an unfeeling husband. He couldn’t begin to understand her nervousness whenever she thought about what must soon occur between them. Her mother had told her absolutely nothing about what to expect from the marriage bed but Harriet knew enough to understand it would be painful and undignified.

  The Astons returned to Matlock House, then Lady Calder and Giles tactfully took themselves off to their own quarters, and the dowager ordered her carriage to return to town.

  The Duke and Duchess of Broadstairs were alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marc was conscious of the charged atmosphere between himself and his wife as they struggled to make conversation. He reached out a hand to touch her face, a gesture intende
d to reassure, but she flinched as though he had struck her. Of all the women in England he could have married, he had chosen probably the only one who genuinely didn’t want to be a duchess.

  The irony was not lost on Marc. It filled him with a fierce determination to ensure she didn’t regret entering into the hasty union he had virtually forced upon her, simply because he instinctively knew she was the right woman to have at his side. Sensible, intelligent and unafraid to stand up to him, she was happy to remain in the country and allow the foolishness of London society to pass her by. He was a lucky man and would give her as much of himself as he could—more than he had ever given anyone else. He knew what she really wanted from him and suppressed a shudder. She now had the protection of his name, money, an elevated position within society, a safe home and respectability. All of those things he would share with her but love was the one thing he couldn’t offer his tender-hearted wife. He cared about her too much to take the risk.

  ‘Have you ever had a tour of the entire Endersby estate?’ he asked, desperate for an activity that would distract her.

  ‘Not all of it. It’s too vast, and I have never had the time to spare.’

  ‘Then why not change and I will drive you around at least some of it?’

  ‘Now?’ She blinked. ‘Why?’

  He raised a brow. ‘Because you are now mistress of the estate and you just expressed a wish to see it.’

  ‘Very well. Excuse me, Your Grace.’

  ‘Marc. We are now man and wife. You must call me Marc.’

  She nodded. ‘Excuse me, Marc. I shall not keep you above a minute.’

  Marc watched her thank the footman who opened the door for her. Her nervousness, which she was attempting to disguise beneath an air of abstraction, was profoundly sensual. Marc had relaxed his iron control and admired the picture Harriet presented as she entered the chapel. That was permissible. It was, after all, his wedding day. But he had no intention of admiring anything else about her—not ever. He had learned the hard way to be cautious. He was cursed and whenever he allowed himself to feel anything at all it always ended badly.