A Duke by Default: Dangerous Dukes Vol 3 Page 15

  And to her horror, she broke down in tears. Lady Calder’s knowing glance had tipped her over the edge, and she cried until she had no tears left to shed. With an embarrassed half-smile, she searched for a handkerchief, but failed to find one. Lady Calder handed her one from her own pocket.

  ‘I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Talk to me, Harri. Tell me what troubles you.’

  ‘Can you not guess?’ Harri knew she shouldn’t talk about it but the need to unburden herself defied discretion. ‘You have seen how coldly my husband behaves towards me. This marriage has been a huge mistake and I am perfectly sure he already regrets it as much as I do. How I allowed myself to be talked into it is quite beyond me.” Harri blew air through her lips. ‘I knew it wouldn’t work. I should have stuck to my guns.’

  ‘Give it time, my dear. You were only married yesterday.’

  ‘Which is enough time to know it was a mistake.’ Harri refused to be mollified. ‘The thought of marriage without love is abhorrent to me. When I explained that to Marc, he all but said I was a blind fool to think that way.’

  ‘Let me guess, he told you he didn’t love you?’ Harri nodded, too embarrassed to meet her godmother’s eye. ‘And you thought that situation would change once you were married?’

  ‘Well, I suppose, if you put it like that, it does sound unlikely. He didn’t lie to me precisely, but…oh, I don’t know. I suppose, when he was so determined to marry me, I was silly enough to think he must hold me in some regard. I can see now that I quite mistook the matter.’

  ‘Indeed, you did not.’

  Harriet’s head shot up. ‘Aunt Alicia, how can you even suggest such a thing? He is the coldest, most insensitive, remotest person it has ever been my misfortune to encounter.’

  ‘My nephew is many of those things, it’s true, but for good reason. He has learned the hard way that whenever he bestows affection upon a person, disaster inevitably follows. No, no, Harri.’ She waved a hand to prevent interruption. ‘Don’t dismiss the notion until you understand the situation more fully. It is the only subject upon which I know him to be blind to all reason. Marcus has spent his life living with the knowledge that he killed his own mother by being born—’

  ‘He can’t be blamed for that!’

  ‘I know, but he heard it said so often during his formative years—mostly by my sister-in-law, I might add—that he’s never been able to absolve himself from blame. But it gets worse. He loved his father unconditionally, you see.’

  Harriet nodded her understanding. ‘And he died, too.’

  ‘Yes, and then he went to live in Frederick’s house. He was made to feel unwelcome by his aunt from the first day. That didn’t matter because his cousin, two years his senior, became his hero. He idolised Jonathan, and the feeling was mutual. Jonathan had had quite enough of being the only boy out of a family of four children and welcomed reinforcements in the shape of Marcus with open arms. And then disaster struck. Marcus caught the measles at school, but was unaware he was infected when he returned home for the holidays. All of his cousins caught the disease, and all of them recovered, but—’

  ‘Jonathan died.’ Harriet felt sorrow replace a healthy chunk of the anger she entertained towards her husband. ‘Poor Marc.’

  ‘Quite so. Jonathan should have shaken the affliction off as easily as Marcus did but he was recovering from a fever and was too weak to combat both maladies simultaneously.’

  Harriet shook her head. ‘That’s the saddest thing I have ever heard. What a lonely little boy Marc must have been.’

  ‘It was a very distressing time for all concerned. And if Marcus’s relationship with his aunt had been difficult before, it then became impossible. She blamed Marcus for her son’s death but not nearly as much as he blamed himself. Matters were made worse when my sister-in-law failed to produce another son and had to live with the knowledge that her despised nephew would one day inherit Jonathan’s title and estate.’

  ‘So Marcus became a duke by default.’

  ‘That is precisely the way he looks upon it. He would give it all away if he could but, of course, that’s not possible. And so he does his very best to ensure the duchy flourishes.’ Lady Calder fixed Harriet with a steady gaze. ‘Your husband isn’t guilty of being uncaring, but of caring too much. That’s why he is cautious about giving freely of his affections. When my brother first died and people addressed Marcus as Your Grace, I observed him wince and knew he must be wishing Jonathan could be there to accept the accolade that was his by right. Marcus doesn’t want the duchy, and feels it has been bestowed upon him as a punishment.’

  ‘He is not culpable!’ Harriet sprang to her husband’s defence with a vigour that surprised her. ‘But it would, I suppose, explain why he sometimes gives the impression of carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders and so seldom smiles. When he actually does, and when he laughs, it changes the tenor of his face completely.’

  ‘You have heard him laugh?’ Lady Calder sent her a sharp look. ‘When?’ Harriet blushed deeply, causing her godmother to chuckle. ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘It was a momentary lapse,’ Harriet said glumly.

  ‘I disagree. If you have him laughing already, evidently I was correct in my assumption that he feels a great deal for you.’ Lady Calder visibly brightened. ‘It will be the work of a moment for you to bring him to heel. Nothing could be more easily achieved.’

  ‘You are quite wrong about that. He merely required a chattel to bear his children and I happened to be convenient.’

  ‘My nephew required a wife, it’s true, and in spite of his taciturn disposition, there would have been no shortage of takers to fill that vacancy from within the upper echelons of the ton. He could have taken his pick. He’s very wealthy, undisputedly handsome and when he puts his mind to it, not without charm.’

  ‘Then why settle for someone as lowly situated as me?’ Harriet asked, trying not to feel jealous of her nameless competitors.

  Lady Calder chuckled. ‘His choice has also alienated the dowager duchess.’

  ‘Perhaps that was his intention?’

  ‘No, Marcus harbours no kindly feelings towards his aunt but wouldn’t deliberately set out to embarrass her.’

  ‘Then perhaps he really did think he had compromised my reputation.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I am persuaded he chose you for the most elementary reason in the world, even if he isn’t yet prepared to admit it to himself.’

  Harriet blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘Not to me.’

  Lady Calder smiled. ‘He has the good sense to be in love with you.’

  Harriet openly scoffed. The amazing things he had done to her the night before, the way he had countered her fears by generating such exquisite feelings within her core, had briefly made her think he must have feelings for her. But instead of wrapping her in his arms when it was over, basking in the afterglow of their mutual passion, he had left her with a speed that was insulting. She had been a naïve fool to imagine their activities were extraordinary. Her skittishness and inexperience had obviously tried his patience and he couldn’t wait to be alone.

  ‘You are mistaken,’ she said shortly.

  ‘I disagree, and it is now up to you to make him face up to his feelings.’

  ‘Even supposing they exist, how am I supposed to manage that?’

  Lady Calder chuckled. ‘You have only been married for one day, my dear, but you already know a great deal more about the married state than you did this time yesterday.’

  ‘Oh!’ A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  Lady Calder covered Harriet’s hand with one of her own. ‘You won’t be the first lady to discover what power she wields in the bedroom.’

  ‘Your plan fails to allow for the fact that I wouldn’t have the first idea how to go about it.’

  ‘Oh, there’s nothing more straightforward, my dear. Now, listen careful
ly.’

  The casually reassuring manner in which her godmother spoke about the intimacies of marriage caused Harriet’s acute embarrassment to give way to curiosity. From some of Lady Calder’s less guarded remarks, Harriet wondered if she was more fortunate than she had previously realised in landing Marc as a bedfellow. With a blush that felt as though it was spreading through her entire body she ventured a few tentative questions. Her godmother’s frank responses ignited the first inklings of a plan in Harriet’s head.

  When they parted company later that day, Harriet was filled with determination to make her husband fall in love with her and admit to his feelings or die in the attempt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Left alone, Harriet curled her feet beneath her and pondered upon her dilemma, wondering if she owned anything that would infuse her with sufficient confidence to put her fledgling plan into action. She rummaged through her new clothes and had almost given up hope when she came across the ideal garment, half-hidden at the end of the rack. She held it against her body, examined her image in a pier glass and nodded. It just might serve.

  Harriet recalled telling her godmother she disliked fussy attire, and Lady Calder had taken her at her word. The gown she now held in her hands was a simple creation—a sleek sheath of emerald muslin with a daringly low cut bodice. Caught beneath her breasts with a simple ribbon, it was the perfect foil for her dark colouring, emphasising the vividness of her eyes and displaying her figure to its best advantage. She followed Lady Calder’s advice and placed the emerald Marc had given her the day before their wedding around her neck. On a long chain, it nestled between her breasts and couldn’t fail to draw attention to her décolletage.

  She stood before the mirror an hour later while Martha tied the last of the ribbons, her confidence boosted by her maid’s guileless exclamations. Martha dressed her hair formally, piling it on top of her head, a cascade of curls falling about her face in orderly disarray.

  ‘Please ensure the puppy goes outside in an hour or so,’ she said, tickling Freddie’s head before pulling on her gloves. ‘And please see that he doesn’t chew anything valuable.’

  Martha snatched Harriet’s fan from the puppy’s teeth and handed it to her mistress. ‘Leave him to me, Your Grace.’

  Harriet took a deep breath, telling her reflection that she could do this, as she prepared to confront her husband for the first time since breakfast.

  ‘Will I do?’ she asked Freddie anxiously.

  The puppy responded by clawing at her hem and yelping to be scooped into Harriet’s arms. She bent to kiss him before leaving the sanctity of her chamber. She traversed the passageway slowly, pausing at the head of the stairs as she waited for the fluttering nerves in her stomach to subside. As ready as she ever would be, she threw back her shoulders and entered the drawing room. Three heads turned to look at her with varying degrees of expectancy, but only one person’s reaction was of interest to Harriet. She regarded Marc from beneath a sweep of lowered lashes and was heartened to notice an expression of surprise briefly flit across his countenance. But it was gone as quickly as it had arrived, his features settling back into their customary expression of epicurean complacency, and she could no longer be sure he had reacted to her appearance at all. Angered by his total lack of response, she straightened an already upright spine as renewed determination coursed through her.

  Lord Merrow smiled. ‘Your Grace, you are a picture of loveliness tonight.’

  ‘You are too kind.’ She turned towards her godmother and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. ‘Good evening, Aunt Alicia. I apologise if I have kept you waiting.’

  ‘It has been well worth the short wait,’ Lord Merrow assured her. ‘Perhaps matrimony won’t prove to be so very restrictive, after all.’

  Harriet offered him an inquisitive smile. ‘You are contemplating matrimony, Lord Merrow?’

  ‘The step can’t be avoided indefinitely.’ Lord Merrow looked gloomily resigned to his fate. ‘My father is fast losing patience with me.’

  ‘Then we must ensure you find a wife whose company you can tolerate,’ Harriet said, lifting her eyes meaningfully in her husband’s direction and offering him what she hoped was a sultry smile. She wasn’t used to flirting, or smiling in any way other than spontaneously. Still, women had been perfecting the art of flirtation for millennia, had they not? How difficult could it be? ‘Would you not agree, Marc?’

  ‘I certainly wouldn’t disagree.’

  He inclined his head, perfectly politely, but there was an expression lurking in the depths of his eyes she hadn’t seen before. He was uncomfortable about something and his attitude lacked its customary reserve. His voice sounded strained, and he appeared fixated on the emerald around her neck. Or could it be her décolletage? She somehow dredged up the courage to meet his gaze head on and held it, a question in her eyes. She thought she heard him smother an oath, and he was the one to look away first.

  When dinner was announced, she accepted her husband’s arm, allowing him to escort her to the table. As soon as he helped her with her chair, Harriet followed her aunt’s advice from earlier and set about sparkling.

  ‘Tell me more about your search for a wife, Lord Merrow.’ She turned wide eyes upon her husband’s friend. ‘How does a gentleman go about selecting a suitable candidate? I know little of the ways of the ton, but I assume your spouse will be required to possess a fortune?’

  ‘Harri.’ Marc’s voice was mildly castigating.

  ‘Fustian, Marc, allow the lady to have her say.’ Lord Merrow returned his attention to Harriet. ‘You are right, Your Grace. Unfortunately, I am not free to follow my heart.’

  ‘But your position in society ought to ease your path. I am sure young ladies of fortune and good sense will not consider marriage to you to be a punishment.’

  ‘Possibly not, but it does rather narrow the field.’

  ‘It is a shame my sister doesn’t have any money, otherwise she might suit.’

  ‘Indeed. What do you have to say about that, Marc?’

  Marc shot Harriet a scowl. ‘That my wife’s fondness for her sister is clouding her judgement.’

  ‘You can hardly deny that my sister looks like an angel.’

  ‘Certainly I would not deny any assertion of yours.’

  ‘Well, there you are then.’ Harriet sent her husband a wayward smile and he abruptly averted his gaze. Good! She had disconcerted him. That hadn’t happened before. Flirting was exhausting but not so very difficult if one put one’s mind to it. ‘I can hardly be accused of bias since you agree with me.’

  ‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Marc replied absently.

  ‘Charlotte has already received several offers, I believe,’ Lady Calder remarked.

  ‘Yes,’ Harriet replied. ‘She has.’

  ‘But none, I feel persuaded, that are worthy of her,’ Lord Merrow said earnestly.

  ‘We none of us know what the future holds for us, my lord. Why two weeks ago, if you had told me I was to become mistress of this vast estate, I would have laughed in your face.’

  ‘And yet you will fulfil that role admirably,’ Lord Merrow responded gallantly.

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned a mischievous eye on Marc and sent him a provocative smile. ‘But I fear my husband doesn’t share your view and now regrets his hasty decision to marry.’

  A slight frown marred Marc’s brow. She was behaving so out of character that he didn’t understand the point she was trying to make—that much was obvious. Having him trying to second-guess her was a refreshing change.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said.

  Well, what else could he say, thought Harriet mutinously. She fell momentarily silent, realising just how much hard work it took to chatter inanely and smile until her face hurt. Her husband’s expression had passed through several forbidding phases; each one darker than the last, eventually settling into chilly disinterest. It was a relief when the final course was cleared and Harriet and her godmother could escape.

&
nbsp; ‘I don’t think I can keep this up,’ Harriet said, throwing herself onto the nearest settee.

  ‘Marc is worth fighting for, my dear, and you have already aroused his curiosity.’

  ‘I am not so sure about that.’ Harriet grimaced. ‘Did you see his face?’

  Lady Calder chuckled. ‘Indeed I did.’

  ‘He looks very angry and forbidding. I almost lost my nerve.’

  ‘Oh, Harri, how much you still have to learn. He is not angry with you.’

  Harriet blinked, feeling a headache threatening. ‘Then what?’

  ‘You’ve surprised him by showing a side of yourself he has never seen before. He’s enchanted by your gown and by your lively spirit but doesn’t know what to make of it all. Keep it up, and remember my advice for when you are alone.’

  Harriet blushed. ‘I am unsure if I can do it.’

  ‘If you really want Marcus to admit to his feelings for you, then you can.’ She gave Harriet’s hand an encouraging pat. ‘Start the way you mean to continue, my love.’

  ‘I think you are wrong about his feelings, but it would still be better to know one way or another. I hate dissembling.’

  The gentlemen joined them far sooner than Harriet anticipated and a game of whist was proposed.

  ‘Very well,’ agreed Harriet, ‘if you can stand to partner me, Lord Merrow.’

  ‘With the greatest of pleasure, ma’am, but I should warn you that I am not nearly as accomplished a player as your husband.’

  ‘Oh, that doesn’t signify. I would much prefer a partner who doesn’t glower if I play a wrong card.’

  Lord Merrow choked on a laugh. Harriet, waiting for him to recover from the coughing fit that followed, became aware of a large hand coming to rest on her back, spanning the width of her waist.

  ‘Would you care for a little side wager?’

  Marc’s lips almost touched her ear and his warm breath peppered her face as he whispered his suggestion. She drew in a sharp breath and turned to look into his normally reserved eyes, only to discover them smouldering with something that had little to do with their forthcoming battle at the card table. She felt mildly euphoric to realise her campaign to attract his attention appeared to be working.