Two Notorious Dukes Page 12

  She looked up at him and saw him smile and not only his lips smiled, but his eyes too. There was such tenderness in his demeanour. She stroked her fingers over his cheek. ‘Will there be more lessons, my love?’ she asked him.

  He laughed and she felt his manhood shrink out of her body. He got up on his knees as he folded up the front of his britches. ‘Yes, my love. There will be many lessons.’ He pulled her skirts down and held out his hands. ‘I have a lifetime to teach you everything I know.’

  ‘I can’t wait. When will lesson number two be?’ she asked like a little girl and he groaned as he pulled her onto his lap.

  ‘Our wedding night. And not before!’

  Chapter 9 To have and to hold

  ‘Have you decided yet?’ Lady Verity asked Sarah for the fifth time that week. Robert had left two days previously and she knew that her son had bedded Sarah. It was so obvious. Their relationship was suddenly relaxed and familiar, they sat and mooned in each others eyes and Johnny had even sat and played a duet with her at the piano. But it was the little things that gave it away, not so much the constant companionship, but the ease of discussion and how blatantly provocative she could be and he would smile indulgently, instead of frowning, as he would if he didn’t have intimate knowledge of her. Verity was content. He had asked for her hand and eventually they would tell her of their plans. But she liked to pester them.

  Sarah smiled coyly, shook her head again and skipped out of the room like a child. Verity looked at John.

  ‘Do you have anything to tell me?’ she asked, quite piqued and she was gratified to see John laugh happily. He was more happy and content than she had ever known him.

  ‘As a matter of fact I do mother. We are going to have a new Duchess in the family.’

  ‘Oh! John! I’m so happy for you.’ Verity said and leaped to her feet, crushing her tall son in her arms. ‘When?’

  ‘We haven’t set a date, because of Robert and Elizabeth. We’d like them to be there and if we’re lucky we could even make it a double wedding.’

  ‘Have you bedded her yet?’ Verity asked sternly.

  Argyll raised an eyebrow at her. ‘That is not something I should discuss with my mother.’ He said rather stiffly and in the next breath he smiled in such a way that she had no doubt that he had. She shook her head and smiled indulgently.

  Robert heaved his aching backside out of the saddle and turned the poor beast over to a groom, ‘give him a long rest and a good dinner. He deserves it.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace.’ The groom murmured and the family retainer, Wilson was at the door, the lantern in his hand throwing a weak puddle of illumination onto the porch.

  ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’ Wilson greeted Robert. ‘Your Grandmother is in the drawing room.’

  Robert followed Wilson into the hall, stripping off his cloak, hat and gloves. ‘Thank you, Wilson.’

  ‘Would you like some refreshment, Your Grace? I could have the cook put together a cold platter?’

  ‘That would be wonderful, Wilson. Thank you.’ Robert said wearily as he headed towards the main drawing room. He carefully opened the door and was confronted with a fairly lively party.Typical that she’s having a party!He thought and shook his head. He sauntered arrogantly into the room, saw one of his childhood friends and announced his presence with ‘Bertram, it’s amazing how many times I arrive here and find you drinking my brandy!’

  ‘Robbie!’ Burst from his grandmothers throat and he went straight to her chair. She was surprisingly agile for a woman of the advanced age of 74; she stood up quickly and grabbed her only remaining grandchild in a very strong embrace. It made him groan and in the next breath she was tearful. ‘It’s been too long since you were here last!’

  ‘Well, you know what it’s like in London.’

  ‘I do and we even hear the gossip up here. So you tell me, is there any truth that Lady Beresford is expecting your child?’ she demanded.

  Such was his relationship with his grandmother, that in private he would tell her everything, but in front of friends he was always more cautious.

  ‘Not a chance!’ he said smartly. ‘She was too busy tupping Randolph, Cranwell and Farrington, to be caught by me!’

  Wilson appeared with a large platter of cold meats, pork pie and other edible delights. Robert sat himself beside his grandmother and tucked into the food.

  ‘When did you get here, Robbie?’

  ‘About five minutes ago, Nana.’ He said using the pet name he’d called her since he first learned to talk. ‘What’s the party for?’ he asked with a mouthful of bread.

  ‘Do I need and excuse for a party? And what have I told you about talking with your mouth half full?’ she glared at him, picked up a slice of bread, shoved it in his mouth and said. ‘Top it up!’ which brought gales of laughter from every one there.

  His laughter snuffled around the food. He tore the bread and chewed until his mouth was empty, and licking the butter off his lips said. ‘You don’t change much.’

  ‘I’ve no reason to, my boy. You go to London for most of the year and don’t even think about poor old me, sitting here all alone.’

  ‘Yes, I can see how alone you are!’ he said looking around at the faces. He wrote to his Grandmother every week, so it was unfair to say he didn’t think of her.

  ‘So tell me what’s been happening in London?’ she demanded and while he finished his food, he regaled them with the latest gossip and fashions, of which his grandmother didn’t approve, especially after he mentioned Lady Wentworth’s see through dress. He told her all the new alliances in marriages and births.

  ‘Hasn’t that young rascal Monmouth proposed to poor Verity Argyll yet?’ she demanded.

  ‘No, Nana, and I doubt he ever will. He’ll up and marry some young girl for an heir to his estate and carve out Verity’s heart at the same time!’

  ‘And what about you Robbie? Any wife in the foreseeable future?’ she asked, expecting his usual reproof and was surprised when he evaded the question and turned to Wilson for a glass of Claret. ‘Have you met somebody, Boy?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Later, Nana.’ He murmured. ‘I’ll tell you all about it, tomorrow.’

  The party continued as the young ladies present started to play and sing and Robbie sat and compared them to Elizabeth’s final performance and found them wanting. But he had to remember that none of the innocent ladies had lived her life, so they had no experience of horror, fear or rage.

  He was falling asleep after his third glass of Claret and his grandmother sent him to bed. He dragged his leaden feet up the stairs and managed to take off his jacket and boots, loosened his cravat and was asleep before he could even take his shirt off. He didn’t really think about it until the morning, but he’d had two sleepless nights with Elizabeth and he’d ridden for almost two days to get here. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming about her and as the sunlight forced its way through his curtains, he thrashed and jerked under the cover Wilson had thrown over him.

  His dream was very disturbing, He saw Elizabeth, in the finest wedding gown he’d ever seen and she looked beautiful, he stood proudly at the altar waiting for her. The vicar took his time, but eventually the service was over and they left to start their new life. He carried her over the threshold of his London Mansion, and practically ran up the stairs with her. He took her to the newly furbished bedroom in the ducal apartment, which had an adjoining door to his bedroom. He bathed and put on his finest dressing gown, he even wrapped a silk scarf around his neck. He tapped on the door and called her name. ‘Elizabeth, are you ready?’ he asked. He heard a muffled reply so he opened the door, to find Alexander Craanford, whipping his wife at the same time as he was fucking her and Elizabeth looked at him with horror in her eyes and stabbed herself in the throat with a letter opener. ‘Elizabeth!!’ was torn from his larynx as he tried to get across the room, but it was as if his feet were encased in mud and Craanford stood up, covered in blood and said coldly. ‘If she can’t be mi
ne, she’s not going to be anybody else’s!’ He levelled a pistol and shot Robert in the shoulder. And he screamed and screamed, until Burke shook him awake.

  ‘Captain! Wake up, Sir.’ Burke often called him by his rank to wake him; it was ingrained in his subconscious, unlike his title. ‘Captain Bosworth! Wake up, Sir!’

  Robert jerked awake and the scream died in his throat. He sat up abruptly, panic making his chest heave.

  ‘The same old dream, Sir?’ Burke asked calmly.

  ‘No!’ Robert gasped. ‘No it wasn’t, although the outcome was the same.’ He said distantly as he rubbed the scar in his shoulder. ‘Burke! What time did you get here?’’ he asked breathlessly, the panic starting to subside.

  ‘I arrived with the dawn, Sir.’ He said cheerfully. ‘I’ve had a good breakfast and will sort all your belongings out during the course of the day, Sir.’ He said and went to the door. The bath was manhandled into the room and filled with hot water. Robert again dropped into the water and soaked his aching shoulder. Burke used the soap to massage some of the stiffness from it, cause by the prolonged riding. Roding Hall was a long way from London and Robert did only visit it once a year.

  I must try and talk Nana into coming back to London for this season.He thought, but he knew his grandmother wouldn’t go. The journey was too far and too taxing for her. At her age she couldn’t sit in a carriage for three days.But maybe I could devise a way, by making many stopovers, so she never sits in the carriage longer than a trip to the city.He’d have to give it some thought, just where they could lie over. If he was going to marry Elizabeth, he wanted his Grandmother to witness it. And that brought his nightmare into his forebrain. He couldn’t understand why he would dream of her being abused by Craanford. But of course, that was Craanford’s parting shot.It’ll never be over until you’re mine!Robert remembered it and he supposed Elizabeth saying she was going back to London, reminded him of the danger there. And Craanford was dangerous.I’ll have to ask Nana what she knows about the Craanford’s.He thought as he started to wash his body vigorously.

  It didn’t take him long to finish and dry himself. Because of his service in the army, he liked to shave himself, rather than let Burke do it, although Burke had become very proficient on the journey home from Copenhagen, when his shoulder wouldn’t permit him to do half the things a man normally does,and that includes getting your britches open.He thought and sniggered as he remembered just how many times poor Burke had to open his britches so that he could use the pot!

  He looked at his face in the mirror before he slapped soap over it and remembered Elizabeth stroking her finger over the dimple in his chin. He shook his head to dispel the vision of her and quickly soaped and shaved his face. He dressed in the clothes Burke had laid out and then sauntered down to breakfast to find all the guests from the previous night still there.

  He sat down and was served a full English breakfast and decided he was famished. His grandmother was pleased to see him eat with such gusto.

  ‘Are you feeling well, Boy?’ she asked and he looked up at her.

  ‘I feel fine. Why do you ask?’ he said quizzically.

  ‘Because I haven’t seen you eat that well since you were a teenager!’ He just looked at her, without making a rejoinder.

  Breakfast was slowly finished and the guests went to pack, leaving Robert and his Grandmother sitting at the table.

  He looked up at her a few times, and she could tell he was steeling himself for something. ‘Spit it out Robbie, I won’t bite.’

  ‘It’s not that, Nana. I have to ask you some things and I need to do them in order.’ She nodded and sat back to wait.

  ‘Do you know the Craanford’s?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Yes. I know of them. Ancient family from Ireland, the last Earl was a rake, like you Robbie; he’d roger anything in a skirt and he always had a couple on the go, then he suddenly upped and married Margaret Richards. Good match for her, being untitled, and it seemed as if it was a match made in heaven, but if you looked closely you could see the cracks.’ She shook her head. ‘He was violent and she always wore high backed gowns, which is unusual at night.’

  ‘Is that why three of her children died, do you think?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’ She said succinctly.

  ‘I thought they went back to Ireland after they got married.’ Robert said quietly.

  ‘Who told you that poppycock?!’

  ‘Verity Argyll.’ He whispered.

  ‘Well, she was very young and a little too innocent still at that time. They went back to Ireland when he lost a fortune at the card tables. Why do you want to know about them?’

  ‘Be patient, Nana.’ He said with a frown. ‘Do you know anything about the son?’

  ‘Who? Edward?’ she asked surprised. ‘I met him when he first came to London. Never particularly liked the look in his eyes and your father certainly didn’t like him.’ She shook her head and sighed deeply, as if she knew something she didn’t really want to disclose. ‘Peter called him out.’

  Robert’s eyes widened at such an admission. His brother was a ducal heir, what would possibly make him call somebody out?

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Edward Audley not only made an improper suggestion to Clarice, but he tried to get her in a compromising position and it was only the fact that she was terrified of him that convinced Peter that Clarice was the injured party. It caused terrible trouble with your father, the Duke, but Audley was a coward and didn’t show up. I heard he’d got himself a sweet little sixteen year old the year your father died.’

  ‘Yes, he did. And Clarice was very lucky.’ Robert said softly.

  ‘What do you know, Robbie?’

  ‘I know he’s dead!’ he said rather harshly. ‘Somebody called him out and shot him in the stomach. He died a week later of a putrefied wound.’

  ‘That makes his cousin Alexander the current Earl.’ She said softly. ‘He’s no better than Edward. They are both very brutal men, especially with women.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ He muttered.

  ‘So, from the expression on your face, I would imagine you have met the sweet sixteen year old?’

  Robbie took a deep breath. ‘She’s not sweet sixteen any more, but yes. She is beautiful, but she is full of fear and rage. She is a soul in torment after what that...Blackguard!... did to her.’ Robbie sat and told her everything that Elizabeth had said to him and everything that Verity said and finished it with ‘... I love her, Nana.’

  ‘Well I’m glad about that. We need an heir.’ She said and Robert shook his head.

  ‘That’s not why I love her, Nana. That’s just the icing on the cake. I love her for her, as she is. I want to love and cherish her, chase away her nightmares and give her what she needs.’

  ‘And what does she need?’

  ‘She needs somebody to love, be it me or our children. She has so much love and compassion and its been kept in a prison. I want to set her free.’

  ‘There is no freedom in marriage, Robbie, you know that.’

  ‘There can be, if I choose for her to be free.’ He said softly. ‘She wanted to go back to London to think about us, before she decided whether to give up her limited freedom.’

  ‘She’s a widow, why is it limited?’

  ‘Edward left everything to his cousin. Alexander has been pestering Elizabeth for her hand and I believe it will get violent, if somebody doesn’t take her under his wing.’

  ‘And you want to do that?’

  ‘I do, Nana and I’d like you to come back to London with me, so that you can attend the wedding.’ She was already shaking her head.

  ‘No, Robbie, you marry her and then bring her here for me to meet.’ She smiled at him. ‘I don’t need to go all that way to see a wedding.’

  ‘But you missed Peter and Clarice’s wedding because they held it in London!’ he said distraught.

  ‘If you want me to be a witness, then you bring her here and marry her in t
he chapel.’ She firmly. ‘I can’t travel all that way, boy. My health won’t permit it.’

  ‘Not even if you do the journey in plenty of stages, so that you don’t spend too long in the carriage?’ he asked.

  She looked at the expression on his face and felt guilty that she wouldn’t make the effort for her one grandchild. She patted his hand. ‘Robbie, even if it took me a month, it would probably kill me and you know it.’ She sighed deeply. ‘You know I swore never to go to London again after....’

  ‘Yes, Nana.’ He said softly, knowing that she was talking about the death of their family. ‘I suppose you and I were lucky.’ He whispered. ‘At least we weren’t here.’ He looked up and saw the tears standing in her eyes. ‘Now I’ll tell you about Abigail Beresford if you want?’ he said to change the subject.

  ‘Is it your child, Boy?’ she demanded.

  ‘I have no idea.’ He said fairly, ‘and I won’t until it’s born. Randolph was there before me and I was sharing with Cranwell and Farrington, and Rathbone was hot on my heels!’ He sighed. ‘Randolph, Cranwell and Farrington are all blond and Rathbone is a redhead. So if it’s a dark haired baby, then its mine!’

  ‘Roderick Beresford is not going to be happy about this.’ She said slowly.

  ‘Then he shouldn’t leave his harlot of a wife unattended!’ Robert said forcefully. He sighed deeply to dispel his sudden anger at husbands who desert their wives for foreign travel. ‘Having been to India, I can appreciate its not a place a white woman would cope with well. Especially as decorum makes you wear so many layers, in India the Indian girls wear one petticoat and a silk sari, draped over a short top.’ He said thoughtfully.

  ‘Really?’ she asked fascinated. ‘And how much material is in this “Sari”?’ she asked.

  ‘At least 20 yards, Nana, maybe more, depending on how wealthy the wearer’s family is. And they are so colourful, Nana, not sombre and boring like the dresses worn by our girls. There is no comparison for a pretty girl wearing peacock blue silk with an orange top as opposed to a pretty girl wearing moss green muslin. I had a housecoat made for Susanna while I was over there.’ He said distantly. ‘It’s an aquamarine colour and has a peacock embroidered on the back in golden silk thread. All the buttons are carved from ivory and the loops are fashioned out of the same golden silk thread. I could see Susanna in it the moment I laid eyes on it. I was keeping it for a wedding present for her, so that she could dazzle her new husband on their wedding night.’ She watched a tear roll out of the corner of his eyes and leave a track down his cheek. ‘But I suppose I should give it to Elizabeth, if she’ll have me.’