Two Notorious Dukes Page 13

  ‘I’m sure Elizabeth will look fantastic in it and Susanna wouldn’t want you to waste it, just because she’s not here.’

  ‘I know, Nana.’

  ‘Have you had sex with her, boy?’ she asked suddenly and he squirmed and then nodded his head.

  ‘But I didn’t seduce her, she seduced me!’ he said indignantly as his Grandmother gave him a disgusted look. ‘I woke up in the middle of the night and she was there.’

  ‘And what was she doing?’ She demanded and he looked at her with his most charming smile. ‘Paint me no pictures!’ she said and shook her head. ‘Be off with you, boy. There are estate matters to attend to.’ She said in dismissal. He got up and kissed her gently on the cheek before he left the room.

  He went to his study, knowing the estate manager would be waiting and that the next weeks would be full of work. He dealt with the immediate things and then sat to pen a letter to Elizabeth.

  Chapter 10 In sickness

  My Dearest Elizabeth, The letter started auspiciously. It had arrived with the midday post and Elizabeth was anxious to read it. She hoped it was from Robert, but as she didn’t know his hand writing yet, she couldn’t be sure. She went out to the lake and sat under the oak tree and tore the wax seal open unfolding the pages of good quality vellum and looking first at the signatory which said

  Your devoted suitor, Robert Bosworth esq., Duke of Roding.

  With her heart in her mouth, she began to read.

  My Dearest Elizabeth, I miss you already. I do not think I ever really understood the concept of love, until now. I suppose when I was younger it was a more idealistic dream, an ideal of how life could be, but as you grow you realise life is not quite like that. Instead you find it is full of horror, terror and heartache. The ones you love die, sometimes horribly and the only time you have is now.

  I have spent the last sixteen years living in the now, without any real thought for the future, but now I have to think of the future, because that is where you will be.

  It was very remiss of me really, because I told you that I love you, just like I will in this letter, but I didn’t actually ask you to marry me and I should have done. But you were packing and the look in your eyes was enough to make me leave, because I could see how afraid you were. So here is my proposal.

  Will you consent to be my wife? So that I can love, cherish and keep you all of your days?

  There are two ways to look at a marriage proposal. One is coldly as a monetary alliance or title amalgamation and that is easy to do. Which would you prefer an Earl or a Duke? You would take the Duke, more money and more prestige. The other way is more difficult for everyone. It is rare in our world that somebody can marry for love, especially a woman. Most of the time you are ‘sold’ to the highest title or purse, and the one person you genuinely love is not even considered. And if you are lucky, you end up with a man who respects your individuality and will even give you a certain amount of freedom, to follow your dreams or passions. However, if you are unlucky, you end up in a loveless marriage with a brute that treats you worse than a rabid cur!

  I do not know what it feels like to be sold into slavery. But I do know what it feels like to be a soldier, to have to follow orders you do not agree with, to witness the plunder of a town, because the soldier’s blood is up and you, as one officer among many, cannot stop them from raping and pillaging.

  I love you, Elizabeth Audley, but do not ask me to tell you why, because I do not know. I just know that it has crept up on me from the moment you walked through the door at the Opera. You have captured my heart and I have delivered it into your keeping. Please try not to break it.

  I would ask, no beg, one favour from you? Would you remain at Boscombe Manor until I return? If you go back to London without me, I shall be afraid for your safety. I do not trust Craanford and neither does my Grandmother, who knows the family quite well.

  She is anxious to meet the woman who has finally ensnared my heart and sends her felicitations. Unfortunately she is too frail to travel to London anymore, the journey would probably kill her, and so she will remain at Roding Hall, where she hopes that you will visit, if you choose to be a Duchess. My Duchess. The Duchess of Roding.

  Sorry, I am being fanciful. I think I have rambled enough and my steward is frowning at the length of this missive. I still have a lot of work to do and I have not toured the park yet.

  Be assured of my affection and love. Your devoted suitor,

  Robert Bosworth esq., Duke of Roding. She leaned back against the tree and looked over the lake. She watched the ducks bobbing in the water and the geese trimming the grass. There was nothing for it; she had to read it again.

  All in all she read the letter four times. She was impressed with his penmanship. His handwriting was totally masculine in execution, but stylish all the same. There were no corrections or accidental ink blots. The wax seal had the ducal coat of arms on it. But the content kept her attention.

  She could feel his love coming off the pages in waves, just as she had felt it the last time they had made love. She would remember that for the rest of her life. As if his love would consume them both in an inferno. It was slow and erotic and as they climaxed together, she wrapped her legs about him and crushed his body to hers. ‘I love you,’ he’d gulped out while he was still trembling in rapture as their sexes spasmed.

  Admit it! She berated herself.It frightened you the moment he said it! Didn’t it!She sighed deeply as she admitted that it did. It made her afraid, afraid of belonging to another man. Being at his mercy.

  All right! Let’s look at this marriage proposal. He’s offering a Duchy, not some squalid house in a rookery. You already know he’s not a particularly violent man, probably because he’s been in the army and seen all that war has to offer. You’ve proved that he doesn’t need violence to get aroused.And she sat with a wicked smile on her face as she thought about his arrogant manhood, what it felt like and the taste of it.Don’t think about it!She berated herself again as her body squirmed with desire.And that’s another good point! How often have you had such satisfying sex?And she had to admit, never before Robert.Ask yourself this question then? Is there any real reason to turn him down? He said he loves you, you know you love him and you already hope you are working on your first child. If you reject his offer what will you do? You have no money, no prospects. You will end up on the streets or in a rookery living by your wits. Or worse, at the mercy of Alexander. If you marry him, you will live in splendour, with unlimited wealth, so long as he stays away from the gaming tables, he will be devoted, because reformed rakes are like that; there is no need for him to look for sex elsewhere and after all, I’m no blushing bride. I already know what it’s all about!

  She sat under the tree for an hour, just thinking of the possibilities as the Duchess of Roding, and not all of them were financial or personal, there was title, lands and money for her children, her first son would become a Duke, not an Earl and all of them would be titled. If she got fed up with London, she could retire to Roding Hall and become a recluse. She would get to have her own balls and soirées and if she didn’t want to go out all the time, she was sure Robert would be happy to stay in. He had enjoyed her playing and he had a fine voice.

  You would be stupid to turn him down! She concluded and went into the house to reply to his missive.

  Robert saw the vellum with a plain wax seal and his heart leaped into his mouth. His Grandmother smiled knowingly at the eagerness in his face as he snatched the parchment up and shot out of the breakfast room. ‘Are you sick, boy?’ she called after him and then cackled like a witch. ‘Love is the worst sickness of all!’ she shouted after him.

  He ran to his study, the letter burning in his hand. He sat down at his desk and laid the missive on the blotter and just looked at it.Will it be yes? Or no? He asked himself.There’s only one way to find out and that is to open it!He picked up the parcel and cracked the wax seal with his fingers. His hands were shaking so much that the pages rus
tled as he unfolded them. To his utter surprise the first page was covered in yes’s. Every conceivable size and colour, every fraction of the page had a yes painted on it. All done in water colours and in the centre was one yes in black script. He laughed as he read the first line of the next page.

  My dearest Robert, I must apologise for a few things. First let me apologise for the front page of this missive, but I could not contain my enthusiasm for your proposal and I had to put paint to paper to show you how affected I am by it.

  I also must apologise for my behaviour your last morning at Boscombe Manor. I was afraid. Your admission was a shock at such an intimate moment and that is what convinced me of your sincerity.

  My fear was real, but I was not afraid of you, only what you represented. Another controlling male to dominate my life. I know you will never beat me and I shall endeavour not to make you so angry that you even think about it.

  You were right about my deliberations. The offer of a Duchy is quite an inducement for accepting a proposal. But I cannot think in just those financial and title terms. I have to choose the right course of action for me. If I am stupid and churlish enough to turn down your proposal, then when I end my days in a squalid rookery, I would have nobody to blame but myself. And in that said rookery, all I would find would be pain and suffering, for my freedom. Freedom to starve and be treated worse than Edward treated me. To accept Alexander’s offer is out of the question, but he seems to have difficulty taking no for an answer. I can only hope that he loses interest when I become a Duchess. Your Duchess. The Duchess of Roding.

  As I am neither stupid nor churlish, I therefore accept your proposal and look forward to meeting your Grandmother at your earliest convenience. I would come to Roding Hall now, if you ask me to. I would marry you tomorrow if I could.

  Now, this is very important, my love.

  Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Since you left the Manor I have not had a single nightmare. Mary is relieved that she can actually sleep at night for a change. I have apologised to Mrs. Simmons, but I keep stealing into your room in the night and I sleep in your bed when I feel lonely.

  Lady Verity and Sarah have gone back to London, but John is still here. I get the impression that he will not leave because he made you a promise? I think you should write and release him from it, he has a wedding to organise and he cannot do it from here!

  Better still, allow me to return with him to London and then I can start organising our wedding, assuming we are getting married in London? Write to me with your thoughts and wishes.

  Goodness, I am so happy! I cannot believe how happy this event has made me. I love you Robert Bosworth and like you I cannot possibly tell you why. For me it was the moment you handed me my handkerchief at the opera. I looked into your eyes and my heart nearly stopped beating.

  The days are passing so slowly and I am impatient for us to be together, forever. So hurry home, my love. Hurry!

  Your truly affianced,

  Elizabeth Audley,

  Countess of Craanford. Robert had to read the letter three times, before he could believe that she’d said yes. Even though the brightly coloured front page should have left him in no doubt. He ran back to the breakfast room, but it was empty. He flew up the stairs like a demented idiot and literally hammered on the door of his Grandmother’s suite. The maid opened the door with alacrity and Robert burst into the parlour.

  ‘Nana!’ he almost shouted. His Grandmother looked at him with haughty disdain. ‘Is there a good reason that you hammered down my door and frightened poor Francine to death?’

  Robert tried to be contrite, even though he was hopping from one foot to the other, but she maintained her icy exterior. She knew what he was going to tell her, it was written all over his face. He was almost irradiated with joy!

  ‘I’m sorry Nana, but I have some good news for you.’

  ‘Really? Has the Prince Regent lost his mind like his father?’ she asked impertinently. ‘Or has Napoleon dropped dead!?’ She laughed at his expression. ‘I’m sorry. What’s your news?’ she asked politely.

  ‘I’m getting married!’ burst out of him like a geyser as he threw himself to his knees and buried his face in her lap. She sat quietly and stroked his head as his shoulders heaved and he sobbed with the emotions coursing through him.

  ‘I am very happy for you both.’ She said softly. ‘Maybe I’ll get some more great grandchildren to dandle on my knee, before I go. And the house of Roding might be saved after all.’

  He sat back on his heels and wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘It would have been saved anyway Nana. I’d reached the stage where I was telling myself it had to be done, but I never envisioned myself falling in love with someone.’ He looked up at her and her heart nearly broke with the expression on his face. ‘I thought I would have to accept one of the debutantes sooner or later and prayed that I could give her a child. But I suppose at that point it wouldn’t matter if it was mine, only that it had my name.’

  ‘I’m very happy for you and Elizabeth, and if you’ve been tupping her, then in all likelihood she could already be pregnant.’ She smiled benevolently. ‘So you should get your business finished here and get off back to London, where you can marry her as soon as you like.’

  ‘I would marry her tomorrow, Nana, but she’s not in London, she’s at Boscombe Manor with Johnny Argyll.’

  ‘Is that because of Craanford?’ she asked insightfully.

  ‘Yes.’ He admitted. ‘She wasn’t safe in London, and she won’t be until I have the ring on her finger and have added the title to her name.’

  ‘Then don’t waste a moment.’ She said and he gave her his best rakish smile. ‘Be off with you, Robbie!’

  Two weeks later Elizabeth awoke lazily in his room. Mary bustled in, knowing her mistress was in the Master suite, organising the bath behind the screen that had been moved in from another room. She got the maid’s organised and then she went to see to Elizabeth and open some curtains.

  ‘Good morning, Lady Elizabeth.’ She said politely and swished the curtains from across the window. Suddenly the sun blazed into the room and Elizabeth squinted at the bright light. Mary turned to the bed and looked at Elizabeth with a ready smile. ‘Oh! My Lady, you look so pale this morning, do you feel all right?’ Mary asked solicitously.

  ‘Come to think of it, no. Not really. I feel a little queasy, as if something I ate yesterday didn’t agree with me.’ Elizabeth said and frowned. ‘In fact, I feel very sick.’ She said and lurched out of bed, managing to reach the porcelain wash stand before the hot acrid contents of her stomach erupted from her throat.

  Mary was all business and a hot, wet flannel was washed over Elizabeth’s face. Mary hustled her back to the bed and made her sit down, before she fell as her legs were trembling. ‘Gosh, I feel as weak as a kitten!’ she said and laughed nervously. Mary handed her a cup of tea.

  ‘Try some tea, Countess; it could just be that your stomach is empty.’ Mary said offering a cup of tea.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mary.’ She sat calmly on the edge of the bed and sipped the hot beverage as her mind roved over what she ate the day before. ‘Do you know if anyone else is sick this morning?’

  ‘No, My Lady. I’ve not heard a sausage.’ Mary bustled out with the porcelain dish from the wash stand and the maids finished with the bath.

  Elizabeth finished her tea and felt stronger, so she went behind the screen, stripped off her nightgown and plunged her body into the hot water. She loosened the plait in her hair and, getting on her knees, she dunked her hair in the clean water. She picked up the dark amber lozenge of Pear’s soap and started to lather her hair. She knew that Mary would come back to help her so she concentrated on getting the top of her head done. Her eyes were looking down her body without really seeing, until suddenly the colour of her nipples caught her eye. They were darker than normal. A deep dusky pink, instead of a coral pink and the milk ducts looked distended. She swished her hand in the water and inspecte
d her nipples thoroughly and suddenly she knew why she’d been sick. The signs were unmistakeable. She continued to absently wash her hair, as she counted back to her last course. She was late, very late and as she thought about it, she should have had her menses the week after Robert left for Roding Hall.

  She felt and overwhelming urge to scream and shout, dance around the room and jump for joy. She started to laugh and then she cried and that’s when Mary returned and Elizabeth clamped down on her emotions and concentrated on her hair.

  ‘There must be an easier way of doing this?’ Elizabeth said irrationally. ‘It takes an eternity to get the soap out.’ She said and then plunged her head under the water as Mary swished the tresses around to flush out the soap. Using a jug or two of fresh water, one with some vinegar in, Mary rinsed her hair until it squeaked and then wrapped it in a towel for Elizabeth to finish her bath.

  She lay back in the water and contemplated her condition.I’m Pregnant!She almost gloated over it.I am enceinte! With child! In colloquial parlance I’m up the stick or I have a bun in the oven!She tried to smother the laugh that erupted from her throat, but couldn’t.Oh! Robert, my love. You’re going to be a father and we shall have many children. All sons if I can! She got on with soaping her body and then Mary was there with the jug to rinse her off.

  She could not hide the joy in her face, or the bloom of her condition. Mary already suspected she was with child and this morning’s vomiting just confirmed it for her. She had seen Elizabeth start and lose three babies and she knew that this time, Elizabeth would be very careful, even though she didn’t have a brute of a husband to come home and kick her all around the house because he didn’t like her news.