An American Duchess (14 page)

“Do you think Langford asked me to marry him because of Brideswell’s situation? He said it was about duty because—because of what happened between us. But it was probably because he wants my money.” When had he known?

Sebastian shook his head. “If Langy said it was about duty, that’s what it was. He only knew about our state of ruin yesterday. You know, Zoe, you could still marry me. I’d be more than happy to turn a blind eye to your love affairs. You could do whatever you wanted. We could live on separate continents, if you like. Half the fashionable set do it.”

“No, Sebastian.”

“Can’t blame a bloke for trying.” Half of his second pint disappeared. “You know what I think, Zoe? I think you don’t want to marry me because you’re falling for my brother.”

“I’m not.” How did Sebastian do this? Now she saw the strange truth about him. The more he drank, the better perception he developed.

“What are you going to do?” she asked. She needed to change the subject. “Look for another bride?”

“My dear Zoe, at this point I fear my conscience would not allow it. Alas, all I wanted to do was save my family.” He looked down at his hands. “I tried to change, Zoe. Tried to cure myself. It didn’t work. Duty could not force me to fall in love with someone else. Someone female.”

“Then don’t change.”

He frowned. “I have to make it look like I delight in women. For the sake of the family.”

“I just realized: you and Langford are exactly alike. You love your family. You believe in duty. And that belief is killing both of you.”

Sebastian lifted his pint to his lips to catch the last drops. “That is what duty is about.”

“Why don’t you go away? No one can spread rumors if you aren’t here. What if you and Captain Ransome went to America?”

“Where they are just as unforgiving. I know of only one place in the world where Ransome and I would be drawn to the collective bosom of kindred sinners.” Sebastian drew out a gold case, took out two cigarettes.

“Where’s that?”

He lit both cigarettes, offered one to her. She took it, but let it smolder between her fingers.

“Capri.” He tapped his cigarette on the rim of the glass, sending a shower of ash inside. “It’s the place to go for the sexually ambiguous—and the sexually voracious, the ones looking for a partner of any gender, color or creed.”

“Go there.”

“The family would have a collective apoplexy.”

“If you’re discreet, no one has to know that you’re not there for the sunshine.”

“I don’t have the funds to get there. Nor to support Ransome there. I can paint passably, so I would fit into the bohemian lifestyle. But even I know we cannot live on love alone.”

She knew what it was to not be accepted. It must be so much harder for Sebastian. “If I had my capital, I could give you a loan. Enough to set you and Ransome up in Capri, I’m sure.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

She couldn’t really explain it. “Happiness is an elusive thing. I like to see people find it.”

“If my brother were willing to wed you, then give you the divorce you want, I could go in search of happiness.” Sebastian grinned. “So what I need to do is get you and Langy married as fast as possible.”

* * *

The honking startled Beelzebub, making him shy and rear, but Nigel got his mount under control. He turned the horse. Zoe’s car was roaring toward him—right in the center of the road—a cloud of dust flying behind it.

What in the bloody hell—?

As it got closer, Nigel saw Julia at the wheel, her gloved hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. She shouted something that he couldn’t hear. But her face glowed with exhilaration.

At her side sat Zoe with her long white scarf flapping behind her. Despite Julia’s erratic steering, Zoe looked utterly self-possessed. But she was waving at him, indicating he had better get off the road. He lightly tapped his horse with his heels and trotted off the side of the road as far as he could go.

Suddenly Zoe put her hand on the wheel, helped Julia steer toward the right, and the car zipped by him with several feet to spare. It slowed down, pulled onto the side of the road and rattled and bumped to a stop.

He cantered over just as Julia let out a whoop of excitement. “Goodness, I love driving. It’s so exciting and exhilarating. I feel so very much in charge!” She threw her arms around Zoe.

Nigel looked down from Beelzebub. Zoe gazed up at him. “I am giving Julia driving lessons.”

“And teaching her to drive too fast.”

“She isn’t,” Julia declared. “She told me to slow down. But my heel got stuck and I couldn’t work the brake. It’s not Zoe’s fault I came at you too fast. And I insisted upon having lessons!”

“I want Julia to learn how to control a car.” Zoe opened the passenger door and got out. “How to drive safely. But I think I will drive back to Brideswell and we can practice more on the quiet driveway.”

He frowned. “Julia does not need to know how to drive. That is why we employ a chauffeur.”

When he looked at the car, he thought of that night when he’d gone driving with Zoe and they’d ended up kissing by moonlight.

Zoe marched around her car to him. “Well, she
should
know how to drive. Every woman should. It will give her freedom. And she loves it. You aren’t going to spoil her fun, Langford.” Eyes snapping with challenge and fire, Zoe faced him.

He had to admit—once again, Zoe knew what Julia needed. He looked back to Zoe as Julia slid over to the passenger seat and Zoe took her place behind the steering wheel.

The truth was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. God, she was beautiful.

Softly, he admitted, “You are an excellent driver—I would trust no one else to teach my sister.”

Zoe’s eyes widened in surprise.

“All right, Julia. I won’t forbid it,” he continued.

“As if you even could, Langford.” Zoe smiled at Julia. “Now, let’s return to Brideswell.” She started the car, reversing smoothly. And he watched them drive away.

Zoe was the answer to Brideswell’s prayers. Her fortune could save it.

But he would not marry her for her money.

He wanted to marry her, and he knew it wasn’t out of duty or any desire to save Brideswell. He
wanted
her.

Somehow he had to convince her of it.

 11 

PICNIC ON A SPRING AFTERNOON

“This has arrived for you, Miss Gifford.”

The morning after her driving lesson with Julia, the butler presented a telegram on a silver salver. She looked at it and shivered. The last one had brought such terrible news. But she coolly said, “Thank you, Bartlet,” and picked it up. This one wasn’t about a tragedy, but it still made her sick to her stomach. It was from her uncle Hiram Gifford.

know about check
stop
telephone at once
stop

The jig was up. He knew Mother had forged a check. Thank God there wasn’t a telephone at Brideswell. For once it was a good thing they were so determined to fight change. This was a conversation she did not want to have.

Hiram was not like her father at all, despite being Father’s younger brother. He was ambitious without any real talent or acumen, and he resented the millions that had been shunted aside and preserved in Zoe’s name.

Half her fortune was tied up in shares in Father’s company. Hiram was now the director of that company. He wanted a controlling interest, and he didn’t have it. With some of her shares, he could get it, and he couldn’t afford to buy her out.

But armed with this scandal, he could try to blackmail her to take control.

She was not going to let him do that. She’d wanted to run a business as Father had done. But when Billy had died, Father brought Hiram in to act as president if anything happened to him. That had hurt. She could have run a company just as well as Hiram or her brother. But Father had never seen that.

“Zoe, is it bad news?” Julia took a seat across from her.

She crumpled the telegram. It was a disaster, but she’d learned a thing or two about hiding behind a cool mask from Nigel. “No. Dull stuff to do with financial matters.”

“At least you are considered worthy of consultation. No one speaks to me about money. I’m expected to learn what’s going on from reading facial expressions and listening to rumors.” Julia sighed. “That’s how I’ve learned my dowry has completely gone up in smoke.”

“Oh, heavens, no.” Zoe thought of what Sebastian had told her. “I’m so sorry.”

“You knew, didn’t you? You don’t look shocked at all.”

“Sebastian told me there was some trouble. But wasn’t your dowry somehow protected?”

“It was invested, along with everything else. I don’t understand—people in America seem to be making scads of money. How did we choose the companies run by idiots? And then, on top of that, a gentleman we’d trusted for decades embezzled our money and lost it all.”

Zoe shook her head. She thought of her uncle. “It’s not easy to run a successful company. It takes something more than brains. It takes daring, common sense, ruthlessness and incredible foresight.” Uncle Hiram did not understand the one thing Father had always explained to her. A company that went stagnant would die. A company had to be constantly growing and evolving.

All the more reason for her to have her money under
her
control.

“Goodness, how many people possess all that?” Julia asked.

“Very few,” Zoe said ruefully.

“Of course, my dowry evaporated right at the moment when I jolly well need it.”

Zoe jerked up. “You mean Dr. Campbell?”

Julia smiled. Glowed. Blushed. Then studied her teacup.

“Of course, he hasn’t said anything yet, exactly...but I think—I think he might admire me. He even likes my bobbed hair.”

“And so he should.” Zoe was delighted to see Julia in love, but it made her think—she hadn’t looked so dreamy and delighted over Nigel, had she? She had been more...agitated.

“He is different than any other man I’ve met, Zoe. He is an outsider here, not to mention Scottish. He believes Scotland should be independent, though he tempers his opinions around here. In truth, he’s very passionate about it. He went to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh before the War. There were female students. He believes women are capable of being quite a lot more than house mistresses.”

“Good. It is about time there was a man here who displayed some modern thinking.” She sipped her coffee. “Do you think you will marry? Surely he does not care about something like a dowry when he is a surgeon. And, if you are happy, do you really care?”

“I would live with him in a field if I had to,” Julia said. “But for all he doesn’t agree with division by class, and for all he believes a man—or woman—should be able to succeed on merit rather than birth, he refuses to marry me if he cannot support me.” Julia clasped her hands. “He is a good man. Once—once I went to the hospital and I refused to leave even though he sent me away. A child had been badly injured and I saw him save the wee boy’s life.”

“He sounds wonderful. A man deserving of your heart.”

“The family would disapprove.”

Zoe thought of the telegram, crumpled in her pocket. The answer to her desperate situation was marriage. It was the answer to Nigel’s problems. And Sebastian’s. And Julia’s. Her fortune could help them all. And no one could disapprove of Julia or Sebastian finding happiness in the way they desired if she was responsible for it.

“You should follow your heart,” she said.

Julia set down her coffee cup. “I will, if you will.”

And that afternoon Zoe sent a telegram to her uncle:

no telephones at home of Duke of Langford
stop
will be married soon
stop
debts will be paid
stop
advise discretion
stop

There. She had carefully said nothing. And hinted at a lot. Hiram might just leap to the conclusion she was going to marry an English duke—he knew she was engaged to an Englishman of an autocratic family but nothing more. He didn’t know her engagement was off, so it should keep him quiet.

At least for a while.

* * *

Three days after his failed marriage proposal, Nigel stood on the front step of Brideswell to welcome his cousin Adelaide, her husband, the Earl of Carleton, and their five boisterous boys. It was now late May and the weather was warmer.

Within an hour, Brideswell rang with the sounds of locomotive engines, automobile engines and aeroplane engines.

“Watch out, Uncle Nigel—I am on your tail!”

He was playing fighter pilots using a small biplane fashioned from wood with his youngest nephew, six-year-old Robert, when Julia opened the door to his study. She leaned against the door frame and smiled at them both.

“There you both are! You must come quickly. We are having a picnic.”

“Hurrah!” Robert shouted. “I’m starving!”

“A picnic?” There hadn’t been one of those since before the War.

“Mother’s idea. Well, Zoe’s, actually. Grandmama is beside herself with the noise the boys are making. She offered a pound note to whichever boy would stay quiet the longest. Three dropped out after one minute, and the victor lasted a few seconds more.” A wicked grin lifted Julia’s lips. “The nephews outwitted Grandmama.”

Julia smiled so much more, Nigel had to admit, since Zoe had come into their lives.

“When Zoe mentioned taking the boys outdoors, Mother reminisced fondly about the picnics of the old days. So Zoe convinced Mother to arrange one—and helped with all the work, as did I. This way Mother felt she accomplished something wonderful without being overwhelmed.”

“You are wonderful.”

“And so is Zoe, of course. She is a very good person, you know,” Julia said. “I wish you would stop arguing with her all the time.”

“I do not argue with her all the time,” he protested. Then blushed. He turned away quickly and was saved because Julia herded Robert out of the study, toward the waiting cars.

Watching his young nephews as he walked outside, Nigel felt another sense of longing. Having children—heirs—was a duke’s duty. He had avoided Adelaide’s children after the War, afraid his scars would frighten them. But children had a ghoulish streak, he’d learned, and the boys found his war wounds fascinating.

But they also asked too many questions about battle.

They drove up to a ridge, the sky clear and blue and the sun beaming down. Servants laid out trestle tables, covered with cloths, and set out chairs. Beneath the ridge ran the winding river, and the height of the ridge meant a cooling breeze washed over it all summer. Footmen spread a blanket for children and younger members of the families, helped the dowager, his mother and cousin Adelaide settle into chairs. Wine was poured into goblets and food brought out from baskets. Roasted meats, cold collations, cheeses and breads were set on silver trays and warming dishes—though the wind put the flames out.

The boys raced through the grass of the meadow, tumbling and rolling. The three eldest ran back to the table, grabbed food and stuffed it into their mouths.

Adelaide gave a sigh. “They are like wild animals. Nannies are useless creatures these days. They refuse to discipline the children, they want more money and fewer working hours, and they still up and leave for a job in London with hardly any notice.”

“Mother, we want to go down to the river,” the eldest shouted.

Adelaide looked stricken. She was very thin, with brown hair pulled in a bun, and she looked exhausted. “Not on your own. You will all drown, I am certain, and then where will we be?”

“I will watch them, Cousin Adelaide,” Julia offered. She looked to Isobel, but his youngest sister was sitting on the blanket, reading a book. Nigel squinted. A book on anatomy.

He had seen that book lying around in the library and had glanced at it. “Isobel, put that book down.”

She looked at him over its edge. “Why?”

“Yes, why, Langford?” Zoe asked. “Isobel is interested in medicine. I thought you had already realized Isobel is going to be much more than a drawing-room ornament?”

“Yes, I am aware of Isobel’s ambitions.” He was aware of everyone looking at them.

“And of course, you encountered nurses in the War—”

“Of course I did. I was wounded. Several times.” He took a step closer to Zoe. “It is a picnic. I just thought it maybe was not the most appropriate choice of reading.”

“I think it shows how strong and how committed Isobel is,” Zoe countered.

The woman was determined to point out he was wrong. They had moments of complete accord—and others where all she seemed to want was discord. Now they stood there, gazing at each other, breathing hard as if they had just run across the meadow.

“Let’s go down to the river,” Julia declared brightly, herding the boys away.

“She is a very smart girl, Langford,” Zoe said softly. “You have to support her, you know. And you will have to support Julia when she chooses to marry.”

With that, she turned and walked away, joining Julia. What in hell did she mean?

Nigel followed. Behind him he heard the dowager declare, “This is the book you are reading? Good heavens, there are pictures of bodies without skin. Do put this away while we eat.”

He guessed Isobel wouldn’t. Not now that she had Zoe’s approval.

He admired men who pursued knowledge. His dream had been to travel to Persia and Egypt. Look for tombs and pharaohs. Search for the beginnings of civilization. But he was a duke and then war broke out. Duty had kept him from fulfilling his dream. And he knew how it felt.

Taking long strides along the narrow track that led down from the ridge of the river, Nigel caught up to Zoe. “I have no intention of denying Isobel her dream.”

Zoe slowed her pace, allowing Julia and the children to surge on ahead. “Really? The man I first met would not have said that.”

That startled him. He probably wouldn’t have, back then. A few weeks ago. “What do you mean about Julia marrying?”

She gave him her direct American look. “Julia has fallen in love with Dr. Dougal Campbell.”

“The young surgeon?” Now he understood Isobel’s interest. “Julia—she’s been raised to be a lady, to manage an estate—” He broke off. He was willing to accept university. But this—

“Anyway, you’ll be happy to know the engagement between Sebastian and me is off,” she said. “I can’t do
my
duty and marry Sebastian. There won’t be a divorce.”

“I’m only concerned about one engagement.” He stopped and caught her arm. Her violet eyes captivated him every time he looked in them. Half the time he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say. This time, he couldn’t forget. “Marry me, damn it. I’ll agree to whatever terms you propose. You can have the same arrangement that you had with my brother. I agree to give you your freedom. Or you can be duchess for the rest of your life. Whatever you want.”

That came out much harsher than he’d intended.

Her unusual purple eyes flicked over his. “Langford, are you...groveling? I assume it’s not because you are so hopelessly in love with me, you’ll do anything for me.”

“I am on the brink of losing Brideswell,” he said. “You probably do not care about that. But the settlement you promised my brother would save us all. Having your trust would save your mother. I do not like divorce. I do not agree with it. I think a gentleman and a lady should soldier on. But I cannot stand on pride when the ground below me is crumbling away. I will agree to whatever terms you want. We will marry. You will be my duchess for as long as you wish. If you want it to be five minutes or forty years, I will agree.”

“Do you even like me, Langford?” she asked bluntly.

The question took him off guard. “I believe I do.”

“You believe you do? You could sound a little happier. You could attempt to sweep me off my feet. When a man proposes marriage, shouldn’t he say he’s in love with you? Shouldn’t he be in love?”

What English girl would ask a question like that? Under his collar he was hot with embarrassment. He was madly, passionately in love with her, but he couldn’t begin to guess what she felt for him. “Are you in love with
me?
”

“That is a good strategy, Nigel. Turning the tables on me. The truth is, I don’t yet know. But I think you have to love me or this won’t work.” She lifted her brow. “And I don’t know if you do. I feel that every time you look at me, you see every way in which I am not duchess material.”

“Not duchess material?” he echoed. Confused. He’d expected to deal with a yes or a no.