Duchess by Chance (5 page)

“Betsy Mullholland is the name of the servant and this is your father’s address?”
 

“Yes.”

“And it is important to have both her and your brother here with you?” he asked softly.

“Yes, your Grace.”

“I will make sure the request is made before I leave tomorrow.”

“Thank you, your Grace. I fear my father will not care for them now I am gone.” Eva felt an explanation was needed.

“I am to leave soon, however my steward will call upon you in two days’ time, Duchess. He will always be at your service, should you require anything, and will explain the accounts I have set up for you that will look after all your needs.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Eva quickly sank into a curtsy, then turned and walked toward the door. It was as she opened it that something inside her urged her to speak. “I wish you good health and happiness.”

Sleep did not come easy that night for Eva and it was just as she was drifting off that she heard the sound of her bedroom door closing.
   

“Who is there?”

“It is your husband, Duchess.”

“Is something wrong?” Eva pulled the covers aside and swung her feet out of bed. Surely something must be terribly wrong if he was forced to come into her room.

“Nothing is wrong. I have come to consummate our marriage.”
 

Eva was shocked at the cold, hard words and could not believe what she had heard. “You said to my father you would not c-consummate the marriage, your Grace - that you do not want an heir.” Eva clutched her chest where her heart was thumping with painful ferocity.
 

“I may have said that to your father, yet because it is stipulated in the vow I always intended to do this as my honor is at stake.”
 

Eva felt panic claw at her as he moved closer to where she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I will make it as painless as I can, Duchess.”

“I do not want you to…not like this!” Eva said, realizing she meant every word. Yes, she wanted a child, but not one conceived in anger. Jumping to her feet, she ran for the door but did not get far as the duke merely stretched out one arm as she raced past him, his fingers caught her and hauled her to his side.

“This must be done,” he then muttered, wrapping his arms around her as she began to struggle.

“Why! Who will know?”

“I will know.” He pulled her into his chest and held her tight. “I must do this!” he rasped, “I must honor the vow my father made.”

“P-please don’t,” she sobbed, struggling to break free from his hold. “Yes, I long for a child but not like this, not one conceived through pain and rage.”

“Many children are conceived in such a way.” His grip tightened as she renewed her struggles. Her efforts proved hopeless, however, against a man whose strength was twice hers. “You will harm only yourself if you do not stop this foolish struggling.”

“Please let me go.”
 

“I cannot.”
 

“Wh-why are you loyal to a man who cared so little for you?” she cried, still trying to push herself away from him. She knew he was naked beneath his robe; she felt the heat from his body pressed against her own. She took a deep breath, and her senses were instantly filled with his scent. Fear gripped her as Eva realized that once again she was at a man’s mercy. “I-I thought you were different.”

“I am,” he said softly. Eva stiffened as he ran a hand down her spine. His fingers felt warm through the material of her nightdress. “But it is a matter of honor.”

She knew further resistance was futile; the strength seeped from her body and Eva slumped into her husband. His hand continued to stroke her, as if soothing a skittish mare, and she could never remember being touched this way - not in kindness.       “Honor is a word men use so they may commit a multitude of sins.”

“I will not hurt you.” Eva felt his breath in her hair.

“Men always s-say that but they do not mean it.”

“I mean it,” the duke vowed. “I know you have little reason to trust me, Duchess, yet I would ask that you try.”

“Please, your Grace, don’t do this now, not when we both harbor such a distrust of each other.”
 

Daniel fell silent and just held her close. Her heartbeat had eased; one of her hands held his robe, the other lay flat against his chest. He could feel the dampness of her tears as they trickled down his neck and something inside him moved. Something clenched in the region of his heart, and he was discomfited to realize he felt at peace holding her, almost as if they were comforting each other. His fingers absently loosened the silken length of her plait as his mind worked through the emotions that raged inside him. Her words kept repeating themselves inside his head:
Why are you loyal to a man who cared so little for you?
 

“Honor is the one thing my father has not taken from me.”
 
He heard the pain behind his words. The anger and sense of betrayal still ran deep within him.
 

“I...I have known you such a short time, your Grace, yet I had believed that unlike the other men in my life you were a man of honor, a man who would not force a woman to do his bidding.”

Daniel listened as his wife spoke, her soft words tickling his skin and seeming to soothe the ache in his chest. Lifting a handful of her hair, he buried his face in the sweet-smelling curls. “I will never be like my father.”

“As I will never be like mine,” she vowed.

 
Her fingers were stroking his chest, the movements light as a child’s touch, but Daniel felt the sensation through his whole body. “I lived my life believing I knew the future I had mapped out for myself,” he said, “yet in the end, as he did in my youth, my father betrayed me.” Daniel felt the small puff of his wife’s breath on his skin as he finished speaking. “My words amuse you, Duchess?”

She lifted her head to look up at him but in the darkness, her expression eluded him. “At least you had the choice of how to live your life, your Grace. Traveling here with you is the first time I have left my father’s home.”

Slowly, Daniel trailed his fingers over her face, tracing the jut of one cheekbone, the rounded tip of her nose, then the full softness of her lower lip. Everything was different here in the darkness. Inside this room, they were two people who spoke only the truth. He could not do it, could not take her against her will knowing she had been mistreated her entire life.

“No one will hurt you again,” Daniel vowed, swinging her up into his arms.

“No!” She struggled as he carried her toward the bed.

“Ssssh,” Daniel whispered, lowering her onto the mattress. Pulling the covers back, he slid her inside. Bracing his hands on either side of her head, he looked down at her.
 

“You are right, Duchess. I have no right to take you with so much rage inside me. I apologize for causing you more pain when the reality is that you have had more than your share for one so young.” Lifting a handful of her hair, he smoothed it on the pillow. “I must leave here now before the anger that burns deep inside forces me to do something I would regret. I will return someday under different circumstances, and then we will consummate this marriage and you will have your child, but until then, know that here at Stratton you are your own mistress, safe from the hands of your father.”

She touched the side of his face briefly, her fingers soft as they ran down his cheek.
 

“Goodbye, Duchess.”

“Goodbye, Duke.”

Taking her fingers in his he gave them a final squeeze and then walked from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
 

CHAPTER THREE

“I have written to Reggie but have still received no reply, Betsy. I’m so worried for him.”

Eva raised her face to the sun as she handed Betsy Mulholland a sheet to hang on the line. The heat was soothing on her skin.
 

Betsy had arrived one week after her husband had left with an armed outrider and Eva knew the Duke had guessed correctly that her father would not give up the woman without a fight. However, of Reggie there had been no sign. Her father had refused to let him come and she knew this was because he had taken Eva’s place in the Winchcomb household.
 

“We will find a way to get him here, your Grace,” Betsy said, “and in the meantime he is used to your father’s ways.”

Yes, Eva had to believe that and if she could not find a solution soon, she would ask the duke for help again.
 

She had thought about him a lot since that morning two months ago when he had left Stratton for London. Eva had watched him walk to his carriage, his eagerness at leaving obvious in his long strides. She’d leant on the window ledge to get a final glimpse of him, and as if he sensed her presence, he had looked up and their eyes met briefly. She had raised a hand in farewell but he simply climbed inside and closed the door behind him.

“Your Grace!”

Eva watched Luton hurry toward her. Tomorrow, she decided, they would hire a young boy to serve as his helper. Surely it was not good for a man of his age to be running about collecting his mistress? And two new gardeners, she thought with a spurt of independence. Stratton deserved to be restored to its former glory and since her husband was not here, that task now fell to her.

“Your Grace, Miss Belmont and Mrs. Potter have called to see you.” Luton clutched his side as he drew in a deep breath.

“Oh dear.” Horrified, Eva looked down at her drab grey dress. “Who are they, Luton?”

“I believe Mrs. Potter is the reverend’s wife, your Grace, and Miss Belmont’s father owns property which borders Stratton”.
 

“Oh dear,” she said again, feeling her newfound confidence wane.
 

Eva patted and tucked and fiddled with her hair on the way back to the house, took out her handkerchief and scrubbed her face, then tried to brush the grass stains from her skirts.

“It is you who are the duchess, your Grace,” Luton said as they entered the house. “Therefore perhaps they are at this very minute doing the same to themselves.”

Eva’s hands stopped in mid-pat and she looked into his wise old eyes and smiled. “You, Luton, are a prince amongst men.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Luton opened the parlor door for Eva to enter.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, your Grace.”

Eva watched the beautiful woman walk toward her. She had hazel eyes and an open face and strawberry blonde curls peeking out from beneath her bonnet.
 

“I am Miss Belmont, your nearest neighbor.”

“How do you do.” Eva sank into a curtsy.

“And this is Mrs. Potter. She is the wife of Reverend Potter from the local parish,” Miss Belmont added, squeezing Eva’s hand hard, thus drawing her eyes upwards. Miss Belmont then winked at her.

Puzzled by the young lady’s actions, Eva turned to face the other woman in the room.
And I thought I had bad fashion sense
, she thought, looking at Mrs. Potter.

The woman before her looked like a brightly colored Christmas parcel. She was as wide as she was tall, her body swathed in yards of bright red fabric that scooped low over her ample bosom and nipped in tight around her waist, which in turn was accentuated with a wide green sash. Then again, perhaps she resembled a gaily wrapped sausage, Eva thought, looking at the rolls of fat protruding over the sash. Even Mrs. Potter’s hair was curled in tight sausage ringlets that framed a round face punctuated by two small eyes of indeterminate color.
 

“Please allow me to welcome you to the village, your Grace. Reverend Potter urged me to call upon you now you have settled in and ask if you will be attending services this Sunday.” Mrs. Potter’s smile was hopeful.
 

“Uh, I…”

“We are delighted to at last have another duchess living here at Stratton, and hope that soon you will honor our small village with a visit.”

“O-of course,” Eva said, feeling guilty that she had not already done so. “Please tell Reverend Potter I will attend church this Sunday, and forgive me for not doing so sooner. I am afraid it has taken me some time to settle in.’

“Oh no, your Grace.” Mrs. Potter clasped her hands to her ample bosom. “Please do not apologize. We are aware of the pressures such a great lady must have upon her time and it will be such an honor to have you attend our service. I will have the Stratton pew cleaned in expectation.”

“Please do not go to any trouble on my behalf, Mrs. Potter,” Eva added. She had visions of the village all turning out to clean before she arrived and she did not warrant such attention.

“It will be our pleasure, your Grace.” Mrs. Potter sank into a curtsy so low Eva wondered if she would need help rising.

“Would you ladies care for tea?” Eva looked longingly at the door. She had no experience with social chitchat and the prospect of sitting in a room with them was making her feel uneasy. She envisaged long, awkward silences.