Duchess by Chance (6 page)

“Tea would be delightful, would it not, Mrs. Potter?” Miss Belmont said, taking the lady’s arm and leading her to a chair.

“Oh, indeed it would, Miss Belmont. Tea with the Duchess.” Mrs. Potter patted her sausage curls. “The ladies of the village will be most envious.”

Eva did not say a great deal through the subsequent tea. She sat on the edge of her seat, very aware of her worn dress with its frayed hem, and listened to the other two ladies chat.
 

“I fear it is close to the reverend’s lunchtime,” Mrs. Potter said finally, struggling out of her chair, which took quite a bit of maneuvering, due to her bulk. “I like to be there when he takes his meals,” she added, sinking into another curtsy, and then she was gone.
 

Miss Belmont chuckled at the startled expression on Eva’s face as she looked at the closed door. “She is a kind-hearted lady who feels it’s her duty to poke her nose into everyone’s business. You are lucky she is in awe of you. The rest of us must suffer her moral sermons regularly.”

Eva returned her gaze to Miss Belmont. She looked so gracious in her lemon dress with satin trim. In fact, Miss Belmont appeared exactly as a duchess should and Eva felt a hot wave of shame at her own dowdy appearance. Catching sight of the worn toe of a slipper, she pushed her feet under the hem. What was she to say to this lady who had obviously been raised in society? Surely they had nothing in common.

“Do not feel guilty over not attending church, your Grace.” Miss Belmont patted Eva’s hand. “You needed time to settle into your new surroundings. Unfortunately, the villagers’ curiosity has reached fever pitch and now they have made up all sorts of convoluted tales about you.”

“Oh dear, that was never my intention. I merely needed time to adjust and did not feel comfortable...” Eva’s words trailed off as she lowered her eyes.

“Can I help you with becoming more comfortable?” Miss Belton said gently.

Eva spread the skirts of her dress wide. “I fear there are so many things, Miss Belton, I would not know where to start.”      

“Perhaps your dress is not quite the thing, but we could -”

Eva could do nothing to stop her splutter of laughter. “Not quite the thing!” She lifted her head. “That is a polite way of saying my dress is a rag.”

“Yes, well...” Miss Belton studied Eva. “If you will allow me to assist you, we shall soon fix that. If you are free, perhaps you could come to tea tomorrow afternoon and meet the local seamstress. Her dresses are adequate and will surpass what you are wearing.” She waved her long, elegant fingers toward the skirts of Eva’s dress.

Eva found herself laughing again. “I could not impose on you like that.”
 

“Nonsense. I would love to help you,” Miss Belton said. “In truth, we would be doing each other a favor. I can help you feel comfortable and you can stop me from incurring my mother’s wrath, as in her eyes, all I do is read, sleep and ride my horse.”

“And this is bad?” Eva questioned.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Very. I should be hosting tea parties and visiting local ladies with whom I should stitch quilts and make myself useful.”

Eva felt sick at the thought. “Oh dear, should I be doing that, too?”

“Yes, and now we shall do it together and my mother will be happy.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be much help.” Eva felt she had to point this out.

“Nonsense, you’re a duchess, and therefore all you need do is turn up and it will be enough.”

A rush of excitement had Eva nodding. Although the idea of taking tea and visiting people sounded terrifying, she had always longed for a new dress and perhaps now she was worthy of such a treat. The duke had left instructions that he would pay for any new clothes she acquired, so perhaps she would even order two!
 

“Once you reach London, you can have a new wardrobe made, but for now the local seamstress will do.”

“I have no plans to go to London, Miss Belmont,” Eva said quietly.

Miss Belmont smiled and patted Eva’s hand. “You will one day. Now tell me what changes you have made here at Stratton besides Luton’s clothing.”

Happy to change the subject, Eva launched into a detailed inventory of what she had changed and hoped to change.
 

“Well I am pleased to see you taking an interest in the place, your Grace. No one has for many years.”

“It is so lovely here,” Eva said meaning every word. “And I hope, given time, that I can restore some of its beauty.”

“There are plenty of skilled local tradesmen, should you need them, and they would be happy for the work.”

“Of course.” Eva knew that often villages survived off the trade from big manor houses in the surrounding area. “I do not yet know any of the local people but I will endeavor to change that soon.” She was the Duchess of Stratton now and would live out her life here. It was important she made herself known.

Miss Belmont then told Eva about the local community and some of the more colorful characters that lived in it and before Eva realized it, they had been talking for another hour.
 

“And now I must return home to accompany my mother on her afternoon visits, however before I do I would ask that you now call me Claire, as we are sure to be firm friends.”

Were they? Eva had never had a friend, firm or otherwise.

“And you must call me Eva, Claire,” she said, hoping this was the right thing to say.

Apparently it was, as Claire smiled at her and then rose to leave.
 

“I will see you tomorrow, Eva.”

      “I look forward to it,” she replied, surprised that she meant every word.
 

      “A gentleman has called, your Grace.”

      With a final wave to Claire, Eva turned to face her butler. “A gentleman, Luton?”
 

           
“He did not furnish me with his name, your Grace, but said you would be pleased to see him.”
 

           
“Where have you put him?”
 

           
“In the small blue parlor, your Grace.”

           
Dear Lord, could it be her father? That thought wiped the smile from her face. However she was a duchess now and would have to see whomever it was. Throwing back her shoulders, she walked through the door Luton directed her toward and came to a halt as she saw who sat inside.
 

           
“Berengaria, it is lovely to see you again.”

           
“Dear God!”

           
“I hope you are as pleased to see me as I am you?”

 
Eva stiffened as Lord Gilbert Huxley walked toward her. She hated this man. He was evil and lecherous and took liberties with those weaker than himself. Always dressed impeccably, no hair out of place, he looked at a person only to calculate his or her weaknesses and then determine how best to exploit them. He had touched and taunted her for years, telling her what he would like to do to her, and she had always run and locked herself in her room when he was in the house.

“I would ask you to leave my property at once, Lord Huxley.” Eva tried to sound calm. This man could hurt her no longer.
 

           
“It seems you have forgotten you manners, Berengaria.” He kept walking, stopping only inches from where Eva stood. “It would be remiss of me not to reacquaint you with them in your father’s absence.”
 

           
“Do not touch me!” Eva pushed his hand aside as he reached for her. “I loathe and detest you and I will ask you again to leave my property.”

      Gilbert Huxley was a nobleman and she had never really understood why he spent so much time in her father’s company, until the day she’d overheard them talking.
 

      “I have travelled all day to see you, my darling little Berengaria.” Huxley moved closer, backing her into the side table.

      She had heard her father and Huxley discuss how best to cheat the men they were meeting out of their money. It seemed they had done this often, the commoner and the nobleman making money though lies and deceit, and if there was a slur cast upon Huxley at any stage, he simply challenged the accuser to a duel and won. Eva knew many men had been maimed or lost their lives at his hand. Her father had told her he was one of the most skilled swordsmen in England.

      “I have no idea how you found me, Lord Huxley, but your journey has been wasted as I have no wish to see you, now or ever.”

      “Your father told me where to find you, my sweet, as he thought you would grow bored, now your husband has returned to London.”

      Her father’s betrayal shouldn’t have had the power to still hurt her but it did.
 

      “Leave my property at once, Lord Huxley, or I shall - ”

      Eva did not see him move but suddenly his hand was fisted in her hair, pulling her closer. She shuddered as he put his mouth on hers, his teeth biting into her lower lip.

      
“No!” She tried to scream and fight her way free but he was too strong and within seconds he had her beneath him, lying on the table. She heard the vase crash to the floor and several books follow as he lifted her onto the surface.

           
“I have wanted you for a long time, Berengaria, and now that your husband has taken your innocence, I will teach you the art of how to really please a man.”

          
Eva bit him.

           
“Bitch!” He slapped her cheek and then reached for the bodice of her dress.

           
“Unhand her at once!”

          
Eva nearly wept at Luton’s voice.

          
“You evil beast! This time I should do the world a favor and shoot you right between the legs. Get off her now!” Betsy Mulholland yelled.

          
Suddenly Eva was free. A firm hand hauled her upright and pulled her toward the doorway. She was then thrust behind a wall of her servants. Mrs. Stimpel slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Tis alright, your Grace,” she said softly. “You are safe now.”

           
Eva took several deep breaths to stop herself from collapsing onto Mrs. Stimpel’s ample chest. Betsy Mullholland held a shotgun pointed at Gilbert Huxley’s private regions. Luton held a kitchen knife; Mrs. Stimpel, a rolling pin. Geoffrey, the footman, had an axe.

           
Panting with fury, Gilbert Huxley glared at her. “How dare you allow your servants to speak to a nobleman in such a manner, Berengaria!”

          
“How dare I?” Eva swallowed the hysteria and then moved to stand in front of Betsy, whom she thought just might shoot him if the moment presented itself. “You dare to preach to me of your noble birthright when you have just demonstrated you do not carry a noble bone in your body!”

“You dare to question me? You, a worthless little slut whose father gambled her into marriage?”

So that was how Spencer Winchcomb had forced the old duke into marrying his son to her. Eva would think about that later; for now she had to deal with Huxley.

“Worthless I may be but I am also a duchess and my duke is one of the most powerful men in this country. Therefore, it should not be me who treads carefully, sir.”

She’d surprised him with her words. His eyes widened briefly and his hands fisted at his sides.
 

“You, Gilbert Huxley, make my skin crawl,” she continued, “and if I did not believe it would go unpunished, I would shoot you myself.” Inside, Eva might be a quivering mess but she would never show him that. Never again would she be that frightened young girl in his presence.

          
“Hear me well, Gilbert Huxley, for I mean every word I speak,” Eva said slowly. “You will leave my property and never return, and if you disobey these orders, I will have you shot.”

           
He laughed in her face. “You could not get away with killing a nobleman, Berengaria, and it is my belief that you are too timid to do so.”

           
“I am a duchess, my Lord. I am sure my misdeeds would be overlooked, should my husband wish it to be so.” Eva braced her shaking knees together as he glared at her. She shivered at the murderous rage in his eyes.

           
“This will not end here, Berengaria, and you will be sorry you ever crossed me.”

           
“Have him removed from Stratton, Luton, and see he leaves the area completely,” Eva ordered holding his eyes. Taking the shotgun from Betsy, she then left the room.

…

Daniel had hoped returning to London would prove to be a diversion. His anger would abate and he would forget what he had left behind at Stratton. Eight weeks he had been back and instead of easing, his anger and frustrations were growing. He was heartily sick of everyone asking after his wife. Instead of waning, the interest in his nuptials appeared to be gaining momentum. He had attended balls, routs and card evenings. When questioned as to the whereabouts of his wife, he gave a polite but curt reply, saying she had chosen to remain in the country. Some had given up asking, especially as his explanation was always followed with a dark scowl, but the more determined had kept probing.