Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess (The Real Duchesses of London) (2 page)

"Poor Richard.
” Annie might have no idea how she felt about her husband, but she knew that she hurt for him now. The two brothers had not always been friends, but there had been a deep bond between them. And these last months they'd spent hours together – hours when laughter had bubbled from the study – laughter that she had not shared in.

It couldn't be true
. It just couldn't. She pressed her hands against her belly trying to calm the growing unease.

Her eyes swept about her bedchamber
. The maids still stood folding and packing, but their hands had slowed. She could read the conflict on their faces – the desire to wait and hear more versus the desire to hurry below stairs to share the news – and it was big news. Hargrove had owned this house along with everything else.

And then the further meaning of Kathryn's words hit her
.

"Richard is the new duke."

"And you are the duchess." Kathryn's voice was smooth and slow.

"Oh.
” Annie looked down at her hands. "What do I do now?" None of this made sense. It was too much for her mind to take in. She would be sick if she were not careful.

"What do you mean?"

"I am supposed to leave in the morning. Can I still leave? Will I be forced to stay? I can't bear to be away from my Robbie any longer. Each day I've been here has torn at me. Richard can't make me stay, can he?"

"He is your husband and we will not debate what he can or cannot do, because we both know the answer
. Lord Richard can do whatever he wants. However, we both also know that he is not a bad man. He will do what is best. What is needed."

Annie could feel Kathryn's eyes upon her, waiting to see if she would argue that last
. She'd long known her friends were curious about the state of her marriage, wondered what had come between her and Richard, wondered why they barely spoke. She'd understood perfectly why they'd all recommended she return to the country – and she'd known they were right. "I suppose Lord Richard must be called Hargrove now. I never thought it would happen. I always knew my son would be duke, but I never thought about my husband."

"Your are correct
. And I do understand. I may never have known Strattington's father, but I have known four Dukes of Doveshire and with each death it has been hard to call the next one Doveshire."

"And Elizabeth was married to two of them.
” Annie raised her eyes to look at her friend. She had once wondered at what it was like to call one man by a past one's title, but she'd never thought to experience it so personally.

Kathryn did not smile at the comment, but continued to stare at her friend with concern
. "Will you be alright? Do you need me to stay until your husband returns?"

As if Richard's being here would help anything
. It certainly never had in the past – at least not since those long-past days when she'd dreamed of more, dreamed of so much more. "So do I need to stay or can I return to Harsgate and my son? I have been without him so long and with all of this happening I feel the need to hold him in arms, to feel his soft breath upon my cheek, his downy hair beneath my chin."

"Do you want me to answer as a friend or as a duchess?
”

"Can you not answer as both?" Annie desperately needed the answer
– her whole life seemed to hang on these coming words.

"I can, but I am afraid they are different answers
. As a friend I want to tell you that you should grab whatever is packed now and flee to the country. These next weeks will be miserable. Everybody you have ever met will come to offer sympathy and yet you will sense an ulterior motive in almost all. And your husband will expect you to be there – to support him in ways that you never even knew existed. Your life will disappear."

Annie could only gaze at her friend, holding the muscles of her jaw tight so that her mouth did not gape open. Could it actually be worse than she expected
? It was hard enough to manage further months of facing Richard across the breakfast table. She pressed her hands back against her stomach, wishing it would settle.

"I do make it sound worse than it is
. It will pass quickly and all happen without your truly being conscious of it. Each day will come and go and you will survive it. And then one day it will just be your life. You will play with your child, laugh with your husband, and somehow fulfill all your duties because they must be fulfilled. You will be a duchess."

Annie focused on the difficulties she was ready to grapple with. "I still can't quite believe it
. When I was a girl I dreamed of it – my marriage to Hargrove was arranged before I had time to even consider anything else, but then I married Richard instead and chose a different path – although I suppose Richard is Hargrove now. My head is spinning."

"Excuse me, my lady
– or rather, your grace," one of the maids spoke up. "I know I should wait for direction, but do you wish us to keep packing or should we begin to return your dresses to the wardrobe?"

If Annie had not already been sitting on the edge of the bed she would have sunk down to it
. How was she supposed to know the answer to that? How could the whole world change in one short day – one short moment?

#

His brother was dead. Richard could not quite get his mind about that simple fact
. He'd held Paul in his arms and watched the life fade from his eyes, watched the spirit leave his body – and yet it did not seem real. Paul could not be dead. Paul was his protector, his elder brother, his . . . He didn't even know how to put into words all the things that Paul had been to him.

Had been.

Was it already the past?

And
– Paul. Richard doubted he'd thought of Hargrove by his first name in a dozen years.

He placed the still-full glass of brandy down on the table and looked about the large drawing room
. This was Hargrove's house. The townhouse of the Dukes of Hargrove. One of the finest homes in all of London – and it was his now.

It was all so wrong.

Paul should have lived another twenty years. Hell, another forty years.

Richard had never even considered what it would mean to be duke
– and now he had to.

He picked up the glass and took one large swallow before putting it back down
. There were so many tasks waiting. He could not afford the weariness that would come with the numbing drink.

And he was already numb
. He knew that even if he knew nothing else. His mind was slow, his thoughts not as focused as they should be.

And his emotions
– he wasn't even sure that he had any, if he felt anything.

Tomorrow the pain would come, the understanding of the loss
. Now, there was only disbelief.

He stared at the closed door to the hall
. An hour ago this vacant room had been an oasis, a spot away from the bustling quiet of the house. Bustling quiet. Such a strange phrase, but one that so aptly described the feeling in a home soon after a death.

He walked to the door and placed his hand upon the handle
–then leaned forward letting his forehead rest against the cool wood. If he opened the door, walked through it, then it would all be real. Someone would call him Hargrove, thinking he'd rejoice in the title. A servant would ask what should be done with the pile of correspondence awaiting his brother's signature. And some man he barely knew would ask what had happened – and he was so far from being ready to even think about how to answer that.

And then the arrangements
. His brother still lay abed upstairs, but that could not last for long. The surgeon had said he'd send people to clean up the body and then prepare it – but then what? When his parents had died it had been Hargrove – Paul who'd taken care of all of this.

Where did a man even begin?

He started to turn back, away from the door – to turn toward the brandy. Nobody would blame him if he locked himself away for a day or two. He knew Nelson, his brother's porter, would take care of everything and would know when it was necessary to disturb him. Nelson could handle anything.

God.

He felt the urge to bang his head against the door again and again. It was almost enough to bring a smile to his lips, the expressions on the servants’ faces as they contemplated if the new duke was mad.

Anger began to eat at his gut
. This was not how it was supposed to be. He was meant to be the quiet, younger son, living at Harsgate and managing the estates while his brother ran the duchy – and half of England. He was supposed to have a loving wife and darling children, not . . .

His brain swirled with how life should have been.

The urge to bang his head grew stronger. This was all wrong. He fisted his hand – and drew back. Nobody would question a good solid punch or two. These walls had probably withstood worse.

And then he stopped.

No. He needed to go home. He might own this house, but it was not yet his home. He would open the door and excuse himself as quickly as possible, make his way home to his own house, to his own life – to Georgianna. He wondered if she was still there.

When had she said she was leaving
? She'd said tomorrow, but had she said that at breakfast this morning or at dinner the night before? He'd barely paid attention at the time – and then his life had cracked open.

It had been breakfast
. He could remember her holding the toast in her hand, remember her teeth sinking into the crisp bread, taking the tiniest of bites. She'd stared straight ahead while he worked to keep his eyes focused on his newspaper, refusing to let her see that he'd noticed everything about her – refusing to let himself know that same fact.

He lifted his head from the door, pulled back his shoulders.

Enough.

It was time to go home
. Time to deal with his wife – with his life.

He was the Duke of Hargrove.

He could not afford to be weak.

#

"It is true then?" Annie asked the question quietly as she watched Richard walk toward her
. His face told her more than his words ever would.

"It is true
. Hargrove is dead." Richard spoke without meeting her gaze, his eyes focused straight ahead, his voice flat.

"I was so hoping it was not, praying it was not
. It did not seem that it could possibly be true. I cannot imagine the world without him in it. He had planned to join us for dinner. I was going to try and persuade him to visit Harsgate, to come and meet Robbie. It seemed so strange that he had never met his heir."

"I am his heir
– or rather was his heir." Richard's voice grew harsh as he spoke the words.

"I know." She spoke gently, trying to calm the flare of anger she glimpsed in his eyes
. "I've always known. But it does not seem real. None of it seems real.” She glanced at the chair across from her, warmed by the fire she'd had lit. It really wasn't cool enough to require the blaze, but her hands had felt like ice.

Richard paused by the chair and she wondered if he'd sit
. She couldn't remember a time when they'd sat together before the fire, sharing the troubles of the day. Her breath caught in her chest as she waited. The scene would seem so normal to anybody peering in and only she would know that such a small gesture might be the most abnormal piece of this whole horrible day. It had been so long since he'd done something so simple as settling beside her to spend the evening.

He did not sit, but instead moved to the hearth and stared down at the flames. His spoke with deliberate calm. "I was with him when he died
. It was very peaceful at the end. I would have expected him to fight for every breath – you know that was the type of man he was – but when the time came he just stared up at me and then closed his eyes."

Was there a response to that
? Annie wasn't sure. She watched the muscles of his back clench beneath the fine broadcloth of his jacket and waited to see if he would say more.

He was quiet for moment, a moment that would have felt so natural for most couples
.

"I don't know what to do now.
” His words were flat – and quiet, so very quiet she almost wondered if she had imagined them. They sounded pulled from his body.

"I think you just deal with each day as it comes
. Even each hour as it comes. Do what needs to be done and then leave the rest for later. Is there anything else that must be done now, this evening?"

He shook his head, single strands of hair glowing in the light of the fire.

"Then will you go to your club? Surely that is allowed even now."

"I do not wish to see anyone
– to explain to anyone."

Annie wasn't sure whether to be insulted that she did not count as
anyone
or relieved that he had sought her company. "Then should I have dinner set in the dining room? It may only be cold beef. I am afraid the staff is not quite up to par. Or perhaps I should have trays brought here. You could eat before the fire – something light.” And then she felt compelled to add. "I will leave you in peace if you so desire."