The Seduction of a Duke (38 page)

“No,” she agreed. “You should not have.”

“I didn’t want to lose your friendship over this.” He issued a sly smile. “We were good friends at one time. Do you remember?”

“Those days seem so long ago, but yes, I remember.” This was more like the Randolph whose friendship she’d enjoyed in Newport.

He traced the title of one of the books lying on the table, something about classical architecture. She smiled. Undoubtedly one of William’s books.

“I’ve left the law firm. When I learned how Whitby had intercepted our letters and told you that untruth about my supposed marriage, I knew I couldn’t stay there.”

“Oh, Randolph, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“That’s when I decided to come here and plead my case.” He smiled. “I’m a lawyer, after all. A good one, I thought.”

“My father was always complimentary toward your work.”

His eyes reflected his appreciation. “Thank you. I’m hoping I might be able to get a position directly with his company. A letter from you might help. Or perhaps . . . the Duke?” He glanced at her hopefully.

“I shall speak with him about it,” Fran promised. He sighed his gratitude. “But I won’t tolerate any more talk of annulments,” she said, waving a finger.

“I’m guessing as you haven’t taken a seat that you no longer have grounds.” He chuckled. “I heard the famed abbey ghost moan repeatedly last night.”

“Oh, dear!” She opened her fan and whipped up a current.

“Now, your only option is a divorce. In that case, the Duke will keep all your money and you will get your freedom amid scandalous innuendo, of course.”

“I have no desire to pursue such an option,” she insisted.

“I thought you might say as much,” Randolph said. “But circumstances have been known to change and if you ever reconsider . . . don’t forget my offer of marriage still stands.” He smiled sheepishly.

She patted his hand. “I hope one day you’ll find the same happiness that I enjoy with Bedford.” She held his gaze for a moment. “Now I’m off. I have a long list of things to do and little time to see them accomplished.”

He accompanied her to the door. Before she left, she turned and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know somewhere in the world there’s an adoring woman who will be both honored and delighted to be your wife. You deserve nothing less.”

She hadn’t gone far down the hallway when she heard Randolph say, “I thought I had found such a woman. I thought I had found you.”

 

 

THE TRULY LOVELY THING ABOUT BEING A GUEST AT Deerfeld Abbey was that private conversations could be so easily overheard, Lady Mandrake reflected as she stood in the recess of a doorway down the hall. So a divorce would leave Bedford with all the money of Midas, and that disrespectful bit of baggage, not a farthing. She rather liked the sound of that. She could appreciate that the Duchess would not seek a divorce; after all, Lily had heard the ghost moaning last night as well, and darn irritating it was when she knew precisely what Bedford was doing to his willing wife. He’d done the same to her until Miss American Heiress came along.

What was it about Frosty Franny that had men falling at her feet with marriage proposals, anyway? Could it be that they found her remote disinterest alluring in some way? She doubted it. Lily had found her success in giving men what they wanted, then blackmailing them into marriage or money. No need to alter a proven formula.

Funny that the barrister said he had left his employer. Was that the American way of saying, “discharged”? At least that’s what he had admitted to her after a few glasses of Bedford’s excellent brandy. He was obviously still moon-faced over the American tart. Marriage to her would go far with the employer-to-be father, wouldn’t it? She was sure she could use that knowledge in her planning.

So how could she convince Bedford that he should divorce his wife? One thing she knew about Bedford was his constant insistence on maintaining at least the appearance of respectability. So if she could prove his new wife was an embarrassment, that she was causing him dishonor, that might do the trick. She’d stick around to console him, of course, and resume their previous affair. The Viscount should expire any day now; a little more antimony in his food might do the trick. Then she would be the new Duchess of Bedford, and a far better job she would do of it than some American transplant.

She just needed the right set of circumstances to paint the sort of picture even Bedford couldn’t deny. Bertie’s arrival later in the week and his well-known predilection for married women might prove just the thing. Just the thing indeed.

MRS. TUBERVILLE OPENED THE OLD DUKE’S BEDROOM. Unlike the other unused rooms, this one had been maintained just as if the old man had stepped out for a moment. Fran looked to the housekeeper for an explanation.

“Lady Rosalyn insisted it be kept like this. Perhaps she thought her brother would return someday.”

“But he died, didn’t he?” she asked.

Mrs. Tuberville nodded. “They carried him out and put him in the ground.”

“Then I see no need to keep this shrine to the old Duke,” Fran said. A mammoth wooden carving of the family crest mounted on the wall opposite the bed gave the entire room a sinister and unholy feel. Had it been small enough to hang over a fireplace, she might have granted it a place in another bedroom, but it was truly out of place, even in this, the grandest of bedrooms.

Of course, her opinion may have been different if she hadn’t seen the same image used as a form of torture. “That thing needs to come down,” Fran indicated. “It’s too large for this room.”

The housekeeper’s lips thinned. “Lady Rosalyn will not approve.”

“Lady Rosalyn is not the Duchess of Bedford,” Fran reminded her. “I shall deal with my aunt.”

How strange the words “my aunt” sounded. Yet if she were to make the changes she desired and still maintain family harmony, she’d have to convince Lady Rosalyn to think of her as “her niece.” It might take some doing.

“It’s an impressive piece,” she admitted. “The workmanship should be on public display . . .”

That’s it. That’s the argument to set before Lady Rosalyn. Surely she wouldn’t object to displaying something that would speak to the magnificence of her family’s history. Pleased she had constructed a winning argument to present to her aunt, she confidently advised Mrs. Tuberville. “Please arrange for its removal from this wall. I’ll give instruction later where to place it. I’d like that dark portrait removed as well.”

“That’s the old Duke’s father, Your Grace. The current Duke’s grandfather.”

She peered a little closer. Fortunately William and his brother must have taken after their mother. She could see little family resemblance in this portrait. Obviously maintaining an arrogant, stubborn expression was a family trait. William had come by that honestly enough. “Is there a portrait of the current Duke’s mother in the abbey?” she asked, suddenly curious.

The housekeeper’s brows lowered in thought. “I believe there was at one time, but I can’t recall having seen it for years now.”

“Nevertheless, this one goes down to be placed with others in the portrait gallery,” Fran said. “I think I know just the painting I’d like to hang in its stead.” She would have to enlist the assistance of her parents to purchase the painting of horses she’d seen by an American artist, but the painting so suited William, it would be of a par with his consideration in commissioning her pin.

She rubbed her arms. “It’s so cold in this room, dark and cold. After the ball is past, we’ll have this room painted a lighter color. This dark green must swallow the light at night.” There should be ample room for William’s desk, and a bookcase or two, but without good lighting they would be little use. She’d have to talk to William about modernization of the abbey.

“It’s a start,” she said. “Let’s see the progress of the rest of the rooms.”

 

 

LADY ROSALYN INSISTED LADY MANDRAKE ACCOMPANY her to the old Duke’s bedroom. “She has no right. No right! I’ve been the mistress of the abbey for almost as long as she’s been born.”

“She
is
the new Duchess of Bedford,” Lady Mandrake said, hoping to stir the waters. “I know I wouldn’t have taken such drastic measures had I been the Duchess.”

“You’ve always been the perfect English lady,” Lady Rosalyn said, her distress evident. “If you hadn’t already been married, I would have recommended to William that he consider you for that position.”

Lily had to bite back her laughter. William would never have given serious consideration to any of Rosalyn’s recommendations. If he had, he surely wouldn’t have married an American.

Lady Rosalyn unlocked the bedroom door. “Look. Just look at what she’s done!”

A hideous dark green paint covered most of the room, except for one gigantic pale blue splotch predominately placed on the wall facing the bed. Below the spot, a wooden coat of arms, as large as the abbey’s front door leaned against the wall.

“My brother specifically had that family crest placed in this very room so he could see it every morning as soon as he woke. He never wanted to forget his family responsibilities.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. “It was the last thing he saw before he died.” She took a moment to compose herself, then added, “One would think William would have wanted that same inspiration.”

Lily surveyed the room, noting its pristine, yet undisturbed appearance. “Is Bedford not sleeping here?”

Lady Rosalyn glanced about. “No. I believe he decided to stay in his old room. He just isn’t ready to take on the mantle of dukedom. I’ve kept my brother’s room just as he left it for that time when William chose to rightly ascend to the title. That American, though, she certainly has no such restraints.”

“What is that in the wall?” Lady Mandrake squinted. “There’s something cut into the wall.” The two ladies moved closer to investigate.

“What an extraordinary place to keep a safe,” Lady Rosalyn observed. “The coat of arms would take several strong men to move. You’d think my brother didn’t want to get into his own safe.” She laughed. “Imagine that.”

“It has a key lock,” Lily said. “Do you have the key?”

“Heavens no. It must be long gone by now. Whatever is in that safe will be there for eternity, I’m afraid.” Lady Rosalyn hesitated for just a moment. “But look what she did. It’s bad enough she removed the crest but there’s that awful spot left behind. I can’t put anyone in this room now. It’s of little wonder that my brother’s spirit is restless.”

Lily shifted her gaze to the older woman. “Your brother’s spirit?”

“Have you not heard the moaning late at night?” Rosalyn eyes widened. “I’m convinced it’s my brother’s spirit that is angry at the things that woman is doing to his legacy.”

“Lady Rosalyn,” Lily said. “As no one is using this room, may I have your permission to sleep here? The Viscount has an abominable snore and I haven’t had a good night’s rest since we came to the abbey at your invitation.” She reached over and took Lady Rosalyn’s hand in hers. “I promise I won’t disturb any of your brother’s effects. I just wish for a quiet place to rest my head.”

She seemed hesitant, so Lily added, “Your sainted brother’s spirit may even like the company.”

“As long as you are sensitive to his things, and don’t mind the mark on the wall, I don’t see why not,” Rosalyn said.

Excellent. Lily would bet that key was still in the room somewhere and if so, she’d find it. A safe, and a rather large safe at that, purposefully hidden behind a mammoth sculpture, especially one as significant as a coat of arms, would likely hold the kind of secrets only a woman of her ambitions would know how to use.

 

 

OVER THE ENSUING DAYS WILLIAM WATCHED AS THE abbey magically transformed from a cold, drafty stone cairn to something resembling a warm family home. Franny had distributed his many purchases in such a way as to add a fresh touch of sparkle to each stateroom, drawing the eye away from the old and faded. She scolded him for not purchasing fabrics with which to fashion draperies and comforters. But he pleaded ignorance and promised that he’d take her wherever she wished to purchase such items after the ball.

“We’d have to cross the water to find the best cloth,” she teased.

He grimaced. “As long as you dose me with ginger wine in that unique American fashion, I’ll take you anywhere.”

Even the food tasted better as a result of Franny’s involvement. By God, he was a lucky man. The only point of contention remained that blasted coat of arms. So much so that they discussed it that night when she came to his room.

“Franny, I told you I harbor some bad memories about that family crest. Before, I could lock the door to the old Duke’s room and never look at the thing. But if you hang it in the ballroom, I won’t be able to avoid it.”

“You can still avoid the ballroom when it’s not in use. It just didn’t fit in any other bedroom. It was much too large an accessory. That crest was obviously meant to hang in the ballroom where it would be in proportion to the room.” She stroked the side of his face, trying to coax his smile.