An Unlikely Duchess (12 page)

She eyed him sceptically, wondering when he’d sneer at his surroundings and take his leave and hoped he would not upset her friends.

Mrs. O’Dwyer turned to face the almighty duke and nearly fell over herself curtsying to him. Rebecca rolled her eyes. The older lady had never fawned over the earl that way!

Mrs. O’Dwyer, being a hardworking soul all her life, was getting on in years and her muscles and bones were not what they used to be. Edward waited while she struggled back out of her curtsy, panting as she went.

The children stood behind Lady Rebecca’s stool eyeing him suspiciously while the lady herself looked disdainfully at him as if she expected him to start abusing the woman still half prostrate in front of him.

He glanced quickly around the large room while the old dear gripped a chair to straighten. He did not think she’d appreciate his assistance and would probably have a fit if he touched her.

The room put him in mind of the cottages he frequented as a child. Homey and warm, and thoroughly welcoming. It made him pang for his childhood when his father had been in charge and Edward had been free to do as he pleased.

It had been too long since he’d spent any real time with his tenants, something he would rectify soon.

“Your grace,” Mrs. O’Dwyer finally wheezed, “we are truly honoured to have you here. Please, come through to the drawing room, Lady Rebecca should not have brought you in the back way.” Her tone was ever so slightly accusatory and Rebecca snorted. Most unladylike.

“My dear Mrs. O’Dwyer,” he began making every effort to put the good lady at ease and show the madam sitting at the table that he wasn’t the snob she expected him to be, “I am sure you have an excellent drawing room but this kitchen puts me in mind of the cottages I spent a very happy childhood in on my father’s estates. I would just as well stay here and enjoy the wonderful smells coming from the hob.”

Mrs. O’Dwyer’s face reddened with pleasure and Rebecca thought the poor woman would literally burst with pride. She was quietly impressed with the duke. He had been all ease and politeness with not a trace of arrogance or superiority. She was grateful to him.

He took a seat on the stool next to hers and his thigh brushed against her as he settled himself. She felt the impact all the way to her toes. Surely this did not happen to everyone? If it did, husbands and wives would stay locked away forever, never entering society.

Not liking where her thoughts were going she turned instead to ask Martin how his reading and writing practice was coming along while Mrs. O’Dwyer bustled about preparing tea things.

They spent a very merry couple of hours with the O’Dwyers until Rebecca decided that they must, albeit regretfully, take their leave.

The smile she turned on Edward was both warm and genuine and it warmed his heart to see her look at him so. He could not remember when he last had such an enjoyable morning. He had chatted with Lady Rebecca and Mrs. O’Dwyer, silently listened while they discussed the local gossip and partook of Mrs .O’Dwyer’s truly excellent culinary offerings.

Watching the pair of them, it was obvious that Rebecca was truly adored by this family, and from listening to the many enquiries after her health that locals had made, it seemed she was equally adored by all of the tenants and local merchants. He wasn’t surprised. She was adorable.

He had played tea with Annie, the daughter of the family, much to Rebecca’s amusement, and had watched as Martin soldiered through his letters and numbers with Lady Rebecca encouraging and coaxing him along the way.

He had been struck suddenly by an image of her as a mother and knew she would be a wonderful one. Would she have girls, just like her? Incorrigible little pixies that would drive their father up the wall? The thought made him smile. He wasn’t sure the world was ready for any more Rebeccas!

Truly it had been a wonderful morning. The only blip had been when he had mentioned the strange gentleman he’d come across in the woods. Lady Rebecca had paled at the mention of him and Edward had wondered if she’d been meeting him for an assignation. Perhaps she had been telling the truth about being an experienced kisser?

The thought cut through him like a knife. He was surprised and worried to find that alongside the jealousy, which to be fair he’d been experiencing so much of at this stage it was becoming second nature, there was an overwhelming feeling of despair. Not wanting to look too closely at such an emotion or the cause of it, he ignored it completely.

But her countenance had not been that of someone with a pleasant secret, she had looked afraid. Terrified even. Why would she be so frightened by the mere mention of that man?

Mrs. O’Dwyer’s chat interrupted his thoughts.

“That one, your grace? Oh he is bad news. Very bad news. Not at all liked amongst the townsfolk and with good reason. Does nothing but drink and gamble and other activities I will not mention in front of her ladyship. His uncle will be turning in his grave, God rest his soul.”

Edward wasn’t altogether surprised to learn that Mr. Simons was an unsavoury character, he had thought as much on meeting him.

But Rebecca’s reaction piqued his curiosity and his concern. He would be sure to question her later. But he had put it from his mind and continued to thoroughly enjoy the visit.

****

Rebecca said her goodbyes and took the duke’s arm as they made their way back toward the woods. She had enjoyed her visit, as usual, but her mind was filled with the man beside her. How surprised she’d been by his manner! There had not been a trace of the arrogant man she’d seen earlier. He’d been completely at ease in the humble cottage and had chatted with Mrs. O’Dwyer and the children as if he’d known them his whole life.

He’d laughed a lot too, and she could not help but notice how devastatingly handsome he was when he laughed. He seemed younger somehow. He’d been kind, attentive, amusing and unfailingly respectful. It was terrible!

If he’d been rude or arrogant it would have been much better for her heart. As it was, that traitorous organ was in great danger of slipping out of her possession and landing firmly in his. But this was impossible! She’d known him but two days. You could not go hurtling head over heels into love with someone after two days. Could you?

They’d reached the duke’s horse in total silence, Rebecca’s mind filled with the confusing thoughts that kept circling round in there.

She finally noticed that they’d come to a stop and looked up, blinking as if waking from a trance.

“Well,” she said jovially, wanting to escape him for a while to try to sort through the muddle of emotions she was feeling, “that was very enjoyable. Thank you, your grace.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes, for being so – well – normal.”

He smiled indulgently.

“You really do not have a good opinion of me, do you?”

“Oh I do,” she replied emphatically. “Now.”

He chuckled softly. “Well I am glad to hear it. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

“Truly?”

“Oh yes. I particularly enjoyed the tales of your escapades.”

She had the grace to blush slightly.

“There was a lot of exaggeration, your grace.”

“Was there indeed? So you did not set Mr. O’Dwyer’s hens loose? Or steal a horse and cart? Or land yourself upside down in the trough in the town square?” he asked with a wide grin. He hadn’t been the least bit surprised to hear of her adventures. He did not think anything would surprise him about the lady.

“I apologised about the hens. Profusely. I really think it is time people let it rest. And I did not
steal
the cart. I borrowed it for a while and returned it. Almost in one piece!”

“And the trough?”

She sighed resignedly. “Yes, I fell in the trough. But I did not remember it was there!”

They both laughed, she in remembrance and he because he could picture it perfectly.

“I shall take my leave of you, then,” Rebecca eventually broke the companionable silence. She was far too comfortable with him. Enjoying his company too much.

“Nonsense. I shall walk back with you.”

“But your horse, your grace,” she protested though secretly she thrilled at the idea of being alone with him for a little longer.

“My horse will walk too, I do not plan on carrying him,” he quipped.

“Very well,” she smiled and they set off on their way.

They walked some distance before his curiosity got the better of him.

“Mr. Simons sounds like an interesting character.”

Rebecca glanced at him briefly before answering in a carefully smooth tone. “‘Interesting’ is an interesting way of putting it.”

“Are you well acquainted with the gentleman?”

“Not very. I met him when Papa came to meet him.”

“And not since?”

She hesitated and seemed on the verge of saying something but then changed her mind and answered quietly, “No, not since.”

Hmm. Something was definitely going on here.

Edward did not want to pry but he felt desperate to know just what her relationship with this man was.

He needed to be subtle, to gently coax the information from her, to make her feel secure so that she would trust him.

“I thought when I saw him in the woods that you and he had been having an assignation.”

Or, he could blurt it out bluntly as if he had no control over himself. Which he clearly didn’t.

Rebecca stopped so fast that he yanked her forward before he had realised. She pulled her arm from the crook of his and stood glaring up at him.

Oh dear.

“You thought what?” She was angry again. This was not going to end well. He cursed himself and his jealous stupidity. They’d enjoyed a wonderful morning in each other’s company and he’d ruined it because he could not shake the damned image of her in another man’s arms.

“Rebecca–” he started.

“
Lady
Rebecca” she ground out.

“My lady,” he amended, thinking it safer not to use her name at all at this present moment, “I am deeply sorry, I do not know what came over me to suggest such a thing.”

He should have known. He
did
know that it could not be true. He was usually so logical, thought things through so well. She had him tied in bloody knots! He hadn’t been able to think straight since he’d first seen her sprinting through the trees.

“How dare you say such a thing to me? How could you think that of me?”

Oh God were those tears? Edward did not like crying women. They were frightening and unpredictable and he endeavoured to stay as far away from them as humanly possible.

Strange then that the sight of Lady Rebecca’s tears, rather than repulsing him made him want to draw closer and offer any comfort that he could. He felt like an absolute cad.

“I am sorry. I do not think — that is to say — I may have thought for a mere moment — he mentioned you, you see so I—”

“What do you mean he mentioned me?”

Now she looked terrified as well as upset. What the hell was going on here? The tears still glistened in her huge eyes. If one, just one, fell it would be his undoing.

“He said that you did not wish to be interrupted,” he answered miserably. This could not have gone worse. He should have stayed quiet.

“Your grace,” she at least seemed less angry with him now.

“Edward,” he interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“Call me Edward.”

He watched fascinated as a fierce blush stained her cheeks.

“I could not possibly, your grace.”

“‘Your grace’ is far too formal. You forget I now know the secrets of your youth. We are much better acquainted than ‘your grace’ and ‘my lady’ are we not?”

He realised as he spoke that the words could have more than one meaning. Rebecca obviously realised too since her blush went from pink to puce.

“It would not be proper.”

Probably not the best time to remind her that as a rule, proper young ladies did not show off body parts whilst hanging from walls and statues.

Of course, proper gentlemen did not pounce on unsuspecting ladies on darkened balconies either.

“Then at least call me Hartridge. All my friends do.”

She smiled at this and he was relieved to see that the tears seem to have receded for now.

“And are we friends, Hartridge?”

Never had his surname sounded so good.

“I hope that we are, Rebecca?” He said her name like a question, not willing to break the tenuous peace that had descended upon them once more.

She smiled again, wider this time and he felt that the storm had passed.

He was loath to continue their conversation when it was so obviously distressing to her. However, now he needed to know what exactly was going on.

“So the gentleman,” he tried once more, “Mr. Simons. He had not seen you before he said you did not want to be interrupted?”

She heaved a sigh of resignation and started to walk again, leaving him to catch up.

“We spoke briefly” —odd that she would deny it originally— “he was – very forward. I did not like it.”

Rebecca missed the murderous expression that came over his features at her admittance. She decided that she might as well tell him the whole truth. It would be nice to unburden herself in any event.

“He made me uncomfortable. And when I tried to leave, he took hold of my arm and would not let me go. I told him–”

Before she knew it, Hartridge had turned on his heel and began marching back the way they had come.

“What are you doing?” she asked in surprise.

“I am going to kill him,” he answered conversationally, as if they were chatting about the weather.

“What? Do not be ridiculous. Come back here.” Her commanding tone brought him to a halt, if only because never in his life had someone commanded anything of him.

He turned back to face her.

“Please, do not do or say anything about this. It really is of no matter. I shan’t be seeing him again for quite some time.”

He briefly wondered how she could be so sure but was too furious to think long on anything except getting his hands on the man.

“I cannot just stand here and do nothing when he has treated you so abominably. It is not to be borne, Rebecca. I will kill him with my bare hands.”