Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness: The Baxendale Sisters Book 3 (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Voices floated out from the parlor. Hope paused at the door then, with a deep breath, entered with Sophie. The Duke of Winslow sat with her parents. Her mother’s face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled when she saw her.

“There you are, Hope,” she cried gaily. “We have a guest.” They were drinking wine. Was it a celebration? Hope’s heart almost stopped.

Charity cast her a speaking glance from a damask-covered chair, and from the window seat, Mercy switched her gaze from Hope’s face to Sophie’s and back to Hope’s. Then she gave up and stroked the cat.

At Winslow’s regal nod, Hope forced her knees into a curtsey while Sophie did the same.

“His Grace is traveling to Winslow Hall and has kindly called to see how we fare,” her mother said.

“Very good of you, Your Grace,” Father echoed.

“When I heard that misfortune had called you away from London, I wished to offer my services, should they be needed.”

“Most kind,” Hope echoed. “Mercy has quite recovered, thank you.”

Her father frowned at her.

“So I have been informed.” His Grace held up his glass. “Good news indeed.”

“And we plan to return to London very soon,” her mother said with a glance at Hope’s father.

Winslow’s pale eyes rested on Hope. Under his scrutiny, she sat mute. Her parents expected her to be bright and interesting, but some heavy weight had settled on her. Her mother leapt into the silence, discussing the unseasonably cold weather, a safe topic. When that was exhausted, her father talked with enthusiasm of the successes of the British sailor James Weddell’s successful southerly voyage. All things nautical were of interest to her father. He often discussed them in detail at dinner and was drawing breath to elaborate when her mother coughed discreetly into her handkerchief.

“I should like a private word with Lady Hope, if I may,” Winslow said.

“But of course, Your Grace.” Father efficiently ushered her mother and Mercy from the room with Charity and Sophie following in his wake.

Within minutes, Hope was alone with Winslow. She licked her dry lips.

“I’m not one to make hasty decisions,” the duke said, “but I believe we are well suited.”

Hope swallowed the lump blocking her throat.

“I dislike ladies given to purposeless conversation. I have not discovered that practice in you,” he continued. “And therefore…”

“I’ve been accused of it on occasion,” Hope said quickly. “I have very firm opinions.”

Winslow paused. “Young ladies often do.”

“Only young ladies?” Hope knew several older ladies who enjoyed a good natter, but perhaps they failed to do so in his presence. There was something quelling about the duke.

Winslow frowned. “Ladies, correctly schooled by their husbands, are generally more prudent.” He leaned back and gave a weary sigh. “But you are younger than I would wish.”

“Some have certainly expressed this view,” Hope said, trusting her age would prove an insurmountable problem. “I do try to behave in a mature manner.” She gave a delicate shrug.

“Oh?” Winslow raised a brow and tapped the pads of his fingers together. “I shall let matters stand for the moment. And hold a house party at Winslow Hall in, let us say, a sennight.” He rose. “I must now depart. I have a lengthy journey ahead, which has now become much longer. Kindly inform your parents. My secretary will send an invitation.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m sure my parents will be free to attend.”

With another thoughtful glance, he bowed and took his leave.

Her knees trembled with relief that he’d left without seeking a commitment. She watched his carriage disappear down the drive from the parlor window.

“Did he propose?” Charity asked behind her.

“No. But he’s considering it.”

“He’s not overcome with passion then.”

“He gave no sign of it,” she said, relieved that he hadn’t tried to woo her with a display of affection.

Charity squeezed Hope’s shoulder. “You’re shaking.”

“I don’t want to marry him.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

She turned. “Why not?”

“It’s as if life has been sucked out of him. He has a depressing air.”

Hope stared at her. It was true. Winslow was world-weary. There wasn’t a shred of passion in him. How different he was from Daniel, who had every right to be sad. But Daniel didn’t lack passion. Quite the contrary, she’d sensed a vital spark beating within his chest, waiting only to be set alight. The realization brought a rush of yearning. She clenched her jaw to stop the sob in her throat.

“But I want passion. I can’t endure the thought of a marriage without it.”

Charity rubbed Hope’s arm. “You said it wasn’t important. Marrying an English duke mattered more.”

“Well, I was wrong. Passion in a marriage is of vital importance. I can’t imagine trying to explain that to Father. He won’t understand.”

“No, and he’ll become extremely bad tempered, which we’ll just have to put up with. You should never have led him to believe that you would welcome the duke. He might insist you marry him,” Charity pointed out with her usual pragmatism.

“Yes, I know. I’ve been a fool.” Hope went in search of her mother, annoyed with Charity. Must her sister always be right? At least she had a reprieve for a couple of weeks until the house party.

She met her startled mother in the corridor. “Has the duke left without saying goodbye to us? What did he say to you? Did he…?” She frowned. “Did you refuse him?”

“He didn’t ask me to marry him, Mama.”

“He didn’t? I understood that he would.” She sighed. “I’d trusted that, when he did, your good sense would come to the fore, Hope. What
did
he say?”

“He invited us to…”

Father had emerged from his study. He beckoned to her. “I wish to speak to you, Hope.” She braced herself and followed him into the room.

An hour later, Hope emerged fighting tears. Charity threw an arm around her waist and led her up the stairs to their bedroom. Sophie slipped inside to join them.

“Father insists if the duke asks for my hand I must accept him. If I do not, my reputation will be ruined.”

“Why?” Sophie asked.

“I shall be seen as toying with him and, therefore, of an unreliable character. No man will want me.”

“I must say I find the beau monde’s behavior quite ridiculous,” Sophie said with a scowl.

Charity eyed her. “You are one of us now, Sophie.”

“I can’t claim that.”

Hope and Charity stared at her.

Hope put her hands to her face. “What can I do?”

“You must discover something unfavorable about him,” Sophie said. “Something your father will not accept.”

“But that’s impossible. He’s a duke…he’s wealthy…everyone looks up to him.”

“Can you remember something in his manner that gave you pause?” Charity asked.

“No. His manners are impeccable.” Hope thought for a minute. “Although he
was
very dismissive of his sister-in-law. Quite rude in fact.”

Charity nodded thoughtfully. “Did something happen to cause it?”

“Not that I saw.” Hope shrugged. “And it’s impossible to find out.”

“You may learn more at the house party,” Sophie said.

Hope’s eyes widened. “Our neighbor, the Dowager Marchioness of Brandreth, who is Faith and Honor’s mother-in-law, knows everything about the
ton
.” She groaned. “But she has remarried and no longer lives next door.”

Sophie clapped her hands. “Then we must find her!”

It seemed a scheme destined to fail. “We can only try, I suppose. I’ll write to Faith.” Hope hurried over to her desk.

****

As good as his word, a few days later, a messenger arrived at Daniel’s estate with de Villèle’s letter containing the assurances that Canning required. Eager to return to England, Daniel departed soon afterward.

The trip to the Channel was without mishap.

With an eye to the thunderous sky, Daniel sent his two armed servants back to his estate and stepped aboard ship.

Some hours later, as the boat sailed toward the English coast, they were hit by a violent storm. Daniel braced himself against the deck shifting beneath his feet. The bow dipped and shuddered with the force of the waves crashing against the timber hull. A surge of spray washed over the side, swirling around his feet. He should go below, but his memories prevented him. The thought of being trapped kept him above deck. Another passenger stood a few yards away, of the same mind.

Deep in thought, Daniel forgot him until the man was suddenly beside him, a short, dark-haired fellow, his cap pulled low over his face. “Not a good crossing,
señor.”

“We can’t always be lucky,” Daniel said, uneasily eyeing the Spaniard.

Above them, a sail shredded and flapped in the wind, and a sailor shimmied up the mast like a monkey. “He is good, eh?” the Spaniard asked, watching the sailor.

Not fooled, Daniel kept the Spaniard in view. He was ready when the Spaniard shifted closer, his hand inside his coat.

At the glint of steel, Daniel backed away. The man followed, moving his knife from hand to hand.

“The letter is not in your cabin, señor. Hand it over or go overboard.”

“The only letter you’ll get from me is an introduction to Hades,” Daniel rasped out. There was nowhere to run to escape him, so Daniel ran at him. He skidded over the slippery surface, taking the Spaniard by surprise while he used the mast to right himself. He kicked out at him. His boot connected with the man’s hand holding the knife. The blade went spinning out of reach.

“Who sent you?” Daniel rasped out.

“Those that don’t want your interference in Spain’s concerns,” the man said. With a growl, he leapt toward Daniel.

The Spaniard was stronger than he looked. He rammed his shoulder into Daniel, pushing him back against the ship’s rail. Daniel’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, but the assailant knew how to fight and countered the next one. Suddenly, his wiry hand clenched around Daniel’s throat and pushed him back, half over the rail. Salt stung his throat, the roar of the sea deafening. As if the past was about to collide with the present, old fears resurfaced. They tore through him, turning his legs to jelly.

Chapter Fifteen

Hope received Faith’s reply two days later. She removed the letter from the silver salver in the morning room before it attracted the attention of her parents. Leaving the house, she took it to the garden gazebo, where they couldn’t be overheard discussing its contents. Sophie and Charity joined her there.

“It’s a good thing Mama’s attention is taken up with Honor’s pregnancy,” Charity said. “Otherwise, she’d be suspicious.”

Hope scanned the letter. “Mm. Faith says that the dowager has recently moved to Rose Cross Manor, some ten miles from Tunbridge Wells. She adds that her mother-in-law awaits news of the birth of Honor and Edward’s baby with the same single-mindedness as Mama. And she won’t visit Brandreth Park until the christening.”

“Is there any means by which we could visit her?” Sophie asked. “Perhaps you have a friend in the area?”

“We don’t know anyone who lives there,” Charity said. “We can’t drop in on her uninvited. It isn’t done.” She scratched her arm. “Can we go inside? Something bit me.”

“Why don’t you write to the dowager?” Sophie asked.

Hope shrugged. “How would I compose such a letter? It seems dreadfully rude.”

“We could write to Edward,” Charity said. “Now that he’s a barrister, he spends a good deal of time in Town.”

Hope leaned against the rail. “I doubt we’d get much sense from him. Last time I saw him, he looked distracted. He is probably in a worst state by now.”

“Vaughn?”

Hope waved the letter. “Faith asked him. He doesn’t know the duke.”

They fell into a depressed silence.

Mercy hailed them as she crossed the lawn, with Wolf following leisurely behind her. “We’re invited to Brandreth Park tonight for dinner.”

Hope looked at Charity, and they both spoke at once. “Lavinia!”

“Who’s Lavinia?” Sophie asked.

“Our neighbor’s wife, the Marchioness of Brandreth, who is Edward and Vaughn’s sister-in-law.”

Dinner at Brandreth Park was always a formal affair. A party of fourteen guests gathered in the drawing room. The Brandreths’ invitation had kindly included Sophie. Mama had expressed a concern that there would be thirteen at table, which was not to be wished for. But Lord Stanberry, an unmarried gentleman, with wildly curling dark brown hair and grey eyes, had been invited, and he led Sophie into dinner.

Sophie had commented on the beautiful home in hushed tones when they first arrived. Brandreth Park impressed those not used to such grandeur. Hope had lived next door to the Brandreth estate all her life, and since Faith and Honor married into the family, it had become almost like a second home.

In the formal dining room, the gold wallpaper glowed in the candlelight cast from the huge chandelier. After they were seated at the long rosewood table, liveried footmen poured wine into crystal glasses and the first courses were brought in under silver covers, filling the room with delicious aromas.