The Rusticated Duchess (20 page)

Meriden’s sharp eyes fastened on Clare. “Johna Bentley.”

Clare lifted a brow, then considered Meriden. The man was, after all, married to one of the few women with Blessing blood known to exist. Most children of the Lauderdale line were boys and they had arrived steadily but in short supply throughout the last three generations. “Johna de Rothesay née Bentley, then, if you like.”

Colby cleared his throat. “That’s right, Meriden. Long-time relationship, since Hanover was a child, before my sister was even born.” He glanced about the room. “Hanover came here once, long ago, when your grandfather was duke, Clare. When my brother sent us off to see Gloria here, he asked me to see if the castle was still as much a working one as it was then. Fascinated by it as a lad, he was.”

Clare’s lips twitched. “Killard Castle is in better condition, truthfully,” he supplied. “I’d be happy to show you about, later. So what can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We’d like to speak to Gloria alone, if you don’t mind,” Meriden said soberly after a moment. “Truthfully we’re still shocked to find her here, rather than at Blessing Cottage. Given our recent message to her, we expected her to be prepared to travel at any second.”

Clare looked to Gloria, waiting to hear her decision. He would allow her to dismiss him, but not the two men who had clearly been sent on a rescue mission.

“I see no reason for Clare to leave,” she said after a strained moment. “He knows about all of it, the court case, my marriage, Eynon. He knows Lennox wants to send me to Italy, he knows I’m ready to leave anytime. He knows I came to the Castle only today at noon, trying to decide the best course of action.”

A wave of relief fell over Clare’s heart. She’d acknowledged him, offered him her trust in this very serious situation. It was a small victory, but with Gloria, Clare thought he might need to celebrate every small battle.

Now Colby cleared his throat, asking directly, “Are you the local magistrate?”

Clare pursed his lips, then nodded, explaining, “In this neighbourhood, yes. County Down is large and the Castle is active in fighting smuggling—there’s an active contingent of Revenue men who live and work in the watchtower. As such, I am also deputised as a Lord Lieutenant when I am in residence.” He watched both Bentley’s and Meriden’s faces closely, then smiled at their unease. “However, as I have no intention of being served with any warrants or other official duties related to Winchester’s idiocy, my role as an officer for the Crown should not matter.”

Meriden shifted uncomfortably. “And if I said such documents may well be on their way here within a few days?”

Clare stilled.

Colby sighed. “Can’t allow Chancery to put Johna in a prison or to return to Winchester’s custody. Would kill her. The judges have ordered Lennox’s and Hanover’s financials opened for review, looking for clues as to Gloria’s location. There are few places that haven’t been checked. Gloria came away with cash in hand, and documents allowing her to draw from European banks, which she hasn’t done. But they will find record of Hanover’s ownership of Blessing Cottage. Whether they will realise the significance, I cannot say.”

“They’ve checked all other properties known to be owned by Lennox, myself, Devon, Hanover and even Winchester’s own sisters,” Meriden added, then paused when Whitaker opened the drawing room door to deliver trays of thin sandwiches, ale and the tea cart.

Clare watched Gloria prepare the tea and serve herself and Clare a cup before the significance of the act drew her attention. She lifted it and sipped, trying to hide the deep flush.

Luckily neither man seemed to notice. 

After a few minutes of sustenance, Colby spoke again. “So we want to take you to Italy, Gloria. Leave tomorrow, if possible. Go south and catch a ship. You’ll pretend to be Abigail, travelling with your son and husband, to visit your mother-in-law in Italy. As for me, I’m along to lend Meriden support, what with both a wife and an infant to look after.”

According to Gloria, Abigail had a new son, a few months older than Eynon.

To Clare’s relief, Gloria hesitated. He held his breath. She didn’t say no, she didn’t say yes.

“There’s a much neater solution to the problem,” he finally said, searching for a way to keep her close to him. “A permanent solution, and she’ll be able to stop running, even visit her mother and Lennox openly, without fear.”

Meriden narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, barely concealing his doubt.

Gloria looked up at him, curiosity in her eyes.

He smiled down at her, prim on the settee beside him, her cup held poised, her posture perfect. She was an angel, had brought him out of more than a decade of numb indifference to the opposite gender—the perfect mate for his life now, at the right time, and for the right reasons.

“Marriage,” he said bluntly, the word catching everyone in the room by surprise, even himself. He hadn’t expected to want it again, not even fifteen minutes earlier, but his desperate reaction to the notion of Gloria pretending to be Meriden’s wife and heading to Italy had clarified his short-sightedness. “She needs to marry. Me,” he added as an afterthought, in case it wasn’t clear to the other two.

Gloria gasped, paling and the teacup slipped from her hands.

Clare caught it, only a few drops landing on his black breeches, where they’d never be noticed. His eyes crinkled as he suppressed his humour, recognising the shock shimmering in her eyes.

“Glory,” he added, setting the cup aside and gathering her shaking hand in his, “it truly is the
safest
thing for you.”

Gloria almost moaned aloud in her horror.
Married?
The word rang in her head, dimming out the reasonable discussion taking place around her. She wanted to lash out, to scream at them, to make them listen, but her throat and eyes were strangely dry. She couldn’t speak, and even breathing was a chore.

Married?

The word had a death knell in it, and tasted of betrayal, especially coming from Clare. She was stiff, she was faint, she wasn’t about to show weakness, she felt her ears and temples throb.

Gradually their words sank into her mind, sealing her fate. How could she refuse now, without humiliating him?

“’Tis an advantageous match for her,” Colby was saying. Dismayed, Gloria heard the satisfaction in his voice, as if the outcome was better than he had imagined. “She’ll retain her stature in society as the next Duchess of Lauderdale, and take on the title of Marchioness—an improvement over her current title, to be sure. You have an heir already and your father is gaining in age. Society will understand the urgency of the match under the pall of Chancery Court hearing this case.”

“No question that if she marries, the case disappears,” Meriden agreed after a long pause. “And there would be no scandal, especially if you remain in the country. She’s been in mourning for only five months, and it’s commonly known that they were estranged even prior to his death, but again, Winchester’s outrageous case would excuse any rush to the altar in your favour. Everyone would understand.”

Gloria screamed inwardly.
No. No. No.
She would not—
she could not
—marry again, and certainly not under a cold-blooded arrangement.
No.

“There can hardly be objections to your fortune or future, Clare,” Colby added. “We’re well-acquainted with your family and how you’ve fattened the Duke of Lauderdale’s purse so effectively.”

Meriden frowned. “It would have to be by special licence, of course. Are there well-disposed bishops nearby?” he asked and Gloria couldn’t help but shudder. She’d married by special licence once, she didn’t want—

“Glory?” Clare asked quietly.

Gloria swallowed hard, wanting to hit him over the head. “I need to think,” she managed in a strained voice.

The bell for dinner brought them all up short. Gloria breathed, her heart thudding. “You’ll stay here at the castle, of course,” she said to her uncle and Meriden. “We can continue our discussion after dinner.”

“I’m having rooms readied now, and your luggage has been delivered,” Clare said smoothly.

He stood, the others following suit, and Gloria clung to his arm like an anchor, despite her anger. Her legs trembled and she felt ill.

Naturally Clare noticed. After Whitaker led Colby and Meriden away—in the opposite direction from the main staircase that led to the gallery, the nursery, the ducal apartments and Clare’s suite in what Gloria now suspected was the family wing—Clare lifted her in his arms, holding her against his chest as he carried her to her chambers.

“Will the maid be waiting?” he asked quietly, seeming to know that Gloria’s fragility wouldn’t wait through dinner without breaking.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I didn’t tell her either way and she’s not used to the duties of a lady’s maid, but eager to please…”

Her voice drifted away as she realised that he didn’t care one way or another about the maid. He was already walking forwards into his own suite. Colman held the door for him, and the reminder of that man’s open defection from Gloria—or open support of Clare’s interference—rankled.

She lifted her chin and commanded, “Put me down, please.”

Clare did so immediately, stepping back and looking at her warily, as if he knew she was about to explode. How could he know?

Gloria didn’t bother to step back. She didn’t sit. Instead, she looked at him, his jaw as determined as hers, and said the words she knew would anger him. “I will not marry you, Clare.”

As she suspected, his eyes flashed and his body stiffened, as though he had expected her declaration.

“Well, then,” he returned flatly. “I suppose I should thank you for not refusing me in front of your relatives.”

“Don’t,” she gasped, tears leaking from her eyes. “I’m not comparing you to
him
.”

“Oh?” he shot back at her, doubt echoing between them. Gloria felt the ache in her heart spread. Driving this wedge was painful. Almost too painful. She hadn’t known it would be so difficult.

“I don’t want to marry
anyone
,” she burst out, crossing her arms before her in utter frustration. They snapped close, guarding her from further attack. “How could you even think I’d let anyone else have that power over me?”

Clarity seemed to hit Clare then. His eyes narrowed, then widened, then he shook his head. “Not good enough, Gloria. I swore I would always respect your
no
.”

“And you know perfectly well,” Gloria answered bitterly, “that marriage vows make that sort of promise void. A woman has no rights, no right to refuse anything of her husband once she marries. You know this.”

Clare was silent for a very long few minutes until at last he spoke, the frustration evident in his voice. “My wife has as much right to be happy as I do. But as we were discussing previously, perhaps we have not developed enough trust for you to believe me.”

Gloria’s throat hurt, but she forced out the words, knowing they were important. “You have been kinder, more respectful and more affectionate than any man I’ve ever met. If it were anyone, it would be you. But I don’t
want
it to be anyone.”

Clare sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. “You should dress. I need to think. Wait for me—I’ll escort you down.”

Blinking, Gloria nodded.

When was the last time she had dressed for dinner? Astrid helped her into an elegant gown, one that hadn’t seen the light of day in Blessing Cottage, and Gloria inwardly moaned.
Married
.

She would be able to set aside the black then, she’d have to buy new gowns.

The thought of shopping with her sisters cheered her up for a few brief seconds before she mentally kicked herself. She wasn’t going to get married so that she could go shopping. She
wasn’t
going to get married.

* * * *

Clare believed absolutely that it was in her best interest to marry him, and he had no intention of abandoning her to whatever fate the Chancery Court judges declared or the libertines of Italy seduced from her. But forcing the issue risked the underlying, tentative trust that they would need to have a happy life.

He forced himself to think of Arwyn and his father. Neither had even met Gloria and both would be hurt to find that he had married without such a courtesy as informing them in advance. He’d write them immediately of course to explain—

Clare gritted his teeth in aggravation even as he dressed for dinner, at a loss to come up with an alternative.

His mind chased a helpless circle as he led Gloria down the stairs. In the drawing room, Meriden was pacing, sipping a brandy. He poured a glass for Clare from the decanter that had already been delivered.

Raising his glass, Clare murmured, “How was the crossing, anyway?”

Meriden shrugged. “’Tis not that. I’m not often away from my countess. I keep looking for her to tell me that my cravat is tied incorrectly or that my boots are not polished equally well.”

Clare chuckled and answered a question from Meriden about Lauderdale’s holdings. He was quite aware that Meriden was not so subtly quizzing him while Colby told Gloria the news of her family. But the conversation was interesting, and Clare felt the tension settled in his shoulders ease as it became clear that Meriden was both practical and reasonable.

Even so, Meriden had unknowingly reminded him of other pressing duties in England. He would have to go back soon or ask his father to travel to oversee business in Blackpool and Norham. And Meriden’s wife Abigail was of Blessing blood. She was Clare’s second cousin, and quite possibly his only second cousin, even if the relationship was not legally acknowledged. She needed to be told, apologised to, arrangements made prior to Clare’s inheritance of the title.

Lauderdale had no regrets, he had done as he’d thought best at the time, keeping away so as to not interfere or arouse Winchester’s suspicions. But it was a matter on which Clare disagreed with his father’s decision, though he wouldn’t openly defy him or argue. They should have been watching Abigail from the beginning. They should have known she was being forced into marriage, even if it now seemed she was happy.