The Duchess and the Duelist (Friendship Series Book 4) Page 3

  “Truthfully, I don’t know why I act this way around her. When I heard that she’d been elevated to companion, I felt some concern. Who was this person to have ingratiated herself into the Asterly household? A nobody, really. I fostered some concerns for my friends.”

  “You worry about Perry and Lizzie?” Harry huffed a snort of scorn. “Either of them, singly or as a couple, are terrifying when provoked.”

  “Yes. They get quiet and later, they get even. I’ve always admired that about them. They do make a magnificent pair. I admit to a modicum of envy.”

  “I used to feel the same before I found my wonderful Livie.” Harry ignored the muffled, rude noise from the other end of the couch and continued, “and intend to persuade you to show Mrs. Merrick your better side. I know it’s in you, Freddy. Somewhere. Deep inside. Find it in yourself to not be so disagreeable.”

  “Perhaps my attitude is derived from residual nausea brought on by the unrelenting May and June in the air. You and Lady Collyns show a want of consideration with your public display of fondness for each other. It is excessive, Harry. But now that I think on it, the flamboyance fits you and perhaps does you credit. On the other hand, no one expects me to fall into love at first sight.”

  Harry switched his attention to his wife. “No, Freddy, I don’t think that anyone, who doesn’t know you, would.”

  “I say, Harry, it’s about bloody time you got spectacles.”

  “Livie made me do it.”

  “Smart woman, your wife. At least now you can see across the room. Lady Collyns looks well in that peach color.”

  Harry finger-wriggled a wave at his wife. “She allowed me to choose it for her. She’s such a sensible woman.”

  “Won’t agree with you about that, since she married you. It’s my opinion that Cass is the only one of us who has any sense. One doesn’t see her mooning around over her husband.”

  “No, but the grand and terrifying Lady Ravenswold might plant a fist on your nose for your treatment of Mrs. Merrick”

  Freddy chuckled. “Now there’s an amusing image. And will you bestir yourself to come to her aid?”

  “I will bestow on my wife the singular honor of keeping you in line. My Livie can take care of you all by herself.”

  Freddy shifted in his seat to face Harry. “And why must everyone have a dozen pet names? Lady Collyns is Livie to you, Lady Asterly calls her Olivia, and Mrs. Merrick calls her Ollie. Balderdash.”

  Harry’s knowing grin evoked a rush of annoyance, which increased when Harry shifted his attention to the ladies strolling by. “Care must be taken with bruised and tender hearts, Freddy.”

  In his best, sneering tone, Freddy drawled, “She’s not as fragile as she appears.”

  “I wasn’t speaking of Mrs. Merrick. I meant you.”

  Every muscle in his frame tightened. Before he could protest, Harry continued, “You cover up a tender heart with a cold shell but forget how long Perry, Rave and I have known you.”

  “Do not suggest that I am a sentimentalist, sir, or I shall be forced to do you a violence.”

  This time Harry laughed. “No, a sentimentalist you are not. And neither am I, but you are the one who gave Cass his favorite barker on her wedding day. You know a great deal about women, my friend, and show respect for them, which is why I’m so concerned for Mrs. Merrick. She is the sort of female who will not become involved without forming a lasting attachment.”

  “Have a care where you tread, Collyns.”

  “Mrs. Merrick is an honorable woman, Freddy. You are engaged to marry another, someone you care nothing about.”

  “Precisely why I fought marriage to the chit!”

  The truth in that outburst was not a surprise, but the fact that he’d lost his temper, and revealed so much emotion, did. Freddy clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He’d always feared that at some point he might be forced to admit that he was marrying his cousin because he had no illusions and no feelings for her. He’d seen her once and despised her. So like her mother in every way. A future with the conceited brat loomed like a death sentence.

  Harry lowered his gaze. Sadness softened his features and gentled his voice when he murmured, “You’re the one who needs to have a care where he treads, mon ami. You’re heading for disaster.”

  Calmer now, Freddy reached across and gripped Harry’s wrist, but kept his attention fixed on Evangeline. “It’s good of you to warn me, but the problem is that I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  Chapter 5

  An evening of withstanding a determined suitor hampered Evangeline’s rest. Sleep eluded, worsening the constant loneliness. Plaguing worries revolved in her mind, about her son, maintaining her secret, and how to resist the allure of masculine comfort. So tempting. It had been forever since she’d known the comfort of an embrace. Kind, loving Edward had been so tender. The man who sought to hold her now would feel quite different. Night’s quiet made her accept that as part of the attraction.

  The heaviest draperies didn’t help with sleep. She rose with the sun, as always, and had never been able to go back to sleep once daybreak arrived. Smudges under her eyes testified to a night of little rest. Leaning closer to the mirror, she turned her head this way and that to study the result of tucking every hair into a plain cap with a single ruffle. Quite dowdy. Yes, that would do.

  She took another sip of chocolate, stood, and smoothed her palms down the brown muslin of an unadorned, round gown. Time to do her duty to her patroness.

  Lord Asterly had returned in time to bid farewell to last evening’s guests. Since he’d gone immediately to bed as soon as they left, he would rise early and spend the morning in the Bookroom. He and Lady Asterly spent most of their time there, she managing her vast wealth and Asterly’s estate, and he with political concerns.

  Lady Asterly didn’t receive callers Mondays and Tuesdays, but this morning’s sun rose on Wednesday, which meant that the task of receiving visitors fell to Evangeline. One blessing came in the form of a partial reprieve. Crimm had sent up a message that the morning newspapers would make comment that Lady Asterly had left town with her children due to the measles outbreak.

  Crimm suggested that callers unaware of the change could be received in the green saloon—if that would suit—and that’s where she headed after a last sip of chocolate. She did a final check of her person, adjusting the chain of fine, golden links down the front of her bodice. She patted the item it held, a tiny key hidden against her chest, and went down a flight of stairs.

  Evangeline smiled at the footman who leaped to open the saloon door. A glare of late morning sun inundated the room with cheerful light. In contrast to the drab muslin she wore, silk abounded in the draperies and wall coverings. The jade hue complimented rosewood and elegant mahogany furnishings. Apple wood crackled in the fireplace, inundating the room with a sweet-soothing scent. Lady Asterly disliked coal’s acrid smell, another benefit of having a rich patroness.

  Two couches faced each other, separated by a low table. Evangeline sat on the couch that faced the door and picked up the needlework she’d been stitching the previous day, her son’s initials on handkerchiefs.

  She’d finished one piece and started on another by the time the enamel and gilt clock on the mantel chimed eleven. A knock on the door preceded Crimm’s entry.

  “Mrs. Merrick, you have a caller. Her Grace, Duchess of Pendrylan, and her daughter, Lady Caroline.”

  Evangeline had never heard of the title. She covered her curiosity with a deep curtsy as the duchess marched into the room, then bestowed the appropriate, lesser curtsey on Lady Caroline. Neither female gave Evangeline the courtesy of a nod.

  Having served as a dresser, and born the daughter of a seamstress and French aristocrat, Evangeline knew a great deal about fashion. The duchess displayed her walking dress with more arrogance than style. The fabric was excellent but dated and worn at the cuffs. The material of her feathered turban hovered on the edge of fading. Golden hair curled around its
edges, framing a disagreeable but beautiful face, a Madonna gone sour.

  Lady Caroline had her mother’s delicate features and splendid hair, but conceit hardened her countenance. The girl was very aware of her beauty and position. The daughter’s clothes also showed signs of financial strain. Her hat had been refurbished with new ribbons but the straw had seen wear on the edges where it would be frequently grasped. Both ladies wore slippers with age-scuffed toe-tips. With a glance, Evangeline understood that her callers had little more than their titles. She hoped their lack of manners stemmed from defensiveness and not outright rudeness.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Evangeline noticed that Crimm lingered. He usually directed a footman to enter for assistance. He was offering her a clue, a warning about the visitors that she wished she could ask him outright.

  She smiled at her callers. “May I bid you a good morning, Your Grace and Lady Caroline?”

  Before Evangeline could say more, the duchess snapped, “Lady Asterly is not at home.”

  Evangeline, accustomed to the slights of those who considered her beneath their notice, calmly replied. “I am sorry to report that she is indeed away from town. Would you care to sit?”

  The duchess ignored Evangeline’s gesture at the couch. She gave Crimm a resentful glance. “This person said as much, but I wish to have it verified by a member of the household and by a known friend of Mr. Bates.” When Evangeline said nothing, the duchess said, “I will speak with Lord Asterly immediately. Fetch him.”

  A decade of taking orders and obeying them had taught Evangeline how to choose her battles. She felt in the mood for a fight but the fact that she was standing in stead for Lady Asterly changed the chessboard. Since she acted in Lady Asterly’s place, she couldn’t curtsey and leave the issue to Crimm to sort out.

  Evangeline gathered her patience before saying, “As Mr. Crimm must have told you, Lord Asterly is not receiving today. He has matters of parliament that are pressing.”

  Lady Caroline stamped her foot. “I told you this would be a waste of our time. Bates isn’t here, Mama. Let’s try somewhere else.”

  Evangeline’s heart stilled, then fluttered. Her voice sounded thin when she asked, “You seek Mr. Alfred Bates?”

  The girl glared at the question and with a thin-lipped snarl replied, “Have you lost your hearing, you stupid person! If you will not allow us to speak to Asterly, we must leave. Mama, Lord Grieves must be dead by now. We can go to his residence to enquire about Mr. Bates.”

  The duchess, who had not stopped staring at Evangeline, coolly said, “Be still, Caroline. We shall run him to earth soon enough, and I think, if I am any judge of people, this woman knows your intended. She is sporting a blush. I take that to mean that you have an understanding of Freddy’s inclinations. Your name is Merrick?”

  Evangeline answered with a slight nod and hid the outrage roiling inside by keeping her gaze lowered. Behind her, she heard a floorboard creak from Crimm’s weight. He looked bulky, but his size came from muscle and bone, not fat. The duchess and her daughter, fools that they were, paid him no attention. They were unaware that Crimm had been hired long ago to protect the young heiress and future Lady Asterly. For some reason, Crimm had taken it into his head to honor Evangeline in a like manner. She didn’t want him to suffer a reprimand for following his instincts.

  In a placating tone, Evangeline said, “Ma’am, Mr. Bates was a guest last evening. He did mention that he would be spending the day at his cousin’s bedside. Lord Grieves is not expected to outlive the week.”

  The duchess grimaced at her daughter, and warned the girl with a low hiss, when Lady Caroline stamped her foot again. Focusing a stare of supreme superiority on Evangeline, the duchess said, “Very well then, Merrick. You will provide the direction to Lord Grieves’s residence and we will take our leave without speaking to Asterly.”

  Evangeline dipped her chin in a nod and paused to quell her emotions. The constriction in her throat made her voice sound husky. “Crimm, if you would, escort the duchess and her daughter downstairs and instruct one of the footmen to give the directions to their coachman.”

  A certain smugness infused Crimm’s tone when he replied with a bow, “As you wish, Mrs. Merrick. The hired conveyance will be given instructions.” Cold and impersonal, Crimm inclined his head in the slightest of bows and said to the duchess, “If Your Grace and Lady Caroline will come with me, I will see that all is arranged.”

  Even though Evangeline quivered from the insults she’d endured, ingrained manners had her curtsying as the women left. After the door closed, relief relaxed her shoulders. A smile twisted her lips, then a choke of laughter burst out as she recalled what Crimm had said. His tone suggested that he might toss a snake into the carriage with the two women.

  A new thought sent a chill seeping through her limbs. Mr. Bates had loved that vicious woman? How could he have done? And he would marry that appalling girl? Lady Caroline was just out of the schoolroom in years, but she possessed the hardened attitude of an embittered crone.

  Evangeline sat on the couch and picked up the needlework, but it sat in her lap as she stared at the floor. A flood of conflicting emotions whirled through her mind and being. Her first urge was to rush to protect Mr. Bates from those two fiends. Then she despaired because she had no right to do so. Horror wrenched her heart at the thought of the torture he must have suffered as a boy so cruelly treated. It was no wonder that he had perfected a heartless attitude.

  Her next moment of understanding came when she accepted that her feelings for the future Lord Grieves were no longer ambivalent. Decidedly the opposite. She might hide truths from others but not from herself. The depth of her attachment came when she realized that she would have gladly taken a cane to the back of the woman who so wantonly destroyed a young man’s heart. Young Freddy’s heart.

  And the duchess would marry her daughter to the man she jilted? Evangeline coughed to relieve a gag of revulsion. Her escalating emotions quieted when the door opened, and Lord Asterly came through.

  The baron and Sir Harry were twins but didn’t look much alike. Where Harry was lean, athletic, and boasted a head of burnished-blond curls, the austere Lord Asterly carried more weight in a sturdy frame and had sand-colored hair. His political reputation daunted anyone thinking to go up against him, mainly due to his lack of patience for individuals who did not share his way of thinking. He’d never been anything but respectful and solicitous to her. Not even when three years before she’d assisted his wife to leave him. Perhaps because that particular incident ended so happily.

  “Mrs. Merrick, Crimm just informed me of your recent ordeal.”

  Evangeline swiftly stood and curtsied. “Sir, I wish he would not have done. You have important matters before you, of far greater concern than mine.”

  He gestured for her to return to her seat, sat on the couch across from her, and explained, “Ma’am, apprising myself of the damage in the aftermath of your sacrifice is the least I can do. Crimm reported that you saved me from an interview with an officious, fusty-faced harpy.” He lowered his voice to conclude with anxious dread, “I shudder to think of it. And Elizabeth has most disobligingly hidden my smelling salts.”

  Evangeline bowed her head and pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. She wouldn’t be able to hold in the laughter if she imagined the brawny and aloof Asterly succumbing to vapors.

  What most people didn’t know about the baron was that when he was in the company of someone he liked, he could be a merciless tease. Only those close to Asterly knew about his playful side. When there were no servants around, he liked to grab his wife and kiss her, then pretend surprise to discover Evangeline nearby. He often ruined the pretense with a wink and a laugh when his game made her blush.

  After gently clearing her throat, Evangeline said, “Your description is remarkably apt for one unacquainted with the duchess.”

  He leaned against the backrest, a position she doubted he would ever do when in comp
any with someone he didn’t know or trust. Every time he relaxed in her company made her to feel a part of his family.

  With an engaging grin he said, “You have my undying gratitude, ma’am, for keeping me out of the line of fire. And allow me to also say that I know how difficult it is for you to take on Elizabeth’s responsibilities.”

  “Please, think nothing of it. I owe you and Lady Asterly so much. There is no way to repay what you have done for me and my son. My hope and prayer is that we may leave off with the charade in a year’s time. My little Ned should be sufficiently grown.”

  “Have you seen him recently?”

  She smoothed her palms over her lap, reached for the handkerchief she hadn’t finished, and tugged through a few stitches. When able to speak, she replied. “Not for two years.”

  “Then I suggest that you send for him and his tutor. By now, he should be of an age and size to discourage his dear Uncle Archibald.”

  Evangeline felt the involuntary curl of her upper lip from hearing the loathed name. Asterly showed great restraint in his tone but she comprehended the extent of the baron’s revulsion. Her brother-in-law’s predilection for boys was well known throughout the ton but never discussed. The panic she suffered every time she thought of how the man would have complete control over her son sent her into a bout of tears. But very few knew of Ned’s existence.

  Long before her son was born, she took steps to hide him from the horror of the uncle, while hoping the babe would be a girl. She’d successfully hidden his birth for nearly fourteen years. As the closest, male relative, Archibald would become guardian and trustee of the estate. He had no interest in the title but would savor the control of her son. She would have no say in anything, not even to protect her son from abuse. No judge or court in the land would listen to her pleas.

  Of lesser importance, but almost as unnerving, was Archibald’s unwavering hatred. He’d loathed her from first meeting. She was never sure why. Perhaps because she immediately sensed that he disguised an eerie madness so successfully. But she had seen through his veneer of freezing confidence to his weakness. He needed complete control, and she had shrugged off his every attempt to intimidate. That changed when she discovered herself carrying her late husband’s child. Archibald knew he had the ultimate weapon against her with her son. She had no choice but to flee.