Stolen Encounters With The Duchess

Chapter Two

The following afternoon, after dispatching a note to her mother-in-law, a late riser who had not yet left her rooms, informing her a previous engagement would prevent her driving to the Park, Faith let her maid put the finishing touches to her coiffure. ‘There, madame,’ Yvette said, her eyes shining with pride. ‘Who could find fault with such an angel?’

‘A great many,’ Faith muttered. But knowing the soft-hearted girl was only trying to encourage her, she gave her a smile. ‘The new arrangement is lovely. Have you a name for it?’

‘Trône de la Reine,’ the maid replied. ‘And comme ça accord, madame!’

‘Thank you. I shall be the loveliest lady present.’ Thankfully, not at the Park, Faith added silently as she descended to the hackney the butler had summoned, her spirits buoyed by knowing she’d not have to grit her teeth while the Dowager recited the long litany of offences she’d committed last night. Instead, anticipation rising at the thought, she would have Davie to talk to.

She’d missed the company of the young man to whom she’d grown even closer than she was to her sisters during the time she’d spent as a guest of her cousin, stretching a visit planned for a month into a summer-long idyll. His calm counsel, his stimulating ideas and his zeal to create a better future had inspired and excited her. Truth to tell, she’d fancied herself a bit in love with him by the time she’d been summoned home to prepare for her upcoming Season.

Only too aware that he was no fitting match for a daughter of one of the oldest families in England, she’d nonetheless hoped she might share with him some of her thoughts and observations of London, but he’d remained at Oxford during her Season. Instead, mesmerised by the Duke’s assiduous and flattering attentions, envied by every other unmarried female on the Marriage Mart and their resentful mamas, she’d allowed herself to believe she’d fallen as much in love with her noble suitor as he had with her.

Why had she never noticed how cold and calculating his eyes were, compared to the warmth and compassion in Davie’s?

Far too late to regret that now.

With a sigh, Faith let the footman hand her into the carriage. Glancing back towards the shuttered windows of the town house, she felt a pang of foreboding. She was likely to draw enough fire for not attending her mother-in-law’s daily ride through the Park; were the woman to learn Faith missed that important event to associate with a man so far beneath her station, she’d be harangued for a month.

Still, it was time to wrench herself out of the influence of her mother-in-law and the misery that evoked. The Dowager had no real control over her; without the dictates of a husband to prevent it, she could involve herself more in the wider world.

Just talking with Davie, she knew, would help her do that. With each street that brought their rendezvous closer, her excitement and anticipation grew.

* * *

At last the carriage arrived, Faith so impatient she could hardly wait for the vehicle to stop before climbing down and hurrying into the establishment. She spotted Davie immediately, seated in an alcove on the far side of the room. The appreciation on his face as she approached his table made her glad she’d decided to wear the new grey gown that flattered her figure and showed her complexion to advantage.

‘Duchess, what a pleasant surprise,’ he said, rising and giving her a bow. ‘How lovely you look!’

‘How kind you are, Mr Smith,’ she replied. ‘Though as a mother of three, I’m afraid I’ve lost the bloom of youth you probably remember.’

‘Nonsense, it would take more than a brace of boys to erase that,’ he replied, helping her to a seat. ‘Tea? Or would you prefer ices?’

‘Tea, please.’

After sending the waiter off for refreshments, he looked back to study her.

‘You do look rested. Truly fresh as a young girl, and not at all like the venerable mother of three.’

She laughed. ‘I’d hoped for more children, but with three boys making the succession secure, Ashedon...lost interest.’ Or had he kept mistresses all along, and she’d just been too stupid to notice? ‘Somehow, growing up with a brother and all those sisters, I expected when I had a family of my own, I’d be surrounded by children. But as their mother, I spend much of the day in my world, and they in the nursery, in theirs.’

Davie chuckled. ‘Unlike growing up in a farm family, where the children are underfoot all day, learning from their mamas or doing chores for their papas. Close even at night, stuffed as they are in the loft just above the main room, like sausage in a casing! Maybe you should have been a simple farmer’s wife.’

‘Maybe I should have.’

She looked up into his eyes, those kind eyes she remembered so well—and suddenly, saw a flash of heat there, so intense and sudden it shook her.

It shook her even more to feel an answering heat from deep within. Suddenly she was brought back to last night, where despite her fatigue and misery, she’d been intensely aware of being held against his chest.

His broad, solid chest. The tall, rangy youth she’d known had grown into a tall, well-muscled, physically impressive man. Not fitting the wasp-waisted, whip-thin dandy profile now so popular among society’s gentlemen, he was instead big, sturdy, and solid, built more like a...a medieval knight, or a boxer. Strong, powerful, and imposing.

For a time, while he held her, she’d felt—safe, and at peace. If she were still the naïve and trusting girl she’d once been, she might even have said ‘cherished’.

But that was merely an illusion born of need and wishful thinking.

Still, she hadn’t mistaken the desire she’d just seen in his eyes before he masked it, nor the physical response he evoked in her. That unexpected attraction would...complicate a renewal of their friendship, yet at the same time, she was fiercely glad of it. The realisation that he wanted her was a balm to her battered self-esteem, reviving a sense she’d nearly lost of herself as a desirable woman.

She cleared her throat nervously. Welcome as it was, the unexpected sensual tension humming between them was so unexpected, and she had so little experience dealing with it, she felt suddenly awkward. ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ she said at last. ‘I was so relieved not to have to ride in the Park today and feel all those eyes on me, while the Dowager harangued.’

‘I suppose that’s the price of being a Duchess. You will always be the focus of attention, wherever you go and whatever you do.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, and it’s so distasteful. I don’t know why that fact didn’t occur to me before I wed a duke, but it didn’t. I’ve never enjoyed the attention.’ She sighed. ‘Especially as Ashedon and his women provided so much scandal for society to watch my reaction to.’

His jaw tightened and a fierce look came over his face before he burst out, ‘Your husband was a fool! Even if I shouldn’t say it.’

Gratified, she smiled sadly. ‘I didn’t mind him being a fool. I just minded that he never loved me. But I didn’t come today to whine about poor, neglected little me. I want to hear about something of real importance. Tell me of your work! I always hoped we would maintain our friendship, but after the wedding, and with you at Oxford...I do know that, with Sir Edward and my cousin Nicky’s support, you were elected MP from Hazelwick shortly after leaving university. And I seem to remember something about “Hadley’s Hellions”? What was that?’

He chuckled. ‘Fortunately for a commoner like me, I met Giles Hadley soon after arriving at Oxford. As I imagine you know, although he’s Viscount Lyndlington, until very recently he’d been estranged from his father, the earl. After growing up in an isolated cottage, he didn’t form friendships with anyone from the ton, bonding instead when he was sent to Eton with other outsiders—Ben Tawny, the natural son of Viscount Chilford, and Christopher Lattimar, son of Lord Vraux.

‘That name I do know,’ she said. ‘One of the “Vraux Miscellany”, siblings supposedly all fathered by different men?’

Davie nodded. ‘With those backgrounds, you can understand why all of them felt that society and government needed reforming, with the power to change not left in the tight-fisted hands of a few whose only qualification for the job was that their families had always held it.’

‘A view of reform you always supported,’ she inserted, recalling their spirited discussions of government and politics that long-ago summer.

‘I did. When Giles stumbled upon me, reading alone in one of the pubs, he immediately drew me into his circle. First, out of kindness for a commoner whom he knew would never be invited into any of the aristocratic groups. But once we began discussing what we hoped to accomplish once we left university, we soon discovered we aspired to the same goals.’

‘And those aspirations, in the eyes of the powerful, were enough for you to be labelled hellions?’ she guessed.

‘They were bad enough, but we didn’t win that label until some of the dons, churchmen all, discovered we aimed to eliminate the clergy’s seats in the Lords. An intention, they felt, that could only have been inspired by the devil.’

She tilted her head at him. ‘Was it only that? Or was the name partly earned for exploits more scandalous than you care to mention to my innocent ears?’

Had he been a hellion? A little thrill went through her as she studied him from under the cover of her lashes. He was certainly virile enough to excite a woman’s desire. Had he cut a swathe through the ladies of Oxford?

She found herself feeling jealous of any female he’d favoured with his amorous attentions.

‘Having served with the army in India,’ his words recalled her, ‘Ben was something of a rabble-rouser, and Christopher was always a favourite with the ladies. Giles and I generally didn’t have enough blunt to kick up too many larks, one of the reasons we pooled our resources and began rooming together early on. We helped each other, too, once it came time to campaign. As you may know, your brother-in-law, the Marquess, gave me his generous support when I stood for the seat under Sir Edward’s control in Hazelwick, for which I’m grateful.’

‘How could Nicky, or anyone else, listen to you explain your views, and not be persuaded? You certainly convinced me that summer! How close are you to accomplishing your aims?’

‘A new Parliament convened in June, filled overwhelmingly with supporters of reform. We’re very hopeful that by later this autumn, we’ll finally get a bill passed.’ He gave her a wry grimace. ‘There are still recalcitrants who seek to delay us by bringing up an endless series of irrelevant discussions. Sometimes I’d like to knock a few heads together in the committee room, like I did last night on the street!’

‘You were certainly effective there!’ she declared, shuddering a little as she recalled how close to disaster she’d come. ‘So there will be a change in the way the country is governed, for the first time since the medieval era? How exciting!’

‘It is exciting, to know you can influence the governance of the nation.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘I have enough difficulty exerting influence in the mundane matters of everyday life.’

‘As duchess? Surely not!’

She hesitated, tempted to continue, though she really shouldn’t confide in him. She’d had to struggle these last miserable years to transform the open, plain-spoken girl she’d once been into a woman who kept her own counsel. But the warmth of his regard, and that inexplicable sense of connection that seemed to have survived the years they’d been apart, pulled at her.

How long had it been since she’d had anyone to talk to, anyone who truly cared about her feelings or her needs?

Compelled by some force she didn’t seem able to resist, she explained, ‘Ashedon’s housekeeper has been there since his mother’s day, and is ferociously competent. Since my husband supported her authority, I barely had more to do than arrange flowers and approve menus. Now that my mother-in-law has returned to Ashedon Place, challenging Mrs West’s years of unopposed domination, the two are in a constant battle for control, a struggle that frequently traps me in the middle.’ She sighed. ‘And then, there’s the boys.’

‘Your sons? Is your mother-in-law trying to take them over, too?’ he guessed. ‘How difficult that must be for you.’ Almost absently, he put his hand over hers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. ‘But as their mother, you must make sure your will prevails.’

She ought to remove her hand. But that simple touch evoked such a powerful surge of emotion—gratitude for his compassion, relief at his understanding, and a heady wave of sensual awareness that intensified that sense of connection. She could no more make herself pull away than she could march back home and evict the Dowager.

‘I am trying,’ she said, savouring the titillating, forbidden feel of her hand enclosed in his. ‘As I told you before, the Duke didn’t consider it proper for his Duchess to hang about the nursery, an impediment to Nurse and the maids going about their duties.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘I was reduced to visiting at night, tiptoeing past the sleeping maid to sit at the foot of their beds and study their little faces in the darkness. Since Ashedon’s death, I’ve worked to find ways to spend more time with them, but I’ve had to fight Carlisle, the tutor Ashedon installed, at every turn. My increased involvement with the boys was the first thing the Dowager criticised when she invaded us. I’ve held my ground—the first and only time I’ve defied her—but she reinforces Carlisle as much as she can, making it as difficult as possible.’

‘Bravo for resisting her! That can’t have been pleasant. Now you just need to figure out better ways to get round the tutor.’

‘Yes. And to keep the boys away from their uncle—an even worse example of manhood than my late husband, which is the truth, even if it’s not kind of me to say so.’ She grimaced, remembering the feel of Lord Randall’s hands biting into her shoulders as he tried to force her into that kiss. ‘Since his mother has taken up residence, he seems to think he can drop in whenever he wishes, usually to dine, or to borrow money from his mother. One of the few things Ashedon and I agreed on was that his brother is a wastrel who will spend as much of the family fortune as he can get his hands on.’

‘Then you definitely need to get the boys away more. There are so many places they might enjoy—the British Museum, riding in the parks, Astley’s Amphitheatre—even Parliament.’ He lifted a brow at her. ‘The young Duke will take his place in the Lords there, some day.’

‘Ready to persuade him to join your coalition?’ she teased, immeasurably cheered by his sympathetic support.

‘It’s never too early to start.’ Smiling, he raised her hand, as if to kiss it. And only then seemed to realise he’d been holding it.

He sucked in a breath as he looked down at their joined hands, then up to meet her gaze, and his grip tightened. In an instant, a touch meant to offer comfort transformed into something more primal, as heat and light blazed between them, palpable as the flash of lightning, the rumble of thunder before a storm.

In his eyes blazed the same passion she’d glimpsed earlier. The same passion she felt, building in a slow conflagration from her core outward. Struck as motionless as he, she could only cling to his fingers, relishing every atom of that tiny bit of contact between them.

Slowly, as if he found it as difficult to break the connection as she had earlier, his grip eased and he let her go. His ardent expression turned troubled, and for a moment, she was terribly afraid he would apologise.

Which would be beyond enduring, since she wasn’t sorry at all.

He opened his lips and hesitated, as if searching for words. Watching his mouth, her mind obsessed by imagining the feel of it against hers, she was incapable of finding any herself.

At last, he cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps you could take your sons to call on your sister, Lady Englemere? She’s in town with the Marquess for Parliament, I expect. Let the boys become better acquainted with their cousins?’

He looked back down at their now separate hands as he spoke, as if he regretted as much as she did the need to break that link between them.

Forcing her attention back to his words, she replied, ‘At the moment, they aren’t acquainted at all. I don’t even know if Sarah is in London; she may still be in the country.’ Faith grimaced. ‘Lucky her. The thing I’ve hated most about life as a duchess is being trapped in London, far from the “unfashionable” countryside Ashedon despised and I love so much.’

Davie nodded. ‘I seem to remember a penchant for riding in breeches and climbing trees.’

That observation brought her a smile. ‘Yes. We used to climb that big elm in Cousin Joanna’s garden, and I’d read you poetry. There were a few early-morning races on horseback, too, I recall, before Joanna found out and made me ride at a more decorous pace, on side-saddle.’ Nostalgia for that carefree past welled up. ‘How I miss those days,’ she said softly.

‘Avoid looking back by building something better to look forward to,’ Davie advised quietly.

She glanced back at him, seeing sympathy overlay the passion in his eyes. ‘Like you are doing for the nation.’

‘Like you can do for yourself. You are free now, Faith. Free to remake the future as you choose.’

And what would she choose, if she were completely free? Desire resurged, strong and urgent. What if I said I wanted you, now?

But of course, she did not say that. ‘I may be freer,’ she replied. ‘But with the Dowager, and my sons’ futures to protect, I’ll never truly be free of the shadow of being Duchess. Never truly free to choose only what I want.’

She gazed at him, willing him to understand what she could not say. Perhaps he did, for his face shuttered, masking whatever response her answer aroused in him.

‘Then, as in Parliament, you must strike the best deal you can get with the opposition, so all can move forward. Speaking of which, I’m afraid I must get back.’

A sharp pang of regret made her want to protest. Suppressing it, she said, ‘Of course. You have important work waiting. Which just reinforces how trivial my little problems are. How I wish I could observe you making those real, significant changes!’

‘There’s nothing more important to the future of the nation than you raising your boys properly! But if you would be interested in hearing some conversation about the Reform Bill, Lady Lyndlington still plays hostess for her father. I’m sure she would be delighted to include you in one of their discussion evenings. With it being hosted by a marquess, I don’t think the Dowager could object to your attending. Shall I ask Lady Lyndlington to send you an invitation?’

Oh, to spend an evening where people talked about important ideas, where, among statesmen and diplomats, a mere society female whose opinions were of little value would be ignored. Where she’d be able to sit quietly and just observe. And escape, for an evening, all the petty problems that pricked at her daily.

‘It sounds fascinating, but...would you be there, too? It would be rather intimidating to attend such a gathering of intellectuals, having only a slight acquaintance with all those present.’

‘I’m sure you’ll have met most of them at various society gatherings. But, yes, if it would make you feel easier, I could make sure I’m invited as well.’

‘Then, I should love it! If you’re certain Lady Lyndlington wouldn’t find it impertinent of me to request an invitation? I’ve met her, of course, but could hardly claim to call her a friend.’

‘I imagine she would be delighted of your company, but I will ask. Now, we should probably be getting you back as well. Shall I send you a note after I’ve spoken to Lady Lyndlington?’

Glancing over at the clock, Faith noticed to her surprise that they had been chatting for some time. ‘Yes, I should go, too. I’d prefer to already be at home before my mother-in-law returns from the Park, and the inquisition begins.’

Hating to bring their time together to an end, Faith made herself rise. ‘How can I ever thank you enough? Rescuing me not once, but twice, and then offering the promise of a stimulating evening.’

‘It would give me the greatest delight to stimulate you.’

Her eyes flew to his face, and though it coloured a little at the blatant double entendre, he didn’t apologise, nor did he retract the remark. Instead, he simply looked at her, giving her another glimpse of heat before masking his gaze.

Arousal returned in a rush. How easily she could imagine the delight his ‘stimulation’ would bring her!

She wanted to reply in kind, to make clear she understood and shared his desire. But so inexperienced was she in flirtation, before she could come up with some cleverly suggestive remark, he said, ‘I hope you’ll enjoy a political evening at Lord Witlow’s even half as much as I have enjoyed this conversation. I’ll send you a note as soon as I’ve spoken with Lady Lyndlington.’

She suppressed a sigh, irritated that she’d let the opportunity slip. Accepting his redirection of the conversation back into proper channels, she said, ‘Thank you again. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, too. We mustn’t let our friendship lapse again, must we?’