The Duke's Predicament (The Reluctant Duke Book 3) Page 8

  Despite being so young, only nineteen years of age herself, the old duke had taken a fancy to her and employed her to be companion and governess to Sarah and Amanda. Unfortunately, when he’d died so suddenly her employment had been terminated but she’d left with an excellent reference and had found a position as companion to an elderly lady.

  This had been tedious in the extreme and when she’d been offered the chance to rejoin this family in whatever capacity she’d been delighted to accept. Initially she’d been employed as companion to her grace but then had become Beth’s governess.

  She pulled herself from her reminiscences. Dear papa would be turning in his grave if he knew what his only child was intending to do. What would she do if Patrick rejected her? Her reputation would be gone and she wouldn’t have achieved her objective.

  She wasn’t exactly sure what took place in the marriage bed, but she’d seen farm animals mating so assumed something similar must take place between a man and his wife. She glowed all over at the thought of becoming a woman, of giving her body to the man she loved so much.

  She heard a distant church clock strike midnight, the house was quiet, now was her opportunity and she must set out at once before her courage failed her. Should she unbind her hair and have it loose around her shoulders? Maybe not a good idea in case she met someone in the passageway as no well-brought-up young lady would ever be seen outside her own apartment with her hair loose.

  She laughed out loud. Having her hair loose would be the least of her problems if she was seen either entering or leaving Patrick’s bedroom. She would be a fallen woman, he would be her lover and she would be his mistress. Imagine that! The daughter of a vicar becoming a soldier’s mistress.

  With her robe on and her feet in slippers, her hair still demurely braided and hanging down the back of her neck, she thought she could bluff her way out of the situation if she was to meet anyone. She would tell them she was on her way to the kitchens as she was unaccountably in need of a soothing tisane for a headache.

  Indeed, she was a little light-headed and she thought this was the result of the alcohol she’d consumed. Men went into battle the worse for drink as it gave them false courage.

  There were only two sconces alight which meant one could see, but not clearly enough to read a book if one so wished.

  The room she sought was the fifth door on the right. The fourth wouldn’t do as that was his sitting room and she wished to step straight into his bedchamber. But did she? Would it perhaps not be better to creep in through the sitting room and then approach his bedroom that way? He might still be awake and be able to stop her. However, if she did hear movement then she could wait until he fell asleep without being seen. She could hardly lurk in the corridor in her nightwear.

  All the rooms, apart from the master suite where Richard and his wife slept, were identical. Slowly she turned the knob and opened the door a fraction. Silence. She slipped through and closed the door behind her. There was sufficient light from the moon outside for her to move around and avoid bumping into furniture.

  His bedchamber door was ajar. She paused outside, her heart hammering so loudly she could hear it, making clarity of thought impossible. She leaned against the door frame, breathing slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

  After a few minutes she pushed the door open a little more. The only sound was his even, regular breathing. Was she brave enough to go through with this or would she return to her own domain and let this moment slip through her fingers?

  Her feet moved of their own volition and she was inside and moving towards the bed. Carefully she slipped her bedrobe from her shoulders and stepped out of her slippers. She wasn’t at all clear if she should take off her nightgown as well but couldn’t bring herself to do that. If it was to be removed then this was Patrick’s task.

  She was reaching round to loosen her hair when he spoke to her. Her bladder almost emptied in shock.

  ‘Let me do that, darling girl, I’ve been dreaming of running my fingers through it.’

  Then he was beside her, not a stitch of clothing on him, and reaching out for her. He didn’t ask why she was there – that much was obvious – but more to the point he didn’t tell her to go away.

  With deft fingers he released the plait, then undid the ribbons at the neck of her nightgown and slid it over her shoulders so it fell to the floor. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Every touch of his fingers was like a flame running through her.

  Then he picked her up and they were naked in bed together. ‘I know you’re leaving tomorrow, my love, but you’re not going until I’m truly yours.’

  His answer was more a growl than any recognisable speech. ‘If I was a gentleman I’d send you back untouched. Thank God for both of us that I’m not.’

  What followed was everything she’d imagined and more. The first time had been a little uncomfortable but the second and third more wonderful than anything she’d ever thought to experience. They fell asleep eventually, exhausted and content, but she woke after a couple of hours and sat up to watch him sleep for a few minutes knowing she might never have this opportunity again.

  Hastily she donned her dicarded nightclothes and left him sleeping. She returned to her own bed and despite her joy at their lovemaking she cried herself to sleep.

  *

  Patrick stretched out a hand but she was gone. Hannah had left in the night but her scent lingered on the bedsheets. He didn’t regret what happened and hoped that she didn’t either. Knowing that she was his in every sense of the word just made him more determined to get out of the army and return to her.

  There was a cursory knock at the door and Richard strode in. ‘I thought you were leaving at dawn and got up to bid you farewell. Instead I find you lazing around in your bed.’

  ‘I’ll be down directly. Go away and let me get up in peace.’

  If Hannah hadn’t had the sense to return to her apartment then God knows what would have happened. He shuddered at the thought of Richard’s reaction. His happiness changed to bitter remorse. He deserved to be horsewhipped for taking advantage of her. Thank God there was small chance of her having his baby – for the first time since he’d realised he was most likely incapable of fathering a child, he was pleased.

  He tumbled out of bed, washed from head to toe, and was shaved and donning his hated uniform within a quarter of an hour. He had the accoutrements necessary for a serving non-commissioned soldier and these were in his worn and battered knapsack. The most essential of these were his tin mug, plate and knife. Without them he couldn’t eat. Other more personal items he put in his saddlebags. He hesitated than shoved in civilian garments, he might just need them. He picked up the letter he’d written to Hannah and was in two minds whether to leave it or not as it was now redundant.

  Richard would be suspicious if he didn’t give it to him after having said he would; he knew that Hannah would understand that it had been written before they’d shared his bed. He’d only been living in this apartment for a few days but already it felt like home and he regretted leaving it so abruptly.

  He had his pistol in a holster at his side and his sabre in its scabbard. His tall, black shako had seen better days but he rammed it on his head nevertheless. His white breeches were pristine and his boots were polished to a high shine.

  There was a purse of gold coins tucked inside his red jacket and a handful of silver and coppers in another pocket. He stared at his reflection scarcely recognising the man who stared back at him. In that moment he understood that he was no longer a killing machine, would be useless to any officer. He wasn’t soft physically, was as tough as he’d ever been, but he’d become a civilian since he and Richard had returned so suddenly from Portugal and had no desire to fight again.

  Breakfast had been cooked especially for him and Richard ate as much as he did. It might be a day or more before he had the opportunity to fill his belly again.

  ‘Take Bruno, he’ll keep you safe and get you out of trouble. Here’s
the letter I promised for Wellington.’ Richard handed this over.

  ‘And here’s mine for Hannah. Take care of her for me, my friend, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. This uniform no longer sits comfortably on my shoulders and the sooner I can discard it the better. Thank you for the horse, I’ll bring him back in one piece.’

  ‘I know you have sufficient blunt, but I want you to have this as well.’ A substantial purse clinked as it dropped onto the table between them.

  ‘Thank you, I might need it to buy my passage home. I regret not being able to assist you in the matter of Carstairs. I thought I might make arrangements whilst in London so all you have to do when he’s fit is transport him there and hand him over.’

  Both of Richard’s ships were at sea and not expected back for months so putting the little turd on one of those was no longer possible.

  ‘That would be helpful, but if you find you don’t have time, then I’m sure I’ll manage.’

  ‘I’ll send a letter with the instructions before I sail. I’ll also write again to Hannah.’

  There was no more to be said and he left with a greaseproof parcel of sandwiches, as well as his flask of fresh water, pushed into his saddlebag. He cantered down the drive, didn’t look back, blinking back unwanted tears.

  He stayed overnight at the Red Lion in Colchester and continued with his journey the following morning. The second night he stayed in Romford and thus was able to arrive at his destination, the London docks, by mid-morning on the third day.

  Arranging for transport to Spain for himself and his horse wasn’t going to be simple. He made extensive enquiries and eventually discovered there was a troopship leaving the following day. He was able to obtain passage for both of them after meeting a harassed young lieutenant attempting to marshal his raw conscripts into some sort of order.

  ‘Sergeant Major, you’re a godsend. I’ll happily sign the chit for you to board the same ship as us if you’ll agree to temporarily serve under me and get this rabble to follow orders.’

  Patrick saluted smartly. ‘I’d be happy to help out, sir, but first I’ve an errand to run for the Duke of Denchester, he’s a close friend of mine as we served together for many years before he inherited. You might have heard of Major Sinclair. He was often mentioned in dispatches.’

  ‘I should think so – so you’re the famous O’Riley? The two useless corporals can keep this lot in one place for another hour or so. Can you complete your task in that time?’

  ‘I can, thank you, sir. Just keep them away from the brothels and the bars. You’ll lose most of them if they get that far.’

  He spoke to a dock labourer and he nodded enthusiastically. ‘No trouble at all, your honour, we’ll get this villain aboard a packet going to India. No trouble at all, sir, no trouble at all.’

  The deal was struck. A guinea in advance and another when the job was done. He noted down the necessary details for the transaction to be completed successfully and then headed away from the docks and found a decent coffee shop.

  He’d brought with him pen, ink and paper – this had already been addressed and franked so he could just hand it in at the nearest collection point. He scribbled a quick note to Richard and then wrote at more length to Hannah.

  Dearest Hannah,

  I am now about to board a ship for Spain. My intention is to deliver the letter Richard gave me to Wellington and then with all expedition return to your side.

  You are my life, I want nothing more than to spend what days I have remaining at your side.

  I love you and will be back to marry you at the earliest moment that I can. It might take me some time to find Wellington so don’t expect me back until the autumn at the earliest.

  Forever yours

  He signed his name with a flourish, waited until the ink was dry and then folded the paper neatly. He had one of Richard’s rings and he pressed the seal into the pool of melted wax. He’d done the same for the letter to his friend.

  He deposited the letters and then strode back to the docks. As he walked he pushed aside all thoughts of civilian life, of being with the woman he loved, and forced his mind back into military mode. If he was to get through these next few months and achieve his goal he must become the soldier he used to be.

  *

  Amanda welcomed the new member of the household, Miss Christabel Parsons, who arrived to take up her position as companion and governess to Beth. Miss Parsons was in her thirties and her calm and relaxed manner worked perfectly with her sister. This was obviously going to be the perfect match and meant that was one worry she no longer had.

  Since Patrick’s abrupt departure Richard had been quiet, far more withdrawn than one would have thought a gentleman might be because his closest friend had gone away for a few months. Hannah, naturally was subdued too, but that was only to be expected as no young lady likes to be abandoned by her betrothed so suddenly.

  Several days later a letter arrived for Hannah and it was from Patrick. ‘Forgive me, but I’m going to read this in my apartment. I’ve no wish to be a watering pot in front of you.’

  ‘At least you know he’s unlikely to be in any danger. Richard assured me that there’s every possibility Patrick will be able to return about the same time that Sarah and Paul get back from their wedding trip. I thought it might be pleasant for you to plan your own nuptials. Doing so will give you not only something to occupy your mind, but something to look forward to.’

  ‘October seems a very long time away. I know that a sailor or soldier’s wife must become accustomed to being apart for long periods of time. I think it would be easier to bear if we had actually been married before he left.

  ‘If only he’d had just another two weeks before he’d had to leave then I would now be Mrs Patrick O’Riley.’ With a sad smile Hannah retreated to the privacy of her own apartment no doubt to weep over the letter as she read it.

  Mama, having decided she was not about to descend into mania after all, had gone to Ipswich with Paula and intended to stay overnight as there was a concert of some sort at the assembly hall that they both wished to attend.

  Anyone visiting this household would be perplexed by the informality, by everyone referring to each other by their given names and not adhering to the correct procedure. Mrs Marchand, Paula, seemed uncomfortable with this so now addressed nobody by name which would be confusing if there was anyone else living here apart from herself and Richard.

  There had been a letter for him from Patrick as well and, as he hadn’t come to tell her its contents, she would go at once and disturb him in his study and discover what was making him so bad-tempered. He didn’t look particularly pleased to see her when she wandered in without knocking. She had called out, but hadn’t waited for his answer.

  ‘I apologise if I’m disturbing you, my love, but we need to talk. I’ll not leave here until whatever it is that’s bothering you has been shared with me. You promised me you wouldn’t keep secrets and yet I’m certain that you’re doing so.’

  He opened his arms and she ran into them. He held her close, kissed the top of her head and then with what sounded suspiciously like a sigh he led her to the sofa and they sat together.

  ‘Hannah went to Patrick the night before he left. She wasn’t there when I went in but I’m not blind and could see at once he’d not been alone in his bed.’

  Whatever she’d expected him to reveal it hadn’t been this. She did her best to appear too shocked to speak. Richard must never know Hannah had discussed this very thing with her. ‘How could she have done that? More to the point, why didn’t he send her away? I don’t understand.’

  ‘If you’d come to me in those circumstances, my darling, I would also have succumbed to the temptation. Patrick loves Hannah as much as I love you. What I can’t comprehend is why she would risk having an illegitimate child rather than wait a few months and do things as they should be done?’

  ‘Did you speak to him about it before he left?’

  ‘Of course I d
idn’t. He didn’t know I knew and I was happy to leave it that way.’ His smile was a trifle lopsided. ‘I would have felt obliged to draw his cork at the very least and he’s bigger than me.’

  She smiled at his attempt at humour. Should she reveal that she’d been party to this plan? When she had agreed with Hannah that going to Patrick’s room would force his hand she hadn’t expected her friend to do so when she knew her betrothed was leaving.

  Now there was the possiblity there would be a baby born out of wedlock. Patrick had been gone less than a week so even if Hannah was in an interesting condition she couldn’t possibly know.

  ‘I think she should marry Doctor Peterson instead…’

  Now he laughed out loud. ‘Is that your way of preventing gossip? Devil take it, woman, the final banns for her marriage to Patrick have yet to be read and you’re suggesting that she marries someone else?’

  Chapter Nine

  Hannah’s hands were trembling as she broke the seal on the letter. She carefully spread out the paper and began to read. Tears trickled unheeded down her cheeks by the time she’d finished. He’d deliberately not referred to their illicit night and she was grateful for that. It was possible the duke might have opened it in error and if he knew what she’d done he would no longer wish to have her residing under his roof.

  She dried her eyes and read the letter for a third time. She was being nonsensical – this was her home now and even if her secret was revealed she would be forgiven and not cast aside. She was fortunate indeed to have such friends.

  She carefully put the letter with the other one she’d received and hoped that he’d have time to write on a regular basis. She couldn’t reply as she’d no idea where to send it. The duke had been in low spirits since Patrick’s departure and she hoped the missive he’d received would cheer him up.