A Regency Lord's Command: The Disappearing Duchess / The Mysterious Lord Marlowe

‘Well, I’m sure your Grace may do as you please. However, the matter of the rooms in the west wing is something that you ought to attend, ma’am. It is more usually for the mistress of the house to make a decision on the servants’ welfare.’

‘Yes, of course. It may seem to you that I have neglected my duties.’

‘It is not for me to tell you what to do, my lady.’

‘No, but perhaps I should have consulted with you on menus and things? I prefer to wait until the duke returns so that I may be certain of his preferences.’

‘Yes, of course, ma’am. Do you know when his Grace intends to return?’

‘In a few days,’ Lucinda said airily. ‘He has business and will be back when he is ready.’

‘Yes, ma’am, as you say.’

‘Very well, please take me to these attic rooms—and anywhere else that concerns you.’

‘His lordship has had much of the house done, my lady, but the attics seem to have escaped his notice.’

‘I dare say he was not aware that the maids are overcrowded in the east wing.’

Lucinda followed the housekeeper up a narrow staircase, which was conveniently hidden behind a door, concealing it from the casual eye. As the west wing was kept for guests they would not notice the door leading to the attics, but it was usual for the servants to come and go by way of a back staircase. It made it easier for them to service the guests’ rooms and reach their own without intruding.

Looking round the various attic rooms, Lucinda saw what Mrs Mann meant about their needing refurbishment. In some places the ceilings had crumbled and it looked as if the plaster might fall, though two of the rooms needed only some decoration.

‘I think it may be necessary to have a repair to the roof here,’ Lucinda said, gazing up at the source of the problem, which was a patch of damp. ‘Clearly that is what caused the leak in three rooms.’

‘The roof was repaired last year,’ Mrs Mann told her. ‘It is just the ceilings—and a coat of whitewash, and then some rugs on the floor.’

‘Yes, I see. Well, I shall speak to my husband when he returns. I am not certain that it is within my power to order repairs of that nature, Mrs Mann. Be patient for a while and I shall see what may be done.’

‘Yes, ma’am. If you are satisfied with things as they are.’

A little sniff accompanied her words. Lucinda knew that the housekeeper was less than satisfied with her response to the problem, but an idea had occurred to her—an idea that was daring and outrageous, but which could make her life much easier.

‘I shall attend to the matter,’ she said. ‘Surely the maids can manage for a little longer?’

‘Yes, ma’am, if they have to—but in the summer these rooms can be very hot, especially if there are too many sharing.’

Lucinda felt a little guilty as she returned to her own room and began to change for the evening. Jane and Andrew Lanchester were coming for dinner that evening and they were bringing some guests, people with whom Lucinda was slightly acquainted, which should make it a pleasant evening for all.

She would visit her daughter again in the morning and see how she was faring, but in the meantime she would consider her plan to bring both Nanny and Angela into the house.

Justin had decided to leave town that afternoon. He would be home sooner than he’d planned, but he had set his business in hand and found himself restless, unable to settle. His anger had cooled somewhat, but the hurt was as sharp as ever. Yet he wanted to see Lucinda, to see her smile and hear her voice. Most of all he wanted to lie with her in the beautiful bedchamber he had lavished so much time and money on in preparation for their wedding.

He frowned as he wondered how best to proceed with repairing the rift between them. While he was eager for their marriage to be a true one, he was uncertain of Lucinda’s feelings. She had consented to be married after some initial reluctance—was her reluctance merely because she’d feared to tell him her secret or might she have another deeper reason for her hesitation? Did she fear her husband’s attentions in the bedroom? She had never shown any reluctance when he kissed her—but there was more than kissing to being a true wife.

Clearly, she had been ready to accept her duties as a wife or she would not have wed him, but Justin did not wish for a complacent wife. He had expected that his bride would be innocent and had planned to be gentle and patient on their wedding night—but the knowledge that she had been raped put a new light on the situation. Much as he desired her, he might have to put his own desires to one side for the time being. He would need to be very gentle with Lucinda if he wanted her to respond. Indeed, he might have to wait some time before he took her to bed.

Before he made love to his wife he must regain her trust. Otherwise, he might destroy her and his hopes of a good marriage.

Having made up his mind to leave for Avonlea that very afternoon, he summoned his valet, intending to ask that his bags be packed in readiness. However, when the man came in answer to the bell he was bearing a letter from Justin’s lawyer. Breaking the seal, he frowned. It was a matter of business that had arisen from his fresh instructions concerning his will and he was requested to attend the lawyer’s office at his earliest convenience, which meant that his departure might have to be delayed by at least one more day.

The delay was annoying, but the business could not wait. Sighing, Justin took up his hat and silver-topped walking stick and left the house. The sooner this business was finished the sooner he could go home to Lucinda.

‘The doctor’s mixture did her the world of good,’ Nanny said when Lucinda visited soon after breakfast the next morning. ‘She had honey and rolls and she’s nearly back to normal. It was just a little chill after all.’

‘Is she still in bed?’

‘I left her sitting with her books, but I heard something just before you came in and she may have decided to get up and play.’

Lucinda went upstairs. Her daughter had dressed herself, her gown only half-buttoned at the back, and her tangled curls evidence that Angela had not considered it necessary to use the brush. When she saw her mother her eyes welled with tears, which spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

‘My poor love, come here to me,’ Lucinda said and sat down on the bed, drawing her on to her lap. She kissed and cuddled her, then buttoned her bodice properly and took up a hairbrush. Angela’s hair soon looked respectable and shone. Lucinda noticed that her arms were much better now and her legs had stopped looking like sticks. She was beginning to recover from years of ill treatment, but of course the mental scars were still there. ‘Shall we go for a little walk in the woods?’

Angela shook her head. ‘Will you read to me from my books?’

‘Yes, if you wish it. Come downstairs and we shall sit in the big chair by the fire and read a story.’

Angela scrambled to her feet, seized the book she wanted and proceeded down the stairs. Lucinda smiled inwardly, because it was clear to her that her daughter was feeling much better.

The next hour or so was very happy for them both, but the tears started once more when Lucinda told her that she must leave. Angela screamed and clung to her. She calmed a little when Nanny pulled her away and told her she must be good, but the sight of her child’s reproachful face pulled at Lucinda’s heartstrings as she left the cottage and began to walk back to the house.

The tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought of her daughter’s distress. In the future she might not always be able to visit her every day and the child would not understand that her mother had another life—a life she could not share with her.

Lucinda was starting to shake with sobs as she saw the fallen tree lying just ahead of her in a small clearing. She sat down, her head bowed as the tears fell thick and fast.

A part of her longed for Justin’s return from town. She wanted desperately to see him, to be a true wife to him with no secrets between them—but she could not give up her beloved child. There was no way out of her predicament. If she confessed to her husband, he would be angry again—and he would force her to give Angela up.

‘Duchess—Lucinda?’

The man’s deep voice startled her. She raised her head, and saw Andrew standing just a few feet from where she sat. Feeling guilty, she rose to her feet and brushed a hand over her face.

‘Lord Lanchester…I did not hear you come.’

‘Are you unwell?’ He moved closer, looking at her with concern. ‘You have been crying. Is there something I may do to help you?’

‘No, it is nothing. Nothing at all,’ Lucinda said and lifted her head proudly. ‘It was a silly tantrum, that is all.’

‘I do not think you are the kind of woman who has tantrums,’ he said and handed her a large white kerchief. ‘You may be pleased to know that he has returned this very morning.’

‘My husband has returned?’ Lucinda’s heart missed a beat. She caught her breath. ‘You have seen him?’

‘I saw him driving his curricle on his way here.’ He hesitated. ‘You are in some trouble, I think. For the moment you may prefer to keep your own counsel—but should you need a friend, I am here.’

The warmth and sincerity in his voice brought a flush to her cheeks. She gave him a small shy smile—the smile that unbeknown to her had won more than one man’s heart.

‘You are very kind, my lord.’

‘Tell me, are you in some difficulty?’