Fenella Miller - The Duke’s Reform

“I’m going put extra stitches in the wound, my lord. It might hurt, but I reckon to give you brandy or laudanum would do more harm than good after the bout of fever you had.”

“Get on with it, man, then I can remove myself from this bloodbath.” Several extremely painful minutes later the job was done. “Can I get up now? I’ll sit in the chair whilst the bed is changed.”

“Allow me to assist you, your grace. Then Mrs Watkins can set things straight.”

Only then did he remember what had taken place between those sheets. Would the evidence of their lovemaking be visible? Too late to worry, he was married to Isobel after all and making love was perfectly natural between a man and wife.

His cheeks stained. The housekeeper was Isobel’s confidante and knew how things stood between them. Would she believe Isobel had been unwilling for a second time? He slumped into the chair despair overwhelming him. How was he going to convince Isobel he had believed her to be in his bed from choice? It might be a week or more before the roads were clear enough him to leave. Would this be sufficient to repair the damage?

*   *   *

The rattle of the curtains being drawn back woke Isobel the next morning. Her head ached, her throat was dry and she had no wish for breakfast. Sally had placed the tray with tea and buttered toast on the bedside table.

“It’s fair freezing outside, my lady, and more snow falling. I doubt anyone will get in or out of here for a week at least.”

“I think I shall stay in my apartments today, Sally. I did not have much sleep last night and shall remain in bed this morning.”

“Very well, my lady. There was a right to do last night, I can tell you. His grace needed Mr Brown to stitch up his leg again for he lost a deal of blood but George says as he’s fine now.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Ask Mrs Watkins to come and see me, please, Sally.”

The girl left the tray and vanished through the dressing room, her footsteps clearly audible as the servants’ passageway ran alongside the bed chamber. Isobel toyed with the toast but drank the tea. A polite tap on the door heralded Mary’s arrival.

“Good morning, my lady. I think you’ve made a wise choice to remain here today; it’s far warmer upstairs than down.”

“Mary, tell me what happened? I left the duke because he was sleeping peacefully and his fever quite gone. There seemed little point in me shivering in a chair when he no longer required my vigilance.”

“It would seem the injury was worse than either of us knew. Bill said he had to probe into the wound in order to remove a large sliver of wood that had embedded itself there. His grace must have nicked a vein, what with all that tossing and turning with his fever. I reckon that caused the bleeding.”

“But the duke’s in no danger?”

Mary beamed. “Bless you, my dear, he’s sleeping like a baby. I doubt we’ll keep that one in his bed today.”

“You had better find him a cane to lean on if he insists on leaving his chamber. Has someone taken the dogs out for me?” Her erstwhile abigail looked uncomfortable. This was the first time since they’d returned Mary had forgotten to address her correctly. “I regret we don’t spend much time together, Mary. You’re my dearest friend and I insist in future you come and take tea with me every afternoon as long as your duties allow it.”

The smile returned. “Thank you, my lady. Perhaps I could come along later and show you what I’ve made for the little one?”

This arrangement was more than acceptable and Isobel’s spirits rose and her appetite revived. When there was a second rap on the door of her bed chamber she looked up with a smile but this faltered when she saw Alexander standing there.

“You should not be out of bed; you were at death’s door yesterday.” She could hardly tell him to go away even though that was what she wished to do. Sally was in the dressing room sorting out the mending and could hear everything that took place between them.

“Isobel, we have to talk. No, don’t frown at me, my love, there are things that must be said to clear the air between us.”

She gestured towards the dressing room and he nodded. Before she could prevent him he limped across and told the unfortunate girl to take herself elsewhere and not return until she was called for. His highhanded behaviour steadied her nerves. Her annoyance made her ready to face him.

She pushed herself straight, ran her fingers through her hair and pursed her lips waiting to him to return. “You may sit on the chair by the fire, Alexander. I would prefer it if you did not come any closer.”

With an amiable smile he did as she bid and was soon comfortably ensconced. “There’s no point in my apologising again for whatever I say you’ll think the worst of me. Therefore I don’t intend to do so. I shall be marooned here with you for a week at least. Do you intend to skulk in here until I go?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. In case you haven’t noticed I’m increasing. What took place last night has debilitated me.” She glared at him and something prompted her to continue in the same vein. “If I lose this child it will be your doing and you can be very sure there will never be another legitimate heir whilst I’m alive.”

His face drained of colour and his eyes widened. “My God! Is there a likelihood that you’ll miscarry? I don’t care what the weather’s like; I shall fetch the physician myself even if I’ve to dig my way out.”

She wished the words unsaid; she had wanted to hurt him, to make sure he didn’t attempt to make love to her again but not to send him out into the snow to meet his death. “I shall remain in bed; there was no more than a twinge. I’m sure with rest nothing will happen to this child.”

His expression stabbed her heart. He looked so relieved, so abjectly miserable, she was driven to broach the subject she’d intended to talk to him about last night. “Alexander, your Mr Bentley believes that my home is intended for him when he comes to live with you. As I always meant to move back into Newcomb when my time comes I think it might be prudent for me to return in May, before you get back. However …”

Something flashed across his face. Could it have been triumph? “I shall be eternally grateful, my dear, if you do so. The thought of being obliged to share my home this summer with that ninny quite appalls me. At least in there we shan’t be seeing him every time we turn the corner.”

“Alexander, you did not allow me to finish. I shall only return if I can have my own staff around me. I’ve no wish to be waited on by those presently in London.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I can dismiss anyone who has offended you.”

“Good grief, there’s no need to do that. Most have been with you this age, they believe they are doing their duty by keeping me from damaging your reputation. As long as I’ve your word the people I’ve gathered here won’t be under the jurisdiction of your butler or house-keeper, I shall be happy.”

“You have it, Isobel. Why don’t you select those you would rather not have at Newcomb and they can serve Bentley?”

“Thank you, that’s an excellent notion. I suppose we must set up the nursery in readiness for the arrival.”

“Leave all that to me. As you don’t intend to be here to watch your child grow up I believe it’s my prerogative to select who will do the job for you.”

She quailed under his frosty stare. “Of course, Alexander, no doubt you have an old retainer lurking in a cottage somewhere who can be recalled.”

Talking about the baby was distressing. She wanted him to go but suddenly he was sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, things will work out for the best one way or the other. I’m sorry I was so brusque, but the thought of you not being here to see our baby is as upsetting to me as it is to you.”

His thumb caught the tear trickling down her cheek and rubbed it away. She turned her head, when he was being like this she could feel her anger melting, could almost believe they might have a life together after all.

The snow showed no sign of melting and Isobel resigned herself to the fact Alexander could not depart for several more days. Gradually she became accustomed to sharing her meals and her home with him once more. He was so pleasant, so charming and such lively company that being incarcerated with him was no hardship.

The fourth night of his visit they had been playing an entertaining game of Piquet, which he had won, when he tossed his cards on the table and walked over to the window. “I believe it’s raining, the snow will be gone by tomorrow.” He peered behind the heavy curtains and nodded.

“Listen, you can hear the flames spitting. It must be decidedly heavy to come down the chimney like this. The roads will be a quagmire; I think you had best wait until the carriage arrives. Your leg isn’t sufficiently recovered for you to ride back to Grosvenor Square,” Isobel said.

He grinned and stared ruefully at his injury. “As always, my dear, you’re quite correct. In which case, you must endure my presence for a further day or two.”

Resuming his seat he stared into the flames while she picked up her novel. Unexpectedly Sam appeared at the door his face creased with concern. He looked from one to the other and then addressed his mistress. “Excuse me for interrupting, my lady, but I’ve to tell you the ceiling has just collapsed in your bed chamber.”

“Good grief! How can that be? The roof was sound when I moved in, and we have had several heavy downpours since with no leaks at all.”

“I reckon the weight of the snow cracked the tiles and with all that melting and then this downpour it came right through.”

Alexander got to his feet. “Is it just this one room or are others affected?”

“There’s leaks springing up all down that side of the building, your grace.”

“The tiles are ancient. There’s been nothing done to this place for generations, small wonder they have given out under these extreme conditions. Move her grace’s belongings into my bed chamber.”

Isobel shot up sending her novel flying into the grate. Alexander grabbed the poker and flicked it from the flames before it burnt. Picking up the book he extinguished the remaining sparks with his fingers. “Not seriously damaged, a trifle pungent but definitely still readable.”

Her protest about his highhanded suggestion that she move into his bed chamber remained unspoken. “But what about your hand? Have you hurt it?”

He waggled his fingers in front of her face. “See, no damage to them either. I must go and see—”

“Alexander, I’m quite sure my staff are capable of placing buckets under the drips where necessary. There’s something I wish to say that’s more important than you overseeing the positioning of receptacles.”

Shrugging he returned to his chair and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Well, my dear, what’s it you wish to say to me?”

“If you think that I…”

“There’s no need to fly into the boughs, Isobel. I’ve no intention of remaining in my bed chamber once you’re safely installed there. You can be quite certain Watkins will be moving my belongings as we speak—after all he knows exactly how things are between us, does he not?”

Isobel ignored his comment. “Oh! There is something I’ve been meaning to say to you about the settlement we agreed to the other day.” His eyes were watchful but he made no comment. Emboldened by his silence she continued. “Sam was under the erroneous impression that you were sending him details of the estates you own and I did not disabuse him. On reflection I think it might be better if I moved somewhere within your demesne, I’ve no wish to cause unnecessary scandal for you or the child.”

He thumped the table scattering the cards on the floor. “Devil take it! Why did I not think of that myself? There’s already an estate you have undisputed claim to. Highfield House in Epping is held for each duchess in her lifetime. The revenue from the farms, which is substantial, will have been banked in your name since our marriage.”

“Why does this estate not pass down to the eldest daughter? It seems strange an estate should move from one duchess to the next like this.”

Alexander glanced down at his boots. “This estate comes down through my maternal great-great grandmother. You are not the first duchess to wish to live apart from her husband.”

“Are you telling me unhappy marriages are expected in this family?”