The Duke and The Governess (28 page)

The Duke looked up at him with distaste. ‘Can’t you stop thinking about money?’

‘No. I need a rather large amount of it to live on.’

‘In that case, maybe you should offer to marry Wilhelmina Bantock.’ The Duke muttered and smiled at the look of horror on Edward’s face. ‘She’s extra-ordinarily rich. Her father owns half of England.’

‘I may be desperate,’ Edward replied with dignity, ‘but not that desperate.’

John swilled his mouth out and spat the bloody water onto the grass. ‘You should reconsider. She’s as rich as Croesus and after all, with all that money you can spend most of your time at cards, rather than her bed!’

‘Enough about this. Are you going to tell me who you’re fighting over?’ Edward demanded just as the whistle went for the next round.

John shook his head, smiled sweetly and re-entered the fray. The Earl had decided he wanted this fight finished and the Duke had all on not to get laid out. He dodged a particularly nasty upper cut and managed to block a string of attacks at his head and just when he thought he was going to run out of steam, he caught the Earl on the point of the chin. The blow was so hard that the Earl was forced up onto his toes and John watched in fascination as his eyes rolled up, exposing the whites and his body slowly crumpled to the grass and didn’t move. The referee immediately started counting as the Earl’s second climbed through the ropes and wafted his towel over the inert Earl. There wasn’t a flicker of movement as the referee reached the count of twenty and declared Warwick the winner.

The Duke approached the Earl and crouched down. ‘Is he alive?’ he asked softly.

The young
Marquis
of Bolton looked at him and smiled. ‘Oh! Yes, Your Grace. He’s still breathing, but he’ll have an aching jaw tomorrow, if you didn’t manage to break it.’ And to highlight the words, the Earl of Dean groaned.

The Duke stood and ambled back to his team and butcher hustled him inside the mansion. Once in the scullery, he made the Duke sit beside the sink and Masters started to work on the cuts and abrasions on the Duke’s face. ‘You just sit here, Your Grace, and Jenny will bring you some tea.’

‘I think I’d prefer a brandy.’ He said as the
Marquis
and his brother brought a very wobbly Earl through the door.

‘May we trouble you for a chair?’ the
Marquis
said and Butcher pulled one in from the kitchen.

The scullery maid had appeared with a decanter of Brandy and a tray with six glasses on it. She placed it on the wooden drainer next to the huge Belfast sink and curtsied for the Duke. ‘The cook’s compliments, Your Grace, but can you refrain from allowing ladies to barge into her kitchen and order the staff about as they like.’ She smiled coyly and withdrew.

‘Trouble in the kitchen?’ The
Marquis
said jovially as he reached for the decanter. The Earl was still dazed but at least awake. Soon all of them had a drink and the
Marquis
was in a stiff argument with Masters about the finishing blow.

‘Cook would be upset, Your Grace.’ Butcher said softly as he held a towel filled with ice to the Duke’s swelling cheek. ‘Lady Jessica arrived like a goddess and swept the Baroness into her care.’

‘The devil she did!’ the Duke blurted and jerked out of his chair. ‘Where did she take her?’

‘Her ladyship’s exact words were, “Tell the Duke she will be at the Earl’s residence, when he remembers he has a daughter,” Your Grace.’ Butcher finished apologetically.

The Duke slowly sank down into his chair. ‘I saw her at the window, Butcher. I told you to deal with it!’

‘I didn’t get a chance. Obviously Lady Jessica could see her too and wasted no time.’

‘Where was Mrs. Beaton?’ the Duke demanded. ‘Surely she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let my daughter watch a boxing match!?’

‘I believe Mrs. Beaton had the afternoon off and was seeing her sister as usual, Your Grace.’

‘Damn it! It makes me look like an uncaring father.’ The Duke muttered.

‘It’s more likely that it highlights the need for a new Duchess.’ Butcher said and smiled sinfully at the Duke, making him laugh delightedly.

‘That it does and now I must swallow my pride and grovel to that very Lady.’ The Duke said with a smile. ‘Masters? Come and help me get ready for a most important appointment.’ He told his valet and smiled at the Earl. ‘And maybe you would see to the Earl, Butcher. He looks decidedly worse for wear and he has to face up to Lady Jessica yet.’

‘I don’t expect it’s going to be pleasant for either of us.’ The Earl muttered as the Duke strode out of the scullery.

Half an hour later they were both in the Ducal Carriage travelling across London to Green Park. The Duke was dressed in shiny Hessians, buff chamois britches, a fine lawn shirt and a dark blue superfine woollen jacket with a snowy cravat elegantly tied about his throat. He looked as if he was going to his club, an impression totally at war with his facial injuries. His lip was swollen and at least one of his teeth was loose, his left eye was black and his right cheek was covered by a horrendous sore where the skin had been abraded away and was swelling nicely.

The Earl on the other hand, looked as elegant as he could, considering the grass stains on his britches, the scuffs on his boots and the bloodstains down his shirt. The Duke had at least let him have a bath, but he couldn’t offer a change of clothes.

‘She’s going to kill me.’ Anthony Carruthers muttered and nursed his aching head. His right eye was closing and there was at least one popped blood vessel in his eyeball. His nose was swollen and there was a blackening bruise on his chin. Both of them had broken and swollen knuckles.

‘I think she’s going to kill both of us. Possibly me more than you.’ the Duke replied. ‘She’s going split my gizzard for not having Elizabeth away for the day.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ Anthony asked softly looking at the duke perplexed.

‘I actually didn’t even think about it, and I should have done.’ The Duke sighed. ‘I expected her nanny to divert her or remove her and I’m a fool for not checking.’ He twisted his hat in his hands. ‘I only hope I haven’t done too much damage.’

‘Jessie will sort it out. That’s why she removed your daughter. Her ingrown sense of what’s right, would make it impossible for her to leave the child.’ Anthony said consolingly. ‘We shall just have to be brave.’ He finished lamely.

The carriage pulled up on the spectacular drive and both men just sat and looked at the footman who opened the door. Bennett made a stately approach to the carriage, his bearing as if he was addressing a royal prince. He stood stoically to one side. ‘If you do not alight, my Lord. Her Ladyship will never receive either of you again.’

‘Is she very cross?’ Anthony asked sheepishly as he climbed out of the carriage.

‘I would say Mount Vesuvius in full flow would be less angry than Lady Jessica, My Lord.’ He smiled conspiratorially. ‘Did you win?’

‘I did not, Bennett. His Grace finished me with a corker to the chin and I saw nothing until I was drinking brandy in the scullery.’

‘Congratulations, Your Grace.’ Bennett said jovially, as the Duke stepped down.

‘Where is Lady Jessica?’ The Duke asked softly.

‘Her Ladyship is in the Formal Drawing Room, Your Grace. She is still nursing the Baroness.’ He smiled gently. ‘If you will follow me, Your Grace.’ And Bennett turned away and climbed the steps in the same stately manner, as befits a butler for one
of the finest houses in London.

Chapter
Fifteen

Jessica had nursed Elizabeth all the way home. She had been distraught and hysterical at watching her father in a bare knuckle fight. Jessica was appalled that the Duke didn’t have her removed from the house before he started beating some sense into her brother-in-law. She had held Elizabeth’s sob wracked body to her chest as Bennett had organised the rocking chair from the nursery to be brought down.

‘Poor little mite.’ Bennett had muttered as he held out a blanket and between him and Mary they wrapped the child in it as Jessica removed her hat, gloves and Spenser.

‘It’s a pity she had to see it.’ Jessica said softly. ‘This will be a difficulty for the Duke in future.’

‘I suppose a lot will depend on who won.’ Bennett said and gently stroked Elizabeth’s hair.

Jessica got comfortable in the rocker and held Elizabeth tightly on her lap as she rocked the chair and started to sing a lullaby softly.

‘Would you like some tea, My Lady?’ Bennett asked and Jessica nodded. Mary made herself comfortable in her corner and took out some sewing.

Eventually Elizabeth cried herself to sleep and Jessica asked for a book and quietly read until she heard the jangle of livery. Bennett appeared in the doorway.

‘I believe the Earl is home, My Lady.’ He said softly.

‘Then I would suggest you show him in here. If I leave Elizabeth here, I’ll only shout at him and she’ll wake in a strange place and not understand why.’ She sighed. ‘And make sure that if he’s too much of a coward, he understands that he needn’t bother coming home.’

‘Yes, My Lady.’ Bennett said and walked quickly down the passage to the hall.

It seemed to take an inordinately long time for the door to open again. But eventually Bennett opened the door and admitted not only the Earl, but the Duke of Warwick as well. They stepped cautiously into the room and then stopped dead as they saw Jessica rocking in the chair. She just stared at them. Her eyes flicking coldly from one to the other. The Earl flicked a look over his shoulder as Bennett shut the door with a click.

‘Has the cat got your tongues?’ she asked firmly, without raising her voice and making both of them flinch. ‘I would have expected an apology, at least, even if you’d rather not give me an explanation.’

‘It seemed the safest option.’ The Duke said, ‘pistols in the park can be rather permanent.’ He squirmed as Jessica’s frigid stare centred on him.

‘Well, if you’d shot each other, I wouldn’t be able to shout at you and Elizabeth would have ended up on the charity of her relatives.’ She shook her head. ‘What possessed you to hold the damned fight in your garden, Your Grace?’

‘I thought it would be a more secluded venue, rather than a public park.’ He sighed. ‘Anthony agreed with me.’

Jessica’s icy glare shifted onto her brother-in-law. ‘Did he?’

‘I’m sorry, Jessie, but I did start it by getting in my cups and landing the Duke a facer.’

‘Then you should have more sense. But I’d rather be looking at your battered faces, than burying your carcasses under the ground.’ and a small sob escaped making her thrust her hand over her mouth as she struggled to keep her composure. She closed her eyes for a moment and slowly took her hand away and then opened cold eyes again.

‘What excuse do you have for the fact that Elizabeth was watching from the window, alone?’ she said her gaze swivelling back to the duke.

He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. ‘None.’ He said calmly. ‘I could make the excuse that I forgot it was the nanny’s half day, that Mrs. Beaton was out, but in truth I didn’t even give it a thought and I should have done.’

‘Yes, you should have done.’ Jessica intoned as she looked down on the golden child in her arms. ‘She deserves better treatment, Your Grace.’

‘Was she very upset?’ he asked stupidly.

Jessica stared at him as if he had two heads. ‘Upset?’ she almost shouted and Elizabeth squirmed and moaned in her sleep. ‘Ssh! little one, rest your weary bones.’ She murmured and Elizabeth settled back into her slumber. ‘I don’t think upset is the word for it. Hysterical would be a better adjective.’ Jessica snapped coldly. ‘She was unable to understand what was happening. All she saw was her beloved father in a bare knuckle fist fight with a stranger.’ Jessica’s gaze bored into the Duke’s eyes. ‘And I don’t relish you this explanation. But this is your child, not mine, and you have to explain to her why you were fighting.’ The Duke nodded consent. ‘Sit here.’ She said and stood.

‘Elizabeth
?’ she gently shook her
. ‘Elizabeth, your father is here.’ She felt the child jerk in her arms and become stiff in shock.

‘Daddy?’ she asked softly.

Jessica smiled softly at her. ‘Yes, Daddy’s here. Do you want to see him?’

‘Is he alright?’

‘He looks a little battered, but still here.’ Jessica leaned down and laid the child in John Farrington’s lap and walked away. She grabbed Anthony by the elbow and steered him out into the hallway, beckoning Mary to follow.

‘Just what the hell did you think you were doing?’ she asked viciously once they were in the hall.

‘I was protecting your honour.’ Anthony said stiffly.

‘I told you not to challenge him.’ Jessica said, harshly. ‘And look what trouble it has caused. We shall be the laughing stock of London.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m retiring to my rooms and tomorrow I wish to return to Ross-On-Wye.’ She said haughtily, turned on her heel and strode purposefully down the hall and up the stairs with her head held high.

Anthony murmured ‘As you wish.’ He watched her until she vanished around the bottom of the stairs.  He looked at Bennett. ‘Tell the Duke I’m in the study if he wants me.’ He smiled. ‘And see to his needs.’