The Duke's Challenge (10 page)

She hesitated.
She would dearly love to go. With the children as chaperones surely there could
be no breach of propriety? ‘I should love to accompany you, sir; how thoughtful
of you to offer.’

He stood, bowing
low, his eyes glowing with pleasure. ‘In that case, Miss Carstairs, I shall
take my leave. My carriage is commodious so there will be ample space for your
maid as well.’

‘Thank you,
there does not appear to be a suitable vehicle here. It’s something I shall
have to look into.’ She fingered her scar. ‘I don’t suppose you have your bag
with you, Dr Andrews? I should dearly like these out before I appear in public
tomorrow.’

Immediately he
became professional. ‘I have what I need my saddlebag; it is necessary for me
to boil my instruments as I have found that this avoids the risk of infection.’

Charlotte rang
the bell for a second time. The same maid appeared assuming she had been
summoned to collect the coffee tray. ‘Sarah, it is Sarah isn’t it?’

The girl bobbed
a curtsy. ‘Yes, Miss Carstairs, I’m Sarah Cook.’

‘Good, kindly
show Dr Andrews out, but wait for him to return and then escort him to the
kitchen.’

She sat down
again to wait for the doctor to return with his equipment. Then she heard
footsteps in the passageway and braced herself for a lively confrontation with
Jack.

‘Charlotte,
have you been alone in here with that man, all this time?’

‘I have,
Cousin, the door was wide open, and
he
behaved like a perfect gentleman.’

In answer he
slammed the library door. He turned to face her. She shivered, waiting for the
next tirade.

‘You will not
see that man alone again; do I make myself clear?’

She glared at
him. ‘I shall see whomsoever I please, in whatever manner I please. My
behaviour is none of your concern.’

He stepped
closer.
‘God’s teeth!
Do not argue with me. I am
master in this house and I expect to be obeyed.’

‘If it is
acceptable for you to be in here alone with me, then why is it not for my
physician to do the same?’ She hoped the tremor in her voice was not apparent.

He closed the
gap between them in one stride. ‘It is acceptable, as you so quaintly put it,
my dear, because you are to be my wife.’

Charlotte
gasped and sank deeper into the sofa, closing her eyes in shock.

‘God damn it to
hell! That is not how I meant to tell you.’ She felt the sofa dip. ‘I am sorry,
sweetheart, that was clumsy of me.’ Still she kept her face averted, but his
fingers closed around her chin and forced her head up. ‘Look at me, please.
Good, that is much better. Now, listen to me. You have been totally
compromised; staying here, alone, unchaperoned has all but ruined your
reputation. I cannot allow that. For all your accusations, Charlotte, I am no
rogue. I know what’s expected of a gentleman.’ He paused, studying her
reaction. ‘Well, what do you say?’

She drew a
shaky breath. ‘I have no wish to marry you, nor anyone else, for that matter.’

He smiled and
gathered her trembling hands in his. ‘I know you don’t, and neither do I, but
we have no choice, my dear. You have the children to consider; although Beth is
only ten, she will be tarnished by this if we do not rectify matters
immediately.’

‘Is there no
other way, nothing else we can do?’

Jack shook his
head firmly. ‘No; I have sent word for Mr Peterson, from the next village, to
call. I shall have him read the bans at Thurston church tomorrow. That will
allow you three weeks to prepare your trousseau.’

‘Trousseau?
How can I make new clothes with no money to
purchase the materials?’ She attempted to remove her hands but he, for some of
reason, was running his thumbs up and down the backs,
making
her pulse skip erratically.

‘I have good
news, Charlotte. There are funds, not much, but sufficient for our needs. The
lawyers are returning on Monday with the necessary papers.’

She tried again
to extricate her hands. Reluctantly he let her go. ‘You have no carriage, Jack,
so I can’t go to Ipswich to purchase what I need. I cannot be married without
replenishing our wardrobes.’ She sat back believing she had, at least, managed
to postpone the ceremony. Three weeks - it did not bear thinking of!

‘There’s a gig
somewhere, I saw it in the barn,
all
it needs is
cleaning. A pair of my greys will happily pull it.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘Then
it is settled? You agree we must be married, that we have no choice?’

She nodded. ‘If
there’s no alternative, if by marrying you I can protect Beth’s reputation as
well as my own, then I agree.’ She tried to stand but her legs felt weak and
wouldn’t hold her. Before she could protest he took her elbows and lifted her
to her feet.

‘It won’t be so
bad, little one; we’re becoming friends, are we not? We want the same things -
to restore Thurston - give Beth and Harry a decent home?’

She was finding
it difficult to think with him so close. She was unable to step back as the
sofa blocked her path. ‘Yes, we are getting to know each other, but I never
thought to be obliged to marry in this fashion. I’ve always considered marriage
should be a union of souls, of minds, not a business arrangement.’

He stepped back,
staring at her as though she had just escaped from Bedlam. ‘You, my girl, have
been reading too many romances. Marriage is a business, like any other. If you
invest sufficient time and effort it will succeed; souls and minds and all that
nonsense don’t come into it.’

‘And love? Does
that not come into it either?’

His expression
changed and he moved back, fast. Before she could voice an objection her
breasts were crushed to his chest. One hand held her captive the other tilted
her face to receive his kiss. She tried to turn her head away, not respond, but
his lips were insistent. The tip of his tongue ran up and down until her own
mouth relaxed and she was once more carried away, made to feel she belonged in
his
embrace, that
her mouth was made for his kisses.

Dr Andrews
coughed loudly a second time. Jack heard him and, without relinquishing his
hold, half turned, sheltering Charlotte from view. Anger and dislike crackled
in the air. Jack spoke first.

‘You are
de trop
, Andrews. My betrothed and I do
not wish to be disturbed.’

The doctor
stood his ground, his pale-blue eyes icy. ‘Miss Carstairs asked me to call,
Lord Thurston. It is a medical matter. I shall wait in the hall until she is
free.’ The door banged behind him.

Charlotte felt
Jack’s fury and knew if she didn’t intervene he would do something they both
regretted. ‘Dr Andrews is correct; he has come to remove my sutures. I asked
him to.’ She believed it unwise to mention the doctor’s suggestion that he take
her to church the next day.

Jack dropped
his arm and laughed, it was not a pleasant sound. ‘I shall remove those for
you. I have done it more often than that quack. I have a set
a
medical instruments
in my pack somewhere.’

This was too
much; first she was forced to marry him and now he wished to be her physician
as well. ‘No, thank you. That will not be necessary. Dr Andrews is here and his
instruments are clean and ready. Goodness knows what infection you would pass
on to me if you attempted it.’

‘I do not like it, Charlotte. That man…’

‘That man,’ she
interrupted, ‘is an excellent physician and that is all he is. Please ask him
to join me here as you leave.’ She waited for the explosion at her summary
dismissal.

He nodded, his
expression guarded. ‘I shall ask Mrs Thomas to sit in with you.’

‘Very well;
it’s unnecessary but, this once, I shall agree to your demands.’ She knew she’d
said too much and wished her words back.

He strode over
and she shivered - this time it was from fear. ‘I think you are under a
misapprehension, Charlotte. I will brook no disobedience from you or anyone in
this establishment. Is that understood?’

She did not
answer, her teeth were clenched to stop them chattering. His voice dropped an
octave, became almost menacing. ‘I am waiting for your answer, Charlotte. Did I
make myself clear?’

She nodded,
forcing her words out from frozen lips. ‘Yes, my lord, you did.’

‘Excellent - do
not forget it.’

She groped in
her reticule for her handkerchief and with shaking fingers held it to her eyes.
She collapsed onto the sofa and buried her head in her hands. She had just
agreed to marry a terrifying stranger, no vestige of humour or gentleness
apparent. What had happened to change him so drastically overnight?

The tears fell
faster as she considered the implications. Was she to be linked for the rest of
her life to a man who thought marriage was a business, did not believe in love
- only lust?

When the
housekeeper came in five minutes later she was still crying, the small white
cotton square sodden with tears.

Mrs Thomas was
shocked. ‘Come along, Miss Carstairs, you will make herself ill. Are you
feeling unwell, does your head hurt?’

Charlotte
swallowed drawing several shuddering breaths before answering. ‘I believe I am
suffering a reaction from all the upsets of the past twenty-four hours, Mrs
Thomas. The murder of poor Jenkins, the attack last night, and thinking of my
head wound reminded me of the stone that was thrown at me.’

‘Lord Thurston
told me he had been shot at, and I saw the state of the kitchen. I was deeply
shocked, miss. It’s hardly surprising you’re overcome. The doctor’s waiting,
but shall I send him away?’

Charlotte shook
her head. ‘No, please ask him to come in. I am quite well now.’

Chapter Ten

Jack’s anger
carried him to the stables where he demanded Othello be saddled. He needed to
gallop out his blue devils or he might be driven to his room and down a
decanter of brandy. No groom dared meet his eye; they hurried about their
duties heads down, hoping to remain invisible. Jethro led the huge black horse
out of the loose box, barely avoiding being stamped on.

He took the
reins, placed one hand on the horse’s massive withers and vaulted into the
saddle. He only just managed to ram his boots into the stirrup irons before the
stallion took off, scattering grooms and gravel in equal proportions. It took a
mile or so to calm both horse and rider.

He sat back in
his saddle applying pressure to the reins, obediently the horse dropped into a
canter, then down to a trot and, finally, to an easy, long-
strided
walk. He could hear the sound of the militia in the distance quartering the
park in their search. He guessed he was safe from interruption for a while. He
dismounted and looping his reins over his arm, walked over to a log lying
conveniently under a tree. Ignoring the moss and fallen leaves he sat,
stretching out his legs and rested his head on the trunk.

He could hear
himself snarling at Charlotte, issuing orders, demanding her obedience like an
enraged parent. What had he been thinking of? He knew what had triggered his
appalling behaviour; it was her mention of love. His head had immediately been
filled with images of Sophia, of her rejection, of his heartbreak and
humiliation.

He had no heart
to give her, no love left, it had withered and died when the sabre had sliced
into his face. He could offer her companionship, friendship, even passion, but
love, that was never going to be part of their relationship. When he had been
rejected by the woman whose face was forever burnt on his soul he had vowed
never to allow another to enter his heart.

Charlotte’s
unexpected arrival had turned his plans to chaos. He had been forced to abandon
his hedonistic lifestyle and return to reality, take charge of not just his
life, but three others as well. He had no choice. He must marry the painfully
young, inexperienced girl. He had not sunk so low that he could allow an
innocent to be ruined by his actions or lack of them. For some reason he didn’t
even consider the lawyers suggestion that Charlotte move out and set up our own
establishment with a female companion.

Othello nudged
him and he laughed. ‘Are you bored, old fellow? Come along, let’s go back. I
have some serious fence mending to do and it does not involve hammer and
nails.’

*

Dr Andrews left
after completing his task.

‘Do you wish me
to assist you to your room, Miss Carstairs?’ Mrs Thomas enquired.

‘No, I’m quite
recovered, thank you. I wish to see the children. I consider they are spending
far too much time in idleness at the moment.’

‘They are
prettily
behaved,
miss, if you don’t mind me saying
so.
No trouble to anyone and ever so polite.’

Charlotte’s
lips curved. ‘That
is
good news. I am
hoping that now you are here to run the house and supervise the cleaning, I can
resume my role as their governess.’

‘I have it all
in hand. I can’t believe how the situation has deteriorated since Lord
Thurston… since I left.’

‘Is there
sufficient staff to rectify matters?’

The housekeeper
nodded. ‘I believe so, Miss Carstairs. I have four parlour maids at my disposal
and Cook has a scullery maid and two kitchen maids, and Mr Meltham has a full
complement of footmen. Between them and my two cats we will soon rid this house
of vermin and restore it to a pleasant place for you to live in.’

‘I’ll be going
upstairs to the nursery and school rooms after I have spoken to the children. I
shall require a footman and a maid to assist me.’

Beth and Harry
were occupied folding clean linen with Annie and more than happy to abandon
this task to accompany Charlotte upstairs to investigate what was eventually to
be their own domain.

An hour later
the three of them were on hands and knees, sharing pails of sudsy water,
scrubbing out the schoolroom. Mary, a maid, was clearing the years of neglect
and cobwebs. A footman was filling in the rat and mice holes with gravel and
brick then smoothing over the whole with a mixture of mud and lime. Charlotte
hoped the makeshift repairs would hold until Mrs Thomas’s cats could do their
work.

‘Harry, try not
to slop water on your sister, she is quite damp enough already,’ Charlotte
admonished.

‘But my cloth’s
all wet, Lottie, and I can’t help it, ‘Harry whined.

‘Of course it’s
wet, stupid boy; you can’t clean floors with a dry cloth,’ Beth answered
crossly.

‘That’s enough
you two- please don’t argue, I am so pleased with the hard work you have done,
do not spoil it now by churlishness.’ Charlotte realized they were all
fatigued. It was past time to stop for refreshments. ‘That’s enough for today.
We should get cleaned up and go downstairs for luncheon.’

Beth was so
relieved to be able to get up from her knees she jumped to her feet without
checking and tripped over a pail of filthy water. Charlotte watched it vanish
between the boards before she could attempt to mop up the spill.

Harry was
astonished. ‘Where’s my water gone, Lottie?’ He pressed his nose to the floor
as if expecting it to be visible.

‘Oh dear!
What a disaster - so much water has to come out
somewhere.’ She scrambled up, untying her apron as she did so. She tried to
remember which rooms were directly underneath the schoolroom. There was no
point in asking the servants, they knew even less about the geography of the
house than she did.

She shrugged.
‘It’s too late to worry, children. If it comes out in our bedrooms, then so be
it.’ She left the cleaning up to the staff and hurried down the winding stairs
to their bed chambers. Annie was waiting for the children in their room.

‘Good gracious!
What a sight! Whatever have you both been up to?’

Harry grinned.
‘We’ve been scrubbing floors, Annie. It was good fun but then I lost my water.’

‘Lost your
water? Where did it go, my love?’

Beth giggled.
‘I kicked it over and it went through a crack in the floor and disappeared in
seconds.’

Charlotte
smiled. ‘It was very odd, Annie; but as there are no occupied rooms below the
schoolroom wherever it reappears won’t matter overmuch.’

The children’s
nursemaid looked worried. ‘His grace is inspecting the rooms along this
passageway, with Mr Meltham. I think he’s seeing which should be redecorated
and which are too far gone to bother with.’

Beth paled. ‘I
feel sick, Lottie. I don’t want any lunch.’

‘Nor do I, I’m
sick too,’ Harry parroted.

Charlotte felt
her own insides lurch unpleasantly. Surely they could not be so unlucky? The
missing water could not possibly reappear in the very room in which Jack was?
She bundled the children to their room. ‘Hurry up and get cleaned up children.
I shall do the same. I’ve sent Mary to ask for a cold collation to be set out
in the breakfast parlour. And water or no water, I am as hungry as a hunter.’

‘I am hungry as
a horse,’ Beth added.

‘Me too- I am
as hungry as… as a haystack,’ he finished triumphantly.

Giggling the
children went into their dressing-room to be washed and changed. Charlotte,
still smiling at Harry’s remark, headed back to her own chamber three doors
away. She noticed that at the far end, directly under the schoolroom, the entry
was open. Jack and the butler were obviously inside. She could hear the murmur
of male voices - should she go and warn them about the possible deluge?

She hesitated.
Jack had been so abrupt with her, so angry, so dictatorial and that was not the
way she thought of him at all. After all they were going to be married in three
weeks and somehow, in that time, she had to convince him she needed a husband
in the fullest sense and not another father.

It would seem
he thought of her as a child one moment and a woman grown the next. She must
convince him she was the latter, but how she was to do this she had no idea.
She giggled. Would it be considered childish to leave him in ignorance or
mature to ignore the whole episode? She stopped outside the door; she would
risk a peek to see what was happening.

The only reason
for his presence upstairs was that he intended to move his quarters to this
floor, to abandon his lair on the ground floor. Cautiously she stuck her head
round, her eyes drawn irresistibly to him, standing in the middle of the room
gesticulating, whilst Meltham wrote notes on a pad. He was talking too softly,
and the room was too big, for her to catch what was being said.

Then her glance
strayed upwards. She frowned. He was standing directly under a large bulge in the
plaster, a suspicious damp bulge, one that was certainly full of the missing
dirty water.

‘Jack,’ she
called tentatively. He didn’t hear. ‘Jack’ she shouted.

This time he
spun round his expression anxious.
‘God’s teeth, Charlotte!
What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, err…
well - I came to warn you. Look out!’ She alerted him too late as with hardly a
sound the ceiling exploded covering him with a mixture of dirty water, plaster
and rat droppings.

She watched in
fascinated horror as he stood, his fine clothes ruined, water dripping down his
face. Like a dog he shook his head sending drops across the room. It was far
too late to retreat; she knew exactly how fast he could move.

‘I am so sorry.
I came to warn you. Beth knocked Harry’s bucket over upstairs…’ her voice trailed
as he came towards her. He stopped within arm’s reach.

‘Do you know
these are the only respectable garments I own?’ His tone was conversational.
She assumed the question to be rhetorical and shook her head, offering no
answer. He held out a sopping arm. ‘This coat is wet - whose responsibility is
that, I wonder?’

She was unsure
whether she was required to speak. She risked a cautious comment. ‘Mine?’

‘Exactly, my dear.
Here I am doing my very best to impress
you and you pour scorn, or in this case, filthy water and a large part of the
ceiling, on me. Am I to understand from this that my efforts are to no avail?’
He sounded so earnest, so sincere that she almost believed him. She was about
to explain again,
apologize
profusely, when she
noticed a strange rigidity about his shoulders.

‘You wretch!
You are
bamming
me!’

He exploded
with laughter and lunging forward gathered her in a bear hug thus transferring
a goodly portion of his dampness to her own person.

‘Let me go,
you’re making me wet.’

Ignoring her
protests he picked up and swung around, much to the consternation of the
elderly butler. Such goings-on were unseemly, even between a recently betrothed
couple
. Finally Jack set her down, having achieved his
objective of making her as wet and dirty as he.

‘There? Now I
consider we’re even.’ Jack released her and walked back to stare up into the
gaping hole had once been the ceiling. ‘Meltham, I think we shall have to find
another room, this is no longer suitable.’

‘Yes, your
grace. But the hole will have to be repaired or the rats will pour down into
the house. Even good ratters like Mrs Thomas’s cats will not be able to prevent
us being overrun.’

‘Good grief!
Surely there are not so many rats up there?’

‘There are, my
lord, a veritable colony has taken root in the attics. It is going to take more
than two cats to dislodge them, I fear.’

Jack scowled.
‘Could we smoke them out?’

The butler
considered and shook his head. ‘We would be more likely to burn down the house,
your grace. It is tinder dry, and riddled with woodworm up there.’

Charlotte had
heard quite sufficient about rats and woodworm. One or two was bad enough - but
an army? It didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I’m going to change my clothes, my
lord. I suggest you do the same.’

‘If I do, it is
unwashed clothes or my old uniform; which would you prefer?’

She pretended
to give the question due consideration. ‘As I don’t intend to spend any further
time in your company today, I suggest the unwashed garments will suffice. There
are more than enough soldiers here at present.’

‘Forgive me,
your grace, but your new man can clean and press your clothes in no time,’
Meltham told him.

Jack nodded.
‘Thank you, I’d forgotten that I’m now equipped with a man-servant of my own.
Charlotte
do
…’

But she had
gone, taking the opportunity to return to her room, not wishing to be the
recipient of any further juvenile behaviour. The children were relieved to hear
he had taken his dousing so amiably. Annie was more concerned with the state of
Charlotte’s gown.

‘Miss
Carstairs, let me help you change. Miss Beth and Master Harry can sit quietly
and look at the picture book.’

‘Beth, Harry,
can you be trusted not to squabble for five minutes?’

‘Yes, Lottie. I
shall read to Harry until you’re ready to go down.’

Charlotte stripped
off her brown dress and held her arms up for her maid to drop a fresh gown over
her head. Annie made a suggestion.

‘Miss
Carstairs, would you consider taking on one of the new girls as your abigail?
You are to be the Duchess of Lenster in a few
weeks,
you should have your own dresser.’

‘I liked Mary,
the girl who helped me this morning, perhaps she would do? Could you ask Mrs
Thomas if she could be spared?’