Sarah's Duke: and Ellie's Gentleman (The heir and the spare, book 1) (15 page)

****

Many miles away in Scotland, Graves, the Lincoln’s butler was indulging in a habit he rarely allowed himself, gossip. His wife, the housekeeper, was worried about their new Duchess.

“I don’t like it, Isaac, I just don’t like it.” Mrs. Graves told her husband in bed that night. “She’s clearly pregnant and miserable.”

“Do you think the Duke knows?” Graves asked his wife the question he very much wanted to know the answer to.

How could the new Duke he had known as a young man turn out to be so heartless? Her Grace was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was also kind to the servants, clearly well bred, elegant and thoughtful.

She was also definitely
not
born to be a Duchess. She had been found making her own bed, baking a cake in the kitchen and dusting the bookshelves in the library. Her actions would usually have sent the maids into a mad rush to stop her and do a better job themselves. However, they had been warned of her need to do odd jobs like the dusting through a carefully worded letter from the Duke, therefore they had let her do whatever she wanted. In response, the Duchess had been glowing with happiness.

“I don’t know. But it would be horrible if he did. That would mean he got her pregnant, shipped her here and then ran back to London to go back to bedding his whores.” Mrs. Graves answered, with a shake of her head.

Graves clucked his tongue disapprovingly at his wife’s language.

Mrs. Graves gave him that look which told him she knew exactly what young men did, and promptly turned over to go to sleep.

****

In another part of the ancient castle, namely the Duchess’s bed chamber, Sarah sat awake with a book to read.

She found it very hard to sleep most nights. Her back hurt already and she only had a small bump. She didn’t know how she would cope when she was bigger. Sarah put her book of French poetry aside and blew out the candles next to her bed.

The fire in the grate cast a small amount of light in the room, and Sarah lay down and pulled her gown up to her waist. She smiled as she ran her hands over her belly. On her back her womb seemed to distend and she could feel the protrusion of her growing babe. Sarah took so much pleasure from her growing child that she rarely thought of Oliver, only once an hour or so. Sarah smiled again as she felt the small flutter of movement deep in her belly. Oliver had given this child to her in a moment of love and passion. Yes, that love and passion had died, but this child would bring them back together.

Sarah still didn’t know why Oliver had withdrawn from her, but she knew it had everything to do with his family. As her husband and as a man, Oliver had loved her. He had laughed with her, cared for her and brought her incredible pleasure in his bed.

But as a son and the new Duke of Lincoln, he seemed lost, angry, upset and frustrated. Somehow their marriage had become that too. Over the past two months Sarah had realized that she could have done more to hold their marriage together. She could have stayed by his side, she could have talked to him, she could have stood up to his family more often. Sarah resolved to do so when she went back to London, after the babe was born.

She had decided to stay in Scotland and birth her babe in the ancient castle. She was happy here. The servants treated her with respect and warmth. They smiled at her and listened to her, and didn’t get upset when she did things that normal Duchesses didn’t do.

When Sarah had arrived in Scotland she had felt like a small, wounded animal. She had spent her nights trying not to cry into her pillows and her days wandering aimlessly around the glorious castle. But after two months of good food, clean air and reflection she knew that she would manage to get her husband back.

Sarah’s mother had visited for two weeks a month before. Her mother had taken one look at her and known what was going on. Sarah smiled and remembered.

“Daughter, it appears that you need to weep, long and loudly, her mother had told her, running a loving hand down her cheek.

Sarah had said, “I shouldn’t mother, it’s not good for the baby.”

“Oh, nonsense, I spent half my pregnancies in tears over nothing and there’s nothing wrong with any of you, come here.”

And thus given permission to grieve, Sarah had cried and cried. Letting so many tears fall that she felt severely dehydrated after she was done. Her mother had held her, rocked her and had told her everything was going to be all right. To have faith in herself, her husband and God. That was when Sarah had known she would be all right.

The only thing that still bothered Sarah was the thought of Oliver going to another woman in London. It tormented her daily but she clung to the memories of their passion, hoping he would not need to replace her. She was terribly afraid he would, as most husbands in his peerage would. But then she would remember his promise to be faithful, lay her hand on her belly and try to be positive.

****

The next month passed in a blur of alcohol fuelled days and nights for the Duke of Lincoln. Oliver lost himself in the bottom of a whisky bottle, several whisky bottles to be precise.

He lay his head back against the head rest on his chair in his study and heard his butler announce a Mister Turner through a foggy brain.
Why was Archie here?
He opened his eyes and was almost blinded by his friend’s gold embroidered waistcoat.

He groaned, “Archie, I will go blind looking at a waist coat like that.”

“I think the alcohol will do more to your eyesight than my clothes ever could.”

Oliver groaned. “Don’t lecture me.” He let his eyes close and his head fall back against the head rest again.

“Join me at the Mossam ball tonight.” Archie put as much command into his voice as Oliver had ever heard.

He grunted in reply. His sister-in-law had more bite in her than that.

“We have allowed you a month to get over that incident with Millington. It is time you attended another event.”

Oliver groaned again at the use of the royal ‘we.’ He could only imagine that Rupert, John and Archie had been discussing him.

“Would you sit down, for God’s sake?” Oliver gestured with his hands, annoyed that his perfect friend would be here to witness him in such a state. Why could they all not just leave him alone to be miserable?

Archie chuckled. Oliver opened his eyes at the sound. It had been a long time since Archie had chuckled like that.

Seeming to remember himself, Archie schooled his face into impassiveness.

“Let’s get you some coffee and then into your evening clothes.”

Oliver groaned, but allowed Archie to order coffee and something to eat. An hour later, he was feeling better and made his way upstairs for a bath and to get ready for his first ball in a month.

Two hours later, he was wishing he had never let his friend drag him out of the house. He had been propositioned by two widows, and a bored, married matron. He could not wait to leave. Why did they not understand that he didn’t want anyone else? Oliver could finally admit it to himself and would out loud if necessary. He missed Sarah, he loved her and no one else came even close.

He was walking past a small alcove off the side of the ballroom, when he heard his name being spoken. Oliver would usually have ignored his name being mentioned by an unknown woman in another room, but something in the tone arrested his attention.

He sidled closer, but kept out of eyesight so that the women could not see him. He ducked behind the pillar closest to them and tried to look casual.

“I cannot believe you and your mother-in-law really managed to run off the new Duchess so quickly. I thought it would take you months.”

A snide little laugh that he recognized very well rang in response.

“It was very easy really, we hardly did a thing.”

Yes, Oliver thought bitterly. Other than everything you knew to make Sarah feel about as welcome as a flea.

“No, really, tell me. I thought the greatest love match of this year would prove almost unbreakable.”

Oliver swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. Was that really how the
ton
saw his marriage?

Another horrible laugh sounded.

“Hardly. All we did was let her fall on her pretty face. She didn’t know how to organize an informal dinner at home. She didn’t know how to instruct servants and she dressed like a peasant. She found out very quickly that she wasn’t suitable to step into
my
shoes.” Honoria’s disdain was so obvious now that Oliver could not believe he had ever thought the woman would actually help Sarah.

“But what will you do now?” asked her companion, obviously eager for the gossip.

“Now? Nothing. Oliver is exactly where his mother and I want him. By our side in London, a country separating him and his wife.” She almost spat the word wife and continued speaking, obviously relishing her victory.

“He is so malleable. Nothing like my dear husband, the real Duke.”

Oliver’s backbone stiffened at this evidence of how his sister-in-law really saw him. All this time he had thought she would be happy as his wife, how wrong he had been. He could only imagine how miserable she would have made his life if he had married her. Being compared to his brother for every day of his life? The thought was enough to weaken his knees.

“Malleable, how?” asked her eager friend.

“Well, just last week his wife wrote to him asking him to visit her in Scotland. During the season, can you imagine that? Intolerable.” Honoria sounded quite disgusted at the prospect despite the fact that she had left London for a month to join him and his new wife at their estate.

Oliver tried to recall the day Honoria was talking about, but could barely remember that day. His butler had read him the letter whilst he had been in his cups and he didn’t remember how he had replied.

“And he chose not to go?” The other woman asked, obviously surprised.

“Of course he
wanted
to go. But his mother made it clear that his wife was just having a fit of the vapors and that she could wait another few months.”

Oliver gasped and then quickly covered his mouth. He did remember his mother raving something about Sarah that night, but he rarely listened to her anymore.

“Oh, that poor woman.” The stranger sighed.

“I know, it
is
rather amusing is not it?” The glee in Honoria’s voice was obvious.

“What newlywed bride wants to know that her new husband would prefer to be gallivanting around London rather than spend time with her? It must have broken her heart.”

The sadness in the stranger’s voice hit Oliver the hardest.

Was that really how Sarah would have seen his staying in London rather than following her to Scotland? He would never have let her go if he thought she believed he was carousing.

Honoria’s laugh was genuine now. She was truly amused.

“Serves her right if it did. She had no right to marry so much above her own station.” Honoria was trying to sound spiteful, but her voice was too full of the victory of the moment to be anything other than ecstatic.

“But what is it she wanted, do you think?” the stranger asked.

Oliver started to move away from the column feeling sick with guilt when his sister-in-law’s words froze him in place.

“To tell him she is
enceinte
probably.” Honoria replied bitterly.

“
Enceinte
? Already?”

“Probably. The lower classes never seem to have any trouble.” 

A pain unlike anything Oliver had ever felt, smacked him across the gut. He doubled over, breathing hard. Honoria was poisonous, truly horrible. He’d honestly had no idea how deep her treachery lay.

“Do you really think she could be carrying his heir though?”

Oliver was wondering that himself. Thinking back, he had spent every night for almost eight weeks in Sarah’s bed without her flux. The reality of that hit him like a slap to the face, why hadn’t he counted the weeks? Was she really pregnant?

“My maid told me of her suspicions even before she left for Scotland. They had all noticed her lack of monthly linens.”

Pardon me? Oliver huffed, breathing hard from his nose. His hands clenched into fists as his need to scream increased. Honoria had thought that his wife had been pregnant and had not only encouraged her departure to Scotland, but had intentionally kept him in London so that he would continue to be unaware of her condition?

“That won’t make it easy to separate them if that is what you intend.”

“Well, you never know. If Oliver stays on past the end of the season, she may have died in her childbed before he can even reach Scotland.”

Oliver hadn’t been aware of making any sound. But from the way the two women in front of him gasped and jumped he realized he must have.

Sarah had been right all along. This woman was worse than horrible. She was evil. Why hadn’t he just paid for her to leave? Just because his brother hadn’t left her enough money to live on didn’t mean he could not.

He may not feel like the Duke of Lincoln, but he was.