Son of a Duke (20 page)

"My darling Sarah, when have you ever had to ask for my assistance when it involves perusing a countess's collection of gowns?"
 

Jane took Nora's arm.
 

"Come, Nora.
 
The tea will have to wait."
 
The duchess turned to the men in the room.
 
"Boys, see that a note is sent for your father.
 
We will be busy for the foreseeable future."
 

And with that, Nora let herself be led from the room.

~

Nathan remained standing long after Sarah and Jane had swept Nora from the room.

"At what moment exactly did we lose control of that conversation?" Alec asked.

Nathan shook his head.
 

"I am not certain we ever did have control of that conversation."
 

Alec mumbled something and sat.
 
Nathan felt his legs move but did not really understand that he was moving to sit until he was once again next to Alec.
 
His mind was spinning, moving from one thought to the next before the first one had a chance to complete itself in his brain.
 
He thought of the look on Nora's face when she had learned of Samuel.
 
He thought of the way she had stood resolute when he had returned to remove her from Gregenden House.
 
He thought of the quiet that had descended over her when they had climbed into the hack that had brought them here, to Stryden Place.
 

What was she thinking right then?
 
What was she feeling?
 
Did she really trust him to find her son?

What if he did not trust himself?
 
What if he failed?
 
Failed Nora?
 
Failed Samuel?
 
Failed all of them?

"I can see why she would keep you up at night," Alec said then, and Nathan's mind spun to a catastrophic halt at the sudden voice.

Nathan nodded, not sure he could articulate the words that were burning in his mind.
 

"She trusts you, you know?" Alec continued.
 

There was a glimmer of panic that he would continue on the subject that was most pressing in Nathan's mind, but Alec suddenly fell quiet again.
 

The pair listened to the ticking of a clock somewhere in the drawing room.
 
The sound of traffic filtered in from outside, the rattle of carriages and the clipped staccato of hooves.
 

"I shall have Reynolds send a lad to fetch Father," Alec said then, rising from the sofa.
 

Nathan still did not move as Alec went to the corner of the room and pulled the braided cord to summon the butler.
 

Reynolds arrived briskly and just as briskly accepted direction from Alec before retiring from the room.
 
Nathan did not so much as blink as he sat on the sofa staring into the empty grate of the fireplace before him.
 
Alec eventually returned as the sofa dipped with the new weight.
 

"So how about Webbly?" Alec finally asked.

The question startled Nathan so deeply, he forgot with whom he was speaking.

"Who the hell is Webbly?" Nathan asked.
 

"Duke of Worcester.
 
Accidentally stabbed himself in a duel with John Langford."
 

"What was the duel over?"
 

"Langford insulted Webbly's mother."
 

"Who is Webbly's mother?" Nathan asked.
 

"She's now the Countess of Dendrigeshire."
 

"Dendrigeshire?" Nathan grimaced.
 
"What did Langford say?"
 

"He said she was a big boned woman."
 

Nathan turned his head to Alec.
 
"How is that cause for a duel?"
 

"Langford thought Webbly was his mother."
 

"Oh, I see."
 

The silence took over once more, surrounding them like an impenetrable enemy.
 

"I am sorry, brother, that is all I have at the moment," Alec said then.

Nathan nodded.
 

"It is all right.
 
Father will be here soon, and he will speak enough for all of us."

The sound of the traffic outside once more flooded the room.
 
Nathan listened to the sound of his brother's breathing as if the cadence would bring calm to his troubled thoughts.
 
His mind kept racing, and Nathan looked about the room, at the forgotten tea, the heavily adorned windows, the intricate carvings in the wood around the fireplace.
 

"How is your lady wife?" Nathan suddenly asked, and Alec groaned in response.
 

"That is the subject of which you wish to speak?
 
In this, your hour of most need?"
 

Nathan shifted on the sofa, so he could better see Alec.
 

"It is not my hour of need.
 
We will find Samuel.
 
I am just having trouble focusing.
 
That is all."
 

Nathan stood and walked to the end of the room where a heavy cabinet stood in the corner.
 
He picked up one of the thick glasses that sat on top of the liquor tray that rested there.
 
He motioned to Alec.
 

"At only midday?" Alec said.
 

Nathan only shrugged.
 

"I will keep asking after your wife."
 

Alec waved a hand at him.
 

"Yes, all right then."
 

Nathan poured each of them a glass before returning to Alec.
 
This time he took the chair that Nora had occupied so briefly.
 

"So things with the lady wife are going well?"
 

Alec answered after taking a sip from his drink.

"The things with the lady wife are going no where at all."
 

Nathan swirled his drink, having yet to take a sip.
 

"You mean to tell me that you had not swept her off her feet by the time I came through the door?"
 

Alec gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence.
 

"It is quite more complicated than that."
 

Nathan reached over and set a hand on Alec's knee.
 
It was a gesture he had made a thousand times when they were boys.
 
Nathan may have been the older brother, but Alec was usually the one who did the comforting.
 
There was something about Alec's casual confidence that led him naturally to support his sometimes cautious older brother.
 
But there were the few times when Nathan made the gesture as he did now.
 

"What is it that has her so angry with you?" Nathan asked, and Alec finally looked at him.
 

There was emptiness in his eyes.
 
Blank slates that yearned for answers.
 
Nathan recognized the look he had seen on his own face far too many times when he had looked in the mirror.

"Perhaps Father will know what to do.
 
He did eventually convince Jane to marry him, and we all doubted that would happen.
 
You know, after..."

He let the sentence trail off, knowing Alec would understand to what he referred.
 
And he saw the understanding cloud his brother's gaze.
 

"Perhaps," was all he said.
 

~

Nora watched as a line of maids hauled buckets of steaming water one by one through the narrow door of the sitting room.
 
She only thought how fortunate it was that they did not have to carry the buckets all the way into the dressing room across the chamber.
 
She doubted some of the smaller maids would have made it so far with such a heavy load.
 
Nora had tried to help only once, and upon receiving a slap on her hand - literally, the Duchess of Lofton slapped her - Nora refrained from trying to help.
 

It was a quite difficult task for as Lady Stryden, or Sarah rather, led her deeper into the bowels of what she was learning was called Stryden Place she began to feel more and more out of sorts.
 
She longed for a chambermaid to instruct or Hawkins to placate or Samuel to smile at her and make her forget everything that surrounded her.
 
If only Samuel were there, she would not have left Gregenden House and the only life she ever knew.
 
She would not now be wondering what was happening to her son and worse, how she was to care for him when Nathan brought him back to her.

As everything welled up inside her, Nora would have settled for a mere rag and something to dust if only to distract her dangerously tilting mind.
 

But with each step they climbed up to the family's main living quarters, Nora found herself being pulled further into the conversation between Jane and Sarah.
 
Sarah ordered a bath from a maid descending the second floor staircase while Jane requested a tray of sandwiches.
 
Surely, Nora could not be expected to try on gowns without refreshment.
 
A footman was sent to fetch the countess's lady's maid to freshen the gowns that Sarah kept at Stryden Place.
 
And when they finally stopped climbing Nora thought they most certainly were higher than the dome of St. Paul's.
 
At least, she was winded enough to feel like it were true.

And now there she was, watching maid after maid haul water to a steaming bath big enough for an entire ballet troupe.
 
And Nora was truly expected to bathe in it alone?
 
A sudden image of Nathan flashed in her mind, and she physically choked, bringing the attention of Jane.
 

"There, there, Nora," Jane said, coming to her and patting her delicately on the back, "The boys will figure this all out, and Samuel will be back to you in no time.
 
I assure you, darling."
 

Nora had never been touched so much in her entire life, let alone touched out of comfort.
 
If she had been choking before, she had stopped breathing now.
 
She almost could not stand everyone being so nice to her.
 
If one more person, so much as expressed their sorrow, she was sure she would dissolve into the floor where she stood.

But that would soil the fine carpet beneath her shoes.
 
The Floral Room, as Sarah had called it was opulent if it were anything.
 
Nora stood as still as Hawkins in a musicale in the very center of the room, keeping her worn cloak and soiled uniform from touching so much as a table.
 
She gazed at the delicate furniture with its intricate carved lattices and polished handles.
 
The drapes were divine and of such quality that Nora pondered how the maids cleaned them without damaging the fine cloth.
 
The covers of the bed were lush in deep purple tones with pockets of pure white.
 
She longed to lie down, bury herself in its luxuriousness and forget that her son was missing, that she no longer had a home or employ, that she was falling in love with a spy.

"We will give you some privacy," Jane said then, scuttling past her.
 
"But only for a brief time.
 
There is much to be done, and Richard will likely be here soon."
 

Sarah approached her with a stack of fluffy towels.
 
It took Nora an entire moment to realize the decadent towels were for her.
 
She accepted them haltingly.
 

"Do not listen to the woman.
 
Enjoy yourself," the countess said with a wink.
 

And Nora was sure she did dissolve into the floor.

When the door closed behind the pair, Nora still did not move.
 
It was too surreal.
 
It was too unfamiliar.
 
It was too...unlikely.
 
But just as Nathan had told her to pack, these women had told her to bathe.
 

She quickly set down the towels on the nearest chair and began stripping her clothes off.
 
First the cloak, then her apron, then her gown.
 
She was careful to fold the exposed sides of her uniform inward to keep the dirt and dust from spreading into the room.
 
She tucked the bundle of clothes away and gingerly approached the steaming tub.
 

Soaps of varying colors and sizes and smells were laid out on a tray by the tub.
 
Various vials of oils were also displayed by the tray, and Nora wondered what they were used for.
 
She picked up one of the vials and studied the liquid inside of it as it moved back and forth against the glass.
 
Was this how the women of the
ton
smelled so delightful?
 
Nora wondered what Nathan would think of her if she came back smelling like a bouquet of peonies?
 
What would
she
think if she smelled thusly?

Nora set the vial back down and approached the tub directly, carefully placing one foot and then the other into the resplendent bath water.
 
Her muscles flexed at the sudden heat before spooling away in relief, unwinding her very core until she was fully relaxed in the water.

And then she let her mind drift.
 
But the warmth of the water or silkiness of the bath oil or the aroma of the soaps, something invaded her senses, and her mind was nothing but a blankness that left her in a cocoon of simple peace.
 
She stayed there for as long as she dared.
 
She stayed there until the skin of her fingers began to pucker from the water, and she feared the water would grow too cold before she had truly completed bathing.
 
She stirred, reluctantly, pulling her head up from where it rested against the rim of the tub.