The Duke's Daughter (13 page)

She saw his spine straighten and his shoulders push back.

‘Then I suggest we leave for Edinburgh immediately. I don’t particularly want to spend any more time accepting well-meaning congratulations from members of your family than is necessary.’

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to hold back the tears. She had been proud of herself for not crying after they had agreed to end their short-lived marriage. She had sat for hours in the chair trying to fall asleep, reassuring herself that it was all for the better.

A single tear escaped and ran down her face. She reached up to brush it away, only to find Avery had beaten her to it. The skin of his thumb felt rough against the soft, delicate skin of her face.

‘Don’t cry, Lucy. I promise to find a way for you to be happy,’ he said. His reassuring words tore at her heart.

‘Let me speak to Papa. I shall explain that we wish to spend some time alone. We could be in Edinburgh by the end of the week if we use the Great North Road and stay at the coaching inns.’

‘I shall speak to your father,’ Avery replied.

Later that afternoon, Lucy was seated in the private sitting room of their apartment. She looked up from her sewing as Avery entered. A quick check of the room revealed her to be alone.

He took a step toward her before checking himself. They had agreed to maintain the newlywed facade in public, but when they were alone they could be themselves.

Taking a seat on the couch opposite Lucy, Avery noted how comfortable he felt in her presence. To all intents and purposes he should feel this way with his wife. With the woman he was now supposed to know intimately.

Lucy put her sewing down and clasped her hands softly in her lap. She was waiting for his news.

‘So, how did things go?’ she asked.

Avery paused. Depending on one’s point of view, things had gone either very well or ominously badly. The duke had agreed to the suggestion of Lucy and Avery travelling up to Scotland on their own. Unbeknown to him, divorce proceedings would be underway before the Radley family departed London.

‘Your father has arranged for one of the coaches to be ready to leave first thing tomorrow,’ he replied.

‘So that leaves us with only this evening with my family to get through,’ Lucy said.

An inexplicable look appeared on Lucy’s face. He couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or disappointed at the forward motion in their plans. Looking down, he noticed she was winding her wedding ring slowly around her finger once more.

‘And, of course, tonight with each other.’

Her head lifted and their gazes met. He reached out and took hold of her fingers.

‘You cannot spend a second night on that couch. I suggest we find a way to share the bed without things becoming too awkward.’

When they finally turned in after a long evening with her family, the solution to their bed-sharing problem quickly presented itself. Lucy picked up the padded decorative bolster which lay across the end of the bed and, turning it on its end, pushed it into the middle of the bed.

With the large bale of fabric between them, they could both sleep in the bed without running the risk of actually touching one another. Avery nodded his approval.

‘I shall be back soon,’ Lucy said.

When she returned a short time later clad from neck to toe in an ultra-modest, full-length linen nightgown, Avery did his best to hide his disappointment.

They left London early the following morning, both glad to be free of friends and family. Keeping up the outward appearance of newly wedded bliss had rapidly become an exhausting endeavour.

The first day they sat in companionable silence, each with a nose stuck firmly in a book. They stopped for lunch at a town en route and enjoyed a late summer picnic by a nearby river. The Strathmore House cook had packed a small basket containing a loaf of freshly baked bread, Stilton cheese and fresh fruit for the first day’s journey.

‘Try this, straight from the garden at Alex and Millie’s house. Our sister-in-law missed figs so much after coming here from India, Alex had two fully grown trees transplanted from Kew Gardens,’ Lucy said.

She cut up a fresh fig and handed it to Avery, who ate it with undisguised relish.

To the casual observer, they appeared to be like any other young married couple. Content and blissfully happy.

They stopped at a coaching inn late that afternoon and after supping in a private room downstairs, Lucy and Avery retired to their well-appointed room.

‘There is only one bed,’ she whispered as soon as the innkeeper had closed the door behind him and left.

Avery frowned. Apart from the rather cramped bed, there was nowhere else to sleep in the room. The fireside chair would be impossible for anyone to get a decent night’s sleep in.

‘A makeshift bolster will have to do,’ Avery replied.

Removing his greatcoat, he picked up two pillows and wrapped it around them. After placing them lengthwise down the middle of the bed, he stepped back and admired his handiwork.

‘Not the most elegant piece of engineering, I grant you, but it will serve its purpose.’

They exchanged an awkward smile.

‘I shall go downstairs and leave you to get ready for bed. I take it you want the window side again?’ Avery said.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Lucy threw herself on the bed and rolled over onto her back. Staring up at the low wooden ceiling, she pondered her predicament.

In a few days from now she would be rid of her husband. A husband she supposedly didn’t want. She shielded her eyes from the light of the bedroom candle as the first of the tears fell. A sob escaped her lips.

‘Stop it, stop it you foolish girl. You have no one to blame but yourself. Just hold yourself together until you get to Edinburgh and then all will be well.’

She rolled over and buried her face in Avery’s coat. With her nose close to the collar of his greatcoat, she caught the strong scent of his amber and cedarwood perfumed oil. A wedding gift from Alex and Millie, who had specially sourced it from a perfume maker in Bond Street, its scent reminded her of Avery. He had worn the scented oil every day since their wedding.

When all this terrible mess was over, and she was living in exile in France, she would always remember his enticing scent.

When Avery finally returned to their room an hour later, he found the room dark. As he climbed into his side of the bed he felt the soft bolster. He pushed it toward Lucy, but quickly came up against her back.

Any thought of asking her to move over and give him more room was quashed when he heard her sob softly. He pulled the blankets up and lay on his back in the dark.

If only he could comfort her. To take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.

He had slept this close to her for only two nights, but already it was pure torture. He could name a dozen other men who would have succumbed to temptation and consummated the marriage. Enforced their legal rights, as it were.

But not you, Avery Fox; you have to give her the freedom she demands.

As he slipped into a restless slumber, a small voice in the dark recesses of his mind whispered.

‘If she wants you gone so badly, then why does she cry herself to sleep?’

By the end of the third day on the road, they were less than fifty miles from Edinburgh. Soon their journey together would end and their lives would take different routes. Long hours of silence in the carriage sapped Avery’s energy. Small talk was certainly not his forte and it made little sense to get to know one another better. As his head hit the pillow in their bed that night, he was quickly overtaken by sleep.

In the dark of Avery’s dream came a now-familiar shape. For the past two nights it had been the same dream. There were few images in this recurring dream, rather it was sound and sensation.

Someone unseen murmured low. Feminine fingers stroked his cheeks. Soft, pliant lips would press against his mouth.

One kiss.

Two kisses.

He now hungered for the third. Her warm tongue would part his lips. Seeking, probing his mouth. He groaned.

A delighted sigh would come from her. He revelled in the knowledge that she wanted him. The teasing fingertips traced a tantalising line down his neck and settled in the soft curls of his chest hair. He swallowed, praying that she would continue her sensual exploration of his body.

Avery reached up and speared his fingers into her hair, pulling her close. But even as he deepened the kiss, he sensed her hesitation. His dream lover’s bravery only extended so far. She pushed away from his chest and her lips left his face. Disappointment swelled in his heart.

‘Don’t go, my love; stay and be mine forever,’ he begged.

‘If only,’ she murmured.

When he woke the following morning, Avery instinctively touched his fingers to his lips. Had his dream lover been a figment of his imagination? In the dark of the night, she had seemed so very real.

Glancing across to the other side of the bed, he saw Lucy’s form. Her back was turned away from him, and the blankets she had stolen from him during the night covered most of her head. Between them the bolster remained firmly in place.

Lucy came down into the private dining room of the inn and took a seat in the corner booth Avery had reserved for them. The few other guests at the inn were busy tucking into hearty breakfasts and making their own travel plans for the day ahead.

Avery looked up and gave her a welcoming smile. She comforted herself with the thought that he wasn’t a cad who would take delight at seeing her so miserable. He had accepted that they must part and was trying to make the best of the situation. She had to be grateful for that small blessing.

His years of deprivation and hardship in the army must stand him in good stead for whatever disappointments life threw his way. She envied him his self-restraint and resolve.

‘Last day today,’ she ventured.

He nodded.

‘You should be in Edinburgh by late this afternoon.’

Avery frowned. ‘Don’t you mean
we
should be in Edinburgh?’

Lucy picked up a napkin and placed it in her lap. ‘I see no need for me to make the journey east. When we make the last change of horses, I shall hire a carriage to take you the rest of the way,’ she replied.

Avery put down his knife and straightened his back in the chair. She could tell, from his change of posture, that he was not happy with her plans.

I beg of you, Avery, don’t make me come with you to see the solicitors in Edinburgh. That would be the end of me.

‘So where are you going?’ he replied.

She sucked in a deep breath and attempted her best display of nonchalance. She picked up a piece of cheese, took her knife and slowly began to slice it thinly.

‘Oh, didn’t I mention that I was travelling on to Strathmore Castle? I’m certain I did. No matter. The rest of my family will arrive in a few days and I shall be waiting for them.’

The slight, almost imperceptible raising of one of Avery’s eyebrows gave her hope. Hope which in the early hours of the morning she’d felt had deserted her. After Avery had long fallen asleep and was snoring softly, she had risen from their bed and taken a seat on the floor by the fireplace.

Concerned with the prospect of her uncertain future, she had not been able to sleep. Looking at Avery as he slept, she pulled her knees up to her chin and pondered her predicament.

No longer was she sure of her path in life.

Of one thing she was certain. She didn’t want this to be their last day together. A divorce no longer seemed the simple solution to her moment of madness in the garden at Strathmore House.

Millie had been right. Lucy would pay a heavy price for the folly of losing her heart to a man who didn’t want it. But what was she to do? If she did nothing, by the end of this day Avery would be gone from her life forever.

She imagined how difficult it would be, many years from now when she returned to England and met with her former husband. The stain of their scandalous union would remain with her always. Only her father’s name and money would allow her to find a new husband. Avery of course would need to remarry to ensure the Langham line. Perhaps his future wife would be a kindly woman who politely ignored Lucy’s existence. They could move within the same circles, always ensuring that their paths never crossed.

She brushed away a single tear. Crying had become so much a part of her daily life in the past week, she barely noticed it.

Avery stirred in his sleep and rolled over onto his side. From where she sat, Lucy could see his face. The day-old stubble of his beard brought a smile to her face. He really was a handsome specimen of a man.

And for another day at least you are still mine.

Would she go back to being Lucy Radley when all this was over? Pity. She liked the sound of Lucy Fox; it had an appealing ring to it.

She imagined her mother’s reaction upon discovering Lucy alone at Strathmore Castle. Lady Caroline would do everything she could to support her daughter, but staying in England would be out of the question. Emma had a number of years until she came of marriageable age, hopefully by which time Lucy’s shame would have been all but forgotten by the
ton.

She refused to consider the reaction that her father and older brothers would have to the situation once they knew. Rows and recriminations were for the future. Here and now she knew she had a choice. Meekly accept the inevitable, or do something.

Now in the cold light of morning, seated across the table from Avery, she forced herself to think about her next move. She calculated her choice of words. From the long hours in which she had sat on the hard floor, she knew exactly how the scene between them had to play out.

Her words, casually delivered, had been rehearsed. The only natural part of herself she allowed free reign was her instinct. It reminded her of all that she risked. Of the heartbreaking price of failure.

‘So you are telling me you will travel alone, across the wilds of Scotland?’ he replied.

She set the knife down and met his gaze.

‘I shall be perfectly fine. I have personally known the staff who are travelling with us for a number of years. There is a pleasant coaching inn a little way out of Edinburgh where I can stay. I shall keep my wedding ring on for a day or so after we part to ensure that any gentleman who does cross my path realises I am a married woman. Or at least I was once.’

Silence reigned for a minute.

‘No,’ he replied, raising his voice several notches.

She lifted her head, just enough to show surprise. She looked around to see if any of the other guests had noted the sudden change in Avery’s voice, but fortunately they hadn’t.

‘No, you will not travel by yourself, Lucy. And please don’t try to convince me otherwise. I shall accompany you to the castle. When I deem the time is right, I shall take my leave.’

To Lucy’s relief, one of the inn’s maids brought over a fresh pot of coffee. She and Avery fell silent while the girl topped up their cups.

‘Are you sure?’ she ventured once the maid had left.

‘Adamant,’ he replied.

The mood in the carriage changed.

Avery could not put a finger on what it was, but he soon noticed that Lucy had become more animated. From the moment they took the road which led toward Falkirk, she started talking. She had said little on the long journey up from London until this morning. From the moment he declared his intention to come to Strathmore Castle, her whole demeanour altered.

She was like a prisoner who had suddenly received word of a stay of execution. Relief showed on her face and in her manner. The notion that she had been hoping he would come to Strathmore Castle crossed his mind more than once.

He sat back in the carriage and listened intently while Lucy explained the history of the area, highlighting the famous battles which had occurred at Stirling. She seemed especially taken with William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. An English rose she might appear to be, but within her chest beat a plaid-covered heart. He chuckled softly and closed his eyes.

Late that morning they stopped at Falkirk for lunch. ‘They make delicious beef pies,’ she said, pointing to a nearby bakery. He followed her inside and after escorting her to a nearby table, went to order the food. While he waited, he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Lucy did not engage in conversation with anyone in the shop as he’d expected; instead she sat calmly with her hands in her lap, head cast downward. The morning’s effort at joyful conversation had apparently exhausted her.

‘So you are off to Strathmore Castle?’ the lady behind the counter said.

She nodded toward the front window, where the Strathmore travel coach was waiting.

‘Yes. How far is it from here?’ he replied.

‘You should make it by nightfall tomorrow if you can avoid the late afternoon rain. The road between here and Stirling is quite good this time of year. Not so good when winter comes, mind you.’

She placed the pies on a small tray and Avery took it over to where Lucy waited.

‘These look and smell good; I’m glad you recommended this place,’ he said.

‘I hope they meet with your approval. This is my father’s favourite place to stop for food on the journey up from London. Not being able to share a meal with my family is one of my regrets of this trip. If only . . .’ Lucy replied.

Avery felt a shadow cross his heart.

If only.