The Duke's Daughter (22 page)

Avery went outside to check on the weather. For someone who was only recently acquainted with the mountains of Scotland, he had quickly developed a deep insight into the behaviour of the wind and clouds.

Lucy stood and considered her husband. When she moved away and went into the kitchen to add more logs to the fire, it was with the acceptance that anyone who took him on face value did so at their peril.

The rest of the day was spent in making preparations for the journey. Of greatest concern was the risk that they might not make it to the hut by nightfall and be forced to spend the night out in the open. While it was still early autumn, it was not uncommon for snow to fall on the mountain at this time of year. The danger of them freezing to death on Strathmore Mountain was very real.

While Avery went about the task of finding a suitable lantern and oil, Lucy took charge of the kitchen. As she stood stirring the pot for their evening meal, she found herself smiling. She took particular pride in cutting up the carrots, potatoes and turnips into neat little squares ready for the pot. She had made the stew exactly according to Avery’s instructions.

‘If only the other girls of the
ton
could see me now,’ she muttered to the stove.

‘Well, that should at least give us a few hours’ light if we don’t make the hut by nightfall,’ Avery said as he stepped into the kitchen. He placed the lantern on the floor next to their other travel supplies.

He wandered over to the pot and after smelling the stew, gave an approving nod. Lucy ushered him to the bench at the table.

‘Husband, please take a seat; let me serve you your supper,’ she said.

She dished up the stew into two large bowls. As soon as they were placed on the table, Lucy put the lid back on the pot and removed it from the heat. Tomorrow they would carry the rest of the stew with them in a small tin pan, hopefully to reheat it at the hut later that day.

Taking her now-customary seat opposite Avery, she handed him a spoon. He took it with a smile. ‘Thank you; this looks and smells delicious.’

She sat silently watching as he took his first mouthful of his meal. He quietly chewed. Then chewed some more. Finally he swallowed. Lucy sat silently, spoon in hand.

The game lasted close to a minute until Avery suddenly sat back on the bench and laughed aloud.

‘All right, all right; I’ve tasted worse, but that was a long time ago,’ he said.

A wicked glint shone in his eyes. Lucy leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and studied him.

‘And when exactly was that, Mr Fox?’

She knew the nagging fear about their impending journey was uppermost in both their minds. Anything which added a touch of levity to the situation was welcome.

‘Let me say this: the meal in question involved a mule and a small furry creature of unknown origin. I think an onion and several tomatoes were added to the mix, but they did little to make it remotely palatable.’

Lucy’s spoon fell into her dish.

‘You compare my concerted efforts at cooking to a soldier’s potluck meal!’

She took hold of Avery’s bowl and moved it out of his reach. Until he told her otherwise, he would not be tasting any more of the second-worst meal of his life.

To her surprise, he quickly rose from his chair and came round to her side. Standing over her, he reached out and laid his hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy; I had no right to make light of your culinary efforts. You have done much more than could be expected of a woman of your high birth. I beg your forgiveness.’

She frowned, unsure if he was being earnest or not. The touch of his hand as it settled on her arm gave Lucy a start. Avery was serious.

All her life she had been subjected to the gentle teasing and laughter of her brothers; for a man to react as Avery did left her perplexed. She looked up at him, giving him a shy smile.

Her husband was cut from a darker material than her brothers. That, of course, should be of little surprise considering their vastly dissimilar upbringings. She wondered how different a man Avery would have been if he had been given the same opportunities and privileges in his life as Alex and David.

His sombre manner constantly hinted at a difficult childhood. Now that they had known each other in the physical sense, Lucy ached to understand Avery better as a man. She offered him her hand as she rose from the chair.

‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she said.

He placed a hot kiss on the side of her face. It rapidly made its way down her neck to the base. All thought of food quickly left Lucy’s mind when Avery whispered.

‘Come to bed. I hunger only for you.’

She closed her eyes, savouring the passion of his words. Relishing the expectation of his lips and tongue roaming over her naked body.

Lucy offered up her mouth. Avery hungrily took it, his lips ever-powerful in their claiming of her.

The journey from the kitchen to the bedroom was a swift one. Thoughts of the meal cooling on the table vanished as Avery stripped the clothing from her body. Her last coherent thought as he took her nipple into his mouth had nothing to do with food.

‘Avery,’ she murmured as she gave herself to him.

‘If at any time you think we are lost, please tell me. I would rather we turn back and make it safely to the hunting lodge than be caught out in the fens in the middle of the night,’ Avery said.

They had left the Key at first light, carrying their supplies. Treasured personal belongings which they did not wish to leave behind were in Avery’s beloved travel bag, which was slung lazily over his shoulder, along with his rifle. Lucy carried the all-important sack of food and a water flask, along with the leftovers from their previous night’s supper. Avery also carried the lamp and jar of oil.

‘How are we going to light the lamp, if we don’t have a fire?’ she asked.

He gave her a disapproving look.

‘You think this is the first time I have had to face the prospect of crossing a mountain in the dark? Remind me some time to tell you about the fifteen years I spent in the army,’ he replied.

As soon as the harsh words left his mouth, he regretted them. Lucy, as he was beginning to understand, was just being her usual practical self. She had not once complained about the task at hand or the biting wind. A wind that cut through his coat like a knife. The brutal winters of Portugal paled in comparison to the briskness of an autumn day in Scotland.

Lucy walked beside him, trudging along in her sensible leather boots. She did not even appear to notice the inclement weather. ‘I didn’t mean to sound as if I doubted you. Which I don’t. I was just interested. I would love to hear some of your soldiering stories. I am intrigued by the life you led in the army. All those years before we met,’ she replied.

He nodded his head. ‘Of course, and I am sorry for being hard on you. I know you were only asking because you want to make sure we get back safely. Trust me, I would not have agreed to venture out here without having planned for as many contingencies as possible.’

He was loath to admit that allowing a woman to be in charge was something completely foreign to him. He wanted to trust Lucy’s judgement, but it ran so much against the grain he found it a constant struggle.

They walked on for several hours with Lucy leading the way, the ground becoming more waterlogged as they made their way down the mountain.

‘Do you know how far the travellers’ cottage is from here?’ Avery asked.

As he spoke, he stepped awkwardly on a clump of flat sedge. Trying to steady his step, he slipped and his boot landed in a deep pool of water. He dropped to one knee as his other leg sank down. The lantern he was carrying clattered to the ground, narrowly missing another water-filled hole.

‘Blast!’ he yelled, as icy water threatened to spill over the top of his boot. Lucy turned and grimaced. She offered him a helping hand as he struggled to his feet.

‘Try to follow in my steps,’ she said, picking up the lantern and handing it to Avery.

She pointed further down the mountain, toward a large piece of forested land.

‘When we made the crossing, it took us all day to reach the cottage. Mind you, the weather was milder than at this time of year. The cottage, if I recall correctly, is a mile or so on the other side of that wood.’

She looked up at the sky.

‘We picked a good day to be out travelling; with luck we should make it well before nightfall.’

Avery screwed up his nose. He had been in the oddest of moods all day, unable to point a finger to the reason why. In the end he put it down to having to face the duke and duchess again.

‘Papa wanted to wait until nightfall to see if Alex and David could navigate their way to the cottage by the stars. We had to wait out here in the open until the sun went behind the mountain. It was unbelievably cold.’

‘And did they?’ he replied. The Duke of Strathmore certainly had an interesting way of teaching his children life skills.

‘Yes, they worked together and we made it safely to the cottage. Do you like Alex and David?’ she replied.

He nodded. He was not judging her brothers. Assessing other men’s strengths and weaknesses was something which had been instilled in him early during his army career.

‘You have no idea how much I admire and respect the pair of them. For all the advantages that they have had in their lives, they are both very much aware and considerate of others less fortunate than them. They are the sort of men Thaxter should have aspired to become.’

Lucy walked back to where Avery stood. She gave him a reassuring slap on his upper arm.

‘And which you already are.’

They finally reached the travellers’ cottage in the late afternoon. As it came into view, Lucy clapped with delight.

‘I’ve found it!’ she exclaimed. Pride rang in her voice.

Avery stopped beside her.

‘Well done, Lucy. And you didn’t need your father or brothers to help you.’

Once inside the tiny cottage, he felt the sharp edge of his anxiety dull a little. They had made it to safety for the night. They would not be left to stumble around in the dark on the dangerous mountain.

‘Do they still have wolves in Scotland?’ he asked.

‘Not that I am aware of; well, not in these parts.’

She began to laugh. ‘Is that what you have been scared of all day? I wondered why you kept looking over your shoulder. And why you had the rifle primed with shot. I think you were in greater danger from drowning in the fens than getting eaten by some hairy mountain beastie,’ she chuckled.

He put the travel bag down on the rough wooden table which sat just inside the door. Truth be told, he had been concerned about wild animals. After the incident on the hunting trip, he wasn’t certain he could handle the rifle well enough to protect them if they had come under attack.

‘Mind you, the wild boars are a different story. We shall have to watch out for them as we reach the lower parts of the mountain. They are not the friendliest of creatures and are prone to attack without warning,’ she added.

Avery quickly set about building a fire in the hearth, all the while trying to forget Lucy’s warning about wild boars. He cursed himself for not having bought a replacement bayonet for the rifle.

The pot of stew had travelled well and they were soon seated at the small table in front of the fire, sharing a hot meal.

‘So how does this hut, in the middle of nowhere, come to be stocked with dry wood and bedding?’ Avery asked.

‘Travellers cross the mountain quite regularly. The villagers make sure that anyone who happens to get caught on the mountain doesn’t freeze to death. If anyone stays here, they let the steward at the castle know how much wood they have used and how much is left. Several times a year a working party comes up and makes sure the building is still weatherproof and there is a good supply of cut firewood and straw.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘What for?’ she replied.

He pursed his lips. ‘I doubted your ability to get us here today. I spent most of the day waiting for you to give up and ask me to take the lead.’

She smiled and, leaning over, gave him a forgiving kiss on the lips.

‘I know. And I also know it must have driven you half mad to follow a spoiled young miss all day, but you did it. I am proud of you. Many other men would have refused.’

‘I think I may have said this more than once, but you are not a spoiled young miss. Some day you are going to have to accept that I was angry when I said that to you in the garden and forgive me.’

She slipped a hand inside his shirt, touching the soft hairs on his chest. ‘I may be more amenable to forgiveness if you give me the right reasons.’

He glanced over at the small bed in the corner of the room and all worries of wild Scottish animals left his mind.

‘I forgot to bring the salt,’ Lucy said.

Avery glanced at his pocket watch and put it down as Lucy placed a bowl of steaming hot porridge in front of him. Though it pained his Yorkshire-bred self to admit it, he had developed a liking for Scottish oats. Although, much as he understood the need for porridge to be made to the peculiar recipe favoured by the Scots, the compulsion to add salt had thus far escaped him.

‘Avery?’ she said, taking a seat opposite him.

He lifted his head and smiled as his gaze took in the face he had grown fond of over the past few weeks.

Lovely.

It had been a long time since he had walked as far as they had the previous day. But with Lucy lying sated in his arms in the early hours of the morning, he had not felt the least fatigued. Her willingness to give herself so completely to him in their bed left him feeling a calm he had never known before.

‘Yes?’ he replied.

She pointed to the pocket watch.

‘I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I was thinking . . .’

He stilled. Even the mere mention of the watch left him wary. Until Lucy, he had kept the watch’s existence secret from all but Major Barrett. Upon discovering the pocket watch among his possessions at Rokewood Park, he had been gripped by the overwhelming compulsion to hide it away.

It was his own shameful secret.

And yet he sensed Lucy was the one person who could truly understand how much the ill-gained timepiece troubled him.

When she held out her hand, he gave it to her. A sense of foreboding crept slowly into his mind. What was she planning?

Taking the watch, she sat it on the table midpoint between them.

‘This,’ she began and tapped the table, ‘will always stand between us.’

He frowned. Was she jealous of a piece of metal? He forced the preposterous notion from his mind. ‘I don’t understand,’ he replied.

‘No, I don’t expect you do. You see, I think you are blind to the effect it has on you. Of how much you diminish when you take hold of it.’

The words of denial burned on Avery’s lips. What did Lucy know of such things? How could she know it made him feel less of a man every single time he looked at it? How much he resented it?

Damn.

For one who had lived her entire existence with wealth and privilege, Lucy possessed an uncanny ability to read others. He could say whatever he wished about the pocket watch, but her eyes told him she understood a great deal more of the truth than he had already revealed to her.

‘So what do you suggest?’

She had to have something in mind. This was Lucy. She always had something simmering away in that brain of hers. A brain whose sharpness he was increasingly beginning to appreciate.

She softly folded her fingers together.

‘One night when I sat up alone at the Key, I took the watch and I opened the back of it. Did you know that there is a name engraved inside?’

A flush of surprise mixed with anger coursed through Avery’s brain. Without asking and without his knowledge, Lucy had taken his treasured possession and pulled it apart.

‘You shouldn’t have done that; I haven’t,’ he growled.

She sat back in the chair for a moment. A strange expression, which he could not place, crossed her face before she suddenly leaned forward and slammed her clenched fists down on the table.

‘No! I am not going to just sit here and silently accept what that thing does to you every time you hold it. Sit idly by as it consumes you.’

Avery closed his eyes.

Lucy knew exactly what the watch was, and what it did to him. Her perceptiveness hit him like a hard slap to the face. He opened his eyes to see Lucy wiping a tear from her cheek.

‘If there is anything I can do to help free you from this burden, then as your wife it is my duty to do so,’ she added.

She spoke of duty and concern, but his heart told him there was much more to Lucy’s words. More than either of them were prepared to admit. They had come some way to a mutual understanding of one another. Yet Lucy, the open book, was able to read him better than he could read her.

She had him at a disadvantage. Having spent her whole life in a boisterous and loving family, she was equipped with strategic social skills he could only dream of possessing. While he was busy sizing people up for their weaknesses, Lucy was looking for ways to be their friend.

‘I know this make of watch; my cousin William has a Vacheron. Avery, you need to get rid of it. We need to go to Paris.’

‘Paris?’

‘Yes. The name in the back is P Rochet. If we can discover the full name of the watch’s previous owner from the watchmaker, we may be able to return it to his family,’ Lucy replied.

Avery saw the light which shone in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the pain he felt in his tightly constricted chest.

He had never seriously considered the idea of trying to rid himself of the watch. There had been many long, guilt-ridden nights during which he had prayed he had never set eyes on it. But to willingly relinquish possession of his ill-fortuned talisman filled him with dread.

How could he face the family of the French soldier, knowing he had killed their son? Worse still was the almost suffocating fear that once he was free of the watch, he might remain unchanged. His sense of honour would not be restored.

‘William is resident in Paris. I’m certain he will be more than willing to assist us. He has many contacts in the city.’

Avery did not find that part of the plan at all to his liking. William had been the one Lucy was going to seek sanctuary with if their divorce had gone ahead. He didn’t relish the kind of welcome he would likely receive from Lucy’s cousin.

‘It’s all right, Avery. William is a good man; he won’t pass judgement on what has happened between us. To be honest, I expect he will take to you with a glad heart, knowing he won’t have to live with me under his roof for an intolerable number of years.’

Avery picked up his spoon and scooped up some of the cooling porridge. After taking a bite, he sat rolling the oats around on his tongue, unwilling to swallow them lest he choke. Lucy’s words had him at a loss. He had only begun to get comfortable with the concept of having a wife. Now she wanted to travel with him to France and help him relinquish his ownership of the pocket watch.

Finally he forced the porridge down his throat.

‘I’m not sure that is such a good idea,’ he replied.

Lucy huffed in frustration. ‘Why? What are you not telling me?’