The Duke's Daughter (27 page)

‘What did he say?’

‘Words which only a soldier should use or hear. Do not ask me to repeat them. We were both becoming weaker by the second, but he still held on to his knife. He made one last lunge at me. I am certain it was to press home the advantage and finish me off.

‘It was only at that final, pivotal moment that I felt a hard wedge under my leg. I had forgotten my bayonet was still hanging by my side. I fumbled for it and managed to release it from the scabbard. I raised it in front of me as he rolled over and threw himself on top of me. Everything went black at that moment.

‘I do have fleeting recollections of waking at several points during the night, with him lying partially on top of me, but that is all I remember.’

Avery looked down at the floor, his hands shaking. He had never shared the whole story with anyone before, not even Ian Barrett. They had a gentlemen’s agreement never to discuss matters of the battle.

‘I have told you all I can about your son’s death,’ he said.

The memory of looking up into Pascal Rochet’s dead eyes and then seeing the bayonet dug deep into his chest was Avery’s alone. He would never share that horror with another living soul.

Madame Rochet pulled herself up from the chair. Avery rose to offer his assistance, but she refused him. From the way she looked at his hands, it was as if she could still see them drenched in the blood of her son.

‘One final question, Mr Fox. How did you finally come to be in possession of the watch? You say you were attempting to return it, and yet you still have it,’ she replied.

Avery turned to Lucy and looked at her. How on earth was he going to deal with her once Pascal’s mother was gone?

He crossed the floor and opened the wardrobe in which his clothes and possessions had been placed. Taking out his old travel bag, he returned to where Madame Rochet stood and placed it on the table.

‘I lingered between life and death for several weeks after I was brought back to England. The fact that I was in the hands of a skilled surgeon most certainly saved my life. It was many weeks before I was recovered enough to rise from my bed and retrieve this bag from a nearby chair. They had placed it just out of reach, to spur me on to get well. In the bottom of the bag, wrapped up in a piece of bloodied cloth, was the pocket watch.’

Major Barrett’s batman had found Avery late the day after the battle, assumed the watch belonged to Avery and had taken it with them when they left Waterloo.

The stiffness in Madame Rochet’s stance disappeared and her shoulders slumped. Avery stepped forward, afraid she was going to fall. Lucy quickly took hold of her arm. The brief shake of Lucy’s head told him he should stay where he was.

He’d been so intent on making sure he explained things clearly, he had not seen Lucy rise from the couch and come to stand to one side of Madame Rochet. Once again, he’d been so wrapped up in his own concerns, he had been blind to his wife.

Now she stood before him, offering support and comfort to the woman whose son he had killed. A woman who aged and shrank before his eyes.

If only he could hold both of them and tell them how sorry he was for everything he had done.

‘My world is wrong,’ he whispered.

‘Thank you, Avery,’ Madame Rochet said, reverting back to calling him by his Christian name.

The battle of the minds was over.

‘I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. If only it could have been anyone else,’ he said.

The words sounded hollow.

‘No. Then you would be having this conversation with someone who might not understand you so well. You are a good man, Avery. You were forced in the heat of the moment to defend yourself. While I cannot forgive you for what you did, I do not hold you to blame.’

She turned and took hold of Lucy’s hand, holding it firmly in her grasp.

‘Make sure he knows his honour is restored. I fear he might struggle to accept peace. Help him to understand.’

‘I will,’ Lucy replied.

‘And now, if you don’t mind, will you summon one of the hotel staff to assist me down the stairs and to my carriage.’

‘Let me help you,’ Lucy offered.

Madame Rochet patted Lucy’s arm gently. ‘You cannot go out in public with a tear-stained visage, my dear; people will think you have had a row with your husband. I shall be fine with a servant to assist.’

‘What will you tell your family?’ Lucy asked.

Avery was grateful that Lucy had ventured the question which burned in his mind. Should they leave Paris immediately?

‘Nothing . . . well not for a little while, anyway. I need time to grieve once more for my son. When the time comes, I shall have the watch repaired and give it to my eldest son, Jean-Charles. I shall tell him it came to me anonymously. The war is over, Avery, there is nothing to be gained by starting hostilities between our two families.’

She looked at Avery’s damaged hand.

‘I think we have all lost enough.’

Avery closed the door to their suite as soon as Madame Rochet left and leaned back against it.

He had done it. The pocket watch was now back in the hands of the Rochet family. He ventured a look toward Lucy. She was standing, arms wrapped around herself, staring out the window.

She had been his tower of strength throughout the interview with Madame Rochet. Without her presence he doubted he could have got through it.

‘Lucy?’

She turned to him and gave him a sad smile.

‘Well, you did it. You got rid of the watch. It is now back with its rightful owner.’

He knew at this moment he should be feeling an immense sense of relief. But he felt numb. No outpouring of emotion.

Nothing.

Lucy played nervously with her wedding ring. Rolling it round and round her finger. The simple gold band, reminding her that she was committed to this marriage forever.

Supper in their room was a silent affair. They remained in their suite after Madame Rochet departed, Avery cancelling their earlier plans to go sightseeing. He barely ate, while Lucy stared at her plate of food as she forced back the threatening tears.

‘I think I might go for an evening stroll,’ he said. He pushed his untouched supper plate away. He stood, put on his coat and left the room.

‘Just there, thank you very much.’

Avery looked up as a procession of three hotel staff bearing piles of boxes and parcels entered the room. Lucy followed closely behind. They put the boxes on the floor near to Lucy’s travel chest. She gave the senior member of the group a handful of coins and bade them farewell.

‘Well, that’s most of it done,’ she said proudly.

When she’d woken that morning, Lucy decided she needed to escape the stifling atmosphere of the hotel. She couldn’t sit and endure the soul-crushing silence any longer.

In the two days since their meeting with Madame Rochet, Avery had barely spoken a word to her. The only time he had touched her was late at night. Even then their lovemaking lacked the fervour and passion of their earlier encounters.

Avery remained distant.

Initially Lucy put it down to the loss of the pocket watch, but now she was not so sure. Avery was not by nature a talkative man; she had learnt to accept that in her husband. This, however, was something else. He sat for hours quietly staring out the window or sleeping.

I will not cry, I will not cry. I must accept that this is my lot. I have to be strong.

Inwardly she berated herself. How foolish she had been to pin her hopes on Avery coming out of his shell and opening himself to her once the burden of the pocket watch was gone. Once a soldier, always a soldier. He remained a stranger.

When Will came to take her shopping, Avery didn’t venture out of their bedroom to greet him. ‘Is he ill or just being a complete ass?’ Will said as he closed the door of the hotel room behind them.

‘I don’t know. He won’t speak to me. I’ve tried to engage him in conversation, but he just says, “Please Lucy, I need quiet,”’ she replied.

Will raised an eyebrow. ‘So he is just being an ass.’

Lucy gave him a pleading look. She had no idea how to cope with a silent, morose husband. All her life she had witnessed her parents’ marriage. Never had she seen them go for more than an hour or two before resolving their rare spats.

When the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore made up, the children knew they would not see their parents for the rest of the day. Now, as a married woman, Lucy understood what went on when her parents retired to their suite to ‘discuss their disagreement’. The reason for her mother’s smile when they finally reappeared was no longer a mystery.

Even Alex and Millie had managed to find a way to resolve their frequent arguments. Their marriage was based on heated passion and a deep knowledge of just how far they could push one another’s temper. Most of all, they loved one another and were not afraid to let the rest of the world know it.

She didn’t understand Avery. How could she when he refused to confide in her?

‘Oh, let’s not talk about anything tiresome or boring today, please, Will? I need to laugh and have some fun. Indulge me with a trip to every shop which sells fascinating knick-knacks. I have been in Paris for a week and not bought a thing.’

Will gave her a comforting hug.

‘Your wish is my command. And I know exactly the right place for us to have a slap-up lunch. This is Paris, you need to stuff your face with macarons until you cannot breathe,’ he replied.

Will was exactly the tonic Lucy needed. The day spent with him was filled with laughter, food and endless hours of shopping. By the end of it, Lucy had purchased special gifts for every member of her family.

Will offered to accompany her up to her hotel room, but Lucy declined. She feared he would take Avery to task for his behaviour. This was a battle she was going to have to fight and win on her own.

As soon as she took off her coat and dropped down onto the soft comfort of the well-padded couch she knew she had made the right decision.

‘Do we have any money left?’ Avery asked tersely.

She frowned at him. To speak of money to a lady in her world was considered crass.

‘Of course; Will shall settle any of the larger bills from the shops, Father’s steward will reimburse him. It’s all taken care of; you need not worry.’

He walked over to the nearest pile of her purchases and stood over them. He opened one box and gave a sniff of disapproval.

Lucy’s feet hurt. She was nursing a headache from eating too much sugar, and now her husband had shown an open disregard for her well-thought-out purchases.

Her good humour and patience with him finally snapped. She leapt from the couch, all thought of her aching feet fled from her mind.

‘How dare you! How bloody dare you turn your nose up at my things! You horrible, horrible man. I hate you!’ she shouted.

He clenched his fists. Anger etched the lines of his mouth.

‘You have no idea how this trip has been for me, you treat it as if it’s a holiday. Spending your day with your ladies’ man cousin, when I am in the darkest of places,’ he bellowed.

The familiar taste of tears flooded her mouth. In days past, she had stifled them, thinking not to show him how deeply affected she had been by the encounter with Madame Rochet. Today she didn’t care.

Let them come.

‘You are right, Avery, I have no idea. And do you know why I am clueless as to your current state of mind? It’s because you have shut me completely out of your life. I thought we had become close after we crossed the fens, that we had a chance. Clearly I was wrong. The moment something bad happens in your world, your whole existence becomes Avery Fox and no one else. You make a point of not sharing anything with me,’ she cried.

She watched as a series of emotions played out across his face. An unwelcome sense of satisfaction pervaded her being as she saw he was struggling with her words.

‘You want me to share with you the carnage of that day? Will you only be satisfied if you can smell the burning cannonballs and see death first-hand?’

Lucy slowly shook her head, bringing her temper back in check.

‘You don’t need to tell me about Waterloo, I know it is too painful for you. But you are more than that single day. I just want to share the rest of your life. I’m sorry if that is too much for a wife to ask.’

Any hope that she had finally gotten through to him was quickly and most cruelly dashed. ‘You will not see William Saunders again while we are in Paris, do you understand?’ he replied.

Lucy snorted. ‘You won’t tell me what to do, Mr Fox. If I choose to see my cousin every day while we are in Paris, I shall do so. Who the devil do you think you are?’

In three long strides he came to where she stood and towered over her. If he had thought to intimidate her, he was sadly mistaken. With two older, imposing brothers, Lucy had fought this fight many times.

She looked deep into Avery’s eyes. The same ones which she lost her soul within every time they made love were now fiercely trained upon her. Yet even as they struggled for supremacy over one another, she felt the surge of desire. How magnificent it would be for him to take her in an angry sexual encounter.

But only in that arena of combat would she yield. No man, brother or husband, would dictate to her how she lived her life. Especially not one who showed so little regard for her.

‘You will stay in our suite until the time comes for us to leave Paris. Am I understood?’ he ground out.

The sexual spell broke and Lucy gave him her best look of disdain before walking away. Intimidation failed as a tactic when the victim refused to meekly accept it.

‘Let me know when you intend for us to depart and I shall be packed and ready to go. Until then I intend to continue spending time seeing the sights. I also have a second fitting with the
modiste
tomorrow afternoon. I ordered five new gowns from her this morning,’ she replied.

From the sharp intake of his breath, she knew she had pushed just far enough to finally elicit an emotional response. She prayed it had not been too far.

‘No! You won’t be going anywhere. If I have to tie you to the bed, you will stay in this suite and do as I command. Do I need to remind you that I am your husband and you will do your duty as a wife and accept my orders?’

She picked up three of the boxes of her purchases and carried them over to a nearby table and took a seat. Avery was welcome to continue the pointless argument, but she was not going to participate. She would not yield.

‘Are we going to eat downstairs this evening?’ she ventured.

A change of topic was always the best release when it came to arguments with her brothers; she hoped it would be so with Avery.

When Avery didn’t answer, she looked in his direction. Her heart sank. He was standing, eyes closed, in the centre of the room.

She rose from the chair and came to him.

‘Why do you keep fighting me? What have I done to incur your wrath?’ she asked.

‘Always questioning me, never doing just as I damn well tell you what to do. If you were one of my troops I would have you beaten for insubordination and dereliction of duty!’ he fumed.

‘But I’m not one of your reports, I am your wife and I love you,’ she calmly replied.

‘I know that, Lucy.’

Avery walked to the closet, pulled out his hat and coat and headed to the door.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘Out,’ he said, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Lucy stood and stared at the door.

‘Avery,’ she whispered.

Instead of insisting he go on to Edinburgh and seek a Scottish divorce, she had lured him to the Key and tempted him into her bed. A bed in which she now had to lie. If a cordial relationship with her husband was the best outcome she could eventually hope for, it was more than many women of her social standing enjoyed.

She turned from the door. There was little point in waiting for Avery to return. The only real choice left was to decide how long she could allow her heart to remain open to him. Hardening her heart and denying the love she felt for him was impossible.

While she wished her mother was on hand to offer sage words of advice, she knew the truth lay in listening to her own heart. If she was to succeed in reaching Avery she had to hold fast.

The rest of the afternoon Lucy spent going through her parcels and boxes, methodically making lists of who was to receive which gift.

For Emma, she had purchased a set of ribbons in blue, her sister’s favourite colour. She held the delicate ribbons up to the light and smiled.

‘Perfect,’ she murmured.

The afternoon slipped into evening. She ate supper alone and finished some letters to friends. Taking a seat outside on the balcony of their suite, she listened to the sounds of Parisian life as it went on in the street below. At a nearby cafe a band struck up a tune. It was soon accompanied by a group of singers who proceeded to render a tone-deaf version of ‘Au clair de la lune’. Lucy smiled when the choir decided to add their own bawdy lyrics to the tune.

Paris is warm
, she wrote. She and Avery had visited many places and the people were kind and friendly. She gave a detailed account of their happy day trip to Versailles, relying on her extensive knowledge of the Bourbon kings to make a convincing lie. When she finished the letters, Lucy checked them. Confident the facade of her wonderful honeymoon would hold, she arranged for them to be posted home to England.

The sun set and she finally turned in for bed. When she eventually succumbed to the power of sleep, Avery had still not returned.

He finally came back to their suite some time in the early hours of the morning. As he climbed into the bed beside her, Lucy could smell the strong odour of heavy liquor on his breath.

For the first time since they had come together at the Key, they did not make love. He rolled drunkenly over onto his side, his back turned away from her. The sound of his snoring soon hummed through the room.

Lucy sat up in the bed, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest.