The Rusticated Duchess (16 page)

No, she remembered, the ache in her chest doubling. No, she had no home. Blessing Cottage would never be home now. It would be too painful for her to ever return once she’d left.

* * * *

It hadn’t been hard for Killard Castle’s coachman to strike up an acquaintance with Gloria’s coachman Mr Pitcher during the afternoon Colman and Mr Pitcher had spent in the castle’s service hall. Consequently, when Gloria hadn’t emerged from the cottage the following day, thus trying Clare’s temper further, he had been able to send the man on a meaningless errand to Strangford. Naturally, Clare’s coachman had stopped at Blessing Cottage to see if he could be of service while on the journey and it was by this method that Clare had learnt Gloria had taken to her bed with a headache for most of the day and begged to be left alone.

While he wasn’t precisely happy that she was suffering, Clare was able to admit that he was relieved to hear of that small evidence of a guilty conscience.

Clare understood that Gloria had little to no experience in a successful relationship—or in any rational adult relationship. By the following morning, however, Clare was weary of waiting. He had spent the nights dreaming about Gloria instead of having her underneath him, and the two days they’d been apart had been two days too long. Besides, he had no idea if Gloria would realise that she needed only to apologise or even simply seek him out to find she was forgiven, so Clare decided he would make the first move.

An urgent knock at his study door interrupted his thoughts, and the door opened to reveal a harried Jamie Seton, windblown.

Clare sharpened and stood, silently commanding.

Jamie didn’t waste time on formalities but walked forwards, his hand extended with a thick packet wrapped in oilskin. “She left two hours ago in the company of the guard Jenson, walking towards Kilchet. They have not returned. However, a courier has just arrived from London with this packet from your father. He sent it by special messenger directly to you with the verbal message that the contents are urgent.”

Clare took the package, his mind working quickly. “Go up to Blessing Cottage yourself and ask for Colman. Tell him I need to know if I should be worried or not, or if we should be looking for them. I’ll read this.”

Jamie nodded and left him.

His hands already shaking, Clare sliced open the oilskin and spread out the pages on Sarah’s escritoire.

Forty-five minutes later, he was anxiously pacing the empty parlour at Blessing Cottage.

* * * *

Gloria was surprised when they came to the road between Kilchet and Strangford and found a crested carriage stopped at the crossroads. It did not take long to realise that the man pacing along the side of the road was Clare’s steward, Jamie Seton, and that the carriage carried the Duke of Lauderdale’s crest.

When he looked up and saw them, Seton moved in their direction, stopping with his hands on hips as Gloria approached him. “I’ve come to return you to the Cottage, milady,” he stated, then waved behind him. “Everyone was worried. Milord is up in arms over finding you missing and your own servants are searching all the way to Strangford.”

Gloria drew herself up proudly and behind her Brody sighed. “I’ve been walking,” she said shortly.

“For four hours?” Seton said but then shrugged. After opening the door and setting down the stairs to the carriage, he simply stood and waited.

Gloria read the message with ease but she stopped two yards away from the steps and dug in her heels, frowning at Seton.

“Orders, milady,” he grunted.

“And Brody of course,” she said sweetly, lifting a brow.

“He can ride inside with us, if you prefer,” the steward shrugged.

Gloria sighed, acquiesced and allowed Seton to help her into the carriage. She was tired, and they had come farther than she’d thought. And if Clare did not want to see her or thought to scold her for wandering too far, it was better that she was returning to Blessing Cottage anyway.

It was time to go and relieve him of the foolishly made promise to help protect her.

Gloria was dejected when Mrs Sinclair was waiting at the cottage door, relief written on the housekeeper’s face. Guilt rang in her hollowed heart, so she clasped the woman’s arms and apologised. “I did not mean to worry you, you know,” Gloria said gently. “I am so sorry, I just needed to think.”

Mrs Sinclair drew her body up and sniffed. “I know not to jump to conclusions, my lady, but with all the trouble and worry there’s been I can’t seem to help it.”

“I know,” Gloria agreed. “So have a good lunch and this afternoon we need to go up into the attics. You’ll need to have Colman and Mr Pitcher in to help bring down the trunks.”

“I’ll take that to mean you’ve made a sensible decision and are moving your household into the Castle,” said a deep voice behind her.

Gloria swung around and gaped. “What are you doing here?” she stumbled, but Clare just frowned at her direfully.

“Why do you
think
I’m here?” He glared, then took her arm. “We’ll be in the parlour, Mrs Sinclair, discussing the household’s impending relocation—or whatever foolish notion she took into her head this morning.” His head swung to Jenson, who looked back at him until Clare barked out, “How far did she go?”

Brody looked at her for a moment, his expression and eyes mostly concealed by the sun behind him in the doorway. After a long moment of silence, he answered Clare, though reluctantly. “We were three miles past Kilchet when I convinced her to turn around. Seton met us just outside the village.”

Gloria nearly stomped her foot in frustration. They were
her
servants and Brody was supposed to be her family.

Clare’s voice was chilly. “Thank you for looking after her, Jenson.”

“Someone had to,” Brody returned, giving Clare an equally determined non-verbal message.

Aggravation exploded in Gloria’s chest. “I can look after myself—”

“Gloria Jane, I suggest that you keep silent before you create more trouble than you have already done,” Clare warned, turning her away and forcing her through the parlour door.

Gloria suddenly didn’t care if the parlour door was open. She didn’t care if the household heard her. Clare’s high-handed attitude was too much. “
Me?
You arrogant ass!” she sputtered, jerking her arm out of his when he went to close the parlour doors. “You were the one who told me to leave.”

The doors closed somewhat harder than necessary, and Clare’s movements lacked their usual gracefulness. Jerkily, he turned to face her, his face as closed and eyes as forbidding as they had been two days earlier. “So what was this stunt? A bid for my attention? All you had to do was order up the carriage and come to the Castle, for the love of God. I was
waiting
for you yesterday—you told me you would see me yesterday.”

Gloria’s emotions tangled into disordered confusion. She blinked, struggling to take in this man who apparently had an entirely different interpretation of the earlier events in his study than she’d had.

“That-that was before you said—Do you mean,” she began, then paused and licked her lips. “Do you mean that when you told me to leave you didn’t mean…always?”

Clare started to glare at her, then his eyes softened as he examined her face. “No, angel, I just meant for a bit so that I could calm down my temper.”

Giant tears filled Gloria’s eyes and Clare opened his arms. With a sob, Gloria flew into them and he wrapped his large hands around her and held her close to his chest while she cried. Silently, he lifted her up against his chest—wraps and all—and sat on the settee with Gloria on his lap. He feathered kisses on her forehead and in her hair as he unpinned her pelisse and drew off her hood, even unbuttoning and removing her gloves so he could clasp her hands against his chest to warm them.

“So that’s why you didn’t come yesterday?” he asked against her forehead a few minutes later.

“I suppose,” she answered with an embarrassing hiccup that caused Clare to chuckle. “I was so upset, and you were so right to be angry, and I was sure you’d never forgive me. I mean, Winchester’s been this shadow over my life for so long, infecting every good thing about it and all I really had left to trust was Eynon, who is incapable of plotting against me. But you came along and I went and ruined it by seeing conspiracy and underhanded motivations that have nothing to do with you. Why would you forgive me?”

She’d mumbled that explanation against his neck but when she looked up, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her.

After the soul-breaking emptiness of yesterday and this morning, Gloria couldn’t help but respond with all the relief and gratefulness of her heart.

Clare broke the kiss and tucked her closer against his shoulder, drawing her legs close to his hips and cradling her tenderly. “Just don’t scare me again like that,” he murmured. “Four damned hours out of sight, with no one but Brody.”

“What do you expect me to do when I need an outing then?” she asked, bemused, finally lifting her head to glance about. A tea cart had been delivered with sandwiches that were already demolished. Papers were scattered over a larger table in the corner and a map was spread out over Gloria’s escritoire. A bottle of wine stood waiting with two glasses. “How long have you been here exactly?”

“Two very long hours that I do not want to relive ever again,” Clare said in that dark warning voice that brought Gloria’s heart to a standstill.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I want you and Eynon in the Castle, today. I don’t know what decision you think you made out there in the sun without my help or involvement but I’m not allowing you to run away.”

Running away was the only good option, as far as Gloria was concerned. Even if Clare was angry, getting him involved would only hurt him in the end. He’d either defy an edict of the king, or he’d be forced to turn her over to Winchester. If he defied a warrant, he’d pay with his reputation and integrity. If he sacrificed his personal sense of honour, he’d never forgive himself and end up hating her. Gloria could not countenance either outcome.

“No,” Clare said implacably. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Gloria frowned at him. “And you can’t read my mind!”

“Of course not,” he huffed, then tweaked her nose, much as he might have done to a child half Gloria’s age. “Your face shows your emotions as clearly as a child’s,” he said. “And you’re planning some misguided noble attempt to save me.”

Stiffening, Gloria turned her face into his shoulder, trying to hide her shock from him. She’d always dissembled—it was a skill she’d learnt early and well to protect herself from the constant presence of three sisters and a mother, plus a host of other female relations, then later the falsely polite harpies. But he was right. She had simply forgotten. She’d been here, virtually without peers, for months. Had she lost the ability to mask her emotions from everyone or was it only Clare who could see her so easily?

“I had another reason for coming as well,” he said, distracting her.

Gloria quickly met his eyes in open question and her breathing sharpened as worry struck. Clare frowned in response but he leant forwards and kissed her gently, tugging her lower lip before pulling back enough to trace his lips over the arched upper curve of her lip. “I heard from my father,” he told her, his lips still against hers. “And I now understand much more than I did before. In fact, I suspect I understand even more than you do, which is why I keep insisting you come to the Castle with me.”

Blinking, Gloria waited, her heart in her throat.

“The Chancery judges favour hearing your direct testimony and are threatening to issue a warrant to force you to appear in London, per Winchester’s request. He claims Lennox and the other principals named in the suit are keeping you hidden against your will. The Court is considering Winchester’s request to arrest those involved, to force you to appear, but the judges can’t be sure that anyone actually does know where you are or if you can be contacted. Of course they can’t throw Lennox, Meriden or even Devon in prison—they are all powerful peers and Lords would overrule them in a heartbeat—but Winchester’s counsel could very well target other key witnesses that they believe know your whereabouts. The untitled witnesses who have refused to say where you are include your mother and your sisters—”

“No!” Gloria gasped, horrified and suddenly struggling.

The marquess kept his arms around her firmly, not squeezing or hurting her, but also not releasing her.

Clare cleared his throat, his jaw tight and his voice serious. “Stop, Glory. Listen to me, I haven’t finished.”

Gloria tried to quell her panicked heart, but she couldn’t, at least not until she gripped his forearms.

“Breathe,” he ordered.

Gloria tried, and he was satisfied enough to continue while she fought back the panic. “They’ve all testified a few days ago, of course. Lady Genevieve—the youngest—stood up and stared down your father without a blink. I guess she has a right to be furious with him. She was apparently ruthless in relaying every detail of her brokered marriage, including the process by which Devon rescued her from a promised match with that perversion Malone. She made Devon out to be her knight in shining armour, and immediately afterward he whisked her out of town up to the northern wilds of Scotland. I’m told he has a retreat somewhere on the North Sea coast up past Inverness, though no one seems to know quite where. In any event, he’s returned to London, alone.”

Gloria nodded blindly, willing him to go on, even as she clutched his biceps. “Lady Fiona stood in the witness box and skewered Winchester. She has no idea where you are, of course, but she remembers with perfect clarity why she moved from Winchester House, and why she prefers to live upon the hospitality of her female relations. I understand she was adamant about not being Winchester’s daughter.” Gloria smiled dimly at his statement, her heart slowly falling into her normal rhythm.

“But your sister Abigail, now she is a warrior with her father’s courage.” He smiled, kissing Gloria’s hair. “She not only endured the barristers’ endless questioning about Meriden’s seizure of Winchester House and her husband’s ‘motives’—though why they assumed she was in Meriden’s confidence over such matters is incomprehensible—but she then turned it around and very sweetly inquired why the barristers allowed Winchester’s affairs get into such a state. The barristers objected, of course, so she pointed out that Winchester’s inability to pay his debts or responsibly manage his own funds seemed to indicate he wouldn’t be an appropriate guardian for you. After that, Meriden whisked her out of London and has deposited her in the country somewhere, though my father doesn’t know where.”