The Secret Duke (34 page)

Thoroughgood was red in the face, but Sir Newleigh was pale, and now a highly alarmed sheep. He was staring at Thorn as if his eyes would fall out.

“Sir . . . !” He gasped. “I mean . . . Captain Rose?”

Thorn turned to face the man. Bella couldn’t see his expression, but his voice was icy when he said, “That is my name, yes.”

“But, but . . .”

Oh, dear heavens, the man had recognized, as he thought, the Duke of Ithorne. Again, Thorn was allowing it. Before a court. That would be perjury, wouldn’t it?

Sir Newleigh was a fish now, mouth opening and shutting, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he leaned to splutter at Augustus, “Let him pay the fine, dammit!”

Augustus was red in the chubby face. “Absolutely not. I won’t have some upstart military man interfering in my court!”

“It’s not your court, dammit.”

Bella caught her breath at a new problem. A falling-out between the magistrates could ruin their plan!

Perhaps Thorn saw the same thing, for he spoke soothingly. “Sirs, I have no desire to interfere in the process of the law. But I believe any Christian may be charitable. I sense that this young man has learned his lesson.” He took out his purse and poured out some golden coins, which he gave to the slack-jawed youth. “Be wiser in future.”

With that, he bowed to the bench and returned to his place by Bella. Augustus’s angry eyes followed him, so Bella kept her head down so that her hat brim hid her face.

“We’d better leave,” she murmured to Thorn, “before you’re overtaken with charity for the next case too.”

“You’re right, but I dislike this lot extremely.”

As a new case started, they rose and left. Bella said, “Let’s stroll around the town to remove you from temptation.”

“Very well,” he said, almost crossly. “But idleness, stupidity, and viciousness. What a triad.”

“Sir Newleigh thought you were the duke. I was terrified that you’d confirm it! But what did he think Ithorne could do to harm him?”

“Give him the cut direct at court. Social death. Speak of him with disapproval. Make a humorous story of it all. Laughter destroys most effectively. I hope most ferociously for laughter tonight.”

Bella linked arms with him. “Stop scowling. People look afraid of you.”

He relaxed and smiled at her. “You’re never afraid of me, are you?”

“Should I be?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I’m not sure of that either,” he said.

Bella shook her head. “Dukes seem to have a revolting amount of influence. They’re only men, like other men.”

“Heresy!” he declared. “And not true. Their every word is attended to, their every expression watched.”

“That must be very uncomfortable.”

“Are you feeling sorry for Ithorne? Few would.” She looked up at him. “Before, you implied that you pitied him.”

“But I don’t at the moment,” he said with a strangely cryptic smile. He looked around at the street. “This is very pleasant.”

“It’s an ordinary town.”

“Not while you are here with me.”

Bella met his eyes, blushing, but she had to smile. He was right: this was a perfect moment.

As they turned back toward the inn, she began to tense again with nervousness and anticipation.

“Worried?” Thorn asked.

“Only that it won’t happen.”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll try again.”

That made Bella wonder if she wanted the plan to work or not.

 

Thorn escorted Bella to their room, but then left with the excuse of needing to check on their arrangements. In truth, he needed a moment to try to regain sanity.

Tonight, Bella would get her justice, but tomorrow he had to return to his world. Tasks and duties would be piling up. Anything could have happened in the past few days, for no one knew where to look for him. That was a degree of selfishness he’d never permitted himself before. At times over these past days, he’d felt as if he truly were Captain Rose, and had begun to spin dreams that went with that insanity. Dreams of a sea captain’s life, and a simple home.

He took refuge in the taproom, sitting in a corner by himself.

He’d embarked on this enterprise to help a gallant young woman, and to punish a man who deserved it. Then he’d been seduced by the novelty of winning a woman who didn’t know he was the duke, but he’d not thought through the consequences.

When had that ever happened to him before? It was as if a madness had overtaken him.

And last night, he’d almost completed their lovemaking. Out of desire, yes. Out of physical need. But because temptation deep in his mind had growled,
Then she’ll be yours, will she, nil she
.

He, who’d grown so adept at avoiding compromising situations, had almost compromised a woman into marriage.

He’d have sunk his head in his hands and groaned if not for a lifetime’s awareness of being watched. Bella was falling in love with him, just as he’d hoped. Falling in love with Captain Rose, with no expectation of wealth, rank, or grandeur.

Falling in love with a lie.

“Want more, sir?” asked the barmaid—who, being swollen with pregnancy, clearly wasn’t a maid at all.

He agreed. When she brought back the foaming pot, she asked, “Trouble, sir? With the wife?”

He looked at her. “Why guess that?”

She grinned, showing a missing tooth. “There’s a look men get when it’s a wife matter.”

“Is there indeed? Different from when it’s just a woman matter?”

She cocked her hip, prepared to linger and chat. “Depends on the woman too. Love- struck lads, well, they might as well have a sign around their neck announcing whether their darling is pleased with them or angry. Once a man’s married, trouble with the wife’s a heavier burden, ’cause he has to go home to it. And, of course, a husband don’t get excited at her kindness, having won her for eternity.”

“Are all husbands so careless?” Thorn asked, interested in this country philosopher.

“Most of ’em, and the wives too. We don’t notice our house, either, until the roof leaks, do we?”

“A wise homeowner keeps the house in good repair.”

She snorted. “Most I know wait for the leak, then fix it.”

“And there,” said Thorn, “we probably have a summation of all the troubles in the world.”

“A what?” she asked.

“An adding up. You’ve put a lot of complicated things into a simple, neat statement. The question is, is my roof leaking?”

“Is your head wet?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Very apt. Yes, it is. Which roof is leaking?”

“The one over your head.” She was grinning at him, thinking this a joke, but Thorn took a deep pull of ale, considering the analogy.

“Perhaps the model should be a wet floor. Is it not true that sometimes the source of a wet floor isn’t immediately obvious?”

She looked around to see if anyone else required her, then sat down. “It is, sir. A puddle could be a simple spill, see, or a leak from the roof. But it could be rising from below. My uncle Aaron had wet in his barn floor all of a sudden, and it turned out a stream had moved its course. That barn had stood there fifty years, dry as dust, and there he was all of a sudden with muddy boots.”

“A stream moving course. A force of nature.”

“That’s it, sir! He never did find out quite why, and such trouble as he had . . .”

Thorn let her chatter flow by him, taken by an image that seemed all too apposite. Some irresistible and unsuspected force had changed his life, changed it profoundly, but he’d been unaware until his boots had stuck in the mud. . . .

The church clock struck six. A few moments later, he watched through the taproom door as people left the room opposite. The court was over. The unseemly revels would begin. He had one thing he could do honestly for his lady.

A number of men came into the tap and the barmaid rose. “I have to go, sir.”

He gave her a shilling. “I’ve enjoyed our discussion. You’re a wise woman.”

She colored and smiled almost shyly. “Just common sense,” she said, and went back to her duties.

Common sense. Common, but rare at the same time. Especially, it would seem, in him.

 

Bella was sewing again to hold on to sanity when Thorn returned from wherever he’d run off to. Something was wrong; she knew it.

Her reputation? Had he suddenly remembered it?

“The court’s ended,” he said briskly. “The magistrates will soon begin their supper, and Fortescue will be here in a half hour.”

At least they were to go ahead with the plan. “Excellent,” she said, “but it’s so hard to wait. Even Tabitha has been prowling.”

The cat did it again, rising from her basket to stalk around the room as if looking for prey. Sable scrambled after her and she turned and hissed.

He fled back into the basket so quickly he tripped over his paws.

Thorn went over and soothed him. “Tabitha’s sensitive to atmosphere,” he said. “Perhaps we should all calm down. Would you like me to read to you?”

Bella was startled and even guilty to be offered part of her dream. She knew that experiencing it would only add to the pain, but she agreed. “What books do you have with you?”

“No novels, I’m afraid.” He looked through his valise. “Hume’s
Essays Moral and Political
would be rather dry.
The Memoirs of the Bedford Coffee House
rather flighty, and
The Revolutions of Persia
rather alarming.”

“An odd collection for a sea captain,” she said. He was such a puzzling man. No, fascinating.

“Morals are never useless,” he said. “A sea voyage requires amusement, and you never know; I may venture to Persia.”

“Then I choose to be alarmed. Read to me of Persia.”

He took out the book and sat opposite her, adjusting a candle to give better light. “Like most adventures, it’s mostly tedium,” he warned as he opened it at his mark. He turned a few pages and then began to read.

Bella tried not to slide back into dreams, but here they were, by the fireside in a cozy parlor, he reading to her as she sewed. It was a passage about beggars wrapped around with a philosophy of money and not very interesting, but so beautifully read. She hadn’t realized before the quality of his voice. She could listen to him read anything with pleasure, and watching him at the same time, gilded by fire and candlelight, was, yes, idyllic.

 

 

 

 

T
hey were disturbed by a knock on the door. He marked the place and put the book aside. “Fortescue. I gave instructions for him to be brought up.”

It began. Bella rose, kissed him quickly, and slipped into the bedchamber. He came after with the cats in their basket. “Best keep Tabitha out of this.”

He kissed her before returning to the parlor. Bella stood there, fingers to her lips, heavyhearted.

For once, it didn’t seem to be a complaint at Thorn’s absence, but directed at Bella.

“Who do I think I am?” she speculated.

Tabitha left the basket and leapt easily up onto the windowsill to look out.

“Perhaps you should have candle duty,” Bella muttered, and began to pace the room.

She stopped. The click of her heels might be heard next door, or even below, where the magistrates were. She could hear the men below quite clearly. Not their exact words, but their voices and tone. Squire Thoroughgood said something loudly and was answered by a whinnying laugh.

Augustus.

When he grew excited he always laughed in that high-pitched way.

Bella realized she’d risen to her feet as if she’d charge into action immediately. She sat, hands clenched, and waited.

The men’s voices rose and fell with merriment and excitement. She heard no women’s voices yet.

Though her task was simple enough for a child to do, she couldn’t help but go over it: Once the woman screamed—it would be a piercing scream—she would wave the candle in the window. Colly Barber had a lantern and would signal back so she would know he’d seen it.

That was her entire part, but it should bring Reverend Jervingham. Thorn and Fortescue would rush down. They couldn’t predict when Mr. Langham would arrive, but even if he didn’t witness the scandal, he’d hear about it. Charlotte would be safe.

She rose again to pace. Stopped again. Realized she didn’t need to wear her shoes and took them off so she could prowl. Tabitha stayed on the sill, as if on guard, but her tail twitched. The kittens, perhaps sensing danger, only peered out of the basket.

Bella listened at the door to the parlor. A calm discussion was taking place, so Fortescue was still convinced he was talking to the Duke of Ithorne.

A knock at the corridor door startled her, but it was only her supper tray and Tabitha’s dish. Bella hadn’t expected to be hungry, but suddenly she was. Did her body want to prepare for action? She was halfway through her steak pie when she heard the women arrive.

She pictured them scrambling over the low sill. What did whores wear to such an occasion?

Their high-pitched voices joined the men’s. Another whinny from Augustus, pitched almost as high.

But then it became quieter below, with only occasional bursts of noise, perhaps marking success or disappointment. Had they started their dice game?

Bella drank some of her wine, trying to imagine exactly what was going on.

How long would it take to get to the right point?

How long would Fortescue stay?

The women’s voices were sometimes shrill, but they seemed merry.

Perhaps it was all different this time.

Perhaps the plan wouldn’t work.

In that case, they’d have to stay and try again. . . .

No, she wouldn’t be selfish. She’d seen Augustus abusing his power as a magistrate. She knew his character. He must be stopped now, tonight.