The Duke's Secret Heir Read online

  ‘I agree with you entirely,’ said Ellen. ‘Which is why Jamie will play with it out of doors, well away from the house.’ She gave way to a mischievous impulse to add, ‘And, since his papa was a soldier, perhaps he should teach him how to use it properly.’

  Jamie had been following the conversation with knitted brows, but at this he turned a hopeful gaze upon Max.

  ‘Oh, yes, please, Duke. Can you teach me?’

  ‘I am sure we will find some time for that.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Perhaps. We shall see.’ Over Jamie’s head Max narrowed his eyes at Ellen, threatening retribution, but she merely smiled, knowing in this case he was not seriously displeased. It was a relief that Max was getting on so well with his son.

  * * *

  At the allotted time Matlock came to collect Jamie. As soon as the door was closed upon them Dorcas declared that the boy should go to school.

  ‘And so he shall, in good time,’ Ellen told her. ‘Are you concerned that he has no friends here? I have begun to remedy that. We have already met some of the village children and soon he will have an old friend here to play with.’ She turned to Max. ‘I called upon Mrs Arncliffe while you were away and she tells me your carriage is to be sent to Harrogate to fetch Georgiana and Lottie. They should be with her in a week or so.’

  Max heard this with some surprise. ‘You went to see Frederick’s mother? Dorcas went with you, I suppose?’

  ‘I was not well,’ said Dorcas, fidgeting in her chair. ‘But I did insist that Ellen should go in the carriage, with two footmen up behind her.’

  Ellen chuckled. ‘And very grand I felt, too. I hope, once I am more acquainted with the area, that I shall be able to drive myself in the gig.’

  Dorcas gave a disdainful sniff. ‘A gig is hardly the equipage for a duchess.’

  ‘You are right,’ replied the Duchess, a martial light in her eye. ‘I will take the Duke’s curricle, then. Or perhaps I shall buy a phaeton.’

  Max grinned. ‘A high-perch phaeton, I suppose?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  The look she gave him was brimful of mischief, but Max resisted the urge to smile back. He had not intended to take her part and now tried to steer the conversation to safer waters.

  ‘So you went to see Mrs Arncliffe,’ he said. ‘How is she? I know her health has not been good.’

  ‘She is bearing up. And she is very much looking forward to Georgiana’s arrival.’

  ‘If you had waited, I would have come with you. I would not wish to be backward in my attentions to such an old friend.’

  ‘Then we shall call again,’ she replied equably. ‘I wanted to tell her about the funeral, since she was too unwell to attend. I took her some funeral biscuits, which is why I could not leave the visit any longer, or they would have gone quite stale.’

  Dorcas was looking mystified and Ellen explained, ‘It is the custom in the north, you see, to provide biscuits and hot wine for the mourners. The biscuits are wrapped in paper and sealed in black wax for the mourners to take away to their families. I thought it important to assure Mrs Arncliffe that everything was done properly, according to custom.’

  Perkins came in to announce dinner and the conversation ended, but it nagged at Max and when they were seated at the dining table he said abruptly, ‘I beg your pardon. I should have been with you to make your first visits here.’

  Dorcas tittered. ‘I am sure no one was surprised to see your new Duchess out alone. After all, she is renowned for her independence.’

  Max frowned, but Ellen replied cheerfully enough, ‘There is much to be done here that will keep us both busy. I do not expect the Duke to live in my pocket. Perhaps you will tell us, Your Grace, how you fared in London?’

  Max replied mechanically. He should be pleased she was reconciled to the fact they would be leading separate lives. Instead he was vaguely dissatisfied that she should accept the situation so readily.

  * * *

  Later, in the drawing room, Ellen was dispensing tea to her sister-in-law, when she remembered a matter she wanted to discuss with the Duke.

  ‘Several people have asked me if we are holding the August ball. Is this something we should prepare for?’

  ‘There can be no ball this year,’ declared Dorcas.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Ellen.

  The Dowager gave an exasperated huff.

  ‘In the circumstances. Think how people will talk!’

  ‘There will be talk whatever we do,’ said Ellen. She turned to look at Max. ‘What is this ball, Your Grace?’

  ‘It originated during the time of the Sixth Duke, my grandfather. He wanted to honour my grandmother’s birthday, which was late August, with a ball for all our local neighbours, villagers and tenants alike. When my father became Duke he continued with the ball and it became something of a tradition.’

  ‘Although naturally, we did not hold one last year,’ put in Dorcas. ‘With poor Hugo so recently departed it would not have been seemly.’

  ‘Then with the Duke’s permission we shall revive it.’ Ellen smiled at the Dowager. ‘Perhaps you would advise me on the arrangements.’

  Dorcas put up her hands as if to fend off the idea. ‘No, no, it was always far too much for me. Why, everyone from the neighbourhood is invited, even the farmers! I have never approved of that. It would be better held in the assembly room above the Red Lion.’ Her mouth twisted in distaste. ‘No, I merely draw up a list of those I wish to invite and then only a few of my friends, for most could not be persuaded to share the ballroom with such people! The steward and housekeeper organise everything else.’

  ‘Then they can help and advise me,’ said Ellen, unperturbed.

  The Dowager’s thin mouth turned down even further. ‘Mr Atherwell was as much Hugo’s secretary as his steward, he wrote all his letters for him and was much the best person to compose the invitations, he had such lovely handwriting. One cannot expect Mr Grisham to do nearly so much, with his...disability.’

  ‘Tony Grisham is a more efficient steward with one arm than many men with two!’ flashed Max.

  He looked as if he would say more and Ellen said quickly, ‘I do not think we need trouble him with that side of the arrangements, Matlock writes a very fair hand.’

  ‘A nursemaid!’

  Ellen smiled at the Dowager, ignoring her remark.

  ‘I shall need you to advise me on those we must invite, Dorcas, and of course the Duke shall give me a list of everyone he would like to come.’

  ‘This has never been about the Colnebrookes,’ said Max. ‘It is a local ball, for local people. However, I have no objection to you inviting your own family, if you wish.’

  ‘I would like to invite my step-mama and her husband, but no one else, not this year.’

  Ellen thought of the letters she had received only that week from her Uncle Tatham. His response to the news that she was now a duchess was so gushing it was almost offensive, from a relative who had previously cast her off. She did not want to subject Max to such an obsequious meeting. Not yet.

  ‘My dear Maximilian, you cannot have considered,’ said the Dowager, frowning severely. ‘There is barely a month to organise everything. It cannot be done. No one will come at such short notice.’

  ‘The tenants and villagers will be able to come,’ Ellen pointed out. ‘And they are the ones for whom the ball is intended, are they not?’

  Dorcas was not satisfied. ‘But what of our acquaintances? A few close friends or family might stay here, of course, but the rest must be put up at the local inns, if they cannot stay with friends in the area. No, no, it is far too much to organise in the time and it will not do to put on a shabby affair.’

  ‘I am sure we shall manage,’ said Ellen, relishing the challenge, the opportunity to show Max w
hat she could do.

  ‘It is, of course, the Duke’s decision,’ said Dorcas in crushing accents that left no one in any doubt of her view.

  Max looked at his wife. She was perched on the edge of her chair, her blue eyes sparkling and a becoming blush mantling her cheeks. Compared to the Dowager, reclining on the sofa, so pale and listless, Ellen exuded health and energy. She was looking at him hopefully and at last he nodded.

  ‘Very well, if you think you can arrange it, we shall hold the Rossenhall Ball this year.’

  ‘I shall begin work on it tomorrow,’ said Ellen, smiling. ‘And I promise you it will not be a shabby affair!’

  * * *

  True to her word, the following day Ellen began her preparations for the ball. Lists were drawn up, duties allocated and even the Dowager was persuaded to help, albeit reluctantly. Dorcas prophesied gloomily that it would be too much work for the new Duchess, but Ellen merely laughed and went about her business.

  She had thrown herself into her new life with enthusiasm. She enjoyed making and receiving courtesy visits from the neighbouring families, she met daily with the housekeeper, planned menus with the chef and organised her time so that she could spend a good portion of each day with Jamie. Every day was busy, full of activity that sent her to bed each night too exhausted even to dream. And that was what Ellen wanted.

  Over the next few weeks she saw very little of the Duke. It was for the best, she told herself. It was what Max wanted, but her heart ached every time she saw him riding out with Tony Grisham, or striding across the lawns to the stables. If she had taken that glass of wine he had offered her, the day he had returned from London, if she had stayed to talk, perhaps she could have told him how much she had missed him, how much she regretted those lost years. Instead she had run away from him, afraid her tears, her affection, would repel him. Panicked by the fear of being hurt again.

  However, as the weeks went by and they became more comfortable on the brief occasions they met, Ellen felt a growing need to reach out to the Duke, to try to make amends for the years of separation. Her chance came when she went to his study to discuss an invitation for the forthcoming ball. The matter of the invitation having been resolved, she moved to the door and hesitated. Max was sitting at his desk, but he looked up, his brows raised, when she did not leave the room.

  ‘Was there something else?’

  He was so at ease, so approachable, that she decided to try once again to bury the past. Summoning up her courage, Ellen went back and sank on to the seat opposite him.

  ‘I thought—I wondered, if we might not recover something of the happiness we knew in Egypt.’ He froze and she said quickly. ‘Not as lovers, neither of us wants that, but I thought, perhaps we could be friends. Max, you know I was under a misapprehension when I left you. I can only apologise now and admit that it was wrong of me.’ She leaned forward, putting her hands on desk. ‘We should put the past behind us, for Jamie’s sake if not our own.’

  He said warningly, ‘Let us not pursue this, madam.’

  ‘But, Max, can you not forgive—?’ She stopped, recoiling from the flash of anger in his eyes. It was as if the restraints he had put on himself to act normally had finally snapped.

  ‘No!’ The word exploded from him. ‘You can have no idea of the disastrous consequences of your actions.’

  ‘Then will you not tell me?’ she begged him. ‘How can I atone if—?’

  ‘There can be no atonement!’ He left his seat and began to pace the small room, anger radiating from him. ‘It was not merely my life you destroyed when you left Alexandria under Drovetti’s protection. At first I could not believe you would do such a thing. I thought there must be some rational explanation, but in England I could find no trace of you. I was forced to conclude that you had gone to France.’ He stopped, turning his head to look at her. ‘You left no word. You allowed me to believe you had deserted me for the enemy.’

  ‘Yes, I deserted you,’ she admitted sadly. ‘But not for the enemy. Not for any man. I want you to know, Max, there has never been anyone else—’

  ‘It is too late for that, madam.’

  Ellen saw the muscles of his jaw working, could feel his tension. Every tiny thread of hope she had woven was being cut as she listened to his icy words. She waited in silence, knowing he had not yet finished.

  ‘The bullet that killed Frederick was meant for me. I have had that on my conscience, too, since Corunna. I needed to be doing something, anything to help me forget you. If I had not been so eaten up with grief, so careless of my own life, I would never have volunteered for every dangerous mission. Every forlorn hope. I would not have led so many men to their deaths. Your betrayal made me reckless, madam, and I have lived with the guilt of it ever since.’ He stopped before her. ‘That is what I can never forget. Nor forgive.’

  Ellen’s final flicker of hope died. He blamed her for countless lives that had been lost and what defence did she have? Nothing that would weigh against a single man’s life.

  * * *

  So he had done it. He had told Ellen exactly why he could never forgive her and had seen the pain and sadness fill her eyes. There was no going back now. They could never be happy and he knew it was no more than he deserved for having destroyed so many lives. He shut his mind to the question of whether Ellen, too, deserved such a penance.

  Following their meeting, Max made even greater efforts to keep himself busy and out of the house. He could avoid his wife, but not the changes that had taken place at Rossenhall. The tomb-like atmosphere he had come to regard as normal in the house had gone completely. Furniture that had stood in the same spot for decades was moved, cushions were tumbled, books lay open on various tables throughout the building and even toys were to be found abandoned in odd corners. He expected his staff to object to the disorder, but to his surprise Perkins showed no signs of irritation whenever he directed a footman to gather up the young master’s toy soldiers from the morning room and Mrs Greenwood only smiled when Max suggested Jamie should be confined to the nursery.

  ‘Lord love you, Your Grace, the young master is as good as gold when he is in the public rooms. He never does any damage, I assure you, and ’tis a pleasure to see him running around.’

  Even Hobbs, the aged gardener, who could be relied upon to grumble if the Duke’s hounds should trample the flowerbeds, had set aside a small plot where Jamie might dig the soil and plant sticks to his heart’s content.

  He should have been overjoyed that his son and his wife had made such a difference, that they were accepted so readily at Rossenhall. He was glad of it, yes, for their sake, but the changes only highlighted what might have been. If only.

  * * *

  As soon as Ellen had word that Georgiana and little Charlotte had arrived to make their home with Mrs Arncliffe she lost no time in calling upon them, and a few days later Georgie and Lottie made their first visit to Rossenhall. They arrived in an open carriage and as it was a sunny day they spent their time out of doors. The children sailed the yacht on the lake, under the watchful eyes of Matlock and her young assistant, Eliza, while Georgie and Ellen sat in the shade of the giant beech trees. They discussed the rigours of travel, the news from Harrogate and how Georgie and her daughter were settling in.

  ‘And how is Clare?’ asked Ellen. ‘I did not like to ask you in front of Mrs Arncliffe, but I hope she is not too disappointed to learn that the Duke is married.’

  ‘No, no, not at all,’ said Georgie, laughing. ‘It was only a madcap notion of Fred’s that his sister should marry Max. Clare is enjoying her final months at school and looking forward to her presentation next year.’

  ‘And we shall sponsor her,’ replied Ellen. ‘Max wants to do what he can for the family, you know that.’

  ‘I do and Mama-in-Law is as grateful as I am for it.’ Georgie glanced at Ellen. ‘You have yet to tell me
how you go on here.’

  ‘Very well. Dorcas was very ready to hand over the running of the household. Not that she did very much towards it. She prefers to sit in her room and write letters or to drive out in her barouche to visit the one or two families she considers sufficiently grand to be accepted as her friends.’

  ‘And have you made friends here, Ellen? Mama-in-Law tells me you are highly regarded in the village.’

  ‘I try to do my duty.’

  ‘Your improvements to the village school have been welcomed and so has the plan for new houses on Market Street.’

  ‘That is the Duke’s initiative, not mine.’

  ‘I heard it came about after you had visited old Mrs Betts and seen the rundown dwellings for yourself,’ said Georgiana. ‘Will you deny you had something to do with it?’

  ‘I did mention it to the Duke, yes, but it was his idea that we should invest in new houses rather than repairing the old ones.’

  ‘A demonstration of his affection for his bride, perhaps.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Georgie gave her a shrewd look. She said gently, ‘Are you not yet fully reconciled?’

  ‘I doubt we ever shall be that.’

  Georgie sighed. ‘I take it Max is still angry at you for hiding his son from him.’

  Oh, it is so much worse than that!

  Georgie was watching her and the temptation to confide in a sympathetic friend was very great, but Ellen could not bring herself to admit that Max thought her responsible for Fred’s death, too.

  ‘You know how it is with us,’ she said lightly. ‘Considering everything, we rub along very well.’

  Ellen gazed towards the lake, where Jamie and Lottie were playing happily. She knew Max visited the nursery, but never when she was present. He was avoiding her, they met now only in the evenings when Dorcas was in attendance. The Duke was always polite and courteous, but he resisted all her attempts to engage in any meaningful conversation or argument. He had put up a barrier around himself, invisible but strong and impenetrable as steel.