‘Nonsense, Sir. Your place is alongside your brave and noble father who fights for King and country. Why are you not with him?’
The Duke placed the last card face down on the table and leaned forwards. ‘I am waiting for your answer, Sir. Why are you not in Spain with your father, the Earl?’
‘I did not come here to be harried and questioned, Your Grace.’
‘You will answer my question, Sir, or I will demand satisfaction with my sword.’
The crowd of onlookers gasped and Tabitha put both hands to her mouth. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Not a duel. Not with my sweet Daniel. That cannot be allowed.’
Daniel looked angry. ‘What will you have of me, Your Grace? I thought we had agreed to play a simple hand of cards and now you accuse me in front of these guests as if I were a common criminal. It is not right that you treat me so, Your Grace. It is not right!’ His voice rose and he was trembling as the Duke shrugged and flipped over his cards to reveal an unbeatable hand. ‘It appears that you have lost the game, young Fitzwarren, and I will have your coin and I will have the truth from you. One way or another.’
‘Damn you but I will show you who are trifling with!’ Daniel sprang back from his seat and drew a narrow, wicked blade from his sleeve, knocking over the chair and preparing to lunge across the table at the Duke. In that instant, a swinging blow to the back of his oiled and coiffured head with a crystal decanter of Madeira stunned the young aristocrat and sent him sprawling to the floor. Miss Cowper studied the glassware and declared that, happily indeed, it had not broken and, more importantly, not a single drop of the precious liquor had been spilt.
‘Miss Cowper!’ Tabitha wailed. ‘How could you? You struck Daniel. You could’ve killed him.’
‘And what a tragic loss of a vain and strutting popinjay that would have made!’ She turned to Tabitha and looked her squarely in the eye. ‘He drew a blade and was intent upon mischief. He was fortunate that I am not a man for the blow would surely have done far more than lay the oaf senseless.’
‘Madame, that was as fine and timely a blow as I have ever been privileged to observe.’ The Duke bowed graciously towards Miss Cowper. ‘I am indebted to you for hastening to my aid. Have you considered enlisting in a regiment of Amazons and scaring the French half to death with your martial prowess?’
For the first time in her sixteen years, Tabitha swore she saw Miss Cowper blush. She almost appeared coy and coquettish in the face of the Duke’s compliments. Turning to a pair of footmen who were stationed at the door, the Duke instructed them to detain young Fitzwarren in the cellar. And then he added that the Lord’s companions should be restrained too. ‘By heaven but I will get to the bottom of this and learn the truth before morning.’
Chapter 14
The truth was far easier to discern than the Duke had expected. Fitzwarren’s companions had readily owned up to their complicity in Fitzwarren’s schemes. The Earl had been outraged by his son’s reluctance to follow him into battle. The shame had cast a stain upon the Earl’s honour and, rather than publicly acknowledge the disgrace, he had simply cut the young Lord off without a penny until he found his courage and joined the colours. In order to maintain his lifestyle, Fitzwarren had conspired with his companions to regulate the card games he played with false dealing and a marked deck. The result was that he always appeared to be uncannily lucky when in reality he was cheating. The Duke felt honour bound to inform Fitzwarren’s father but elected to keep the affair private. At the very least, he had spared Branton’s lovely daughter the disgrace of marrying a cad and a coward. She was a perfectly lovely girl and deserved far better than the sly and manipulative Fitzwarren.
Chapter 15
The baron and his friend sat in the library the next day and sipped a restorative glass of Madeira together before the Duke set off once more for London.
The baron sighed. ‘I will always be grateful to you, Percy, for what you have done for Tabitha. I’m sure she will quickly get over the Fitzwarren boy.’
‘You are truly blessed with a fine and beautiful daughter in Tabitha, Branton. If I were a younger man, I’d be a-courting her myself.’
The baron looked at his friend. ‘You are not so old, dear Percy.’
The two men sipped their Madeira in silence for a long moment.
There was a polite knock at the door and Tabitha stepped shyly into the library and asked her father if she might intrude. The Duke smiled as he stood to greet his friend’s daughter.
‘Lady Tabitha. How are you feeling on fine this Spring morning?’
She looked down at her feet, slightly overawed by the Duke’s imposing presence.
‘Your Grace, I wanted to thank you for your kindness. I may perhaps have been a little foolish over Lord Fitzwarren’s intentions and my governess has reminded me that I owe you my gratitude.’
The Duke stepped forward and took Tabitha’s delicate hand in his own, raising her fingertips to his lips and kissing them in a gesture of courteous respect.
‘Your happiness and welfare will always be my concern, my Lady.’
Tabitha raised her eyes to look into the Duke’s kindly face and, in that moment, her heart fluttered and she felt a warmth in her chest that quite surprised her and took her breath away. It had never occurred to her young heart that she might find a man of the Duke’s maturity in any way attractive but his distinguished appearance and his aura of power suddenly seemed deeply alluring. There was a twinkle in the Duke’s eye that her father noticed with a wry smile. A marriage to the Duke would certainly secure Tabitha’s future and the wife of an Earl with vast wealth and extensive lands in England and the Colonies would guarantee a life of comfort and a position of influence even as far as the royal court. He could see the flush in her cheeks and nodded quietly. A match made in heaven.
‘My dear Percy,’ said the baron as he raised himself with some difficulty from his comfortable chair. ‘I have a feeling that we might be seeing much more of you in the future and I am sure I am not the only one who will be pleased to welcome you in this house!’
The Duke laughed, still looking at Tabitha, and he nodded his agreement.
‘Aye, Branton. I do declare that you may well be right.’
Tabitha curtsied to the Duke who was obviously charmed and delighted by her presence and she then asked her father if she might be excused to attend to Miss Cowper who was waiting for her outside the library door. She left with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips, sensing that something wonderful had just taken place. At the back of her mind, she could not help trying on a new title for herself – Countess of Rutland. As she met her governess, she felt sure that the title was absolutely perfect for her.
The Duke and the baron resumed their seats and picked up their unfinished glasses of Madeira. An unspoken agreement was unfolding between them, an understanding that involved the Duke and the young Lady Tabitha. It was as if in a matter of moments, a new chapter had begun in their lives and it made the Duke feel younger and more vital than he had felt in many a year. He smiled as he contemplated the implications of having such a young and beautiful wife.
The baron coughed to stir the Duke from his reverie.
‘But tell me, did you not take a terrible risk when you played Fitzwarren for his winnings? Heavens, Percy, but you might’ve lost’
The Duke smiled. ‘Might’ve lost, you say, Branton?’ He laughed out loud and nearly spilled his drink. ‘Spotted a damnable cad and a cheat as soon as I saw him shuffle the pack. So I shuffled the pack instead, Branton.’
The baron looked at him, uncomprehending.
‘Dash it all, Branton. Only a fool would try to cheat a man who knows how to cheat.’
The two men laughed and laughed until the tears of mirth rolled down the baron’s cheeks.
‘By heavens, Branton.’ The Duke was still laughing. ‘What a pack of fools!’
Free Extract
from
The Wedding Feast
of Rogu
es
Chapter 1
The Berkshire countryside, England, March 1812
The mud was thick and wet and stuck to the carriage wheels like sticky, dark molasses.
‘If this road becomes any rougher, I am entirely convinced that we shall break a wheel and be stuck in the mud for days and days to come.’ Tabitha Branton sighed deeply and looked more than a little seasick as she perched unsteadily inside the rolling carriage and wondered how her beautiful, younger sister could endure the constant jostling and jarring discomfort.
‘It can’t be much further, Tabitha. An hour at most and we should be at the Duke’s estate. I’m sure the road will improve as we get closer.’
Regina drew a strand of fine blond hair from across her face and smiled at her sister, hoping to cheer her up when she felt no joy herself at leaving her beloved family home.
‘I know it’s been terribly hard since papa passed away, dear Tabitha.’ The carriage lurched in and out of a deep rut and the two ladies nearly fell off their hard, leather seats. ‘And now we have to leave our lovely house so that you can marry the Duke and I can find a husband.’
She frowned and pursed her full lips. ‘But why on earth did papa arrange things in such a way? I would never have left the estate if papa had not insisted. It is entirely vexatious!’
‘Oh, Regina. Don’t speak of papa in such a way. He was only thinking of our happiness. He knew it would be difficult for us to manage the estate on our own and only wanted to be sure we found good husbands.’
The evening was drawing in and a shadow fell across the delicate curve of Regina’s fine cheekbones. Tabitha gasped as the carriage lurched once again. She was feeling tired and was worried about her appearance after the arduous coach journey. She wanted to look her best for her future husband. ‘I for one am grateful for my good fortune. I am to be the Duchess of Rutland and you know the Duke is a very kind and wealthy man. He will take very good care of your share of the estate until such time as you are married.’
Regina rubbed her hands inside the warm, fur muff and shook her head. ‘I know I could’ve taken care of everything myself. With or without a husband!’
Tabitha was slightly shocked at her sister’s unladylike sense of independence.
‘Papa only wanted what was right for you, young lady, and you can return to the house with your new husband - just as soon as you’re spoken your wedding vows.’
‘But your dear Duke has already appointed a farm manager to run the estate in our absence and he’s even sent over a gardener to look after the grounds. I only hope they know enough between them to make sure my flower beds are properly tended. I’ve worked so hard to cultivate the rose bushes and now a pair of complete strangers are trampling all over my precious flowers in their muddy boots. It just isn’t fair!’
‘Charles is more than a Duke, Regina. He understands these things. He knows how to run an estate. He’s been doing it for years.’
‘Well, he’s certainly had enough years of practise.’ A silence fell between the two sisters as the cool, damp air pinched at their cheeks and made them pull their travelling rugs closer to their chins.
Charles Percy, the Duke of Rutland, was nearly twenty-five summers older than Tabitha.
‘How do you feel about marrying such an older man?’
‘Oh, he’s such a sweet and kindly gentleman. I just know in my heart that I’m going to be happy with him.’
‘But he’s already an old man, dearest sister. Doesn’t that concern you in any way?’
Tabitha laughed. ‘And younger men are somehow better?’
Regina had no experience of the subject so she simply looked down at the carriage floor as the carriage bounced and shuddered along the rutted, muddy highway.
‘Papa said it was always better to be an old man’s sweetheart than a young man’s plaything!’
‘I don’t think I want to be anyone’s sweetheart or plaything. I just want to go home. How long am I really expected to stay at the Duke’s, Tabitha? It’s such a terrible nuisance to be wrenched away from our home like this.’
‘Papa left the house and the farmlands to you, Regina. He was a baron and you’re a baron’s daughter. And you are such a pretty young thing.’ She smiled with all the warmth her heart could muster in the cramped conditions of the draughty coach. ‘You’ll be quite the catch of the season, you know. The house and the lands will be returned to you and your new husband as soon as you’re wedded. It really couldn’t be simpler. Your fate, my darling sister, is in your own hands. And Charles will make sure you make a good match.’
The unspoken truth was that many young men of noble blood had already taken service in His Majesty’s forces to fight the French. The wars had dragged on for nearly twenty years and the Army and Navy had swallowed up a generation of young men, despatching them to fight in so many wars in faraway places. So many had already been taken by disease and too many had succumbed to withering musket fire, raging cannon volleys and the cuts and slashes of whirling sabre blades. Many young women despaired of ever finding a husband at all, especially a man with all his limbs and eyes intact who was still on the right side of sixty. Yes, there were still eligible bachelors to be found but the competition for strong-limbed, blue-blooded and landed young men was fierce indeed. It was rumoured that too many of the young rascals from the great houses were more inclined to squander their fortunes at the gaming tables, drinking and carousing. They preferred to play rather than apply themselves to the arduous business of running their estates. Regina felt instinctively repelled by such callow behaviour. She would much prefer to remain on her own than be saddled with some crowing fool who only sought the pleasures of brandy and cards in the smoke-filled salons of disreputable hostesses. It really was a fate too terrible to contemplate. The thought sometimes made her weep with frustration. There had to be a better way.
In the growing darkness of the coach’s cramped interior, Regina’s thoughts strayed to the lands she’d grown up with, to the rich agricultural farm lands she’d learned to love. The girls had lost their mother when they were small children; Regina had been only two and her sister four and a half at the time. Though there were beautiful portraits in the baron’s magnificent halls, neither of the girls could really remember their mother, the society beauty who had been the dazzling Baroness Branton. They’d had nurses and governesses and maids. But no mother. Yet both girls had been most fortunate to inherit their mother’s fine looks. The early loss of their mother had drawn the two sisters into a close and unbreakable bond of kinship. Tabitha, the taller of the two, had always been deeply fond of her little sister. She’d always felt very protective towards her. She also wondered sometimes if the absence of a mother had made Regina a little too headstrong and stubborn for a lady of her future rank and position. But Regina was an intelligent young woman with a quick mind and an extremely capable brain. Her father had happily indulged her interest in books by hiring a strict but perceptive governess to teach her something of the classics. The governess had spotted a kindred soul in the young child and happily taught her chess, encouraging the curious and critical young mind to flourish and develop in ways that might have shocked the other members of the local aristocracy. Girls were expected to sew and learn the arts of their future domestic responsibilities. Precious few women of rank were even expected to be able to read. There were servants and maids and footmen to attend to all the manual labours and a lady was expected to rule her household with firmness and disciplined good order. She was not expected to get her delicate fingers dirty or spoil her fine gowns in the gardens. Regina loved to work with her impressive collection of plants and flowers. She loved to rush into her father’s study with an armful of blooms, mud on her dress and feet, hands grubby from toiling in the soil and place the fragrant petals before him. He would laugh and kiss her on her forehead and call her his pretty peasant girl, loving her light and energy and indulging her hobbies and interests. She reminded him so much of his deceased wife. When the gover
ness arrived at the great hall to school Regina in the rudiments of the classics, she was also expected to coach her in the ways of gentility. In that area, she would later admit that she wasn’t quite as successful as she’d originally hoped.
The governess had imparted good advice along with the daily lessons. ‘You might have to disguise your wits, young lady, for an intelligent woman is seen as both a rarity and a novelty and therefore something to be feared. But never abandon them for they are a rare enough gift either in men or in women!’
Regina studied hard and learned to appreciate her governess’s warmth and encouragement, despite her strict and formal presence in the baron’s extensive library. She had left to take up a post in London shortly before the baron died and, on the day she left, with tears in her eyes and a trembling handshake, she quietly reminded Regina that in life, every day was an opportunity to continue her studies and learn new things. If she had her way, Regina fully intended to persuade the Duke simply to give her back her inheritance and let her run the lands and the household on her own. She knew she was more than capable. She just had to persuade the Duke to see sense. She’d studied hard and understood the rules of agriculture, bookkeeping, finance and how societies could flourish when relieved from the yolk of poverty and oppression. Regina was completely convinced that she could run her father’s estate successfully, that she could manage the household perfectly well and make sure the workers and tenants were properly fed and cared for. Her ideas would never find favour with her neighbours in the surrounding estates but she had learnt so much from her private tutor and felt a deep responsibility towards the people who lived and worked on her father’s lands. She only wanted a chance to prove her worth and the only obstacle to that ambition was her sister’s future husband, the Duke himself. The idea of returning to her father’s grand house as the Baroness Branton with a half-wit consort from the local gentry sent shivers of dread down her spine.