The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (34 page)

Ian remained the following day at Swineshead as well, deciding to spend a little extra time with Felicity and make certain that Quinn’s friends, who had arrived last night, were familiar with the grounds and what was expected of them concerning Felicity’s protection. His instincts told him there was no danger, that neither his family—nor the wharf rats they’d hired to do him in—would show up on his doorstep to abduct Felicity.

Likely, there had only been those four assailants, all of whom were now securely in the magistrate’s hands. So why was he lingering here, making excuses to avoid returning to Dillie? He wasn’t certain and could come up with no good reason. He knew he had to marry her. He truly wished to marry her. The sooner the ceremony took place, the better.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he muttered to himself, suddenly understanding his reluctance. He’d been alone all of his life. Detested by his family. He wasn’t yet in control of his anger. What if he unleashed his barely leashed rage on those he cared for most? He wanted to be a good husband to Dillie, but wasn’t certain he knew how.

He’d just entered the stable and approached Prometheus’ stall looking for Quinn when the feisty Irishman hurried in behind him looking quite perturbed. “Yer Grace! There’s a carriage rattling up the drive. It could be them unwanted visitors.”

Ian tightened his grip on the stall gate and nodded. “Summon your friends. I want them in the lodge, guarding Felicity, their weapons at the ready.” Had his gut instinct been wrong? Were more assailants on the loose?

“No worries, Yer Grace,” he said as they walked out to intercept the approaching carriage. “They’re in the kitchen as we speak. I’ll take care of ’em interlopers while ye get yerself to safety.” He raised a fist and shook it at the advancing carriage to emphasize his point.

The morning sun shone on the gleaming black conveyance. Ian shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed into the distance. He grinned. “Quinn, forget my instructions. These are welcome guests.” Though how Dillie managed to obtain a Farthingale carriage and find him here was beyond him. The note he’d left in London with George Farthingale had only mentioned that Dillie and Abner were at the Black Sail Inn due to bad weather and difficulties with the carriage, and that Ian would escort them to Coniston within the next few days.

He stood with arms folded across his chest, waiting for the conveyance to draw to a halt, and then moved to the door as it opened. Dillie fairly flew into his arms. “Ian, you’re here! Thank goodness. I was afraid you’d gone off to... well, I wasn’t certain what you planned to do, just knew it would be something dangerous.”

He frowned, but kissed her soundly on the lips because—damn it—he’d missed her. One look at her and all his concerns simply fled. She was sunshine and meadow flowers. She loved him. It felt so good to have her in his arms. “You ought to be resting your foot. And where did you get these new clothes?”

She had on a simple, blue wool gown, several shades darker than the blue of her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, but some curls had broken loose in the light breeze and now framed her beautiful face.

“The gown is mine. We stopped at Coniston first so I could pack some belongings, and then we came straight here.” He bent to kiss her again, but John Farthingale chose that moment to descend from the carriage.
Oh, hell.
He did not look at all pleased. No doubt, he’d learned about Dillie’s carriage tipping over and seen Abner Mayhew recovering from his broken leg.

Ian was curious to know just how much else Dillie had told her father. By his angry scowl, Ian figured she’d told him far too much. He had no intention of deceiving the man about what had happened between him and his daughter, but that conversation was better held after the wedding ceremony, when pistols were less likely to be drawn. Specifically, her father’s pistol pointed at his throat. He stifled a sigh. A little discretion on Dillie’s part would have been helpful.

No, the fault was all his. A little restraint on his part would have done the trick. Unfortunately, he’d shown not a whit of it when seducing Dillie and still felt not a whit of remorse. “Welcome, Mr. Farthingale.”

His greeting was met with a grumble. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

Dillie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Father. I asked you not to growl at him. He’ll obtain the special license and marry me as soon as Mother arrives.” She returned her gaze to Ian, and then nudged him. “I think my father needs some reassurance.” He noticed a tinge of apprehension in her eyes as well. “I thought we might have a quiet ceremony at Coniston in a week’s time. We’ve sent word for my mother to join us there. Do you mind?”

Did she doubt that he’d marry her? “It suits me fine. Is that what you tracked me down to ask?”

“No, I had no idea you’d be here.” A light blush stained her cheeks. “You caught me being meddlesome again, but after all that happened at the inn, I grew concerned for Felicity’s safety and thought it a good idea to stop by for a visit. How is she?”

Ian laughed. “Very noisy. She’ll fit right in with the Farthingale clan.”

He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her again. She had been worried about Felicity, realizing as he had that his family might wish to harm the child. She’d dragged her father across the Lake District to offer their protection.

Indeed, she was ridiculously meddlesome. And wonderful. He ought to have been angry, but wasn’t in the least. Dillie cared about him and Felicity, and for a man starved of all affection for most of his life, her caring felt like heaven. “I have the special license with me. We can marry today if you like.”

John Farthingale looked obviously relieved.

“See, Father. I told you all would be well.” She cast Ian a beaming smile, one that came straight from her gentle heart. “Next week will do.”

Perhaps for her, but the week-long wait to hold her in his arms, to run his hands along her naked body and feel the tingle of her soft, warm skin... too damn long.

He led her and her father into the lodge, rang for refreshments, and then summoned Miss Poole. “Her Highness has callers,” he said with a chuckle. “Please bring her down to meet our guests.”

Miss Poole smiled and bustled off to do his bidding.

Dillie, he could see, was practically leaping out of her skin with excitement. He’d expected her to accompany Miss Poole upstairs, and then realized that despite her obvious desire to do so, she wasn’t about to leave him alone with her father.

Bloody hell
. Had she told him everything?

What a difference between the Farthingales and Markhams. He would never trust his family as Dillie trusted hers. In truth, Ian was glad he’d taken care of banishing his loathsome relatives. He hadn’t wanted them in England when he married, hadn’t wanted the remotest possibility of their foul taint touching his soon-to-be duchess.

It didn’t take long for Miss Poole to return with Felicity. While Dillie and her father fussed and cooed over the child, Ian kept his gaze on Dillie and simply soaked in her genuine warmth. Felicity responded with glee, adoring the attention and squealing with delight at Dillie’s playful manner and John Farthingale’s obvious experience with boisterous children.

Ian thought this moment was the best he’d ever experienced, a moment of exquisite purity. But as the morning wore on, and they settled into easy conversation—Felicity still commanding most of the attention—he realized that this first moment was only a hint of all the joys to come.

Suddenly, the possibility overwhelmed him.

This was why he had delayed facing Dillie. He hadn’t been ready to let down his guard, but it was happening anyway. His turtle shell was breaking apart, that hard outer layer he’d used to protect himself all of his life was beginning to splinter and crack. He no longer needed it now that he had Dillie and Felicity, yet his heart wasn’t quite ready to accept all the changes taking place.

He wasn’t yet prepared for happiness.

James never had his chance.

Quinn walked in and, with apologies for the interruption, brought Ian’s thoughts back to the present by handing him a letter. “This just arrived for you, Your Grace.”

Grabbing at the opportunity, Ian was on his feet and muttering something about an important matter that required his urgent attention. A feeble excuse, and no doubt they all saw through it, but the memory of James struggling in the icy water, slowly sinking into his watery grave, was too painful to keep contained. He had to leave before his facade of calm and control fell apart.

Dillie, who had been on her knees on the carpet sacrificing her ears and nose to Felicity’s curiosity, quickly handed the child back to her nanny and scrambled to her feet as best as she could on one good ankle. “Ian?”

“Don’t follow me, Daffy. Not this time.”

DRAT!
Ian had called her Daffy again. What had happened to suddenly overset him? Was it the letter? He hadn’t even opened it before he’d shot to his feet. They’d all been having a lovely time. Felicity was an adorable mix of imp and angel, and Dillie had loved her on sight. Who wouldn’t love those bright eyes and kissable, pudgy cheeks?

She turned to her father, who’d also come to his feet and was now standing beside her, one arm around her shoulder. “Give him a moment, sweetheart.”

She nodded.

Miss Poole, a woman of infinite good sense and discretion as far as Dillie was concerned, quietly bundled Felicity in her arms. “Time for Her Highness to take a nap. Please excuse us.” She scooped up the child’s blanket and a couple of toys that were on the carpet, and then bustled from the room, leaving Dillie alone with her father.

Dillie wasn’t certain how much time passed, perhaps only a few minutes, but it felt like eons. She strode to the tall windows that overlooked the back garden and peered out, hoping for a glimpse of Ian. When coming here, the road had wound parallel to a stream, and she realized the stream probably ran behind the lodge, just beyond the stone fence at the rear of the garden. “I don’t see him. He must have hopped over the garden wall.”

Her father joined her by the row of windows. “Give him a little more time. Sometimes a man just needs to be alone.”

“I’ll give him all the time he needs, Father. But he’s been alone far too long. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s been making his own way since he was a child of four.
Of four!
No one to help him. No one to comfort him. Worst of all, no one to forgive him for the accident that defines him.”

She sighed and turned to him. “In truth, that tragedy still defines him, for he won’t allow himself to get past it. I want to help him, but I’m not certain how to do it. I’ve never experienced anything but love from our family. He’s never known anything but pain. Caring and affection are new sensations for him. He isn’t quite ready for them. I suppose that’s why he’s suddenly clawing the air as though suffocating and needing to escape his tomb.”

Her father nodded. “Are you afraid he’ll look upon your marriage as that tomb and wish to escape from his confinement, wish to escape from you?”

“I don’t know. He seems reconciled to marrying me. He
wants
to marry me. I think he’s afraid he’ll disappoint me as a husband.” She paused a moment and swallowed hard. “He won’t, of course. I love him, and won’t ever love another man as I do him. I don’t regret a moment of the time I’ve spent with him, and hope we share a lifetime together. I think he wants the same, only he believes he’s undeserving. He’s having a hard time accepting a partner. Me.”

“Lily always thought you were the smarter twin,” her father said, putting his arm around her once more as he kissed her on the forehead. “I’m sure he’ll come around. He isn’t a fool.”

She relented and rested her head against her father’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so patient and wonderful with me. Papa, I love you very much.”

He let out a soft laugh. “What’s this? You haven’t called me Papa in years, not since you and Lily started considering yourselves all grown up.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Your mother and I feel much the same about the five of you. We’re quite proud of all of you. Especially you, Dillie.”

She gazed at him in confusion. “Me? Why?”

“There’s a quiet, loving strength about you. I believe the duke recognized that strength when he first met you. Thinking back, it’s no coincidence that he always seemed to be close at hand when you needed help.”

“Not always, Father. He wasn’t stalking me like prey.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Of course not, he isn’t the slimy sort. What I’m trying to say is that he noticed you, seemed to enjoy your company. Seemed to care about you and wished to protect you.”

“Indeed, he did just that when Charles Ealing, the clunch, tried to seduce me.” She rolled her eyes. “He got what he deserved. He and Lady Mary will keep each other unhappy for the rest of their arrogant lives.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Yes, well. You properly put Ealing in his place. Be that as it may. I was wrong to worry that the duke was marrying you merely out of a sense of duty. I noticed the way he looked at you this morning. All morning long. As though he were drinking you in and it still wasn’t enough to satisfy his thirst.” His expression turned affectionately mawkish. “I look at your mother that way. Always have, from the first day I set eyes on her.”

Dillie blushed. “He hasn’t said he loves me.”

“He’s never encountered a force of nature such as you. I’m sure he doesn’t know what to make of you. He just knows that he’s been hit and doesn’t stand a chance. I give him no more than a few months before he’s on his knees before you, proclaiming his love.”

Dillie rolled her eyes. “I doubt it.”

He grinned. “Fathers are wise and all knowing. He will, mark my words. Now, stop wasting time talking to me and go find him. A man shouldn’t have all that much time alone. He might find out he likes it.”

Laughing, she threw her arms around him. “I do love you,” she said in an emphatic whisper.

He returned her hug. “You can conquer worlds, Dillie. Your mother and I were so worried about you when you were a toddler, a twin to Lily, who could read and write by the age of three. She had mastered Newton by the age of eight. How could anyone compete with that? Much less her twin? But we saw something remarkable happen between you girls. Lily knew facts, but she relied on you for knowledge about life. She always turned to you, looked up to you, even though you were the youngest.”