Two Notorious Dukes (17 page)

Over the next two weeks Elizabeth and Sarah
visited every couturiére in London. Sarah settled on a
white silk empire dress, complete with a coat in emerald
green silk with ermine on the collar and cuffs. The coat
buttoned right up to her chin and it came with a hand
muffler in the same fur. Her delicate lace veil was short,
only coming to her collar, and attached to a pert little
bonnet, made of the same materials as her coat. She
looked exquisitely elegant and every time she put the
coat on, she hugged herself with happiness.

She was prancing around her room, with the
coat on and the muffler in her hands, unable to contain
her exuberance, she burst out of her bedroom and ran
down the stairs, meeting Mary in the hallway.

‘Oh! Mary, where is Lady Elizabeth?’ she asked
brightly, her innocence so infectious at times.
‘She’s in the library, with Lord Audley.’ Mary said
and looked worriedly at the door.
‘Jolly good!’ Sarah burst out and ran to the
library door, throwing it open without a thought in the
world.
‘Elizabeth?....’ she started and stopped abruptly,
before she screamed. It was piercing and shrill. ‘What
do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded as her eyes
took in the scene in front of her.
Lady Elizabeth was trying desperately to staunch
the blood running from her nose with her sleeve, and
she was brandishing the fire iron at the man who was
nursing his head and his groin at the same time. If looks
could kill Sarah would have shrivelled up into a used
spill on the carpet.
‘Get out!’ he shouted and started towards her.
‘Don’t you touch her!’ Elizabeth shouted from
behind her forearm and waggled the iron again. ‘Or I’ll
kill you. I told you to leave. I’m going to marry Robert
Bosworth and I don’t care if you like it or not. You are
not my keeper!’
Sarah’s scream had alerted the male population
of the house, including the Duke, who was working in
his study down the hall. He ran up the corridor to see
Mary standing outside the library hopping from one
foot to the other.
‘Mary? What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘I heard a
scream.’ All Mary could do was point at the door. Argyll
turned to look and was just in time to hear Elizabeth’s
last statement.
‘What the devil is going on here?’ he demanded
bringing six hundred years of ducal arrogance to bear as
he looked down on Craanford. ‘What do you want,
Craanford?’ he asked harshly.
‘I want what I’m due.’ He spat viciously.
‘I’d say the Lady is going to give you what you’re
due if you don’t leave. Now, she has asked politely, if
you don’t go, I will toss you out on your rump!’
Craanford started to argue, but Argyll had had
enough. He grabbed Craanford by the scruff of the neck,
yanked him forward, getting his other hand between
the tails of his very beautiful blue silk jacket, he clutched
the slightly loose material of his silk britches between
Craanford’s buttocks and hefted him onto his toes. In
that position he frog marched him to the main front
door, where the footman helpfully opened the doors
and bowed his head as the Duke went past.
Craanford was complaining and making threats
and his raised voice attracted the attention of the
strollers in the Square. Everybody that was within
earshot turned and looked as Argyll got to the top of the
steps and he literally threw Craanford down the wide,
ornate, stone treads.
‘The lady has said no! Now you have your
answer. Don’t come here again!’ The Duke of Goring
said in the loud voice he used in the House. ‘If you do, I
shall alert the magistrate!’
Craanford rolled to the bottom of the steps and
slowly he got to his feet. The look he gave Argyll was
murderous, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to
challenge the Duke, not in front of half of London.
Argyll turned abruptly away and went back in
the door. The footman closed the door softly. Argyll
turned to him. ‘Never let him in the door again. Lady
Elizabeth is never available to him.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’ The footman said and nodded
his head and Rogers arrived with Craanford’s hat and
walking stick.
‘You can throw those out of the door too!’ he
said. ‘Make sure all the other members of staff know.’
He shook his head and sighed. ‘If he should force his
way in, send for the Bow Street Runners at once.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’ And they watched Rogers
throw the items down the steps to the road, where a
horse kicked the hat halfway across the Square.
After Argyll vanished with Craanford, Sarah
sniggered. She couldn’t help it. ‘Did you see the look on
his face?’ she asked and turned to Elizabeth, to watch
her fold gracefully to the floor. Her face white with
shock. ‘Elizabeth!’ she called loudly and shot to her
prostrate friend. Suddenly she realised she was wearing
the coat for her wedding and in horror got it off her
shoulders as quickly as possible. ‘Mary!’ she called and
the maid arrived with alacrity. ‘Take this back to my
room, before the Duke sees it properly.’ She said
dismayed that he might see part of her wedding apparel
before she arrives at the church. ‘I’ll see to Elizabeth.’
And as Mary ran from the room, Sarah sat on the floor
and lifted Elizabeth’s shoulders onto her lap. She took
out her very dainty handkerchief and wiped at the blood
still running from her nose. She pinched the bridge of
Elizabeth’s nose and was gratified to see it stop
bleeding.
‘What did he do?’ Argyll asked softly from the
door.
‘I don’t know John. But she was bleeding when I
opened the door and he was holding his groin and his
head. I suspect he became violent.’
‘The blackguard!’ Argyll said coldly as he arrived
at the ladies. ‘If he’s not careful Robbie will call him out,
when he gets here.’ Argyll gently lifted Elizabeth into his
arms and carried her upstairs, followed by Sarah.
‘I can see that’s what will happen.’ Sarah said
softly from behind him. ‘Robbie will do it as a matter of
course.’
‘Well, let’s hope not.’ He went into Elizabeth’s
suite and laid her carefully on the bed. Sarah poured a
little water into the basin and whetted a flannel. She
gently wiped Elizabeth’s face, making sure she got all
the blood from around her nose and between her lips.
Suddenly she screamed and Argyll yanked her into his
arms, rocked her and made comforting noises.
Eventually she quietened down and Mary arrived.
‘Be careful, Your Grace, she may vomit when she
comes around.’ Mary said softly.
‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen her vomit.’
He said and laughed as he remembered the coach ride.
‘It was certainly explosive on the way back to London!’
Elizabeth moaned and Argyll laid her back
against the pillows. ‘Well, My Lady. It would appear that
your would be suitor has departed. So, how do you
feel?’
‘Not as bad as I usually do.’ She said and sighed.
‘I could do with a drink.’ And Sarah went for the
decanter on the nightstand. She helped Elizabeth take a
sip or two and then they just looked at her.
‘What did you do? Argyll asked in the end.
Elizabeth smiled with satisfaction. ‘I took the
greatest of pleasure telling him I was going to marry the
Duke of Roding and he could go fishing!’ she said firmly.
Then she laughed and all the colour flooded back into
her face.
‘What was his reaction?’ Sarah asked
impertinently.
Elizabeth kept smiling. ‘He tried to take me, and
as he got close I’m afraid I brought my knee up into his
groin, just as Robert showed me.’ She giggled. ‘He did it
the first week we were at Boscombe.’
‘He did too!’ Sarah said cheekily. ‘He took all
three of us onto the terrace and showed us how to deal
with an over amorous man!’
‘Then he became really affronted and violent
and hit me with his fist, so I picked up the fire iron and
hit him with it!’
At that point Lady Verity arrived to voice her
displeasure at the assault of one of her guests. ‘Who the
devil does he think he is?’ she demanded.
‘Well, I think you’ll find half of London talking
about him tomorrow. I threw him off the top step!’
Argyll said.

The roads were muddy, the rain fell from the
heavens in torrents and Robert was cold and wet. He
dipped his head again and watched the waterfall off the
brim of his hat, cascade over the front of his cloak. It
had taken him three days to get to Boscombe and as he
dismounted Mrs. Simmons had the door open.

‘Oh! Your Grace!’ she blurted. ‘What made you
ride in such weather?’ she asked as Robert stumbled
into the hall.

‘I was anxious to get to London. But this is
appalling weather and I had to stop over somewhere.’
He took off his hat and cloak. Mrs. Simmons took them
with frown.

‘I suppose you want them for tomorrow?’ she
asked piqued.
He gave her his most charming smile. ‘How could
you possibly refuse me?’ he asked cheekily.
‘Well, you get yourself into the drawing room,
there’s a nice fire in there and I’ll fetch you a housecoat
so you can get the rest of your sodden clothes off!’ she
said as she marched away.
Robert went into the drawing room and there
was a good blaze in the hearth. He poured himself a
brandy and went to stand by the fire. Immediately he
could see a cloud of steam rise from his britches. He
shook his head and tried to get his boots off without
sitting in the chair, but he was struggling.
‘Here, let me do that!’ Mrs. Simmons said as she
came in with his best housecoat and a towel over her
arm. ‘Sit on the stool there.’ She said pointing at the
little wooden stool that she used when she was starting
the fire. Turning her back on him, she stood over his
outstretched leg, took a firm grip of the heel and yanked
his boot off, she did his other one and then sighed. ‘I’ll
take these and be back for the rest in a few minutes.’
She said and bustled out again.
Robert stripped completely naked and slipped
on the housecoat. It was made of blue cashmere wool
and lined with red silk. It had Silk lapels and a silk sash in
the same colour and was very warm. Robert dropped
into the chair beside the fire and soaked up the heat,
both from the flames and the brandy that was exploding
in his stomach like a mortar. Absently he rubbed his hair
with the towel as he stared into the flames.
‘You’re early, Your Grace.’ Mrs. Simmons said as
she came back with a tray of hot tea. ‘I didn’t expect
you for another week at least. Is everything all right?’
‘No, Mrs. Simmons. Everything is not all right.’
He said and accepted the cup of tea she handed him.
‘Apparently Lord Argyll had to expel the Earl of
Craanford from his London residence.’ He sipped the
hot beverage. ‘It appears that Lady Elizabeth had to
defend herself again, so I’m really glad I took the time to
show her how.’ He looked up at the compassionate face
of his oldest employee. ‘I have to get back and marry
her as soon as possible. Before that blackguard kills her,
or worse, makes her take her own life.’
‘I can’t understand why he’s still trying?’ Mrs.
Simmons said.
‘Because he thinks that Elizabeth will just comply
with his wishes. He assumed that she was weak,
because of the way Edward treated her. But she isn’t.
And Audley doesn’t have the right to insist.’
‘I hope she’s alright, she was quite sickly those
last two or three days here.’ Mrs. Simmons murmured.
‘Sickly?’ Robert asked abruptly. ‘What do you
mean sickly? Sickly how?’ he demanded.
‘I’m sorry, Your Grace. Perhaps I spoke out of
turn.’ She said guiltily.
‘Do you think she’s with child?’ he tried to ask
evenly.
Mrs. Simmons nodded her head unhappily. ‘I
shouldn’t have said anything, because it will ruin her
surprise for you, when she tells you.’
‘I shall be suitably surprised. But, are you sure?’
‘Oh! Yes! Your Grace. There is no doubt in my
mind. Sick in the morning, fainting on the terrace and
positively glowing with good health. She is definitely
with child.’
‘God Damn!’ burst from him, along with the
widest smile she’d ever seen. ‘Have a brandy Mrs.
Simmons!’ he said and held out the bottle.
‘Just a small one for the celebration of life, Sir.’
She said happily and fetched another glass from the
tray.
Over the evening Robert consumed the whole
bottle and eventually the groom had to help him up the
stairs. The next morning his clothes were all dried and
neatly pressed and hanging over the chair. A hot bath
had been poured and the groom woke him gently.
He bathed, soaking his shoulder. It was aching fit
to burst, with all the rain. He looked out of the window
as he was tying his cravat and it was still raining, but he
would go anyway, it was only a few hours to London.
Even in this type of weather he would be there by tea
time at the latest.
Mrs. Simmons gave him a large cooked
breakfast, including a bowl of porridge. ‘Porridge!’ he
blurted. She looked down on him kindly.
‘You can moan all you like. It’ll put hairs on your
chest and help insulate you against the cold!’ she said
and walked out haughtily.
Robert ducked his head and tried the cereal. He
didn’t like porridge, because it reminded him of the
army. It had been a long time since he’d eaten any, but
he dipped his spoon and was pleasantly surprised. Mrs.
Simmons could make very nice porridge. He cleared his
dish, much to Mrs. Simmons surprise, but she didn’t
make any comment as she brought in the platter of
bacon, eggs, sausages and fried bread.
‘Damn me! But are you feeding an army?’ Robert
asked cheekily.
‘No. But you have a long way to go in the cold
today, and I’ll not have Lady Elizabeth moan at me
about how you came down with a fever!’
‘Are you happy here?’ Robert asked suddenly. ‘I
know you requested to leave Roding Hall, but do you
like it here?’
‘I like it very well, Sir.’ She said and smiled at
him. ‘I don’t have so much to do, because the master
doesn’t come here very often!’
‘That might change in the future.’ He said darkly.
‘I might have to come here, as it’s closer to London. My
wife might insist on it.’ He said and then sat and thought
about what he’d just said.
My wife!
He thought.
Gosh,
that sounds good. My wife!
Mrs. Simmons correctly interpreted the
expression on his face and quietly left the room.
Robert finished his breakfast, donned his heavy
cloak and hat, kissed Mrs. Simmons on the cheek and
hauled himself up onto his horse. He took his time
adjusting the cloak, to try and keep his saddle dry and
then clicked his tongue and waved goodbye to Mrs.
Simmons.