A Marriage of Rogues Read online

  “Ah, here you are, m’boy!” the stocky duke cried when Dev entered the room that hadn’t been redecorated since his mother died fifteen years before. “Just found out you’d come back from London. You’re to and fro like a mast in a stiff breeze. Would have come sooner, but my gout was playing up. I’ve come at last, though, and with an invitation, too. Dinner party a week today, if you’ll still be here.”

  The important matter was only a dinner party?

  He supposed that, to the duke, it was.

  He didn’t want to disappoint the kindhearted fellow, but who could say where he would be in a week, especially if Roger was able to get him out of his present difficulty? Even if he was still here and still married to Thea, the duke’s wife was not someone she ought to meet, so a dinner party was something to be avoided. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to attend, Your Grace. I may have to go to London again to meet with my solicitor.”

  “Ah, the clever Mr. Bessborough. Spot of legal trouble, eh?”

  “Perhaps, although I hope to avoid any serious legal entanglement.”

  The duke leaned closer, bringing with him the scent of horse and dog. For all his bulk, the duke was a keen and excellent horseman, and he loved his hounds dearly. “Entanglements, eh? Lord love you young rascals! Not that I blame you young bucks for sowing your wild oats while you can. I’m sure plenty of gels are chasing after the young Apollo!”

  The duke always pronounced his son’s name as if making a proclamation, and as always, Dev managed not to wince. Paul, as his son preferred to be called, hated his legal name, as he’d made clear the day Dev met him at Harrow.

  When the other boys heard Paul addressed as Apollo, they’d begun to mock the skinny, pimpled lad. Paul had raised his fists and offered to take them all on. He’d been obviously afraid, but resolute—rather like Thea—and Dev had been impressed enough to stand by his side. The bullies had decamped and he and Paul had been fast friends ever since.

  “Not that the young Apollo! is running wild,” the duke continued proudly. “Indeed no! He’s a model of gentlemanly behavior, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sure, too,” Dev agreed, for if ever anybody could be described as “shy,” it was Paul, who was also blessedly more intelligent than his father.

  Even more to the point, Paul had always been naturally virtuous, and Dev doubted even having free rein in Europe with no parental supervision or lack of funds could turn him into a Casanova.

  “The duchess thinks it’s high time he settled down, though,” the duke noted. “She said the whole country’s going downhill with fellows like...”

  He cleared his throat and flushed a little. “That is, with so many young men running wild and not marrying. I don’t know how you young fellows manage to avoid it. I’d been married years by the time I was your age.”

  Dev considered the duke’s marriage the equivalent of a prison sentence. The genial duke, however—and miraculously to Dev—didn’t seem to mind.

  “As I was telling the duchess the other day,” he continued, rocking back on his heels, “I realize it will be difficult for the young Apollo! to settle on a choice. And you, too, eh? Not that I blame you. You have to be careful when you’re as rich as Croesus.”

  As if on cue, the door to the drawing room opened and Thea walked into the room. She came to an awkward halt when she saw that Dev was not alone.

  It was not her most graceful moment, and she was wearing that horrible pelisse and bonnet, too.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, looking from Dev to the duke and back again.

  At least she sounded genuinely apologetic.

  “Well, now, who’s this?” the duke said. Then his eyes widened as if scandalized. “Oh! I never thought...that is, in your own house!”

  Dev had no choice now but to reveal that he was married, or the duke would surely tell all and sundry that Sir Develin Dundrake had brought his mistress to Dundrake Hall. “Your Grace, allow me to introduce my wife, Theodora.”

  The duke was even more shocked. “Your wife?” he cried. “You’re married?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Wed before the young Apollo!” the duke exclaimed, as if that was the most remarkable thing of all, before feeling for a chair and sitting heavily.

  A moment later, though, and before Dev could say another word, he shot to his feet and grasped Dev’s hand, giving it a hearty shake. “Forgive me, m’boy! Best wishes and heartiest congratulations!”

  He smiled at Thea, who smiled in return—a genuine, pleasant smile that highlighted her shining, luminous eyes.

  She was even prettier when she smiled, and he was pleased to see that she was regarding the duke as if he was a gentleman to be respected. Most members of the ton treated Scane like a court jester, but Dev preferred the genial duke’s open manner to that of most aristocrats and for that reason, easily forgave him his pride in his son.

  The duke learned forward and waggled a finger at both of them. “Sly, you two, very sly! Not that I blame you. Weddings are such a fuss. Mind you, I’ll have to write the young Apollo! at once.” He ran his hand over his broad chin. “Where is he now?” he mused aloud. “Amsterdam, I think. Bruges?”

  Thea’s brow furrowed and the duke took the opportunity to brag. “I refer to my son and heir. He’s a fine chap, as I’m sure your husband will agree, and so will you when you meet him.”

  “I look forward to it,” Thea said. She gave them both another smile. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m rather tired. It’s been a busy day.”

  “Of course, of course!” the duke cried.

  Dev wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d slapped her on the back.

  Thea nodded at the two men, then left the room with her more usual grace.

  She’d barely closed the door when the duke rounded on Dev and gave him an enthusiastic slap on the back. “You dog, keeping such a secret! Where did you find her?”

  “She’s the daughter of Sir John Markham of Ireland.”

  “Ireland, you say? No wonder we haven’t met her. The duchess takes a dim view...” He cleared his throat again, like a dog growling. “Yes, well, Ireland’s a lovely country and does produce some beauties, eh?”

  “I think so. Others may not.”

  The duke laughed heartily. “Good God, m’boy, as if you’d marry a woman who wasn’t! Such grace! Such a figure!” He nudged Dev hard in the ribs. “And that voice—a man could fall in love with that alone, eh?”

  Never had Dev considered the duke a perceptive man. Obviously he’d been wrong. The duke had seen beyond Thea’s clothes better than he had at their first meeting, and he flushed with shame.

  “Look at you, blushin’ like a schoolboy!” the duke exclaimed, grinning.

  However, in the next few moments, he grew serious. “This news is going to astound my wife. Caroline, too. I’d best go home and break it to them at once.

  “It’s going to cost me at least a new gown or two for Caroline, too,” he continued as they walked to the hall. “She’ll say she’ll need them or she’ll look like a peasant next to Sir Develin Drake’s wife. She and my wife will want to visit right away, no doubt. Likely first thing tomorrow, if I know the duchess.”

  Dev sincerely hoped the duchess would be indisposed or otherwise unable to leave her overfurnished manor for several days. Perhaps weeks.

  The duke frowned as Jackson helped him into his coat and hat and, for the first time in Dev’s experience, revealed that he might not be as blind to his wife’s faults as he seemed. “Best prepare your wife, Dev.”

  “I will,” he assured the nobleman even as he wondered if anybody could ever be fully prepared to meet the Duchess of Scane.

  Chapter Six

  After Dev waved farewell to the duke, he strolled toward his study, remembering what had
happened at the last ball he attended. Caroline had followed him into the moonlit garden and done her best to coerce him into kissing her. He’d easily ignored those attempts and then her uncle had suddenly appeared, perhaps with the intent of forcing a marriage. While Dev had never believed the duke knew of any such scheme, he wasn’t so sure about Caroline.

  As for her mother...

  When he opened the door to his study, he was surprised to find Thea waiting there, her shoulders tense, her back straight and a slight wrinkle of concern between her eyebrows.

  She’d taken off that bonnet and pelisse, at least.

  “I went to the village and ordered some dresses, two ball gowns and several undergarments from the dressmaker,” she announced. “I also purchased three new bonnets at the milliner’s and some slippers at the shoemaker’s, as well as a few other items.” She nodded at the desk. “You’ll find the cost there.”

  “Good,” he said, meaning it. Even if the marriage didn’t last, she should at least have better clothes.

  He went to the desk and quickly examined the bills. The cost was much less than he expected, although enough that, along with the list of fabrics, he could tell she wasn’t frugal to the point of unnecessary austerity. “You aren’t extravagant, I see.”

  “Another reason you should be glad I’m your wife.”

  His jaw clenched.

  Thea looked him directly in the eye and spoke as if issuing a declaration of war. “I also met the Earl of Byford’s daughter.”

  That wasn’t good news. “Did you introduce yourself?”

  “I had to tell the dressmaker who would be paying for my new clothes. Mrs. Lemmuel told Lady Gladys who I was. Lady Gladys was very nice to me.”

  “She’s nice to everybody,” he replied. That was quite true. The earl’s family were all kind and generous, although the earl spent a great deal of time and money improving his stable, and the countess could be as acerbic and overbearing at the Duchess of Scane. Fortunately Gladys, their only child, had inherited the best qualities of both her parents, and if she was clumsy and not very pretty, she was an accomplished rider and played the piano unexpectedly well.

  Also, unlike many other young ladies, she didn’t seem on a constant hunt for a husband.

  Unfortunately, Gladys liked to talk and her mother carried on a vast correspondence. Soon all the ton would know of his marriage. And when their marriage ended, everyone would hear about that, too.

  Thea straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and said, “Lady Gladys wasn’t the only person who came into the dressmaker’s shop. The Duchess of Scane and her daughter were there, too. Lady Gladys introduced me to them.”

  That was even worse.

  “I may have been rather curt,” Thea added as if that was merely an afterthought instead of a disaster.

  “You were curt? To the Duchess of Scane?”

  “The duchess was cruel to Lady Gladys,” Thea replied defensively.

  No doubt she was, and with that realization, his anger drained away, replaced by sudden concern. He could well believe the duchess had been unkind to Thea, too. “I suppose she had several unflattering things to say to you, as well.”

  “I’ve dealt with her sort before, so her words had little effect on me.”

  Although he was sorry to have his suspicions confirmed, he was heartened by his wife’s unwavering response. He was also glad Thea had been there to come to Gladys’s defense.

  Thea knotted her fingers, but otherwise her expression didn’t change. “Lady Caroline seemed quite upset when she learned that you were married.”

  Although there was no need to tell Thea about the possible entrapment, especially when he wasn’t sure if Caroline was involved in the planning or not, he saw no point in dissembling. “Her mother wanted us to wed. I was not so inclined. Nor do I think Caroline has any significant feelings for me. If she was dismayed, it was more likely due to the dread of having to bear her mother’s disappointment.”

  To add to his dismay, he realized it was quite possible that however angry the duchess might be about his marriage, she still might come to call. Indeed she might be even more inclined to do so if she could find evidence she could use to denounce him and his bride. It would undoubtedly be best if they gave her as little ammunition as possible. “Unfortunately the duchess rules local society, so it might be best to avoid her as much as possible. Should she come to call, tell Jackson to say you’re not at home.”

  He hadn’t anticipated the spark of fiery resolve that leaped into Thea’s gray eyes or her firm response to the suggestion aimed at sparing them both. “Many people have scorned and mocked my father and me, so I am well prepared to deal with any slings and arrows aimed my way. And if the duchess does rule local society, we can’t allow her to intimidate us or I’ll never be accepted as your wife.”

  The spark dimmed a little. “However, I shall also be more aware that we have a position to maintain and temper my remarks accordingly.”

  She might not have to do that for very long.

  He pushed away any regret about that. Nor did he mention the dinner party. Surely the mean-spirited Duchess of Scane would rescind the invitation.

  Instead of comforting him, that realization made him angry. He didn’t care if the woman snubbed him, but he would be hard-pressed to forgive the insult to Thea, who might still be his wife by the day of the dinner party.

  He opened his mouth to say something comforting about the duchess’s behavior, then hesitated. If Thea felt ostracized by society here, it might make the ending of their marriage less upsetting for her.

  And him, too, he told himself.

  “Mrs. Wessex has just informed me she has three candidates for a lady’s maid waiting in the morning room for me to speak to,” Thea said after another moment, breaking the silence. “Until later, then.”

  “Until later,” he replied.

  After Thea had left the room, Dev glanced up at the portrait of his father and smiled grimly. “It’s too bad you aren’t here, Father,” he said aloud. “I’d like to hear what she’d have to say to you.”

  * * *

  Seated in the morning room, Mrs. Wessex clasped her hands in her broad lap and regarded Thea expectantly. “So, my lady, which one did you like best?” she asked, referring to the three women of various ages who had just been interviewed for the position of lady’s maid.

  “They all had merit,” Thea cautiously replied.

  Being a lady’s maid was a post of some importance and intimacy, so Thea knew she had to take great care in the selection. Unfortunately she’d been too preoccupied after leaving Develin to pay as close attention to the applicants as she should have.

  Her husband’s behavior baffled her. After a wonderful wedding night, he had seemed to regret their marriage, yet hadn’t begrudged her the money she’d spent on new clothes. Nor had he been angry about her encounter with the duchess, at least not at her. Indeed at one point she thought he even looked pleased that she hadn’t been cowed by the older woman. And it was good to discover that he liked Lady Gladys.

  “Daphne Morris has the best references,” Mrs. Wessex noted, calling Thea back to the business at hand. “She’s visited here with Lady Chelmsford. Miss Morris is a nice, quiet young woman who knows her place.”

  Thea desperately tried to remember which one was Daphne Morris. The small, dark-haired, mousy one, she thought. There had been something furtive in her manner, though, the way her gaze darted around the room as if cataloging everything in it, that Thea didn’t like. It reminded her of people she’d met in pawnshops, not always, Thea was sure, pawning goods they had come by via honest means. “She didn’t say why she had left Lady Chelmsford’s employ.”

  “No, no, she didn’t,” Mrs. Wessex agreed. She set Miss Morris’s letter aside and picked up another. “What about Marianne Abbo
ts? She was with Lady MacTundle.”

  Mrs. Wessex smiled. “I don’t think there’s any mystery as to why she left that household. The manor’s at the far north of Scotland, and Lady MacTundle never leaves it. Miss Abbots probably wants to be somewhere warmer.”

  While she could appreciate that yearning, Miss Abbots had been too dour. Having her for a maid would be like living under a perpetual rain cloud.

  “What was the name of the older one, the one in the dark green dress?” she asked.

  That woman had met Thea’s gaze equally steadily and her hands, ungloved, bore the unmistakable signs of hard work.

  “Alice Cartwright,” Mrs. Wessex replied, her brow furrowing. “I don’t think she’ll do at all.” She touched Alice Cartwright’s letter of reference but didn’t pick it up. “Maid to a manufacturer’s wife who’s gone to America with her husband. Born in a workhouse, orphaned and sent to a charity school at eight.

  “No, she won’t do at all,” the housekeeper finished firmly.

  “You don’t approve of charity schools?” Thea asked.

  Mrs. Wessex shifted uncomfortably. “Some are better than others,” she offered. “The ones Sir Develin supports are no doubt excellent examples of their sort, but good ones are rare.”

  That her husband contributed to charity schools was a pleasant surprise. In all her seeking of information about Sir Develin Dundrake, she hadn’t heard anything about any charitable endeavors. His apparent desire to offer aid without seeking acknowledgment or praise met with her approval, too.

  “But this school,” Mrs. Wessex said, tapping Alice Cartwright’s letter again, “I’ve never heard of it. Who can say what sort of education she received?”