Before her hand descended the door was opened and she was faced with a beaming Sampson.

aMiss d.u.c.h.ess! Ah, Lady d.u.c.h.ess! What a pleasure, a wonderful event, do come in, yes, do come in. Who is this person?a aThis is Badger. He is mya"valet.a aAh, well, no matter, doubtless his lordship will sort out everything to your satisfaction. He is awaiting you in his library. Do come with me, Lady d.u.c.h.ess. Your, er, valeta"a aMy name is Erasmus Badger, sir.a aAh, yes, Mr. Badger, I will take you upstairs myself to introduce you to Mr. Spears, his lordshipas valet. Perhaps the three of us can come together later and discuss, er, things.a Badger looked at the d.u.c.h.ess, but she merely smiled that cool, aloof smile of hers. aGo along with Sampson. His lordship canat very well slit my throat in his library.a She walked quietly into the huge intimidating room. Marcus stood behind his desk. He didnat move when he saw her standing in the doorway, merely said, aYou came.a She nodded. aI had to. I wrote you that.a aYes, to be a Wyndham of Wyndham, you had to show your face here before January 1, 1814. But that makes no sense. You are either legitimate or youare not. You are not without sense, d.u.c.h.ess. There is more, isnat there?a She wouldnat tell him the rest of it, tell him the real reason she was here. She couldnat serve him such a blow. She would let Mr. Wicks do it. She simply raised her chin, saying nothing.

Marcus grunted, threw down the sheaf of papers in his right hand, and came around the ma.s.sive desk. aCongratulations on the marriage of your father and your mother.a aThank you. I only wish I had known, just a clue, perhaps beforea"a aWell, now you do and youare home where you belong. Itas nearly Christmas. I plan to take the Twins and Spears out to cut a Yule log for the drawing room. Would you care to accompany us?a He saw, perhaps for the first time since head known her, a leap of something very excited in her blue eyes, then it was gone, and she was nodding coolly, saying, aThank you, Marcus. You are very kind. I apologize for being here, in advance, truly, Iam sorry if my now being legitimate is distressful to you.a He said, his voice harsh, aNonsense, Chase Park is now your home, just as it is mine. If you hadnat been such a stubborn twit, you would have been living here for the past six months instead ofa"a He broke off, shook his head, then, as if he couldnat help himself, he said, aHow did you earn money to keep that d.a.m.ned snug little cottage? And what about that very nice crystal?a aWhen would you like to cut that Yule log?a aIn an hour,a he said, looking at her white neck, his fingers clenching and unclenching. This gown was stylish, a pale cream muslin, the neckline not to her chin, but lower, just giving a hint of her bosom, which looked quite enticing to him. aDress warmly and wear stout boots. Do you have warm clothes and stout boots?a aNo, I fancy I will have to wear only my shift and a pair of slippers. I have sufficient clothing, Marcus. Donat worry. You arenat my guardian. Also, I pray you wonat forget that you have only five years on me. In short, cousin Marcus, we are both quite young and indeed, too young to beset each other.a aWhat the h.e.l.l does that mean? Youare still eighteen. I will very likely be appointed your guardiana"despite my meager number of yearsa"so I advise you, d.u.c.h.ess, not to raise the level of my ire any further.a aYour ire, Marcus, is of no concern to me. Iam here because I must be here. There is nothing more to it. And I now am nineteen.a aAnd will you deign to remain?a She gave him a small smile, an infuriating small smile, turned, and left the library. She didnat close the door. He heard Mrs. Emory saying with surely too-great exuberance, ah.e.l.lo, d.u.c.h.ess, and welcome! Oh, excuse me, miss, itas Lady d.u.c.h.ess now. Let me take you to your room. The earl has a.s.signed you the Princess Mary Chamber, and very lovely it is, you remember, of course.a aOf course,a the d.u.c.h.ess said. aI remember it quite well. It is kind of his lordship to select such a superior accommodation for me.a

5.

THERE WAS SOMETHING to be said for a Christmas at home in the bosom of oneas family, Marcus thought, as he sipped the warm nutmeg-tart mulled wine, felt the heat from the burning Yule log upon his face. He turned then to look at his a.s.sembled family. His last Christmas had been spent around a campfire with fifty of his men, shivering in the Galician hills, wondering if the new year would bring them into battle and into death.

He realized that he hadnat bought a gift for the d.u.c.h.ess, not that she deserved it. Well, he had time, still five days until Christmas. Tomorrow, his uncleas solicitor from London would arrive. He frowned, wondering what else his uncle could have done. Legitimizing the d.u.c.h.ess was a fine thing, he had no argument with that, though he realized quickly that Aunt Gweneth now looked at her a good deal differently. He couldnat imagine why she would disapprove of the newly bona fide lady and approve of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Odd, that.

Aunt Gweneth said, ad.u.c.h.ess, Marcus told us that you were living in Smarden, in Pipwell Cottage, with a man. Really, my dear, such a thing is most peculiar and leaves your reputation open to slurs, given your unfortunate antecedents.a The d.u.c.h.ess smiled a very small but pleasant smile, those long narrow hands of hers quiet in her lap. aI have never believed my antecedents to be unfortunate, maaam, merely difficult in this tender society.a aNonetheless, you have had a man living with you.a aYes, his name is Badger, and he was my butler and my chef. Heas a remarkable man. Actually he still is my, er, valet.a aStill, it is not at all what one would expect from a lady,a Aunt Gweneth said, but Marcus, horrified at how prissy and prudish she sounded, and realizing that he must have sounded exactly the same way, interrupted swiftly, saying, aIt makes no more difference, Aunt. The d.u.c.h.ess is here now. Nothing more need be said about it.a aBut that man accompanied her here.a aYes,a the d.u.c.h.ess said calmly, then remained quiet, sipping at her mulled wine. aPerhaps Cook should speak to Badger, for his mulled wine is the best I have ever tasted. He has secret ingredients he wonat tell anyone about. I remember my mother used to plead with him, telling him that she could sell the recipe and make us all rich. He laughed and nodded, but refused to tell her.a aI can vouch for Badgeras culinary expertise, Aunt Gweneth.a aDear Marcus, the man lived with the mother and then with the daughter. He speaks the most beautiful English. Surely you cannot allow a man with such pretensions to influence the household. Why he apes his betters, and it isnat the done thing, Marcus. And she says heas still her valet? Her valet? That is utterly preposterous, unbelievable, and you, as the head of the family, surely canat allow it to continue. I donat want to see the Wyndham name swimming into any more disrepute than it already swims.a A very dark eyebrow went up a good inch. aOur name is in disrepute? Why is this? Perhaps you believe, maaam, that I am the cause of this so-called disrepute since I am merely the son of the second son?a aDonat be a nodc.o.c.k, boy, it doesnat suit you. No, certainly not. The disrepute we are currently experiencing is the d.u.c.h.essas being made legitimate. Add a man valeting a girl and the result is obvious to predict.a aAh, well, Aunt,a Marcus said, aI beg you to think, rather, that my uncle and the d.u.c.h.essas father, came to see what was right and did it. As for this valeting businessa"a The d.u.c.h.ess interrupted him in an unruffled, utterly serene voice. aIt is done, dear maaam, and I fear there is no going back now. I trust the disrepute will die down in time. But this does disturb me. Do you honestly believe Badgeras excellent English to be pernicious?a aNo, she doesnat,a Marcus said, giving Aunt Gweneth a look that shut her mouth quickly. aParticularly when Spears rivals him in elocution and delivery.a aMarcus, that is all well and good, but you cannot allow him to remain here as her valet.a aValet,a Antonia said, lifting her head from her current novel, a hideously ill-written story of a constantly weeping Medieval heroine and a hero who cleaved everyone he met in half with his magic sword. aHe is your valet, d.u.c.h.ess? How very interesting. Does he arrange your hair? Does he draw your bath? Will you introduce him to me tomorrow?a aIf you like, Antonia.a aBadger will remain,a Marcus said firmly. aIn exactly what capacity I have yet to determine.a aI believe,a the d.u.c.h.ess said quietly, athat it will be up to me to determine Badgeras position.a aHardly,a Marcus said. aYou may now live here at Chase Park, but you are not the master. Directing many servants on a vast estate is quite different from directing one servant in a cottage. However, I will discuss it with you, as well as with Badger. Incidentally, d.u.c.h.ess, I am pleased you came to reason and are now making Chase Park your home. Do you care to tell me why you changed your mind?a The d.u.c.h.ess evidently didnat care to tell him anything. Her expression didnat change. Her white hands remained utterly still in her lap. Then she raised one hand to set her mulled wine on the low table beside her. She was so b.l.o.o.d.y graceful, he thought, watching her. Every movement she made was smooth and elegant. He suddenly saw her in his mindas eye on her knees, bent over, gardening, the smudges of dirt on her face, tendrils of hair on her damp forehead. Shead still looked utterly composed and lovely. It was always the same with her. He wondered then if she felt anything deeply, if she ever shouted or cried or sulked, or if the elegant serenity, the utter calm, was all there was to her, that it was her in fact.

f.a.n.n.y looked longingly at a tray of lemon-seed cakes, caught Aunt Gwenethas frown, and turned miserably away.

The d.u.c.h.ess said, aWould you like an apple, f.a.n.n.y? Theyare quite delicious. I just finished one myself.a f.a.n.n.y shrugged, then caught the apple Marcus tossed to her. She rubbed it on her sleeve, earning her a disapproving look from Aunt Gweneth. Marcus smiled at the d.u.c.h.ess, but she didnat regard him.

aThe hour grows late,a Aunt Gweneth said some minutes later. aI think it is time for you girls to go to bed.a aAll right,a Antonia said, closed her book and yawned deeply. She said to the d.u.c.h.ess, aYouare our half-sister. Marcus told us all about it. Youare no longer our cousin from Holland.a aThatas right. After your dear mother died, our father married my mother. He made me legitimate.a aYou were a b.a.s.t.a.r.d,a f.a.n.n.y said, no guile showing on her face or sounding in her voice. aHow very odd. I remember Antonia and I used to argue whether you were from Italy or Holland. It was difficult because we had never heard you speak either language.a aYes, I was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, until last May to be exact.a aReally, my dear, you neednat blare it so loudly,a Aunt Gweneth said. aIt would make people believe that you werenat ashamed of your unfortunate birth.a aSince I had no say whatsoever in my birth, maaam, why should I ever feel shame about it?a aStilla"a Aunt Gweneth said, but was interrupted by Antonia, who said, aNow you will be able to find a husband. You wonat have to pretend anymore that youare not a real lady.a aJust imagine,a f.a.n.n.y said as she chewed on her apple. aYou were a love child. How very romantic.a aBosh,a Antonia said. aYouare stupid, f.a.n.n.y. Now, d.u.c.h.ess, you wonat have to stay here because now youare all right and tight and legal. You wonat have to stay here for Marcus to order you about.a aI, order you about, Antonia? Come, if I were such a tyrant, would I allow you to read that nauseating pap that is currently sitting in your lap?a aWell, perhaps not,a Antonia said, grinning at her cousin, abut still, Marcus, your rules do seem to multiply by the day. It must be that you and Aunt Gweneth make up new ones after f.a.n.n.y and I have gone to bed. But f.a.n.n.y and I will continue to bear with you. You havenat been the earl all that long and we quite understand that you must fit your own boots into it. Now, then, d.u.c.h.ess, will you go to London?a aItas possible. Perhaps I shall go to London after Boxing Day. Why not?a aWill Marcus give you money?a f.a.n.n.y asked, looking still at the lemon-seed cakes, the chewed-down apple core in her hand. aLondon is ever so expensive, you know.a aWe will see,a Marcus said, his voice testy as h.e.l.l. aNow, off to bed with you girls. No, Aunt Gweneth and I wonat sit here and devise new despotic rules to test your fort.i.tude. Aunt Gweneth, you may excuse yourself as well. d.u.c.h.ess, please remain for a moment longer, if you will.a A short while later, she looked at him from a goodly distance, saying nothing, merely standing behind a winged chair, one graceful hand smoothing rhythmically over the soft brocade as if it were Esmee beneath her hand. Odd, but even Esmee, the most independent of felines, lay quietly beneath the d.u.c.h.essas hand when she chanced to pet her. There was a slight flush on her cheeks from the warmth of the fire. aYes, Marcus? You wished to say something to me?a aWhy did you say you wanted to go to London?a aI said perhaps I would go. After Boxing Day.a aDo you need money to allow you to go?a aNo, I daresay that I wonat need a sou.a aSo, I had allowed myself to believe that you came here because your finances were strained beyond their limits. But it isnat so, is it? Not if you can afford to keep yourself in London. If keep yourself is indeed what you would be doing.a aBadger will be with me, naturally.a aYou wonat go. I forbid it. You will wait to go to London when I do, which will be in late March. Aunt Gweneth will accompany us and will provide you chaperonage. You will have your b.l.o.o.d.y Season. If you find a gentleman I deem appropriate, or if I discover a gentleman for you whom I deem suitable, why then I will provide you a dowry and you can marry.a aNonsense, Marcus. Pray cease your outflow of orders. Tyranny doesnat become you.a aIt is hardly nonsense and Iam not a b.l.o.o.d.y tyrant, no matter what the Twins say. There are many so-called gentlemen in London eager to sully a ladyas reputation or take liberties with her person. You have no idea of how to go along. Youare young and green. You would quickly make a fool of yourself. I wonat allow that to happen. Youare now a Wyndham, after all. You will go to London with me and I will point out all the scoundrels to you.a She said mildly, aIf you arenat careful, Marcus, every female of your acquaintance will convey you bound and gagged to the Quakers in Bristol. They are the most strict of their sect, it is said. It is said they never see themselves unclothed, always dressing and undressing with their eyes straight ahead and bathing in the same way. I cannot imagine how it is done. Such modesty must require a great deal of practice and resolution. Truly, Marcus, you must mean well, but do not concern yourself with me.a aI have already set my guardianship of you into motion. It shouldnat take long to finalize.a aI donat think so,a she said, then infuriated him by smiling into the fire, calm and unruffled as ever.

aYou have no say in it, d.a.m.n you!a aOh, I daresay that I shall have more say than you can begin to imagine.a aHow?a She remained silent.

aHow did you support yourself? There was a man, wasnat there? Thereas a man awaiting you in London, isnat there? Why did you come back here if your plan was simply to leave again? Did your father make it a stipulation of your legitimacy?a aThat is an abundance of questions, Marcus. I will address the first. You seem to believe that ladies are singularly incompetent. Cannot you imagine that one of us could support herself through honest means?a aNot you. Youare a lady. You were raised to be a lady, to be a manas wife, nothing more. It isnat that you are incompetent, no, certainly not, it is just that you were raised to do nothing, excepta"a He stalled, seeing the endless hole beneath his feet head so eagerly dug for himself.

She said coolly, kindness reeking in her soft voice, aDecorate a gentlemanas arm, perhaps?a aYes, and bear his children and see that his home is comfortable and well run. Perhaps keep flower beds if you wished.a aAll that doesnat require some proficiency, some skill?a aNot the kind of skill that would bring in groats. And yet, you seem toa"a He stalled again. His words sounded utterly pompous and condescending. He sounded like an a.s.s, but he wouldnat take the words back. Perhaps head even get a rise out of her this time. Maybe even make her raise her voice just a bit. That thought made his eyes glitter. But it was not to be.

aMarcus, what do you do to earn groats?a He stared at her, then said more calmly than he imagined possible, aI was a major in the army. I earned money.a aAnd now that you are no longer in the army?a He ground his teeth, there was no keeping it from her and he didnat care.

aIs there a rich lady keeping you in style? Obviously a n.o.bleman canat earn groats, why his blood would quickly turn from blue to black.a aThere are many responsibilities I have now, as you well know. I have to oversee all the properties; I am caretaker to more houses than you even know about; I am responsible for every man, woman, and child who works on all estates owned by the Wyndhams, Ia"a aIn short, you inherited everything.a aYou know very well the t.i.tle means little to me, but I will fulfill my duties as I must.a aMarcus, how old are you?a aYou know very well that I am twenty-four.a aSo very young to be as you are,a she said, then had the gall to shrug.

aAnd just how is that? Concerned for your well-being? Knowing that I am the one responsible for this d.a.m.ned family, as I said? Ah, donat try to turn this to me, d.u.c.h.ess. As I was saying, all your, er, abilities donat bring in groats. There was no inheritance to make you independent. Yet you had enough to rent that d.a.m.ned cottage, toa"a He stopped on purpose this time, his eyes glittering anew. Perhaps now head see a fist again. Wouldnat that be something?

She had the further gall to shrug again. She said not another single word, and he waited, hoping, but there was not even a glint of anger in her cool blue eyes.

He gave up, saying, aYour Mr. Wicks will be here tomorrow. What do you say about that?a aI imagine that Mr. Wicks will wish to speak to both of us. Do you plan to be here?a He would have liked to tell her he was going to Edinburgh, but he didnat. aIall be here. Now, Iam going to bed. I will see you at breakfast.a aGood night, Marcus. Sleep well.a He grunted. She stood silently, watching him stride out of the magnificent drawing room, over three ancient and rich Turkey carpets, past some furnishings that dated back to before Henry VIII. She paused a moment before leaving the Green Cube Room and looked up. All the beams in the vast ceiling were intricately carved, showing the family coat of arms in too many places as well as a series of interesting geometric patterns that struck her as designs for their own sakes. In between the beams various scenes were painted, beginning with Medieval tableaus and moving up well into the sixteenth century. There were beautifully painted figures of men and women, the colors still rich and vibrant even after so many years, the expressions on their faces still clear as well. Where the beams met the top of the wall, there were an abundance of smiling cherubs, too many, all pink and white, gazing with dewy Cla.s.sical eyes upon warriors with swords and shields, painted like a foot-wide swatch of mural at the top of the walls. This last addition had been made only in the last century by an earl of Chase with more guineas than discrimination. The former older scenes were much better executed, the men and women depicted in a far more realistic manner, down to the lute strings of a Medieval young man playing for the lady before him.

The d.u.c.h.ess looked back down into the fire. What would Marcus have to say to her after Mr. Wicksas visit? She remembered him as such a wild young man, forever leading Charlie and Mark into the most appalling mischief. But then head bought a commission in the army and had been out of her life for five years. She wondered if he would still be as wild as a winter storm instead of the moralistic bore head become upon gaining his coronet if he were still in the army. Head been the devilas own son, thatas what her father had called him with a good deal of fondness, perhaps even respect. At least before Charlie and Mark had died theread been fondness. She wondered what her father would call him now.

Whyever did he feel it his duty to prose on and on instead of laugh and view his new station in life with optimism and pleasure rather than grimness and a dour sense of duty? She wondered what he was doing nowa"hopefully he was taking deep breathsa"for head left nearly on the verge of apoplexy.

Actually, Marcus was only on the verge of profound brooding. He allowed Spears to a.s.sist him out of his coat, which he normally didnat do. He wasnat helpless, for G.o.das sake. He remembered his batman, Connally, whoad spat on the floor of the tent, staring at his coat even as he held it for Marcus to shrug on, as if it were a snake to bite him. Poor Connally had been shot, going down beneath his horse, crushed to death. Marcus said now under his breath, ab.l.o.o.d.y girl. Sheall end up strangled if she doesnat change her ways, that or fall into the arms of a scoundrel.a aMay I ask what ways, my lord?a aYour ears are a great deal too sharp, Spears. All right, the d.u.c.h.ess has secrets. She breeds them, she holds them tightly to her bosom. She wonat tell me the truth about how she kept that d.a.m.nable cottage, how she paid Badger, how she bought food, how shea"a aI quite understand, my lord.a aShe just stands there, looking all calm and unruffled, and giving one of those stingy little smiles of hers and doesnat say anything. I canat even make her angry and the good Lord knows I pushed and baited and mocked. I did my d.a.m.ndest. Why wonat she tell me anything?a Marcus pulled away from Spearsas ministering hands to pull loose his cravat and fling it onto the ma.s.sive bed. aShe has the d.a.m.nable gall to inform me that she intends to leave for London on Boxing Day. I set her aright on that, I tell you.a aMay I ask what your lordship set aright?a aI told her I would soon be her guardian. She will do what I tell her to until sheas twenty-one. If I can push it through, she will be under my control until sheas twenty-five.a Marcus stopped, frowned down at his left boot that was proving recalcitrant.

aSit down, my lord, and allow me to remove it.a Marcus sat, saying, aEven if I managed to be her guardian until she was twenty-five, she would probably marry the first man to ask just to spite me. But she would never raise her voice, no matter what I did, Spears, oh no, she wouldnat deign to do that. That is doubtless beyond the scope of her emotional repertoire. No, she would just look at me like I was a seed in her garden, an unwanted seed that would sprout a weed.a aSurely not that sort of seed, my lord. You are, after all, the earl of Chase. Perhaps you would be contemplated a bulb, not a seed.a aOr maybe even a worm.a aAll things are possible, my lord.a aSheas a d.a.m.ned twit. Are you mocking me, Spears?a aCertainly not, my lord. The very thought offends deeply. Your other boot, my lord.a Marcus stuck out his other foot, still mulling and brooding and sprinkling all of it with an occasional curse. aThis b.l.o.o.d.y Mr. Wicks whoas coming on the morrow, what the h.e.l.l does he want? Whatas going on?a aI daresay we will know soon now, my lord. I recommend, my lord, that you allow Mr. Badger to remain at Chase Park. Heas a man of excellent skills and his brain is of the first order.a aHe was her d.a.m.ned chef.a aYes, I will speak to Mrs. Gooseberry. Perhaps she can be, er, cozied into allowing Mr. Badger to prepare an occasional meal for the family.a aYou miss the point, Spears. She was living with Badger, alone, together. It isnat done. Sheas barely nineteen years old.a aYour lordship surely realizes that Mr. Badger could be her father. He loves her deeply, just as a father ought to love his offspring. He would never harm her. He would protect her with his life.a So would I, Marcus thought, then cursed. He was now standing naked in front of a blazing fire, his hands outstretched to the flames.

aWould you care for a nightshirt tonight, my lord? I understand from Biddle, the second footman who has lived here his entire life, indeed, whose family has lived here for six generations, that tonight will bring frigid temperatures.a aNo,a Marcus said as he scratched his side. aNo nightshirt. The b.l.o.o.d.y things belong on women, not on men. What do you think this Wicks fellow wants, Spears?a aI couldnat say, my lord. However, if you would care to get into bed, you could spend some time thinking about the possibilities. You would be warm rather than cold.a Marcus said nothing, merely climbed into the huge bed, sinking down instantly into the coc.o.o.n of warmth. Spears had used a warming pan and Marcus sighed with pleasure. It was quite unlike lying between the two thin blankets on the floor of his tent in Portugal.

aIs there anything else your lordship requires?a aHumm? Oh no, thank you, Spears. Oh, have you seen Esmee?a aEsmee, the last time I came into rather close contact with her, my lord, was stretched on her belly in front of this fireplace, sleeping quite soundly.a aOuch! Here she is, Spears. After you warmed the sheets, she must have decided this was softer than the d.a.m.ned floor. Itas disconcerting when she wraps herself around my belly.a aSheas a very affectionate feline, my lord.a Marcus grunted at that and Spears appreciated his lordshipas obvious verbal restraint.

aSleep well, my lord. We will see this Mr. Wicks soon enough.a Mr. Wicks arrived the following morning at eleven oaclock. Marcus watched the old gentleman step gingerly down from the carriage. He couldnat make out his features for he was swathed in a huge m.u.f.fler, a fur hat with ear flaps, and at least three scarves, all intertwined over his greatcoat, an immensely thick wool affair that nearly dragged the ground.

He walked back into his library, guessing it would take Mr. Wicks at least a half an hour to be divested of his outer garments.

When Sampson gently knocked on the door and entered quietly, Marcus merely turned and raised a black brow at him.

aMr. Wicks requests that the d.u.c.h.ess be present, my lord. Actually, he, er, insists she be present.a aHe does, does he? Well, I suspected as much, truth be told. Have her fetched, Sampson.a aShe is here, my lord, speaking right now with Mr. Wicks. She is a.s.sisting him out of all his layers of gear.a aAh, so kind of her,a he said, feeling testy and sounding sarcastic because he didnat know what was going on. Well, actually he did know. Obviously Mr. Wicks had come to inform him of the amount of money his uncle had settled on her. Who cared? He would have settled money on her himself, in any case, as a dowry. He said, aWhen the d.u.c.h.ess has completed her disrobing of Mr. Wicks, do show them in, Sampson.a It was, in truth, another ten minutes before Mr. Wicks, a scrawny, quite old, rheumy-eyed gentleman, walked into the library, the d.u.c.h.ess at his side. The old man looked around him with great interest. The library was a wealth of history, Marcus thought, feeling a surge of unconscious pride. He looked at the d.u.c.h.ess. There was no expression whatsoever on her face. She looked serene and calm as the d.a.m.ned mistress of the Park, as if Mr. Wicks were the vicar here to discuss an excursion to the lime wells near Bell Busk for the orphans.

But Mr. Wicks was a London solicitor of some renown. He was the man Marcusas uncle had hired to legitimize the d.u.c.h.ess. What more was there other than a monetary settlement? Odd that his uncle had hired an entirely different solicitor to deal with this matter rather than one of the distinguished Messieurs Bradshaw, solicitors for the Wyndhams, father to son, for the past eighty years.

What the devil was going on here?

6.

aTHIS IS MARCUS Wyndham, the earl of Chase, Mr. Wicks. He is my cousin.a aMy lord,a Mr. Wicks said, his voice surprisingly vigorous for a gentleman of his advanced years. Marcus also saw the sharp intelligence in the old gentlemanas eyes at that moment. He realized that he would be a formidable opponent, no matter what his age. aIt is a pleasure to meet you, sir. Er, it perhaps seems strange to you that I must see you as well as Miss Wyndham.a aActually, now, she is a lady. However, Lady d.u.c.h.ess Wyndham sounds a bit farfetched.a aI agree,a she said. aLet us simply retain Miss Wyndham or perhaps even Miss Cochrane.a aNo,a Marcus said. aNo, I wonat allow that. You are now a Wyndham and that is what you will be called. I like Lady d.u.c.h.ess.a She gave him a slight smile, looked down at her white hands lying still in her lap. She said nothing more.

Marcus looked away from her to the solicitor. aPerhaps, Mr. Wicks, you would care to be seated near the fire. You can tell us what you must from that vantage.a aThank you, my lord. The weather is a bit brisk today and I find that the older my bones survive, the thinner they become. Now, letas begin.a Marcus sat beside the d.u.c.h.ess on an exquisite old Queen Anne settee, beautifully sculpted, covered with pale cream and dark blue brocade.

aNow, my lord, you are fully aware that your uncle, the former earl of Chase, married Mrs. Cochrane and legitimized the child of their union.a aYes, I approve of his action. However, why wasnat I informed immediately?a Mr. Wicks didnat hesitate, but said frankly, aIt was my agreement with your uncle. All was to be finalized before any of the Wyndham family was informed, including his youngest brotheras wife and her family currently residing in the Colonies in a place called Baltimore, and, naturally, your mother. This was to protect Miss Wyndham, er, Lady d.u.c.h.ess. Surely that is understandable, my lord.a aYes, certainly,a Marcus said, rising quickly and striding over to the fireplace. aHad I known before the legalities were completed, I would have posted immediately to Smarden and strangled her in her bed and thrown her body over the Dover cliffs. Yes, it makes a great deal of sense to a brigand of my stamp.a The d.u.c.h.ess cleared her throat. aHeas merely jesting, Mr. Wicks. Unfortunately, after the death of Charlie and Mark, my father took a dislike to his lordship, because he was alive and they werenat. Then, of course, all his wifeas babes died. This must have been the reason for his behavior, not because he didnat believe Marcus honorable, but simply to rub his nose in it, so to speak. Marcus, itas true. I trust you will not think of it further.a aDonat you believe it, d.u.c.h.ess. He blamed me for not being there to save them, that, or die with them. I was close by, over at the Rothermere Stud, but not close enough. He saw that as full measure of my perfidy, my lack of honor. He quite hated me, d.u.c.h.ess.a aSurely youare exaggerating,a she said.

aAm I, Mr. Wicks? Did my uncle tell you rather how fond he was of me? How delighted he was to see me succeed him?a aPerhaps it is best if I address that a bit later, my lord. Now, sir, you must wonder why I requested your presence.a Marcus merely inclined his head, an action that made him look older and strangely, quite forbidding.

aThereas no easy way to say this, my lord.a aThen spit it out, Mr. Wicks.a aThe former earl left all monies, all properties, all houses, and all possessions not entailed specifically to his successor, namely you, my lord, to his daughter, Josephina Wyndham.a There was utter silence. Marcus stared at her for a long moment, then said in a too calm voice, aJosephina? That is quite the ugliest name I have ever heard. You must thank me every night in your prayers that I renamed you d.u.c.h.ess.a Mr. Wicks looked at sea, and twitched his papers about nervously. aDid you understand what I said, my lord?a aYes, certainly, sir. You have just told me that I am a pauper. A pauper living in this great mansion, but a pauper nonetheless. I have been stripped of everything. If he had chosen to beggar his family in a more efficacious manner, why, I couldnat begin to imagine what it would be. You see, d.u.c.h.ess, I wasnat at all mistaken about my uncleas true feelings for me. Did he bother seeing to his own daughters, Antonia and f.a.n.n.y?a aYes, my lord. He left each of them ten thousand pounds. But that was in his previous will. That will still stands, including all the bequests to servants, other retainers, and the remaining Wyndham relatives.a aSo I was the b.u.t.t of his vengeancea"I, his heir.a aNot entirely, my lord. It is just that now, Lady Josephina is, wella"a aDonat refer to her by that repellent name. She owns everything except for Chase Park, I believe. Is there anything else entailed to me, Mr. Wicks?a aYes, my lord. The London house on Putnam Place is yours, rather it is yours for your lifetime.a aI quite understand. Aught else?a aThere is a hunting box in Cornwall that is entailed, near St. Ives, I believe, and some two thousand acres of rich farmland. There is nothing else, my lord. Iam sorry.a aThere is not a single b.l.o.o.d.y sou for the upkeep of this monstrosity of a house?a Mr. Wicks said slowly, aYour uncle, the former earl, feared that you would simply consign him to the devil if he left you nothing to keep up the entailed properties. Thus, he has left me the trustee for all the Wyndham properties, monies, houses, possessions. I am also Lady d.u.c.h.essas trustee and guardian until she reaches her majority. When she reaches the age of twenty-one, she is to act in joint trusteeship with me to oversee all the entailed Wyndham holdings. The incoming principle from all the Wyndham holdings is excellent and continues to grow each year. There are properties in Devon, Suss.e.x, and Oxfordshire. However, my lord, the monies are not within your discretion.a Marcus said nothing. Indeed, he looked rather bored, dismissing both them and the killing blow struck him by his uncle, long-dead, no longer here to gain his vengeance.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a negligent shoulder against the mantel. He laughed then, a very soft, bitter laugh. aYou were wrong, d.u.c.h.ess. Will you now admit that he hated me? Will you admit that this is no simple nose-rubbing? The b.a.s.t.a.r.da"no insult intended to you, d.u.c.h.essa"the b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d hated so much that I would succeed him that he has turned me into a poor relation, dependent on Mr. Wicks here for the very bread I eat, for any repairs I deem necessary to make, for the payment of all our servants. And doubtless dependent on you, his b.a.s.t.a.r.d, for any crumbs you would wish to throw my way, all this because of his hatred for me. He has crushed the hopes of his own progeny and future Wyndham generations.a Mr. Wicks looked unutterably depressed. aLet me say, my lord, that I argued vigorously with your uncle, but he wouldnat be swayed. He did hold you in remarkable dislike, I will admit that. However, he did agree to leave you a, er, quarterly allowance.a Marcus looked primed for violence. aNo wonder you all but laughed at me last night, d.u.c.h.ess, with me going on and on about becoming your guardian, providing you a dowry, protecting you as I now must protect my family. Now you have everything. Now you no longer need a man to see to your needs. Yes, you must have found all my prosings quite entertaining.a aNo, I did not. You must allow me to explain, Marcus.a To her surprise, he managed to say with the utmost calm, aI donat think so, d.u.c.h.ess. Well, I believe that I will consider this. Good day to you, Mr. Wicks.a aBut, my lord, there is more. You must stay! You must listen to me!a aEven more than this? I think not, Mr. Wicks. I think I am quite up to my craw with your revelations.a He nodded to her, then strode from the room, not looking back.

Mr. Wicks shook his head. aIt wasnat an honorable thing your father did, my dear. Certainly making you legitimate was well done of him. Providing you a substantial dowry would have been proper, but thisa"leaving you everything and leaving his lordship an allowance, nothing more, leaving him the supplicant for any funds he will needa"it is abominable.a She was staring, unseeing, at the toes of her dark blue slippers that peeped from beneath her gown. aYou didnat tell me all of it, Mr. Wicks. You gave me no hint of what my father had done. You simply told me that he had left me quite a rich young lady, nothing more. What he has done is reprehensible. I wonat allow it. I wonat be a party to it.a She looked at him full in the face now and her look was fierce. aListen to me, sir. I fully intend to undo all that he did. Marcus doesnat deserve to be served such a turn. I refuse to allow him to be beggared. The nerve of my father blaming Marcus simply because he wasnat there, possibly to drown along with his cousins.

aYou and I controlling his purse strings? You and I giving the earl of Chase an allowance? No, it is hideous. I will see it undone immediately.a She rose and began pacing. Head never seen her so animated before. She turned suddenly and said in a deep commanding voice, aSee to it, Mr. Wicks. You can leave me something, but all the monies, all the other houses and properties, any and all holdings must be returned to Marcus.a Mr. Wicks said very gently, aIam sorry, my dear, but I cannot.a aWhat do you mean you cannot?a aYour father foresaw that you could possibly react in this manner. He knew you were good-hearted, loyal, if you will, to your cousin. He said that if you refused the complete inheritance and all responsibilities it carried with it, then it would all be turned over to the wife of his youngest brother who died some five years ago, the wife and children living in the Colonies.a She took the sheet of paper from him and read: Mrs. Wilhelmina Wyndham of Fourteen Spring Street, Baltimore, Maryland.

aThere is quite a large family, I understand. Three children born of the union.a aBut I have never heard of this Wilhelmina, who would be my aunt.a Mr. Wicks cleared his throat. aWell, it seems the late earlas youngest brother was what one calls a gamester, a bad penny. He lost everything, including an inheritance from a distant aunt, and his father ordered him gone. He went to the Colonies. There he met Wilhelmina b.u.t.ts and married her. To be blunt, Grant Wyndham was your fatheras favorite brother, despite his dispossession by your grandfather. He thought it would be a great joke to bring his rakeh.e.l.l brotheras family back here, give them all the moneya"that is, maaam, if you refuse to accept the responsibilities heas laid upon you.

aYou see that your hands and mine are tied. I will a.s.sure you, d.u.c.h.ess, that I would never treat his lordship as a pensioner, despite my issuance of a quarterly allowance for his personal use. I wonat treat him like a poor relation. I wonat be a tyrant about funds that he needs for maintenance or repairs for the entailed properties or lands. In short, I will consider his pride of the utmost importance.a aYou donat know Marcus, Mr. Wicks. No matter your a.s.surances, your kindness and understanding, he wonat accept it, ever. Marcus is a very proud man, but heas even more than that, heas perhaps excessively principled and holds himself to the highest standards. Heas actually quite magnificent.a Mr. Wicks looked at her oddly, but just for a moment, then said, aPerhaps he wonat accept this. But then again, duty is a powerful thing. Does he want to see a vast estate gutted? I hope not. I do fear, however, and I said this to your father, that after I have gone to my heavenly reward, the man who takes my place may consider himself a very powerful being indeed and treat the earl like some sort of indigent charity. I fear that. As I recall, your father merely rubbed his hands together and laughed.a aYou have considered this a great deal, Mr. Wicks. Have you found no way out of the mess for Marcus?a He brightened at that. aOh yes, indeed, there is a way, yes. Your father, after he laughed, told me what he planned, but you and the earl wonat perhaps be inclined to, er, follow through with it.a aAnd what is that, pray?a aYour cousin must wed you before eighteen months have pa.s.sed after your fatheras death to undo what will come to pa.s.s. Indeed, the two of you marrying would cancel out everything I have told his lordship. Your father wanted your blood in future earls of Chase. He said it would help to dilute Marcusas tainted blood.a aMarcusas blood tainted? That is utter nonsense. Do you so quickly forget that I am a b.a.s.t.a.r.d?a aNonetheless, it is what your father wanted above all things. He wanted your sons to succeed Marcus.a Mr. Wicks shrugged. aHe felt that if you refused, then he didnat care if the earldom fell into ruin. Thatas what he said, maaam, he didnat care. This all happened after your motheras death. He changed, an alarming change. He simply didnat care anymore about anything. I was more than alarmed, but he simply didnat care. I remember he said to me when it was all done, aWicks, Bess is gone, my wife, the only woman I ever wanted, is gone. She never came to Chase Park where she always belonged, and she should have, if theread been any justice. Let my nephew wallow in his own bile, I care not. Let him taste just a small bit of the injustice G.o.d meted out to me.a a She sat perfectly still, saying nothing, not flinching, making no movement of any kind. Shead spoken forcefully, but always with that underlying control. She was, he thought, far too young for such control.

She said finally, her voice as pensive and calm as a doveas song on a midsummeras night, aMy father died last January. This means that we must wed by June.a aYes, that is so. By June sixteenth, to be precise.a aWhy didnat you tell Marcus of thisa"this way out of his difficulties?a aI tried, but he walked out. He is shocked right now, unable to believe what his uncle has done to him. I will tell him this evening. However, my first concern is with you, my dear. If you have no desire to wed with your cousin, you must tell me now. Thus, it would be an academic exercise. It is entirely your decision.a She rose slowly, every movement she made graceful and pure. She smoothed down her skirt, gently turned the bracelet on her right wrist.

aI lose everything if I donat wed Marcus?a aMore accurately it is if you refuse to comply with the terms of his will. Regardless, you will receive fifty thousand pounds. As I said, my dear, regardless, you are a very rich young lady. But it wonat change the earlas dilemma. Rather than you, all the rest will go to these Colonials. They will live here in England if they choose, rich and without a care, and he will have an allowance.a aMarcus is a very poor young man if he and I do not wed by June sixteenth.a aYes, my dear.a aLike Marcus, Mr. Wicks, Iam a bit overturned. I will see that you are shown to your bedchamber. We observe country hours here. Dinner is at six-thirty. If you would be so kind as to come to the drawing room at six.a She smiled at him, a slight smile, more a shadow of an expression, but nonetheless, Mr. Wicks was drawn to that semblance of a smile, and smiled back at her.

aUntil later, Mr. Wicks,a she said. aIf there is anything you require, please inform Sampson.a aThank you,a he said and watched her walk gracefully from the library. He marveled yet again how a girl so very young could be so very composed and sedate in the face of what she obviously considered to be appalling news. He wondered how fond she was of her cousin. She had certainly defended him, had demanded that her fatheras infamous instructions be undone. That must denote at least some positive feelings on her part. He wondered further if the present earl of Chase liked the d.u.c.h.ess enough to marry her if she were willing, or if he disliked her so very much to tell her to go to the devil and take all her d.a.m.ned groats with her, or if he simply hated the situation so very much, felt so very humiliated by the complete destruction of his world, that he would tell her to go to the devil despite what he felt for her.

The earl appeared to be a proud young man. From the description given to him by the former earl, Mr. Wicks had initially been given to understand that Marcus Wyndham was a dissolute and disreputable young buck, bordering on malevolent. In short, a man worthy of no consideration whatsoever. Head realized soon enough that it was spite on the former earlas part, or even a mental sickness brought on by the d.u.c.h.essas motheras death.

He played again and again in his mind the scene in which he would inform the earl he would have to wed the d.u.c.h.ess to save his hide.

She certainly wasnat an affliction to the eye.

She was, however, born a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Some people felt that nothing could ever change that.

Time would tell.

The earl appeared that evening promptly at six oaclock, dressed in severe black, his cravat simply but elegantly presented, his linen white as the young manas teeth. He was remarkably handsome, Mr. Wicks thought, looking at him objectively. Also, he appeared to have learned a measure of the d.u.c.h.essas control. There was no hint in his expression, no clue in anything he said to anyone a.s.sembled, that everything he was growing used to had gone up in smoke. He was polite, nothing more, but then again, he was the earl of Chase, and wasnat it proper that such a n.o.bleman not be overly confiding or intimate?

Mr. Crittaker was present. Mr. Wicks realized within five minutes that the man was smitten with the d.u.c.h.ess. He tried to hide it, but there was such sloppy emotion in his brown eyes that Mr. Wicks wanted to kick him or shake him, or both. He wondered if the earl was aware of his secretaryas affliction.

Dinner pa.s.sed smoothly. Lady Gweneth Wyndham, the late earlas older sister, was the hostess, and was pa.s.sing gracious even to a mere solicitor. She did say, however, during a course that included potted pigeons flavored too strongly with nutmeg and roast lamb with white beans seasoned with too much garlic, aMarcus, you really must do something about that blasted Esmee.a Marcus looked up, a black eyebrow raised. aExcuse me, maaam?a aYour cat, Marcus. Mrs. Gooseberry said she stole a huge slab of broiled lamb. That is why, she said, that there were more white beans than necessary in this particular dish.a aEsmee has always been remarkably agile,a Marcus said. aI a.s.sume she escaped with her booty?a aOh yes, leaving Mrs. Gooseberry to holler and drive Sampson to the brink of overset nerves. He doesnat like to hear anyone hollering, Marcus.a aItas true. Perhaps it is time for Badger to make his way to the kitchen. Heas a remarkable cook.a aHe makes an excellent roasted b.u.t.tock of beef,a the d.u.c.h.ess said, looking at her fork that held some overcooked white beans. aThe pastry he makes to wrap the roast beef in melts in oneas mouth. Also, Badger is a diplomat. Would you like him to prepare a meal for you, Marcus?a He didnat look at her, saying into his goblet of rich red wine, aI will tell Sampson that Mrs. Gooseberry needs a respite from the cat and all her machinations. Badger may prepare a b.u.t.tock of beef for us tomorrow night. She may visit her sister in Scarborough.a aShe doesnat have a sister in Scarborough,a Aunt Gweneth said.

aThen she could benefit from the fresh sea air all by herself,a Marcus said, then shrugged, obviously dismissing the problem. He was the earl, the master here, even though he currently believed himself to have been deposed, dispossessed. Mr. Wicks couldnat wait to speak to him. He disliked leaving things, no matter for how short a time, in such a muddle.

The earl didnat dally over port. Instead, joining the family in the huge drawing room, he continued civil. If he was more quiet, more aloof than he usually was, Mr. Wicks didnat know it since he had just met the young man. He said finally, at nine oaclock, aMy lord, if you and I could please meet for just a few minutes in your library? It is critical to your situation that you understand everything fully.a Marcus raised an eyebrow, saying very quietly, so that only Mr. Wicks could hear him, aAh, you mean, sir, that I had no right to send Mrs. Gooseberry to Scarborough? Must I ask permission from you, sir?a aNo. Please, my lord, come with me now.a Marcus shrugged, said good night to the company, and led the way from the drawing room. He didnat realize the d.u.c.h.ess had come also until he turned to face both her and Mr. Wicks in the library. He said, his voice harsh and raw with fury, aWhat the h.e.l.l do you want, d.u.c.h.ess? Get out of here. Go count your b.l.o.o.d.y groats. Write a letter to the man who was keeping you and tell him to take his cong with Mrs. Gooseberry in Scarborough. Ah, I see, I can no longer afford to raise my voice or tell you what to do, can I? If I offend you, then I will find myself living in a ditch.a aI ask you exercise just a bit of restraint. There is a solution. Please listen to Mr. Wicks, Marcus.a ad.a.m.n you, canat you evera"a He broke off, shook himself, and sat down behind his desk, his posture insolent. aAll right, Mr. Wicks, what more wondrous news do you have for me? Am I to live in the dower house, or perhaps the tack room?a

7.

aNO, MY LORD,a Mr. Wicks said, looking earnestly at the young earl. aPlease, I beg you to listen to me with an open mind. I ask that you forget your anger, your sense of betrayal, at least for the moment. There is a solution, you see, one that perhaps you will not find onerous or distasteful.a aA solution to this b.l.o.o.d.y mess? You mean my dear uncle destroys me then gives me a gun to shoot myself out of my misery?a aNo, my lord. It involves marriage.a aAh, the proverbial heiress, eh? Thatas an interesting key to stick through the bars of my cage. Well, you mean my uncle didnat forbid my marrying an heiress? How very poorly completed his revenge was, to be sure. So I merely hie myself to London, look over the Citsa daughters currently up for sale, and make my selection. Then I have her, her blessed groats, and my gentlemanas allowance. It is a charming thought, Mr. Wicks, so charming a thought that I do believe I will shortly puke.a aMarcus, please listen.a ad.u.c.h.ess, I am very close to smashing that amazingly ugly Chinese vase over there on its d.a.m.ned pretentious pedestal. I understand my uncle was quite fond of it. Yes, I am nearly over the edge. I suggest you take yourself out of here. I wouldnat want to bruise youra"a aBe quiet, Marcus. I canat leave, for this involves me as much as it does you.a Shead at last gotten his full attention. aWhat the h.e.l.l does that mean?a aShe means, my lord, that your uncle allowed you a way out. Yes, you are to marry an heiress and he selected her for you. You need go to no trouble, my lord, you may simply wed with the d.u.c.h.ess.a Marcus just stared at him. Mr. Wicks wet his lips, wanting to give more arguments, but the look on the young earlas face held him quiet. There was blood in his eye. Yet he continued silent. The d.u.c.h.ess, however, as was her wont, was more silent. Absolutely unmoving, her eyes calm on his face. The stillness of her was amazing, and disconcerting. It occurred to him in that moment that her very composure, her unshakable calm in light of these extraordinary developments, was far from rea.s.suring the earl. They were infuriating him.

Finally, after more minutes than Mr. Wicks ever wanted to live through again in his life, Marcus said with mocking insolence, aMarry her? Marry Josephina?a He looked her up and down, his eyes resting first on her bosom, then lower to the line of her thighs and hips. aMarry someone with such an ugly name? I canat imagine whispering love words to her, whispering Josephina . . . Josephina. I daresay I would shrivel like last springas potatoes, that, or laugh myself silly. Surely it is all a jest, Mr. Wicks. There is a trick here, another blow from my uncle. Come, spit it out.a aNo, it is no jest, my lord. There is no more. Could you not simply continue calling her d.u.c.h.ess? Surely you donat find that name ugly, you gave it to her, after all. Listen my lord, you must think carefully about this, there is so very much at stake, you musta"a aIt isnat just her d.a.m.nable ugly name, Mr. Wicks. This same girl has ice water in her veins. Just look at her, sitting there as still as a b.l.o.o.d.y rock. She isnat even here. Sheas probably thinking about her b.l.o.o.d.y flowers if sheas thinking about anything at all. All us mere human mortals donat interest her. Someone could come up and put a placard around her neck and still she wouldnat stir. Birds could probably roost on her head and she still wouldnat move, wouldnat acknowledge that anything was even different.

aBy G.o.d, she feels more for the roses in her garden than she ever would feel for another human being. I donat believe so, Mr. Wicks. Not in my b.l.o.o.d.y lifetime.a Marcus stopped, struck a pose, then added, aActually, I donat think she feels a b.l.o.o.d.y thing for her roses either. It must be their beauty that draws her, their cold beauty, like velvet to the eye. But, by G.o.d, you touch the things and youave got yourself scarred from the thorns. Yes, I can understand that she would find roses of interest, but a man? Can you begin to imagine how distasteful she would find a man, Mr. Wicks? We arenat natureas most splendid specimens. All that hair, our very size, our endowments thata"a aMy lord! Please, moderate yourself. I know all of this is something of a shock to you, but you must recognize that it is a solution, it isa"a Shead pressed herself hard against the settee in shock, but it was on the inside, deep on the inside. She didnat allow herself to move, she barely breathed. Ah, but she felt the bitter angry words wash over her and through her and it was too much, it was far too much. And poor Mr. Wicks, trying so vainly to moderate Marcusas rage, an impossibility, she knew that. He was pa.s.sionatea"quick to joy and quick to anger. But still she hadnat imagined that he would say such things. But she should have. He was a strong man, a proud man, and now he was a man pushed too far. She simply looked at him, at the ugly sneer that distorted his well-shaped mouth, at the utter fury that held him in its grip.

Marcus continued, seemingly oblivious of his stunned audience, of the damage he was inflicting, aCan you imagine her in your bed, Mr. Wicks? Do think back, sir. Say, twenty or thirty years. Surely you had l.u.s.tful thoughts then. Ah, and she is so beautiful, is she not? A glorious creature to behold, not only that face of hers but that body, all tall and slender yet with b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips that tantalize any man unfortunate enough to be looking at her with more than appreciation for, say, a painting in his mind.

aBut can you imagine how she would greet you if you were her husband? She would stare at you calmly, so detached that it is difficult to imagine that she really has substance, aye, she would stare as if you were some sort of rodent that really had no business being even in the same room as her. She would try, however, not to look too repelled. Perhaps she would even give one of her stingy smilesa"paltry things, those meager smiles of hersa"to show that she was completely aware of her upcoming sacrifice. Then she would calmly march to the bed and stretch out there, on her back, unmoving, probably as cold on the outside as she is within. G.o.d, it is a repulsive thought, Mr. Wicks.a Mr. Wicks tried, she gave him that. He cleared his throat, but there was desperation on his face, a tremor in his voice. aListen to me, my lord, I understand this is all such a shock to you, thata"a aI would much prefer a woman to run screaming from me than to just lie there and bear all my repellent menas acts in silence, unmoving, perhaps whimpering like a little martyr, whilst I had my vile way with her.a Mr. Wicks cleared his throat loudly, continuing as if Marcus hadnat spoken. a . . . and thus, my lord, it makes you a bit resentful, a bit intemperate in your speech, perhaps a bit bitter anda"a aBitter, Mr. Wicks? I a.s.sure you, sir, that bitter doesnat even begin to cover what Iam feeling. Resentful? Now thereas a bloodless word I havenat ever heard applied to myself.a aMy lord, your uncle wanted the d.u.c.h.ess to be your countess. He wanted his grandchildren to have her blood as well as yours. Surely you can understand that.a aAnother exaggeration, Mr. Wicks, if not a downright falsehood. My uncle doubtless believed that her exalted blood, in direct flow from his own precious body, would reduce the corruptness of my blood in any possible issue, at least dilute its monstrous effects. Ah, yes, I see from your expression that is exactly what my dear uncle believed.a aMarcus.a It was her voice, quiet and contained, so very soft, as if she were a nanny wanting to bring her recalcitrant charge back in control. aMarcus,a she said again when he remained silent. aPlease try to understand.a aAh,a he said, interrupting her with a negligent wave of his hand. aI suppose you want to wed with me, d.u.c.h.ess? You are willing to sacrifice yourself on the altar of your fatheras revenge? Forgive me, but I canat believe that, even though I can see that youare ready to nod. Not to speak and say yes, but nod, perhaps sigh with resignation, which is quite a feat of emotion for you, but Iam not that much of an idiot.

aBut wait, perhaps I have underestimated you again. Is it that my dear uncle also served you a bit of a turn, forced your hand, so to speak, d.u.c.h.ess? Perhaps your inheritance is somehow connected to all this? Will you lose all your groats if you donat marry me?a aNo,a she said.

He waited, the good Lord knew he waited for her to say more, to say anything to reduce the humiliation of this entire situation, to tell him that she wanted to marry him and it had nothing to do with what her father had done to him, well, it had, but it wasnat important to her. He waited for her to perhaps scream at him for his vicious insults, for spewing out words surely fit only for street harlots, but she just sat there, staring down at her hands, utterly motionless, like a d.a.m.ned marble statue.

aShe will gain fifty thousand pounds, regardless of your decision, my lord. However, if either of you refuse to wed the other by June the sixteenth of 1814, then your uncleas family from Baltimore, Maryland, will inherit everything that isnat entailed.a aI see. So the d.u.c.h.ess does have something to lose, quite a lot of something, I would say. What is a paltry fifty thousand pounds compared to being the mistress of an immense and old estate? Yes, wedding with me might be a consideration. Now, if my uncleas family inherits after June sixteenth, after Iave gutted the vast Wyndham estate in only a very minor waya"just the entailed propertya"certainly not all that important except for Chase Park, ah, then Iall be obliged to ask Auntie Wyndham for money to make repairs on anything else that needs to be done on my meager share of things?a aNo, my lord. Forgive me if I was unclear. I would be the one.a aMay I know the amount of my allowance?a aI believe it to be in the neighborhood of two hundred pounds a quarter.a aTwo hundred pounds!a Marcus threw back his head and laughed. Deep, black laughter that bubbled up, that made his shoulders shake, that made her hurt so much for him that she wanted to scream, to plead with him to trust her, to know that she would make everything all right for him, but of course, she said nothing, she didnat know what to say. She had no practice, no knowledge of what to say.

aDid you hear that, d.u.c.h.ess? Two hundred pounds! This is very close to what I earned per year in the army. Good G.o.d, I would be b.l.o.o.d.y rich, a nabob with a t.i.tle.a And he laughed and laughed until his eyes teared. aAll I would have to do is hold out my hand to Mr. Wicks here. That and hold my head up in society, h.e.l.l, more important, I would have to look at myself in the mirror.

aPerhaps I could stand outside his office, join a line of beggars, and look properly humble and subservient whilst my hand was out, my expression set in modest line, my eyes downcast, so that he would give me my allowance and perhaps not accompany the guineas with a lecture on how not to be wasteful. I would wear those woolen mittens with the fingers cut out so that I could better snag the groats he tosses to me. I wouldnat want to lose any of my grand allowance, now would I?a aActually, my lord, your allowance would be an automatic thing, the funds sent directly to you each quarter.a aAh, so Mr. Crittaker would see my allowance and see to its disposition. Good G.o.d, I forgot about Crittaker. Is he still to be my secretary? Surely one as poor as I has no need of a gentlemanas secretary. Well, Mr. Wicks?a aYour uncle was very fond of Mr. Crittaker, my lord. His wages are to be taken care of for so long as he wishes to remain with you here at Chase Park.a aTo be taken care of,a Marcus repeated slowly. aWhat an interesting sound that all has. Like your mother was taken care of, d.u.c.h.ess. How you were perhaps taken care of in that cozy little cottage of yours in Smarden. I see then that it is just if I wish to do anything, change anything, that I would find my place in the beggaras line.a She waited, her hands now fisted in her lap. She stared at them, at the white knuckles, and forced them to open, to calm, for if she didnat, her belly would certainly cramp into awful pain and she would be ill.

Then he said, his voice raw from all his laughter, aWell, d.u.c.h.ess, are you willing to carry through with this d.a.m.nable charade? Will you wed me and become my countess? Are you ready to save me from this endless ignominy? Are you ready to suffer me in your bed and bear countless little boy babies who just might look like me rather than you? Did my uncle leave a provision for that, Mr. Wicks? Any male child that looked like me would be disinherited? G.o.d, thatas a revolting thought, isnat it? What if they had my temper, my fits of emotion, my hairy body? What if they resembled me rather than you, d.u.c.h.ess, the most soulless creature Iave ever met?a She opened her mouth, yes, now she would tell him, but he suddenly yelled, aNo! I donat want to hear your mewling protests, all very calmly stated, Iam sure. Actually, d.u.c.h.ess, I wouldnat wed you if you held the last loaf of bread in all of England and I was starving. What man would want to bed such a cold-blooded b.i.t.c.h, despite her newfound legitimacy, despite her groats? Not I, madam, not I. Iam not as scheming as your father. Actually, Mr. Wicks, I have just decided that the earldom will become extinct upon my death. I wonder if my b.l.o.o.d.y uncle ever considered that eventuality.a aYour aunt Wilhelmina has two sons, my lord. Were you to die with no issue, the eldest son, Trevor Wyndham, would inherit the earldom.a aTrevor? Good G.o.d, that name is as absurd as hers. Trevor. Is he effete, Mr. Wicks? Does he mince and waggle his fingers, wear patches on his cheeks? Does he chatter and giggle? Does he pad his calves to make them fill out his trousers? Does he have buckram wadding in his shoulders to make him manly enough? By G.o.d, Trevor!a aI truly donat know the character of your aunt Wilhelminaas offspring.a The earl cursed, but there was little heat in it. Then, very slowly, he smiled. aNo matter. Let a fop be the next earl. Let him mince about in the House of Lords. Perhaps heas even a pederast. If he is, I shall have a painting commissioned of him and I will place it next to my uncleas. The two of them can visit each other for all eternity. And I, well, I shall have two hundred pounds a quarter. Fancy thata"I will be rich. These past ten months of playing a role that didnat at all suit my character will soon be forgotten. Count on it, Mr. Wicks. This precious earldom is already becoming a faint echo in my mind.a He strode then from the library, not looking back, still laughing that raw black laughter.

Mr. Wicks looked down at her, shaking his head. aI had not expected such excess, such vehemence, such a lack of measure.a aMarcus always spoke his mind when he was a boy,a she said, her voice dull in its acceptance. aI have just never heard him speak it as an adult. Heas gained fluency and tenacity. Heas gained more range. It was something I always admired in him. Of course, Marcus always belonged, he was a true Wyndham even though he refuses to accept that he was. He could be angry, outrageous in his behavior or just plain sullen if the mood struck him.a Yes, head always belonged until her father had done him in.

She saw that Mr. Wicks was quite distressed, shaking his head, mumbling, aI still cannot believe his insults to you. You have never harmed him. Indeed, you wished to set everything aright. He didnat even give you a chance to speak. You would have accepted him, wouldnat you, d.u.c.h.ess?a aYes, I would have accepted him, but he was very angry, Mr. Wicks. He wasnat ready to l