The Duke She Left Behind Read online

  Standing in front of her chair, she smiled. Her shoulders dropped in an exhale. She must have been holding her breath like he was. “Your grace, how good it is to see you.” She curtseyed.

  After greeting Marjorie, he spoke to Eliza’s mother as precedence required. “Lady Dalcliffe, you look well. I understand you had a long journey. I hope you’ve recovered.”

  She curtseyed, her features warm with welcome. “Yes, your grace. The duchess’ hospitality has restored me quite well.”

  Politeness complete, Beck turned to Eliza and battled the need to pull her into his arms. “Lady Eliza,” he said simply with a bow of his head.

  Their initial greeting complete, all his nerve deserted him and he was desperate to leave the room. “Forgive me, ladies, I smell like my horse. Enjoy your evening.” He abruptly said goodbye to Hart and retreated to his own room to change. Retreated to the safety of solitude until he had control of his nerves again.

  Chapter Three

  The servants began to scurry about the next day in final preparation for their guests, so Eliza had some distraction from her thoughts. Or so Mama kept telling her. Eliza didn’t feel distracted. There was no putting thoughts of Beck aside no matter how disciplined she tried to be. She and Mama sat in the drawing room which had already been rearranged to allow private sitting areas. Eliza spoke in low tones to avoid being overheard. “Have you seen him yet today?”

  “Beckhampton? Of course not. He would call on you before me. He didn’t appear very social last night, and he wouldn’t seek me out, I’m sure.”

  The Beck she’d known was very social, always doing the pretty and making certain no ladies lacked for conversation. Eliza had no idea what he was like now. The fact he’d arrived alone—without a wife—gave her some hope, but if he wished to renew his attentions, he was going about it unbearably slowly.

  Closing her eyes, she chided herself. What did she expect, that he’d walk in the room and propose to her at first sight? She’d seen nothing in his expression last night to give her hope, but she trusted he’d come tonight, knowing she was there.

  As the guests arrived, the ladies were shown into the drawing room where Eliza and Marjorie waited, and the men went straight to the room with a billiards table. Phoebe, Lady Basingstoke, was in animated conversation with Marjorie and Miss Diana Pitt. Lady Sarah St. Michaels sat conspiratorially close to Eliza and leaned in to speak.

  “It’s been so long since I saw you last,” Lady Sarah said.

  “Yes, I’ve been away,” was all Eliza replied.

  “I heard you were in America. I also heard Beckhampton is here tonight. Did you two marry at last? How did the society columns in the London papers miss that?”

  Eliza grew warm and antsy. Hopefully, Diana was having this same conversation with Marjorie, so she wouldn’t have to repeat it. “I am unmarried.”

  Lady Sarah was one of the biggest gossips in all of London—and the greater half of England, most likely. Eliza knew anything she said would be repeated many times before the start of the Season next year, so she refused to elaborate. Whatever exchanges took place between her and Beck that night would give the young woman plenty of fodder.

  “You must have set another wedding date, or you two wouldn’t be here together.”

  “We’re not—” Patience, Eliza told herself. “We have no plans at the present. I’m simply here to enjoy the company of the duke and duchess, just as you all are.”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “Lady Sarah, have you seen my new fern?” Marjorie approached to rescue Eliza and took the Lady Sarah’s arm, practically pulling her to her feet. “You’ll be so jealous when you do. The gardener says there are only three in England. Come, you must see it.”

  Eliza watched them walk away and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d known what to expect but that didn’t make it easier to bear. Even those who weren’t malicious gossips would be curious. Since she had no idea what had been said to explain her absence, Eliza was in a difficult position to explain why she’d failed to appear at her own wedding. No one need know the truth of her father’s actions. And still, people seemed to think she and Beck would still be engaged after her jilting.

  Phoebe took Lady Sarah’s chair, giving Eliza a moment’s reprieve. “Oh, my. She is persistent, isn’t she? How are you, Eliza? It’s so good to have you home again.”

  “It’s very good to be back. I am tired, to be honest. Not just from travel, but my emotions have overwhelmed me once I knew Beck was coming to London, and since he appeared last night.”

  “He must have been so happy to see you. I know Basingstoke would go mad if we were separated for half that long.”

  Eliza nodded. “But you two are married. It’s natural for you to feel that way. I only knew Beck half as long as I was away, however, so he likely chose to look elsewhere for a wife.”

  That was her biggest fear, and nothing he’d said or done put that fear to rest, despite Marjorie’s suggestion that he’d waited.

  The butler entered the large room, looked around, and departed. A few minutes later Marjorie returned and announced supper was ready.

  Now Beck would have to join them—assuming he’d arrived. Eliza prayed Marjorie had planned the seating arrangement so she’d be nowhere near him, although with such a small group, she wouldn’t be far enough for her nerves to settle down. As it turned out, he was seated opposite her, which saved her from the need to speak to him, yet it meant she would see him every time she looked up from her plate.

  She and Mama had upset the number of men and women in attendance, but Marjorie had done her best to seat everyone properly. Lord Basingstoke sat to Eliza’s left, and the Duke of Priestleigh to her right.

  Beck’s chair, and that of Hart at the head of the table, remained empty. Marjorie frowned and tipped her head to a footman to indicate he should find the duke. Supper couldn’t be served without them.

  “We’ll bring in the first course as soon as my husband arrives,” Marjorie explained. “Does everyone have enough to drink?”

  Eliza’s attention was on the hallway as she listened for footsteps. A single set of footsteps shortly approached and Hart took his seat. Marjorie motioned for the footmen to begin serving.

  As the last of the soup bowls was set on the table, Beck rushed in and took his place. “Forgive me, your grace,” he said to Marjorie, who smiled politely in return.

  Lady Sarah, who sat to one side of him, jumped at the opportunity to pry him with questions, many of which were nosey and went unanswered. Then Phoebe asked about his racehorses and he was able to avoid Lady Sarah for several courses.

  Priestleigh, sitting in the corner seat between Eliza and Marjorie, asked the duchess, “What entertainments do you have planned for us tonight?”

  “Since we’re such a small party, I decided against music and thought we’d play cards.”

  The voices around the table faded as Eliza focused on Beck. She’d barely touched her soup, wanting to be sure to see if Beck glanced her way. He hadn’t. She sighed and kept up her share of conversation with the men to her sides and made an effort to eat everything put in front of her. Or, rather, to appear to eat each course. She had no appetite.

  The meal passed uneventfully. The ladies returned to the drawing room while the men enjoyed their brandy and cigars, or whatever it was men did after meals. Eliza managed to keep the focus of the conversation away from her, barely, with the help of Marjorie and Phoebe. Mama retired early, and the young women grew restless for the men to arrive so they could do something more than talk.

  Then Beck walked in.

  He stopped, apparently realizing he was the only man in the room.

  Marjorie waved him over. “Please come in, Beckhampton. We don’t bite.”

  “Yes, do,” Phoebe said. “We’ve run out of conversation.”

  He approached slowly, hesitantly, and stood to one side of the small group, his hands folded behind his back. “Are you enjoying motherhood, Lady Bas
ingstoke?”

  “Immensely,” Phoebe said, perking up. “Little Robbie is such a scoundrel, even though he’s still in diapers.”

  After she regaled them with several tales, the room grew silent again.

  Beck studied Eliza when he thought no one was looking, but he couldn’t read her thoughts. She was as beautiful as ever with her black hair braided in a crown around her head. There were slight shadows beneath her eyes, which he attributed to her long journey. Hart had said she’d only just returned from America. He also said if Beck wanted to know the details of her journey and her reasons for leaving, he’d have to speak to Eliza, herself.

  Obviously realizing what he wanted, Marjorie rose, cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Phoebe, I don’t believe I’ve shown you my fern. Diana, Sarah, come see how beautiful it is.”

  “Yes, when I was last—”

  “No, this is another new fern,” Marjorie insisted, taking her hand and practically pulling Phoebe from the room with the others following her—expect for Eliza and Beck.

  Shaking his head in momentary amusement, Beck wandered to the window where he looked out into the darkness. The coward inside him wished Eliza would speak first, but he was proud enough a man that cowering in a corner until he knew how she felt about him was beneath him. Without looking her way, he said, “This is a pleasant group of guests her grace invited.”

  “Yes. I was surprised to know everyone. I suppose in a group this small, it’s not unexpected, though. I’m so happy Phoebe is here. We wrote each other while I was…away…” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I have missed everyone of my acquaintance, except my brothers.”

  “Forgive me, I neglected to give my condolences on the passing of your father.” Beck had felt no emotion when he’d heard the news, even though he was reasonably certain the man was behind Eliza’s jilting.

  “There’s no need. We were not speaking at the time, and I can’t say I was saddened when he died.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, surprised at the icy chill her voice had taken on. That was nothing like the warm, loving woman he remembered.

  She met his gaze. “It’s horrid of me to say so, I know. But it’s the truth, and I will not lie to you or my good friends about our relationship.”

  “I see.” He took a few steps toward the candlelight surrounding her, then paused. “He’d been kind enough when I saw him. Was there always discord between you? How did I miss it?”

  “A lady always shows respect to her elders.”

  He’d never noticed pretension in her manner around her father. If he could miss that, had he not seen her exaggeration of any emotion she felt toward him? Was she pretending the love she’d proclaimed? He couldn’t believe it. “Have you seen your brothers since your return?”

  “No. I’m not certain what Walter will do when he learns Mama and I are in England.” She looked down at her hands that fidgeted with a lace-edged handkerchief.

  If her brother didn’t know her whereabouts, he must have been party to her leaving the country in the first place. “I see,” he repeated, and took a few more steps in her direction.

  Out with it, man. He closed the short distance to stand in front of her. They held each other’s gaze for the longest moment, then he spoke again. “Tell me now. Do I have no chance in winning your heart again?”

  “What do you mean, again? I feared you hated me.” Her voice cracked in a weak laugh.

  “I could never hate you, even if I believed you left willingly. Tell me what happened.”

  “As I was packing the last of my…er…underpinnings to have sent to your home, the butler said I was expected outside where the carriage stood ready. Mama hadn’t mentioned needing anything from the village, so I was confused about where we must go, but I went as asked.”

  Once again the obedient daughter, Beck thought. He expected nothing less. That had helped to reassure him in those early days that she hadn’t left home of her own will.

  “Father had ordered the carriage and Mama awaited inside. Walter stood beside the carriage door to help me board. I was trembling with concern as I entered the carriage, and upon seeing how red Mama’s eyes were, my own welled with tears.”

  Her voice grew thick and rough, and Beck thought her eyes glistened more in the candlelight. His right hand clenched and released with the need to punch something, and he wished her brother was within range of his fist.

  “Papa sent us to Mama’s sister’s home in Boston with orders to never return. Walter assured we were safely onboard the departing ship, then he waited on the pier until we sailed. He made certain there was no chance of our escaping.”

  The rush to get her out of England made it clear why she hadn’t sent a longer note to Beck, if the message had come from her. Her description made it clear someone else had written him. He grasped her small hand and held it between his. “That’s behind us now. Tomorrow is a new day and we may look to the future. Our future.”

  Our future. He never thought to utter those words again. They’d been given a gift, however. A second chance. He could court her all over again, but this time it would result in a wedding.

  Chapter Four

  Eliza rose earlier than usual the next morning, her hands trembling in excitement to see Beck. Her body hadn’t adjusted to the difference in time between England and Massachusetts, but this morning one would never know she’d lived anywhere else. Her maid, Susan, heard her movements and entered from the dressing room adjoining the bedchamber.

  “My lady, you didn’t give me a chance to bring your chocolate upstairs. Or would you prefer to have breakfast in the dining room?” Susan carried Eliza’s wrapper to her and helped put it on.

  “Downstairs, please.” She padded barefoot across the bedchamber and into the dressing room. “I don’t know what to wear. Which of my day gowns is prettier? I have nothing to wear! Oh, I should have taken Marjorie’s suggestion yesterday and gone shopping, although I doubt I would have found any gowns my size available.”

  “Shall I fetch something from her grace’s wardrobe? I’m certain she wouldn’t mind.”

  “No. I’m so much taller than she, the hem would be extremely short. Help me decide among these.” Eliza held up a peach lawn gown with embroidered hem, then a pale green one with a soft pastel yellow ribbon at the waist.

  “The peach is lovely,” Susan said. “It makes your cheeks rosier.”

  “Perfect.” Eliza carried the gown to her bed and left Susan to gather her underpinnings and shoes. In no time, she was dressed, her hair styled, and she added a gold pendant around her neck. She trotted down the steps, pausing to compose herself as she reached the bottom of the staircase before continuing on her way.

  The dining room was empty except for covered dishes on a sideboard. A footman appeared from a door discretely tucked in a corner and he picked up an empty plate. “What would you prefer, my lady?”

  Could she eat anything without upset, or should she just have coffee? She wasn’t hungry, but dinner was a long way off. “Some toast, please. And maybe an egg…and a sausage.”

  The more she thought about food, the hungrier she grew. Her stomach growled, confirming the need to eat, since she’d consumed so little at supper the night before. She took a seat at the elegantly set table and, once she was served, began to eat.

  Then Beck appeared. “Good morning.”

  She should stand, but before she could, he took the seat opposite her. “The sausages are excellent,” Eliza said once she’d swallowed. She hadn’t expected to see him so early.

  “I’ll take three,” he said to the footman. “Would you care to ride with me this morning? Either on horseback or in a curricle.”

  “That would be lovely. I haven’t been on a horse in years, so the curricle would be pleasant.” She would have time alone with him, and so soon after her arrival. And she couldn’t think of a thing to say now when there was no one nearby to overhear. Why was it she and Marjorie could talk as if they’d never
spent a day apart, yet her tongue knotted when Beck appeared? She took another bite of egg and chewed slowly.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “So are you.”

  He smiled. “You are the person I hold most dear, so polite conversation seems stilted. But I don’t know the person you are now. In that way, we’re like strangers.”

  She understood completely, for she felt that way about him. “I’m the same person I ever was. I still prefer peonies to roses, fish over game, and charades over card games.”

  “I would rather run with the hounds than sit through a sermon,” he replied. “I abhor mushrooms, and I find your eyes to be the most beautiful in all of England.”

  “I never knew that about the mushrooms.” Eliza was slowly relaxing, hope awakening inside her. Perhaps they could recover what was lost. She smiled and peered at him from beneath her thick lashes. “But have you actually seen every pair of eyes to know of what you speak?”

  “Of course. I’d never make such a claim otherwise.” He winked, which sent shivers down Eliza’s spine. “Now, let’s finish our meals so we may escape.”

  And escape they did. The sun was already warm, so Eliza felt overdressed in the spencer she wore that matched her gown. Her straw bonnet scratched the back of her neck as she was jostled in the curricle. The heat on her left arm had nothing to do with the sun, though. Beck sat so close they touched from shoulder to elbow. Her skin burned through the layers of fabric between them simply because of her awareness of him, much the way she recalled feeling in her lips when they’d kissed so many years ago.

  When would he kiss her again? It couldn’t come soon enough.

  Beck glanced at her for the third time since they’d turned onto the road leading to Hyde Park. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Was it as unbearable for you as it was for me?”

  “I imagine so. Perhaps not, though, since I was able to return home to mourn.”

  “Mourn. Yes, that’s what we were doing, wasn’t it?”