Chapter 4
TULIP KISSED JOHN and Sophie before retiring to bed. “Thank you for all you are doing for me.”
Sophie hugged her. “I will admit these hasty weddings overwhelmed me, at first. But I can prepare them in my sleep now. What matters is that you are betrothed to a good man who will be a caring and attentive husband.”
“We’ll take a shotgun to him if he isn’t,” John muttered.
Sophie gasped. “John!”
He shook his head. “Just letting Tulip know she can always come to us if she is unhappy. She needs to know we will always protect her.”
“Thank you, Uncle John.” Tulip went to bed thinking about all that had happened tonight.
Her dreams ought to have been happy ones, of weddings and new beginnings.
After all, she had snared a handsome duke.
Unfortunately, he happened to be a Davenport duke.
For this reason, her dreams were of dark skies and crashing waves, of roiling seas and dangerous turmoil.
In her dreams, she saw a rundown manor house isolated atop a hill.
Thornwycke Hall, no doubt. She had only ever seen it from a distance, and hoped not to find an ominous house with secret rooms, ghostly hauntings, and a housekeeper with shifty eyes.
Davenport was also in her dreams, handsome and brooding.
Full of his own secrets.
She could not shake off this malevolent aura and it caused her to wake up abruptly several times during the night.
“I have to stop reading those scandalous novels,” she whispered each time and fell back into a fitful sleep.
She awoke grudgingly when Sophie’s maid drew aside the drapes to allow in the bright sunshine.
“Good morning, Miss Tulip. It’s to be a lovely day.
Congratulations on your betrothal, and to such a man as Mr. Havers.
Well, he’s His Grace now, isn’t he? And you’re to be his duchess. You must be so thrilled.”
“Thank you, Annie. Yes, he is quite something.” Despite not feeling her best, she did not hesitate to get out of bed and ready herself for the day.
She did not want to miss the very important meeting with Davenport’s solicitor.
John was waiting for her as she came downstairs. “Are you ready?”
She nodded eagerly and took his arm as they strode to their waiting carriage.
Sunlight sparkled upon the Thames waters as Tulip and her uncle rode to the Inns of Chancery where Davenport’s solicitor had his office. The morning light fell soft and gentle upon the waves, and she found it a welcome distraction from her worries.
Sir Deverel Whitby, the senior solicitor and head of the firm of Whitby & Whitby, hurried out to greet them as soon as they walked in. “Welcome, Mr. Farthingale. Miss Farthingale. May I offer my felicitations?”
He escorted them into his spacious office that contained rows of bookshelves laden with what appeared to be legal texts, a massive desk piled with papers, and an elegant table where he obviously sat when meeting with his clients.
Sir Deverel was an imposing man despite being of average height and little brawn. Perhaps it was his snow-white beard and thick, white eyebrows that gave his countenance that aura of gravitas.
Davenport was already in the solicitor’s office, seated at the table with several official looking papers before him.
He rose as Tulip and her uncle were escorted in. “Good morning.”
Tulip smiled as he drew out the chair beside his and motioned for her to take the seat. Their shoulders grazed as she sat, sending tingles shooting through her. “I hope we did not keep you waiting.”
“Not at all, you are right on time,” he assured. “I came early to set out the betrothal terms for Sir Deverel and his clerks to put in writing.”
She nodded. “How quickly can a betrothal agreement be prepared?”
“Oh, not before the end of the week at the earliest,” Sir Deverel replied, taking a seat at the head of the table.
“What your uncle and I will sign today,” Davenport explained, “is merely a letter of intent setting forth the terms of our agreement. I know Sir Deverel would prefer the agreement itself entered into before our wedding, but there simply isn’t time.”
“Why insist on this rush? I know you are worried about what Caruthers might be planning,” she said, “but I will remain on my guard now that I know the sort of man he is. Our wedding can wait.”
Davenport frowned. “Tulip, do you not wish to marry me?”
The question surprised her, and the tone of it, too. He seemed saddened by the thought she might not want him.
She silently chided herself for failing to give proper consideration to his feelings.
Was it possible he really wanted to marry her?
It felt so implausible.
But this doubt sprang from within her and had led to those awful dreams she’d had last night. If she were honest about it, his behavior had always been polite and considerate toward her.
In truth, above reproach.
She was the one who always found an excuse to run away from him, unfairly branding him as a man to be avoided at all costs because the prior Davenport dukes had such bad reputations.
But he was nothing like them.
Or was he? And just hiding it very well.
There would be no avoiding him once they were married.
For this reason, she had a very important question that needed answering before they proceeded any further. “Your Grace, do you think you could ever find it in your heart to love me?”
His eyes widened. “If you are asking whether I want our marriage to be something real, to be one of friendship and commitment to each other, the answer is yes. This was the first question your uncle asked me.”
“Oh.” She turned to her uncle. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I thought you understood we would never agree to your marrying any suitor unless there was the possibility of love,” John said.
“I see. Thank you.” She returned her attention to Davenport. “Then you think there might someday be love between us?”
“It is what I hope for, Tulip. Is it not wisest to enter into this marriage wishing for it and working to make it a good and happy union?”
“Yes, for certain. It is exactly what I want for us.”
The answer seemed to please him. “Then shall we move ahead with these wedding arrangements?”
She let out a breath and nodded. “Yes.”
Sir Deverel began to read out the terms negotiated, a short list that was far simpler than Tulip expected. “Am I hearing right? Are you leaving all the assets that are not a part of the Davenport entailment to me?”
Davenport nodded. “I could tell you that your uncles drove a hard bargain, but the truth is that I would not trust my surviving relatives with any of it. There was never a question it should all go to you and our children, assuming we have any. Of course, if we had a son then he would be the next Davenport duke and have the usufruct of the entailment, as I do now.”
“Usufruct means the right to the use and advantages of the assets tied to the dukedom,” Sir Deverel hurried to explain.
“It means His Grace does not own them outright but has exclusive claim to all the income and other benefits, and may reside or otherwise enjoy all the ducal properties within the entailment as he wishes, short of destroying them.”
Tulip smiled to acknowledge the solicitor’s explanation, although she hadn’t needed it. She was aware of what that term meant. “What about setting aside bequests for any members of your family?” she asked Davenport.
“No,” he said with finality.
“All right, if that is your wish. However, if you decide afterward that your relatives ought to get something from you, then that is fine, too.”
He shook his head. “There won’t be any changes. Whatever you choose to do with those assets will be far worthier than anything any Davenport will ever do with them.”
She said no more since his mind seemed firmly made up.
He meant to give his family not a shilling.
Truly, this was so contrary to her own upbringing.
Well, he had never made a secret of loathing his relatives.
She was sorry for it.
But something troubled her and it had nothing to do with financial matters. In truth, Davenport was being quite generous with her. “May I ask you another question, Your Grace?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Of course. Go ahead.”
“Who raised you?” Because someone had done a proper job of keeping him from ruining his life as his predecessors had done.
“My mother did.” He leaned forward, casting her a severe look.
“What you are really asking is how I avoided becoming as loathsome and debauched as the other Davenport dukes. As for that, I can only say that my mother did her best to keep me away from their influence. She taught me what things in life mattered most. Whether she succeeded or not has yet to be determined, I suppose. Unfortunately, she died many years ago, long before I became an investigator for the London magistrate.”
“I am sincerely sorry. I know she would have been very proud of you.”
He leaned back and nodded. “Any other questions?”
She shook her head. “No, not at the moment.”
In truth, she had plenty more.
But those were best left for later.
Sir Deverel and her uncle were growing impatient to have the terms finalized and set in writing.
Once the letter of intent was signed, they could move on to securing the marriage license. Since she was still several months away from her twenty-first birthday, her presence was not required for any of these official arrangements.
However, she wanted to be there for all of it.
She was relieved when their next stop after leaving Sir Deverel’s office was to obtain the license.
This brought them back to Mayfair where their church was located on its outskirts.
She sat in a pew at St. Mary’s, a lovely house of worship built of stone and draped in ivy, while the prelate discussed the wedding procedures with all of them.
Then Davenport and her uncle went into the prelate’s office and signed whatever documents were necessary.
“May I invite you to tea at the Denby Arms?” Davenport asked upon their conclusion of this second piece of business.
Her uncle declined. “Please forgive me, but Rupert and I have important customers coming into town today and I cannot be late for our meeting. I still must return Tulip home and then dash back to the Farthingale offices which are close to the Inns of Chancery.”
Tulip was disappointed, for the Denby Arms was one of the most elegant hotels in London and everyone raved about their afternoon tea.
She was eager to try this popular place.
Her desire must have been obvious to Davenport.
He cast her a smile and then turned to her uncle. “Now that Tulip and I are officially betrothed, would you mind if she joined me? I will escort her home immediately afterward.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, please. That is an excellent idea. Isn’t it, Uncle John?”
He nodded. “All right. Davenport, I want your word on this. Tea at the Denby Arms, and then you take Tulip straight back to my house.”
“Upon my honor, Mr. Farthingale.”
She and Davenport watched her uncle climb into his carriage and ride off.
“The Denby Arms is not a long walk from here,” Davenport said. “Or would you rather ride there in my carriage?”
“I’d love a walk. I think this is one of the things I have missed most since coming to London, those morning strolls I used to take along a country lane in the fresh air.”
“Well, there’ll be plenty of that once we are in Somerset. Not much fresh air around here, however.”
He ordered his driver to go on to the hotel without them. “Meet us there, Trent.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” the man said and flicked the reins to start the team of matched bays forward.
Davenport held out his arm to her. “It is obvious you have a lot more to ask me, Tulip.”
She nodded as she placed her arm in his. “I do. But it is my fault for not trying to get to know you better. I’ve spent these past months avoiding you when I should have kept an open mind and engaged you in conversation.”
“Well, you have your chance now.”
She studied him as they strolled along the busy street, liking the way he quietly drew her closer whenever he thought someone was about to knock into her.
In truth, she liked him.
But none of this made any sense to her.
Why should a duke commit to marrying a commoner over a simple kiss? Was there something she was not seeing?
“Go ahead and ask your question, Tulip. Why are you looking so perplexed?”
She sighed. “Your Grace, are we about to make a terrible mistake?”