Chapter Twenty-Three
‘It is no good burying your head, Mama,’ Farrah said the following day. Her mother had graduated from a cold and stony silence to a constant litany of complaints about ill-treatment.
Sophia snuffled into a handkerchief, complaining only about having missed the duke’s visit the previous day and accusing Farrah of deliberately organising it when she knew Sophia to be unwell.
Her sister’s indifferent reaction to the cataclysmic changes in their status, their lifestyle and just about everything else that they were accustomed to implied a total lack of comprehension.
With her head in the clouds, the difference it would make to them all if word leaked out had not crossed Sophia’s mind.
It also confirmed what Farrah had often suspected.
Sophia was not only selfish but also detached from reality. Clearly, her character closely resembled that of their selfish father.
‘I have been terribly wronged by your father, my sister, by everyone who was supposed to support me,’ Mama complained.
‘It would not surprise me if Lady Bartholomew encouraged your father to take up with the hussy. It is the sort of spiteful act she would indulge in, as though I have not suffered enough through her selfishness.’
‘Papa’s association with Mrs Armstrong preceded your disagreement with Lady Bartholomew and she knew nothing about it,’ Farrah replied with asperity.
‘Of course you would take her side.’
Farrah lost all patience and walked out of the room before she said something she would later regret.
Papa’s actions couldn’t possibly be forgiven, but a small part of Farrah’s mind understood why he had behaved in the way that he had.
Impossible restrictions of choice were placed upon members of the aristocracy, who guarded their borders jealously against infiltrators, and Papa had been a victim of his own passions.
Farrah wandered outside, never having had any reason before now to suppose that Papa possessed a single iota of passion in his entire body.
And yet she had seen a remarkable change in him when he was with Mrs Armstrong, and it was clear that the woman had a strong hold over his affections.
Farrah now saw Papa for the weak, malleable man he had always been.
She knew who was in charge of their relationship.
Mrs Armstrong had grown tired of Papa’s excuses and had decided to force his hand.
Well, there was nothing for it, Farrah supposed.
She would have to return to London with Mama and Sophia once tempers had cooled and negotiate a suitable property in the capital for them all.
After that the rest of her days would be taken up with placating a bitter woman who now had good reason to think she had been ill-used, and with seeing her ungrateful sister through to a suitable marriage.
Her own aspirations, such as they were, must be forgotten.
And they would be … forgotten, that is. Because unlike Sophia, Farrah lived in the real world.
Even so, she could not forget that brief, subliminal kiss she had shared with Reuben, who had not deserved the accusations she had thrown at him.
She felt ashamed of herself and wished she could take back the words, but since she was unlikely ever to see him alone again the opportunity even to apologise would not present itself.
She wandered into the orchard with no particular occupation in mind. She no longer cared about Freeman and his association with their coachman. Whatever they were up to was no longer her concern. Papa could deal with them, if he was not himself involved – a possibility she could not discount.
Farrah felt unsettled and disgruntled. Her every waking moment since arriving in Hampshire had been dedicated to finding Papa, and now that she had done so she wished he could have remained missing indefinitely.
In that situation he would have continued to stall Mrs Armstrong, at least until Sophia married and perhaps even beyond.
He would be content to lead a double life, too cowardly to face up to what he had done and give up the life of a gentleman who was assured of acceptance everywhere he went.
Farrah stopped walking, threw back her head and screamed at the sky in a futile effort to relieve her frustration.
‘Are you hurt?’
The sound of a deep voice coming from behind her caused her to swivel on her heel.
‘You!’ She pointed an unsteady finger at the duke. ‘What are you doing here?’ Percival bounded up to her, and she bent instinctively to scratch his ears.
‘I came to see how you are and to apologise. I saw you walking here before I got to the house.’
‘Apologise?’ Farrah probably looked and sounded like a simpleton. ‘What on earth for?’
‘For taking advantage of you. I did not mean to give offence. I merely wanted to comfort you in your moment of distress but could not control my impulses. Whatever must you think of me? I am thoroughly ashamed of myself.’
Farrah hadn’t supposed she would ever smile again but found herself doing so at that moment.
The duke had felt the need to apologise, which implied he not lost all respect for her.
His respect was all the more precious because it would be the only part of him for her to hold on to for the rest of her days.
‘My reaction was very immature. Of course you did not mean to take advantage of me. It is I who ought to apologise to you.’
They strolled beneath the untended fruit trees, a respectable amount of daylight separating them, Percival running ahead to investigate this new territory, his tail wagging.
‘My brother likes to make himself useful,’ Reuben remarked, ‘and frequently visits the taproom at the Black Sheep for that reason. He claims the gossip there is always sound. Anyway, he discovered that your steward is most unpopular there.’
‘Hardly surprising, given the increase in the tenants’ rents that he implemented.’
‘Precisely so. The usually tight-lipped locals, who aren’t above a spot of poaching and what have you, do not approve of tattling.
But they were willing to make an exception in Freeman’s case, and when Ezra asked about him, he was told that Freeman and your coachman are enjoying a very profitable little sideline in smuggled tobacco. ’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘It comes here from the ships docking at Portsmouth, is stored on the estate ?’
‘Probably in that cottage we used, which would explain why Freeman was on that part of the estate and why the dust on the table had been disturbed.’
‘That is what I concluded also. Anyway, your coachman is responsible for distribution.’ He glanced at her. ‘What would you like me to do about it?’
‘Is Papa involved?’
‘Possibly. I cannot see how it could have been achieved without his knowledge. He might even have instigated the business.’
‘Then do nothing more than have your useful brother threaten Freeman with exposure if he does not reduce the tenants’ rent to its previous level and allow them free grazing once again.
If that is in your power.’ Reuben nodded.
‘Beyond that, it is Papa’s estate and time that he took responsibility for it.
He will not need to increase his income by dubious means now that he has a wealthy partner,’ she pointed out bitterly.
‘Well, if you are sure.’
‘Perfectly, thank you.’
‘How is your mother?’ Reuben asked after a short pause in their conversation.
‘Papa scurried back to Mrs Armstrong leaving Mama feeling ill-treated, and for once I cannot help but feel a little sympathy with her. Sophia doesn’t seem to understand what has happened, even though I have explained it all to her, which is probably just as well.’
‘And you?’
Farrah shrugged. ‘What about me? I shall return to London and hold the family together, just as I always do, in the hope that the truth never emerges.’
‘It is not in your father’s best interests to speak of it.’
‘Not in his, perhaps, but Mrs Armstrong strikes me as the vindictive type, and she wouldn’t give two figs about the shockwaves it would send through the ranks of the aristocracy were she to speak out.’
‘There is one way to ensure that she holds her tongue.’
‘Is there?’ She glanced at him. ‘Then I should be glad to know what that might be.’
He stopped walking, placed his hands on her shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes, his expression fuelled with fiery emotion. Farrah had learned a great deal about the power of passion during the past few days and responded to Reuben’s provocation somewhere deep within her core.
Why is he doing this to me? What is it that he wants?
‘You could become my duchess,’ he said in a softly persuasive drawl.
Farrah laughed. ‘That would certainly ensure Mrs Armstrong’s silence. She wouldn’t dare to cast aspersions upon the parentage of your wife, but it’s a rather drastic measure and I couldn’t ask you to make such a sacrifice.’
‘I am more than ready to do so if you are,’ he said, caressing her face with the gentle touch of his fingertips.
‘Nonsense!’ Farrah wished he would not trifle with her affections, even in jest. Especially then. ‘I will survive. You don’t need to worry about me, and I know I can depend upon you to keep what you know about our circumstances to yourself.’
‘I have not stopped worrying about you since I first made your acquaintance. Can that only have been a few days ago? You have a great deal to feel responsible for, Lady Farrah. You have breezed into my life and turned it on its head, just as my mother warned me would be the case when I met the lady who was capable of stealing my heart.’
‘Stealing your heart?’ Farrah felt dangerously close to being as cracked in the attic as Sophia, and seemed incapable of doing anything other than repeating Reuben’s words. He couldn’t possibly be serious, and yet she didn’t think he would be cruel enough to toy with her affections in such a way.
‘Tell me you do not feel it too,’ he challenged.
‘Well, of course I feel it,’ she said, attempting to sound flippant. ‘You are a highly eligible duke, and so naturally I am profoundly honoured to have been noticed by you.’
‘I am serious, Farrah. I think I knew that I would propose to you when you admitted to being Madame Celeste and told me in no uncertain terms that I was in no position to judge your actions.’ He chuckled.
‘No one has dared to tell me to go to the devil before. It was a chastening experience.’ He took her hand and closed his own much larger one around it.
‘I love you, Farrah, and I want you for my wife.’
She blinked up at him but this time the tears that spilled from the corners of her eyes were tears of happiness.
He was being sincere. It simply wasn’t possible.
And yet there he was, looming over her, tall, dark and dangerous, drinking in her features as though she was the most remarkable creature on God’s earth.
Their gazes duelled and she felt her own heart swell with an abundance of joy. ‘I never expected …’
‘I know. Your modesty does you credit, as does the manner in which you have taken responsibility for your family all this time. Please, my darling Farrah, say you will be my duchess.’
‘Well,’ she replied, smiling wide enough to give the sun a run for its money, ‘since you ask so persuasively and since our union will ensure Mrs Armstrong’s silence … but wait, Mama and Sophia–’
‘Will get their wish and live in London. I will find them suitable premises and make them my responsibility.’
‘You would do that for me?’ She blinked up at him. ‘Are you absolutely sure you know what you would be taking on?’
He laughed. ‘They will be farther away than they are now.’
‘In that case, how can I possibly refuse.’
She stood on her toes and placed an inexperienced kiss on his lips. A chaste kiss that Reuben quickly turned into something far more passionate.
Percival barked his approval and wagged his tail.
The End