Chapter Thirteen
They sat in companionable silence for some time, the crackling of the logs in the fire the only sounds, broken only by the occasional gust of wind.
Duncan recalled how Augusta had touched him earlier; the brush of her fingers set his skin alight in the best possible way.
To find that he had reacted physically to her was satisfying, indeed.
It was as if his heart were waking from a deep slumber.
“Duncan?”
“Hmm?”
“What I want most of all from our marriage is for us to be friends. I believe we are already on that path, are we not? We speak with ease, and there is no awkwardness.”
“Yes, we are becoming friends. I agree it’s an important aspect of a successful marriage.”
“This is the perfect opportunity for us to get to know one another, since we will be alone here for a few days.”
Duncan’s insides clenched. This meant speaking about the past, which would inevitably lead to his army service and his war injury.
He had never discussed it in any detail, not with his uncle, the duke, his father, or Laura.
Back then, he’d given a brief, condensed version of events, and even revealing that much had nearly done him in.
“I think it’s fairly obvious who we are,” he snapped irritably.
“Two desperate people who married for selfish reasons.”
It was a horrible thing to say, and Duncan immediately regretted it. He waited for Augusta to gasp in shock, cry, or yell at him. Instead, she sat very still, staring at him intently, as if trying to peer into his very soul.
“Yes. You have the right of it,” she replied softly. “I married for comfort, protection, and a new life for my son and me. I wanted to see us not starve in the streets. You married because you wanted to carry on the family name and title. You needed a viable womb.”
“Well met. You have it exactly right,” he replied mulishly. “We are selfish people. Good to know right from the start.”
“And why are we? Perhaps because we grew up in the aristocracy and wanted for nothing. We thought only of ourselves, and no doubt still do. I daresay there is no need to be cross about it,” Augusta said matter-of-factly. “Petulance does not become you.”
Duncan could not disagree with anything she said, so instead of acknowledging the correctness of her statement, he growled, lashing out as a wounded animal cornered.
“Good heavens,” Augusta tsked. “You certainly have a protective shield around you when it comes to certain topics. I suppose I do as well. The past is not easy to mine, but it has made us who we are today. Friends tell each other things. Past hurts. Secrets. I do not know how we can go forward if we cannot be completely honest with each other.” Augusta sighed.
“I have had my fill of emotionally closed-off men like my father and Southen. I want more from our relationship, or why even continue? Still, if you wish a typical, cynical, aristocratic marriage, where I provide the heir, and we live separate lives in separate residences, I can oblige.”
Good God. Augusta had a lively spirit, and he respected her honesty. Duncan would return that probity in kind. “First, I apologize for my flash of temper. It crops up more often than not, especially over the last few years. My words were poorly chosen.”
“I accept your apology. I noticed your temper when Mrs. Hansen screamed upon seeing your face and when I mentioned your injury in the carriage. You basically said it was a complicated topic that should be discussed at another time. Why not now, while we are alone here?”
Duncan grunted. He knew she was right once again, but damn it all, how to even begin the benighted subject?
“Are you afraid of fire?” Augusta asked pointedly.
“Afraid?”
“You are sitting well back from the fire, so I had to pull my chair back as well. You also positioned the tented bed away from the hearth.”
Was he afraid? Possibly. He’d certainly had a few nightmares over the past five years regarding the incident and the fire itself.
But it wasn’t enough to paralyze him in complete fear.
“No, not afraid as such. I employ a more judicious attention. I have no problem building a fire and lighting it, as you see.” Duncan pointed to the stone hearth.
“But I know the damage wrought, so why sit or near a fire when a wayward spark could ignite garments or bedding?”
Augusta tilted her head. “Very wise, indeed. In the carriage, I mentioned the possibility of your having inner scars. Do you?”
Duncan stretched out his legs. “Yes, every soldier has them. War is not pretty. I cannot will them away; I can only manage them as best as possible. They are a part of me. As you said, they made me the man I am today. However, I have learned not to allow them to rule my life. It took several years of gloomy self-indulgence and anger, but I feel I have made some progress, even though it is an ongoing progression. It won’t affect our lives together, you have my word.
I am certain that if I do allow it, you will swiftly bring it to my attention. ”
Augusta chuckled. “See? We are already getting to know each other. Tell me about your cousin.”
He sighed. “Jonathan was eighteen months younger than me. We grew up together, more like brothers than cousins. We spent wonderful summers at Bamford Park and my father and I visited often when we were in London. When I went to Eton, Jonathan soon followed. The same at Oxford. When I joined the army, Jon wanted to do the same, but his father would not have it.”
Augusta sipped her tea. “I can well imagine. The heir apparent joining the army? Is there a law against that?”
“Not as such, no. But it is generally accepted in society that heirs must protect the aristocratic line. There were many arguments over a period of several months, with Jon threatening to go to America, never be heard from again. Finally, my uncle agreed to buy him a commission under one condition: he would accept a posting far from war and fighting, particularly the Napoleonic Wars. Jon agreed, as long as I was posted with him.”
“Where were you at this time?”
“Spain. The Peninsular War. When word reached me of Jon’s request, I gratefully accepted.
I was tired of the constant battles with the French.
I witnessed atrocities no human should be exposed to.
” Duncan stood and tossed another log onto the fire.
He sat carefully in the chair to avoid twinges of pain, adjusted his sling, then picked up his mug of tea.
He had brought down the flat-top trunk and set it between them as a table.
“I agreed to the scheme, but only if Patrick McGloin came with me. It took a few months for the orders to come through, but then we were all off to Upper Canada. We were finally off the front lines.”
“What a relief that must have been. What year was this?”
“The beginning of ’10. I knew there were trade disputes in the region, as Great Britain demanded that the Americans cut their trade with France during the Napoleonic Wars.
There were also blockades on both sides.
Some claim that Americans wished to annex territory to the north.
I assumed these disagreements were minor, as did the government, which had its hands full with the Peninsular War.
Jon and I were reunited, and we joined the 8th Regiment of Foot.
We took up our commissions in York, serving the Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada. ”
“We can leave it there for today,” Augusta gently suggested.
Frankly, Duncan was relieved. This torturous narration was best told in smaller segments—time to change the subject.
“Tell me about your son.”
Augusta’s expression softened, and she smiled.
“Reese is the light of my life and one of the best surprises I’ve ever had.
He was not expected, as I had taken great care to ensure I would not become with child.
But there are no guarantees in life. Southen and I were all but over when I discovered I was enceinte.
What a row we had. He claimed I did it on purpose to entrap him.
Needless to say, it was the final nail in our already disintegrating relationship, especially when he suggested I take a nostrum to rid myself of the child. ”
Duncan shook his head. “Typical response of the aristocracy.”
“Yes, I wasn’t all that shocked by his demand. He threatened to abandon me, turn me onto the cobbles without a penny. We finally reached an agreement that I would stay on in the residence and receive a twice-yearly stipend.”
Duncan placed his empty mug on the trunk. “Were there official papers drawn up?”
Augusta sighed. “Not as such. I should have insisted. He obviously instructed his solicitor to arrange for my upkeep, as the payments arrived promptly. I assume Southen never mentioned Reese to anyone, because when the solicitor contacted me at the end of September to inform me of Southen’s passing, he said that my maid and I had until the end of December to vacate the premises.
There was no mention of Reese at all. These orders came directly from the new earl, Southen’s son. ”
“Does Reese know about Southen?” Duncan asked.
“No. Southen visited only twice after Reese was born. The last time I saw Southen was when Reese was seven months old.”
“I had Patrick conduct a brief investigation while we were in London. I wanted to know what kind of man Southen was and, more importantly, what I could learn about the new earl, in case we have to have any future dealings with him.”
Augusta’s eyes widened. “What did you discover?”
“About Southen the son? Nothing good. The rumors say he is a rather depraved reprobate with a cruel streak. You are well rid of that family. I will have my solicitor contact the new earl to settle accounts and inform him of your marriage. I will refer to you as Mrs. Roberts, the housekeeper. If he knows nothing of Reese, we should keep it that way. Your son does not need such sordid family connections.”
Augusta nodded. “I completely agree. Let us sever all ties. Thank you for suggesting your solicitor handle it.”
“Were there any questions in the village regarding Reese and his parentage?”
“A few. I hired Prisilla years ago, and I stayed housebound during my pregnancy. Prisilla delivered Reese, and we said my niece had died in childbirth and that I was raising her child.” Augusta sighed. “Such a tangled web of lies. At times, it was difficult to keep it all straight.”
Duncan sipped his tea. “I can well imagine. What does your son look like?”
Augusta smiled. “He looks like me, with black hair and blue eyes, though his are a darker shade of blue than mine. He is a happy child who rarely throws tantrums and is curious about everyone and everything around him.”
“That shows intelligence and critical thinking. Given the proper schooling, there is nothing your son cannot accomplish. We will see it done.”
“I am grateful, more than I can say.”
“What will your son think of you marrying?”
“Before I departed, I explained that I was meeting someone to discuss a possible marriage. I wanted him to at least be aware of the possibility. I think he understood, as well as a five-year-old can.” Augusta smiled as she recalled the conversation.
“He asked, ‘Will we have to move?’ When I replied yes, he was not best pleased. Then he smiled. ‘I will have a father!’ That statement nearly tore my heart in two. I was originally encouraged to lie to any prospective husband about Reese. I could not do it. When you offered to accept Reese—”
“That sealed the deal, eh?” Duncan teased.
“Yes. I reasoned that any man who could accept a child born out of wedlock was worth sharing my life with.” Augusta frowned.
“You were right. I am selfish, more so than I was ten years ago. What kind of spoiled harridan runs from her family straight into the arms of a married earl, scandal be damned? It was not the great love story I thought—or hoped—it might be. Not at all.”
“You were young and na?ve, seduced by an older man who should have known better. Even though you say you left willingly, he held power over you because of his age, experience, and title. Southen took advantage. It’s not all your fault.”
Augusta’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, I suppose that is true, to an extent. I never thought of it that way before. When I realized my mistake, when the excitement of running away faded, I stayed. I was afraid to go home. I am a coward as well.”
Duncan’s heart swelled with empathy. “We are all cowards in one way or another—”
The sound of frantic squawking chickens and loud whinnying from Dawn interrupted him. Someone or something was in the barn. Duncan immediately jumped to his feet. “Help me with my coat.”
Augusta removed it from the back of his chair and, after removing the sling, guided his arms into the sleeves.
He reached into his pocket and drew the pistol.
“I loaded it early this morning. There is enough black powder for one shot. Hopefully, I will not have to use it. Gather the quilt and hide in the root cellar. The hatch is there, by the cupboard. Go quickly.”
She did as he asked. “Oh, do be careful!” Augusta called over her shoulder.
Duncan stepped outside, then looked to the sky.
It was still overcast, as if it might snow again.
He followed the shoveled path to the barn, then quickly opened the door and crossed the threshold.
The chickens gave a low cluck, which Duncan had been told by a tenant farmer meant a warning of a ground predator.
He swung about, pistol raised. Something moved in the shadows. “Reveal yourself! I am armed!”