The Duke's Daughter Page 3

  His gaze roamed over the gold-and-black checked silk counterpane. Looking up he saw that the fabric of the draped canopy matched. He had never seen a bed so big. It could easily sleep five people. His theory was quickly proved by the pile of six pillows stacked at the bedhead. Running his hand over the fine bedcover, a wicked thought captured his mind. Having at least one other person in this bed would be a godsend.

  Preferably naked and most definitively female. How long had it been since he had felt the soft, warm touch of a woman? His body began to harden at the thought of the gentle laughter which came when he placed hot, teasing kisses on the nape of his lover’s neck.

  The girls in Portugal had been friendly, but complicated. Always asking when he would come to supper and meet their brothers. A few extra coins in their hands and talk of their numerous brothers would miraculously disappear.

  The English girls of the village close to Rokewood Park had been far more obvious in their desires and demands. A roll in the hay, a kiss afterwards and no eye contact if they passed you in the street had been their hard and fast rule. He would give anything right now for one of those women to knock on his bedroom door and bring relief to his lustful needs.

  ‘You are not lord of the manor just yet. I doubt Langham would appreciate you bringing a lady into this house to share your bed,’ he cautioned himself.

  An image of Lady Lucy Radley sprang to his mind. The memory of her blush-reddened cheeks as their gazes met in the church had him swallowing deep. Her pale pink lips had held the promise of soft, sensual kisses. He longed to bury his face in her long blonde tresses.

  ‘Steady on, Fox; she is a duke’s daughter. You just caught her off guard. Don’t go thinking anything more of it. She is not for the likes of you.’

  He forced himself to put away all notions of amorous pursuits, for the time being at least. There were other, more pressing matters to command his attention.

  He opened the battered travel bag and took out his spare linen shirt, and a few other odd, well-repaired pieces of clothing. He took his army rifle, still wrapped up in a regimental jacket, and placed it safely under his bed. Keeping his rifle close by was one old habit which would die hard.

  At the bottom of the bag he retrieved the last item, a small, nondescript grey bag. He stood holding it in his hand.

  This second bag was a fairly recent purchase. It blended in perfectly with the bottom of the larger bag. While Avery very rarely let his travel bag out of his sight, he found comfort in the added protection this simple act of camouflage afforded. Any rogue rifling through his belongings would more than likely overlook the dull, grey, sock-like thing at the bottom of his travel bag.

  ‘Come on then, let’s have a look at you,’ he muttered.

  The expansive bedroom window allowed the room to be bathed in sunlight. Another sharp contrast to the tiny windowless room in which he had been sleeping under the rafters at the Queens Head.

  From out of the bag he pulled a pocket watch. A ray of light caught the gold cover of the watch and cast a glint. He smiled lovingly at it. His imagination whispered that the handsome timepiece had likely once been owned by someone who lived in such a fine house as this.

  ‘I promise you no more chilly attics,’ he murmured. He lay the watch down on the bed.

  A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. He quickly threw his spare shirt over the watch and called. ‘Enter.’

  Lord Langham’s smiling face appeared around the door.

  ‘All settled?’ he asked.

  Avery nodded. He did not have a lot of things to unpack or get settled.

  ‘Good. In that case I was wondering if you would indulge me and allow my tailor to attend you. We cannot have you getting about in borrowed clothes any longer.’

  Lord Langham strode into the room followed by a stout, middle-aged man with a length of thin fabric in his hand. Behind the man several household footmen carried large boxes covered in striped fabric. The man pointed to a spot on the floor near the French doors and the boys deposited the boxes before withdrawing from the room.

  ‘This is Mr Swain. Mr Swain, Mr Avery Fox.’

  Mr Swain bowed low. It was clear he knew who Avery was.

  ‘Mr Fox. A pleasure to meet you. I hope I may be of service to you today and in the future,’ he said. He stood back and placed his hands by his sides, an expectant look on his face.

  Avery scowled. He had never dealt with a tailor before; what was he supposed to do?

  Lord Langham cleared his throat. ‘Mr Fox has had a long military career; he is not used to having the services of a gentleman’s tailor.’ He turned toward Avery. ‘Mr Swain will need to take your full measurements, so you will have to remove your jacket.’

  Lord Langham wandered over to a nearby chair and made himself comfortable. Avery slowly removed his jacket and laid it on the bed over the spare shirt. The pocket watch remained hidden from sight.

  The second Mr Swain stepped forward and put his hands on Avery’s waist, he knew it was going to be an interesting afternoon. He looked at Lord Langham, seeking reassurance that having this man’s hands all over him was what was supposed to be happening.

  Henry Langham sat chuckling in the chair.

  ‘You wait till he measures you up for new trousers, Fox. I bet five pounds you hold your breath when he takes your inside leg measurements.’

  Mr Swain took the measuring tape from around his neck and went silently about his business. When he did get to the point where he had Avery standing, legs akimbo, while he ran the measuring tape around his thigh, Avery began to feel faint.

  ‘Done,’ Mr Swain finally announced.

  ‘Excellent,’ Lord Langham said.

  ‘Is Friday soon enough, milord?’

  Lord Langham nodded. ‘Yes, I think we can hide Mr Fox away from society for a few more days.’

  The tailor made his bowed farewells and left. Avery stood staring at the door, a deep scowl between his eyebrows. Why was he being hidden from society?

  ‘Relax, young man. Mr Swain will have the basics of your new wardrobe ready by Friday, then you can start to circulate. The season is coming to a close, but it will do you good to make at least a few appearances in the coming weeks. Selective ones, of course, given the circumstances,’ Lord Langham said.

  Avery picked up his jacket and considered the black armband he had hastily sewn around the left arm. David had assured him he was fine with Avery sewing it to the jacket when he lent it to him. Lord Langham still wore his piece of mourning cloth on his sleeve, but it was only held on by pins, almost as if it were a mere afterthought to social propriety.

  ‘Take your time to relax and find your way around the house this afternoon. Later in the week we shall sit and discuss matters of business and what role you might like to play in the running of the estate.’

  Lord Langham left Avery to his own devices for the rest of the day. David made a brief appearance later that morning, promising to spend time with him in the forthcoming days. Lady Clarice and the dowager Countess Langham were nowhere to be seen.

  Avery spent the afternoon lying on his back, enjoying the soft comfort of the big bed in his room. He found himself whistling to overcome the silence of the house. He rolled over and ran his right hand across the silk cover. Soft and sensual to the touch, it tempted him into taking off the black leather glove which he permanently wore on his left hand.

  As his fingers settled on the soft, cool fabric, he looked at the series of deep slashes which ran from his middle fingers to his wrist. They presented a sharp contrast to the expensive elegance of the bedclothes.

  He frowned. The hand was stiff and only afforded a limited range of movement. No amount of bespoke clothing, or money for that matter, could make him whole again.

  Avery’s first evening at Langham House provided his first real insight into not only the relationship between his late brother and the Langham family, but more importantly, how the Langham family viewed his presence.

  A
t dinner he dined only with the Dowager Countess Langham. Lord Langham sent his apologies due to a prior engagement, while David and Clarice were dining with Lord and Lady Strathmore.

  When he entered the room, Avery fully expected Lady Alice to turn her nose up and ignore him. He was soon wishing she had. No sooner had the first course been served than Lady Alice began her interrogation of him.

  ‘So Mr Fox, you were in the army?’

  ‘Yes, Lady Alice, fifteen years all told.’

  ‘And you were injured at Waterloo?’

  ‘Yes, Lady Alice. I was lucky to survive.’

  And so it went on. For two solid hours the silver-haired dowager countess grilled him about his life. By the time the footman served an overly sweet dessert wine, Avery had begun to wilt under the constant questions.

  Thank God she wasn’t on the side of the French during the war.

  ‘Well. Thank you for a most illuminating evening, Mr Fox,’ Lady Alice announced.

  She signalled to a nearby footman, who hastened over to pull out her chair. Avery quickly put down his wine glass and rose from the table. He came to her side, handing her the walking stick she had propped against the table.

  Taking the walking stick, she flinched when Avery put a supportive hand under her elbow. She looked up at him and for an instant he could have sworn he saw fear in her eyes.

  The look was gone as soon as she blinked. A tight smile came to her lips.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fox,’ she said.

  ‘I should very much like for you to call me Avery, Lady Alice. If that is to your liking. It does seem a little overly formal to address me in such a way under your own roof,’ he replied.

  She considered his words and then nodded.

  ‘Avery it is. Goodnight, Avery; welcome to Langham House.’

  She hobbled out of the room, leaving Avery with a handful of servants to wait on him alone.

  He resumed his seat at the table and finished the last course of flavoured ices and fruit. The first olive branch of friendship had been extended to Lady Alice, and he was pleased that she had accepted it. Less comforting was that she had not reciprocated the gesture, but he consoled himself that it was to be expected.

  ‘Small steps,’ he whispered into his wine glass before draining it. His offer to the servants to leave him to his own company was met with a polite refusal. He tried not to read too much into the curious situation. Likely it was just a normal part of the social rules. Members of the family must always have servants on hand at their beck and call.

  He sighed. With no one else home and lacking the funds to venture out, he faced the prospect of a long, boring evening alone.

  ‘Is there a library in the house?’ he asked the ever-present footman.

  Within minutes he was standing in Lord Langham’s well-stocked private library. Hands on hips, he whistled his appreciation of the magnificent collection. Towering shelves groaned under the weight of heavy tomes. He had never before seen so many books in the one place. He walked around the room, slowly perusing the collection. As he ran his finger along the spines of book after book, an appreciative smile formed on his lips. The Langham family not only read widely, but they had similar tastes to his own.

  ‘It’s just like finding King Solomon’s treasure,’ he muttered to himself.

  Finally he chose a collection of Wordsworth’s poems. Book in hand, he strode over to the footman.

  ‘Is it all right if I borrow this to read in my room?’ he asked.

  The footman shifted uneasily on his feet. Avery could see from the look of concern on the young man’s face that whatever his instructions for the evening had been, they had not included Mr Fox asking to remove books from the library.

  ‘Forget about it. I would hate to get you into trouble over a book,’ he said.

  Turning on his heel he walked back to the bookcase and returned the book to the shelf.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Fox, but I’m sure it would be acceptable for you to sit and read the book in here. I can build up the fire and have one of the other lads bring you a brandy,’ the young man replied.

  Avery retrieved the book and was soon ensconced in a comfortable chair by the fire, a warm brandy keeping him company.

  The following morning Avery rose early, as was his lifelong habit. He quickly washed and dressed and stepped out into the hall. An hour of reading before breakfast was central to his plans for the day.

  As he closed the door to his room, a footman rose from a nearby chair and bid him a good morning. As Avery passed by, the footman fell in step behind. Instantly, Avery stopped and spun around. A rush of hot anger raced up his spine.

  ‘Is Lord Langham up and about this early?’ he asked. Knowing he was not trusted enough to move about the house without a footman shadowing his every move had his blood on the edge of boiling.

  ‘I believe so, Mr Fox,’ the footman replied.

  ‘Take me to him.’

  Avery concentrated on his breathing as he knocked and entered Lord Langham’s study. He shot a warning glance to the footman who had followed him. Fortunately for all concerned, Henry Langham was a perceptive man and upon rising from his large oak desk, quickly dismissed the nervous footman.

  ‘I won’t bother wishing you a good morning, Avery, because from the look on your face, it is not,’ Lord Langham said.

  Avery felt the tremble in his fisted hands as he struggled to contain his wrath. A movement to his right caught his eye. David Radley got to his feet from a chair near the fire. David looked at Lord Langham, who silently shook his head.

  David Radley had shown only the utmost courtesy to Avery in all their encounters, but at that moment Avery hated him. David was the one afforded an early morning meeting and coffee, while Avery, the heir to the title, was left to wander the house like an ill-welcome guest.

  Ill-welcome indeed.

  ‘What can I do for you, Avery; you look particularly vexed?’

  Avery forced his rage down. A good soldier never fired a shot in anger.

  ‘I was wondering why you invited me to come and live here,’ he bit off.

  Lord Langham scowled, clearly perplexed by the question. ‘I asked you to come and live with us because you are my heir. Someday all this will be yours,’ he replied.

  ‘Are you perhaps having second thoughts? That you somehow made a mistake? I think it might be best that I leave this house until the time comes that I have a right to be here. When I will be welcome,’ Avery replied.

  The pain of personal insult had taken him by surprise. Had the tension of wondering if he would ever see Thaxter alive again finally caught up with him?

  Lord Langham crossed the floor.

  ‘What has happened? I thought you and I were in agreement on this arrangement?’ The look of concern on his face was genuine enough to give Avery hope.

  ‘You and I also agreed to discuss the circumstances as to why your family fell out with my brother. Circumstances that I suspect have a major bearing on why my every step is being shadowed in this house. Why I cannot borrow a book from the household library and read it in the privacy of my own room. And why you have a footman posted outside my bedroom door.’

  He sucked in a huge lungful of air and covered his eyes with his gloved hand. He was so close to tears he could barely stand himself.

  ‘Oh,’ Lord Langham replied.

  Avery removed his hand, only to find himself staring at a clearly troubled Henry Langham.

  ‘I am sorry, Avery. I gave no such orders for you to be so closely scrutinised. I suspect my mother may have been a little too heavy-handed in her instructions to the staff. Rest assured I shall speak with her as soon as she comes down for breakfast.’

  The image of Lady Alice from the previous night at dinner formed clearly in Avery’s mind. A most troubling one.

  ‘What did my brother do? Your mother was fearful of me last night when I tried to assist her. For a moment I think she thought I was Thaxter – familial similarity and all that,’ Avery re
plied.

  David cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps it is time Avery was made fully aware of matters.’

  Lord Langham nodded and pointed Avery toward one of the chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of the fireplace. All three took a seat.

  ‘What we tell you now must never leave this room. The only other people who know the truth are my mother and Clarice. I ask that you do not make mention of it to either of them. They have both suffered enough,’ said Lord Langham.

  ‘My wife is with child, Mr Fox, and I will not have anything said to her which could cause her distress,’ David added.

  The sudden formality with which David addressed him caused a slow-burning fear to heat the pit of Avery’s empty stomach. Lord Langham pursed his lips and sat silent for a time.

  What had Thaxter done to the women of this family?

  ‘A short time ago David asked for my permission to court Clarice. Due to reasons which I will not go into, I refused. After that I sent Clarice and her grandmother home to my estate in Norfolk. Unbeknownst to either David or myself, Thaxter followed them to Langham Hall.’

  David took a cup from a nearby tray and, after filling it with coffee, handed it to Avery. Though David held the cup steady and met Avery’s gaze, the air was thick with tension.

  ‘Thank you,’ Avery said.

  David remained seated forward in his chair, his body rigid.

  ‘When your brother arrived at Langham Hall he attempted to force Clarice into marrying him,’ David said.

  ‘When you say force her to marry him, I take it you mean . . .?’ Avery replied.

  He tasted the burning bile which had risen up from his stomach and into his mouth.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Avery whispered as the truth of his brother’s wickedness hit him. Thaxter had always been a vicious bully, but even Avery had never thought him capable of rape. Memories of the last time he saw his brother alive quickly flooded his mind.

  Fists and foul curses rained down upon him as Thaxter held him down for yet another violent thrashing.

  He puffed out his cheeks as he forced the air from his lungs. Yes, Thaxter had been capable of such villainy.