Duke of Honor, page 18
The maid’s eyes lit up. “I can’t wait to go back, my lady. London’s very exciting.”
She bit back a smile, knowing that Millie found London exciting because of a certain footman at the Blackmores’ townhouse, where they had stayed for the two weeks in February during their first trip to the city. They would return again and remain at the townhouse during the entire Season since Arabella was less than a month away from giving birth at this point. Hadley had begged for Arabella to let her come and deliver her child but her friend insisted that it was more important for Hadley to go to London and participate in the Season. She understood why. All her friends were so happy and in love with their husbands. Naturally, they wanted the same for her.
Would this Season—her first—actually lead to marriage?
It had weighed on her mind ever since the end of the house party back in August. Her yearning to be a mother had only grown stronger in that time, especially seeing Samantha and Elise with their newborn babes. Hadley had also met several interesting gentlemen during her extended stays at Windowmere, Colebourne Hall, and Treadwell Manor and knew all of these eligible bachelors would be in town for the upcoming Season. She supposed her friends’ husbands had invited the gentlemen at their wives’ urging. It did help, though, because now she would go into the Season actually knowing others. Hadley had dreaded attending social events not knowing a soul. She did also have acquaintances from the house party, such as Lady Pamela and Lady Callamina, and looked forward to connecting with them again.
The hardest thing would be encountering Sebastian at the various events. She could still see the look of anguish upon his face as she had abandoned him on the dance floor during the house party. Despite her vow to keep her thoughts away from her memories of him, Hadley had found herself remembering small things about him. She pushed aside her regrets, knowing to dwell on them would only bring on more heartache. She had her future to look to and not her past.
Leaving Millie to begin the packing, Hadley carried Cleo to the kitchen. One of the scullery maids took the cat.
“I will be sure Cleo gets her breakfast and is let outdoors, my lady, then bring her back inside when she’s done her business.”
“Thank you.”
Hadley left for the breakfast room, where Weston sat poring over a newspaper.
“Ah, good morning, Hadley.”
She thought how handsome Weston was and how he and his sister favored one another so much. Samantha’s daughter had the same coloring as her mother and uncle and their raven hair. She wondered if Weston and Elise’s new boy would favor his mother or father. The baby had been born without a hair on his head, so it would take time to see if he received Elise’s rich, brown hair or Weston’s dark locks. As most babies, he had blue eyes now but Hadley had learned most babies’ eye color changed after several months. Whether they turned aquamarine as Weston’s or became violet as Elise’s, he was still a beautiful boy.
“Good morning, Weston.”
A footman seated her and another brought her a cup of tea and a plate with toast points, ham, and eggs. She liberally spread the jam on her toast and bit into it.
“Today is your last with us, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, and I must thank you for allowing me to stay so long.”
“We’ve enjoyed your company and Elise wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was determined for you to deliver her baby, just as you did for Sam.”
“I only wish I could be there when Arabella gives birth.”
“Don’t fret over that, Hadley. You have spent plenty of time in the country. It is time for you to be back in town. I am sure you have all those womanly things to see to in order to prepare for the upcoming Season. Hats. Reticules. Gowns.”
She laughed. “Madame Toufours’ shop will be one of the first places I call once I return to London.”
Weston grew serious. “I am sorry Elise and I won’t be there this Season to support you.”
“Oh, I didn’t expect you to be there, Weston. Elise certainly doesn’t need to travel since she has just given birth. The country air will be better for her and the baby.”
“At least you will have Andrew and Phoebe there with you. Sam told me yesterday that she and George plan to go for the first couple of months. Once the weather grows warmer, though, Sam promised to return to Devon.”
“See? I won’t be alone at all.”
He studied her intently. “You do know Sebastian plans to be in London for the Season. I received a letter from him yesterday.”
Hadley clutched her hands tightly, glad they were in her lap and hidden from his sight. “Yes, I assumed he would be in London. He left me with the impression that he would be seeking a wife on the Marriage Mart.”
“It will be impossible to avoid him,” Weston pointed out. “I do think he will behave in a gentlemanly manner toward you, though. At his core, Sebastian is a good man.”
The constant war that raged within her continued upon hearing the duke’s remark. While Hadley resented Sebastian for betraying his countrymen, a part of her couldn’t help but feel pity for what had been done to him. Worse, deep within her, she still found herself terribly attracted to him. No, not just attracted. Fool that she was, she still loved the man, despite everything. She would need to mask those feelings when they encountered one another, as they inevitably would at the various social events.
“I am sure we will be distantly polite to one another, Weston. Please, don’t worry on my behalf. I plan to enjoy myself completely.”
He gave her a worried look. “That is what I am afraid of.” Sighing, he added, “My gut still tells me the two of you belong together. I won’t asked what happened between you but all I can beg is for you to give Sebastian a chance—if he asks for one. If he doesn’t, then I hope you find a man worthy of you, Hadley.”
She doubted Sebastian would ever beg her for anything. Frankly, she doubted they would ever converse again, other than a civil greeting before they moved on.
Still, she wanted to ease her host’s mind. “I would always be willing to listen to whatever Hardwick had to say to me.”
“Good morning,” Elise sang out, breezing into the room and kissing her husband’s cheek. She seated herself across from Hadley. “I thought I would join you this morning instead of lazing about in bed while I have my chocolate. Have I missed anything?”
“Nothing, my darling,” Weston said, taking her fingers and lacing them through his as a footman brought the duchess her breakfast. “It is good to see you. Hadley and I were just talking about her traveling to London.”
Elise smiled. “Though I have thoroughly enjoyed your company, I know you are eager to take in the sights and begin the Season. You will want to see the British Museum in Bloomsbury, of course. And you must go to Gunter’s in Mayfair. Their ices are divine, especially on a hot day.”
“I have never had an ice,” she said. “I look forward to trying one.”
As they talked of places in London, Hadley couldn’t help but wonder when Sebastian might arrive.
And who would be the woman he would take as his wife.
Chapter Nineteen
London
Hadley sipped her tea as she went through the morning post. She found a letter from Arabella and eagerly opened it.
My dearest Hadley –
I am officially the size of a large carriage now. Or at least it feels as if I am. Jon tells me daily how beautiful I am but I find it hard to believe any man could be attracted to someone as broad as a mountainside. Still, he is my husband and I will choose to believe him. Sometimes, we simply sit together, holding hands, waiting for the baby to kick. Jon will place his palm against my belly and then he lights up once he feels a kick. He will stroke my belly and then kneel, talking to it, telling the little one inside how much we love it and can’t wait for its arrival.
Jon says it doesn’t matter if it is a boy or girl. I always thought men didn’t care much for female children and were only interested in their wives providing them with heirs. If that is the rule, then Jon is the exception. In fact, he has whispered to me as we lie in bed that he hopes this first babe is a girl, one that favors me. At this point, I only want our child to be born healthy and happy—and soon. I find I cannot let two hours pass without having to relieve myself. Sometimes, only one! It is also much harder to breathe these days. I try to inhale deeply and it seems there is nowhere for the air to go.
Oh, forgive me for complaining so! I am tired these days and frustrated because I want our baby to come. I long to hold it in my arms and see the physical manifestation of mine and Jon’s love in the flesh. The doctor says it should be a week or so until that happens. He has warned me that once the process begins, first babies seem to take their time coming and I should be prepared for a long day and night.
How are you? Are you enjoying London? Thank you for writing to me of Elise and her precious newborn son. I am glad you were there to deliver her babe. I received a brief note from her telling me you never left her side and how grateful she was that you and Weston helped her remain calm. I only hope I will be able to do the same once my babe decides to make his—or her—appearance in the world.
Write to me of the Season, my darling friend, and of all the parties and balls. Tell me of the beautiful gowns you wear and the latest gossip. Especially tell me if you find a special someone. It is my most fervent prayer that you will find a good man to love and that he will love you, in return.
Ah, nature calls again so I will end this. Do write, Hadley. I miss you and love you.
Arabella
P.S. My water has broken! Only a twinge of pain so far. Jon has sent for the midwife and doctor. The next time you hear from me, Hadley, I will be a mother! I will have a footman post this now.
Hadley wished that she could have been by Arabella’s side when she delivered her child but her friend had expressly forbidden it, wanting Hadley to concentrate on the Season at hand. All her friends had written to their friends about Hadley and invitations had begun to pour in. With the Season starting in less than a week, her calendar was already very full. She also had a wardrobe worthy of being seen in, much better than the gowns she had worn at her first house party. Phoebe’s modiste had been happy to accept her as a client, thanks to the personal recommendation she had received. Hadley felt like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon and looked forward to wearing her new gowns and meeting all kinds of wonderful people.
She finished going through the post and took it to Arabella’s parlor, placing it upon the escritoire. She would pen her replies later to both the invitations she had received and also write to Arabella. She had already sent letters to Samantha and Phoebe this week and would write Elise in the next few days. Perhaps she would wait for tomorrow’s post to see if Jon sent news of the babe’s birth before she wrote to Arabella. Now, though, she was ready for her morning walk to Hyde Park. Millie had insisted upon coming along as her chaperone but she did allow Hadley time to herself once they arrived. She had discovered a bench near the Serpentine and liked to sit upon it and watch the ducks swimming by.
Millie appeared. “Ready to walk, my lady?” She had Hadley’s spencer and reticule in hand.
“Yes, thank you, Millie. I do enjoy my daily outing to the park.”
The maid helped her slip into the spencer and they set out, embarking upon their usual route to the park, which was only a few minutes’ walk from the Blackmore townhouse. The early morning air was cool and crisp. This had become her favorite time of day because few people were at the park at this early hour.
They reached her favorite bench and she sat.
“I will see you in an hour, my lady,” Millie said.
“Yes, that will be fine. And then we will need to go to Madame Toufours’ shop for a final fitting.”
“Very well, my lady,” Mille said.
Hadley let her thoughts drift and then became aware of someone nearby. It was a slim gentleman, elegantly dressed, whom she had seen in the park two or three times in the last week. He looked familiar to her but she didn’t know where she would have made his acquaintance.
He came toward her and asked, “Might I share this bench with you, my lady?”
“Of course,” she replied.
Up close, it immediately hit her who the mystery man was.
Wellington.
She had seen sketches of the commander in the newspapers often enough during the war years. His wavy hair was quite distinctive. In person, though, his blue eyes shone brightly, intense and curious. She decided not to address him. Wellington probably came to the park at this time for the solitude, as she did, and she didn’t want to distress him.
They sat in companionable silence for some minutes, watching the ducks swim along the Serpentine.
Finally, he spoke. “I like to come here in the early mornings. Hyde Park is one of my favorite places. Sitting here, I bask in the peace and serenity, knowing England is safe. This park is my refuge.” He paused, those bright, blue eyes penetrating her. “I believe you have recognized me, my lady.”
“I did, Your Grace. I followed the war carefully for many years.”
“I suppose you thought I would be taller. Larger than life.” He chuckled. “Most all I meet do. I am three inches under six feet—but well above Bonaparte’s height.”
“I don’t think your height has anything to do with your brilliance,” she observed. “You are an astute strategist. It was your mind—and the men you commanded—that brought Bonaparte down.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Did you have family or friends fighting on the Continent?” he inquired.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “I did know someone,” she said quietly.
“Oh, I do hope he made it back.”
Hadley swallowed. “He did. In fact, he was on your staff.”
The duke’s brows rose. “Who might this soldier be?” he asked eagerly.
“Colonel Cooper,” Hadley said, referring to Sebastian by the name and rank that Wellington would be familiar with.
A smile broke out on the duke’s handsome features. “Marbury is quite the hero. One of the most honorable men of my acquaintance. The newspapers had it right when they nicknamed him the Duke of Honor upon his return. I wish I’d had a dozen more like him.”
His words took her by surprise. “How can you say that?” she demanded. “After what he did?”
Wellington studied her carefully. “What is it you think he did, my lady?”
Hadley felt the anger heating her cheeks. “He betrayed England to our enemy,” she declared.
His gaze penetrated her. “Is that what Marbury told you?”
She grew uncomfortable, recalling how she had come to form her ill opinion of Sebastian.
“He was deep in his cups when he spoke of it, Your Grace. I had known something was amiss when he came home.” She hesitated. “You see, the colonel’s father was my guardian. I came to know Marbury through the letters he wrote to his father. We would read them aloud dozens of times. When the colonel arrived at Hardwell Hall, though, he was different.”
Sadness blanketed Wellington. “Marbury suffered a great deal.”
She felt her face flame, thinking of Sebastian’s marred flesh. “Yes, I have seen the scars on his arms and neck. I assume from what he said that he was taken captive and tortured. But he revealed he had given up precious information to the enemy. He cost the lives of who knows how many Englishmen? I find it incomprehensible that you would speak so highly of him after his betrayal.”
Wellington shook his head. “You haven’t the full story, my lady,” he said sternly.
Something shifted inside her. “Please,” she whispered. “Tell me.”
The duke gazed out over the river and began to speak. “Marbury was one of my most talented officers. Bright. Eager. Ruthless when it came to strategizing. He cared a great deal for his men and they worshipped him in return. I always weighed carefully whatever opinion he shared with me because I knew he spoke with both caution and experience.
“Occasionally, I would send him ahead as a scout or with important dispatches to be delivered. He became an expert in avoiding the enemy. We found ourselves at a stalemate at one point, however. Marbury requested to see me in private and pitched an idea that I found dreadful—and yet quite enticing because of the impasse we found ourselves up against.”
Dread filled Hadley. “Go on,” she urged.
“His plan was that he would go behind enemy lines and allow himself to be captured. He would, after three days in captivity, pretend he had broken and feed false information to those who had abducted him.”
She gasped. “No!”
“Oh, yes. Normally, I wouldn’t consider such an absurd scheme, knowing he wouldn’t be merely held—but tortured. I was desperate, though, and Marbury so idealistic and loyal and faithful to me and our cause. He begged to be sent and I finally acquiesced to his demand. I had three men follow him at a distance, tracking his movements and keeping the house where he was taken under observation. Once they saw riders leave, they would know Marbury had fed the false information to his captors. They were to allow the messengers to leave so they could spread the false intelligence before my men attempted to rescue him.”
“You knew they would kill him once they got the information they needed from him,” she accused.
“I did. I only hoped those men would be able to save him in time.”
Wellington pulled his gaze from the water and directed it to Hadley. “He had been brutalized. He had finally broken after what he thought were the three days. Days in which he bought me time to move thousands of troops, who set a trap for Joseph Bonaparte’s men. Marbury lasted eight days under their cruel hands. He lost track of time in the haze of pain and suffering. My men found him more dead than alive and brought him back. My doctor proclaimed it was a miracle that Marbury didn’t die on the way. Then the fool actually felt guilty about being broken. It sounds as if he still does. So you see, my lady, the colonel didn’t betray his country. He saved many lives. Too many for me to begin to measure.”
