Chapter Ten

Graham followed Amy and her companion, Miss Downing, into the Duke of Readings crested carriage. They were following the vehicle transporting the duke’s body to his estate in Suffolk for burial. The duchess elected to travel in her own coach, stating she was too distraught to travel with the others. It had taken a lot of effort, but Graham managed not to laugh when she made that ridiculous statement. More than anything, it was Amy’s sigh of relief at her mother’s announcement that had him holding his tongue.

“Have you thought on my request, Graham?” Amy’s big blue eyes did not hold the sparkle they ordinarily did.

“About the house in the country?”

“Yes. I want a house, and I want my baby.”

He had given their conversation quite a bit of thought. He knew had His Grace not passed away, he would not have wanted his daughter to marry the man the duke was certain had taken advantage of her.

However, Graham was not entirely sure Amy had been taken advantage of. She seemed to sincerely love this man—whoever he was, she would not say—and unless she was over estimating the man’s feelings, he loved her as well.

Graham reached over and patted her hand. “Let us get through the funeral before we tackle that problem.”

“Do you promise?” Her tear-filled eyes twisted his insides. As her appointed guardian, this was a decision he now had to make. Although he would consider the late duke’s feelings on the matter were he alive, the fact was His Grace was not alive. Amy was, and Graham would find it exceedingly hard to deny her something she wanted so badly.

The rest of the trip was taken up by Miss Downing reading aloud to the three of them, and Amy taking a nap. Graham watched her while she slept. She was a beautiful girl—woman actually, although it was hard for him to think of her that way. It was truly not difficult to believe this man who had fathered her baby loved her. For her sake, he hoped when he met with him, her lover was not a manipulative man who was only interested in Amy’s money.

That would break her heart. And his would take a beating, also.

They were settled at Reading Hall for a few hours when the duchess arrived. She was younger than the duke by twelve years. Although not such an unusual occurrence in their class, the age difference might have accounted for the poor relations they had with each other. At seven and forty years, she had kept herself looking quite young. Not pretty in the classic way, she had an air of sophistication about her that attracted many men. From what Graham had heard, she certainly had no problem keeping her bed warm while living separate from the duke.

There were times when Graham had often thought one of the reason the duchess had so little to do with Amy was a bit of jealousy of the girl’s beauty. As horrible as it sounded, the duchess might not have been sorry that her daughter was kept away from the ton, and therefore no competition for her mother.

“I need a bath sent up and a tray in my room.” She patted Amy on the head as she passed, like she was some type of household pet. Graham had to hold his tongue, lest he start trouble. As annoyed as he was, a funeral was not the time or place to chastise the woman. Not that it would make a difference, anyway.

Three days followed of mourners coming to the house, listening to Her Grace wax eloquently on how much the duke would be missed, what a wonderful man he’d been, an outstanding husband, and devoted father.

Amy hid most of the time, and Graham smiled a lot more than he wanted to. When the final coach carrying the last of the mourners pulled away from the Hall, Graham breathed a sigh of relief. Her Grace departed soon after, with smiles, pats, and the scent of expensive perfume.

Not once had she asked Graham what arrangements had been made for her daughter.

He shook his head as her carriage drove away, reminding himself he needed to get back to London and make the final preparations for his wedding, with was now a little more than a week away.

It had been decided that Amy and Miss Downing would remain at the Hall until other arrangements could be made for them. Amy still insisted she wanted Graham to buy her a house.

Later that afternoon, Graham sat at the duke’s large desk in the library, going over last minute papers that needed his signature before he departed early the next morning. A scratch at the door drew his attention. “Enter.”

Amy stuck her head in. “May I have a moment, Graham?”

He smiled and leaned back, his arms resting on the chair. “Of course, Amy. Any time.”

The door opened wider and Amy entered, with a gentleman following her. Graham’s muscles tightened and he went on alert. No doubt, this was the man who’d fathered Amy’s baby.

The man appeared to be in his late thirties. He was dressed as a gentleman, and held himself in a dignified manner. He neither bowed and scraped, nor gave Graham an arrogant look. He appeared to be a pleasant man, with enough wrinkles alongside his mouth to tell he smiled quite a bit.

“Graham, I would like you to meet Mr. Francis Boyle.” He drew him forward, and said, “Francis, this is my guardian, and very close friend, the Marquess of Hertford.”

Both men studied each other, neither smiling, neither backing down. Mr. Boyle bowed, low enough to show respect, but not subservience. “My lord.”

Stunned at this turn of events, he waved at the chairs in front of the massive desk. “Please, have a seat.”

They did not release hands as they sat side by side. Amy glowed with happiness, and yes, he had to admit, with love. Mr. Boyle was more reserved, but in his position, Graham would have been the same.

The awkward silence was thankfully interrupted by Amy. “Graham, Mr. Boyle has something to say to you.” She nodded in his direction. The look the man gave Amy had Graham straightening in his chair. No one could fake that type of adoration unless he were treading the boards at Drury Lane.

Boyle cleared his throat. “My lord, I am here to formally request permission from you, as Amy’s guardian, to marry her. Frankly, I do not understand why she needs a guardian at her age, but since that is the situation, I shall deal with it.”

Well, then.

Graham drew his attention away from the man. “Amy, I would prefer Mr. Boyle and I speak in private.”

A look of alarm crossed her face, but Boyle patted her hand. “It’s all right, love. You go on and have yourself some tea. I will join you shortly. These things are better handled between men.”

Graham had to bite back a chuckle as Amy glanced between him and her young man—although in retrospect, he was probably a good ten years older than Graham—and chewed her lip. Although a bit slow in most matters, Amy had a streak of independence that always amused Graham. She studied the two men.

Boyle stood and raised Amy with him. “’Tis fine, Amy. Do not worry yourself, ‘tis not good for your health.”

She nodded and left the room. Boyle sat back down and the two eyed each other once again. “So you want to marry Amy.”

Boyle nodded. “Yes, sir. We have loved each other for more than two years now. I begged her to allow me to speak with His Grace while he was alive, but she said she wished to approach him first. When she did, and told him she was in a family way. I did not see her until two days ago when she returned here for her father’s funeral. I have been sick with worry about her, and sent numerous letters to her in London.

“I also traveled to London twice, and was barred from the duke’s home by a very stodgy butler. All he would tell me was Amy was on the continent on holiday. It wasn’t until she returned that I learned what had happened to our baby.” His fists tightened on the arm of the chair. “I want to marry her, and bring our child home, and provide for my family. She is devastated at what her father did to her.”

“You do know Amy is quite wealthy?” It was time to hold Boyle to the fire. So far Graham was impressed with the man, but as her guardian he had to look out for her best interests.

Boyle waved his hand in dismissal. “Perhaps. That is not my concern. I own a spacious cottage, with an extensive farm that provides a tidy income. In addition, I acquired a bookstore in the village that was left to me by my father. I have more than sufficient income to provide for my family.”

“Are you aware that Amy wants me to buy a house for her? I am assuming she means for it to be for the two of you.”

“I will speak with her about that. We will decide together. However, I do want to make myself clear on one point. Aside from purchasing a house, if that is what she wants, the rest of her money will be put into a trust for our children. I do not need, nor want, her money.”

More impressed by the minute, he had to tackle two more issues. “Amy is the daughter of a duke. She has been raised with every luxury that money can buy. Do you think it fair of you to ask her to live such a different life?”

Boyle hopped up and leaned over, his hands flattened on the desk. “I am fully aware of the differences in our stations. However, from what I’ve seen and heard of her family so far, all they’ve done is hide her away. She is a beautiful, loving, funny woman. I love her, and will treat her like a queen, even if I cannot afford to provide all the luxuries she’s had all her life.”’

He moved back, and tugged on his jacket sleeves. “You said there were two issues?”

Still reeling from Boyle’s near explosion, Graham had to think for a minute. “Yes. You are aware, I am sure, that one of the reasons Amy was, as you put it, ‘hidden away,’ was because she is what Society deems a bit slow.” He hated saying that, but he had to get it all out there.

Boyle snorted. “I care nothing for what Society believes. What is important to me is I love her, and want to take care of her for the rest of our lives. She desperately wants our baby back. I agree, and we will take the trip to Paris to retrieve the child. I hope to do all of this as a married couple, and with your permission.”

Graham remained silent for a few minutes, thinking over what they’d just discussed. “I will admit I am quite impressed with you, Boyle. I love Amy like a sister, and only want to do what is best for her. I also want her to be happy.”

He stood, indicating the interview was over. “However, I am needed in London for my own wedding. I promise I will give careful consideration to your request, and will return with my wife to discuss this further.”

Boyle gave him a wiry smile. “Please do not put this aside for too long, my lord. Amy is quite distressed, and I will not allow her pain to continue indefinitely.” With those parting words, he bowed, and left the room.

Graham sat and shifted in the chair to look out the window. If Mr. Francis Boyle turned out to be true to his word, this would be the best thing in the world for Amy. A normal life, a loving husband who sees no deficiency, and a family. But, on the side of caution, he would hire a Bow Street runner to investigate the man before he made his decision.

***

Lord Comerford returned Juliet from their dance to Lady Crampton’s side. “Is something wrong?” Juliet eyed her chaperone with concern. Lady Crampton was pale as new snow, and she gripped her hands together. “I believe we should depart for home.”

“Whatever is the matter? Are you ill?”

“No. I need to speak with you, and we must head for home.”

Confused, and somewhat concerned, given her chaperone’s normally well-composed demeanor, she nodded. “Yes, of course. If that is what you wish. What about Marigold?”

“Oh, dear. I forgot about her.”

Forgot about her? Something was dreadfully wrong for Lady Crampton to forget one of her charges. “Shall I find her?”

“Yes. Please do. I will meet you at the entrance hall and request our carriage be brought around.” With those departing words, she hurried away, scooting around clusters of guests, nodding briefly, but continuing on her way when two women attempted to stop her.

Shaking her head, Juliet made her rounds of the various groups conversing between dances until she spotted her sister in a group of young ladies and gentlemen. Juliet waved to gain her attention.

Once they were on their way to the entrance hall, Marigold tugged on Juliet’s hand. “Whatever is going on?”

Juliet didn’t know why, but for some reason her heart was pounding and her mouth had tried up. The anxiety and concern on Lady Crampton’s face scared her. Hopefully she hadn’t received word that something had happened to Papa. Or Elise’s baby!

Completely tied in knots by the time they joined Lady Crampton, and they all three settled into the carriage, Juliet said, “What has happened? You are frightening me.”

“I am so sorry, Juliet, but I must ask you to wait until we have arrived home. I wish for your father to be present.”

Blowing out a deep breath, Juliet collapsed back on her seat. Well, nothing then was the matter with Papa, and if it were Elise’s babe, it was highly unlikely Lady Crampton would have found this out at the Livingston’s ball.

The three women remained silent until the carriage drew up to the townhouse. Juliet’s nerves were stretched as thin as springtime ice on a pond. At any moment, she felt as though she would shatter, and had no reason to think why, only that she knew for some reason whatever was troubling her companion had to do with her.

Once then entered the house and handed over their pelisses, bonnets and reticules to the butler, Mrs. Crampton turned to Marigold. “My dear, will you please ask your father to join your sister and I in the drawing room? I’m afraid I must ask you to wait in your bedchamber until we are finished.”

Oh, good heavens, this got worse by the minute.

Juliet paced from wall to wall in the drawing room as they waited for Papa. Lady Crampton had regained her composure and was sitting on the settee near the fireplace, her hands crossed daintily on her lap.

“What’s all this about?” Papa entered the room, his booming voice making both Lady Crampton and Juliet jump. He peered at Lady Crampton over the tops of his spectacles low on his nose. “Marigold rushed into my library, all atwitter that I should join the two of you here in the drawing room. I expected to see swooning or at least a bit of blood, given Marigold’s distraction.”

“I am so sorry for the upset, my lord.” Lady Crampton looked up at Papa who loomed over her.

He glanced back and forth between the two women. “Brandy.” Walking to the sideboard, he tossed over his shoulder, “Juliet, my dear, for heaven’s sake take a seat. I have no idea what is going on, but wearing out the carpet will not make it better.”

Her stiff legs carried her across the room and she sat next to Lady Crampton, who took her hand in hers Even through their gloves, she felt the coldness of her companion’s hands.

Papa offered each of them a glass of brandy. Lady Crampton took a sip of hers, and waved to a chair for Papa to sit. Her companion was indeed beside herself, since she had just ordered her employer to sit down.

She placed her glass on the small table in front of them, and turned to Juliet. “At the Livingston ball this evening, I had a conversation with Lady Windham. It seems she and her husband just returned from holiday on the continent.”

Papa leaned forward when Lady Crampton reached for her glass and took a sip. “She told me last summer while they were on the packet headed to Calais, they met a young woman who they conversed with quite a bit. It seems the girl was in a family way, and off to stay with her aunt in Paris for the time of her confinement.

“The girl spoke of the child she carried, and how much she loved the babe’s father. She said there were some complications, but she was sure they would marry. This shocked Lady Windham to some extent, since the girl spoke so openly about it, and she was obviously of the upper classes. She was a sweet girl, pretty, delicate, and Lady Windham thought, a little bit on the slow side, if you know what I mean.”

The tightness in her belly growing with every moment, Juliet merely nodded.

Lady Crampton took a deep breath, and glanced at Papa. Her hands tightened on Juliet’s. “I am so sorry to tell you this. You know how much I love you, and do not want to see you hurt.”

Tears already filling her eyes, Juliet nodded once more, her stiff lips barely moving. “Go on.”

“Lady Windham and her husband left the packet in Calais and saw the girl once more. She was walking away from the boat, and turned to wave goodbye to them. The man whose arm she clung to turned also.”

She stopped and took a deep breath. “The man accompanying her was Lord Hertford.”