Duchess for a Day Read online

  "Let me explain." Agatha tenderly clasped Jocelyn's hand in hers. "The plan may seem a bit outrageous, but it is the best I can do on short notice. I intend to have you free of this place. Tonight. I am offering you the best protection you could possibly have, a safe haven to regain your strength, anonymity and the means to pursue that scoundrel responsible. Shall I continue?"

  "Please."

  Agatha beamed at her. "Since Dr. Edwards insists you be released into the care of a legal relative-"

  "But that is impossible."

  "I am surrounded by pessimists. Nothing is impossible, my child. Challenging yes, impossible no."

  "Then how?"

  The question hung in the air for a moment before a beguiling smile spread across Agatha's face. "Why, you will become the Duchess of Wilcott."

  Though his appearance marked him as a gentleman of worth, Reynolds Blackburn, Duke of Wilcott, ignored social etiquette, as he often did, and trudged into Boodle's disheveled from his recent journey. Upon entering the posh private club, Reyn knew certain men there considered him quick to temper, arrogant and ruthless. Their wives tended to find him distant, rude, overbearing and ferociously intimidating. Their opinions suited him perfectly. They provided an excuse to ignore the endless stream of invitations to balls, receptions and teas, any soiree dedicated to the constant assault on his bachelorhood. Unfortunately, the women of the social elite had decided long ago that he was husband material of the first issue.

  Briskly exorcising those loathsome thoughts from his mind, he concentrated on the matter at hand. He removed his beaver hat, shook the raindrops from his traveling coat and tossed them into the doorman's arms. "Good evening, your grace," the servant said. "By the by, congratulations"

  Reyn cast a sidelong glance at the doorman, then disregarded the comment. The soggy, five-day trip from Wilcott Keep to London had been less than pleasant. His head ached, his back felt stiff, he wanted a decent meal and a good night's rest. But first, before he sailed, last-minute business demanded his attention.

  Standing a head taller than most, Reyn easily scanned the elegant room, a haven of masculine pursuits: cigars, alcohol and cards. The Honorable Walter Hathaway, a creature of habit, sat in a tall leather chair nestled in a cozy alcove, his blond curls visible. An open newspaper lay on his lap. When Reyn reached his friend's side, Reyn raised his brow. How typical, he thought. Walter was deep into the social prattle of the London Times.

  Reyn cleared his throat and said, "I assumed you would be here. I'm glad that certain things in life remain constant. You really must find something else to monopolize your time. Gossip is a waste of a very fine mind"

  Setting the paper aside, Walter stood and grinned. "You forget, my friend, I also drink, play cards and bed women at every possible opportunity. That must count for something. Besides, there is little else for the youngest son of an earl with two older, living brothers to do."

  Watching the mischievous twinkle in Walter's golden eyes, Reyn snorted at that statement. His friend worked very hard to maintain various investments. Walter's portrayal of himself as the callous, self-indulgent rakehell was simply an act. Once named as the black sheep of the family by his father, Walter did everything in his power to uphold the accusation.

  A hearty slap to Reyn's already weary back accom panied Walter's greeting. "Welcome back, Reyn. I'm surprised to see you here, all things considered."

  "I know," Reyn said, as he brushed away bits of dust gathered on his breeches. "My plans changed unexpectedly."

  Walter practically shoved Reyn into the nearby chair. "Sit down, have a drink. We must celebrate."

  Puzzled over Walter's enthusiasm, Reyn sat. "Let's not rush this celebration, Walter. The night is young. Things could still go awry."

  Sitting back down, Walter poured them each a brandy. "Not if our past adventures are to be believed. I should be angry, but being one of your true friends and the tolerant fellow I am, I forgive you. So, details, you scoundrel. The who, the why, the what for?"

  Before Reyn answered, two acquaintances passed by offering their best wishes. If possible, his mood dipped a notch lower. He drew his hand through the hair curled at his nape. "This is absolutely unconscionable. Innes and I have done our damnedest to keep this arrangement under the covers. I'm being applauded and have yet to do a bloody thing."

  Walter chuckled. "Reputation and blind faith, I suppose. I must admit I was nearly bowled over with shock."

  Reyn tried to bestow a gaze on Walter capable of penetrating most men's souls. The action was lost. His friend sat and grinned like a court fool. Wasting time. Time he didn't have. Time needed to reach his home and the docks before midnight.

  Reyn started to question his friend's odd behavior. Instead, he withdrew a document from his embroidered waistcoat. "Here is a revised breakdown of the costs of our venture. As I mentioned in my letter-" He paused after he looked up to find Walter staring at him with a bemused expression. "You did receive my missive?"

  Walter shook his head.

  "Walter, what bedevils you?"

  "I simply can't believe you are sitting here discussing business. I mean, tonight of all nights."

  "I don't feel tonight will be any different from many nights I have spent before."

  "Reyn, I realize my experience equals yours in this matter, and although the outcome may be the same, I would think the circumstance requires a very different approach."

  "I have no idea what nonsense possesses you, but I don't have time to sit here and puzzle the matter through. I must reach the docks before-"

  Walter choked on his brandy, coughed, then managed to speak. "You sail? Tonight?"

  "Stow it, Walter. I explained everything in the missive had you bothered to read it. If you have questions, talk to Innes. Now, sign the papers. I must go."

  "But your wife?"

  The trip to London must have addled his brain. Clearly, he heard Walter incorrectly. Reyn asked, "My what?"

  "Your bride. Female. Beautiful. Virginal. Dressed in white. This is all assumption on my part since I didn't receive an invitation to the momentous occasion. I didn't even know you were courting anyone. But at twentyeight years, maybe you've come to your senses and decided to conceive an heir. Or is it love?"

  Reyn furrowed his brows at Walter's absurd question. Years of adventures proved Walter capable of anything, ranging from brilliant to demonic to ridiculous. Reyn believed his actions tonight fell into the latter category. Speculating on his friend's purpose, he leaned back in his soft leather chair, his fingers steepled together. "In all the years we've known one another, I never realized you capable of carrying a grudge. I can't help the fact that my horse soundly trumped yours in the last three races, but I won't fall prey to your ridiculous jest."

  "It's not true?" His golden eyes a little too wide, his mouth gaping open, Walter seemed all too sincere in his innocence.

  A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of Reyn's stomach. "What gave you such a ludicrous notion?"

  "The word is all over London."

  Reyn hadn't thought the day could turn any worse. Disbelief gave way to anger. "God's bones, Walter. Given my views on marriage, I can't imagine you believed such twaddle. I have no intention of marrying. Now or ever. Not for love. Not for Agatha. Not even for an heir." He gulped down his brandy. "Whom did I supposedly wed?"

  "That's the even greater mystery. No one seems to know."

  "Who told you this?"

  "I dare not reveal my sources. Given the scowl on your face, you might shoot the poor fellow. Then I'd be forced to break you from Newgate."

  No matter how strong his urge to strangle Walter, or to pull the blond curls from his head one by one, Reyn knew his friend was right. Given his current state of mind and the blasphemy of the rumor, he probably would shoot the poor bastard. "When I catch the fiend responsible-"

  "It's only a rumor, Reyn-"

  "Easy for you to say. Your name isn't being bandied about from one London salon to another.
Not that I give adamn."

  "But can you imagine the reactions." Walter clapped his hands together in delight. "I have an idea. Delay your departure and accompany me to the Haversham bash tonight. Your attendance without the presence of your bride would cause quite the stir."

  "No, thank you. I'll gladly sail to safer territories and leave you to clarify." Reyn noticed the waddling ap proach of Lord Hainesley. "Damn and blast. Hurry, Walter. Perhaps I can still escape that boor."

  Walter scribbled his signature, but not in enough time. The rotund newcomer chortled. "Wilcott, you devil."

  Between gritting teeth, Reyn tersely responded, "Good evening, Hainesley. If you will excuse me."

  "Previous plans?" The pompous man nudged Reyn in the side, a lewd smile plastered on his face. "No small wonder. As I told Smithy, only the duke has the bollocks to be here on a night such as tonight, with the celebrations and all."

  Reyn lowered his chin to his chest in an attempt to gain a modicum of control. When he looked up, he kept the grim expression on his face and hissed at no one in particular, "I swear, if I discover who passed this information, I shall personally rip off his head and spit down the hole. Walter, take care of this." With nothing left to say, Reyn stormed from the club.

  In a simmering state of anger, Reyn continued to brood over unanswered questions as his carriage lumbered through the crowded streets of London toward the quiet, exclusive section of Mayfair. He muttered an expletive. Walter was right. By now all of London had probably heard the news, and for lack of anything better to do, believed the nonsense. Thank heavens he was leaving the country. However, when he returned, he'd discover the culprit and there would be hell to pay.

  Before the horses had completely stopped, Reyn jumped from the carriage and pushed those troubling thoughts from his mind. He yelled to his young groom, "Davey, stay here. This will be a short stop, and we sail with the black moon's tide."

  Climbing the red brick steps two at a time, he grabbed the brass door handle to find Black House securely locked. "By Henry, what now?" The sound of his incessant banging of the snout of the large boar's-head knocker echoed down the street.

  The butler slowly opened the door. "Your grace?"

  "Yes, Briggs, it's me. What took so long? Is Black House under siege or something?"

  "Sir, I daresay we did not expect you." Briggs raised his chin as well as his grey bushy eyebrows. "I expect congratulations are in order, your grace."

  Experiencing enough confusion for one night, Reyn exploded. "Bloody great hell. How did you find out?"

  "I cannot believe you expected it to be kept a secret."

  Reyn grumbled as he stomped through the arched doorway, passed beneath the elaborately frescoed ceiling and headed up the marble stairs to the study, his butler on his heels. He marched toward the huge mahogany partner's desk and began to shuffle through his private papers. "Trust, honor and honesty, Briggs, are precious commodities, and they seem sorely displaced these days."

  "My sentiments exactly, your grace." Briggs sputtered under his breath before he continued. "But I guess some people can never earn the full confidence of others."

  The sarcastic inflection of his butler's voice finally snagged Reyn's full attention. Something was disturbing Briggs down to his polished brass buttons. Looking up, Reyn asked, "Is there a problem?"

  "No, your grace," Briggs said, then mumbled another thought. "Not one, apparently, of any significance."

  "Something is bothering you. You've called me `your grace' at least twice and you're mumbling."

  Briggs lifted his chin a notch higher. "I am not."

  "Yes, you are." When Briggs began to deny the accusation, Reyn said, "Enough! If you lift your chin any higher, your skinny little neck will snap. After twenty years, I know when you're displeased. I don't have the time for guessing games. If you have something to say, then do so."

  "Very peculiar, if you ask me."

  "God save me. First Walter, now you." Reyn tried to conceal the exasperation in his voice as his patience dwindled. He threw his hands in the air. "The entire town is going daft."

  Suddenly, a harried-looking woman dressed in dark clothing breezed into the study. "Briggs, you lazy cow's ear. We need more-Oh, dear me." The minute she saw Reyn standing behind his desk, she turned and fled the room without another word.

  Clearly puzzled by the woman's presence, Reyn asked, "Briggs, why is my grandmother's housekeeper here? Short of an official order from the king of England, you and Dolly won't remain in the same house with each other."

  "Well, sir," Briggs began as a thundered demand reached the room. He grimaced, then sighed deeply. "If you will excuse me, sir."

  All of London had definitely lost its collective mind. In order to escape his household with his sanity intact, Reyn had decided to ignore this new mystery when his grandmother sailed into the room wearing a large cook's apron.

  Agatha attacked at once. "What are you doing here?"

  "Given your current state of disarray, Dolly's presence and Briggs' sour mood, I could ask you the same thing. But, to answer your question, I do believe I live here."

  "Do not be impertinent. I know that." She patted a few stray hairs into place while she spoke. "You were supposed to be in France or Jamaica or some such place."

  "Spain."

  "Wherever," she replied. "Why are you here? You should have already left and were to be gone for months."

  Reyn couldn't believe his ears. His patience lay on his cuff, and here his grandmother admonished him in his own home. Him. The duke. It didn't bode well for the balance of the evening. With mounting frustration, he said, "Grandmother, I feel as though I'm being led blindly through one of Lord Carlton's mazes. One that I don't have the time nor the inclination to solve. I know when you are up to your garters in scheming. So, I ask you this." He enunciated each syllable slowly and succinctly. "What the devil is going on here?"

  "Do not take that tone of voice with me, young man. I am still your oldest living relative. I practically raised you from a pup. If you think you can-"

  "Pardon me," Briggs said from the study doorway, "but the lady needs her grace's assistance in the kitchen."

  "What lady?" Reyn asked, more confused than ever.

  "Of course, Briggs." Agatha kissed her grandson on his cheek. "Never mind, dear. I shall handle everything. Au revoir. Have a splendid trip." With complete dismissal, she marched from the room.

  Disoriented, Reyn shook his head as if the slight action might erase the last hour. He felt as though he'd been kicked by a stubborn mule, then trampled by the rest of the herd. Reaching out, he placed a restraining hand on his butler's shoulder. "What lady?"

  "Lady Wilcott," said Briggs matter-of-factly. "Your wife."

  The evening he thought could turn no worse spiraled out of control. Everyone close to him knew his feelings toward matrimony, that he had sworn never to marry. Surely, he had heard incorrectly. However, a new mystery had emerged. One that, if ignored, would torment him for the next three months as he sailed the Atlantic. Blast it, he didn't have time for this. He had less than two hours to find his papers and reach the docks.

  Bellowing furiously, for he felt it justified, he marched in search of those threatening his sanity. All the guilty parties hustled about the large kitchen, which looked as though a battle had been fought and lost in it. He stared at Dolly stirring something on the stove while another maid boiled water at the huge stone fireplace. Briggs stood outside the back door tossing wood to the cook. Rags littered the floor, and baskets and jars covered the table. Steam billowed everywhere, the smell of chamomile and rosemary heavy in the air. Finally, his eyes settled upon his grandmother huddled over a large brass tub. Agatha crooned soft words to the scrawniest, most unsightly female, with blotchy red skin and grease-covered hair, he had ever seen.

  "Ahem!" At the sound of his voice, everyone turned at once with various exclamations. Reyn spoke with a deadly calm he did not feel. "Now that I have everyone's attention
-what is all this cafuffle?"

  As his words sliced through the air like daggers, Jocelyn sank deeper into the tub, hoping to gain a modicum of privacy while she observed her newly acquired, incredibly handsome husband for the first time. His tawnybrown hair, worn longer than custom, was tied neatly at his nape. Dark brows framed blue eyes and long lashes any female would envy. With his long legs and broad shoulders filling the doorway, he exuded raw power and confidence. It was difficult to believe that this fierce tyrant was the kind, gentle, charming man Agatha spoke of. Jocelyn looked to Agatha with a silent plea of "what now?" The dowager sighed. "Well, my good people, thank you for your help. You may take your leave. If I require your assistance, I shall ring." With a regal tilt to her head and a stoic smile on her weathered face, Agatha directed her full attention to her grandson. "Reyn, I have a surprise for you. I would like to introduce you to Jocelyn, the new Duchess of Wilcott." She cleared her throat. "Your wife." Reyn stared from Jocelyn to Agatha and back to Jocelyn. "You!"

  Nodding a shy greeting from the tub, waiting for the bolt of lightning to strike from his piercing blue eyes, Jocelyn witnessed the inner turmoil this stranger, her husband, experienced. He didn't seem to be taking the news well at all. His rugged beauty, coupled with the obvious strength and power radiating from his every muscle and limb, did nothing to ease her worries. Especially when he ordered in a booming voice, "Out!"

  At that outburst, the servants quickly fled, their footsteps the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

  Once the servants were cleared, Reyn focused on the remaining pair. "Tell me."

  "Dear, oh dear, let me think," Agatha said as she apparently stalled for time. "Where shall I begin?"

  Reyn placed his hands on the center table and leaned toward Agatha. In a deceptively subdued manner, he said, "Far be it for me to say, but I suggest the beginning."

  Three months later