The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Four

Tamsin hadn’t realized just how overwhelmed she was until she heard the carriage pull into her courtyard and some of the tension eased from her body. She had the salon door open before the footman could usher her guests in.

“Reinforcements have arrived,” Georgie said, sweeping her into a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming. Oh!” she said, smiling in delight at the retinue Georgie had brought with her. “Everyone is here. Wonderful!”

Tamsin greeted Georgie’s brother, Alexander, the Duke of Beaubrooke, a large man with rumpled hair who looked rather bemused to be out and about; his wife Lavinia and her sister Lady Kitty Wynnburn, both brunette beauties despite Lavinia’s spectacles; and their family friend Lord Nigel Bainbridge. Slightly leaner, but no less attractive than the duke, Nigel, with his ready wit, dancing eyes, and constant humor, had become a dear friend along with the rest of their group. It was a good thing she’d told the cook to expect a few extra for dinner that evening without giving her an exact number. Mrs. Sorrell would have been sure to make more than enough. Just in case.

“How are things progressing?” Georgie asked, drawing Tamsin to the side while the others spread out to the sofas in the room.

Tamsin groaned.

“Well, worry not, my dear,” Georgie said with a laugh. “Help is here.”

“I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do.” Tamsin looped her arm through her friend’s as she guided her to a sofa. “The man is incorrigible. But I’m so glad you’re here, even if you can do naught but make me smile.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Lavinia said, approaching them, her chestnut ringlets bouncing against her cheeks. “Besides, you saved us from an evening of game play with Nigel. He always cheats.”

“I do not,” he said.

They all looked at him, and he glanced around at everyone with a growing smile. “Not always .”

“In any case,” Georgie said, rolling her eyes at Nigel, “coming to your rescue is a much better plan.”

“To that, I’ll agree,” Nigel said. “Who is this Count of Rauchberg? He’s no one I’ve heard of.”

“Nor I,” Beaubrooke said. “Where is he from?”

Tamsin thought for a moment, trying to remember the correct name. “It’s part of a small principality, near Bavaria, I believe. Gr ü nsteinberg?”

“I have heard of it,” Beaubrooke said. “But I am not familiar with anyone who hails from there.”

Tamsin had had to look it up in the large map book in the library. She hadn’t studied much about the area before. The larger kingdoms, yes. But the smaller duchies, grand duchies, and principalities were too numerous and for the most part insignificant for her tutors to bother with much. Despite the fact that their queen had come from just such a country.

Before anyone could say anything more, the door opened once again, and the footman announced Christian August, Count of Rauchberg, and Frederick Wilhelm, Baron of Feldhagen.

Tamsin, determined to show Lord Rauchberg that she knew exactly how to be a proper hostess, drew her guests into the room and presented everyone with the appropriate decorum. Pleasantries were exchanged all around, and the men thankfully kept Lords Rauchberg and Feldhagen occupied until dinner was served. They filed into the dining room and took their seats while Lavinia kept the conversation going.

Tamsin had no appetite whatsoever, but she refused to give Lord Rauchberg the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. She ate each course as it was placed before her as if she didn’t have a care in the world, though that was far from the truth. She was still not sure what to make of the count. One moment, he seemed to be a perfectly reasonable man whose presence might even be a welcome help. And the next, he seemed poised to destroy all she held near and dear and hoped for in the future.

Either way, he unsettled her. A sensation she did not enjoy.

She absently placed another bite of pheasant in her mouth, dragging her teeth slightly along the fork as she did so.

“The pheasant is wonderful,” Lord Rauchberg said to her, though Tamsin caught his slight cringe, and she hastily removed the fork from her mouth. The headmistress at her finishing school would be so ashamed. What was it about this man that made her forget all her training and education? He’d surely think her an uncouth commoner who couldn’t be trusted to raise her own son.

And yes, perhaps that was a bit dramatic. But having a man she did not know be named a co-guardian of her son… Was it any wonder she was a ball of anxiety?

“Please share my compliments with your cook,” he continued.

“I shall. She’ll be delighted to hear you’re enjoying it,” she said with a strained smile.

Lord Feldhagen nodded his agreement, raising his wineglass in her direction.

“I must confess, I hadn’t expected so many guests this evening,” Lord Rauchberg said with a smile. “Though I, of course, find the company diverting. Do you often entertain?”

The previously succulent pheasant stuck in her throat like a dry hunk of bread, and she took a sip of wine before answering. His statement was innocent enough. Was she imagining the underlying criticism? As she had just entered her half-mourning period, a small dinner party among friends wasn’t outside what was acceptable. But the possible implication that she had done anything but follow the strictest letter of mourning etiquette had her tightening her grip on her knife. She’d worked too hard to prove to the rest of society that she was worthy of being accepted into their ranks. Any hint of a suggestion that she had taken a misstep sat very, very ill with her.

“Not often, no,” she said. “But as I cannot accept many invitations while I’m in mourning, my dear friends occasionally keep me company.”

Not that she’d received many—or any—invitations before her husband had passed, let alone since. Something she hoped would change once the ton finally got off their high horse and truly accepted her into their ranks instead of grudgingly tolerating her.

But the count didn’t need to know that.

“Far too infrequently, I’m afraid,” Lavinia added. “In fact, that is why we descended this evening. It has been far too long since we have dined with our dear duchess.”

Tamsin gave her a grateful smile. “The vicar and his wife are frequent guests, so I am not always on my own. And I don’t mind a quiet dinner now and then. But it is always wonderful to see you all.”

“Yes, and now that you are in half-mourning, you can venture out a bit more,” Lavinia said with a smile. “At least to come visit us at Beaubrooke Hall.”

“That would be lovely,” Tamsin said, her spirits lifting.

She caught Lord Rauchberg watching the exchange with a faint smile. Tamsin couldn’t quite tell if he disapproved of her making plans to visit her friends while she was still in mourning or if he was simply bored of the topic. Either way, the fact that she was trying to deduce what was going on in his head irked her to no end.

She ate another morsel, her eyes darting between Lord Feldhagen, Lord Bainbridge, and the duke, who seemed to be having a lively conversation about pheasant hunting; Kitty, who was also watching the men—or, more specifically, Lord Feldhagen; Georgie and Lavinia, who were watching everyone. And Lord Rauchberg. Who…was still watching her.

She forced herself to hold his gaze until he glanced away, his lips twitching as though he’d found something amusing.

“Has anyone seen the new Anonymous Bartholomew print?” Nigel asked, glancing about the table.

Tamsin and Georgie quickly glanced at each other and then away.

“No,” Georgie said. “Another scathing indictment of the upper class again?”

Tamsin forced her gaze to the baked apple pudding a maid had just placed in front of her and took a small bite. Had she been alone, the delicacy would have been gone in three bites. But decorum was paramount with the count watching her every move.

“Yes, actually,” Nigel said. “The caricatures depicted a scene from a gaming hell, the men all tossing stacks of money onto the table whilst those who had lost sulked by the fire.”

Beaubrooke snorted. “I’d wager I’ve seen that exact scene in real life on more than one occasion.”

Lavinia raised a delicate brow. “Oh? Do you frequent gaming hells, my lord?”

“Of course not,” he assured her. “Not recently, in any case.”

Nigel chuckled. “Well, whoever Mr. Anonymous Bartholomew is, I’d wager he’s either one of the upper class or at least has access to where we congregate. His caricatures are entirely too accurate.”

“It is no real secret how the elite of our society spend their time,” Tamsin said. “Perhaps he—”

“Or she,” Georgie piped in, and Tamsin flashed an amused glance at her.

“Or she simply wishes to hold a mirror up to society in an effort to…show them their flaws and weaknesses.”

“In the hopes we repent of our wicked ways and become more caring members of the human race?” Nigel asked.

A small smile tugged at Tamsin’s lips. “Something of the sort.”

Nigel shrugged. “It is certainly possible. Regardless, it is amusing, and I’m fairly certain our dear Beaubrooke is one of the caricatures sulking by the fire. So I purchased a dozen prints and will be giving them out at Christmas.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Tamsin buried her smile in her wine cup.

She didn’t publish her art for the money, and she donated everything she made. But she did like to hear that her work was being seen. Talked about. And purchased by those who had the money to do so. And, of course, the prints were hung on her printer’s window and often elsewhere in town for those who could not afford to purchase their own copy or did not read the paper.

There might not be much she could do to better the world, aside from the multitude of charities she championed. But if her art could change the mind and heart of even one person in a position to truly make a difference, the risk she took in creating and publishing it was worth it.

“I wished to apologize,” Lord Rauchberg said quietly to her, wiping his mouth and setting his napkin beside his plate. “Our discussion this afternoon was not one I wished to have so soon upon my arrival.”

She raised a brow. “I accept your apology, though I do feel I should point out that that particular discussion wouldn’t have been well received no matter when it was broached.”

He nodded, his lips twitching. “I do understand. Yet it was a necessary conversation, and one that we should continue at some point. Though we needn’t do so tonight.”

“On the contrary,” Tamsin said, her pulse already racing. “I would rather know your intentions. I’m not one for surprises.”

Lord Rauchberg watched her with a thoughtful expression. “Nor am I.”

“Then go ahead and out with it,” she said with a wry smile.

“You’ve already heard my intentions. To ensure the estate is in order and assist you in any way necessary with the raising of your son.”

She cocked her head to the side and regarded him for a second. “And what advice would you have for me about the raising of my son?”

Nigel grinned. “Careful there, my lord. I never trust when a woman asks for criticism.”

A rumble of laughter went around the table, and the count sat back, a faint smile on his full lips.

“I have not spent enough time in the company of you or your son to know what he may or may not need. Yet.”

Tamsin smiled. “Oh, come now,” she said, not sure why she was egging him on. “You seem to disapprove of my son residing here in London with me, at the very least.”

“I only pointed out that my cousin preferred that his son be raised in the country. Am I correct?”

Tamsin’s lips pursed. “Yes, my lord, you are correct.”

Lord Bainbridge leaned over to her from where he sat on the other side of Lavinia. “Did that hurt as much as it looked like it did?”

“Yes,” Tamsin muttered. “Yes, it did.”

“Nigel!” Lavinia said.

“What?” Nigel blinked at them innocently. “I’ve never heard a woman admit a man was correct before.”

Georgie choked on her wine, and Kitty laughed outright while Beaubrooke and Lord Feldhagen looked on with amused grins.

Lord Rauchberg rubbed a finger over his lips. “Yes, well, painful or no, I’m glad you agree. It is a heavy task to be responsible for the well-being of my cousin’s family. But as your husband’s nearest relative, the obligation falls to me to take these matters in hand, and I do not take that lightly.”

Tamsin sucked in a breath. Something about this man, even aside from his truly delusional notions of honor and nobility, sent a fire burning through her like she’d never experienced before. She wasn’t yet sure if she wanted to best him or break him. But she was going to enjoy the battle.

“As long as those matters are contained to the estate, your assistance is appreciated,” she said, feeling charitable enough to admit that small truth. “But as I have said, I would prefer to handle matters concerning my son. And keep any matters pertaining to myself entirely in my own hands.”

“Lovely as those hands may be,” he said, his gaze lingering on where her hands were clenched around her napkin until she forced them to relax and crossed them demurely in front of her, “I do, in fact, consider my obligation to extend to you.”

Her eyebrow rose, and she took a deep sip of her wine.

“But rest assured,” he said, “it is an obligation I am honored to take on.”

Tamsin’s eyes narrowed. How noble of him.

“Oh, he is that,” Lord Feldhagen said. “Insufferably noble.”

Tamsin’s cheeks flamed hot as she realized she’d spoken aloud. Well, since she’d already voiced those thoughts…

“A word of advice, my lord. If you want a woman to be more…agreeable to your requests, try not to refer to her as an obligation. It is hardly what a woman desires to be to any man,” she said, her smile faltering. “Even if it is true.”

His eyes widened slightly, but before he could respond, she stood and bestowed the brightest smile she could muster as she invited the women to adjourn to the salon while the men enjoyed their port in the study.

“A word?” the count asked before she could leave the room.

She nodded at Georgie, who had hesitated at the door.

“Yes, my lord?” she asked once they were alone.

“I hope I did not offend—”

She held up a hand before he could continue. “Give it no further thought, my lord.”

He nodded but apparently had more to say. The fact that he seemed reluctant to say it didn’t bode well.

“I had planned to wait until the morrow to discuss this matter with you. But as it was already raised…”

“What matter?” Tamsin asked, her stomach clenching.

“As you are aware, I need to make an accurate assessment of the entire estate. I have been informed by Davis that your husband has separate managers for each property who all keep their own accounts. Mr. Marstle, his solicitor, has the records for most of the holdings and properties of the estates. However, it appears that the books for the primary holding are kept at that property. To access those records necessarily involves a sojourn to Herringbrook Hall.”

She nodded, relief seeping through her. “So you will be leaving for the country, then. Soon?” she asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

“Yes. The day after next, if possible. I would like to get started as soon as possible. My time here is not indefinite.”

“Of course, my lord. I will instruct the servants to assist you in preparing for the journey in any way necessary.”

She couldn’t believe her luck. She’d been so worried, not only about his possible interference into the way she ran her household or raised her son, but also for how much more difficult the count’s presence would make continuing with her art. The printer expected new caricatures from her at least once monthly. And she tried to be timely and stick to a schedule.

If she were to keep up with her usual schedule, she needed to keep working. Which she often did in the salon as it got the best light in the mornings. But she would need to work elsewhere if she were to keep her secret from her new, and indefinite, guest.

“My thanks, Your Grace. And if you would be so good as to oversee the preparation of the young duke’s belongings as well, that would be appreciated. As I’ve stated, my cousin was most ardent in his desire for his son to be raised in the country. And as I must travel there in any case, it seems an opportune time to transfer his household. We shall depart in two days. You are, of course, welcome to accompany us.”

Tamsin’s stomach dropped to her feet. She could not have heard him correctly. “Pardon me, but what did you say?”

He blinked, seemingly confused by her confusion. “I said you are welcome to accompany us to Herringbrook Hall.”

“I am welcome to accompany you when you take my son into the country?”

“Precisely,” he said with a vague smile.

Did he truly not think she would question him?

“My son is still quite young, my lord.”

He nodded. “Which is why I assumed you would wish to accompany us. I did not, however, wish to force the decision upon you if you would rather remain in London.”

“My son will stay with me,” she said, her words crisp and sharp so there would be no misunderstanding.

“Excellent. I will send word ahead to ready your rooms as well.”

He gave her a clipped bow and left her standing there, mouth agape at what had just occurred.

In the salon, Tamsin sank onto a sofa and took a deep breath. Being in a room with Lord Rauchberg was overwhelming, to say the least. And that was under normal circumstances. Being with him while trying to be the perfect duchess sapped at her will to live. Not snapping at him when he announced he was all but kidnapping her son had taken a Herculean effort that still had her shaking.

“Enjoying yourself that much, hmm?” Lavinia said, handing her a glass of claret.

“That man is insufferable,” she said, taking a bracing drink.

“But easy to look at, at least,” Kitty chimed in.

The other women shot her a glance, and she widened her eyes innocently. “What? Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. His jaw looks as though it were chiseled into form by Michelangelo himself.”

Tamsin’s eyes narrowed, but she did try to be truthful in all of her endeavors. Well, as many as possible. Not including the secret ones, of course.

“Very well,” she begrudgingly said. “I’ll admit he’s handsome.” Distractingly so, though she wouldn’t admit that part out loud. “But his ego dulls the shine of that pretty countenance.”

Lavinia settled in beside her. “What did he say?”

Tamsin leaned her head back against the sofa with a sigh. “He handed me a hefty helping of the same nonsense he’s been spewing since he arrived. He’s here for our own good, he must oversee any and everything to ensure the health of the estate and apparently my son. And to that end, he is relocating us all to the country. In two days’ time.”

Lavinia and Georgie both gasped and leaned over to pat her.

“The nerve!” Kitty said. “He cannot do that! Can he?” she added with a frown.

“I’m afraid he can,” Tamsin said. “Though he would not force me to accompany him if I did not wish.” She scoffed. “As if I would allow him to just take James off without me.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Kitty squeezed Tamsin’s hand.

“Yes,” Lavinia agreed. “You are a wonderful mother, and James is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving her friends a grateful smile.

“Truly, if the count desires to take you in hand, as he stated, there are so many more delightful ways to go about it,” Georgie said with a wicked grin.

Kitty gasped again. “Georgina, really.” She fluttered her fan in front of her overheated face and then pinned Georgie with a stare. “Such as what?”

Georgie laughed.

“Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Kitty waved her hand in the air as if she could clear away the question.

“Are you sure?” Georgie asked, leaning closer.

“No. I mean yes. I’m sure.” Kitty sighed. “Besides, how would you know? You are no more married than I.”

Georgie just laughed again. “That does not mean I am a nun, my dear Kitty. There are many pleasures to be had before the dreariness of the marriage bed. As long as you are careful not to get caught.”

“Georgie, stop trying to corrupt her,” Lavinia said, though her eyes were dancing with shocked amusement. “Besides, the marriage bed is only dreary if you marry the wrong man,” she said with a wink.

Tamsin smiled, but unfortunately it wasn’t an experience she could share with Lavinia. Her marriage to Rupert had been… Well, dreary was the best she had usually hoped for. Now if she had been married to someone else, someone who made her skin tingle and heart pound and stoked that maddening heat that she sometimes felt when she was alone in the dark and found the courage to explore…then, yes, she could imagine such interludes being far from dreary.

She downed her claret in one gulp, coming up for air to meet Lavinia’s wide, startled eyes.

“It’s a shame you must leave with him,” Kitty said.

Tamsin sighed. “It is indeed.”

Then again, just because she must leave with him for the sake of her son, that didn’t necessitate staying with him at his whim indefinitely. Either she would remove herself and her son back to town or convince the count to bring them back.

Just how she would do that, she did not know. Yet. But she had never met a problem she couldn’t solve when she really put her mind to it. And the count was certainly a very large, very annoying problem. But not an insurmountable one.

She would just need to get a little…creative.