The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Twenty-One

The tree-lined row of white townhouses came into view, bringing her childhood back into startling focus in her mind. Warm nostalgia warred with memories of sadness and loneliness. She’d been happier at home than at school for the most part. At school, her classmates never ceased to remind her that she was somehow lesser. That her father’s money may have bought her a place beside them, but she’d never be a part of them.

Some things never changed.

Her days spent at home were free from that sort of judgment. But then, of course, she had to deal with her father’s never-ending criticisms. Not that he was unkind, or at least that wasn’t what he intended. Tamsin had always known that her father wanted only the best for her. But to her father, that meant making the best marriage and becoming a pillar of society.

The marriage part he’d been able to manifest. The acceptance into society… Not even her father’s money, influence, and determination could make that happen.

Her mother had largely sat back and let her husband make all the decisions regarding Tamsin’s schooling and future. She’d often been ill, and even when well, she’d tended to be absentminded. Fond of her daughter but happy to let others take charge of her. She had died while Tamsin was away at school, and her father hadn’t seen reason to bring Tamsin home.

Now that she’d fulfilled her duty, married as he’d directed, and produced an heir, she’d hoped that her conflicted feelings whenever she returned home would resolve themselves. After all, she’d been the dutiful, obedient daughter, accomplishing nearly everything her father had wished for her. But she hadn’t yet achieved the pinnacle of his hopes and dreams. She wasn’t influential. She was barely tolerated.

And that left her feeling like a failure. Though now with a renewed sense of purpose. She might not be able to force her peers to accept her into their ranks. And that might hamper her efforts to start the foundations as she wished. But she could still do much good on her own. If she couldn’t get the support she needed, she would just need to find another way. She could still do some good in the world, even if she never became the influential society darling her father wished for her to be.

Despite her fear of his judgment, she loved him and would be happy to see him after so many months. Having Christian with her was both a comfort and a source of apprehension. It was perfectly reasonable for Christian, as James’s co-guardian, to meet James’s grandfather. But it was awkward in the extreme to have her father meeting her would-be lover—even if he hadn’t yet agreed to become that. He wanted her as much as she did him. She was sure of it. But something was holding him back.

But it wouldn’t matter to her father. The man was too observant and detail-focused to miss what they were to each other, even if they hadn’t yet acted on it. Fully, in any case. She just hoped he was having an off-day and missed the signs.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose and released it slowly. Christian, while he seemed to be as nervous as she, would be fine. He was always fine. Always in control.

Which created the most perverse urge within her to rile him so he finally lost his composure.

When they arrived, he alighted first and then stepped down, holding out a hand to help her.

“You are not having an attack of the nerves, are you, my lord?” she asked.

He scowled slightly and then nodded. “Yes, yes, I am.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment that she had been correct. And that he had admitted it. In the last several months that she’d known him, she had never once known him to be nervous about anything. Let alone enough so to betray it with his actions. Let alone admit it aloud.

“It is only my father,” she said. “And I promise, he will be cordial. He has no reason not to be.” She nearly stopped with that but could not pass up the opportunity to tease him a bit. “Unless you plan on informing him that you wished you had climbed out of my bed this morning instead of your own—”

“Good gracious, woman!” he said, properly scandalized.

She laughed. It was difficult to ruffle the count’s feathers, so she counted it a victory when she could do so. Frankly, he could use a bit more rattling. And she’d needed the laugh. It loosened some of the tension within her. For the rest, she just needed to remember who she was now. She was no longer only her father’s daughter. She was the Duchess of Clevesly. Mother of the new Duke of Clevesly.

And, hopefully soon, the lover of the Count of Rauchberg, though she could never claim him. A deliciously handsome, intriguing specimen of a man who was even now looking at her like he would never get enough of her. Such a look from such a man gave her an edge of confidence and pride that she’d never felt before. And made walking into her father’s house just a bit easier.

Little James squealed from inside the carriage and held out his arms. Christian grinned at the boy and reached in to take him from his nurse. Tamsin’s heart skipped to see her son in Christian’s arms, and she had to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat when he handed James to her before helping the nursemaid, Lucy, down as well.

She hadn’t ever considered having more children. Doing so would require remarriage—because despite her aversion to another such commitment, she would not bring an illegitimate child into the world who would suffer worse than she ever had at the hands of society.

But, seeing Christian with James…such a sight certainly awakened a longing in Tamsin she hadn’t thought existed. If it were with him. A child with him would be…

She shook her head. That was not a possibility she could even dare dwell upon. For now, at least. She was nowhere near ready to even contemplate such a future.

Tamsin kept a hold of her son while they were ushered into the house by a very efficient-looking butler.

“Hello, Southsby,” Tamsin said with a warm smile. “It is good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. You are most kind. We are all delighted to have you home again.”

He showed them into the sitting room, and little James reached his arms out for Christian again. This time he took him, sitting on a sofa so he could bounce the boy on his knee as James squealed with delight.

Southsby let a tender smile show for a split second as he gazed at the toddler and then straightened. “Your father requested you wait here. He will join you momentarily.”

“Thank you, Southsby,” Tamsin said, sitting beside Christian on the sofa.

“If you will follow me, missus,” Southsby said to Lucy, “the housekeeper has a kettle on and said she’d be pleased to have you join her.”

Lucy bobbed a curtsy to Tamsin and Christian and followed the butler from the room.

…

Christian fought to keep his hands still. The last time he had felt this ill at ease had been so long past he didn’t remember when it last occurred. The reason for his nervousness eluded him. He could not officially ask for Tamsin’s hand in marriage. Yet. Though he did wish to test the waters, as it were. Where would he ever find another woman like her? There was no other woman like her. She was one of a kind. Her absence from his life was a thought he could not bear.

But even if both she and her father were to agree to a marriage between them, he couldn’t begin the process of betrothal without consent from his uncle. Doing so would only bring more risk to Tamsin. If he was not able to follow through with his promises, a broken betrothal would ruin her. It painted both parties in an unfavorable light, of course, but always much more so for the woman. And though Tamsin was a widow, her reputation would still suffer far worse than his. Only he could escape back to his own country. She could not.

He still had some hope they might have a future together, but it dwindled by the day.

However, he had wanted to explore whatever options they might have. He had hoped to see for himself what her background was like, her family. Unfortunately, this visit had so far only served to impress on him even more how unequal their statuses were. No matter what her title now, she had come from common stock. Her father might have more wealth than most of the ton , but he was still a merchant. And that was all that mattered when it came to the laws of Christian’s country.

Which was one of many reasons he had not yet broached the subject of marriage with her. He well knew her thoughts on the matter, and he wasn’t all that certain he could sway her. Doing so to only then have no recourse to thwart the law would be unconscionable. They would need to have some sort of discussion about it soon, however. He didn’t have much time left in England. Only a little more than a month. And his willpower when it came to her was near to nonexistent and hanging on by a thread.

But, for the moment, he would pretend that this was nothing more than a friendly visit. That didn’t make his stomach stop turning, however, when the door opened to admit the man that could, if several miracles occurred, one day be his father-in-law.

Christian and Tamsin both stood, and she looked as though she wanted to hurry over and give her father a hug or some other warmer greeting than what actually occurred.

“Daughter,” Mr. Iverwell said, with a smile that was somehow both warm and distant. The man obviously had affection for his daughter but apparently wasn’t the type to be overly emotional about it. “You are looking well,” he said. “You have a healthy glow about you.”

“Thank you, Father. I am very well. May I present my son’s co-guardian and the trustee of our estates, Christian August, Graf von Rauchberg.”

“My lord,” her father said with a polite bow of his head.

Christian’s stomach clenched slightly as the man before him looked him up and down, clearly sizing him up. Christian had faced throne rooms full of monarchs and battle-hardened generals without an ounce of anxiety. But maintaining his composure under the face of Mr. Iverwell’s stare was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

“And is it possible this nearly grown young man is my grandson?” Mr. Iverwell asked, his entire demeanor changing as he turned to the little boy and gave him an exaggerated bow. James giggled and reached for the shiny pocket watch chain hanging from Mr. Iverwell’s pocket.

“He’s grown so big since last I saw him.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed slightly, though a quick glare from Tamsin had him trying his best to keep his face neutral. Still, he had been living at Herringbrook Hall and here in London with Tamsin and her son for months and had never once seen or heard from her father. An unforgivable oversight on her father’s part, in Christian’s opinion.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Tamsin moved farther into the room and patted the bench beside her. “Come tell me all about your recent travels, Father. What beautiful things did you bring home this time?”

Christian’s annoyance at Mr. Iverwell’s seeming lack of familial duty eased. Slightly. He was a man who made his living as a merchant and must need to travel quite frequently. Still. No letters had come for Tamsin, either. An omission that seemed inexcusably negligent. But Tamsin did not complain of the situation, nor did she seem to resent her father over it. So Christian would hold his peace. For now.

Tamsin’s father regaled them with tales of his travels and then invited them to see his latest treasures.

Tamsin’s eyes gleamed as she stood. Her father took young James by the hand and led him out the door, chattering to him like he was one of his colleagues. James seemed fascinated by whatever his grandfather was telling him, and the picture of them walking together was so endearingly sweet that Christian had the urge to rub the ache in his chest.

“My father would always take me to see his treasures when he returned from trips,” Tamsin said as he drew nearer. “Though perhaps not so enthusiastically,” she said with a little laugh while she watched her father and son.

Christian frowned, seeing not a vision of a small Tamsin following her father down a corridor toward a room full of treasure, but instead picturing a little girl sitting alone in a big house with not so much as a letter to keep her company.

“Did that make up for the neglect when he was gone?” he asked.

Tamsin stopped, her brows raised in surprise. Then she smiled gently. “Do not be too cross with him, my lord. He did the best he could with a daughter he didn’t know what to do with.”

Christian might understand that, but he couldn’t help but be offended on her behalf. But rather than argue, he made a noncommittal harumph noise and glowered in the general direction of her father. Tamsin tilted her head and regarded him for a moment before a mischievous look that he didn’t at all trust crossed her face.

“I think you’ll find the vault very interesting, my lord,” Tamsin said, threading her arm through his. “It is so airtight that not even sound can escape.” She leaned closer, whispering so only he could hear. “I wager I could scream your name until my voice failed me and no one would be the wiser.”

Christian nearly stumbled, his shock was so great. He turned wide eyes to the woman at his side who had all of a sudden changed into someone he had never met before. And then his eyes flashed to her father walking just a few feet before them.

She blinked up at him innocently.

“What game are you playing at, meine Herzogin?” he murmured.

The smile she gave him was nothing less than angelic. “To what are you referring, my lord?” she asked sweetly. “I am merely, as you suggested, doing what I can to grow more comfortable with my de—”

“Your Grace,” he said, through gritted teeth. He couldn’t quite tell if his heart thundered because of the images her statement had conjured, or because it wouldn’t take much inference for anyone else who heard them to understand their meaning…and what was happening between the two of them behind closed doors.

“Yes?” She smiled sweetly.

Oh, this woman would be the death of him.

“Perhaps this isn’t the best time to practice such articulation.”

“Hmm, yes. I’ve heard there are much better uses for one’s tongue.”

He nearly gasped out loud, and the little minx on his arm grinned and then let go of him, moving to walk ahead of him with a decided swish of her backside.

Christian sucked in a deep breath through his nose and tried to think innocent thoughts as he caught up to the others in the vault room. If Tamsin had been trying to distract him from his anger with her father, it had worked. However, he was now in danger of utterly disgracing himself if he couldn’t get his blood to flow back north.

He stood behind a table in the middle of the room and thought of the most disgusting thing he could—the time that Frederick had tripped over his unfortunately full chamber pot—until he was able to move about again with better ease.

The room in which they stood was similar to many wine cellars he’d seen, except one wall was taken up by an enormous vault that would have been the envy of any bank.

Perhaps it was more accurate to call it a strong room than a vault. The thick plated door, once opened, revealed a fairly ordinary room that held a series of tables and shelves with one long table running down the middle. There were items and artifacts occupying many of the shelves along with other safes and vaults of varying sizes.

Mr. Iverwell’s latest wares were still on the table, apparently in the process of being inspected and inventoried.

Christian’s eyes widened at the glittering array spread before him.

“You grew up surrounded by such displays?” Christian asked.

Tamsin nodded. “Whenever Father would return from a trip, he’d always bring me down here so I could see his treasures. And if I was lucky and had behaved in his absence, sometimes I was allowed to touch and even play with some of them. The tiara I wore to my wedding was a favorite of mine for tea parties with my dolls.”

He shook his head in awe. “I could never give you anything that would impress you half as much, could I?” he asked so only she could hear.

She turned to him, her eyes searching his. “You needn’t worry, my lord,” she said, her voice pitched low enough that James and her father on the far end of the table wouldn’t overhear her. “From what I have been able to tell so far, I am certain you have a few…impressive items of your own with which I would enjoy playing.”

Christian’s jaw dropped. What sort of a fiendish monster had he created?

And how was he going to live without her when he was gone?

“I believe our young duke would like a treat from the kitchens,” Mr. Iverwell said to Tamsin. “Why don’t you take him to Southsby and give me a moment alone with Lord Rauchberg?”

Tamsin’s mouth opened in surprise, but she glanced at Christian for his agreement before she nodded and reached out to take James’s hand.

“I shall return momentarily,” she said, eyeing them both.

They both watched as she left, and then her father turned to him.

“I shall keep this brief, my lord, as I believe we are both men of few words.”

Christian nodded, both grateful they were cutting to the point and a little apprehensive of how her father would take what he had to say.

“You and the duchess seem to have formed an attachment.”

Christian raised a brow but waited for the man to continue.

“She is a widow, and a woman grown. But she is still my daughter. And I do not wish to see her harmed, in deed or reputation,” he said, pinning Christian with a gaze so direct he had trouble not squirming beneath its weight.

“Neither would I,” Christian assured him. “And I am doing my utmost to protect her from anything that may cause her harm.” Including from themselves, both from their attraction and Tamsin’s insistence on continuing with her caricatures. But he didn’t see the need to worry her father with particulars.

“I cannot speak as I would like to just yet,” Christian said, hoping her father understood him through his careful wording. “But I do hope to be able to allay some of your fears in the near future. However, there are some matters to which I must attend first.”

Mr. Iverwell watched him for a moment, that steely gaze of his boring through Christian’s very soul. Finally, he gave a sharp nod of his head. “Then I look forward to the day when you can fully speak your mind, my lord.”

Tamsin reentered the room and glanced between them. “Is all well?” she asked, her eyes slightly creased with concern.

“Of course, my dear,” her father said. “Shall we go in to supper?”