The Fox: in his Henhouse (The Dubious Mates #1)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

A nd then the unthinkable happened. Wellesley’s mother, the Duchess of Allendale, arrived the very day the snows began to recede. And she did not arrive alone, for in her carriage was a perfectly respectable, no doubt utterly biddable young lady.

Miss Evangeline Mowry, daughter to some viscount, was clearly there for one reason only: to be offered up as bride.

Beside himself, Wells paced the parlor, still the sole room fit for guests. “Mother, I cannot fathom why you’d?—”

“Roland, dear, I did write, only I imagine the post was delayed by the weather. We left London as soon as the roads were passable so I assumed . . .” She made a face. “Well, I’d forgotten how long it takes for everything up here to melt .” Her eyes flitted to her soiled hem.

No doubt the audacity of his muddy courtyard to sully his mother’s dress had infuriated the Duchess, but as always, she did not show it. Instead, she let him feel it. He grimaced, still disbelieving his mother was here. Of course she’d bloody show up on his doorstep without a word of warning. But to have brought a stranger with her, without damn well asking . . .

“And I could hardly leave Miss Mowry behind, dear, not when I’d promised the poor girl’s dying mother I would look after her only daughter.” She pursed her lips at him. “The young lady is grieving, Roland, you must be kind to her. It was quite a shock.”

“No more than the shock of you bringing her here, Mother,” he bit back, grateful the miss had been brought to the kitchen for some repast and so spared their conversation. Apparently, the young lady did not travel well.

“And if she is still in mourning why, pray, does she not wear black?” His eyes met his mother’s, whose sharp grey orbs mirrored his own: defiant.

“I find it cruel to force so beautiful a young woman as Miss Mowry to don somber hues, Roland.” She barely cracked a smile. “Especially when less austere colors are perfectly acceptable here in Cumberland at least.”

He knew what she was about. “Well I promise to give her a wide berth, Maman, considering how keenly she must still suffer her mother’s loss.” His eyes bored into her. “I expect you, alone, to console her in her mourning.”

“Me? Goodness, Roland, everyone knows a well-bred gentleman like yourself is the greatest balm to a lady in grief. You, more than anyone, I am sure, will take her mind off matters and bring some color to her cheeks.” Her smile dazzled like a bright, cold gemstone.

“Shall we continue this little game, Maman , or must I be blunt?” Wells’s lips formed a line. “I will not marry Miss Mowry.”

“Your father is on his deathbed, Roland, and the Duchy needs an heir.”

“If he is on his deathbed, Mother, then why in God’s name are you here ?” His voice cracked.

“Because you leave me no choice, son,” she snarled back, matching his temper. “Had you not bungled matters with Lady Camberly, I shouldn’t need to be here, dangling another bride before you.”

“You know deuced well I was willing to marry her, Mother. It was her choice to leave me at the altar like some cuckolded?—”

“Yes, yes, she hurt your pride. But you needn’t have run to the ends of the earth like some wounded pup. You could have stayed, allowed the scandal to blow over, then chosen some other girl. But instead, like the whelp you remain, you hide here in Cumberland, where the weather is as foul as?—”

“Do not disparage the Abbey, Mother, because I have every intention of remaining here for eternity.”

“Roland, you have a duty to your father, a duty to family, and a duty to perform as future Duke, which is why I?—”

“You can shove the Dukedom up your arse, Maman .” Her eyes grew wide at his coarse words. “Because I will not move back to London and I damn well will not, I repeat, will not marry Miss Mowry. I don’t care how substantial the woman’s bloodline or dowry.”

His mother glared at him, her eyes shooting daggers.

Wells glared back, just as ferocious.

And then, without a word, the Duchess strode from the room, her back ramrod straight and her exit sharp as glass. She’d punish him for his last comment, he knew. His mother knew well how to punish her only son with the slap of ungodly, awful silence.

She was inhuman.

Charles was in fits. Never would she have expected Lord Wellesley’s mother, the Duchess of Allendale, to arrive so unexpectedly, so imperiously. With another lady no less! And two ladies’ maids! Not to mention their carriage driver and footman. That would mean six more mouths to feed, six bodies to sleep, six linens to lay, six more sets of everything to wash. Her mind was overwhelmed by the labor this would mean for her staff, the unfairness of it. Because the Abbey was not prepared for guests. And she’d let his lordship know it.

She went in search of him but heard only angry voices from the parlor and thought better than to interrupt whatever conversation Lord Wells was having with the Duchess. She tiptoed away in search of Cuthbert, the next best man to accost, yet he, too, seemed equally distressed.

“It’s just like her t’ do this to us, miss, just like her grace. Reason Lord Wells went t’ sea, she was. Domineerin’, overbearin’, smotherin’ sort o’ woman who never gave her son a moment’s peace, and now look. Back at it she is. Willin’ t’ make the miserable long journey t’ Cumberland t’ get what she wants.” He nearly snorted his disgust. “You mark my words, Charles, she’ll have him married come hell or high water. She don’t give up, that one, as stubborn as he, and when the two go at it . . .” He shook his head, scowling.

Cuthbert had a wealth of knowledge when it came to Lord Wellesley’s family, Charles could tell, but she’d not be distracted by this now.

“Never mind all that, John, we’ve more pressing matters: finding beds for six unexpected guests.”

“Christ,” he muttered. “Where the devil are we t’ put ’em all?”

“I don’t know, Cuthbert, you tell me!”

The two argued at length as to who should go where, until Charles got her way.

“John, we’ve no choice but to give Miss Mowry Mrs. Jenkins’s bedroom, and put our cook with Ginny and Marta, and their two ladies’ maids in my cold closet. Ruby, Clarice, and I will simply take a spare room somewhere and ready the space as best we can—sleep amongst the cobwebs and mice if need be. We can work up the room while we’re in it, I suppose.”

“Oi.” Cuthbert nodded. “His lordship can bunk with his men. He’s used t’ sleepin’ in hellholes and ships’ galleys. Her grace can take his chamber.”

“When he rebels, I shall tell him that was your idea, John.”

“You go right ahead, miss.” His eyes gleamed.

Yet Charles already felt beat, and the guests had only just arrived. This visit would test her mettle, and test his lordship no doubt too.

“Cuthbert?” She ventured.

“Yes, miss?”

“Is there anything else I should know about the Duchess? Anything I ought to anticipate?”

He chewed his lip. “She’s more stubborn than her son, Charles, and always gets her way. Mind you stay on her good side, and all will be well.”

The Duchess’s good side, eh? Charles thought. Which side is that, pray?

Yet she was accosted by the lady herself not a minute later in the hallway, with barely enough time to collect her wits.

“You.” The Duchess’s gaze swept critically over Charles. “Tell me where I may find the housekeeper. I’ve no idea where she’s put us and my son is behaving like a, well, like a disobedient child .”

Charles dipped into a low curtsy, her heart racing, for the strikingly tall, slim woman before her was altogether severe and imposing. Most disconcerting of all, however, was the fact she shared her son’s eyes: the same intense slate grey.

“Your Grace, I am housekeeper here and beg your pardon for the delay regarding rooms. Yours shall be ready momentarily.”

“ You are Almsdale’s housekeeper?” The Duchess’s brow rose a fraction as she literally looked down her patrician nose at Charles from her impressive height.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Charles straightened her spine. “I apologize again for the delay, but as you have surely surmised, we did not anticipate your visit.” She met the Duchess’s eyes without wavering.

Her grace narrowed her gaze. “A housekeeper is always prepared, always anticipates, girl, but then, you look barely old enough to run a stand at market, let alone the Duke’s Abbey.” Charles winced at her tone. “And where is your chatelaine? You look like a maid. Was there no one in Cumberland more qualified for the position of housekeeper?”

“Your Grace, I take great pride in what my staff have accomplished thus far. Perhaps you failed to notice Almsdale Abbey remains in great disrepair.” She knew she bordered on impertinent but inwardly Charles fumed. “So I apologize again that we are as yet ill-equipped to entertain guests.”

Her grace blinked. “Quite the mouth on you too.” Her eyes bored deeper into Charles. “What is your name, Housekeeper?”

“Merrinan, Your Grace,” Charles spoke with pride. “Charles Merrinan.”

“Charles Merrinan?” The Duchess looked appalled. “Squire Merrinan’s daughter?” She shook her head, as if disbelieving. “Why, let me look at you, girl.” She suddenly beamed at Charles, reaching out to physically turn her about, in a manner so familiar she made Charles flinch. And then the Duchess pulled a lock of hair loose from Charles’s head kerchief to twirl about her fingers.

“By God!” she exclaimed. “Same hair, like spun gold. Nearly drove my husband mad.” Her eyes held a faraway cast.

“Your Grace.” Charles took a step back. “I am sure I do not understand.”

“But my dear girl”—she gave her another brilliant smile—“I knew your parents. Knew your mother well indeed. Adelaide Enright came out but a year after my own debut and caused quite the stir back then. Only had eyes for your father, of course, determined to have only him . . .” Her voice trailed off. “But tell me how he is, dear. I am sure it was very hard on you all when your mother passed.”

“You knew my parents?” Charles simply stood there, rooted to the spot.

“Yes, why do you stare at me so, Miss Merrinan? It is unnerving. And your sister, Eleanor, she is well too, I hope? I imagine she is all grown up, goodness.” She peered more closely at Charles. “But why are you here, Miss Merrinan, housekeeper to my son? I daresay your father should never have agreed to such a position were he still . . .” She stopped herself.

Charles inhaled, overwhelmed by the onslaught of information she’d just received. “Your Grace, my sister is well, thank you, and my father fares as well as possible. Difficult times, however, necessitated my need for employment, making your son’s arrival here in Cumberland fortuitous. I have endeavored to do my best to aid in the revival of Almsdale Abbey, Your Grace, and have made some progress considering how few we are in staff. It pains me that we are not better prepared for guests, but without warning, Your Grace, there was only so much I or anyone else employed here could have done to anticipate your arrival.”

The Duchess looked Charles over again, this time more approvingly. “Eloquently said, Miss Merrinan. You’ve not only your mother’s fine looks but her breeding too, though it would upset her, no doubt, to see you relegated to service.” Her lips pinched.

Charles took offense. “My mother would be proud to see me gainfully employed, Your Grace; there is no dishonor in honest labor.”

The Duchess broke into a grin. “And you’ve her spirit too. Goodness, what a surprise to encounter you here, my dear. Well, I am glad Roland hired you, if it has helped your dear papa. I shall have to pay him a call,” she added. “We will have much to discuss, of times past.” Her smile deepened.

“Oh no, Your Grace, you mustn’t!” Charles bit her tongue. “That is, my father is no longer well, Your Grace. He is easily confused, forgetting at times even that his wife . . .” She swallowed the rest of her sentence. “I fear he may not recognize you, Your Grace, for he has not been the same since our mother’s death.”

“Which is why you left London, yes. I know all about Adelaide’s atrocious family. There is no excusing the Earl of Denbigh’s behavior, none. To leave two young girls with only their unsound . . .” She again stopped herself, frowning. “Tell me you at least had a female companion until you came of age, Miss Merrinan.”

Charles felt her gut twist, though she’d not reveal the truth of how desperate their situation had been. “It is all in the past, Your Grace. Please, if you’ll excuse me, I must ready your room before nightfall. Might I enquire how long you intend to stay at Almsdale?”

“Oh that depends.” Her eyes sparked.

“On what, Your Grace?” Charles dared ask.

“On how long it takes my son to propose to Miss Mowry.” Her eyes now positively shimmered. “I’d appreciate it greatly, Miss Merrinan, if you helped facilitate matters some. You know, endeavor to arrange that Miss Mowry and Lord Wellesley be left alone together, as often as is seemly?” She smiled conspiratorially at Charles.

“Your Grace.” She looked the Duchess dead on. “That is decidedly outside the purview of my duties here, and as I answer only to his lordship, my employer, I cannot and will not assist you in such matter.”

And with that she marched off, leaving the Duchess looking flummoxed. Charles hoped her grace would realize the late Lady Adelaide Merrinan shared more than just a physical resemblance to her eldest daughter. She wanted her mother proud of her just then, for God knew there was much not to be proud of. If her mother truly had known this haughty woman, Charles felt sure Mama had stood up to her, Duchess or not. As would she.

“Charles,” a voice hissed. “Fox!” it hissed louder.

Charles put down her pail and mopped her brow, pushing back her kerchief from her sweat-drenched brow. She’d been cleaning like a madwoman for the past two hours, and it showed.

“In here!” the voice hissed once more.

She followed said voice into a darkly shuttered room and beheld his lordship slumped in a chair, drape flung aside. Every other piece of furniture in the room was still covered in dust-laden sheets, not to mention bat shit, which also littered a large portion of the floor.

“My lord,” she sighed, “tell me you are not hiding in here from your mother.”

“Damn right I am.” He motioned her over. “Come, Fox, I am desperate for my mistress.”

“I am desperately trying to ready rooms for your guests, sir. I haven’t time for?—”

“Charles, we can discuss said rooms while you sit on my lap. Now please,” he motioned again for her, insisting,“I need you.”

His eyes pleaded so earnestly that she finally gave in, placing her arms about his neck to quickly kiss him.

“Thank God,” he released the words into her lips, then burrowed his face at her breast, breathing her in. “I am starved for a sensible woman right now.”

“Your mother seems quite sensible, sir.”

Lord Wells began to hurriedly unhook Charles’s dress. “She is anything but, Fox, dragging that lady all the way here just to dangle her before me, like a worm on a line. Only I’ll not be the poor fish that takes her bait, oh no.” His hand slipped inside Charles’s dress; she felt him relax the moment he found her bosom.

“You do realize how inappropriate this is, Lord Wellesley.” Charles only half admonished his lordship, her own hand playing with locks of his hair which had grown only more unruly since she’d arrived at Almsdale. She liked his hair long.

“I’ll tell you what’s inappropriate,” he grumbled. “Showing up without warning on my doorstop, that’s what, and I intend to throw Maman out just as soon as I can.”

“Then I must warn you, sir,” she whispered in his ear, “the Duchess told me she will leave only once you’ve proposed to Miss Mowry.”

“She what?” He instantly righted himself, nearly knocking her from his lap. “Tell me exactly what she said, Charles, every last word.”

Charles sighed, regretting she’d opened her mouth. “Just that, my lord. I asked how long her grace planned to stay and received said answer. She asked me to assist her even, said I was to throw you alone with the lady at every possible turn which”—she laid a finger over his lips to staunch the flow of curses he tried to loose—“I firmly declined to do. I informed the Duchess I take orders from but one master only.”

***

Wells loved that she’d just called him master, loved how her eyes shone as she did. He pulled her closer, murmuring into her chest, “Well done, Fox. At least I’ve you and Cuthbert loyal to me.” He began to pet her again, his hands roaming where they pleased.

“Roland,” she ventured, “why does she press you so to marry? You are not yet Duke, so I do not?—”

“My father is ill, Charles, though how ill I no longer know. I wrote asking him as much but have yet to receive a reply, nor can I rely on Maman to ascertain the truth of his condition.” He snorted. “She wants me wed and siring an heir before he passes, and since I failed to appease her in this respect when I was last in London”—he rolled his eyes—“it appears she’s brought London to me now instead.”

“And dare I ask what made you flee London for Cumberland, my lord?”

“I’d betrothed myself to a lady who ran off with another, leaving me at the altar, so to speak, and in the eyes of the Ton cuckolded. The ensuing slander to my character, what I had done to drive her to another man’s arms . . .” He took a breath. “Let’s just say I’d had enough of London’s rumormongering.”

“And did you care for her?”

He was surprised she asked. “Enough to be hurt by her, yes, though my pride was wounded more than my heart.” He looked straight at her. “I fancied her a good enough duchess, is all.”

“I see.” Her body tensed upon his lap.

“But I fancy you more, Charles.” His lips graced her throat. “Much, much more.”

“That is because you’ve had me, sir.” Her tone was terse.

“And who’s to say I didn’t have her, too?” he jabbed.

She huffed. “One does not bed one’s betrothed before taking her to the altar.”

“Yet I bedded you, Fox, quite the virgin bride.” His kisses deepened at her neck, suckling her tender flesh.

“I was not your bride!” She abruptly got up off his lap, her face flush with anger. “I have work to do, my lord, so you’ll excuse me now.”

He watched her hastily refasten her dress before she grabbed her bucket and rag, leaving the room in a rush. He pondered why the devil his mistress had just turned on him so, when she’d been all too willing to play but a moment before.

Was it something he’d said?