The Duke & the Preachers Daughter Read online

  The man lying on the bed was quiet, but in a different way from Richard.

  There was something immobile about him and the Duke thought, as he approached the bed, that he would not have been surprised to learn that the Reverend Aaron Calvine was already dead.

  Perhaps Benedicta had the same thought, for, as she had done to Richard, she put her hand on her father’s forehead. She was obviously satisfied with what she found and very tenderly she smoothed back his white hair and quite unnecessarily tidied the sheet in front of him.

  “The doctor saw him this morning?” the Duke asked. “And what did he say?”

  “He said there was no change and it was too soon to expect one.”

  She gave a little sigh, then in a lowered voice, went on,

  “It seems so unlike Papa to be so quiet. He has always been so vividly alive.”

  “I am sure you are praying that he will get well.”

  “I have prayed and prayed,” Benedicta replied. “Then I – wonder if he would not be – happier if he was with my – mother.”

  Tears came into her eyes as she spoke and to hide them she turned towards the door, opening it.

  “I am sure Your Grace has a great many things to do. Thank you for coming to see Papa.”

  “There is no point in your staying here,” the Duke told her, “and I know that Hawkins will let you know the minute there is any change.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?” Benedicta asked.

  “I am going to take you driving round the estate,” he answered. “There is quite a lot I want to show you now, because I have a feeling that once our invalids are better, they will occupy most of your time.”

  He saw the excitement in Benedicta’s eyes.

  “May I really do that?” she asked.

  “There is nothing to stop you. I suggest you get something to put round your shoulders. It can be cold if we go fast.”

  She went into her own room without a further word and the Duke realised that she was thrilled by the idea of the drive. He thought how easy it was to give someone so unspoilt and unsophisticated, so much pleasure.

  Then it crossed his mind that almost any woman of his acquaintance would, if he extended his invitation, be delighted to go driving with him.

  But he knew as far as Benedicta was concerned, that her feelings about him were very different to what theirs would have been.

  He walked slowly down the stairs and before he was halfway down the second flight which led to the hall, Benedicta came running behind him.

  She had a shawl over her arm that the Duke thought must have been provided by Mrs. Newall, but there was no bonnet on her head and as he looked at her, she enquired,

  “Will you be very ashamed of me, if I come like this? I am afraid I left my only bonnet behind in the barn and I do not wish to keep you waiting by asking Mrs. Newall if she has anything I could wear.”

  “You look perfectly all right as you are,” the Duke replied, resisting an impulse to tell her that she indeed looked very lovely.

  He thought she would not understand and perhaps question any compliment he might pay her.

  “Then that is all right,” Benedicta said, as a child might have done. “I cannot tell you how I have longed to drive along behind some really well-bred horses. I used to feel so envious when they passed us on the road.”

  “While you are at Kingswood, there is no need for you only to drive. You can ride?”

  Benedicta’s eyes were like stars.

  “Could I ride?” she asked, then her eyes fell. “But I have no riding habit.”

  “I am sure Mrs. Newall will be able to find you one,” the Duke said casually, making a note that one must be procured whatever the difficulties it might entail.

  “I do hope she can. She told me she had lots of things that nobody wanted and which would have been thrown away except that she is what she calls the ‘hoarding sort’.”

  “It has certainly turned out to be a useful habit,” the Duke smiled, “and of course, there is plenty of room in this house for a great number of objects to be hoarded.”

  “It’s the largest house I have ever been in,” Benedicta enthused, “and quite the most beautiful!”

  “I am glad it meets with your approval,” the Duke said slightly sarcastically.

  “Mama used to tell me about the houses she visited when she was a girl and, although they sounded very grand, they could not have been as magnificent as Kingswood.”

  The Duke thought that this was true, but he was engaged with ordering his phaeton to be brought to the front door immediately and made no reply.

  Leaving Benedicta in the hall, he walked into the library.

  The Major was sprawling in an armchair ostensibly reading the newspaper, but actually half-asleep.

  “Where have you been, Nolan?” he enquired drowsily.

  “Been inspecting the invalids,” the Duke told him. “Richard has regained consciousness and is definitely better.”

  “Thank God for that!” the Major replied. “What do you want to do?”

  “I am taking Benedicta for a drive in the phaeton,” the Duke answered, “but as you know, there is only room for two.”

  The Major raised his eyebrows.

  “I have already instructed her in what I want her to do as regards Richard,” the Duke went on, “and she has agreed to try and divert his mind from Delyth.”

  “You did not tell her about Delyth?”

  “Indirectly.”

  “Well, I suppose she should know what she is up against,” the Major remarked, “although I should imagine she has never come across anybody in that particular category.”

  “I should hope not!” the Duke came back sharply. “Well, look after yourself, Bevil. We shall not be long.”

  “I am quite comfortable,” the Major answered. “Be careful, Nolan!”

  “Careful about what?” the Duke enquired, as he walked towards the door.

  “If Benedicta falls in love with you, your plan of campaign will be sadly disorganised.”

  “There is no fear of that,” the Duke replied. “I think she regards us both as being older than Methuselah!”

  He left the library as he spoke and the Major lay back in the chair an amused expression on his face.

  He had a feeling that the Duke was playing a dangerous game and yet to watch it was undoubtedly intriguing.

  It was so like him, the Major thought, to be apparently oblivious of the fact that his attraction as a heartbreaker would make it difficult for a young unsophisticated Preacher’s daughter to be interested in another man, especially one who, at the moment at any rate, was definitely out of the running.

  He thought over the position for some moments, then he closed his eyes.

  ‘It might do Nolan good,’ he told himself, ‘but God help that child! She will be playing with fire!’

  *

  If the Duke had been surprised at Benedicta’s appearance at luncheon, he was still more so when it was time for dinner.

  This evening they met in the Blue Salon, a room decorated with French pictures which he thought would interest Benedicta.

  The walls were panelled with blue brocade and picked out with gold and the Fragonard over the mantelpiece echoed the colours both of the ceiling and the Aubusson carpet.

  When Benedicta came into the room, it might have been chosen as a background for her by some experienced stage producer.

  She stood for a moment in the doorway and both the Duke and Major Haverington realised that she was wearing an evening gown cut low at the neck so that it revealed her white skin and having tiny puffed sleeves that left her arms bare.

  She paused and in any other woman it might have been a theatrical gesture to show herself off, but the Duke realised it was because she was shy.

  Then she ran towards him.

  “Tell me – please tell me –Your Grace,” she begged in a breathless little voice, “if you think this gown is all right and not too – revealing.” />
  “Revealing?” he questioned.

  “It seems so – low at the – neck,” Benedicta murmured, “but Mrs. Newall was insistent that this is how I should – dress at my – age.”

  The Duke realised that she was seriously worried in case her gown could be thought ‘fast’ or in any way reprehensible.

  It was, in fact, a very modest, very simple garment and it framed Benedicta’s unusual loveliness. At the same time, it did not disguise the slender beauty of her figure or the grace of her movements.

  “I think it is charming!” the Duke said. “And it is just how I should like my niece, if I had one, to be dressed.”

  He spoke deliberately because the Major’s warning was still ringing in his ears.

  He turned to his friend now and asked,

  “Do you not agree with me, Bevil? I was thinking that your niece Jane is about the same age.”

  “She is,” the Major replied, “but not nearly so attractive, might I add!”

  Benedicta gave him a little smile.

  Then her eyes were turned towards the Duke and it was obviously his opinion she valued.

  “You are – quite sure?” she asked.

  “Quite sure!” he replied, “and may I say that I commend Mrs. Newall’s taste and the manner in which she has produced such a delightful gown in so short a time.”

  “The housemaids have been working on it all the afternoon,” Benedicta said, “and in fact it is not quite finished, but I did so want you to see me looking different.”

  “You will grace the dining room,” the Duke admitted lightly.

  But the Major noted there was a gladness in Benedicta’s eyes at the compliment that was unmistakable.

  As if the new gown affected them all, the conversation was gayer and more amusing than it had been at any other meal.

  The Duke told them stories of the war that contained no horrors, but which made Benedicta laugh as he had intended.

  He described their exploits after the victory in France and made even the return of the troops to England and the difficulties of demobilisation seem quite amusing.

  In return Benedicta told them some of the incidents that had happened on her journey down from Northumberland – how they had been chased away from houses by savage dogs, and slept in places where ruffians had tried to pick their pockets and, finding nothing, had been dismally disappointed.

  At a fair she had once, by mistake, won a sucking pig and had no idea what she should do with it.

  They laughed a lot and when finally they left the dining room to return to the Blue Salon, Benedicta exclaimed,

  “I have never had such a wonderful party. In fact never before have I dined with two gentlemen or known how exciting it could be!”

  “We are flattered that you find us exciting,” the Major said.

  “Wait until Richard is well,” the Duke interposed. “Then our noses will certainly be put out of joint!”

  “That is untrue!” Benedicta objected quickly. “How could you think that I would rather be with anyone but you – both?”

  She added the last word, but she was looking at the Duke.

  The Major thought the inevitable was happening and wondered what he could do about it.

  Then, before anyone else could speak, the door of the salon opened and the butler announced,

  “Lady Delyth Maulden, Your Grace!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For a moment it seemed as if everyone in the salon was turned to stone.

  Only Lady Delyth was completely self-assured as she curtsied to the Duke with a gesture that was somehow both mocking and ironic.

  “I have brought Your Grace good news, which I am sure you are anxious to hear.”

  The Duke did not speak, but Benedicta watching, thought she had never seen a woman who was so beautiful, so glittering or so glamorous.

  Lady Delyth was wearing a gown of emerald green silk which, with its low décolletage and transparent overskirt, made her appear as alluring and at the same time, as dangerous as a snake.

  There were emeralds round her long white neck and shining in her dark hair and in Benedicta’s eyes she looked as if she came from another world and was not human in the ordinary sense of the word.

  Lady Delyth did not wait for the Duke to reply, but continued,

  “I knew you would be thrilled to hear and you too, Major Haverington, that the Magistrates have decided that Sir Joceline’s death was one of misadventure, so we need no longer be worried about poor Richard.”

  There was an unmistakable scowl between the Duke’s eyes.

  He was already aware of what Lady Delyth was telling him, for he had sent not only an experienced lawyer but his Comptroller and Doctor Emerson to the Court to be ready to represent Richard, should the occasion arise. With his usual efficiency, he had already seen the High Sheriff and the Chief Magistrate and told them that Richard was on the point of death and it would be difficult to attribute the blame of what had occurred to either of the gentlemen concerned.

  As the Duke had tremendous influence in the County, it was therefore not surprising that the verdict was one of exoneration and all three men who had been present on his instructions had informed him of what had occurred earlier in the day.

  As Lady Delyth finished speaking, he merely asked bluntly in an uncompromising tone of voice, which showed that he was considerably incensed,

  “May I enquire why you are here?”

  “I should have thought that was obvious,” Lady Delyth replied.

  As she spoke, she looked at him from under her eyelashes, appearing so seductive as she did so, that Benedicta could not take her eyes from her face.

  “I have called to see my fiancé. I would have done so before, but unfortunately I was rendered prostrate with shock from the tragedy that occurred the other night.”

  The Duke paused before replying, as if he was choosing his words with care.

  Then he was aware of the rapt manner in which Benedicta was looking at Lady Delyth.

  He spoke to her quietly.

  “I think, Benedicta, Hawkins will be waiting to report to you on your father’s condition, before he goes downstairs to his supper.”

  “Yes, of course.” Benedicta curtsied. “Thank you, Your Grace, for a most interesting evening.”

  Moving past Lady Delyth without looking at her, she left the room.

  “Who was that?” the latter questioned curiously.

  “Who I entertain in my house does not concern you,” the Duke replied. “You have come here uninvited, now I ask you to leave.”

  Lady Delyth’s eyes opened in affected surprise.

  “Can you really be so impolite?” she asked. “I have called to see Richard, which I intend to do.”

  “I think you are under some misapprehension,” the Duke replied. “To begin with, my cousin is not in a fit state to see anyone and secondly your behaviour the other evening has forfeited any claim you might have had on his affections.”

  “He has asked me to be his wife,” Lady Delyth replied, “and I have accepted.”

  The Duke seemed to grow taller and more imposing.

  Then he said in a voice that had intimidated many of those who when serving under him had misbehaved,

  “Your association with any member of my family is finished. You will neither see nor communicate with Richard again.”

  Lady Delyth smiled and it gave her face a somewhat sinister expression.

  “My dear Duke, you are being very autocratic! Have you forgotten that one word from me and Richard will stand trial for murder?”

  She paused to let her words sink in, then continued,

  “The theatrical performance I gave on your instructions when the High Sheriff arrived the other evening was very convincing and indeed, without boasting, I can say I am a most proficient actress.”

  Her eyes met the Duke’s defiantly, as she went on,

  “But of course a fragile woman like myself in such tragic circumstances may easily, on the
spur of the moment, tell a story which is not quite accurate and possibly may be mistaken concerning the sequence of events.”

  Her voice sharpened as she added,

  “Richard will marry me or I will retract my statement, which was read out in Court this morning.”

  Now it was the Duke’s turn for his eyes to harden and there to be an ironic twist to his lips.

  “Very dramatic, Lady Delyth!” he exclaimed. “As you say, you should do well in a Playhouse, but unfortunately your knowledge of the law does not match up to your spite, your avarice or your desire for respectability.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Lady Delyth lifted her chin defiantly and the Duke noticed that she cast a glance at Major Haverington, as if looking for some support just in case her position was not as she fancied.

  “What I mean,” the Duke said slowly, “is that the Law of England is quite firm on one point – a man cannot be tried or in this case, charged twice for the same crime.”

  He saw this was a surprise to Lady Delyth and from the way the expression on her face altered, he knew she was suddenly tense.

  “Richard therefore,” the Duke went on, “as you have just told me, is a ‘free man’. Whatever you may say now, however much you may try to blackmail him or me, you will be unsuccessful.”

  He paused to let his words sink in, then with his voice cutting as a whip, to the woman standing in front of him, he added,

  “There are also stringent punishments for blackmailers, which include public flogging and transportation for life! Remember, you have threatened me before a witness and, make no mistake, I shall not hesitate to bring you before the justices.”

  “You would not dare!”

  The words were low and seemed to come from her lips, almost like a hiss.

  “Anyone who knows me,” the Duke said slowly, “will tell you I am no coward when it comes to taking the offensive against an enemy.”

  “I will call your bluff!” Lady Delyth threatened. “Either you accept the fact that I am to be Richard’s wife or I will go straight from here to the High Sheriff.”

  “You must do exactly as you please,” the Duke answered, “but I am not speaking idly when I tell you that my charge of blackmail will be before the Magistrates tomorrow morning and, as the Assizes take place within a few weeks time, they will undoubtedly send such a serious charge to the Old Bailey.”