Page 16 of Duke with a Debt (Wicked Dukes Society #2)

CHAPTER 16

I t was the last day of their honeymoon.

The afternoon sun was bright and sparkling, the sky was blue, birds were winging through the air and singing their songs, and Rosamund was riding through the Gilden Hall estate with her husband at her side. She had to admit, Stuart seated a horse quite well. She was not nearly as skilled a horsewoman; she preferred city life and traveling in carriages. But she was not a complete novice when it came to riding. She was mustering her side saddle with what she hoped was at least a modicum of aplomb.

“How often do you come here to Gilden Hall?” she asked him as their horses trotted slowly alongside each other.

Her mount was a dappled mare named Lady, and his was a gelding called Alexander. The stables, much like the rest of the estate, were in dire need of restoration and attention. She had already suggested they hire additional hands to help the stable master and to bring in some new horseflesh. Gilden Hall was ripe for rearing horses, the land open and sprawling, a gurgling spring pouring into the lake that would serve well. With some fences and newly erected structures to house the animals, she had no doubt that they could begin thriving again.

“Not often,” Stuart admitted, casting a wry glance in her direction. “Perhaps once every few years.”

His response shocked her. She couldn’t imagine owning such a vast property and yet visiting it so sparingly. “How do you manage it, then?”

“My steward does,” he said. “We correspond regularly, and I trust him to make the decisions necessary to the daily running of the estate.”

She tried to imagine allowing her man of business to conduct all her affairs without overseeing him. To imagine never paying a call to the shipping yard, never directing the opening of shipments, never visiting mines and factories, nor hearing the voices of those who worked within.

“That is rather ducal of you, I suppose,” she allowed, trying to be politic.

She had been born and raised into a different social circle than his. Her father had been in trade all his life. Her mother was from a genteel family that was not aristocratic, but of modest means. Here was another reminder of how differently they must have been raised.

“You disapprove,” Stuart said, more statement than question.

“I am merely surprised,” she countered. “From the time I was a small girl, my father took me along with him on all his business calls. I didn’t realize it then, but he was preparing me to be the one who would one day take the reins. After his death, I assumed his responsibilities. I couldn’t do it without my man of business, Mr. Watts, of course. He has sometimes traveled on my behalf to pay calls to our mines and factories in the north, and I regard his counsel highly.”

“You were close with your father, then?” Stuart asked.

Her heart gave a pang. “I was very close to him, yes. There is not a day that passes without missing him.” She blinked furiously as tears sprang to her eyes. “I suspect most of his associates thought him quite eccentric for carting his daughter about as he did. When I was small, he would hold me on his shoulder, rather like a parrot. It was a wonderful height from which to view the world.”

“Little wonder you are so fond of the feathered menace,” Stuart said teasingly, as if he sensed her need for lightness to distract from the heaviness of grief.

She smiled. “I’m sure I don’t know who you’re speaking of. My Megs is not a menace.”

“On this, Duchess mine, we shall agree to disagree,” he quipped.

They rounded a copse of trees in silence, the plodding of their horses’ hooves and the cries of birds overhead the only sounds. Rosamund was grateful for this time to learn more about her husband.

“What of you and your father?” she asked, curious. “You said he was a wastrel and that your brother is in his mold. Was there no love lost between the two of you?”

It was a probing question, the sort she would never have dared ask him not long ago. But their honeymoon had brought them closer, and she found that she yearned to know everything there was to know about Stuart.

He was quiet for a few moments before he answered her. “I don’t think my father was capable of loving anything other than his vices. He was callous at best and mercilessly cruel at worst. He spent the later years of his life gambling his way through what remained of the ducal coffers, drinking himself to oblivion, and bedding his mistress, until one day, he died in her arms. No one, I daresay not even that unfortunate woman, misses him.”

The vitriol in his tone said as much as his harsh words did. Her heart ached for him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s all over now, and he can no longer hurt anyone. His legacy of misery died with him.”

“Did it truly?” She frowned. “What of your brother?”

A muscle tensed in his jaw. “I’ll own that Wesley was his whipping boy. For all my brother’s failings, it isn’t entirely his fault that he’s become what he is. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m to blame. I wonder if I had been able to protect him, would he have become the man that he is now?”

“I’m certain you did everything for him that you could, Stuart,” she said soothingly.

One thing she had learned about her husband was that he was a good man, compassionate and kindhearted. He was benevolent with his servants, he loved his mother fiercely, and he allowed his brother far more patience than Wesley deserved. He always treated Rosamund with courteous care and concern. He was nothing like the last Duke of Camden. Of that, she was sure.

Stuart shook his head, his countenance taking on a haunted expression. “I could have done more. I should have. Had I known…” His words trailed off, and he sighed heavily.

She longed to comfort him, but she didn’t know how.

“You mustn’t blame yourself. Lord Wesley is his own man, and he has chosen the path upon which he finds himself.”

“I’m sorry for the pain he’s caused you,” Stuart said, holding her gaze. “If I could take it on myself, I would.”

And just like that, the realities of what would face them when they returned to London hit her. She would be beneath the same roof as Lord Wesley again.

“I learned an important lesson from him, one I shan’t forget,” she said, summoning a smile. “And now I’m made of much sterner stuff. He didn’t break me. He only made me stronger.”

“He didn’t deserve you. I don’t either, but I find I’m a selfish man where you’re concerned. I’m damned glad your mine, Rosamund.”

His words warmed her. She hadn’t known how this marriage of convenience would fare. It had been a risk. But thus far, it was one she was pleased she had taken.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That is kind of you to say.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, his expression earnest.

Part of her still found it impossible to believe that he would want her for herself. That he respected and appreciated her, instead of merely needing her fortune. These were dangerous notions to her pride and her heart. She had trusted once before, and she had discovered just how easily fooled she had been.

But something deep within her wanted to believe this was different. If Stuart had only wanted her for her fortune, he wouldn’t have brought her to Gilden Hall on a honeymoon. He wouldn’t make love to her as he did. Nothing between them felt like duty. Rather, it had begun to feel alarmingly genuine .

And that was a concern as well.

“What will you do about Lord Wesley’s gambling debts?” she asked, needing to change the subject.

He sighed again. “I’m at my wits’ end with him. Wesley knows that I will do whatever I must to protect our mother, and he has been using that weakness against me for years.”

Here was her chance to speak with him about the blackmail as well, she realized. But she would have to do so with care.

“You love your mother very much, don’t you?” she asked.

“I do,” he instantly affirmed. “She is the only good to have come from the damned house of Gilden. She did everything in her power to keep my father’s wrath and the worst of his sins from us. I would lay down my life for her.”

Rosamund studied Stuart, sensing the turbulent emotion rolling off him. “What do you protect her from?”

They had approached a small cluster of ash trees, and he slowed his mount. “Let’s tether the horses and walk for a few moments.”

She followed suit, slowing Lady and then bringing her to a halt. Rosamund watched as Stuart secured Alexander to an ash trunk before he turned to her, offering her a hand to help dismount. Though they both wore gloves, the placement of her hand in his still sent a jolt of awareness through her. She slid from her side saddle and landed on the uneven ground, swaying a bit as she lost her footing. He held her and kept her from falling, his hands on her waist.

“Steady,” he murmured.

She couldn’t help but to notice how handsome he looked today, wearing country tweed and riding boots, a dashing hat atop his head. It was still something of a shock, after all the intimacies they had shared, that he was her husband. Almost like a dream she had wandered into, too good to be true.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, a trifle breathlessly. “See to Lady.”

He nodded and released her, securing her mount to a nearby tree as well before returning, his arm extended. She took it, and they began walking back along the path they had traveled, Rosamund waiting patiently for Stuart to speak.

“My mother is an invalid, as you know,” he began. “She suffered a stroke that nearly killed her. In the years since, she has gradually convalesced as best as she is able. However, her physician made it plain that she is not to endure anything that would cause her upset.”

“Anything like enmity between her sons, you mean,” she said, understanding.

“She was so near to death, Rosamund,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought she was lost to us forever. That she recovered at all is a miracle, and one for which I’m willing to pay the devil.”

“That is why you pay your brother’s debts, then.”

“I know how it sounds. I should be able to keep better control over him, but tightening the purse strings only makes him more frivolous. And my mother has always doted on him. Wesley has long been her favored son, in part, I believe, because she feels guilty over the hell my father put him through. She has made me promise to take care of Wesley, and I gave her my oath as a gentleman and as her son that I would.”

Her heart hurt for him anew. What a terrible burden for him to bear, saddled with a wastrel drunkard of a brother who ceaselessly gambled away funds and the promise he had made to his invalid mother.

“Have you ever tried speaking with her about your brother’s gambling?” she asked gently.

“I have, and it did not go well. She accused me of being distraught over what happened with Lady Flora Seaton.”

Stuart’s betrothed. Hearing the other woman’s name aloud sent a spark of jealousy shooting through her before she could tame it. This is a marriage of convenience , she reminded herself sternly. Besides, Lady Flora was in the past. There was no need for Rosamund to be envious.

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze of compassion. “Were you distraught?”

“At the time it happened, of course I was. But it was years ago now, and my anger toward Wesley runs far deeper than that lone betrayal.”

Perhaps not entirely the answer she had sought, but she appreciated his honesty. Even if the notion of Stuart being heartbroken over another woman left her feeling vaguely ill.

“Did you explain that to your mother?” she asked.

A muscle in his jaw tensed. “When I tried, she grew agitated, and I was reminded that I wasn’t to upset her in any way. I couldn’t bear it if I were to cause her any harm.”

“And so you continue paying your brother’s gambling debts, allowing him to live at your town house, and sacrificed yourself in marriage to save you all from ruin,” she concluded.

He gave her a tender look. “I would hardly call marrying you a sacrifice, sweetheart. It has turned out to be a fine decision. The best I’ve ever made, in fact.”

She wondered if he was saying so for her benefit or if he truly meant those words. Best not to examine it too much, her vulnerable heart decided.

“The secret you’ve been so intent upon keeping, the reason you’ve been blackmailed,” she said instead, at last addressing the blackmail that had been troubling her, “is it your mother’s?”

He stiffened beneath her touch, drawing their leisurely walk to a halt as he turned to stare down at her, his expression rigid. “Rosamund, don’t.”

“Why not?” She searched his gaze. “If you tell me, perhaps I can help you.”

“There is nothing you can do, and the payment has been made. The problem is at an end now. You mustn’t fret over it. I’ve handled it.”

“What makes you think this blackmailer of yours—whoever he may be—will settle at this payment?”

“Because I’ve made it clear that this will be the final payment I offer, and it was a more than ample sum. I’ll not beggar the estates again.”

“But if you are willing to pay a small fortune to keep this secret, does it not stand to reason that you will pay more?” she pressed gently. “Do you not think this villain will continue to want payment? What shall you do then?”

“I don’t know, but I will manage it, should that come to pass. As I said, you need not worry, my dear. This is my albatross to bear, not yours.”

He was being polite, smiling at her as if he hadn’t a care. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes. And she didn’t like the distance she suddenly felt, as if he’d retreated into his fortress and raised the portcullis before she could join him.

“I am your wife, Stuart,” she said quietly, trying to hide her hurt. “How can I help but to worry?”

He lowered his head to press a chaste kiss to her forehead as if she were his sister, the brim of his hat colliding with hers and jostling it in the process. “I will manage it. This, I swear. The problem shan’t affect you.”

“You don’t trust me,” she said, the realization hitting her in the same moment as she spoke the words. “That’s the true reason you won’t tell me what this secret you keep is, isn’t it? You needn’t dance around the truth. Just say it.”

“Rosamund, please. Let this go.”

Likely, she ought to do so. She had no expectations from him, save the children he would hopefully one day give her. This business agreement was mutually beneficial, and no emotions were to be involved. And yet, over the course of their honeymoon, something had shifted. Now, she felt raw and sore inside, like a scraped knee. She felt as if she were allowing herself to feel more than lust for him, regardless of how foolish she knew it was.

“We need a plan in place for if he asks for more,” she insisted, trying to approach the matter practically rather than with her jagged emotions. “Surely you agree. As long as the blackmailer is in possession of this secret, whatever it is, you will be in danger. He may ask for more and more until there is nothing left to give again.”

But he was stubborn. “As I said, should that come to pass, I will take care of it, just as I have been before we married.”

“ Taking care of it , as you say, was paying this villain everything you had, and still, it wasn’t enough,” Rosamund pointed out.

“I may have been pockets to let, but I’m not an imbecile, Rosamund. I know all this.” He clenched his jaw, an edge in his voice that she hadn’t heard before.

Perhaps it was his pride that was stung. She tried to tell herself that, but his cool reticence felt like a rebuke. And after the closeness that had developed between them, it was akin to cold water tossed in her face.

She disengaged from him, needing some space, physically if not emotionally. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that I retain control of the bulk of my fortune. I’ll not be spending a farthing so that a blackmailer can keep a secret I’m not permitted to know.”

His lips twisted into a derisive smile. “You needn’t fear, my dear. I could never forget that you bought me.”

She recoiled at his words, so harsh and unfeeling. The accusation was ugly, as were the implications. Plain spinster Rosamund. What had she been thinking, that this beautiful man had wanted her for any reason other than her fortune? Heavens , what a ninny she was. He had made it plain from the start what he was after. And now he had showered some attention upon her, and she wanted more.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall.

She held her head high and adjusted her hat, meeting his gaze. “I’m beginning to think I made a poor bargain.”

With that, she spun away from him, blindly stalking back toward where their horses were tethered, mouthing at the grass, blissfully unaware of the tension roiling between the people who had left them there.

“Rosamund,” he called, the crunch of his boots following after her.

She refused to stop or turn around. He had hurt her, and she didn’t like it. She wasn’t meant to feel. She was meant to have children and live her own life. She wasn’t meant to have emotions where he was concerned.

“Rosamund, wait,” he called.

“I’m going to ride back,” she told him. “I find I’ve grown weary.”

Long fingers encircled her elbow from behind, halting her progress. “Please. Don’t be cross with me.”

She was more than cross with him. But she was vexed most of all with herself for somehow being enough of a fool to allow herself to be charmed by a second Gilden brother. What had she been thinking? This was but a temporary haven away from the rest of the world. Stuart was only making love to her so that he could fulfill his end of the bargain. She must not forget that.

Gathering herself, Rosamund turned back to him, pinning a smile on her lips. “I’m not cross. You’ve made your opinion clear, just as I have made mine. But I would like to return now. You are free to continue with your ride, of course. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “You’re not a burden.”

“I am weary, Stuart,” she said quietly. “I wish to return.”

His light-blue eyes bored into hers for a long moment, until he finally relented, nodding. “Of course. I’ll ride with you.”

She nodded, saying nothing, firmly keeping her smile in place. This would serve as her reminder to never allow herself to believe their marriage could be anything more than one of convenience.