Page 19 of His Runaway Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #3)

CHAPTER 19

E dward ran, his lungs burning, his newly polished Hessians digging deep into the mud.

Peter Tinn ran at his side, wheezing for breath. The groom who’d seen the accident had been sent to fetch a doctor at once, and they could only pray that it wasn’t too late.

Please, no. Not my son. Please, not my son.

Edward reached the top of the hill first, breathing heavily, and looked down at the scene below.

There, as the groom had described, lay a huge log at the bottom of the hill. It was not a jump that Alex would have ever been able to make, for certain.

A pair of horses stood side by side. The mud-smeared flanks of the smaller one marked it as Alex’s mount, and it was otherwise unharmed.

He couldn’t see Alex at first.

Daphne knelt on the ground beside the fallen log, her muddied skirts fanned out, her dark hair escaping from its braid and hanging around her shoulders like a curtain. She was leaning over a small figure on the ground.

Alex was not moving, and fear surged up Edward’s throat, hot and scratchy as bile. He felt ill.

Peter puffed up alongside him.

“Oh, heavens,” he rasped. “Did he try to make that jump?”

Edward didn’t answer. He began to run down the hill, struggling to keep his balance but refusing to slow down for anything.

Daphne didn’t even glance up as he approached.

“Is the doctor coming?” she gasped, and he noticed tear streaks on her face. “I wouldn’t let him move, just in case.”

Alex was very pale and small in the mud, his face tight with pain. He held his right arm stiffly across his body, cradling his elbow with his other hand. He opened his eyes as his father approached, and Edward almost cried out with relief.

“Alex?” he managed, his voice scratchy. “Alex, are you hurt? Tell me what happened.”

“We were racing, and I tried to make the jump,” Alex whispered. “I fell.”

Edward dropped onto his knees beside his son. It was too soon to feel relief. A fall from a horse could break a person’s back or neck, and they might not realize it until a moment too late.

Alex was blinking up at him, his eyes brimming with tears, and Edward longed to gather him into his arms and reassure him that all was well.

He couldn’t, though. Not yet. It was too soon to give in to emotion.

“What hurts, Alex?” he asked bluntly. “Your back? Your neck? Can you move your legs? Is there tingling or numbness or any sort of wrongness in your body?”

Alex swallowed thickly. “There’s a lot of wrongness . I feel like one big bruise.”

Daphne chuckled at this, and Edward shot her an angry look.

“It’s my arm, Papa,” Alex continued. “I landed on it when I fell, and it hurts so much.”

“Let me see.”

Trying to be as gentle as he could, Edward inspected the injured arm, drawing back Alex’s sleeve. There was tremendous bruising and swelling, of course, but he could not tell whether it was a broken bone or not.

“The doctor will have to look at it,” Edward said. “Now, if you’re sure you haven’t broken anything else, Alex, we ought to get you up and out of this freezing mud, and into the warm house. The doctor has been called.”

Alex nodded, sniffling.

As carefully as he could, trying not to jostle the boy’s injured arm, Edward helped Alex to his feet. Once he had reassured himself that neither of Alex’s feet was pointing in the wrong direction, he scooped him up into his arms and began to carry him up the hill.

“Peter, fetch the horses, would you?” he directed. “Duchess, you come with me. I have words I’d like to speak to you.”

The walk back to the house was silent. Inside, the servants were in a frenzy. Mrs. Trench was practically in tears.

“I only turned my back for a moment,” she kept saying, over and over again.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Alex spoke up manfully. “I heard that Daffie was going out for a ride, and I slipped away. I shouldn’t have done it, Papa. I know that.”

“Well, in the future, you must be more careful,” Edward answered grimly. “I know that this was not Mrs. Trench’s fault, but in some households, she might be dismissed for letting her charge sneak away when he is supposed to be studying. And then how would you feel?”

Alex bowed his head at that, looking miserable.

“Don’t you think that’s enough, Edward?” Daphne spoke up, scurrying after him into the house. “He’s already so upset. And Mrs. Trench?—”

Edward rounded on her, his eyes blazing. “Must you interfere in everything , Duchess? Why do you never listen to me? Please, keep your own counsel. I need to think .”

Turning on his heel, he stormed towards the parlor, which had been set up for Alex to rest and recover while they waited for the doctor.

Daphne did not follow him this time. She lingered in the hallway, pale and a little angry.

That was fine. Edward was angry, too. Livid, in fact.

Mrs. Trench had prepared a couch for Alex, along with hot milk and some bread and jam. Clarissa was there too, plumping up cushions and giving murmured instructions to the maids.

“Your Grace, I can’t apologize enough…” Mrs. Trench began, her face pale with anxiety.

“It’s not your fault, Jemimah,” Edward responded briskly. “The Duchess is to blame for this.”

His words carried. The servants around him flinched, exchanging looks. He knew, without turning to look, that Daphne had heard.

Alex shifted uneasily. “It isn’t Daffie’s fault either, Papa. I asked her if I might make the jump, and she said no. She said that it was too dangerous. She suggested the race instead.”

“A race? Down a steep, dangerous hill, against an eight-year-old boy?” Edward snapped. “If the Duchess had been a little more careful, you would not be lying here with a broken arm. She is to blame for this.”

There was a tense silence after he’d spoken, and then he heard footsteps retreating down the hall.

Clarissa glided towards him. “Edward, Daphne has gone running upstairs. She seemed upset,” she murmured. “Shall I go after her?”

He sighed. “Do whatever you like, Clarissa. The Duchess will be called down once the doctor arrives.”

Clarissa nodded silently and left the room.

Daphne pressed a hand over her mouth in the hopes of holding back the tears. It did not seem to be working, and hot rivulets trailed over her fingers, dripping off the edge of her chin.

How could I have been so stupid? He blames me. Of course, he does. Well, I think it is my fault.

Oh, I am so very, very stupid.

It was no good.

When she hurried away from the parlor where Alex was being laid out, her first impulse was to run upstairs to her room. It occurred to her at the last minute that that was childish, that she was no longer in her parents’ house, where only one room was hers.

Besides, the library was closer.

She let herself in, sucking in mouthfuls of cool, stale air, and tried to force back tears.

How could she have been so foolish? What grown woman challenged a small boy like Alex to a race? Oh, she was lucky he wasn’t in a worse state. It could have been worse. It might still be worse.

She lowered herself shakily onto a lower sofa, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and tried to breathe calmly. She half expected Edward to follow her, to shout at her and berate her for her foolishness.

Oh yes, what a good start, Duchess.

She sagged backward, lying on her back on the sofa.

The library ceiling was high above her, engraved and molded and very pretty, although it was probably thick with dust—not even the longest dusters would reach that high—and never seen by anybody. People tended not to bother looking up, after all.

She flinched when the door opened, half afraid that it would be Edward, and even more afraid that it would not be Edward.

It was not Edward.

Lady Clarissa stood in the doorway, smiling sympathetically down at her.

“Are you all right? Poor thing.” She clucked. “It must have been such a shock for you.”

Daphne gulped audibly. “Truth be told, I… I thought he was dead. He lay so still and quiet. I once heard of a man being crushed by his horse after a failed jump like that, and Alex is so small and fragile. I’m still shaking.”

Clarissa stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She didn’t move to sit next to Daphne, instead choosing to stand and look down at her, her lips pursed.

“It was an accident,” she said, as if passing judgment. “Edward is… well, he’s rather angry right now, but he’ll understand well enough. It wasn’t your fault.”

Daphne pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing.

“Well, whose fault was it? Nobody else can be blamed but me. I’m a fool, Clarissa.”

“You’re a young woman who has no experience with children,” Clarissa answered firmly. “Alex is old enough to understand the word no , and as I understand, you told him not to jump.”

Daphne sighed. “I did. Of course, I did. But children don’t listen to what they’re told. Especially not eight-year-old boys. I was taking care of him, and he was my responsibility. I am to blame.”

Clarissa took a long moment before responding. At last, she sighed and came to sit beside Daphne, prompting her to haul herself into a sharp sitting position.

“He can be harsh, can’t he?” she said quietly.

Daphne knew that the woman was not referring to Alex.

“I thought he’d soften,” she found herself murmuring, glancing down at the plain gold band around her ring finger. It felt odd, wearing a ring all the time, and she found herself fidgeting with it more often than not, twisting it around her finger. “I thought it was all just for show. A wall, put up to keep intruders out.”

Clarissa considered this. “You could well be right,” she conceded. “But whatever the purpose of the wall, it will take time to come down, don’t you think? If it comes down at all, that is.”

Daphne flinched at this. She had, of course, considered that perhaps the outward facade Edward showed the world was all there was and that she was simply waiting for the appearance of a person who did not exist.

“I understand him being afraid for his son and angry that I might have put him in danger,” she said, her voice wobbling, “but truly, Clarissa, I sometimes think that he hates me. I can do nothing right, and now we are married, and there’s no way for either of us to change our minds about anything.”

She cast a quick glance at the woman, wondering if she’d said too much.

Clarissa did not seem angry or upset, however. She was only staring off thoughtfully into space, a thin line between her eyebrows.

“I know how it can feel,” she said at last, “worrying about one’s children. It can overpower everything else. I remember how I felt about mine, even before she was born.”

Daphne blinked, taking a moment to realize what had been said. “You have a child, Clarissa? I had no idea! A girl, you said? Where is she?”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Clarissa’s face crumpled, and she turned away to disguise a rush of emotion.

“My baby died,” she said shortly. “I barely even held her. It was sudden. There was no comfort for me. Nothing that could have made it better.”

Daphne swallowed hard. “I am so sorry, Clarissa. I… I can’t even imagine how that might feel for you.”

Clarissa gave a light, one-shouldered shrug. “When I married Edward’s father, I thought I might have another chance at motherhood. I had known the late Duchess, you know. We were friends. Our lives were very similar in many respects, except in a few key areas. For example, I lived and my baby died, whereas hers survived and she did not. I thought perhaps I would take her place as Edward’s mother, but he never…” she trailed off, and the silence stretched out between them for a few heartbeats.

“He never accepted me fully,” she finished. “Edward cares for me, I know that, and he respects me, but he’s never forgotten his birth mother. Isn’t it ridiculous?” she said, suddenly letting out a bark of laughter that made Daphne jump. “He never even met the woman, and yet he mourns her. That was his father’s fault, constantly throwing the Duchess’s death in his face.”

“It’s cruel,” Daphne managed, feeling that she had to say something. “He sounds like a cruel man and a bad father.”

Clarissa smiled limply. “He was a bad father. And the late Duchess would have been a bad mother, I daresay. She never deserved Edward.”

There was another silence, a little grittier this time.

Daphne shifted, beginning to feel uncomfortable. “What do you mean, she didn’t deserve him?”

Clarissa shook her head. “Oh, nothing. Forgive me, I’m reminiscing. I tend to talk about the past for too long. Edward never listens, and Alex is too young. It’s good to find a willing ear.”

Daphne, who would not have described her ears as any variation of willing , gave a wan smile.

“It is a mistake to try and take the place of another in a family in that way,” Clarissa continued after a pause, staring off into the distance again. “I learned that the hard way. Now, for me , there was no question of leaving, of going back to a beloved family home. You could do that, Daphne, if things became too difficult. You have a fine family who would accept you back, and now that you’re married, your reputation is restored. Well, mostly restored, at least.”

Daphne cleared her throat. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. There was an edge to Clarissa’s voice that made her wonder whether the woman wasn’t simply here to comfort her, but to get some point across.

“I thought that my being here could help,” she heard herself say. “I could make things better between them, maybe convince Edward to?—”

“No,” Clarissa interrupted crisply.

The single word seemed to reverberate through the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

Daphne stared at Clarissa, baffled. Clarissa’s expression shifted for a moment, then she broke into a forced smile.

“Forgive me, I’m just… Well, I care so much about them, you know. But you should take my advice, Daphne. Get out while you can. I’m not sure if there’s anything you could do to help.”

Daphne swallowed, trying for a nervous smile.

“Clarissa, you know I am not competing for Edward and Alex’s affection, don’t you? You’re a beloved stepmother and grandmother. I could never take their love from you.”

Clarissa abruptly got to her feet. Perhaps it was Daphne’s imagination, but the temperature in the library seemed to have dropped a chilly ten degrees or so.

“Of course, we are not in competition, Daphne,” she said, laughing. “What a silly idea. What a silly girl you are.”

Daphne flinched. “I beg your pardon?”

“You cannot help them, despite your fine intentions,” Clarissa continued, her cold eyes boring into Daphne’s. “Only I can help them. I have worked to gain their affection and trust for years, and that is that. There is nothing you can do. They are mine, Duchess. Make no mistake about that. You would do well to heed my advice.”

She turned to leave, but then she paused for a moment and glanced over her shoulder.

“I… I’m sorry, Daphne. I don’t mean to be so harsh. I know what you must think of me. You think that I’m an overbearing hag, but I do know what I’m speaking of.”

Daphne cleared her throat, glancing away. “I don’t think you’re a hag.”

Clarissa gave a faint smile. “I don’t want any other woman to live the life I did. I believed that marrying the old Duke would make me happy and that being a mother to his son would give me purpose. I was wrong on both counts.”

Daphne looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry, Clarissa. That must have been terrible.”

“I endured,” Clarissa responded, straightening her spine. “That’s what we women do, isn’t it? Endure. The truth is, Daphne, they will never accept you as a true member of the family. You will try and try and try, and cut off pieces of yourself to try and fit in, but it will never be enough. They will always require a little bit more until there’s nothing left of you to give. And then, when you can change yourself no further, they will turn their backs on you and speak about what a disappointment you are. That was what happened to me, Daphne, but I hope it will not happen to you.” She reached out, as if to put a hand on Daphne’s shoulder, but changed her mind at the last moment. “There is still time for you to escape, my dear. Don’t let the chance slip away.”

Without waiting for a reply, Clarissa glided out of the room, leaving Daphne aghast and speechless.