Interlude II
Nine Years Earlier
Judith avoided the duke as much as she could at the Garvey house party, but it was difficult in such close quarters. At least their difference in station meant that she was never required to sit beside him at dinner. Afterwards, in the drawing room, he was always thronged with admirers, including the annoyingly beautiful Lady Vosse. Even Mrs Pelling, a buxom widow with doe-brown eyes like her daughter, seemed determined to flatter his grace’s sense of importance. Perhaps she thought better of selling off her daughter to Lord Garvey, if there was a duke to be bagged.
On the second evening, however, Dacian managed to excuse himself from their clutches, and wander over to Judith. His eyes were bright with drink, his coat well-fitting, and he swirled a glass of whisky.
He put out a peremptory hand. “Come, Mrs Avely. Step outside with me for some fresh air.”
“No, I thank you.” Judith stayed seated, her hands folded on her lavender silk gown. Although she wanted to give him a piece of her mind, she couldn’t possibly disappear outside with him. He must be quite drunk to even suggest it. People would leap to quite the wrong conclusion, especially now that she was a widow - even though it had only been a year since Nicholas died.
Ignoring her cold look, Dacian sat down, dismissing her companion with a flick of his eyes. Miss Pelling hastily stood and removed her person.
“We must talk,” he announced. “I cannot bear this coolness from you, Judith. Say your piece, for God’s sake, and put me out of my misery.”
“Not here,” she retorted. “I might raise my voice.”
He leaned in. “Where, then? Perhaps we could meet in the greenhouse tomorrow at midday. There we will have the privacy you desire.” The gleam in his eye gave his words a double meaning.
She gritted her teeth, and straightened a pearl button on her glove. “Very well. Tomorrow at midday. Then you will receive what you deserve.”
“And a duke deserves only the best,” he replied teasingly, and her pulse jumped - in anger, of course.
When she slipped into the glass building at noon, however, she saw that it was already occupied.
Mrs Harriet Bollopher was there, her slight figure and greying hair recognisable among the glossy leaves of the peach trees in the far corner. She wore a brown gardening smock over her russet gown, and she was wrestling with the heavy pots, attempting to turn them round so the fruit trees could gain an even exposure to the autumn sunlight.
With her was Miss Selina Pelling, providing some assistance. Between the two of them, they managed to swivel a massive porcelain pot around so that the hidden branches now faced the southern warmth. Opposite them, a neat stand of orange trees bore the first small green orbs that would ripen in winter.
“There.” Harriet straightened. “That should do it. Thank you so much, Miss Pelling.”
Judith approached, wondering how she could be rid of them quickly, or if Dacian would hear their voices and retreat. “Do you require some assistance?”
Harriet looked up and smiled. “Oh, no. It is bad enough that I have roped Miss Pelling into this menial task. Lord Garvey has put all the gardening staff to work on the maze, so the greenhouse has been quite neglected. I am lucky that Miss Pelling is a woman of unsuspected talents.”
Harriet winked at Selina, who looked down at the ground with a fixed expression of embarrassment. Judith wondered at the girl’s lack of poise, and then realised that the poor child was hiding in the glasshouse, trying to escape the machinations of her mother and Lord Garvey.
“Indeed.” Judith glanced around. “Such a beautiful greenhouse must require a lot of work.” The tall glass walls were lush with climbing roses, and a crescent of camellia plants gave off a delicate scent. Beds of vegetables grew next to the peach and cherry trees, and oleander plants flanked a row of vividly blue delphiniums. “A pleasant past-time, however,” she added. Perhaps once married to Lord Garvey, Selina would find some solace here.
Harriet seemed to follow her thoughts. “Yes, Miss Pelling enjoys it, do you not?” She smiled kindly at Selina. “And she is quite capable of managing it, I’m sure. Anyone who sees you as a weak or empty-headed female will be surprised.”
Judith pressed her lips together. She abhorred the practice of marrying young girls off to old men. Was there something she could do to intervene in this instance? Any interference would not be taken kindly by Mrs Pelling, or indeed, Lord Garvey.
Harriet brushed her hands off. “It must be time for morning tea. Do you know the time, Mrs Avely?”
“Almost midday,” said Judith, and cast a nervous look at the glass door. She had arrived early, thank goodness, but at any moment the duke might stride in. It would be immediately apparent to anyone that they had made an assignation.
Harriet’s shrewd gaze weighed her. “I must see to our guests. Miss Pelling, if you come with me, I will acquire some lemon cake for you.”
Selina looked gratified. “That would be lovely, Mrs Bollopher.”
“Would you like some too, Mrs Avely?”
“Er, no,” said Judith. “I will stay here and enjoy the lovely garden.”
Harriet nodded and led Miss Pelling out of the greenhouse. Judith chewed on her lip, expecting them to bump into Dacian on the way out. Yet he did not appear, and she gave thanks for his arrogant tardiness.
She looked around for a private nook that would not be visible through the large windows overlooking the lawns and house. Fortunately, vines and foliage, luxuriating in the sunshine, grew to obscure the glass walls. A charcoal brazier glowed in the southern corner, adding to the warmth that heated the window panes and caused condensation to blur the view. Judith found a stone bench in the middle of the camellias, and waited several minutes, her heart beating rapidly, before she saw Dacian’s figure at the door.
He pushed the glass open and stepped in. His dove-grey morning coat and high boots were immaculate - probably because he had only woken up an hour ago, thought Judith irritably. He crossed the paved floor quickly and came to stand before her, looking down with a glimmer of a smile.
“Alone at last.” Mock tenderness coloured his voice.
She looked up crossly. “You needn’t be glad of it.”
“Ah, but I am. Come, Judith, tell me what is in your heart.”
She pursed her lips, annoyed at his continued double entendre. As if she had brought him here to seduce instead of berate him! “You know very well why I am angry.”
“I have my suspicions,” he agreed.
Feeling at a disadvantage, she stood. Yet Dacian did not take a step back, and she found herself staring at his chest while he smiled down at her. Infuriated, she prodded it, pushing him away.
“I found a letter hidden in a book,” she said grimly. “Addressed to Nicholas, from you .”
A look of discomfort flickered across Dacian’s face. “Perhaps you should not have read Nicholas’s private correspondence.”
“He is dead,” snapped Judith. “What else was I to do? It might have been something important. It was something important. It regarded nothing less than his bastard child, whom you both kept secret from me.”
Dacian opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.
“How dare you not tell me about it?” she continued, her voice shaking with anger. All her feelings of mortification and betrayal surged up. “You have known about this boy for at least two years, and you didn’t think I would want to know?”
“It wasn’t my secret.” Dacian groped for words. “I thought that Nicholas would tell you.”
The fragrant scent of the camellias was suddenly acrid. “Well, he didn’t. Nicholas died before he could tell me. And still you didn’t visit and inform me of this pertinent fact about his legacy.”
“You were grieving him,” said Dacian. “I didn’t want to sully Nicholas’s memory… I wanted you to have the chance to mourn him properly.”
“Mourn him properly?” Judith’s voice quavered. “Why should I mourn Nicholas, when I didn’t even know him? When he loved the woman who bore his first child?” The terrible knowledge of it knotted her shoulders and made her nauseous. Her marriage had been a lie, her husband a false idol. She had known about Anna Thane before she married Nicholas, it was true. But she had not known there was a child. Would Nicholas have chosen Anna over Judith, if he had known?
Dacian shook his head, as if sensing her question. “Of course he loved you best.” He shifted closer, putting a tentative hand on her arm. “How could he not? You eclipsed Anna in his heart, I can assure you of that.”
Judith could hear the truth in his voice. It undid her defences, and tears sprung to her eyes.
Dacian held out an arm, his expression sympathetic. With a sob, Judith stumbled forward. All the rage and sorrow of the last year rose to the surface and spilled out. She had not spoken to anyone of Nicholas’s dreadful secret, and it was a relief now to put it into words, and to air the private humiliation that had stiffened her whole being for months.
“How could he not have told me?” she wept, barely aware that Dacian had dropped his other arm to curve around her waist. “If he loved me, he should have trusted me with the knowledge.”
“No doubt,” soothed Dacian.
“He didn’t trust me. Or he didn’t love me.”
Dacian drew a breath. “No, he feared your judgement. And your pain.”
Judith snuffled into his coat, and voiced her deepest fear. “Did he know about the boy all along? Did he abandon him?”
“I don’t think so. Truly, I don’t, Judith.”
Again, Dacian spoke the truth, but Judith didn’t trust it this time. Her faith in Nicholas had been trampled upon. “How can I be sure of that? How do I know he didn’t just turn a blind eye, to both Anna and Robert?”
Dacian pulled her a little closer. “Nicholas was a good man,” he sighed. “You can believe in that. I wouldn’t have let him marry you, otherwise.”
Judith stiffened, suddenly aware that she was held close in the circle of his embrace. He smelled of smoke and leather, and his chest was firm beneath her cheek. She could feel his chin resting on her head, and his fingers smoothing the fabric of her gown down her back.
What was he doing? What was she doing? Abruptly, she lifted her head and stared at him, her eyes still blurry with tears. “What did you just say? You let him marry me?”
Dacian’s expression froze. “I mean…”
She placed her hand on his grey coat and pushed angrily. “How dare you imply that you had anything to do with it?”
“Well, Judith... I just mean that…”
She took a furious step backwards, knowing exactly what he alluded to: their ill-advised dalliance long ago. Before she had married Nicholas, she had been waylaid by the duke’s manifold charms. She’d even been willing to call off her engagement to Nicholas, and throw herself at Dacian’s feet. Until he showed her his true libertine nature, and she had saved herself from a terrible mistake.
Except now it seemed she had made a mistake in marrying Nicholas too.
Dimly, she noticed that Dacian’s grey coat was now marked by the moisture of her tears. “It was my choice to marry him.”
“Yes.” There was a bleakness in his voice. He raised a hand across the distance between them, and placed a finger under her chin. “But Nicholas is gone now.”
She stared into his dark eyes. It was reprehensible, but the truth was that Dacian only gave voice to the secret hope hidden in her heart. Now that her husband was long buried, could she and Dacian once more indulge in each other and love one another? Her eyes drifted to the sensual curve of his lips then back to his intent gaze.
Only, she reminded herself harshly, it had never been love for Dacian. To him, she had been a flirtation, a distraction; a momentary infatuation at most. She had been quickly replaced.
With a wrench, Judith stepped sideways, out of his reach. “How dare you?” she uttered. “How dare you think I will fall into your arms now?”
His arm fell, his expression pained. “I spoke too soon.”
“No, you are simply falling into old habits,” she snapped. “You really think that I will rush into your embrace, after everything you have done?”
“I only ever did what I thought was right, Judith.”
She spluttered, astonished that he should try to justify his detestable tendencies like this. Then she took a deep breath, remembering suddenly that Nicholas had died in debt to Dacian. “Indeed, as much as I abhor it, I owe you a debt of gratitude, I suppose. I must thank you for looking after my husband’s child.” She raised her chin stiffly, trying to recall her dignity. “How is the boy? Is he happy at Taunton?”
“I believe reasonably so.”
“Has he shown any sign of Musing?”
“Not as far as I know. Stop trying to change the subject.” Dacian gave her a long look. “I won’t rush you, Judith. But I live in hope.”
Judith blinked, her mouth going dry.
Before she could answer, however, a tapping noise caused both of them to turn quickly. Through the foliage of camellias, she could see the slender form of Lord Triskett outside, his knuckles raised to tap on the glass.
Seeing that he had gained their attention, he tentatively pushed the door open and came into the greenhouse.
Dacian took a discreet step away from Judith. “Yes, Anthony?”
His lordship advanced, pulling at his cravat. “Ah, Sargen, Mrs Avely. Most sorry to interrupt.”
“What is it?” Dacian said brusquely.
Lord Triskett cleared his throat. “I just thought that you might like to know - you have an audience.”
“An audience?” repeated Judith.
“Ahem.” Lord Triskett jerked his head upwards, rolling his eyes backwards.
Judith stared at this contortion, but Dacian’s gaze lifted.
“Damn,” he said. “He’s right. We are being observed, Judith.”
She followed his gaze, up through the roof panels made of glass. To her horror, she realised she had a direct line of sight to the oriel windows that protruded from the house. The windows to the drawing room, where the guests were all gathered for morning tea.
If she had a direct line of sight, so did they.
Lord Triskett coughed. “Just wanted to warn you, that’s all.”
Judith swallowed. She could make out two figures in the oriel bay window. One, the green clad lithesomeness of Lady Isobel Vosse, who seemed to be looking down with venom. And two, her husband, Lord Vosse, his head inclined with interest.
What had they seen? Judith cast her mind back, flushing with embarrassment as she recalled her moments of intimacy with the duke.
“Damn it,” said Dacian. “Shall we brazen it out? Biscuit, a turn about the greenhouse. Walk with me. Both of you.”
Rigidly, Judith followed his lead. An awkward circuit of the peach trees followed, with Lord Triskett muttering something about the weather, and Dacian in stony silence. When at last they finished their perambulation, Judith nodded to them both. “Thank you.”
Then she fled the greenhouse, her face aflame, not daring to look up.