Interlude I
Nine years earlier
It was the first afternoon of the party, after most of the guests had arrived and consumed an extravagant luncheon around Lord Garvey’s dining table. Mrs Harriet Bollopher, Lord Garvey’s mother-in-law, kindly suggested they all go for a walk to stretch their legs.
“Indeed,” put in Lady Cordelia Garvey imperiously. “There is a lovely stream along the border of our estate; you must walk it.” She raised her quizzing glass and peered through it, pointing through the terrace windows. “Start at that willow tree.” She patted her iron grey hair and her walking stick, simultaneously excusing herself from the expedition while making it sound like an order for the rest of them.
Everyone obeyed with varying levels of enthusiasm. Judith politely acquiesced, though in truth she craved a long walk alone, away from everyone, and especially away from the duke.
She had not expected to see his grace here at Garvey House. The sight of him, long limbed, dark haired, and handsome as ever, had been an unwelcome shock. She had hoped the house party would be a respite from her troubles. Since Nicholas’s death a year ago, she had been in mourning and raising her children alone, in a long, grey place of grief. It had seemed advisable to finally foray into society again - especially as it would provide some excitement and companionship for Elinor and Peregrine, with the other children of the party - so she had accepted Lord Garvey’s invitation.
That was before she had found the letter in her husband’s effects. It was from the Duke of Sargen himself, spelling out Nicholas’s failures and the fact of his illegitimate child.
Rage and humiliation swept through her anew at the thought of it, yet she had to smile politely and agree that a walk in company was a pleasant prospect.
The gathered guests followed Harriet as she led them down a picturesque path by the glasshouse and through a wooden gate onto a country lane. Careful to avoid the duke, Judith positioned herself next to Lord Garvey himself, who eagerly offered his arm as they approached the graceful willow tree.
“Mrs Avely, I am pleased you have finally emerged from your year of mourning.” He smiled down at her, his swarthy countenance genial. “I see you have not abandoned your dark colours. They suit you admirably, of course, with your lovely blonde hair. Such a fair complexion you have!”
“Thank you.” She smiled, a little uncomfortable with his compliments. She could see Dacian in front of her, escorting Lady Vosse, his head slightly turned. No doubt he was murmuring something equally inane into Isobel’s ear. Judith had heard, in letters from London, that Lady Vosse’s name was scandalously linked with the duke’s. The news had caused Judith’s lips to twist, but she was not surprised. There was always some scandal - and woman - linked to the duke. She was simply thankful, she told herself, that her own brief, youthful flirtation with him was not common knowledge. It would be too mortifying if everyone knew how he had thrown her over for the Widow Bleau; no doubt a widow was an easier liaison than a young girl, and more able to satisfy his excessive appetites.
Judith stifled the thought that now, so many years later, she was a widow too.
They turned onto a pretty laneway, bordered on one side by a burbling stream, and a hedgerow on the other. Lord Garvey chattered on about his plans for the party, and Judith nodded and smiled, scarcely listening. She wanted to waylay the duke alone, but certainly not for purposes of seduction. She had several scathing pronouncements on his character which burned to be uttered.
“You must investigate my maze,” said Lord Garvey, patting Judith’s arm. “I have a most intriguing statue of Apollo installed there now. Perhaps I should show you it myself.” He gave her a sly smirk which Judith was at a loss to understand.
Suddenly Dacian pulled to a halt and faced them. His face was a neutral mask, and his dark eyes passed over Judith without expression. Her smile became even more fixed.
“Are you referring to the statue with the quiver of arrows, Garvey?” asked Dacian.
“Why, yes.” Lord Garvey’s smirk broadened. “Have you inspected it, Sargen? It is particularly good at certain hours of the day. May I suggest ten o’clock at night, at this time of year, for the best viewing?”
“Oh,” trilled Lady Vosse. “It sounds most intriguing, gentlemen.” Her green eyes sparkled, and Judith ignored the glory of her thick red curls cascading over her shoulder. Further down the path behind them, Lord Vosse walked with Kenneth Garvey, and hadn’t noticed his wife’s coquettish glances. It was well known that the pair were not close.
“Why don’t you describe the details of the statue to Lady Vosse,” suggested Dacian coolly. “I must speak with Mrs Avely about a certain item belonging to her husband.”
Judith bristled. Could he have the gall to be referring to Nicholas’s bastard , who was effectively in the duke’s care? Dacian had taken on the responsibility of Robert’s schooling arrangements and accommodation - or so she gathered from his cursed letter to Nicholas. Anger clenched her jaw. Here was certainly not the place to discuss the matter.
Yet the duke’s peremptory tone did not brook refusal, and somehow he managed to swap places with Lord Garvey, sending him on with Lady Vosse. Isobel cast a slightly piqued look over her shoulder but then turned willingly enough to interrogate Charles about his Apollo. Her throaty laughter rang out as Dacian drew Judith further behind. Beside them, a stream burbled over smooth rocks, and widened into a river hung over with willows and spotted with ducks.
“Judith,” he murmured. “I was not expecting to see you here. I am glad you are looking so well.”
Somehow, though he only faintly echoed Garvey’s compliments, coming from Dacian - with his charismatic charm - it sent a tremor of pleasure through her. Her hand tightened on his coat sleeve, and she could feel the hardness of muscle. No doubt, while she was child wrangling, he had been horse racing and boxing. And womanising.
“Likewise, your grace,” she said coldly.
He cocked his head. “Do I detect a note of reserve, Judith? I was hoping we could manage to be friends now, after all this time.”
She shot him a look. Was he referring to their dalliance, aeons ago? And the fact that Nicholas was now out of the picture? He could damn well go jump in the stream. Hopefully a duck would eat him.
“A friend does not keep secrets,” she retorted bitterly, unable to help herself.
“Secrets?” He repeated, and glanced down at her in confusion. Then his eyes widened in sudden understanding. “My secrets, or someone else’s?”
“I do not wish to discuss the matter here.”
Dacian was silent a moment, then he spoke quietly. “If it is what I imagine you are referring to, I could not betray a confidence, Judith. Surely you understand that? And especially not to you.”
She stopped and withdrew her arm abruptly. “I said I do not wish to discuss it. I see Miss Pelling is walking alone. I will join her.”
“Judith, please.” A black lock fell into his eyes, his gaze intent on her face. “Can we talk about it later? In a more private place? I can understand that you must be angry. I promise to take your censure meekly.”
“Do not patronise me,” she returned icily. “Now, if you will excuse me.”
She turned away from his crestfallen expression. Quickly, she dropped backwards to reach the side of Miss Selina Pelling.
The young woman looked rather uncomfortable, though glad to see Judith. She possessed the dewy prettiness of youth, with clear skin, blonde hair, doe brown eyes, and a well-presented bosom. A flush stained her cheeks and Judith became aware that Kenneth and Lord Vosse, bringing up the rear, were having a heated discussion that was quite audible despite their attempts at discretion.
Kenneth Garvey spoke in a low tone that nonetheless carried on the still air. “She is too young, I tell you. It is disgusting that Charles should take a child-wife.”
“She is of age, surely,” replied Lord Vosse calmly. “I am not one to criticise a marriage of convenience, my friend.”
“He must be twenty years older than her! It is repugnant.” Kenneth’s voice was thick with loathing. “Can you imagine what he will do to her?”
Judith cleared her throat loudly and threw a censorious gaze backward. The two men blinked, and Kenneth flushed with embarrassment, realising that his invective had been heard by Miss Pelling. Selina, for her part, looked at the ground, her complexion now white.
“Come, my dear,” said Judith. “Let us take a shortcut through the poplars, back to the house - I can see it in the distance there. I find I am quite wearied already, and require solitude.” On the stream, a duck quacked, a reassuring sound.
“Indeed,” said Miss Pelling gratefully. “I am tired also.”
Judith spoke lightly of trivial matters on the way back, until they reached the terrace. “Where is your family, if I may enquire? Are you here on your own, Miss Pelling?”
“It is unusual,” agreed Miss Pelling. “However, my family live on the adjoining property, so they are content to send me to this house party alone. We are old family friends of the Garveys, and Mother will join us for dinner.”
“Ah.” So that was why an engagement between Lord Garvey and Miss Pelling was being hatched: to combine the two properties. “I look forward to meeting Mrs Pelling.”
Was the mother the architect of her daughter’s sacrifice? For it did not seem to Judith that Selina was very enthusiastic about the proposed match, for which she could scarcely blame her. Lord Garvey was a lecher, and twice Selina’s age.
Judith wished she could intervene, but to do so would press far beyond the limits of her acquaintance with Lord Garvey. Exhausted, she retreated to her guest room, preoccupied with wondering how she was to survive the next four days in the duke’s company - without tearing his head off with her bare hands.