Birdie and the Beastly Duke by Sofi Laporte

Chapter 24

Birdie was reading The Romance of the Forest to the Dowager Duchess Augusta Ashmore, who sat in a dark blue winged chair and snored so loudly she woke Bart, the three-legged dog, who napped by her feet. Birdie was well aware she’d lost her listener; however, she continued reading. There was something soothing about reading words out loud. At least she didn’t have to think whilst she spoke. Or talk to her friends Lucy and Arabella, who were sitting on a sofa nearby, drinking tea, and conversing with hushed voices.

Birdie loved her friends dearly. But right now, she could not bear their concerned glances and worried frowns they gave her every time she was in their presence.

Lucy, the Duchess of Ashmore, was a lively thing with a head full of brown, unruly curls. Her mouth never stopped moving. She was married to a man completely her opposite, the powerful and, Birdie thought, rather frightful Duke of Ashmore who rarely smiled. She did not know what Lucy saw in him, but the two seemed to be one heart and one soul. The man melted every time he was in Lucy’s presence. Lucy herself transformed into a bundle of bliss every time he was around.

Birdie sighed. Gabriel had never seemed to melt in that manner when she was nearby. The only influence she’d had on the man was that he’d had a tendency to run away and lock himself up in a tower.

So much for him loving her.

She sighed again.

Arabella was the duke’s sister and therefore Lucy’s sister-in-law. Her strawberry blonde hair was coiffed back neatly and her aristocratic nose and forehead left no doubt as to whose family she belonged to. Arabella had always been the gentle, sweet one in their group of friends. Yet she’d proven to have a stubbornness and thirst for adventure that equalled Lucy’s.

She, too, had married for love. Philip Merivale, the Duke of Morley, was more of an engineer than a duke. Birdie had merely blinked when, at their introduction, he’d shot the question at her about whether she agreed that the new steam propulsion technology was already outdated before it had become fashionable.

“For travelling by air is the new future, madam. Would you agree?” he’d asked.

“Er––”

“I take that as a yes.” He’d beamed at her, then whirled off to convince Ashmore to install an automated platform in Ashmore Hall that would vertically transport not only freight but also people. Ashmore had listened, interested.

Watching her friends together with their husbands and families, Birdie was conscious of a painful pang in her heart. She was an outsider. An invisible bubble of bliss and contentment surrounded them.

She felt she was like a black blemish in the middle of a colourful spring meadow.

Birdie shifted uncomfortably.

“Birdie, dear, I daresay you can stop reading now that grandmamma is deeply asleep. She will be quite upset to miss all you’ve read while she slept and no doubt will make you re-read it all later on,” Arabella said in her gentle voice.

Birdie shut the book and pushed up her spectacles.

Lucy threw her a measured look. Birdie fidgeted. Speaking from experience, it never boded well when Lucy had that look in her eyes.

“Let’s take a walk in the park.” Lucy took her firmly by the arm and raised her to her feet.

“I should probably get changed…” Birdie murmured.

“Nonsense. Supper is in three hours. The children are busy, and the men are concocting whatever next improvement of Ashmore Hall. Grandmamma will sleep until supper. Gives us ample time to take a walk, the three of us. Alone.”

Arabella nodded and took Birdie’s other arm.

The three stepped out onto the veranda and walked towards the generous lake that graced the park of Ashmore Hall. It really was magnificent, even in autumn.

“I have a plan,” Lucy said, getting straight to the point.

“Oh no. I knew you were up to something.” Birdie groaned. “We always get into trouble every time you have a plan.”

“Pray tell, Lucy. You always come up with the best things.” Arabella had absolute faith in Lucy’s machinations.

“When I received Miss Hilversham’s letter about you, begging me to take you in—which, by the by, is the most ridiculous thing I ever received––you know I need no one’s letter to take any of my friends in? Not even Miss Hilversham’s, and you know how I love the woman to bits.”

Birdie nodded, a knot in her throat.

“So, as I was saying. Miss Hilversham merely confirmed that you were up to something. Arabella and I knew long ago that you were going to get yourself into trouble, didn’t we?”

Arabella nodded. “Oh, yes.”

“But how?”

“You sent that letter from Inverness if you recall.”

Birdie stared at her. Then slapped her forehead. “I did, didn’t I! I had forgotten about it.”

“It sounded ominous, like a goodbye letter, like you didn’t expect to see us again, you goose.” Lucy elbowed her.

“I wrote it in the last inn before going north. I daresay I felt rather uneasy about swapping with Cecily.”

Birdie had, of course, told her friends everything as soon as she’d arrived at Ashmore Hall.

“As I was saying, when I received Miss Hilversham’s letter, I knew you’d fallen in love.”

Birdie protested.

“No arguing. It is plain for everyone to see, isn’t it, Arabella?”

Arabella threw Birdie a sympathetic look and nodded. “You are suffering the pangs of love rather dreadfully, dear friend.”

Birdie felt a flush creep up her neck.

“So this man, this captain—”

“He’s a duke,” Birdie interrupted.

Lucy and Arabella exchanged glances. “Three friends, three dukes, and one wishing well. I say no more. I wonder when the fourth shows up? But I veer off-topic.”

Birdie merely looked at her, bewildered. “What are you saying?”

Lucy waved a hand. “No matter. We will never finish this conversation at this rate. Let me speak and you listen.”

“You certainly have become bossy since becoming a duchess,” Birdie grumbled.

“This duke you love,” Lucy said, and Birdie cringed. “He is in that castle in Scotland. He won’t forgive a girl’s prank and hasn’t written, or shown himself since you’ve left since when?”

“Over a month ago.” Birdie hung her head.

“Confound the man. This is no way to go about winning his true love’s heart.” Lucy frowned.

“But Lucy. This is precisely the point. Don’t you see? He doesn’t love me!” Birdie had no more tears left, but saying the words tugged at her heart. “It’s the opposite. He positively despises me. After all I’ve done to him.”

“After all you’ve done? Hm. Let me see.” Lucy ticked off her fingers. “Got his house in order. Hired retainers. Opened a modern village school. Uprooted a nest of smugglers.”

“That was Higgins, really, not me,” Birdie countered.

“I positively must meet this Higgins,” Lucy raved.

“You must not. He’s senile and quite deaf.”

“And he shoots like the devil. What a brilliant man.” Lucy would not be deterred from the notion that Higgins was the best butler who ever existed in the entire kingdom.

“Anyway, Lucy, what was your plan?” asked Arabella.

“My plan is this,” she replied. The three friends huddled closely together, exactly as they used to at the seminary, whenever Lucy concocted some particular pernicious prank. “When Mahomet does not come to the mountain, then the mountain must go to Mahomet.”

“Lucy.” Birdie took off her spectacles and rubbed her nose tiredly. “You’re not making any sense whatsoever.”

“Badger the man out of his tower. Storm his defences. Make him see reason. Speak the only language he understands, the military one. It is the only way.” Lucy set her chin stubbornly.

Birdie shook her head. “No Lucy. Out of the question. I will not return to him.”

“You need not fear. Arabella and I are coming with you.”

Arabella blinked. “Are we?”

Lucy nodded. “Between the three of us, he will relent.”

Birdie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

A footman came huffing across the lawn.

Lucy squinted at him. “Felix? Is anything the matter?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I mean, no, Your Grace.” He took a big breath. “You must forgive me, Your Graces. One tends to get somewhat confused. But Your Grace’s presence is required. It appears His Grace has arrived.”

“Felix. Whatever on earth are you talking about?”

He gestured helplessly. “His Grace.”

“Yes, we know.” Lucy sighed. “There are two of them, in fact. The Duke of Ashmore, and the Duke of Morley.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, I was meaning his Grace, the Duke of Dunross.”

Birdie nearly toppled into the pond. Lucy grabbed her in time to pull her back. “It can’t be,” Birdie whispered.

Lucy clapped her hands, delighted. “See, Birdie? The mountain need not move after all.”

They entered the drawing room the moment the butler announced the Duke of Dunross.

It was unmistakeably Gabriel.

He held his top hat in his hands, squashing it, and looked overwhelmed at the group of people that surrounded him. When he saw Birdie, he started, paled, took several steps forward, paused, a look of uneasiness crossing his face.

“This gentleman here insists he is your husband,” said Henry, the Duke of Ashmore in a languid tone. “I find this rather perplexing, as I was not aware that you were married, to begin with.”

“Certainly, we are married,” Gabriel insisted.

“The marriage isn’t valid,” Birdie muttered afterwards. She clasped her hands together tightly.

“No doubt you will decide in your own time whether you are indeed married, or not,” Ashmore said, with twitching lips.

“Excuse me. But who are you?” Gabriel looked at him, pulling together his brows. The butler had announced him, but none of the present people had introduced themselves so far.

“Oh, stop teasing the poor man, Henry,” Lucy chastised her husband. She turned to Gabriel with a smile. “This is my husband, the Duke of Ashmore. Never mind him. His bark is worse than his bite. I am Lucy, Birdie’s dear friend. I am pleased to meet you, despite your unfortunate tendency to lock yourself up in fairy tale towers. This is Arabella, my sister-in-law, and the children screeching on the lawn are her stepchildren, Robin and Joy. Although I daresay the one screeching the loudest is my own offspring. The lady in the chair is the dowager duchess Augusta. We will let her sleep. And this, of course, is Birdie. She has been expecting you.” She drew a reluctant Birdie forward.

“But Lucy…” Now that he was here, the last thing Birdie wanted to do was talk to him. Especially not alone.

His eyes bore into hers.

She stared wordlessly across at him, her heart pounding.

“I would like to talk to my wife alone.” It sounded more like a command, not a request, in the kind of tone that he’d use with his soldiers.

The Duke of Ashmore, no doubt unused to being commanded about in his own home, lifted an unamused eyebrow. To anyone in the ton, that would’ve been a sign that the recipient had just been socially exterminated. Gabriel, however, was happily unaware of that and lifted an eyebrow at the duke in return. Given that he had only one, it made a ferocious impact.

Birdie felt Lucy’s hand upon her back, pushing her towards Gabriel and she stalled.

Arabella, more perceptive, looked at Birdie with a worried frown.

Ashmore was equally perceptive. “My dear Duke. What you want or not is entirely beside the point. The question, rather is, what does the lady want, and is she inclined to talk with you?”

Birdie decided she liked Lucy’s husband immensely. She threw him a grateful look.

“I’d rather not,” she said. “I mean, I am certain there is not much to discuss.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I mean, what is there to say? Certainly nothing from my side. If you have something to say, you can say it here.”

“You can’t mean that,” Gabriel said roughly.

Birdie could be stubborn when she wanted to. She pushed out her lower lip and evaded his look. Her heart hammered. There was nothing she could tell him. She had told him her story; she had asked for his forgiveness; she knew she didn’t deserve it. She would not beg for his love. Maybe he would leave now and then she could continue nursing her wounded heart.  She heard him breathe heavily. Then sigh.

When she heard Arabella and Lucy gasp in unison, her eyes flew up—and she froze.

In the Duke of Ashmore’s drawing room, Captain Eversleigh, also known as the Duke of Dunross, who’d lived as a hermit in a stone tower the last five years and who’d eschewed society as best as he could, had got down on his knees in front of the entire company.

“I am not a man of many words, and when I do speak, I have no pretty words to offer,” he began. “I am a simple man, a soldier, who knows only how to get things done by commanding other men across the battlefield. I would beg your forgiveness for not having listened to reason when you tried to explain your situation to me. My only excuse is that I was overwhelmed with the events that had happened. McKenna’s death. The smuggling. Your brother’s arrival. I really did not know what to think anymore. I just wanted you to know that I have sought out Cecily Burns. She is Mrs Cecily Varns now, as she has married the vicar’s son, and both seem to be very happy. I had a good talk with both, and her account of events is identical to yours. Not that I needed that confirmation, but she insisted that it had been all her idea and that she alone was to blame. She considers you her saviour and insists that she would have never found her happiness if it hadn’t been for you. I have settled a good portion of my pension on her, so Cecily and her family will be provided for, and with that, I consider my vow to her father fulfilled. I then visited Miss Hilversham’s Seminary, and I was devastated not to find you there. The good lady sent me here. Please tell me I have not come in vain. I need you to know one thing: that I love you dearly, with all my heart and soul and all I am capable of. I have done so from the moment you returned to the church, with the lightning flashing all about you. You looked like a fairy tale creature, magical and beautiful. I did not realise the truth about my emotions until you left. I am, undoubtedly, a fool. Even if you find you cannot reciprocate the feeling, I beg you to accept my humble hand in marriage. Allow me to make amends.”

Gabriel let out a sigh as he concluded his speech. His eyes filled with tears; he was evidently in agony.

Everyone in the room remained still. They could hear the ormolu clock ticking in the silence.

Gabriel remained on his knees. Everyone turned to stare at Birdie.

“Of course, she will accept you!” Lucy bounced up and down on the sofa.

“Hush, Lucy, let Birdie speak for herself,” Arabella interrupted and wrung her hands.

“If the obvious answer doesn’t immediately come to her, then—” Ashmore contributed.

Birdie choked forth a sob and threw herself at Gabriel. In an attempt to hold her, he nearly fell backwards. “Oh, I do, I do, I do, how can you even ask, you silly man. I’ve loved you so, every minute and I felt so damned that I did, knowing it was all a lie and that you were not really mine.” Birdie sobbed into his waistcoat.

Gabriel clutched her to him tightly as an incredulous smile spread over his face.

Lucy and Arabella cried along. “That was the most romantic speech I’ve ever heard.” Arabella wiped her nose. “Philip wasn’t nearly as romantic.”

“Nor was Henry,” Lucy said.

Ashmore cleared his throat.

“Oh, my love, I dared not hope. Not after all you’ve gone through. I would like to kiss you, but blast it, can I do this without an audience?”

“Well, there it is. I will seek Morley. Where the deuce has the fellow disappeared to?” Ashmore fled through the veranda door.

Gabriel must have decided that waiting until everyone had left was too long to bear, so he kissed Birdie right there and then.

The dowager duchess woke up with an abrupt snore. “Did I miss something?”

Lucy clapped her hands. “Oh, how wonderful! We will have a wedding here, yes? Did you get a special license, Duke?”

Gabriel nodded. “I did, indeed. As Miss Hilversham kept insisting that our wedding might not be valid, I decided not to leave things up to chance. Even if it is a valid marriage, I was thinking there is no harm in being married again, properly.” He looked down tenderly on Birdie. “With your friends and with everything that a proper wedding ought to include.”

“Wedding? Most irksome to take a nap and to find, upon one’s awakening, that the entire house is in the middle of wedding preparations. I vow I shall never nap again.” The dowager duchess sniffed.

“Birdie is marrying her duke for the second time. Isn’t it wonderful, grandmamma? I will tell you all about it. We will have to start preparations immediately, won’t we, Arabella?” Lucy bustled to the door, dragging Arabella with her. She opened it and stood face to face with Philip, who took a startled step backwards.

“Dash it, I’ve been looking for Ashmore but can’t find the fellow. I’ve had the most sudden inspiration for an amendment to the transportation device that I think will be more amenable, with different technology, not the hydraulic power—” Philip Merivale, Duke of Morley, cut himself short, and gaped at Gabriel. “But—Sir! Captain! Captain Eversleigh! Am I dreaming?”

Then Philip did the oddest thing: he gave a military salute. Gabriel, however, had turned a deathly shade of pale.

“Merivale. This cannot be. For you are dead!”