Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emery rose later than usual. She had finally fallen asleep for a few hours. Her eyes still felt gritty, though. She put water on to boil for tea. The cottage was empty. Mama must have taken Papa with her when she went to Wildwood this morning. Cook would see that he got his usual egg and tea before sending him to his office.
She hated that she was leaving right as Papa grew worse. It seemed unfair to leave her mother with such a heavy burden but Emery also knew it was time to leave Wildwood—and Miles—behind. At least she’d had a taste of what love was like. Last night would be the memory she would cling to. It would be the light during her darkest days. She only hoped Miles would forgive her. Or forget about her, as he forged a new life for himself and the woman who would become his duchess. He didn’t suffer fools so his bride would need to be intelligent as well as beautiful. She only hoped he would find someone who would understand him and give him the children he so desperately wanted.
As she sipped her tea, Emery glanced at the list her mother had left for her, with many of the usual items on it. Mama had also left a separate note, asking Emery to stop at the dower house to see if they needed any additional supplies. It would be convenient since it was on her way to the village.
She went to the stables and visited with Mr. Harris a few minutes.
“You should’ve come to get me or one of the grooms, Miss Jenson,” he chided, referring to Athena foaling last night.
“I would have if Athena had experienced any difficulties. As it was, she sailed through the experience.” Hesitating a moment, she added, “His Grace was with me. He had never witnessed a mare give birth before. I think he has a greater appreciation for the process now.”
“That boy always did have a way with horses. It’s a good thing he was there. So, no troubles?”
“None. Tyche stood within an hour and was nursing in less than two. The placenta came and His Grace disposed of it.”
“Tyche. Hmm. Another god?” the groom asked.
“A goddess, actually. One of fortune and prosperity.”
“Good to know.”
“May I have a cart prepared for me, Mr. Harris? Mama wants me to go into the village for a few supplies.”
“I’ll see to it myself.” Harris gave her a wink and went inside the stables.
Minutes later, Emery was seated on the driver’s bench. She turned on the lane that led her to the dower’s house, wondering how the duchess had managed since she’d been placed here by her son.
Climbing from the cart, she went and knocked on the front door.
“Good day, Miss Jenson,” the maid who answered the door said. “What brings you here?”
“I am going into Woodmorrow to Mr. Jernigan’s establishment and Mama asked me to call and see if you needed anything.”
“I don’t think so but let me check with the others. I’ll be right back.”
Emery remained in the foyer, walking to a landscape hanging on the wall and admiring it.
“What are you doing here?” a voice asked, irritation obvious.
Turning, she saw the Duchess of Winslow glaring at her.
Immediately, Emery dropped a curtsey. “Good morning, Your Grace. My mother sent me to see if your household needed any supplies. I will be gone shortly.”
The duchess sneered. “You think you can move up in the world—but you are sadly mistaken.”
Heat filled her cheeks. “I have no idea what you mean, Your Grace. If you will excuse me, I will wait outside. I am sorry to have bothered you.”
The older woman blocked Emery’s way. “I hear the talk. Servants always know everything, even the ones here where I have been exiled. They say you spend a good amount of time with Winslow. That he eyes you with appreciation. Well, he might lift your skirts, Missy, but it doesn’t mean a thing. You aren’t meant for the likes of him.”
Heat now flooded her face. “You are mistaken, Your Grace.”
The old woman eyed her. “No, I am not. He is a man. They always have an eye out for a pretty thing. I know my Ralph wanted a piece of you.”
Emery gasped.
“You are baseborn, though, just as Winslow is.”
Confusion filled her. “What do you mean? His Grace is the son of a duke.”
The duchess’ eyes narrowed. “I am not certain that he is.”
The maid returned and stammered, “A new rolling pin, Miss Jenson. That’s what’s needed.”
“Very well. I will see that your cook gets it,” she said. “Good day, Your Grace.”
Emery escaped the house and hurried to the cart. Hoisting herself up, she took the reins and clucked her tongue, wanting to get as far from the dower house as fast as she could.
The Duchess of Winslow had always been a hateful woman. Emery had never had much to do with her. She wondered why the duchess would say such slanderous things about her own son.
Unless she had been unfaithful to her husband.
She wondered if Miles had ever been subjected to these rumors. That’s all they could be. After all, she had been the one to discover the portrait of the previous duke, Miles’ great-grandfather. The two men were close to being identical though born almost one hundred years apart. If the duchess ever had doubt who Miles’ father was, she wouldn’t if shown the ancestor’s portrait.
Emery decided not to tell Miles of this encounter and what claim his own mother had made. No good could from of it. After all, Miles had the title. He had been born during the duchess’ marriage to Winslow. Even if he were another man’s child, Miles was legally the Duke of Winslow and a Notley in every sense. Things were already so strained between the pair that it made no sense to share the duchess’ outrageous claim and drive a permanent wedge between mother and son. Though she doubted it, perhaps one day the two would reconcile. That would never happen if Miles knew what his mother had said about him.
She continued on the road into Woodmorrow. As she passed Mrs. Fisher’s bakery and caught the aroma of yeast, she thought of sharing a sticky bun with Miles. How that simple pleasure had meant so much to him. Her throat grew thick with unshed tears. She doubted she could ever eat a sticky bun again without thinking of him.
Emery arrived at her destination and climbed from the cart, looping the horse’s reins around a post. She removed the list she carried from her reticule, remembering she needed to add the rolling pin for the cook at the dower house. With a deep breath, she entered the store.
The younger Mr. Jernigan was fussing over a display. When he saw her, he smiled broadly.
“It is always good to see you, Miss Jenson.” He rose to his feet. “How might I help you today? It looks as though you have a list. Prepared as always.” His eyes sparkled at her.
She thought he might be flirting with her, especially after what Billy Munson had said. How only a short time ago she would have relished the thought that a man close to her age did want to flirt with her. Though she disliked the older Jernigan, his son had always been kind and friendly to her. After having met Miles, though, and giving her heart to him, Emery knew she could never do this man a disservice and act interested in him when she could never give herself to him or any other suitor.
“Yes,” she said, handing over Mama’s list and following him to the counter. He went behind it and scrutinized the list and she said, “Please add a rolling pin to it. A new one is needed at the dower house.”
She heard the door open and then said more quietly, “I will also need to purchase a ticket on Friday’s coach to London.”
“Are you going to visit a relative or friend?” he asked as he took a pencil and scribbled at the bottom of her list.
“No. I will be moving there permanently.”
“What?” Jernigan cried. “You can’t leave, Miss Jenson.”
“Why not? What is it to you?” a voice asked.
She turned and saw Baron Haddoway standing there. She had always given him a wide berth the few times their paths had crossed because she had heard disturbing rumors about Haddoway. None of them pleasant.
Especially where women were involved.
Turning her back on the baron and wanting to leave quickly, Emery said, “If you’ll see to the things on the list, Mr. Jernigan, I will send a groom to pick them up. Could I please get my ticket for the stage, though?”
He nodded and said, “We will be sorry to see you go, Miss Jenson. You have been an asset to Wildwood all these years.”
Jernigan bent and retrieved a ticket from under the counter and quoted her the price. Emery counted out the coins for him.
“I hope you will stop in again and say farewell tomorrow.”
She nodded, uncomfortable with the baron listening to their conversation. Nodding brusquely, she said, “Good day, Mr. Jernigan.”
Emery turned and swept by Baron Haddoway, pausing a moment outside to calm herself as she placed her ticket inside her reticule.
Then the door opened and the baron stepped out. His fingers latched on to her elbow, taking her by surprise.
“You are a fine one, going about ordering people such as that young man, leaving him dangling as he falls all over you. I have heard stories about you, Miss Jenson. How you ride about Wildwood as if you own it. How you snap your fingers and expect others to do your bidding. Women such as you need to be taught a lesson. Put in their place. And I am just the man to do so.”
She pulled on her elbow but he only tightened his grip. “Unhand me,” she commanded, steel in her voice.
“I don’t think so.”
*
Miles had agroom saddle Zeus and he rode to the dower house. He was actually looking forward to his encounter with the duchess. He hadn’t seen her since she had relocated to the dower house and had had no intention of coming into contact with her until she served what he thought of as her year of penance. Now, though, he wanted her gone from Wildwood. The estate was for Emery and him alone. He wanted them to begin their new life without the possibility of running into her. In town might be a different story. They would most likely be obligated to attend a handful of social events each year. He actually looked forward to those, introducing Emery as his duchess and seeing her sparkle amidst the dull women of the ton.
He dismounted and attached his horse’s reins to a low branch on a bush since no stables were nearby. Knocking upon the door, a surprised maid answered it.
“Your Grace! Oh! Please, come in.”
She curtseyed and stepped aside to allow him entrance.
“I am here to see Her Grace,” he told the servant. “Please have her brought to the drawing room. And take me to it now. I have never been here before.”
The maid’s head bobbed up and down, no words coming from her. She turned and quickly left the foyer. Miles followed her to a large, pleasant room done in shades of gold and brown.
“Thank you. Please tell Her Grace I don’t wish to be kept waiting. If she balks, remind her that it is the Duke of Winslow asking for an audience with her.”
“Y-y-yes, Your Grace,” the servant stammered. She fled the room, closing the doors behind her.
Miles wandered about, picking up objects and books to examine. He wondered idly what the duchess did with her time, without her London friends and all the many amusements she was used to.
The door opened and she entered, her cheeks flushed with color. She closed the door and came straight to him.
“Have a seat,” he ordered, taking one himself.
She perched upon the edge of her chair. “I suppose that little whore ran straight to you. She hasn’t even been gone ten minutes.”
Confusion filled him. “What are you talking about?”
Then it hit him.
Emery had called at the dower house.
He sprang to his feet and strode three paces to close the gap between them. His fingers gripped her elbow and raised her to her feet.
“What are you talking about?” he repeated, this time as a growl.
She yanked her arm from his grasp and took a few steps away. “You know whom I mean. That girl. The housekeeper’s daughter.”
“You mean Miss Jenson?” he asked, watching as her eyes nervously darted about the room.
“Yes,” she hissed. “The one you wish to dip your wick in.”
He sucked in a quick breath. “You go too far, Madam.”
“I don’t go far enough,” she spit out. “I have nothing to do here all day. I am bored out of my mind. So I listen at doors to servants gossiping. Me—a duchess! And do you know what they say? That the duke is taken with this girl. That he looks at her with—”
“Enough!” he roared. “What did you say to Emery? I know she was here.”
“Emery? Is that the chit’s name? Oh, Winslow, why would you want to go after someone such as she? She is a housekeeper’s daughter, for goodness’ sake! You mustn’t attach yourself to such a woman. You need to come with me. To London. I will introduce you to the cream of Polite Society. You will put aside your infatuation with this creature when you meet diamonds of the first water.”
His temper soaring, Miles let it burn hot while he calmly stated, “Mrs. Jenson was a doctor’s daughter. And Mr. Jenson is the son of a viscount. Emery’s pedigree is a fine one, though it doesn’t make up who she is. You are blind, Woman, if you think I would take your advice on whom to wed.”
“Wed?” Her features contorted in horror. “Wed? You plan to marry this woman?”
He smiled. “I most certainly do. And I plan to be very happy with Emery. She is the best woman I will ever know. She will love me and our children beyond measure. As for you? You are not invited to our wedding. You are to leave for London tomorrow. I will send word to Fillmore and he will rent you a house. Forget your mourning period for Ralph. You never really loved him. You only love yourself.”
When she started to speak, he waved her into silence. “You will agree. Be glad I don’t turn you out on the streets for whatever evil you spoke to Emery. Our bargain still stands, Madam. You will not utter a single disparaging word about me—or my duchess. You will be pleasant and polite the few times our paths cross at events. I will know what you do. What you say. What you even think, for your servants will be ones I pay for. Servants know everything, Madam. They will tell me what you have been up to. Whom you have spoken with. What was said. You aren’t the only one who listens at keyholes.”
She began trembling. “You will let me return to London?” she asked meekly.
“Isn’t that what I just said?” He let out a deep sigh. “I don’t want you here at Wildwood ever again. Make sure you take all your things. Send for anything you have left at the London ducal townhouse. That will be mine and Emery’s. I want nothing of yours to taint it.” Miles looked at her steadily. “Break our bargain and you will go from a life lived in luxury to one where you die in poverty.
“Do you understand?”
The duchess lifted her chin high. “Of course, Winslow. I understand perfectly. You have nothing to fear. I will never utter a word about you or your precious slut of a duchess. I will keep my feelings and opinions to myself. I will still go to my grave knowing you killed my beloved boy.”
She paused. “I only have one thing to say to you. Be glad you were born during my marriage to Winslow because that is what makes you legitimate. It’s the only reason you became a duke.”
Immediately, Miles understood what she spoke of. “You had an affair,” he said flatly.
“No,” she said firmly. Suddenly, pain filled her eyes. “I was . . . ravished.” Her voice broke and her hand came up to her mouth. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.
Her words were as a fierce blow. “Who assaulted you?” he asked quietly.
She shrugged. “Does it matter now, so many years later?” She blinked rapidly, her hands twisting in front of her. “I never knew all those months when I carried you whether or not you were his child or Winslow’s. When you were born, you had my eyes—but you looked nothing like Winslow or me.” She cleared her throat. “I have always assumed you were his.”
“That is why you never wanted me around,” he said dully. “Because of . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Exactly. When Anthony arrived, I knew he was mine and Winslow’s child because he favored Ralph so much. You were the odd man out.”
“I am a Notley,” he declared stoically.
Her eyebrows arched as she regained her composure. “Legally, yes.”
“No, I am. I look exactly like my great-grandfather, Garrick Notley.”
“Him? Why, Winslow told me a few stories of his grandfather. He was a terrible man. Hated his entire family and the feeling was mutual. Winslow’s father removed all traces of him from the house once he became the duke.”
“Not all,” Miles said. “His portrait was found in the attics. The resemblance between Great-grandfather and me is quite remarkable. So you see, Madam—I am a Notley—whether you like it or not.” He shook his head. “You are the one who missed out on me and what I could offer you. The joy I could have brought to your life. You are a bitter, unfeeling woman, Madam. I plan for Wildwood to be a place of love. I don’t want you here ruining anything.”
“Oh!” She grew unsteady on her feet and, for a moment, he felt a small bit of sympathy toward her and took her arm, guiding her to a chair and seating her. It must have been awful for her, living all those years with the knowledge she had been raped and thinking a child resulted from the attack.
“I am sorry for what you suffered,” he said, trying to amend the harsh words he had hurled at her. “Did Winslow ever know?”
She shook her head violently. “No. I would never have told him. He would have beaten me or had me locked away because he was close friends with Haddoway. They both had a certain . . . reputation.”
“Haddoway? Baron Haddoway?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks now. “Yes,” she whispered. “Your father and Haddoway were as thick as thieves. They were horrible men, performing despicable acts upon women. Why do you think once I gave Winslow enough sons that I escaped this place?” She shuddered.
“See that the maids pack your things,” Miles said quietly. “I hope you will enjoy being back in London.”
He moved across the room, ready to escape but her voice stopped him.
“Miles?”
He turned. “Yes?”
“For what it is worth, I am sorry for the way I treated you. Then. And now.”
“Thank you.”
He left the room, emotions rumbling within him. Her apology was unexpected. It didn’t change everything that had happened between them but he felt he understood her a little better.
Miles collected Zeus and then headed for Woodmorrow. He was eager to see Emery and would share with her what he had learned. He needed her strength and kindness now.
And most of all, her love.