The Duke and the Lass by Jessie Clever

Chapter 16

Della was not smiling when Andrew discovered what had happened.

It wasn’t until the sisters had safely delivered her to Ravenwood House that Della realized the very real challenge she still faced.

Namely telling Andrew her father had abducted her from Ravenwood House.

She hadn’t had time to question the servants about how her father had gained entry, but she was certain it was likely something simple. He was her father after all. He had probably said as much and the footman at the door had allowed him in. It was all terribly easy.

But as she paced in front of the fire in her rooms, wrapped in her warmest nightdress and dressing robe, her feet ensconced in slippers and thick woolen stockings, she knew it was going to be much harder to explain.

Because she had endangered his sisters.

To be fair, the note she had sent Eliza had instructed her to find Andrew and tell him what had happened. She had not expected the sisters to take it upon themselves to track her down. Della was beginning to understand why Andrew was so protective of them. It appeared they had a tendency for danger. And that was just the three youngest. Della couldn’t imagine what the eldest was like.

She hadn’t been gone for more than a couple of hours, but Mallard had treated her as though she had been held captive for years, decades likely. He’d had a teacart overflowing with Cook’s toffee biscuits and puddings sent up. There was even a platter of shortbread, bless his heart.

She hadn’t touched a single morsel except to consume two very hot, very sweet cups of tea.

It was after six when Andrew finally arrived. She didn’t need to listen for the door or his footsteps on the stairs. Instead, he burst into her rooms through the connecting door.

And he was smiling.

He was smiling like she’d never seen him smile before. He appeared almost boyish, and her heart broke in two.

“Della, you will not believe where I’ve been.” He kissed her soundly before moving to the teacart and snatching up a raspberry tart. He popped the whole thing in his mouth in one go and brushed his hands free of crumbs. “I went to see a furniture maker in Shoreditch.”

She didn’t know where Shoreditch was, but she smiled, hard. “That’s splendid.”

His eyes narrowed, and his chewing slowed. “Why are you dressed for bed?” He took two strides toward her. “Della, what’s happened?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Not now. He looked so happy coming through that door. He had almost been elated. He had gone to see a furniture maker. Did that mean he would try to make pieces of his own? She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t crush him like that. She couldn’t give him more reason to worry.

But then he took her by the shoulders and squeezed gently, his gaze steady and warm on her face.

“My father kidnapped me,” she blurted.

She hadn’t meant to do it like that. She truly hadn’t, and as soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them.

He blinked, his fingers flexing in the soft skin at her shoulders. “I beg your pardon.”

“My father. He was here. He made me go with him. And I—”

His fingers pinched her skin, and she blinked against the sudden sharpness. “Were you hurt? Della, Christ! What happened? You must tell me.”

She pushed against his chest until he released her, and she rubbed at the bruised skin of her arms.

“I will if you would just give me a moment.”

But he was already headed for the door.

“Andrew,” she called after him. “What are you doing?”

He pulled open the connecting door so hard it bounced against the wall. “I’m going to find him. That bastard thinks—”

“Andrew, he’s gone. We ran him out of town when—”

He turned, his face suddenly blank and cold, and it was so much worse than moments before when he was angry.

“We?” he asked.

Never before had a single word frightened her quite so much.

She told him. She told him everything about her father appearing at Ravenwood House that afternoon, about what he had said about how he wished to use her to make an ally, about how he had taken her away but not before she had secreted the note to Eliza in the book, and then the chamber pots.

“Chamber pots? Hell’s teeth, Della, why are you going on about chamber pots?”

She stomped her foot like a child. “If you would but shut up for a minute, I would tell you!”

He did, in fact, shut up, and she finished her story as quickly as possible.

He stared at her for several long moments once she had finished, and she wanted nothing more than to step into his arms and take away the pain that was so visible on his features.

“You are never to leave this house again.” His voice was so low she almost missed his words.

She straightened, her chin going up. “I’m sorry?” she asked. “That sounded an awful lot like you are trying to make me a prisoner here.”

“It’s for your own good. You’re not to leave this house. Is that understood?”

She opened her mouth, her rebuke ready on her lips, but the words died before she could speak them. Realization crept over her like a mounting fog, slithering through her pores and under her skin.

“Oh God,” she whispered instead and took a step back. She shook her head. “That’s all I am to you, aren’t I?” she asked.

Confusion was clear in his eyes, but she could only shake her head and turn away from him.

“How could I have been so stupid?” She laughed but the sound hurt, and she pressed a hand to her chest. “I’ve been trying so hard to be the perfect duchess for you. I bought the gowns—twice because I got the wrong ones the first time—and I even asked your sisters for help, but it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head again. She stood in front of the fire now and even though she studied its flames she saw nothing. Hurt filled her. Like water in a rain barrel, it filled her until there was no room left for anything else, including air. “I just wanted you to love me,” she whispered to the flames.

She could feel him behind her, and at her words, she heard him shift.

“Della—” She heard the strain in his voice and turned before he could say anything more.

“You mustn’t say anything, Andrew. You mustn’t say anything because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if what I’ve done to make you love me has worked, because I know it hasn’t.” She shook her head as if to confirm her words. “It can’t. It can’t ever work because you can’t love me. You’ll never love me. Do you know why?”

Her words had struck something inside of him. She could tell by the way his lips parted and his eyes widened.

“Della, I care about you—”

“Don’t give me your excuses, Andrew. I don’t need them. I know the truth. You can’t ever love me as long as you see me as a responsibility.” She shrugged, a strange, strangled noise coming from her lips that might have been a laugh. “I should have known. All of the clues were there.” She took a hasty step forward as if propelled by her words. “Louisa said you had planned a long holiday in Scotland, but you told me you had to get to London for familial obligations. Which one is the truth, Andrew?”

He didn’t answer.

She took another step forward. “I think the truth is you never planned to be away long because it would leave your sisters exposed. Your sisters have all married good men, and yet you think you’re still responsible for them.” She laughed, and again, the sound was strangled. “Forget the men they’ve married. Your sisters are good, strong, brave people. They don’t need your protection. They need your love, but you continue to treat them like wards. They’re not yours to manage, Andrew. What will it take for you to see that?”

She’d pushed him too far. She saw it the moment it was too late as his eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

He closed the distance between them. “They are my responsibility. They will always be my responsibility just as you are, because the second you let your guard down something happens. Isn’t that what you’ve proven today?”

“Don’t make this my fault,” she shot back.

He scoffed and paced away from her. “Do you know what I went through when the Duke of Margate asked for Viv’s hand? I vetted him thoroughly, and do you know what happened?”

Della swallowed. She had heard the story from Eliza and Louisa. “As I recall, it’s had a happy ending.”

He leered toward her. “But it didn’t then. It didn’t then, Della, and I was forced to watch my sister return with a broken heart and eyes full of tears. I watched her fall apart, Della, and it was my fault.”

She sucked in a breath. “That wasn’t your fault, Andrew,” she said quietly. “That wasn’t your—”

“Yes, it was,” he cut her off. “It was my fault. That’s why I worked so damned hard to convince them it was Viv’s idea to find them all suitable matches. I knew they wouldn’t listen to me after what I had done, but they would listen to her.”

The air had frozen in her lungs, and she couldn’t breathe. Her heart thudded like the hoofs of a galloping horse, and she feared at any moment her heart might leap directly from her chest.

“It was you,” she whispered, unable to meet his gaze. “You made certain they all obtained suitable matches. You made sure they were all wed appropriately. But…” she didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“It was easy to convince Viv of it. She was lost in her own heartbreak, and I took advantage of her scorn to press her into service.” He took a hard step forward, pointing at the floor with a single finger as if to emphasize his point. “I made her see the importance of the thing. I made her see what had to be done.”

“You manipulated her.” Her voice cut through the air between them as if she’d thrown a dagger at him.

He stepped back as if her words had found their target.

But she didn’t let him retreat. “You took advantage of your sister’s heartbreak to see your own needs were met. You pressed your case when she was most vulnerable, and she believed you because she trusted you. She’s your sister, Andrew.” She shook her head. “You should have been comforting her. Not convincing her to carry out your dirty work.”

“It wasn’t dirty work. I protected my sisters—”

“You treated them like objects.”

Silence rang in the room as her words extinguished further argument. She returned to the fire as she struggled to regain her breath, calm her racing heart.

After several moments, she heard him approach her, could feel him standing so close and yet not touching her. She didn’t want him to touch her. For the first time since she’d met him, she was repulsed by the very idea.

“I love my sisters, Della,” he said. “I would do anything to protect them.”

She turned and faced him, her chin held high. “That’s not loving them, Andrew. That’s controlling them.”

He shook his head and stepped away from her, and although his back was to her, she heard his words clearly.

“You wouldn’t know anything about it, Della. You don’t have any family.”

She didn’t know how the pain didn’t kill her as his words cut through her, extinguishing the last of her hope.

“Get out,” she said, proud at how steady her voice was.

He didn’t say anything. He left the room, closing the connecting door behind him.

As soon as she heard his footsteps fade away, she strode over to the door and locked it.

Then she walked to the window bench and curled up on it, laying her head against the cold pane of the glass. She was too tired to even cry.

* * *

When he could no longer bearthe heavy silence of the house the next day, he went for a ride.

Or at least, he attempted it.

But the weather had other things in mind. November rain was unlike any other, and it was really more like ice pelting him as he navigated the clogged streets on his way to the park.

What he wanted was a gallop across the fields of Ravenwood Park, but he would settle for a canter through the park. If he could even find the park.

The sleet had frozen his eyelashes, and he knew if he didn’t return indoors, he would risk losing parts of his face to frostbite. For some devilish reason, he pressed on.

Rotten Row was deserted. All sensible people having likely fled for cover or not emerged in the first instance. He spurred his horse on at the sight of the empty stretch of pathway and was nearly halfway down it when another rider overtook him. Andrew was startled by his presence, but then the man pivoted, cutting in front of Andrew so he was forced to stop abruptly.

He pushed back the dripping brim of his hat to give the man a stern set down for his recklessness when the rider pulled to a stop and raised his own hat so Andrew could see his face.

He frowned. “I suppose Johanna thinks I’ll die of cold.”

Ben rubbed the sleet from his face. “I think you’ll die of cold. Can you not sink into your cups like a normal brooding man?”

Andrew wanted to protest, but his friend was right. He allowed Ben to lead him to a public house on the other side of the park on Marylebone High Street. The Goose Neck was a refined establishment for a public house. The tables weren’t even sticky with the wares of previous guests, and the serving maids were all modestly dressed. If Andrew were going to have a thorough sulk, he thought he could at least do it in a hovel like a proper gentleman.

Ben even had the audacity to order tea.

Andrew sent him a look, but Ben only blew on his hands and rubbed them together as if to warm them.

“You may imbibe, but I, for one, would like to thaw.” He unraveled the scarf about his neck and hung it over the back of his chair along with his greatcoat. Both dripped water to the floor below.

Andrew had shed his own coat, but he hadn’t bothered to remove anything else, and water now dripped steadily along his shoulders. He felt the cold at the same time he didn’t. He was oddly hollow and numb.

He had been since he’d heard Della lock the door between them the previous night.

Since then, the sound of the lock had been an interesting accessory to the litany of recriminations he had looping in his head.

He still couldn’t understand why he had said what he had. He owed Della an apology. Why in the heat of the moment had he selected the one thing he knew would cut her? Why had he so carefully chosen to attack her where she was most vulnerable?

He was a bastard. More than that, he was a terrible husband, and this hurt more than any names he could conjure.

He’d hurt her.

He’d hurt Della.

What was worse was that he’d done it on purpose. He had wanted to strike where it would cause the most damage, and he had succeeded.

He would never forget the calmness in her voice as she’d told him to get out. He knew he had inflicted the hurt he’d wanted to cause, and now he hated himself for it.

And when he truly thought about it, he knew exactly why he had done it.

Because he loved Della, and the thought that he’d let her down, that he’d let her get kidnapped, had nearly ended him. At the very least, he knew he had failed as a husband. He had failed to protect her, and in that was his greatest fault.

The serving maid brought them their drinks, Ben’s tea and a tankard for Andrew. He took a sip, but he couldn’t have said what was in it. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t eaten that day, and the alcohol did little more than swish around in his stomach, making him slightly ill.

“How did you know what happened?” Andrew asked after several moments of silence.

Ben had settled into his seat across from him and appeared not to be in a hurry to have it out with him. Andrew found it vexing.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Something about duchess lessons. Eliza, Louisa, and Della showed up at the house around luncheon today.”

Della had left the house? He curled his hands around his tankard, and he was grateful he didn’t crush the thing.

She’d disobeyed him. Of course she had. His chest constricted with the thought, but then he never should have demanded she stay in the house. It had been a reaction to thinking she may have been hurt. That the MacKenzie could have done something more than carry her away in a drunken rage.

Andrew took a long drink of his ale.

“Duchess lessons?” He recalled Della mentioning as much, but he had given her so little opportunity to voice her perspective. He had been too busy trying to control her.

Isn’t that what she had accused him of? Controlling the people he loved?

Loved.

God, he’d been an idiot.

But it didn’t change things. Della was still vulnerable, and he was still charged with protecting her. She might see it as controlling, but he saw it as a necessity.

Ben leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Della also said it was your idea to get Viv to find the sisters husbands.” Ben’s gaze was direct, and Andrew daren’t look away. “I don’t think I must tell you this didn’t settle well with the sisters.”

Andrew rubbed at the back of his neck. “It needed to be done.”

Ben’s laugh was not more than a scoff. “It needed to be done. You sound like my father, and you know I don’t mean that as a compliment.” Ben’s expression turned questioning. “Do you really not see what your sisters are capable of, Andrew? It’s nice that you show such concern for them, but they really don’t require your influence in their lives. They have it rather figured out for themselves.” He took a sip of his tea.

“I thought Viv had it figured out as well. The Duke of Margate—”

“Was a stupid young man. We’ve all been in his shoes.” Ben screwed up his mouth. “Well, perhaps not quite like that, but we’ve all made mistakes.” Ben gestured with his teacup at Andrew. “You’re making your mistakes right now.”

“I’m not making a mistake.”

Ben leaned forward. “You’re racing your horse through a muddy path in the middle of a sleeting storm, and you swear you’re not making a mistake.”

Andrew ignored him.

“Johanna married a fortune hunter, and her life turned out just fine.”

Andrew looked up at this and met Ben’s smirk.

“The fortune hunter is lucky my sister stopped me from killing him.”

Ben wiggled his eyebrows. “I could have taken you.”

“You could not have—”

Ben held up a hand to stop him, and Andrew felt the beginnings of a smile, which seemed impossible.

“All I am trying to say is you need to give your sisters more credit. They’re remarkable women. I know you feel some kind of responsibility because your mother died so young, and your father was left without a clue as to what to do with you lot. But you can’t be responsible for them forever. At some point, everyone grows up and becomes responsible for their own actions.”

Andrew was already shaking his head. “No. Not when it comes to them and not now. There are too many things—”

“There are too many things that can hurt all of us. Are you going to protect everyone?”

This silenced him. Ben was right. Andrew could spend the whole of his life protecting others, and at the end, what would he have to show for it?

“If you hadn’t allowed Johanna to make a critical mistake, I wouldn’t be married to the woman I love now.” Ben’s smile grew sheepish. “Have you ever thought of the good that can come of making mistakes? Of making unwise choices?”

Andrew closed his hands around his tankard. “Nothing good can come of an unwise choice.”

Ben laughed. “I can safely say you’re wrong, old friend. I wake up every day thanking God for what I have, and I only have it because Johanna married a fortune hunter. How can you not say there can be no good that comes from committing an error?”

“But Viv—”

“Is happily ensconced in hops with her husband.” Ben shook his head, his lips slightly parted. “When are you going to see that?”

“I can’t forgive him for what he did to her.”

“No one is asking you to,” Ben said quietly. “But can you not see how happy he makes her now? Are you so quick to assume that the fault for what happened between them lies squarely at Margate’s feet? Surely Viv is not innocent.”

Andrew thought of his eldest sister and her hot-headed, stubborn nature and realized Ben might be right. He still didn’t like it.

“Even if it were partly her fault, shouldn’t it be argued that I should protect them where I can?”

“And prevent them from achieving what they might? Being who they are?” Ben shook his head. “It sounds like you’re caging wild animals, Andrew.”

Andrew blinked, his jaw tightening. Had Della told his sisters that he’d demanded she stay in Ravenwood House? He suddenly hoped she didn’t, for now in the clarity of the moment he could understand what a brute he had sounded. Ordering her to remain under lock and key was barbaric, and he knew that now.

Only…

“But then how do I keep Della safe?” The words were soft and tense with emotion, and he looked up, capturing his friends gaze. “How do I keep her safe, Ben?”

Ben’s expression folded into one of miserable understanding. He placed a hand on his friend’s arm.

“You have to trust her, Andrew,” he said. “That’s all any of us can do. We must trust the ones we love to make the right choice when faced with a decision. Didn’t she do the right thing yesterday?”

Andrew closed his eyes. “I assume Johanna is rather proud to have played the highwayman.”

Ben leaned back in his chair, his face aggrieved. “She won’t shut up about it.”

They shared a laugh before growing silent. Andrew pushed his tankard about the table.

“I love her, Ben,” he said after some time. “I love her, and it scares the hell out of me.”

“I know, mate.” Ben nodded. “Love is the scariest thing of all. But what are you going to do about it?”

Andrew’s gaze drifted to the rain-streaked windows as he shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just don’t know.”