Only a Duke Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 8
The following morning, instead of going for her early ride, Isolde was to meet Anne on Bond Street. With her maid in tow, she started toward the shopping precinct, wishing a good morning to those she passed along the way. Anne had stated that today she had woken without feeling ill and wanted to purchase a new hat before the sickness returned.
The day was without fault, not a cloud in the sky or a breeze dared to mar it, and the thought of more shopping with her dearest friend made her outing even more enjoyable. Over the last few weeks, she’d become more enamored of shopping than she’d ever thought possible. To indulge oneself was freeing, and it had been a long time since she’d wanted to pamper herself and just enjoy life.
The houses that ran around her square were a marvel in beauty, with large imposing doors and windows ornate with their architectural designs. Most of the houses were shuttered asleep, their occupants unaware the day had dawned a few hours ago. A few carriages rocked to a halt before homes, their occupants more than likely returning home after a night of revelry.
Just as she was about to turn down Brook Street, she stopped as Leonora stumbled from a carriage, turning back to lean into the equipage, laughing and seemingly kissing whoever it was inside. Isolde braced herself to see Merrick step out after Her Grace, but whomever traveled with the duchess did not follow, but merely moved off. After last night, Isolde could hazard a guess as to whom the gentleman was, if not Leonora’s husband. Her Grace continued to stumble up the stone steps and disappeared inside.
Isolde continued on her way before a commotion behind her made her turn. Loud voices sounded from the ducal residence and, within moments, Merrick ran down the front steps just as his carriage came barreling around the corner from his mews.
As he was giving directions to his driver, he caught sight of her staring at him. Such a faux pas would normally embarrass her to the brightest red, but the panicked fear she could read on his face gave her pause, and she hurried to his side. “Your Grace, has something happened?”
“Isolde,” he said, forgetting to address her correctly. “William is gone. I stupidly allowed Leonora to take him this morning for a walk, and she’s returned just now without him. You know how small he is, and he’s alone, and God knows where. I don’t know what I was thinking. What she was thinking!”
Isolde took his hand and noted it shook. She clasped it tighter. “Did the duchess say where she’d been?”
“She remembers going to the park in the square and then being picked up in a carriage that headed toward the east end, but from there she says her memory of the outing becomes hazy. I cannot begin to know why.”
The sarcasm of his words was evident, and Isolde didn’t know what to say in return. To think of a little boy lost in that part of London wasn’t worth imagining.
“I should never have trusted her.”
Isolde frowned, wondering why Leonora couldn’t remember, not to mention how on earth someone could forget her own child. “Did she visit anyone? Perhaps she’s left him in a shop or at the markets.”
“I must go and find him.” He hesitated at the carriage door. “Would you help me?”
His plea was something she could not deny. She would never deny anyone in such a state of panic. “Very well.” She motioned for her maid to join her before alighting into the carriage. She sank onto the leather squabs, her maid beside her, before the coachman flicked his whip and the horses started forward.
Merrick gazed out the window, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t find him. What if he’s befallen some misbegotten git?”
Isolde leaned over and touched his hand. “We’ll find him.” She took a calming breath, her stomach roiling in fear that, should they not, what horrors could become of the sweet little boy. “Do you know of any places that Her Grace visits? I must admit, I know nothing of that part of London.”
“There are two places that we’ll start with. After that I’m at a loss as to where he could be.” The moment Isolde let go of his hand and sat back, he missed her comforting support, her concern for his child. His wife, most likely passed out on her bed, didn’t care an ounce for her son. Had never cared for him, if he were being brutally honest.
The carriage rolled through London, the greater homes of Mayfair giving way to the dwellings of the less fortunate of the city. They crossed London Bridge and turned east toward the wharves. The streets in this part of town were less kept, rubbish stacked beside the road, the children, without supervision, ran about in ragged clothes that wouldn’t be fit for cleaning cloths.
Isolde frowned. “This degradation of people is not right. It makes me wonder what the lords running Parliament are doing to allow people to live in such squalor.”
Merrick nodded. “I suppose you include me in that decree?”
She raised her brow but didn’t reply.
He sighed. “I agree. Something must be done about it, and I promise at the next sitting of Parliament I shall bring up my concerns.”
Isolde nodded before she said, “How long since Her Grace took Lord William?”
The question pulled him from his thoughts. “Just over two hours. She promised to play with him in the park, and there was no stopping his excitement. It’s not often that his mother takes an interest, and so he gobbles it up whenever she does.”
Merrick read the question in her gaze, and he didn’t want to answer it, didn’t want to face what his wife had become in the five years since they’d married.
Isolde’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “I still don’t understand how Lord William was left behind. Had the duchess given any indication as to why it occurred?”
“There was no point in asking her much. She doesn’t know of what she speaks.” And had he known Leonora would’ve left the safety of the park and visited such a place with their child, he would never have allowed such an outing. And he would hunt down anyone who was associated with this travesty should anything happen to his boy.
Isolde made an unladylike sound, and he met her gaze. “Stop telling me only tidbits of the story, Merrick. What is going on with Leonora?”
He cringed, wanting to hear his name on her lips, but not in a situation such as this. Damn his wife to Hades. “After we married, the duchess grew quite fond of Town life, spent most of her time here alone, while I remained in the country with William. There are certain locations she’s fonder of than others in the city.”
Isolde grabbed his cane and rapped on the roof. They rocked to a halt, and Isolde turned to her maid, speaking quickly to the young woman, before the woman alighted from the carriage and strode toward the hackney cab beside the curb. Isolde watched as her maid spoke to the driver and climbed up into the carriage before it started forward. Isolde shut the door with a snap and settled back into the squabs. “Now tell me the truth. All of it.”
Merrick rubbed his jaw as their own equipage moved on, wondering where he ought to start. The tale was not one he even liked to think about, nevertheless speak of. “Her Grace is addicted to laudanum and opium. Whatever one she can obtain access to, she’ll partake in.”
Isolde’s eyes flew wide, and her silence was crushing. Shame washed over him that his wife had fallen so low. No matter what he thought of Leonora, he should never have allowed her to succumb to such depths. He should’ve stopped her when he first suspected her of the addiction. He was a disgrace of a husband.
“I’m so very sorry. I had no idea…”
Her apology only made him feel more wretched. “Don’t be sorry, anything but that. I certainly do not need your sympathy. It’s of my own doing that she’s become the woman she has.”
“Why do you say that?” Isolde clasped the seat as they rounded a corner faster than they ought.
“Because it’s true.” He ran a hand over his jaw and then realized in his haste to find William, he’d only half finished his dressing. His shirt hung open and the lapse of a cravat only made it look worse. At least he’d grabbed his jacket from the back of his desk chair before hightailing it out the door. “We’ve not had the marriage she hoped for. I pushed her away, and she sought entertainment and friendships elsewhere.”
“You weren’t to know that she would leave Lord William anywhere. For all that has passed between you and the duchess, I’m certain that there must be some other explanation for what’s occurred. Leonora was never so careless.”
He scoffed, knowing how mistaken Isolde was. “You would be wrong. You only have to see her to know she’s not competent enough to walk straight, nevertheless look after a child. I should never have trusted her.”
“If you cannot trust the mother of your child, whom can you trust?”
The carriage turned again, and they rode along the embankment for a short duration before rocking to a halt in front of an alehouse, gin-laden drunks slumped against its walls.
Merrick didn’t bother waiting for his tiger, but jumped down and started toward the door to the inn, Isolde right behind him. He paused at the threshold. “You cannot come in. It’s not fit for human occupancy, never mind a duke’s daughter.”
Isolde crossed her arms. “I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”
“All the same,” he said, trying to placate her, and by her raised brows it was a battle he was losing. “I would prefer you stay here. I’m going to ask if anyone’s seen William or the duchess earlier this morning.” When Isolde didn’t make a move to do as he asked, he did what any sensible gentleman would do—he begged. “Please, Isolde. I don’t need anything to happen to you as well as my son.”
At his words she sighed and stepped back. “Very well, I’ll wait in the carriage, but if you’re too long, I’m coming in after you.”
He nodded and went into the inn. The moment he crossed the threshold a cloud of gray smoke, mixed with the sickly flowery scent, met his senses. Opium. Merrick headed for the bar and caught the eye of the barman, a burly man with arms the size of Merrick’s legs. The man gave a nod of greeting and slowly made his way over to him, serving his customers as he went. The time ticked by agonizingly slow, and Merrick had the overwhelming urge to shout at the man to hurry the blasted up, but the thought of William and that this man may know what Leonora had done with him, made him hold his tongue.
“Bruce,” he said finally when the man poured him a brandy and slid it across the bar.
“Your Grace, whatever have we done to have the honor of your presence?”
Merrick slid a gold coin across the bar. “Has the duchess been in earlier today? She’s left my son somewhere this side of London.”
The barman’s eyes flared before he frowned. “Aye, she was in, but came in with that gentleman friend of hers she’s always about with. Can’t say I saw a boy with her, though.”
“Did you happen to serve her? Maybe you heard where she’d been?”
The man grinned. “That’ll cost ye another pretty coin.”
Merrick handed one over without delay. “Where?”
“It’s walking distance from here. You’ll not get a carriage down the laneway. Turn left when ye leave here and make another left at the first opportunity to do so. A few doors down may be the premises you’re looking for.”
Merrick left his drink and headed toward the door, wondering if he’d ever see his son again. Down in this part of town, there were no rules. Children went missing all the time, never to be found again. He couldn’t allow his son to be one of them.
“I’ll keep an ear to the ground about ye boy, Your Grace.”
Merrick turned, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you.” He threw open the door and strode toward the carriage. He wrenched the door open to tell Isolde of his next move, only to find it empty. He slammed it shut, turning about and looking to see if he could spy her anywhere. He cursed, not seeing one dark strand of her pretty hair. He’d not thought the day could get any worse, and yet it just had.
Isolde watched a steady stream of misbegotten drunkards walk farther along the docks and turn down the alley. Laughter sounded, along with the banging of a creaky wooden door. She looked down at her lavender gown and cringed. She didn’t meld into the location at all and instead stuck out like the woman of wealth she was.
Reaching into the carriage, she opened the compartment beneath the seat and pulled out a plaid blanket, draping it over her head and shoulders. It masked her in some way, not a lot, but it would have to do.
She walked toward the alley, ignoring the command from the driver to stop and wait for His Grace. Standing at the corner, she noted the worn stairs that led down into a darkened street. Taking a fortifying breath, she climbed down quickly and passed door after door, some with men asleep on their thresholds, others with women and children, sitting, waiting, for what, Isolde could only imagine.
She gave some coins to the children who asked, looking about for the one boy who was lost among them. A man stumbled onto the street before her, and she stopped, watching as he turned in her direction, his eyes unfocused and red-rimmed.
“Aye, you’re a pretty one. I have some coin aye, and a wall ready and willing to support ye while I have me way with ye, pretty lass.”
Isolde stared, unable to speak as the drunkard’s words made her stomach churn. She needed to think, and fast. “Right at this moment there is a gun being pointed at you by my companion. Don’t bother to look, you’re too far out of your wits to see him in the shadows,” Isolde said, when he cast a look toward the alley. “But I would suggest, if you do not desire your brains to be splattered against the wall at your back, to let me pass.”
The man grinned, stumbling a little. “Ah, come on now. I’ll not take too long.”
“Step any closer toward me and you’re dead.” He stopped at the steely tone of her words, his eyes narrowing in consideration.
A movement behind him caught her eye, but she didn’t react. Her only defense was bluffing, and if he thought for a moment that what she said was untrue…well she didn’t want to venture what that would mean for her.
The blaggard grinned. “Aww well, mayhap I’ll see ye again to have me fun with ye.”
Isolde glared, wishing she really did have a gun to remove such a vile creature from the earth. He walked past her and headed back the way she had come. Isolde watched him until he was out of sight, and then turned to see what had moved farther along the alley.
Almost luncheon, the sun was finally overhead, which helped in lighting the alleyway a little. But with washing hanging over her head, all the makeshift structures, and general chaos, it was still hard to see anything. A pile of rubbish beside the door that the man had exited moved again, and she peered closer, only to see a small boy huddled beneath the mess.
“William?”
He looked up with tear-stained eyes, his face marred from the grimy street. Without thought for herself, Isolde pushed the broken bits of crates, material, and food scraps away and pulled out the frightened child.
He threw himself against her, clutching desperately to her neck. “Shush, all is well. We’ve found you. Come, your papa is searching for you desperately.”
“Mama left me.” His little body shivered, and he started to sob in earnest. Isolde rubbed his back, feeling the chill of his skin through his coat. She wrapped the blanket about him as best she could and turned toward where the carriage was stationed.
“Shush darling. You’re going home now.” Isolde started up the stairs, coming to the top of the street just as Merrick ran down the alley.
“William!” The duke threw his arms around them both, kissing the boy’s cheeks and murmuring apologies all the while.
“We should go, Your Grace,” she said, when his tight grip enabled her.
The use of his title seemed to pull him from his relieved daze. He stepped back, taking William into his own arms. “I apologize, my lady. I was overcome.”
Isolde smiled, turning him toward the carriage. “It’s perfectly fine, but I think we should get Lord William home and seen to by a doctor. He’s awfully cold.”
Merrick nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
They bundled into the carriage, their driver pulling away quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were crossing London Bridge once more. The tension, the fear of having lost William, was now replaced with a simmering anger Isolde could read as clearly as a book on Merrick’s face.
She looked at William and realized the little boy had fallen asleep, his head on Merrick’s leg, his father’s hand idly stroking the small child’s hair. He looked so sweet and innocent and so much like Merrick with his dark locks that had just the slightest curl to them. The little boy wiggled a little to make himself more comfortable. A pang of jealousy shot through her that she did not have the one thing she longed for most, a baby of her own. How lucky Merrick was to have a son. At least she’d been able to help reunite them safely and without incident. A huge relief for everyone involved.
“What will you do about what happened today?” she asked, worried that Merrick looked ready to murder someone over this morning’s events.
“There is not much to be done other than to keep William from any more outings with his mama.” He sighed, the strain of the situation written all over him. His eyes looked haunted, dark shadows stark against his skin, his clothing even more rumpled and now dirty from holding his son who looked like a poor street child. “I’m not sure how to carry on, in all truth.”
“Talk to her, Merrick. Help her. I think she may be in need of it, if what you say is true.”
He looked away and back to William. “I will try, but I cannot promise any more than that. Leonora stopped listening to me years ago, if she ever did.”
Isolde watched as he, too, shut his eyes. A longing to go to him, to allow him to enfold her in his arms once more near broke her resolve. He was a man with everything anyone would ever dream of: a title, money, lands and estates all over England. He was married, with a child and one on the way, but right at this moment, she pitied him and his gilded life. For all he had, there was one thing it seemed he did not. Happiness. And without that, life was no life at all.
