The Doxy and the Duke by Caroline Lee

Chapter 8

I would’ve agreed, Cash.

It hadn’t been an empty boast, but Raina couldn’t stop thinking of her words to the man who’d broken her heart.

And aye, she knew having one’s heart broken required one to be in love, and she was smart enough to admit that’s exactly how she’d felt about Cash.

Excuse me, His Grace the Duke of Cashingham.

Cursing her own stupidity—and stubbornness—Raina kicked at a stone in the muddy path, sending it skittering along the edge of the otherwise finely manicured garden walk.

It had rained that morning and the air still held a feeling of heavy, damp potential. Overhead, the gray clouds swept across the sky, blown by a wind higher up than she could feel. Still, Raina tamped down a shiver she didn’t quite feel and wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked.

Walked? Nay. She was sulking, and was bright enough to recognize it. At least none of her friends were there to tease her, and Ewan wasn’t there to see that, sometimes, adults threw tantrums as well.

Her son had thrown a tantrum on Saturday, the morning after that disastrous ball. She’d gone up to the nursery to find Annie preparing him to leave with her for their daily outing to the river, and Raina had to sit her son down and explain they wouldn’t be swimming in the river that day, or any other day.

He’d looked so confused, her heart had broken. Gathering him in her arms, she’d promised him, “We can swim in the river on Fangfoss property, sweetheart. Just the two of us.”

That’s when the poor lad had begun to wail, demanding Matthew. Knowing how close the two lads had become over the last weeks, her own tears had flowed. She was denying her son the first true friend he’d had, simply because she had quarreled with Matthew’s father.

Nay, it was more than a quarrel. They’d realized, despite the act they’d been putting on all summer, there was no future for the two of them.

Love sought is good, but given unsought better.

Aye, she hadn’t intended on falling in love with Cash, but somewhere along the way, it had happened. To her, he wasn’t a cold imperious duke. He was a reserved man, aye, who had required some coaxing to emerge from his shell, but one who took the time to truly be with his son, who cared about her son in a way which surprised Raina, and who was gentle and loving and damned arousing.

But he was also a duke.

She sighed and tilted her head back to glare up at the clouds, refusing to allow the tears to form.

He was a duke.

Had he been just a simple landowner, or perhaps a baron, she would’ve felt free to engage in the physical relationship they’d started on Friday at The Sword and Sheath. She would’ve felt free.

I was going to ask you to be my mistress.

The word “mistress” implied being a kept woman, being beholden to one man, in exchange for gifts and securities. Raina still wasn’t certain if she would’ve gone that far, despite what she’d boldly claimed to Cash. But the point was; the relationship would’ve been on her terms, because she knew she was his equal.

But no’ when he’s a bloody duke!

A duke could keep a mistress as long as he wanted. Raina wouldn’t have been his equal, and while a part of her was so damned angry to find out the truth and have their gentle interlude destroyed, the rest of her was glad she’d found out his identity before she’d committed to anything.

I was going to ask you to be my mistress.

I would’ve agreed.

Oh, damn. Here came the tears.

Blinking rapidly, Raina turned toward the sound of the River Derwent and debated walking in that direction. After the morning’s rain, it would likely be churning heavily and flowing strongly, which matched her current mood.

However, the idea of going anywhere near the river made her chest tighten. Despite her promise to Ewan to take him swimming, just the two of them, she hadn’t managed it in the days since that disastrous ball.

So many times, in the last few days, she’d been tempted to hike to the bend in the river where they’d met Cash—the Duke of Cashingham—and Matthew, just to see. Just to see if they’d been going swimming without Raina and her son. But what if they were? What if this separation hadn’t affected them one whit?

Scowling, Raina turned back toward the manor.

Dinnae be silly, lass. He wouldnae be there. He’s a duke, and he has responsibilities.

But what if he was there?

Huffing in irritation at her argumentative mind, Raina hiked up her skirts and stomped back toward Fangfoss Manor.

The butler saw her coming and opened the front door without even raising a brow at her muddy boots, although his gaze did flick meaningfully to the scraper. Smiling ruefully, Raina stopped to wipe the mud off as best she could before tracking it throughout the fine house.

This meant that she couldn’t help but overhear the rather impassioned conversation coming from the private family parlor off the foyer.

“Oh, milady! Please forgive me! I don’t know how it happened! One minute it was there, and then I turned my back, and it was gone!” The plea ended on a wail, and there was the sound of someone else clucking a tongue.

“There, there, Cook. I’m certain it isn’t as bad as all that.” That was Miss Julia’s voice, the countess. “What has gone missing this time? Hubert, are you paying attention?”

“Yes, dear.” The sound of rustling newspaper told Raina the earl wasn’t paying attention, not really. “Missing items, yes. I’ve heard rumors…”

“Oh, milady. I’m so sorry!” This was the cook again. “It’s the trifle! For luncheon! The one you specifically requested because it’s your favorite!”

Oh dear. Trifle was Raina’s favorite as well.

The countess echoed her sentiments. “Oh dear! Well, this will not do! Hubert, it’s one thing to have little items going missing, no harm done I’m sure, but an entire trifle?”

“One of the maids just got hungry, dear,” the earl murmured.

The cook began to blubber again—half apology, half defending her staff—while the countess bemoaned the theft of her favorite dessert…and Raina blushed.

She had a fairly good idea what had happened to the trifle, and she needed to get up to the nursery to confirm her suspicion.

Straightening, she found the butler eyeing her boots, as if he knew she’d been lingering in order to eavesdrop, so she sent the older man a beatific smile and strolled toward the staircase at a leisurely pace.

Once out of the man’s sight, however, she hiked up her skirts once more and quickened her pace. The nursery was on the third floor, and if she didn’t miss her guess, that’s where she’d find the missing trifle—with her mischievous son.

She was already calling his name as she stepped into the room. “Ewan? Lad, where are ye?”

The nursery appeared empty, and Raina frowned as she began to poke under tables and behind chairs, calling her son’s name again.

There was a sound, and she straightened to see a surprised-looking Annie standing in the door which led to her small room.

“Lady Raina!” The young woman blinked in what seemed like genuine shock. “What are ye doing here?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Raina’s frown deepened. “I’m looking for my son. Where is he?”

The nurse’s eyes widened as she glanced around. “He’s no’ with ye? I thought he was with ye! He’s always with ye in the mornings—”

“No’ today!” Raina cut her off as her hunt turned frantic. She tossed aside pillows and looked into the hearth, as if there was a chance Ewan was hiding inside it. “He was supposed to be with ye this morning, and now the trifle’s missing, and he’s missing, and—”

She suddenly straightened, pulling a pillow to her chest. Dear God in Heaven, what was the lad up to now?

Turning, she pierced the nurse with a stern look. The woman paused in her own search—really, what were the odds Ewan was hiding inside his own boots?—and eyed her worriedly. Raina hugged the pillow, then exhaled and straightened her shoulders.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to ye, Annie.”

“About Ewan?” the nurse prompted hesitantly.

Raina nodded firmly. “I’ve been told Ewan has been getting into rather a lot of trouble at this house party.” When the other woman opened her mouth to deny it, Raina hurried on. “Mischief mostly, but he’s been thieving small items, Annie.”

“No’ Ewan—”

“Aye, my son is the culprit.” Raina knew as well as any that her lad could get into mischief. “My friends ken him well, and confessed to me last Friday”—moments before that disastrous dance—“that the lad’s been stealing small trinkets.” As Annie gaped at her, Raina did her best to recall the list her friends had given her. “A hat, a handkerchief, Olive’s spectacles, a least one book, numerous pillows, and a small painting.”

“Milady,” began Annie hesitantly, “I’ve no’ seen those items.” She looked around the room, her arms held out from her side. “Surely if he was thieving them, he’d bring them back here?” She went as far as to spin in a circle, looking around the room. “But I havenae seen anything new arrive in the nursery, no’ like that.”

Hmm.

Frowning, Raina looked around, admitting that, at first glance, she didn’t see any of the pilfered items either. A stack of books might be hidden among the children’s reading material, perhaps, but a new painting would stand out, as would the number of pillows which her son had filched.

And a pilfered trifle would definitely stand out!

With a groan, Raina sunk down onto one of the chairs, suddenly exhausted. A headache was building behind her eyes, and she knew it was because of the tears she hadn’t fully shed that morning.

“Ewan is fine,” she muttered to herself. She’d taught him how to be self-reliant, and knew he was just poking about the manor, likely trying to find someplace to hide the trifle he’d pinched.

Honestly, how in the world did a lad his age manage to steal an entire dessert? Was he just wandering around the manor at that moment, struggling to balance a giant crystal bowl of cream?

This will be messy.

Annie fell to her knees beside Raina. “Oh, milady! Please forgive me! All these times he was allegedly stealing these things—”

“No’ allegedly,” Raina corrected wearily. “I believe my friends. He’s the culprit.”

“But when would he do such a thing, milady? He’s either with ye or with me at all times.”

With a weary sigh, Raina dropped the pillow and began to massage her temples. “Apparently no’. Apparently, the wee rabble-rouser has figured out how to slip away with each of us assuming he’s with the other. Like now, for instance.”

The nurse was becoming flustered. “I swear, milady. I thought he was with ye. I thought ye’d taken him to the river to swim again—”

Raina lifted one hand to wave off her objections. “I should’ve had this talk with ye immediately after I learned of his shenanigans, but I was…distracted.”

Distracted by a dance with a duke, and what she’d learned after that dance.

I was going to ask you to be my mistress.

I would’ve agreed.

Damnation!

“I’m sorry, Lady Raina,” the nurse said quietly. “I understand if ye dinnae want me to work with Ewan after such a breach of trust—”

Raina waved away her objections with another sigh. “I’m as much to blame as ye are, for making assumptions. Let us find the lad, and together we’ll explain how this is no’ acceptable behavior. He’s the one who set out to fool us both, and he deserves a punishment.”

Annie offered a relieved smile. “Aye, milady. We’ll put the fear of God in him!”

Nodding, Raina rose to her feet and offered a hand to her son’s nurse. “Ye look up here, and perhaps in the servants’ quarters, and I’ll begin the search downstairs.”

She might’ve said more, but a knock interrupted her.

They both turned to the nursery door as it opened and one of the footmen stuck in a head, looking relieved to have found her. “Lady Raina, you have a visitor downstairs.”

Now? Who?

She wanted to snap out the question, but instead, she sighed and glanced at Annie. “Aye, and then I’ll begin the search.” She gestured to the footman. “Would ye please stay and help my son’s nurse look for him? I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The man was already agreeing as Raina hurried out of the nursery and down the stairs. Who would’ve sent a footman to fetch her? Her friends were already in the manor—unless they’d gone on some adventure and wanted her to join them? But then the footman wouldn’t have called one of her friends—who were also guests—a visitor.

The explanation awaited her in the foyer.

Raina skidded to a stop on the upper landing, her skirts bunched in her hands, as she realized who waited for her inside the front door.

The Duke of Cashingham was waving off the butler’s attempts to get him to wait in a parlor and was clutching a man’s hat in front of him, while still wearing his own on his head.

He looked up and saw her. Raina would like to claim there were sparks between them when their eyes met, or something, and he did hesitate…but then he bounded up the stairs fast enough to cause her to step backward.

His expression… She’d never seen him like this. Almost frantic, if such a word could be applied to a man who normally kept himself strictly under control. Was he here for her?

He halted in front of her and waved the hat under her nose. “Tell me he’s here,” he barked out. “Oh God, Raina. Tell me he’s here.”

“Who?” She snatched the hat from him, turning it over in her hands. “Is this yers?”

“Matthew is missing.”

It was the way he said the words, bleak and hopeless, that had her gaze darting back to his. The pain in his eyes caused her to catch her breath, and her lips formed the word “Matthew?” without any sound emerging.

Then his hands were on her upper arms, his grip strong. “Tell me he’s here, Raina. Tell me he’s run here to be with Ewan.” His voice was harsh, full of pain.

“Did he miss Ewan as much as Ewan missed him?” Raina managed, her own tears pricking at the memory, and at the sight of this man’s agony.

The man she loved.

The lads she loved.

“He was heartbroken when I told him we wouldn’t be joining you at the river again.” His grip tightened. “That was days ago, but this morning— Oh God!”

His voice cracked, and he hung his head, although he kept his hold on her as if it was the only thing that mattered. Instinctively, Raina dropped the hat by her side and lifted one hand to Cash’s cheek.

“He’s missing?” A suspicion curled through her mind, and her heart began to pound.

“Tell me he’s here,” Cash croaked.

It nearly broke her heart, but Raina had to shake her head, even knowing he couldn’t see it.

“Matthew’s no’ here, Cash,” she admitted, and before he could do more than suck in a breath, she continued, adding, “And Ewan is missing as well.”

His head jerked up, piercing her with an intense, inquisitive stare. “He is? Are you—”

He broke off the question, and Raina ached to know what he’d intended to ask.

Instead though, he straightened, as if this news had revitalized him. “I was hoping Matthew was here, but afraid…” He shook his head, then jerked his chin at the hat she held, her other hand still cupping the side of his face. “I found that in the middle of the corridor outside his rooms. I was afraid it belonged to whoever had taken him.”

Taken him?

Shocked, Raina lifted the hat once more to study it. It seemed ordinary, if fine. “Why would someone want to take…?”

“He’s a duke’s heir,” Cash reminded her dully, releasing her arms and stepping away from her.

Raina dropped her chin. “Of course,” she whispered.

Of course, he was a duke.

It was easier to study the hat than to look up at him, although she wasn’t really seeing it.

“What are the odds both lads were taken?” she murmured.

“I wondered if they were together—”

“Oh, I say! That’s my hat, isn’t it?”

The new voice jerked Raina’s attention upward once more, to find a grinning man hurrying toward them. It took a moment to recognize him as the Marquess of Dorset, Clementine’s betrothed. The man was already reaching for the hat she held.

“Excellent show!” He beamed as he turned the hat over in his hands, his fingers checking the brim. “I’ve been looking for this for weeks, ever since that cheeky little lad ran off with it.”

Raina’s eyes were wide. “Ewan stole this hat? Ye’re certain it was this hat?”

“Of course!” With a cocky grin, Dorset settled it atop his head. “It’s my favorite hat. I wouldn’t forget what it looked like. Damned fine, don’t you think? Thank you very much!”

The man strolled off down the corridor, whistling merrily, as Raina turned wide-eyed to Cash. The man shook his head.

“Dorset took Matthew?”

“Nay!” She lunged for him, latching onto his arm in an attempt to get him to understand. “Ewan has been filching things from members of the house party. Dorset’s hat, Melanie’s cigarette case, books, a painting, a handkerchief…”

When he still didn’t seem to understand, she shook him slightly, feeling the strength in the coiled muscles of his forearms.

“Do ye no’ see? If Dorset’s hat—which Ewan stole weeks ago—was outside Matthew’s rooms…”

“Then Ewan must be at Cashingham,” he finished in a whisper, his gaze on her lips.

“Aye, or somehow he’s been passing his treasures to Matthew. The lads may be working together on this for some reason!”

“Is it possible?” he murmured, then shook his head. “Matthew said something to me recently about a fort—”

“Aye!” she interrupted excitedly, remembering a conversation with her son weeks ago. “Ewan said something similar. Is it possible they’ve been sneaking away to collude without either of us kenning?”

Heaven knew it wouldn’t be the first time Ewan had escaped her care and his nurse’s attention by making each think he was with the other.

She watched Cash’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed once, then twice. Finally, he nodded.

“Matthew has been heartbroken at the thought of not being allowed to see Ewan. I suspect you are correct, Lady Raina.”

Lady Raina.

There’d been a time when he’d called her by her given name, and she’d called him Cash. But this was a reminder of what they were to one another now.

Just two concerned parents.

“Come along,” she said softly. “Let us return to Cashingham. I’ve set the servants to searching for Ewan here—”

“And I for Matthew at home,” he interrupted.

“Aye, but we ken Ewan’s treasures are at Cashingham, and if the two have been meeting behind our backs, it is likely they are together.”

He nodded, a harsh jerk of his head, and swallowed again as he pulled away from her touch. “Then let us hurry,” he called as he trotted down the stairs toward the front door.