The Duchess Page 8

  It was an odd feeling knowing that it would have been her first winter properly out in Society, if she had come out the previous summer, as she should have if her father had been well. She would have been presented to all the important families in Society, and at court, and met all the eligible bachelors who could have pursued her. Her name and lineage would have been enough to satisfy many of them, even without her father’s fortune. And she might have fallen in love with someone truly suitable. Instead she was unknown to many, had been sequestered in the country and disowned by her brother, and had become a servant. The world that should have belonged to her was out of her reach now, and always would be. Not being introduced to Society had made all the difference to her future. She was doomed now to become a governess, and probably spend the rest of her life unmarried. Tristan had condemned her to an unsuitable marriage, if any, and deprived her of the heritage she was born to. He had virtually destroyed not only her present life, but her future, by his actions.

  Seeing him at the Fergusons’ Curzon Street home, and hearing the lie he had told about her being merely a distant cousin, helped her to let go of any hope of returning to her old life and world one day, or even Belgrave, the home where she grew up. She knew her father would have been devastated by it, and she was even more grateful now for the money he had given her before he died. It would at least assure a comfortable future for her, even if she remained an old maid. She had vowed never to touch the money unless she was in dire need. There was no question in her mind, she could never turn to either of her brothers, no matter what happened to her. She tried to make the best of it, and focus on the life that was available to her now. She knew she would never have any other.

  She was often pensive as she thought about her future, and wondered what would become of her. She could stay with the Fergusons, but it was unlikely she would stay forever. They weren’t warm people, and felt none of the traditional responsibilities for their servants. Harry Ferguson was too nouveau riche to know the difference, and all he had was money. His wife considered those she employed as a convenience, but saw none of them as people, although her own parents had run a proper household, which she considered an enormous and unnecessary burden. Angélique knew that she couldn’t count on them, and once the children got older, and the boys left for Eton, she would be dismissed, unless the new baby was a girl. But even that was time limited. At best she would have another five years with them, if they liked her well enough to keep her. But they had no particular allegiance to their nannies, and Eugenia had no great interest in her, except to be able to say that their nanny was distantly related to a duke. But that might not be enough for them to keep her, if they tired of her for some reason. After what her own brother had done to her, Angélique was well aware that nothing was sure in life, and her whole world could turn upside down in an instant. The only thing she could count on was her father’s money in the locked trunk under her bed.

  While in London, Angélique went to the park with the children every day, and she chatted with the other nannies she met there. Most of them were older than she was, and a few had as many charges, but in that case, they usually had an undernanny or nursery maid with them, while Angélique scrambled single-handedly after her four charges.

  She discovered that there was a whole hierarchy among the nannies in the park, their importance dictated by that of the family they worked for, and their titles. Almost all of them used the surname of their employers to identify themselves. She had not only lost the life and world she had grown up with, but for the time being, even her family name as well. She had become an anonymous person. Tristan had stolen her identity as well.

  She wrote to Mrs. White twice from London, and was excited to get several letters from her in return. They carried greetings from Hobson, Mrs. Williams, and several of the maids. Angélique had written to her about the children, the Fergusons, her duties, and how much she was enjoying London, and how splendid her employers’ home was. Its newness struck some as vulgar—it had none of the dignity of centuries of tradition at Belgrave—but she liked the ease, comfort, and conveniences of a lavish modern home. Everything was new to her. And she told their housekeeper in her letters that she had seen her brother and Elizabeth, and that they had barely acknowledged her and said she was a distant cousin, which Mrs. White thought was a disgrace.

  “The poor child is out in the world on her own,” Mrs. White said in confidence to Hobson the night she got the letter. She told him about His Grace denying his own sister, and hearing it brought tears to the old man’s eyes, thinking of how her father would have felt about it. They both agreed that it would have broken his heart, although Hobson suspected that he had feared it in the end. He knew his sons well, and their deep resentment of their sister.

  Markham, the valet, had just handed in his notice, and said he was going to the Continent to retire. To Hobson, he had admitted that he could not bear serving the new duke, knowing what he had done to his half-sister, and felt he had to leave. And the head footman was going to be elevated to valet once he left. Tristan had not tried to detain Markham—he had been too devoted to his father, which annoyed him, and he preferred a younger man anyway.

  And Mrs. White reported in her next letter that there had been a great many changes to the house since Angélique left. The new duchess had moved furniture from room to room, and had ordered several new pieces to be made in London. She was replacing draperies, re-covering existing furniture, and they had purchased a spectacular new chandelier in Vienna. She was spending her husband’s new fortune very liberally, on making Belgrave grander than it had ever been. Mrs. White also mentioned that Elizabeth had taken her daughters to Paris, to order new gowns for them, and several for herself, befitting their new rank and position and the balls they intended to give at the castle in the spring. They were planning to lead a very grand life in their magnificent new home.

  It made Angélique’s heart ache to read the letters, and hear about how Tristan and Elizabeth were transforming her home. It made her miss her father even more, but she was happy to have news from Mrs. White and Hobson—they were the only family she had left. And the changes to the house they talked about sounded vulgar to her. Tristan had been waiting all his life for this, and was taking full advantage of it.

  Eugenia saw even less of the children while they were in London—she was much too busy. And at last in mid-February, her husband insisted that she and the children return to Hampshire. She was six and a half months pregnant by then, and no matter how viciously she corseted herself, her condition was much too evident for her to stay in town and continue going out socially. She hated to leave, and begged him to let her stay. But he reminded her that it would become shockingly inappropriate soon, and people were already mentioning it to him. With great reluctance, Eugenia acceded to his wishes and went back to Hampshire in the third week of February, to sit out the rest of her pregnancy there, which she found intolerably boring. Angélique wondered if she would see more of the children then, with nothing else to do, but she didn’t. She organized dinner parties for her women friends, and card parties. Eugenia’s mother came to stay. She was a rather ordinary woman, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, who had married Eugenia’s father for his title and fortune. And she was every bit as pretentious and arrogant as her daughter, and had as little interest in her grandchildren as their mother. They never came to the nursery to see them. And Angélique was left to her own devices to entertain them. They had grown very attached to her by then, and she was very fond of them. And Emma had become delightfully fluent in French.

  Mr. Ferguson didn’t return to Hampshire until six weeks after his wife’s return, in early April, despite her complaints about it. He arrived with friends from London, and by then, Eugenia declared herself ready to go mad in the country, during her confinement. There had been rumors below stairs of the parties Harry had been giving in London, and the women who’d been seen there. Fortunately, Eugenia was unaware of her husband’s escapades, which
was just as well, since she had a fierce temper, and no one wanted to upset her now, right before the baby was due to be born.

  Eugenia’s mother left as soon as Harry arrived, since they were not fond of each other, and Harry took off with his friends a week after his return to make the rounds of the house parties nearby, while Eugenia spent the next month walking in the gardens, resting, and waiting for the baby to arrive. She was anxious for it to come, so she could get back to London, and was planning to be there for the summer Season, and debutante balls in June and July. She envied Harry the parties he was attending at neighboring country homes, while she languished at home alone.

  “I wish this baby would hurry up and be born,” she said to Angélique with a look of boredom and irritation, when she ran into her playing with the children in the park. They had just been to the small lake to see the ducks and swans.

  “It won’t be long, madame,” Angélique said politely. Eugenia had gotten huge since they’d returned to Hampshire, and she was no longer corseting herself, and she said she couldn’t sleep at night. The weather had been unusually warm, and the children were enjoying playing outside with their nanny every day. Simon had been riding his pony, and Charles had just learned to walk, so he was keeping Angélique busy, dashing after him from morning till night.

  There was a baby nurse coming for the first month, due to arrive shortly, and a wet nurse, since Eugenia thought nursing babies was repulsive. And as soon as the baby nurse left, Angélique would take over. She was going to have her hands full until Simon left for Eton in September. The poor child was dreading it and had already told Angélique that he didn’t want to go, but there was no choice. It was too important to their social status to do otherwise.

  It was the end of April when Eugenia’s brother Maynard showed up, and Angélique met him for the first time, after hearing about him for months. He told his sister he needed a rest from London, but he was in fact escaping the latest scandal. He’d been dallying with a young girl, a banker’s daughter, and her father had found out. He was being talked about all over town. He had been pursuing her older sister, who had come out the previous year, and had switched his attentions to the younger girl, in secret, who was only fifteen. Her father was irate and had learned of their clandestine meetings from a maid. Her older sister was heartbroken, and their father had warned him that if he came near his younger daughter again, or in fact either of them, he would call for the police. Maynard had decided it was a good time to leave town. He was going on to visit friends in Derbyshire the following week, and stopped to see Eugenia in the meantime, and he planned to be back in London for the Season in June and July that his sister was also looking forward to.

  “So what have you been up to?” Eugenia asked him as they sat in lounge chairs on the terrace, drinking lemonade. His was laced with rum. Eugenia had given up strong drink until the baby was born, and said it made her feel ill. She’d heard none of the gossip and rumors from London, of his latest bad behavior.

  “Very little,” he said, sipping his drink and looking out at the garden. “London’s a bit tiresome at this time of year, so I decided to leave town.”

  “That sounds like you’ve been up to mischief,” she responded, smiling at him. “Anyone I know?” He was two years younger than she was, and never tired of causing trouble.

  “I hope not,” he said, laughing, thinking of the recent object of his affections, who he knew was much too young, but it had been fun for a little while. “Nothing serious. Just a minor flirtation.”

  “With someone’s wife?”

  “Of course not,” he said innocently. “A very pretty young girl.”

  “And?”

  “Her father got a bit upset about it. She’s rather young. It was quite harmless really.”

  “Maynard, you are a terror. Will you ever grow up?” she said, laughing at him.

  “Certainly not. What fun would that be?”

  “You’re right—behaving oneself is dreadfully boring. I can’t wait to go back to town after the baby. I won’t stay here long.” He was sure she wouldn’t, and he always enjoyed running into her at parties, and exchanging gossip with her. In some ways, they were very much alike, although he would never have wanted all those children. He had no idea why she had them, and assumed it was his brother-in-law’s idea, not his sister’s. He knew her better.

  They chatted about various people among their acquaintances in London, and he reported on the latest scandals and affairs, and then she went back up to her room for a rest, and he went for a stroll in the gardens, and was startled to run into Angélique coming out of the maze with the children. The youngest was strapped in a pram so he couldn’t get out, and she wouldn’t lose him in the maze or the garden. She had mastered the maze by then, and frequently led her charges through it. She literally crashed into him as they came out.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, straightening her starched cap, as Maynard looked down at her in surprise. He thought he had never seen a woman so pretty, and she was very graceful as she sprang out of his way, and she blushed as the children gathered around her. Angélique had no idea who he was or that guests had arrived. No one had told her. And she was surprised that Eugenia was receiving, in such an advanced condition, with the birth only a few weeks away, if the baby came on time.

  “Not at all,” Maynard said politely, smiling, as he looked her over closely and liked everything he saw. She was obviously the new nanny and a strikingly pretty girl, with a delicate, perfectly chiseled face. And the moment she spoke, he could tell that she was from a family of rank, and not a simple girl. “I had no idea that my niece and nephews have such a charming new nanny. I must visit them more often,” he said, teasing her, and she didn’t smile. From what he said, she knew instantly who he was, and all the warnings she’d heard about him came rapidly to mind.

  She dropped a formal curtsy to him and lowered her eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” she responded, and rounded up her charges, ready to go inside for tea and their bath.

  “Shall I come to visit you in the nursery?” he asked her, expecting a flirtatious answer, which she didn’t give him. She gave him a serious one, with a cold expression, as she stood behind the pram, looking as though she would run him down.

  “The children will be having tea and a bath shortly, and then it’s their bedtime,” she said firmly. And then she regretted what she’d said to him. It meant that the children would be in bed early, and if he showed up in the nursery, she wouldn’t have them around to protect her. She looked flustered as she began rolling the pram away with the children following.

  “See you later then,” he said with a suggestive tone, and she didn’t answer, but she told Helen about it when they were getting the tea tray ready.

  “What am I going to do if he shows up here tonight?” Angélique was panicked. There had been lust in his eyes as he looked her over.

  “He’s a bad one,” Helen said, shaking her head. “You’ve heard about the girl on the farm. Fifteen years old—she just had her baby last week. She broke her parents’ hearts, and he’ll never pay any attention to it or acknowledge it. It was a girl. She’ll never see him again for sure.” Helen said that Maynard had had several illegitimate children, and recognized none of them so far. And this one would be no different. He had no interest in the child or the mother, only in the fun he’d had with her for a brief time. The girl had heard nothing from him since their affair, when he’d spent a few days in Hampshire. And he knew there was a baby on the way. Her father had written to him in the fall, and Maynard never responded to the letter, and Mr. Ferguson had said there was nothing he could do about his brother-in-law. “Be sure you lock the nursery door tonight,” Helen told her, and Angélique assured her that she would. The two had grown friendlier in the past five months, although Angélique was closer to Sarah, the maid who had taken her under her wing the first night. And occasionally Helen minded the children so Angélique could have dinner downstairs with the others.
She always enjoyed it, and Mr. Gilhooley was happy to see her. He had heard from the housekeeper that she was doing well.

  Angélique and Helen served tea to the children, and then Angélique gave them each a bath. She read stories to them afterward, and had even found a children’s book for Simon and Emma in French, which they both liked. It was about a little boy and his dog. The dog gets lost, and the boy finds him again in the end.

  It was still light, as it often was now, when she put them to bed. The air was cool, but the days were getting longer. She sat with Helen in the nursery parlor for a few minutes, and then Helen went to her own room, and Angélique locked the main nursery door, as she had said she would. They didn’t want any surprise visitors that night, and the look that Eugenia’s brother had given her that afternoon had suggested to her that he wouldn’t hesitate to take what he wanted, and she was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

  Maynard was downstairs in the dining room with his sister having an early supper when Angélique put the children to bed. Harry was still staying with friends for a few more days. He was close enough to return quickly if the baby came. And Eugenia was happy to have her brother’s company for distraction.

  “You didn’t tell me that you have a very fetching new nanny,” he scolded her. “When did she arrive?” His sister raised an eyebrow at his question, although there was no denying that Angélique was a very pretty girl. Others had noticed it too, but no one with the lascivious look she saw in her brother’s eyes. It wasn’t new to her.

  “I don’t remember, sometime before Christmas. But Maynard darling, please don’t. She’s very good with the children, and we don’t need her leaving, right before the baby comes, or having one of her own in nine months. You’ll have to entertain yourself with someone else.” She looked at him sternly with a gleam in her eye. “She’s a bit of an interesting one though. She’s a distant cousin of Tristan Latham’s. Her mother was French. She’s an orphan.”