She weighed the possibilities. The ruby necklace was clear proof of her perfidy. If she could retrieve it without much cost to her honour, it would be worth the attempt. Of course, there was a chance that he would deny her.
He saw the suspicion in her eyes. ‘You needn’t fear. I swear that you shall have the thing back before the clock strikes twelve. And I do not expect physical intimacy. Not yet, at any rate. But if you think you can toy with me, or trick me in some way, the price for the necklace may be much higher the next time I offer it.’
What was she to do? It was not really such a great sacrifice to go to a ball. Although she hated Barton, it would do her reputation no real harm. ‘Very well. I will attend.’
He laughed, again. It was a cold sound, short and brittle like cracking ice. ‘Excellent. I shall have the pleasure of your company, and you shall have your necklace.’
He leaned closer, the laughter gone from his voice. ‘And you will have learned a valuable lesson. When things go my way, I am happy and reward those around me. Rewards are so much better than punishment, are they not? I find that training a woman is not much different than training a hound. It all begins with the smallest act of obedience. Once a man has achieved that, he is well on the road to becoming a master.’ There was a half-smile of satisfaction on his face, as though his eventual victory was a foregone conclusion.
‘You will find, Lord Barton, that I am not some lapdog to be easily brought to heel. You have won in this. But that is all. Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for your ball tomorrow. I wish to look my best, so that you may remember me well, for it will be the last time that you see me. If you please.’ She gestured to the door.
He rose, indolently, and proceeded out of the room, leaving the air around her bitterly cold.
Constance waited in the drawing room of the London townhouse of the current Duke of Wellford. She had no right to feel the wave of possessiveness that she was feeling towards the house and its contents.
It did not belong to her, after all. It had been her husband’s home long before she married him, but never truly hers. She had seen to the care and cleaning of it, of course. She had entertained guests in this very room. She had chosen the furnishings, and the food. She had hired and fired the servants.
And now, after twelve years in residence, and only a year away, she was a visitor. The butler who had greeted her was not familiar. When crossing the entrance hall, she caught sight of a footman she had hired herself. He had almost smiled when he’d seen her. Almost. And then there had been a flash of pity, before he went back to his duties, and treated her with the excessive formality due a ranking guest, and not a member of the family.
And to add to the discomfort, Freddy left her to wait. She had informed him that morning that she’d planned to visit, but when she arrived he was not in attendance, having decided to go riding in Hyde Park with his friends.
Robert had often railed against the folly of keeping horses in town. To keep the beasts fed, groomed and stabled was disproportionately expensive, when compared to the amount of time he had to ride while residing in the city. Apparently, the new duke had no such concerns.
Constance drummed her fingers against the small gilt table beside the settee, then folded her hands in her lap, willing them to be still. It was best to marshal her patience before Freddy arrived, if she wished to greet him pleasantly and keep him in good humour. She would make no ground in securing money or deed if she angered him by censuring his behaviour.
Especially if she must admit to him that she’d pawned the family jewels to pay the butcher’s bill. He would see such behaviour as a weakness in her own character, and not his own for denying her funds and leaving her in need. She had learned from past discussions that, although Freddy was nearly useless at his best, if she angered him or questioned his judgement he could be even worse.
She had refused a servant’s offer of refreshment for the third time before Freddy deigned to grace her with his presence, still in his riding coat. The smell of horses followed him into the room, and she noticed, with distaste, that there was mud from the stable still on his boot. He was tracking it on the Aubusson.
Not her Aubusson, she reminded herself. And not her problem. Someone would clean it. It did not matter.
‘Aunt Constance, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ There was a moment’s awkwardness as he greeted her, and remembered that he was her better, and not a guest in her house.
‘I wish it were only for pleasure that I am visiting, your Grace.’ She rose to greet him, dropping a respectful curtsy.
‘Please, Constance. Call me Freddy.’ There was still the touch of a little boy’s pleading as he said it. ‘You can, you know. I want you to treat this as though it were your home. It can be your home in truth, if you wish. Lord knows, I could use a woman with a level head to run the household for me.’
And how could she tell him that she could not bear to? The memories of Robert were still fresh in her mind. The knowledge that the servants were no longer hers to command, and that she could, and should be, displaced when Freddy took a wife of his own—she tried not to shudder at the thought.
‘You know I must not, Freddy. It is no longer my place. It would be far better were you to find a wife to take the house in hand.’
He scoffed. ‘Settle down so soon? Surely there is time for that later. I am just learning to enjoy the advantages of the title. A wife would spoil it all.’
She dreaded to think what advantages he had discovered that would be so hindered by a wife. ‘It is your duty, you know,’ she reminded, as gently as possible.
Freddy shook his head like a stubborn child. ‘All you ever talk of is duty, Aunt Constance. There is more to life than doing one’s duty.’
‘Duty is much a part of your position, Freddy. You have a responsibility to your King, to your tenants, to your servants.’ She hoped that the responsibility to herself was implied, and that he would not make her beg for her allowance.
‘Well, yes. I suppose. But Parliament is not currently in session. So there is one thing I needn’t worry about. And the tenants take care of themselves, for the most part.’
She resisted the urge to point out that they never seemed to manage it, when her husband was alive. ‘But there is still the matter of the collecting of rents, and the paying of bills, and making sure that all your financial obligations are met.’ And there was a broad enough hint, if he cared to take it.
‘But it is a tiresome business to worry over every little detail, when the sun is shining and one is aching for a gallop.’ Although Freddy’s dirty boots had come home, his mind was still on horseback in the park.
‘An estate manager, or man of business, can take care of such things. It would leave you with less to worry about.’
‘But, Aunt Constance, I am not worried now.’ As Freddy smiled, it was evident that her financial problems had in no way touched him. ‘And being duke is not so hard as all that, I’m sure. With a little practice, I can manage the estates on my own, just as Uncle Robert did.’
Constance fought the urge to inform Freddy how distant his abilities were from those of his uncle. She took a deep breath, and tried a different way. ‘I am sure you are right, Freddy. Once you have held the title for a while, you will have everything set to rights. But I must admit, right now, that I was rather hoping we could deal with the part of the estate that concerns my allowance. It worries me greatly, that I have not received this month’s cheque, and in the past, the amount—’ she took another breath and rushed through the next words ‘—has not been sufficient to cover expenses.’
‘You know,’ said Freddy, as though the thought had just occurred to him, ‘that if you were to live in the dower house of the manor, your expenses would not be so very great.’
‘They are not great now, I assure you. I have made what economies I can.’ A year of mutton instead of lamb,