Page 3 of A Wicked Duke's Redemption
Leo felt a stab of pain at the words. He knew Mrs. Gunderson was right. Not only did the rumors paint him as his wife’s killer, but Leo knew his decision to flee to the continent and remain away for five years cast him in the worst possible light. Helookedlike his wife’s murderer, like a coward who had fled a deserved punishment. Leo sighed and poured more brandy for himself.
“I wish you were wrong,” he said.
“As do I.”
It all seemed so futile. His love for Lydia had changed nothing, and his absence had changed nothing. Most of these servants and his tenants knew nothing about which they spoke. They did not understand the grief he felt every single day of his life, not only separated from his dearest love but also accused of being her killer.
If these people wanted a monster, though, why fight it? Leo finished his brandy, placing the empty glass on his desk with more force than necessary. If they wanted a monster, he would give them one.
Chapter 2
“From your letters, Captain John sounds like a simply wonderful man!” said Violet Brewer. “I am so happy for you, Liza!”
The two young ladies walked alongside the road, arm in arm. Trees, laden with the green leaves of summer, lined their path and cast shade over the ground in elaborate patterns, as lovely as spider silk. Violet was the taller of the two. She was a slender woman with thick, red hair and unusual violet eyes.
Her clothes were clean and fit well, but they were not in the current style. When dressing in the mornings, Violet often felt as though she were an imposter attempting to dress like a grand lady. There had been no grand lady in her family for generations, though.
Violet’s dearest friend, Liza Petit, was a tiny woman with black hair and a delicate, elfish face. She was the daughter of a baron, who was well known for being a shrewd businessman. Some jokingly called him Baron Midas and claimed he could make even the worst investment into a fruitful one. On that day, she wore a well-tailored pale green gown.
“He is a wonderful man!” Liza agreed. “I could scarcely believe it when he proposed. What did I possibly do to deserve such a man as that?”
“What did you do?” Violet asked, laughing. “Why, you are a wonderful woman. It only makes sense that you would find a man as equally marvelous. I cannot imagine you being forced to settle for anything less.”
Color rose to Liza’s face. “I fear that you praise me too highly.”
“Nonsense. You do not praise yourself enough,” Violet said cheerfully. “It is a good match and even better that you love him!”
Liza sighed dreamily. “I never believed that I could feel so wonderfully happy.”
“You must write me often and tell me of all your adventures in London,” Violet said.
Liza’s betrothed Captain John Everleigh was the captain of a merchant ship, and the trading company which employed him expected him to live in London. Not only would Liza spend a great deal of time there, but she was also to accompany Captain John on most of his travels. Violet and Liza would likely be unable to enjoy one another’s company for several months. It would be different and difficult.
Violet and Liza had seen one another nearly every day since they were girls, and although Violet truly felt that her friend deserved only the best of everything, a dull ache curled in her chest when she thought of being alone in Essex, save for her parents. She had no other friends and few acquaintances.
“I will only be traveling with him until I have children,” Liza said. “Then, I shall remain in London, or perhaps, I can persuade my dear husband to purchase us a country house in Essex or Yorkshire. You can visit me whenever you like. That is, of course, assuming that you do not have a husband of your own by then. I imagine that you are next.”
Violet laughed. “Are you so certain about that?”
“Of course! Why, you are the most beautiful woman in Essex! I have heard on good account that many gentlemen have said so,” Liza said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I fear that you may find too many gentlemen attracted to your many charms. However, shall you choose which one you desire most of the lot?”
Violet smiled. She did not need a lot of gentlemen to choose from, only a single man who truly loved her. As a girl, Violet’s favorite pastime had been to slip away from her governess and sneak into her father’s library. She had plucked the old romances and fairy stories from her father’s shelves and hidden there behind the shelves of heavy volumes or beneath her father’s favorite chair by the fire.
As a child, her mind was filled with the tales of Lancelot and Guinevere, of Tristan and Isolde, and Romeo and Juliet. Even as a young lady of twenty years, Violet still held tightly to those old tales. Someday, she hoped that her prince would come and sweep her off her feet, preferably to place her atop a white stallion. And from there —
From there, Violet’s fantasies lost some clarity. Most of the modern novels seemed to conclude at the wedding, leaving the weddingnighta mystery. Violet had read only small, tantalizing details about what happened on those nights.
She had read of Lancelot sneaking into Queen Guinevere’s bed, so lost in the throes of passion that the good knight failed to notice that his hand was cut and that he bled onto the bedclothes. And she had read about Sir Gareth and Lady Lyonesse together, burning with desire and desperate to engage in conjugal felicity.
“Perhaps,” said Liza, oblivious to the strange heat which Violet felt curling inside her. “You should have them fight for the honor like the knights of old. That seems like something you would enjoy.”
Violet laughed and tried to force the thoughts away. Although Liza was her dearest friend, Violet knew there were certain subjects which could not be discussed in polite company, and the nature of wedding nights was one of them. “Maybe I would enjoy it a little,” Violet conceded.
The trees thinned as they came to a curve in the road. In the distance, the Duke of Farnham’s enormous house stood silhouetted in the sun. His house was built atop the tallest point in the countryside, looking over all the other valleys and hills. A cold shiver jolted through Violet, and she rubbed her arms, although the weather was not cold. Liza quickly averted her gaze.
Neither of them had seen the Duke of Farnham, but everyone in the countryside knew of his notorious reputation. The gossip said he was once a notorious rake, but once he married the late Duchess of Farnham, he seemed to be a changed man. He no longer frequented the bawdy houses or engaged in activities with the streetwalkers.
The Duke of Farnham seemed to have become the epitome of an honorable man, so Oxeburgh reacted with horror and astonishment when the young duchess was murdered. The village insisted that His Grace was to blame. There was no evidence of his alleged crime, but everyone knew that a duke’s faults were easily hidden.
