Miss Fairfax's Notorious Duke
Author
Eva Shepherd
Reads
15.1K
Chapters
24
Chapter One
Joshua Huntingdon, the Duke of Redcliff, frowned at his reflection in the tarnished mirror, then laughed. Whatever had happened to him last night was sure to make an interesting tale. Unfortunately, he would not be the one doing the telling as he had absolutely no idea what had occurred and how he had come to be dressed in this curious attire.
He had left home wearing his black evening suit, with its swallowtail jacket, white shirt, white tie and a maroon waistcoat with embroidered gold thread. Somehow, during the evening he had changed into worn, brown moleskin trousers, scuffed leather boots and a faded, collarless shirt that had probably once been brown but was now an insipid, washed-out shade of puce.
On many a night he had lost his shirt at gambling, but never before had he literally done so. Perhaps some lucky workman was now either dressed as inappropriately as himself or had exchanged his clothing for a tidy sum at the nearest pawnshop.
Or maybe his clothing got mixed up as a result of an encounter of a more amorous kind. He did have a vague recollection of a rather comely lass offering some interesting suggestions to him on the many and varied ways she could make the night a particularly memorable one. If he had agreed to her offer, then he was afraid she had failed in her promise, as he had no memory of what had occurred. However, it would explain why he had taken off his clothes, although not why he had dressed himself in some other man’s.
He looked around the empty gambling house, still bearing the signs of last night’s revelries. Chairs and glasses were overturned, and the air carried the stale fug of cigar, cigarette and pipe smoke and spilt alcohol. A few snoring men were slumped in corners, and an elderly woman was slopping water on the floor from a grey metal bucket, in an attempt to bring some semblance of order to the disarray.
Moments earlier he had been one of those snoring men adding to the discordant sounds, and he suspected he might have contributed in no small way to the overturned chairs, spilt drinks and abandoned empty bottles that littered the room.
He decided to let his fellow former revellers sleep it off rather than wake them to see if they could explain what had happened to him. They looked even the worse for wear than himself and could probably not recall how they had got into that state, never mind explain what had happened to anyone else. Instead, he picked up what was presumably now his flat cap, placed it on his head and smiled one more time at his incongruous reflection.
Passing the charlady he reached into his pockets, found a few coins and placed them in her hand.
She stared at the coins, then tried to hand them back to him. ‘That’s kind of you, but are you sure you’ve got enough to get yourself to work? I wouldn’t want to see you go short on my account.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’m afraid I might be partially responsible for some of this mayhem you’re clearing up, and after last night I could do with a walk in the fresh air to clear my head.’
She sent him a gap-toothed smile. ‘Bless you.’
Her smile warmed his heart and was worth far more than the few pence he had tipped her, especially as she thought he was a working man about to start his day’s labour, and not a worthless aristocrat who was ending his night of carousing. A man whose only plan for the day was to get some sleep before he repeated the whole thing the next night. He scowled quickly, somewhat ashamed of his pointless life, then doffed his hat to the hard-working woman, who had gone back to her cleaning and left the gambling house.
The light hit him like a punch to the head. Was the sun always this bright? Even in the narrow alleyway it burned into his eyes and reflected painfully off the red bricks and cobblestones. Blinking, he looked up and down the back street and tried to orientate himself.
Last night he had started out at one or other of his clubs. That much he was sure of. He had a hazy recollection of climbing into someone’s packed carriage and travelling across London, with a young lady on his lap, if he remembered correctly. What was her name again? Minnie? Maisie? Whoever she was, she must have been a beauty because he had a vague idea he might have invited her, along with her equally beauteous friends, to his estate in Devon. Then what? He could recall spilling out onto the pavement in front of another drinking establishment, but after that, nothing.
He looked up at the sign hanging above the door of the gambling house. The Queen Victoria. The sign meant nothing to him. There were many such establishments in London named after the reigning queen, although he suspected none were as lacking in majestic dignity as the one he’d just left.
It seemed for now, last night and the reason why he was dressed in such a manner was to remain a mystery. He wandered up the alleyway and turned into a busy commercial area, where businesses were already open, women carrying wicker baskets were doing their daily shop, horses and carts laden with goods were making deliveries and people with a purpose in life were getting on with whatever it was that people with a purpose in life did.
A few hansom cabs rattled past, but none of the drivers bothered to try to get his attention. That was novel. Usually an aristocrat walking home would be an irresistible fare not to be missed. Perhaps he should take it as a sign that he really did need to walk off the excesses of last night, whatever they might be, and attempt to clear his head.
By the time he arrived in Piccadilly he was none the wiser on how he’d come to be dressed in workman’s clothing, but the morning air had revived him somewhat and he was looking forward to the hearty breakfast Cook always provided for him after one of his more raucous nights.
Eggs, sausages, bacon... Joshua could almost taste them and it was exactly what he needed to soak up the remaining effects of the night before.
That sense of well-being died as he approached his town house. A familiar carriage glided down the tree-lined road and came to a halt at his doorstep. Aunt Prudence.
Thankfully, she had driven straight past him and had not noticed that the rather scruffy workman who was incongruously walking down the quiet, immaculate street was none other than her reprobate nephew.
Joshua watched from the corner as the footman opened the carriage door and lowered the steps, and his imperious aunt disembarked. The last thing he felt like right now was a lecture from Aunt P. In fact, there was never a time when he felt like a lecture from that formidable lady. He’d been receiving the same lecture for the last ten years, since he acquired the Dukedom at the age of twenty, and the crux of it never changed. He needed to find a wife. He needed to change his ways. He needed a duchess to sort him out. He needed to settle down and produce an heir.
His shoulders slumped as he continued walking. The sooner he got the lecture over and done with, the sooner he could have his breakfast and get some sleep. Then, fully refreshed, he could repeat last night all over again, and again the following night. He released a dejected sigh, then forced himself to straighten up. Partying was what he did best and was hardly reason to feel jaded. It must be the effect of whatever happened last night, or his reaction to seeing Aunt P so early in the morning.
His walking came to another abrupt halt. Lady Gwendolyn Stanhope stepped down from the carriage and followed his aunt up the path. Joshua did an about turn and walked off in the other direction. ‘I’m doing this for your sake, Lady Gwendolyn,’ he muttered to himself as he increased his pace and rushed around the corner.
His pace accelerated until he found himself running. He needed to put as much distance between himself and what awaited him inside his home as humanly possible. It was not a selfish action. Well, it was a selfish action, but not entirely. He was saving Lady Gwendolyn and all the other debutantes who pursued him from a fate that none of them deserved.
Like so many other young women, Lady Gwendolyn thought marriage to a duke would be a dream come true. How these young ladies could be so deluded never failed to amaze Joshua. He was quite obviously not good marriage material, and the state of him this morning was proof of that. And yet the matchmaking mothers and his aunt kept foisting these innocent young things on him, hoping one would stick. And the innocent young things were just as bad. They were happy to turn a blind eye to all his excesses simply because of his title.
But he knew better. He had seen how his father had treated his mother. As everyone kept reminding him, he was as much a rogue as his father, so the least he could do was save some poor woman from the life his mother had endured.
Joshua slowed down and resumed walking, albeit at a brisk pace. If Lady Gwendolyn and those other young ladies knew the future he was saving them from they would be thanking him from the bottom of their hearts. Instead, the mothers of overlooked daughters scorned him and Aunt P chastised him for not taking a wife, rather than admiring him, as she should, for his integrity in protecting the young ladies from a life of misery.
A hansom cab came to a halt beside him, not to ask if Joshua needed a ride, but to drop off a somewhat shamefaced young man who proceeded to sneak up the pathway to his home, his shoes in his hands, his tie and top hat askew.
‘To Paddington Station, thank you, my man,’ Joshua called up to the driver as he climbed into the cab.
‘I’ll be seeing the colour of your money first,’ the driver said, gripping his whip in what was presumably a threatening manner.
Joshua reached into his trouser pockets, turned them out and found them empty. He looked over his shoulder. Should he run back to the house, sneak in the back way to get some money, maybe a change of clothes, all the while avoiding Aunt P and Lady Gwendolyn, and the spies he was sure his aunt had placed among his servants? Just the thought of doing so was causing his head to ache.
The driver turned in his seat and flicked the reins.
‘Wait, wait,’ Joshua called out, patting the pockets of his jacket and coming up with a few coins in answer to his prayers. ‘I have money.’
The driver pulled up the horse and reached down to take the coins. ‘All right then, mate, ’op in.’
A few days at his Devon estate was just what Joshua needed to recover from whatever had happened last night and to escape from his aunt and Lady Gwendolyn. The social season was over, thank goodness, so his aunt would no longer be trying to force him to attend balls and various soirées. But it seemed now she was going to start dragging the unmarried young ladies to the sanctuary of his town house. Yes, what he needed was a day or two in the country to recover and gather his wits so he could continue his war of resistance against his aunt. And maybe Maisie, or Minnie—or was it Marjorie?—and her friends would accept his invitation and make his time in the countryside that little bit more enjoyable. Those young ladies were most certainly not marriage-seeking debutantes and he loved them all the more for being so.
He arrived at the bustling Paddington Station, where the pandemonium of raised voices, hissing steam trains, wailing children, busy porters and constant movement assaulted his senses. The sooner he got out of this noisy confusion and to the quiet of the countryside the better.
He removed the last of his coins, handed them to the ticket agent and bought a seat in third class. Entering the train, he paused at the doorway of the carriage, which was packed to the gills with people and luggage. It was a short distance from the spacious first-class compartments he was used to, but it was as if he had entered a different world.
His fellow travellers moved along to make room for him on the hard wooden bench. After an exchange of polite greetings, he attempted to get comfortable, to block out the sound of babies crying, children making those noises that children inevitably made and the crush of bodies in the cramped carriage so he could get a bit of much-needed sleep.
Irene Fairfax waited anxiously on the wooden platform as the train pulled into the Seaton station, filling the area with gushing steam. Doors flew open and the almost empty station was immediately full of people, noise and activity. First-class passengers strolled down the station while porters rushed around them, organising their trunks to be taken to waiting carriages. Second-class passengers retrieved their cases from the luggage carriage, while third-class passengers hauled their bags out of the train.
She spotted a man who looked like Joshua. Madeline had described him as tall, clean-shaven, with tousled blond hair and brown eyes. She’d also said he was exactly what Irene needed. She watched as he lifted a small girl down from the carriage then chatted with her parents. Irene doubted she had ever seen a more sublime example of masculine beauty. Madeline was right. He was perfect.
He tipped his cloth cap to the couple and strolled down the platform. Despite his workman’s clothes and dishevelled appearance, he had a noble bearing and a swaggering confidence that made him stand out from the milling crowd. Oh, yes, Madeline was certainly right. He was exactly what she needed for what she had in mind.
Under normal circumstances she would avoid handsome, confident men as if they carried the plague. Which to her mind they almost did. They were certainly capable of causing destruction and acute emotional damage to young ladies foolish enough to fall for their well-tested flattery and flirtation. That was a lesson she had learned in the first social season and one she now heeded well. But right now, only a man who was the epitome of masculine beauty would do.
‘Joshua,’ she called out, drawing his attention.
He turned in her direction, and looking over the heads of the crowd, frowned in confusion.
‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ she said, pushing through the mass of people and extending her hand in what she hoped was a professional manner. ‘I’m Irene, Miss Irene Fairfax.’
He raised his eyebrows as if requiring further explanation.
‘Madeline’s friend. She told me to meet you at the station.’
‘Madeline,’ he exclaimed, nodding thoughtfully as if she had just revealed one of life’s mysteries. Irene had no time to contemplate this odd reaction especially as her attention was diverted by the smile that followed.
A glorious smile that caused her heart to foolishly skip a beat. What was wrong with her? It was obviously a well-practised smile, designed to enchant. Well, he was about to learn such tactics had the opposite effect on her.
‘I’ve a cab waiting outside and it’s not far to my cottage.’
‘Your cottage?’
‘Yes, my cottage.’
He might be as handsome as Adonis, but it seemed Madeline’s brother was a bit dim. Not that that mattered. She had asked for a man who looked good, not one who was intellectually stimulating.
‘Yes. Didn’t Madeline tell you? That’s where I’m living at the moment.’
‘Hmm. Sorry, I’ve had what was probably a decidedly peculiar evening and today has been no better. It has made me a bit forgetful. But lead on, Miss Irene Fairfax. Take me to your cottage.’
He gave a small laugh as if this was all a jolly good jape. It was rather strange behaviour, but Madeline did say her brother was a bit of a bohemian who lived a decidedly outlandish lifestyle. Such odd behaviour was perhaps to be expected. You would hardly expect a conventional man to agree to do what she wanted, so she would just have to accept a bit of eccentricity.
They walked towards a waiting Hansom cab and he began patting his pockets, but Irene held up her hands. ‘The cab is paid for and it’s only a short trip.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, taking her hand and helping her up the steps to the cab. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit short of funds but I will repay you as soon as I can.’
‘There’s no need,’ she said, frowning. Of course she would pay for the cab and intended to compensate him well for his time and for agreeing to do what so many men would be horrified by, even insulted, if she dared to ask them.
They drove in silence and he appeared to be about to doze off. She frowned. She needed a man who was alert and energetic. At the thought of what she was about to ask him to do, the churning in her stomach increased. As they drove through the quiet village she swallowed repeatedly to try to relieve the tightness in her throat and reminded herself of why she had to take this extreme action.
She had no choice. She had to do this. And if she was to get the most out of their time together she needed to be calm and composed.
There is no need to be nervous. No need at all. Men do this sort of thing every day and nobody thinks there is anything wrong with it.
She looked out the window, at the respectable people going about their daily activities, people who would be scandalised if they knew what she was up to.
No, she would not care about that. If it wasn’t for society’s appalling prejudices she wouldn’t have had to pay for her friend’s brother to come all the way from London. She wouldn’t have to behave in such a furtive way but could be completely open.
She sat up straighter and lifted her chin. She had no need to be nervous. Society should not treat women the way she was being treated. She should be able to behave just like a man and no one should judge her for it.
They were brave words. It was just a shame her churning stomach did not appear to be taking heed of them.
The cab pulled up in front of her cottage. He climbed out and took her hand once more and helped her down. He really was handsome. Perhaps too handsome. If he wasn’t so damn good-looking then she was sure she wouldn’t be quite so nervous. But then, a handsome man was what she needed, and Madeline had assured her he would do as she asked him and give her what she needed.
She opened the door to her cottage and he followed her into the parlour.
Feeling too uncomfortable to make eye contact, she pointed to the silk screen in the corner. ‘You can undress over there. Please let me know when you’re completely naked.’
