Ellen hugged Jamie closer as the curricle slowed and turned on to the winding drive that led to Rossenhall, the Duke’s principal seat. As a young girl she had been told many times that with her looks and her fortune she could marry into the peerage. Indeed, her admirers had included a marquess and more than one earl, but such a marriage had never interested her, even though the education she had received at Mrs Ackroyd’s Academy had made her eminently qualified for such an exalted position. Ellen had decided at a very early age that she would only marry for love and she had found that love with Max. It had not mattered a jot to her whether he was a poor soldier or a prince. Now, she felt a certain irony that after years spent avoiding society, she was returning to it as a duchess.
When the house finally came into view she began to wish she had chosen to travel in the elegant travelling barouche rather than arriving in an open carriage, with her face glowing from the fresh air and her hair windblown. It would have been a more fitting entrance for a duchess, but it was too late for regrets, so she turned her attention to her new home. The house stood proudly before them: a creamy grey Palladian mansion with two wings spreading out like open arms on either side of a central block, where two flights of curving stone steps ascended to the main entrance set beneath a pediment supported by four immense stone columns.
‘It has been altered significantly over the years,’ Max told her, as they approached. ‘The old house was rebuilt in the last century and the east and west wings added to make it more a more suitable residence for a duke.’
Even as he spoke the servants began to file out on to one set of steps to greet them.
‘I am glad the sun is shining,’ remarked Max as he brought the curricle to a halt before the entrance. ‘You are seeing the house at its best.’
There was no time for her to reply. Stevens had run to the horses’ heads and Max was already walking around to help her alight.
‘Give me the boy first.’ Jamie went to him willingly and once Max had settled him comfortably on one arm he reached out his hand to Ellen. ‘Welcome to your new home.’
Ellen accompanied the Duke up the curling steps, past the waiting servants who bowed or curtsied as they went by. With their son in his arms, Max was making it plain to everyone that this was his family and she was grateful. At the top of the steps stood a plump, rosy-cheeked woman in a spotless white cap and apron, whom he introduced as Mrs Greenwood, the housekeeper.
‘She will make you acquainted with the rest of the staff at some stage, I am sure.’ He turned to the black-coated figure standing beside the housekeeper. ‘And this is Perkins.’
The butler bowed low to Ellen.
‘Welcome to your new home, Your Grace.’ He straightened and addressed the Duke. ‘The Dowager Duchess is awaiting you in the drawing room. She asked that I show you in directly you arrived.’
‘Thank you, Perkins, but that will not be possible. First I must take my son to the nursery.’ He threw a glance at Ellen, his eyes glinting with amusement. ‘You see, I have learned something of a parent’s duties already. Come along.’
* * *
Some half an hour later Ellen and Jamie accompanied Max to the drawing room, where the Dowager Duchess was waiting for them. She looked to be only a few years older than Ellen and her thin frame was clad in black, unrelieved by any touch of colour. Her fair hair was simply dressed about her head and covered with a black cap, adding to the severity of her demeanour. Her haughty expression did not soften as Max made the introductions.
Since the Duke was holding Jamie’s hand, Ellen went forward and kissed the Dowager’s cheek, saying in her friendly way, ‘Please, call me Ellen, and I hope you will allow me to call you Dorcas.’
The Dowager stiffened at Ellen’s embrace and quickly drew away, turning to address Max.
‘And that is your son.’ Her pale blue eyes rested upon Jamie. ‘Your heir.’
‘Yes,’ Max smiled. ‘Let me present to you James, the Marquess of Dern.’
Dorcas sat down and held out her hands. ‘Well, James, have you a kiss for your aunt?’
Max chuckled as Jamie shrank against his leg. ‘Go along, young sir, she won’t bite you.’
Looking at Dorcas’s cold eyes and thin smile, Ellen was not so sure. She picked up her son and sat down with him on her knee.
‘I am afraid he is a little shy of strangers,’ she said, holding him close.
The Dowager ignored her.
‘When do you go to town, Maximilian? It is usual for a new duchess to be presented within days of her marriage. I know your case is a little exceptional, but you would not wish to be backward in your attentions.’
‘The Court has waited four years to see my Duchess,’ he replied, ‘another few months will not matter. We shall go to town in the spring.’
‘Really?’ Dorcas raised her fine brows. ‘And what does my new sister-in-law say to that? Ah, but I am forgetting,’ she continued swiftly, as Ellen opened her mouth to speak. ‘No doubt you welcome the delay, since you preferred to hide away, rather than take your place here as Maximilian’s wife.’
Ellen did not flinch from her cold stare. She knew Dorcas was trying to discompose her, but she would not allow that.
‘I am here now,’ she said quietly. ‘And I mean to stay.’
‘I dare say everything here will seem very strange to you,’ remarked the Dowager with a condescending smile. ‘Harrogate is so very far north and I understand you have been living in a very small way.’
‘Yes, my whole house in Paradise Row would fit into this chamber,’ said Ellen cheerfully. ‘I do hope I shall not be expected to clean it all myself.’
Max stifled a laugh at the Dowager’s shocked expression.
‘My wife is teasing you, Dorcas,’ he said, sending a frowning look at Ellen. ‘She is no stranger to large residences. I have seen her family home and it is a very substantial property, I assure you.’
‘But it is not a duke’s seat,’ Dorcas pointed out, clearly not amused.
The entry of Perkins caused a welcome distraction.
‘I took the liberty of ordering tea to be served,’ said Dorcas as the butler was followed by footmen carrying the elegant silver spirit kettle and trays full of porcelain. She added with a graciousness as false as her smile, ‘I hope you will forgive me, I realise that this should be your task now, Your Grace.’
‘Pray, call me Ellen. And there is nothing to forgive. There will be time enough for me to take up the reins.’ Ellen glanced at Max and a sudden memory surfaced. ‘However, I think His Grace might prefer coffee,’ she murmured. ‘Or, perhaps a tankard of ale after the journey?’
She saw his look of surprise.
‘Yes, I would. Ale for me.’
Ellen nodded at the butler, who bowed low.
‘It shall be done immediately, Your Grace, and if I may suggest, a cup of milk for the Marquess? It’s as fresh as can be, Cook having sent for it as soon as she set eyes on the young master.’
Jamie had been leaning against her, but now he sat up.
‘Milk? I would like that very much, if you please.’
He clasped his hands together and looked up so hopefully that the old retainer’s stately manner deserted him and he gave Jamie a fatherly smile.
‘Then you shall have one, my lord. His Grace was always partial to a cup of milk when he was a little boy.’
‘That will be all, Perkins!’ The Dowager Duchess’s shrill tones cut across the room. The butler’s countenance became an impassive mask once more and he withdrew silently. Dorcas shifted around to address Ellen. ‘If I may give you a word of advice, dear sister, the boy needs to learn what is due to his station. Servants will take advantage if he shows them too much deference.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Max. ‘The boy’s manners are very good.’ He glanced at Ellen, a reluctant grin tugging at his mouth. ‘He will have them all eating out of his hand before the week is out.’
Ellen smiled, but said nothing. She could only hope that she would have a fraction of Jamie’s success.
While she engaged in the ritual of tea drinking with her sister-in-law, Ellen considered her situation. It was clear that Dorcas resented her presence, but the fact that Max had defended Jamie against the Dowager Duchess’s strictures was heartening. She did not feel quite so alone.
* * *
By the time they had finished their refreshments, the rest of their retinue had arrived and Ellen took Jamie back to the nursery, glad of the excuse to leave the stilted atmosphere of the drawing room. The milk had refreshed the little boy and Ellen left him telling Matlock about his journey in the curricle.
‘...and the Duke even let me hold the reins, Matty!’
Ellen smiled as she closed the door upon them, knowing he at least was happy in his new home. As she moved away from the door she saw the housekeeper waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
‘I’ve come to escort you over the house, Your Grace,’ she announced, sinking into a curtsy. She saw Ellen’s look of surprise and added, ‘The Dowager Duchess sent me.’
Ellen smiled. ‘Mrs Greenwood, is it not? I wonder, would you be very put out if we were to leave that until tomorrow? We have been travelling for days and I am sorely in need of a rest. The only room I really want to see now is my bedchamber.’
‘Bless you, Your Grace, of course you do.’ The older woman softened quickly in response to Ellen’s friendly tone. ‘I will take you there immediately, Your Grace. It was Her Grace who said it must be today.’
Ellen stopped and put her hand on the woman’s arm. ‘Mrs Greenwood, I fear it is going to be very confusing if you call both myself and the Dowager Duchess “Your Grace”. I would very much prefer it if you called me ma’am.’
‘But I couldn’t do that, Your Grace,’ declared the housekeeper, scandalised. ‘That is not how we address a duchess.’
‘It is how you will address this Duchess,’ said Ellen firmly.
‘But the Dowager Duchess—’
‘You may continue to call the Dowager Duchess whatever she wishes.’ Ellen saw that the woman was looking perturbed and she squeezed her arm, saying gently, ‘I am mistress here now, Mrs Greenwood, and that is my wish.’
‘Very well your—ma’am,’ the housekeeper sank into another curtsy. ‘But what His Grace will say about it I don’t know.’
Ellen did not know, either, but she was determined to make her mark.
‘That,’ she said quietly, ‘is my concern. Now, shall we continue?’
* * *
‘Well, Maximilian, are you going to tell me the truth now?’
Max was looking at the door which had just closed behind Ellen and Jamie, but his sister-in-law’s words brought his attention back into the drawing room. Looking at Dorcas, he could not help comparing her chilly manner with Ellen’s natural grace. Perhaps it was this house. Rossenhall was such a stark, cold place, he hoped it would not rob his new Duchess of her warm friendliness.
‘The truth?’ He raised his brows at her. ‘You had my letter, Dorcas. I met and married Ellen in Egypt and since then she has been living incognito with my son.’
‘A very peculiar arrangement.’
‘Not really. I was out of the country and Ellen did not want to come to Rossenhall alone.’
‘And you have both kept the secret for four years? Who will believe such a tale?’
‘Everyone, unless you give them cause to doubt it.’ He fixed his eyes on his sister-in-law and said with deadly deliberation, ‘I know how you like to gossip in your letters, Dorcas, but in this case you will say nothing about my marriage, other than what I have told you. Ellen is my wife and James my lawful heir. Any speculation on your part would reflect badly on the family.’
‘But Ellen Tatham is a nobody.’
‘A very rich nobody,’ murmured Max.
Dorcas’s lip curled. ‘She is not your equal, Maximilian. Really, what will our friends say when they learn you have married a tradesman’s daughter?’
‘A wealthy East Indiaman’s daughter, Dorcas,’ he corrected her. He smiled grimly. ‘They will say I did very well to capture such a prize. And from what Tony has reported to me in his letters, we need it.’ He rose. ‘Remember what I said, Dorcas. Whatever your private thoughts, you will show the world you are content with my marriage. Do you understand?’
Having received a very grudging assent Max left the room. Dorcas did not approve of his marriage and she could make trouble, with her poison pen and host of friends in high places. The gossip would not hurt him that much, but it could affect Ellen’s comfort. Very few in his world would cut the acquaintance of the new Duchess, but there would be barbed comments and cruel jibes.
‘It is no more than she deserves,’ he muttered as he made his way downstairs to the steward’s office. ‘If she had remained in Portsmouth as I asked, none of this would have occurred. She brought it on herself.’
Somehow the words rang hollow. She had tried to find him, he had to concede that much, but as he reached the steward’s door he stopped, the pain of her betrayal roaring through him.
‘Not enough,’ he muttered. ‘She did not try hard enough.’
Shaking his head to clear the angry thoughts he opened the door, forcing a cheerful greeting for the man sitting at the desk.
‘Well, Tony, how goes it?’
Anthony Grisham had been steward at Rossenhall for only six months. He had been in the Peninsula with Max, an excellent quartermaster until a cannonball had taken off his left arm and he had been sent home. When Atherwell, the old steward, had died, Max had offered Tony the position. Tony had demurred at first, because of his disability. Max had told him, ‘You are the same age as me, Tony. With thirty years in your dish you are too young to let that brain of yours go to waste and it is your brain and administrative skills that I need to help me.’
So he had persuaded Tony to move to Rossenhall, where he had spent his time making himself familiar with Max’s estates and his tenants and putting in order an office that had seen little change for forty years. Now Tony jumped to his feet and greeted Max with obvious delight.
‘Welcome home, Your Grace. I did not think to see you today.’
‘I had some time to spare.’ He waved Tony back into his seat. ‘Have I missed a letter from you while I was travelling, have you sold the carriage horses yet?’
‘No, Your Grace.’
‘Did you discuss with the Dowager which ones she wanted to keep for her barouche?’
‘I mentioned it to her, yes.’
‘Well?’
Tony looked a little sheepish. ‘She burst into tears.’
‘Ah.’ Max pulled a chair towards the desk and sat down. ‘I see how that might have spiked your guns.’
‘It did, Your Grace. I...er...did not think I could proceed until I had discussed the matter with you.’
Max shrugged. ‘A few more weeks won’t break us. I am more concerned about what you have found now you have had a chance to look more thoroughly into the accounts. You mentioned before I went away that you thought all might not be well with the Rossenhall finances.’
Tony pushed his hand through his thick brown hair and threw another glance at his employer.
‘Are you sure you would not rather leave it until tomorrow?’
‘No I would not,’ said Max. ‘Tell me now.’
* * *
It was more than an hour later that Max emerged from the office, a frown darkening his brow. When he met Perkins in the hall he said curtly, ‘Is the Dowager Duchess still in the drawing room?’
‘No, Your Grace, she has gone to her room to change for dinner.’ The old man gave a gentle cough, clearly wishing to say something else, and Max gave him an enquiring look.
The butler stared straight ahead of him and said woodenly, ‘The new Duchess has given instructions we are to address her as “ma’am”, or “the mistress”.’
‘Has she, by Gad?’
Perkins nodded. ‘Your Grace has no objection?’
‘I? Why should I object?’ Max’s eyes narrowed. ‘The Dowager Duchess does not approve?’
‘When she heard of it, Her Grace said we must refer the matter to you. It is highly irregular,’ the butler conceded, ‘but not, if you will allow me to say so, disrespectful.’
‘If it is what my wife wishes, then so be it.’ Max laughed. ‘It will make life a little less confusing for the rest of us.’
‘That is precisely what the mistress said to Mrs Greenwood, Your Grace.’
Max was about to move on, but there was no one else in the hall and he paused. Perkins had been butler here since his father’s time and Max knew no servant could be more loyal, so now he took the opportunity to ask, casually, ‘And what does the housekeeper think of the new mistress?’ He added, when the butler hesitated, ‘Come along, out with it, man.’
‘Well, it’s early days yet, of course, but Mrs Greenwood thinks she will do very well. Very well indeed.’
With a bow the elderly retainer proceeded on his stately way, leaving Max standing in the hall. It was clear that Ellen had made a good impression upon the household, so that was a relief, and heaven knew there were plenty of other things to worry about. The interview with Tony had shown him that the financial situation was worse than he had suspected. He was tempted to summon Dorcas down to his study and have it out with her now, but that required a cool head, and he needed to think things through, first. The chime of a distant clock reminded him of the time. He had yet to change, so he headed for his room, taking the stairs two at a time.
* * *
When he entered the drawing room some forty minutes later he found Dorcas alone, idly flicking through the latest copy of the Lady’s Magazine.
‘Is the Duchess not with you?’ she asked, putting aside the periodical. ‘I made sure you would escort her, in case she should lose her way. After all, she will not be accustomed to living in such palatial surroundings.’
Max ignored this.
‘I am glad to find you alone,’ he said. ‘There is something I want to say to you.’
‘No doubt it is about money.’ She plucked restlessly at her skirts. ‘Are you going to scold me?’
‘I would not be so impolite.’ He rested one hand on the fireplace, looking down into the empty hearth. ‘I have been going over the accounts with Tony. None of the economies I suggested have been put in place.’
‘You left me in charge. I did as I thought fit.’
‘You have blocked him at every turn, yet you know he was trying to carry out my wishes.’
She hunched a shoulder. ‘Grisham is a soldier, as are you. What does either of you know of running a duke’s estate? The changes you suggest are ludicrous.’
‘They are necessary, if we are to survive.’
‘Survive? What nonsense is this? There have been Colnebrookes at Rossenhall since the Conqueror.’ Her lip curled. ‘It was never intended that you should inherit the title. You do not understand what is due to your station. You were not brought up to it. We must maintain our standing in the community. Would you have us live on air?’
‘Of course not, but neither would I have us living beyond our means.’ He glanced at her. ‘And it is not only the estates that are causing concern. You have been running up large bills, Dorcas.’
‘Fiddle. A few little purchases here and there.’
His brows rose. ‘And last month’s bill from Tattersall’s for a curricle and pair? That was for your brother, I suppose.’
‘Giles must have something to drive.’ Her expression softened to a genuine smile. ‘He drove out to see me in it and he was so pleased—you are frowning, Maximilian. Would you begrudge the boy his happiness?’
‘Not at all, but it must not be at my expense. Hugo provided a handsome jointure for you, Dorcas, and I am happy for you to live here, but I will not fund your brother’s extravagance.’
She hunted for her handkerchief. ‘Giles is all the family I have now.’
‘But there is no reason I should pay his gambling debts.’
‘It is but a few hundred pounds.’
‘A few thousand pounds,’ he corrected her.
‘Giles went to Brighton and had a run of bad luck—that is all.’
‘Do not try to fob me off. Tony has gone back through the books; this has become a regular occurrence.’
‘You would take that... that cripple’s word against mine!’
‘He lost an arm fighting for his country, madam, but it has in no way affected his brain!’ Max stopped, taking a deep breath while he regained his temper. He said more quietly, ‘I tell you now, Dorcas, any future expenses for your brother must be paid from your own funds. And if you will take my advice you will tell Giles that he must make his own way in the world. It is doing him no good to be so reliant upon you.’
‘He must live as befits his rank. Our father was a viscount—’
‘Without two groats to rub together,’ said Max brutally. ‘As a younger son Giles should have found himself some profession. Since he prefers not to do so, he must learn to live within his means.’
She glared at him, angry spots of colour staining her cheeks.
‘No doubt you have gleaned these miserly ways from your wife,’ she said spitefully. ‘Trade is in her blood, after all. I am sure the merchant in her is cock-a-hoop at catching such a prize as you.’ She gave a savage laugh. ‘You do not think for one moment I believed that farrago of lies you set about? You never agreed to her living incognito, Maximilian.’ Her lip curled. ‘Oh, you need not worry. I shall not give away your secrets, but within these walls let me tell you that the woman is nothing but a charming fortune hunter. You have been duped, sir! Have you never wondered why she should keep herself hidden from you all these years, only to reappear once you had become Duke? She allowed you to find her!’
‘That is a lie.’
Max frowned. Ellen could not have known he was going to be in Harrogate. He had not known it himself until Georgie’s last letter had arrived, but a glance at the Dowager’s confident smile shook him. He cast a challenging glance at her.
‘If that was the case, why did she not contact me as soon as I inherited the title?’
Her eyes slid away from him, but she replied with a thin smile, ‘That would have looked very mercenary. How much better to let you think it was all your own doing, that she was reluctant to foist herself upon you?’
Before Max could reply there came a soft voice behind him.
‘I beg your pardon. Am I very late?’
Max turned, the breath catching in his throat when he saw Ellen hesitating in the doorway. She was dressed in the red silk net she had worn the first time he had seen her in Harrogate, a matching ribbon threaded through the golden curls artlessly arranged about her head and a glitter of diamonds at her neck. In the ballroom she had looked ravishing, her cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with laughter. Now she looked pale, a little apprehensive, but no less desirable, as his body was making very clear. Angrily he trampled those feelings, forced them deep. What he felt now was not love, merely lust for a beautiful woman. Four years of bitterness and pain had wiped out any affection he might feel. However, it was not his plan to show any discord before his sister-in-law, so he moved forward to greet Ellen, briefly carrying her hand to his lips.
‘I trust you managed to rest,’ he said politely.
‘Yes, thank you. How did you spend your time?’
‘I have been with my steward, Anthony Grisham.’
‘Ah, yes, you mentioned him when we drove in. He lives in the lodge we passed, near the gates.’
Max nodded. ‘Yes. He was sorry not to be here to greet you earlier, but you will meet him tomorrow.’
‘I shall look forward to it.’
Max thought of the way old Perkins had unbent towards the new Duchess, the smile that lit up Mrs Greenwood’s face when she talked of her new mistress. Doubtless Ellen would charm Anthony, just like the rest of his staff.
She would charm you, too, if you would let her.
He pushed the thought away. Once burned, twice shy. He would not trust her with his heart again.
‘And how do you like your rooms, Your Grace?’ Dorcas asked Ellen.
Max noted his wife’s hesitation and said quickly, ‘The Duke and Duchess’s suites were refurbished by my brother, in a manner befitting his rank.’
His own bedchamber was a masterpiece of ostentation, the massive bed hung with heavy damask hangings decorated with strawberry leaves and each of the bedposts topped with a gilded coronet. The Duchess’s room was similarly ornate, with no expense spared on gold leaf and rich embroidery. Max guessed it was not to Ellen’s taste, but he did not wish her to voice her opinion. He might hate it, but he could never say so. It would seem like a criticism of Hugo.
After meeting his eye for a pregnant moment she replied with a smile.
‘How could I be other than delighted with my apartment?’
The Dowager gave a thin smile and began to explain how she had designed the hangings herself.
‘And the Indian wallpaper, too. Dear Hugo was determined on having the finest furnishings at Rossenhall and spared no expense.’
Dorcas trailed off and glanced nervously at Max. She was obviously recalling their earlier conversation, but he had no intention of referring to it again. That money was spent and there was no point in more recriminations.
* * *
Ellen felt the tension in the room, but for once it was not between her and Max, and she was thankful for that. Dorcas rose and shook out her skirts.
‘Shall we go in to dinner?’ She turned to Ellen. ‘I hope you do not think it is too late an hour, anything earlier is considered quite provincial, you know. I have no idea what time you were wont to dine. Harrogate society has its own rules, I suppose.’
Ellen ignored the sneering tone and said she was perfectly ready to dine at any hour that suited her sister. The Duke escorted both ladies to the dining room, but as they entered Dorcas stopped and stared. She gave an outraged gasp.
‘Did you order this, Maximilian?’ she snapped.
‘It was my doing, Dorcas,’ said Ellen. ‘I spoke to Perkins and asked him to put us both at this end of the table, near the Duke. When we are dining alone it is quite ridiculous that I should sit at the far end, where I would have difficulty both seeing and hearing what is going on.’ She turned to Max. ‘If Your Grace is opposed to it, I shall order it to be put back.’
He said shortly, ‘As mistress here now, madam, you must order things as you wish.’
‘Thank you.’
Ellen tried to meet his eyes, but he would not look at her. Nevertheless, she was grateful for his support.
* * *
Dinner was a quiet affair, the conversation polite but desultory until the covers were removed and the servants withdrew, leaving the diners to enjoy their sweet wine and the little dishes of bonbons. Dorcas sighed.
‘Really, I do not know what they will be saying below stairs, to see us so crowded up in this way. Hugo would never have allowed such informality.’
‘There are always changes with a new master,’ said Ellen gently. ‘I hope it will not be too distressing for you, Dorcas.’
‘Oh, dear me, no,’ replied the Dowager. ‘I am not concerned for myself, dear, but for you. Living in a ducal household will be a great change for you.’
‘I am sure it will,’ agreed Ellen. ‘No doubt I will grow accustomed to living in the grand style.’
‘Not so very grand, if Maximilian has his way,’ tittered Dorcas. ‘He will have us all living on bread and water.’
‘Oh?’ Ellen turned to look at him. ‘Did Mr Grisham have bad news for you this afternoon?’
‘He did. We are not reduced to penury, but the estate is not paying its way and it has not done so for years.’
‘I hope you are not blaming dear Hugo for the straits you now find yourself in,’ said Dorcas sharply.
Ellen noticed Max’s hesitation, as if he was loath to criticise his brother.
‘You must admit he did nothing to help,’ he said at last. ‘Instead of improving the land and making the tenant farms more profitable, there were too many ambitious schemes and wild speculations, to say nothing of the lavish entertaining.’
Dorcas sat up very straight. ‘And why should we not entertain?’
‘No reason at all, but was it necessary to have the town house completely refurbished?’
‘It is expected that the Duke of Rossenhall should live well.’
‘To live well, yes, but not beyond our means.’
‘Hugo’s inheritance was severely diminished. It was your father’s crisis of conscience that has put us in this position,’ stated Dorcas. ‘He was very foolish to sell the family’s interests in the West Indies and free the slaves. Atherwell was against it and Hugo tried to tell him, but he would not be swayed.’
‘That was ten years ago,’ Max replied shortly. ‘The finances should have recovered by now.’
‘How would you know that?’ Dorcas threw at him. ‘You have rarely been here.’
‘I know and I am beginning to regret it,’ he replied. ‘If I had spent more time at Rossenhall and seen for myself what state things were in rather than taking yours and Atherwell’s word that everything was in order, at least I would have been better prepared for what I would find.’
‘So now you are going to make life a misery with your cuts and economies,’ snapped the Dowager. ‘It will be so uncomfortable.’
‘If you do not like my economies, Dorcas, then I suggest you remove to the dower house and live on your widow’s jointure.’
‘I am sure it will not be so very bad,’ said Ellen pacifically. ‘And perhaps we might increase our income with wise investments.’
Dorcas nodded eagerly. ‘Max could buy back the West Indian properties.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I will not do that.’
‘Surely you do not think there is any risk in it?’ Dorcas selected a sweetmeat from the dish in front of her. She said comfortably, ‘Slavery will never be abolished. How can it be, how would we survive without slaves to work the plantations?’
Max set his glass down.
‘Let me be plain with you, Dorcas. If I had been in England at the time I would have agreed with Father and supported the bill,’ said Max steadily. ‘I cannot condone slavery; I have seen too much of it.’
‘There are other investments we could make,’ put in Ellen. ‘There are any number of possibilities in this country, the new canals, for instance, or coal and steel. Or perhaps the new manufactories that are growing in the north. It need not be speculation, but sound business sense. The returns could be used to improve your estates and make them profitable.’
Dorcas gave a little snort of derision. ‘That smacks of trade.’
Ellen waved one hand. ‘It is all trade, whether it is importing sugar or tea from the Indies or producing goods here.’ She turned back to Max. ‘Papa used to say a wise man would spread his investments to protect against a calamity in any one of the markets. I could put you in touch with his old friends in the city who could advise you. I am sure they would remember his name.’
‘No doubt.’ Dorcas sniggered. ‘Especially now it is linked to the Duke of Rossenhall! Really, Max, it is not to be thought of. We would be besieged by toadying mushrooms.’
Ellen felt a little spurt of anger. She said quietly, ‘Some of those toadying mushrooms could purchase the entire Rossenhall estates twice over.’
Max gave a bark of laughter. ‘Very true.’ He looked at Ellen. ‘It is worth considering. It could do no harm to talk to your father’s contacts.’
‘Maximilian,’ Dorcas said sharply, ‘Cartwright and Busby have always handled the family’s investments.’
‘And they have done nothing for us for years,’ he retorted. ‘We will look into it. We could sell one or two of the smaller properties to fund it, perhaps.’
‘That might not be necessary,’ replied Ellen. ‘I have capital that is not invested.’
The Dowager pounced on that. ‘I would remind you, Duchess, that everything you own now belongs to your husband. He does not need your consent to use it as he wishes.’
‘Yes, thank you, Dorcas.’
Ellen reeled at Dorcas’s words and barely heard Max’s impatient retort. Foolish of her to forget even for a moment that she and Max were not equals.
When they had married, in the heat of the pitiless Egyptian sun, she had trusted Max implicitly. Mrs Ackroyd had suggested that they should wait and have settlements drawn up, but Ellen had been too impatient, too in love with Max to consider such a thing necessary. In a moment of recklessness, at the age of two-and-twenty, she had given up her life and her fortune to a husband. Her step-mama had always maintained with some amusement that when Ellen finally fell in love, it would be very heavily indeed. How right she had been, but it was no laughing matter.
She glanced at Max now, as he frowned at his sister-in-law. Dorcas had only spoken the truth. Ellen had no doubt she could run the Duke’s households, manage his staff and even stand up for herself against the Dowager, but the thought that everything, including her beloved child, could be taken away from her at the whim of the man sitting at the head of the table sent a chill running down her spine. Better not to think of that. She pushed back her chair.
‘I think we should leave the Duke to his brandy,’ she said quietly.
* * *
Dorcas followed Ellen back to the drawing room and at first she seemed intent upon making up for her previous ill humour. She drew Ellen into conversation, but it was soon clear that her only intention was to convey in the subtlest way that she thought the new Duchess wholly unsuited to her role. After listening silently for a good ten minutes to her strictures, Ellen had had enough and when the Dowager paused for breath she broke in, speaking quietly, but leaving her sister-in-law in no doubt of her displeasure.
‘Let us be plain with one another, Dorcas. I know you do not want me here, you think me nothing better than a tradesman’s chit.’ The Dowager’s eyes widened at that and she looked suddenly anxious. Ellen nodded. ‘I am well aware you think my birth is far too lowly for this elevated position, but I am the Duke’s lawful wife and I shall fulfil that role to the best of my ability. Max did not marry me for my money, but it is not unusual for a nobleman to choose a rich wife, regardless of her birth. In fact, at least half a dozen of my schoolfellows married titles and some of them came from far more dubious backgrounds than mine. So I have no fear of being ostracised by society when we go to town next spring.’ Dorcas was looking quite furious and Ellen decided she had said enough for one evening. She rose and declared that she was going to bed. ‘I hope we have cleared the air a little and can start afresh tomorrow.’
‘What, go now?’ said Dorcas, her thin eyebrows shooting up in surprise. ‘Before the Duke has joined us?’
‘It has been a long day and I am exhausted,’ she replied, truthfully. ‘I want to look in on little James and make sure he is sleeping and then I shall retire.’
‘But you cannot go off without informing Maximilian. He might wish to talk to you.’
‘Oh, I am sure you can tell him where I am.’ Ellen regarded her sister in law with a steady gaze. ‘As you have been at pains to point out to me, this is the Duke’s house. If he wants me he knows where to find me.’
With that she whisked herself out of the room.