When Georgie had gone, Ellen tore up the pile of letters she had written. They were unnecessary, now she had decided to stay. She wondered how Max would take the news and how she would react when they next met. Last night it had been as much as she could do not to faint when she first saw him and it had been no easier this morning. While she had thought him a rogue her anger had helped her to maintain her composure, but the realisation that he had been telling the truth had filled her with shame and remorse that she had ever doubted him. Added to that was the fact that she thought him even more handsome now than when they had first met. The way her pulse leapt at the sight of him was proof that the attraction was still there, on her side at least. She dashed away a tear.
‘Well, it is too late for that now,’ she said to the empty room. ‘You had your chance and made a mull of it.’
The past could not be changed, so there was no point worrying about it. Ellen squared her shoulders and glanced at the clock; there was still time to take Jamie for an airing before dinner. She ordered her carriage, then went upstairs to change into her walking dress while Matlock took out Jamie’s warm coat to cover his blue suit.
‘I’d be happier if you would put up the head rather than sitting in an open carriage,’ opined the maid. ‘That wind is cutting, for all that we are at the end of May. And you should take a hot brick for your feet.’
‘Nonsense, Matty, it is only a fresh breeze,’ said Ellen. ‘We shall come to no harm if we are wrapped up.’
But she did not stop her old nurse from following them to the travelling barouche and tucking a rug about their legs, nor did she point out that her son would kick off the rug within minutes of their setting off.
* * *
Jamie loved riding in an open carriage and as they drove along the edge of the Stray she pointed out the various animals grazing there before they turned away from the open ground and headed for Low Harrogate. The roads were busy at this time of day, when many of the visitors took a walk or a drive before dinner. For herself, Ellen would have preferred to travel out of Harrogate but the noisy, bustling traffic provided entertainment for her son.
They had not gone far when she saw Max’s familiar figure striding along the flag way. He spotted their carriage and raised his cane to attract her attention. Ellen’s first impulse was to pretend she had not seen him, but she berated herself for such a cowardly thought and gave word to her driver to pull up.
‘I was on my way to see you,’ he said without preamble.
Conscious that her son was listening, and also of the crowds, and her servants sitting on the box, Ellen responded brightly.
‘As you see, Jamie and I are going for a drive and, alas, after dinner I am engaged to take tea with Lady Bilbrough. Perhaps you could call tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, I shall join you now.’ He glanced at Jamie. ‘After all, the sooner I become acquainted with this young man the better.’
She watched in horror as he opened the carriage door.
‘But there is no room,’ she said desperately.
‘Nonsense, there will be plenty of room if Master James will consent to sit on my knee. What do you say, young sir? You will be able to see much more if you are a little higher.’
Ellen had always been proud that Jamie was such a friendly, confident child, but now she found herself regretting the sunny nature that had Jamie climbing on to Max’s lap as if they had known each other for ever.
* * *
This is my son.
The words rang around in Max’s head as he helped the little boy on to his knee. He had known it from the first moment he had clapped eyes on the child and he had felt strangely relieved when Ellen had told him she had never married again. She had not tried to replace him in her life, or their son’s.
Their son. His heart lifted. This child would not be confined to the nursery as he had been. He would not be a cold, distant figure like his own father, but someone the boy could talk to, confide in. He found himself looking forward to the new role and it should start immediately.
‘Well, ma’am, I think you should introduce us,’ said Max, as they moved off.
Ellen narrowed her eyes at him. He knew she was put out by the way the boy had taken to him and could not deny a feeling of triumph. Ignoble, perhaps, but very satisfying.
‘May I present my son James to you, Your Grace? James, this is the Duke of Rossenhall.’
‘Duke,’ repeated James.
‘That’s right,’ Max smiled, surprised at the pride he felt to have this little fellow sitting on his knee. He glanced at Ellen and said quietly, ‘I wanted to thank you, for agreeing to stay.’
She was sitting very upright and gazing resolutely ahead. She said coldly, ‘Mr and Mrs Arncliffe are my friends. I am doing this for their sake.’
‘Mrs Arncliffe is Lottie’s mama,’ Jamie informed him. ‘Lottie is my friend.’
‘Is she?’ said Max. ‘Well, Lottie’s papa is my friend, too. We have known each other since I was your age. We were soldiers together.’
Jamie fixed him with his steady gaze.
‘I want to be a soldier when I grow up. I want to wear a red coat and bang the drum.’
‘Really? Perhaps I should buy you a toy drum, so you can practise.’
‘Not until we live in a much larger house. One with very thick walls.’
Max laughed at Ellen’s interjection. ‘Mayhap you are right.’ He hesitated. ‘Is my presence upsetting you, ma’am?’
‘Not at all,’ she said politely. ‘What is it you wish to say to me, Your Grace?’
‘Why, nothing of moment.’
She bridled at that. ‘I thought you wished to talk to me. Anyone watching will think that I—that you—’
He could not resist teasing her.
‘They will conclude I am, er, smitten by your radiance, ma’am.’
Ellen glared. Max could see she was about to make a blistering retort, but as she opened her mouth little James piped up.
‘What is smitten, Mama?’
‘I think you had best ask the Duke, Jamie, since he used the word.’
‘Witch.’ He mouthed the word at her over the boy’s head and received a very false smile in return. ‘Well now, let me see. Smitten means enamoured, besotted.’ He heard Ellen’s scornful laugh and added gruffly, ‘Not that that is the case, of course.’ He saw that the boy was looking confused and felt compelled to explain. ‘People will think I consider your mama very beautiful.’
‘Mama is very beautiful,’ stated Jamie.
Max’s good mood was evaporating rapidly. He had thought her beautiful once, before he had known her true character.
‘In looks, undoubtedly,’ he said. ‘But beautiful objects are not always what they seem.’
* * *
Ellen caught her under-lip firmly between her teeth. Would he be throwing these barbs at her for ever, and at times like this when she was least able to defend herself? She called to the coachman to drive to the Granby, then turned to address Jamie.
‘It is time we were going home, my love. We will set the Duke down at his hotel.’
There was a challenge in her voice, but Max made no demur. He talked cheerfully to Jamie until they drew up outside the Granby Hotel, then he eased the boy from his knee and jumped down from the carriage.
‘I am very glad to have made your acquaintance, Master James. I hope we shall meet again very soon.’
‘Yes, please. And will you bring me a drum, Duke?’
Max reached out and ruffled the little boy’s hair. ‘Not quite yet, but one day, sir, I promise.’ Then, with a brief touch of his hat to Ellen, he turned on his heel and was gone.
Ellen sank back against the seat as the carriage set off again, realising how tense she had been in the Duke’s company. The charm she remembered from their first meeting in Egypt was still very evident, but it had been aimed at Jamie rather than herself and to good effect. She was grateful for it, because she wanted Max to get on well with his son, but it threw into sharp relief the Duke’s icy politeness towards herself. She reached out and pulled Jamie closer, hugging him tightly. The little boy laughed and squirmed out of her hold.
‘What is that for, Mama?’
‘Because you have been such a very good boy.’
Ellen blinked away a tear. She must cope with Max’s coldness towards her, as long as he did not part her from Jamie.
* * *
Ellen had been so absorbed with Max being in her carriage that she gave no thought to the consequences until she met General Dingwall at church the following morning and he quizzed her on her new conquest.
‘There are none of us will stand a chance with you now we have a duke in our midst,’ he told her with a fat chuckle.
Ellen laughed it off and did the same with several other acquaintances who mentioned that they had seen His Grace of Rossenhall riding in her carriage, and she was aware that at least two matrons with daughters of marriageable age gave her no more than a cold nod in greeting.
* * *
‘Everyone is convinced I have set my cap at Max,’ she told Georgie when she went to drink tea with her later that day.
Her friend merely laughed. ‘And why not? He is a duke and, in the eyes of the world, a great catch.’
Ellen sighed. ‘It appears the world and his wife were on the streets of High and Low Harrogate yesterday and saw I had taken him up. Not that I had much choice,’ she added bitterly. ‘He climbed into my carriage without so much as a by your leave.’
‘But it was an excellent opportunity for him to get to know Jamie.’
‘Yes, they hit it off very well. Max was surprisingly at his ease.’
‘He is a great favourite with Charlotte,’ said Georgie. She paused, then added daringly, ‘I think he will make a very good father.’
Ellen’s hand fluttered. She did not want to think of that just yet. She said, ‘Tell me about Frederick. How does he go on?’
Immediately Georgie’s sunny countenance clouded. ‘He tells me he is well, but just walking to the Sulphur Well this morning exhausted him.’
‘So, he is resting now?’
Georgie shook her head. ‘I wanted him to do so, but he was determined to go with Max to visit an old friend in Knaresborough.’
‘Oh, I beg your pardon if my coming prevented you from going with them. You should have told me and we could have rearranged our meeting.’
‘No, no, they are gone to see another military man, so I am very happy to leave them to their soldiers’ talk. They will relive old battles and no doubt reminisce about their campaign days. I am much happier to be taking tea with you. It does Frederick good, to be out of my company sometimes. His mind is as active as ever and he feels very well, as long as he can sit and do nothing. He loves to watch and listen, but the slightest exertion now tires him.’
Ellen saw the sadness shadowing Georgie’s face, but it was gone in an instant and she was asking Ellen if she planned to attend the ball at the Dragon the following night.
‘Tongues will wag even more if you give up your usual habits,’ Georgie warned her. ‘Frederick wishes to attend, but we must wait until tomorrow to see how he goes on.’
‘Do you know if the Duke is going?’ asked Ellen, idly pulling at a thread in her skirt.
‘He said would be there, yes.’
‘Send me word tomorrow if you are going, Georgie, and I will attend. Otherwise I shall not go.’ Ellen glanced around to make sure the door was closed. ‘I have no heart for parties and I see no point in playing out this charade if Frederick is not present.’
‘Of course not, my dear. I shall bring Charlotte to Paradise Row tomorrow to play with Jamie and I should be able to give you an answer then.’
‘Thank you.’ Ellen bit her lip, then said impulsively, ‘I am glad that you know the truth, Georgie. It is a relief to be able to speak of it to someone.’
‘You could talk to Max.’
Ellen shuddered. ‘I do not think so.’
‘It is natural that you are a little awkward in each other’s company, but that will pass, in time. If it is any consolation, Ellen, I am not aware that he has ever looked at any other woman. That is why Fred was so convinced he had set his face against marriage.’
‘And I am very much afraid he does not want this one,’ said Ellen sadly.
‘Oh, I am sure that is not the case.’ Georgie touched her arm. ‘The Duke will be bringing Frederick home soon and stopping to dine, perhaps you would like to join us?’
‘I would rather not see him at all.’ Ellen heard the rumble of male voices in the hall and rose quickly from her seat. ‘I must go.’
The gentlemen came in, Frederick leaning heavily upon the Duke’s arm. Ellen felt an unaccustomed awkwardness when Max nodded to her. Her cheeks grew hot and her pulse jumped erratically. She knew not where to look. Even as a girl she had never felt so uncomfortable in a man’s presence. She bade everyone a hasty adieu.
‘Perhaps the Duke will escort you home,’ suggested Georgie as she helped her husband into a chair.
Ellen sent her friend an indignant look at this blatant attempt at matchmaking.
‘There is not the least need, I assure you. Besides, the carriage is gone now and it would make His Grace late for your dinner to escort me on foot.’
‘Oh, we can easily set that back by an hour,’ said Georgiana. ‘Is that not so, Fred?’
‘What? Oh, yes, and that will give me more chance to recover. I am so dashed weak now, you see, Mrs Furnell.’
Ellen realised that her friend was right; Frederick’s brain was indeed as sharp as ever, for he had effectively made it impossible for her to refuse Max’s escort. A glance at the Duke told her nothing. She could not read in that inscrutable countenance, nor from his polite tone, whether he was pleased or not by the appropriation of his time.
‘I am only too delighted to walk you home, ma’am.’
‘Then it is settled.’ Looking like a cat who had just lapped the cream, Georgiana kissed Ellen’s cheek. ‘Goodbye, my dear friend. Lottie and I will call upon you tomorrow.’
* * *
‘I have the distinct impression we have been outmanoeuvred,’ stated Max, as he escorted Ellen out of the house.
‘I hope you do not think I wanted this,’ she said crossly. ‘It was bad enough that you were seen in my carriage yesterday. I dread to think how tongues will wag now!’
‘Well, I am not going back, if that is what you want,’ he retorted. ‘I cannot approve of my wife wandering about the town without even her maid in attendance.’
‘Oh, come, sir, that attitude is very outmoded. Many widows and married women walk about the town unaccompanied.’
‘But they are none of them so dangerously beautiful.’
Ellen missed her step. She felt as if all the air had been knocked out of her. There was nothing complimentary in Max’s tone, indeed, she had never heard him sound so irascible, but his words hit a nerve and stirred a memory. She was transported immediately to a distant time and place: Egypt and one particularly star-filled night.
They had been dining with their Mameluke hosts before Max led her outside, ostensibly to enjoy a little fresh air, but really so he might take her in his arms and kiss her. Even now the memory of his deep, searching kiss made her tremble. It had drawn a heartfelt response from her and when it ended she had been momentarily bereft, even though his arms remained firm, holding her against him so that she could feel the thud of his heart through the abayeh, the long loose robe he wore. They kissed and talked and kissed again. Max took her face in her hands and turned it up to study it by the light of the stars, then he began to kiss her brow, her eyelids, her cheek.
‘You have a dangerous beauty, my love,’ he murmured between kisses. ‘You drive a man to madness.’ His seeking lips found her mouth and she melted into him once more, her bones liquefying and heat pooling deep in her core. ‘Marry me, Ellen,’ he whispered against her skin. ‘Marry me here, now.’
She had clung to him then, knowing this was foolish, reckless, but not caring. He continued to cover her face and neck with kisses and in between his soft, seductive voice flowed over her like honey.
‘My men are camped not twenty miles from here. There is an army chaplain with them. He would marry us. What do you say?’
His mouth captured hers again and her heightened senses reeled with the sheer pleasure of the moment. She tasted wine and warm spices in his kiss, breathed in the dark, woody scent of agarwood from his skin and when he broke off to demand her answer, she succumbed to the midnight madness to whisper a reply.
‘Yes, Max. Yes, I will marry you.’
* * *
The vision of that enchanted night faded. Instead of a hot dry desert wind, gritty with sand and perfumed with spices, she felt the chill rain-laden breeze of an English summer on her face, and with it came the more prosaic smell from the cows in the nearby fields.
Beside her, Max gave a low growl. ‘And here is another of your admirers coming now.’
Ellen had already seen the portly figure of Mr Rudby approaching on the opposite path. She hoped they might pass unnoticed, but the gentleman was already picking his way across the road, waving his cane to slow the approach of a lumbering ox-cart. Moments later he stood before them, beaming and smiling as he removed his hat and swept a low bow. They were obliged to stop. Formal greetings were exchanged, but since Max was particularly uncommunicative it was Ellen who responded to Mr Rudby’s friendly overtures, agreeing that last Friday’s ball had been vastly enjoyable and that Monday’s ball at the Dragon would have to work hard to match it.
‘Although if you are there, Mrs Furnell, it cannot be other than a success.’ Mr Rudby beamed at her. ‘Perhaps, ma’am, I should take this opportunity to reserve the first two dances with you for tomorrow night. I felt dashed put out when General Dingwall stole the march on me on Friday.’ His twinkling eyes shifted from Ellen to the Duke. ‘If you are not already engaged, that is.’
‘Yes, she is already engaged,’ barked Max.
Ellen bridled. ‘I have not yet made up my mind to go.’
Max bared his teeth and said smoothly, ‘But if you do, you are already promised to me, are you not?’
Anger flashed through Ellen. Her chin came up and she glared at the Duke.
Mr Rudby laughed. ‘Ah, I see how it is and I shall withdraw from the lists. But only temporarily,’ he said gaily. ‘Let me warn you, Your Grace, that Mrs Furnell is the reigning queen of our little society and has any number of admirers ready to do battle for her favours.’
‘I am aware,’ replied Max, at his most urbane. ‘But I am confident I shall prevail. You see, I have a distinct advantage over my rivals.’
Mr Rudby looked nonplussed at the Duke’s smiling reply, but he recovered quickly and gave another laugh.
‘Well, well, we shall see.’ He touched his hat. ‘I shall not keep you standing any longer in this chill wind, although you will permit me to say, Mrs Furnell, that it has brought an added sparkle to your eyes. Would you not agree, Your Grace?’
‘Has it?’ Max swept an indifferent glance over her. ‘I had not noticed. Good day to you, sir.’
Thus dismissed, Mr Rudby went on his way. Max offered Ellen his arm again, but she resolutely ignored it and set off at a brisk pace, her dainty figure rigid with indignation. He waited, knowing she would not remain silent for long.
‘You were very uncivil to poor Mr Rudby.’
Max shrugged. ‘He considers himself a rival.’
‘And why should he not? Are you so puffed up in your own conceit that you think you only have to walk into a room and every man will give way to you?’
‘What has really upset you?’ he retorted. ‘Is it the fact that I saw off your admirer or that I refused to endorse his fulsome compliments?’
‘Compliments mean nothing to me. Especially yours!’
Even as she spoke she was schooling her face into a smile to greet a passing acquaintance. Then another couple stopped to speak. Max recognised them from the ball at the Granby and nodded to them, then waited impatiently for Ellen to exchange pleasantries.
‘Are you friends with everyone in this dashed town?’ he muttered as they moved on again.
‘A great many of its inhabitants, certainly, which is why I take such exception to your possessiveness.’
‘Let us be clear,’ he growled. ‘I will not have you flirting with all and sundry.’
‘I do not flirt.’ She paused. ‘Anyone would think you were jealous.’
‘Ha, what a nonsensical idea.’
Quite ridiculous, thought Max. He was not the jealous type. Even in those early days, when he had thought himself hopelessly in love with Ellen Tatham. He remembered those first two weeks they had been together in the desert. The son of one of the Mameluke beys had been very taken with Ellen and had done his best to woo her with gifts and promises of riches. If Max was going to be jealous of anyone it should have been that handsome devil, but it had not given him a moment’s uneasiness.
Because he had thought then that Ellen was in love with him.
He heard her sigh. ‘Pray let us not argue. This charade is not easy for me. Your riding in my carriage yesterday did not go unnoticed. I was quizzed upon it at church this morning and now your escorting me through the streets will add fuel to the flames of gossip.’
‘It is nothing to what will be said when they learn that you are my wife. The flames will become an inferno.’
‘But I shall not be here then to feel the heat.’
There was something in her voice he had not heard before—a note of defeat that disturbed him. This was not the laughing, fearless girl he had known. Nothing had daunted her, not even being in a foreign land and surrounded by warring tribes. For almost four years he had thought only of his own loss and never considered that she, too, might be suffering. He had been angry at her betrayal and imagined her living a happy and carefree existence somewhere, possibly under the protection of a rich lover. He knew now that was not the case, that she had truly believed he had deceived her.
And she had every reason to think that. At that time all the evidence pointed to it.
He pushed aside the uncomfortable feelings of sympathy. He would admit she had some reason to feel aggrieved, but the damage was done. He would not allow her dominion over him again.
‘I agree arguing will not help,’ he conceded. ‘But it is necessary for us to spend time together. I hope we can manage that without ripping up at one another each time we meet.’
‘I hope so, too,’ said Ellen, but she sounded doubtful.
They had reached Paradise Row, where the road was busy with carriages and the pavement full of walkers enjoying an early evening stroll. A few more yards brought them to her house. The door opened immediately, as if the servants had been looking out for her. Max acknowledged, albeit grudgingly, that she was well regarded by her staff, as well as by her acquaintances.
She had regained her composure and now said in a cool, friendly manner, ‘I will not invite you in, Your Grace, for I know you are anxious to return to your friends.’
Max was well aware that many eyes were upon them, including the butler’s seemingly indifferent gaze, as he lifted her hand to his lips. He would leave them in no doubt that he was making the golden widow the object of his attention.