A Regency Lord's Command: The Disappearing Duchess / The Mysterious Lord Marlowe. Anne Herries

is a little love, but too thin,’ Nanny said as Lucinda explained the circumstances. ‘Yes, of course I will look after your daughter for you, my love. I never agreed with the way your father treated you—and to tell you she was dead, that was wicked. Had I been in a position to help you before this I should have done so, but I was dismissed instantly for having a bad influence on you.’

      ‘That was unfair.’

      ‘Well, it is past and the child is the important one now.’ Nanny smiled and touched her head, but Angela sniffled and looked apprehensive, as though she feared she would be smacked or bullied.

      ‘She has been ill-treated, so you must not scold her too much. I know her speech is bad, but correct her kindly, Nanny. She will learn by example.’

      ‘Yes, of course she will. I never smacked you, Lucinda, and I shall not smack this little darling—but she must start to learn her manners for she is your daughter.’

      ‘For the moment I cannot acknowledge her. My husband would not allow it.’

      Nanny looked at her sadly. ‘You should tell your husband the truth, Lucinda. He couldn’t let you acknowledge her, of course, but if he is a good man he will allow you to see her—and he’ll find a decent place for us to live.’

      ‘I hope in time to confide in him, but for now it must be our secret.’

      ‘Very well.’

      Nanny had agreed reluctantly. Lucinda knew she would care for the child as if she were her own, but she did not approve.

      Alice might not approve, either—but for the moment Lucinda had no choice.

      Perhaps after Justin’s return, if they became friends again, she could tell him. He might not let her have the child with her, but he might allow her to have Angela near her and visit sometimes.

      Retiring to her bed, Lucinda lay restless, her mind in turmoil. If Justin discovered that she had lied to him again, he would hate her.

      Justin lay sleepless. He had brought the decanter of brandy to his room, hoping that a glass or two of his favourite tipple would dull the edge of his need, but at the moment it did not seem to have worked. The desire to touch and kiss his wife was burning through him, making him groan. Had he been less proud, more sure of his own feelings and hers, he would have gone to her, taken her in his arms and begged her to forgive him. Being close to her that evening had made him aware just how lovely she was—and how much he burned to make her his wife in truth. He was a fool to let himself be hurt. Why not simply make this quarrel up with her and forget everything in her arms—bury himself in her perfumed flesh?

      No, that was foolish. His father would have called him a weakling for considering such an action. Justin had been strictly reared to understand the position he held as head of one of the leading families in England. Indeed, the first duke was rumoured to be one of Charles I’s by-blows, borne of a titled lady who had kept her secret even from the king until later in life when she made a request for her son and was granted the title on his behalf. His father’s words ran through his mind.

      ‘Remember what you owe yourself and the family, Justin. Feeling must always be denied for, if once set free, it will ruin any man. You are of noble blood and must never forget your duty. Our family has upheld the true virtues of honour and decency for centuries. Do not be the one to break that slender thread.’

      His father would say it was his duty to annul the marriage at once, to send Lucinda away in disgrace and marry a girl of impeccable reputation.

      No, he could not do that. Justin was angry and hurt, but beneath the pain and the rage he knew that he still wanted his beautiful wife. He still cared what became of her. To abandon her to the gossips would be cruel and senseless. Deep within him the need to protect her from hurt had asserted itself. He must not let what had happened ruin both their lives.

      Somehow he must come to terms with the situation and the only way to do that was to put a little distance between them for a while. If he stayed here, he would not be able to keep from her bed.

       Chapter Three

      Lucinda set out early the next morning, just after she’d seen Justin drive away in his curricle. It was cool and she was wearing a warm cloak to cover her gown, which was one of her plainer ones. She had saved some of the sweet biscuits and a soft white roll that had been sent up for her breakfast. Her daughter enjoyed sweet trifles, perhaps the more so because she had never tasted a cake until recently. Nanny said she ought not to have too many, but Lucinda felt a deep hurtful guilt because of the way her daughter had been mistreated and she wanted to spoil her.

      She wished with all her heart that she might have the child living with her at the house and acknowledge her openly, if not as her own child, as a child of a relative sadly deceased. However, she knew that it was impossible. The fact that she must deceive Justin added to her grief, but for the moment there was no other way. Perhaps in time he might learn to trust her and then she might confess her secret, but even an indulgent husband would not allow her to have the child with her permanently. The likeness between them was marked and someone might guess her secret.

      As she approached the small cottage she had rented for her child and Nanny, Angela saw her from the window and came out, running to meet her. Lucinda opened her arms, sweeping her up and hugging her tightly as she burst into tears.

      ‘I thought yer would never come back,’ Angela said and looked at her with reproach. ‘You promised to take care of me.’

      ‘And I shall,’ Lucinda promised and kissed her cheek. She smelled of soap and her skin shone. Wearing the pretty dress Lucinda had purchased for her before they came here, she looked beautiful, her stick-thin body beginning to show signs of the good food she was now eating every day. ‘I promise you that no one will hurt you again, my darling. Nanny is good to you, isn’t she?’

      ‘Yes…but I want to be with yer…you,’ Angela corrected herself and then sucked her thumb, her eyes wide and expectant.

      Lucinda pulled the thumb from her mouth and smiled. ‘You will spoil your pretty hands if you do that, dearest. Mama has to work to provide a home for you and Nanny. I shall come to you whenever I can, my darling, but you must be good for me and do as Nanny tells you.’

      ‘She is no trouble at all,’ Nanny said as Lucinda looked at her enquiringly. ‘Did you notice that her speech is improving already?’

      ‘Yes, with a few slips,’ Lucinda said and kissed her child before setting her down. Angela went off to play with some brightly coloured bricks that Nanny had given her, a relic from her mother’s childhood. ‘She will learn by our example, Nanny. I am sorry I could not return last night, but I was afraid to leave the house too late in case it was noticed.’

      ‘You have not told him about the child.’ Nanny shook her head in disapproval. ‘I fear you’re laying up trouble for yourself, Lucinda. When he knows you’ve deceived him he will be angry.’

      ‘I do not wish to hurt my husband,’ Lucinda said. ‘He was angry with me when I told him why I left that day, though he insists that our marriage must continue.’

      ‘What do you want?’

      ‘I…love him,’ Lucinda confessed, her voice breaking. ‘At least, I love the man he was when we married. He seems so harsh now, but I know that is my fault for hurting him. Nanny, it is so hard, so very hard. I love them both. How can I choose one or the other?’

      ‘Perhaps it would not be necessary if you told him the truth?’

      ‘He would not accept her—how could I expect it?’ Lucinda asked, blinking back the tears that threatened. ‘It would break my heart to leave him and yet I must see her every day—I must!’

      ‘Well, there is nothing to prevent you while I am able to care for her—but that