The Wyndham Legacy (Legacy 1)

“Who the devil are the Biddenden Maids?”

“You didn’t come through the village? No matter. They were Elizabeth and Mary Chalkhurst and they lived in the twelfth century. They were Siamese twins. In any case, the Chequers Inn is not to be despised, but it is small, but perhaps not too small for the new earl of Chase.” She rose and smiled at him, not much of a smile, but something.

He stood and strode to her, looking down at her, knowing his stance was intimidating but not caring. “I will be back tomorrow morning.” He left her without another word. Badger was waiting in the small entrance hall. He opened the door and silently ushered him out.

“The Chequers Inn will stable your horse, my lord,” he said.

“That is something,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “Siamese twins—remarkable.”

When Marcus rode to the cottage the next morning, it was to see the Duchess dressed in an outmoded gown of faded gray, the sturdy cotton coming nearly to her chin, down on her knees, her hands gloved, digging in a flower bed.

He dismounted, tied Stanley to the tethering post, and walked to her. “I didn’t know you were a gardener.”

She looked up at him. The sun was behind her, a halo around her head. Her forehead was covered with perspiration and there were two dirt smudges on her face. She looked lovely, more than lovely, damn her. “Yes, I enjoy it very much, as did my mother. Only I have more the green thumb than she did. I had the time, so why not?”

“How do you suddenly have the time? Does this mean that you won’t suddenly jump up humming and leave the roses?”

“It’s always possible.”

“I want you to give me an honest answer, Duchess.”

“If I feel like it.”

He wanted to box her ears. He came down on his haunches beside her. “How are you supporting yourself?”

“You no longer believe there is a man in the background?”

“No, and I never did. Not really. You wouldn’t do that. But God, it makes no sense, surely you must see that. You’re naught but a young girl and—”

“It has been five years, Marcus. You really have no idea as to my character or lack thereof. Of my talents or lack thereof. In short, you know nothing at all about me.”

“The Twins miss you, as does Aunt Gweneth. They want you to come home with me.”

She smiled down at her filthy gloves, at the rich black earth that nurtured her precious roses. “You have become a very handsome man, Marcus, a very eligible gentleman. Since you are the earl of Chase, you will doubtless be sought after by every single female in this fair land. You will be marrying soon so that you may go about the business of breeding an heir. I cannot imagine your wife wanting me anywhere around. I’m a bastard. It would behoove you to remember that.”

“I’m not even twenty-five yet! For God’s sake, give me a few years before I must leg-shackle myself.”

“Forgive me. I quite understand your consternation since I share the same reluctance. You must admit that my unusual upbringing could easily leave a girl with a somewhat cynical view of dealings between men and women, particularly married men and unmarried women.”

“None of this matters, dammit. Listen, Duchess, you cannot remain here, living alone with a man despite the fact that he is your se

rvant. Your reputation will be in ruins. You were raised to be a gentlewoman. It is what you’re meant to be—a gentleman’s wife, the mother of his children. I wish to give you that future. It’s what your father would have done. Please, you cannot remain here.”

She remained still and silent, her gloved hands now resting quietly in the earth. That earth was black and thick and rich.

He rose quickly, so furious with her for her damned silence, her stubbornness, he was for a moment without words. Then he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “What do you do to keep this damned snug little cottage?”

Very slowly she stood up and stripped off her gloves, tossing them to the ground beside her. “Would you like some breakfast, Marcus? It is still very early.”

“I will strangle you,” he said, looking at her throat, covered completely by that hideous faded gray gown. “Yes, I will strangle you, but after breakfast. What will Badger prepare?”

4

CHASE PARK

AUGUST 1813

TWO BLOODY MONTHS, he thought, wadding up the single sheet of paper, containing only two paragraphs to him by her grace, that damned girl he himself had christened Duchess so many years before. How dare she?