The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(23)

They all exchanged glances. Julian cleared his throat and said in his silky voice, “If I felt a farthing of sympathy for the man, I might pull him aside and warn him.”

“I daresay the chap’s well aware,” his twin, Henry, said around a bite of his toast. “She did leave him holding a useless special license, did she not?”

Laughter erupted and the memory was gone over, once again. Even Jane couldn’t help a smile.

Her father, however, was not amused. “There are elements of life subject to ridicule. Your sister’s marriage doesn’t qualify. I expect each of you to treat Blixford with all due respect. No shenanigans. Do I make myself clear?”

The table quieted, each of her brothers acquiescing through his silence.

The earl got to his feet and made his way round the dining room, reaching out to pet her hair. “You’re a willful brat, Jane, but I will hate to see you leave my house, so soon after returning.”

She looked up at his dear face. “I won’t be far away, Papa.”

His expression was odd. Almost sad. “Perhaps not in distance, but you will be out of my reach.” His hand fell to her shoulder. “I’ll be in the library until he arrives and will speak to him before he attends you in the drawing room.”

When he was gone, her brothers became far more animated and open, tossing out bits of advice.

“Let him know, right up front, what you’ll tolerate and what you will not.”

“You’ll not be a guest in his home. You’ll be a duchess, and mistress of all. Take charge, sister, and don’t be cowed by anyone.”

“The first available opportunity, host a grand ball, but only invite a select few. Make the rest wait.”

“Yes, Jane, and be very discerning about whom you receive. By God, put a bit of it back in their eye.”

“If he hurts you, I expect to be informed.”

Silence reigned. They turned to look at Julian.

He shrugged. “The man’s lost three wives, all due to complications involving childbirth. Has it occurred to no one that the circumstances are a bit over the top? I cannot forget how the duke’s own mother met her end.”

Jane’s heartbeat steadily increased. “I am unable to forget as I never knew to begin with.”

Julian looked at her from his place at the far end of the table. “She was in confinement with her third child when she died and it was generally thought complications killed her. But word has always been the old duke thought he’d been cuckolded and murdered her before she could foist another man’s child upon him. He loved her, you see, and her betrayal sent him into temporary madness. After her death, he became a hermit and no one ever saw him again.”

With a loud huff of disgust, James dropped his spoon into his cup. “Charming, really. Nothing says I love you like murder.”

“It’s all hearsay, of course. She was alone at Eastchase Hall, with only her young son and daughter for company. The duke was insanely jealous and possessive of her and chances are her betrayal was simply a figment of his imagination.”

James looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard it said she had a particular friendship with Viscount Radcliffe’s father, whose lands adjoin Blixford’s.”

Julian never took his eyes from Jane’s. “The elder Radcliffe was shot by a highwayman not long after the duchess died. One has to wonder why a highwayman would choose a barren, scarcely traveled country road upon which to search for prey. One must also take into account the fact that most highwaymen are merely thieves –not murderers.”

“Are we allowing our Jane to marry the son of a killer?”

Julian finally looked away, to Jack, whose face was thunderstruck. “In all fairness, a son can’t be held accountable for his father’s sins, nor can his character be judged by that of his parent.” He returned his gaze to Jane’s. “And we must remember, this is all rumor and speculation. It may well be the duchess did indeed die of complications in childbirth and Radcliffe was in fact shot by a highwayman. My concern is for Jane, and this I do insist –if your husband mistreats you in any way, you will come to one of us, immediately.”

I most certainly do not want a wife ruled by a passionate nature.

I feel it best to marry a woman whom I respect, but do not love.

I will never allow myself to tender an affection for you.

She’d thought his speech was predicated upon his fear that she would die, that he would grieve if he loved her and lost her. He was protecting himself from pain.

Had she been wrong? Was his insistence of marriage to a woman he respected but did not love, a woman of no passion, based upon his father’s insane jealousy regarding his mother? One could hardly experience insane jealousy when one’s heart wasn’t involved. A woman of no passion would never dream of straying, would she? Jane considered Annabel. A sweet, soft-spoken miss, content to tend to her gardens and homes, far more interested in needlework than bedroom activities. Letitia had been cut from the same cloth. Jane had never met his third duchess, Grace, but from all she’d gathered, that miss was equally reticent, decorous and purely devoid of a passionate nature.