Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses

by Olivia Drake

Hadrian took the hint and introduced her as Lady Elizabeth, the Marchioness of Wrenbury. “I must warn you,” he told her, “that Miss Fanshawe is too egalitarian to embrace the custom of curtsying.”

  “Egal-what?” She playfully swatted his arm. “Conceited prig, you use big words on purpose since you know I was never very attentive at my studies.”

  “It means ’Merica doesn’t have dukes and kings,” Leo spoke up. “Miss Fanshawe told me that.”

  Lady Wrenbury leaned down to address him. “Why, aren’t you a clever fellow! Do you know, I’ve a son about your age. We call him Finny. Perhaps once you’ve settled in, you’d care to play with him sometime?”

  Leo considered it. “Can Miss Fanshawe and Mr. Duke come, too?”

  “Why, of course! Miss Fanshawe is always welcome.” A burble of mirth sprang from her. “And so is … Mr. Duke.”

  Natalie smiled back at her. “Please call me Natalie, Lady Wrenbury. I hope I won’t offend you with a simple handshake.”

  “Certainly not!” the woman said as they briefly clasped hands. “And I am Lizzy. Lady Wrenbury sounds so terribly ancient! Anyway, curtsies are rather a bore, especially in a receiving line. I’m always petrified I’ll step on my hem and go tumbling to the floor in front of everyone. Now do come and meet Mama.”

  Feeling more relaxed, Natalie followed. It was a relief to discover that she liked Hadrian’s sister. Her earlier hesitation must have been due to a dread that his immediate family might be as hostile as Lord and Lady Godwin. She had no desire to spend the coming weeks in another uncomfortable situation, scorned as a devious hoaxer.

  She entered an enormous bedchamber done in the same rose décor as the sitting room. Swaths of pink satin, drawn back by gold cords, framed the tall windows. The canopied bed featured chintz hangings, numerous feather pillows, and an elaborate crest on the gilt headboard. Fine objects of crystal and porcelain cluttered every available surface, including an ormolu clock that ticked softly on the mantelpiece.

  The effect was overwhelmingly feminine, a retreat where any male was bound to feel out of place. Glancing back over her shoulder, she was amused to see a hint of steely forbearance in the set of Hadrian’s jaw. Even Leo appeared dumbfounded by all the girlish opulence as he stayed close to the duke’s heels.

  Fluffy tail wagging, the spaniel dashed across the plush carpet toward a plump woman who sat on a chair, engaged in sorting through mounds of large and small parcels wrapped up in green-striped paper tied with yellow ribbons. She was richly gowned in violet crepe with a silk turban in a slightly lighter shade on her head. Amethysts glinted on her fingers, at her wrists and throat.

  The Duchess of Clayton appeared quite imposing and stately—at least until she raised her head and smiled radiantly at them, in particular, her son. “Hadrian, darling! Thank heavens you’re home!”

  She held out her arms, and he went forward to press a kiss to her cheek, extracting himself before being drawn into a full embrace. As he attempted to step back, however, she clung to his hand with both of hers, gazing up at him with tragic blue eyes in a face that might have been ordinary if not for the devoted sentiment that brought her lined features to life.

  “Oh, my dear boy, do assure me there is no betrothal. Your note was entirely too brief.”

  “There is no betrothal … yet.”

  Natalie felt his gaze flick toward her, though she didn’t know quite what to make of it. Was he warning her not to say anything of his courtship of Lady Ellen?

  His mother sighed in relief and let go of him to fan her face with a piece of striped paper. “Bless me! I never understood how you could wish to marry a girl who is scarcely out of the schoolroom, one you haven’t seen in years. Especially the daughter of such a man—”

  “We’ll speak of this later,” Hadrian said firmly. “First, Duchess, may I present cousin Audrey’s son, Leo Bellingham, who has been delivered here from the wilds of America by Miss Natalie Fanshawe.”

  The spaniel hopped into the duchess’s lap, and she stroked him with her beringed fingers while turning her regal attention to Natalie and Leo. Solemnly studying them both, the duchess seemed a curious mix of formidable and approachable, and Natalie had to squelch the surprising impulse to genuflect.

  Perhaps that explained at least part of the reason why people curtsied and bowed. It gave them something to do while being inspected.

  As if they’d passed muster, a smile warmed the duchess’s face. “Welcome to Clayton House. Pray sit down and we’ll have a cozy chat.” She waited while Natalie and Hadrian found chairs, then told Natalie, “I’ve been on pins and needles since receiving my son’s note yesterday. Men can be such terse letter writers, can’t they? They gloss over the most important details. And I must say, Miss Fanshawe, I’m surprised he never mentioned you to be such a strikingly lovely young woman.”

  Embarrassed by the compliment, Natalie glanced away to see Lizzy cast a measuring look at her brother, who in turn observed the scene with his usual cool hauteur. “I—thank you,” she said. “I’m sure the duke had more important things on his mind. Leo, for instance.”

  The duchess smiled at Leo. “Such an adorable little boy! Come closer, darling, and you may pet Orlando. I am a sort of cousin to you by marriage, did you know? You may call me Auntie Millie.”

  Leo trotted forward and patted the dog in her lap, giggling when the animal licked his chin. “That tickles! Can I play with him, Auntie Millie?”

  “Certainly! Though I think you may rather wish to play with the things inside these parcels.”

  Leo’s eyes rounded to saucers as he glanced at the mounds of wrapped packages. “But it isn’t my birthday.”

  She fluttered her fingers, her rings flashing. “Oh, these are just a few little welcoming gifts.”

  He touched one of the parcels as if he’d just stumbled upon a pirate’s golden treasure trove. “Look, Miss Fanshawe! Can I open them? Please?”

  Natalie told herself to bide her tongue and avoid offending her hostess, but she could not remain silent. She was too appalled by the extravagance. “Not yet, darling. You’re very thoughtful, Duchess, but really, this is far too much. In America, Leo was accustomed to playing with sticks and stones.”

  “Oh, the poor, dear child,” Lizzy exclaimed unhelpfully. “Think of all he’s missed!”

  “Nevertheless, Natalie is right,” Hadrian said, looking sternly from his sister to his mother. “Especially as the nursery is already well stocked.”

  “But I only wish for him to be happy here,” his mother said with a pout. “You sound just like Cousin Godwin! When you were a little boy, he was forever sending scolding letters, warning me to cease spoiling you. Why, the pinchpenny brute even had the audacity to dispose of the toys I gave you.”

  “That was a long time ago. And there is something to be said for austerity. We’ve spoken of this a number of times.”

  The duchess groped for her handkerchief, dabbing the corner of one watery eye. “Oh, pray don’t be cruel, Hadrian. My purpose is only to be kind.”

  He appeared nonplussed by the sudden glint of tears, but there was something sham in the way she gazed up at her son that gave Natalie the suspicion that his mother could turn the waterworks on and off at will.

  In an effort to settle the dispute while Leo was distracted by examining the boxes, she said quickly, “You are kind, Duchess, to have gone out of your way to make Leo happy. Might I suggest that you give him a parcel to unwrap today, and save the others for later? So long as he behaves himself, of course.”

  “One per week would be a reasonable compromise,” Hadrian said with a slight smile at the boy. “Go on, brat. You may choose one to open right now.”

  Not surprisingly, Leo selected the biggest box and knelt down to rip off the yellow ribbon and striped paper. His face lit up. “Look, it’s the Royal Mail coach! With horses, too. There’s even a coachman! Thank you, Aunt Millie!”

  He jumped up to give her a quick hug while everyone dutifully oohed a
nd aahed. Tail wagging, Orlando leaped down from the duchess’s lap to watch Leo play with his new toy. Natalie noted the fine detail of the miniature set and fretted at the obvious expense. It also gave her an inkling as to why Lord Godwin had found the duchess’s indulgence of Hadrian to be excessive.

  While the boy was occupied, the duke turned to his mother. “I’m wondering if you might be acquainted with Miss Fanshawe’s grandfather,” he said. “Sir Basil Fanshawe.”

  Her eyes widened with interest. “Sir Basil? From Lincolnshire? Why, that rogue was a beau of mine back in my debutante days, though he was much older than me. I haven’t heard his name in ever so many years.”

  “He lost his place in society over some unpaid debts quite a long time ago,” Natalie said. “It was shortly after my father emigrated to America. To be perfectly frank, my family history is somewhat checkered.”

  “Oh, bosh, so is ours, and I am a part of the reason why,” she said matter-of-factly. “I shouldn’t think my son has mentioned my lineage to you, for by ducal decree of my late husband, it was swept under the rug ages ago.”

  Intrigued, Natalie glanced at Hadrian to see him regarding his mother with a hint of exasperation. “I’m not in the habit of regaling everyone I meet with an accounting of my parentage,” he said. “Now, about Sir Basil.”

  “Ah yes,” the duchess said. “Have you kept in touch with him, Miss Fanshawe? Is he still among the living?”

  “We exchange letters from time to time. I’ve an address for him here in London, in an area called Covent Garden.” Natalie looked at the duke. “If it isn’t asking too much, Hadrian, perhaps you wouldn’t mind lending me your carriage one day so that I might visit him?”

  Even as he inclined his head in a nod, Lizzy sat up straight in her chair, glancing from her brother to Natalie. “Hadrian, is it? I’m surprised he allows you to call him by his given name.”

  “Indeed,” her mother concurred, her speculative gaze on Natalie. “My son seldom permits anyone to address him with such familiarity. He is Clayton or Duke or Your Grace to all but a handful of intimates. Like his father, he’s always been stuffy and proper that way.”

  Was that true? As the women stared at her, warmth crept into Natalie’s cheeks. Hadrian seemed to find amusement in her discomfort, judging by the smirk tilting up one corner of his lips. Afraid the ladies might guess about that passionate kiss, she tossed out a distraction. “We’ve been working closely in an effort to do what’s best for Leo, that’s all. We agreed it wasn’t wise to leave him with Lord Godwin at the moment.”

  The duchess took the bait. “A sensible decision, I must say. Oak Knoll is a horrid place for a young child, so cold and grim, like a fortress.”

  “That’s precisely what I thought, too,” Natalie said.

  “I have never even been there,” Lizzy commented. “But I’ve met Lord Godwin here in London, and he seems a severe sort of fellow. I confess, I’m eager to learn what happened during your visit.”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” Hadrian said, flicking a meaningful glance at Leo, who was playing with his toy coach on the floor. “Getting back to Sir Basil, Natalie will be calling on him, in addition to taking Leo to the park and various amusements around town. It would be obliging of you, Mama, to assist her in acquiring the proper London wardrobe.”

  Natalie felt as if she’d been poked with a pin. “What? I’ve ample clothing in my valise.” That was a brazen lie, she acknowledged to herself, comparing her paltry few dresses to the fashionable creations worn by the other two women. “Though perhaps you’d be so kind as to direct me to a shop where I might purchase materials to sew another gown or two.”

  “Sew? Yourself?” The duchess appeared scandalized by the notion. “Certainly not! I would be a poor hostess indeed if I expected my guests to labor all day stitching their own clothing. We shall visit my mantua-maker in the morning. Madame Barbeau is the finest in London. She will not require an appointment, for she often says I’m her best customer.”

  “A splendid notion,” Lizzy chimed in, clapping her hands. “Such beautiful sable hair you have, Natalie. And those green eyes! She would look very fine in saffron or jonquil, don’t you think, Mama? As well as dramatic colors like claret and damson. And Madame showed me the loveliest bronze silk the other day, so rich and shimmery.”

  Flustered, Natalie shook her head. “Forgive me, I know you only mean to be helpful. But the truth is, I simply cannot afford to acquire an extensive wardrobe.”

  The duchess fluttered her beringed fingers. “Oh, my dear, it is but a trifling expense to me. It shall be my reward to you for traveling all the way across the ocean to bring young Leo to his kin.”

  “Yet I must refuse. I could never accept such a lavish gift. And that is final.”

  Her words fell like stones into the serenity of the rose-pink bedchamber. She expected the duchess to turn cool and haughty that a foreign upstart would dare to address her in such a manner. Instead, Her Grace appeared crestfallen, the corners of her mouth turned downward, as if she were a child denied a special treat. There was even a wounded glimmer to her eyes, and not the crocodile tears she’d directed at her son earlier.

  Natalie felt small and mean for having spoken so harshly. On impulse, she knelt in front of the older woman, taking hold of her hands. “I am sorry, Your Grace. I truly don’t wish to upset you. It’s just that I’m accustomed to providing for myself.”

  “As I am accustomed to purchasing things,” the duchess said on a sigh.

  “It is her greatest pleasure,” Hadrian confirmed dryly.

  Natalie flashed a scowl up at him, for he wasn’t helping matters. He must have known his mother would leap at the chance to outfit Natalie. And deep down, it struck at her pride to think that he might find her appearance to be lacking.

  “I have the very solution!” Lizzy exclaimed. “Last autumn, before realizing I was in a delicate condition, I ordered a number of new gowns. Alas, they won’t fit me now that I’ve grown as large as a house.” She lovingly rubbed her rounded belly. “So perhaps, Natalie, you would be so good as to take the dresses. You’re taller, but my maid can let down the hems. It won’t cost you a penny, and you’d be doing me a great favor, for they are cluttering up my dressing room. By the time I’m able to wear anything so slimming again, they’ll be out of style. Remember the violet sarcenet, Mama? It would look heavenly with her hair and eyes.”

  The duchess perked up. “Indeed, and I’ve a spangled shawl that would be the perfect accent. Why, I’ve never even worn it, after deciding that it brought out the gray in my hair.”

  As the two women began to chatter excitedly about various other accessories that could be contributed to the cause, Natalie stood up, aghast at this new scheme and confounded as to how to halt it. She abhorred the notion of accepting charity—which this very much felt like—yet the ladies were so enthusiastic that she lacked the heart to voice another refusal.

  Hadrian appeared at her side, an irksome grin tilting one corner of his mouth. “It’s useless to fight them,” he murmured. “They always get their way. Shall we proceed to the nursery now?”

  Chapter 18

  On their way upstairs, Hadrian carried Leo’s new toy. The boy bounded up the steps in a state of jubilant talkativeness. “I like my mail coach very much. The little horses, too. Even if it’s not the same as having a real pony.”

  Natalie caught the hopeful, sidelong glance he cast up at the duke. Still reeling from the extravagance of his mother and sister, she said firmly, “Leo! You are not to be expecting a pony anytime soon. One gift per week is all we agreed upon. And that’s only if you behave yourself.”

  “I will, Miss Fanshawe. ’Specially if I have a real pony!”

  Hadrian chuckled. “I haven’t forgotten my promise, brat. In the meantime, you may practice your riding skills on the hobby horse in the nursery.”

  “What’s a hobby horse?”

  “A large wooden steed designed for a fellow just your size. Go i
nside, you’ll see it over by the window.”

  The boy dashed ahead of them through the doorway and into the sunlit schoolroom. A pair of maidservants stood waiting, one old and one young. The girl helped Leo onto the carved horse and showed him how to rock back and forth, which he did with great enthusiasm. Both servants curtsied to the duke, eyeing Natalie with friendly curiosity.

  Hadrian set down the miniature mail coach on one of the small tables, then went to the middle-aged woman and planted a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “Why, Tippy, I might have known you’d still be in charge of this nursery. Miss Fanshawe, this is Mrs. Tippet.”

  Setting aside her own woes for the moment, Natalie greeted her warmly, liking the woman’s briskness and air of competence. She had a grandmotherly plumpness in a serviceable gray gown and white apron, and brown eyes that twinkled beneath her mobcap.

  “I was nursemaid to His Grace for his first five years, and then whenever he came to visit. The girl here is Flora. She grew up with younger brothers and knows how to keep little boys occupied so’s they stay out of trouble.”

  Flora smiled shyly before going to help Leo dismount from the hobby horse. She seemed energetic enough to keep up with an active boy, especially one who was eagerly darting around the large play area to view the many toys.

  While the duke directed him to check out the contents of the cupboards, Natalie strolled around the schoolroom, examining the well-stocked educational supplies. Although the textbooks dated back to Hadrian’s youth, they would do well for her to use in teaching a six-year-old.

  At least for the time being, she thought with a pang. Then a new governess would be hired, and Natalie would return to America. She would say good-bye to Leo—and Hadrian—forever.

  Now, why was she feeling such a lump in her throat? That day wouldn’t arrive for many weeks. And anyway, she wanted to resume a normal life in Philadelphia, where she could proceed with her plans to open a school.

  Mrs. Tippet was standing beside Hadrian, watching as Leo sat down to assemble the pieces of a wooden puzzle with Flora’s assistance. “Ah, it’s good to have a child at Clayton House again. It’s been far too long since you were a little tyke.” She shook her finger at Hadrian. “This nursery would be full of youngsters, if Your Grace would only do his duty.”