Not Even For a Duke

by A. S. Fenichel

  “Does he?” Helen’s cheeks pinkened ever so slightly. “How flattering.”

  Garrett might have blushed himself with the two women staring at him. “I told her only the truth, Helen. Please go on, Rora, before I’m felled under such scrutiny.”

  They both had the grace to giggle at him. He’d rarely heard either one giggle, and it was quite beguiling.

  Aurora shook her head. “As amusing as it is to see Garrett squirm, I won’t torture either of you any longer. I’m planning to open a school in Cheshire and hoped you might be a good fit for the headmistress. I wanted to get to know you in some situation that was not an interview to determine if we might suit as benefactor and headmistress of a school for girls. I have certain ideas about how I would want things done.”

  As she spoke, she clasped her hands under her chin and her eye lit with each word.

  The way her passion poured from her description of the school made Garrett wish he were at liberty to bring other kinds of passions out of her.

  Helen blinked several times. “As flattering as this is, my lady, I doubt I am the person for the position. I don’t believe a girls’ finishing school is where I would excel.”

  With a clap, Aurora grinned then whispered, “That’s just it, Helen, I want a real school for girls. I want them to learn philosophy, literature, economics, geography, Latin, and every other subject that might fill an inquisitive mind. Of course, if they have some great talent for art or music, we would wish that encouraged as well.”

  Again, Helen seemed not sure how to continue, and she stood blinking. “I know of no such schools for girls to rival Eton.”

  Rather than spew more ideas at poor rattled Helen, Aurora offered her arm. “Let me introduce you to my friends. There is plenty of time to talk of the school as the evening progresses.”

  Dutifully, Garrett followed behind as Aurora made the introductions. He slipped away for a glass of wine when they reached Rhys. “It seems to be going well enough.”

  Rhys shrugged. “It’s so hard to tell with ladies. They are trained from birth to hide their true feelings.”

  Aurora, Poppy, Mercy, and Faith had gathered around Helen and laughed at something Helen said. “You don’t think they are genuine?”

  “I think it is in their nature to make your friend feel welcome, and they are brilliant enough in their own rights to recognize her assets. I don’t know if that means they will like her or not.” Rhys drained his glass and took another from the tray Tipton carried while leaving the empty for the butler to take away. “Thank you, Tipton.”

  “Should I be worried for Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow?” Garrett asked, watching the ladies’ banter with greater interest.

  Rhys slapped him on the back. “She’s safe enough, and dinner will be served before they do any real damage.”

  “You are not assuaging my concerns.” Though, Helen looked happy enough and was likely in no imminent danger.

  “She’s lovely. I hadn’t expected that. You described a woman who fooled all of Oxford. I expected a less feminine adversary for those great minds.” Rhys leaned back, watching the ladies.

  Garrett didn’t bother to hide his laughter. “You, of all people, should know that a beautiful woman can be formidable. Helen could outwit any one of us if that were her game.”

  Rhys leaned against the mantel. The fireplace was dark, as the evening was comfortably warm for April. “You make an excellent point. My wife outwits me daily.” Grinning, he turned away from the others and looked at Garrett. “I supposed your title will keep you in England more.”

  “For the time being have no plans to travel.” Garrett kept Aurora in his sight. Would she remarry? The idea of standing around while another man escorted her about soured his stomach.

  Nick joined them. He was grinning and sat on the sofa facing the door. “Will you be taking your seat at the House of Lords then?”

  Wesley had joined the ladies and stood very close to Mercy. Probably too close for being in company. Garrett felt a pang of jealousy for what these couples had found. He pushed down the feelings. “Not just yet. I have so much to familiarize myself with to run the estates, I’ll be busy with that for some time.”

  “You could sell one or two if it’s too much. They can’t all be entailed, and it’s absurd to think the acquiring of land as important as our fathers did.” Nick put down his wine and leaned back.

  Garrett gave the door a glance as Nick seemed to be studying the entry. “I may sell off some of the less profitable bits if I can get a decent price. It will depend on the tenants, of course.”

  “It’s a pity you haven’t any siblings you can give some land to. Look at how nicely that Cheshire property has worked out. Wesley’s grandfather lost the place to some ancestor of Rora’s deceased husband, Radcliff gave it to my father in exchange for Rora, and Wesley wanted it back and wound up falling in love with Mercy, and now Rora and Wesley will turn it into a school for girls and it will bear Wesley’s name. It’s a crazy world.” Rhys raised his glass as if in toast.

  “It is that,” Garrett agreed.

  The door opened, and Tipton barely had time to announce, “Mr. Arafa.”

  “I am so sorry to be late.” Geb smiled brightly and rounded the butler. His dark eyes sparkled with glee as Aurora rushed over to greet him.

  “I was beginning to worry for you, Mr. Arafa.” She made a pretty curtsy.

  Garrett had met Geb a time or two. He was a close friend of Nick’s and often attended parties with his circle of friends. Of Egyptian background, he was a collector of artifacts. Garrett suspected he and Nick had been spies, but it was none of his business.

  Garrett had heard his name mentioned in such circles long before he’d met the man in person. During his travels, he’d chanced to dine with an English diplomat on an assignment in Spain for Francis Drake. He’d said he had a package delivered from Mr. Arafa that would entice his Spanish counterpart to give him the information he needed to return to England. When Garrett had questioned the man about who Mr. Arafa was, he’d become silent and soon changed the subject.

  Garrett bowed. “Mr. Arafa, it is nice to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace. I was very sorry to hear of the loss of your father. It is a difficult thing to lose a parent,” Geb said regretfully.

  “Thank you. It is nice to be among people who understand that gaining a title means losing something far more dear.” Garrett had no idea why he’d said such a thing to a man who was little more than a stranger. Perhaps it was the sincerity in his condolences, or maybe spies know how to get people to speak the truth.

  Geb nodded. “I have always found it an odd habit of the English to celebrate a man’s rising to a title. But I suppose not every man has deep affection for his father.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Mine was a good man. He didn’t approve of my wanderlust, but he was always on my side of an argument.” Garrett’s chest tightened as he thought of his father.

  “It is good then that you have a family of sorts here with the Wallflowers. Though, I suppose, they can hardly be called that now.” Geb laughed, and they looked at the ladies who were in deep conversation with Helen.

  “I’m not family here,” Garrett corrected.

  “No?” Geb studied him. “I think you are mistaken, Your Grace, but I will leave it for you to work out. Who is the tall lady with rosy curls?”

  Garrett followed Geb’s gaze to Helen, whose red hair did take on a rosy color in the candlelight.

  “That is Mrs. Helen Hazlett-Barrow. Shall I introduce you?”

  Geb searched the room. “Is her husband not with her?”

  “She is not married, sir.”

  “I see.”

  Garrett didn’t know how Geb could see, since he had no idea how Helen had obtained the missus before her name. Still, Garrett liked that Geb always seemed open minded to the quirks and habits of others.

  “An introduction before we sit for dinner would be helpful,” Geb’s at
tention remained on Helen.

  Chapter 3

  Aurora didn’t know what to make of Helen Hazlett-Barrow. She was smart and witty to be sure, but more than that was hard to assess. For some reason, she hadn’t expected the lady to be so lovely. Tall enough to be a man, perhaps, but Helen had beautiful red hair, fine skin, and a narrow jaw. She had sharp blue-green eyes and long lashes. Her nose was straight and proportionate. How had anyone at Oxford thought this was a man?

  It was her duty to enter the dining room first and Garrett escorted her, but had he wanted to take Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow’s arm instead? A knot formed low in Aurora’s stomach. She pushed aside all negativity. If her dear friend was in love with Helen Hazlett-Barrow, Aurora would do all in her power to help them through the opposition they would face. For surely a woman of no title and a duke was not the best match on paper. Still, all would be well if they truly loved each other.

  As soon as the first course of white soup was before them, Poppy said, “Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow, I don’t wish to be rude.”

  Rhys covered a laugh, as did Mercy.

  Poppy gave them both a scathing look before returning her attention to their newest acquaintance. “I was wondering how you came to be called Mrs and why you maintain two surnames?”

  “Poppy, that is none of your business.” Faith reprimanded, but looked over at Helen with equal parts curiosity and apology.

  Helen took a sip of the soup, then put her spoon down. She looked across the table and locked gazes with Poppy. “It is quite uncommon for people to be so direct. Are you always thus?”

  It was impossible to know where this would go and Aurora feared her dinner party designed to evaluate Helen’s character was about to come crashing to an end.

  With a long sigh, Poppy nodded. “I’m afraid so. We are none of us four very good at dissembling, and I am the worst of the group. I assure you, I don’t mean to be rude, and my question derives from an honest curiosity and nothing malicious.”

  Helen smiled making her even lovelier than before. “What an odd assortment of dukes, duchesses, earls, and countesses you are.”

  Wesley barked out a laugh. “That much is certain.”

  “And we shall take it as a compliment,” Nick added raising his wine glass in toast.

  No one made an attempt to release Helen from the question. Aurora thought to ease the situation, however her own curiosity kept her silent but attentive.

  “I see I shall get no piece this night until I have told you, but you may wish me out of the house when you learn the truth.” Helen took another sip of soup. Perhaps she thought to gain some nourishment before being thrust back into the street.

  Aurora found herself leaning forward in anticipation of whatever tale Helen might tell. “I doubt that very much.”

  “As do I,” Mr. Arafa said in a low rumble.

  It was possible that Aurora detected a blush from Helen when Mr. Arafa spoke. She filed that away and waited for whatever was to come.

  Putting down her spoon yet again, Helen took a long breath and let it out. “Several years ago, I was Miss Helen Hazlett. My father is a country gentleman with a small estate and enough funds to live, but not enough to live very well. However, my family has always been happy. My mother runs a very amusing household. My two younger sisters and I were well educated by Mother, who is quite brilliant.

  “When I was one and twenty, it became clear that marriage to the simpletons in my purview was not an option. I decided rather than marry I would get a proper education. I felt myself as bright as any man and so I invented an identity, Helmet Barrow. Barrow was my mother’s maiden name.”

  “I hardly believed it could be true.” Faith sounded quite rapturous with a wide eyed and grinning expression.

  Helen gasped. “You knew?”

  Aurora said, “The Duke of Corwin did mention you had attended Oxford, but nothing more.”

  “And still you invited me?” She shook her head mystified.

  A low laugh sounded from Poppy. “My dear Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow, it is the very reason we wished to meet you.”

  “And the school, of course.” Mercy sipped her soup as if she’d barely been listening.

  “Do continue with your story, madam. How did you gain entrance to Oxford as Helmet Barrow?” It was the first time they had seen Geb appear anxious to have more information. He was generally so calm and relaxed though they all knew information was his specialty.

  Another pinkening of Helen’s cheek and she continued. “I sent my application and letter. When they asked me to meet with them, I cut my hair, dressed as a man, and put on a pair of spectacles. They never questioned me. I claimed to have been educated at home by my father. I passed all their tests and had the education of my dreams.”

  “Amazing.” Aurora wished she were half so brave as Helen.

  “Indeed,” Geb said grinning from ear to ear.

  “It is fascinating,” Faith said. “But it does not answer the question.”

  All heads turned back toward Helen. “No. I suppose not.” She grinned. “I found that after I had matriculated, I wished to write papers on several pieces of research I’d been delving into. Philosophy is my greatest passion, but I also find chemistry intriguing. As Miss Hazlett, no one would even agree to speak with me. I didn’t wish to go on as a man indefinitely, so I thought I would try as a respectable married woman. I began putting Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow on the pages and immediately was read and published. I think of it much as a cook or the housekeeper in a fine house would be called Mrs. regardless of her marital status. If those ladies can be made legitimate why not a scholar?”

  “Indeed, why not?” Aurora couldn’t have agreed more. “Though it is a shame such legitimacy is needed.”

  Helen shrugged as the squab was placed before her. “Such are the times we live in.”

  Stabbing the poor bird on her plate, Poppy said, “Exactly the reason we need the Castlewick School to be something really special.”

  With a quick glance at Wesley, Helen cut into her squab far more gently. “Are you not the Earl of Castlewick, my lord?”

  Nodding, Wesley finished the bite in his mouth. “I am. The house Aurora plans to convert once belonged to my family.”

  A tight crease formed between Helen’s brows.

  Mercy said, “It is rather a long story.”

  “I’m certain it is, my lady.” Helen cut a bite of the succulent roasted squab.

  Aurora was certain that Helen had dozens of questions, but she refrained from asking. They finished the remainder of the meal with talk of weather, art, and music. Mercy offered to play after dinner and Helen confessed to knowing little on the subject of good music.

  By the middle of the second song Helen dabbed moisture from her eyes.

  Aurora leaned across the space between them on the settee. “I thought you knew nothing of music.”

  A wry smile played on Helen’s lips. “It seems when someone is that magnificent it makes little difference if one knows much of the subject.”

  Mercy touched each key on the pianoforte as if it were a lover and from those notes formed a phrase and a story followed. Tears streamed down Mercy’s face even more than her audience who were enraptured. When the song of Mozart’s lost love was at an end, Mercy let her hands slide to her lap.

  At the ready, Wesley handed his wife a handkerchief so she could dab her wet cheeks before turning toward the room.

  Applause followed, but Mercy shrugged off the accolades and sat in the chair to Helen’s right. “Do you play, Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow?”

  “I would be delighted if you would call me Helen, my lady. No. I never learned.” Her eyes shifted away as if the lack in her female education was an embarrassment.

  A wide smile filled Mercy’s face. “Helen, it is not a crime to spend one’s days on loftier pursuits than the pianoforte. And please call me Mercy.”

  The men busied themselves with turning and moving chairs so that they formed a large circle for conversation. The warm butter
and blue tones of her lady’s parlor had always soothed Aurora, but since their numbers had grown to include men, the movement of furniture had become a regular event. She’d come to love the lively conversation of her family of friends.

  Helen cocked her head and a ruby curl escaped to slide down and rest alone her elegant neck. “I think it would have been a very large crime had you not learned, Mercy. Your gift is a gift to us all.”

  A rare blush colored Mercy’s cheeks and she muttered her thanks.

  To spare Mercy any more embarrassment, Aurora asked, “Would you like to hear more about my thoughts about the Castlewick School?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Helen put her glass of sherry aside and gave Aurora her full attention, which was a bit daunting when those blue-green eyes focused so intently.

  For over an hour they chatted and threw out ideas about how young girls should be educated. By the time everyone had left, Aurora felt confident she’d found her headmistress. She stepped into the garden and took a deep breath of cool spring air.

  Steps sounded on the path behind her. She swiveled around to find Garrett rushing down toward her with her shawl in hand. “I hope you don’t mind, I stayed behind to gain your thoughts about Helen.”

  He settled the shawl on her shoulders. Did his hands remain a moment longer than was necessary as his fingers brushed the exposed flesh at her throat? It must have been her imagination. She’d seen the way he spoke to Helen and how attentive he’d been to her. Yet her skin warmed and her breath caught.

  “I think Helen is perfect. I’m surprised you didn’t marry her when the two of you were abroad. You are a charming couple.” Aurora hated the hint of jealousy that wound its way into her voice.

  Clasping his hands behind his back, he looked out over the moonlit garden. It was a bright night and she saw the crisp cut of his shoulders against the dark background. His shoulders lifted and fell in a deep breath, worrying the fine material of his coat.

  His voice was low and far away. “I never had any romantic interest in Helen. We met in Italy and again in Spain by chance. We are friends. She is a fascinating woman, and I enjoyed having someone from home to chat with. It may sound strange, but it is nice to joke with someone who can grasp the humor. I think it is difficult to translate humor in a second language.”