by Kit Morgan
“Ah, I see.”
The whispering must have caught the duchess’s attention. She turned, smiled, and said. “Oh, there you are.”
Tory’s eyebrows went up. She had an odd accent – French? – and like Mr. MacDonald’s secretary/wife had a beautiful lilt to her voice. “Good morning … Your Grace,” Tory said, remembering the proper mode of address at the last second. “It’s nice to meet you at last.”
The duchess approached. She had dark hair and green eyes and looked to be the same age as Tory, perhaps younger. She looked at Becky and gave a single nod.
Becky took her cue. “May I present Miss Tory Phelps, Your Grace?”
“Miss Phelps,” the duchess said with another regal nod.
“Her Grace, Lady Cozette Sayer, Duchess of Stantham,” Becky told Tory.
Sure, it was all silly formalities, but if the woman wanted to live in some historical fantasy, let her. She must be filthy rich, Tory thought. How else could she manage to surround herself in such archaic splendor? Not to mention such incredible clothes. The duchess’s dress was olive-green velvet trimmed in white lace with velvet-covered buttons. “Your Grace,” she said and curtsied, remembering her training. History fanatic or no, the woman was still a duchess.
“Tea?” the duchess asked.
“Yes, thanks. I mean … thank you, Your Grace.”
The duchess smiled and waved at Becky, who hurried out of the room. “You may call me, Cozette. I know, it goes against rules of …” She waved a hand, searching for the right word.
Tory nodded. “Etiquette, Your Grace? Er … Cozette?”
Cozette nodded ruefully. “I … lose words sometimes. Not as much as I used to, but …” She shrugged, as if to say you know how it is.
“I understand,” Tory said, but wasn’t sure she did. Maybe what the duchess really needed was a speech therapist. “We all do on occasion,” she added.
Cozette smiled. “You will help me keep my words on track, yes?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Tory replied, smiling back.
“Good. After tea, we will talk more about my … lessons.” No sooner had she spoke, Becky returned pushing a teacart. She served them both and quickly left again.
Tory eyed the yummy-looking scones, unsure if it was polite to take one before the duchess did. Certainly the rules of etiquette she was taught before coming here had covered this, but darned if she could remember …
“Would you like one?” Cozette asked and offered her the plate.
“Yes, thank you,” Tory took one, took a bite … heavenly! She took another, set both on her plate, then had a sip of tea as a butler entered the room. She’d never seen a real butler before. He reminded Tory of an old Hollywood actor … what was his name again? Don Ameche? Another of her mother’s favorites. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Sir Aldrich is here, Your Grace,” he said with a bow.
“Show him in, Barnes,” the duchess said.
“Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed again and left.
Tory stared after him and couldn’t help asking, “How many people work for you?”
“Work? Oh, you mean the servants? We have a full staff – eighteen if you include the coachman. Of course, that does not …” She waved a hand in the air again, and Tory noticed how she struggled for the words. “… does not include the gardener or stable master.”
Tory stared at her in shock, her teacup halfway to her mouth.
Barnes the butler returned. “Sir Aldrich, Your Grace,” he announced.
Tory turned to look at the newcomer … and promptly spilled tea all over herself.
Six
It was a moment before Tory realized she’d spilled hot tea down her dress. Was there no end to good-looking men in this scenario? And Sir Aldrich topped them all! He was gorgeous – tall and fit with dark wavy hair, high cheekbones and just a hint of five-o’clock shadow. As he made his way across the room, he seemed not to walk so much as glide, as if he were on casters. He looked like God had taken Hugh Jackman and said, “you know, I think I can improve on this a little …”
It was all she could do to sit still – and having just singed herself didn’t help. “Ouch!” she yelped, drowning out Sir Aldrich’s greeting and thus adding embarrassment to her physical pain. In a flash Barnes was at her side with a linen napkin, and she dabbed at her clothing in mortification. You’re sooo smooth, she silently chided herself.
“Oh dear,” Cozette said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, it was an accident,” Tory said. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. Accidents happen.” She turned to her guest. “So good to see you, Aldrich.”
“The feeling is mutual …” He glanced at Tory. “… Your Grace?”
The duchess waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Call me the usual, Aldrich. She is my tutor. May I introduce … Miss Phelps?”
“Yes, you may. Sir Aldrich Wolfe, at your service.” He nodded before turning back to Cozette. “Well, then, Crumpet, how do you fare? And where is that husband of yours?” He looked at Tory again. “And what the devil happened to you?”
Tory went crimson. “Spilled tea on myself – what does it look like?” As soon as the words were out, she grimaced. “I mean … I seemed to have experienced an unfortunate accident …”
He laughed. “I see. Do you require assistance?”
The butler’s eyebrows shot up. “I have the situation well in hand, sir By all means, don’t trouble yourself with the tutor’s welfare.”
“Barnes!” the duchess exclaimed. “Tutor, yes, but also my guest.”
Barnes had the decency to look as if he was about to have his head chopped off. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” He swallowed hard, glancing between the duchess and the newcomer. “Forgive me.” He snatched away the napkin in Tory’s hand and quickly exited the room.
“My, my – Barnes is in fine form, I see,” Aldrich commented dryly.
“He is afraid the duke will be displeased,” the duchess explained.
“Come now, Crumpet, Duncan isn’t going to have the man flogged for insulting your new tutor.”
The duchess smiled at Tory, who at this point was following their conversation with interest. “I am not so sure. Duncan is … short-tempered of late.”
“Indeed? Perhaps some fishing would ease his mind,” Aldrich sat and poured himself a cup of tea. “Extra cups, I see I was expected.”
The duchess smiled. “Always.” She turned to Tory. “Sir Aldrich is an very good friend of Duncan’s.”
“Really?” Tory said with some interest. As she recalled, if this fellow was just “Sir Aldrich,” he was pretty far down the social totem pole. But here he was referring to a duchess as “Crumpet.”
“Look at her, Crumpet – her mind is a whirlwind of questions,” he said.
The duchess giggled. “Yes, I see.”
Aldrich leaned toward Tory and winked conspiratorially. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, this house is very unconventional.”
“I’m getting that impression,” Tory mumbled. Who wouldn’t? Good grief, the place was a like a 24/7 living history lesson, albeit with some decidedly unconventional professors. Even this Aldrich guy had dressed in nineteenth-century garb – a riding outfit and a high silk hat. Just how many people had this woman pulled into her fantasy? A chill went up Tory’s spine at the thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a good gig after all.
Aldrich eyed Tory’s dress. “Shall I ring for your maid, Miss Phelps? You’ll likely want to change.”
Tory stood. “Yes … good idea.”
Aldrich went to a bell-pull near the entrance to the drawing room and gave it a tug, never taking his eyes off Tory. She tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. The man probably thought she was an idiot – or was wondering how much she’d been paid to get all trussed up in fancy period clothing and amuse the duchess. Probably the latter. What was he getting paid, come to that? Was he an actor, or just an indulgent friend?
Barnes re-enter
ed the drawing room. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Do fetch Becky, will you, Barnes?” Aldrich said. “Her Grace’s tutor needs tending.”
Barnes arched a disapproving eyebrow at Tory. “Yes, Sir Aldrich, right away. Your Grace.” He bowed to the duchess and left.
Tory headed for the wide entrance that led to the grand hall. “I can meet her in my room.”
Aldrich raised an eyebrow. “She’ll be here any second, I assure you. You’re an American?”
“Yes. What gave it away?”
He smiled. “Accents do help.” He turned to the duchess. “Wherever did you find her?”
“I didn’t. Duncan did.”
He smiled again and faced Tory. “Fascinating. I’d love to hear about your country – I’ve always wanted to go there. I hear the fishing is incredible.”
Tory shrugged. She’d never fished a day in her life. “I’ve heard that too, but never had the pleasure.”
“Never? But I thought women enjoyed it there as much as men. Those not of a tender nature, that is.”
Tory tried not to look confused, and likely failed. Did he just insult her? Or was he just playing his part? As far as she knew, men in the past were all a bunch of chauvinistic pigs. Come to think, so were most men in the present. “Tender nature?”
“Meaning the sport is too rough,” he explained. “All that hiking and climbing to get to the preferred spots – isn’t that right, Crumpet?”
“Yes, that is true.”
He turned back to Tory. “This estate has a few good fishing spots, two of which are most difficult to get to.”
“Oh,” Tory said with a slow nod. “I see.” So he was calling women wimps. But if he was in character, of course he would.
“I’d not take you to them unless you were properly equipped, I assure you,” he added.
“Excuse me?”
He waved at her. “Your gown is hardly the proper attire for such a venture.”
Tory watched the duchess do her best to hide a smile. What was that about? “Well, of course – who would go fishing wearing something like this?”
He laughed again, a deep chuckle that made her nerves stand up and go “thank you, sir, may I have another?”
She decided to press her luck. “So what do you suggest I wear, Sir Aldrich?” She could stand an outing with the likes of him.
He rubbed his chin. “Hm. Have you a riding habit?”
“She does,” the duchess answered for her. A good thing too, as Tory hadn’t a clue as to what else was in that armoire upstairs.
“Excellent. Then when it pleases Crumpet here, I’ll show you where I go. Barnes can accompany us.” The duchess actually snorted at that.
Becky entered the room, took one look at Tory and gasped. “Oh no, Miss Tory, your dress! Come with me. We must hurry before the stain sets.”
Tory looked down at her dress and sighed. “I’m afraid we might be too late.”
“Not if we hurry.” She beckoned Tory to follow her.
She began to leave, stopped and turned. “Sorry about the dress, Your Gr … I mean, Cozette.”
“Becky can fix it,” she said with a smile, then glanced at Aldrich. “Go … put on a riding habit.”
Tory knew what that meant. She locked eyes with the gorgeous man standing next to the tea cart and felt her heart flutter. “Sure thing.” And off she went to change.
* * *
“A bit lacking in manners,” Aldrich commented. “But then, she is an American.”
“You forget, Aldrich, that Duncan and I are from America. And she is of the same social standing as yourself, I think.”
“A governess? I think not.” Aldrich took a sip of tea to hide the tightness in his jaw. He was of no great social importance compared to Duncan and Cozette, but he had his knighthood, a small estate in Kent, and came from a long ancestry of knights and soldiers. “Is she from New York? Philadelphia?”
“California, as I understand. Somewhere near San Francisco … or is it Sacramento? I always get those mixed up.”
“I’ve heard of those places. But why the devil would Duncan bring a tutor all the way from America when we have some of the finest educators in the world right here? I don’t see the point.” He glanced at the open double doors and beyond to the great hall. “Though I do like her spirit.”
Cozette smiled. “So do I. I am glad she is here.”
He turned around with a smile. “Then she may stay.”
Cozette rolled her eyes. “I am happy you approve.”
He laughed, drained his teacup, and set it on the cart. “Where is Duncan? I’ve some business to discuss with him before I completely ruin your new tutor. Not to mention Barnes – I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I tell him he’s to chaperone.”
Cozette sighed. “You see what you like and pursue it.”
Aldrich’s smile vanished. “Pursue? Now wait a minute, Crumpet, you know I jest. I’m merely …” He paused.
Cozette raised an eyebrow. “Merely what?”
“Um … seeing to my own amusement.”
“At the sake of my new tutor? I hardly think so. She is pretty, yes?”
“That has nothing to do with …”
“Doesn’t it?”
Aldrich stopped himself before he agreed. He’d jumped in with both feet by inviting the American to go on an outing. They only reason he could get away with such an unconventional move was that he was in an unconventional household. He’d be considered nothing but a rake anywhere else, and was upon occasion. But Duncan and Cozette knew him better, and would think nothing of it so long as he remained a gentleman. He planned to, of course, but …”
“She caught your eye quickly,” Cozette commented as she poured herself another cup. “A good thing, I think. You … need someone, Aldrich.”
“Oh no,” Aldrich chuckled. “Get that look out of your eye, Crumpet. You’ll not marry me off so easily.”
She giggled to herself and drank her tea.
“It’s a simple outing, nothing more. A diversion to heighten the senses.” He pointed at her. “Something to keep your meddling mind away from!”
“You’re frightened,” she said calmly.
“I am nothing of the sort!”
“What’s this?” a voice called from the hall.
Aldrich spun on his heel. “Your wife is impossible!” he yelled back.
Duncan Sayer, Duke of Stantham, entered the room, crossed it to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m aware. What have I missed? Did you meet with Miss Phelps, my dearest?”
“Yes. I like her.”
“Good, I knew she’d be agreeable. And you, Aldrich – did you already scare her off? I just heard she suffered a little accident.”
“She spilled tea on herself the moment I arrived.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “Seeing as she was already wet, I invited her fishing.”
Duncan almost choked laughing as he sat.
“Barnes will go with them,” Cozette put in.
Duncan laughed harder. “Has anyone informed Barnes?”
“Not yet,” Aldrich said with a grin. “But I will.”
“Poor fellow,” Duncan said, pouring himself a cup. “You know how he hates insects.”
Aldrich shrugged. “He’ll hold up. He always does.”
“But at what cost?” Duncan glanced heavenward and back. “My good man, the last time he accompanied you fishing he almost drowned.”
“Oh come now, he most certainly did not. A fabrication on his part.”
“He came back soaked to the skin, still choking and … coughing,” Cozette remarked.
Aldrich shook his head. “I can’t help it if he fell into the deep end of the pool.”
“Pool?” Cozette asked.
“Yes, you know, the one in the west stream?” Duncan commented. “Much like the swimming hole back in Cooke’s Canyon?”
“Oh yes … our swimming hole.” She smiled.
Aldrich stiffened. He knew the d
uke and duchess not only fished at the pool, but also used it as a romantic retreat. He’d stumbled upon them one visit. It was embarrassing for all three, but luckily the duke and duchess were largely submerged at the time so Aldrich didn’t see more than he should.
What he remembered most after that encounter was how lonely he felt, that emptiness he couldn’t fill. The duke and duchess of Stantham had a passion between them he could only dream of – and often did of late. Maybe that would explain his hasty invitation to possibly drown Cozette’s guest. “I say, you wouldn’t happen to know if your new tutor can swim, do you?”
“Are you planning to push her in?” Duncan asked amused.
“To answer your question, yes, I can swim.”
All heads turned as Miss Phelps entered the room in a brown and green riding habit with matching hat. Aldrich thought her quite fetching the way she carried herself – she walked into the room like she owned it. He glanced at his host and hostess, then the tutor. “It’s a relief to know. How do you feel about insects?”
“Bugs? Why?” she asked as she picked something off her jacket.
“Call me curious. In my experience, most ladies don’t care for them. But they shouldn’t be too numerous at this time of day.”
“A few mosquitoes won’t bother me. They don’t like how I taste.”
She spoke strangely, but Aldrich rather liked the boldness of it. “Then I shall inform Barnes of our impending adventure.”
“Do try to bring him back in one piece,” Duncan urged.
“Of course. Have I ever lost him?”
“No, but after the last time I thought he was going to give notice.”
“As I said before, merely a fabrication on his part. The man blew it all out of proportion.” He turned toward the hall.
“Fabrication?” Miss Phelps looked confused. But of course she would – she didn’t know the story.
“I’ll tell you what happened to poor Barnes on the way to the best fishing spot in Sussex,” Aldrich promised.
She smiled. “Then I should warn you that I’ve never fished before.”
Aldrich felt a pang of pride – he’d get to teach her a thing or two. He did love passing on his expertise. “I shall endeavor to be a worthy instructor. You’ll be patient with me?”
