Charming the Duke

by Holly Bush

  “We’re home, Ethel,” Matilda said. She turned to stare at Thornsby. “I do not understand your fuss about me having a chaperone. I have done fine on my own for years.”

  Thornsby stepped down to help Matilda alight as Ethel made her way to the door.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Your Grace.” Matilda smiled up at him. “As well as your kind offer to the museum. However, I will be very busy at the orphanage. I’ve neglected my duties, you see, fussing about gowns and what not.” Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. “I will not worry myself with such nonsense ever again.”

  * * *

  Thornsby watched her hurry up the steps, and in the light spilling from the entranceway, race past her family and up the staircase. A lump so large he could not swallow, lodged in his throat. Matilda had made it quite clear. She would have nothing to do with him. Thornsby stared out the window on the ride to Winterbourne. The pain in his chest had nothing to do with his impending birthday. Or his seemingly impossible quest for a duchess. It had to do, he was sure, with the thought that he may never see Matilda again. She believed him to be shallow, vain and a whole host of other unpleasant attributes.

  He was attracted to her in the very basest way, and in the best way as well. She was lovely, especially this evening in her gown with her hair in ringlets atop her head, and that, he knew, was only the smallest detail of his attraction. They had conversed comfortably. He had briefly envisioned cold evenings in front of a fire with Matilda and it had brought a smile to his face. It was Matilda’s eyes, he conceded, that bewitched him the most. Alive with merriment. Hurt. Alight with anger. But eyes that would be kind and trustworthy, and when giving their full attention to any being, saw the real person. The real me, Thornsby thought. Her eyes saw the truth of him clearer than any.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The outing to the museum took most of the afternoon. When Thornsby arrived home, the children were exhausted, and Mrs. Plumsbly took them to their rooms for a nap. He wished, as well, he could stretch out on his bed and close his eyes. Perhaps then he would not envision the censure in Matilda’s eyes.

  “Mrs. Smithley’s in the library, Your Grace,” Mrs. Plumsbly said as she helped the children out of their coats.

  The last person Thornsby wanted to see was Athena. He turned and headed to his study without a word. He slumped in his chair behind his desk and looked out the window. The clock chimed. Papers remained stacked. The fire grew dimmer. Sometime later Thornsby heard the subtle clearing of a throat.

  “Supper will be served shortly, Your Grace,” Withrow said from the doorway.

  “Let Jonah and Alice dine with you and Mrs. Plumsbly, Withrow.”

  “The children have asked Mrs. Smithly to dine with them.”

  Thornsby raised a brow and turned in his seat. “I doubt we can convince my sister to eat in the kitchens?”

  Withrow gave a subtle shake of his head. “Will you be joining . . ?”

  The door opened wider, and Athena appeared. “It is no wonder you’re exhausted, Freddie. I have just listened to the children tell of their outing and feel as if I’ve climbed a mountain. I’ll join the children for dinner in a moment, Withrow. His Grace will order something later if he is hungry.”

  The door closed soundlessly. It would certainly be too much to ask, Thornsby supposed, to have Athena on the other side of it.

  “How was your evening with Miss Sheldon, Freddy?”

  “I suppose the children shared that information with you.”

  Athena seated herself. “Yes, they did. Andrew did as well after his morning ride in the park. Seems Millicent Marsh made quite a little scene. How did Miss Sheldon handle that episode?”

  Thornsby shrugged. “The grandmother was there.”

  Athena lifted a brow. “I imagine Ethel Sheldon does not countenance fools for long. Nor would she allow anyone one to malign her favorite granddaughter. I assume she marshaled her troops of ancient dowagers to put tongues to rest.”

  “That she did in fine fashion,” Thornsby replied softly.

  Athena tilted her head. “What is the matter, Freddie? Did Miss Sheldon refuse another of your offers?”

  Thornsby pulled his feet from atop his desk, picked up a paper from a neat pile and studied it. Certainly Athena would take her cue.

  “Come and dine with us, Freddie. The children want to talk more of the museum. I admit I enjoy their descriptions. No use letting yourself succumb to the doldrums. If you do not marry, if you do not inherit, we will get by tolerably. Andrew’s rich in his own right. Use my inheritance to support the estates. I daresay there’s enough . . .”

  “Would you be shocked if I told you that my doldrums, as you call them, were caused by something other than a reduction in means? Could you imagine that something other than wealth could cause this? You’re my sister. Can you not fathom that I am not the cold-hearted brute willing to accept any woman to secure my future?”

  Athena looked at him evenly. “On the ride to Maplewood those were exactly your concerns. Have your interests changed?”

  Thornsby did not even realize he had stood up, that he had been shouting. He straightened his coat and sat down. “I will not allow myself to be drawn in to a conversation with you that I have no intentions of having.”

  Athena stood. “It is unnecessary for you to converse with me on this subject matter. Your feelings are clear on your face for me to discern.”

  Thornsby heard the door click shut. Had his interests changed since the weekend at Maplewood? Since Jonah and Alice arrived in his life? Were they intertwined, interconnected, or wholly separate from each other? No doubt his interests had changed. He had spent an entire day in company with two children pointing out artifacts. No doubt he would have enjoyed himself immensely if his previous evening with Matilda had gone well.

  * * *

  Matilda dressed early before the rest of the house was awake. She needed to make her escape before she had to explain to her mother and sisters why she had rushed past them and up to her bedchamber the night before. Matilda had spent the days and hours before the ball filled with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness and happiness. Little did she realize that while allowing herself to look forward to time spent with Thornsby she would also leave herself vulnerable to hurt. Even now the vision of Millicent Marsh made disappointment descend as fresh as the moment it happened.

  Matilda threw herself into her work. Into caring for children that no one else cared about. She sent a letter by post to Mrs. Bell whom she interviewed the day Thornsby came to chat. Matilda offered the woman the position and hoped Mrs. Bell would accept and begin immediately. There were to be six children in the orphanage shortly and more expected to arrive.

  “Looking a might sickly today, Miss Sheldon. That nob didn’t treat you bad at that fancy ball you went to, now, did he?” Mrs. Brewer asked.

  Matilda looked up from the fabric she was measuring while Mrs. Brewer stitched the hem on a curtain. Matilda shook her head. She could hardly blame Thornsby for Millicent Marsh’s behavior. He was embarrassed, too, Matilda knew. The last thing a dashing bachelor in search of bride needed was a scene in a crowded ballroom.

  “Men,” Mrs. Brewer sighed in exasperation. “Don’t grow up none till they’re too old to be much use to anyone.”

  “The Duke was courteous and attentive, Mrs. Brewer.” Matilda frowned. “Even when my own shortcomings were so aptly displayed.”

  Mrs. Brewer’s hands fell to her lap. “Shortcomings. Hardly, Miss Sheldon. Why you being the kindly soul that you are, and taking all these children in that have nowheres to go. Not too many others I see doing it, I don’t.”

  Matilda sat down in the chair near the window and looked out into the small, yard behind the house. Mr. Small had Bill and Davey in the yard pulling weeds from what used to be a flower garden.

  “My shortcomings of the physical variety, Mrs. Brewer,” Matilda said as she watched the boys sling mud at each other. “I have known
all my life, being sister to Alexandra and Juliet, that I was hardly attractive.”

  “Humph. You are a very pretty young woman.” Mrs. Brewer said. “Any man puts that much stock in a woman’s looks deserves to be alone. Not deserving of your attention anyway.”

  Matilda considered Mrs. Brewer’s words. The same thoughts she’d lived her life by all these years. If a man, or a woman, could not see past the superficial, then they were no doubt superficial themselves, and deserved no attentions. Why now, though, did those words bring Matilda no comfort as they had in the past? Why did they make her jealous of her sisters when she imagined Alexandra and Juliet if they faced Millicent Marsh, staring her down with no more than the color of their eyes and the shape of their lips.

  The answer, of course, was Thornsby. Matilda supposed she hadn’t cared over much for any man’s opinion or favor before. Matilda let out a tightly-held breath drowned out by Mrs. Brewer’s mutterings. She cared what he thought. Maybe cared about him. This was a complication Matilda did not need, nor want. But was this what Ethel had meant when she said to listen to her heart? Was she in love with him?

  Later that week, Juliet and Alexandra arrived in the afternoon.

  “I really shan’t have time for tea today,” Matilda said, “other than a cup in the kitchens with Mrs. Brewer. Two more children arrived last evening that weren’t to come until next week. Hazel and Helen. Poor urchins have nothing but the clothes on their back.”

  “I must meet them straight away, Matilda,” Juliet said. “I have found stacks of dresses of ours in the attics at Maplewood that I was certain Mother had given to charity. I simply must see their coloring and choose some dresses for these girls from among them.”

  Juliet went upstairs and Alexandra followed Matilda into her office. Matilda sat and reread a letter from a Miss Pinkey that had arrived this morning in answer to another advertisement Matilda had placed for a house mother.

  “There is so much to do, I don’t even know where to begin, Alexandra,” Matilda said. “I’ve got beds for fourteen children but not the staff hired yet to manage them all.” Matilda had had a hectic week complicated by the fact that she didn’t sleep well for dreaming of Thornsby. She looked at her sister beside her. “Alexandra! Whatever are you crying about?”

  Alexandra covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Matilda! I am so heartbroken! I will never marry!”

  “Heartbroken? Whatever has happened? You are but eighteen and will have plenty of opportunities this season to meet someone nice.”

  Alexandra slumped down into the rocker and pulled the worn quilt around her shoulders. “I have met someone nice, Matilda. I have known him all my life in fact.” Alexandra’s lip trembled. “William. Viscount Altry.”

  Matilda knelt down in front of Alexandra. “Everyone knows you’ve always had a tendre for William. He’s been underfoot at Maplewood since Fitz brought him home years ago. But why are you heartbroken? Has William become affianced?”

  Alexandra shook her head and fresh tears fell. “No. No, he has not,” Alexandra said and looked in Matilda’s eyes.

  “Then what, Alexandra? What has happened?”

  “William told me he loved me, and I am certain I love him,” Alexandra said defiantly and searched Matilda’s face.

  “I am not one to judge anyone on this business of love. It is confusing at best, but, Alexandra, if you love each other, then what is the problem. Mother and Father certainly would not object.”

  “I met him at the lending library after he sent me a note. Managed to get away from Grandmama for a few moments and then . . . and then he told me. Told me I wasn’t suitable to be his Viscountess.”

  “How utterly ridiculous! Of course you are suitable to be his Viscountess!”

  Alexandra shook her head and looked down at her hands. “This is almost too horrible to repeat, but he said that my reputation was not up to his mother’s expectations and that they would disown him if made his court to me public.”

  “What nonsense!” Matilda reached for her sister’s hand. “I’m wondering if William didn’t know how to tell you that his feelings had changed and used his mother’s reluctance as an excuse when . . .”

  “No! That is not it!” Alexandra cried. “He said his mother, Countess Marwick, was given information about me that would be an embarrassment to him and his family.”

  “I am sure that this is just a mix-up or idle gossip that will be straightened out. Tell Mother. She knows how to fix these types of messes.”

  “Oh, no. I mustn’t. We have all been invited to the Marquess of Hereford’s garden party at Herndon this weekend. His eldest son, George, danced with Julia at Pemberley’s, and while she has said little, I do believe she is very much interested in him. He has sent flowers and offered to take her to the park, but she has declined.”

  “But you believe Julia is interested in him?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, I do. She is always staring off and smiling and not paying attention to me lately, and when the invitation arrived for the garden party, which Mother never expected us to receive, she nearly ran to her rooms and began to try on gowns. I don’t want to cause Julia or Mother any worry about this matter until after the garden party.”

  Matilda stood and put her hands on her hips. “And you believe that mention of this nonsensical talk from William may upset Julia.”

  At that moment, they both heard Julia coming down the steps and speaking to Mrs. Brewer. Alexandra jumped up and grabbed Matilda’s hands. “Promise you will say nothing of this. I believe this weekend is of great importance to Julia. Promise me.”

  “I promise, but you must tell Mother straight away on Monday morning about this business with William.”

  Alexandra nodded, wiped her eyes once more and hooked her arm through Julia’s as she came into the room.

  “I must get home straight away and work on hemming these old gowns of ours. Come along now, Alexandra!”

  Matilda smiled and kissed her sisters on the cheek. Matilda had met the Marquess’ son. Her mother had said he put her in mind of a Greek God, and it was true. While George Tramontin, Viscount Middletown, wasn’t known for his titillating conversation or knowledge, Frances said it was universally known that his was a fine and honorable family and with his looks, pleasant manners, and title, he was undeniably the matrimonial catch of the decade. Juliet would be his match in every way.

  * * *

  Thornsby rapped his cane on the door of Miss Sheldon’s orphanage. He’d already been to Maplewood and was told Matilda was from home. Her brother had shouted over the butler’s shoulder that she’d already gone to the orphanage and would not be back before tea. So he rode to the orphanage and pulled his horse to a stop across the street. He could see windows open and rugs being shook out and hear children’s laughter.

  At some point he’d decided that it was well possible that Athena was right. That he loved Matilda Sheldon, and that he may not ever be well and truly happy without her in his life. Although they argued and disagreed, she was well on her way to becoming a necessity for his well being. That realization was frightening in and of itself. Moreover, he hadn’t the foggiest clue as to the next step forward with her. But he’d figured he’d best spend time in her company and find out if it was true and perhaps that next step would reveal itself.

  “Oh. It’s you,” Mrs. Brewer said when she’d opened the door. “Come in, I suppose.”

  “Is Miss Sheldon available?”

  “Thornsby,” Matilda said from the hallway. “Do come in.”

  He stepped around Mrs. Brewer. Matilda’s hair was wrapped up in a scarf that she was straightening and shoving stray tendrils back under. She had a typical brown dress on with a white apron over top, streaked with dust and dirt. Her cheeks were rosy, and she smiled shyly. He thought she was the most attractive that he’d ever seen her.

  “Miss Sheldon,” he said and bowed. “I was hoping you’d be available for a stroll. But if you are too busy, then perhaps I should come back later
.”

  “No, no,” she said. “Give me a moment.”

  Mrs. Brewer looked him up and down as Matilda went up the steps.

  “I’ll wait here, Mrs. Brewer,” he said.

  She turned and headed down the hallway. “I suppose you will, Your Grace.”

  Matilda joined him a few minutes later with a bonnet replacing the scarf and the apron nowhere to be seen. They walked in silence for some distance. It was not uncomfortable, though, as if each was searching for something to say.

  “I find I owe you an apology. One I should have given you the night of the Benford Ball.”

  “But you did apologize that night, Thornsby, even though there was nothing you could do about Miss Marsh’s behavior. You were not at fault.”

  “You are correct in that I apologized for Millicent’s behavior that evening. What I did not apologize for was my behavior. I knew very well how hateful Millicent could be, yet I invited you to a ball where she would undoubtedly be looking to attract pity from the ton for what she would describe as my ruthless treatment of her. And the episode was still fresh in her mind. I should have never put you in a position to be in Millicent’s line of fire.”

  Matilda looked up at him from under the rim of her bonnet. “I will admit the scene was terribly uncomfortable, even for someone like me who cares little for society’s opinion. Apology accepted, and let us change the subject. How are Alice and Jonah?”

  “Very well. Jonah has not had a nightmare for weeks, and Alice is content to sit beside me while I do estate business. She adds up every column of sums. I’m going to have to very soon hire a governess to teach them. How are things at the orphanage?” he asked.

  “Coming along. Finally. I believe I’ve found a house mother, a Miss Pinkey, to manage things on a daily basis. I did not include her salary, however, in my original estimates. Ethel’s man of business says I need to raise more money to cover Miss Pinkey’s salary and have some stored away in case of an emergency. I’ve got to come up with a plan to do that,” Matilda said.