To Love a Duchess EPB

by Karen Ranney

  The more he learned about Edward Hackney, the more he thought that the ex-director of the East India Company bore watching as well.

  He stared at the closed door for several minutes before he, too, left the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He’d kissed her.

  He’d kissed her and she’d let him.

  No, she hadn’t lied to him. She’d wholeheartedly participated.

  She shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have allowed him to touch her. Or hold her. Or kiss her.

  If she were a true duchess, she should have dismissed him on the spot. He was her majordomo. He was on the staff of Marsley House. He was her servant. She should have banished him immediately. At the very least she should have been embarrassed and ashamed.

  What was she doing?

  She was betraying everything she’d been reared to believe was right, proper, and just. She was behaving like a harlot. Yet she felt alive when she was around him. He challenged her, annoyed her, and intrigued her. Plus, he’d protected and defended her.

  He’d kissed her.

  What was she going to do about Drummond?

  She really should avoid him at all costs, but she didn’t want to barricade herself in her room with only Ella as company again.

  She’d forgotten to ask about the maids. She would have to talk to him soon. If she began to feel the least bit of anticipation about that meeting, she should squelch that feeling immediately. Perhaps it would be better if she acquired another maid as a chaperone. Someone to shadow her as she went from room to room in case she and Drummond encountered each other.

  How, though, was she supposed to forget those kisses?

  No, she really should have dismissed him this time, but she knew she wasn’t going to do anything of the sort.

  Maybe she wasn’t a true duchess at all.

  Suzanne realized she was heading back to her suite and then stopped herself. She didn’t want to encounter Ella right now, especially when she was feeling . . . Her thoughts stuttered to a halt. How, exactly, was she feeling?

  The hard knot of tension wasn’t there in her chest. Nor did she feel like a huge hole existed in her stomach.

  She abruptly sat on the bench just past the landing on the second floor. From here she could see part of the staircase and to the end of the corridor.

  What exactly was she feeling? A curious excitement, something she hadn’t experienced in a great many . . . Her thoughts stopped again. It hadn’t been months since she’d felt this way. It had been years.

  For a while after Georgie’s death, she’d willed herself to die. That’s what it had felt like. She hadn’t been able to eat or sleep well. It was as if her body was shutting down in stages so that she might be with her son. She hadn’t died, though. She’d survived. She’d gotten through those endless months. Somehow, she counted one month, then two, then six, then a year. She’d gotten through that year and more, existing and enduring.

  What was it that Mrs. Armbruster had said?

  “I know what you’re feeling, Your Grace. You think that if you put aside your grief, even for a moment, it means you didn’t love him.”

  She’d wanted to ask Mrs. Armbruster if such wisdom had been acquired through her own loss, but she hadn’t.

  Learning of someone else’s pain didn’t ease her grief one whit. All it did was make her feel uncomfortable because she hadn’t known.

  Had she been that selfish? Yes, for two years she had been.

  “Your Grace, you haven’t taken your tonic.”

  She looked up to see Ella standing there. In her hands was a cup no doubt containing the green, noxious brew Suzanne hated. How had she missed the maid’s approach? The other woman crept about on cat feet. Sometimes Suzanne thought she did so in order to startle her.

  “You didn’t take your tonic last night, Your Grace,” she said, thrusting the cup at Suzanne. “Nor did you have it this morning.”

  “I don’t want it,” she said.

  Taking the tonic might render her nights dreamless, but it rendered her days fog-like. More than once she’d found herself sitting in the same chair for hours. Nor could she remember people or events well.

  These past two days, when she hadn’t taken the tonic, she’d felt more like herself.

  “I don’t want it,” she repeated.

  “Your father won’t be pleased.”

  Neither was Ella, if the expression on her face was any indication. The maid’s mouth was pinched and the lines at the corners of her eyes were more prevalent this morning, almost as if she had practiced frowning for a good while before coming to find Suzanne.

  “He will just have to be displeased with me, Ella,” she said. “I’m not taking it. I don’t like how I feel when I’ve had it.”

  “You know you need it,” Ella said, once more thrusting the cup at her. “It’s helped you handle your sadness, Your Grace. Without it, I’m certain that life will be so much more difficult for you.”

  Suzanne pushed the cup away, silenced by surprise. While it was true that she didn’t like the other woman, Ella had always behaved properly up until now. The maid had never before talked to her with such contempt in her voice.

  She said the words quite carefully, so there would be no misunderstanding. “I’m not going to take the tonic anymore, Ella. I don’t care what you tell my father. I’m not taking it.”

  For the third time, Ella shoved the cup in her face, some of the liquid almost sloshing over the rim. The smell was as bad as it had always been, like grass that had begun to rot.

  “Take it, Your Grace.”

  Suzanne stood, moving a little distance away from the maid.

  “Evidently you’ve forgotten your place, Ella.”

  “My place is to ensure that you’re doing what you should do, Your Grace. That includes taking your tonic. Everyone agrees that it’s the best thing for you. You wouldn’t want to suffer the effects of not taking it, would you?”

  That was a scary question, one she’d not considered. She’d taken the tonic ever since Ella had come to Marsley House six months ago. Was there some sort of deleterious effect if she didn’t drink it?

  She would just have to find out, wouldn’t she?

  “No,” she said, turning and heading for the staircase.

  Ella was undeterred.

  She followed Suzanne all the way down to the first floor, talking the entire time.

  “You’ll be sick, Your Grace. You’ll get hideous headaches. You’ll be subjected to uncontrollable weeping.”

  At the base of the stairs, Suzanne turned to face her maid.

  “It sounds ghastly, Ella.”

  The other woman’s face was triumphant as she pushed the cup toward Suzanne.

  “So ghastly,” Suzanne said, grabbing the cup, “that I can assure you I am never going to drink it again.”

  She marched some distance to the foyer, where Thomas was pretending not to overhear her discussion with Ella. She handed him the cup and he took it, looking somewhat bemused.

  “Get rid of this, Thomas,” she said.

  Ella still didn’t cease. “You can’t do that, Your Grace. I’m only acting in your best interest.”

  Suzanne really didn’t like being lectured. First by her father and now her maid. Had she always seemed so malleable and desirous of direction? She took a deep breath and, for good measure, said a quick prayer. Surely God would understand her need to do this. God might, but her father wouldn’t. Well, she would have to solve that problem as well.

  One mountain at a time, however.

  “I’m afraid we don’t suit, Ella. I think it would be best if you find other employment. I will, of course, give you a letter of recommendation, but I would appreciate it very much if you would leave Marsley House within the hour. We’ll be more than happy to send your trunk after you.”

  She turned and was heading down the corridor when Ella grabbed her by the arm, jerking her so hard that she nearly fell.

  “You can’
t just dismiss me like that,” Ella said.

  “I can, and I just have.” She looked beyond Ella to where Thomas was standing, his eyes wide.

  “Go find Drummond,” she said.

  Ella leaned close.

  “If you dismiss me, I’ll tell everyone that you’ve been acting oddly and how worried I am about you. You’re inconsolable. Poor thing, you’ve been made mad by grief.”

  She tried to free herself from Ella’s grip, but the other woman only held her tighter.

  “Tell him you changed your mind,” Ella said, her tight-lipped smile disconcerting.

  Why hadn’t she dismissed the woman months ago? The answer shamed her. Perhaps she’d become a little too dependent on Ella’s tonic. Perhaps she’d wanted dreamless sleep and formless days. Perhaps she’d even needed the tonic once. She didn’t need it now.

  “Let me go,” Suzanne said.

  “You heard her,” Adam said, coming up behind the maid.

  Suzanne had never been so happy to see anyone.

  “The duchess is not herself, Drummond,” Ella said without looking at him. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  At least she wasn’t the only one being targeted by Ella’s venomous rage and contempt.

  “I think it does.”

  Drummond glanced at her and seemed to take in the situation immediately. He frowned when he saw that Ella was still gripping her arm. He came to Suzanne’s side, reached out and peeled the other woman’s hand away.

  “What would you like me to do, Your Grace?”

  “Escort Ella to the door, if you would, please. I’ve dismissed her, but she’s refusing to leave.”

  “The duchess is deranged,” Ella said, still standing too close. “She’s lost her wits. She’s gone mad. You shouldn’t listen to anything she says. They’re the ramblings of an idiot.”

  “Let’s go,” Drummond said, reaching out and grabbing Ella’s arm.

  “Can’t you see she’s not in her right mind? The entire staff knows it. They laugh behind her back. The Duchess of Marsley, simpleton.”

  “Now, Ella,” Drummond said.

  “How protective you are,” Ella said, eyeing Drummond up and down. “What an interesting development. I’m sure her father would want to know.”

  He didn’t say a word, merely took Ella to the door. She truly didn’t have a choice, because Drummond was so much larger and more determined.

  Suzanne watched as Thomas opened the door and Drummond unceremoniously escorted the woman down the steps before directing the footman to close the door in her face.

  It might have been amusing but for the insults Ella was shouting. She sincerely hoped that the other servants weren’t listening, but that was almost too much to hope for. Was the staff really laughing at her behind her back?

  Drummond returned to her side, took her arm in a grip that was a great deal gentler than the one he’d used on Ella, and walked her into the closest parlor.

  Here George’s great-grandfather’s acquisitions from Egypt were displayed against sand-colored walls. She’d always liked this room because it seemed to transport her to a different place and time. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel that same sensation now, looking at all the canopic jars and intricately carved chests.

  She couldn’t stop herself from trembling and that both concerned and annoyed her.

  Ella had been vicious. She hadn’t expected that. Nor had she anticipated seeing herself in the maid’s eyes. Had she truly appeared that distraught, insensible, and weak?

  Drummond released her to close the door, then turned back to her.

  She looked up at him. “Did you tell her? Did you tell her about that night on the roof?”

  “No, of course I didn’t,” he said.

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  He pulled her into his arms. She really should have stepped away, but she was so cold and she hadn’t stopped trembling.

  “No, Suzanne, I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “I am not deranged.”

  “I never thought you were.”

  “I’m not a simpleton,” she said.

  “No, you aren’t.”

  She pulled back and looked up into his face. “Do you mean that?”

  He nodded.

  “Ella told me that I would suffer if I didn’t take the tonic. Why would she say that?”

  “Would you like me to find out what’s in it?”

  “Could you do that?”

  “I could,” he said.

  “You are a magical majordomo, Drummond. Is there no lack of things you can do?”

  He didn’t respond to that comment. Evidently, he was modest as well.

  She pressed her forehead against his chest and wished her trembling would stop.

  “Are they all laughing at me?”

  “No,” he said.

  She wanted to know what he was thinking. When had she come to value his opinion so much?

  “Do you think I’m disordered in my thoughts? Or that my actions have been odd?”

  “I think you’ve been suffering from a great loss,” he said. “And that you’ve been alone with it. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Suzanne.”

  She grabbed his jacket with both her fists, feeling as if he was the only steady person in the universe.

  “What happened on the roof was odd behavior, Drummond. Kissing you was odd. Always wanting to talk to you is odd. I have a feeling that most people would see my recent behavior as strange.”

  “Sometimes you need to ignore what other people say.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, and rocked slightly from one side to the other, almost as if she were a fractious babe.

  “Surround yourself with the right kind of people. Be very selective of who you speak with and who you listen to.”

  She felt the first stirrings of amusement. “You mean like you, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said, his voice holding a tinge of humor.

  She sighed. “I really don’t need to be hugged, Drummond.”

  He only tightened his embrace.

  “I should dismiss you, too,” she said.

  “You can’t dismiss me. Just today I approved the purchase of a dozen spoons. And as many bowls for Cook. I am in the process of looking over designs for the expansion of the kitchen garden. I’m much too important to dismiss.”

  “Is that where you were just now, the kitchen?”

  “No. I was in the library.”

  “On your back again?” she asked, pulling away to look up into his face. “Were you studying the stained glass windows again?”

  “I was not. I was actually looking for a book on herbs.”

  “Herbs? For the kitchen garden?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re always in the library, Drummond.”

  “I don’t always sleep well, Your Grace. It helps to find a book to read.”

  She stepped back. He dropped his arms, his faint smile fading as he looked at her.

  “She won’t be allowed inside Marsley House again, Your Grace. You needn’t worry about that.”

  How easily they went from first names back to their proper roles. She preferred to be called Suzanne. What would Ella say to that? No doubt that she’d lost her mind. Perhaps she had. If so, she preferred this existence to the one she’d been living for so long.

  “Where does she keep the tonic?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never seen it around my rooms.”

  “Then, with your permission, I’ll go search Ella’s.”

  She nodded.

  “Would you like to accompany me?”

  She would, but not for reasons she wanted to explain. She didn’t want to be alone at the moment and if that made her sound defenseless and weak, she didn’t care.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Adam decided that he really needed to finish his assignment and leave Marsley House. More than ever now. He shouldn’t have been so honest with her. He shouldn’t have kissed Suzanne e
arlier and comforted her a moment ago. He was almost as much a lecher as Whitcomb. Had she known about her husband’s character? Had she cared that the duke hadn’t been faithful? A strange thought as he accompanied her up the grand staircase to the third floor.

  Placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her toward the servants’ quarters. He caught her glancing to the left, toward the corridor where the nursery was located. Had she been back to the room since they’d talked that night?

  He had too much curiosity about Suzanne.

  A tendril of her hair had come loose from her severe bun and he wanted to push it back into place. He kept his hands to himself.

  “We need to find you another maid,” he said. There, a good enough distraction and one that might occupy his thoughts for a few moments.

  She only nodded.

  “Is there anyone on staff you would like to promote?”

  She shook her head.

  He wished she would speak and wondered why she was suddenly so silent. Was it due to the proximity of the nursery? Or did it have something to do with the fact that she’d dismissed Ella? Although she was walking with her hands folded in front of her, he could tell that she was still trembling.

  “The woman needed to be dismissed,” he said, his voice rough.

  She glanced over at him.

  “You didn’t like her,” she said.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She didn’t say anything to his admission.

  “I don’t know if any of the maids would like to have Ella’s position,” she said. “It does come with a significant increase in wages, does it not?”

  He nodded. Since he’d recently reviewed the quarterly expenditures he was aware of what was paid to every person. Mrs. Thigpen and the cook earned substantially more than the rest of the staff, but that was because of their positions and their longevity. His salary as majordomo was the equivalent of what was paid to five footmen.

  “Do you think Ella told them I was mad?”

  He glanced at her. “I don’t think Ella communicated with the other maids at all,” he said. “She considered herself above them.”