Dismissing the Duke

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  Chapter 2

  Miss Esther Whitton, sitting at the small, mahogany wood escritoire that overlooked the quaint gardens of the Danby cottage, signed her name to the letter she’d just finished composing, and then daintily blew on the foolscap, urging the ink to dry faster. She had no more than three minutes to fold and seal the letter before she had to begin getting ready for the evening. The evening she was sort of dreading, if truth be known. She knew exactly why her great uncle, the lauded Duke of Danby, had called her and her siblings to supper tonight, and with any luck, her letter would reach Mama before Danby could make good on his plan.

  “What are you doing?”

  Esther leapt so high in her seat that her bottom slammed back down to the hardwood with a painful thud. She brought a hand to her heart in an effort to keep it from leaping out of her chest. “Good heavens, Leah!” she exclaimed, rounding on her younger sister. “Have I not told you, time and again, that it is exceedingly rude to sneak up on a person in such a manner?”

  “Indeed you have,” Leah replied, her tone filled with cheekiness, as always. “You’ve also done your best to impress upon me that it’s not well done to read over a person’s shoulder, and yet…here I am.” She smiled, flashing her white teeth that overlapped just slightly in the front, and batted her shimmering blue eyes. She was such a lovely girl, if only she wasn’t a complete hoyden!

  Esther clasped the letter to her chest and then immediately pulled it away again, having forgotten the ink was still wet. Blessedly, her white day dress remained intact.

  “Don’t bother.” Leah crossed the room and plunked down onto the feather duvet. “I already saw enough. But why are you trying to convince Mama not to send you to London this year? Don’t you want a season?”

  That was a loaded question, for sure. Esther had wanted a season, of course, back a few months ago. Before she’d met…him. Not that she was going to divulge that to her sister. She cleared her throat. “I just don’t see any reason for them to spend that kind of money on me when I could just as easily find a nice fellow at home…or here in Yorkshire, even.”

  Leah narrowed her blue eyes on Esther. Botheration. She had said too much. She should have stopped at “home.”

  “Really? Yorkshire, hmm?” She shifted on the bed to a more comfortable position, clearly assuming she was about to hear a long story about Esther falling in love. “Am I to believe you’ve set your cap for someone local, dear sister?”

  “Why would you ever believe such a thing as that? You know I don’t set my cap. That’s for young girls—debutantes, such as yourself.”

  “You’re less than two years older than me.”

  “Still. I’m far less desirable in the London market. You know that.”

  “Come here.” Leah gestured, hopping from the bed and holding her hand out to Esther.

  Esther sighed. Her little sister could be exhausting sometimes. “What?” she said without moving a muscle.

  “For pity’s sake, would you just come here?”

  There was nothing for it. Leah rarely gave up on anything. Esther stood and crossed the room, allowing her sister to take her hand and lead her to the tall, oval mirror that stood in the corner of their shared bedchamber. Leah put her hands on Esther’s shoulders and turned her to face her reflection—something Esther didn’t care to do often. She didn’t mind her appearance, but it wasn’t something she felt the need to stare at all day. She certainly didn’t live up to her namesake, Queen Esther, who, according to the Bible, was the most beautiful woman, not just of the day, but of all time. She wasn’t certain she believed that entirely—she’d seen plenty of women who were exceedingly beautiful, and not always only because of their outward appearance. Surely, taste and perspective played a part in such determinations. Though for the writer who wrote the book of Esther, he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman could ever exist. Esther was certain no one would ever write such things about her.

  “Now, look at yourself,” Leah prompted, but Esther didn’t want to look at herself, so she met her sister’s eyes in the reflection.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Just. Look.”

  Esther shook her head and rolled her eyes, but finally did as Leah insisted. She wouldn’t get to leave until she did. She met her own eyes, an unremarkable shade of brown to match the unremarkable color of her hair. Her skin was a bit sallow—it was a good thing spring was on its way. With her dark hair, Esther always thought she looked better with just a bit of color in her cheeks, as unfashionable as that may have been.

  “There,” Leah said. “Now does this seem like an undesirable girl to you?”

  “I never said I was completely undesirable,” Esther protested. “Just less so than you and other girls your age.”

  “But that’s preposterous!” Leah stepped in front of her, nearly knocking Esther to the ground. “Look at me. I’m tall and gangly, my hair is too dark to be called blonde, and too light to be called auburn. The only thing I have to recommend me are my eyes, but only because of the color. See? Where your eyes are round and wide, with thick, dark lashes, mine are narrow and my lashes are but mere wisps.”

  “Can we stop this nonsense now?” Esther begged. “There’s no use in picking apart our appearances. We are as God made us, and we simply have to make do. But that still doesn’t mean I care to go to London for another grueling season.”

  “How can you call it grueling?”

  “Heavens, Leah!” Her sister had a way of forcing a topic to the point of driving a person mad. “Can you not accept that someone may have a differing opinion than you do? That not everyone has the same tastes or ideas of fun? I don’t want a season, end of story.”

  Esther finally met her sister’s eyes. How could she ever imply they were anything less than beautiful? And oh, so expressive. Too expressive, really. Why, just now they were so sad looking that they were nearly breaking Esther’s heart. Blasted little sisters had a way of doing that. “What?” she asked.

  Leah shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “Really, it’s fine. You’re right—you always are.”

  If Esther’s blood wasn’t boiling before, it certainly was now. How dare Leah try and make her feel guilty. “I’ll not have a season just so you have someone to help you hold up the walls at soirees.”

  “You would leave me there, alone? To fend for myself against rakes and rogues and fortune seekers?”

  “You haven’t that much of a fortune to offer.”

  “Perhaps my dowry isn’t as large as some others—but still, it’s nothing to sneeze at. And we are Whittons, after all. Sometimes they want status just as much as they want money.”

  “You’ll do fine on your own. And I’m certain Gabriel and Sara Beth will join you. I’ve heard them talking about London lately. Sara Beth has never been, and it seems she’s champing at the bit to experience a bit of culture.”

  Leah let out a long breath as she stared at Esther, then she slumped down into the nearest chair. “It won’t be the same.”

  “But you’ll make do.” A scratch came at the door. “Enter!”

  Mabel, their ladies maid, came into the room and closed the door behind her. It was time to start getting ready for dinner.

  “Tend to Leah first,” Esther told the maid. “I have to see to having this letter posted.”

  “I can take it for you, miss,” Mabel said.

  Esther held up a hand. “Thank you, Mabel, but I think I could use a walk, even if it is only to go downstairs to find Duncan.”

  Mabel bobbed a curtsy. “As you wish.”

  As soon as she closed the door behind her, Esther felt the weight of her guilt lift from her shoulders. Goodness, Leah had a remarkable talent for driving her mad. But Esther wouldn’t let it get the best of her. Her mind was made up. She didn’t want a season—she didn’t want to go to London—if she had her way, she wouldn’t leave Yorkshire at all. She just had to find a good reason to stay here.

 
; She scurried to the staircase and descended to the lower level in search of Duncan. No doubt he was polishing the silver or taking stock of the wines, or some other such—

  “Ow!” Esther stumbled back a couple of paces, clutching her forehead, as if it might stop the throbbing. “What in the—”

  “Oh, dear God,” came a deep, rumbling voice. The very voice that made her heart stop whenever she heard it.

  Esther tried to breathe in air, but it seemed she had temporarily forgotten how to do such a simple, natural thing.

  “Miss Whitton, are you all right? What an oaf I am, rushing through these narrow corridors. Please…let me look at it.”

  His hand—his large, uncalloused, gentle hand—touched to hers, causing Esther at first to flinch, and then stiffen as her mind and body swirled with a million emotions. Heavens, how did he do this to her? How could she let him? Even if he did return her affections, they could never, ever be. At least, not as long as the Duke of Danby, or any of her relations, for that matter, were alive. She was the great niece of a duke—her blood ran blue—and his…

  “Does it hurt?” he asked. He was so close, his lips were but a hairsbreadth away as he studied her forehead.

  “Erm…only a little,” Esther managed to breathe out. And then his eyes met hers, officially stealing the very last breath from her body.

  “It’s only a little red,” he murmured. “No bump yet.”

  His thumb caressed her forehead oh, so tenderly as he searched for a protrusion. Good heavens, she was going to melt into the ground if she wasn’t careful. Trying to snap herself out of the trance he’d put her in, she glanced up to look at his forehead.

  “Oh, Timothy!” she exclaimed, and then remembering what she was about, said, “I mean, Hargood, of course. Erm, you seem to have gotten the brunt of our collision.” A sizeable lump protruded from the left side of his forehead. “Or perhaps it is true what my brother says about me.”

  “And what is that?” Timothy asked, still too close, his voice still a gentle purr that threatened to drive her to the brink of madness.

  “That I am rather bullheaded.”

  At this, Timothy burst into laughter, causing his hazel eyes to shimmer with mirth. It warmed Esther from the inside out. She’d never made a man laugh—not like this, anyhow. It didn’t even matter that it was sort of at her expense. It felt good to not take herself so very seriously for once.

  “Well, do you think that’s true?” he asked as his laughter died down.

  Esther shrugged. “I suppose so, especially when it comes to propriety. I do think rules are important to a society—and to an individual, for that matter.”

  Timothy’s gaze grew dark, and his eyes narrowed just a hair. “And are they never, ever to be broken?”

  Something about the way he asked that question—the tone in his voice, the gleam in his eyes—made her wonder if he didn’t only mean rules in general, but more specifically. And if more specifically…?

  No, she couldn’t let herself wonder about that. Because she did mean in general and on most things there were no exceptions, no matter what her heart might say about it.

  “Only very rarely, Hargood,” she said, sucking in a deep breath and steeling her spine. If she didn’t steel herself against him, she’d fall headlong into his arms, especially if he kept staring at her that way. As if he wanted to kiss her, for heaven’s sake!

  “Well, I think we’re all good here,” she chirped, side-stepping him and backing away as if he were a lion whom she feared might pounce. “I believe Gabriel will be expecting you soon. I’ve probably already kept you too long. I do hope your head feels better!”

  She rounded the corner out of sight and then collapsed with her back against the plaster wall of the small foyer. She sucked in deep breaths, trying to get the air to fill her lungs completely, for she felt as if she hadn’t taken a proper breath in minutes. How had this happened? How had she fallen for someone she couldn’t possibly have? Mother and Father would never in a million years approve of her marrying a servant. And why in the world did she want to marry a servant? Someone of her station ought to be seeking out someone of status, someone who could advance her in social circles. Not that she cared about rank, but she did care about her charity work, and with more money, more status, think of the good she could do. What good could she possibly do with a valet for a husband?

  And yet, it seemed her blasted heart didn’t give one lick about any of that. Damn her heart!

  Esther’s hand shot to her mouth, shocked that she’d even think such a word. Goodness, her sister was having a horrible influence on her. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Leah said curse words as often as she could, so long as she couldn’t be heard by someone who mattered. She said it made her feel better to say something naughty and forbidden. Esther thought she might feel better reading the Bible and studying the more virtuous characters of the Good Book.

  A rumbling carriage just outside startled her from her thoughts. It was merely passing by, but it was enough to bring her back to reality—back to the missive she was holding in her hand. She stared at the folded piece of foolscap, the red seal with her family crest imprinted into it, and began to have reservations about sending it. Perhaps it was a good thing she bumped into Timothy just now. Was it a sign reminding her of who she was and what was expected of her? Great Uncle Danby was going to tell them this evening that it was almost time to head to London for the Season, and it would be prudent of Esther not to argue with him. For even if she did stay in Yorkshire, she’d only have to face every day what she could not have.

  Chapter 3

  Damnation! If Timothy wasn’t more careful, he’d end up defiling that prim and proper little filly before the week was out. How foolish of him to rush head down through the house, not paying any mind to where he was going. And then to practically ram into the one person in the world he would never, ever want to harm in any way. Even by accident. But then she’d stood there, her rosy lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed, her breasts heaving up and down beneath the modest gown she wore, and he’d had to use every ounce of his willpower not to take her in his arms and kiss away her pain. He was in a bit of pain as well, but devil take it, the throbbing in his trousers far outweighed the throbbing in his head.

  “Ah, there you are,” Gabriel said as Timothy entered the man’s bedchamber. “I wondered when you’d get here. Good God, man! Did Rumsfeld do that to you?”

  For a moment, Timothy wasn’t certain what Gabriel was talking about. But then he reached up and felt the large knot upon his forehead. He gave a little chuckle. “Rumsfeld couldn’t possibly do the damage that your sister did.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “My sister did that to you?”

  “Not on purpose, I assure you,” Timothy replied as he set to preparing Gabriel’s evening clothes. “And it wasn’t really her fault. I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going and we collided in the corridor.”

  “Honestly, something needs to be done about Leah. That girl is always rushing somewhere.”

  “Actually, no,” Timothy said, trying to keep his voice light and normal sounding. “It was Esther.”

  “Well, that’s a surprise.” Gabriel gave Timothy his back so he could slip the crisp white shirt over his shoulders. “Where was she headed in such a hurry?”

  Timothy shook his head. “I’m not certain. Though perhaps she wasn’t in a hurry at all. All I know is that I was in a hurry. Though you did say she’s been a bit distracted lately, didn’t you?”

  “Indeed, I did,” Gabriel agreed. “And you were right on time, Hargood, collision and all.”

  Timothy was exceedingly grateful for such an understanding employer. He wondered, not for the first time, if he would ever find work as perfectly suited to him again. A gentleman could be demanding, but Gabriel was quite independent, and often relied on his new wife as well.

  “How is Mrs. Whitton today?” Timothy asked, thinking how strange it was to call h
er Mrs. Whitton and not simply Sara Beth, as he’d known her his entire life.

  “Well. She is quite well.” A smile that could only mean one thing spread Gabriel’s lips.

  “Glad to hear it, sir.”

  “I do think she’s getting quite bored here, though. Which is why it’s a good thing Danby has called us to dinner this evening. I’m most certain he’s going to insist we all head to London for the Season—something that will no doubt bring great joy to my wife.”

  It made Timothy’s stomach turn to think of them all leaving. He’d quite enjoyed having them around, and he couldn’t fathom not being able to at least gaze upon Esther’s lovely countenance every day.

  “You and your family will be sorely missed, here in Yorkshire.”

  Gabriel snapped his head about to look at Timothy. “You mean to say you won’t come with us?”

  Timothy hadn’t even considered that possibility, and the idea took him quite by surprise. “Haven’t you your own valet back home? Surely he’s expecting to attend you during the Season?”

  “No, actually,” Gabriel said, holding his wrists out so that Timothy could fold the cuffs. “My father and I shared a valet before, but now that I’m married and on my own, well, it’s time I had my own valet. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do, of course.” Timothy was more than dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure what to say. “What about Jimmy?”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows disappeared under his dark hair. “I was under the impression your brother was not in a position of needing work.”

  “Indeed, you are correct, I just…” The truth was that he loved his brother, and he didn’t much care to live so far away from him that they’d hardly ever get to see one another. “Might I think about it?”

  “I suspect you’ll have a few days. Is there anything I could say—or do—that would make you say yes more easily?”