What a Difference a Duke Makes

by Lenora Bell

  “How wonderful. I always knew you would do something extraordinary.”

  That was a rare reaction to the news that he was a tradesman. Edgar smiled. “I’ve missed you, Lumley.”

  “And I, you, Your Grace.”

  “I’ll go and see how the children are faring,” Edgar said. He joined the children at the low table. The clerk was still explaining the game while Adele and Michel listened intently.

  Chess was a grand idea. It would keep their nimble minds occupied if it rained in Southend.

  The shop bell tinkled again and the store clerk left to answer the door.

  Edgar heard the sound of a lilting, cheerful voice answering a question.

  He turned and met Mari’s blue gaze. She looked startled. Dismayed.

  She wasn’t happy to see him?

  Chapter 15

  Mari couldn’t believe her eyes. The duke was here with the children. He’d followed her instructions.

  He’d ruined her plans.

  Now she couldn’t make her inquiries.

  He was sitting at a low table, his knees drawn up nearly to his ears. Her initial disappointment dissolved. The scene was simply too adorable. The huge duke sitting in a chair three sizes too small for him, playing chess with his children.

  It made her want to kiss him. There it was. A plain and proverbial truth.

  Two wrongs don’t make a right. A penny saved is a penny earned.

  And Mari Perkins wanted to kiss the Duke of Banksford every single time she saw him.

  “Miss Perkins!” Adele said. “You came.”

  “Yes, dear, I came.” She walked toward the table.

  “Who’s this, then?” asked the handsome older gentleman who stood at the central counter.

  The duke rose. “Mr. Lumley, the children’s governess, Miss Perkins.”

  Mari approached the counter. Mr. Lumley stretched out his hand to touch her hand.

  “I’m sorry my dear,” he said. “I don’t see very well these days. But I can tell that you’ve a fetching blue bonnet and red hair.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lumley. Your shop is delightful.”

  “It is,” agreed Adele.

  “Thank you, Miss Perkins,” said Mr. Lumley. “We’re one of the oldest toy shops in London.”

  The children were obviously enchanted, and well they should be.

  Kites soared on the walls along with swords, masks, and musical instruments. The shelves were piled high with sailing ships, dolls, tin soldiers, harlequins and other figurines.

  Rocking horses, and horses with carts, balls, skipping ropes, and cricket bats were piled along the walls.

  There were looking glasses of all sizes, spyglasses, compasses, and all manner of magnifying glasses and other educational tools.

  The large oaken shop counter at the center of the room had a glass top. When she looked inside, Mari saw interesting objects and curiosities. Bones, glass phials, and silver ornaments.

  It was a children’s paradise, filled with magical things.

  Mr. Lumley smiled and wrinkles wreathed his cheeks. “His Grace used to be one of my very best customers, Miss Perkins. He liked the tin soldiers the best. Even had a custom armory made. Bloodthirsty, he was. Waged vast campaigns against enemy forces. He’d come and tell me that he needed more cannons.”

  “Is that true?” Michel cocked his head.

  “See?” said the duke. “I wasn’t a proper boring milksop.”

  Adele giggled. “He heard you call him a milksop, Michel.”

  “I don’t think you’re boring now, Father,” said Michel.

  “How magnanimous,” said the duke.

  It did Mari’s heart good to see them laughing and talking together.

  “Now the duke makes his own miniatures,” she informed the toy maker. “Little toy engines.”

  The duke gave her a look, but there was residual laughter in his gray eyes.

  “I wonder if children will play someday with toy engines, just as they do with horse carts now?” asked Mr. Lumley.

  “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Mari.

  “I build small-scale models of my engines,” said Banksford. “I’m working on a fire engine right now.”

  “We had a fire here, several years back,” said Mr. Lumley, his hand trembling where it lay on the table. “Nearly lost everything. But I’ve rebuilt since then. Children always need toys.”

  “I captured your king. I win, right?” Adele hopped up from the table.

  “You did at that,” said the duke.

  “Then you must have a prize, young lady.” Mr. Lumley handed a small wooden box to Adele.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A magic box,” said Mr. Lumley.

  “Oh no,” Banksford groaned. “Still telling the same jokes?”

  “Looks ordinary to me.” Adele held it up and shook it.

  “It’s not ordinary at all,” said Mr. Lumley, with a twinkle in his cloudy eyes. “It contains all of the modesty of a dandy, the honesty of a lawyer, and the luck of a gambler.”

  Adele studied the box for a moment. Her eyes lit. “Which is to say it contains nothing at all.”

  “Clever girl.”

  “I’ve got one for you,” said Adele. “What kind of dance did the tin soldier take the paper princess to?”

  Mr. Lumley thought for a moment. “A cannon ball! I’m right, aren’t I?”

  He slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. “Ho! Your Grace, I like your children immensely.”

  “You always did love a good laugh,” said the duke. “Shall we go shopping?” he asked the twins. Carl and the shop clerk followed Edgar and the children through the shop as they made their selections.

  Now was her opportunity to question Mr. Lumley. Mari gestured toward the wooden rabbits on the shelf behind him, she’d noticed them immediately upon entering. “I was given one of your wooden rabbit figurines as a little girl.”

  Mr. Lumley reached behind him and placed a wooden rabbit on the counter. “Were you? I’ve always loved the wooden bunnies. This one’s name is Clover.” He stroked the green velvet gown the rabbit wore, so much less worn than her rabbit’s tattered old gown. “They were very popular decades ago. Now the children only want porcelain figurines, much more lifelike and less roughhewn.”

  “Did you manufacture many of the rabbits?” she asked.

  “Hundreds.”

  “Might you have a list of the customers who purchased them?”

  “I’m sure I do . . . somewhere,” he said, with a befuddled expression.

  That wasn’t very promising. She’d have to come back when she could be alone with him. Perhaps ask to speak with his bookkeeper.

  “Why do you ask, Miss Perkins?”

  “I never knew where my rabbit came from. I thought perhaps it had a story to tell.”

  “Most toys do.”

  Edgar and the children had piled Carl’s arms high with toys and games. Among the puzzles and soldiers, spyglasses, and magnifying glasses, Mari noticed little buckets and spades.

  “What are these for?” she asked the duke, when he approached.

  “You’ll find out,” he said, with a secretive smile. “I’m planning something for the children, something they’ll like very much.” He bent down and settled his arm across Michel’s shoulders. “Are we forgetting anything?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Michel, his eyes shining and a smile curving his lips.

  “What about a book of constellations?” asked Mari. “We can use a telescope and go up on the roof.”

  “An excellent idea, Miss Perkins,” said Mr. Lumley. “I’ve just the thing.”

  He opened a drawer and handed her a set of large cards and an accompanying book called Urania’s Mirror.

  “You hold the cards to the light, and it shows the formation of the constellation. They’re perforated according to the star’s magnitudes.”

  Mari held one of the gaily-colored cards depicting the constellation Lyra to the l
amp. There were pinpricks along the drawing, and light filtered through the small openings. “How wonderful.”

  “If you could see Miss Perkins right now, Mr. Lumley, you’d see that she has freckles on her cheeks that look like constellations of stars,” said the duke, touching her cheek.

  He had the ability to liquefy her insides with only a few words and a brief touch, even with gloved hands.

  Mr. Lumley smiled. “Then the constellation cards are yours, Miss Perkins. Free of charge.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.”

  “I insist.”

  The shop clerk wrapped up their purchases and Carl began carrying them to the carriage.

  “Will you come back to the house with us, Miss Perkins?” asked duke.

  “We can try to see some stars tonight,” said Adele.

  “You won’t see many stars in London these days with all the smoke and smog, more’s the pity,” said Mr. Lumley.

  “Maybe they’ll see the stars at the seashore soon,” the duke said, enigmatically.

  And then she realized what he meant. This was more evidence that he’d taken her advice to heart. He’d hired the French cook, brought the children to the toy shop, and now . . . he was going to take them to the seashore.

  “Let’s go home,” he said.

  Home. Was it her home? A temporary one, at best. And one that she could lose at any moment. But that couldn’t dim her joy. Banksford was transforming before her eyes, becoming a better father, a thoughtful one.

  The twins would be so happy at the seashore.

  Excitement brought a spring to her step. She’d never seen the sun sparkling on the sea before.

  Or the moon rising over the waves.

  “You’ve a faraway look in your eyes, Miss Perkins,” said Banksford as he handed her into his carriage.

  “I was picturing the moon rising over the sea. I’ve only read about it in poems and novels.”

  “It’s a beautiful sight,” he said.

  There were so many things she’d only read about in poems and books. Too many.

  It was time to start experiencing some of them in real life.

  She glanced at Banksford. His smile was intimate, his silver eyes filled with the promise of moonlit nights. And moonlit kisses.

  Chapter 16

  Lady India gave the round yellow moon one final adjustment and scrambled down from the ladder. “Where is that brother of mine? He’s hosting this event, I hope he remembers.”

  “I haven’t seen him in several days, since we visited Lumley’s Toy Shop,” replied Mari.

  “Edgar went with you to Lumley’s?” Lady India’s expression was comical in its bewilderment. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.” She smiled warmly. “You’ve produced quite a change in him, Miss Perkins.”

  Mari fixed her gaze on the gauzy blue fabric festooned over the salon ceiling. She didn’t want to betray any inappropriate sentiments. Lady India was far too perceptive.

  “Didn’t we have fun at Lumley’s?” Adele handed Mari another gold star.

  “We did, indeed,” agreed Mari, taking the star and sewing it to the stage curtains.

  Lady India had enlisted every available maid and footman in the house for her project of transforming the Silver Salon into an Egyptian nightscape for her antiquities exhibition, which was to include a theatrical enactment of a scene from ancient history.

  “I used to love going to Lumley’s.” Lady India looked at the twins. “Does he still have that jar of boiled sweets on the counter? And did he give you a magic box?”

  Adele nodded. “He’s a funny old fellow. I liked him.”

  Mari had liked Mr. Lumley as well.

  The familiar way he’d talked to Edgar, teasing him about his love for tin soldiers.

  Mari caught herself. Just because Lady India called her brother Edgar didn’t mean Mari could go about doing it, even in her thoughts.

  The thought of seeing him made her nervous and excited at the same time.

  Butterflies in one’s belly sounded like a pleasant sensation—all silky, fluttery wings—but in truth it was nearly a sick feeling. She longed to see him and dreaded it at the same time.

  “He’d better come home in the next few hours,” said Lady India with a slight frown. “If I were male I would be a member of the Society of Antiquaries, and could host it there, but instead I need Edgar to lend the affair the proper gravitas.”

  “What’s gravitas?” asked Michel.

  “Dignity and seriousness,” said Mari.

  “That doesn’t sound very amusing.” Adele wrinkled her nose. “We can’t have fun tonight?”

  “You can have a small amount of fun,” said Lady India. “But there will be several important gentlemen in attendance who take themselves very, very seriously. And there’s a small, a very small, chance that my mother, the dowager duchess, may decide to attend.”

  “Our grandmother?” asked Michel.

  “I sent her an invitation. But I doubt she’ll come,” explained Lady India.

  Michel jumped up from the floor, running to Lady India. “How will we know her? What does she look like? Will she like us?”

  Lady India laughed and placed her hand on Michel’s head. “So many questions.”

  “We want to make a favorable impression,” said Adele with a grave expression.

  “She’s tall for a female, just as I am.” Lady India pointed at her eyes. “And she has the same purple-pansy eyes.”

  “As for making an impression,” said Mari. “If she does appear, you must curtsy and bow in the manner that I taught you, address her as Your Grace, and keep your myriad opinions to yourself for one evening, and all will be well. Mind you, no palm reading,” she said sternly.

  “Of course not,” said Adele with a toss of her head. “Come along, Michel. Let’s go practice our curtsying and bowing on Mrs. Fairfield.”

  She took her brother’s hand and they ran away to find the housekeeper, who was supervising the preparation of the balcony where refreshments would be served after the exhibition.

  “I hope it was the right thing inviting Mother.” Lady India gazed out the window with a worried expression. “I doubt that she will come, but I should have warned Edgar just in case.”

  “You never told him you invited her?”

  “They haven’t spoken to each other in years.”

  “What happened between them?”

  “Oh,” India laughed, turning back toward Mari. “That’s too long of a story.”

  “That’s what Mrs. Fairfield said when I asked about it.”

  “You’ll have to ask Edgar.”

  All her life she’d longed for a family. Edgar had a mother and yet they never spoke. It was sad.

  “You’re making great progress with the twins, Miss Perkins,” said Lady India.

  “Thank you. And won’t you call me Mari?”

  “And you must call me Indy. All of my friends do.”

  Were they friends? Mari liked the idea. “I couldn’t call you Indy. But perhaps . . . India. I would be honored.”

  “I’m glad we’re friends,” said India. “You’re not at all like any governess I’ve ever met. Why must you work for a living? It must be so dreary.”

  Mari raised her eyebrows. “Michel and Adele dreary?”

  India laughed. “I suppose that’s the wrong adjective. But you seem to me to be made for grander things.”

  “Your brother accused me of being a spy.”

  “Did he? I told you not to mind his growling.”

  What about his kisses . . . should she mind those? And did they have any deeper meaning?

  She’d been thinking about their kiss at the foundry. Remembering the play of sinews and muscles beneath his shirt. Wondering what he looked like without his shirt.

  You don’t have to maul the poor man with your mind every chance you get.

  India gave her a little smile. “I’m glad things are going so well . . . with the children.”

  �
�They’re beginning to trust me, I can feel it.”

  “Splendid. Now then, are the stars all hung?”

  Mari nodded.

  “Everything must be perfect,” said India, turning in a slow circle to survey the room. “Ravenwood will be here this evening.”

  “Ah. Edg—His Grace—told us about Ravenwood. Your sworn enemy, I hear?”

  “He thinks he’s a great antiquities hunter but all he does is lounge about in hotels consorting with the local courtesans, while I’m out actually digging in the dirt, making important discoveries. When he’s had his fill of debauchery, he just buys whatever antiquities he wants from unscrupulous thieves. It’s beyond provoking.”

  Mari hid a smile. Sounded like Lady India paid quite a bit of attention to this Ravenwood.

  “He’ll have nothing to fault you for tonight. It’s going to be very impressive.”

  “You’ll make it impressive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” She gave Mari an innocent smile. “I have a part for you to play in my tableau.”

  “I don’t know,” said Mari doubtfully. “I’ve never been on stage before.”

  India drew aside the velvet curtains hanging from the small, enclosed stage the footmen had pieced together from painted wooden panels.

  She caught Mari’s chin in her hand and turned her head. “Your profile will be illumined by the shining moon. You’ll have a crown on your head and a magnificent golden collar necklace at your throat.”

  “A queen? I’m not sure that I’m queenly enough.”

  “A Pharaoh, Mari. Not just a queen. Oh, I’m going to ruffle so many feathers tonight. How they will squawk and protest. Especially Ravenwood. I simply can’t wait to see his face.”

  “But shouldn’t your Egyptian queen be portrayed by someone more regal? Perhaps you could play the role?”

  India shook her head. “I’ll be narrating the scene. No . . . I need someone with a powerful presence . . . and a pretty ankle.”

  “Have you seen my ankles? They’re scrawny as chicken bones.”

  India laughed. “I have seen your ankles, in Edgar’s library, remember? And do you seriously believe what you’re saying? If you knew the power you could wield over men you’d be dangerous.”