Least Likely to Marry a Duke

by Louise Allen

  ‘No doubt they will call when the Bishop is feeling well enough.’

  And if Verity Wingate is speaking to me again.

  Will could not understand what the attraction of the Bishop was for these six unruly children. ‘And you are not visiting a crypt. It will be dirty, most unhygienic and it would give you nightmares.’

  ‘Can’t we invite them to spend the day, then the Bishop would be able to rest between journeys?’ Althea asked. ‘The weather is lovely and he enjoys gardens so he would like ours, even if we haven’t got a maze.’

  ‘But we do have a lake,’ Araminta said. ‘He hasn’t, so he might like that. And the Bishop can tell you what you have to do to grow a maze, Will. We ought to have one, but it takes ages and ages to grow, as much as twenty years, I expect, so you’ll be ancient and decrepit by the time it is a proper one. But we will enjoy it,’ she added, as though in consolation.

  ‘Thank you,’ Will said drily, contemplating the prospect of being decrepit before he was fifty. ‘The Bishop is a very worthy and learned man, but I had not expected you to like him so much.’

  ‘He smiles a lot with his eyes and he tells jokes with his hands and Mr Hoskins translates them. We want them to teach us how to talk with our hands.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ So they could get up to more trouble in secret, presumably.

  ‘Then we would be much quieter and not disturb you,’ ten-year-old Bertrand announced with a wide-eyed earnestness that would fool no one, let alone an older brother.

  The Bishop and the Chaplain could only be a good influence on the children, of course, and if Will managed to interest his siblings in projects like the design and construction of a maze, then that might be a useful bridge to earning their confidence.

  ‘I shall write and invite them to spend the day on Wednesday,’ Will said. ‘But you must promise not to plague the Bishop.’

  ‘Of course,’ they assured him earnestly. ‘We never plague anyone.’

  * * *

  ‘A letter from Stane Hall, Papa?’ Verity took the sheet of paper that Mr Hoskins passed her. ‘An invitation to spend the day?’

  Her father nodded, smiled and made encouraging gestures.

  ‘You would like to accept? Would it not be rather tiring? Oh, I see. The Duke proposes setting aside a ground-floor bedchamber for you to rest. How very considerate.’

  Drat the man. I really do not want to discover any good points in his favour.

  She read the rest of the letter.

  Our garden is looking at its best, although nothing to compare with yours at the Old Palace, of course. The children are most anxious that I plant a maze at Stane Hall—before I am too decrepit to appreciate it, they say—and I would find your advice on the correct position, design, et cetera, most welcome...

  At least Will had an acceptable reason for asking them, other than to subject her to his disapproval—or his kisses—at close quarters, Verity thought irritably.

  I must stop being cross with him. It will turn me into a sour old maid and produce unbecoming wrinkles.

  She should simply ignore him except for the exchange of social niceties. That would restore their relationship to its proper balance and stop her having lurid dreams. Her father would enjoy the proposed outing and he seemed to like the unruly brood of young people. It would be selfish to show any reluctance just to save herself some embarrassment. ‘It sounds delightful, Papa. Shall I write and accept?’

  It was Monday. She had cleaned, measured and drawn the skull from the burial mound on Saturday and reburied it carefully early that morning and now the excavation could be refilled with earth, the turf laid back. Within a few months, no one would know the ground had been disturbed.

  It had been an interesting project, although it had revealed no objects other than the skull. But perhaps that was because she could only investigate one side. Or perhaps the people who buried the body did not leave offerings with their dead. She jotted a note to think about it. Was that normal for a pre-Christian burial?

  If she had an entire mound to work on she could have a trench cut right across it. Verity spread butter on her toast and wondered if Will might agree to letting her try with the smallest one on their shared boundary. It might be worth biting her tongue on Wednesday, smiling at him and cajoling the wretched man to see if he could be persuaded to cooperate.

  All in the interests of science, she told herself. And nothing to do with seeing if she could soften Will’s intense blue gaze. Will. It was dangerous to think of him by his given name, but tempting, in the privacy of her head.

  Besides, intriguing though he could be, she was immune to any serious attraction men might hold. She was quite safe.

  * * *

  ‘I am afraid that you have completely seduced Mr Hoskins with your library, Your Grace.’ Verity took a seat on the terrace after settling her father in the calm comfort of the bedchamber set aside for him, the tranquillity enhanced by what she suspected had been dire threats from their brother to the Calthorpe children about what would happen if they disturbed him.

  It ought to have been thoroughly awkward, meeting Will again after that kiss and the way they had parted afterwards, but it seemed that ducal decorum allowed him to carry on as though nothing had happened, to ignore it out of existence. Verity gave a mental shrug and endeavoured to achieve the same lofty disregard of awkwardness.

  ‘Surely it cannot be superior in any way to the library at the Old Palace.’

  Will leaned one hip against the balustrade, looking, Verity thought, as though he was posing for a portrait by Thomas Lawrence—perhaps The Duke of Aylsham Surveys His Acres. Or Portrait of a Dashing but Dutiful Duke.

  ‘Possibly not, but it is in what appears to be a delightful state of disorder, which is like catnip for Mr Hoskins. He will probably be asking for permission to help you sort it all out and catalogue it, unless you are intending to employ a librarian.’

  ‘I suppose I ought to do so.’ Will frowned. ‘There is an archivist and librarian at Oulton Castle, of course, but he is fully occupied. Perhaps Mr Hoskins would oblige me by assessing the library and advising me on who I should employ here.’ There was a short silence.

  Verity resisted the temptation to fill it with chit-chat and waited, studying his face until he smiled. She found herself smiling back with the uncomfortably guilty suspicion that Will knew perfectly well that she was exerting herself to be pleasant in order to gain some concession from him. And then, as they continued to look at each other with that dawning warmth, the equally uncomfortable thought occurred to her that most of her hostility to him was because she was attracted by him and that made her cross with herself and then cross with him.

  As if he could help being tall and broad-shouldered and handsome and the possessor of blue eyes that were startlingly expressive when he let his guard down. A ridiculous image struck her of Will standing in front of the mirror every morning and choosing to wear the broad shoulders instead of the narrow, stooping ones, or the elegantly straight nose instead of the snub one—just to torment impressionable females. Verity laughed out loud.

  ‘Miss Wingate?’

  Surely that wasn’t answering humour in his eyes?

  When it is genuine he hardly curves his lips at all, just that quirk at the corners which produces the smallest of dimples. When he is being merely polite, both sides of his mouth lift. Interesting... And so very attractive.

  Chapter Six

  ‘I am so sorry, just some foolish thought that amused me,’ Verity said.

  But Will’s smile was back to the cool, polite version. ‘My estate manager informs me that your men have begun to refill your excavations at the Druidic mound.’

  ‘Yes, I have reburied the skull now that I have drawn and measured it and the gardeners will replace the soil and turf.’ What sort of mood was Will in? He was so difficult to read. ‘There will be nothing to show
for the digging after a month or so. I did wonder whether you might consider allowing me to cut a trench right through the middle of the smallest mound, including your half.’

  Will nodded at Basil, who appeared around the corner of the terrace, then looked pained when the boy sat down on the steps at Verity’s feet, leaving damp footprints on the lichen-covered stone. ‘To what purpose?’ he asked. At least he was not frowning at her.

  ‘For the scientific purpose of examining the entire structure and, if there is a burial, seeing it in its entirety. It would not cause your staff any work and it would be restored and returfed afterwards, of course. It would not intrude on to agricultural land.’

  I’m prattling, and he knows that. Be quiet and do not sound so eager.

  Verity tried smiling and received a polite lift of Will’s lips in return. ‘Oh, and anything of any value would belong to whoever owned the half it was found in.’

  ‘You are going to dig up a mound and find treasure? And we can share it?’ Basil’s eyes were round with excitement. ‘But what if it was between the two halves? What if there is the fabulous treasure of some king or warrior under there?’ he asked earnestly. ‘A gilded sword right in the middle, or a heap of gold coins?’

  ‘I am sure we will negotiate in a civilised manner over any hoard of gems and gold that we discover,’ Verity said with a smile for his enthusiasm. ‘I will show you all how to excavate and keep records if you want to join in and dig.’

  ‘Oh, yes, and the girls are really interested, too,’ Basil began.

  ‘No,’ Will said sharply. ‘They are not going to grub about in the earth like navvies.’

  ‘Are you, by any chance, teasing me, Your Grace?’ But she very much doubted that he was. ‘I do not grub about and I trust my resemblance to a canal labourer is non-existent.’

  ‘Basil, go and find your brothers and sisters. Miss Wingate and I are having a private conversation.’

  There was something in his tone that even Basil recognised as an order. He got up and left, dragging his feet, but not daring to answer back.

  ‘Miss Wingate, while not wishing to denigrate your pastime, I venture to suggest that it is not one which would be considered suitable for a young lady who is a member of the ton. Your role caring for your father does remove you from society to a great extent, so this eccentricity is not widely observed, the reason I am sure that your father gives his permission for you to indulge in it, but I—’

  ‘Pastime? Indulgence?’ Verity demanded. ‘I am engaged in serious scientific discovery, following the latest methods of excavation and meticulously recording the results—’

  ‘Which, of course, will never be published. But that is beside the point. I have no intention of seeing my sisters burrowing in the dirt for human remains like so many scavengers on a waste heap.’

  She discovered that her mouth was open with sheer incredulity and closed it with a snap, took a deep breath—but he was still talking.

  ‘They have been exposed all their lives to their mother’s wild theories of what is suitable for young ladies and I can only be thankful I have them in my care while I may do something to reverse the damage. I will not have you—’

  ‘You mean that it was fortunate that your father fell off a roof?’ Will looked outraged and she knew she had gone too far, but it was too late to stop now. ‘I am sure the poor man would be appalled to discover that his daughters are being brought up to have no ideas of their own, to have their natural intelligence stifled.’ She drew a breath, then saw who had appeared at the bottom of the lawn. ‘Oh, look,’ she said, hastily finding a smile. ‘Here come the rest of your brothers and sisters.’

  Like a relieving force of cavalry...

  ‘It is a good thing that you despise matrimony so comprehensively, Miss Wingate, because no gentleman in his right mind would offer for you,’ Will said, low-voiced, although the words stung even so. The colour was high over his cheekbones, his blue eyes dark with anger. She saw him close his eyes for a second, force a smile on to his lips and turn towards the approaching group and only hoped that she had her own expression as well under control. Whatever the arrogant lump of manhood next to her thought, she was not so much of a hoyden as to throw a flowerpot at him, even if that was what her fingers itched to do.

  The young people had been dressed up and on their best behaviour for the visitors, but they had become louder and untidier as the visit progressed, only to be removed by governess and tutor before luncheon and returned, braids tightened, necks red from scrubbing, clothes suspiciously neat. Now they came up the lawn at a run, jostled their way up the steps on to the terrace and stood in a row, beaming at her.

  ‘Miss Wingate, did you know we have got a lake? A really big one, with an island in the middle?’

  Verity agreed that, yes, she did know about the lake, although she had never seen it. ‘And an island, too? How lovely.’ She sounded positively inane, she thought, trying not to overcompensate for the anger steaming inside her.

  ‘And it’s got one of those bumps like the ones Will said you were digging up because they’re full of skulls and treasure,’ Basil said.

  ‘I’m sure your brother never said they were full of skulls, Lord Basil. I only found one and no treasure.’ Then what he had said hit her. ‘There is a burial mound on the island in the lake? Are you quite certain?’

  ‘I think so. It is just like the littlest one on the boundary line,’ Basil said, ignoring his elder brother’s ominous throat-clearing. ‘We went and had a look at them in case we could find skulls, too, but Will said we mustn’t dig and there weren’t any bones to be seen on our side anyway. We didn’t know about treasure then.’ The care with which he did not look at his brother had her suspecting some holes would be appearing now, whatever Will said. ‘But the small one is just like the one in the lake.’

  ‘How do you know about the island?’ their brother demanded.

  ‘We took the boat out when we found it, of course. Found the boat, I mean,’ Araminta said. ‘Then we saw the island, so of course we had to explore it.’

  ‘What boat?’

  So his voice drops in tone and becomes very much quieter when he is angry with anyone, not just me.

  It still made her shiver, even though his attention was now completely on the boy.

  ‘Er... The one in the boathouse,’ Basil said, scuffling his feet and looking so innocent that he had to be guilty of something. ‘It wasn’t properly shut up, we hardly had to break the lock or anything. And the boat was floating and there wasn’t any water inside it.’

  The deep breath that Will took made his nostrils flare in an interesting manner, Verity observed, desperately trying for some mental balance.

  It does not matter what he thinks of me. It does not matter what he says to me. I do not care about his opinion. He is just an arrogant male.

  It did her self-esteem no good at all to discover that she was feeling decidedly shaky.

  ‘You broke into the boat shed, you presumed to be able to judge the condition of a boat and you took it out on a lake, the hazards of which you know nothing about?’ Will demanded. ‘Which of your brothers and sisters did you take with you?’

  ‘All of us. It was a bit of a squeeze, but not much water came in and Benjamin baled it out with his cap.’

  ‘We can all swim,’ Benjamin piped up. ‘And the cap dried, sort of. And Mr Otterley said the tenant who used to be here went out on the lake a lot.’

  ‘The head gardener knew you were taking the boat out without permission?’

  ‘Well, he might have thought you had said we could...’ Araminta said, twirling the ends of her ringlets and gazing vaguely off into the distance.

  ‘None of us fell in. Much,’ Basil said.

  His expression was so earnest that Verity almost smiled, but what he had said earlier could not be ignored. ‘It could be a burial mound, Lord
Basil, although I have never heard of one in a lake like that. Or it might be something of even more interest. They have artificial islands in Scotland called crannogs which seem to have been made by early man, but I have never heard of them in England.’ She made herself glance at Will, who was regarding her with what looked like barely controlled exasperation. ‘I do not suppose...’

  ‘You wish to visit the island, Miss Wingate?’

  ‘I would very much appreciate it, Your Grace. Perhaps one of your grounds staff might row me.’ The anger was like acid in her stomach and it was an effort to keep it from showing in her voice. Whatever he might think of her, she was not going to argue with him here.

  His manners were too good to permit him to look anything but delighted at the idea before the children. ‘Shall we go now? I must check the boat first, of course.’ He turned to his siblings. ‘No, you may not come. Miss Wingate does not want to listen to your arguments over who can fit in the boat and who must stay behind. Please inform Peplow and Mr Hoskins of our whereabouts.’

  They walked in silence down the slope of the lawn. Will stopped abruptly and gestured to the left where the lake came into view, curving away around the slope of the wooded hillside.

  Someone had to break this silence and either apologise or pretend that the sudden eruption of anger and dislike between them had never happened. She was a lady, whatever he might think of her getting her hands dirty and using her brain, and she was not going to allow him to push her into behaving any other way. ‘My goodness, but it is so much larger than I imagined,’ she said brightly. From the corner of her eye she could see Will glance at her, but she pressed on. ‘How very picturesque it is.’ Verity stopped, pretending to shade her eyes and admire the view so she did not have to look at him. ‘Is it natural? I cannot see an island.’