The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1)

by Renee Bernard

  Starr pretended to look behind them. “Goodness, look how long that chain is tying him to it! Did I forget to unlock it when we left the house?”

  “You must have,” Scarlett said. “Poor thing! He’s practically limping!”

  “All right, you win!” Paul sighed. “It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining and the sky is blue. My sisters are grinning like Cheshire Cats and I had best start paying attention!”

  Scarlett playfully struck his shoulder then opened her parasol. “That’s the spirit!”

  The lane had many groups of pedestrians out with the same purpose, though for most it was more critical to be seen and admired than to bother with the scenery. Polite nods were given and when possible brief social exchanges would be made, introductions and invitations gathered like flowers from a rich field though it also possible to experience a cold exclusion here or a rude cut direct there. It was like walking a leisurely gauntlet and as they progressed, Paul began to notice that the Blackwell Beauties were very popular and welcome amidst the elite.

  But I think I’m playing the part of the anonymous young gentleman in tow…and coming up short.

  “Ladies, you are Spring itself!” a woman hailed them from her open carriage as it slowed for a greeting. “But who is this?”

  “Lady Carlyle, you are too kind! This our beloved foster brother, Mr. Paul Martin,” Scarlett replied. “He offered to shepherd us this afternoon.”

  “Where is your chaperone Lady Winters?” she asked archly, not bothering to greet Paul.

  Scarlett’s smile faded and Starr took a nearly invisible step back to partially hide behind her brother. Scarlett’s impulse was to step forward. “She preferred to visit with Mother this afternoon at the house and saw no need to oversee the discourse of siblings. Paul is strong enough to fight off brigands and cutpurses, and kind enough to put up with the rigors of feminine company.”

  Paul touched the brim of his hat and hoped he wasn’t expected to bow and scrape before the pinch-faced woman. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  Her expression did not soften. “A friendly bit of advice, Miss Blackwell. Not knowing the connection, it would be easy to misinterpret the gathering. Young ladies who are yet unmarried do not walk in public parks with handsome men who are not known in wider circles without connections—not without a chaperone.”

  Paul would have sworn that Starr was no longer breathing as she froze next to him.

  “Scarlett,” he said under his breath. “It is no matter.”

  Scarlett apparently disagreed. “I cannot imagine that such advice is—”

  “Ah! There you are!” The Duke of Stafford strolled up as if he had nearly missed a rendezvous. “What a happy coincidence to meet you here, Miss Blackwell. May I join your party?” Fifteen paces behind him was two liveried footmen. The question of chaperones was now instantly moot but Paul braced himself for another round of ‘who is the commoner?’

  Scarlett wasn’t shying away from it, defiantly upping the ante. “May I introduce you to my dear foster brother, Paul Martin? He was our wet nurse’s son and we have been raised together. Paul is Father’s right hand in business with a brilliant bent toward the law and finance. Paul, this is His Grace, the Duke of Stafford.”

  “Your Grace,” Paul managed a nod, unsure of what anyone was supposed to say or do when meeting dukes. He nervously touched the brim of his hat again.

  “Mr. Martin. I am honored to make your acquaintance. It is good to see a brother taking his duties so seriously, though how you manage to remain serious and solemn with these two, I cannot see.” He kept his back to the carriage and within seconds the impact of his deliberate cut to Lady Carlyle was like a silent explosion.

  Paul watched in wonder as Lady Carlyle complexion changed, as she rapped the carriage frame with a cane and as the driver pulled away to continue their slow tour of the park. Money and privilege were not alien notions but he had never before seen such an elegant and brutal dismissal in his life.

  God, what must that power feel like? What does it do to a man?

  “Shall we walk then?” the duke asked.

  The small party set out again, this time with the Duke of Stafford on the far right to fall in next to Scarlett.

  “I am…surprised you would seek us out, Your Grace,” Scarlett said. “But I must thank you for stepping up when you did. I was on the verge of saying something very rude to Lady Carlyle and burning a few social bridges.”

  Talon smiled. “Against your wit and intelligence, she stood no chance, Miss Blackwell. It might have been chivalry but if she’d opened her mouth again, I was prepared to implode a few bridges myself.”

  Starr sighed. “Well, she did say Parson was handsome. Perhaps we can fondly latch onto that small tidbit.”

  Paul laughed. “Starr, only you would look for a kindness where none can be found!”

  “Parson?” Talon asked.

  “It is our pet name for Paul, from nursery days, and we have refused to let the tradition die.” Scarlett’s humor was restored. “In the Blackwell house, we are renowned for never letting go of the silly rituals that make us happy.”

  “I am curious then. What other rituals might you have? Mr. Martin, if you would enlighten me, I would be grateful.”

  Paul nodded. “Let me try. I’ll see if I can give you a few examples without betraying too much. On birthdays, we have picnics on the floor of the person’s favorite room in the house which means an annual feast in Scarlett’s nomadic choice as her favorite changes each and every year.”

  “In my defense, I thought the year in the attic was the best,” Scarlett said brightly.

  “But what of Starr’s choice?” Talon asked.

  “We have a second picnic for dessert and it is always in the library,” Starr replied. “I am not left out at all and I feel I should quickly say that the year in the attic we were eight and going through a very imaginative phase.”

  “I knew it was haunted and we didn’t want to leave the ghosts out of the fun.” Scarlett stated her case very matter-of-factly. “Paul was the sweetest though. He would have us in the servant’s hall because he didn’t wish anyone to have to climb the stairs with trays on his behalf.”

  “Your family…eats below stairs on your birthday?” Talon asked cautiously.

  Paul looked at him very directly. “Not since I was ten but I have never forgotten the courtesy and incredible generosity of Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell at that table in their finest evening clothes. Mrs. Blackwell has the heart of an angel and I am humbled to be in her sphere.”

  “There can be no higher praise. I did not mean to sound as if I disapproved. I was—forbidden to put one foot across the threshold that led below stairs when I was a boy. I was merely amazed.”

  Paul accepted the sincere regret in the duke’s voice. It was, after all, unprecedented to mix the classes under one’s roof. But for the Blackwells, it worked. The loyalty of the staff was immeasurable and the softening of the rules had not led to anarchy but to a broader sense of security and well-being for its inhabitants.

  “Any other secret rituals?”

  Scarlett touched Paul’s arm and shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t! Secrets must be earned, Your Grace. You’ll just have to trust that ours are entirely benign, begin and end with laughter and are not to be examined too closely in the harsh light of day.”

  “Then they are the best kind of secrets, Miss Blackwell.”

  “Did your family have any fun or unusual practices?” Starr asked gently. “Or are we the only ones in England to make fools of ourselves behind closed doors?”

  Talon’s demeanor changed, the light in his eyes shuttered a bit as he seemed to consider the question as seriously as if he’d been asked about the state of legislation for child welfare in factories. “No. I am sure you are not but…I cannot recall any amusing stories to share at the moment and fear it will only cement Miss Blackwell’s poor impressions of me.”

  “Scarlett has a high opinion of you, I am sure,”
Starr said quickly then realized that Scarlett was very carefully studying the handle in her parasol.

  “Is it true that your mother founded a woman’s college?” Talon asked Starr. “What is the curriculum?”

  Paul smiled. Here was a topic that his sister had no shortage of enthusiasm and joy in, he only hoped the duke was ready for the floodgates of information he had just opened.

  “Bellewood is an outstanding school where women can find a broad education, no matter their station. If they are clever and adept at academics, we turn no one away. Uncle Darius, that is Sir Darius Thorne is the Dean of the College and was educated at Oxford. He’s a brilliant man and shares Mother’s vision for women in the modern world.”

  “And what is that vision for a modern woman?” he asked directly.

  “To be accepted as equals and respected for our contributions. A woman’s interests should lead her to any profession she desires and when there are no barriers, it is our belief that only then will the human race reach its full potential when all members of society can add their gifts and talents and put forward their best efforts to help us all.” Starr was warm to her speech’s aims. “When men are not distracted with the wasted energies of oppression, I imagine that nothing will be beyond their reach—perhaps not even the stars.”

  “My God, you do not have small dreams, Miss Starr,” Stafford exclaimed softly.

  “I’m afraid His Grace does not endorse a broad education for women, dear sister. We must not press him on this matter.”

  “Oh,” Starr’s disappointment was palpable. “I see.”

  “It is true that your sister and I did not see eye to eye on the topic at Pellham’s but I am interested to learn more and have decided to hold judgment. Surely an open-mind attitude and a willingness to hear the other side of an argument out completely counts in my favor?”

  “It is the most to be hoped for,” Paul said firmly. “Better a lively debate than a premature leap to conclusions.”

  Scarlett looked back at Stafford. “Truly?”

  “I promised to always speak honestly to you and I always keep my word, Miss Blackwell.”

  “You are reconsidering the idea?” Scarlett stopped walking. “That overly educating a woman is misguided?”

  Starr gasped, more at the notion that Stafford would ever have believed such a thing than at the directness of her sister’s question. Paul watched the interplay between them and wondered if the Duke of Stafford knew what he was doing. Provoking the twins about women’s rights to education was like screaming and waving one’s arms in front of a bear.

  “I am.” Stafford held his ground. “I am reconsidering the idea.”

  “Is it difficult, Your Grace?”

  “It is the hardest thing I can recall doing. Usually when I think I know something, I don’t revisit it at the first sign of an opposing opinion. But you, Miss Blackwell, have inspired me to overcome my habits and at least, to look again. Behold, I am a changed man.”

  Scarlett smiled. “How flattering! I have influenced a duke of the realm?”

  “Very much so,” he said calmly. “Perhaps a modern woman could do more than even she thought possible.”

  “By winning you?” Scarlett teased then heard her own words and blushed. “I meant—winning you over to my side of the argument.”

  “Yes.” Stafford’s look was not ambivalent. He was a man enthralled.

  Paul pulled out his pocket watch as an overt excuse, sure that any chaperone worth his salt would have done the same. “Oh, dear. The time! Lady Winters will want to see you before she departs and…you’ll need to rest and change before dinner.”

  Scarlett’s look was comical, as if she were more than a little tempted to stamp her foot and protest the suggestion openly, but reason prevailed. “Duty calls, Your Grace.”

  “When you say it, why does it sound so pleasant?” he asked. “Yes, duty calls us all.” He stepped back to let them go. “I hope we meet again soon.”

  Paul guided the ladies to retrace their steps and leave Stafford to the peace of the park and his stroll but about thirty paces from him, Starr spoke to her sister. “Lettie. May I speak to him to alone for just a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m not sure that’s…necessary.” Paul tried to protest but there was nothing to be done. Scarlett linked her arm with his and pulled him back onto the path away from the duke.

  “She’s going to tell him about Bellewood until his ears bleed, Parson. It cannot be helped and if he survives it, then I think I may like him all the more.”

  * * *

  “Your Grace?”

  Stafford pivoted to realize that Starr had doubled back to address him alone. From what little he knew of her, it was out of character for her to be so bold—after all, this was the girl who had fled for a parasol when he’d come to call. “Miss Starr, what may I do for you?”

  “I am—Scarlett will assume I am scolding you about women’s rights but…”

  “Yes?”

  “If you are toying with Scarlett for some reason, flirting or…if your intentions are not honorable, then out of your friendship for the Duke of Chesterton, if no other reason will strike a chord with your conscience, I am asking you to leave her alone.”

  “You support Chesterton’s suit?”

  She shook her head slowly. “It is not my place to say. I want only her happiness and my sister does nothing in half measures.”

  “Nor do I.” Talon shifted on his feet, wary of the study she was making of him. “I have no intention of hurting your sister.”

  She gave him a look that made it clear she wasn’t convinced. “You are precisely the sort of man who says ridiculous things like that and…” She shook her head. “No, you would never intentionally break a woman’s heart, is that what you meant to swear? And if I made inquiries? Would it be hard for me to find a broken heart in your wake, sir? Or would it be the shortest quest of all time?”

  He blinked. “You would find none that I am aware of. I am not in control of every woman’s heart. If they lose it or throw it away without my encouragement, am I to be truly responsible?” It was a weak and foolish argument but he didn’t have much to stand on. He had not indulged in an overly wicked youth but he suddenly worried that his lack of indulgences might now work against him. How many women have I blindly slighted by avoiding entanglements? God knows…

  Starr brushed off her skirts and gave him a look generally reserved for rodents crossing a kitchen floor. “No. You’re right of course, Your Grace. Why would I expect a man to be responsible…for anything?”

  “That is unfair, Miss Starr. You are too quick to judge me. Make inquiries, if you must. Ask of Chesterton while you’re at it. But do not mistake my honesty for an unsavory confession. Surely an educated woman can apply better logic, could she not?”

  She tipped her head to one side, her expression growing more thoughtful and soft. “We shall see.” She walked away, the mirror of Scarlett but somehow in his eyes, so very different.

  He sighed. Twins. Twice the beauty and twice the pain.

  But Scarlett.

  Scarlett was unique—a unique threat to the careful balance of his world and now his own peace of mind. He watched them from a distance as Starr reached them and they all turned to go. He watched until her parasol disappeared from view and even then he stood like a statue in Regents Park pondering if any man had endured as much for the pleasure of losing arguments.

  She has never been kissed. I would stake my soul on it. And now the notion of any other man living being the one to kiss Scarlett Blackwell first…I am inspired to violence. It’s ridiculous!

  But still he stood until only the memory of Scarlett in a pink afternoon frock with a matching parasol remained.

  And it was enough to sustain him.

  Chapter 8

  At a garden party the next day, Scarlett was accompanied by Lady Winters while Starr had pled a headache to stay home. Scarlett suspected that it was more of a theatri
cal claim than a genuine illness but she understood the impulse to withdraw. She had said nothing of her private conversation with Stafford but Scarlett trusted her completely. If there had been a revelation, Tara would have admitted it. No doubt, their debate had ended in a draw.

  But today, today she would be on her own and it was liberating.

  On her own without a duke in sight.

  It was meant to be bliss but she found herself scanning the guests across the lawn seeking a familiar form, eager for the next conversation with Stafford if only to prove that she had completely regained control of her senses.

  “Galen made inquiries and the Duke of Chesterton indicated to the hostess that he would not be in attendance,” Lady Winters supplied as if guessing the direction of her charge’s thoughts if not the actual target of them.

  Scarlett smiled politely. “I did not expect him to be here.”

  “No, but others may press you on the subject and I wished you to feel well-armed.” Haley walked next to her as they explored the extensive gardens of Lord Amersham. “Scarlett, as someone close to your family and to you, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Are you fond of the Duke of Chesterton? I mean to say, truly fond?”

  Scarlett did her best to keep her voice steady. “He has quickly become a good friend to me.”

  “I see,” Lady Winters replied. “There is often pressure on a young woman that has all to do with a man’s title or what could be gained in matches, pressure to ignore her personal feelings against practical matters. I know your parents have never done so but if you’ve taken it into your head to… The prestige and stifling responsibilities that would come with it are not to be taken lightly and an older husband can shorten your own youth as you become more of a caregiver than a true partner as time goes on.”

  “Aunt Haley!” Scarlett exclaimed in shock. “Chesterton is not a dottering old man lecherously chasing me about! Do not be so mean, I beg you.”