How to Marry a Duke

by Vicky Dreiling

“Checking for a fever.”

  “I thought you would be pleased.”

  “Of course I am.” She found her fan and applied it. “I suppose your matchmaker will insist upon being present.”

  “Her name is Miss Mansfield, and yes, she will attend.”

  “How many girls remain?” she asked.

  “Five.”

  “What sort of activity do you have in mind?” she asked.

  “We are still in the planning stages.” He didn’t tell her he didn’t have the foggiest idea.

  “Hmmph. I shall send for Miss Mansfield tomorrow. If the event is to take place here, I must approve first.”

  “What? You don’t endorse orgies?”

  She snapped her fan closed and rapped his knuckles.

  “Ouch!” He snatched his hand back, shaking it.

  “There is something else I wish to discuss with you,” she said. “What do you know about Lieutenant Mortland?”

  He grew wary. “I never met the man before last night.”

  “You need not have met him to have heard about him.”

  “All I knew before last night was that he had been missing in action for two years.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Shortly after Miss Mansfield took a turn with the lieutenant last night, you went in search of her. Why?”

  Until he had evidence, he had no intention of discussing his suspicions or his investigation with anyone but Hawk. “The opera was about to resume.”

  “Poppycock. Now tell me the truth. Why did you feel compelled to rescue her?”

  “Why did you encourage her to go with him?”

  “Because her flimsy excuses were causing a scene. I feared she would bring censure upon herself. One can hardly blame her after the lieutenant called her by her Christian name. His manners are deplorable.”

  He said nothing.

  She frowned. “He may be dangling after Miss Mansfield’s fortune.”

  Tristan bounded off the sofa and paced before the hearth.

  “You are agitated,” his mother said.

  “She has no one to protect her,” he muttered.

  “She wouldn’t be in this predicament if she were not so attached to her independence. Someone needs to take Miss Mansfield in hand. All that money and freedom have swelled her head. She courts disaster flaunting her independence and bizarre matchmaking schemes. Society barely tolerates her, and that is only because of her late uncle.”

  Tristan said nothing. Tessa’s career, coupled with her self-imposed spinsterhood, made her an easy target for gossip.

  “I’ve concluded she wrapped Wentworth round her finger,” Mama continued.

  Tristan could well believe it. She’d cajoled and hoodwinked him any number of times.

  “Of course she needs a husband. Honestly, Wentworth neglected his duty when he failed to arrange her marriage.”

  “He was dying.”

  A coal dropped and hissed. Tristan retrieved the poker, removed the screen, and stirred the fire.

  “Do you plan to tell me what happened?” his mother asked quietly.

  He set aside the poker and adjusted the screen. Then he returned to the sofa. “It is not my habit to reveal confidences, but I am making an exception because you have the wrong impression of her.”

  When he finished telling her what Tessa had sacrificed for her uncle and Lady Broughton, his mother considered the information with a faraway look in her eyes. “Her caring nature is a positive sign. From what you’ve told me she is not selfish. Perhaps she only needs guidance.”

  “She devoted so much time to caring for others that she neglected herself,” he said.

  His mother knit her brows. “Her uncle is dead. Lady Broughton is married. There is nothing to hinder Miss Mansfield now.”

  “She thinks she’s on the shelf.”

  “Now that is ridiculous. Foolish gel to throw away happiness for the sake of pride. And I assure you it is pride standing in her way.” She smiled. “I shall find her a husband.”

  “What?” Tristan stared at his mother as if she’d spoken in a foreign tongue.

  “Her breeding is flawless. She is attractive. With her figure and fortune, she is as eligible as the younger gels, if not more so.” She sighed. “Of course she will have to give up her ridiculous career.”

  “Mama, you are not to play matchmaker.”

  She ignored him. “Certainly I shall look well above that lieutenant. She can do much better. I’m thinking a marquess.”

  “You will stop thinking.”

  “Miss Mansfield could reach as high as a duke, but you’re obligated to the bridal candidates. There are quite a few bachelor earls. She will likely have to settle for one of them.”

  “For the last time, you will not meddle in her life.”

  “Very well. You find her a husband.”

  “No,” he growled.

  A smug smile played on his mother’s lips. “Either you do it or I will.”

  He’d be damned if he would stand aside and watch another man pay court to Tessa. Ogle her goddess body. Stare at her lush mouth. He fisted his hands.

  “You are the one who said she has no one to protect her,” Mama said. “Who better than a husband?”

  He wanted to smash something. He would not find her a husband. He would not let his mother do it. He couldn’t. Because he’d pound his fists into any man who dared to even look at Tessa.

  “Never mind,” his mother said. “I will find her a husband.”

  Fire seared his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t just sit there. He bounded off the sofa and paced the drawing room again. His fists clenched and unclenched.

  He wanted her. He couldn’t have her. He didn’t want any other man to have her.

  The devil. If he didn’t do something, his mother would find her a husband. Probably some sweet-talking swain who would bring her flowers and read poetry. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “Why are you so restless?” his mother asked.

  Tristan halted. With considerable effort, he brought the turmoil racing through his blood under control. Slowly he turned to face his mother. Then he realized she’d handed him the perfect means to stifle her interference. “You will leave the matter to me.”

  Tessa was passionate about her independence. When she learned about his mother’s nefarious plans, she would balk. But he couldn’t call on her again. Damnation. He’d have to find some way to warn her.

  The next day, Tessa followed the butler across the checkered marble floor of the ducal mansion for a requested appointment with the duchess.

  Just as she reached the stairs, Tristan walked out into the hall and strode toward her. Her heart fluttered when he smiled. Then he dismissed the butler and escorted her upstairs.

  The solid muscles of his arm made her aware of his strength. Unable to help herself, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Although she had memorized his features, she still felt a jolt at the sight of his boyish grin. Memories of the way he’d kissed her at Ashdown House, as if he were starving, flooded her brain. Hot, demanding, thoroughly sinful kisses that had stolen her will to resist.

  Yesterday something had passed between them just before he left her town house. His heated gaze had thrilled her. The wanton inside her had wanted him to kiss her again, but of course he had not. He’d promised never to touch her again, and he was a man who kept his word. Her honorable Tristan, she thought. But he wasn’t her beau, and the thought weighed heavy on her heart. She told herself her secret feelings for him were only for a little while. All too soon she would have to give him up to another. For now, she would not ruin what little time they had left together.

  He gazed at her as they climbed the steps. She let herself fall under the spell of his beautiful blue eyes, committing him to memory.

  “I asked my mother to hold the next courtship session here for the sake of propriety,” he said.

  His words doused her like a bucket of ice water. “Oh.”

  “We cannot take any more ch
ances. Mortland found us alone in your drawing room. We know he spied on you in the past and is likely to do so again. If he sees my carriage at your town house again, he may spread gossip, if he hasn’t already. My mother’s presence will lend respectability to our meetings.”

  She averted her face because she feared he would see her disappointment. “So we are to include your mother in future decisions?” she said in a small voice.

  “There is a smaller room adjacent to the red drawing room. My mother will chaperone from there. We’ll not have complete privacy, but I won’t risk your reputation again.”

  “I understand,” she said. They would never be alone again. The realization saddened her far more than it should.

  They reached the landing. “There is something I need to speak to you about afterward,” he said. Then he frowned as muted feminine voices sounded from the open drawing room door. Tristan slowed his pace. “Apparently my mother is entertaining.”

  As they neared the door, Tessa recognized Lady Durmont’s voice. “Duchess, that spinster has taken over your role. It is an insult to you.”

  Tessa inhaled sharply.

  “On the contrary,” the duchess said. “Miss Mansfield has done me a favor. You might consider retaining her to find wives for your sons. It is high time they gave up sowing wild oats.”

  Tessa silently cheered. Well done, Duchess.

  Lady Durmont continued. “She has influenced the duke and turned him against my Elizabeth.”

  “She’s got her claws into him,” Mrs. Bancroft added. “My Henrietta thinks she means to have him for herself.”

  The words scorched Tessa’s face. Oh, God, had she let her feelings for him show? She prayed Henrietta was shooting in the dark. But it mattered not. The two dragons were shredding her to pieces. Her legs trembled.

  “Walk in there like a queen,” Tristan said softly.

  Tessa lifted her chin. She would not give those two cats the satisfaction of seeing her humiliation.

  He led her inside. Lady Durmont and Mrs. Bancroft rose and curtseyed. “Your Grace,” they murmured simultaneously.

  Tessa noted they did not even recognize her presence. Tristan gave them a curt bow and then shot them a freezing look. The two dragons looked at each other with alarm as they sank into their chairs. Evidently they’d realized he’d overheard their nasty remarks.

  The duchess inclined her head. “Miss Mansfield, it is a great pleasure to see you.”

  She used every ounce of her strength to make a graceful curtsey.

  Tristan led Tessa over to sit on the sofa next to his mother. Then he took a chair near her and glared at the dragons.

  Tessa took silent pleasure at their fearful expressions.

  The duchess faced the two matrons. “Miss Mansfield and I are making plans for the next courtship session.” The duchess smiled. “I will hold the event here.”

  Mrs. Bancroft winced. Lady Durmont looked as if she’d eaten something rotten.

  The duchess drew her quizzing glass up to her eye. “Lady Durmont, you are very pale. Are you unwell?”

  “I am beside myself with worry for my poor Elizabeth,” she said. “When she received the letter of dismissal this morning, she took to her bed.”

  Mrs. Bancroft dabbed a handkerchief under her moist eyes. “Henrietta wept when she received her letter.”

  The duchess lowered her quizzing glass. “I am sure your daughters will recover quickly. The young are resilient.”

  Lady Durmont turned to Tristan. “Your Grace, I beseech you to reconsider. You cannot deny my Elizabeth is the finest flower among all the belles.”

  Mrs. Bancroft sniffed. “My Henrietta is a lark among a flock of wrens. No other girl can match her sweet soprano.”

  Apparently Mrs. Bancroft was as tone deaf as her daughter.

  “Well, Henrietta is a sweet girl, but of course my Elizabeth is a true incomparable,” Lady Durmont said.

  Tessa almost snorted.

  The two women turned their appeals to Tristan, speaking over each other in their efforts to convince him of the dubious merits of their daughters. Tristan regarded them with icy boredom.

  The duchess rapped her fan on the sofa arm. “Ladies, please. Such conduct is unbecoming.”

  Lady Durmont bristled. “Duchess, if it were your daughter, you would defend her.”

  “I teach my daughter by example. Ladies, you will excuse us. I have kept Miss Mansfield and my son waiting too long.”

  When the duchess rose, the two dragons had no choice but to do likewise. Tessa and Tristan stood as well. Lady Durmont lifted her pointed nose as she marched out the door.

  Mrs. Bancroft clutched her handkerchief and hesitantly approached Tristan. “Your Grace, I beg you to reinstate Henrietta.”

  He regarded her with hauteur. “Please convey my best wishes to your daughter for her future happiness.”

  Her lower lip trembled as if she were on the verge of weeping.

  “Good day, Mrs. Bancroft.” He bowed.

  She scowled at Tessa and then quit the drawing room.

  Afterward, Tristan regarded his mother. “Those two vicious cats are not to set foot inside our house again.”

  The duchess fingered the ribbon of her quizzing glass. “They are disagreeable in the extreme, but they are not the only ones blaming Miss Mansfield.”

  “What?” Tristan practically shouted.

  “Lower your voice,” the duchess said. “Do you want the servants to hear?”

  “I will not stand for anyone mistreating her,” he said.

  Tessa turned to his mother. “Duchess, why would they blame me? From the beginning, your son made it clear he is making the decisions.”

  “Pride,” she said. “It is far easier to blame you than to admit he rejected their daughters.”

  Tessa clasped her hands in her lap. “It is my fault. The courtship was my idea. I should have realized the eliminations would cause strife.”

  “Their mothers agreed to the conditions,” Tristan said. “If you will recall, I gave the girls the option to bow out. All of them knew that eventually I could choose only one.”

  “Logically, you are correct, son. Emotions, however, are never rational.”

  “Something must be done,” Tristan said. “I won’t let the ton besmirch her when she’s only done her duty by me.”

  Tessa would not have called her efforts duty. After all, she’d made the choice to help him, but she thought it best to pick her battles and let this one go for now.

  The duchess nodded. “We will invite the remaining five girls and their mothers to my drawing room for the next courtship session. I will host the event next Friday and champion Miss Mansfield.”

  Tessa stilled, unable to believe her ears. The duchess meant to counter the gossip those two dragons would and probably already had spread. Why would she when she’d disapproved of Tessa’s involvement in her son’s courtship from the start?

  The duchess toyed with her quizzing glass and gave Tessa a knowing smile. “You wonder why I offered to help you.”

  Tessa almost dissembled, but she knew the duchess would not respect anything but the truth. “I admit I am surprised.”

  The duchess nodded. “I know you overheard those two cats. And yet you walked into this room with your head held high. I would have done the same myself. So I decided to help you.”

  Tessa wondered how many times the duchess had held her head high in the face of her husband’s philandering. “I am grateful, but I must think of the young ladies. I fear it may prove awkward if the mothers observe. The girls are likely to become nervous.” And Tristan would be uncomfortable as well, she silently amended.

  “We can hold the session in the adjoining drawing room while my mother entertains their mothers here,” Tristan said.

  “What exactly are you planning?” his mother asked.

  “I wish to interview them,” Tristan said.

  The duchess released an exasperated sigh. “That brings to mind another matter. Se
veral of the mothers have brought to my attention that this courtship is lacking all semblance of romance. No flowers, no poetry, not even a single dance. And they are also concerned because you are not spending equal time with each of the girls. Many feel you favored Georgette too much at the opera.”

  Tessa bit her lip. He hadn’t completely ignored the other girls, but he’d made his partiality to Georgette clear.

  Tristan folded his arms over his chest. “I am conducting my courtship the way I see fit.”

  “You’re not courting the girls. You’re interviewing them as if they were servants,” the duchess retorted.

  The tension between them seemed ready to erupt. Tessa decided to intervene. “Perhaps there is a compromise.”

  Tristan and the duchess swerved their gazes to her.

  She drew in a breath. “Rather than a straightforward interview, we will play a question-and-answer game.”

  Tristan huffed. “I have serious decisions to make, and you want to play games?”

  “There is a purpose. You will have the opportunity to ask any questions you wish, but since it will be a game, the girls will feel at ease and respond naturally.”

  He nodded. “If I interview them, they will say what they believe I wish to hear. Brilliant idea, Miss Mansfield,” he said.

  She smiled. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “I will send out the invitations posthaste,” the duchess said.

  “We should invite Julianne and Lord Hawkfield to participate as well,” Tessa said. “Their observations will be useful.”

  Tristan scoffed.

  The duchess’s blue eyes lit up like the lanterns at Vauxhall. “A wonderful idea, Miss Mansfield. You can put the idea in Hawk’s mind that he needs a wife. Lady Hawkfield would be ever so grateful if you found her son a bride.”

  “Mama, no matchmaking,” Tristan said in a stern voice.

  “Miss Mansfield will take care of the matter, dear. She is an expert.”

  Tessa shook her head. “Duchess, I already offered my services at the opera, but Lord Hawkfield declined.”

  “You what?” Tristan almost shouted again.

  Tessa held her finger up to her lips.

  “Hawk is a stubborn bachelor,” the duchess said. “Miss Mansfield, you will use your matchmaking wiles on him. Perhaps he will fall in love with one of the gels Tristan doesn’t want.”