The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior

by Megan Frampton

  Such as the look on his face when she drew back, that wanting, helpless, desiring look. Such as the way his chest was firm under her fingers, yet he flinched when she touched him. Such as how it felt when his tongue was plunged into her mouth, and when she was biting his lip.

  All those things she spent much of the night not thinking about.

  So she was relieved not to have seen him at breakfast, truly she was, only Rose would not stop popping up to see if he was walking down the hall, and Lily couldn’t eat, and then she spilled tea all over the table because she was so distracted.

  It was only when they were walking back up to the schoolroom that they saw him coming downstairs. Lily was relieved to see him properly garbed, even with a cravat on.

  One more thing not to think about—how his throat had looked in the candlelight the night before, how his throat muscles worked as he’d swallowed.

  “Duke!” Rose said, reaching out, putting her hand on his sleeve.

  He shook his head, met Lily’s eyes, then dropped his gaze to Rose. “What is it, sweet?” he asked, putting his hand on her head.

  “The day looks fine, we should go for a walk,” Rose said in her most commanding, dukelike voice.

  He drew a deep breath before replying, and Lily felt her own breath catch. Would he say no, so as not to be with her? Would he say yes, so as to be with her?

  Did she actually matter in his decision-making?

  None of her questions could possibly have a satisfactory answer.

  So she just waited.

  “Of course.” He pulled his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and frowned at it. “I am out this evening, and have some things to do before then, but we could all go now, if that suits.” He glanced at Lily. “If that does not discommode your teaching schedule, that is?”

  His tone was all it should be. Professional, cordial, direct. Nothing that indicated his state of mind. Not that he should speak in a way that did indicate it, not in front of Rose; but it was frustrating not knowing. Maybe nearly as frustrating as not getting to do all she wished to the evening before.

  “It will be fine,” she said. “We will adjust, will we not, Miss Rose?” It was cowardly, perhaps, to defer to her charge, but on the other hand her charge was more important than her own feelings. She was an employee here, she could not forget that.

  “Yes! I will go get my coat.” Rose scampered up the rest of the stairs, leaving Lily and Marcus alone.

  “You slept well, I hope?” he asked.

  She met his gaze and smiled ruefully. “Not very well, I must admit. I had a lot on my mind.” And in my heart.

  He looked relieved, as though he had been worried what she might say. How did someone so commanding and authoritative and handsome not realize the effect he had on people? Or person, actually, namely her?

  “I didn’t, either. We have some things to discuss.”

  Oddly enough, that didn’t make her anxious, not in the same way his polite tone had. She could tell, just by the expression on his face, that he was feeling some of what she was.

  Rose returned before she could reply, holding her coat and Maggie in her arms. “I’m ready!” she announced, stepping between the two of them on the stairs.

  “Let us go,” the duke said, shooting another quick glance at Lily.

  The park was crowded, which was not surprising, given that it was actually sunny.

  “I wish it had been this nice yesterday for the party,” Lily said as they walked along the path.

  “The only thing you couldn’t control was the weather, and the rest of it was perfect,” the duke said.

  “Except for that one girl,” Rose added, almost as an aside.

  “What girl?” Lily and the duke spoke in unison.

  “The one who called me a bastard.” She shrugged, which she’d probably picked up from her father. If only her study of flowers were going so well.

  “Did she say anything else?” the duke asked through clenched teeth.

  Rose shrugged again. “No, just that. I told her to shut up.”

  Lily’s throat grew thick. It was starting already—talk about Rose’s parentage, and why the duke had taken her in, probably what he was planning to do with her, and that any young lady who was interested in him would have to take Rose into account—or not, if she could be sent away.

  “You are right, Rose, but that is not all there is to it.”

  He put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and squatted down so he could look directly in her face. Lily went to move away, but his hand shot out and grabbed her cloak, making her stay where she was.

  “I was not married to your mother, but that does not mean you are not part of my life now. I love you. You are mine, and I—I am yours.”

  It was too intense a statement to be comprehended by a four-year-old, but it made twenty-four-year-old Lily tear up.

  “Do you understand? I don’t want you to ever think you are not welcome or loved in my home because of who you are.”

  “All right,” Rose said, her eyes wandering past the duke’s shoulder to where a group of children were playing. “Look, a few of the girls from the party are over there. May I join them?”

  The duke nodded and stood. “Of course. Miss Lily can escort you.”

  Lily wiped her eyes quickly, then took Rose’s hand and led her to where the children were gathered.

  “She didn’t want me to stay right there. She wants to be able to see us, but not be right there.” Rose had told her as much just as autocratically as her father would, and it had taken all of Lily’s willpower not to laugh.

  “Shall we sit, then?” the duke said, gesturing to a bench within eyeshot of the playing children.

  “Certainly. Unless . . . unless you wish to return home and I can stay here, with Rose?”

  He made a hmphing noise. As though she should know that was not what he would wish. “I’ll stay here, unless you wish me to go?”

  “No, of course not.” Lily sat on the bench, shifting position as the cold crept through her cloak. She wrapped it tighter around her and watched as he sat beside her.

  “About last—”

  “We should discuss—”

  They’d both spoken at the same time. “You go first,” the duke said with a wave of his elegant fingers.

  “Well. I just wanted to say that this changes nothing between us.” She cleared her throat. “That I expect nothing of you, given what we—that is, what we did last night.” She felt her face flush as hot as it ever had.

  “Nothing has changed?” He did not sound pleased at her words.

  She turned to regard him. “Your Grace, it is not as though it can happen again. You know that. I know that. We, in fact, both know that.” She turned to face forward. The trees were far less dangerous to look at.

  “I wish—” he began, but she held her hand up.

  “We cannot wish for what we cannot have. I have learned that a long time ago.”

  Silence for a few long moments. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged. “I thought I had, too. I grew up wishing for what I could not have: parents who cared, a brother with whom I had things in common, a purpose in life.” She felt rather than saw him turn toward her. Was he finally telling her all the things she’d presumed from his comments? “I didn’t think I could have anything I wished for until Rose—and you—walked into my life.”

  “Tell me about your life.” She clasped her hands in her lap so she would be less tempted to touch him. “I know so little about you.” That he’d spoken aloud anyway.

  “You know who I am.” He spoke in a low voice, a tone that resonated on her skin, to her bones, and within to her heart. “You know me.”

  It made her ache. It made her want to reach over and take his face in her hands and kiss him, show him with her actions just how she felt about him.

  But she couldn’t.

  “My parents—well, my parents were not all that enthusiastic, I think, about having children at all, much less two boys. My bro
ther was the older one, you see, and he was just like my father. At least in the ways my father thought were important. He was athletic, and stubborn, and proud, and took a dim view of people whom he thought were lower than him.” A pause as he drew a breath. “And he thought I was one of those people.”

  Athletic, stubborn, proud? It sounded as though they had had plenty in common. But Lily did not point that out.

  “And so my parents gave what little parental attention they had to Joseph. I was sent to school at an early age, and when I was home, I spent more time with the servants than with my family. I learned that if there was something I wanted, I was going to have to get it myself.”

  That explained a lot.

  “And your brother?”

  She felt Marcus’s shoulders heave in a sigh. “It was only during the last year of his life that he was even the duke’s heir in the first place. The previous Duke of Rutherford was childless, and had brothers who had children. No one expected that Joseph would be the one next in line for the dukedom. And then he died.”

  “So you were not raised to be a duke.” He’d said that before, but she hadn’t realized just how distant the likelihood was.

  “Not at all. I was raised to be a gentleman, I suppose. But that was it. My father entrusted all his affairs to an estate manager, and then my brother. I was told to go away whenever I offered to help.”

  “That must have hurt.”

  He shrugged. A gesture that meant myriad things, just like his raised eyebrows did. Now it seemed to Lily it was a rebuttal of the pain he felt, that he still felt, at being cast out for no other reason than his parents’ carelessness.

  “I survived. And I did not suffer; my father was wealthy, I had the best schooling, I never had to worry about where my next meal might come from. Not like some people.”

  Not like me, Lily thought.

  “Joseph was a fool.” He snorted, a noise devoid of humor. “He became the duke’s heir, and suddenly he thought he was invincible. Our parents had died by then, and he had no one but his younger unwished-for brother to try to talk him out of doing the foolish things he embarked upon. I warned him that the horse he bought was far too wild to ride, at least not without proper training, but he mocked me for being a coward.”

  The children’s laughter drifted over to them, and Lily felt her heart warm at the sound. What he was describing was his past, not his future. Rose was his future, and he was ensuring his future was well taken care of.

  “Joseph took Darkness out after he’d had too much to drink. He tried to jump a fence and was thrown. He was killed instantly. We had to put Darkness down, too.”

  She glanced around, not seeing anyone nearby, and took his hand. “I am so sorry.”

  He squeezed her hand. “It wasn’t as though we were close. He was as indifferent to me as our parents were.” It sounded as though he was trying to be nonchalant, as though it didn’t matter, which just made Lily ache for him more.

  “He was your family. Of course it is going to affect you.”

  “My family,” he said in a musing tone of voice. “I have never felt as though I had any family. Not until now, with Rose.”

  A pause, as Lily wondered if he was going to add and you. She was both relieved and disappointed that he didn’t.

  “What was Rose’s mother like? She hasn’t talked about her much, except to say she worked in a pub.”

  Marcus removed his hand from hers and crossed his arms over his chest. “She was a—well, she was not a woman you would know, that is for certain.”

  Don’t be so sure, Lily wanted to say. But she couldn’t tell him of her past, of how just by being in Rose’s vicinity she was jeopardizing the girl’s future.

  “She and I . . . kept company for a time, and when she told me she was with child, I arranged to take care of the babe. I hadn’t expected—nor did I even want to—know my offspring.” A snort that wasn’t humorous. “In that way, I acted just as Joseph would, disposing of my troubles with money, and not thinking at all about the consequences of my actions. I’m ashamed of what I did.”

  “At least you made arrangements for her support. It doesn’t sound that Rose was ill-treated or went hungry. She is thin, but she was not malnourished. And the few times she’s spoken of her mother it has been with fondness.”

  There was a long pause between them as he let out a deep breath. “I don’t even remember what her mother looked like,” he said. “It is odd. As soon as I saw Rose, I knew immediately I had to do the right thing. Or maybe not just the right thing, but the thing that would be best for her, since I knew it would also be best for me.”

  Which is why he was currently on the hunt for a proper young lady to marry, she thought.

  A proper young lady.

  Not a woman from a small town whose closest claim to respectability was a squire father who’d lost everything he ever owned. Not a woman who’d worked in a brothel.

  Not her.

  Although dukes should be cautioned against excessive emotion, they should also be certain to express their emotions if it seems that holding them in would cause an upset of the stomach or other such physical distemper.

  —THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR

  Chapter 26

  “Caroline?” Lily called as soon as she stepped inside the door to the agency. Rose was having a nap after spending a very long time at the park—she’d had no fewer than three invitations for later in the week, and she was smiling so much it made Lily’s heart swell.

  But all that playing made a little girl exhausted, especially after spending half an hour playing hide and seek with her father as Lily watched, trying not to giggle as the duke pretended not to see his daughter even though he was practically about to trip over her.

  They’d walked home together, mostly silent, Rose between them holding each one of their hands.

  Lily’s mind churned as she reviewed everything he had told her. No wonder he was the way he was. And she’d been so wrong about him when they first met—he was arrogant, yes, but he was also so vulnerable, and so clearly in need of love, love he was getting from Rose. No wonder it was so important to him that she be taken care of and wanted as he hadn’t been.

  A different man would have repeated the same mistakes from his own upbringing, perhaps sending Rose away, or ignoring her while he was out enjoying Society.

  By the time they reached the duke’s house, Rose was yawning, the duke was consulting his pocket watch, and Lily knew she had to speak to someone about all of this before she burst.

  “Your Grace,” she said as they stepped inside, “would it be permitted for me to go run an errand? Rose will be taking a nap.”

  “I will not,” Rose said in a peevish voice.

  “And Etta can sit with her while I am away. It should not be more than forty-five minutes.”

  He seemed to take a long look at her, almost as though he could see the tumult inside her soul, then nodded and reached for Rose. “Come along, sweet, let us go upstairs and I will read a story to you while you rest—and not sleep,” he said, shooting a quick, wry glance at Lily. “My engagement is not until later this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Lily said, waiting as John the footman opened the door for her again.

  She scurried down the steps and walked quickly to the agency, hoping Caroline would be there. And, even though she dearly loved her friend, she hoped Annabelle would not, since conversation with Annabelle invariably lasted at least twice as long as you thought it would.

  “Caroline?” she called out, walking back into the office. No one was there, but the door had been open; perhaps one of them had just stepped out to the necessary? Lily sat in the Unfortunate Women seat, then sprang up again as the bell at the door rang. Just as it had only a few weeks ago, when the whole adventure began.

  She heard footsteps, then Caroline herself walked into the office, jumping in surprise when she saw Lily. “What are you doing here? Is anything wrong?” her friend asked, str
ipping off her shawl and dropping it on the desk.

  “No, that is—”

  “You are all right?” Caroline’s eyes scanned her face, then she exhaled in relief. “You are fine, it’s just him, isn’t it?”

  Lily’s mouth gaped open. It seemed Caroline needed to look at her only five seconds before gauging what was bothering her. So much for that career in gambling she’d been considering.

  “Tea?” Caroline asked, turning to the small stove in the corner of the room without waiting for a response.

  She busied herself with the kettle and lighting the fire (“Wretched match!”), and then drew the office chair as close as she could without actually banging into Lily’s knees, for which Lily was grateful.

  “Tell me what it is. And then I have a favor to ask you.”

  Now that she had her friend’s full attention, Lily wasn’t quite sure what to say. She thought she was falling in love with him? Caroline probably had already figured that out, since she appeared to be psychic. She didn’t know what she would do when he married? Caroline would likely tell her just to bide her time until she could leave the position gracefully.

  Why had she even bothered to come, when she could have had this conversation with Caroline in the comfort of her own bedroom, without Caroline even there?

  Oh, of course. Because she wanted to say it out loud, have someone else understand just what was happening, maybe even offer some advice that she hadn’t thought of inside her own head.

  Fine, then, her own head said to herself. Which was confusing even without all the tumult in her brain.

  “I—we’ve spent time together—”

  “More kisses?” Caroline interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

  Lily bit her lip and nodded. “And I know there’s nothing I can do about it, he told me he is on the hunt for a suitable wife, a lady who can mother his daughter properly. It is not as though he has led me to have any expectations.”

  Actually, given that last time—when she had been the aggressor—perhaps she should have been concerned she was leading him on.