by Amelia Grey
“How strange,” he said in a fake serious tone while a twitch of a smile worked the corners of his lips. “Accidents and illnesses are the very two things that cause most people to die.”
Henrietta bristled inside but tried to remain calm. The last thing she needed to do was annoy the duke, but he seemed to be twisting everything she said.
“You are mocking me, Your Grace.”
His smile widened just enough to make him even more devilishly handsome. “Yes, but only because you make it so very easy for me to do.”
“Me? You can’t lay the blame for your ill manners on me.”
“True. I wouldn’t, so to put your mind at ease, let me just say that I’ll consider myself forewarned about this curse you believe in so that you may live with a clear conscience, should anything happen to me.”
Now he was the one sounding sensible! And even though that infuriated her, she couldn’t help but feel a slight catch in her breath as she looked at him. The man was far too appealing to her senses, especially when he was teasing her.
“Thank you for that small consolation,” she said with true appreciation in her voice for his concession.
He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “We still have the problem of what to do with you.”
Henrietta lifted her chin. “I did suggest a possible solution that you may want to revisit.”
The duke’s gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there so long that her cheeks heated. She felt a slow stirring of something she didn’t understand low in her abdomen. It was unsettling that sometimes when he looked at her, she felt these strange sensations: a tightening in her breasts, an unusual warmth low in her stomach, and a shortness of breath.
“You’re referring to your proposal that I sign your inheritance over to you and be rid of you?”
“Yes,” she answered, trying not to sound too eager or too hopeful. “If you did that, I would never have to cross your mind again and—” She deliberately hesitated. “You would be free of me and from the curse that has plagued my guardians.”
“The supposed curse is the least of my worries, Miss Tweed. And, since I don’t even know for sure that I am your guardian, as I said before, signing anything is completely out of the question and need not be mentioned again. Besides all that, I don’t think you realize everything that is involved in taking care of an inheritance. Young ladies simply are not capable of understanding the difficulty of all that’s involved.”
What nerve! She knew most men felt that way about women, but to say it to her face was an outrage.
Henrietta leaned forward in what she hoped was a nonthreatening way and quietly said, “Realizing I am a guest in your home, I’m reluctant to challenge you, but I must take issue with you on that point, Your Grace. I am well versed in numbers and many different types of business transactions. Lord Brembly allowed me to help him with his account books, which were considerable. He and his ladyship had complete trust in my calculations and reasoning abilities.”
“I am not Lord Brembly, Miss Tweed.”
She would never argue that point, considering the fact that Lord Brembly had been at least thirty years older than His Grace and was short, pudgy, and bald.
The one thing she wanted now, more than anything else in the world, was not to have to worry that this man would have the same fate as all her other guardians because of her. She wanted to be free of the curse. She wanted a home she could call her very own. She wanted to be in one place forever so she could feel like she belonged. She wanted to make friends that she would never have to leave. She wanted to live an ordinary life without fear of being uprooted once again and sent to a different town to live with new people.
If she had control of her inheritance, she would purchase a small house in a suitable district. She would hire a housekeeper and, with her maid, she would be adequately chaperoned wherever she went. And she would never have to worry about anyone dying because of her again. She would never be forced to move again. She could spend her days with her needlework, writing poetry and reading, or engaged in any number of other activities that brought her contentment.
Henrietta had been a burden, a ward of others, for twelve years now. Perhaps it had been futile to have hoped the duke might be more forward-thinking than most of his counterparts and ancestors about a woman’s comprehension and ability to care for herself without the aid of a male guardian. Or maybe he, like most men, just didn’t want to give up any control.
Whatever the reason, she felt the need to remind the duke of a certain fact.
“Your Grace, we have had queens who have more than adequately managed entire countries for many years at a time. Surely, I can control several hundred thousand pounds in an account and not spend myself into the poorhouse or debtors’ prison.”
For a moment she thought she saw a spark of admiration for her in the depth of his eyes, but just as suddenly his lips slid into the maddening smile that made her heartbeat falter and her breath quicken.
Taking a cue from her, he leaned in close and softly said, “Why take the chance?”
Henrietta gasped at his outdated thinking. Her cheeks heated at his cold response to her plight. “Does your arrogance know no bounds?”
“Probably not, Miss Tweed. No one has put boundaries on me for quite a while.”
“Then perhaps therein is your problem, Your Grace.” She was going beyond the pale in speaking so audaciously to someone as important as a duke, but something about this man made her throw caution to the wind.
He chuckled, seeming not the least affronted by her boldness. “Perhaps, though I’m impressed with your courage to try to persuade me. Even if what you suggest could be a viable possibility for the future, we still have no solution for the present.”
The duke glanced again at the large, ornate clock on the mantel. Henrietta had become so caught up in her quarrel with him that she had forgotten she was keeping him from an important engagement. She should have realized that he had appointments when she first arrived and wanted to see him. Obviously, his position in Society kept him very busy, and she was being inconsiderate.
“Since you were not expecting me, as I thought you would be, I don’t want to inconvenience you further. My maid and I will be quite comfortable in an inn, if you will be so kind as to suggest where we might find safe and adequate lodging and a carriage to take us there. This is my first time in London, and I’m not at all familiar with the city.”
A wrinkle of concern formed between his brows. “Surely, you know I can’t allow that, Miss Tweed. For the immediate time, I suppose my housekeeper can be considered your chaperone. I will tell her to prepare a room for you and see that your trunks are sent up.”
Though he was quick of wit, he’d clearly been caught off guard by her arrival and had no idea what to do with her. But, for now at least, he wasn’t going to throw her out into the streets.
She couldn’t imagine what had happened to Mr. Milton’s correspondence, but its absence had certainly put her in an awkward position. His Grace had mentioned that he was behind on his mail, and his butler had to remind him to offer refreshment. It wasn’t too difficult to assume that the Duke of Blakewell didn’t have a lot of order to his life. And order was the one thing that had always brought calm into Henrietta’s topsy-turvy life.
Her unusual childhood of being shifted from one new home to another had taught her to be strong, adaptable, and capable. She had learned a long time ago to accept whatever fate dealt her and make the best of her current surroundings. That’s exactly what she would do now.
“I should think that we need to post a letter to Mr. Milton at once to see if he has any idea what could have happened to the documents you were to receive concerning my guardianship and ask him to do whatever is necessary to put your mind at ease.”
His eyes narrowed. “First, Miss Tweed, I don’t need you to make suggestions for me as to what to do. Secondly, it’s rather late in the day for that. And thirdly, there is the possibility I have the paper
s from Mr. Milton somewhere on my desk. As I mentioned before, I’m behind on my correspondence.”
The thought that he might have the means to clear up this misunderstanding quickly brought Henrietta to her feet. “Then shouldn’t we go look for them at once so you’ll know I speak the truth about who I am and my circumstances?”
The duke rose, too, as his gaze darted over to the clock on the mantel once again. “I don’t doubt you speak the truth. Quite frankly, your story is too preposterous to have been made up. And we will get this situation straightened out as to what to do about you. Eventually. But right now, I haven’t the time to look into this as I’m already late for a pressing appointment.”
Another thing the past twelve years had taught Henrietta was to know when to back away from a conversation and save her argument for another day. She had done all she could for the time being.
“Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you from your engagement, and I do appreciate your hospitality in allowing me to stay here. I’ll try not to be of any further trouble to you.”
Ignoring her apology, he said, “Mrs. Ellsworth will show you upstairs and see to your supper and anything else you might require.”
At the mention of food, Henrietta’s stomach rumbled softly. Dining would be most welcome as she’d been traveling since before daybreak with only cheese and bread to eat along the way.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The duke acknowledged her gratitude with a simple nod, went to the doorway, and called for Mrs. Ellsworth. The short, stodgy housekeeper with kind, dark brown eyes and silver-streaked hair walked hesitantly into the drawing room. Ashby, the tall and thin butler with a dour expression, materialized too. The two servants listened dutifully as the duke gave instructions concerning Henrietta’s welfare.
He then turned to Henrietta and said, “Ashby and Mrs. Ellsworth will take over from here. Until later, Miss Tweed.”
Henrietta stood in the drawing room, watching her new guardian grab his cloak, hat, and gloves from his butler’s hands and disappear out the door. How could the most handsome man she had ever met also be the most infuriating one she had ever met? He was autocratic and high-handed, too!
Mrs. Ellsworth and Ashby remained in the doorway of the drawing room, speaking softly to each other and occasionally looking in her direction. Henrietta couldn’t hear what they said, but she was certain they were discussing exactly what they should do with her.
It didn’t take a scholar to know they had no idea what to do beyond their employer’s pointed words of “See she has a room and food.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in a situation where the staff was perplexed by her arrival. It had happened to her far too many times. They didn’t know what to do. But Henrietta did. It was time to take control of the situation and put order back into her life.
She took a deep breath, lifted her shoulders and chin, and started towards the duo with a kind smile on her face. “Mrs. Ellsworth, why don’t I go upstairs with you, and together we can decide which room is best for me. And perhaps we can find a small space on the servants’ floor for my maid. I assure you, we’ll do our best not to disrupt your efficiently run household any more than absolutely necessary.”
Little less than half an hour later, Henrietta’s packed trunks lay open on the floor of her elegantly furnished bedroom. The décor was soothing in a pale shade of green that reminded her of spring’s first blades of grass. Her maid shook out the folds of a green velvet dress while Henrietta splashed cool water from the basin on her face.
When Henrietta was twelve, Peggy, who was more than twice Henrietta’s age, had been hired to be her maid, and they had been together ever since. The short Irish woman had no trouble taking orders from the younger Henrietta. Peggy’s round figure was always hidden beneath a simple, dark grey dress and white, starched apron. Her thick red hair was always neatly covered with a white mopcap trimmed with delicate lace.
“I don’t think you have ever been given a room this splendid, Miss Henri,” Peggy said. “Look, there are two wardrobes in here. You don’t have enough clothes to fill one of them, much less two. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll leave one of them empty, of course,” Henrietta said in a good-natured tone as she patted her cheeks dry with a small towel.
No doubt the kind of women who usually stayed in this spacious room brought several dresses for morning and afternoon as well as gowns for the evening and bonnets, gloves, and shawls to match them all. They would attend parties held in the best homes and go to balls that lasted all night. They would probably be at all the operas and take long walks along the secret paths of Vauxhall Gardens.
For a moment, Henrietta closed her eyes and imagined herself at a fancy ball where hundreds of candles brightened the room with golden light. Men were twirling beautifully dressed women across the dance floor. She heard music and laughter. She felt the excitement of the moment. She imagined herself drinking champagne from a crystal glass and smiling at a handsome gentleman.
Suddenly her eyes popped open. The gentleman standing in front of her at this imaginary ball was the stimulating Duke of Blakewell.
Henrietta shook her head in exasperation. She wasn’t usually given to such fanciful notions. She had read about the lavish soirées of High Society London and had often wished that some day she could attend one of the extravagant events. Or perhaps one evening she could go to Vauxhall Gardens and watch the fireworks display. She believed it would be as lovely as drinking champagne, which was something else she’d like to do some day—when she was no longer controlled by the whims of a guardian.
In the small country towns where she had always lived, there had been a few dances to attend from time to time, but Henrietta had had no need for a wardrobe full of fancy dresses and lavishly trimmed ball gowns that were ghastly expensive and would seldom be worn.
“You know what I mean, Miss Henri,” Peggy said, interrupting Henrietta’s thoughts. “This is a mighty fancy house, and His Grace looked like a dandified gentleman for sure. Pardon my big mouth for saying what wasn’t asked, but I don’t think he’s going to want us around all the time like your other guardians. He didn’t seem at all happy to see you.”
From the looking glass, Henrietta watched her maid worry over a wrinkle that ran down the front of the green dress. She was trying hard to press it out of the thick fabric with her hand.
“He wasn’t happy, Peggy, but the Duke of Blakewell is an honorable man, and he will see to it that we are well cared for.”
Peggy shook her head. “I hope you are right, Miss Henri, because we don’t have any other place to go.”
“Chin up, Peggy,” Henrietta said with more cheerfulness than she was feeling. “He will not neglect his duty to us. Have no worry on that point, as I am sure of it.”
Henrietta looked at her reflection in the mirror. She would do all the worrying for both of them, but she didn’t want her maid to know that. Peggy could be excitable, and Henrietta was hesitant enough herself without having to constantly reassure her maid that they indeed had a home with the duke.
Later that evening, Henrietta headed back down the stairs, feeling much more relaxed than when she had gone up them a few hours ago. She had washed off the day’s journey and changed into a simple, pale-green dress with a round neckline. The long sleeves and high waistline were trimmed in a matching satin ribbon, and one simple flounce adorned the hem.
Cook had had a scullery maid send up a bowl of piping hot lamb stew, a thick slice of bread, and a delicious serving of cooked plums, which Henrietta had eaten with relish.
It was much too early to think about retiring, so Henrietta had left Peggy to finish unpacking her trunks. After sitting in the lumpy carriage for most of the day, she felt the need to stretch her legs for a bit. A tour of the duke’s house would give her that opportunity.
Night had fallen quickly in London, but a lamp had been left burning on a side table, giving off a golden, welcoming glow
. As she stood in the vestibule, she realized the house was surprisingly quiet for the number of servants in attendance. She could only assume that Mrs. Ellsworth, Ashby, and the other servants were allowed to retire to their own rooms or attend private matters after their chores were done for the day and the duke was out of the house for the evening.
Henrietta picked up the lamp, walked over to the drawing-room doorway, and looked inside. This time
she saw things she hadn’t noticed before when she was in the room with the duke: a large floral painting hung over the fireplace; a tall, brass candelabra stood in one corner, and a pianoforte occupied a place against a far wall. The room was well appointed and seemed in perfect keeping with what she expected of a bachelor’s home.
She turned away from the doorway and started down the dark corridor, stopping to glance inside the dining room, which held a lovely rosewood table with fancy carved chairs sitting around it. A large fruit compote had been arranged on top of a corner table.
The honeyed glow of light reflected off the highly polished furniture, showing there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Opposite that room was a doorway that led to the kitchen, which she didn’t bother to enter, but she could smell a welcoming scent of fresh baked bread wafting from inside. Farther down she found another smaller room that looked far more cozy and inviting than the perfectly decorated room where she’d met the duke.
Each area seemed well proportioned and elegantly decorated with fine furniture and expensive artwork. Gold tassels hung from classical swags framing the windows, and luxurious carpets covered the floors.
The duke had a large, comfortable home. It was just the kind she would like to have as her very own, but Henrietta had learned long ago not to get too contented in any one house.
Opposite the rear parlor was another room. Before she even approached the entrance, something told her this was the duke’s exclusive domain.
