His Unlikely Duchess

by Amanda McCabe

  ‘Is it always lit up like this?’ she asked.

  ‘Only when my mother has a party. She likes guests to look out the drawing room windows and be awestruck,’ Aidan said wryly.

  ‘I can see why. It’s like a fairyland! What do you use this place for? Parties?’

  ‘Nothing, really, not any more. My great-grandfather built it for my great-grandmother. They went on a tour of Italy and I think this reminded them of the ruined temples they saw there. My grandparents liked to have card parties inside with their closest friends. Now it’s just—here.’

  ‘Is there a door, then?’ Lily cried. She dashed around the walls until she found the door, peeling, grey-painted panels crowned with a fanciful fresco of ancient gods, but the latch didn’t turn in her hand.

  ‘I think Donat might have the key,’ Aidan said.

  ‘Oh, I daren’t ask him,’ Lily said, thinking of that stern old butler. She left the door and went to gaze out over the lake, so very conscious of Aidan close to her, wrapped up alone with her in the night. ‘Is that where you and your brother fished? In that photograph?’ She pointed to a small wooden pier that extended out over the water.

  ‘Yes, sometimes. The lake is stocked with trout. Edward always caught far more than I did; I haven’t the patience. I liked boating out there, though, and swimming.’

  ‘Yes, I can imagine that.’ And she could. His hair, sleek and dark gold in the water, his strong, bare arms slicing through the waves. She remembered the classical statues they had seen in the museums in Paris, all lean muscles and elegant lines, and she was sure he looked just like that.

  She shivered to imagine Aidan actually naked.

  ‘Are you cold?’ he asked, concern in his voice.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said, but he slipped out of his evening coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. It felt like being surrounded by his heat, his scent, and she drew it closer.

  He cleared his throat, as if he was somehow affected by their nearness, as well. ‘Do you swim?’

  ‘Not well, though I know how. My mother wouldn’t let us near Bailey’s Beach in Newport or on Papa’s yacht without it! I’m better at rowing.’

  ‘Rowing?’

  She laughed. ‘You needn’t sound so doubtful. It’s another thing we must know on my father’s yacht. It’s not a grand ship, like Mr Astor’s or Mr Jerome’s, just something to amuse guests out on the water. And he taught my sisters and me to row dinghies when we were children. It was such fun! Papa loves the water.’ She felt suddenly wistful for those bright days on the waves.

  ‘Does your mother love it, too?’

  Lily hesitated. Even she had heard the rumours—when his family was gone, Coleman Wilkins used the yacht to entertain actresses. All her old doubts about marriage seemed to hover just there, under the surface, waiting for her.

  ‘Not really, no. She gets seasick. I haven’t been rowing in a long time.’

  ‘Then we must go.’

  ‘Us? Row?’ she said, a spark of anticipation snuffing out doubts.

  ‘We’ll make a party of it. We have a few more summer days yet. I’ll row you far across the waters, Lily Wilkins.’

  She laughed in delight. ‘You know, I think I still haven’t had my prize after our horse race in the park.’

  ‘No? How remiss of me.’

  He stared down at her and suddenly the air between them seemed to change, growing charged and sparkling. She could hardly breathe, especially when he reached for her and drew her closer, his touch so warm through the thin silk of her gown. All her senses tilted and whirled, and all she knew in that moment was him.

  As if in a hazy dream, far away, yet more immediate and real than anything she’d ever known before, his head tilted to hers and he kissed her.

  The brush of his lips was so soft at first, like warm velvet, pressing softly once, twice, as if he were asking her, as if he feared she might run away. But she could not have moved away from him then for anything. As she moved to meet him, to hold on to him, his kiss deepened. It grew so hot, so urgent, so full of hunger.

  Something deep in her very core responded to that urgency, to the rough excitement that grew and grew until she was sure she would burst from it. She moaned, parting her lips to the shocking feel of his tongue seeking entrance, sliding over hers. There was only him and that one perfect moment...

  ‘Aidan? Miss Wilkins? Are you out there?’ someone called, their voice carried on the green garden breeze. The Duchess. ‘We need your talents on the piano, my dears.’

  Aidan drew back a bit and Lily saw him smile down at her in the moonlight, that wonderful crooked smile of his.

  ‘Don’t you wish you were back in the jungle?’ she whispered. ‘Or the desert?’

  He laughed and raked his hand through his hair, disarranging it even more. ‘But then I couldn’t play duets at the piano with you, Lily Wilkins, and that would be a shame indeed. Would you ride with me tomorrow morning? I can show you over the home farm before the other guests arrive.’

  Lily nodded. Everything seemed to be coming together, beyond even her wildest dreams of romance and excitement. Were her doubts so silly, then? She hardly dared breathe for fear it would all blow away. ‘I would like that.’

  They made their way back across the lawn, properly arm in arm now rather than hand in hand. The Duchess waited on the terrace, her smile firmly in place, her tiara shining.

  ‘Miss Wilkins wanted to see the lights on the folly,’ Aidan said.

  ‘It is quite enchanting, Duchess,’ Lily said.

  ‘I’m glad you like it, Miss Wilkins,’ the Duchess said, still smiling. ‘Roderick is quite special, I think, and I hope you do agree.’

  Lily glanced up at Aidan. His own smile had faded, leaving him looking tense and austere in the light from the windows. But the magic of the folly lingered. ‘Oh, yes, Duchess. I do quite agree.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Lily hummed a little tune to herself as she made her way down Roderick’s grand staircase early the next morning. She realised with a laugh that it was Alabama Blossoms, a sentimental American favourite she had played last night with Aidan at the piano. The house was quiet at that hour, almost everyone else still being abed; a few maids hurried past with their buckets and polish. Lily had wanted to dress in her riding habit and meet Aidan at the stable before her mother could see her and question her.

  She swung the hat in her hand, its tulle veil swirling. In the morning light, even the pale, chilly entrance hall didn’t look quite so forbidding. She felt almost as though she could run across the gleaming floor, dance, spin.

  To her surprise, the door to a small chamber just beyond the dining room stood open and the Duchess waited there. So, Lily wasn’t as alone as she thought. Perhaps no one was ever really alone in a house like Roderick.

  ‘Miss Wilkins,’ the Duchess said with a smile. ‘Won’t you join me for some tea and toast?’

  ‘I...’ Lily glanced at the front door, flanked by those ever-present green-liveried footmen.

  ‘You’re meeting my son for a ride, I know. He’s just gone to fetch the horses and shouldn’t be back for a half-hour or so. You’ll need some sustenance for a day riding over the farms. I know I always did.’

  ‘Yes. Of course,’ Lily answered slowly. ‘Thank you, Duchess.’

  To Lily’s surprise, she found herself in a very pretty room, tiny, round and papered in yellow and white flowers that matched the chintz chair cushions and curtains. The open windows looked out on to the rose garden and the only furniture was a round table and a small white and gilt French sideboard. The yellow tablecloth was covered with toast racks and teapots, a stack of ledgers and lists piled next to the Duchess’s place.

  ‘I do like to make an early start to the day when guests are expected,’ the Duchess said, gesturing to Lily to sit across from her and pouring tea from yellow-flower
ed china. ‘So many things to consider! Menus and room assignments, the flowers...’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Lily answered, remembering Lady Heath’s leather seating chart and dog-eared copy of Debrett’s. What would a dinner at a ducal house entail? Could she ever do one properly herself, ever remember all those vital details?

  That seemed to be what the Duchess wanted to discuss, too. ‘I suppose your mother’s houses are quite large, as well? One does hear of such grand and imaginative parties in Newport! Circus balls and vegetable parties, whatever they might be. And I suppose you had a governess?’

  ‘Yes, an English one.’ Lily’s mind was spinning at the quick changes in topic and she took a nibble of toast as she remembered her strict governess, Miss Johnson ‘My sisters have a French mademoiselle now, helping give them a final polish.’

  ‘And what did she teach you? It seems ages since I heard anything of governesses, as I only had sons. My own governess when I was a girl just liked to play cards all day and go for walks to catch a glimpse of her footman suitor! I’m surprised I learned anything at all.’

  Lily laughed. ‘Miss Johnson sternly disapproved of cards.’ She told of French and Italian lessons, dancing at Monsieur Lalliet’s school, music, sketching. Her gaze wandered to the portrait on the wall behind the Duchess, a tall, golden-haired man staring down at her with piercing dark eyes.

  ‘I see you are admiring Eddie, my late husband,’ the Duchess said lightly. ‘He was handsome, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, very much.’

  ‘Aidan favours him in this, I think, though not much in temperament. Aidan is not like most men in his position.’

  Lily understood that. She didn’t think Aidan was like any other man at all. ‘Is he not?’

  ‘He always had such a questing spirit, even as a child. He takes after my own family in that way. So restless, so curious! I wasn’t surprised when he was gone for so long, adventuring over far continents. But I admit I have fears for him now.’

  ‘Fears for him?’ Lily said, alarmed.

  ‘Being Duke of Lennox is no easy path, even for those born to it. But the key to a well-run estate is truly the Duchess. I myself found it a challenge at times, but also a great fulfilment. A good duchess makes all the difference to so very many people. My Aidan needs such assistance. I’m sure you understand, Miss Wilkins, being such a clever young lady yourself.’

  Lily wasn’t at all sure she did understand. Was the Duchess giving her some kind of warning? ‘Yes, I suppose I do.’

  The Duchess smiled. ‘I knew you would. Now, my dear, perhaps you could glance at this menu and tell me what you think? Mrs Porter is an excellent cook, she’s been here at Roderick for years, but I do wonder if she’s sometimes a bit old-fashioned. Should we try a salmon mousse here instead of the chicken tart for a savoury?’

  Menus were something Lily did understand, thanks to her mother, and after going over the dinner and tea lists with the Duchess and suggesting a few small changes, she left for the stables, feeling as if she had been given some sort of test. Had she passed? Roderick Castle seemed more and more like a lovely but foreign place.

  Her doubts faded as she saw Aidan in the stable yard. He was chatting with a groom as they examined two horses, his head thrown back on a laugh. Here he seemed like the Aidan she knew in the park, free and easy, the load of the castle a bit lighter on his shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she said, hurrying to his side. He smiled down at her and shook a tumbled lock of hair back from his brow. ‘I was caught for breakfast with your mother.’

  ‘Oh, no, Miss Wilkins! I would say you certainly deserve a good gallop after my mother first thing in the morning,’ he said lightly.

  Lily gently patted the mare’s nose and she snorted.

  ‘She’s a fast one, miss,’ the groom warned.

  ‘We needn’t worry about Miss Wilkins, Charlie, she rides like an Amazonian,’ Aidan said.

  Lily smiled at the compliment, her cheeks warm. ‘I think she’s quite lovely. And, yes, I am dying for a good gallop.’

  They quickly mounted up and rode out into the fine day. Once past the gates of the castle, they let their horses have their heads and raced over the fields. The wind rushed past them, smelling of freedom.

  Eventually Aidan led her down a path so narrow they had to leave the horses. It was lined with thick hedges and eventually they arrived at a two-storey farmhouse, all tidy whitewash and grey slate roof, with a neat little vegetable garden enclosed by a low stone wall. Chickens pecked around the yard, with roses growing over the door, like something in a painting of ‘old England’ Lily had seen. She could sense someone watching from behind the thick old windows.

  ‘Perhaps I should wait here for you, if you have business,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘It’s far too warm out here, Lily! Besides, the Halls are the kindest of people. Their family has farmed at Roderick for decades. I know they love company.’

  ‘I’m not—’ But she could make no more protests, as the door flew open. A man stood there, very tall with a farmer’s broad shoulders and ruddy cheeks, a little girl with a long, blonde braid holding his hand. The man smiled and waved, and the girl jumped up and down. The warmth of their greeting seemed to spill right out of the pretty farmhouse and wrapped around Lily in a bright welcome that made her smile.

  ‘Your Grace!’ Mr Hall said. ‘We didn’t expect you today.’

  ‘The agent said you had a problem with your chimney,’ Aidan said, drawing Lily forward with him across the yard. ‘And my mother mentioned your mother was ailing. I do hope she’s recovering.’

  ‘Aye, thanks to the doctor Her Grace sent.’ He gave Lily a curious, though friendly, glance and she smiled back, feeling shy.

  ‘Your Grace, Your Grace!’ the little girl trilled and skipped down the pathway to tug at Aidan’s coattail. ‘I have a new dolly.’

  Aidan laughed, and swung her up in his arms, twirling her around and around until she shrieked with giggles. ‘Do you indeed, Meg? Is she as pretty as you?’

  She peeked over his shoulder. ‘Maybe as pretty as this lady. Who is she?’

  ‘Meg,’ he father admonished, but Lily laughed. She was utterly delighted by this house, by Meg Hall, by this light-hearted side of Aidan.

  Aidan gave her another twirl. ‘This is Miss Lily Wilkins, all the way from America. Miss Wilkins, this is Miss Margaret Hall.’

  Lily gave a curtsy. ‘How do you do, Miss Hall.’

  Meg studied her carefully. ‘You are very pretty.’

  ‘Indeed she is.’ Aidan smiled at Lily over Meg’s tow-head. Lily blushed and laughed.

  ‘Meg, do let His Grace and Miss Wilkins come inside now,’ her father said.

  Aidan put Meg down and the girl led him by the hand to her father. ‘And this, Miss Wilkins, is Robert Hall. He and his family have been farming here for as long as I can remember and are old friends.’

  Mr Hall bowed a bit shyly and ushered them inside. ‘You’re most welcome indeed, Miss Wilkins. We’d love to meet more friends of His Grace now that he’s home at last! I only wish we had a grander reception to offer you. My wife has gone to visit her sister, she’ll be that sorry to miss you. Only my ma is here.’

  ‘I’ll be very pleased to meet her, Mr Hall. And your home is lovely.’ She glanced around the cosy entrance hall, the neatly swept floor with its bright rag rugs, bundles of dried herbs hanging from the old, dark wood rafters to scent the air. It was indeed so welcoming, so cosy—so unlike the pale stone of Roderick.

  ‘Oh, do offer the lady some tea, Robert,’ a querulous old voice called from beyond a half-open door. ‘It’s too hot outside. Show the manners I taught you.’

  Mr Hall blushed. ‘That’s my mother in the sitting room, if you’d care to go through.’

  Lily laughed. She thought Mrs Hall sounded rather like her own mother. ‘
Some tea would be lovely.’

  ‘There are cakes, too,’ Meg said. ‘I made them myself. With my ma helping a little.’

  Lily smiled down at her. ‘Then I am sure they will be quite delicious.’

  ‘Meggie, why don’t you take Miss Wilkins in to your grandma, while I show His Grace the chimney?’ her father said.

  Meg took Lily’s hand, quite unselfconscious, and drew her towards the open door. Lily glanced back to see Aidan already walking away with Mr Hall, the two of them talking in low, serious tones. She was alone, but for once she didn’t feel shy at all. Not with Meg’s little hand in hers and the pretty, shabby, blue and yellow sitting room before her, filled with garden flowers and two purring cats in the window seat.

  Old Mrs Hall sat in an armchair with another cat on her lap, looking just how Lily would have imagined a slightly older Stella Wilkins, if Coleman Wilkins hadn’t struck a mine. Her greying hair was twisted atop her head in elaborate braids, while a lace-edged shawl was draped over her erect shoulders. Bright blue eyes set in a lined face studied Lily closely.

  ‘Look, Gran, the Duke brought a lady to visit us,’ Meg piped up. ‘Her name is Miss Wilkins and she’s all the way from America!’

  ‘Is she now? A fine lady come to Roderick?’ old Mrs Hall said, those sharp eyes sweeping over every inch of Lily’s windblown hair and dusty habit. Lily self-consciously smoothed her skirt. ‘It’s about time he brought a lady around. Roderick needs a new duchess.’

  Lily choked on a laugh. ‘I’m afraid I’m only a guest at the castle, Mrs Hall. Not really Duchess material.’

  ‘No? Well, that’s a disappointment. I suppose you had better sit down, anyway. Meggie, dear, will you fetch the tea? Use the good china, with the violets.’

  As Meg ran away on her errand, Lily sat down carefully on the stool next to Mrs Hall’s chair. Despite the warm day outside, the farmhouse’s thick walls kept the chamber cool. ‘It’s very kind of you to welcome me at such short notice, Mrs Hall.’

  ‘We don’t get many guests, not since Her Grace went away to get herself engaged again. At her age! I was never so happy as when I found myself on my own at last.’ Mrs Hall harrumphed. ‘That’s why the castle needs a new mistress. Are you sure you wouldn’t want to take it on?’