A Duke of Her Own

by Eloisa James

  “What on earth are all those children doing out there?” Anne asked. “Do you suppose one of them is the child to whom Mother referred so darkly? Perhaps Lisette didn’t stop with one.” She giggled madly. “Perhaps she is a female match to Villiers!”

  “Don’t be foolish. They’re wearing pinafores. I assume they’re from the orphanage,” Eleanor said, shrugging. “I know that Lisette—” She sat upright. “The orphanage!”

  Anne raised an eyebrow.

  “Two of those children may be Villiers’s.”

  “What a naughty boy,” Anne said, without showing the faintest bit of shock.

  “For having two?”

  “I already heard that he had some illicit offspring. No, rather, for stowing them in an orphanage. That’s not acceptable.”

  “He lost them,” Eleanor said, finding it very queer to defend the duke, even as she did so. “He had a crooked solicitor, and the man ran off with his funds. It turned out he’d been defrauding the children of their support.”

  “So the duke’s offspring were plunked in an orphanage. It sounds like a bad play.”

  Eleanor narrowed her eyes. Across the lawn, Villiers had placed Lisette back on her feet, but she was still clinging to him. “Maybe he has decided to marry her so he can defend her from wild animal attacks.”

  “She could do much worse. After all, she’s already met his children.”

  “Not all of them,” Eleanor said. “Apparently he has six.”

  “Trust Villiers to double the common allotment of iniquity,” Anne said placidly. “The poor man must be desperate to prove his virility. I wonder why?”

  “I think it was just carelessness,” Eleanor said.

  “Oh, look. Popper has lined up all the orphans and is marching them off somewhere. If I’d known Lisette had turned her estate into an orphanage, I wouldn’t have come, even for you, darling. I am not fond of children.”

  “I think they live in the village, not on the grounds.”

  “Do you see how she is leaning on Villiers as she gracefully limps back to the house?” Anne inquired. “We could all take lessons there, I think.” She gave Eleanor a meaningful look.

  “Perhaps she hurt her toe running away from nasty Oyster.”

  “That would explain why I can tell from here that the supposedly chilly Duke of Villiers is tying his heart in knots over the defenseless girl he just rescued from certain death.”

  “Is he really?” Eleanor refused to look. “Too bad. He seemed halfway sensible. If you think that I might transform into a trembling maiden to catch a husband, Anne, you’re wrong.”

  “For one thing, you’d have trouble with the maiden part,” her sister said, chortling.

  Eleanor threw her a quick frown as Villiers and Lisette neared the terrace. She looked around for Oyster, and realized to her relief that he’d collapsed into his favorite position and was engaged in his favorite activity: sleeping. Thankfully, well-hidden under the sofa.

  Lisette perched on the arm of the sofa and bent to give Eleanor a little kiss. Her slipper was a hairbreadth away from Oyster’s chubby paw.

  “That was such a turmoil that I never got to say how wonderfully happy I am that the two of you are paying me a visit,” she exclaimed, as if the whole event had never happened. Eleanor suddenly remembered how hard it was to stay angry at Lisette. Since she forgot her own emotions so quickly, it felt churlish to say a cross word to her. And that, of course, was how she got away with such outrageous behavior.

  “I should have visited you before this,” Eleanor said, feeling a mild pang of guilt. “I can’t believe so many years have passed.”

  “Popper tells me that we must all prepare for dinner. But I just wanted to say…” Her voice trailed off and she twisted her hands together.

  “It’s all right,” Eleanor said. “I know some people loathe dogs. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have brought him with me, Lisette.”

  “It’s just that I was attacked by a dog once,” she said in a rush. “I was just telling Leopold all about it.”

  Leopold? She was already calling the duke by his first name?

  “I was younger than I am now, and even less brave,” she said with a charming catch to her voice. “I was knocked over, you see, and—” She thrust out her arm.

  Eleanor saw to her horror that the skin was puckered by fang-shaped scars. “Oh, Lisette, that’s awful!”

  “I think the fear is worse than the actual bite,” Lisette said, sounding almost practical.

  Anne murmured something that sounded like encouragement.

  “Because fear doesn’t go away, and bites do,” Lisette added.

  At that moment Oyster made a woofing sound in his sleep and moved his bristly little paw closer to Lisette’s slipper. Eleanor hastily coughed.

  “I must take a bath,” Lisette said, rising with all her usual grace. “It was such an exciting afternoon—oh, not because of your dog, Eleanor. We were discussing the play the children were to put on, and then I had the sudden realization that what we really ought to do is a treasure hunt, rather than a play. It’s so much more interesting for the children, and they’re the ones who matter, after all. I simply insisted that the whole household hear my new idea, though Popper did protest. After all, you had your maids if you needed something.” She gave a charming shrug.

  “Of course,” Eleanor said, not getting up. If she rose, Oyster would realize his nap was over and likely offer up his squeaky bark to remind her of his presence.

  “I do believe I’ll just sit here and enjoy the last bit of sunlight,” Anne said. “Eleanor, stay with me.”

  Lisette danced off with a wave of her hand.

  “Villiers,” Eleanor said, “what did you think of the children?”

  He frowned. “Children?”

  “Small creatures, wearing blue pinafores,” Anne prompted helpfully. “I didn’t stir from the portico because of them. At least Oyster has the good manners to occasionally silence himself. Children never do.”

  “Children,” Villiers repeated. “You mean the village children?”

  “The orphan children,” Eleanor prompted.

  His eyes narrowed. “Those were orphans?”

  “I gather your attention was elsewhere,” she said sweetly. “I can certainly understand that. Poor Lisette was so afraid of the big bad wolf named Oyster.”

  “Now, now,” Anne said. “I don’t see you with a disfiguring scar on your arm, Eleanor, so don’t mock it until you have it. Have you never been afraid of anything?”

  Eleanor didn’t need to think hard about that. She was afraid of important things, like people being ripped away from her without warning. Never of spiders or puppy dogs or thunderstorms. “Of course I’m not mocking Lisette. I was merely sympathizing with the duke. Lisette’s alarm engaged him so deeply that he didn’t notice he was surrounded by orphans, two of whom might well have been his own children.”

  Villiers was likely trying to frighten her with that scowl. She smiled right back at him.

  “How do you know they were orphans?” he demanded.

  “What else did you think they were?”

  Anne interjected. “I suggested that Lisette had started a family, but that was too scandalous even for Eleanor to consider. I don’t know if you realize this about my sister, Villiers, but she’s very hard to shock.”

  “I have learned that already,” Villiers said. He had a white line around his mouth that almost made Eleanor feel sorry for him. But not quite.

  “Do you have any idea of the age of the children you’re looking for?” she asked, needling him and enjoying it.

  “Of course I do. If you’ll excuse me…” And he left without another word. And without a parting bow either.

  “Dear me, Eleanor. I don’t think you’ve made your future spouse very happy,” Anne said meditatively. “Remember how I suggested you might try to be a wee bit more conciliatory toward the male sex?”

  “He may be my future spouse, and he may not,”
Eleanor said. “My chest is quite chilly at the moment, I might add. You’ll have to be satisfied with my sartorial transformation and leave my personality alone.”

  “I’d like you to marry him. He’s terribly rich. And I do like those shoulders.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason to marry someone.”

  “Well, what would you say is a better reason? Not, I hope, the sort of frantic passion you and dear Gideon shared. Besides, you know perfectly well that his choirboy looks played a part in that.”

  “One doesn’t marry a man for his shoulders,” Eleanor said. “Brains ought to rank high on the list, and anyone who looks at Lisette with such a look in his eye is stupider than Oyster. I have standards.”

  Oyster grunted at the sound of his name and inched out from under the chair so he could put his chin on Eleanor’s slipper.

  “Don’t underestimate Villiers,” Anne said.

  “More importantly, I shan’t underestimate Lisette!” Eleanor retorted. “She’s perfected her trembling maiden act since I saw her last.”

  “It’s not an act,” Anne said. “That’s why it’s so successful. Goodness me, Eleanor, you sound as if you care.”

  “I’m not sure whether Lisette should marry him either. After all, he does have a thoroughly disreputable number of children.”

  “Not just children—bastards,” Anne said with her usual bluntness. “Wait until Mother hears that little detail. Lisette may have a brain as empty as a washhouse on Sundays, but I agree with you. She doesn’t deserve the kind of scandal broth that will follow those children. She has her own to cope with.”

  “You know Lisette. She changes her mind every five minutes. She may be smiling at him now, but wait until tomorrow.”

  “What an interesting visit this shall be,” Anne said, coming to her feet. “Wake up that dog, Eleanor. Did you know there’s a puddle under our settee?”

  Eleanor shrugged. “I should have taken him for a walk on the lawn, but I was so rattled by all the screaming that I forgot.”

  “Bastard children or not,” Anne announced, “Villiers really does have beautiful shoulders. I married Jeremy in large part because he has such a beautiful nose.”

  “Nose?” Eleanor had never noticed her brother’s-in-law nose one way or the other.

  “Beautiful other things too,” her sister said impudently.

  Eleanor sighed.

  Chapter Nine

  Villiers walked up the stairs to his chambers, exasperation pulsing through his body. He couldn’t believe that he was considering marriage to Eleanor. She had actually laughed at him for not realizing that those children were orphans. Laughed at him about something as sensitive as his children.

  A moment after she taunted him, he had realized that none of the orphans could possibly be his. The twins were only five years old, and every child he’d seen was at least seven. But did he really know the difference between the sizes of five-year-olds and seven-year-olds?

  Something in his gut twisted. It was absurd, humiliating and absurd. He hadn’t given a damn about the existence of his children for the whole of his thirty-five years. And now, all of a sudden, he was consumed by them?

  It made him feel as if he should just cut off his own head and be done with it.

  Tobias was curled in a chair in his chambers. “The nursery is useless,” the boy said, staring at him unblinkingly. “There’s an old nanny up there who used to care for Lady Lisette. She tried to feed me gruel, so I left.”

  “Did you tell her where you were going?”

  “No,” Tobias said with a patent lack of interest.

  Really, Villiers thought, wasn’t that precisely what he himself would do? He never informed servants or anyone else about where he was going or why.

  Though he’d always taken that as the prerogative of being a duke. Tobias was no duke.

  “What are you reading?”

  “It’s a book about this Cosmo Gordon, see? He killed someone.”

  “In a duel. I know. He killed Frederick Thomas in Hyde Park last year. How did you learn to read?”

  “Mrs. Jobber taught us. I can write too.”

  “I meant to get you a tutor but I forgot,” Villiers said, frustration licking at him again. So far fatherhood felt like an exercise in failure. “Where’s my valet?”

  “Popper is so cross about Lady Eleanor’s dog that Finchley went off to try to calm him down.”

  “Ridiculous. That animal is so small that it can hardly be called a dog. It’s more like a stuffed cat.”

  “I wish I’d seen it frighten Lady Lisette,” Tobias said wistfully. “Look at this.” He held up a small bronze horse with a tail that whisked in the air.

  Villiers hauled on the bell cord, wishing that Finchley would drop the errands of mercy and stay where he was supposed to be. “Where’d you get it?”

  “It was sitting around in the nursery,” Tobias said. “They haven’t had any children there in a long time. Everyone knows that Lisette won’t have any.”

  “She is Lady Lisette to you,” Villiers pointed out. “Why won’t she?”

  “She loves babies. But her father says she needn’t marry until he dies. You aren’t thinking of marrying her, are you? Is she the one?”

  “Yes,” Villiers said decisively, putting Eleanor out of his mind. “She is.”

  “She’s potty,” Tobias said. “Cracked. They all say so.”

  “Who says so?”

  “Her old nanny. The maid said the same. And Popper said that once she starts that screaming, there isn’t anyone who can stop her. Except you, I guess. He said you picked her up and she settled down just like a baby with a bottle of gin.”

  “Babies don’t drink gin,” Villiers said, pretty sure that he was right about that.

  Tobias shrugged. He obviously had about as much interest in baby care as Villiers did.

  Lisette had been surrounded by children from the orphanage. She clearly adored children, and even more importantly, his children’s illegitimacy wouldn’t disturb her. It was unlikely that any of those orphans had parents whose domestic arrangements could be termed regular.

  By now Finchley had reappeared. “Would you like the young master to return to the nursery now?” he asked as he pulled off Villiers’s boots.

  Villiers glanced over at Tobias. The boy was listening, of course, though he was pretending to read. “He doesn’t look as if he’ll be shocked by the sight of my pump handle.”

  Tobias’s face didn’t even twitch. Passed on my poker face, Villiers thought with some satisfaction. And without further ado he dropped his breeches and stepped into the bath.

  “I don’t think you ought to marry someone who’s cracked,” Tobias offered a few minutes later.

  “Lisette is not mad,” Villiers said impatiently. “She was just afraid of that ugly little pug belonging to Lady Eleanor. She was terrorized by a dog as a young child.”

  “The maid told me all about it,” Tobias said. “It wasn’t so long ago.”

  “That explains it, then,” Villiers said. “The fear is still fresh.”

  “The maid said that Lisette insisted on jerking a puppy away from its mother, and the puppy was nursing. So the mother dog bit her. Then her maid—not the one who was telling me, but another one—tried to drag Lisette away, and she got bitten as well. And she—the maid—lost her finger. Or maybe two fingers. The nanny said that her hand is just disgusting looking now,” Tobias said with relish. “She has to work in the kitchens because it turns Lisette’s stomach just to look at her.”

  “Come back in ten minutes,” Villiers told Finchley. Normally he never spared a thought for conversation in front of his servants. In fact, he’d once boasted that his servants were so well trained that he could tup a woman on the dining room table and they wouldn’t turn a hair.

  But chatter about the future duchess was another matter.

  The moment Finchley closed the door, he said, “Get over here, you turnip, so I can see you while we talk.”


  Tobias came around. “I’m not a turnip,” he said. “My name is Juby.”

  “Juby, juicy, that sounds like a garden vegetable. Your name is Tobias.”

  “I’ve been Juby since I can remember. It’s too late to change over now.”

  “It’s never too late for anything,” Villiers said. “More to the point, I think I’m going to marry Lisette, so you need to stop telling stories about her, particularly ones that are obviously untrue.” He raised a hand as Tobias opened his mouth. “And if it wasn’t untrue, it was definitely unkind. I’m sure that Lisette had no idea that the mother dog might attack her.”

  “Even the most buffle-headed fool knows that,” Tobias said scornfully.

  “Welcome to the world of well-bred ladies,” Villiers said, sinking a little farther down in the bath. “What they know and don’t know will never cease to amaze you.”

  “I don’t like ladies,” Tobias said.

  “Neither do I,” Villiers agreed.

  “It’s too bad you have to marry one, then.”

  “It’s part of being a duke.”

  “Getting married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good thing I’m not a duke.” Villiers was queerly glad to see that Tobias’s eyes looked clear as he said that. “I’ll never get married, not if it means you have to marry a cracked lady who doesn’t know beans about anything,” Tobias continued.

  “Lisette is beautiful.”

  Tobias curled his lip. Villiers was startled: over the years he’d caught sight of that precise gesture on his own face a time or two.

  “You don’t like beautiful ladies?”

  “You should marry the one with the dog,” Tobias said firmly.

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s got a dog. And she’s not too pretty.”

  “Actually, she is beautiful, in her own way.”

  “Lady Lisette looks like one of those missionary ladies. All clean and gold-spun. You’d never know where you are with her because nobody is really like that. Not inside.”

  “I wouldn’t?” Villiers was suffering from a terrible fascination. Even though his water was cooling and he knew he should cut off the flow of unsolicited advice, he couldn’t bring himself to. “Why not?”