Page 5

Chapter

Four

A MEETING WITH THE DUKE

I ’d bathed, donned fresh clothes, and had my maid style my hair. If the duke was looking for a confrontation, I would meet him faultlessly attired and groomed. He would find no fault with me.

At the appointed hour, almost to the dot, our butler knocked on the morning room door. “His Grace the Duke of Steele, milady.”

“Thank you, Honeycutt.”

Steele strode into the morning room with the sure gait of a man who knew his worth in the world. He was dressed in unrelenting black, his favorite attire, the only spots of white his shirt and cravat. The strands of grey that streaked his black as sin mane, more obvious in the cold light of day than last night’s candlelit ballroom, lent him a rather sinister air.

“Your Grace.” I offered him my best curtsy.

He reciprocated in kind with an exquisite bow. “Lady Rosalynd. Thank you for seeing me.”

“My pleasure.” I wanted to say just the opposite, but I didn’t want him to comment about my lack of manners as he had last night. I would play the perfect hostess, no matter how difficult it would prove to be. “I ordered tea.” I pointed to the silver service on a low table. “Unless you wish for something stronger?”

“Tea will do.” Taking a seat on the blue damask settee opposite the matching one I occupied, he asked, “Will Rosehaven be joining us?”

“My brother had a lecture to attend. He apologizes for his absence.” Cosmos had done no such thing, mainly because it would never occur to him.

His brow knitted, as if he found my answer unacceptable. I did not have to wonder why. An unmarried lady meeting in private with a gentleman was simply not done. But it was what it was.

“Do you take sugar or milk?” I asked.

“Neither, thank you.”

Having prepared the beverage to his preference, I handed him the cup and saucer. “If you’re concerned about my lack of chaperone, don’t be. I’m years past my debut season.”

He frowned. “But you’re still of marriageable age, and thus, in need of one.”

I poured myself a cup before giving him a measured answer. “I have no plans to marry.” As he well knew. I’d made that intent clear at Needham Manor.

“That’s not the point. You can be ruined if anyone discovers we met in private.”

“No one will. The only one who knows of our meeting is Cosmos, and he won’t breathe a word.”

He nodded toward the door. “Your butler knows.”

“Honeycutt is the soul of discretion.” I calmly took a sip of tea while glancing directly at him. “You need not worry about your reputation, Your Grace.”

His gaze bounced back to me. “It’s yours I’m worried about, not mine.”

“Are you inclined to ravish me then, Your Grace?”

His left brow arched. I’d surprised him. “Of course not.”

“Well, there you are. I’m perfectly safe in your company.”

For a few moments, his eyes focused intently on me as if he were trying to decipher a complex puzzle. “You’re rather unusual. I should have remembered.”

I bit back a grin. “Thank you, although I doubt you meant it as a compliment. Now, what did you wish to discuss?”

“I was dissatisfied with how things ended between us last night.”

“Things did not end, Your Grace, because they never began.”

“Be that as it may, you accused me of being less than a gentleman.”

“I apologized. Didn’t you get my note?”

“I did.” His upper lip twitched, creating a lopsided grin. “Beautifully written as it was, I didn’t get the feeling you were the least bit sorry.”

“Oh, dear. I’ll need to improve my groveling skills.”

The quirk became more pronounced, transforming his face from cold and forbidding to something quite mesmerizing. Drat! I’d forgotten he possessed a sense of humor. I would need to beware. He was fascinating enough as it was. Thankfully, in the next instant, he became all business. “The reason I requested this meeting was because I wished to extend an olive branch.”

That was the last thing I expected from him. “I’m listening.”

“Lord Naughton disposed of your petition in a rather shabby manner.”

“Shabby?” My ire rose hot and swift. “He tossed it into the fire like yesterday’s refuse. I spent hours writing it. The least he could have done was write me a letter noting its disposition.”

“I agree.”

“Do you really?” I gazed at him, wondering what game he was playing.

“It would have been the proper thing to do. Your proposal deserved better. You deserved better. And that leads to the reason I’m here. Because he treated it in such a discourteous manner, I’m willing to espouse the petition by introducing it at our next Legislation Committee meeting. I will argue it should be considered by the full House of Lords.”

To say he’d surprised me was an understatement. “I’m speechless, Your Grace. Thank you.”

He sipped his tea before offering a response. “I said considered, not approved, which is what will most surely happen.”

“You don’t think it will be moved to the floor for discussion?”

“No, I don’t. Many members of the House of Lords believe?—”

“—that women lack the education to make informed decisions. You also hold that belief.”

He nodded. “I do.”

Anger threatened to rise once more, but I couldn’t allow it full rein. He was extending a peace offering, after all. I would need to discuss the subject in a way he would understand. “Women lack education because they’re not given the opportunity. While fathers of the nobility provide their sons with a first-rate education at Oxford and Cambridge, their daughters are only taught the social graces. It’s no wonder they grow up ignorant of the world around them.”

“And what do you propose be done? We can’t force those universities to enroll women.”

“Parliament can create schools of higher learning where women can study advanced subjects. They wouldn’t have to be as prestigious as Oxford or Cambridge. They could be smaller ones, located around the country, that qualified females could attend.”

“Such schools already exist, do they not? The Cheltenham Ladies’ College and Roedean School, to name two.”

“But only for those who can afford them, Your Grace. We need to provide for everyone, not just the privileged few.”

“Even if Parliament was willing to create such schools, I doubt many ladies would enroll. Those who are unmarried need to work to earn a living. If married, they need to attend to their husband and children.”

“The schools would only accept unmarried ladies. Full tuition as well as room and board would be offered.”

“If such were the case, everyone would seek to attend.”

“There would be a rigorous entrance exam, of course, which would include references from trusted sources. Only those who qualified would be allowed to enroll.”

“And what would women do with that knowledge?”

Was he really that dense? “The same thing men do. They could become physicians, solicitors, scientists. There is no limit to what women can do. Half of our population is women, Your Grace. By denying them an education, Parliament is preventing progress.”

The door suddenly crashed open. Just as the day before, Petunia burst into the room. “Are you coming to tea, Rosie?” She came to a screeching stop when she realized I was not alone. “Oh.”

“Where are your manners, Petunia? You know you’re supposed to knock.”

She gazed down at the rug, a contrite expression on her face. “I’m sorry.” A grin poked through.

She wasn’t the least bit sorry, the little imp. I would need to have a serious discussion with her. But not at the moment.

“Your Grace, this is my scapegrace sister, Lady Petunia.” I gazed at him, expecting a polite acknowledgement. But his eyes had widened as if a jolt of lightning had coursed through his veins, leaving him momentarily stunned. Was it shock or disapproval at Petunia’s sudden entrance? He wouldn’t have any children in his life, given his wife had died in childbirth during their first year of marriage. Maybe he expected Petunia to be a miniature adult, cognizant of all the strictures demanded of Victorian society. She tended to follow her own set of rules. At the moment, however, she would need to observe some of the customary ones. “Petunia, make your curtsy to the Duke of Steele.”

“Milord.” Her curtsy could not be faulted. It was perfection itself.

But there was one thing I had to correct. “It’s Your Grace, not Milord.”

“Why?” she asked, scratching her nose.

“Because dukes are addressed in that fashion.”

“Why?”

“Because etiquette rules demand it. Now stop asking questions and return to the drawing room.”

Her face fell. “You’re not joining us for tea?”

“As you can see, I’m having a private conversation with His Grace. I’ll be there by and by.”

To my surprise, the duke came to his feet. “Actually, I’m afraid I must leave. I have an appointment at Westminster in half an hour. I’ll notify you regarding the disposition of the matter we discussed. No need to ring for your butler. I can find my own way out. Your servant, ladies.” He bowed, and in the next instance, was gone.

I stared at the space he’d occupied. How very odd. We’d been having a productive discussion. But as soon as Petunia barged into the room, his mood underwent a drastic change. He couldn’t leave fast enough.

“You’re not angry at me, Rosie?” Her lower lip was trembling, and her eyes were swimming with tears. This time, she was truly contrite.

“No, poppet. I’m not.”

Quick as lightning, her mood changed. “Good, let’s go have tea before Holly and Ivy gobble all the fairy cakes.”

She curled her hand around mine as we made our way to the drawing room, but even as we did, I kept thinking about the duke’s odd reaction to Petunia’s entrance. What on earth could have caused it?