Page 4 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

Chapter Four

“ W e will be having a guest this morning, so I suggest you finish your breakfast early and dress appropriately,” Richard announced, looking disapprovingly at his sister, who just strolled into the dining room in her nightgown.

It was obvious she’d overslept again, an act he’d ignored in the past but now saw as one of the many flaws she possessed. He had tossed and turned all night, wondering how she would handle the news of her impending etiquette lessons with her bosom friend, but had decided he would rip the proverbial bandage off once and be done with it.

She might hate him and even stop speaking to him for a few weeks, but it was a small sacrifice he was willing to make if she agreed to be tutored by the mistress of propriety herself.

He’d watched Catherine move and speak and charm guests, and although she lacked the ability to flirt and seduce, she was absolutely graceful, and he hoped she would be able to instill what she’d spent a lifetime learning into Emmeline.

“Is it someone I know?” Emmy asked as she sat, curiosity lacing her voice.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Rather intimately.”

She raised an eyebrow at his vague answer, which elicited a sigh from him. He really didn’t know how to phrase what he hoped to say in a manner that she wouldn’t see as an insult. But he’d be damned if he let someone else, with no concern for her feelings, do it.

“I invited Miss Burlow to tea and to giveyoulessonsindecorum .” He didn’t meet her eyes as he blurted out the last words.

“To do what?”

“Give you lessons in decorum.”

She dropped her fork and turned to him with a curious expression on her face. “And why would I need lessons in decorum?” she asked coolly.

Richard was surprised she had not told him off yet and wondered if her question needed a serious answer or if she was just biding her time.

“Because… well…” He waved a hand, indicating her overall manner.

“You’ve never had a problem with me having breakfast in my nightgown,” she pointed out.

Good point.

“And I should have long ago.”

“Is this about the ball last night?” she asked incredulously. “You’ve barely said a word to me since we got back. Did someone say something?”

“It’s more than that. I’ve been thinking about it for a while…”

“But you never bothered to discuss it with me or seek my consent. You stood back and judged me and took matters into your own hands,” she accused. “How then are you better than the ton?”

“Emmy.” He tried for a soothing tone. “Please understand that I only want what’s best for you.”

“And you’re the best judge of that?” she snapped. “And Catherine? Did she think me a harridan too?”

“You’ve just debuted, and you only danced once at your first ball of the Season,” he pointed out. “You need to secure marriage prospects now. And no, Catherine didn’t think you a harridan. She was quite against it.”

“If my only options are judgemental men who couldn’t look beyond a few faux pas, then I’d rather die single.” She pouted.

“Emmy!” His tone was harsh, but he needed her to see reason. “I only want you to be happy and well-settled with a man of good standing who will love you. But if you lack the necessary social skills, he might not even interact with you to know your brilliant mind. You know I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I didn’t love you.”

Emmy sighed long and low, her face pinched. Richard had no doubt she felt insulted, but she was smarter than to turn down the help she desperately needed. Plus, he’d wanted to spare her the embarrassment of hiring one of those etiquette tutors he knew wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about tutoring a duke’s sister.

“Alright,” she agreed reluctantly. “I could use some help.”

He resisted the urge to whoop in triumph and nodded. “You’ll have to get dressed quickly then. I told her?—”

“Your Grace, Lady Emmeline,” the butler suddenly spoke from the doorway. “You have a letter, My Lady.”

“Oh.” Emmy bolted from her chair excitedly, snatching the letter from his hand and skipping away. “See you later, Brother.”

Richard sighed, shaking his head and taking a long sip of his morning brew. He sincerely hoped Catherine would be able to handle this Herculean task he’d given her.

As the carriage rolled up the cobblestoned path to the Terrels’ townhouse, a feeling of nostalgia hit Catherine, as it had been a while since she’d visited.

The same slightly overgrown shrubs lined the small path to the house, dotted with pretty pink roses that had seen better days. The house had aged in the last two years, and it was no surprise, considering the Terrels’ absence from town first due to their father’s illness and then his death in the following year.

She knew they were still well off, or else word of their ruin would have already gotten out, so she wondered why they had not bothered to refurbish their home.

Pushing the thought aside, she accepted the help of the footman as she alighted from the carriage and climbed the short steps to the house.

Once inside, she was led into the drawing room as her hosts were summoned. She sat straight, her hands folded primly in her lap, wondering what made her agree to this arrangement in the first place.

She was hardly that well-behaved, or she’d never have agreed to such an… uncouth arrangement in the first place. And it should have been seen as an insult, as she was yet to be declared a spinster, so it was unfair to ask her to play governess. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Sure, she had sufficiently good manners and had not had a bad Season, but she’d failed to catch a husband, which was the ultimate goal of any unmarried young lady.

A voice at the back of her head whispered an answer that she immediately shut down as her host stepped into the room.

“Your Grace,” she greeted, rising from her seat.

“You do not have to stand on ceremony with me, Catherine.” The Duke smiled. “We are old friends, are we not?”

Indeed they were, but when she remembered the pleasure he’d given her the night before with just an almost kiss, she needed to maintain a healthy distance if she was to escape their arrangement unscathed.

He was a renowned rake, after all, and even though she was inexperienced, she wasn’t so stupid that she didn’t know he could seduce her into ruin if he wanted to.

She really didn’t want him to, so she’d picked a practical dress. The high neckline and plain colors would definitely ward him off.

“Indeed, we are, but it is too improper for me to call you by your Christian name, Your Grace.”

“Is it not even more improper to refuse a duke?” he chided with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That’s why it’s best that we keep this conversation between us, Your Grace.”

He laughed and shook his head, and pride surged through her at the fact that she was able to make him laugh.

“I had forgotten how fun it is to speak with you,” he admitted. “I have missed you.”

Likewise.

But she kept that to herself.

A few moments later, Emmeline appeared in a gown that was two Seasons old, and Catherine knew then where she’d like to begin.

“Good morning, Catherine,” Emmy greeted with a wave and a bright smile, sitting beside her. “I hear you will be giving me lessons in decorum.”

“Indeed,” Catherine confirmed, surprised at her friend’s cheerful demeanor.

She’d feared that Emmy would see her involvement as a betrayal, but she was grateful to be spared from her ire.

“I look forward to it.” Emmy beamed. “So, where do we begin?”

“Shopping,” Catherine announced with a smile.

“Shopping?” the siblings asked in surprise.

“I am not sure how that even—” Richard started, only to be interrupted by Catherine.

“I have looked at Emmy’s dresses between yesterday and today, and I must say they are too outdated if you want her to have good prospects. I, myself, am hardly fashionable, but I know a good modiste who will make her the belle of the Season.”

“Oh.” Emmy clapped excitedly. “You’re really good at being a tutor, Cathy.”

“If you think it’s absolutely necessary,” Richard relented. “I don’t think a responsible man would be so concerned with a woman’s dress when looking for a wife.”

“If only all men shared the same opinion.” Catherine sighed. “We really must get going if we are going to be there on time. She gets really busy at noon.”

“Where is she, then?” he asked, frowning. “If she is that popular, why have I never heard of her?”

“Do you make a habit of visiting modistes, Your Grace?”

Emmy laughed and then clapped over her mouth. “Sorry, Brother.”

They hurried into the family’s carriage and were silent during the thirty-minute drive to the modiste’s. Thirty minutes because everyone in town apparently had somewhere to go.

“Good morning, Mesdames , Monsieur !” the modiste, Madame Francine, greeted when they stepped into her tastefully decorated shop, which was thankfully empty. “What can I help you with today?”

Usually, there was such a crush that there was barely any room to have a consultation with the woman herself.

“Good morning, Madame Francine.” Catherine took the lead. “We would like to commission a few dresses for my darling friend here.”

Emmy waved her hands excitedly, her eyes still darting around the shop.

“Alright, if you’ll follow me, Lady…?”

“Emmeline,” Emmy supplied.

“Lady Emmeline, I’ll introduce you to a wonderful world of fashion. Tell me, what do you like?” the modiste asked, leading her into a back room.

Deciding her friend was in good hands, Catherine hung back, taking a seat on one of the velvet sofas and accepting the tea poured for her.

Richard took a seat beside her but declined the tea. She noted then that he too needed a change of wardrobe. His coat fit him a little too snugly to be proper, since he’d gotten bigger in the two years they’d been away. His bulging arms and forearms were too distracting to be proper.

“You should also visit a haberdasher while you’re here, Your Grace.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I noticed your clothes are a bit… improper.”

He gave a mischievous smile that told her she was about to hear something that would make her regret opening her mouth.

“I do not care much for my clothes, dear Cathy.” He smiled and leaned closer, his scent clouding her senses. “Most women prefer me out of them.”

A gasp escaped her lips as a hot blush rose to her cheeks and neck. She slapped his arm and inched away from him on the sofa.

“I am sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities.” He smiled, obviously pleased with himself.

“You obviously are not.” She rolled her eyes.

“I am, sweet Cathy.” He pouted, feigning hurt. “Do you doubt the words of a duke?”

“No, but I’m starting to wonder if the curriculum at Oxford no longer includes proper speech,” she retorted once the heat in her cheeks dissipated.

“What about my speech was not proper? I only spoke the truth.” He laughed.

“A truth I was better off not knowing.”

“Why?” he asked, leaning closer. “Because you are one of them?”

Her eyes flicked down to his arms, and she looked away, trying to school her features. But damn her propensity to blush.

“Not at all.” She shook her head vigorously. “I will not entertain such a pointless thought, and I really think it’s not just Emmy who needs lessons in decorum.”

“Are you offering your services, Cathy?” he asked with a teasing smile. “Are you trying to spend more time with me?”

She swatted his arm. “You wish.”

He laughed long and loud, and she found herself enjoying his company even though he was incorrigible.

“You look beautiful when you’re angry,” he commented suddenly, startling her.

“W-what?”

“You flush beautifully when you’re angry. I wonder what else would bring a beautiful red hue to your cheeks.”

“Your Grace, you?—”

“No, no, Cathy,” he scolded as if she was a naughty child. “When a man compliments you, you are not to scold him no matter how pig-headed he sounds. A blush will do.”

“I—”

“And you really should smile more often,” he added, rising from his seat. “Men like a woman with a ready laugh. Save the glowering for after you’re married.”

She stared at his back unseeingly. Did she really not smile?

She’d always thought that she had a near-approachable personality, but not so much that she attracted every George, William and Harry who glanced at her.

“More tea, Miss?” one of the assistants asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes, please,” Catherine muttered.

The air was thick with the promise of rain, and Richard inhaled deeply, willing his body to relax.

He’d gotten too comfortable flirting with Catherine just now, and his body seemed to forget she was the plain, proper Catherine he’d seen playing with his sister when they were children.

He had to step outside to hide his body’s reaction at the sight of her pretty blush. He’d noticed the way her eyes ran over his arms, and he’d felt the urge to sit up straighter.

Her full pink lips had parted slightly, and a vein in her neck had throbbed furiously—a telltale sign she was attracted to him. The dark side of him wanted to lure her into the dark waters to see just how much impropriety she was willing to dabble in.

He shook the thought out of his head, but just as he turned to step back into the shop, he spotted a dress on display that made his face split into a wide grin.

It seemed even Providence was out to get him to ruffle Catherine’s feathers.

The dress was an exquisite dark green velvet piece that would bring out the golden flecks in her eyes, but that was beside the point. While she favored high necklines that hid all of her, this dress was a low-cut masterpiece that he knew she would never wear.

But he wondered…

He caught the eye of the modiste, and in a few minutes, his purchase was packaged under the strictest confidence and prepared to be delivered to Catherine’s home.

“What has you smiling so, Brother?” Emmy asked, looking up at him with a wary expression.

“Nothing,” he answered.

Catherine said nothing, even though he knew she was curious as well. He almost laughed, imagining the shock and anger that would cross her face when she read the penned note he’d asked them to deliver with the dress.

He was really looking forward to seeing her again.

“Come,” he told his sister. “Let’s take Miss Burlow home.”

“Can we go for cake after?” Emmy asked excitedly.

“Men don’t want a chubby wife,” he teased.

“And women don’t want a husband who’d starve them.”

“Alright, we’ll go for cake afterward.”

“I love you, Brother.”

“You only love me when you’re spending my money.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “You’re as pigheaded as they come. That’s the only good thing about you.”

They shared a laugh and waited for Catherine to join them. When she did, she stared between them and shook her head. “Do I want to know?”

“Not at all.”