Page 13 of His Extraordinary Duchess

Chapter Thirteen

C laudia was glad to find her own bedchamber empty. She splashed water on her cheeks and wiped away the last vestiges of her tears. Would that she could wipe away the memory of that room so easily.

But never the memory of that kiss.

She braced both hands on the cool porcelain of the wash basin. It was only a kiss and a relatively quick one. Yet she still felt the emotions coursing through her. Was it only the discovery of her husband’s other life that had made her react this way to Ben’s kiss? Or had her charming architect found a way to open the heart she’d thought shuttered?

She could not answer such questions now. She wasn’t sure she even knew what the answers should be. The important thing was to find Sir Winfred and swear him to silence to protect the family reputation.

She found him in the game room. He was chalking a cue, though no balls had yet been arranged on the green baize.

“You were quite right to caution me against trying to find that room,” she said, moving closer. “I should have listened.”

He leaned the cue against the wall and dusted off his hands. “It hardly matters now, my dear. What’s done is done.”

“Perhaps not all done,” she hazarded, coming to stand across the table from him. “You of all people will understand why this information must remain a secret.”

He inclined his head. “Of course. Say no more, and neither will I.”

She blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” He came around the table, smile kind. “From the moment Tyneham married you, you have done nothing but work to the good of our family. Others may not see that, but I do.”

So did Ben. She pushed the thought aside. “When I married Joseph, it became my family too,” she told the baronet.

“So it did. And now, it seems, you are considering joining another family.”

Claudia frowned. “Forgive me. I don’t know what you mean.”

His smile saddened. “I saw you, my dear. You and Mr. Warden.”

Would her face never stop flaming? “A momentary aberration. He was attempting to comfort me. I was rather shocked by our discovery, after all.”

“Understandably,” Sir Winfred allowed. “And few could blame you if you decided to marry again.” He took one of her hands and pressed it between his own. “I simply ask that you remember your worth. You could do better than someone so far beneath you.”

She felt as if he’d doused her with cold water. “I cannot see Mr. Warden as so inferior, sir,” she said, pulling her hand from his.

“Naturally not,” he soothed. “He has a certain charm, and I believe the ladies would say he is not unkind on the eyes. He is also far closer to your age than my cousin was.”

“Those are not the only reasons to marry,” Claudia told him tartly. “There is character, an affinity of thought, and a common purpose.”

“None of which Mr. Warden has,” he pointed out. “Aside from possibly a good character. No, my dear. I say you can do better.” He took a step closer. “If you are looking to marry, I might be able to give you an alternative.”

He was offering himself! She sent up a quick prayer for the right words to refuse, then put on a regretful smile. “Thank you, Sir Winfred. But no, I’m not looking to marry again.”

At least, that’s what her mind assured her.

* * *

“So, I’m to lie?” Oliver scrunched up his face as if even saying the words was distasteful.

Ben ran a hand back through his hair. He’d been trying for the last quarter hour to explain to his son why what they’d seen in the secret room was best forgotten. He didn’t want to parade the former duke’s sins in front of the boy, but he couldn’t risk Oliver inadvertently mentioning something that might give Claudia or the current duke trouble.

“Not lie,” he said as he and Oliver sat at the table in the library together, a fire glowing in the grate. “If someone were to ask you outright what you had seen in that room, you could refer them to me, and I would handle the matter.”

“Then you’d lie?” Oliver pressed.

Ben sighed. “No, Oliver. I wouldn’t lie. But neither would I say something that might hurt Her Grace the First.”

Oliver’s face cleared. “I would never want to hurt Her Grace the First. She’s been very kind to me. She likes my drawings.”

Ben relaxed at last. “Yes, she does. She has a very good eye for that sort of thing.”

He nodded complacently. “May I go draw now?”

Ben removed his arm from around his shoulder. “Certainly. Don’t forget to clean up before dinner.”

“I won’t.”

He likely would, but Ben smiled as his son hurried out of the room with a light step. Darkness was still easily forgotten at that age.

Claudia would not be able to forget so easily. His smile faded. What a blow! To learn that the man you loved had loved someone else, possibly the entire time he had claimed to love you alone. It was a betrayal of the very worst kind. He wouldn’t blame her for locking her heart away and never opening it again.

Which would be the greatest tragedy of all. She deserved someone who would stand beside her, in good times and bad, who could offer her his heart, without any encumbrances.

It didn’t surprise him that he wanted to be that person. From the moment they’d met, he’d been drawn to her intelligence, her fire. To spend the rest of his life with her would be perfection.

Yet, her position in Society was far above his. She had a family and a place here at Tyneham Manor. He didn’t even have a house!

“May I have a word, Mr. Warden?”

Ben looked up, then rose, as Sir Winfred came into the room. The baronet’s smile was apologetic, as if he thought he’d interrupted something important.

“Sir Winfred,” Ben said with a bow. “How might I be of assistance?”

The baronet waved at the table, so Ben resumed his seat. But Sir Winfred didn’t join him. Instead he shut the library door carefully, then commenced pacing back and forth along the carpet, hands clasped behind him.

“This conversation is not easy to begin,” he said. “I have found you a man of logic and purpose.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, mystified. Was the fellow about to sack him? Only the current duke had that power, though Ben supposed Sir Winfred might order the staff to throw him and Oliver out. Somehow he thought Claudia would intervene before that happened.

Sir Winfred inclined his head. “Only your due, sir. Only your due. That is why I was so shocked to find you taking liberties with Her Grace.”

Ben shot to his feet, blood roaring. “I took no liberties. I would never dishonor Her Grace.”

Sir Winfred grimaced. “No, of course not. I knew I’d do this badly.” He waved at the table again. “Please, have a seat.”

“I prefer to stand while I’m being insulted,” Ben gritted out.

“I meant no insult.” Sir Winfred heaved a sigh, coming to a stop in front of Ben. “It is clear to me that you sincerely care about Her Grace. But you must know anything further between you is impossible.”

Ben had just been telling himself the same thing, yet he felt his spine stiffening. “I know that is for her to say, and her alone.”

Sir Winfred raised a snowy brow. “And would you truly want her to berate you for your presumption?”

As sharp as Claudia’s tongue could be, such a conversation would hardly be pleasant. “She has that right.”

“She does,” the baronet allowed, resuming his pacing. “But I would like to spare her that. You are a gentleman. If you care for her, withdraw from any pursuit you might have planned, before anyone is hurt.”

Ben had told his son not to say anything that might hurt Claudia. Yet wouldn’t stepping back, ignoring the feelings that were building between them, hurt her even more?

“I promise to do nothing that might cause Her Grace grief,” Ben said. “Beyond that, do not pressure me, sir, for at the moment I do not know my own heart.”

* * *

“And to think we had a secret room all this time!” Cook exclaimed as most of the staff gathered in the kitchen. Though dinner preparations were already in progress, the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread thick in the air, it would not be served for some hours yet, and they had all taken a break after the excitement upstairs.

“It wasn’t so secret to someone,” Mr. Kinsle said as he sat at the head of the table, the rest of the staff on the benches on either side. “I had a glimpse inside before the door was shut. Very little dust. I doubt His Grace the Last was taking pains to clean it.”

Those who had served long at the manor nodded sagely. Violette had never met the previous duke, but she had heard stories about his cruelty, his extravagances.

“Likely he never knew about that room,” Dorcus, most senior of the downstairs maids, said as she tucked a lock of her blond hair into her pleat-edged cap. “If he had, you can be sure he’d have insisted on one of us cleaning it and complaining about our work to whoever would listen.”

“I wonder why it was built to begin with,” Cook said, leaning a hip against the worktable.

“Well, since there’s nothing in it, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,” Maisy answered, plopping her chin on her hands.

They all nodded, except Violette. She knew better. The room hadn’t been empty. It had been filled with drawings and paintings, some drawn by someone younger than Master Oliver. Yet she was certain they came from the same hand, and she knew whose.

Why would a duke enshrine Roland’s paintings, especially if the artist was unwelcome in any great house, as Roland had implied? Why had the painting on the wall looked so much like a younger version of him? Who was he to the Dukes of Tyneham that his memory was cherished?

And why had Her Grace the First lied and claimed the room empty? Violette would certainly never betray her to the others, but she couldn’t help wondering.

Mr. Kinsle rose. “Well, enough of all that.” He set about ordering the footmen to their tasks, and the chambermaids hurried back to their duties. Deep in thought, Violette climbed the servants stair for the duchess’s room. She’d hoped for a few moments to gather the lace and other items that needed mending, but Her Grace was already in residence when Violette opened the door.

“ Pardonnez-moi, madame ,” she said, hurrying to the wardrobe. “I did not know you were waiting to change.”

Her Grace had been perched on the window seat, gazing out. Now she turned with a soft smile, her pale hair outlined by the rays of the setting sun. “I wanted a few moments alone to think.”

Violette froze with her hand on the latch. “Should I go?”

Her Grace rose. “No. It must be getting on toward dinner. I will change.”

With a nod, Violette opened the wardrobe and pulled out the green wool with the paisley trim a foot deep along the hem. “Perhaps this tonight?”

Her Grace considered it a moment, then shook her head. “No. Nothing fancy. The blue wool will do.”

Oh, she was in a mood. “I understand that to be a day gown,” Violette tried. “Perhaps something more dramatic for evening?”

“We have had entirely enough dramatics for one day.” She turned as if to give Violette access to the back of her gown. Violette made quick work of the fastenings and let the dress drop. The duchess stepped out onto the carpet, and Violette gathered up the fabric.

“You saw the contents of that room, didn’t you?” the duchess asked as Violette took the gown to the wardrobe.

She swallowed, but she could not lie, even if it meant her discharge. “ Oui, madame . But I did not understand why it upset you so.” She pulled out the blue wool.

“That is just as well,” her mistress said, lifting her arms so Violette could slide the dress over her. “I must ask you to say nothing to the other staff about the matter.”

“I will not.”

“Good.”

The duchess said nothing more as Violette finished her toilette and sent her down to dinner. As soon as the door closed, Violette breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, she had feared the duchess would caution her to say nothing to anyone. That would have made it difficult, for she fully intended to discuss the matter with Roland.

As he had said, Tuesday could not come soon enough.

* * *

Mindful of Sir Winfred’s admonishment, Claudia did her level best not to show Ben undue attention at dinner. Yet how could she fail to notice the way he bowed his head before Sir Winfred uttered the blessing? The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when Oliver emboldened himself to speak up?

And when his gaze met hers, warmth rose from her toes to her top.

She was in a great deal of trouble.

She did not sleep well that night and waited until the very last moment before going downstairs to breakfast, just to be certain she would miss him. Violette shuffled about the room, moving gowns from wardrobes to a basket and back.

“You need another shawl,” she told Claudia. “If you persist in wearing the blue wool, you must have other accessories.” She cocked her head. “Monsieur Pierce in the village might have something. I could look. And you wanted some of that yellow muslin for Her Grace.”

Claudia had waved her out. “Go.”

When Claudia finally came into the breakfast room, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that only Georgie still sat at the table. Anastasia crouched on the carpet beside her, looking up hopefully in case a treat might be forthcoming. Mr. Kinsle or the footman on duty must have stepped out for a moment.

“Good morning,” Georgie heralded, buttering a piece of toast. “Will you be tending to Oliver today, or shall Anastasia and I entertain him?”

The pug yipped at the sound of her name, plump rear end wiggling.

“Who am I to deprive Anastasia of a treat?” Claudia said, going to the sideboard. Cook had prepared bacon, toast, scrambled eggs with cheese, and fruit preserves, but none of it looked particularly appetizing. Claudia selected a piece of toast and a pot of apricot jam, then went to sit across from Georgie. A moment more, and Anastasia popped up from under the table and plopped herself down beside Claudia.

Claudia regarded her. “You’ll get nothing from me, and you know it.”

Anastasia grinned as if that would sway Claudia’s mind.

“She is positively terrible,” Georgie said, pausing to take a bite of her toast.

“She wouldn’t be if you and Sophia didn’t sneak food to her under the table,” Claudia said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“It’s not just us!” Georgie protested. “Everyone loves her so. How can you say no to that face?”

Claudia glanced down again. Dark eyes sparkled up at her, and a pink tongue lolled out. Anastasia was adorable.

Claudia focused on her food. “It is merely a question of your will versus the dog’s.”

Georgie giggled. “Well, then, there’s no question. Anastasia will always win!”

Claudia laughed despite herself.

Georgie deposited five cubes of sugar into her tea and stirred. “It’s good to hear you laugh, dearest. Dare I ask how you’re holding up after yesterday?”

The jam had less taste than Claudia had hoped. She set down her toast. “Discovering that room was disconcerting, to say the least.”

“Disturbing, more like,” Georgie commiserated. “I don’t know what Freddie would have done had he known he had a half-brother somewhere.”

“He never spoke of it?” Claudia asked.

She shook her head. “I’m sure he didn’t know. You remember how he idolized his father.”

Joseph and Frederick had been very close, much closer than many of the fathers and sons she’d known among the aristocracy. Small wonder Frederick had nearly fallen apart when Joseph had died. It had taken Claudia and Georgie both to mend his heart, only to have him pass three years later.

But thoughts of hearts brought her back to her dilemma with Ben, and it struck her that here was one of the few people who might give her insights.

“I always envied you and Frederick,” Claudia said leaning toward her daughter-in-law. “It was clear from the moment he brought you to meet his father and me that he doted on you and you on him.”

Her smile wavered. “I did. I will love him till my dying day.”

Claudia did not want to set the girl crying again, but she badly needed advice.

“How did you know?” she asked. “When you first met him, when you became better acquainted, how did you know that you loved him?”

“A million ways,” Georgie declared with an expansive wave that nearly knocked the toast from her fingers. “He thought about things so deeply, where I am too easily confused. I knew I could rely on him when I needed answers. And his smile. Look!” She held out her arm. Beneath the black lace sleeve, tiny bumps appeared to be gathering. “Gooseflesh, even now, just remembering! He was so different from Hugh, yet still I found myself enamored.”

Claudia frowned. “Hugh?”

A yip from the other side of the table informed her that Anastasia had moved even before a glance down confirmed it. One of Georgie’s hands disappeared a moment before returning to the table as if nothing untoward had happened.

“Yes,” she admitted to her now-empty plate. “I was in love before, you see. Father wasn’t pleased. Hugh had just finished his divinity studies. I thought him tremendously kind and charming, but Father was certain he was merely attempting to advance through an alliance with me. When Freddie started courting me, Hugh accepted a position as deacon at Saint Martin-in-the-Fields, so I suppose he did not care for me as much as I did him. Certainly he never spoke to me again once my engagement became known. But I will never forget him. Isn’t that what they say? You never forget your first love?”

Twice in love? And Claudia had never felt it once! Was something wrong with her heart?

Or had it simply been waiting for the right man?