Page 17 of His Extraordinary Duchess

Chapter Seventeen

B en managed to extract himself from the duke’s company with the excuse of needing to confirm a measurement. He felt like his half-finished plans for Tyneham Manor—disjointed and confused. His Grace, the Duke of Tyneham, expected him to woo and marry Claudia in the next fourteen days? Every part of the idea was nonsense!

For one thing, courting generally required cooperation between the two parties. Aside from their kiss, Claudia had given him little reason to hope. For another, the typical means of courting were unsuited to their circumstances. Jane had been happy to have him call or go walking or driving with him, appropriately chaperoned, of course. He had no reason to call on Claudia when they shared the same house, and the weather had decided to take a turn for the worse, as if clinging valiantly to the last days of winter. Neither walking nor driving would be particularly enjoyable. And there were few enough members of the aristocracy or gentry nearby to warrant holding any sort of ball.

Besides, the point of calling, walking, driving, or dancing was to have increasingly candid conversations as the couple became better acquainted. He already felt as if he knew Claudia well.

Which was why he realized she was reticent to bring up the subject of the secret room in company or ask for a private audience with the duke that evening. The possibility that her husband had been unfaithful weighed heavily on her.

Perhaps Ben would be better served to show her that he would always be faithful, in all things.

He had an opportunity that evening. The other two duchesses had informed him it was time Oliver learned to play whist. The duke agreed to make up the fourth. They gathered at the table on one side of the game room, Anastasia trotting from one to the other as if advising on which card to play. Sir Winfred showed no interest in the billiards table, so he, Ben, and Claudia ended up conversing by the fire.

“He’s rather simple, isn’t he?” the baronet said, watching as the duke lost a hand to Oliver and his partner, Her Grace the Second.

“I disagree,” Ben felt compelled to put in. “His Grace seems to grasp the essence of a situation quickly and take appropriate steps to remedy the matter.”

Sir Winfred smiled at Claudia. “Not quickly enough, eh, my dear?”

She shook her head, the firelight skipping along her pale hair. “I cannot complain of his choice of staff or his selection of Mr. Warden. His Grace obviously has an eye for talent.”

“I’d rather have an eye for beauty,” the baronet said, glancing meaningfully at her.

Ben’s hand fisted at his side. How dare the man look so boldly on her, as if she were one of the sculptures in the gallery, something to be acquired and stored away! Ben could do nothing to the baronet, but at least he could offer Claudia a means to avoid him.

He stood. “Perhaps I should take another look at the manor’s treasures to ensure I have accounted for them in my plans. Might I request your assistance, Your Grace?”

“Delighted.” She rose, then waved the baronet back into his seat when he attempted to join them. “No, no, Sir Winfred. I cannot impose. And I believe His Grace is looking forward to a game of billiards with you shortly.”

She put her back to him before he could protest and placed her hand on Ben’s arm.

They strolled out into the corridor, and she directed his steps away from the game room toward the front entry hall.

“That is the third time you’ve rescued me from an uncomfortable situation, sir,” she said, lips hinting of a smile. “Thank you.”

Ben smiled as they reached the open space, the prisms of the crystal chandelier casting rainbows on the green walls. “So long as I am not the uncomfortable situation you’re trying to avoid.”

“Never,” she vowed.

“Shall we start with the portrait gallery?” he asked, nodding up the stairs.

A shudder ran through her. “No, thank you.”

“Concerned about that pedestal?” he asked. “The stonemason will be by tomorrow to reseat the bust.”

“It’s not that,” she said, directing his steps toward the sitting room beyond. Her teeth worried her lower lip. This much consternation from his unflappable duchess? What was troubling her?

They entered the room, where a fire was burning and lamps had been lit. Instead of taking a seat, she swept up to the piano. “You mentioned the treasures of Tyneham Manor. This is a Broadwood grand. It is Georgina’s greatest joy.”

“Ah, so that’s why you were so careful of it the other day,” he said. “I’m already making plans for a music room, as discussed.”

“Good.” Again, she worried her lip.

He touched her cheek, drawing her gaze to his. “I hope I have proven that you can confide in me, Claudia.”

She gave a wry laugh. “After finding that secret room and confronting Mr. Atkins, I should hope so!”

“Then tell me what’s bothering you.”

She drew in a breath. “I fear you’ll think me silly.”

“I would never think you silly,” he promised, allowing his hand to linger on the soft skin of her cheek. “And if you wished to be silly, I would join you.”

She eyed him a moment as if she struggled to believe him, then she lowered her voice. “I didn’t want to visit the portrait gallery because I find I cannot look at Joseph’s portrait. Not until I know why he did what he did.”

“Perfectly understandable,”’ Ben said. “He isn’t here to explain. But if I ever do anything that makes you question my admiration for you, please tell me. I never want to give you even a moment of distress.”

She studied his face again, as if she could see the devotion shining from it. “No two people can be completely aligned in thought and purpose. But I agree it is better to share and resolve concerns rather than let them fester.”

She was so close he could see the fine lines fanning out at the corners of her blue eyes, eyes that continued to study him. She appeared to be waiting. Every part of him demanded that he take her in his arms and kiss her until nothing else mattered.

But if he was to win her heart, he had to go slowly, until she had no doubts about his feelings or her own.

A shame the duke’s ultimatum was like a clock ticking down the minutes in Ben’s heart.

He let his hand fall. “Perhaps you’d be so good as to show me the sculpture gallery again, then. I’d appreciate a better understanding of which of the marbles are more important to you.”

And perhaps soon he could tell her how she had become so important to him.

* * *

For Claudia, the next few days flew by. Mrs. Carmichael proved to be an able housekeeper, so Claudia only had to answer a few questions about her preferences for roles and duties. She had enough time on her hands that she was able to attend to Oliver. Remembering what Ben had said about the treasures of the manor, she showed the boy the sculpture gallery and the paintings scattered about. She loved to see his eyes widen as he stared at them. It was as if he breathed in art like air. And if that filled her with delight and pride, as if she were his mother, she tried not to dwell on it over much.

The duke also requested her time to discuss issues she had raised with him, and she was surprised and pleased to see them settled one by one. She felt it incumbent upon her to introduce him to various people in the village and the tenants he had not met during his short Christmas visit.

She kept trying to find a way to broach the topic of Mr. Atkins and what had really been in the secret room, but the moment never seemed quite right. The duke’s title and inheritance weren’t in any way in jeopardy. It somehow seemed wrong to welcome him home to scandal.

Through it all, she could not ask for a better partner than Ben. He kept the duke distracted while she instructed Mrs. Carmichael. He helped her think through alternatives to various problems. And he brought her flowers every morning, as if to cheer her. She wasn’t sure how he’d laid his hands on them until she asked on Saturday.

They were out on the veranda, bundled against a cool morning where a sunny sky promised better things to come. Georgie, Oliver, and Anastasia were wandering through the gardens, Oliver at times urging the little pug to run beside him up and down the formal boxwood lanes.

“Would you think less of me if I admitted I’ve been pilfering them?” he asked.

Claudia turned from the view to eye him. “Pilfering them? From whom?”

“The dower house garden,” he admitted. “The daffodils are farther along there. It seemed a shame to waste them with no one in residence.”

Claudia sighed. “Every day I expect that to change. Surely His Grace will not want three dowagers hanging on his heels. When he brings up the subject, I find a way to deflect, but that cannot go on forever.”

His gaze went off, as if he were studying the house in the distance. “Would it be so awful to leave Tyneham Manor?”

“It’s been my home for twelve years,” she reminded him. “And you’ve seen the dower house. I don’t know where we’d put the three of us.”

“There are other houses,” he mused. “I could build you one.”

Claudia smiled despite her misgivings. “And it would be marvelous. But my dower settlement wouldn’t stretch to new construction much less the purchase of land to place it on. Even if Georgina, Sophia, and I were to combine our settlements, it would be a challenge.”

His gaze came back to hers. “But if you were to have your own home, what would you want from it?”

You beside me.

She could not say that. She should not say that. “Well,” Claudia said, pushing her hands deeper into the fur muff she’d brought with her, “if we’re speaking of wishes, I’d say someplace with a view of something pretty. I’ve always been glad my bedchamber overlooks the formal gardens.”

He nodded. “What else?”

“A bedchamber large enough to accommodate a chair and small table, so one could retreat if one did not wish to be in company. An elegant desk for managing household accounts and composing correspondence.”

He smiled. “And might that desk also look out at something pretty?”

Claudia wagged a finger at him. “On no account! I would never pay the least attention to what I was supposed to be doing. But paintings in the room and a pleasant aspect would be welcome. A dining room large enough to invite company.”

“How much company?” he asked, arching a brow.

She wiggled her lips. “Say, no more than fifteen at table.”

“Fifteen!”

“You’re right. That might be too small. Make it twenty.”

He raised his gaze to the heavens. “Twenty at table. Is that how you envision entertaining?”

She shrugged. “The dining room at Chatsworth, home of the Dukes of Devonshire, seats twenty. So does the dining room here at Tyneham Manor. Why not my home?”

“You may not be a duchess in your new home,” he pointed out, lowering his gaze.

Claudia raised her brow. “I will always be a duchess.”

He looked saddened by that for some reason, but Oliver came running up to them then, so the conversation ended.

But the conversation she must have with the duke pressed down on her shoulders until breath felt a labor. By Sunday, she knew she could wait no longer. They attended services, this time with the duke in tow. She did not need to look behind her to know their servants now filled the last three pews. The Darling box was even more packed, but somehow she found herself between Ben and Oliver. As she listened to Mr. Nash read the sermon, she could not help the feeling of gratitude and peace that swept over her.

“And now,” the minister said after having given the benediction, “I have an announcement to make. I am told that your new vicar has been appointed and will arrive shortly.”

Murmurs ran through the church, and Claudia wasn’t the only one to glance at the duke. He sat with his gaze on Mr. Nash, as if unaware of the scrutiny.

“And thus, this will be my last Sunday with you,” the minster concluded. “Thank you for your prayers and patience in this matter.”

The congregation began to leave, or at least Claudia and the others around her stood and edged toward the aisle. As she turned, she saw many villagers gazing at the duke. Some expressions looked awed, others pensive, and one or two belligerent. Odd. She could think of nothing he’d done to annoy any of them. Only her.

Still, the aisle was more crowded than usual as they headed toward the door. As she stepped into the vestibule, someone caught her shoulder, and she lost her balance.

Strong arms came around her, steadying her.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked.

He looked so concerned she could only smile as he righted her even though her heart started pounding. “Fine. Thank you.” Glancing about to see who might have bumped her, she sighted Violette hurrying for the churchyard gate.

Where Mr. Atkins waited. His smile was bright as the Frenchwoman joined him, and they quickly disappeared beyond the hedge. What did her lady’s maid have to do with the artist?

His Grace passed Claudia and Ben, Mr. Nash trotting along beside him like a faithful spaniel. Claudia and the others could only follow toward where the carriages stood waiting. They had needed two, along with the wagon, to bring all of them to services.

“I was hoping I might convince you to spend time with me and Oliver this afternoon,” Ben said as he walked beside her.

The clouds hung heavy, promising a dousing rain shortly. She could think of nothing finer than curling up in the library with those who were becoming her two favorite gentlemen, but duty called.

“Perhaps a little later?” she suggested. “I truly must speak to the duke about that room.”

He nodded. “Of course. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“I have come to rely on your support,” Claudia admitted. “But, alas, this is my burden.”

His face went neutral, as if he were trying to hide his emotions. “Then I’ll hope to see you after it’s done.”

The duke requested that Ben and Oliver ride with him and Sir Winfred on the way home, so Claudia did not have a moment to speak further. She rode with Georgie and Sophia.

“A new vicar,” Georgie mused, gloved fingers wrapped around the strings of her beaded reticule. “Who do you think was appointed?”

“Just as importantly, why didn’t His Grace share that information with us first?” Claudia countered, leaning back against the squabs.

“You cannot fault the decisions he’s made so far,” Sophia said. Her blue velvet bonnet hid her face as she gazed out the windows at the passing fields. “Things are going rather well.”

Claudia could only hope they’d continue to go well once she told the duke about Mr. Atkins.

She took His Grace aside as soon as they returned from church services. He agreed readily to speak with her in the sitting room, although he seemed mystified as to why she made sure the others were all occupied elsewhere before joining him.

He seated himself on one of the chairs near the hearth. Claudia perched opposite him. She would have liked nothing more than to pace, but if she rose, he would be forced to rise as well. She knit her fingers together in the lap of her blue silk gown.

“I have a confession to make,” she began.

His eyes lit. “Of a personal nature?”

Claudia frowned at him. “I suppose you might call it that. It’s about the secret room.”

“Oh,” he said, deflating. “Very well.”

She would never understand this man. “When we discovered it, we also discovered a number of drawings and writings that we believe were collected by the fourth duke, you see.”

“There was nothing in the room when you showed it to me,” he reminded her. “Where are they now?”

“Hidden in my bedchamber,” Claudia explained, fingers tightening. “You see, the way they were displayed and their contents led me to believe that my husband had a mistress, and she had a son, a son who may well still live in the area.”

His eyes widened behind his spectacles. “Well, that had to have been a shock.”

“It was,” she said, unable to meet his kind gaze another moment. “I approached the man I believe to be that son, but he disavowed all knowledge. He would have no claim on the estate or the title, being illegitimate, of course, but I thought you should be aware.”

“Thank you for telling me. I know that must have been difficult.”

He wasn’t going to yell or berate her. She wasn’t sure why she kept expecting this duke to behave as badly as the last one. “Forgive me for not telling you immediately. What will you do?”

She glanced up to find him regarding her thoughtfully. “Nothing at this time, but I will see the matter investigated.”

Claudia sucked in a breath. “Not a private investigator. Those can be unreliable.”

“I doubt I’ll need to go so far,” he told her. “I was a historian, remember.” He slapped his hands down on the knees of his breeches as if the matter was settled. “Now, how are you and Mr. Warden getting along?”