Page 18 of His Extraordinary Duchess

Chapter Eighteen

C laudia blinked, bemused by the duke’s swift change of topic. “Mr. Warden and I are getting along well. Why would you ask?”

“I’d like your opinion of him.”

Now? He certainly hadn’t asked her opinion before hiring the fellow and thrusting him upon them. But then, if he hadn’t, she might never have met Ben, and she could not regret having him for a friend.

“I find him intelligent, compassionate, and innovative,” she said. “His process of listening to all those who might care about the manor proved insightful, and I know his plans will be better for it.”

He nodded. “Excellent. Everyone I spoke with in London talked of his character, his kindness, and his zeal for his profession. It appeared today that he takes his faith seriously as well, and Sophia tells me that he is a good father to young Oliver.”

Yes, Ben was all that and more. If Claudia’s parents hadn’t been clamoring for another engagement to a wealthy man, or if her situation had been different, she might have been willing to consider a suit from him.

His Grace was regarding her with that look again, as if waiting for her to do or say something specific. “A shame about Oliver,” he ventured. “A young man like him needs a mother.”

He did. Look at how he’d bloomed under the care of Georgie and Sophia. Of course, he confided in neither of them as much as he confided in Claudia. Sometimes she thought they were kindred spirits.

“I’m sure Mr. Warden is doing all he can,” she said loyally.

“Very likely,” His Grace agreed. “But, if you ask me, he would be wise to remarry.”

Claudia stared at him. All this praise for Ben, all these hints about Oliver. Was the duke trying to suggest that she be Ben’s next wife? Had he been the one to bump her into Ben at the church this morning? Small wonder he’d had no complaint when she’d wanted to go driving the other day. For all she knew, he’d put Mrs. Carmichael up to commandeering Sophia so that Claudia would lack a chaperone!

It seemed His Grace was trying to marry her off. Very likely she’d demanded his attention one time too many.

Well, he wasn’t the only one who could play matchmaker.

“And no doubt you’ll be marrying yourself,” she said, rising. “A wealthy duke with estates to spare will engage the interest of every marriageable miss and their matchmaking mamas for miles. The next few months will be interesting.”

She took a little satisfaction at the way his face fell as she left him.

* * *

Violette walked beside Roland to the Grange, his man-of-all-work trailing behind. Roland had seemed surprised she had not brought the chaperone he’d suggested, but she could not risk one of the other servants from Tyneham Manor overhearing what she must say to him.

As it was, she barely noticed the house, a multistoried white building with a thatched roof.

As soon as Roland had ushered her into the sitting room, she spun on her heels and seized the labels of his navy coat. “They know! They know you are the son of the duke!”

He covered her hands with his and gently pulled her fingers free. Then he led her to one of the chairs and took the other beside her.

“Her Grace was here with the architect a few days ago,” he said. “She tried to make that claim. At the time, I considered it nonsense. But after your questions and theirs, I thought I should look for proof. Somewhere in my mother’s things there must be letters from my father. I knew there was no drawing or miniature. I’d asked about them often enough as a boy. Her things were in trunks in the attics, so it was only a matter of bringing them down.”

By the solemn sound of his voice, she knew he’d discovered something. “And did you find such letters?”

“I did, and they appear to be from my father by the endearing terms used. But he did not sign himself Atkins or his first name, which I had been told was David. He signed them I, who will love you forever .”

Violette shook her head. “Then we have nothing to prove the case one way or the other.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I begin to believe they are right. I remember the times my mother was treated poorly in the village, as if she had contracted some dread disease. When I asked about the matter, my grandfather assured me that it was because of his faith. He had been Catholic, you see. My mother converted to the Church of England. Now, I can only wonder. Did others know of her shame?”

Her heart hurt for him. “You have kept your head high for years. Do not let this change that.”

His face crumpled. “How can I not? I’m no longer certain who I am.” He reached out and gathered her hands. “I had hoped to ask you to marry me, Violette, but now? I can’t invite you to share my scandal.”

She had been afraid to trust him, afraid of his motives. But this, this was honor. This was the beginning of love. He put her needs before his own.

“None of this matters to me,” she told him. “You are still the person you were yesterday: funny, humble, honorable, talented. I am falling in love with you, and I think we could make a good marriage.”

His look softened, and he released one hand to trail his fingers down her cheek, leaving warmth in their wake. “I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in that shop, so spirited, so willing to stand up for what you believed, so beautiful.”

“Then let us think,” Violette urged.

He leaned closer, lips caressing hers. She would not lose this closeness, this sweetness. She had lost too much already. Roland was hers.

“Together, we will find a way,” she whispered.

“I will pray you are right, my love,” he murmured against her lips.

* * *

Claudia did not have an opportunity to speak with Georgie and Sophia privately until the next day. She had promised Ben she would spend time with him and Oliver after confessing to the duke, and she did not intend to renege on that promise just because the duke had decided to play matchmaker. Still, the seeds he had planted about Ben making an excellent husband and her making a good mother to Oliver seemed to have taken root in her mind, for she found herself thinking about what they might do together.

The promised rain had come and gone, leaving the skies washed pale and clean. She chivvied them both into coats, then donned her warmest pelisse, winter bonnet, and gloves.

“You are very good at seeing things no one else notices, Oliver,” she said as she led them out into the rear gardens. “Frederick, Georgina’s husband, had the same talent. And he greatly enjoyed watching for birds.”

Oliver frowned. “Birds? Like crows?”

“Far more than crows,” Claudia told him. She peered about, then pointed to a flash of rust along the closest tree. “There—you see it? The handsome grey fellow with kohl by his eyes and an orange belly?”

Oliver followed her gaze, and his brows shot up. “What’s he doing?”

They watched as the little bird walked headfirst down the bark.

“He’s likely found an insect he fancies and is about to pounce,” Ben said with a smile. “That’s one of the things they eat, I believe. It’s a nuthatch, isn’t it?”

“Very good,” Claudia told him. “We’ve spotted tits, finches, and larks, and the warblers should be making their appearances shortly. Frederick used to keep a log of what bird he saw which day.”

“I could do that,” Oliver said. He looked to Ben. “May I fetch paper and pencil, Father?”

Ben nodded, and the boy scampered back into the manor.

“Excellent suggestion,” Ben told Claudia as they waited.

She smiled at the warmth in his voice. “As I said, Frederick enjoyed it. I thought of lawn bowling and cricket, but both make noise. This seemed a quieter occupation better suited to Oliver’s talents.”

Ben shook his head, but in admiration, she thought. “You’ve known my son less than a month, and you can think of activities as he would.”

“It’s only logical,” Claudia said, though his continued regard only made her more pleased with the suggestion.

Oliver returned with one of Ben’s notebooks and pencils, and the three spent a pleasant afternoon wandering about the gardens and woodlands, hunting for new birds. And when Ben’s hand reached for hers, she did not pull away.

Mrs. Carmichael had determined that, with the duke in residence and so many new staff to acclimate, it was impractical to send all the staff on their half-day on Sunday afternoon. Instead, she had worked out a more complicated arrangement in which half the staff had each Sunday afternoon off, alternating weeks, and those who did not had another day off during the week. So, Tyneham Manor had a full dinner that night around the table.

Claudia caught both the duke and Ben looking at her as if they expected her to make some sort of announcement. That, she was not prepared to do. She had some seeds of her own to plant.

Accordingly, she hurried down to breakfast the next morning, arriving in time to catch her two friends, Ben, Oliver, and the duke at the table.

“Sophia and Georgina and I have important matters to attend to,” she told the table at large as she accepted a cup of coffee from one of the new footmen. “I trust someone can watch over Oliver?”

Oliver sat taller in his seat. “I am nearly a man. I can see to myself.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the wounded pride in his tone. “You are indeed becoming a gentleman, Oliver. So much so that I’m sure your father would appreciate your insights on his plans.” She looked meaningfully at Ben.

He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin a moment before answering. “Certainly, Oliver. You have a keen eye, as you demonstrated yesterday. Let’s go over the plans and see if you can spot something that can be improved upon.”

“I would be delighted,” Oliver said so formally that Claudia had to school her face.

She almost thought the duke would ask what things were so important she must make such arrangements. Certainly both Georgie and Sophia were regarding her with frowns. But His Grace merely smiled as he buttered a piece of toast, and conversation carried on.

As soon as she and the other ladies had finished their meal, Claudia spirited them away to the sculpture gallery. The stones looked cold and forbidding in the morning light. Anastasia trotted back and forth among the marble, sniffing as if she had found a trail of some wild creature.

Georgie dropped down to perch on the edge of a low stone pedestal of one of the larger statues. “Are you concerned about the vicarage? I made sure it was set to rights in anticipation of the new vicar, and it will only take the ladies of the village a little bit to clean up from any mess that Mr. Nash might have made yesterday.”

“Thank you,” Claudia said as Sophia went to stand beside Georgie. “But it’s not that.”

Sophia sighed. “What has His Grace done now?”

At least she understood Claudia’s frustration. “It has come to my attention,” Claudia said, striding back and forth in front of them, “that the duke is matchmaking.”

Sophia stiffened, but Georgie clasped her hands. “Oh, how exciting! Who does he hope to match?”

“That is immaterial,” Claudia said, willing her face not to heat as Anastasia trotted to her mistress and peered up at her. “The point is that he will likely attempt to make matches for all three of us in the end, forcing us out of our home.”

Georgie’s face fell. “But I’m not ready to marry again.”

As if she agreed, Anastasia let out a yip and bounced on the floor.

Sophia squeezed Georgie’s shoulder with one hand. “And no one will force you to do so. As for me, I hope never to enter that sorry state again.”

Claudia paused in her pacing. Every time Sophia mentioned her marriage, it was with acrimony. Claudia hurt for her.

“It is not always so wretched,” she said softly. “You are young, Sophia. You have plenty of time to find a gentleman you can admire.”

Sophia crossed her arms over her chest, crushing the lace that ran down the bodice of her sunny yellow morning gown. “Did we come here to talk about my utter lack of interest in romance or something more important?”

Claudia held up her hand. “Forgive me. I asked you here to discuss the duke’s attempt to interfere with our lives. It must stop.”

Georgie spread her hands, though they trembled. “But he is the duke.”

“We’ve handled worse dukes before,” Sophia said, letting her arms fall.

“Precisely,” Claudia said. “I wish I could say that I’d inundate him with problems to solve, but he seems to be rectifying those as quickly as I bring them up.”

“He’s clever,” Sophia allowed. “I’ll give him that.”

“What would you think about turning the tables on him?” Claudia asked, glancing at each in turn as Anastasia spread out in a puddle of sunlight. “We might be able to find him a wife pliable enough that she’d allow us to remain.”

Sophia grimaced. “Anyone with so little confidence isn’t worth our time or his.”

“We wouldn’t want someone spineless,” Georgie agreed. “I’d say someone kind, who will view our widowed state with pity.”

“Not pity,” Sophia said with a shudder.

“Compassion, then,” Georgie persisted. “Are there no young ladies in the area we might consider?”

“Suitable to marry a duke?” Claudia shook her head. “I can think of no one.”

“Miss Beddington might do,” Sophia said, tapping her chin with one finger. “She is the daughter of Viscount Anson. We met her and her mother, Lady Anson, when last we visited the spa at Grace-by-the-Sea, if you recall, Georgie.”

“The brooding brunette?” Georgie asked with a frown. “Oh, I’m not sure His Grace would enjoy her company. She sees the dark side of any situation.”

“Perhaps her pessimism would offset his optimism?” Claudia suggested.

“I cannot see it,” Georgie insisted. “But there might be other suitable ladies currently visiting the spa. It attracts the aristocracy and gentry, as well as the occasional prince or princess.”

“The attending physician, Dr. Bennett, will know,” Claudia realized. “I’ll write to him this very day. In the meantime, I propose we start planning a dinner party to introduce our prospective brides and their families to meet His Grace.”

Georgie clapped her hands. “Oh, that sounds lovely!” Anastasia leaped up, all alert.

“How can we help?” Sophia asked.

They discussed various tasks and divided them, then went their separate ways to begin the effort. Claudia hurried to her bedchamber to pen a note to Dr. Bennett for one of the footmen to deliver to Grace-by-the-Sea. On a good horse, someone from Tyneham could easily ride there and back in an afternoon. The footman might even have time to wait for an answer from the good doctor.

And then she would find the perfect bride to allow her, Georgie, and Sophia to keep their places at the manor and manage this unpredictable duke.

* * *

Ben told himself not to be discouraged. He’d brought Claudia flowers, and he’d spent as much time with her as her schedule, his work, and propriety allowed. They’d talked of important matters, his work, her future. Sometimes he was gratified at how well their thoughts aligned.

He could not doubt the duke’s wisdom in suggesting her as a wife for Ben and a mother for Oliver. But he still hadn’t seen any sign that she might be amendable to the idea.

“It looks very good, Father,” Oliver said with a nod, straightening from where he’d been studying Ben’s plans. “I like the way the conservatory looks out onto the grounds. Her Grace the First will be very pleased with that. She’ll have an even better place to think.”

Ben regarded his son. “What if Her Grace decides she no longer wants to make Tyneham Manor her home?”

Oliver stared at him, as if the idea was unthinkable. “But it is her home. Why would she leave?”

“She might move to Grace-by-the-Sea, say with us, after my work here is done.”

He waited for his son to complain or question the idea. Oliver merely scrunched up his face. “Will she have a thinking place there?”

“I will make sure to build that into the plans for our house,” Ben assured him.

“She would live with us?”

Ben licked his lips. “Yes, if she agrees to be my wife and your mother.”

His face cleared. “I like that idea. I would miss her a great deal if we left her behind.”

Relief made breath come easier. “Say nothing for the moment,” Ben cautioned him. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

“She’ll say yes,” Oliver said with the optimism of youth.

He was so confident, in fact, that Ben cocked his head. “Why would you say that?”

“She likes you,” Oliver said. “She talks about you when I visit her.”

Ben was not so vain that he should ask, yet he longed to know. He bent closer. “What does she say?”

“She tells me that I am fortunate to have you for a father,” Oliver replied, aligning the crystal paperweight at the corner of the plans at right angles to the paper. “She says your work is very important, and we shouldn’t interrupt you overly much. She says you are a great help to her in managing the estate.”

None of that sounded like a declaration of love, but then, he supposed, Claudia would be unlikely to confess her feelings to a ten-year-old boy.

He wasn’t sure she’d be willing to confess her feelings to him either. Her experiences had led her to keep her own counsel. But if she would not accept Ben, the duke would produce some other fellow to woo her. The thought of her being matched to anyone but himself raised such an ache inside him that he knew he must speak.