Page 21 of His Extraordinary Duchess

Chapter Twenty-One

V iolette walked just behind the duke and duchess that afternoon as Roland’s manservant ushered them into the sitting room. It had been a chilly ride over in the carriage, both in the blustery March air and in the looks Her Grace was casting the duke. Violette wasn’t sure why her mistress was so out of sorts with His Grace, but she doubted this visit would improve the duchess’s mood.

Violette had thought to stand or sit quietly in the corner during the conversation. She was here as chaperone, very likely. But after greetings had been exchanged, His Grace gestured her into a chair, as if she were as grand a lady as the duchess.

Roland treated Violette with just as much dignity, but his smile was far too warm and welcoming. She dropped her gaze lest she be tempted to return that smile.

“Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Atkins,” the duke said.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Roland answered. “It’s an honor to meet you and to see Her Grace again. How might I be of service?”

Now that he was focused on the duke, Violette thought it safe to raise her head. His smile was as charming as always, but his eyes were shadowed. Had he too been up late, trying to think of a way out of their predicament?

Of course, Her Grace looked nearly as worn. Violette had arranged her hair becomingly around her face, though the silky tresses were all but hidden by her tall velvet bonnet with the net veil. Still, the eyes inside that veil had been every bit as shadowed. Violette might have thought the duchess was also haunted by difficult choices.

In contrast, His Grace was all happiness and light, his smile proclaiming him a friend to all he met.

“I believe the service may be on my part,” he told Roland. “You and I are in a similar position. We have both recently learned that our families were not what we thought.”

Her Grace cast him a sharp look, but Roland paled, smile fading. “I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning.”

He would not say it. Perhaps he could not say it. Violette wanted to reach out to him. She clasped her hands in the lap of her black gown instead.

The duke leaned back and crossed one leg over the other as if intending to make himself comfortable. “I’ve heard a number of stories since rising to my position. I suspect you’ve heard some of them too. And you may have heard that I come from humble beginnings myself. I was a historian, Mr. Atkins. I was paid well to research family lineages. Yours is not the first such situation I’ve found.”

Roland raised his chin. “My mother was a lady. I will hear nothing that says otherwise.”

The dear, stubborn man! Of course he would defend his maman . Violette had at times disagreed with hers, but she would not have stood by and heard her slandered either.

“I have no question on that score,” His Grace said. “I believe it will give you some comfort to know that she thought herself wed to your father when you were born.”

Her Grace sucked in a breath.

So did Violette, but she quickly turned the sound into a cough. It was not her place to speak, though she would not have left the room now had the duke ordered her on pain of discharge.

Roland’s eyes had gone wide. “Then I’m the duke,” he said, voice sounding strangled.

The duchess stared at His Grace.

“Sadly, no,” he told Roland. “Your father convinced a retiring vicar to marry him to your mother when he was only twenty, against the wishes of his father, the duke at the time. By law, your father would have had to be one and twenty to wed without his father’s permission. When his father learned of the marriage, he took some pains to have it annulled. He then appears to have forced his son to wed another and to disavow all knowledge of you.”

Her Grace pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, how cruel.”

“I can see it no other way,” His Grace agreed. “I imagine he was worried about the succession and thought his son could do better than the daughter of a military man who was an avowed Catholic. Whatever his reasoning, by the time the first wife died, your mother was also gone, Mr. Roland, and it seems the new duke saw no point in harming her memory. The best he could do was to ensure you lacked for nothing, including a friend in the family.”

“Sir Winfred,” Roland said as if realizing the truth.

“And the bequest that allows you to keep the Grange,” Her Grace put in. “I discovered it recently.”

“Precisely,” the duke said. “My predecessors thought that sufficient recompense. I do not.” He leaned forward as if determined to make his case. “The Grange, is, unfortunately, part of the entailment with Tyneham Manor, so I cannot give it to you outright. But there is another property, just to the west of Grace-by-the-Sea, a summer cottage, if you will, that is unentailed. I would like to settle it on you, Mr. Atkins, along with a monthly allowance that would see to its upkeep, including a staff. The location should afford you better access to patrons for your work and remove you from any lingering rumors around Tyneham. The situation should also be sufficient for you to take a wife.” He looked pointedly at Violette.

Her gaze veered to Roland, but he was looking at the duke.

“That is a very generous offer,” he said cautiously, as if expecting the duke to confess it a prank.

“I wish I could do more,” His Grace said. “But if I acknowledge you as a part of the family, it merely puts the focus on your mother again, and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“No,” Roland agreed. “I can see that.” He drew in a breath and seemed to sit taller. “Would you allow me time to consider?”

“As much as you’d like. Your Grace?”

“Of course.” The duchess rose, all dignity, and the duke stood as well. Violette scrambled to her feet, mind whirling.

His Grace held up a hand. “I must speak privately with Her Grace on the way home, Miss Collier. Can you find your own way back to the manor?”

The duchess narrowed her eyes at him, but Violette could only bless the duke. “ Oui, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsey.

“Then I bid you both farewell for now.” He nodded to Roland. “Let me know your answer at your convenience. I will see to the arrangements. Good day, Mr. Atkins.”

Roland bowed, and the duke strolled out, the duchess on his arm.

Violette stared after them. “I did not think such a thing was possible.”

Roland closed the distance between them, hands reaching out to take hers. “It seems he knows many things, including about us.”

“He does,” Violette said. Her gaze came back to his, and her smile widened. “Oh, but Roland, such an offer! You can live like the gentleman you were meant to be! You can pursue your painting! You must accept.”

Roland released her hands to take her in his arms. “Only if you agree to come with me, as my wife.”

“Oh, mon amour .” She pulled back to touch his cheek. “Are you certain? At Grace-by-the-Sea, you will meet many beautiful ladies, some heiresses!”

“And not a one of them would interest me,” he vowed. “Please, Violette. You are the only one I want. You’re the woman I love.”

She kissed him then, once for his proposal, once for his confession of love, and once for the love she held for him. When finally she rested her head against his chest, she sighed.

“An impressive display,” he teased. “And one I would never refuse. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Yes,” she said. “I will marry you. But I cannot leave Her Grace with no notice.”

“His Grace will need time to make the arrangements,” Roland reasoned. “And we’d need to have the banns read. I won’t risk happening to us what apparently happened to my mother. Our wedding will be in the open and entirely according to form. Three weeks should be sufficient.”

“Three weeks,” Violette marveled. “Three weeks until we start our new life together.”

“Three weeks will be an eternity,” he said before kissing her again.

* * *

“I hope you approve of my resolution,” the duke said as the carriage trundled down the drive.

Claudia hardly knew what to think. What the duke had offered Roland Atkins helped make up for the years of separation between father and son, but her heart hurt for Joseph. She would never know what Joseph’s father had held over his son to force him to give up the woman he loved and the son he longed to claim, but Joseph had honored his side of the bargain. Then again, her husband was nothing if not bound to his duty.

She had allowed that same duty to sway her, rule her. And yet even her lady’s maid had been able to fall in love and soon marry, if the way she’d looked at the painter was any indication.

Why must Claudia be denied that just because she was a duchess?

“You appear to have settled the matter nicely,” she managed as the carriage turned toward the village. “Mr. Atkins can live a life of gentility, and we are all spared the rumors that might have flown had you done more for him here.”

“And you will not mind losing your maid?”

Claudia smiled remembering the glow on Violette’s face when she’d heard of her love’s good fortune. “No. I have become fond of Violette, and I wish her only the best.”

He cocked his head, and his top hat slid a little on his russet hair. “Then if you should happen to meet the new Mrs. Atkins on one of your trips to Grace-by-the-Sea, you will not feel the need to cut her.”

Claudia drew herself up. “Certainly not, sir. What sort of lady do you take me for?”

He smiled. “My mistake. You have always been gracious and welcoming to me, and I come from scarcely higher in society than Miss Colliers.”

Guilt tugged at her, and she could not be silent. “No, Your Grace. I haven’t been nearly as welcoming as I should have been. I haven’t trusted you to see to the needs of those dependent on the Tyneham holdings. Please forgive me.”

He shrugged. “From what I can tell, you had little call to trust me, not after what you and the others endured with the last duke.” His clear gaze met hers, and she could not look away.

“But I am not Robert Darling, Claudia,” he continued. “I take my duties, all my duties, seriously. You can trust me to fulfill those duties to the best of my ability.”

“So I am beginning to believe,” she said.

“Good.” He glanced out the window again. “I suppose you’ll want me to dress for dinner tonight.”

“With the vicar dining with us, that would appear to be appropriate,” Claudia allowed as the carriage started up the drive to the manor. “I would, in future, appreciate being consulted before you invite another to the table.”

He inclined his head. “I will endeavor to keep you informed.”

As it was, they arrived at the house with just enough time to change for dinner. Claudia was glad. She’d wanted to talk to Ben about his proposal, but her mind and heart were still warring with each other. Maisy appeared to help her undress, with Violette returning in time to assist Claudia into her crimson velvet with the gold scroll pattern edging the square neck. Very likely her maid didn’t even realize she was humming a little tune as she worked.

“And the rubies,” Claudia instructed her.

Violette hurried to open the jewel case on Claudia’s dressing table. “The vicar requires such grandeur?”

“I’m not wearing them for the vicar,” Claudia said.

Her maid smiled as she brought the earrings and necklace. “He will not be able to take his eyes off you.”

Claudia thought they both knew who Violette meant. She fancied she looked every inch the Duchess of Tyneham as she descended the stairs.

Yet, even just thinking the title made her lungs squeeze as if Violette had pulled Claudia’s corset too tight. She had thought being a duchess the pinnacle of her life. But she was beginning to believe there was much more.

So, she smiled graciously as the vicar bowed to her and His Grace, who had also come out to meet him. The duke had taken the trouble to don evening dress. The black coat called attention to his slender build, but his white breeches were speckled with stray tan hairs. Had he been playing with Anastasia?

In contrast, the new minister looked quite elegant, his black coat and breeches neat, his blue-striped waistcoat modest, and his snowy cravat spotless. He was clean shaven, his side whiskers properly trimmed, his blue eyes bright and intelligent. The only thing frivolous about him was his blond hair, which curled about his head in wild abandon as if refusing to conform.

“Your Grace, the dowager Duchess of Tyneham, may I present Mr. Caddington, our new vicar,” His Grace said.

“Mr. Caddington,” Claudia said as the minister straightened from his bow.

“Your Grace,” he said in a warm voice she thought would do well from the pulpit.

“Mr. Caddington allowed me to persuade him to relocate to Dorset,” the duke explained. “He had been overlooked for promotion at Saint Martin-in-the-Fields despite all his good works there.”

“Many others had more experience to take the position as vicar,” Mr. Caddington allowed, though he stepped away from the duke as if embarrassed by His Grace’s comment.

“Please join us and the others in the sitting room for a few moments,” Claudia told him. “Dinner will be served shortly.”

The duke gallantly offered her his arm, and she strolled beside him, the minister trailing, as they walked down the corridor. As they moved into the sitting room, Claudia’s gaze went unerringly to Ben, who was standing by the fire, with Oliver on a chair beside him. Ben’s smile turned up at the sight of her.

And all at once she knew it was going to be a wonderful evening.

Georgie and Sophia were seated on the sofa, Georgie in her cream-colored evening gown with the black net overskirt and jet beads at her throat. Sophia had chosen her pink silk, which gathered under the bosom to fall in a graceful drape. She smiled in welcome as the duke led Mr. Caddington up to introduce him.

Georgie blanched white and surged to her feet even as the vicar froze.

“Forgive me,” she said, gaze going everywhere but Mr. Caddington. “I find I’m not up to dinner in company after all.” She fled so quickly she bumped Claudia’s shoulder as she passed.

Mr. Caddington took a step as if to follow her, then seemed to recall himself. The smile he put on looked pained.

“She is still in mourning,” Claudia explained, though she could only wonder at the reaction.

Sophia rose in a whisper of silk. “Please continue. I’ll return after I check on her.”

She left the room only slightly less precipitously.

“Let me make you known to Sir Winfred, Mr. Caddington,” His Grace said smoothly, turning to where the older man was frowning toward the door. “Our good baronet is a cousin of some standing. The previous dukes of Tyneham relied on his sage advice.”

That was doing it too brown. While Joseph had on occasion asked Sir Winfred about some matter having to do with the estate, Frederick had found the baronet’s heavy-handed suggestions annoying, and the last Duke of Tyneham had once threatened to throw the fellow out before Claudia had intervened.

Still, the comment was guaranteed to set Sir Winfred preening, and he was beaming when he shook the minister’s hand. “Welcome to Tyneham, sir. You’ll find this a Godly parish, with little need for your admonition.”

“I find encouragement generally more effective than admonition,” Mr. Caddington said. He included Claudia in his smile, which looked more genuine now.

“Admirable,” she said, leading the minister up to Ben and Oliver. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Warden and his talented son, Oliver. Mr. Warden is the genius behind the remaking of Tyneham Manor.”

“I’m an architect,” Ben said, extending his hand. “And I am honored by Her Grace’s confidence in my abilities.”

The minister shook his hand. “A pleasure, sir. I’ve already had more than one parishioner tell me about how you asked their advice. It seems you’ve caused quite a stir of hope. As have you, Your Grace,” he added to the duke. Then he offered Oliver his hand as well.

The boy shook it solemnly, inclining his head with such dignity Claudia could only share a smile with Ben.

A movement from the doorway caught her eye. Standing in his black coat and breeches, Mr. Kinsle gave her a nod.

“Dinner is ready,” she announced to the room at large. “Shall we?”

“What of the other ladies?” Mr. Caddington asked, smile fading once more as he glanced toward the door.

“I’m sure they’ll be along shortly,” His Grace said. “Have you tried the local apple cake, yet, Mr. Caddington? I find it positively addicting.”

Given no choice, the minister walked with the duke out toward the dining room. Sir Winfred followed, seemingly unperturbed by the events of the evening. Ben paused beside Claudia.

“Go,” he murmured. “I’ll keep them busy.”

Her breath caught. “You are always there when I need you.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “And I hope that will always be the case.” He tilted his head to his son, but Oliver hung back.

“Will Her Grace the Second be all right?” he asked plaintively.

Claudia put an arm about his shoulders. “Let me speak to her, and then I promise to explain.”

Only slightly mollified, he allowed Ben to lead him out.

She lifted her skirts and hurried into the entry hall and up the stairs.