Page 21 of The Duke's List
When he approached the door to her chambers, he was reassured by the sight of two strong footmen guarding her for the night. He clapped one of them on the shoulder. “Good job, George. She’s had a long day. Wouldn’t want her wandering the halls tonight.”
“Of course, Your Grace. You can count on us.”
“She hasn’t had any, um visitors tonight. Has she?
The young man blushed furiously. “She’s been very quiet since she returned from the play.” He hastened to add, “No visitors tonight.”
Sidmouth wondered at the man’s last statement but then decided he was too tired to deal with discovering his attics-to-let grandmother entertained visitors on a regular basis.
When he cracked open her door tentatively, fearing she might already be asleep, he was surprised to see her fully dressed and lying on a chaise longue with a book on her lap.
“Sorry to disturb,” he whispered, and moved to shut the door and retreat.
“Sidmouth,” she said, ducal command in her voice.
He wondered for one mad moment which Sidmouth she thought he was this time. Her mind slipped in and out of the shadowy world she inhabited, and he never quite knew whom she might be addressing. He was the third ‘Sidmouth’ she’d known.
“Yes?”
“Why are you whispering and creeping about the halls at this time of night? Shouldn’t you be in bed after your debut on the stage today?”
A part of his mind relaxed. She knew who he was.
“As long as you’re up, you should sit down and have a cup of tea with me before I retire.”
“Of course, Nana.”
“Since when am I not addressed as ‘Her Grace?’”
Shades of St. George-now who the hell did she think he was?
“My deepest apologies, Your Grace.”
Her lined but still beautiful face lit up with an impish smile. “You always were so easy to tease. Your father overdid it, though, to my way of thinking.”
Her words took him back to the endless shame his father had subjected him to, in order to “toughen him up,” in the elder Sidmouth’s words.
“He only did what his father had done to him. I never could get them to treat you boys properly.”
“I’m a grown man now, Dora. They can’t hurt me anymore.”
“Yes you are. And you should behave as a grown man.”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“You should fight for what’s yours.”
At his continued failure to catch her meaning, she waved an impatient hand.
“Your duchess. It’s shameful for you to let that woman stay out in the stable master’s cottage when it’s plain to everyone who sees the two of you together, you’re cow-simple about each other.”
He pulled at his neckcloth to give him room to breathe, and the room seemed suddenly overheated.
“Whatever happened in Venice, all you have to do is march out there to the cottage in the stable yard and fix it. Do you think you’re going to live as long as me? Probably not. You need to start living your life and let that woman love you and give you babies.”
Gad! This was the last conversation he wanted to have with his grandmother on the far side of eighty.
“Your Grace…”