Page 5 of The Duke's List

After another long pause, she launched into him again. “What could possibly make you think such a thing about your wife?”

“Well, she…she…” He gave up and dropped his hands to his sides.

“What?” His cousin’s tone was insistent.

“She wanted things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things my duchess should not even know about. Things she could only know if she were…um…experienced.”

Harriet stood suddenly and gave him a teary look.

“What? What did I do?”

“I have no idea what you did or did not do, Sidmouth. But I do know one thing. Whatever that beautiful woman in your stable master’s cottage wants, you have to give it to her.”

While Sidmouth sat silent, stunned by her words, she raced from the room, slamming shut the heavy door. Her rapid footsteps echoed down Bocollyn’s vast, lonely hallway.

Chapter Four

Jane triedto ignore the crisp vellum note sealed with Sidmouth’s ring. A footman had delivered her correspondence, including the ominous-looking note from her husband. There were several letters on the pile addressed in feminine script from ladies in Falmouth, inviting her to various events. She’d gone through those first, putting off Sidmouth’s mysterious missive until last.

When she could resist no longer, she ripped the vellum from where it was sealed with a blood-red blob of wax. She had no idea what she’d expected, but the terse message left her more conflicted than before.

Please accompany the footman who will arrive to conduct you to a private supper this evening at Bocollyn House. He will arrive at eight o’clock sharp. It is time we talked. Do NOT deny me this. Bring your appetites - all of them.

- Cornelius

This was not a lover’s invitation, this was a challenge. The man had gall. He was deliberately goading her, and she didn’t like his tone one bit. However, an odd tingle snaked up her spine in spite of her best efforts to keep her anger stoked. She squirmed a bit in the hard wooden desk chair old Crofton had favored for sitting at the battered desk where he’d ruled Bocollyn’s stables for over forty years. Therewasthat one tiny phrase -Bring your appetites - all of them.What did he mean by that? She was afraid to hope. Could her stuffy husband be loosening up? Just a little?

She’d barely begun an answer to his invitation, when the cottage entry door slammed open, and the sound of dog toenails clicking echoed down the flagstone hallway to her small sitting room.

Nicholas appeared, breathless and surrounded by drooling mastiffs. “T-they’re here.” He stopped short and sucked in a deep breath.

“Who is here? Slow down, Nicholas. Think carefully of what you’re going to say.”

“The actors. They’re here. They’ve brought their wagons and acting props.”

Jane tried to move in a studied, adult way, but ended up bustling to the window overlooking the stable yard. She was every bit as excited as Nicholas, if not more so. It had been over a year since she’d enjoyed the company of her mother’s artistic circle. A small flutter in the vicinity of her heart started a small zing of hope. These were her people, at least the same kind of carefree, creative people who’d surrounded her throughout her childhood.

Three wagons stood in the stable yard. Mr and Mrs. Algernon she recognized from the night of the play in Falmouth. There was a handful of other persons milling about, unloading large canvas rolls through the back doors of the wagons.

Colorful painted murals covered the sides of the troupe’s wagons, showing scenes from the plays that were their trademark specialities:The Tempest,Twelfth Night,Othello,Macbeth, and…Much Ado About Nothing.

She remembered most of the details for the new family theater from the discussion after they’d all attended the staging ofOthelloin Falmouth. The troupe would perform one of their plays after helping the Wyndhams set up a theater in the cavernous Bocollyn House.

Since she’d determined not to venture into her husband’s lair, she had no idea which space in the sprawling Wyndham family estate would be appropriate for staging family theatricals. When Harriet appeared and enveloped Mrs. Algernon in a warm embrace, Jane realized she needn’t have worried. Harriet had grown up in Bocollyn House. She would know where to direct the acting troupe.

Sidmouth had summonedMrs. Smythe to his study to plan an intimate supper where perhaps, if he were lucky, he might be able to seduce his duchess and entice her into returning to his bed. To entice her back to where she belonged, beneath his roof, by God.

“I want a late supper to be served entirely so that we can serve ourselves, without footmen constantly barging about.”

His housekeeper’s brows flew heavenward. “So, we’ll be serving in the family dining room, not the formal hall?”

He wrinkled his brow in thought and after a few moments gave Mrs. Smythe an assessing look. “I can rely on your discretion?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The bleak stare she gave him accompanying her assurance said volumes. She was affronted that he would have to ask.