Page 9 of The Duke's List

He rubbed his hands, a smug smile on his face.

“But…after I’ve heard your demands, youwilllisten to mine.”

Chapter Seven

Although Sidmouth was fairlycertain he’d won that round with his duchess, her last words had caused doubt to bubble up and niggle at his balloon of self-satisfaction. Shades of St. George…what did she mean byherdemands?

He followed Jane back out of the wagon to rejoin the troupe of actors enjoying the afternoon sun over tea, bowls of grapes, a board piled high with cheeses, and crusty loaves of bread. They were practicing songs from the production they’d perform at Bocollyn the following week once they’d finished turning the upstairs ballroom into a theater.

Nicholas and Nana had begged the Algernons to stageMuch Ado About Nothing, since they’d already memorized many passages from the play for the boy’s speech exercises to overcome his stuttering. Nicholas was over the moon with excitement when Mrs. Algernon had decreed he should play Claudio, the “young lord of Florence.” Nana had slyly claimed the part of Margaret, Hero’s maid, whose sensual scene with her lover creates the central tension of the play.

Nicholas’s mother, Harriet, would portray the heroine, Hero. Jane was set to play Beatrice opposite a Benedick to be portrayed by a local actor who was a little too handsome for Sidmouth’s taste. But he would reserve judgment and give the young man a chance.

Joseph Hawley was an unmarried tenant farmer who worked a bare two hectares near Truro. And for a man who tilled the soil, he exhibited just a bit too much dash and flair for Sidmouth’s taste. Since his main crops were wheat and potatoes, he spent a few months after harvest indulging his passion for acting with the Algernons’ troupe.

Sidmouth did not begrudge the man a bit of fun, but his jaw seemed just a little too square and perfect. Artful dimples appeared whenever he laughed, and a lock of dark hair seemed always to end up draped across one blue eye for a rakish look. And the man was tall, tall enough to look the duke in the eye. He didn’t have to wonder at the man’s effect on females.

While Joseph relayed a bit of a humorous tale, all the women at the table hung on his every word, including Sidmouth’s cousin Harriet. When he sneaked a sideways look at his duchess, Jane seemed to be ensnared as well in his lilting way with a story. Her mouth opened in a small “o” as the handsome bastard wove his tale.

Only one sensible woman seemed present at the table. She was the artist who’d come from London to help the Algernons with the design of backdrops for Bocollyn’s new stage. She had the lush figure of a Botticelli model, full lips, and gilded curls held back with a flourish of ribbons. She stared at him directly, actually borderline brazenly, for so long, he flushed and finally averted his gaze.

Jane followedthe tall footman from the stable master’s cottage to the vast Wyndham family conservatory sprawled behind the main house. When she walked through the framed glass door, Mrs. Smythe and her minions were mounding late season, delicate pink roses around the candelabra atop the small round table Sidmouth had chosen for their supper.

The heavy scent of the conservatory’s exotic lilies filled her head, nearly making her swoon with dizziness.

A large cart near the table held containers of food warmed by trays of steaming water on the shelf below. A second cart held oysters piled high atop a bucket filled with ice from the estate’s ice house. Another ice-filled bucket held a cooled bottle of something fizzy.

At a nod from Sidmouth, Mrs. Smythe and all the other servants vanished back toward the main house. The wood braziers normally used to warm the conservatory were banked and the flames flickered and glowed softly.

She’d wrapped herself in a heavy, woolen shawl against the night winds, but moved to take it off now. Her husband was immediately at her side and carefully removed the shawl from her shoulders.

She could sense the moment he realized the flesh-colored areas of the dress were not opaque. Ribbons of raven black beading undulated around the area of her breasts, stomach, lower regions and her buttocks. He sucked in a sharp breath, but still escorted her to her chair with little more than a light pressure from his hand on her shoulder.

She had to admit he had strong nerves. A lesser man might have caved in as soon as he’d been made aware of the carnal delights she offered. But not Sidmouth. He removed her empty plate from the cloth in front of her and moved steadily back to the carts laden with delicacies. He chose several oysters and lemon wedges for her plate before returning to the table to serve her before retrieving his own plate.

When he stood before her, she could not help herself. “This must be a first for you. Serving a meal without your usual army of servants?”

“What happens here tonight is strictly between you and me. We are the subject of enough gossip already. I’m not going to provide even more fodder.”

When he returned with the chilled bottle and filled her wine glass, she waited for him to fill his own and then raised her glass. “To your health and to a mutually agreeable outcome to our discussion tonight.” They drank a few sips and then the duke eagerly filled their glasses again.

“I have my own toast to offer-to the duchess returning to her rightful place in Bocollyn House.” When he lifted his glass, Jane set hers back down, her remaining wine sloshing from the solid thump back onto the fine linen tablecloth.

Sidmouth gritted his teeth.Why, why was this woman so stubborn?

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. Did I say something to offend you?”

Jane leaned close, causing saliva to gather in his mouth. From the angle she offered him, he did not have to imagine what lay beneath the fine black beading.

“It’s just that…how can I say this?” She gestured with her hand which made the beaded gown gap even more. Zeus, this woman was going to kill him. “Because you’re a duke, you assume my compliance as your duchess is a foregone conclusion.”

Anger clouded his thoughts and made his powers of analytical thinking fly through the vents in conservatory roof.

“You are my wife. You’re the Duchess of Sidmouth. This nonsense has to end. We’ve been well wedded and bedded for months. If you don’t know who I am by now, you never will.” With that he couldn’t contain his rage. He surged to his feet and commenced pacing. He had to pace or he might explode.

“I’m not asking for blind devotion, I don’t even demand, God forbid, your love.” He stopped suddenly and rushed back to her side, lowering his face close to hers. “But I do demand your respect. The people of Bocollyn deserve your respect.

“I don’t see how that will ever happen with you living in my stable master’s cottage and attending public events separately. Everyone’s talking about us in Falmouth. I’m surprised news of our havey-cavey setup hasn’t reached London.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Of course, the gossip probably has. Next I’ll be hearing from my Aunt Hermione. She has nothing better to do than gossip. Soon, the shops in the Strand will have cartoons of the two of us doing God knows what.”