Page 11 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)

Chapter Nine

A warm, gentle breeze wafted through the open window of the carriage.

The countryside’s warm sun and fresh air were just what Archer needed to relieve his bitter, throbbing headache.

Much to his frustration, the three days in London had done very little to help his mood.

He kept finding himself thinking of Lydia, reaching for paper to write her a letter and then forcing himself not to.

In the end, he had given up and decided that he might as well escape the dank London air and return home.

The sounds of female voices accompanied by a smattering of piano told Archer his sisters were likely in the conservatory at the back of the house. “They are probably arguing again.”

Not unexpected, as his sisters were radically different. Juliet’s gentle temperament could only hold out so long, especially with Cora’s incessant need to be right.

Yet when he approached the door, he found himself looking at Cora, Juliet and the person he had been trying to avoid: his wife.

Juliet was sitting at the piano thumbing through the music while Cora tapped her foot impatiently. Lydia was shifting from foot to foot, anxiously twirling a lock of her dark hair.

“I still cannot believe you do not know how to waltz.” Cora shook her head in disbelief.

“I didn’t really have time for such things. I was either helping my father or my brother.” Lydia’s cheeks flushed.

“Well, Juliet doesn’t find something to play this side of Christmas, I fear you’ll never learn.”

Cora shot her sister an impatient glare, and Juliet snapped back, “You were the one who complained that the last piece I picked was far too dull.”

“Music should be lively, especially a waltz.” Cora ran a hand through her hair. “Perhaps I should have just taken Lydia to a commoner bar—they are far more fun than any ball!”

“And Archer would have skinned you alive.” Juliet shook her head. “Just because you do not wish to stay in the ton’s good graces does not mean that Lydia shares your wishes. Nor does it mean that I do.”

Before Cora could say anything, Juliet began to play the piano, and her sister grinned. “Now this is more like it!”

Cora stood in front of Lydia and swept into a bow. “Your Grace, might I have this dance.”

Lydia rolled her eyes but took Archer’s sister’s hand. He watched as his sister began to dance with Lydia stumbling through the steps even as she tried to keep her count.

“Sorry, I’m no good at this,” Lydia murmured as she stumbled.

“Nonsense, you just need a better teacher,” Archer found himself saying, his voice making Juliet and Lydia jump.

Cora arched an eyebrow at him, a challenge in her eyes. “If you think you can do better, brother dearest, be my guest.”

Archer knew she was baiting him, but he ignored her and strode towards Lydia. He swept into a low bow. “May I have this dance?”

Lydia nodded, and Archer moved to stand with her. He guided her hands gently, adjusting her frame ever so slightly. “Shoulders back. Yes, like that.”

He placed one of her hands on his shoulders and took her other hand in his. Then he placed his hand on her waist, feeling her tense and then relax at his touch.

“Cora, count for us.” He glanced at his sister, who rolled her eyes but did as he asked.

Cora clapped a slow rhythm, and Archer began to waltz. “Dancing is about leading and following. It is not enough to know the steps. You must know how to follow or to lead if you are the gentleman.”

“Is this your way of telling me that you expect me to obey you, husband dear?” Lydia’s eyes narrowed.

“You did vow it.” He grinned at her.

“And you vowed to cherish me,” she shot back, her eyes dancing. “But we both know that was a lie.”

Archer shrugged. “Touche. Following is not about obeying. It is about trust?”

“Trust?”

“Yes. You have to trust in your partner, trust that they will be there to meet each of your steps.” He stepped back, demonstrating, and Lydia matched his movements. “And likewise, they must trust that you will surrender to them.”

“I had not realized you were so poetic, Archer.” Lydia canted her head. “But your description has made me even more convinced that I will never get the hang of this.”

“I doubt that, Duchess.” He grinned at her, liking the way her title made her shiver. “I suspect you could do anything you set your mind to.”

“Always with the pretty words,” she murmured.

“Perhaps I am hoping that one day you will believe them.” He answered, glancing over her shoulder and signaling to Juliet who began to play music. “And now, we waltz.”

He led her, and to his surprise, she followed. Her steps were not perfect, but they were not stiff. Her eyes widened in surprise and delight as they moved across the dance floor.

“I’m doing it!” She beamed at him, her excitement infectious.

“I told you, you could do it.” He met her step, feeling her surrender to his lead.

He spun her, and she let out a gasp, but she did not falter. His smile broadened. He barely heard his sister clap as he spun Lydia again, the sound of her laughter filling the room.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a rather pretty laugh?” Archer asked, the words tumbling from him before he could stop them.

“No.”

“Well, you do.”

“So do you. Well, not pretty. It is too rich to be pretty. It reminds me of molten chocolate and the ripest strawberries. Sweet and decadent.”

“You flatter me.”

“It only seems fair. Just mind it does not go to your head.”

It is not my head I am worried about. “Oh, I suspect you’ll be only too happy to take me down a peg or two if needed.”

“Potentially.” She smiled.

“My turn!” Something collided with his leg, and the spell was broken.

“Iris!” Cora and Juliet both exclaimed.

Lydia was standing away from him, shaking her head as though just waking from a dream. He glanced down at his niece who was still beaming up at him. For the first time in his life, he felt irritated at her interruption.

He swallowed it down. “It is not polite to interrupt someone before the song is finished. You would be quite cross if someone did that to you.”

Iris looked abashed and swallowed. “I’m sorry Uncle Dash, Auntie Lydia.”

“It is okay, Iris. I needed to stop the lesson anyway. I have… I have things I need to attend to.” Lydia swallowed and looked at Juliet then Cora and then finally back at Archer. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” Archer’s voice was hoarse.

Lydia left the room, and Iris tugged on Archer’s trouser leg. “It’s my turn.”

“Yes, Iris. It’s your turn.” He picked her up and placed her on his feet, gently swaying with her as the music played. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to since I went away?”

Iris began whittering away, telling him about all her little adventures, and Archer let it wash over him.

Usually he would listen intently, but his eyes kept wandering towards the door until Iris said, “And then I bumped into Auntie Cora, and she got cross because I got mud on her trousers. So, I told her she smelled bad. And she said?—”

“When was this?” Archer stopped dancing and fixed his niece with a gaze, hearing Cora’s sharp intake of breath.

Iris gave him a disapproving look. “Yesterday, like I said, Uncle Dash.”

“Juliet—take Iris for a walk in the garden. The groundskeeper was telling me about a bunny warren he has just found.” Archer’s voice brooked no argument, and he knew that Iris would jump at the chance to see bunnies.

He waited until Juliet and Iris were out of earshot before he turned to face Cora, whose face was bright red. “We talked about this Cora.”

His sister swallowed. “It was nothing, Dash. Just a little bit of fun. I just went to the gentleman’s club, had a few drinks with the lads, and came home.”

“Cora, do not lie to me.” He took a step towards her. “I tolerated your shenanigans because they gave you freedom and suited my needs. My rakish reputation kept the mothers of the ton from my door, but things are different now. I am married—I cannot be a rake anymore. Do you understand?”

It had started innocently enough. His sister had wanted to do things that only men could do, and she had been so similar in looks to him that she had passed herself off as him.

It helped that she only seemed to want to go to the seedier bars where men were so far into their cups they could hardly tell up from down, let alone man from woman.

“I know Dash. I know that.” Cora made an appeasing gesture with her hands.

“Do you? Because it seems like you have disobeyed me. I swore to Lydia that I would not embarrass her. That I would not shame her with infidelity.”

“Dash, nothing like that happened, I promise. Besides, you know it’s never more than a little flirting.”

“Damn it, Cora. A little flirting is unacceptable. I will not have you embarrass Lydia like that. Do you understand me?” He clenched his fist, body shaking with anger.

“I didn’t do that! I swear. I just… I wanted to get out, I wanted to sculpt and get some clay, and you weren’t home, and they always charge me double if they know I am a woman, and one thing led to another, and then we were out drinking.

” Cora swallowed. “But I was a perfect gentleman. I like Lydia too, Dash. I wouldn’t humiliate her like that. ”

Something in his sister’s tone broke through his anger, and he nodded. “Good.”

The sound of shattering glass caught his attention, and he hurtled out of the room “What happened?—”

“Uncle! Uncle!” Iris leaped out from behind the couch and raced toward Archer, arms outstretched in anticipation. He swept her up in a big hug before he turned his attention back to the broken vase.

“I’m sorry, Dash. She slipped away from me when my back was turned.” Juliet looked abashed.

Archer shook his head. “Iris, you need to stay away from broken objects, especially glass. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Iris looked down at her tiny hands apologetically. Unsurprisingly, there was a small cut. “I wanted to give the flowers to the bees.”

“What for? There are plenty of flowers in the garden, and if you want, we can plant more.” He looked at Juliet who shrugged.

“Auntie Lydia told me about beekeepers,” Iris said excitedly. “I want to keep bees when I grow up. You need to get me a proper beekeeping teacher, so I can become the greatest beekeeper in the world.” Iris threw her arms out, fanning them in a dramatic display to accompany her statement.

Iris squealed. “I can give the bees a place to live and feed them flowers. And after the bees eat the flowers, they will go home and make honey all day long! So then, I’ll have a never-ending supply of honey!”

“That’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart,” Archer said softly, “but it’s a lot of work to take care of bees.”

“I can do it!” Iris shouted. “I will, I promise. I’ll feed and water them every day. I’ll clean up after them. I’ll even take them on walks. I promise. Auntie Lydia said I could!”

“Lady Iris, we have been over this several times. You must refer to the duchess as ‘Her Grace’.” Miss Boyd walked in at that moment, looking as shrewd as ever. “Not Auntie Lydia. And bees are not dogs. You do not have to feed them or take them on walks.”

“You spoil everything!” Iris snapped, wriggled out of Archer’s grip, and jumped to the floor.

“Iris! Be careful.” Archer lunged for his niece, but she darted away from him, sticking her tongue out at Miss Boyd.

Iris turned back to Archer, angry tears forming in her little eyes. “Auntie Lydia said I can call her whatever I’d like. So, I’m going to call her Auntie!”

Iris raced out of the sitting room with Miss Boyd hot on her heels, shouting at her to come back.

“Miss Boyd,” Archer called out after them, “make sure she gets a bandage on her hand.”

Unsure if the governess had heard him, his tempering frustration deepened. He might have to admit Miss Boyd was not the right person for Iris.

The day was wearing away at his soul. He had many things to fix and disentangle, and all of it had to be discussed with his wife. The thought was oddly comforting and hopefully would take off a great weight that was resting on his shoulders.