Page 22 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)

Chapter Twenty

“ H ow is she, doctor?” Lydia stood over Iris, who was tucked away in bed with a fever.

Iris groaned softly, and Lydia laid a hand on her forehead.

She had sent Cora and Juliet away with their brother after he had threatened to hunt Miss Boyd down and strangle her.

The woman had hidden Iris’ symptoms for days, applying cold water to the child’s forehead whenever she could—not to treat the fever but to hide it.

“She is past the worst of it though it would have been much better if I had been sent for sooner.” The doctor shook his head. “Her fever is coming down, but just to be safe, I’ll give her something for the fever and make a mustard plaster. I’ll need full access to your kitchen.”

“Yes, of course, Doctor. You’ll have complete access to anything you need,” Lydia replied quickly.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my best to remedy Her Ladyship’s illness quickly.” The doctor allowed Mr. Lloyd to lead him to the kitchens.

Juliet and Cora were waiting outside the door, and Juliet rushed in as soon as the door was open, sitting beside Iris and dabbing gently at her forehead with a cold rag. It was clear she was tired.

“Where is Archer?” Lydia asked.

“In his study.” Cora’s face was white. “I cannot believe we did not spot this sooner. I feel like such an idiot.”

“It is not your fault. It is that bloody Miss Boyd.” Lydia clenched her hands into fists. “I knew she was a baggage, but I had no idea she would do something like this. If I ever get my hands on her…”

“There is a pig farm nearby if the day ever comes. They eat anything and everything.” Cora’s eyes were dark with fury.

Lydia looked back once more at Iris, who was sound asleep, before rushing to Archer’s study.

Predictably, he was pacing the floor—Lydia was surprised he had not worn a hole in the rug “What did the doctor say about Iris?”

“He requested control of the kitchen to prepare remedies for Iris’s fever.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Archer ran a hand through his hair. “Curse me for a fool. If I hadn’t been so stubborn… I should have known. I should have seen that she was sick.”

“It may be your fault that that woman stayed with us for as long as she did, but it is she who hid Iris’ illness from us.

I was so caught up refurbishing the dowager cottage, I even roped in Juliet and Cora to help me.

” Lydia shook her head. “If I had just been more patient, tried to convince you a different way…”

“If anything happens to her…” Archer trailed off, his face ashen.

“Nothing will happen to her,” Lydia said with more confidence than she felt. “We have to stay calm. If she sees us worrying about her like this, that will not help things one bit.”

Archer nodded numbly. “I suppose. If I ever get my hands on that accursed woman.”

“I think you will have to get in line.” Lydia leaned against Archer without thinking. “I suppose we shall have to let those theatre tickets go to waste.”

“You should go. There is no reason you should miss out.”

“How could I go with Iris like this?”

“Both of you should go.” Cora’s voice sounded from behind them, making them both jump. “Iris is sick, but she’ll be furious if she finds out you missed the play because of her. Or she’ll feel terrible.”

“But—” Lydia began, but Cora cut her off.

“You have been with her most of the day while we stopped Archer doing something stupid. Juliet and I will look after her. If anything goes wrong, we will send for you at once. But you heard the doctor, she is out of the worst, and the last thing she needs is you two feeling guilty.”

Lydia gave her sister-in-law a weak smile. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that.”

Archer had Mr. Lyall clean and lay out his dark blue tailcoat with a pair of black pantaloons. He was tucking in his cravat when a knock sounded at his door.

“The carriage waits for you, Your Grace,” Mr. Lyall said from behind his door.

“Thank you, Mr. Lyall.” Archer hesitated and then followed the man down the stairs.

“And Her Grace is with Lady Iris though Lady Cora is trying to encourage her to leave,” Mr. Lyall added.

“Very good, Mr. Lyall. That will be all.” Archer dismissed the man and rushed down the stairs, finding himself outside of Iris’s room.

Cora was standing in front of it and threw her hands up in the air. “Oh good, you’re here. Take your wife, and go to the theatre.”

Archer hesitated, looking between Lydia, his sister, and his niece. Iris’ eyes flickered open briefly and then closed as she made a brief squeak. Archer moved towards her, but Cora held up a hand.

“Dash, please. Let us look after her. We know what we’re doing. You and Lydia go out and have a nice night on the town.” Cora made a shooing motion. “Besides, Iris was chattering a few moments ago, so I’ve no doubt she’ll be right as rain after a good sleep.”

Archer swallowed and exchanged a look with Lydia. He knew how much she had been looking forward to this and knew that Iris would be furious at him for making Auntie Lydia sad.

“You send runners to the theater if she takes a turn,” Archer said and then swept out of the door with Lydia before they could change their mind.

In his distraction, he had not really paid attention to what his wife was wearing. But as he helped her into the carriage, his breath stuck in his throat. Lydia was wearing the brand-new dress they had purchased on their shopping excursion.

The dark red dress with roses adorning the bottom half of the skirt did not compare to its sketch counterpart. What Mrs. Barkley had created bolstered his wife’s confidence. Every line of her looked as though it had been carved by cupid.

She gave him a nervous smile, smoothing her dress self consciously. “Do I look all right? I could not decide what to wear, and I worried this might be too much, and then with Iris, I did not know if this was the wrong thing to do or if?—”

He cut her off, his voice hoarse, “You look divine, Duchess.”

“As do you, Duke.” His wife looked him over, and he felt her own appreciative gaze stretch across his skin.

Archer leaned back in the carriage.

“I hope Iris will be okay.”

“She will be.” Archer squeezed her hand. “My sisters are looking after her. You heard what Cora said; she was up just a little while ago.”

“I know, but…”

“I know.” Archer swallowed. “I suspect if we keep dwelling on her, that will dominate the entire evening.”

“Probably.” Lydia hugged her arms around herself, and without thinking, Archer draped his arm over her, letting her lean against him. His heart thundered in his chest so loud he was sure she must be able to hear it. “And she would not want that.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Lydia cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, not if she couldn’t enjoy it. No.” Archer let out a soft laugh.

“Cora gave me this as we were leaving.” She held out a flask of whiskey to him. “She said it would help take the edge off.”

“I suspect she is probably right. We could use the distraction.” Archer took a swig from the flask, the liquid burning his throat pleasantly.

He handed it back to Lydia, who drank from it with such expertise that Archer could not help but be impressed. “I did not think you were a scotch drinker.”

“I am rather partial to it actually.” She shrugged. “Men are always rather impressed when you can drink like them. It gave me somewhat of a business advantage. Though right now, I don’t think it would. I can’t seem to stop shaking.”

“Are you cold?” He pulled her closer to him, feeling her stiffen and then relax into this touch. “I could give you my coat.”

“I suspect Cora would kill me if I ruined the lines of my dress.” Lydia laughed.

“She never has to know.” Archer grinned.

“Your sister always manages to find out. She is like Titania…. No, Oberon in that way. Oh, I wonder who is playing Oberon? You know, I heard that they were thinking of swapping the roles of Titania and Oberon, but then the players said it would not work. Though I think it would be interesting, it adds… Well, it would add an interesting dynamic to their relationship, don’t you think. Oh God. I’m rambling.”

“A little, but I quite like it.” Archer laughed. “It is so nice to see you speak so passionately about something you like. You seemed to be so taken in.”

For the past ten minutes or so, he had been twirling a small loose strand of hair dangling from the nape of her neck.

“Was I?” she breathed and glanced over her shoulder to see his arm resting against the back of the carriage and around her.

Archer dropped his hand, brushing a finger lightly down her arm, sending small shivers through his wife. His heart pounded in his ears as he leaned in.

“Your Grace,” the coachman shouted from his perch, startling the couple. “We’ve arrived.”

Archer smiled, even as he felt shakier than he would have liked. “We’re here.” He got out first and helped his wife out of the carriage.

The Duchess’ eyes grew wide as she took in the magnificent splendor of the Covent Garden.

“Wait till you see how it looks on the inside,” he whispered in her ear.

She looked at him with wonder. The immense joy in her eyes could barely be contained as she grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the theater’s entrance.

He could barely slow her down long enough to give the usher their tickets.

Inside was floor-to-ceiling seating, and multiple stories held multiple rows of chairs. Their usher brought them to a private box closest to the stage.

Archer quietly thanked the usher and provided gratuity. Lydia, however, was in her own little world as she looked over the balcony at the large stage and the many rows of seats just now starting to be filled in by the wealthy patrons.

A large man came out from behind the curtains. On stage, he stood before the crowd and called them to attention, “Lords and ladies,” the man cried. “Please, take your seats. We will begin shortly.”

The Duchess squealed in delight. She was giddy as a five-year-old who was told Father Christmas would be visiting them. His heart swelled, and he took a sip of whiskey to calm his jittering nerves. What is wrong with me?

As the curtains rose and the lights dimmed, he took her warm hand in his and gave it a squeeze. She squeezed his back.

Theseus strode onto the stage, a handsome man with a proud bearing. Lydia leaned against Archer, and he missed all of the man’s next lines as sensation flooded his body.

If anyone asked him how the play had been, he doubted he would be able to recount a single scene.

He had become far too engrossed in Lydia’s reactions.

How her lips parted in shock, how her hand grabbed his when passionate moments arose, or how she looked on intensely, not wanting to miss a moment of the spectacle.

It was so dark in the theater that only under the light glow of the stage did Archer revel in the joy on the Duchess’ face as the final act played out. As Oberon moved to Titania, he realized that his wife was mouthing the fairies’ words.

“My Oberon! What visions I have seen. Me thought I was enamoured of an ass!” Lydia looked at him, and he felt his heart stir at the mischief in her eyes. “If you ever played that kind of trick on me, I would be furious.”

“Then it is lucky I am no fairy King and that I do not have a taste for such assery.” He winked at her.

Lydia rolled her eyes, but a smile stole across her face. “And yet here you are, making terrible puns. If that does not make you an ass, then I don’t know what does.”

“Does this mean you are enamoured of me, dear lady?” He meant it to sound teasing, but his voice was breathless.

“In dreams, perhaps.” She nudged against him and then muttered, “Now shhh. I love this bit.”

“You would love when the lovers are reunited.” He leaned against her.

“You were the one who said you liked comedies because there was too much darkness in the world,” she teased, her breath tickling his neck. “Besides, it’s nice to see everyone end up with who they are supposed to. Even if Demetrius is the worst.”

“Perhaps loving Helena will improve him. They say love has that sort of effect on a man.” Archer muttered.

He looked at her then as she started longingly up at him.

“Hermia got the man she desired, and Helena too,” he whispered to her, his eyes drawn to her lower lip as it got caught between her teeth.

“Now, if I were Oberon, you would surely punish me,” he said as he took a strain of her hair and kissed it.

“And I would doubtless beg your forgiveness for making you love an ass.”

“Perhaps loving an ass would not be so bad,” the Duchess whispered, and he felt her breath on his lips. There was an odd catch in her voice.

He could almost taste her rose-red lips, so sweet yet poisonous. He desperately craved to know the soft pull of her bottom lip between his teeth as she generously nibbled on hers without restraint.

“You are so undeniably beautiful,” he whispered as he drew closer, smelling her intoxicating marjoram soap. The smell brought him back to their first night together. He had wanted to kiss her back then but even more so now.

Archer hadn’t realized his hand had reached up to cradle her neck until his fingers brushed lightly along the ridge of her jaw. His lips brushed against hers ever so lightly. She let out a soft whimper, waiting intently for him to cross the line.

But he didn’t.

The smell of whiskey permeated the air, and then the audience broke into applause. The lights of the theatre were re-lit, and the spell was broken.

“We should go. The crowds will make leaving slow going,” he murmured as he drew back, his heart thundering in his chest.

He thought he saw a look of hurt or disappointment flash in Lydia’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to be sure. He had come too close to giving in.

He had lost himself in her, and that terrified him. He had seen what that kind of power could do to a man. He had felt how Lydia already seemed to wield it over him.

“I suppose we should.” Lydia’s face was turned from him, but he heard the catch in her voice.

More than that, he felt it like a punch to the gut.

He reached towards her, his fingers stretching, and then stopped himself. “Let’s go home.”

He waited until she stood but made no move to move closer to her. He needed to get back under control, to return to familiar ground.

When did I become so lost?