Page 16 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

‘I certainly did not just pick her up, Mama. Eames has been trained by Lady Holme and she is an excellent semptress, as well as being very good with my hair.’

‘She did that style? I assumed that Maunday had dressed it for you.’

‘This is entirely Eames’s work, I assure you.’

‘Hmm… It appears competent enough, and Clarissa is always well turned out, so she would not stand for lax standards in her staff. You may keep the girl for now, although whether she has the experience to attend on a duchess remains to be seen.’

‘Thank you, Mama.’

And the Duke ‘remains to be seen’ as well, not just my maid…

* * *

His Grace the Duke of Leamington would call the following day at two thirty, Papa informed her the next morning after breakfast. He had apparently arrived in London rather earlier than expected.

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘I hope you are now aware of the very great opportunity this is for you and appreciate the benefits to your brothers of having such an influence on their future careers and prospects.’

The sons of a well-connected earl would, naturally, all expect to do well in life, but it was unarguable that the influence of a duke would be exceedingly valuable, whether they wanted to make excellent marriages, or the younger ones secure government positions or perhaps enter the diplomatic service.

‘Yes, indeed, Papa.’

The thought that if she turned down the Duke, it might disadvantage her brothers did concern her, but part of her rebelled at being the one whose own interests had to be sacrificed for the rest of the family, just because she was female.

They were all bright boys with advantages that the vast majority of the population could never hope to possess.

Piers would inherit the title, of course, and the others would make their own ways in the world, she was certain.

‘I am relying upon you to do your duty to the family and to our name.’

‘Yes, I know, Papa,’ Thea said earnestly. She could only hope that when she met the Duke she could agree to marry him.

Love, she did not expect, that was a lottery, perhaps a fantasy for someone like her. Yet again Thea clenched her fingers over her right palm and pushed away the memory of that kiss.

Liking and attraction were not love, she reminded herself, making herself focus on the prospect of the Duke.

There had to be liking and respect. And that respect must come from him too.

If he could not accept how much he had neglected her, insulted her by taking her for granted, then, no, she would not marry him.

What she would do if she refused him, she had no idea. Would Papa accept that, allow her to finish the Season in the hope of attracting another suitor? Surely, she wouldn’t be packed off to Cousin Elizabeth again, because if she was, then only barred widows and leg shackles would keep her there.

‘Very well, run along then. I expect your mother has a great deal to discuss with you.’

Mama did indeed, have much to say. There was the coiffeur who was coming that afternoon to be instructed, there was the lengthy discussions about which gown she should wear, with Eames laying out every single afternoon dress that she could find.

There was even the important matter of which piece of embroidery she should be working on while she waited for His Grace, so it could be casually put to one side for him to admire one of her suitably feminine talents.

When the coiffeur had finished with her, and Eames had earnestly listened to his instructions on curl papers for the night, there were her nails to trim and buff, her eyebrows to be scrutinised and her jewellery to be agonised over.

At least, Thea thought, the effort to stay patient and pleasant and to appear delighted at the fuss took her mind off tomorrow’s encounter.

* * *

The next day was hardly any better. Her complexion was inspected, difficult decisions were made about a little powder here, the merest touch of rouge there and perhaps lamp black on the lashes—all to be applied after a light luncheon.

She was forbidden from going out in case she became flushed with the exertion of walking and so had to sit calmly while the morning dragged past.

Luncheon was at twelve to allow plenty of time for dressing and primping and then, finally, it was time to sit in the drawing room, a piece of Mama’s half-finished embroidery on a frame and a basket of silks beside her so she could set a stitch or two.

At least she had a partial view out of the window to the street a few feet below, as the house had a half-basement and therefore a flight of steps to the front door. She would have a few moments warning when he arrived.

As the clocks chimed the half hour, a glossy town carriage drew up.

A footman jumped down to open the door and Thea caught a glimpse of the top of a tall hat.

There must have been someone watching from inside, because she heard the front door open and then the sound of masculine voices in the hallway.

There was another carriage slowing down outside. Distracted, she glanced at what she could see of that, wondering if another caller had chosen to arrive at just the wrong time, then the drawing room door opened and she stood up, sticking the embroidery needle into her thumb as she did so.

The pain was so sharp that she spoke without thought, staring at the figure in the doorway.

‘Hal?’ she whispered.

He must have arrived just before the Duke. How hideously embarrassing.

‘But—oh, my goodness, we are expecting—’

Drage, materialising just behind Hal, cleared his throat and announced, ‘His Grace the Duke of Leamington, my lady.’

Her mother moved past her, sending her a dagger glance and a hissed ‘Ssh!’ as she did so.

Thea craned to see past the men who seemed to fill the doorway—Hal, Drage and now Papa. Where was the Duke?

‘Your Grace.’ Mama came to a halt in front of Hal and…

And shook his hand.

‘Lady Wiveton. I am delighted to be here at last. It must be quite ten years, if not more, since we last met. I do hope I find you in the best of health.’

Thea, on her feet, clutched at the embroidery frame for support, convinced for the first time in her life that she was going to faint.

‘Do allow me to introduce you to my daughter because, although you have met a long time ago, I believe you will find she has changed out of all recognition since then. Thea, dear.’

Apparently, she had not fainted. Thea found herself walking forward, then took the hand held out to her and dropped her very best and deepest curtsey.

She met Hal’s eyes as she rose—somehow without collapsing at his feet—and found she could not read his expression at all. ‘Your Grace,’ she murmured as he released her hand.

Now Mama was going to order tea and expect her to pour and make inane conversation, and she didn’t think she could manage a word.

To her huge relief, Hal turned and smiled at her parents. ‘Sir, Lady Wiveton. I wonder if you will permit me a few minutes private conversation with Lady Thea? As old friends we have a great deal to catch up on.’

‘But of course.’ Predictably, Mama was already halfway to the door, urging Papa and Drage before her. ‘Do ring for refreshments, Thea dear.’

Thea was scarcely conscious of them leaving. She took two steps back away from him so she could see him properly. ‘You… You absolute… Swine. ’

The room began to blur and tilt and she reached out a hand, just conscious of it being take in a firm grasp before everything went black.