Mending the Duke’s Pride

by Admirand, C. H.

  She watched him intently until he felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting across from her. He rose to walk to the window where he stood without seeing what lay beyond the panes of glass.

  “And where would you be?”

  Her quietly asked question had him wondering, would she have a change of heart depending upon how he answered? Digging deep past the only thing that kept him upright most days…his pride, he answered, “I have duties when Parliament is in session, filling my father’s seat in the House of Lords. A duty I will not shirk.”

  “Isn’t Parliament in session now?” she asked, before adding, “I confess to not knowing if there is more than one session. I should have paid more attention when mother spoke of Father’s duties regarding Parliament.”

  “Yes, since November. However, I have only just officially taken over my brother’s duties and have yet to actually claim the Wyndmere hereditary seat in the House of Lords.”

  “Does it coincide with the Season? I seem to recall Father going to the House of Lords in the afternoons and meeting mother and me at various balls. But we left for the country before he was able to.”

  He stopped in front of Persephone, once again, drawn to her openness and lack of artifice. “Lady Persephone, I am in great need of your guidance in a rather personal nature.”

  She shot to her feet and walked to the door. Before she could reach it, he laid a hand atop hers. “That sounded far different in my mind before saying it aloud. Please let me rephrase that.” He paused and drew her back over to the settee. “My sister was due to be presented at Court and enjoying her first Season before…that is to say…”

  Momentarily at a loss for how to ask what he needed to know, he struggled with his pride and his need to ask for help.

  Persephone did not look away. She kept her gaze on him, finally asking, “Mayhap I can discern what you are trying to ask. If I may?”

  He motioned with one hand for her to proceed.

  “Your younger sister is of an age to have her first Season. Is she seven and ten or eight and ten?”

  “Eight and ten…just.”

  “I see, and you are her legal guardian?”

  “Yes. Our mother died when Phoebe was born. After father died, Edward and I kept close watch over our sister. With all that was happening during our brother’s term as the fifth duke, we felt it best to keep her at Wyndmere Hall…or if Oliver was at Wyndmere, we’d go to Lippincott Manor.”

  She nodded. “You need someone to act as chaperone and introduce your sister to other debutantes of her age and, of course, gentlemen worthy of courting a duke’s sister.”

  Yes, exactly…well as to part of the reason he offered marriage to Persephone. He closed his eyes and prayed she would reconsider his offer, for the only way to truly help was to live in the same house, and be on hand for all of his sister’s questions, invariable worries and other female matters he truly had no desire to even contemplate.

  “It would probably require my full attention, were I to agree to chaperone your sister during the rest of the Season.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I believe it is my turn to ask a distinctly personal question.”

  “By all means,” he said.

  “Would this marriage be in name only, or do you wish me to produce the heir and a spare?”

  His mouth opened and closed, yet no sound emitted. He felt like the bloody trout he’d landed last summer. Swallowing his pride, he answered, “It would be my duty to…er…”

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Shall I?” she asked. “I had not thought of marrying at all, as I am certain my mother would have told you.”

  He nodded. “She did.”

  “And I prefer living in the country above all things.”

  Again, he nodded. He did not want to say anything to interrupt her present course.

  “I had thought to one day marry…in the distant future.”

  He knew her to be two and twenty and wondered how long she had planned to put off marriage, but knew better than to ask just now. In response, he nodded.

  “But I feel for your sister,” she told him. “To be so young and without her mother or father to guide her in her first Season. It’s quite overwhelming, all that you need to know. How to act, who to speak to and who not to, the proper wardrobe—does your sister need to have that attended to?”

  He felt his heart slide back down his throat to where it belonged, lodged in the middle of his chest where it began to slowly beat again. “I have made a tentative appointment for Madame Beaudoine to meet with my sister, Phoebe, in a sennight. If I am able to sort out a few issues that require my full attention by that time.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Then your sister may possibly be arriving in London as early as next week?”

  “It is possible.”

  “And when did you plan to fit marrying me into your schedule? Before or after she arrives?”

  He felt his cheeks warm and embarrassment sweep up from his toes. “Truth be told, I hadn’t thought to marry for quite some time.” If she was going to be his wife, he would begin as he intended to go forward—with honesty and forthrightness.

  “I see. Then your proposal is an afterthought, or somehow has become more urgent than it had been.”

  There was a definite edge to her voice and a strain around her eyes that had not been there moments before. “No. It is now most definitely a part of my plans.”

  “But the timing has changed, due to your sister’s coming to London.”

  “Lady Persephone, I do beg your forgiveness, but there are reasons I must act now.”

  “Reasons you care not to divulge?” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Are there other candidates waiting should I refuse your offer?”

  “Bloody hell,” he ground out.

  She had the temerity to smile at him. “At last, a true reaction. It has been quite a long time coming. Your restraint echoes your pride, Your Grace.”

  He inclined his head. “I do not indulge in parlor games,” he bit out.

  “Nor do I,” she quipped. “But my future is not something I take lightly, nor is your offer of marriage, although I had thought I refused you.”

  He found his first smile. “Aye,” he said, “you had, but that was before you knew where my intentions lie.”

  “Your sister’s welfare and that of your brother above your own,” she said quietly. “My father would have approved of your suit and my accepting such. But…”

  He raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

  “But I would know the other reasons you are marrying in such haste.”

  “I am not accustomed to sharing my reasons for anything I say or do.”

  “Then I cannot imagine we would get on, should I change my mind and accept your offer.”

  That rendered him speechless. The duke could only stare at the woman he thought to marry.

  “If one cannot trust the person one is expected to spend the rest of one’s life with,” Persephone said slowly, “who then should they trust?”

  “You make a valid point,” he acceded. “I still hope to change your mind but am not certain what your reaction would be should I confide one of my reasons for offering.”

  He could see by the look on her face that he had her full attention now.

  “If I promise to withhold any untoward reaction, and to guard my tongue, would you reveal it?”

  He saw she truly had no desire to berate him or belittle him and sought only the truth from him. How could he refuse?

  “Very well, but I would caution you against taking offense.”

  “You have my word,” she promised.

  “I have assigned two of my men to guard you…from a respectable distance. In view of all that has occurred in the last few weeks, I cannot help but feel a responsibility for it all.”

  Her eyes filled, but she did not give way to tears. She held her head high. “You are not at fault for what I somehow brought upon myself,” she reasoned.
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  “I disagree,” he said. “Society is fickle. Those that move about it at the very highest level have little to do with their time. Idle hands and all that.”

  She watched him for long moments without speaking. Finally, she nodded. “I would thank you for your concern, Your Grace.”

  “Is that all?”

  She shook her head, and fully met his gaze. “I have had a change of heart.”

  Relief filled him. “Then you will consent to be my wife…my duchess?”

  “Yes, Your Grace, I do believe I will.”

  “Excellent. We can be married by Special License immediately.”

  *

  “Can we not wait—”

  “I mean to have you installed in my town house as soon as possible,” the duke told her.

  “I see.” And she may have truly, if she hadn’t felt so overwhelmed and compelled to marry this man standing so close to her…the cloth of his trousers nearly touching the hem of her gown.

  The deep blue of his eyes held her captive as he held out his hands and drew her to her feet. “I promise to do my utmost to ensure your happiness.”

  She sighed. “If we are to be spending more time in London, I doubt that would be possible.”

  “Once Phoebe has been presented at Court and has received her vouchers for Almack’s and attended a few balls, meeting eligible gentlemen—”

  “In other words, by the end of July, you may be ready for us to rusticate in the country.”

  “I can promise you will not be bored. And before July, mayhap we can take a few days to visit Wyndmere Hall. I do believe you will be pleased with your new home.”

  She tipped back her head when he said that last. “I am grateful for your patience and your willingness to explain your need to marry and understanding my hesitance in accepting your offer immediately. I would never wish to cause you embarrassment but, inadvertently, I may.”

  “As long as that would not be your intention,” he said quietly, still holding on to her hand. “Lady Persephone,” he rasped, “I do believe this may turn out to be quite an advantageous marriage for us both.”

  She smiled and was thrown completely off guard when he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. Her breath caught and held before she thought to breathe again, drawing in the much-needed air.

  “Shall we—” Her words slid back down her throat as his brilliant sapphire gaze met hers and he slowly turned her hand over. Never letting his gaze waver from hers, he slowly lifted her hand once again—palm up—to press a devastatingly tender kiss right there…in the very center.

  She curled her hand into a fist instinctively, holding the kiss captive as if to never let it go. Later, she thought, she could pull it out late at night after a long day spent chaperoning his sister through what she knew would be a tedious round of entertainment for the next few months.

  “Your Grace—”

  “Jared,” he murmured.

  It was then she noted he had yet to release her hand. “Er…quite so, Lord Jared.”

  “Just Jared,” he corrected her.

  She sighed out his name and his eyes reflected a glow she hoped to see there more than just this once. The Sixth Duke of Wyndmere, her soon-to-be-husband and partner for life, looked happy for the first time since she’d met him.

  He was still smiling when he asked, “Shall we share our happy news with your mother?”

  She nodded. Her ability to speak quite affected by the intensity in his gaze. When had that happened? He’d gone from smiling and happy to—oh, dear—he truly did intend to follow through and play his part in producing his heir and a spare.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Everything is falling into place, the duke thought. His personal guard had routed out no less than three attempts to do him—and his brother—bodily harm. He’d just secured Lady Persephone’s promise to wed and chaperone his sister during the remainder of the Season.

  Tomorrow, after they were wed, he could turn his attentions to more important matters: discovering the connections and vile persons attempting to ruin his family and Lady Persephone’s reputation.

  A glance at the woman at his side had him wondering if she would be tempted to dance in the moonlight with him again or did that sort of thing change once one married. He had no idea, and no one to ask, knowing well-meaning contemporaries and members of the ton would no doubt question the hasty marriage and his questionable—in some eyes—choice of bride.

  He had not been ensnared by her right off—hardly with her penchant for bilious-colored gowns. The spectacles were not off-putting as others of his association would have it. Nay, they magnified the warmth of her eyes…a rich brown that hinted of desires yet unleashed.

  He doubted any other gentleman had gotten close enough to discover that entrancing tidbit about the lovely woman who’d accepted his offer and would become his bride…his wife…his partner for the rest of his days. Given the attempts on his life, he had no idea how long that might be.

  With that thought in mind, he would make it a point to visit his solicitors immediately after speaking with Lady Farnsworth about his desire to be married by Special License on the morrow. He had no doubt he would secure her acceptance. After all, as his brother had reminded him recently, who would dare refuse a duke?

  Persephone had—at first. “Bloody hell.”

  Lady Persephone turned to stare at him. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

  “I do beg yours, Lady Persephone,” he rumbled. “I am thinking out loud.”

  “About our forthcoming marriage?” She sounded quite miffed at possibility.

  “Nay,” he said. “Just remembered an appointment I need to keep. Do you think your mother—”

  Lady Farnsworth bustled into the salon. “Your Grace,” she acknowledged him first, then her daughter, “Persephone. I trust you have good news for me?”

  “Quite,” he said. “Your daughter has graciously accepted my offer.”

  Lady Farnsworth beamed. He hadn’t seen a smile quite that bright since—he could not remember. “I think a wedding next spring would be marvelous, so many lovely flowers, the air light and sweet…you could be married at our Sussex estate.”

  Before she continued with her plans, the duke spoke up. “I’ve made arrangements to be married to Lady Persephone on the morrow. It would please me to have her installed in my London home as soon as possible.”

  “But why the haste?” she asked, looking from one to the other and then glaring at the duke.

  Who in the name of God glared at a duke? No one had ever done so when his father held the title. Had he failed already? Was there something lacking in his mien and consequence? He’d never worried about such things before his brother…no, he’d not go back there and flounder in the whys and wherefores. He could not change the past, but he could change the future.

  Deciding to use his rank to his full advantage, he met her glare with a raised eyebrow until her glare faded. When he nodded, she sighed.

  “I would wish for my daughter to have a celebration to remember.”

  The duke knew then it wasn’t the haste that had bothered his future mother-in-law, it was the lack of ceremony. “I would be most grateful if you would arrange a ball, inviting your family and closest friends. I shall have my man-of-affairs supply you with my list of guests.”

  Lady Farnsworth raised her chin just a bit, accepting the challenge before verbalizing such. “When would Your Grace be holding this ball to celebrate your marriage? Surely not tomorrow evening?”

  He could not let her think it was for his marriage alone, he would be honest with his mother-in-law as well as his future bride. “Is a fortnight enough time to arrange such?”

  She smiled. “Yes. I shall draw up the list at once for your approval. Is there a limit to the number of guests?”

  He thought about it. Keeping it on the smaller side would ensure his men would be able to sec
ure the perimeter of his home. “One hundred,” he answered. “With one caveat, I would ask you to include five eligible gentlemen.”

  “For what purpose?” She was back to sounding agitated again.

  “My sister, Lady Phoebe.”

  “I see,” Lady Farnsworth murmured. “I do not believe I have met your sister. Has she made her debut?”

  “Due to the change in our familial structure, we have had to postpone her debut.”

  “Of course,” Lady Farnsworth acknowledged. “With your permission, I’m sure Persephone and I would love to meet Lady Phoebe.”

  The duke looked from his intended to his future mother-in-law before answering. “She is at our country estate. I will be making the journey to bring her back.”

  “Is your estate far from London?” Persephone’s mother asked.

  The duke closed his eyes and sighed. “The Lake District…on Lake Windermere.”

  “Isn’t that a few days’ journey,” Persephone asked, “one way?”

  “I was only thinking of marrying you and bringing my sister to London after we wed.”

  “Mayhap we should amend the timing for your first ball,” Lady Farnsworth suggested.

  The duke nodded. “Indeed. It will take at least a fortnight to make the journey and back to London—without any delays due to weather or other happenstance. Will a month be enough time?”

  He relaxed when she readily agreed. “This will give you a fortnight to become acquainted with your new charge.”

  Persephone beamed at her mother, saying, “I am to chaperone the duke’s sister.”

  Her mother blanched. He’d never seen anyone lose every ounce of color that quickly. “And do you think that is wise?”

  The duke did not approve of the tone or the way the mother questioned the daughter. “I have every faith Lady Persephone, on the morrow to be Duchess of Wyndmere, will guide my sister through the rigors of society with aplomb.”

  Lady Farnsworth sighed—again—he noted, only deeply this time with what he suspected was resignation. “I meant no disrespect, Your Grace.”

  He had other matters to attend to, therefore, he kept his reply short. “Indeed.”