But she cared. And she cared about the welfare of all of the people in this house, even the ones who didn’t shovel out the grate properly, or broke glasses, or salted the food excessively.
Although he didn’t know if she would retain someone if they allowed her precious tea to get cold.
But he did have immediate vacancies, and he thought he knew where to start to get them filled. He pulled a fresh piece of paper from his rapidly dwindling stack and wrote a quick letter to the Quality Employment Agency. They had been the ones to place him with Lady Sophia when he’d arrived in London after leaving the Queen’s Own Hussars, and they would doubtless be a good starting place to fill the duchess’s requirements.
A knock on the door, and then she stepped in without waiting for him to call out. What if he had been in a state of undress or something? Although that thought brought other things into his imagination, and he did not want to go there. Not now, not with her standing in his bedroom. Again.
“Mr. Salisbury, I wonder if you would like to go out with me as I conduct some duchess business.”
He stood, shaking his head with a wry smile on his face. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said.” He chuckled softly. “But you know that, don’t you? So you must have some reasons for wanting to go out.”
Her expression eased into one of relief. “Yes, thank goodness. There is. If I cannot go outside and move my legs I will have to resort to pacing around the hallways, and we don’t want that, do we? Society would disapprove of hallway pacing more than me going outside.” She paused. “And I know it isn’t done, duchesses transacting their own business. That is precisely why you are here, making sure I don’t have to do precisely that. But”—and then her expression got wistful, almost as though she were recalling something pleasant—“I am accustomed to being on my own. I find I do not like being duchessed all the time.”
“So you want to be out on your own . . . with me?” he said, allowing a hint of humor to ease into his voice.
She laughed. “Yes, exactly. I wish to be on my own with you.” And then her eyes widened, and her cheeks started to turn pink, and he found himself entirely and utterly enchanted.
Which he absolutely should not be.
“That is, I wish to go outside. With you. Alone.” And then she rolled her eyes and her mouth twisted up into a grimace. “I cannot say anything properly, which is why you are here. Let us go outside, Mr. Salisbury, and pay visits on people who will no doubt be appalled that I am on my own alone with you.”
She shook her head one last time before walking out the door, glancing back to make certain he was following her.
He was. He absolutely was.
“And where are we going?” Archie asked after Chandler shut the door behind them. It was a lovely day, although a bit cold. But the sun was shining, and it appeared people were out and about doing things, and he couldn’t imagine somewhere else he’d rather be.
She frowned as she considered it. “Do you know, I haven’t figured that out precisely.” She shrugged. “I know I should pay a call on the firm that has been handling all of the duchy’s assets—I can’t even say my assets, that’s how foreign it is to me still—and I was hoping to pick up some gifts to send to the staff at home.” Her face softened. “Cook came to London once when she was small, and she was always telling me about the time she first tasted pear drops. I thought I’d send some to her.”
“A bank and a confectioner’s, then.” He paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Did you want to take the carriage out? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of that. Where is your firm located?”
She withdrew a slip of paper from her pocket and wrinkled her brow as she read it. “I didn’t even think of that, either, to be honest.” She thrust the paper to him. “And I don’t know where this is. Are you familiar with London?”
He took the paper, his chest tightening at her artless question. It wasn’t a secret who he was, but he didn’t want to be sharing just how familiar with London he was, nor that his family, for all he knew, was currently in residence here, just a few streets away. The thought that he could see them, that more importantly they would see him, cut through him like a knife.
“Ah, yes, we should probably take the carriage,” he said quickly, almost without registering just how far the address was from where they were. If they were enclosed in a carriage there was less chance he would see anyone he knew.
He wished this was all done with so he could return, safely, to Lady Sophia. To his stable, organized life.
He tried not to think of how much duller that would seem now.
The door opened behind them, and the duchess and he turned around at the sound. Chandler’s head popped out. “Were you in need of anything, Your Grace?”
“Yes, Chandler, we are. The carriage, please.” She accompanied her words with a bright smile, and Archie felt himself flinch inside, wishing it was as simple as just going somewhere rather than trying to avoid family.
Genevieve couldn’t stop herself from peering out of the carriage windows even though she knew full well that someone in her position should not be so curious. Engaged. Interested.
But there was only so much she could change. Or that she even wanted to change. If being a duchess meant she had to lean back against the seat cushions and contemplate her own magnificence, she did not want that. First of all, she didn’t want to lean anywhere, not when she could be looking. Secondly, she knew more than anyone that she was not magnificent.
Mr. Salisbury, however, was magnificent. She had been stealing glimpses at him when she wasn’t engrossed with what she could see out the window. He sat opposite her, his hands loosely clasped around his knees, the top of his hat grazing the roof of the carriage because he was so tall. He’d caught her looking a few times, but he hadn’t said anything. He had been unusually quiet, actually, while they were inside, merely answering a few of her questions about what she was seeing with tersely uttered replies.
“Mr. Salisbury,” she began, because how would she know if she didn’t ask? “Are you all right?” She gestured to the window. “Because there is all of London, and it is so exciting, and yet you seem not to be as enthusiastic.” She paused, considering. “Perhaps it is because you do know it, so maybe it is not as much of a thrill? But I always find it to be wonderful to share something with somebody; it makes that thing so much more fun in the first place.” And then she shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “But you are not me. Although I would like to share Cook’s lemon bars with you at some point. Those are worth sharing with everybody.”
He didn’t answer for a moment; he just regarded her with an odd expression in his eyes. As though she were something he was trying to figure out, just as she was trying to figure out what she was seeing outside the window. But that couldn’t be it. “I am sorry, Duchess,” he said at last. “I am fine, it is just odd seeing London again after such a long time.” And then his mouth pressed together in a firm line, as though he felt he’d said too much. Even though he’d told her nothing.
“Ah,” she replied, nodding as though she understood, when she hadn’t. Because he hadn’t really explained why he was being so quiet, but perhaps that was all part of whatever was making him quiet in the first place.
“I’m from here, you know,” he said after a few long minutes of silence.
She turned to look at him. “I assumed you were, since you knew where we were going and everything.”
He shook his head, an impatient gesture that seemed directed toward himself. “No, I mean yes, I do, but that’s not what I meant. I mean—see, the thing is, I am Mr. Salisbury.”
“I know that, Mr. Salisbury,” she said, stressing his name.
“No, but I should tell you, not that it matters.” And then he seemed almost uncertain, and that fact alone startled Genevieve so much her mind started to race in ever-increasing layers of impossibility: He was an escaped felon, he was not Mr. Salisbury (despite multiple assertions of same), someone else had be
en writing those letters, he wasn’t handsome.
Well, scratch that last one; she knew that was not true.
“What is it?” she prompted.
“I am the Viscount Salisbury’s son. The third son, as I told you. Everything is as I told you, except that they are likely to be in London, and I don’t want to risk running into them.” He gestured to the interior of the carriage. “That is why I asked we take the carriage rather than walk.” She saw him swallow. “I don’t want to mislead you in anything, I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you.” It wasn’t important, at least not to her; he could have been the Prince of Wales, for all she cared, as long as he was able to guide her through her new position. In all honesty, she didn’t even know—well, mudpies, and now she was going to ask.
“Why does it matter anyway, who you are?”
He subjected her to a searching look, making her want to squirm or—or something else, and then his expression eased. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“No, I really don’t.” Now she was positively joyous in admitting her ignorance to him. She trusted he knew enough about her to recognize her worth regardless of whatever specific knowledge she might have.
He glanced up at the ceiling, his words coming out slow and measured. “I am—I am from the same world you are. We could—not that it would be at all acceptable, but we could . . .” and he paused, and her mind scrambled again, finally arriving at—
“Oh!” she said at last. “You mean?”
“Yes, if it were known who I was, and who my family was, it might be something that people would gossip about. Rather than if I was just a plain steward from an undistinguished family.”
“Oh, well, that won’t matter,” she said, waving away his concerns with a wave of her hand. Which was, she had to admit, rather dismissive. But how could anyone gossip about him and her when they didn’t know either one of them? And what did it matter who his family was? It wasn’t as though they were going to actually become involved. She knew full well that to him she was just a temporary assignment, a burden foisted on him by her aunt Sophia.
But she also knew that it must hurt, somewhere inside, for him to know his family was here and not to be able, or not to want, to see them.
“Do you wish to remain in the carriage while I conduct my business?” she asked.
His eyes snapped to her face, and his expression hardened. “Of course not; that would not be appropriate. You shouldn’t even be here with just me, you should have a chaperone and a lady’s maid.”
“Well, Gran hates going out, and I hate asking her. And I don’t have a lady’s maid yet,” she replied in a reasonable tone. “So you will have to do for me, Mr. Salisbury.” She accompanied her words with a smile, and after a long moment, he returned the smile, albeit a forced one.
Letter
Dear Mr. Salisbury,
Thank you for trusting me. I am so relieved to find you are not an escaped felon or the Prince of Wales. I also wish to extend my appreciation for accompanying me on my errand today, and I look forward to seeing you at dinner. Yes, I am now writing you, even though we are in the same house.
Duchess
Chapter 5
“And how was your day, dear?” Lady Halbard smiled in her granddaughter’s general direction.
“It was fine, Gran.”
Archie darted a glance over at her, her dispirited tone—far different from her normal voice—making him feel something in his chest. Was it worry?
“What did you do?” her grandmother continued, reaching for a glass of water and drawing it to her mouth for a drink.
“Mr. Salisbury accompanied me to the firm that handles the—that is, my—business affairs.” She took a sip from her wineglass, frowned as though she didn’t like the taste, and continued. “There are a lot of things to be done, Gran.” A pause, during which Archie wondered if he should speak up and remind her that he was there to help. But she knew that, and the footmen were ranged behind their chairs, and he didn’t want anyone to start concerning themselves with the relationship between the duchess and her temporary steward.
It was unusual enough that he was dining with her this evening. He did dine with Lady Sophia regularly, but that was out in the country, and Lady Sophia was not a young, lovely, and unmarried lady with remarkable power and position.
But then she spoke again, and he didn’t have to say anything. “But I will do them, because there really is no other choice, is there?” Her voice was back to its more cheerful tone, and he felt himself exhale in relief. The thing that had most impressed him was how resilient she was, as well as how sensitive. It seemed as though a person would have to choose one or the other, but she handled both.
“You do have a choice, dear,” her grandmother said, her expression mischievous. “You could just refuse to do anything and let the estate and the title crumble. At least then you wouldn’t get bothered by so many of your relatives.”
Archie felt his eyes widen at the older woman’s words. He wasn’t accustomed to anybody being so forthright and direct in their comments.
Although now he knew from where the duchess got her humor and directness. And he couldn’t help but be pleased that she had; it made things so much simpler, knowing exactly where one stood with her. That she was kind, and honest, and direct.
“Or maybe I should just succumb to one of them and stop worrying my little female head about important things.” The duchess’s tone was equally mischievous, and Archie found himself marveling that she had survived what sounded like a dreary and lonely childhood. But there had been love, too, she had mentioned; love from the household staff, but love nonetheless.
Archie wasn’t familiar with any kind of love, either from family or from servants. His father was a distant, proper man, and his mother was even more distant and proper. He was to have done precisely what his parents wanted him to, which was to marry someone whose breeding and wealth was on par with his. Instead, he joined the army.
He had been fond of his brothers when younger, but his eldest brother got caught up in being groomed for his father’s position, and his second brother was determined to join the church, and went through a very long period where he would only respond in biblical verse, which got very tiring.
“Mr. Salisbury?”
Lady Halbard had her head tilted as though in question, and he realized he had allowed his thoughts to drift. Telling the duchess about his family had brought all of those past and best forgotten events to the forefront of his mind.
He was grateful he hadn’t seen anyone he knew in the short time he and the duchess had been out. It bothered him how grateful he was. If he were the duchess he would likely just march up to his parents’ house and have it all out in the open. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t like that about himself. But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter, not when he had a duty, a battle strategy, to enact.
“Yes, my lady?”
“What course of action do you advise for my granddaughter? Now that you have been here for a few days.”
It was nearly a week, but it felt as though it had only been a few moments.
“Well,” Archie began, glancing at the duchess, “I would advise her to prepare for her new role as though she is going into battle.”
“Spoken like a captain, retired,” he heard the duchess mutter.
“And to be prepared, she needs to have the proper ammunition.” He hoped she wouldn’t take offense at what he was going to say. But if she did, she would tell him straight out, he knew that. “The proper ammunition being a new wardrobe, knowledge of all the things required of her position and title, and the staff to help her.”
“It is excellent that you are here, then.” Lady Halbard accompanied her words with a delighted smile. “Because I cannot help her with her wardrobe, for obvious reasons, and I know nothing about any of the other things, either. You might say I am blind to the problem.” And then she winked.
The duchess threw her head back and laughe
d, Lady Halbard doing the same, as Archie looked at first one, then the other. He had never been around such . . . exuberance before. He thought he liked it. He wasn’t entirely certain, but it definitely made things more lively in general.
“Your Mr. Salisbury is a nice man,” Gran said, raising her teacup to her mouth, her sightless eyes gleaming wickedly.
“He is not my Mr. Salisbury,” Genevieve replied in a firm tone. Which would likely only encourage her grandmother to get more outrageous.
“Well, he seems nice.” Gran settled the teacup back in the saucer, the clink of the china the only sound in the room, Byron having fallen asleep in Gran’s lap after complaining about the ladies coming into the room in the first place. “Tell me, is he as handsome as it seems?”
Genevieve snorted. “As though you don’t know full well that he is stunning. Why, the first time you met him you knew. I don’t know how, but you did.”
Her grandmother smiled in satisfaction. “There is something about the way ladies react to a handsome man. And you, Vievy, I heard how you inhaled when he entered, so I knew he must be something spectacular. Describe him to me.”
Genevieve felt her chest tighten. Describe him? How could she describe him without her quite insightful (regardless of her sight) grandmother figuring out that Mr. Salisbury had come to mean more than he should in just a few days?
Fine. She could do this. She just had to keep herself from being too enthusiastic. Something she definitely had difficulties with.
“He is tall,” she began in a cautious tone. “He has very dark hair with a curl, he has blue eyes”—as blue as the summer sky—“and he has very strong . . . hands.”
Her grandmother nodded in satisfaction. “Strong hands. I should have guessed.” And then Gran’s eyebrow drew together in concern. “You do know, however, that even though Mr. Salisbury is an excellent gentleman that you cannot . . . ?” and she paused and pressed her lips together.
My Fair Duchess Page 5