“Oh.” The elder sister took a sip of tea. “Well, then, we will make our way to the High Hotel?” she said, with an inquiring look toward Archie.
“Hyland,” he corrected.
The duchess placed her cup back in the saucer. “Do let me send you there in my carriage. It is the least I can do.”
Judging by the sisters’ expressions, it was the least she could do. The very least.
“Thank you,” one of them said at last. They glanced at each other again, then both rose from their seats. Archie bowed as they rose, feeling proud of Genevieve for having deflected her relatives so deftly.
“I will be out of town for some time, but I am so delighted you were able to find me,” Genevieve said as the ladies made their way to the door.
She turned to him as the door shut behind the two ladies. “Another set of relatives dispatched. Do you suppose I could just invite them all in and tell them to go away and leave me alone in one big meeting? It would certainly save a lot of time.” Her expression was rueful, and he squelched the indignant anger he felt on her behalf.
“I thought you might have been exaggerating about them, but it appears you are not,” he replied. He gestured to the sofa.
She settled down on the sofa with a contented sigh. A sigh that made him wonder what he could do to engender it himself.
He should not be thinking about those things, he reminded himself.
“They truly are dreadful,” she admitted. “I do wish my brother had survived, and he would have been the one to deal with all of them.”
“What happened to him? If it is not too painful,” he added quickly.
She shook her head, that rueful expression intensifying. “Charles was similar to our father. Not that I knew either one of them well.” He felt his throat constrict at her momentarily sad expression. “From what I understand, there was some sort of wager and a ridiculous amount of port involved.” She glanced up, clearly trying to regain her composure. “Thank goodness that the title was allowed to come to me. Even though it was—unusual, to say the least.” That was putting it mildly.
He was grateful as well—but he couldn’t say that to her. Because if she hadn’t inherited, and hadn’t needed assistance, they would never have met.
“Did you have a chance to review my letter?”
Even though there was so much in it he didn’t say. But knew he couldn’t.
He’d never had so many things he wished to say before. It felt chaotic, not at all like him. And yet it didn’t feel wrong.
Her expression eased. “Yes, it sounds like a wonderful idea. I am so pleased you thought of it—being away from London for a while will give me the opportunity to . . . practice doing what I have to,” and she accompanied her words with a glance up at him that went straight to his groin.
Not where it should be going at all.
“Yes,” he replied in a strangled tone of voice. “We can ensure things are running properly, and you can work under my guidance,” which sounded horribly and wonderfully wrong, given where his thoughts were, “so you will be able to handle things yourself.”
“Yes, you will have to return to Aunt Sophia eventually.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I suppose eventually this will all get easier as I learn it, because I have no plans to get married to someone who will just take it over.”
His hands gripped his knees. The idea of her marrying anyone—even though her comment made it clear she had no thoughts in that direction—made his gut churn with jealousy.
“I will not leave until you are confident in your own abilities.” He sounded clipped and formal, as he did when he’d first arrived.
She reached over and took his hand. “I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Salisbury. Archie,” she corrected with a laugh. Apparently she didn’t think he sounded unfriendly. Should he be pleased about that or not? “Is it wrong to admit that I am excited about going to the country, even though I am certain there are far more problems for me to solve?”
It was wrong, but Archie had to admit to himself—if not to her—that he felt the same way.
He squeezed her fingers, then let go of her hand, knowing how easy it would be to go from holding her hand to holding her.
Letter
Dear Genevieve,
I know you think I’m foolish idiotic overly organized it’s ridiculous for me to write you when we will be leaving in an hour, but I wanted to let you know I’ve written to Lady Sophia and informed her I might be away from my position for longer than I first thought. I will remain until I no longer feel this pull toward you, no longer feel this palpable urge to touch you all of your immediate concerns are properly addressed.
Archie
Dear Archie Mr. Salisbury,
In order that I can spend more time with you we can go over what might be required, I would like you to join me in my carriage for the journey. Miss Clarkson will ride in the other carriage with our luggage. Please ensure you have whatever paperwork might be needed.
Genevieve Duchess
Chapter 9
“Well,” Genevieve said, glancing out the window with a bright smile, “we are off!”
“Yes,” he said in his low rumble. “And a good thing, too. There is much to be done.”
“Yes, much,” she echoed. She looked down at her hands, which she seemed to have clasped tightly in her lap, her right thumb rubbing on the back of her left hand.
He reached out and took both her hands in his one larger one. The warmth of it, the intimacy, made her want to melt all over the cushions.
“Don’t be anxious,” he said in that low, resonant tone. “You have me to help you, Genevieve,” he replied, the way he spoke her name washing over her like a warm rain.
“Thank you.”
He let go of her hand after she spoke, only this time it didn’t feel like a rebuke. “I have made a list of what needs to be done,” he began.
“Of course you have,” she interjected.
He scowled at her, but didn’t say anything in response. He was learning as well. “As I was saying.” He withdrew a sheaf of papers from the bag that sat on the cushion beside him. “While I would likely wish to address the expenditures on the estate,” he said, looking down at the paper, his eyebrows drawing together over his strong nose, “I believe you would want to first hear the concerns of your tenants.” He looked up suddenly, and she was caught by the directness of his gaze.
A moment. Two, as they continued to look at each other, the sound of the carriage wheels—thump, thump, thump—the only sound.
“Yes, you are correct.” She shouldn’t be so breathless. Or at least she shouldn’t sound as though she were breathless. She was fairly certain duchesses were not breathless, even if they occasionally squeaked.
His mouth curled up in a half smile. “I know I am.” She had to admit she liked how confident he sounded. “We can settle in when we arrive, and then we can head to the village and locate someone in charge.”
“That is very military of you,” she said with a grin.
“It is, isn’t it? I was in the army for five years; I suppose I learned more than I thought when I was there.” His gaze went dark. “There were times I never wanted to remember it, that I tried to blot it out from my mind. But I suppose there were some benefits.” He gestured ruefully toward the papers in his lap. “The ability to organize things, and make lists, and lead people into battle. Not that I have cause to do that anymore.”
She doubted he’d learned all of that in the army. It had to have been born into him. “But you do have cause to do that, don’t you see?” She hadn’t realized until now that he was just as out of place as she was, albeit in a much less obvious way. “You’re leading me into battle, the fight to prove I am worthy of my position so I can effect some sort of change. Like you, I want to do the right thing, and banish the wrong things.”
He smiled more warmly, his eyes holding an appreciative gleam that did something to her insides. “You would see it that way.” He leaned forwar
d, clasping his hands between his knees, holding her gaze. “I admire you, Your Grace. Genevieve. You’re so—so honorable.” He leaned back against the cushions, his voice musing. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard a woman described that way.”
“Hmph,” she murmured. She appreciated the compliment, but would also have appreciated You’re so lovely or—no, You’re so lovely would just about cover it.
He held his hand up, forestalling whatever else she might say. “And I don’t want you to misunderstand me, it’s not that I don’t think women should be described as honorable. They should be. They are. But it’s only when a woman occupies a position that is usually held by a man that anybody tosses that word around.”
“So what you’re saying is there would be more honor if more women were in charge? If one had been your general, say?” She spoke with humor in her voice, but a part of her wanted him to confirm what she’d said. She had never thought of herself as a particularly progressive thinker before, but now that she was in charge of all these people, this land, and wealth, she had to be. She had to keep looking forward, to see what kind of progress she could make, to try to stem the tide of neglect and mismanagement her father had left as his legacy.
She wished she had known her father well enough to be able to curse at him. Unfortunately, she didn’t even have that much of a memory of him. The only memory he’d left her was all the work ahead of her.
That pressure made it even more imperative that she not succumb to any of Archie’s charms. Not that he had indicated he was in danger of succumbing to hers.
And that was a lowering thought, even though it was precisely what was appropriate. What was right.
“If a woman had been my general,” he mused, and she was happily surprised that he didn’t immediately scoff at the idea. “If a woman had been my general. Well, I think the battles would have been shorter, for one thing.”
“Why?”
He turned his head to look out the window. Only Genevieve could tell he wasn’t seeing anything but his memories.
“It is probably not right to say that women are softer,” he began, “because they can be hard when they want to be.” His lips thinned, and she felt a stab of jealousy at whatever female had given him such an impression. “But they are far more reasonable when honor is involved.” He met her gaze, a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Back to honor again,” he said. “Now that I am no longer in it, I have to say that there is very little honor in battle. There is courage, and strength, and forethought. But when it comes down to it”—and he shook his head almost mournfully—“the only honor is the false honor paraded around to puff up the people who are determined to lead men to their deaths.”
Her heart hurt. Because he hurt.
“That’s a harsh view of it, Archie,” she said softly, but loud enough for him to hear. His mouth twisted into a rueful grimace. “What about what you said before? About making certain that the right things stay right, and the wrong things are dismissed?”
“How can mere mortals know what is right and wrong?” he asked, his expression haunted.
“How can we not?” she replied, in a forceful tone. “What else do we have if not our determination to stay on the right path? Should I just allow my various cousins to march into my life and take what they want, even though it isn’t right? It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” She paused. “That is what my father did,” she said in a quieter voice.
“Your father—what kind of man was he?”
He hadn’t responded to her question, but then again, he hadn’t dismissed her.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. I mean, I have some idea, since he left the estate in such a shambles, but I don’t know what kind of man he was. Besides an irresponsible one. I only saw him a few times, my mother died when I was very young, and even before then, from what I understand, he was more often in London than at any of the estates with us. My brother was much older than I; he knew him better.” Although she doubted he’d known how to be a duke any better than she.
“Your father missed out on knowing his daughter, then,” he said in a fierce tone. He captured her hand again, but his gaze didn’t waver from her face. “Because she is a strong woman, an honorable woman, and it is my pleasure to know her.”
Oh. Could her insides melt into a puddle any faster? Nobody—with the possible exception of her grandmother, who was admittedly biased—had ever expressed such an opinion of her.
“Thank you,” she said, so low she wasn’t certain he had heard her. But it appeared he had, since he smiled that warm smile that made her heart thud a little faster in her chest.
He needed to focus on the work. Not the work of getting to know her, either. The work of doing the job he had sent himself here to do, the one that would mean she was presentable to her world, a world he had only barely ever belonged in, and didn’t belong in at all now. And now that he thought more about it, it wasn’t just that she needed help in knowing how to behave; she also needed help in knowing what to do. From what she’d said, her father hadn’t known what to do, and so the duchy was suffering. It was important that she know, and that he help her.
But it was difficult to keep that in mind when faced with her and how she managed to maintain her optimism and cheer despite everything being thrown at her.
And then there was the way she was. Earnest, and passionate, and opinionated, even if she hesitated to express her opinions. He wanted to capture some of that passion for himself, spark the fire he knew burned within her.
He couldn’t help but imagine how earnest and passionate and opinionated she’d be in bed. And she wouldn’t be wearing one of those horrid gowns, either; she’d be gloriously naked, all that fine, smooth skin exposed to his touch. To his hand.
But even though he was attracted to her, and had all sorts of thoughts about her, it wasn’t her body he admired as much as her mind. That was a first for him; he was handsome enough, he supposed, to attract more than his fair share of feminine interest, and many of those women had been beautiful. But he hadn’t wanted to delve further, to find out what made them happy, or sad, or what their dreams or goals were.
Unfortunately for his own dreams, her goals did not, and could not, include a disinherited viscount’s son whose only attribute was his knack for organization. No title, no wealth, no status.
He glanced at her again, only to find her regarding him as well.
“What if I can’t—?” she began, then shook her head.
“You can.” He didn’t even know to what she was referring, he just knew she could. She would.
“But there are so many people who will say I shouldn’t be.”
That sentiment could apply to so many things. But only one he could politely address.
“You have the title, you have the wealth, the land, everything associated with the duchy.” He paused. “You have me.”
She gave a half smile. “And they say, ‘Possession is nine points in the law,’ don’t they?”
Damn it. Now he was thinking about her possessing him, practicing on him as he’d told her to do before.
“Precisely.” He deliberately kept his tone neutral and managed to force his gaze away from her face to look out the window. The late afternoon was easing into darkness, and he glanced up at the sky and the scudding clouds. “I think it might rain soon. How long is this trip supposed to take?”
“You’re the one who plans and organizes,” she pointed out. “I believe we have been traveling for five hours, though? So perhaps just another hour or so.”
Archie glanced up as a streak of lightning zagged through the clouds. He didn’t think the rain would hold off for an hour, and the roads in this area—no doubt thanks to the duchess’s father—were horrendous already, the coach pitching and swaying as it rolled along.
She followed his gaze and her expression immediately got concerned. “I do hope it doesn’t pour so much that the coachman is made too uncomfortable.”
Of course. She wasn’t worried
about whether she would get wet, or that anything would happen on the journey; she was just concerned that the coachman, her servant, not be made uncomfortable.
Another streak of lightning, this one sounding as though it landed closer than the first. She jumped in her seat, her eyes wide as she looked at him. “That was awfully close, wasn’t it?” she said, her voice in a higher tone than usual.
He was seated beside her almost before he realized he’d moved, taking her hand in his, resting both of their hands on his thigh. “It is fine. Only a spring storm.”
“I am—not fond of this kind of weather,” she admitted. As though he couldn’t tell from the way she was shaking. “The servants learned to come check in on me when it was raining at night.”
Servants? Checking in on a frightened girl?
From what she’d said, they loved her nearly as much as a family member could, but he still wished he could go back in time and pummel her father.
“You’re safe now.” He heard the promise in his voice, the commitment he was making to her. Hopefully she wouldn’t hear it as well, wouldn’t think her temporary employee was overstepping his bounds.
Even though he absolutely was.
“It would be just our luck if the carriage overturned.” He could tell she was working herself into a panicked state. He withdrew his hand from hers, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her into him. She needed this, damn the impropriety. “You must think I am silly to be scared of a storm,” she said in the vicinity of his waistcoat. He smiled over her head, willing himself not to kiss her head.
“Not at all. You’d be surprised at what can frighten people.”
She tilted her head and looked up at him. He could see the tension around her mouth. “I can’t imagine anything frightening you, Archie.”
He grinned down at her. “Imagine this: a group of soldiers camping in a field, the distant sound of guns and cannon blazing.”
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