The Husband Trap

by Warren, Tracy Anne

  Adrian trapped her hand beneath his. “Why so concerned? He didn’t put you up to this, by any chance?”

  “How could he? The decision to remove to London was only made a few minutes past.” She turned a winsome smile upon him, lowered her voice. “I simply hate to see people suffer, even him. Have pity, dear. He is your brother, after all.”

  His eyes moved past her, locked on his sibling. “No gambling. No drinking. No women. Is that clearly understood?”

  Kit jumped to his feet. “Clear as glass.”

  “And you will continue to study. I will check your work myself.”

  “Check away.”

  “You’ll be sitting for examination in January. The arrangements have already been made with the University. You will pass those exams.”

  “With flying colours, never fear.”

  “And if there is so much as one infraction, not only will you return home, I’ll see to it you and the vicar do everything together. All day, every day.”

  Kit shuddered. “Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you. And I really mean it this time.”

  Adrian shot him one last stern look. “Very well, under those circumstances, you may accompany Jeannette and me to London.” His gaze moved back to his wife. “Satisfied, my dear?”

  “Very. It seems so unkind to abandon him here all alone.”

  “Hardly alone. There are over a hundred servants on the estate.”

  “He can’t socialize with the servants. It would make them feel ever so awkward.”

  Her words took a moment to sink in, then Adrian laughed. “I suppose this also means you’ll want to take Horatio with us?”

  “He can’t be left by himself any more than Kit.”

  “I believe I have just been insulted,” Kit complained.

  “Not at all.” She smiled. “You never need Robert to take you out for a walk.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  She didn’t have an opportunity to speak to Kit alone until the following day.

  She found him in the library, an expression of disgust marring his pleasant features, a huge textbook open on his lap.

  He looked up as she entered the room. “Dear merciful God, reprieved at last. Vicar Dittlesby stuck me in here an hour past with this bloody boring tome on the Hundred Years War. I ask you, after the first fifty, did any of them still remember what they were fighting about?”

  He slapped the book shut. “Thanks, by the by, for springing me out of this place for a jaunt to the city next week. The vicar’s nose has been out of joint ever since Adrian broke the news to him this morning.”

  “You are most welcome.” She slid into the chair next to his. “But I didn’t do it for solely altruistic reasons.”

  “Why’d you do it, then? I did wonder.”

  She leaned forward, lowered her voice. “Because I need your help.”

  His dark eyebrows scrunched together. “What kind of help?”

  “The desperate kind.” She clutched her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “You’re the only one I can turn to, the only one who knows the truth.

  “Oh, Kit,” she lamented, “London is going to be an utter disaster. I’ll never be able to carry it off. I’ll be unmasked at the very first entertainment I set foot into. They’ll all know.”

  “No one has known so far. Why will London be any different?”

  “Because I’m different. Because I am not Jeannette. It’s one thing to fool a few country neighbours who’ve never even met her. It’s quite another to convince a couple hundred of the Ton’s elite, people who once anointed her their reigning belle, that I’m the Incomparable Lady Jeannette.”

  “You fooled Lord and Lady Carter. They’d already met Jeannette.”

  “But that’s one-on-one, not in a large group.” She rubbed fretful fingers over a sliver of lace trim on her dress. “Just walking into a crowd twists my tongue into a knot. My mind goes blank and I end up gawping like a fish plucked out of the water, gasping for air. You must remember how it is. You met me before, back in the days when I was still me.”

  Yes, he did remember. Shy, awkward, tongue-tied, she’d been exactly as she claimed. Despite her undeniable beauty, once the introductions were finished, people tended to look elsewhere because of her lack of animation, leaving her to fade into the background. One more timid flower forgotten amongst the other timid flowers that lined the ballroom walls, dwelling alone and unwanted on solitary chairs.

  A brief wave of shame passed over him, brought face-to-face with the knowledge that he’d been no different in his original assessment and treatment of her than so many others. Now that he knew her, liked her, he realized how mistaken his first impression had been. Still, others might find no fault in their past actions, even if the truth were known to them.

  “You do have a point,” he mused. “Yet I believe you may be able to overcome it.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, no, it’s quite impossible. Oh, Kit, whatever shall I do?”

  He straightened, his features intent. “Have some faith in yourself, for a start. And in me, for that matter. You asked for my help, right?”

  “Right,” she agreed hesitantly.

  “Then let me help. Up until now you’ve done a superior job fooling everyone, most especially my brother. If you can fool him, you can fool anyone. It’s all in the attitude.”

  “Attitude?”

  “Hmm. And the follow-through.” He pressed a contemplative finger to his lips. “Let me do some strategizing on the subject, then we’ll meet again to discuss.”

  “What about your lessons?”

  “I’ll take care of my lessons, so long as you keep clueing me in on the Latin and Greek. Say, that gives me an idea.” He waggled his finger at her. “We should give you lessons.”

  “Me?”

  “Mmm-hmm. With the proper instruction, I believe we can teach you how to prattle nonsense with the best of them. Now run on before someone begins to wonder why two such inveterate book haters would be huddled together in the library.”

  She nodded, climbed to her feet. She began to move away, then stopped, spun back. “Kit. Thank you. I mean, for everything.”

  He dismissed her gratitude with a negligent wave. “Don’t worry. I’ll simply add it to your tab.” He grinned, then shooed her on her way.

  “That wasn’t bad, but let’s try it again.”

  “Oh, Kit, it’s no good.” Violet groaned. “I’ll never be comfortable making small talk with strangers. And you’re not even a stranger.”

  She sprang up from the chair in her study, paced across the room. “This role-playing is all very well, but when the real event occurs I’ll freeze up stiffer than that fireplace poker.” She pointed a finger toward the hearth at the implement in question.

  “Attitude,” he stated. “It’s simply a matter of attitude. You’re a duchess. All you need do is remember that and act accordingly. Your sister certainly would.”

  “Yes, but it comes so naturally to her. I think she was born chattering animatedly to people. I, on the other hand, just lay there in the cradle, silent and staring. I probably didn’t even wave my rattle.”

  “We’ve been through this before.” He sighed. “You’re letting your fears get the better of you, and there is no need for it. When you are at a social function, think, ‘I am the Duchess of Raeburn. There is no one superior to me in the room.’ Say it.”

  She cleared her throat. “I am the Duchess of Raeburn.” Her words sounded flat and wavery. “There is no one superior to me in the room.”

  “Chin up,” Kit urged. “Say it again, more conviction this time.”

  She drew a deep breath, tried to add the confident inflection he wanted. “I am the Duchess of Raeburn. There is no one superior to me in the room.”

  “Good. Much better.”

  “What about Prinny?” she blurted.

  “What about him?” Kit frowned at the non sequitur.

  “He is superior to me in rank. He’s superior ev
en to Adrian. What helpful statements am I to tell myself if I run into the Prince?”

  “Tell yourself he’s just a man, then smile brightly and flutter your eyelashes at him. From what I’ve observed of our esteemed Regent, he’ll be too entranced by your beauty to care much about the words you are speaking.” Kit leaned forward in his seat. “Now, once more with the statement, and really believe it this time.”

  She drew back her shoulders, holding her head up with pride. “I am the Duchess of Raeburn. There is no one superior to me in the room.”

  “Wonderful! Now, remember that next week when you appear at your first entertainment. Remember it and know it’s true.”

  “There are only four days left until we depart.” She resumed her seat, linked her hands tightly together. “Do you think I’ll be ready?”

  “You will. You’ll have to be. Now, what are the two C’s?”

  “Condescension and conversation,” she answered. “Only when I feel like conversation will I condescend to converse.”

  “Good. No-fail topics?” he coached.

  “Weather. Pleasant observations about the party and its hosts. With women, fashions and feminine gossip. With men, horses, hunting and upon occasion world events, taking care not to be too knowledgeable about any particular topic. What about my sister’s friends?”

  “We’ve been over that. Let them do most of the talking and if anybody remarks upon your reticence, inform them that your elevated rank has given you a new appreciation for listening. Arrogance and authority go a long way toward squashing dissent.”

  “I know you are right, yet I fear my nerves will obliterate everything you’ve been drumming into my head these past few days.”

  “Which is why you require additional practice. The more practice you have, the less chance there will be of failure. You don’t want to be found out, do you?”

  “No.” She shuddered.

  “You don’t want Adrian to find out?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  “Well, then, buckle down and get it right.”

  She shot him a deadly look. “Just wait until you’re sweating over those lessons of yours later today. You may discover I’ve left you all the really difficult translations to complete on your own.”

  His mouth fell open for a second before he snapped it shut, his skin blanching. “You haven’t.”

  “No, but I could have done, so don’t be mean.”

  “I am not mean, merely encouraging in a firm manner.”

  “Yes, well, please remember that when I refuse to provide you with all the answers to your assignments, I am simply encouraging you in a firm manner. After all, I am not the one who must sit for exams come the new year, am I?”

  He grumbled briefly under his breath. “You’ve a cruel streak in you, do you know that? It’s the reason I’m so certain you’ll do fine in Society. Now, let’s resume our work. Pretend you are attending a rout and the Duke of Wellington appears at your elbow. What do you say?”

  “I give him the tiniest of polite smiles and say—”

  A splintering crash sounded, a wailing cry carrying from beyond the closed study door. Both of them moved to investigate the commotion.

  One of the housemaids stood in the music room, her eyes round as moons, hands clutched to her small breasts. Porcelain fragments and lilies lay scattered at her feet in a watery explosion.

  Violet took in the scene. “Tina, what has occurred? Are you all right?”

  The housemaid’s gaze flew to hers. She bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, your Grace, I’m fine. But oh, your Grace, I don’t know how it could have happened. I’m ever so careful with fragile things, I swear I am. I was dusting and polishing in here. I’d set the vase over across the way as I always do when I clean the piano, didn’t want to spill no water on that pretty wood, and when I went to move the vase back to its place, well, I don’t know. One minute everything was fine, then the next my feet sorta caught under me and the vase came flyin’ out of my hands.” She emitted a fresh whimper of distress, knuckles pressed to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

  Violet cast another glance over the mess, puddles of water and wet flowers, the remains of a once lovely vase strewn about in a sea of white and blue shards. The winsome half face of a shepherdess winked a single eye up at her from a jagged ceramic sliver.

  “Well, Tina,” she began, “this is indeed a shame. But all there is to do now is—”

  “Merciful heavens, what has occurred here?” Mrs Hardwick marched into the room, the black bombazine dress she wore starched and unyielding as a suit of armor. She shot a hard, dark glare at the scene, then across to the young maid, whose cheeks had blanched to the colour of flour.

  “Tina,” Mrs Hardwick demanded, “is this your doing?” She pointed the cutting edge of her square chin down at the mess.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the girl squeaked, voice low and timid, eyes downcast.

  The housekeeper angled her head. “Your Grace. Lord Christopher. I am sorry you have been disturbed by this unfortunate incident. I am here now and will make certain proper action is taken to set matters to right.”

  “Tina explained what happened, Mrs Hardwick,” Violet said, feeling rather like a schoolgirl herself, caught out at some mischief. “Clearly, this was an accident. The girl stumbled on the carpeting, it would appear. Perhaps we should inspect the edges for wear so as to prevent this in the future.”

  Mrs Hardwick peered down her nose, then agreed with a faint nod.

  “I was just about to tell Tina when you arrived,” Violet continued, “that she should locate a mop and broom to clean up the damage.”

  “Oh, she will clean up the damage, then she will go.”

  Tina let out a keening wail, hugged her arms around her waist as two fat tears splashed over her pale cheeks. “No, ma’am, please.”

  “Not a word from you, miss,” the housekeeper scolded.

  “Mrs Hardwick, I hardly think—”

  “Your Grace, you needn’t trouble yourself any further about this matter. It will be dealt with.” The older woman crossed her hands in front of her, obviously waiting for Tina to depart.

  Violet hesitated. “Well, I…I suppose. Yet what is your meaning? That she will go.”

  “Precisely as it sounds. The girl will be dismissed.”

  Tina let out a fresh wail, tears flowing in a stream.

  “Dismissed?” Violet repeated. “But surely that isn’t necessary. It was a simple accident with no lasting harm done. A vase broke, that is all.”

  Mrs Hardwick straightened to the top of her five-foot six-inch frame. “That vase originally belonged to the second Duchess of Raeburn, his Grace’s great-great-grandmother. She brought the piece with her from Austria upon her marriage to the duke. It is irreplaceable. His Grace will be most displeased when he learns of its destruction.”

  Violet cast a quick glance toward Kit, realized from his expression that he wouldn’t be of much help. He looked nearly as uncomfortable as she felt. Oh, how she hated arguments and confrontations.

  She met the older woman’s gaze and did her best not to cavil. “Well, be that as it may, the girl didn’t break it deliberately. Surely there must be some other manner in which she could make amends. Perhaps a small reduction in her pay until she has—”

  “Pardon me, your Grace,” the housekeeper replied in an unctuous tone. “It would take this lowly girl a lifetime of work and still she would be far from able to repay even a fraction of the value of the vase. May I suggest you return to whatever it was you were doing when the damage occurred and trouble yourself no further. I am the housekeeper, after all, and this is my purview. There really is no need for you to be involved in disciplinary matters concerning the staff.”

  The young maid whimpered again, sniffling loudly.

  Mrs Hardwick turned on her. “Stop your blubbering, girl. We’ve all heard more than enough out of you.”

  “I say, I don’t care for your tone, to the girl or to the duchess.” Kit started forward.


  Mrs Hardwick pinned him with a pair of beetle-black eyes.

  He stopped dead in his tracks.

  “You were saying, Master Christopher?” The housekeeper waited, arms crossed over her cadaverous chest.

  He dropped his chin, lowered his gaze. “Nothing,” he mumbled. In a whispered aside to Violet, he asked, “Shall I go find Adrian?”

  She trembled, her body radiating and raw with nerves. “No, it will be all right.”

  She could either stand up to the detestable woman now, she decided, or slink away like a craven coward and forever concede the upper hand.

  From the beginning, she’d known Mrs Hardwick was a bully. Still, the older woman had held a high position in the household for many years, longer even than Violet had been alive. In most regards, she was an exemplary employee. And there was the fact that Adrian must hold the woman in some regard. Otherwise why would he have kept her on as long as he had?

  What did she know about managing staff? she wondered. She’d only been a duchess for a little over three months. Perhaps such treatment of servants was to be expected. They certainly came and went in her parents’ household. Yet an inanimate object, no matter how expensive, seemed poor reason to turn a girl out of service and ruin her life.

  She thought of her sister, knowing Jeannette probably wouldn’t have fought the housekeeper over the matter. Then again, her twin would never have allowed a servant—even an upper servant—to overrule her wishes or commands. Armed with that knowledge, Violet drew back her shoulders and raised her chin.

  I am the Duchess of Raeburn, she repeated to herself. There is no one in the room superior to me. I am the Duchess of Raeburn…

  “Go on, your Grace,” the older woman insisted. “I shall see to this matter.”

  “Mrs Hardwick, I believe you overstep yourself,” Violet stated in a steely tone. “Perhaps you have forgotten to whom it is you speak.” She linked her fingers together to control their shaking.