Charming the Duke

by Holly Bush

  “Oppose your suit? You could have married any number of young women since Father died. They fall at your knees, for God sakes, Freddy,” Athena shouted. She paused and asked quietly. “What have you done?”

  How well his older sister knew him. Fortunately, she didn’t go out into society often enough to hear of all of his escapades. “The marriage mamas have seen fit to not let their daughters within a hundred yards of me.”

  Athena smiled that tight-lipped smile he hated.

  “And why, pray tell, is that?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t me, Athena. It was all Smithly’s doing.” His sister’s nostrils flared on the mention his best friend’s name. “He was out kissing some debutante, and I only went to warn him, I tell you, just to warn him that the chit’s brothers were searching high and low.”

  Athena leaned over the desk. “And when the brothers found you and Smithly, I suppose the girl was in some state of undress.”

  Thornsby nodded. “If Andrew had had a title, he’d be married as we speak. But in the end the brothers didn’t deem him a fit husband for their sister, and rather than shooting us on the next dawn, set out to make sure every mama was on her guard. And a fine job they’ve done.”

  “Why do you suppose the Earl has not heard this story?”

  Thornsby smiled. A smile so daunting, he knew that even a cold-hearted wench like his unmarried sister softened just the slightest. She wasn’t cold-hearted, Thornsby knew, but damn independent and clever. “You said yourself, Athena. The parents are stupider than the daughters.”

  “Humph,” Athena said. “There are three girls, Freddy. I met them all a few years ago.”

  “Three? That increases my odds considerably.” He could see his sister warming to the idea, even knowing the personality of the girls. “Why don’t you come with me this weekend since you’ve made their acquaintance? It would help immensely.”

  Athena shook her head. “Heavens no! I’ve made plans with the housekeeper to do the annual inventory. I hate those kinds of parties anyway.”

  “You would risk us being thrown in the street to count the silverware?”

  “Really, Freddy? Don’t confuse me with the Sheldon girls. I have enough money of my own to keep a roof over our heads till our death.”

  Thornsby affected a deep sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I certainly feel badly though about not being able to tithe all those charities you’re so fond of.”

  Athena turned from the desk and swept to the door in a cloud of brown silk. “What day do we leave, Freddy?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Three

  Matilda watched from her bedroom window as the line of carriages discharged their passengers and continued on to deposit the trunks, valets, and maids at the servant’s entrance for the weekend house party. Matilda had slipped away earlier that day in the midst of the hustle and bustle to inspect a house she was most likely going to purchase. She’d filed the necessary papers through a solicitor of her grandmother’s choosing, who was shocked she had access to her fortune. If Ethel hadn’t accompanied her, she doubted the man would have believed her.

  The house was situated in a nice, although not posh section of town, and had huge bedrooms and an enclosed garden in the back. The servant’s quarters would do nicely for whomever Matilda employed as the housemother as well as a cook and a man of all trades. She had inspected the brown stone from top to bottom and felt it would serve her purposes aptly. The price was in the range she could afford, most certainly because the house had fallen into some disrepair. Windows needed scrubbed or replaced. Walls needed patching and painting, and carpets needed a sound beating. But all in all it was everything she’d hoped for.

  Matilda crept in through the kitchen of Maplewood and made her way to the staircase when her mother saw her. Frances Sheldon brushed dust from Matilda’s cape, kissed her cheek and told her to hurry along. Guests were arriving that very minute.

  Matilda supposed she’d best tell her family very soon about her plans. She brushed her hair, braided two long tails and donned her dress while waiting for the maid to pin up her hair.

  “Why aren’t you wearing the pink confection, mademoiselle?” Mimi tittered as she swept in the room.

  “I hate pink, as you know, Mimi. Now hurry and pin this coronet.”

  Mimi tossed her head, hands on her hips. She waited until she caught Matilda’s reflection in the vanity mirror. The French maid threw up her hands in disgust.

  “Your sisters are like a rainbow of colors. And here you are in the dullest blue. You are beautiful, mademoiselle. Why do you try to hide it?”

  Mimi worked Matilda’s long braids in circles around her head. “I won’t be in the ballroom long. No use making much of a fuss. Nor am I beautiful, Mimi. I’m not as easily duped as my sisters.”

  “Hiding behind those dreadful glasses in dull colors. You hide your beauty. Why?” Mimi asked.

  “I’ve no interest in these guests,” Matilda replied.

  “No gentleman has caught your eye then, mademoiselle?”

  Matilda snorted. “My catching a gentleman’s eye and his catching mine are two different things. They are for the most part boring.”

  “You are too good for them, then, eh?”

  Matilda smiled a little smile and said nothing else. She wasn’t really a snob, was she? She just preferred to blend with the wallpaper. Much better than being compared to Juliet and Alexandra. Much less chance of spilling wine or tripping while one was among the ferns. Snob or coward. Either way, Matilda was not pleased with herself. Both descriptions were unacceptable.

  Matilda waved away Mimi’s insistence on lip rouge and inspected herself in the full-length mirror. The flat blue-gray of her dress hung straight with not a ribbon or button to be had. Plain sleeves ended mid forearm. The pins holding her hair in place dug into her skull. She scratched her scalp between two massive braids. Mimi flew forward, scowling, and thrust a loosened pin back in place.

  “Oh! That hurt!” Matilda said.

  The petite French woman shook her head as she walked out of Matilda’s bedroom. “Beauty is pain, ma petite.”

  * * *

  “Now you must contrive to talk a bit, Freddy, if you are to make a match. Women don’t particularly find an impending forty years of silence to be an inducement to marriage.” Athena frowned and looked out the window. “The Gilbert children are being cared for by Mrs. Plumsbly for the next few days. But you must make some decisions shortly.”

  “May hap Mrs. Plumsbly will decide to keep the children. That will solve it all,” Thornsby said to his sister.

  Athena turned. “Mrs. Plumsbly is sixty-years-old. She raised her children years ago. And don’t act as if you didn’t hear me about the other. Brooding silent types may attract more experienced women, but these girls will expect some conversation.”

  “He has nothing to say to them, Athena. Quit your nagging,” Andrew Smithly replied from across the seat.

  Athena’s eyes opened wide. “Nagging? Of all the outrageous statements. I do not nag.”

  Smithly stretched out his legs. “Nag, nag, nag. No wonder no one will marry you.”

  Thornsby was more than accustomed to Athena and Smithly’s arguments. They snipped at each other constantly. Quite a shame, his sister and his best friend detested each other. “Be quiet the both of you. My problems far outsize either of yours.”

  “Won’t be such a change, Freddy. Just pick one of the girls, drag her to the minister, bed her and be on your merry way. Can’t inconvenience you for more than a month or two. Violet will wait,” Andrew said glibly.

  “Smithly!” Thornsby said in a low voice, “for the love of God. My sister is present. Mind your tongue.”

  Athena raised one brow and tightened her lips. “I am hardly a child out of the school room, Freddy. Although crudely put, I imagine, Smithly is right.”

  Athena was Thornsby’s only family other than some distant and rather unusual cousins. Her disdain for him was clear
on her face. “If you agree with Smithly, then why the scowl?” Thornsby asked.

  “Her face is set that way, it is. Hardened like plaster,” Smithly said as he stared out the window of the coach.

  Thornsby glared at Andrew. “No need to malign . . .”

  “Oh, do be quiet. The both of you. I hardly need your help with Smithly. He is such a bit of a man.”

  “The scowl, sister?” Thornsby prompted again.

  “I just, well . . .” Athena began. “Oh, never mind.”

  “Tell me, Athena. And do promise you won’t call me Freddy this weekend. What were you going to say?”

  Athena looked out the window. “It’s just that Father and Mother had such high hopes for you. They both prayed you would find a mate worthy of you, who loved you. Whom you could love, like they loved each other.” Athena flitted her hand. “But you have wasted your time away, playing the bachelor. Well, enough.”

  “Wasted his time being a bachelor. Heigh ho. I would hardly call what Thornsby’s been up to a waste. Nay, I’d say,” Andrew continued.

  “Quiet,” Athena and Thornsby said in unison.

  Thornsby turned to his sister. “Mother and Father told you this?”

  Athena nodded.

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember the specific day,” Athena said.

  Thornsby was shocked. His parents had been politely distant from his accounting. “What say you, Athena? Mother and Father in love? They went along together tolerably enough, but love?”

  “Yes, in love. You were away at school most of the time. And when you were home, you were far too busy staying out late and racing your horses to notice. Father grieved most deeply when Mother passed. His health deteriorated quickly after that.”

  “But they hardly spoke. Hardly in the same room together as I remember,” Thornsby said with a shake of his head.

  “They were in one room of the house together enough,” Athena said quietly. Her face colored.

  Andrew howled. “This is rich. So you think they, um well, fancied each other quite often, Athena?”

  “Enough, Smithly. That’s my mother you’re going on about,” Thornsby shouted. He leaned across the carriage seat, facing his sister. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Well, yes, Freddy. They were deeply in love. Just not showy and modern about it. They had their individual interests, granted, but they had their own quiet conversations together and ways of showing each other how much they cared.”

  “I am flummoxed, truly, Athena,” Thornsby said. His parents, kind and dutiful, and above all, traditional, had been in love. He knew most certainly that Athena did not exaggerate or speak without care. His sister never did. It must have been true. “What ways, Athena?”

  “Hmm?” she said as she fixed her skirts.

  “What ways did they show each other?” Thornsby asked.

  “Do you really want to talk about something so personal in front of,” Athena jerked her head Andrew’s way, “him?”

  “Wait one second, old girl. Many confidences your brother and I share. Nay a one has ever been revealed. Why I’d go to my grave . . .”

  “Perhaps not intentionally,” Athena interrupted. “But discretion is hardly one of your fortes. Fact of the matter I can’t seem to recall any fortes associated with you.”

  Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. “My fencing is superb. I have as fine a seat on a horse as you’ll see in England. No fortes?”

  Thornsby stared at Andrew. “Not a word of this. Do you hear me? Not by plan or by chance.”

  “Of course,” Andrew said and turned to glare at Athena.

  Thornsby actually expected Smithly to stick out his tongue at Athena, just as he had done when they were children. “Now go on, Athena. What ways did Mother and Father . . . well, what ways?”

  Athena smiled a soft smile as she gazed out the window. Thornsby waited patiently. Andrew, finally quiet, was staring at Athena in the strangest way.

  “It was mostly in the way they looked at each other, I suppose. As if they actually saw each other. Her insistence that everything was done in the household for his happiness. His indulgence of her with his time and his money.” Athena turned to stare at her brother. “Father had every clock in the house unwound while Mother was ill, you know. Said he didn’t want her hearing the time ticking away.”

  Athena touched a finger to the corner of her eye. Thornsby had never in his life seen a tear on his sister’s face. But he thought she may be right about his parents. Things he had never noticed or understood were clear to him with Athena’s words.

  “Father told me he never had a mistress. Never would embarrass Mother like that. I always assumed he valued his honor too much,” Thornsby said quietly.

  “I believe, dear brother, our father valued her too much.”

  Thornsby sank back on his seat.

  “Hell of a story to tell a man about to pick a wife with an eye for expedience,” Andrew said.

  “What did you say?” Athena asked.

  Andrew flustered his hand in Thornsby’s direction. “Hardly the type of fairy story to tell a man when he’s being led down the walkway to the matrimonial gallows. He’s out to pick a chit he can bed without gagging. That will politely and quietly disappear from his life shortly thereafter.” Andrew looked at Thornsby. “Isn’t that right, old boy?”

  Thornsby looked from his sister to Andrew. What Andrew described was exactly what he’d been planning. But somehow his sister’s words had clouded the issue. His plan seemed shallow and . . . and small, and quite unlike what his parents had apparently wished for. The tree lined drive of the Bisset estate loomed ahead.

  * * *

  “Fitz,” Matilda said as she kissed her brother’s cheek. “How is Oxford?”

  “Capital, Matilda, just capital,” Fitz replied.

  Frances Sheldon reached her arm through the crook of her son’s elbow. “There you are, Matilda. Everything is just fine.” She patted her youngest son’s neck cloth and smiled.

  “Frances?” a guest called out.

  Both her mother and father turned and raised a hand in greeting. Juliet, Alexandra and Fitz looked at each other and giggled. Francis and Frances Sheldon. Her siblings laughed each time this sort of situation occurred. Even her oldest brother and his fiancé, Franklin and Suann tittered in the background. Matilda’s jaw was clenched.

  Juliet and Alexandra stood beside Matilda preparing to greet guests. Their father, Francis Sheldon, stepped in front of them. “You girls are a vision. As absolutely beautiful as you could possibly be.” Francis’s eyes strayed to his future daughter-in-law. “Suann, my dear, stunning as well. Franklin,” Francis said with a nod to his son. “Fine cut of a coat I’d say.”

  “Dapper yourself, Father.” Franklin patted Suann’s hand on his arm. “She is just a peach, isn’t she, Father? Just a peach.”

  Francis kissed each of Suann’s cheeks. “A real peach.”

  “Sir Arthur,” Frances said with a wide smile, a pat to her upswept hair, and an outstretched hand to a new arrival. “So very glad to have you.”

  Matilda groaned inwardly. And so began a long three days of this business. Nearly two hours later all the guests were situated in the correct room. A stand-up buffet was to be served at eight o’clock, giving Matilda three hours alone. Mother was fussing with Cook over some calamity. Father had taken a few old compatriots to the stables, and her sisters were napping. Matilda was heading towards the stairs when the footman opened the door once more.

  A tall, dark haired man entered with a thin woman on his arm. A blond man came behind them and whistled as his gaze cleared the three-story ceiling of the entranceway. Damnation. These were the guests Mother had been fussing about, wondering what had held them up. No Mother. No Father. No Franklin and the peach. No Juliet or Alexandra. Not even Fitz about. Matilda stepped forward and curtsied.

  “Good day, Sirs and Madam.”

  The dark-haired man swept a look up and down the entr
anceway, even down to the marble floors before handing his hat and cane to Matilda.

  “Tell your Mistress the Duke of Thornsby has arrived.”

  “Right away, sir,” Matilda said.

  The thin woman rushed forward. “How silly my brother can be,” she said and stole a glance over her shoulder at the dark haired man. “Aren’t you the middle daughter of the Earl?”

  The blond man laughed uproariously. Matilda quelled him with a stare. “Matilda Sheldon. Welcome to Maplewood.”

  “I am Lady Athena. I believe we’ve met quite some time ago. This is Mr. Andrew Smithly. And this,” she said as she grabbed the dark haired man’s arm, “is my brother, the Duke of Thornsby.”

  Thornsby bowed over her hand. “Terribly sorry, my dear. I just, well . . . my fault. My apologies. Terrible mistake. Terrible.”

  Matilda leaned forward. She’d had her daily allowance of stupidity as she greeted guests all afternoon. There really was only so much she could take and remain stoic. “How do you characterize this auspicious start? Would you term it,” Matilda lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “terrible, by chance?”

  The Duke pulled at his waistcoat. “I did apologize, Miss Sheldon. Was a harmless mistake on my part. I heard your family described in one fashion, and you standing there just didn’t put me in mind that you were part of the Sheldon clan.”

  The sister groaned.

  “And how, sir, did you hear my family described?” Matilda asked.

  “Got you in a neat box, old boy,” the other man said.

  “Everyone said they were blond and beau . . .”

  Matilda’s brows rose. She was aware of the comparisons made between her and her sisters and mother. Her sister-in-law to be as well. Just not in the entrance to her home by a man she’d never met. She bellowed over her shoulder to the butler.

  “James. Fetch Mother. The Duke of Thorny has arrived.” Matilda schooled her features. “Lady Athena, Mr. Smithly, enjoy your stay.”