Charming the Duke

by Holly Bush

  “I believe Medusa is the goddess you are referring to,” Thornsby said finally.

  “I thought Medusa was a city in Spain,” Juliet said as she turned.

  “Your Grace!” Frances Sheldon said. “How good to see you.”

  “That’s Madrid,” Ethel said and shook her head. “I’ve got to sit down.”

  No wonder the girl has such skewed notions, Thornsby thought. If her family was the source of her learning, then she was doomed from the start. She looked mortified at the moment.

  “I need to speak to you, Miss Sheldon,” he said. “It is of the utmost importance.”

  “I wonder if it is the same topic mother was going to speak to us about?” Alexandra asked. “She did say it was of the utmost importance.”

  “Miss Sheldon?” Thornsby said as he indicated her office where they’d spoken earlier.

  Matilda strode past the dropped jaws of her sisters and her mother’s smile of triumph. She turned as she heard the door close behind them. “I hardly know what to say after you’ve heard that conversation with my family.”

  “Although that is not what I wanted to speak to you about, I can understand why you feel lonely on occasion. Listening to your family is, I imagine, what it is like in a foreign country where one knows nothing of the language.”

  “It is the Queen’s English they speak,” Matilda said. “Just none of it connected to rational thought.”

  “That is exactly what I wish to speak to you about,” Thornsby said. “Rational thought.” He stepped close to her and propped his arms on his hips.

  “I hardly understood why you stormed out of here a short time ago. I had understood sensible conversation allowed for differences of opinion. Do you wish to explain yourself?”

  “You call lying with half the men in London sensible?” Thornsby asked.

  “Whatever are you talking about? Lying with men?” Matilda asked.

  Thornsby loomed over her. “You know quite well ‘lying’ wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.”

  Matilda shook her head. “I really haven’t any idea . . .”

  “You said yourself, Miss Sheldon, that your mother and grandmother and my sister had convinced you to consider marriage.”

  “Yes . . .”

  “And that coupling was the consideration. Am I right?”

  “Well, yes, I hadn’t considered that aspect of marriage . . .”

  Thornsby could feel the veins pop out on his temples. He could smell chalk dust and apples in her hair. It was bizarrely titillating. “And that you meant to test these husband candidates. Am I right?”

  “How else is one . . .”

  “Some women manage to have some feeling, perhaps love when choosing a husband. You merely wish to rut with them to make your decision,” Thornsby hissed.

  “Rutting? How crude! I never said a word about that being the test,” Matilda shouted back. “It must be your own wicked thoughts to think I’d ever consider such a thing.”

  Thornsby’s shoulders dropped. Had he misconstrued their conversation so thoroughly? “What else was I to think? What other test would there be if the marriage bed is the only consideration for matrimony.”

  “Coming from you of all people, engaged to Millicent Marsh.”

  That comment stopped him dead in his tracks. She was right, damn it. Could he never win with this woman? “So you hadn’t decided to test men in that way. What were your plans then?”

  “If you must know, Ethel said my stomach would go to mush.”

  “Mush?” Thornsby said weakly.

  “Just like it did when . . .” Matilda stopped abruptly.

  “When what, Matilda?” Thornsby said in a low voice and stared into her eyes. “When what?”

  “When you kiss her, you idiot,” Ethel said.

  “Ethel!”

  Thornsby turned in a flurry. “I had hoped this to be a private conversation.”

  Ethel was laughing and leaning on her cane to stand. “It will be charming, no doubt, Matilda. You have met your match, I daresay.”

  Ethel opened the door, and the rest of Matilda’s family fell away from the opening. Juliet straightened her hair. Alexandra stared, wide-eyed. Frances smiled weakly.

  “What is the matter with you, Bisset? To allow your daughter, your unmarried daughter to be alone with me with the door closed,” Thornsby roared.

  “Matilda can take good care of herself,” Juliet said. “She has told me that on numerous occasions.”

  “I’m sure your intentions were honorable, Your Grace,” Frances said.

  “And after all, my mother, the Dowager Countess was with you the whole time,” Fran supplied. “She is a notorious stickler for propriety.”

  “That woman?” Thornsby asked Fran Sheldon. “She’s the very one to put foolish notions in Matilda’s head in the first place. No one knew she was in here anyway. Least of all me.”

  “Quite fortunate, then, wouldn’t you say, Your Grace, that Mother Sheldon needed a rest,” Frances said.

  “Her knees bother her on occasion,” Fran added.

  “Most likely the change in weather,” Frances said.

  “There is nothing foolish about the issues Matilda and I discussed,” Ethel said. “Needs said to every young miss in the land long before she finds herself at the altar. I suggested my daughter-in-law have the same conversation with Juliet and Alexandra.”

  “Oh. Do tell. I imagine what you’re discussing is what mother wished to talk to us about this morning.” Juliet looked up at the Duke. “She laughed most hysterically then and ran from the room.”

  Thornsby was in awe. Of her family. Her reluctant admission that his kiss had affected her and the thrill he felt with that admission. Matilda was staring at the ceiling. He walked past her family to stand in front of her.

  “I am very sorry I misunderstood you this morning. Pray forgive me and allow me to escort you to the Benford Ball.” Thornsby looked around the room to assess whose company he could countenance for an evening. “If the Dowager would be so kind as to chaperone you.”

  “You wish me to accompany you to a ball? You must be mad!” Matilda said. “You have done nothing but insult me since the day you mistook me for the maid. And today. Today you accuse me of . . . well, that is the worst of it.”

  “I have one word to say to you, Miss Sheldon.” Thornsby slapped his leather riding gloves in his palm and stared into her eyes. “Mush.”

  “The Benford Ball, you say,” she repeated. He nodded. “What time shall I be ready?”

  Long sighs and hand wringing from her family followed. They, Thornsby supposed, waited as impatiently as he for Matilda’s answer. He stood straighter, although he was not quite sure whether because Matilda had accepted or he had by chance won one round of this match.

  “Eight o’clock.” Thornsby said and made his goodbyes to her family.

  * * *

  “The Benford Ball!” Frances exclaimed as the door closed.

  “It is the most coveted invitation of the season!” Juliet supplied.

  “What will you wear?” Alexandra asked.

  “Gentlemen only escort their affianced to balls such as this, Matilda,” Frances said. “You do realize what this means?”

  “It means I will have to squeeze my feet into tight shoes and allow Mimi to stab my skull with pins. Nothing else,” Matilda said.

  Ethel marched to her. “Concede defeat, Matilda. A gentleman accompanies a lady only when marriage is just around the corner. You are fooling yourself if you do not realize Thornsby’s intent.”

  “And what of my intent?” Matilda said.

  “What of it? It is the same as his if you allow yourself to consider it,” Ethel said. She turned to her other granddaughters. “Come along and escort me home, girls. We’ll need to think about what your sister will wear to the ball.”

  Matilda allowed herself to consider all that had happened for the next hour. Consider in fact, her intent. She hustled Ethel, Alexandra and Juliet out the doo
r and her mother, Bill and Davey, up the staircase. Fran Sheldon decided a congratulatory drink at his gentleman’s club was in order. After all, his daughter was marrying a duke. And Matilda found herself curled in the rocker in front of the fireplace. Mrs. Brewer brought tea and cookies without a word spoken and then proceeded to make herself scarce.

  Matilda’s mental list of yea’s and nay’s concerning the Duke of Thornsby was heavy on the negative. He had dismissed her as a charwoman, lost two orphans, engaged himself to a woman of questionable character, and had accused Matilda of shocking immoral behavior. The converse was admirable habits towards Alice and Jonah, and it was clear he thought highly of his sister, although her marriage he was not so pleased with. He was intelligent of that she was now sure. Thornsby was handsome beyond compare in the kingdom, but Matilda refused to consider it a virtue as such. Thornsby was altogether confusing. Intriguing, and interested in her.

  But there was clearly something else. Something unidentifiable but true and real all the same. Ethel had said some things could not always be discerned through study or conjecture. Some attraction, he to her, and she to him, that Matilda could not fathom. She would attend the ball. She would attempt to understand her feelings and his. And for the fraction of a second she allowed herself to revel in this newfound rapturous feeling, Matilda would wonder about the color of her shoes and dress. How Mimi would style her hair. Wonder how she could possibly wait until the ball to see him.

  * * *

  Thornsby walked to Winterbourne as he had dismissed his coachman earlier. For the life of him he could not understand his own behavior. Matilda’s family was the strangest group of featherheads he’d ever met, other than the dragon-like dowager whom they treated as the head of the family. Matilda herself was independent, and if he married her, he’d best diffuse the notion she’d ever fade into the background of his life.

  There it was again. That notion of marriage that came to mind as often as he saw or thought about Matilda. He’d misunderstood her husband test, but he was also certain there was more to it than she’d revealed. She was as reluctant of him as he was eager. Was his impatience due to his impending birthday and the requirements of his father’s will or some other far-reaching notion? Something he’d not considered. Inviting her to the Benford Ball had slipped out of his mouth without reviewing all the implications of escorting Matilda to a ball such as this. Once home he plopped down in his study to consider it all further when Athena swept through the door.

  “Would a knock be too much to ask?” Thornsby said as his sister seated herself. “Where is Andrew?”

  “Off buying us a town home,” Athena said as she settled into the chair. “You look quite distracted, Freddy. What is it?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself with, Athena,” Thornsby said. He would not look his sister in the eye.

  “Nothing to do with Matilda Sheldon?” Athena asked.

  “She is going to accompany me to the Benford Ball with the grandmother as chaperone.”

  Athena stared wide-eyed and then considered her brother’s frown. “You have solved the issue of your inheritance, then.”

  “My inheritance? Well, yes, possibly, although Matilda remains recalcitrant to say the least to my suit. I have considered my upcoming birthday, though,” Thornsby agreed.

  “What are the other considerations then?” Athena asked. Thornsby stared at her. “You said yourself you have considered your inheritance, but I do not think that is the only reason you have asked her.”

  “No, it is not the only reason.”

  “Well . . .” Athena plied.

  “I have just been sitting here considering it all, Athena, and, truth be told, I’m not sure why,” Thornsby admitted.

  “You don’t?” Athena said with a laugh.

  “Enlighten me, Athena. As I’m sure you will do with or without my asking,” Thornsby said.

  “You’re in love with the girl, Freddy. Admit it,” Athena said with a swish of her skirts and a humph.

  “In love?” Thornsby said. “I hardly know her. Her family is full of half-wits at best. Many would think she is not overly attractive, although I find her very handsome. She dresses in the most unconventional manner outside of the dress she wore to the Hollingberry’s.”

  “The night you kissed her,” Athena said.

  “Yes, I kissed her that night. That idiot Berfine twirled her off, staring at her low-cut dress.”

  “Matilda is uncommonly bright. I’m sure she saw through Berfine’s advances. And you were jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Thornsby said with a laugh. “Hardly. Berfine is no match for me.”

  “Yet Matilda has resisted you. How do you account for that?” Athena asked softly.

  Thornsby glanced at Athena from under his brow. “She has some odd notions that marriage is not for her. Although with some encouragement from her grandmother, mother and apparently you, she is at least considering it.”

  Athena sat quietly for a moment. “Are you attracted to her Freddy?”

  “Unaccountable yes. Her orphanage. Her notions, however strange.”

  “I mean physically, Freddy,” Athena said.

  Thornsby face colored. “Really, Athena.”

  Athena lifted her brows in question.

  “I’m not comfortable talking about this with you,” he said finally. Thornsby realized Athena was not to be deterred. She would sit and stare at him until he finally answered. “Yes. Yes. And yes. Matilda’s life has somehow intertwined itself with mine albeit with no effort on her part. I think about her. What she’s doing or thinking. What her desires are. What it would be like to talk to her about all this and more if we woke sharing a pillow.” Thornsby rose and faced the window. “What her hair looks like down. What it would be like to touch her.”

  “And you have no notion that love is the reason for this, Freddy?”

  Thornsby shrugged. “I have never imagined myself in love with anyone, Athena. I have no way of knowing.”

  Athena rose and went to the door. “Stop playing the Duke for a moment, Freddy. Stop being the Duke. Allow yourself to be just be a man and for Matilda to be just a woman. The answer will bear itself out, I imagine.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thornsby was as nervous as he’d ever remembered being on the night of the Benford Ball. If this was love, as Athena asserted, what if Matilda did not love him? What if these feelings were one-sided, and Matilda sat at her dressing table, even now, considering everything but him. Was she thinking what a bore he was? A false, empty man willing to tie himself to Millicent Marsh? Did she wonder why she’d ever agreed to accompany him and was at this minute counting the hours until she came home? Or worse? Was she not thinking of him at all?

  Jonah and Alice both sat in his room. Alice was reading aloud while Crumsby dusted his black evening clothes.

  “Erstwhile, Alice, the word is erstwhile,” Thornsby said. He turned to the children, now sprawled on his bed. “What do you think?”

  “About what, sir?” Jonah asked.

  “About how I look for this evening?”

  Crumbsby rolled his eyes, gathered his things and left the room.

  Alice looked at him, cocked her head and replied. “I like it better when you wear the gray coat.”

  “I can’t be wearing that old thing tonight. The elbows have holes, and I have to hide it from Crumsby for fear he’ll put it in the rag box. I’m going to a ball, and there is a lady I’m taking . . .”

  “Miss Sheldon?” Jonah asked.

  “Yes, Jonah, Miss Sheldon. Now what do you think she’ll think of me?” Thornsby asked again.

  “You look like the proper gentleman. That’s what Mr. Withrow would say,” Jonah replied.

  Alice looked down at her book. “What, Alice? Is something out of place?” Thornsby asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think Miss Sheldon puts much stock in how you look, sir.”

  “Why do you say that, Alice?”

  “She do
n’t look none at your clothes, sir, or mine or anyone’s. She just don’t care much about those things. When she looks, sir, she looks, well, right at you. Made me feel like she was listening to me. I’m guessing she’d rather you listen to her than look at her.”

  “I suppose you are quite right, Alice,” Thornsby said. It would explain why Matilda dressed in her brown dresses and sensible shoes and melted into the wall when her sisters were about.

  Alice stood on the bed. “It wouldn’t hurt to tell her she looks pretty, though. Girls like that, you know.”

  “I imagine they do,” Thornsby said as he lifted Alice into his arms. “When was the last time I told you how pretty you are?”

  Alice smiled shyly and shook her head.

  “Well, you are very pretty, you know. I’m going to be fighting off young boys trying to court you very shortly,” Thornsby said. Alice buried her face in his shoulder, and it occurred to him he would be doing that exact thing. When he gave in to daydreams of Matilda as his bride, they inevitably included Jonah and Alice. He didn’t know when it had happened, but he rarely thought of these two as an obligation any longer. They were a part of his life every bit as much as he imagined his own children would be.

  Jonah was bouncing on his feather mattress, and Thornsby held out his hand to steady the boy. “Let’s go to the museum tomorrow afternoon,” Thornsby said.

  Both children shouted as he had been telling them about this trip for weeks. He had put it off, but maybe Matilda would join them.

  “Will you be very late tonight, sir?” Jonah asked.

  “Yes. You’ll have to satisfy yourself with Withrow for our story,” Thornsby said.

  Jonah moaned. “I fall asleep right off when he reads.”

  Thornsby laughed. Alice climbed down and took her brother’s hand. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Better not keep Miss Sheldon waiting, sir.”

  The clock chimed quarter of the hour and Thornsby jumped. His nervousness, temporarily suspended, roared back with a vengeance. He flew out of the room, past Jonah and Alice and staring servants, only stopping to drop a kiss on each of the children’s heads.