Say Yes to the Duke

by Kieran Kramer

  He waved a hand. “See that you do.”

  Really? Was that how one spoke to a kind widow? Treat her as if she was less than nothing? Dismiss her with a hand?

  Janice glared at him. “I suppose if Mrs. Friday had been wealthy and titled, you might have given her a more tolerable answer, Lord Yarrow. In future, if you expect to be invited to Halsey House, you’ll conduct yourself with true civility. Pompous airs aren’t welcome.”

  The sleigh bells jingled, the snow hissed by, and within the sleigh there was utter silence.

  “Halsey?” Lord Yarrow begged hoarsely, and pulled at his cravat.

  Janice turned to her future husband and looked so coldly at him, she shocked even herself. But she was cold, down to her very soul. She saw no hope for happiness in her future.

  “You’ll do as Lady Janice asks, Yarrow,” he said, his eyes still on hers.

  Hah, Janice thought. Maybe something good could come out of this “duchess” business, after all.

  When they reached the estate, Luke once again pulled the sleigh directly in front of the house. This time several footmen swarmed it, but Janice leapt out with no assistance at all. Without looking at anyone—Luke, she knew, was expressly avoiding eye contact with her, as well—she walked directly to the house. Once inside, she instructed the butler to bring tea for the entire sleigh party to the drawing room and to send the housekeeper in when the tea was served.

  “Yes, my lady,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She gave him her coat. “And do see that a spare room is prepared near the kitchens for a dog and her pups. When it’s ready for inspection, send for me.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The rest of the sleigh’s occupants trailed in and joined her in the drawing room.

  She poured out for everyone, serving Halsey last. “Esmeralda and her pups are moving into the house,” she told him when she handed him his cup.

  His hand froze. “Are you jesting?”

  “No. I’ll make a bed for them in a spare room off the kitchen. And every day until we leave for London, I’ll walk Esmeralda, the mother. I’ll also be making the rounds of the tenant farmers to see who would like to adopt a pup. Do you think I’ll have to extend the search to Bramblewood?”

  The duke stared at her a long moment. Janice stared right back. She’d already practiced defying him when she didn’t mean it—merely to capture his attention. Now she was going to do what she wanted when she wanted to—she was going to be herself if she had to be a duchess—and not give a fig what he thought.

  And she would enjoy every minute of it.

  “On second thought,” she said, “I have a craving to keep all of them. We certainly have room enough here to do so. Why separate a family unnecessarily?”

  Lady Opal set down her own cup. “But Halsey doesn’t care for dogs that aren’t his hounds.”

  One of them looked up at them from the rug, its ears twitching.

  “Please don’t speak for the duke,” Janice told Lady Opal. “He can do that for himself.” Janice glanced at him, but he didn’t appear inclined to talk at the moment. He was no doubt trying to adjust to the new duchess in her—because she’d given him no choice in the matter.

  “But Opal’s right,” Lady Rose broke in, staring aghast at Janice. “Halsey’s hounds have a special place in his heart.”

  “The pups are coming inside,” Janice told both sisters quietly. “And as you’re so well able to defend the duke, you’re clearly ready to stand up for yourselves. You make a formidable team. As soon as the snow melts, I must ask you to leave Halsey House so you can get started.”

  “What?” whispered Lady Rose.

  Her sister glowered.

  “You know what I said about you being namby-pamby, Lady Janice?” Miss Branson grinned. “I take it back.”

  “Thank you, Miss Branson.” Janice smiled. “Your observations are always refreshing. But you must agree it’s time to stop paying room and board here and take your holiday elsewhere when the roads clear. Why deny the rest of England the pleasure of meeting you?”

  “Ah…” Miss Branson winced and scratched her head. “That’s an idea.”

  “A good one,” Lady Opal said.

  Lady Rose giggled.

  “Perhaps all three of you can travel together,” Janice suggested.

  The two sisters’ amusement faded instantly.

  “You’ve gotten to know each other well,” Janice said. “I think—” Something was coming to her. “I think that what with Miss Branson desiring adventure and having a full pocketbook and needing company—because travel is always better with company—you two sisters can comb England, Scotland, and Wales with her for an ideal place to locate your business.”

  “Business?” Lady Opal drew in her chin.

  “Yes,” said Janice. “You’re an excellent cook, Lady Opal. And Lady Rose, you’d make an exceptional innkeeper. I propose that with Miss Branson’s money, you find yourself a small castle and renovate it. Convert it to an inn.”

  “Good Lord, that’s a brilliant idea,” said Miss Branson. “I’ve always wanted a real castle. And they’re a dime a dozen over here.”

  Lady Rose and Lady Opal stared openmouthed at each other.

  “It is a wonderful notion,” whispered Lady Rose.

  “I agree,” said Lady Opal. “All we need is money.”

  “And I have that,” said Miss Branson. “Girls, as soon as those roads clear, we’re on our way.”

  “Splendid,” said Janice.

  But Lord Yarrow and Lord Rowntree wore uncertain expressions. Were they afraid of being thrown out? She hoped so. They’d probably been getting free entertainment from the ladies, however, so if the women went, then the men might be more amenable to leaving, too.

  She didn’t care to think about whether Halsey would miss the women’s favors. She suspected so. But it didn’t matter anymore. All these questionable guests would soon be on their way. And it was because she’d insist, as the future Duchess of Halsey, that they go.

  The housekeeper walked in. “You wanted to see me, Lady Janice?”

  “Yes, I did.” Everyone but the duke looked at Janice with some trepidation. His Grace kept his usual cool expression in place. “I’d like you to move Lord Rowntree’s things out of his bedchamber and make the one next to it over as the dowager’s. She’ll be moving there tomorrow. Meanwhile, Lord Rowntree will need another room farther away. Smaller will do as he won’t be staying past the snow.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper curtsied and left the room.

  Lord Rowntree put down his cup with a clatter. “I think not, young lady,” he said to Janice, his voice booming. “You’re not duchess here yet. Halsey? Are you going to let her get away with this? And I thought that the doctor ordered your grandmother to stay in seclusion.”

  The duke lifted his cup to his lips and watched Janice over the rim.

  Don’t give an inch, she told herself as she stared back. The dowager duchess deserved better. And Rowntree, the mushroom, needed to depart.

  “You’ll take the smaller room, Rowntree,” the duke said. “And as for my grandmother, that’s none of your business.”

  There were audible intakes of breath from the women, and Lord Rowntree stood. “This is preposterous. Forget giving me the smaller room. I’m packing up and leaving now. At least I can get as far as Bramblewood.”

  Janice didn’t say a word. She busied herself adding milk to her second cup of tea. The dowager would be moving, and it was a great triumph!

  What else could she do?

  Drink her tea, that was what. She was exhausted from doing exactly what she wanted. But it was exhilarating, and dare she say it? She had excellent ideas.

  Which reminded her: she had one more.

  “Lord Rowntree, “she said, “while you’re in Bramblewood, you’ll kindly ask the vicar to attend me as soon as possible. I want to make a massive contribution to the parish fund, payable only if it is split with St. Mungo’s O
rphanage, a couple of hours’ ride away. You’ll preface my donation by making a substantial one of your own to both the parish and the orphanage, if you wouldn’t mind. Consider that your way of repaying the duke for his unceasing hospitality, of which you took full advantage.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.” Lord Rowntree’s face was bright red. “You can’t promise Halsey’s money when you’re not even his bride. And you certainly can’t demand that I empty my own pockets for people I don’t know or care about.”

  “Very well, my lord,” she said serenely. “I see many similarities between His Grace’s friends: mainly a desire to wring every bit of influence you can from the duke, as you have little to none of your own.”

  “How dare you.” Lord Rowntree’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Janice maintained her aplomb. She’d already dealt with Halsey’s nastiness. She could handle this man’s. “When I join the duke’s household,” she told him, “friends will be true friends. I won’t tolerate sycophants or charlatans. If you’re so miserly and selfish that you won’t do me this small favor, don’t expect to be received by His Grace ever again, either here or in London or at any of his properties.”

  Lord Rowntree’s lips thinned. “You’re a bloody nightmare, Lady Janice.” He stormed to the door without looking at the duke or anyone else along the way. And then he paused and turned to her. “But I’ll do as you ask—my lady.”

  He left without another word.

  “Damn, Lady Janice,” said Miss Branson. “You were born to be a duchess.”

  Lady Opal nodded her assent. Lady Rose’s mouth softly gaped.

  Lord Yarrow stood up and glanced at the duke, who sat with his hands steepled before his face, quite as if he was enjoying the spectacle. “I believe I’ll depart today as well,” Yarrow said with a nervous smile, and yanked his thumb to the door.

  “But the snow, my lord,” Janice said. “It will be rough going.”

  “What’s a little snow? I’ve never stayed in Bramblewood. Perhaps it’s time.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “And—“

  “Oh, yes,” he interrupted her. “I plan to make a substantial donation to the parish and St. Mungo’s, too.”

  “Very good, sir.” She smiled at him. “But I must also ask your help in getting Sir Milo involved. When we get back to London, you and Lord Rowntree will go with the duke and me to deliver the news to the baronet: he’s now a benefactor of Bramblewood Parish and the orphanage.”

  Lord Yarrow winced. “Very well, my lady.”

  “Good-bye, my lord.” She sent him a little wave and thought, Mission accomplished.

  But she had many more as Halsey’s future wife. Her job as duchess would keep her busy, busy enough, she hoped, that she could bear not leading the fantasy life she longed for—

  A life that centered around her love for a workingman named Luke Callahan.

  She remembered how he’d cradled her in his lap and kissed her so tenderly, and her longing for him nearly made her double over.

  But it was not to be, she reminded herself dully.

  It couldn’t be.

  She caught the duke’s gaze. The soft smile playing about his lips appeared benign to the casual observer. But she knew him better than that and suddenly realized why he’d not stood in her way that morning. No matter how much she asserted herself, there was one thing she could never have: Luke.

  And as long as Halsey could taunt her with that fact, he was happy.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “There has to be a bright side to being the Duchess of Halsey,” Isobel said. “Other than the fact that you’ll wear exquisite ball gowns, travel the world, and be rich.”

  They were in Janice’s bedchamber writing letters to their loved ones in London. Surely the snow would melt soon and the missives could go out.

  Janice laid down her quill. “I’m determined to find one,” she agreed. “This morning was a good start.”

  “The dowager’s situation is sure to improve,” Isobel said. “And you won’t have to worry about having ramshackle guests lounging about.”

  “True, and now that I think about it, Mrs. Friday can also stay my companion as long as she wishes.”

  “You can find her a husband, too.”

  “Good point. And I can be glad that Esmeralda and the puppies will be close by.”

  “They’re already adored by Cook.” Isobel chuckled. “She gave Esmeralda a massive bone and a talking-to to the pups. They’re running their mother ragged, rolling about as they are and squeaking so loudly. Cook won’t put up with it.”

  Janice chuckled. “Then there are all the roles I’ll play as a new duchess. I’ll get to know the tenants at all Halsey’s estates, and I’ll participate in village life.”

  “I’ve already heard the vicar in Bramblewood is gorgeous,” said Isobel.

  “And in London, I’ll have so many parties to attend and give myself that I’ll probably never sleep.”

  “Don’t forget children,” Isobel said.

  “Right,” Janice said faintly.

  Isobel leaned closer. “You know how they say to think of the Queen when you’re in bed with your husband doing your duty?” she whispered. “I’ve heard something else entirely.”

  “What?”

  “Think of the handsomest man you’ve ever seen.” Isobel gave one nod of her head. “That would be Mr. Groom-in-the-stables. I know I will.”

  “But I can’t!” Janice cried. “That would be too … too much torture. And you can’t because he’s—he’s mine.”

  Isobel bit her lip. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

  Janice nodded. “I do, Izzy. This isn’t some fling to learn how to kiss better. Or to satisfy some curiosity about what men’s bodies look like.”

  “Oh, God. Do you know?”

  Janice nodded.

  Isobel fell flat back on the bed. “You’ve seen … him.”

  “You are supposed to be a maid, you know.” Janice said, looking down at her.

  Izzy sat up on her elbows. “My lady, you are the luckiest—”

  “But surely all these things,” Janice interrupted her with a steely glance, “will serve to distract me.”

  “From him?” Isobel asked tentatively.

  “Yes.” Janice sighed. The plain fact was that she couldn’t be with her own man like no other. “Please move over, Izzy. I want to fall back on the bed now.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Isobel looked most concerned.

  But instead of falling, Janice merely crawled onto the bed and held on to a pillow. “Oh, Marcia and Mama,” she whispered.

  “What is it, my lady?” Isobel reached out and patted her back.

  “They told me that true love would be mine.”

  But instead she faced the prospect of bringing children into the world when she didn’t love their father. How painful would that be? Always she’d have to hide the truth from them—and from her own siblings and her parents—that she and Halsey were not a love match.

  Lies. She hated telling lies. She’d never be able to be herself again.…

  Misery loomed before her.

  But she wouldn’t succumb to it.

  She sat up. “I’m of the House of Brady, Isobel. And although I’ll be the first of us to marry without love, I’ll forge on.”

  “You will, my lady.”

  “I can’t have Luke, but I can still help him.”

  “Yes,” said Isobel. “You will. I’m sorry to say that I’ve had no luck with the other servants. At dinner I told them my mum knew someone named Emily March who once worked here, but no one’s been here long enough to know of her, except the butler, and he said he can’t remember lady’s maids from thirty years ago.”

  “That’s all the more reason for me to get up and go see the dowager.”

  Isobel brushed Janice’s hair an extra hundred strokes for good luck, then sent her on her way.

  In the dark bedchamber, Janice sat in her us
ual chair. “Your Grace, do you remember a lady’s maid called Emily March?”

  The dowager squinted into the distance. “Oh, yes. She worked for me.” She rested the butt of her palm on her forehead. “I can’t remember. There was something about her. Something important.”

  Janice’s temples pounded. What if she could find the journal for Luke? “Was she … a good lady’s maid?”

  The dowager nodded. “The best. I didn’t have her long, though, and I can’t remember why. Mrs. Poole!”

  Mrs. Poole looked up from her sewing.

  “Do you remember Emily March?”

  “No, my lady. I’ve only been working for you the past year. Did she work for you long ago, when you lived at Halsey House before?”

  “Yes,” said the dowager with some excitement. “She was my lady’s maid when my husband, Liam, was still alive.”

  “Anything else you can remember about her?” Janice asked.

  “No, no.” The dowager shifted on her pillows. “And I want to remember her. Desperately. Something happened to her.”

  “Really?”

  The dowager nodded. “But I’m drawing a blank.”

  Janice withheld a sigh. “That’s all right.”

  The dowager held her hand. “Mrs. Poole tells me you and Halsey will be married.”

  “Yes,” said Janice.

  The elderly woman smiled. “Are you happy?”

  Janice nodded. “Everything’s wonderful.”

  The dowager stared at her a moment as if seeing her for the first time. “There’s something not right,” she said. “Which grandson are you marrying, my dear?”

  Janice patted her hand. “Halsey, of course.”

  “Yes, Halsey.” The dowager blinked. “I want you to marry the duke. Please—don’t marry anyone else. I’m sure he’s a good man. I feel it in my bones. He’ll make you a fine husband, and I want you, Lady Janice—only you—as my granddaughter.”

  “I plan to marry him, Your Grace, so you don’t have to worry on that count.”

  The dowager smiled sadly. “If only I could see him before I die.”

  “But you do, Your Grace.” Janice went along with her. “You see him every day at three o’clock.”