How to Dance With a Duke

by Manda Collins

  “I do not wish to stay here,” Cecily said when she realized he was not taking her to Hurston House.

  “We will discuss the matter indoors like civilized people,” he returned, steering his horses to a stop before the entrance to his town house.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but perhaps seeing that he was in no mood for argument, she shut it again and allowed him to lift her by the waist and carry her up the front steps and into the house.

  It took a great deal of self-control to keep from protesting his high-handed behavior, but one look at his countenance told her that her husband was not ready for discussion.

  Once they were inside, he barked an order to Watkins to send for a physician, and then made the arduous climb of two flights up the stairs to the duchess’s rooms. Cecily knew she was not a lightweight, but as he seemed not to notice that she was heavier than the average lady, she had no intention of telling him.

  Finally, he opened the door to her sitting room and deposited her onto a settee that was arranged at a jaunty angle before the fire.

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Cecily could hear the distance in her voice, but was unable to stop it. She was angry with him for a variety of reasons and was unprepared to behave as if nothing had happened when in fact something had happened. Something that vexed her in the extreme.

  “You are welcome,” he said stiffly.

  “Now,” he went on, “perhaps you will tell me what exactly made you endanger yourself in such a foolish manner. If Christian hadn’t sent for me—”

  “Oh.” She stopped him. “Yes, let’s discuss how Christian knew to send for you! Explain to me why your friend was aware that you had returned to the metropolis, but your wife was not.”

  “I do not need to explain myself to you, madam,” was his harsh reply. “But your actions today are certainly part of the reason.”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded, clenching her fists at her side.

  “Can you deny that you would have been unable to keep from insinuating yourself into my investigation?”

  “I do not insinuate myself,” she huffed. “But if there was some role I thought I would be able to play in your search for Will’s killer, then why should I not inform you of it?”

  “Cecily, you do not simply inform. You take over. When you have an idea, you leap from thought to action with frightening speed. That is all well and good when you are working with scholarly notions, but in the real world that can get a person killed.”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said with exaggerated courtesy, “I thought I was living in the real world. I had no notion that I was destined to remain in the fanciful world where only scholars with outlandish notions live.”

  “Do not be a child,” he snapped. “I am not trying to hurt your feelings, I am trying to keep you safe.”

  “You said that before. That you are only trying to protect me. What you haven’t said is why. My father always said he did it because he loved me. A ridiculous notion, to be sure.” She said the words with a sneer. “But what of you, Lucas? If I am such a head-in-the-clouds simpleton who must be protected from her own impulsive actions, then why on earth do you even care? Surely it would be easier for you if I got myself killed and left you free to marry some timid flower who would never cause you a moment’s trouble.”

  “Because I love you, dammit!” he roared, hauling her up against him, completely unmindful of her shoulder and kissing her with a ferocity that made her knees go weak. And not just from blood loss.

  A hesitant cough from the doorway broke the spell.

  “I do not wish to disturb, Your Grace,” the footman, George, said with a nervous laugh. Clearly he was embarrassed at having witnessed their embrace. “But D-Dr. Tillby is here.”

  Lucas stepped back from Cecily, both of them breathing heavily and staring at one another.

  “Show him in,” Lucas said, never taking his eyes from her. Cecily allowed him to hand her back down onto the settee, and dropped his hand as if it were made of fire as soon as she was seated.

  “Your Grace,” the physician said with an admirable calm. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  It was some twenty minutes before the doctor ordered Cecily to take a bit of laudanum for the pain and saw her bandaged and settled into her bed. When he was gone, Lucas was left, seated at her bedside, her slim hand clasped in his large, strong one.

  “I have more to say,” Cecily said, fighting her heavy eyelids to keep focused on him, the opiate already beginning to have its effect on her. “Do not think you’ve won.”

  Lucas gave a sharp laugh. “Never fear, my dear,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “I look forward to hearing you shout at me like a fishwife again soon.”

  She shook her head, as if trying to shake off the sleep that was slowly claiming her. “Why did you say it?” she asked, her voice getting softer. “Not fair. Not fair at all.”

  He grinned. “You know what they say about love and war,” he told her.

  “Can’t,” she said, her lids dropping against her will. “Can’t let you…”

  Watching over her as she lost her fight to stay awake, Lucas leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “I’m afraid you can’t stop me, Duchess,” he said softly. “I will love you whether you allow me to or not.”

  Nineteen

  The next morning, Cecily awoke alone, and feeling surprisingly refreshed given that she’d been shot the day before. Dressing quickly, she stepped out the door of the duchess’s chamber to discover that three large footmen were guarding her.

  Lucas’s doing, she decided, and moved down the hallway. To her annoyance, the footmen seemed to have been instructed to follow her.

  “James,” she said to the senior among them, “why are you following me?” She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. It was not the footmen’s fault that their master was an overprotective fool, after all.

  “If you please, Your Grace,” the young man returned, “the duke told us that we’re to go wherever you go today. At least until the man who tried to shoot you yesterday is caught.”

  “He told us you were not to be left alone at any time,” the fresh-faced one, George, added.

  “Did he indeed?” She knew her husband meant well, but really, it was annoying in the extreme to see that none of her explanations she’d given him yesterday had had any effect at all. Not only had he continued to treat her like a person without the sense to protect herself, but he couched his argument within the mantle of protecting her. “Well, I hope you gentlemen are prepared for a great deal of walking today, for I’m engaged to go shopping with my cousins this afternoon.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” James said, keeping his face expressionless. “We will accompany you wherever you like.”

  “Excellent,” she said with false brightness. “First I will have some breakfast, and while I do so you will perhaps ask for the coach to be brought around.”

  And some twenty minutes later, Cecily was inside the carriage with Maddie and Juliet, on the way to Bond Street in search of the perfect gift for Violet’s upcoming birthday. Both young ladies gave her hard hugs with deference to her injured shoulder as soon as she climbed in.

  “You could have been killed,” Juliet said, her brows drawn in concern. “You must promise me that you won’t take any more risks like that.”

  But Cecily waved her concern away. “If it were up to you and Winterson I’d never leave the house again.”

  “Well, I think it’s perfectly lovely that he wishes to protect you,” Maddie said with feeling. “There are any number of wives whose husbands wouldn’t care a fig whether or not they were attacked by some maniac.”

  “I’d wager there are some who would greatly appreciate it,” Juliet said, unable to remain serious for long. “With the state of marriage in the ton these days it’s a wonder someone hasn’t offered it as a service to the unhappy spouse.”

  “It’s not that I do not appreciate the sentiment,” Cecily
said, squeezing her cousin’s hand. “But I’ve spent my entire life resisting the strictures society places on young ladies. I had hoped now that I am married I’d be allowed more freedom rather than less. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

  “This is hardly a usual situation, though, Cecily,” Juliet argued. “Someone did shoot you yesterday, after all. I would hardly equate your father’s fears that your following in your mother’s scholarly footsteps would cause you to suffer a decline with Winterson’s very sensible attempts to protect you from some madman with a gun. Your mama’s death was caused by a fever. And there’s nothing of any real consequence one can do to protect against that. Whereas there are steps that can be taken to protect one from being murdered.”

  “I suspect that you’re right in some ways,” Cecily conceded, “but it is so utterly frustrating not to be in charge of one’s own destiny. First we are children who are lorded over by our fathers, then we are wives who are lorded over by our husbands.”

  “What a trial it must be for you.” Juliet’s smile took the sting out of her words.

  A flush rose in Cecily’s cheeks. “I suppose I was being a bit insufferable, wasn’t I? I am sorry. I do not wish to sound ungrateful.”

  “Is there something else bothering you?” Maddie asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “I mean, aside from the fact that someone is trying to have you killed.”

  The wry addendum provoked laughter from all three of them. “Yes, Cecily,” Juliet said, her eyes merry. “Do tell us if something else has eclipsed the all-consuming terror of being faced down by a killer. The peas at dinner last night were too soft, perhaps? Or your favorite pair of boots have been scratched?”

  “Oh, pooh,” Maddie said with mock severity. “You know what I meant. After all, there is more to life than the quest for Lord Hurston’s journals. What about Winterson? Is everything well with the two of you?”

  The question caught Cecily by surprise, and she paused a moment to frame her answer. Finally, deciding to empty her budget, she said baldly, “Winterson told me he loved me last night.”

  Madeline squealed happily and clapped her hands. “I knew it! I knew he loved you! From the first moment I saw you together at the Bewle ball I saw how suitable the two of you are for one another.” She took a breath. “Tell us all about it.”

  At a raised brow from Juliet, she hastily amended, “Within reason, of course.”

  “Well,” Cecily began, “there’s nothing to tell. He told me, I told him thank you, and we went to sleep.”

  “You were in the bedchamber?” Maddie gasped. “How lovely!”

  “Not for that.” A blush suffused Cecily’s cheeks. “We don’t always … that is to say … we weren’t…”

  “No need to explain,” Juliet said, saving her cousin’s modesty. “So, he told you he loved you. What did you tell him?”

  “Thank you.”

  Madeline and Juliet stared.

  “What?” Cecily demanded. “Is ‘thank you’ not an appropriate response? I suppose you would have had me declaring my unending adoration?”

  “Not necessarily,” Juliet said, her lips pursed. “But certainly something more positive than ‘thank you.’”

  “What is wrong with ‘thank you’?”

  “Nothing is wrong precisely,” Madeline said. “But it does lack a certain…”

  “Romance,” Juliet supplied. “‘Thank you’ is what you say in response to ‘that’s a nice hat you’re wearing.’”

  “Not what you tell the man who has just declared his love for you. Unless of course you do not love him. In which case…” Maddie’s expression was sad.

  “You would say ‘thank you.’” Juliet nodded in disappointed agreement. “You really do not love him?”

  Cecily shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s not that I do not love him. I am quite fond of him really. He is much more intelligent than I thought when we first met. And he is always doing sweet little things for me. Why, the other evening he…” She began to blush again. “Well, never mind that. He is very sweet.”

  “But?” Juliet prompted.

  “But, I do not know if I love him. Or rather, I do not know if I am ready to tell him such a thing. Or to give him anything more than simple admiration and affection. What if he decides to leave me? Or go traveling without me?”

  “He is your husband, Cecily.” Madeline squeezed her hand. “He cannot leave you. Not really.”

  “My father left my mother home alone in London while he traveled the Continent and Africa in search of fame and fortune. Just because a man marries does not guarantee that he will stay with her forever.”

  “Winterson is nothing like your father.” The adamancy of Juliet’s statement brought Cecily up short.

  “How can you know that? How can you know that he won’t declare himself to be my eternal love and then board the next ship bound for America a week later?”

  “I can’t know it. But I know you. And I know Winterson. And neither one of you would do such a thing to the other. If Winterson tells you that he loves you, then you can believe him. Honor is not just another byword with him. He lives by it. I have been out long enough to know which gentlemen are to be trusted and which are not. And your husband is definitely an honorable man. Even if he did not love you he would never simply leave you, his wife, to deal with the vagaries of life on your own. He would no more do that than you would.”

  “That is what I thought about David,” Cecily said quietly. “I thought he was an honorable man. He was well mannered, graceful, affectionate. He was everything I thought I desired in a husband, and he also told me he loved me.”

  “I hope you will not let that toad David Lawrence ruin what you have with Winterson,” Juliet said with a frown. “Lawrence is half the man Winterson is, and if it were not for the fact that your father was away at the time, he would have been called to account for jilting you. If I didn’t think I’d be laughed off the field, I’d have put a bullet in the bounder myself.”

  “So would I,” Madeline added. “David Lawrence can make no comparison with Winterson. And for you to fear Winterson because of what Lawrence did is unfair to both you and Winterson.”

  “I know,” Cecily conceded. “It’s just that I … I am afraid. Afraid of having my heart broken again. I did not think I would survive the last time. If it were to happen to me with Winterson, I fear I’d never recover.”

  “But isn’t that the risk of falling in love?”

  She was saved from answering by the slowing of the carriage. She didn’t know how the conversation had turned, and though she was grateful to have her cousins’ counsel, it was trying to be the focus of their attention. She looked forward to the day when they were married so that the tables would turn.

  The three ladies allowed the coachman to hand them down and soon they were in Bond Street, browsing the shop windows. After a stop in the stationer’s, the glover’s, and the haberdasher’s, they simply wandered from shop window to shop window, occasionally stepping inside to sample the merchant’s wares, from confections to perfume. All the while being followed at a discreet distance by three sturdy footmen. Despite being slightly annoyed at Lucas’s high-handedness, Cecily did feel more secure knowing that should anything untoward happen she would be well protected.

  Maddie and Juliet had walked on ahead to look at the printer’s shop window when Cecily stopped to examine a particularly fine bit of jade carving on display in a jeweler’s window. As with many less prosperous shops, this one seemed to have added to their inventory by purchasing decorative odds and ends, some of which were likely to have been obtained through questionable channels. Still, there were some lovely pieces to be had, and Cecily had always made it a practice to search for wares that might have made their way from Egypt or India or some other foreign land. She had found many pretty pieces this way, including a scarab that might well belong in a museum.

  Allowing her gaze to wander over the small bits of scrimshaw, the odd candlestick, th
e carved figures, Cecily was just about ready to move on to the next window when a flash of blue near the bottom of the window caught her eye. Her heart began to beat faster as she recognized an oblong object lying on its side—it was a sarcophagus, the likes of which she’d seen many times before. Small because it was not for a human being, but a cat. In this case, the cat still held the pale sheen of the blue paint some ancient Egyptian had used to decorate the final resting place of this small sleek animal with the powers of a god. And more important still, it was an exact replica of the blue cat that had been carved into the side of the casket where they’d found Will’s body.

  She had found the blue cat.

  * * *

  Maddie and Juliet had come hurrying to her side when they heard Cecily’s squeal of delight. When she told them what had so overset her, they followed her into the shop and waited patiently while she asked the clerk if she might speak to the proprietor.

  Conscious of nobility when he saw it, the young man nearly hit his head on the floor from bowing so low. And when he disappeared into the back room to fetch his employer, Cecily and her cousins waited with barely concealed impatience.

  At last a tall man, whose limbs resembled nothing so much as walking sticks stuffed into fabric, stepped into the room, smoothing down his oily hair, clearly hoping to make a good impression on the Duchess of Winterson.

  “Adolphus Hogg, at your service, Your Grace,” he said, lowering his thin frame into a deep bow. “I understand you are interested in the Egyptian death box.”

  Cecily only just succeeded in keeping her eyes still. She was beginning to understand why Lucas had been so leery of meeting her that first day. It was pleasant, of course, to be accorded a certain amount of condescension because of one’s station. She would be disingenuous if she were to declare otherwise. There were, however, those who granted such liberties to her simply because of her title, so that she feared very much that one day she would puff up like a hot air balloon she’d seen in Green Park once, and fly away into the sky never to be heard from again.