The Duchess of Love

by Sally MacKenzie

  “I did,” Nigel said, filling his plate with roast beef, smoked herring, cheese, and eggs. “A clear conscience is a wonderful thing.” He sat down next to Drew. “I’m going to tell Aphrodite that I’m not the duke at the garden party today.”

  “I see.” Drew stared at Nigel’s breakfast and then looked at his own food. What had possessed him to select this nauseating collection of items? He wasn’t the least bit hungry. He pushed the plate away and took a sip of coffee.

  He’d meant to tell Venus yesterday who he was, but it had taken a good half hour to get free of the maze. After Bugden had rescued him—and told him the key so he wouldn’t get trapped again—he’d dragged Drew off to see how he’d fixed the caterpillar catastrophe. While Drew was talking to Bugden, Mrs. Edgemoor appeared and begged him to come see if he thought the music room now looked too bare. He’d gone with her and assured her it was fine, but then she’d wondered if she should get the duke’s opinion at which point he confessed he was the duke. That revelation caused her to scream and throw her apron over her head.

  By the time he’d got Mrs. Edgemoor’s ruffled feathers smoothed and had convinced her the whole scheme had been a harmless, pointless male joke, it had been time for supper. He hadn’t been about to further upset her feelings by skipping the meal. Unfortunately, Cook had had an issue in the kitchen, so supper had been delayed, and once they finally finished eating, the light was gone. There was no moon; he wasn’t familiar with the terrain; and, really, what would Venus’s parents have said if he showed up at their front door so late? So he hadn’t gone.

  He’d been haunted all night by bizarre dreams of towering hedges, vicious caterpillars, and a beautiful, very naked Venus constantly running away from him. He’d woken painfully aroused, completely exhausted, and deeply depressed.

  He was in serious trouble.

  “You really should tell Venus today.”

  “I know.” Drew pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout.”

  Nigel regarded him as he chewed his damn roast beef. “It’s very tempting to say I told you so.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “I won’t say it though.”

  Drew grunted. Damn it, Nigel was laughing at him. “It’s not amusing.”

  “On the contrary, it is. You’ve got yourself into quite the pickle, haven’t you?”

  “You’re in a bit of a fix yourself.”

  Nigel swallowed a forkful of eggs. “No, I don’t believe I am. I gave the matter much consideration last night. I’ve only met Aphrodite once and then only briefly. I shall simply apologize for any confusion”—he grinned—“and blame everything on you.”

  “Thanks so much.”

  Nigel finally finished consuming his disgusting breakfast. “It is your fault, you know, but don’t worry. We all make mistakes in our salad days.” He grinned. “And you are a duke. Much as you might hate it, your title does forgive a multitude of sins.” He stood. “I’ll see you later.”

  He went off whistling, the blackguard.

  Drew took another sip of coffee. Blech! He spat it back into the cup. It was cold.

  No matter what Nigel said, Drew couldn’t laugh this off as a youthful indiscretion. Venus certainly wouldn’t see it that way.

  Hell, he didn’t have youthful indiscretions. He’d always been a serious child, but once he’d been saddled with the title, he’d had to grow up all at once—Nigel’s father, Drew’s guardian, had seen to that. He’d told Drew countless times it was his duty to care for his dependents, invest wisely, take a wife, and have many sons. And to stay out of dangerous places like gambling dens. This was the first time he’d done anything at all foolish.

  Damn it, he was too young for this. He should have years before he needed to think of finding a wife and starting his nursery. But there was no point in fighting it. He felt what he felt. Even if he hadn’t compromised Venus, he would want to marry her. He only hoped she would have him.

  “I’m not feeling well, Mama,” Venus said, standing in the doorway to her sister’s room. “I think I should stay home.”

  “Nonsense.” Mama pinned up a loose curl of Ditee’s hair. “You’re never sick.”

  “I am today.” Her head was pounding, and her eyes felt dry and scratchy. She couldn’t have slept more than an hour or two last night.

  “Oh, Venus, you can’t be sick.” Ditee twisted around to look at her. “You can’t miss the duke’s garden party.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “Sit still, Aphrodite,” Mama said, “or I’ll never get this hair pinned properly.” She glanced over at Venus. “You’ll be fine; it’s probably just nerves.”

  Her stomach twisted. Yes, it was nerves; her nerves had kept her from eating breakfast and would probably cause her to burst into tears the moment she saw Mr. Valentine. Then she could conveniently die of mortification. “I truly feel ill.”

  Mama lifted an eyebrow. “Is it that time of the month, then?”

  “No!” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. She should have lied, but Mama would have caught her out in that too soon. “Perhaps I am just tired.”

  “You’ll perk up once we arrive,” Mama said, finishing with Ditee’s hair. “After all, you’re the one who’s always telling me we should take a greater interest in society, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You have to go, Venus. Please?” Ditee looked beautiful in her old gown furbished with new ribbon, but she looked very anxious, too. “I don’t think I can go without you.”

  Ditee hadn’t asked Venus for anything—besides a pencil and scrap of paper—in years. And besides, it looked very much as if Venus’s matchmaking plans were going to come to splendid fruition. She would love to see that. She wanted to say yes—but she wanted more not to see Mr. Valentine. “Oh, Ditee, you’ll be fine without me.”

  Mama looked from Ditee to Venus and back again. She might spend most of her time wading through Latin and Greek texts, but she wasn’t completely oblivious to her surroundings. “Girls, is there something I should be aware of?”

  Ditee paled and opened her mouth, surely on the verge of spilling the entire story.

  “No, of course not, Mama,” Venus said before Ditee could find her voice.

  Poor Ditee looked back at her. Her sister was as white as snow—was she going to faint? She couldn’t miss the party; Venus didn’t trust Lady Mary not to compromise the duke somehow. And really, sometimes with men it was a matter of out of sight, out of mind. Ditee had to go to Hyndon House. Things were still too uncertain to rely on the duke’s brief meeting with her to cement the match.

  Venus’s stomach clenched into a tight knot, but she made herself smile. “I guess I’m feeling better. I’ll go get ready.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Ditee might as well have thrown herself at Venus’s feet and kissed her shoes, her relief was so obvious.

  Mama’s frown grew. “What have you two been up to?”

  “Up to? What could we possibly have been up to?” Venus asked. She glared at Ditee and gave the slightest shake of her head when it looked as if her sister would explain. “We’ve only been into the village to buy ribbon, and you know nothing ever happens in Little Huffington. Isn’t that right, Ditee?”

  Ditee got her message. “Oh, er, yes. That’s right. There’s nothing to tell. Not really.”

  Mama’s brows met over her nose now. “But—”

  “If I’m going,” Venus said, “I’d better hurry. We don’t want to be late.”

  Since all Venus had to do was pull on her old dress, Mama might be forgiven if she pursued her for further information, but she apparently decided to leave well enough alone. She just nodded. “I’ll come in a moment to help you with your hair.”

  By the time Venus climbed into the carriage, she’d got a better hold on her emotions. There wouldn’t be a huge crowd of people at the party—Little Huffington was little, after all—but there should be enough of a crowd that she could sta
y on the fringes of it until Mama and Papa were ready to go. And if they wanted to stay longer than Venus could bear—a somewhat unlikely situation as Mama and Papa had never attended a party, to her knowledge—she could always walk home.

  It was a very short drive to Hyndon House, but there was a long line of coaches waiting to disgorge their passengers.

  “Good heavens,” Mama said, “where have all these people come from?”

  “Demmed if I know,” Papa said. He looked distinctly uncomfortable in his best clothes.

  When they finally reached the front of the house, Mr. Bugden opened the carriage door and let down the steps.

  “What are you doing here?” Papa said. “I thought you dealt with plants, not people.”

  “Aye, Mr. Collingswood, but we’ve many more guests than expected. Mrs. Edgemoor believes the London ladies sent word to their friends.”

  “The London ladies?” Mama asked as she descended.

  “Lady Mary Detluck and Mrs. Blackburn, madam.” He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. “His grace and Mr. Valentine were none too happy, I’ll tell ye.”

  “Maybe you were right, Venus,” Ditee whispered, hesitating in the carriage. “We both should have stayed home.”

  “Nonsense,” Venus whispered back. “I’m certain the duke is not the least bit interested in these women. You heard Mr. Bugden; he’s not happy they are here.” She gave Ditee a little push to get her moving.

  “But, Venus,” Ditee said once Venus joined her on the ground, “look how beautiful their gowns are.” Five or six very elegant women stood in front of them waiting to enter Hyndon House.

  “They can’t hold a candle to you, Ditee.” The other women’s dresses might be finer, but the women themselves had not half Ditee’s beauty, if Venus did say so herself, and likely none of her sweet disposition.

  They made their way slowly over the drive, up the steps, and into the house. As soon as they stepped through the front door, Venus saw the duke catch sight of Ditee. His whole face brightened.

  She elbowed her sister. “See?” she whispered. “Greycliffe has been watching for you. He can’t look at anyone else.”

  “Oh.” Ditee flushed a deep red. She smiled shyly, and Greycliffe grinned back at her. Angels might as well have broken into song and hearts and flowers rained from the sky. Clearly as far as the two of them were concerned, there was no one else in the room.

  It would be rather revolting if Venus didn’t love Ditee so much.

  Of course Mr. Valentine, standing to the duke’s left, hadn’t noticed Venus’s existence. He was bent over slightly, listening to something Mrs. Fedderly was saying.

  And when he did see her—

  Panic closed her throat. She couldn’t greet him amid all these people, especially after the way she’d left him yesterday.

  “I think I’ll go around this way,” she whispered to Ditee. “I’ll see you in the garden.”

  “All right.” Ditee clearly hadn’t heard a word Venus said; she was too focused on Greycliffe.

  Fortunately, the door to the dining room was just to Venus’s right. She slipped through without Mama or Papa noticing—and almost bumped into Mrs. Edgemoor.

  “Oh, Miss Venus,” Mrs. Edgemoor said, looking more than a little harried, “I’m so glad you’re here. I know you’re a guest, but I was wondering if you might help me with Cook?”

  “What’s the problem?” Venus asked, taking her arm.

  “Cook isn’t used to managing for so many people. One of the village girls I hired in to help knocked over a plate of cheese by accident, and Cook started shouting. She is threatening to quit on the spot. Mrs. Shipley is trying to calm her, but we thought perhaps you could do a better job of it.”

  Venus would tame wild animals if it meant being somewhere Mr. Valentine was not. “I’ll be happy to see what I can do.”

  Where the hell was Venus?

  Drew smiled at the wizened little woman—Miss Wardley?—who was, he hoped, the last guest he had to greet. Nigel had deserted him as soon as the Collingswoods—minus Venus, damn it—arrived. Apparently Venus had come with them; Mr. and Mrs. Collingswood looked dumb-founded when they discovered she wasn’t at their side.

  A dancing bear could have appeared and Aphrodite wouldn’t have noticed; she had eyes only for Nigel—eyes that widened when she realized Nigel wasn’t the duke. Nigel wasted no time in reassuring her and starting a discussion about some obscure Latin translation with her and her parents. The four of them then vanished into the study, leaving Drew to do the welcoming by himself for the last fifteen minutes. But the end was in sight, he hoped.

  “You’re really a duke?” Miss Wardley—or perhaps the name was Woodley—asked.

  “Yes, madam, I am.” And he was never going to pretend otherwise. If she would just move along, he could find Venus, confess, and, with luck, persuade her to forgive him. He only hoped she hadn’t realized the truth already and consigned him to the devil.

  “You look too young to be a duke.” Miss Whatever-her-name-was blinked up at him suspiciously.

  He would definitely have to take to powdering his hair even if it caused him to sneeze his head off. “I assure you I’ve had the title since I was thirteen.”

  “Hmm.”

  He forced himself to keep smiling. There was no one ascending the stairs behind Miss Wardley-Woodley yet, but the longer he stood here, the higher the odds became someone else would arrive. Damn Lady Mary for spreading the word through her friends in the ton. As bad luck would have it, there was an infestation of society sprigs at a house party only a few hours’ ride away.

  Hopefully those “guests” wouldn’t linger. He’d already told one fellow it would be completely impossible for him to stay overnight.

  Miss Woodley was examining him as if he were an animal in the Royal Menagerie. If he showed her his signet ring, would that satisfy her? He raised an eyebrow and tried for his haughtiest expression.

  That did the trick. She broke into a wide smile and clapped her hands. “Oh, wait until I write my sister. She won’t believe I met a real duke—and a young, handsome one to boot!”

  With that, she finally toddled off. Drew waited until she’d moved about ten steps away, and then he fled his post.

  Where was Venus? It was infernally difficult to look for her. In every damn room someone wanted to talk to him. He endured the twaddle as patiently as he could; he didn’t want to raise speculation by dashing around as if he’d lost something … which of course he had.

  He came within an ames-ace of being trapped by Mrs. Higgins and her annoying daughter at the dining room sideboard and had to dodge into the parlor to miss Lady Mary. He did Nigel a great favor by misdirecting the Widow Blackburn when she inquired as to his cousin’s whereabouts. Finally he found Venus in the blue drawing room, talking to Mrs. Fedderly.

  He paused on the threshold. She was partly turned away from him; he could see her elegant back and profile. Rather more hair tendrils than strictly fashionable had escaped from the knot on the top of her head; she swatted at them as she responded to something Mrs. Fedderly said.

  His spirits—and something else—lifted. He must be grinning like an idiot.

  But he couldn’t smile yet. He still had some very rough ground to get over. He approached cautiously.

  Mrs. Fedderly saw him first. “Well, look who’s here.”

  Venus glanced over her shoulder and then turned to face him. “Mr. Valentine.”

  Venus couldn’t see Mrs. Fedderly’s expression, but he could. The woman’s eyebrows shot up to disappear into her coiffure, and then a look of amusement crept over her face. The blasted female was looking forward to seeing how he got out of this mess.

  “Mrs. Fedderly, Miss Collingswood.” He bowed. “I was sorry to miss you when you arrived, Miss Collingswood. I saw your parents and sister—what became of you?” Blurting out his identity in front of Mrs. Fedderly wasn’t at all appealing.

  Venus suddenly looked vaguely unwell. �
��Mrs. Edgemoor asked my help with a problem.”

  “Oh? And were you able to assist her?”

  “Yes.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. They stared at each other while the silence stretched out—and Mrs. Fedderly giggled.

  They both glared at her.

  She cleared her throat. “Sorry.” She made a sort of strangled noise. “I suppose you both are wishing me at J-Jericho.” She covered her mouth, but wasn’t entirely successful at muffling her mirth.

  Drew smiled as politely as he could. He was not going to deny it. “I’m sure there are plenty of other people you should speak with.”

  “Ah, but none of the other conversations will be half as amusing.”

  Drew had no reply to that.

  As soon as Mrs. Fedderly left, he and Venus both spoke at once.

  “Mr. Valentine, I should apologize—”

  “Miss Collingswood, I need to beg your pardon—”

  They stopped. Venus flushed and looked down at her hands.

  Drew grinned. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Miss Collingswood, I will grant you the choice—which of us should apologize first?”

  She laughed then and looked up. “Oh, I suppose I should rather get it over with. I—”

  “There you are!”

  Drew stiffened. Bloody hell, why did Lady Mary have to find him at this precise moment?

  He refused to look over his shoulder. Perhaps if he ignored her, she would go away.

  And perhaps pigs would sprout wings and fly.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you, your grace.” Lady Mary put her hand on his arm in a damn propriety fashion and gave Venus her most condescending look. “Oh, I see you are talking to one of those Collingswood girls.” She laughed. “Which one are you?”

  Venus looked from Lady Mary to him with wide, shocked eyes. “Your grace?” she whispered.

  “What’s the matter with—” Lady Mary began.

  Drew glared at her, shaking off her hand. “You are interrupting a private conversation, madam. I will thank you to take yourself off immediately.”

  Lady Mary drew in an indignant breath, but Venus filled the silence first.