The Duke's Disaster

by Grace Burrowes

  “We can go wading?” Evvie was off her stool, followed closely by her sister, but not before Nini cadged a taste of filling.

  “I thought we might,” Thea said. “After it warms up a little more and we’ve done our schoolwork.”

  Evvie arched a brow in a gesture reminiscent of Noah. “Our schoolwork?”

  “You have to write the words, but I have to think them up and check them and explain if you’ve got them right or wrong,” Thea said. “So, yes, it’s our schoolwork. Now come, for you’ll need play clothes if we’re to study outside.”

  Thea shooed them toward the door, and they thundered past in a happy rush.

  “Such small feet.” Erikson said, licking Evvie’s discarded butter knife as Thea closed the door. “And such big noise, while our little science lesson is forgotten.” He popped the squashed éclair half into his mouth on a philosophical sigh.

  “You’re good to be so patient with them.”

  “Children are fine company for such as myself, but you should have company on this outing too, Your Grace.”

  Would Noah have joined them, or been too busy with his ducal responsibilities?

  “I can’t see bothering the footmen to stand about while the children splash each other,” Thea said. “Davies and Maryanne need every break they can get.”

  “Those two.” Erikson’s normally genial expression shifted to a scowl. “They are too young for their responsibilities, but Anselm will not take them to task, because the girls are attached to their nursery maids.”

  “You resent the interruptions when the girls come calling,” Thea concluded. “I’m sorry, Erikson. We’ll keep a better eye on them.”

  “I resent not the children,” he said, patting at his lips with the same serviette Thea had used on Nini. “Little girls should not wander off when they have not one but two nursery maids. I have told Anselm this, and he says he’ll put a stop to it, but nothing happens, and they wander again.”

  Noah doubtless grumbled, blustered, and threatened, but when it came to the children, that was likely all he’d do.

  “Wandering within the confines of the house isn’t likely to get them in much trouble,” Thea said, for the girls knew the place better than she did, “and I’m hopeful if they have more time out-of-doors, with me, with Anselm or Harlan, on their ponies and so forth, they won’t be as restless.”

  “You are right.” Erikson’s smile was back, though muted. “You think like a woman. You think of ways around a problem, while we fellows try to smash it to bits. You are on the other side of it while we’re still bashing away. I would like to go on this outing, if you don’t mind.”

  How often did Erikson leave his aerie to be among the flora and fauna of Wellspring’s lovely surrounds?

  “I couldn’t possibly mind that you want to share the company of two loud, busy, and likely grubby little girls,” Thea said.

  “And you,” Erikson said. “Your company too, Duchess.”

  Thea said nothing, for Erikson was merely being Continental.

  He had the great wisdom to bring butterfly nets with him to the lake, which resulted in both girls racing around madly at great length, and then napping on the blankets Thea had spread under the trees.

  “You are what was needed here.” Erikson made this pronouncement from his corner of the blanket. “I shall apologize to Anselm.”

  Offered with the same Teutonic resolution that had resulted in the fall of Rome.

  “Apologize for what?” Thea asked.

  Erikson plucked a long grass flower, folded the stem around the head, and used that to fire the head several yards off toward the water. Had Noah ever indulged in such casual botanical destruction as a small boy?

  “I told the duke he was…I don’t know the word—upset in the head?—to marry a lady he had not courted, but you English, you like to do things backward.”

  “Backward how?”

  Another missile was sent toward the shore. “You conquer a land first, then get to know the people and the riches, if any there are. This is how you end up with places like Canada, which is full of wolves and bears and terrible winters.”

  “I’ve also heard it’s very beautiful.” Thea settled back to brace herself on her arms, when she wanted to pluck at the grass to see if she could fire her projectile farther than Erikson’s. “Canada is, of course, not as pretty as the Low Countries.”

  “You make families backward too,” Erikson went on, smoothing a hand over soft green grass. “First you marry, then you have the babies, and finally, sometimes, you are friends. Backward. But what do I know? I am only a Dutchman who talks to flowers.”

  A big, handsome Dutchman, though Thea sensed no untoward overture from Erikson.

  “You also talk to little girls, sir. Anselm and I are not strangers. I knew him for several months before he proposed. We shared many a carriage ride, strolled every park in West London, and even danced on occasion.”

  Was that how a woman learned to know the man she’d marry, or did courtship have more to do with tears, cinnamon toast, and trying discussions?

  “The duke is managing in Surrey. You’re managing in Kent.” Erikson affected a puzzled expression. “I do not understand the English. Shall we carry the little ones back to their beds? The footmen doubtless hover at the windows, waiting for you to crook your finger at them.”

  Two footmen had taken up posts on the terrace within view of the lakeshore without Thea even asking it of them.

  “We’ll manage here if you’d like to go back to work, Benjamin,” Thea said. “We’re within sight of the house, and I know you’re busy. I suspect Noah put you up to nursemaiding us, but it isn’t necessary.”

  “I will stay,” Erikson said, getting to his feet. “I will take a few moments to contemplate the day, and leave you to your book.” He shook out a blanket and spread it several yards off, between the two girls, then settled himself on his back, hands folded serenely on his flat stomach.

  Erikson hadn’t denied that Noah had charged him with chaperone duty. Hadn’t even tried to.

  Thea stared at her book—an uncharitable treatment by Miss Austen of impoverished sisters grappling with the challenge of finding suitable mates. Nobody should be expected to focus on such a dreary tale on such a lovely day.

  Perhaps Noah didn’t trust his own wife, for which Thea ought to resent him. She’d proven she hadn’t carried a child into the marriage, and still Noah could not give her even the freedom of the Wellspring grounds.

  Give the marriage time, she admonished herself, setting Miss Austen’s sermonizing aside and fashioning herself a little missile of grass. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Noah Winters’s marital trust would not be restored any time soon either.

  * * *

  Noah stood in the doorway to his wife’s sitting room, watching Thea as she worked at her correspondence. The white feather in her hand made a slow progress in one direction, returned, and again worked its way across the page in a soothing, captivating rhythm.

  The new Duchess of Anselm was pretty, and not merely in the ornamental fashion of a younger woman.

  Noah had missed her.

  Had Thea missed him? Was she missing some other fellow, a youthful indiscretion, a passionate interlude, a mad lapse from conventional decorum?

  “Husband.”

  She smiled, likely as much answer as Noah would have to that conundrum. Better not to know if Thea pined for another. Far better.

  Thea rose and came to him, her smile growing shy. “You are safely returned, and after only three days.”

  Noah took her in his arms, drew in a lungful of uxorial fragrance, and felt more at home than he had a moment ago.

  “You received my notes, Wife?”

  “Two of them, a husbandly number for a three-day absence,” she said, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “The ponies are secreted in the village livery, and the girls will be insensate with joy if they know you’ve returned with your booty.”

  “They’re g
ood ponies,” Noah said, nuzzling Thea’s ear. “I’ve misplaced my brother for at least the next week, though.”

  A delightful state of affairs, really.

  “This Greymoor fellow must be genial indeed if he sought Harlan’s company as a houseguest on such short acquaintance,” Thea said, making no move to leave Noah’s embrace. “I like Harlan, but I’ll like, as well, having you to myself.”

  That pleased Noah inordinately, so he was the one to step back. A single step, only.

  “Greymoor will put Harlan’s willing backside on every piece of green, unruly equine stock he has. A good use of a young man’s bravado and hard head, and Greymoor’s countess said to tell you she would feed the boy at least eight meals a day, so you’re not to fret.”

  Noah would not fret either.

  Thea wore small gold earrings that caught the light and emphasized the curve of her jaw. Noah could not recall seeing her wear any gold jewelry previously. Had she worn them for him?

  “Harlan is a credit to his upbringing,” Thea said. “Greymoor is getting the better end of the bargain.”

  Her hair was done more softly too, still tidy, but her braid was in a bun rather than a ruthlessly secured coronet.

  “I am loath to ask, Wife, but are you still on speaking terms with the girls?”

  She regarded him quizzically. “Of course. They’ve been delightful. They are likely one floor above us, rocketing about their rooms in anticipation of seeing you.”

  Responsibility tugged Noah toward the nursery. Other sentiments kept him lounging in the doorway with his wife.

  “How would they know I’ve arrived?”

  “This house has a surfeit of windows, Your Grace.” Thea slipped her arm through Noah’s and tugged him into the sitting room. “You deserve to eat and perhaps wash off the dust of the road before you confront our daughters.”

  Noah was hungry; he simply hadn’t realized it. “You’ll join me?”

  “Teatime approaches,” Thea said, drawing Noah through their adjoining dressing rooms. “So, yes, I will join you. The tub is already set up in your sitting room, and we can send word to heat the water while you eat. Now tell me more of this Lord and Lady Greymoor, and why the grooms brought home not only two ponies, but that pair of gorgeous mares as well.”

  “Because Greymoor could sell piety to the Pope,” Noah groused, though it was strangely comfortable to recount the details of his trip to Thea, to remark on the abundance of bridle paths in Surrey, and describe how Harlan had stood taller when Greymoor had asked the boy’s opinion of this or that horse.

  “Harlan rejected a pair of ponies I would have been happy with,” Noah said as Thea pushed his hands away.

  “I can undo this more easily than you,” she scolded as she loosened his cravat. “What didn’t Harlan like about the ponies?”

  “He liked them well enough—Greymoor showed us only first-quality stock.” Noah stood docilely, hands at his sides, letting Thea undress him as if he were too tired to see to it himself. Come to that, he was tired. He’d ridden the entire distance in a single afternoon rather than send along yet another note to his duchess.

  “So were these ponies the wrong colors?” Thea asked, draping Noah’s neckcloth and waistcoat over a chair, then pushing him onto the bed so she could tug off his boots and set them outside the door.

  “They were dainty gray ponies, but small.” Noah lifted his chin as Thea went to work unbuttoning his shirt. “Harlan pointed out that the girls will be very attached to their first mounts, and won’t want to part with them. The ponies should thus be as large as can be safely managed, so they will have at least several years’ use before the girls outgrow them.”

  Thea’s ensemble was brown with red piping, not a dress Noah recalled seeing on her before they’d married.

  “Harlan’s a thoughtful young man,” Thea said, slipping the sleeve buttons from Noah’s cuffs and drawing his shirt over his head. “You’ve done a wonderful job with him.”

  Noah’s wife might soon be doing a wonderful job of unbuttoning his falls, and abruptly, his fatigue vanished. He was hot, tired, hungry, and road weary, but he was also married.

  “I’ve yet to ask you how you fare, Wife.” Noah captured Thea’s wrist and kissed the heel of her hand. “Lady Greymoor sent a letter for you.”

  “Thoughtful of her.” Thea stepped back, perhaps because she realized Noah was naked, except for his breeches. Rather than lose the last of his camouflage, he tugged her down to sit beside him on the bed, the faint scent of horse and weary summer traveler coming to his nose through her much sweeter fragrance.

  Her slippers were red, also apparently fascinating, for she stared at her toes. “I am…well, since you ask.”

  “Well enough to entertain your husband, should he prevail on you tonight for your company?”

  Fifteen

  Noah heard Thea’s swift intake of breath and the summery sort of quiet thereafter—birds singing in the oaks beyond the balcony, a groom calling the horses in from the pasture, insects faintly droning.

  While color flooded up Thea’s neck. “I am that well, Husband.”

  Noah looped an arm across her shoulders. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’d like to see to this.”

  What he could see was that his word choice had been inappropriate. His wife’s gaze was full of consternation, and then, a heartbeat later, stoic acceptance.

  “It is time, I suppose.” Thea rose, and Noah let her go. “Your food is out on the balcony.” She rummaged in his wardrobe, then returned with a dark blue silk dressing gown, and held it out to him.

  Noah stepped out of the last of his clothes, and accepted the dressing gown, though he took his time figuring out how to belt the thing, and in that little while, his wife watched him.

  Warily.

  Noah wasn’t aroused, but he was by no means uninterested, either.

  “I’ll tell the footmen to fill the tub,” Thea said.

  Noah was grateful for a few minutes to evaluate his options. He took his meal out on the balcony, enjoying the late-afternoon breeze, and the view of the back gardens coming into their full summer glory. The ham, cheese, and bread on the tray were more than adequate to blunt his hunger, and by the time he’d finished eating, the tub was full and gently steaming on the hearthstones.

  “Wife?”

  “In here.” Thea emerged from his dressing room, clothing draped over her arm. “I’ll leave you in peace. When you’re bathed and dressed, will you come up to the nursery?”

  She made a production out of arranging Noah’s clothes on the bed, though in what she didn’t say, in how she wouldn’t meet Noah’s gaze, he detected something amiss.

  “Are you nervous regarding our evening, Thea?”

  “No.” She fussed at his blue paisley waistcoat—one of his favorites—when she laid it over his shirt. “Well, yes. Are you?”

  Valid question.

  “Suppose I were to admit to some trepidation.” Noah shrugged out of his dressing gown, once again sensing his wife’s surreptitious perusal while he rearranged soap, flannel, brush, and shaving gear by the bed. “If I were nervous of this evening, what reassurances might you offer me?”

  Thea twitched at his clothing and turned to sit on his bed. “Assurances. For you.”

  She studied her hands while Noah lowered himself into the soothing bliss of the tub.

  “Regarding the proper consummation of our vows,” he added helpfully. “You’ve had this water scented.”

  “With lavender. It’s blooming all around the laundry. I could tell you I’m not missish, and you need not worry overmuch about my sensibilities.”

  “I have your leave to simply fall upon you and start rutting?” Noah worked up a lather—more lavender—while Thea regarded him as if he sharpened an assassin’s blade. “For God’s sake, Wife, I am not serious. I would not fall upon you had we been parted for weeks. Will you be so kind as to scrub my back?”

  The duchess remained across the room on
the bed. “Your back?”

  Noah had been an idiot to tease her. This looming consummation was not a detail to Thea, not merely the next thing on the list of duties. For the first time, Noah wished he might have elicited a few specifics from her regarding her earlier experiences.

  Except those specifics might not have been altogether pleasant, and what was he to do then?

  He held out the soap and a wet flannel to his wife.

  “My back.” Noah gestured over his shoulder, and Thea approached the tub as if it held a quantity of snakes.

  Noah sat forward, passed her the soap and cloth, and hunched his shoulders. Tentatively at first, then more confidently, Thea set about scrubbing his back.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “You have to know that much already.” He offered what he expected was the most basic of assurances while Thea bent over his back, the slide of the soap and the cloth kneading muscles beat to soreness by miles in the saddle.

  “You are disappointed in me,” Thea said, sitting back on the stool beside the tub. “I cannot expect intimate consideration from you beyond a certain point. I’ll rinse your back if you hold still.”

  “No need.” Noah slouched down into the water, effectively rinsing. “Might I prevail upon you to wash the rest of me? Sitting here, I’ve grown prodigiously comfortable, if tired.”

  “You want me to touch you.”

  Noah wanted her to enjoy touching him.

  He leaned back against the tub, took the hand in which she held the soap, and put it against his chest.

  “Why wouldn’t you expect every courtesy of me under intimate conditions, Wife?”

  Thea muttered something as she set to scrubbing his chest, but all Noah heard was “…typical man,” in tones not suggestive of respect.

  “Thea, stop.”

  Her hand went still, and she stared at his knees where they formed wet, bony islands of male flesh in the water.

  Noah leaned forward the few necessary inches, and kissed Thea’s cheek. “Hello. I’m glad to be home.”

  Thea dropped the soap into the water and regarded Noah’s right knee. “Hello, Husband.”