What to Do with a Duke

by Sally MacKenzie

  Except with Marcus. . . .

  No! Good God, no! “I’m not snoring now. This is your golden opportunity. Go back to sleep.”

  Of course, that’s not what Mary did.

  “Pru was right, you know. You were casting sheep’s-eyes at the duke all during dinner.”

  Ignore Mary. Ignore Mary.

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “What?!” Cat sat up. Mary couldn’t have seen them. She’d been inside with Theo . . . hadn’t she? “Why do you think that?”

  “Because the duke looked like a man who’d just been kissing someone.”

  “Uhh.” Her hands started up to cover her face, but she forced them back to the bed. She must brazen it out. Remain calm. Not admit anything. Mary might suspect, but she couldn’t know for certain.

  Cat took a deep, steadying breath.

  “How do you know how the duke looked? Weren’t you in the drawing room with Papa and Theo?”

  “Oh, no. Theo and I told Papa we were going for a stroll. Which we were—to that clump of bushes. You know it’s a favorite trysting spot, don’t you? Tory and Ruth used to spend lots of time there with their husbands—before they were their husbands, of course.”

  “They did?” All she’d known was that it was a splendid place to hide in hide-and-go-seek.

  “So you didn’t know.”

  Was that pity she heard in Mary’s voice? It had better not be. Simply because she chose not to frolic with men in the foliage....

  Except that was exactly what she’d just done.

  “He didn’t force you in there, did he?” Mary frowned. “Theo told me there’d been some scandal involving the duke, an unmarried lady, and some bushes in London, but after meeting His Grace, he decided it must have been malicious gossip.”

  Didn’t Gertrude Boltwood tell me not to go into the shrubbery with the man?

  Ridiculous. Nothing especially shocking had happened.

  “Of course the duke didn’t force me. The bushes were my idea.”

  That didn’t come out quite right. Mary’s eyes widened as if they were going to pop out of her head.

  “But only so I could have some privacy to push my candidacy for the Spinster House with him.”

  Mary actually gasped. “You want to live in the Spinster House?”

  Oh, God, that let the cat out of the bag. “Yes, but don’t tell Mama and Papa.”

  “Of course I won’t tell, but if you still want to be a spinster, why were you kissing the duke?”

  “I wasn’t.” He’d kissed her. She’d been too stunned to return the favor.

  Mary frowned. “The duke certainly looked kissed. Theo and I weren’t more than ten feet away from him when he came out of the bushes. You can imagine our surprise.” She giggled. “And relief. It would have been beyond awkward, especially for Theo, to stumble on you and the duke in a passionate embrace.”

  “There was no passionate embrace!” That, at least, was true. There’d been no embrace at all. The duke had merely touched his lips to hers.

  And changed everything. She’d felt the shift as clearly as if the ground had moved under her feet.

  “We were only discussing the Spinster House.”

  That earned her a snort. “The duke did not look like a man who’d been discussing a house or spinsters. He looked”— Mary sighed dramatically—“bewitched. So much so that he didn’t notice us standing there. Nor did you, but by the time you came out, we’d hidden behind the oak tree.”

  Cat didn’t like that at all. “So you admit you were spying on me?”

  “No.” Mary suddenly sounded very serious. “When I saw the duke come out of the bushes, well, I wanted to see who he’d been cavorting with. I was glad it was you.” Mary touched Cat’s arm. “There is the London rumor, and it’s clear you care for him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Oh. Mary’s concern almost undid her. She bit her lip and blinked back tears. She wasn’t normally so emotional.

  It was all the duke’s fault. If only he were the evil villain his ancestor had been. Then her life would still be following a rational plan, and she wouldn’t be so confused and upset.

  “There’s nothing between me and the duke, Mary.”

  “I think there is.” Mary bounced with excitement, shifting the mattress and making Cat feel slightly ill. “I think he’s going to offer for you. Theo thinks so, too.”

  Theo was so besotted, he’d agree with anything Mary said.

  “A duke is not going to marry a vicar’s daughter.”

  “But Papa is an earl’s son. Your birth is perfectly respectable, Cat.”

  If only she could marry him. . . .

  No! What was she thinking?

  “I’m a confirmed spinster.”

  “You didn’t look like a confirmed spinster at dinner—and especially not when you came out of those bushes.”

  There was no point in arguing that. Mary would never concede, and Cat was very much afraid she had looked a bit dazed.

  Of course she had. She’d never been kissed before.

  “The duke won’t offer for me. He’s too young.”

  “Thirty isn’t young.”

  “It is if you think you’ll die shortly after you marry.”

  She must not forget that. Even if she fell madly in love with the man, he looked upon marriage as a death sentence. He had many more years before he had to do his duty and get an heir.

  It was so unfair! Not for her, but for him. He should have the opportunity to be a father. He’d been so kind and patient with the twins at dinner. Lud, she hadn’t known where to look when Mikey had asked Marcus to marry her. She’d been mortified, but terrified as well that the duke would cut up rusty—with good reason—and say something cruel to Mikey. But he hadn’t. And later, when Mikey had hugged him . . .

  Oh, God. That had made her heart ache. Marcus had looked surprised, but she’d swear she’d also seen yearning in his eyes.

  He’d make a wonderful father.

  “I hate Isabelle Dorring.”

  Mary nodded. “She has certainly caused far more trouble than any one person should be allowed to. But I have to say it seems so silly that a man as intelligent as the duke should believe in curses.” Mary dropped her voice. “I tell you in strictest confidence that Theo wasn’t best pleased when he heard the duke was coming to Loves Bridge. I’m afraid he judged him a bit harshly for being an absent landowner.” Mary shrugged. “Well, I agree that wasn’t good for the estate.”

  Cat bit her lip. Mary knew nothing about the estate; she was just parroting Theo.

  “But in the little time the duke’s been here, he’s impressed Theo with his shrewd questions and well-considered opinions. So we are even more surprised he’s so superstitious.”

  Cat was, too, but perhaps she’d feel the same way were she in his position. “It’s hard to ignore history. Every duke since Isabelle’s time has died when his wife was increasing with his heir.”

  “Coincidence.”

  “That’s a lot of coincidences.”

  “What else could it be?” Mary asked. “You don’t believe in the curse, do you?”

  “N-no.” Cat wasn’t sure what she believed any longer.

  “Of course you don’t.” Mary grinned, and then finally lay back down and pulled the coverlet up. “So persuade the duke. He’d be much happier if he overcame his fears and married you.”

  Could she persuade him?

  No. It would be wrong even to try. In his mind, she would be asking him to sacrifice his life for her. That was too much to ask of anyone, especially someone you loved—

  Oh, lud. She did love him, didn’t she?

  No. She couldn’t. She’d only known him a few days.

  What am I thinking? I don’t want to marry anyone.

  She closed her eyes. She had to go to sleep. Tomorrow she would draw lots and, with luck, win the Spinster House. Then Marcus—the duke—would leave and everything would get back to normal.

  Normal suddenly
felt like a hollow, joyless trudge to the grave.

  Cat sat at one of the schoolroom desks, a still-blank sheet of paper in front of her, and watched Thomas and Michael play with their soldiers. Sybil had gone down to the garden to paint, and Prudence was curled up who-knew-where reading.

  She should be writing. She picked up her quill . . . and put it down again. She didn’t feel at all needle-witted this morning. She hadn’t slept well and in just—

  She checked her watch once more. Time was passing so slowly this morning. Would it never be eleven o’clock?

  In just thirty more minutes she’d go over to the Spinster House. Well, twenty-five. No, twenty. In just twenty minutes, she’d go. She’d be a little early, but with luck, the house would be open. If not, she’d stroll around the gardens, out of sight of the vicarage. She’d tell Mama and Papa her plans once she knew for certain that she’d won the lottery.

  After today she should have hours and hours of lovely, uninterrupted time to work on her book.

  Unless Jane or Anne won.

  They couldn’t win.

  “Oh, there you are, Cat.”

  “Eek!” Drat, she shouldn’t be so jumpy. Mama would suspect something. She stood at the schoolroom door now, looking at Cat rather closely.

  Cat forced herself to smile. “You startled me.”

  “Obviously.”

  Mama came in and sat in the hard, uncomfortable chair next to Cat. This could not be good. Had Mary told her about the Spinster House?

  No, Mary wouldn’t snitch on her, though it wouldn’t be surprising if Mama had guessed on her own. There weren’t that many unattached women in Loves Bridge.

  Cat kept smiling. “You don’t have another basket for Mrs. Barker, do you, Mama?”

  “No.” Mama picked at an imaginary bit of lint on her skirt. “I’ve given up on that plan. I can see Mr. Barker won’t suit.”

  “Cat’s going to marry dook, Mama.” Mikey didn’t even bother to look up from his soldiers.

  “No, I’m not.” Lud, am I blushing? Hopefully Mama is still looking at her skirt—

  Of course she wasn’t.

  Cat forced herself to return her mother’s gaze. It wasn’t easy. Mama’s expression was a terrifying mix of hopeful, worried, and determined.

  “Papa thinks His Grace is interested in you, Cat.”

  Mama had never invoked Papa’s name before when discussing potential mates. Did Papa really think—

  It made no difference what Papa thought. Papa didn’t believe in the curse, but the duke did.

  “His Grace is merely polite.”

  Mama kept looking at her.

  Don’t flinch. Don’t look away. You’ve stood up to Mama before.

  “And I think you’re interested in the duke, Cat.”

  She didn’t have that much control. She glanced over at the boys playing with their soldiers.

  Unfortunately the boys weren’t as involved in their game as she’d thought.

  “Dook likes you, Cat,” Mikey said.

  Tom nodded. “And we like him. He’s much better than Mr. Barker.”

  She felt trapped.

  Ridiculous! She couldn’t be trapped by two four-year-olds and her mother.

  “I am not marrying the duke or Mr. Barker. I’m not marrying anyone.”

  She felt Mama touch her hand.

  “What of the duke’s friends, Cat? Can you like one of them?”

  Horror exploded in her gut. Marry one of Marcus’s friends? Good God! “No.”

  “But you need a husband, dear,” Mama said softly.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Mama pressed her lips together and forced herself to change tactics.

  “Very well, but have you looked ahead to what life holds for an unmarried woman? Have you given any thought to where you’ll live, for example?”

  If Mama wasn’t going to mention the obvious answer, she wasn’t either.

  What if Anne or Jane wins the Spinster House? What will I do then?

  Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed the bitter taste of panic. The Spinster House tenancy was for life.

  Or until marriage.

  Hmm.

  She wasn’t ready to commit murder, but she was willing to try her hand at matchmaking, if necessary. Mama had mentioned Marcus’s friends. They were attending Mary’s wedding—Marcus had sent word that Lord Haywood had consented to play the pianoforte. True, she hadn’t actually met either of them, but from a distance they appeared pleasant enough. Perhaps one of them would be a suitable husband for Anne or Jane.

  Though hopefully she would win the house.

  Annoyance crept into Mama’s voice, even as worry creased her brow. “You’ll always have a place with us, of course, but we won’t live forever. I can’t imagine you’d be comfortable with Tory or Ruth or Mary. Or with Henry or Walter or Pru or Sybbie. They’ll all grow up and wed, you know.”

  Cat nodded. If she couldn’t mention the Spinster House, she had nothing to say.

  “A husband does more than provide a roof over your head, Cat. He’s a companion.” Mama leaned closer, blushing a little. “A lover.”

  “Er, yes. I know.” Mama wasn’t going to pursue that discussion, was she?

  She was.

  “I realize you haven’t known a man’s touch yet—”

  The memory of Marcus’s mouth on hers suddenly made her lips—and other parts—tingle. She felt herself flush.

  Mama’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you kissed Mr. Barker, then?”

  “Of course not! You know I can’t abide the man.”

  “That is what I thought, but it wouldn’t be unusual if you’d been curious—”

  “I would not be curious with Mr. Barker.”

  Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Then with whom?” A brow arched up. “The duke?”

  “Mama!” It hadn’t been curiosity in the bushes. She’d only meant to have a moment of privacy with the duke to argue her case for the Spinster House. She’d never dreamed that anything of an amorous nature would occur.

  Mama still looked suspicious, but, blessedly, chose not to argue the matter. “Then if you haven’t kissed anyone, dear, you have no idea what you are missing.” She cleared her throat and glanced over at the boys—they were still playing, but the battle was suspiciously quiet. She leaned close again and dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Normally I’d wait until the night before your wedding to tell you how it is between men and women but—”

  No!

  Cat bounded to her feet. “I’m so sorry, Mama, but I have to be going.” She glanced at her watch. Yes, indeed. She should have left several minutes ago. She was almost late.

  Mama caught her hand and stood, too, being careful to face away from Thomas and Michael. “Married love is nothing to be afraid of, Cat. A man’s love is wonderful.” She chuckled. “I wouldn’t have ten children if it weren’t.”

  Cat’s stomach twisted. She knew Mama and Papa must have done whatever it was that produced children, but she didn’t want to think about it.

  She’d seen dogs and other animals copulate. It looked embarrassing—disgusting really—and most uncomfortable for the female. It was not something she ever wished to do.

  But after kissing Marcus—

  She would not think about kissing the duke, especially with Mama watching her. Mama’s eyes were far too sharp.

  “I’m sure you are right, Mama. And now I’m afraid you really must excuse me. I, er . . . I have to meet Jane and Anne.” That was true. “And I’m almost late.” She tugged on her hand, but Mama squeezed it instead of letting go.

  “I don’t want you to go through life alone, Cat. I know I’ve thrown Mr. Barker at your head—well, and other men before him—but I only want your happiness. Life without a husband and children would be unbearably lonely.”

  An ache bloomed in Cat’s chest, and she squeezed her mother’s hand back. “How can I be lonely with nine brothers and sisters and countless nieces and nephews, Mama?”
/>   “Your brothers’ and sisters’ lives will be centered on their own families. What will you have?”

  What would she have?

  What she’d always wanted. “My writing.”

  Mama’s brows snapped down. “Pish! Your writing won’t keep you warm in bed at night.”

  No, it wouldn’t. Was Mama right?

  Drat it, this was all the duke’s fault. What had he been thinking to kiss her?

  “I wish to be an author, Mama. I always have.”

  Mama’s patience was at an end. She dropped Cat’s hand to throw her own into the air in disgust. “Author! You’ll be the old spinster aunt, that’s what you’ll be, sitting in the corner while life passes you by.”

  “Cat can come live wif me, Mama, if dook doesn’t marry her,” Mikey said, coming over to wrap his arms around Cat’s legs.

  “Or you can live with me, Cat,” Tom said, tugging on one of her hands, “and write your books.”

  Mama smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, boys.”

  “Yes.” Cat swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat and hugged her little brothers. “Thank you, both.” If she didn’t leave now, she’d start crying—and she might miss the lottery. “And now I really must go.”

  She rushed down the stairs and out of the vicarage. They wouldn’t start without her, would they? She walked faster. Thank heavens the Spinster House was so close. She dashed across the street—and almost tripped over Poppy.

  “Merrow!”

  “Oh! I’m sorry, Poppy. I didn’t see you.” She bent to give the cat a quick pat.

  Poppy glared at her for a moment and then apparently forgave her, rubbing herself against her ankles before running off toward the back gardens. At least if she was lucky enough to win the Spinster House tenancy, she wouldn’t have a disgruntled housemate.

  She hurried up the walk. Incipient panic made her rap on the door rather more forcefully than necessary, but if they’d held the drawing without her . . .

  Randolph opened the door. “No need to knock the house down, Cat.” He looked behind her as she came in. “You haven’t seen His Grace, have you?”

  “No. Isn’t he here yet?”

  A stupid question. Randolph wouldn’t have asked if the duke had already arrived. Cat stepped farther into the sitting room—and into the narrowed gazes of Jane and Anne.