What the Duke Wants

by Amy Quinton

  Aunt Mary was an altogether different sort: outspoken and pretentious. She and Uncle George had three children together—again, all girls; though as expected, Grace did not know her cousins well since the Radclyffes were rarely invited to Beckett House, and certainly Uncle George and Aunt Mary did not deign to visit them in Oxford.

  Now, Grace lived at Beckett House with her four cousins under the guardianship of her Aunt Mary and Uncle George. Though they were passively cruel to her, for they looked down upon her because her father had been in trade, they did their duty, if only just, and kept her housed and fed because, like it or not, she was (unfortunately to their mind) considered a relative even if not actually related by blood. Grace supposed she should be thankful to the earl and countess for taking her in when she was so distantly related. Alas, those feelings of appreciation escaped her at the moment…

  “Grace. There you are.”

  Grace was jolted from her thoughts as the youngest of her cousins, Adelaide, came skipping down the dock toward her. Grace took a moment to smile at the young girl who, at the age of six, was full of life and energy. As usual, Adelaide was dressed in a play frock sans shoes, a bad habit she seemed to have picked up of late from following Grace about the garden.

  “Good morning, Addie. What are you about this morning?”

  Adelaide looked about furtively before responding, “Shhhh. I’ve come here to hide out from Mama and my nurse. They want me to put on my new dress and shoes and plait my hair, and I won’t have it. How can I play all strung up like a May Pole?”

  “Besides,” she continued, “Mama is too busy calming Beatryce to notice my absence right now.”

  Grace inwardly cringed at the mention of Beatryce. Beatryce was the oldest of Uncle George’s four children, and at eighteen, was out in society. Grace could not imagine Beatryce walking the grounds with her head uncovered, let alone dangling her feet in the water. Beatryce was spoiled and vain, and always unsatisfied.

  “Did Beatryce really throw the dancing slippers out the window?” asked Adelaide after a moment.

  “No, Adelaide, she didn’t, not really. She just felt like it. I’m sure she is just nervous about the duke’s arrival this afternoon and is not acting her usual self…”

  Grace cringed at the small white lie, and eyed Adelaide to see if she had swallowed it. It wasn’t her place to speak ill of Adelaide’s sister, so the lie seemed justified in this instance. Just this morning Beatryce had thrown a tantrum when she discovered Aunt Mary had allowed Grace to borrow an old pair of Beatryce’s dancing slippers, and had tossed them out the window rather than forfeit them to Grace. Never mind that Beatryce had at least ten pairs of dancing slippers, while Grace had none.

  What made matters worse was Aunt Mary had provided Grace with an old dress of Beatryce’s as well, which was out of fashion and not at all flattering to her slim stature, but based on Beatryce’s hysterics this morning, anyone would have thought Aunt Mary had presented Grace with the Royal Diamonds instead. Not to mention that the dress’s pale shade of lavender did nothing for either of their complexions, thus, she couldn’t imagine Beatryce wearing it out in polite society anyway. Unfortunately, there was no help for it. Grace didn’t have anything appropriate to wear for this week’s events without borrowing from Beatryce, who was of a size.

  One might think Beatryce would feel some sort of connection with Grace, having both lost their mother and being true cousins, but alas, Beatryce seemed quite content with her situation and her disdain for her lesser relative.

  Beatryce’s half-sisters Hetty (sixteen) and Sylvia (twelve) were quite shy by comparison. In truth, Hetty was attending a boarded finishing school and was not often around so Grace still did not know her well. Sylvia was quiet and strictly obedient to her mother and governess; thus, Grace rarely saw her except at a distance—probably by Aunt Mary’s intention.

  Adelaide, however, the youngest at six, was a force all her own. She was always running from her nurse, and from the day Grace arrived to live at Beckett House, had sought Grace out daily—much to her mother’s vexation.

  “Well, that is understandable, I guess. I didn’t think Beatryce would be so silly over a pair of old dancing shoes. She has at least a dozen…”

  “Yes, that would be silly, indeed.”

  Adelaide thoughtfully paused a moment more before chattering happily on about something completely unrelated: bugs (or was that ribbons with bugs?), as was her wont. Grace was relieved the girl hadn’t pushed to further discuss Beatryce’s behavior of late, and with the pressure of the upcoming house party, she couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to drift, somewhat oblivious to her cousin’s innocent babble.

  For the most part, Aunt Mary and Uncle George left Grace alone and managed to avoid drawing society’s attention toward their unwanted guest. They never took her with them to parties; nor did they take her to London whenever they made the trip. This was a mutually agreeable decision as Grace had no desire to come under the scrutiny of high society—the ton—and her aunt and uncle had no desire to acknowledge so close an association with trade or to risk some other embarrassment by their wayward ward.

  Today, however, they had no choice, for society demanded they throw a house party to announce the engagement of their daughter, Beatryce, to the Duke of Stonebridge; hence all the lunacy over His Grace’s imminent arrival. Grace didn’t think the couple was officially engaged yet, but a proposal and formal announcement were expected, and several key guests were invited to stay the week to witness what was sure to be the event of the season.

  Much to the chagrin of her aunt and uncle, all of this meant Grace had to be introduced to society after all. They couldn’t very well send her away (there wasn’t anyone to send her to) nor could they hide her in the attic whilst the guests were about—though Grace had caught her aunt looking at her oddly a time or two over the past week and was sure the thought had crossed her aunt’s mind.

  For the past month, Aunt Mary had fretted daily over Grace’s upcoming introduction to society at this week’s house party, though not just because of Grace’s shocking family history in trade. No, there was also the wee matter of Grace’s proclivity for accidental mishaps (she was downright clumsy) and her (shocking!) tendency to befriend the servants who, of course, all loved her in return, that had Aunt Mary dreaming nightmares over the possible scandals that could ensue.

  Grace sighed as she told herself it was best not to dwell on such maudlin thoughts. She was never one to pity herself or her situation and she was happy, truly happy—though mayhap, in secret (and only rarely at that), she allowed herself to dream…Perhaps she’d envision a handsome, kind man coming to rescue her and carry her away from her reality and into a life of which she could only imagine…It was a brief indulgence—this dream—for she was confident enough in herself to know she would make do just fine with her own resources…and she knew her circumstances could be much, much worse.

  Aaah, but sometimes it was nice to daydream…to picture someone else with whom she could at least share the burdens and joys of life.

  “Grace, are you listening to me?”

  Grace started as she realized she had been daydreaming and had long stopped attending to Adelaide’s chatter.

  “I am truly sorry, Addie, I let my mind wander away from me again.”

  “It’s all right, Grace. I asked if you think the duke will like having me for a sister.” Adelaide bowed her head shyly and fidgeted with the hem of her dress, such that Grace was startled by the uncharacteristically timid behavior.

  Impulsively, Grace leaned over to hug Adelaide and said, “Oh, Addie, how could he not? You’re everything a person could ask for in a sister, truly. Why would you think otherwise? Have you met His Grace? Has he been impolite or rude to you in any way?”

  “No, not at all…It’s just that everyone is acting all strange. I keep trying to imagine what His Grace might think of all of us—and our home…”

  Beckett House was rather large to Gra
ce’s way of thinking, for prior to this, she had only ever lived with her parents in their small home above their bookstore in Oxford. She supposed Beatryce’s duke might own a much larger house in any one of his numerous estates across the country, thus Beckett House might be considered modest by comparison.

  Grace looked thoughtfully at Adelaide a moment before responding. “Addie, first of all, I should hope that His Grace wouldn’t judge anyone by the size and lavishness of their home for it’s a person’s character that truly matters…and if he does consider the value of your possessions as a way of determining your worth as a person, then I think he is not worthy of your consideration in return—even if he does become your brother-in-law.”

  “Well, Mama and Papa must think it is important to impress His Grace with their things. They’ve even taken a guest room so the duke can have their rooms whilst he is here.”

  Grace thought it was quite funny that her aunt and uncle had done this and to hear them complain (albeit furtively) about having to share a room with each other (gasp!) to provide the duke with three rooms for his own personal use. She knew they had done so simply on account of his standing and the fact that he was planning to marry Beatryce, but really, couldn’t the duke manage one single week with less? Was he so pompous and fickle that he would break off the engagement over something as silly as the number of rooms available to him for his weeklong stay? If so, she might actually pity Beatryce her chosen fiancé, but then she realized, knowing Beatryce, she and the duke might actually be quite alike in their preferences if this were so.

  Mindful not to betray her internal thoughts, Grace said, “I think perhaps your mother and father do not want to take any chances that His Grace might be offended during his stay. It is too important to them and your sister that he is happy during this visit.”

  Grace paused to give Adelaide a moment to think about that, then added gently, “In light of that sentiment, dear, I think it best if you head back to the house and allow your nurse to truss you up in your finery. It will only be for a short time and you do want to make a good impression when you meet His Grace for the first time.”

  “But you said…”

  Grace laughed. Adelaide was a clever child.

  “I know, I know—he shouldn’t be impressed by how expensively turned out you are, but you also don’t want him to see your bare feet and dirt smudged knees and get the wrong notion, now do you? You rather do look like a stray waif at present…though an adorable one, to be sure.”

  “Well, I don’t want him to think I’m not open to play, either. What if he thinks I’m too stuffy, all dolled up, and not at’all a fine candidate for a sister?”

  Grace chuckled. “I think that His Grace will see the playfulness in your eyes when he looks at you and he will remember what it was like to be six years old. I think you’ll do fine, dear.”

  Adelaide let out a loud sigh of resignation. Oh, how simple life was at six…

  “Aaaaaall riiiiiight, IIIIII’ll go…”

  Grace watched Adelaide reluctantly rise and brush at the dirt on her knees. Adelaide looked at Grace a moment then asked, “Aren’t you coming, too?”

  “Oh, Addie, I’ll be along shortly. Please, don’t let me hold you back. You race on ahead before your mother sends the footmen out looking for you. She won’t be pleased if she has to pull them from their duties to go looking for you, not now of all times, will she?”

  Adelaide’s eyes widened at the thought, and she immediately dashed off toward the path leading back to Beckett House, all the while yelling back, “You are right. I’ll see you back at the house, Grace.”

  Grace laughed at the sight. Adelaide was a charming and precocious child…and right. It was time she headed back to the house and the reality within, though at the moment, she felt a near overwhelming urge to spend the entire day hiding out amongst the shrubbery instead.

  Grace gathered her shoes, stockings, and bonnet, her pins still held within, and stood, holding her skirts high to allow the breeze to dry her legs before making her way back up the path to Beckett House. She knew she had to go through with it, the party and all it encompassed, though she didn’t like it. She reminded herself it was only until her twenty-first birthday, and then she would be free to enact her own plans for the future. Until then, she could manage what was required to save her relatives from unnecessary embarrassment.

  Grace sought out the sun and was surprised to note how long she had been sitting there, and with a renewed sense of urgency began to make her way home. She pulled her hair up in a loose topknot as she went and secured it haphazardly with her pins, just enough to hold until she could get back inside the house.

  Along with her shoes, Grace still held her bonnet in hand even though her aunt would have an apoplexy if she got too much sun on her face and broke out in freckles, not to mention walking about barefoot. Grace chuckled at the subsequent ‘scandal’ this might cause amongst the guests. She thought about what her aunt would say if she wasn’t able to get back to her rooms unseen; in addition to everything else, she was dressed in her most tattered morning dress, one she only used for mucking about in the garden when no one else was around.

  A few minutes later, Grace came out of the woods, shoes and bonnet still in hand, and the full expanse of Beckett House and its surrounding gardens came into view. She stopped for just a moment to appreciate the sight of the manor home standing stoically before her with its plain, rough stone façade. It was quite inviting, in her opinion, though it seemed oddly placed amidst the manicured lawns and hedgerows her aunt obsessed over so keenly. The formal gardens were not quite to Grace’s taste; her tastes ran more to the rough, untamed beauty of the area by the lake, which actually seemed to better match the house’s architecture than its own gardens.

  Grace shook off her woolgathering and picked up her pace; she had been gone for far too long. She was just walking down a slight rise at the edge of the formal gardens, not paying particular attention to where she was stepping, when she hit a patch of mud and slipped.

  Her arms flailed about wildly as she tried, unsuccessfully, to remain upright—but, alas, therein lay the jest…She was Grace—not graceful.

  “Oh, fiddlesticks,” she said aloud, as she found herself spun around and on her backside in a rather large puddle of mud.

  How could she have missed that?

  Grace landed so hard she was fairly oozing mud from her crown to her toes. Already, she could feel the telltale signs of liquid earth soaking into the back of her dress.

  Grace closed her eyes to offer up a wishful prayer that no one was about the gardens to witness her mucky mishap. Then she took a deep breath and calmed herself by considering that the guests, including His Grace, were not expected until much later. She was likely in luck.

  Grace was just contemplating the best route back inside the house without alerting anyone else of her—misfortune—when a monogrammed handkerchief suddenly appeared over her shoulder.

  Chapter 2

  The Bull and Thistle Inn…

  The evening before…

  Crash…

  Breaking glass followed by raised voices and boisterous laughter disturbed the tenuous peace at the Bull and Thistle Inn—the only inn and tavern in the small village near Amberley in West Sussex. It was a nightmare for anyone planning to attempt something as mundane as sleep.

  Ambrose Philip Langtry, the tenth Duke of Stonebridge, gritted his teeth in annoyance as he stripped out of his travelling clothes. He was weary and needed sleep. It was going to be a long night.

  “Bryans, we’re leaving at first light. I don’t care how early we arrive at Beckett House; it will be preferable to remaining here any longer than absolutely necessary,” he told his valet. The inn was a rowdy place and he would die a happy man if he never saw its rotting façade again.

  “Yes, Your Grace. Shall I call the guard and have everyone clapped in irons, then?” responded Bryans, audaciously, yet with a somber face. He had been with the duke a long tim
e and had grown somewhat impertinent over the years.

  “I am in no mood for your cheek this evening,” he told Bryans with all seriousness. With a stern look and a raised brow, he dared the man to continue his insolence. But Bryans just ignored him and continued about his duties. The man had some nerve.

  Both men almost missed the knock on the door due to all the noise coming from downstairs, despite the racket being muffled through two floors of guest rooms. The duke pulled his dressing gown tight as Bryans answered the door.

  Stonebridge nearly groaned out loud as Bryans revealed, once again, the innkeeper’s now familiar face in the open doorway. Instead, he gritted his teeth and waited patiently to hear the innkeeper out.

  “Aaah, Your Grace, I’m righ’ sorry for the racket below and though’ I should check if’n you needed ought…and I brough’ some of me own ‘ouse brandy to ‘elp you sett’l in for the nigh’.” The innkeeper grinned widely as he brought in a tray with his offering, revealing gaping holes where several teeth should have been.

  The duke would be dying of thirst before he had any more of that swill the innkeeper called brandy. Of course, he didn’t say that out loud, but the poor plant in the corner would probably be dead by morning.

  “Thank you for your generosity. We’re fine and just retiring for the night. Good evening.” Stonebridge nodded his head toward the door to make his wishes clear: he was ready to retire without further disturbance. The curt dismissal was so short as to be rude, but Stonebridge couldn’t find it in himself to care. The innkeeper and his wife had stopped by his privately reserved dining room eighteen times during dinner, and now his patience was at an end.

  “Righ’ then, I’ll be off, but don’t ‘esitate to ring if’n you need anythin’ at’all…” The innkeeper backed out of the room, scraping and bowing the entire way. It was almost comical, especially as he nearly ran his arse into the door frame on his way out. Stonebridge detested the overzealous show of deference. He was only a man, for goodness sakes.