What the Duke Doesn't Know

by Jane Ashford

  Kawena tried to wrestle her wants into one coherent, socially acceptable sentence. So many of her ideas seemed to contradict each other.

  “You said you weren’t looking for a husband,” the older woman prompted.

  “Not as they do it here!” Kawena said. “As if it was some sort of…trading enterprise, where the…the goods must be one certain type.”

  “The goods. Indeed.” Mrs. Runyon looked amused.

  “Lord James is searching for a ‘proper English bride,’” Kawena blurted out. “Which he obviously believes that I am not. He is forever saying… And I don’t care! Not in the least. It is a…a matter of indifference to me. If he wants some simpering miss with red hair, let him! I will never be such a person. I am myself. But it is not as if I can’t be proper. It doesn’t appear difficult. I can obey a few sil…a few rules.”

  Mrs. Runyon nodded as if this mishmash was perfectly clear. “So our task is to make Lord James sorry.”

  Kawena flushed. She did want that, but it sounded petty when stated aloud.

  “And once he is?”

  Kawena looked at her. She seemed to have no doubt that he would be. Which was surprising, and gratifying. Still, she wasn’t sure what more to tell her.

  “What are we to do with his remorse?” she added with another smile.

  Although she’d known Mrs. Runyon a very short time, Kawena was coming to trust as well as like her. It wasn’t just Flora’s recommendation. There was something about the older woman—a solidity that reminded Kawena of her mother. How she wished for the latter’s wise counsel right now! Still, she hesitated.

  “I’ve been privy to many secrets in my life,” Mrs. Runyon said. “And I’ve faithfully kept them all.”

  Kawena examined her open expression, her candid eyes. “Lord James grew up with propriety and English ways,” she began, “but he dreamed of the sea, and he sailed away to become someone quite different. Only…I’m not sure he knows.”

  “Knows?”

  “How different he has become.”

  “Ah.”

  Kawena paused for one final moment, and then made her decision. “I have a plan,” she continued, and proceeded to tell her companion the whole. She withheld only the fact that she and Lord James had already made love more than once. This seemed a step too far for the ears of a chaperone.

  “Hmm,” said Mrs. Runyon when Kawena was done.

  “But first I will show him that I can be as…as English as he thinks he is,” Kawena finished fiercely.

  “A novel idea.”

  “And whatever happens, I shall still have much more than I did when I came here.” Which ought to have been consoling, but wasn’t, quite.

  “Yes, I see.”

  Having unburdened herself, Kawena suddenly wanted to escape from the older woman’s keen, sympathetic scrutiny. “I think I will go to bed now.” She rose and hurried from the room.

  “It seems life will be rather full of Greshams for the next little while,” murmured Mrs. Runyon as Kawena went out.

  * * *

  James left Alan’s house early the next morning, partly evading his family and partly planning his approach to Kawena. He had walked for some time, scarcely aware of his surroundings, when he heard his name spoken. Turning, he found Ronald and Maria Benson standing nearby, flanked by four children who could only be theirs. Brown-haired, pale, and dark-eyed, dressed in brown, they were successively smaller copies of their parents. The two tallest even shared their elders’ sour expression. The littlest looked curious.

  “Lord James,” said Mr. Benson, with a sardonic twist to the name.

  “Mr. Benson.” James gave them a minimal bow.

  “We are on our way to call upon my dear niece,” Benson continued. “We have discovered that she is staying nearby.”

  His triumphant tone grated. He’d been quick about finding the address.

  “And to give her the joy of meeting her cousins,” Benson added, gesturing at his family.

  James looked the children over again. They seemed an unprepossessing bunch, unlikely to charm. But he had little experience with youngsters. Maria Benson drew the eldest girl close against her side, as if she expected him to make a run at a chit scarcely into her teens. It really was too much. James bared his teeth in a predatory smile. The entire Benson clan shrank away as if he might actually bite them. James touched the brim of his hat and turned away. There was nothing to say to these people. The important thing was to warn Kawena of their imminent arrival.

  But James had no sooner headed in the direction of Kawena’s house than he heard his name again. This voice was far more familiar, however, and impossible to ignore. He turned back. “Hello, Papa.” Oxford was too small a place to have a family the size of his, James thought.

  Resplendent in a dark blue coat and buff pantaloons, plying a tasseled cane, the duke joined him. “A fine morning for a stroll,” he commented. “I suspect it will be too hot later. Are you going this way?”

  He didn’t wish to take his father to Kawena’s. He had to get there before the Bensons. He couldn’t think of a plausible excuse to just run. James indicated a random turn.

  They walked along side by side. James noticed, yet again, that he was an inch or so taller than the duke. It was a known fact that nevertheless always surprised him.

  “Is something troubling you?” his father said after a while.

  “What? No.” James had been immersed in thoughts of how to get away without giving offense, or revealing his mission.

  “Ah.”

  They crossed an arched bridge. A punt glided out from under it, and they paused to watch the young man at the oar guide the slender boat down the river.

  “It’s just…your mother had a notion that you were ‘brooding’ about something.”

  “Brooding!” James was revolted by the idea.

  The duke laughed. “The word does conjure up visions of hens, does it not? But she’s not often wrong.”

  She was usually uncannily right, in fact.

  “I understand your position about the Admiralty, and indeed respect it. But if there’s anything else I could help you with?”

  But a thought had struck James. “Where is Mama?”

  “Oh, she and Ariel put their heads together and went off somewhere. I thought it best not to inquire about their plans.”

  “Why?”

  His father smiled at him. “One thing I’ve learned in more than thirty years of marriage is: don’t ask questions if you don’t wish to know the answers.”

  James puzzled over this. “But how do you know you don’t want to know until you…know?” He grimaced at the stupidity of this sentence.

  “That’s the trick of it,” replied the duke with a smile. “One learns with experience.”

  “By knowing things you wished you didn’t?” What sort of dire secrets would those be? he wondered.

  His father nodded. “I could tell they had some scheme in mind this morning. And no desire for my opinion of…whatever it was. In such cases, I’ve found that ignorance is often the better choice.”

  “Scheme?” James felt a brush of panic, mixed with a strong desire to delve deeper into his father’s store of marital wisdom. But mainly, he was aware that they were as far from Kawena’s house as one could be while remaining in Oxford. It was probably too late to warn her now.

  * * *

  Thus, Kawena’s household was surprised by the appearance of six Bensons on their doorstep a short while later. All three ladies were sitting in the parlor when Ronald Benson’s visiting card was brought in. Kawena had briefly discussed her relatives’ arrival with the others, and so they were generally prepared. One never knew how people would take things, however, Kawena thought as she awaited them.

  The maid returned with what seemed at first a great many people. The man and woman loo
ked between thirty and forty. Both were small and somberly dressed and dour. Indeed, Kawena found them almost aggressively drab, as if they disdained any form of ornament, or wished to give that impression. The four children with them were dressed similarly. They looked to range from around twelve to perhaps four years old. Kawena examined the man for any resemblance to her father. Beyond his brown hair and blue eyes, she found little. Perhaps their noses had the same curve. Papa had been much taller, his features etched by laugh lines.

  “I am Ronald Benson,” said the man with a nod of greeting. “Your uncle. This is my wife, Maria, and our children: Anne, John, George, and Susan.”

  As their names were given, each child gave a curtsy or a bow, except for the youngest, who merely grinned up at her.

  Kawena introduced Mrs. Runyon and Flora, then said, “My father never told me he had a brother.”

  A look of distaste passed across the older Bensons’ faces, as if they’d eaten something bitter and had to force themselves to swallow it. “Alas, we were…estranged,” her newfound uncle replied.

  If Kawena had needed any further evidence of what her father’s family thought of him, she would have had it in the thoroughly unconvincing way he said “alas.”

  “But we are here to remedy that,” the man went on.

  “Are you? Please, sit down.” Ronald and Maria Benson sat side by side on a sofa. In response to a glance from Maria, the children filed around and ranged themselves behind their parents in a graduated row.

  “We’ve come to save you,” Maria Benson said then.

  “From what?” Kawena asked.

  “You are all alone in the world,” her uncle replied.

  “On the contrary.” Kawena gestured at her companions. Mrs. Runyon was the picture of fashionable respectability in a dove-gray gown. Flora looked equally proper. “And of course, I have my mother and aunts and other family back home.”

  The revulsion on the faces of the adults, and the two older children, dissipated any lingering doubts Kawena might have had. How dare they look so contemptuous of her mother? And what had these people told her cousins about her? Only the maid’s entry with a loaded tray stopped her from making a very sharp remark. Kawena had to take several calming breaths before she could manage, “Would you care for some Madeira…Uncle Ronald?”

  “I do not indulge in spirits of any kind,” he said.

  Of course he did not. What is the opposite of the word “convivial”? Kawena wondered. “Ah, some lemonade then? And cakes for the children?”

  Sparks of enthusiasm in the younger Bensons’ eyes relieved Kawena somewhat. She didn’t want to contemplate the sort of child who would spurn a bit of cake.

  Ronald and Maria Benson accepted small glasses of ratafia and allowed their offspring one iced cake each.

  “Are my grandparents still living?” said Kawena then.

  “Alas, no.”

  His “alas” sounded nearly as insincere as before. “You must tell me about them,” Kawena said. It was the one thing she would like to hear from him. Her father had told her so little about his family.

  “Of course. They would want to be sure we gave you every assistance,” he replied. He cleared his throat. “Particularly because…we have heard…talk that you have the…burden of a sizable fortune.”

  He really was transparent. Did he think she was a fool? “Burden?”

  When she didn’t deny the fact, Ronald Benson’s pale blue eyes gleamed. It might have been enthusiasm, but seemed much more like avarice. Probably he was not aware that he was rubbing his hands together. “It is a great responsibility. And so we have come to offer you our help and protection.”

  Kawena indicated her companions again. “But as you can see, I’m not without friends. I don’t require any…particular help.”

  “Strangers.” He rejected the concept with a gesture. “Not family.”

  “When do you put the bone through your nose?” asked little Susan Benson. She had been staring fixedly at Kawena.

  “Susan!” Her mother twisted in her seat and glared at her. The other children shot their youngest sister sidelong glances, appalled and silently gleeful.

  “I only wear it on special occasions,” Kawena responded immediately. “To evening parties and balls.”

  Maria Benson paled, her brown eyes seeming to bulge in their sockets.

  “It goes with my feather headdress and oyster-shell bangles,” Kawena added. She heard a choking sound from Flora and took care not to look at her.

  “Your cousin is making a joke to cover your rudeness, Susan,” said Ronald Benson. “As you can see, she is completely at home in English fashions. Apologize to her at once.”

  As the little girl muttered an apology, Kawena noted that her uncle was not a fool. She mustn’t forget that he was shrewd and persistent and poised to take advantage. Twitting him might be amusing, but he was clearly very serious about getting his hands on her fortune.

  “Your family will have your best interests at heart,” he said, picking up where he’d left off.

  “What would those be?” Kawena wondered.

  “What?” He looked momentarily confused.

  “My best interests.” She wanted to learn more of what he had in mind before making any move.

  “Ah. To conserve capital, naturally. To invest wisely. I have had some experience along those lines and could take over…that is, I could advise you.”

  No mention of her wishes or her happiness or even her future. Kawena had heard enough. “My father taught me to be quite careful with money,” Kawena answered, “as he always was.” Until he stuffed his entire fortune into a carving, she did not add.

  This clearly struck a chord. She watched Ronald Benson imagine the sorts of safeguards he would set around a girl’s fortune. “But he is gone.” Under Kawena’s gaze, he quickly added, “Sadly.”

  “I have engaged an experienced man of business to oversee my affairs,” she replied.

  “Who?”

  Kawena was satisfied that she wanted nothing to do with her newfound relations. It was time to rout them. “But as I establish myself in English society, I’m sure I would be glad to meet your friends.”

  She let Maria Benson contemplate the picture of a “half-breed” niece—as Kawena was certain they characterized her—making a mark among her acquaintances. Perhaps joking about bones and oyster shells. From the other’s expression, it wasn’t a welcome thought.

  “I understand it is the custom in England for a young lady’s family to ‘bring her out’?” Kawena continued. “It that the correct phrase? And apparently I will need a number of new gowns, and, oh, many other things.”

  “You would of course bear the expense of such items,” said Ronald hurriedly.

  “Oh, but I think you are right about conserving capital. I would leave that to my family.”

  “We do not move in such circles,” said Maria Benson, “and indeed have no interest in friv—”

  Her husband hushed her with a gesture and a sharp look. As Maria subsided, Kawena contemplated what she would do to a man who tried to silence her that way. She would punch him, she decided.

  “Fortunately, I have many connections in society,” said Mrs. Runyon, every inch the grande dame. They had agreed that she would hold back and then speak when it seemed to her appropriate. “And I shall be happy to introduce Miss Benson.”

  “And how much do you intend to bilk her out of for this supposed ‘service’?” demanded Ronald Benson.

  The ladies were momentarily silenced by his breathtaking rudeness. Then Kawena stood, ready to have him thrown out of her house. As she started to speak, the housemaid came in again. “The Duchess of Langford and Lady Alan Gresham,” she announced.

  “Ah,” Mrs. Runyon murmured as she rose at Kawena’s side. “Just what we need.” She stepped forward with a smile. “Duchess
, how kind of you to call.”

  “Mrs. Runyon,” replied the tall, elegant newcomer. “I hope you’re well. I haven’t seen you since the Trents’ Venetian rout party, I believe.”

  “Very well, thank you. May I present Miss Kawena Benson? You are acquainted with Miss Jennings, I believe.”

  “Of course I am. How is your mother, Flora? I haven’t seen her in an age.”

  “Quite well, thank you.” Flora’s smile showed glee at the unfolding scene.

  “And Miss Benson, I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  As Lord James’s mother examined her, Kawena grew a bit nervous. The duchess had a penetrating gaze. The small curtsy she gave felt perfectly natural in this instance. “Hullo, Ariel,” she added.

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Runyon, as if recalling some tedious task, “these are Miss Benson’s uncle and aunt. And their whole family. They called…unexpectedly.”

  Kawena had to hide a smile. Her tone was such a perfect combination of rebuke and distaste. She made it sound as if their visit was a social misstep and an imposition, even though morning calls were commonplace.

  The Bensons were staring, overawed, at the duchess. She looked at them, exchanged a glance with Mrs. Runyon that appeared to communicate a great deal, and sat gracefully in an armchair.

  The small parlor was becoming crowded. Flora and Ariel, also exchanging speaking looks, took two straight chairs in the corner. Kawena and Mrs. Runyon returned to the smaller sofa opposite the Bensons.

  “I was just telling…everyone,” Mrs. Runyon said, “that Miss Benson is very fortunate in her friends. How many young women have the Duke of Langford, for example, taking an interest in their affairs?”

  Without a flicker of surprise showing in her handsome face, the duchess nodded. “He is always glad to be of service to a friend of the family.”

  “A friend of your son, you mean,” said Ronald Benson.

  Kawena nearly gasped. Even his wife looked uneasy at this blatant discourtesy.