The Grace of a Duke

by Linda Rae Sande

  “One would hardly know you just moved in today,” Charlotte commented as she moved to take a seat in an upholstered Chippendale chair. Garrett waited for her to sit before he did so in a wingback chair, his action suggesting he’d sat in that very chair many times before.

  “Mr. McElliott is very good at motivating workmen,” Jane said as she brought a tea tray from the kitchen area. She said a silent thanks to Annie for having the foresight to send her off this morning with a tin of Dutch biscuits, several meat pasties, and enough cheese and bread to last as few days. Although she could cook if she had to, she didn’t yet have kitchen staples, food, or utensils. Garrett had said they would take a quick trip to Petworth when they were ready to stock the pantry; given the late hour of the afternoon, she figured they would do so in the morning.

  The porcelain tea set was of high quality Wedgwood, Charlotte recognized, and given the expensive furniture that surrounded her, she wondered how the woman could afford such extravagance.

  “Bribes do make men work faster,” Garrett acknowledged with a sly grin. “But I was more concerned that they didn’t break anything. Miss Wethersby has some very nice things. It would have been a shame to lose a chair or a crystal goblet because things were packed poorly,” he commented, leaning forward as Jane set down the tray to glide a hand down her arm.

  Garrett seemed to find it hard to keep his hands off his fiancée, Charlotte noticed, suppressing the grin she felt coming on at watching him admire Jane. The older woman had removed her apron, and Charlotte thought her tall figure was well suited to the gown she wore. Garrett helped with the service, setting out cups on saucers as Jane poured and adding sugar when Charlotte nodded. “There’s no milk,” he said by way of an apology.

  “Sugar will be fine,” Charlotte said with assurance. “The fact that you can even serve tea on your first day in a house is rather amazing, I should think,” she added as she watched three men moving what appeared to be bedroom furniture into a back room. Beautiful bedroom furniture. And all of it Jane’s? Garrett had made a fine choice in a wife, even if he found her in a gaming hell. “Your taste in decorating is exquisite,” Charlotte commented as she took the proffered cup from Jane. “Have you been employed in the decorating trade?”

  The tall woman smiled but shook her head. “No, but thank you. I tend to … copy the rooms that I like. I haven’t had the opportunity to visit the homes of the very rich, but my mother was a baron’s daughter, so I grew up in a home with grand furnishings and fabrics and all sorts of frippery,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  Charlotte looked to Garrett before she said, “I don’t know if Mr. McElliott has told you, but I have been helping to choose furnishings and frippery for the west wing of the main house.”

  Garrett snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Helping?” he repeated in jest. “Lady Charlotte is doing all the choosing, if the duke is to be believed.”

  Blushing, Charlotte set down her tea cup. “And I could use some help, if you find yourself wanting to do that sort of thing. After you’re all settled in, of course,” she added, seeing Jane’s expression of disbelief.

  “Oh, I would be honored,” Jane answered, her face brightening. “I must admit, I have spent a good deal of my time on the way here wondering what I might do to pass the time while Mr. McElliott is at work on estate matters. I am used to earning my living, you see,” she said, not the least bit ashamed of admitting what some in the ton would consider gauche.

  “It seems you have done well in your profession,” Charlotte said as she waved a hand to indicate the room in general.

  Jane smiled and thanked her. “My boss, Mr. O’Laughlin, was very generous as well as being a father figure these past eight years,” she explained, the slight lift making her voice a bit musical. “But it was time to … move on,” she stammered then, the tone of her voice changing to sound as if she wasn’t quite sure she had made the right decision in agreeing to come to Wisborough Oaks. Her hand unconsciously went to her bruised face.

  Charlotte wanted desperately to ask how the woman had suffered the black eye. Perhaps her cocked eyebrow did the asking for her, because Jane sighed and said, “One of the patrons at The Jack of Spades hit me.” She paused a moment, but before she could say anything else, Garrett leaned forward and placed a hand on her thigh.

  Trying to ignore how the man touched Jane, Charlotte averted her eyes. “How awful. Was he arrested?” she wondered then, her attention going to Garrett.

  “Angus McFarland,” he stated with a nod. “Nicholas Bingham’s henchman.” He waited for Charlotte to react and wasn’t surprised to see her hand go to her mouth, to hear her breath catch and a startled ‘oh’ escape her lips. “McFarland was the one who tried to blow up the main house,” Garrett added tersely.

  “Garrett!” Jane admonished him quickly, her hand coming down on top of his to clasp it and shake it a bit.

  “It’s quite alright,” Charlotte interrupted, her heart hammering in her chest. “I mean, it is not, of course, but, I am quite aware of what my devil of a cousin attempted to do. I am just … very sorry you had to suffer from his machinations as well,” she said quietly, hoping the woman wouldn’t hold her responsible for the actions of a horrible relative. The Bingham name would not be an honorable one after the news that her cousin had arranged a murder and drained Edward Bingham’s bank accounts.

  “Aye, you’re lucky to be alive, Lady Charlotte,” Jane said then. “If Mr. McFarland hadn’t been so inept, the house vera well might have caught fire or collapsed,” she added, her eyes wide. “I was so scared when Mr. McFarland said the house was near Kirdford. So scared. For you and for my Garrett,” she whispered solemnly, risking a glance in Garrett’s direction as she made the admission. He shrugged in reply, making a mental note to give her an extra kiss once Lady Charlotte took her leave.

  “A window broke, and a beautiful oak tree was split in two,” Charlotte explained with a shrug. “You are right to refer to Mr. McFarland as inept,” she added with a wan smile. “But I do find myself hoping that he and my cousin are transported.” The statement was probably not appropriate to say aloud, but Charlotte couldn’t help herself. Nicholas Bingham deserved no mercy in her opinion. And seeing what Angus McFarland had done to Jane made her want to see him hang. Changing the subject, she turned to Garrett and asked, “Was your trip to town productive?”

  Garrett smiled, a bit relieved and amused at Charlotte’s behavior. Here was a woman who had been subjected to a whipping, stitches, attempted murder, two betrothals, daily dealings with a cranky construction foreman, and Joshua Wainwright. It was a wonder she was going to be married on Saturday! “Quite,” he said with a nod. “I was able to visit everyone His Grace instructed me to see and ask for Miss Wethersby’s hand in marriage,” he added, reaching over to grasp Jane’s hand in his.

  Charlotte was awestruck at how Garrett always seemed to be touching or holding his fiancée. “Tell me, Mr. McElliott, were you able to visit the modiste I wrote about?” Charlotte wondered as she helped herself to a Dutch biscuit. She turned her attention to Jane. “I sent a note to him whilst he was in London to ask him if he could see to the making of some special bed linens for His Grace,” she explained quickly, hoping the woman would not take offense to her corresponding with Garrett.

  Garrett straightened, a mischievous grin appearing. “I did visit a modiste, although not the one you recommended. Jane’s modiste is quite efficient, in fact, and I have a package here somewhere,” he said as he glanced around the room. He noted Charlotte’s rounded eyes and was pleased that he was able to bring back the completed project in person. The woman was about to become the Duchess of Chichester, and he had every intention of seeing to it she was kept happy.

  “Madame was able to make them so quickly?” Charlotte asked, surprised that the linens could be completed in only a couple of days. A modiste had performed miracles before, she knew, having had one make her a gown or two for last minute social enga
gements.

  Nodding, Garrett rose from his chair and retrieved the paper and string-wrapped parcel from a table next to the door. “I had another order for her to fill, so it was not an inconvenience to request the linens at the same time,” Garrett commented as he returned to his chair. “When I mentioned my need for them quickly, she mentioned needing to test the skills of a new seamstress she was figuring to hire.” He leaned toward Jane, his thumb brushing her skirts as he added, “I believe Lady Charlotte means to make His Grace more comfortable, what with his scars and all.”

  Charlotte blushed, partly because she wondered if Garrett guessed she had been sharing her bed with Joshua these past few nights and partly because she continued to notice Garrett’s way with Jane. He was so attentive – doting, almost – as his hands continued to find ways to caress or touch her. Not overtly, of course. They were not yet married. But should he be seen by anyone else, they might think his behavior scandalous. “And what else did you have her make?” she found herself asking, her curiosity suddenly piqued a moment before she realized it was really none of her business.

  Garrett blushed suddenly. “I …” He paused and dared a glance at Jane. “I wanted my bride to have a special gown. Perhaps you could take a look and tell me if you think it appropriate for our wedding day?” he wondered, his attention back on Charlotte.

  Jane gasped as she stared at Garrett. “You bought me a gown?” she whispered.

  Garrett nodded and reached for her hand, kissing the back of it.

  He loves her, Charlotte realized.

  And a wave of jealousy swept over her. Not of Garrett’s affection for Jane, of course, but for the fact that Jane was loved by her fiancé.

  Charlotte had tried such a tactic with Joshua during breakfast the day before. She thought if she showed the duke outright affection by kissing him on the cheek, he might warm to her. But his reaction had been reserved. He had been a bit startled perhaps, she remembered, and he regarded her with quickly hidden surprise as she went about telling the footman what she wanted on her breakfast plate. And then he had hardly eaten whilst she downed her food and carried on a rather one-sided conversation. Convinced her tactic had not worked, Charlotte made her excuses and retired to the west wing to continue her work there.

  However could she make Joshua Wainwright love her? she wondered.

  “I would be happy to look at the gown, Mr. McElliott,” she replied, glancing at Jane. “I take it you have not seen it?”

  Jane looked between Charlotte and Garrett before she shook her head. “No. But it doesn’t surprise me,” she said quietly, her face dimpling as she regarded Garrett. Wanting the attention off of her, she asked about the duke. “Is His Grace … recovering?” When neither immediately answered, she added, “One hears such sordid tales in London.”

  Garrett leaned his elbows on his knees, a pose so casual Charlotte had to suppress a smile. “He’s doing fine, truly,” he replied with a nod. “At least, he was when I left Sunday,” he amended, looking to Charlotte for confirmation.

  “He is recovering quite well, I should think,” she agreed with a nod. “And once you have seen his scars, they really are not so frightening.”

  Nodding, Jane took a sip of her tea. “Does he … allow people to call on him?” she wondered. “Should we call on him tomorrow, do you suppose? To wish him happy and … well, let him know we have taken up residence in his cottage?” she clarified, a tinge of guilt coloring her voice.

  “Of course,” Charlotte assured her, nodding as she said so. “He will love to see you again, I am sure.”

  Garrett had placed a hand on the back of Jane’s. “I will head over there after dinner tonight to let him know of our plans,” he said gently. “As estate manager, I should think I have a bit of say in who lives here,” he added with a chuckle.

  The workmen came out of the bedroom and stood off to the side, waiting for Garrett to notice them. “Excuse me,” he said as he put down his tea and moved toward the men. Charlotte was aware of coins being dropped into their palms and of murmurs of thanks, of hands being shaken. Their work done, the men left the cottage. Sounds of horses being roused from their sleep prefaced the sounds of wooden wheels creaking as the wagons left the premises, one after the other. Garrett had gone into the back room and returned, smiling. “You’re all moved in,” he said to Jane as he returned to his seat.

  Jane smiled, and Charlotte caught the mixed look of relief and exhaustion on the woman’s face. Poor woman! I called on her at least a day too soon! “I really must be going back to my chores,” Charlotte said as she set down her tea cup, wondering at Garrett’s comment. Wouldn’t he be living with Jane after the wedding? She remembered then that his belongings were probably all at the main house. “Thank you so much for tea, Miss Wethersby. It’s been lovely.”

  Giving Charlotte a wide smile, Jane joined her at the door to see her off, making sure she had the parcel from Madame Suzanne’s shop. “Do call me Jane. And thank you for calling on me. I feel honored to have a future duchess do so,” she said in all honesty.

  “Oh, please, do not think of me that way,” Charlotte insisted. “I wish to be your friend. And, perhaps, a co-conspirator in the remodel of Wisborough Oaks.” Turning to Garrett, she said, “Your secret is safe with me, Mr. McElliott.” After a moment, she stilled herself. “Wait, you two will come to the main house for dinner tonight?” she insisted, her imploring gaze first on Jane and then on Garrett.

  Jane’s look of panic was unmistakable. When he saw Jane’s reaction, Garrett shook his head. “I think we shall take our supper here this evening, Lady Charlotte. It has been a rather long day, and I believe Jane would like to rest before calling on the duke.”

  Charlotte nodded then. “I shall have a smile upon my face throughout dinner this evening that I think will vex our dear duke.” After a pause, she added, “You will tell him tonight, though, won’t you? I cannot hold off spilling the good news much beyond dinner.”

  Garrett chuckled. “I will meet the duke for port after dinner, of course. Perhaps you and Miss Wethersby could keep each other company whilst I explain matters to His Grace?” he suggested carefully. “I would rather not leave Jane here alone after dark.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte agreed, nodding at Jane. The woman gave her a tentative smile in reply. “I will see you both after dinner then,” she said as she took her leave, practically skipping in her haste to get back to the main house.

  “She seems very … nice,” Jane said with some relief as she watched Charlotte make her way toward the main house. “Do you think she meant what she said about me helping with the decorating?”

  Garrett wrapped his arms around Jane and nuzzled his nose into her neck. “Lady Charlotte is very agreeable. And yes, she really would like your help with decorating. Your taste is exquisite, you must know.” As much as he wanted to take Jane to meet the duke right then, Garrett recognized that she was fatigued.

  Jane grinned, allowing her arms to finally move to Garrett’s neck. “I have not felt quite so weary in my entire life,” she said, her weight settling against the hard planes of his body.

  “Thank you for tea, my love,” he whispered as he smoothed his hands along her back and then moved to lift her in his arms. “I do believe you have earned a nap, milady,” he said as he took her into the bedchamber. Although the room was smaller than his at the main house, it was still larger than the one in Jane’s apartment in London. The workmen had set up the furniture according to the floor plan he and Jane had made up in the coach whilst on their way there. Although the bed still needed to be made, Garrett lowered Jane onto the mattress, smoothing her skirts out before leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. He sat down beside her on the bed. “I think it’s high time you got some sleep,” he said gently, using a finger to push a loose curl off the side of her face. Jane murmured something about a gown, but was asleep before she could finish her thought.

  Chapter 27

  Mr. McElliott Vis
its His Grace

  “Did you see her?” Joshua asked before taking a drag from his pipe, the tendrils of smoke curling up from the bowl. He knew one of the reasons Garrett had been eager to return to London was the opportunity to share a bed with his mistress. Although the term mistress was perhaps not quite correct for Jane Wethersby; Joshua knew that Garrett had spent only two nights with her over the past year, eschewing brothels in favor of those evenings with the quiet but pretty blonde.

  Garrett did not answer immediately, but finally nodded. “Of course,” he murmured, a pang in his chest reminding him of how difficult it had been to take his leave of her moments ago. Jane and Lady Charlotte were headed to the west wing for a tour before Garrett found Joshua in the library. But his mood was suddenly light, and Joshua wondered at the change in his friend.

  “Will you ever marry her, do you suppose?” Joshua asked then, knowing Garrett had favored only the one woman for a long time. Other than having her as a faro and vingt-et-un dealer at The Jack of Spades, he didn’t even know how Garret had come to know the chit.

  His estate manager leaned forward and stubbed his cheroot in the crystal ashtray, his eyes still not focused. “Truth be told, I never thought myself the marrying kind,” he replied, an unspoken ‘but’ hanging in the air.

  And neither have I. Joshua regarded his friend for a moment, a sudden realization coming over him. “You love her,” he accused quietly. There had been a subtle change in Garrett over the past few months, one that Joshua had attributed to the work he did on estate matters.

  But perhaps there was more to Garrett’s sudden maturity.

  When Garrett merely glanced in his direction and then returned his attention to the smoking remains of his cheroot, Joshua waved his free hand and placed the pipe in the ashtray next to the cheroot. “Why didn’t you … say something?” he wondered, his voice low.