Say Yes to the Duke (21 page)

Just, um, ten or fifteen more to go. And then another staircase …

Refusing to be cowed, Janice gripped the handles, prepared to go one step down again.

“Wait!”

She daren’t move, but she glanced upward.

There stood Mrs. Poole at the top of the stairs.

Thank God.

“I’ll take the bottom,” the nurse said. “But come back up here. We’re going to turn
the chair sideways and walk down together. Going backward is too difficult.”

Janice nodded, unable to speak, she was so grateful.

When all was said and done—and it was a rough few moments descending those stairs—the
dowager was safe on the lower floor.

“Thank you,” Janice told Mrs. Poole, and continued pushing the chair down the corridor.

“I might as well go with you.” The nurse didn’t smile.

But on those stairs, they’d formed a partnership.

Maybe not a friendship, but a partnership was nearly as good.

They passed two footmen separately, both of whom were goggle-eyed at the sight of
the duchess.

Neither Janice nor Mrs. Poole said a word.

After the second footman passed, Janice murmured for the nurse’s ears only, “Do you
think they’ll say anything to anyone?”

Mrs. Poole nodded. “They would have even if we’d threatened them not to,” she whispered
back.

“You’re right, I’m sure.” Janice peeked over the edge of the chair. “Are you all right
in there, Your Grace?”

“Yes, my dear,” the old woman said softly.

She wasn’t saying much, but Janice refused to be worried. This was a very big outing.
No doubt Her Grace was overwhelmed.

So it was a triumph—and a relief—when at last Janice and Mrs. Poole turned another
corner and rolled the dowager’s chair through a door and into the sitting room she
so loved.

Who knew that her grandson apparently loved it, too?

Chapter Seventeen

The duke was standing at one of the windows himself, and when he turned around he
wore his usual indifferent expression. But when he saw his grandmother in the Bath
chair, all of him—from head to toe—became exactly like one of the icicles that hung
from the eaves of the house, one of which, a particularly dangerous one, was visible
through the pane of glass.

A similar state had overcome His Grace two nights ago at dinner when he’d told Janice
not to go to the stables. But this was far worse. Her palms were slippery on the handles
of the chair. Next to her Mrs. Poole’s breathing became audible—and was clearly labored.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Poole,” Janice assured her in a calm voice while she kept her
gaze on the duke. “I take full responsibility for bringing the dowager here. Go sit
down, please.”

Mrs. Poole did just that.

“Halsey?” The duchess’s voice was weak but hopeful.

The duke smiled at her, but his eyes were still cold. “Hello, Granny.” He strode over
and stood before her, his hands behind his back. “You’re up and about, I see.”

“I don’t want to be here,” his grandmother said. “Take me back. I told her.…”

Through the handles of the chair, Janice felt rather than saw the duchess crane herself
forward, then fall back—almost an act of desperation.

“I want to go back to my bedchamber,” said Her Grace. “Please.”

Suddenly Janice felt as if she were the most horrible person on earth.

Halsey threw her an accusing glance. “You shouldn’t have ignored my grandmother’s
wishes.”

“But she’s been telling me she wants out of that room,” Janice said. “I was only trying
to give her a little holiday. If she could see the view, I’m sure she’d change her
mind.” She paused a beat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, please. I’m taking Her Grace to
the window.”

Janice locked gazes with him, and once more she remembered him greeting her when she’d
arrived and she’d sensed he’d explored dark things.…

Several seconds went by. She didn’t blink. But her heart—it was beating so fast, she
almost felt dizzy. She inhaled a discreet breath and released it slowly. How long
would they have this standoff?

“You’ll take my grandmother back to her bedchamber, Mrs. Poole,” the duke said in
a casual tone. He kept his eyes on Janice. “And this time there won’t be any repercussions.
I understand that Lady Janice has her own ideas about what’s good for the dowager
duchess. But the doctor wouldn’t approve.”

Mrs. Poole stood. “Very well, Your Grace.”

Slowly, she walked over to Janice and reached out a hand to take the chair.

“
No,
” Janice told her, but she was looking at the duke. She moved as close as she could
to the chair handles to block Mrs. Poole, who, to her credit, didn’t try to wrestle
the contraption from her.

“Pardon, my lady?” the duke said softly.

“You heard me, Your Grace.” Janice couldn’t back down now. Not when they’d come this
far. “I’m here as the dowager’s guest. She shall see the view, and we’ll stay here
a good half hour or until she tires, whichever come first.”

Halsey stood utterly still. “My uncle Everett drowned in the pond behind that copse
of trees,” he said quietly, and pointed to his left, to the farthest window.

Janice’s heart almost juddered to a stop. “W-what?”

“He
drowned,
Lady Janice.” His Grace spoke without any emotion, even as the duchess gave a little
whimper. “Will you let Mrs. Poole take my grandmother now?”

Janice nodded her head shakily and stepped aside. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the
dowager, who said nothing back. Her eyes were on her lap, her scalp showing through
thinning silver hair.

Mrs. Poole came up slowly and quietly, fear emanating from her in waves.

“Take Her Grace to her old bedchamber down the corridor, the third door on the left,
please,” the duke ordered her. “She used it when she lived here years ago. But keep
her away from the windows.”

“
Yes-s-s-s,
Your
Grac-c-c-ce
.” Mrs. Poole’s whistle was stronger than ever. “I’m
s-s-s-so
s-s-s-sorry
.”

“I never saw any reason to tell you what I’ve just told Lady Janice about our family
history,” Halsey told her. “Dr. Nolan’s orders—and mine—should have been sufficient
for you to obey.”

Mrs. Poole hung her head. “I apologize, Your Grace.”

“You should be remorseful,” he said, “but I’m also at fault. I see now that I should
have been more forthcoming with what is a painful, private matter. You’re an excellent
nurse, otherwise. You’ll keep your job.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Mrs. Poole’s voice had a little hitch in it.

Janice’s cheeks prickled with heat. She’d botched things terribly.

“Ring for tea,” the duke said, “and you’ll all recover yourselves before my grandmother
is returned to her preferred bedchamber.”

Mrs. Poole thanked him again and departed the room.

Janice felt no comfort being alone with him. Quite the opposite. She was desperate
to get away.

The duke seemed to sense her wish. “No need to fear me, Lady Janice.”

“I don’t,” she insisted. But she knew part of her did.

“Further explanation is in order, I believe.”

“All right,” she said, “but do you mind if I catch my breath a moment?”

His lips twisted in a cool smile. “I’m not asking
you
to explain. I want to shed more light on this situation for your benefit.”

“Oh.” She clutched her skirt.

“Granny might be addled,” Halsey said, “but even she has her memories. She doesn’t
like to be here at Halsey House and has avoided coming here since before I was born.
When I moved her over last year from the dower house, it was only because her wits
were so far gone that I’d no other choice. She requested to stay in that room in the
far wing herself. The doctor utterly supported her decision. As do I.”

“I had no idea.” Janice’s throat burned with shame. She was a fool. She should have
listened to the dowager.

“I forgive you,” the duke said easily. “Your intentions, I know, were good. But now
that you see the whole picture, you’ll understand, I’m sure, why I was so adamant
about Granny’s not seeing the view. Or leaving her room.”

“I do see,” she murmured.

What he said made perfect sense. Surely they should respect the duchess’s wishes.
No doubt Dr. Nolan wouldn’t want her plagued by bad memories, either.

But what about getting past grief? Should the duchess hide until she died? Shouldn’t
she have an opportunity to experience joy again?

“Your Grace?” Janice swallowed hard.

“Yes?” His voice had an edge of caution to it.

“What if the view from her old bedchamber, as it’s on the other side of the house,
doesn’t conjure bad memories for your grandmother? The view will encompass only the
drive, and in the distance, over the treetops, the spire of the village church.”

The duke released a sigh. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Janice bit her lip. “I only want Her Grace to be happy. I promise, I won’t allow her
to endure something she can’t bear. But … what if she can?”

For a moment, all was quiet. Janice waited and wondered if Mama and Daddy would be
pleased by her obstinacy—or appalled.

“Very well,” the duke said eventually. “You may put her before a window in her old
bedchamber.”

Janice smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“The only reason I’m saying yes,” he said, “is because you’d have tried it anyway,
wouldn’t you have, my lady?”

She must be truthful. “Yes,” she whispered. “I would have.”

He gave a short laugh. “You’re an interesting sort of woman.”

She said nothing, and he strode to the door and turned around. “I’ll send two footmen
to attend you. Neither you nor Mrs. Poole need lift the chair again.”

“Please send
cheerful
footmen, Your Grace,” Janice asked on a whim. “We could all use cheering up.”

Vague amusement lit his gaze. “As you wish, my lady,” he said.

And then he left.

In the bedchamber across the corridor, Janice exchanged a sober glance with Mrs. Poole.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, a catch in her voice.

“It’s all right.” Mrs. Poole heaved a sigh. “You meant well.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Poole.”

“It was frightening there for a moment.”

“Yes, it was.”

The tea came in right behind Janice, and for a good ten minutes they allowed the ritual
of pouring, stirring, and sipping the hot brew to calm their nerves. The stress of
their encounter with the duke—and near miss with upsetting the dowager—had rattled
both Janice and the nurse. As for Her Grace, she was subdued—almost oblivious, it
seemed, to their presence and small talk. But at least she had the appetite to finish
two biscuits and a cup of tea.

Finally, Janice set aside her own cup and told Mrs. Poole what the duke had given
her permission to do.

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Poole’s eyes flooded with doubt. “We’ve already been through
so much.”

“I agree,” said Janice. “But we can’t let this opportunity go by. What if it makes
her happy?”

“It might make her
sad.
”

“I know.” Janice cast a glance at the old woman. “But it’s worth the risk. If it works,
Her Grace may have a life again.”

“Go ahead, then.” Mrs. Poole’s tone was skeptical.

Even so, Janice steered the dowager to the window, sure that she was doing the right
thing. “Look, Your Grace, beyond the trees … it’s Bramblewood’s church spire.”

“
Oh-h!
” Her Grace breathed.

The fragile exclamation made Janice’s eyes fill. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said the dowager. “Oh,
yes.
”

Janice smiled over at Mrs. Poole, who sank into her chair, her eyes blinking. “You
did it,” she whispered, clearly as moved by the dowager’s delight as Janice was.

“The duchess did it,” Janice said back to the nurse.

The next half hour passed almost as if in a dream. Mrs. Friday came in to join them,
having heard about Janice’s bold move in the kitchens. She listened with great sympathy
to Janice’s story about running into the duke in the other room. And she was equally
ecstatic about the dowager’s presence in her very own bedchamber from long ago.

From her perch at the window, the dowager didn’t sneeze once. And she even nibbled
at another biscuit. Words for her were few, but anyone could see in her eyes how happy
she was, how content.

Janice remembered that she’d like to ask her about Emily March, Mr. Callahan’s mother,
but she was afraid that would be too much, too soon.

“Her Grace needs to be moved from that awful, stifling bedchamber and put in here,”
she said out of the duchess’s hearing. “And when the weather is fine, perhaps she
could go outside on this side of the house. And who knows? Maybe someday she could
bear to look out the windows in the sitting room or even enter the gardens.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Friday. “I hope that day comes.”

Janice turned to the nurse. “Do you agree, Mrs. Poole, that the duchess should be
moved?”

The nurse halted her teacup before her lips. “What I say doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does,” said Janice. “You’re a capable nurse. I’d like your opinion.”

Mrs. Poole put her cup on its saucer. “I’m beginning to see your point, Lady Janice,
about the dowager’s bedchamber being very limiting. If Her Grace is moved to this
wing … I’d be happy to come, too, if the duke permits it.”

“Would you?” Janice asked softly.

The nurse nodded. Her eyes were still guarded, but there was something else there,
too—

It looked very much like hope.

And not just for the dowager. It would be good for Mrs. Poole to be in this wing,
as well.

“Very good.” Janice passed round the plate of biscuits. Out of the debacle of the
last hour, she’d reached a perfect moment. She’d
done
something.

She was living—out here in the country. She wasn’t hiding at all, as she thought she
would. As she’d
wanted
to.