Say Yes to the Duke (8 page)

“You’ve got a look in your eye,” the dowager whispered again. “You’re clever; I can
tell. And I see the same sense of frustration in you that was in me at your age. You’re
a competitive spirit denied a chance to shine, all because you’re too frightened to
speak up.”

“How can you see all that? We’ve only just met.”

“I’m the Queen,” said the duchess in a patronizing voice. “Do you think I don’t know
my own subjects? Halsey, for example, needs a wife in the worst way.”

“I-I suppose he does,” Janice said low, “as he’s a duke.”

“Indeed,” said the dowager, “but not just any wife.” She poked Janice in the shoulder.
“You.”

Chapter Seven

“Oh, no, Your Majesty,” Janice told the Dowager Duchess of Halsey. “I’m not suited
to be a duchess.”

“Of course you are.” The woman who thought she was the Queen curled her fists in her
lap. “He needs a wife who’ll make the most of her power. That’s why you’ll suit him
well.”

“I don’t want power,” Janice said. “I want to read and take long walks and be with
my family. I don’t
need
power.”

“Certainly you do,” said Her Majesty. “And there’s only one way to win the Duke of
Halsey.”

“Perhaps you should tell Lady Opal and Lady Rose. Or Miss Branson.” Janice almost
giggled at the thought of one of them becoming the next Duchess of Halsey, but she
decided that would be churlish of her.

“Absolutely not,” said the dowager. “This is a state secret, and only I know it. Whoever
I divulge it to will win Halsey, no matter what she looks like. No matter how big
a dowry she has, or whether she’s even from a good family. None of those things will
matter.”

“I see,” Janice replied uncertainly. The conversation was getting to be more interesting—and
nerve-wracking—by the second. “But you needn’t bother telling me the secret. I can’t
marry him. I need to love the man I marry. And I don’t even know Halsey. Not to mention
that he’s a duke and I’m—I’m simply a girl who’s had two Seasons and didn’t take.”

“Pah,” said the dowager with a wicked gleam in her eye. “He’ll want you, all right,
once I tell you what to do.”

“No, thank you.” Janice stood up. “Really. You’re too kind. But I’m here in Surrey
to see
you,
Your Majesty.”

“Of course you are.” The old woman grabbed her wrist and held it tight. “And to hide
from all those London gossips who’ll relish seeing you on the shelf. But are you going
to let this opportunity slip through your fingers? It’s time for you to shine.” She
leaned forward. “I know it must frustrate you no end that you’re not more influential.”

Janice’s hand flew to her heart. “Why would you say that, Your Majesty?”

The dowager slapped her coverlet. “An astute monarch always recognizes hidden ambition.”

Janice sighed. “I’m not ambitious.”

“Ridiculous.” The dowager curled her lip in scorn. “What’s wrong with you? You’re
young! You should be reaching for the stars, child, not simpering in fear that you’ll
offend someone.” She thrust out her shriveled chin. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying
to me and to yourself.”

“But there are rules, Your Majesty, and a girl in my position must adhere to them.”

“Proper is as proper does. It only takes you so far. Life is short. You must live
it while you can.”

“I appreciate the sentiment—”

“Oh, leave my sight.” The dowager flung her hand out. “I’ve no patience for flatterers.
If you insist on becoming a spinster, suit yourself. But in your dotage, you’ll remember
this day. You’ll remember that you could have become a duchess, and you threw the
opportunity away.”

Janice opened her mouth to speak, but she was so astonished by the vehemence of the
dowager’s words and the shock of her actual proposal that she didn’t know what to
say.

The old woman grabbed her handkerchief and sneezed again. “This blasted sneezing.
I can’t seem to rid myself of it.” She paused and looked indignantly over the lacy
edge. “I blame Parliament.”

“Your Majesty,” Janice said softly, “please don’t upset yourself.”

The old woman continued muttering as she leaned back against her pillows and closed
her eyes, but within thirty seconds she began to snore.

Janice bit her lower lip. She was confused, yet at the same time it was really quite
simple. The dowager duchess had two distinct facets to her identity, one real and
one imagined. And the Queen in her wanted Janice to marry the Duke of Halsey!

“How long has she been like this?” Janice asked the nurse.

“For
years-s-s-s,
they say.” The nurse had a gap between her teeth and whistled on her
s
’s. ‘I’ve been with her only since she moved here from the dower house last year.”

“That explains why she hasn’t been in Town. Does it happen often, her switching back
and forth like that … between the Queen and the dowager?”

“Many
times-s-s-s
a day.”

Goodness, that whistle was quite pronounced.

“As you can
s-s-s-see,
” the nurse went on, and Janice tried not to wince, “it happens every time she
s-s-s-sneezes.
”

“That’s the oddest thing. Has a doctor been in to see her?”

“Of course. He recommends rest and
s-s-s-seclusion.
”

Janice was glad a physician had attended upon the old lady, after all, but something
felt terribly wrong about his advice. “How can seclusion help anyone?” She watched
the sleeping duchess. “It’s all very sad.”

“It might be, but it ain’t my business.” The nurse shrugged.

“You don’t seem to care about her.” Anger made Janice bold.

“I’m not supposed to care,” the woman replied in a huff.

“Of course you are. She’s your charge. She’s obviously in need of affection and understanding.”

“
That’s-s-s-s
not what I’m paid for,” the nurse said. “I’m paid to keep her room clean, to feed
her, and make sure she’s bathed and properly
dress-s-s-sed
.”

The whistles were going a mile a minute at the moment.

“Those are all very important things,” Janice said. “But there’s more an invalid needs
than that.”

“You heard her—she doesn’t think she’s an invalid. She wants out of here. But where
can she go,
s-s-s-speaking
the way she does?”

Irony of ironies that a whistling nurse said that. “Don’t you ever allow her to walk
in the gardens?”

The woman shook her head. “She never leaves this room. Doctor’s orders.”

“That’s reprehensible. I’m going to talk to the duke about that.”

“Good luck. His Grace believes the doctor is right. He doesn’t want her hurting herself.”

“I still intend to speak with him,” Janice said. “And what about Her Grace’s secretary?
Does he have a role here? Who mailed the note to my mother in London?”

“Her secretary”—the woman gave a short laugh—“is the fishmonger who comes once a week.
She pays him to mail things out for her.”

“He comes up here?”

“Her Grace insists that he does. She tells the duke she wants to discuss fishing with
him, and His Grace allows it but only because Her Grace creates a fuss. She likes
to remind him that fishing is a favorite family pastime, that his own father—her son
Russell—used to love it, he and his big brother, Everett, both. Supposedly, they’d
spend hours a day in a rowboat on the estate pond. She waxes on about it to the fishmonger,
and he just nods, then mails her correspondence out. But it’s none of my business.
No, it’s not.”

“I never thought I’d say this”—Janice advanced to within a foot of the nurse—“but
in this instance I’m glad that you believe so. Because that’s how she got a letter
to
me.
What’s your name?”

“Martha. Mrs. Martha Poole.”

“Well, Mrs. Poole, if you can’t tell me at this very moment that you’ll show more
heart to this woman, then I’ll go to the duke immediately and call for your replacement.
Furthermore, if you can’t drum up even one iota of affection for Her Grace, I expect
you to pretend that you can. And you’d better be a very good actress. Is that understood?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Who are you to talk to me this way?”

“I’m Lady Janice Sherwood, as you know very well.”

Mrs. Poole glowered. “All right.”

Janice put every bit of cool threat she could into the look she sent the nurse at
that moment. She’d seen Mama use the same expression when they were poor and up against
the tough nuts who comprised London’s rough population. She’d also seen Mama use it
as the marchioness—with unruly servants, rude guests, and her own brood of six children.

“My lady,” Mrs. Poole tacked on to the end of her sentence as if it physically pained
her to do so.

“Thank you, Mrs. Poole,” Janice said in a pleasant tone. “Carry on.”

*   *   *

It took her another minute to return to her room, where Isobel was waiting with a
freshly pressed gown for dinner.

“But you must clean up first, my lady,” the maid said.

“Of course.” Janice sat on the edge of her bed, her knees weak. She couldn’t believe
how naturally it had come to her to defend the duchess, but it had. Mama would be
proud, she knew. “I haven’t had a moment’s rest, Izzy, since I arrived.”

“Have you not? Tell me all about going to the stables, my lady. I’ve been enjoying
my tea and some delicious biscuits while I put away your things.”

“I’m glad for you.” Janice told her all about the puppies, Oscar’s fainting, and Mr.
Callahan’s reviving the ailing pup.

“
That man
saved a puppy?” Izzy asked.

That man
being the same one who’d kissed Janice mercilessly in the falling snow that afternoon.
“Yes, he did.” She blushed thinking about how for a few heady moments she’d responded
to his passionate ministrations with equal ardor.

“Oh, my lady”—Isobel crushed one of Janice’s gowns to her chest—“are you all right?
Just talking about
him
makes me shiver.” She paused. “But somehow in a good way.” She gave a little giggle
and hung the gown in an armoire.

“Really, Izzy.” Janice pretended to be shocked, but she wasn’t. She understood, unfortunately,
her maid’s reaction to the man.

Isobel strode to the small dressing table and began to arrange Janice’s combs in a
neat line. “What are you going to do about him? Especially now that he’s saved a puppy?
I’d be lost, I would. Don’t you crave—?”

“That’s enough.” Janice stood and approached the dressing table. She bent low over
it to see her reflection in the looking glass. Did she have hidden ambition? Was she
so frustrated at being invisible that an ill old woman could tell? “I’ll grant you
that it was good of him to save a puppy. But—”

The maid’s expression turned bright. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the duke kissed
you the way
he
kissed you?”

Janice held on to her patience. “It would be enlightening,” she admitted. “But I must
ask you not to tell anyone that I kissed a groom. Promise me?” She handed her a brush.

Isobel patted the dressing-table seat, and Janice sat down. For a few seconds, the
maid worked to restore Janice’s hair to a semblance of order. “I’d never reveal your
secret, my lady. Never. Not even to my mum. Or my three sisters. Or my grandmother,
although up until now I’ve told her everything. Polly, too, the upstairs maid in London.
As well as Jude, my childhood friend whose father tamed tigers. I don’t see him often,
but when I do, we tell each other
everything.
”

“Did you leave anyone out?” Janice said warily to Isobel’s reflection.

“No, my lady.”

Janice chuckled. “I’m glad I can count on you.”

Isobel lifted a casual shoulder and added a pin to the back of Janice’s coiffure.
“He was the most handsome groom I’ve ever seen in my life. I think I’ll have to go
out to the stables to look at him again—while I visit the puppies, of course.”

“We should be done speaking of him—”

“Yes, but I think he might even be the most handsome
man
I’ve ever seen in my life, too,” Isobel gushed. “The duke is one to admire, as well,
but you can’t imagine him moving boulders. Mr. Callahan could, I’m sure. I’d like
to see him chop wood, too. Wouldn’t you?”

“No, Izzy,” Janice said evenly. “I would
not
like to see him chop wood.”

Which was a lie. She most certainly would. And if she looked out her bedchamber window
long enough, she just might see him at work. The stable block’s south side faced the
house, and already she couldn’t help wanting to peek out whenever she could to catch
a glimpse of him walking to and fro.

Isobel bit her lip and stepped back from the dressing table. “Sorry, my lady. I don’t
mean to dwell on him.”

Guilt made Janice sigh as she pinched her cheeks to add some color. “It’s all right.
I know how easy it is to lose one’s head over a man. I’ve done so once before, and
it wasn’t at all comfortable when it ended. So I try not to find myself in that position
again.”

Stupid Finn.
Thank God he was long gone.

“But that was ages ago, wasn’t it, my lady?”

“Long enough that I should put it behind me, and I have.” Janice stood once more.
“But it took some time. The heart is a fragile thing.”

“You’re right,” Isobel said. “I know my heart is extremely fragile. All of me is,
my lady.” She looked down modestly.

“Right.” Janice smiled, remembering how Isobel once hoisted two full trunks over her
head.

“What is it?” Isobel raised her head and gazed suspiciously at her.

“Nothing.” Janice’s tone was light and brisk. “As usual, you lift my spirits without
even trying. We really must stop talking of this morning’s events, memorable as they
were. It’s time to get ready for dinner. Unless you think I have a few moments in
which to read.”

There was a knock on the door, and she exchanged a wry glance with her supposedly
fragile servant. “I suppose you’ll have to answer it.”