The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (22 page)

The door slammed behind him hard enough to make the windows rattle and Talon sat down to let the quiet take him.

Definitely a Hell of my making…

S
carlett and Starr
returned to the Royal Museum of Art, remarkably enough alone without a chaperone in sight. Starr had received a note that morning from Lord Hayle asking her to meet him there. Scarlett had insisted on coming along for moral support though she’d refused to admit to Starr that the dangers of meeting men alone turned out to be more harrowing and real than Starr might assume. But she didn’t want to crush her sister’s hopes simply because her own dreams had ended so badly.

They’d conspired together to leave the house under the pretense of shopping and while Starr was wracked with guilt over the deception, Scarlett was hopeful that the adventure would be worth the price. Even if they were caught…

“We should go back home,” Starr began to say. “He’ll understand. Or he won’t. I don’t think I care either way. Let’s go home.”

“Oh, look!” Scarlett waved her hand. “There he is. Too late for second thoughts now.”

“I hate you a little bit right now,” Starr whispered under her breath.”

“I know,” Scarlett whispered back.

“Ladies,” Lord Hayle greeted them as he drew near. “I know this is…very forward, Miss Blackwell, but I wasn’t sure if Miss Starr wanted an audience for any conversation we may have. Thank you for coming.”

“Your note was very mysterious and I confess I was curious. Weren’t you, Starr? Curious?”

Starr nodded, her cheeks growing pink. “I was curious but now I feel like an idiot while the two of you talk about me in the third person. I…am having second thoughts about the soundness of this…meeting. I am not unkind, Lord Hayle, but I fail to see what there is to discuss between us.”

“Not much as yet but after what happened, even after our last meeting when you were so gracious, I knew the scales had not been balanced.” He held out his arm for Starr to take. “May I?”

Starr took his arm, her touch so light it was ghostly.

He smiled and began to lead her into the museum with Scarlett in tow.

“Oh!” Scarlett exclaimed. “My lace has broken on my shoe. I do hope you don’t mind but I shall have to sit here on this bench and await your return. As Chesterton’s nephew, I trust that I can rely on your good character not to take advantage of this unfortunate and unexpected development? If Starr tells me anything in tears or dismay, I will have to relay that report to the duke, you understand. Yes?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly, his expression sincere and open. “I would expect nothing less, Miss Blackwell.”

“Your lace? Are you—you cannot be serious!”

“Oh, drat.” Scarlett sat down with an exaggerated limp. “Please don’t worry on my account, Starr. I’ll just recover here until you return.”

“Recover? You didn’t break an ankle, Scarlett.”

“Thank you, Miss Blackwell,” Ryder said and led Starr away before it became a full-fledged debate. Starr gifted her twin with a wicked parting glare over his shoulder that promised vengeance and a healthy slice of sisterly wrath.

“
S
he’s a terrible actress
,” Starr finally spoke when her temper allowed it.

“She’s very kind,” he said, then smiled. “I know it’s all a bit heavy-handed but I think it will be worth it. Broken laces and all.” He led her away from the main exhibits to a plain and nearly indiscernible door off a corridor to the left of the portrait hall. “Here we are.”

“Where are we?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” Ryder knocked on the door and then waited. It did not take very long before the door opened to reveal a very small gnome of a man wearing silver wired spectacles. “Ah, Mr. Bennett, thank you so much for your time today.”

“Of course, of course! Is this the young lady you spoke of?”

“Yes, this is Miss Starr Blackwell.”

“Come in, come inside, Miss Blackwell. Right this way. A bit less glamorous than the public spaces but far more interesting many would say. I’ve been a curator at the Royal Museum for many years and of course, the responsibilities are immense—simply immense.”

“I imagine they would be,” she answered him, trying to take in the intriguing delights of the crowded space with treasures leaned up against the walls, paintings set out to be catalogued or cleaned and the musty, wonderful smell of antiquities, dust and hidden discoveries that begged to be sought out. They headed down a narrow flight of stairs until she was sure that they were in the world’s best labyrinth. “It’s wonderful!”

“But you’ve seen nothing yet!” Mr. Bennett laughed. “Here we are! Here we are!”

He pulled out a large ring of keys and opened a locked steel door into a small room lined with wooden cupboards and compartments. He lit the lamps and then put on a pair of white gloves. “Now, mustn’t touch, agreed?”

Ryder nodded. “Agreed.”

“Oh, yes! Whatever it is, I am in complete agreement.” She clasped her hands together in anticipation. “What is it?”

“You’ll see,” Ryder whispered.

Mr. Bennett pulled out a wrapped parchment and unrolled it as gently as a man laying out a cobweb trying to keep the strands intact. “Lord Hayle assured me that you liked books, Miss Blackwell.”

“I do! I love them!”

“Well, here as you can see…art and the art of writing…and the divine meet just at our fingertips.”

Starr’s breath stopped. It stopped. The pages were an illuminated manuscript with insulated artwork so fine it was hard to believe it was centuries old. The colors leapt off the page and the detailed art and calligraphy brought tears to her eyes. “Oh! It’s so—unbelievably beautiful!”

“Not the Book of Kells but not an unworthy piece would you agree?”

Starr nodded. “Not unworthy in any way!”

But Mr. Bennett was just getting warmed up. He began pulling sixteenth century manuscripts, old medical texts from the eighteenth century and examples of all kinds of print and source material until she was sure she’d found Heaven itself.

There were letters from various historical eras and even a torn fragment from a Roman outpost complaining that there was not enough beer and that the weather was not enjoyable in this corner of the empire.

She lost track of time and everything else.

Mr. Bennett shifted back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go fetch a particular volume that I think Miss Blackwell will enjoy.”

“Yes, please!” She immediately went back to deciphering a section written in Latin outlining the reports of a famine’s effects. “Lord Hayle, did you see this?”

He was leaning against a table by the wall, happily standing back to enjoy her excitement. “It’s very nice.”

She looked up from the page, blushing. “You aren’t even looking at it.”

“My Latin is rusty and I don’t want to risk you noticing. After all, we are nearly friends and I’ve finally managed to regain some ground. I’m not giving up an inch unless I’m forced to it.”

“Why did you do this?”

“I…it wasn’t enough to keep saying, I’m sorry. I wanted to show you that I am sincere and that I…am quickly becoming fascinated with whatever fascinates you, Miss Blackwell. You said you loved books. I wanted to make a grand gesture and prove that I was listening. You are like no other woman I have ever met and I hoped to do something for you that was as unique and special as you are to—”

Starr looked at him, handsome enough to disturb her into a restless state of awareness but this—this grand gesture washed over her in a wave of warmth and a desire to connect with him, to show him how much it meant—and suddenly, she wasn’t thinking at all. Starr Blackwell who
always
applied logic and reason to every situation, was not thinking.

Impulse overtook everything else and there was a roar of blood coursing through her body that drowned out the noise of her own footsteps and the rest of his speech.

She cut him off with a kiss. Her first one, clumsily initiated but there it was all the same. His lips were warmer than she’d expected and softer, too. But then he put his arms around her and took over the kiss so that it became something else. She yielded to him instantly, eager for this lesson, a willing pupil and a clever student.

Her mouth parted a little and an entirely new subject of study was introduced though this school was a quick demonstration that while kissing may be limited to lips and tongue and teeth, every inch of her body seemed to be keen to be involved in this game.

Every. Single. Inch.

The sound of the door opening abruptly ended it. “Here you are! An original copy of—”

“I have to go. Thank you, Mr. Bennett. Thank you—Lord Hayle. I have to go,” she repeated uselessly and then fled.

She fled without looking back, without a shred of dignity.

She ran as fast as she could manage back up the stairs and back out into the airy and open space on the ground floor of the museum. She ran directly past Scarlett who sat up immediately and then began to chase after her.

She slowed down only as they found James and the carriage, and then also because she was truly out of air.

“W-what happened?” Scarlett asked breathlessly. “Was he—unkind again? Or rude? Do I need to get your fan?”

Starr shook her head and climbed up into the carriage. Scarlett reluctantly climbed in after her and then waited patiently for the truth to come out.

“Tell me what is wrong, dearest.”

Starr put her hands over her face. “I would rather not.”

“We just ran out of the Royal Museum of Art as if it were on fire.” Scarlett got out her own fan to try to cool down. “Did you set the Royal Museum of Art on fire, Tara?”

“No.”

“Did you murder Lord Hayle? Should we be evading capture?” Scarlett teased gently.

“No.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me then I will have no choice but to call on Lord Hayle myself and ask him for an accounting of day’s events.”

“No!” Starr’s hands dropped to her lap. “Please, don’t!”

Scarlett said nothing.

“Very well. I think…I think I may have fallen in love with Ryder Maitland.”

“What? That’s impossible, Tara. We’ve met him twice after Sussex House. Twice. Even I have a good understanding that you cannot just…fall in love with someone you hardly know.” Scarlett’s brow furrowed. “Well, you should
try
not to fall in love with someone you hardly know!”

“I know that! It makes no sense. But he apologized that first time and…he was so sweet! It’s terrible how he just looks at me and I can’t remember for the life of me why I am to dislike him. I have plans, Scarlett! I have plans that absolutely do not involve marrying—and they involve marrying a future duke even less!”

“Starr. What
exactly
happened?”

“I kissed him. I—he was standing there and I lost my mind and
kissed
him!”

“Gracious! How charming is he that he has worked this kind of magic? Did he discover your weakness for studies of the effects of industrialization on the human psyche? Is he wooing you with ancient manuscripts? Is that even possible?”

Starr nodded miserably. “It is if you’re insane which I must be! Oh, God, he kissed me back and I—couldn’t remember my own name! That’s when I panicked and ran. I couldn’t remember my own name, Scarlett.”

Scarlett got very still and very quiet. “He did?”

“I know I’ve shocked you to admit such a thing. I’ve shocked myself by doing it.”

“Starr, you must be very careful.” Scarlett reached across the confines of the carriage to touch her hand. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I thought that you would get to see some rare books and that it would please you. I thought…it would be so nice if you had an admirer but now I feel as if I’ve shoved you off a cliff.”

“It didn’t feel like a cliff. It felt like flying and I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Starr folded her arms in front of her and looked out the window, refusing to face Scarlett.

Scarlett finally sat back against the cushions and held her tongue. Now was definitely not the time to tell her sister that the worst part of all of it was that men can kiss you so beautifully that your toes curl with pleasure and have very dishonorable intentions. Now was not the time to reveal that she’d learned that lesson very personally with Stafford and that things were off between them. Worse still, that it was a farce with Chesterton. Even with all her mistakes, Scarlett had blindly pushed Starr to risk a meeting with Hayle and it had all gone wrong.

“I’m sorry, Starr.”

“Please, don’t be. It’s not your fault. I’m…a Blackwell, too. We joked so often but here I am.”

“It’s not over yet, Tara. Don’t give up hope.”

One of us has to end up happy and it is going to be you, dearest.

After all, there’d been not one word from Talon Rush since that horrible day and she was struggling to accept that it was for the best. Chesterton’s wisdom had come to naught and her efforts at matchmaking were on extremely shaky ground.

Please, God, please have made Ryder Maitland a good man.

Just one good man is all that is needed.

Scarlett winced. It was a meager bargain to make with the Almighty but she had nothing left to lose.

S
tarr came
into the library as cautiously as a fawn walking across an open meadow. “Lord Hayle? Did you…wish to call in the sitting room? It is likely more comfortable for you.”

“No, I thought we would be more comfortable here. It is your favorite room, am I right?”

“You are but—how is it that you know me so well?”

“It’s a good question. We haven’t known each other very long at all…but then as we talked, it felt as if I had always known you. I guessed.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Starr sat as primly as she could on the edge of her chair. It was unfair that his presence should distract her so much. She tried to remember everything Scarlett and Mother had said about being courageous even when one didn’t feel brave. But all she could remember was Ryder kissing her in the museum…and how wonderful it had been. She’d lost sleep endlessly chasing his kisses around in her mind, yielding again and again in a maddening loop that gave her no peace.

He waited for a few seconds and when she failed to initiate a conversation, Ryder Maitland took his own fate into his hands. “It’s early for a call, I know, but I brought you something.”

He held out a small wrapped gift to her and Scarlett took it from him.

“Should I open it now?”

“If you wish.”

Scarlett untied the ribbon carefully and then unfolded the paper to reveal a leather bound book. She opened the title page and gasped. “It’s lovely! And very old, isn’t it?”

“Seventeenth century. I found it in a shop and frankly,
De Secretis Mulierum
, sounded interesting if nothing else.”

She began to gently leaf through it. “It’s quite a philosophical masterpiece…spending a good deal of time on ways to determine a maid’s chastity.”

“Oh…not what I had in mind. God, I really wish now that I’d paid closer attention to my Latin teachers. I told you I was rusty.”

Starr laughed. “It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you.” She held the book tightly against her, like a shield over her heart. “Your lordship, I must apologize for…” Scarlett’s fingers curled around the leather volume as humiliating waves of frustration began to that were gnaw away at her will power. “I kissed you and then I ran.”

Ryder blinked in surprise at the abrupt report. “I was hoping to get out of the pattern we’d established where I overstep, then I apologize and do what I can to make amends. But, I believe a more accurate retelling is that I kissed you and you ran away.”

“You’re being generous.”

“Generous? That kiss was—surprising and delightful and intoxicating and—then you ran off, which is exactly what I should have expected because I am sure that I…pushed it too far. For all of the reasons I just mentioned. A gentleman should never have taken advantage of…the situation.”

“I didn’t run because you’d offended me. I suppose if I were more sedate and…disciplined that would be the cause but I ran because I was frightened.”

“God, that is the last thing I would ever want to do. I would never wish to frighten you.”

She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t frightened of
you
. You are many things but I would not add terrifying to the list.”

“I’m confused. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I frightened myself. I did not realize how it would feel to—it was very transformative.”

“Transformative,” he repeated the word, a man completely mystified.

“So I shall ask you not to do it again.”

“Kiss you?”

“Ever again.”

“Not ever?” Ryder asked then caught himself. “I’m sorry. I want to easily promise you that I’ll never do it again but there is a part of me that is
very
reluctant to enter into that contract.”

“You must.”

“I have a better idea.” He steadied himself to look her directly in the eye. “Nothing is certain, not for an heir presumptive and if my uncle marries and has children, I wouldn’t wish you think that I was without resources and holdings of my own. I have a good fortune and income, titles enough on my own to give you all the prestige you might wish. Beyond that, life itself is an uncertain proposition, I know. I imagine you have quite a few suitors but I want you to consider me.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s sudden. Nothing has to be decided immediately. But I want you to know my intentions are to begin to court you formally, to pursue and win you, Starr. I can’t believe this is happening and far too quickly for me to explain but my father used to say that when something is right, a man needn’t wait for an engraved invitation to do what must be done.”

“I want to teach, Ryder. I feel…useful and whole when I am at Bellewood. Next year, I shall take my exams and…” She put up her hand as if to ward off the pain. “You don’t understand. I am not suited to marriage because…I want to teach.”

He became quiet and still. “You wouldn’t need to work. I have servants and two houses and you would want for nothing. Teaching is all well and good but there would be no need to toil away if—”

She stood abruptly, still holding the book to her chest. “I will not give up my dreams or betray who I am to please a husband. I cannot be both a wife and myself! I—am not supposed to…I have a calling, Lord Hayle. I cannot abandon it for…kisses.”

She ran from him for the second time in as many days and once again, Ryder could only sit in astonishment and watch her go.

C
aroline found
her daughter in tears an hour later. She closed the bedroom door quietly behind her and climbed into the bed to cradle her child and offer what comfort she could. “There, there. Tell your mother all about it and let us see if we cannot find a path through.”

Starr shook her head. “Th-there is no path! Lord Hayle asked if he could court me and said he wished to marry me! And I naturally, h-had to refuse him!”

“Naturally? Do not mistake me. You have every right to refuse any man but I missed the step where it is natural for you to turn down this particular man”

“I-I want to be a teacher.”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Th-that’s it. He’s…He is the heir presumptive to the Duke of Chesterton. Duchesses do not teach in classrooms, they do not lecture in halls and they do not hope to hold a position in a woman’s university to advance educational equality.” Starr sat up in the bed, looking at her mother with grim determination. “I s-stood by my dreams and I refused him.”

“I see,” Caroline said and sat up as well. “Starr, to be a teacher is a great calling and I agree that you cannot be a duchess and stand in a classroom. But there is a greater question here. Who better to advocate for education for women? Who better to make a difference and perhaps have a voice in a greater conversation that might address the quality of life and the opportunities for so many? Who better than a duchess?”

“Oh.”

“Even if we set all of that aside, may I point out that for someone who has proudly stood up for their dreams, you do not look or sound very happy or proud at the prospect.” Caroline reached out to touch her face. “Are you in love, Tara?”

Starr nodded miserably.

Caroline sighed. “Love is no respecter of plans.”

“I never thought I would even consider giving up on a profession.”

“We’ll see what happens. But if you love him, you may need to apply that clever brain of yours to thinking of how to make it all work—and not just flee at the first sign of trouble. All right?”

“But I’ve already refused him. He won’t ask me again, Mother.”

“We’ll see. Men accuse us of being unpredictable but they are masters at the quick turn. Just stay strong and patient and…let’s see what time and the tides bring in, shall we?”

C
aroline left
Starr to immediately seek out Ashe in his study where he was wrestling with ledgers. “You should let Paul look at those,” she chided him gently.

“Do you know how annoying it is that he can barely glance at a page like this full of figures and almost instantly tell me where I’ve gone wrong?”

“You love it when he does that. Stop complaining, dearest.”

Ashe smiled. “I do love it when he does that. Very well, what brings you to me?”

“I want you to go and call on Lord Hayle. He is staying with the Duke of Chesterton at his home.”

“And why am I calling on Lord Hayle?”

“Because he just asked Starr to marry him and she refused him.”

“At the risk of sounding senile, and why again am I calling on Lord Hayle?”

“Because she regrets it. Because I think he should ask her again.”

Ashe gave her a look that conveyed that he was
not
impressed enough to move.

“And,” Caroline continued firmly, “because he brought a book when he proposed and she
loves
him, Ashe Blackwell. And because I am asking you to do this for me.”

He sighed and got to his feet. “When would you like me to call on him?”

“Today.”