A Duchess to Remember (7 page)

Did
people mount fungi in cases? She had no idea. But as the case itself was nonexistent, she needn’t concern herself about that.

Still shaking his head, Norland said, “I shall certainly have a look. Perhaps I might advise Montford on how better to preserve the specimens.”

“Oh,
would
you?” said Cecily, rising. “The duke would be most appreciative, I’m sure. Do come along.”

Norland leaped up with the alacrity of a man promised a high treat.

“And where do you think you’re going?” demanded the dowager duchess.

Rosamund clearly wanted to ask the same. Cecily sent her a pleading glance and received a look of resigned exasperation in return. Rosamund would exact payment in full later. A price Cecily would happily pay.

“Lady Cecily is showing me her specimens, Mama,” explained the duke without a hint of double entendre. “My lady, lead the way.”

Stifling a snort of laughter, Cecily did as she was bid.

“I am glad I had the chance to speak with you alone, Lady Cecily,” said Norland unexpectedly as they proceeded down the stairs. “I have something particular to propose to you. That is to say, I’d like to know your opinion…”

Cecily looked up at him in surprise. “What is it?”

“You are the last of your cousins to be wed and it occurred to me that Tibby … er, Miss Tibbs, I should say…” He cleared his throat. “Well, it occurred to me that Miss Tibbs might not wish to find employment elsewhere once you are wed. Do you think she would like to remain with you after we are married?”

Cecily blinked. “What a splendid idea, Norland! I should like that of all things. Tibby has forever said she will live with her sister in Cambridge when I marry, so I suppose I never thought of asking her to make her home with me.”

She put her hand on his arm. “What a kind man you are. Even if she chooses not to come, she will appreciate such a generous offer.”

Norland blushed and disclaimed. “Will you present the idea to her? I think it would be best coming from you.”

“I will do it this very day,” she promised.

When they reached the conservatory, Cecily halted. “And now I must speak with
you
about something of vital importance.”

He glanced down at her and then at their surroundings. With a gleam of humor he said, “
Not
fungi, then.”

She laughed in surprise. On the odd occasion when he emerged from his abstraction, Norland could be quite engaging.

“No,” said Cecily. “Do forgive me. I fear that was a ruse.”

“Oh? Pity. What is it, then, Lady Cecily?” he said pleasantly. “Having second thoughts, eh? Well, well, nothing has been announced yet. Not too late to call the betrothal off, you know.”

“Good God, no!” she said, frowning. “Nothing like that. But there is something I would ask of you. Something very particular.”

He had the sense to look wary. “Indeed? Happy to serve, as ever, Lady Cecily.”

She fixed him with her most guileless expression, which any member of her family would know spelled trouble. “I wish you to tell me about the Promethean Club.”

His face blanked. “The
Promethean
Club?”

He looked for a moment as if he’d deny all knowledge of the organization.

“Yes,” she said hastily. “My brother belonged to the club, as you are no doubt aware. I read his diary and he—he mentioned you.” That was a lie, but she couldn’t admit she’d been at Ashburn House and identified Norland by his singular laugh.

“
Did
he?” Norland’s expression turned thoughtful. “Ye-es,” he said slowly. “I am a member, as it happens. Though I can’t quite see what it has to do with you.”

In a rush, she said, “Would you take me to one of their meetings, Your Grace?”

His head jerked up as if she’d slapped him. “Certainly not.”

Cecily stared at her fiancé, utterly disconcerted. She’d never heard him express himself so decidedly before. If he stood up to his mother this way, he’d lead a much more comfortable life.

She couldn’t believe he’d refuse her, not on a matter so important. “But—but surely—”

With an impatient shake of his head, he cut in. “The Promethean Club is for men of science, men of philosophy. We discuss new ideas and inventions. All dull stuff to you, but to us…” He puffed out a breath. “Oh, you would never understand.”

His dismissive attitude stung but she refused to let him provoke her into a heated response. Evenly, she said, “How do you know what I might understand, Norland? You have never asked me about my interests or my education.”

“Ha! Furbelows and folderol. That’s all you young ladies care about.”

A flare of anger nearly made her lose sight of her objective. But she’d run up against such prejudice often enough to know that argument would gain her nothing.

“I
am
interested in science and advancement and ideas,” she said, striving for calm. “I didn’t receive a formal education, but you may be sure that I am far from ignorant. How could I be? I am Jonathon Westruther’s sister. Just because I do not wear my knowledge on my sleeve like a bluestocking or thrust it down other people’s throats, just because I happen to like beautiful things, that does not make me an empty-headed ninny.”

Blotches of pink swarmed Norland’s cheeks as his choler rose. “I’ll not have it, I tell you! The meetings of our society are not spectacles to be gawked at by frivolous young ladies with nothing more amusing in their social diaries.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was adamant. And more than a touch contemptuous. Cecily realized—rather belatedly, if she were honest—that even a man who was in general mild and compliant might have one conceit. Apparently, Norland’s was his intellect. And intellect, unfortunately, didn’t preclude stupid, blind prejudice.

Frustration consumed her.
She
had been the stupid one, in this instance. She’d approached the matter too bluntly. She’d underestimated his arrogance and his resolve, and now she paid the price.

Trying to retrieve her false step, she said. “
Please,
Your Grace. Give me a chance to show you I am in earnest.”

“No!” But as he looked at her, he must have seen the pain and longing in her eyes, for the fire gradually died from his expression.

Avoiding her scrutiny, he waved a hand. “Your interest in our society might not be frivolous but it is far from earnest. You wouldn’t even think of joining us if you weren’t curious about your brother. I deeply regret his death and I am truly sorry for your grief. But you won’t find whatever you’re looking for at the Promethean Club.”

Cecily refused to give up. “Would you at least tell me about what goes on there?” she said. “There are so many things I want to know.”

“I will not!” Now his words had a bluster to them. She had the oddest impression that he was deliberately fueling his own anger. He stabbed a finger at her. “Y-you and I agreed we’d live separate lives, Lady Cecily. If you don’t want me poking my nose into your business, do not interfere with mine.”

Norland puffed out his cheeks. “Now, forgive me if I say that on this subject, I do not wish to hear another word. Indeed,” he said, looking at his pocket watch, “indeed, I think it’s best for both of us if I take my leave before we say things we might regret.”

He snapped out a bow. “Good day to you, my lady.”

Without giving her time to reply or even return his courtesy, he spun on his heel and strode from the conservatory.

Stunned and bewildered by this change in her betrothed, Cecily watched him go.

Seconds ticked past before she could marshal sufficient of her wits to think. She’d never dreamed the man would turn out to be so stubborn. Norland left her in no doubt of the firmness of his refusal. Ordinarily, she’d wheedle and cajole him into agreement, but the steel in his demeanor just now told her she would not succeed this time.

Who would have thought it? Her supposed milksop betrothed had a backbone. How inconvenient, how
bewildering
that he should show evidence of it now.

Indeed, it seemed she’d have far more success gaining information from the Duke of Ashburn. Oh, the irony of
that
realization.

A hot, urgent sense of desperation surged through her, a feeling of anticipation that was not precisely fearful but not at all pleasurable, either.

If she wanted to find out more about the Promethean Club, not to mention retrieve that confounded letter, she knew what she must do. Against her instincts and her better judgment, she must attend the duke’s masquerade tonight.

Chapter Five

“Tibby?” said Cecily as she passed her former governess on the stairs. “Might I have a word with you before we dress for dinner?”

“Of course, dear.” Miss Tibbs turned to fall into step with Cecily and mounted the staircase once more.

When they gained Cecily’s room, Cecily said, “Let’s sit down.”

She took Tibby’s hands and drew her to sit beside her on the blue cream satin couch by the window. “I have something important to ask you.”

“You haven’t been getting into mischief again, have you?” Tibby pressed the bridge of her spectacles to slide them farther up her nose. “My dear girl, I thought you’d outgrown all of that nonsense. Perfectly understandable that you had to fight for Montford’s attention as a little girl, but you are to be a married lady now.”

A trifle stung by that admittedly just reading of her past antics, Cecily replied, “It is nothing like that.” She gave her companion’s hand a small squeeze. “In fact, it is precisely because I am to be a married lady that I wish to ask you about
your
plans for the future.”

“Oh!” Tibby looked taken aback at the abrupt change of subject. She flushed a little. “Well, it was always my intention to live with my sister once all of you were married off. You knew that.”

“The duke
will
pay you a pension if you do that, won’t he?” asked Cecily.

Tibby’s features tautened in disapproval but Cecily persisted. “Oh, I know talking about money is vulgar but what point is there in clinging to that kind of nonsense while living on bread and water?”

“The duke has been most generous,” said Tibby repressively. “I shall do a
little
better than bread and water, thank you very much.”

Cecily would have expected no less of Montford, but it was as well to be certain. She understood the lure independence must hold for Tibby after all these years. Didn’t she want the same thing for herself, after a fashion?

“In that case,” said Cecily, “I daresay the proposition Norland bade me put to you won’t be terribly enticing. But for my sake, Tibby, will you promise to consider it?”

Tibby’s gray eyes widened. “Proposition? What proposition, pray?”

“His Grace wants you to come and live with us. Well, live with me,” amended Cecily scrupulously. “Norland and I won’t make our home together for most of the year, you know.”

All of the year, if she could help it. Where Norland went, so went Norland’s mama.

Tibby said, “But why … I thought …
Surely
you will wish to be a proper wife to the duke, Cecily.”

Why did Cecily have to explain this over and over? She was tired of it, so she said crisply, “It’s an arranged marriage, Tibby. He doesn’t love me and I don’t love him. In fact,” she said, reflecting on his bigoted dismissal of her intelligence, “I’m not even sure that I like him very much at the moment. But I shall be content enough as his wife.”

Tibby sat back, apparently appalled at this matter-of-fact assessment.

Cecily gripped Tibby’s thin hand between her own. “But however out of charity with him I might feel, I must say he can be unexpectedly thoughtful at times. His Grace was the one who thought of asking you to be my companion.”

“The Duke of Norland came up with the idea?” Tibby’s bewildered expression touched Cecily’s heart. There
was
good in Norland, wasn’t there? Even if he was a dreadful misogynist.

Cecily nodded. “Was that not kind of him? I’d never expected he might anticipate what I should like so well. For I
should
like it, above all things! Just think, Tibby. All the good we can do once I have money of my own…”

She noticed her companion didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. She’d turned quite pale, and a faraway sadness touched her eyes.

“Tibby?” said Cecily. “Tibby, are you quite well?”

“Y-yes. Yes, I…” She forced a smile but her aspect remained bleak. Slowly, she said, “It is a very great surprise, that is all.”

Cecily regarded her uncertainly. Perhaps she ought not to have confessed it was Norland’s idea. Did Tibby think Cecily didn’t truly want her? Or was she dismayed at the prospect of remaining in essence a paid employee rather than mistress of her own fate?

“Have I said something wrong?” Cecily asked. “I would not wish to insult you or—or place you under an unwelcome obligation.”

That made Tibby quiver with agitation. “No, no, of course not, Cecily! How could you
think
— It isn’t that. Indeed, I am so very grateful to you.” She stretched out her hand to press Cecily’s arm. “
Dearest
girl.”

With a murmured apology, Tibby took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her suddenly moist eyes. “Will you let me think about it a little before I give you my answer?”

“Why, of course. You will wish to consult with your sister, too, I daresay. There is not the least need for haste,” said Cecily, regarding her with concern. “But dearest one, you don’t look at all well. Perhaps you ought to lie down.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right. A rest will do me good,” her companion said distractedly. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

Feeling as if she had made a grave error in presenting the invitation the way she had, Cecily watched her companion’s straight back and bowed head as she left the chamber. What a horrid day it had been.