The Duke Can Go to the Devil (14 page)

So his father had been married three times? There was no telling how old he had been when Julian and Clarisse came along. It was sad that he had passed away when they were so young. That thought made her think of how young Radcliffe had been when his mother died,
which in turn made her think of the sweet, reassuring caress he had given her hand when he had comforted her.

A short, stout, and efficient-looking older woman bustled into the room then, dismay clear in her well-lined face. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to Radcliffe. “Welcome back, Your Grace. My apologies for the delay. Lady Stanwix has been seen to, and I'll have this cleaned up in no time. Shall I show Miss Bradford to her rooms?”

In a heartbeat, he was suddenly all business again. Nodding briskly, he took a few steps back from May. “Yes, please Mrs. Curtis.” As he turned to May, she could see that his impersonal, detached facade was firmly back in place. “Dinner is at eight. If you wish to rest, you may request a tray for your room.”

She had a sneaking suspicion he would continue to pull away from her after having unintentionally shown her so much of himself today. “What about tomorrow morning? Where can I go for my sunrise exercises?”

Nodding toward the back of the house, he said, “There is a dirt path that diverts just past the conservatory. If you follow it for a half mile or so, it will take you to the folly beside the lake.”

“Thank you. I look forward to seeing you then.” Without waiting for him to attempt to beg off, she swept past him toward the waiting housekeeper.

Today had been a very eye-opening experience. She could hardly wait to see what tomorrow would bring.

W
illiam lifted up on the reins and surveyed the grassy knoll beside the folly. The mist was thick, but it was easy to see May's slowly moving, crimson-clad form as she transitioned from one position to the next. And she was “May” to him now. As much as he attempted to remain proper and correct, he found that somewhere between their arrival and when he'd gone to bed, he began thinking of her by her given name.

Which made it doubly mad for him to be here. He wouldn't have come at all, but he had given his word—foolishly—so here he was, participating in an early-morning assignation on his own property. Unlike Bath, his household was up with the sun, so he could only hope that none of the groundskeepers or gardeners had reason to visit the lake this morning.

Dismounting, he left Gray's reins loose and set off to face whatever ridiculous thing May planned to have him do this morning.

She paused when he was only fifteen paces away and looked over her shoulder. Spotting him, she abandoned her pose and smiled at him. “You came.”

What was it about the early-morning light that seemed to make her so appealing? She looked refreshed and relaxed, with her cheeks lightly pink from her
exertions and her eyes entirely too welcoming. He nodded, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “I said that I would.”

“Yes, but in my experience, people do not always do what they say. Regardless, I'm glad to see you.”

Had others often broken their word to her? In his book, that was one of the greatest sins of all. “If there is one thing you may count on, it is my word. Now then, let's get this over with.”

“Such enthusiasm,” she said wryly, rolling her eyes. “First of all, you cannot participate in this type of exercise dressed as though you're headed to a dinner party. Take off your jacket and cravat, if you please.”

“I do
not
please. I am perfectly comfortable, I assure you.”

“You won't be, not when you need full mobility of your arms and legs. Now do please cease being a prude and shed the jacket at the very least.”

A
prude
? He glowered at her, setting his hands to his waist. “For propriety, at least
one
of us should be properly dressed.” He still couldn't believe she would ever wear such scandalous clothing outside in the light of day. A true lady would never dream of wearing trousers. Not that she had ever claimed to be a lady, but still, there were rules about these sorts of things for a reason.

Instead of being insulted, she grinned. “You'll be jealous of these clothes in a few minutes. Now then, the fish and birds are all very impressed with your modesty, but we are wasting the morning light by arguing. Take the jacket
off
.”

She spoke with such authority, he momentarily imagined her taking it off for him. The thought held much, much more temptation than it should. Blowing out a
breath, he pulled the buttons free and yanked the thing off.

“And the cravat.”

He scowled at her. “I have reached the limit for compromise, Miss Bradford. It's this or nothing.” The woman was not going to get her way with him at every turn.

She narrowed her eyes as though considering whether or not to keep pushing, but finally gave a short nod. “Very well. If you wish to constrict your chi, that is your prerogative.”

“My chi?” He was questioning his decision to agree to this more and more.

“That's what this exercise is all about. The Chinese believe that within each of us flows our life force, which they call our chi.” She paused and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do you know, now that I think about it, the cravat stemming the flow may explain a lot when it comes to you stuffy Englishmen.”

That last sentence was issued with a challenging lift of her brow, but for the rest of it, she spoke as though she was serious. She looked so earnest, yet he couldn't credit that she actually believed such foolishness.

“The lady proves to be both impertinent and improbable. I have never heard such nonsense in all my life.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I knew you would say that. But nothing has helped me quite so much as this routine. All the time my mother was sick, and then . . . after, and when Papa left me behind like so much baggage, nothing else came close to providing the peace and healing that I needed. Now close your mouth, open your mind, and pay attention.”

He wanted to argue with her, but he was learning just how pointless such a thing was. “Fine. The sooner we get through this, the sooner I can get on with my day.”

Her sapphire eyes sparked with the first signs of irritation. “Which I'm sure is going to be so
very
busy. A nice ride, a full breakfast, the idle entertainment of your guests, followed by a sumptuous dinner and a drawn bath. I can't imagine how exhausting it will all be.”

His jaw tightened in annoyance. His day was indeed packed to overflowing. The mill would require most of his attention, followed by the incredibly tedious task of going over the backlog of correspondence for the time he was in Bath. And yes, he had houseguests to entertain, though at that particular moment he was having difficulty remembering why he had invited them in the first place.

However, what he wasn't going to do was bicker with her about the subject. If she believed him to be a lazy, self-indulgent lord of the manor now, after all she knew of him, then that was her own issue.

Crossing his arms, he said simply, “Yes, terribly. As such, may we hurry up and be done with it?”

She stared back at him, her brows drawn together in displeasure. She almost looked hurt, as though she had any foot to stand on. Didn't she even see that she was the one who was disparaging him? Throwing up her hands, she said, “Never mind. If you don't want to be here, then I don't want you here. You're bringing bad energy with you anyhow.”

He worked hard not to roll his eyes at that bit of rubbish. Instead, he gave a curt nod. “Very well. I bid you good day, Miss Bradford.” Collecting his jacket, he stalked back to his horse. This had certainly not gone as anticipated. Chi? Life force? She must have been mad to think that he would go along with something like that.

And honestly, of all the people he knew, she was the
least likely to be an authority on finding peace. And on giving peace, for that matter.

As he mounted Gray and wheeled back toward the house, he resolved to throw himself into the many important things he needed to focus on. Heaven knew he'd already spent entirely too much time thinking of May.

*   *   *

“Why, Miss Bradford! How nice to see you again.”

Lady Radcliffe smiled wide as May emerged from her chambers later that day just as the duchess was walking by. The older woman was immaculately dressed in a handsome pale blue-and-white-striped gown that perfectly complemented her deep red hair. She wore a choker adorned with diamonds and rich blue aquamarines, which might have been a bit much for a morning gown, but was so pretty, May couldn't fault her for wearing it.

So far during their time at the estate, they had managed to miss each other, since both May and her aunt had chosen to take their suppers in their rooms last night. It was well past noon now, but May was only now venturing back outside her chamber after her rather disappointing morning. Suyin was good company at least, telling her bits of gleaned gossip about the duke's staff, but Aunt Victoria had finally sent word of her insistence that May come down.

Returning the duchess's smile, May said, “And you, Your Grace. I trust you are recovered from your journey yesterday.”

“Yes, certainly. I've just enjoyed a bit of luncheon, and I was on my way up to the nursery to greet the children.” Her gentle French accent made the words seem almost musical.

May's polite smile transformed into an honest grin. “I
met Lady Clarisse and Lord Julian yesterday. They were absolutely adorable, and I quite enjoyed seeing them vex the duke.”

Lady Radcliffe shook her head and sighed, not looking at all charmed. “I am not surprised. They tend to be very good at vexing people. However, he has only himself to blame. He is far too lenient with them both.”

Oh yes—it had completely slipped May's mind that he had said the duchess had little to do with the children's upbringing. Such an odd situation. Surely no mother would have purposely chosen such an arrangement. “Regardless, they were a delightful surprise. I do hope I can see them again soon.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted delicately. “Truly?”

“Yes, of course. I know frighteningly little about children, but they were wonderful company.”

“Well,” the duchess said, gesturing down the corridor, “in that case, why don't you come with me? I am certain they would enjoy seeing you again.”

May didn't hesitate. “Absolutely.” No matter what, they were bound to be better company than Aunt Victoria.

They made their way to the wide stone staircase that led to the third floor. As they ascended, the duchess gave her arm a little pat. “It is such a pleasant surprise to have you here at Clifton House. William—or Radcliffe, I should say, though it always makes me think of my late husband—is notoriously stingy with his invites.”

It was as much a question as a statement. Keeping her eyes on the elegant wrought iron banister, May gave a little shrug. “It was certainly a surprise to us, but we are most grateful. With the festival over, there will be little
to do in Bath until my father returns. This is a pleasant diversion before I leave England behind in a month or two.”

Her hazel eyes cut to May. “Leaving England? Where will you go?”

The nostalgia for hot, humid breezes laced with the scents of spices was suddenly so strong, May couldn't help but sigh. “Home. My father is a captain with the East India Company, so much of my life has been spent overseas. I have enjoyed the summer here, but I am anxious to set sail again.”

She could almost taste the salty ocean air, practically feel the rolling of the deck beneath her feet. If she was lucky, they would head to Java first. It was one of her father's main routes, and she had many friends among the locals. She couldn't wait to share her stories of her time here in England, especially about the lovely musical trio and how they had thwarted both the pernicious festival clerk and lofty viscount who sought to prevent them from playing.

The thought of her friends was bittersweet. If only they could have remained in Bath a little longer. May would have happily chosen more time with them over the troublesome duke.

The duchess made a sympathetic sound in her throat. “I certainly understand
nostalgique
, er, that is, being homesick. I am glad that you will soon find your way back home. And here we are,” she said brightly as they reached a set of double doors just off the landing. “I will apologize in advance for any poor manners the children might have.”

Releasing her grasp on May's arm, Lady Radcliffe pushed open both doors and swept inside. The children
squealed with delight and ran for their mother, despite the nursemaid's admonishments to show decorum. Their sheer joy made May smile as she slipped into the room as unobtrusively as she could.

The children were talking fast and loud, one over the other. The sweet cacophony filled the spacious and bright room all the way to the twelve-foot-tall ceilings. The afternoon sunlight poured in through several wide windows, each one covered with cream-colored sheers. There were art supplies and books lining shelves and toys spilling from chests placed all about the room. There was a great globe in one corner, plus several maps papering the wall, each one dotted in dozens of pins. A huge orange cat lounged in the sunbeams on the thick wool rug, seemingly unperturbed by the wide purple ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

May exhaled happily, soaking in the cheery atmosphere. This place was a little slice of heaven. She let her attention wander as the children chattered to their mother, happy to allow them their time. However, when snippets of the conversation began to reach her ears, she came to a rather disconcerting realization: This was the first time they had seen the duchess since her arrival several hours before May yesterday.

As that sunk in, she also noticed other things: the duchess standing before her children, nodding and smiling at what they said, but not really engaging. She never bent down to hug them or speak to them on their level. May shifted, unsure of what to make of the scene. Her movement caught Julian's attention, and his whole face lit up. “It's the traitor!”

Lady Radcliffe gasped. Her hand shot out quick as a whip, grabbing her son by the chin and pinching hard enough to make the boy wince. “Julian, what is the
matter with you? Apologize to Miss Bradford this instant, you naughty boy.”

Rushing forward, May pasted an apologetic smile on her face, though really she was gritting her teeth. “No, please, it's all right. The duke teased with them yesterday about the possibility of me being a traitor. It was all in good fun, of course.”

But the duchess didn't soften. “Such things are nothing to tease about. People have been killed for less. Apologize, young man.”

With wide, bewildered eyes, Julian blinked up at May. “I'm sorry, Miss Bradford. I didn't mean it.”

“It's quite all right, Lord Julian. No harm done.” She wanted to hug the hurt from his expression, but she settled for a reassuring smile.

Lady Radcliffe released her hold at last and rubbed her hand down her skirts. “Let's hope you've learned your lesson. Now, Clarisse, what do you say to Miss Bradford?”

Clarisse, who May now realized was a sweeter, paler version of her mother, turned to May, her hazel eyes huge. “I'm sorry, Miss Bradford.” Confusion coated her words, the poor thing.

“No, no, you silly child. You should say, ‘How do you do, Miss Bradford.'”

Dancing nervously from one foot to the other, she dutifully repeated her mother's words. May knelt down and smiled as wide as she could. “I am very well indeed, Lady Clarisse. Is that your kitty over there?”