Can’t Buy Me a Duke by Bianca Blythe
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The days turned intoweeks, and finally, it was time to visit the duke at his manor house in Cornwall.
“We shouldn’t be going to this place.” Papa entered the carriage and clutched his briefcase to him.
“You enjoy the travel,” Mama said. “We’re making the most of our time in England. Besides, I expect a betrothal between the Duke of Sturbridge and our dear daughter, Lucy.”
“I suppose that’s a reason to go.” Papa scooted further into the carriage so Mama could sit beside him.
“Not n-necessarily,” Lucy stammered.
She didn’t want her parents to be unhappy when they realized that the duke had never had marital plans for her.
“What nonsense,” Mama said. “I know when a man is in love, and that man is in love.”
Lucy and Isabella exchanged glances. Isabella shook her head slightly, and Lucy decided not to protest more.
This had been just what Lucy had wanted. Her parents believed the romance, and she was going with her family to the duke’s house. Her sister had been secretly betrothed for the past week. No doubt they would soon announce their engagement, and Mama and Papa would exclaim that Isabella had beaten Lucy to it, but they wouldn’t be that reproachful.
“Thank you,” Isabella mouthed, and Lucy nodded.
It was of no concern. Well, almost of no concern. If it had been of absolutely no concern, her heart wouldn’t ache when she thought about the duke, and her stomach wouldn’t hurt when Mama and Papa talked about her impending happiness with him.
They didn’t know it was impossible.
They didn’t know she’d been lying this entire time.
Still, it was her plan, and it was going well. Sometimes, one had to think logically about matters. One had to come up with solutions that might seem unconventional to other people, but which led to fabulous, fantastic results. That’s what Papa had always taught her about business, and she’d listened. This was going exactly according to plan.
Her heartbeat fluttered, even though she told herself it shouldn’t and that it would be dreadful for her heart to make any such movements to imagine that it possibly belonged near Sturbridge and not right here with her family.
The carriage jerked to a start.
Lucy folded her hands in an appropriate manner. They wouldn’t suspect. They mustn’t suspect.
She stared out the window. The carriage developed some speed and the beautiful facades merged together. In an hour, they would exit London, and by next week, they would arrive at Thornridge Castle.
They stopped in quaint public houses and taverns for meals, and Mama insisted the driver also stop at every castle, hauling out their sketchbooks so they could record their journey.
Finally, after days of variable food and sleep, the carriage stopped, and she followed her parents from the carriage.
Thornridge Castle soared above her. She’d thought the duke’s townhouse was grand, but this was no comparison. Beautifully arranged Grecian columns glistened under the sun. A fountain spurted up from a large, still, clear pool of water. Birds chirped with greater force than anywhere Lucy had ever seen. No doubt the duke’s estate gardeners had brought them here specifically.
“Sturbridge must have a lot of money, indeed,” Papa said.
“Almost as much as you, I warrant.” Mrs. Banks craned her neck up.
“Perhaps so,” Papa agreed. “Come girls, let’s meet these British people.”
They strolled toward the steps, then Lord Brooke exited the castle’s large doors. A wide smile spread over his always cherubic face, and he descended the stairs.
“Lord Brooke is here,” Mama said.
Isabella beamed. “Indeed he is.”
He hurried down the steps, then stopped before Isabella. His blue eyes sparkled, and he swept into a deep bow. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” Isabella echoed in response.
Papa frowned slightly.
“Let’s go inside,” Lucy said hastily before her parents became suspicious. They entered the foyer.
The duke exited from another room. His face lit up, and he hurried toward them. “Welcome!”
“We do have some guests already.” He looked toward Aurora and Leticia. “Some people are very punctual.”
“Some people are very eager to spend time with you,” Lucy said, but her heart ached a bit. She knew Leticia and Aurora were astounded the duke had paid any attention to her. In their minds, it was utterly evident the duke should be paying attention to them.
Lucy understood why. Their parents had actual titles, not just money hastily scrambled together, albeit in significant sums, over the past two decades.
“Let me show you around, Miss Banks.” He glanced at Lord Brooke. “I believe you can show the younger Miss Banks around?”
Lord Brooke beamed. “It will be my pleasure.”
A cloud drifted over Papa’s face. “Do we get a personal tour guide as well?”
Lucy’s heart almost sank.
“Yes. We have an expert.” Harrison gestured to an older woman wearing a black dress. “Come, Mrs. Howard.”
The woman approached them.
“This is my housekeeper,” Harrison said. “She’ll show you around. She’s lived here even longer than me.”
“You were born here?”
“All Dukes of Sturbridge were born here.” He exchanged a glance with the housekeeper, then Mama and Papa were whisked away.
She was alone with the duke and she liked it.
*
THE NEXT DAY, GUESTSfilled the manor house. Though she’d happily strolled the estate with the duke yesterday, now uneasiness moved through her. His friends had arrived: the Duke and Duchess of Sandridge, the Duke and Duchess of Jevington, and the Duke and Duchess of Ainsworth. People thronged about them, and Lucy was reminded she was not part of the aristocracy and had been barely tolerated in the ton.
Her best Parisian day dress, white with red and green bows festooned on the hem, suddenly seemed fussy compared to the natural sophistication of the other women. The dress would have looked more becoming if the red ribbons had not clashed with her red hair.
Lord Brooke nodded at Isabella, and Isabella turned to her.
“I’ll be fine,” Lucy said. “Enjoy.”
“You’re the most wonderful sister.” Isabella hurried away.
Lucy was alone. Letitia and Aurora were staring and giggling at her, and Lucy’s stomach sank. They were talking about her. She knew it. Sometimes they’d talked about her at school. This was similar. She inched away, but the women made no effort to lower their voices, and she could hear them insulting her.
“She must be mad spending so much time with the duke, as if the duke could ever love someone like her,” Letitia said.
“She’s an idiot,” Aurora said.
In the next moment, Harrison appeared. Fire had taken hold of him, and his whole face glowered. “Do you practice saying those comments in advance? Or is your mind naturally so vile?”
The women widened their eyes and glanced at each other. Suddenly, they looked far less confident and smug. One of them tucked a blonde ringlet behind her ear, even though her lady’s maid probably would have advised her not to do that. Another one opened and closed her mouth as if she were playing a fish at the Christmas pantomime.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said finally. “I’m afraid that came out poorly.”
“It came out horribly.” Harrison’s voice was low and deep and dangerous. “It came out dreadfully terribly.”
Aurora managed to look ashamed. She hung her head, though not before surreptitiously scanning the room to see whether anyone noticed them. Perhaps she was ashamed at having offended a duke, or perhaps she was simply pleased to be speaking with a duke as long as their voices remained soft.
“It’s fine,” Lucy said finally. “We don’t need to cause a scene.”
“Everyone should know about these women’s despicable behavior,” Harrison said firmly, as if he were one of his ancestors from several centuries ago, urging his comrades to go and impale Frenchmen with swords and smash their heads with axes and maces.
Lady Letitia smirked.
“You mustn’t do that,” Lucy said. “Don’t you see?”
He furrowed his brow and gave a slight shake of his head.
Lady Letitia’s smirk widened.
“If you did that, everyone will know the insult.”
“And they’ll disprove of it,” Harrison said.
Lucy arched an eyebrow, and the stoic expression on Harrison’s face crumpled.
Evidently, he did see. He understood that if he were to do such a thing, Aurora and her friend would simply repeat the words, and some people, even if not his closest friends, would find it amusing and true. Most people might wonder at Harrison’s sudden gallantry, and they might term him bewitched and wonder just how far New York was from Salem. They might reproach Aurora and Letitia in public, but their eyes would glimmer, and their lips would twitch, and Aurora and Letitia would not be in the least discouraged to find a new recipient or keep pummeling Lucy with insults.
“Come, Miss Banks.” Harrison shot another glower at the woman in question. “Let’s leave this riff-raff.”
Letitia’s face whitened, and Aurora’s eyes goggled.
“I’m sorry about the atrocious company.” Harrison craned his neck and scrunched his features into another terrifying expression.
Lucy smiled despite herself.
Harrison led Lucy away. “I’m afraid I haven’t fulfilled my hosting duties.”
“Do hosting duties extend beyond scowling at mean-spirited guests?”
“Er—yes,” Harrison said. “Though that’s a special service I provide. Not every host provides that.”
“I know,” Lucy said softly.
Harrison frowned. “Though every host should.”
“You aspire to be a good host?”
Harrison’s frown deepened. “I am a good host.” He opened the French doors, and cold air floated inside. “I think you require a tour outside.”
“That might be scandalous, Your Grace. Besides, haven’t your friends just arrived?”
“Yes. But they can partake of conversation and Cook’s sweets by themselves.” He sighed. “I was coming over to you so that you might meet them.”
“Oh.” She fluttered her eyelashes down.
Evidently, he hadn’t forgotten her. Of course, he hadn’t.
“I should have approached you. I just—”
He grinned. “Were you feeling somewhat shy, Miss Banks?”
She nodded.
“I have nice friends. But you can meet them later. I’m glad I managed to frighten the largest gossips.” He pointed at Aurora and Letitia.
“They are spending a lot of time examining the banquet table,” Lucy agreed.
“They don’t want to make eye contact with us,” Harrison said. “Cook’s creations do deserve attention, though.”
“I suppose it isn’t too scandalous to be in a garden in the middle of daytime with you,” Lucy said. “You are the host, after all.”
“Yes, I have a duty to show you around.” His eyes shimmered. “I can point out any hazards. Gnarly tree roots.”
“Or crumbling walls.”
He gave her a stern look. “There are no crumbling walls.”
She swallowed back a smile. “Naturally.”
He nodded curtly, then led her further into the garden. They passed dainty rose bushes and vibrant flowers, the colors calculated to suit the surrounding floral arrangements. They entered an herb garden, and the scent of lavender and thyme wafted about her.
“I love this place,” she said.
“It must be very different from New York.”
“New York has its advantages.”
He nodded. “Someday, I would like to go there.” A curious expression passed on his face. “Much further in the future, of course.”
She nodded, conscious the action wasn’t supposed to make her heart hurt but aware that it did so all the same.
“I mean, you would probably be happily married then,” he said. “With—er—tiny tots crawling around.”
“Or running,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed hastily.
The air was suddenly hot, the temperature rising despite the consistent breeze and the relatively mild force of the sun.
The sun always seemed stronger in New York. Sometimes she forgot how far north England was. Still, now the sunbeams seemed to have no trouble casting their full attention on her, and she blinked into the bright light as the back of her neck continued to warm and warm and warm.
She wished Sturbridge did not find it so necessary to let her know he could never marry her. They’d already agreed on that. He didn’t need to remind her.
“Have you been inside an English maze?” Sturbridge asked suddenly.
“No.”
Sturbridge pointed to a deep green, immaculately maintained hedge. “Come.”
Lucy followed him, even though she was certain hedges were more dangerous locations to be found wandering alone with a man than spice gardens that were overlooked by the main buildings of a manor house.