The Inconvenient Duchess
She thought of asking Polly for help, but decided against it. At best, she would know only a little of what was necessary.
Perhaps she could feign illness. But she doubted that anything but a convincing display could change the duke’s plan of attending. No fits of vapours or delicate megrims. He would want proof.
A sprained ankle, perhaps? A small fall down the stairsthat would leave her incapacitated. And postpone the inevitable for how long? She might be able to beg off tonight’s invitation, but there would be others. And the more she tried to avoid them, the more they would persist in trying to woo her from the house. And then she would be expected to throw balls and parties of her own.
She had no one to turn to. Nowhere to seek help.
Except…
He had said that he would be busy today, and she would no doubt be an unwelcome interruption. But she remembered the feel of his body next to hers during the night and a feeling of calm crept over her. If she could not turn to him for help, then she had nowhere else to go.
She approached her husband cautiously, as she always did. He was in his study, seated behind the great desk, poring over ledgers and nibbling on the end of his quill in a way that, if she hadn’t been intimidated by her surroundings, she might have found rather endearing.
She cleared her throat.
He looked up. ‘Yes, Miranda.’
‘Your Grace…’
His eyebrow raised.
‘Marcus. There is a problem. About tonight. The ball.’
‘Missing some frill, m’dear? Is your gown too plain? Not plain enough? Need more ostrich plumes?’
‘No,’ she snapped. Her cheeks were burning with shame. Now he would realise what a fraud she was. ‘I cannot go to a ball tonight. I don’t know if I will be able… I can’t.’ She spread her hands in front of her in a gesture of defeat.
He was around the desk in a flash, his hands reaching out to take hers, his eyes staring in to hers in concern. ‘What? What is it that bothers you so?’
A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could call it back. ‘I cannot go tonight, because I have never been to a ball before. I do not know how to dance.’ Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘And I am afraid.’
His arms were around her, and he pulled her close, and she sobbed into the wool of his coat.
She felt his breath ruffle her hair when he spoke. ‘Ahhh. See. Now you are crying and I am undone. For I find a woman’s tears as terrifying as you find tonight’s ball. Now what can I do to save myself from them?’ He squeezed her once and then set her gently away from him as he rang for Wilkins.
The butler appeared in record time, his back straight as a ramrod, she noticed with approval. She had done some good here, even if she would be more suited as a housekeeper than a great lady.
‘Wilkins. I need servants. Six couples should be more than enough. And you. Pull them from their duties. The routine can wait. And anyone that can play a musical instrument. A fiddle, perhaps? Or we can hum, I suppose. They are to meet us in the ballroom. I am much out of practice when it comes to the dance, and fear I will crush her Grace’s toes, should I dance with her tonight.’ He smiled to give her confidence. ‘A short rehearsal should be all that is needed.’
Wilkins disappeared. And Marcus frowned back at her. ‘I am most disappointed in you, madam.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘My education is most woefully lacking in some things, but I will try…’
‘In the future, when you find yourself in such a circumstance, you are to come to me immediately, and not work yourself in to a state over a trifle. We could have hired a dancing master.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised again. ‘For waiting so long, and taking you away from your work. You are right. It could have been handled without troubling you.’
He laid a finger against her lips. ‘Miranda, you mistake my meaning. When you have a problem, you are to come to me, and not hang about in your room, worrying what my response may be. I will not guarantee that I will never be cross, for you have seen me so and won’t believe it, but I promise: I bark but will never bite. And I am sworn before God, if you remember, to love and protect you.’ And without taking his eyes from hers, he caught one of her hands in his own and raised it to his lips.
How strange, she thought as he kissed the back of her hand, that there should be so much feeling there. That she should feel his lips, pressing
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