A Duke of Her Own

“Ada deserved tears. She had a terribly short life.”



“I agree. I do agree. But it’s not your fault, my dear. And I would guess yours were guilty tears.”



Eleanor nodded. But what was there to be said about it, after all? She had liked Ada, but Ada was gone, and there was no changing that. “Villiers has decided to marry Lisette.”



“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing for you,” Anne said. “Though it certainly is for him. Lisette really is eccentric, the poor thing. She’s not made for marriage. She is best here, in the place where everyone knows her and makes allowances for her behavior. Does Villiers still fancy himself as a rescuer of fair maidens?”



“I believe he fancies her as an excellent mother.”



Anne snorted. “This is the most wonderful book,” she said, waving it at Eleanor. “It’s called The Castle of Otranto. I scared myself silly last night when the son of the lord was crushed to death by a monstrous helmet that falls out of the sky just before he was supposed to be married. Have you read it?”



“I’m still trying to read Shakespeare’s sonnets,” Eleanor said.



“So boring,” Anne said. “Sonnets all just talk about one thing, really. But this book has portraits that sigh mysteriously, and bits of armor falling out of the clouds. And now Lord Manfred is trying to divorce his wife to marry his son’s fiancée…I believe I shall just stay in bed and read the whole thing today. I can’t possibly survive another night unless I’ve found out how it ends. This house creaks terribly in the dark.”



There was a knock on the door and Anne’s maid reentered. “Do you happen to know how the duchess is feeling?” Eleanor asked her.



“Her Grace had a poor night,” Marie reported. “But the surgeon comes today and he’ll pull out the tooth. Meanwhile Lady Marguerite gave a great bottle of laudanum to Her Grace’s maid, and so Her Grace is fast asleep. Lady Marguerite told the maid to keep her that way so that the tooth can just be pulled before she wakes up.”



“Oh dear,” Eleanor said. “But I’m sure Mother would much rather be asleep. She is not fond of pain.”



“Who is?” Anne said. “I gather you are clambering up on a horse this morning, Eleanor? I must say, that habit is just lovely, and I didn’t even pick it out myself.”



Eleanor glanced down at herself. For almost the first time since arriving, she was wearing a costume that she herself had ordered. The habit was made of blue ribbed silk with a deep turned-down collar behind.



“I particularly like your coattails,” Anne added.



“Why should men be able to wear coattails and not women?” Eleanor agreed, tipping her tall hat a little farther forward over her eyes. It was blue as well, and had two jaunty tassels that hung to her shoulder.



“May I offer my felicitations on your betrothal to the Duke of Villiers, my lady?” Marie asked.



“You may not,” Anne said promptly. “My sister has decided not to marry the duke.”



“Those children!” Marie cried immediately, clasping her hands. “I absolutely understand, my lady. The household is convulsed.”



“Convulsed?” Eleanor repeated. “That seems an odd word choice.”



“Popper is a very pious man, you understand. He has all of the maids praying three times a day. Then the duke brings these children in the house and of course they’re—” She broke off.



“They’re bastards,” Anne put in cheerfully.



“Popper was distraught enough when the first one arrived, thinking the boy was a limb of Satan and so on. But Lady Lisette just told him not to be tiresome, and the Duke of Villiers pays no heed to Popper, of course.”



“I’m sure he just waved his fingers disdainfully,” Eleanor said.



“The first day wasn’t too bad, but then when the two little girls arrived…well, there’s been a terrible commotion belowstairs. Popper isn’t anything compared to Mrs. Busy, the cook. She told the upstairs maid that her immortal soul might be in danger if she cleared the grate in the nursery. And she keeps sending up gruel because she says that meat does something to flesh and causes carnal provocations…I think I have that right.”



“That’s purely cruel,” Eleanor said sharply. “Those are innocent children and they ought to be treated well. Did you say the cook’s name is Mrs. Busy?”



“Mrs. Zeal-of-the-Land Busy,” Marie said.



“Zeal of the what?”



“Zeal-of-the-Land Busy,” Marie repeated. “Her husband was a famous preacher in London—a Puritan, of course—until he died from a surfeit of boiled pig and she was forced to go into service.”



“Absolute rubbish,” Eleanor said. “Are you telling me that Popper agrees with this extraordinary behavior?”



“Well, he does and he doesn’t. He did tell Lady Lisette about the gruel, and she said that some gruel wouldn’t hurt them, and that Popper should just make peace in the household. From what they say, Lady Lisette does not like to involve herself in household matters. And I’m afraid that Lady Marguerite travels a great deal of the time.”



“Well, she’s here now, and she ought to be boxing Mrs. Zeal-of-the-Land’s ears,” Eleanor said.



“Actually Lady Marguerite is not here,” Marie said. “She rose early this morning and she and Mr. Bentley went on a trip to Royal Tunbridge Wells. She left you a note.”



“What an interesting life Lady Marguerite leads!” Anne said with delight. “I expect I shall be just the same, if I find myself widowed. Not that I would wish to be.”



“I shall go to the kitchens myself,” Eleanor said. She was experiencing a nice burst of pure rage, which had swept away the melancholy. She hated melancholy. “I shall bring Oyster,” she added. If Lisette was going to allow children in her house to be fed nothing but gruel, she would simply have to tolerate the presence of a fat, cheerful puppy.



“Go forth and conquer!” Anne said, settling back into bed. “Perhaps I shall see you at supper, and perhaps not. It all depends on whether a whole suite of armor smashes the castle.”



Eleanor walked down the front stairs, planning to sweep up Popper and take him along with her. Clearly he was a weak link in the household, but at the least he could back her up when it came to children’s need for more than gruel to eat.



Oyster started barking energetically the moment they rounded the curve of the stair, so she peered down and saw Villiers standing in the entrance hall.



For a moment her heart bounded—it had been so much fun toying with him and thinking of marrying him but then she remembered that he had chosen Lisette over her. So she said, “Oyster, be quiet,” not loudly, but there must have been something in her tone because he actually obeyed.



The duke was as polite as ever, which was to say not very. He had a way of bowing that implied he was above such observances.



That being the case, she didn’t curtsy to him, just pulled on her gloves. She wasn’t going to touch anything in Mrs. Zeal-of-the-Gut’s kitchen with her bare hands.



He raised an eyebrow.



“When you bow as if you give a damn, I’ll bother to bend my knee to you again.” She gave him a sweet smile. Then she turned to Popper. “I’ll thank you to show me the kitchens.”

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