The Wicked Duke Takes a Wife

Chapter Nine

Harriet slept late and went by rote through her morning ablutions. It was to her advantage that today was Sunday and that the previous night’s ball had, as she’d predicted, kept most of the students up into the wee hours, whispering of amours imagined and observed. At least they would sit in chapel too weary to get in trouble chattering.

Monday morning, however, was another thing.

She walked slowly down the stairs, straight past the spot where the duke had kissed her. The memory still lingered in her mind as she entered the classroom a few moments later. She hoped the young devil’s conscience had prevented him from enjoying his day of rest. To think he’d bluffed his way past her guard. It wouldn’t happen again, even though she accepted half the blame for playing into his hands. Yet it wasn’t altogether the worst thing that could happen to a woman, being kissed for her first time by a duke.

She dropped her book down on the desk.

Today’s lesson covered the proper attire for garden parties. Linen was the preferred fabric, and a bonnet was de rigueur. What would the well-prepared lady do in the event of rain? Was it true that a gentleman could wear any shade of gray, while his female counterpart would be accused of bad taste? And why could a duke get away-

She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. He had a lovely mouth and strong, gentle hands.

She heard her name. The girls were whispering about… her.

“Do you think poor Miss Harry will be dismissed because of what happened at the ball?”

“That wouldn’t be fair. I heard old Lady Powlis ordering her to dance with the duke.”

“Is he here?”

“In the academy?”

Several heads turned.

Miss Edlyn strolled into the room, her black hair streaming to her waist. “He isn’t. The old one is, though.”

Harriet glowered at the girls. “I hope you’re all proud of yourselves. It’s one thing to talk about me, but you are never to disparage another student, not in her presence or behind her back.”

“It’s all right,” Edlyn murmured, slipping into the empty chair that had been saved for her. “Everyone talks about us.”

“It isn’t all right,” Harriet said in a curt voice.

She opened her guidebook, wondering whether the chapter on funerals would be more appropriate than the more cheerful subject of garden parties.

Dismissed? Was it possible? Not for obeying a frantic lady who was also a family member. However, if Charlotte or anyone else in the house had glimpsed the duke kissing Harriet on the stairs, a dismissal would not only be possible but completely deserved.

Charlotte Boscastle smiled cordially as she served tea in the yellow breakfast room. She wished she knew of a polite way to request that Lady Powlis lower her voice. The subject of their conversation happened to be Harriet Gardner, who, according to some reports, had created a delightful scandal at Saturday night’s dance. Charlotte saw no reason to admonish Harriet. She had not witnessed any impropriety on her young assistant’s part. Still, for the life of her, she could not understand why Lady Powlis had insisted that Harriet be brought to her immediately. To what could this tête-à-tête be leading?

Had Lady Powlis learned of Harriet’s unfortunate upbringing? No one at the academy spoke of it, although one could not bury what could be so easily unearthed.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Lady Powlis set down her cup. “You must be wondering why I have come today.”

“Well, at first I assumed you came about Lady Edlyn,” Charlotte said cautiously. “But then-”

“Yes, of course,” Primrose said, a trifle testily. “Edlyn is always my primary concern.”

“And she is the reason you asked me to summon Harriet from class?”

“No.” Lady Powlis frowned. “It has come to my attention that Harriet debuted as an actress at an early age. Is this true?”

Charlotte fidgeted. “Well, yes, but she was very young, an orange girl, and she got her first part-”

“-when the leading lady broke her nose.”

Charlotte sighed. “She was very young.”

“And very busy afterward, from what I’ve heard. Miss Gardner has lived quite the eventful life.”

Charlotte put down her tea. “Are you afraid she will have a bad influence on Edlyn?”

“Good grief, no. Edlyn is the one who taints the well water. Trust me.”

“Then what in the world do you want with Miss Gardner?”

“I want to employ her as my abigail.”

Charlotte’s blue eyes widened in astonishment. “You want to what?”

“Do I not speak loudly enough, dear?”

“Quite loudly,” Charlotte said with a frown.

“Then what is confusing about the nature of my request?”

“Well, I-that is, the academy needs her.”

Lady Powlis balanced her cane between her knees, her voice creaking like a rusty hinge. “More than one lonely old woman?”

Oh. Charlotte knew she had backed herself into a corner. Harriet and Primrose. What an impossible association. She had always assumed she would be having this conversation with a gentleman who sought to be Harriet’s protector. But how did one refuse an aging relative who had spent an entire life exerting her will? “I shall have to speak with Emma about this, and she and the duke have not arrived in London yet.”

“My nephew is a duke,” Primrose said craftily.

“No one is likely to forget that.”

“Well, do you own Miss Gardner?”

“Excuse me?”

“Stop pretending to be such a corkbrain, Charlotte. Did Miss Gardner sign a contract with you or not?”

Charlotte blinked. A corkbrain, Griffin’s sweet-looking aunt had called her. Who was the one who needed instruction in manners? “I don’t know that she and Emma actually made-”

“I’ll buy it off Emma. The price is of no consequence. Are we agreed, then?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I am not empowered to pass Miss Gardner off like a pawn. Harriet has a say in this, too. And, oh, you have really pushed me into revealing what I promised to keep private.” She hesitated. “Harriet’s past is-”

“-interesting?” Primrose flipped her cane against her chair. “I gathered that. Why else do you think I want to employ her? Do you imagine I want to spend my final days being dusted like a museum piece? I have hopes for my dotage. Your young instructress gave me a giggle the night before last, and I am a lady in sore need of upliftment. One of these days I intend to travel, and I am not dragging along a dull, stodgy companion who spoils my fun.”

“Interesting is one thing,” Charlotte sputtered. “But let me be clear when I say that Miss Gardner has spent more of her life in the rookeries than teaching the rules of deportment.”

“Yes, yes. One can hardly help noting her flaws. However, I shall soon be alone to contemplate my own deficits. Griffin will marry. By the grace of God, Edlyn shall, too. I would rather pass my final years in laughter than mourning the child and husband I have lost.”

Charlotte felt rather as if she were being trampled by a runaway cart horse. Not that one could compare Lady Powlis to-Perhaps she was worrying for nothing. Harriet felt at home in the academy. She and Charlotte had become close friends. It was Charlotte who had introduced Harriet to literature. It was Harriet who stayed up with her late at night, listening to the stories Charlotte wrote. Why would Harriet want to give up her safe shelter to work for a woman who would-treat her like the daughter she had lost?

Charlotte didn’t want to lose Harriet, either. Without Harriet, the academy would revert to the boring, disciplined institute it was meant to be.

But in the end, the choice would come to Harriet, and Charlotte could only be glad she was staring down into a teacup instead of a crystal ball.

Harriet could not believe what she had been asked. She stood in a daze, until Lady Powlis insisted she take a chair. Then she plopped down so ungracefully that Charlotte closed her eyes in mortification. “Sorry,” Harriet whispered, but what could one expect? It was a good thing she wasn’t a swooning sort of girl.

“It is a flattering offer, Lady Powlis,” she said when she regained her composure. “But there will be plenty of people who’ll think you’re off your head for taking me as your companion.”

Lady Powlis beamed as if she had just been afforded the highest compliment.

Charlotte’s lips thinned. A lady didn’t “go off her head.” Her “faculties abandoned her,” or some other such nonsense.

“We shall start with a period of trial employment to see if we suit,” Lady Powlis said, clearly having missed her calling as a lawyer. “A pity my nephew cannot do the same with the lady he must marry.”

And at that precise moment, the duke sauntered into the room, lithe, lean, and-startled when he realized he was not alone. He straightened his neckcloth, glancing around with a tight smile that hinted he knew something was in the air and that he might not want to be part of it. “I’m sorry. I must not-”

“Then you accept, dear,” Lady Powlis said, lifting her hand to indicate that the duke remain silent until Harriet gave her reply.

Charlotte came to her feet. “You should sleep on it, Harriet. This is a grave decision.”

“I require an answer now,” Lady Powlis said ruthlessly. “Or I shall take my offer elsewhere.”

The duke cast Harriet a half-pitying look. “I have no idea what she has offered you, but my instincts strongly suggest that you should refuse.”

Charlotte slipped around him to the door. “Your aunt wants to take Miss Gardner on as her companion. You will excuse me a moment, won’t you? If the girls have spotted your coach again, I shall never settle them down.”

Harriet stared across the room. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the duke after Charlotte’s announcement. At the least he hadn’t dropped in a shocked faint on the carpet. The very idea. Living under his roof. Bumping into each other on the stairs. Breathing the same air.

At length he sat down opposite his aunt. “Why don’t you give Miss Gardner time alone to make up her mind?” he suggested in a neutral voice.

“I believe that she and I were on the verge of sealing our arrangement when you interrupted,” she said crisply. “Weren’t we, Harriet?”

“You can refuse,” the duke said under his breath.

Harriet shook her head. “I can’t just walk out of here without saying good-bye to everyone-”

“We’ll be back and forth all the time to visit Edlyn,” Lady Powlis said airily.

“But I don’t have a decent frock-”

“I’ll have a dressmaker fit you for a new wardrobe by the end of the week,” Lady Powlis said, a Machiavellian gleam in her eye.

“But I-”

“Stop mumbling, dear. We shall worry about the particulars later. What do you need for the night? Whatever else can be sent for tomorrow.”

“Where are you going to put her?” Griffin asked suddenly.

“She can have the sarcophagus suite,” Lady Powlis replied.

Griffin sat forward. “The what?”

“It’s the stranger’s room, the one decorated à la Égyptienne, directly across from mine.”

The duke regarded Harriet with a smile more unsettling than anything he could have said.

She could hear Miss Peppertree calling the girls to close their books. “You mean leave this minute, ma’am?” she asked slowly. “Right in the middle of a lesson on garden parties, and-”

“You don’t have to agree,” the duke said again, his eyes narrowing.

What was she agreeing to?

The academy had become her haven. She felt safe here. How safe would she be in a sarcophagus with a young virile duke wandering about the place? She had gotten used to the lumps in her bed-she had gotten used to a bed.

The Boscastles had educated and protected her. The duke was a Boscastle, too. Still, there had been nothing protective about the dark kisses he had coaxed from her on the staircase.

She could not turn her back on the school.

On the other hand, she could not stay here forever, watching Miss Peppertree grow bonier and afraid of every duke who crossed her path.

“Are you positive you have the spine for this position, Miss Gardner?” the duke asked from his chair. “I’m putting my head on the block as I say this, but you should know that every companion my aunt has employed left her position within a month.”

“Fetch a bag, Miss Gardner,” Lady Powlis ordered her.

Harriet would never admit it, but she looked up to Charlotte as the sister she had always wished for. Why hadn’t Charlotte fought to keep her on, then? The Duchess of Scarfield ought to have a say in this, as well.

She could have cried.

She shook her head again. “I-”

“By this time next week,” Lady Powlis said with remorseless pleasure, “you will be attending a garden party. Assuming that Griffin doesn’t spoil the day by raising another of his storms.”

Harriet bolted from the room.

Charlotte was standing right outside the door. They stared at each other in wordless concern, then turned to listen to the conversation between Griffin and his aunt.

“This is the worst idea you’ve had in ages,” the duke said quietly. “Perhaps the worst one ever.”

“Do you have something against my companion, Griffin?”

“Don’t be silly. I do not even know her. Neither do you.”

“But don’t you like her?”

“What the devil difference does it make if I do? As I’m not hiring her to live with me, my feelings are not particularly relevant, are they?”

“Will she distract you?”

Charlotte put her hand over her eyes.

“Probably,” the duke replied in a clipped tone, “although not as much as you or Edlyn have.”

Charlotte groaned. Harriet patted her absent-mindedly on the arm.

Lady Powlis was quiet for a moment. “You have no particular wish to take me shopping for stockings and hats, do you?”

“Of course not,” he said annoyedly. “But there are other ladies in our family, in London, who would probably enjoy spending such moments with you.”

“Not ones who make me laugh.”

Harriet swallowed, pulling Charlotte from the door. “What should I do?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte whispered back. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to stay with you-”

“Then fine-”

“-and I want to go.”

She stared at the door.

With him.

Charlotte drew a sigh. “You can always come back. Unless something unpredictable comes to pass.”

Harriet hugged her in gratitude. She understood the unspoken conditions of her release. She could return to her position unless she disgraced herself or so displeased Lady Powlis that no one would consider her for any decent employment again.

“Go and get your things,” Charlotte said with a resigned smile. “At least if I am to lose you, it is to another Boscastle.”