A Duke to Die for: The Rogues' Dynasty (8 page)

“I’m sure you will get a flurry of invitations once I let it be known you are Blakewell’s charge. Of course, I’ll select only the choicest of dinner parties and balls for you to attend and, at first, perhaps we’ll only go to one party each night to keep the mystery surrounding you for as long as we can. I’ll be very careful whom I ask to get you vouchers for Almack’s where, as you probably know, only the most worthy of Society are admitted. Well, the list goes on, but enough of that for now.”

Yes, please no more, Henrietta wanted to whimper.

Her head was spinning. This lady wasn’t like any chaperone Henrietta had ever met. Constance was like a general in the Prince Regent’s army. She could have single-handedly defeated Napoleon’s army, had he not already met his fate at Waterloo.

“We will get along very well, Henrietta, if you follow my instructions. It is my job to see that you make the best impression possible at all our engagements. You will meet some of the most handsome and wealthiest gentlemen in London. You might even catch the eye of a titled man. By now, some will have made a match as the Season is under way, but I’m sure we’ll find you one that suits.”

Henrietta tuned Constance out. Hearing once again that the Season was under way and some gentlemen already betrothed gave Henrietta a glimmer of hope. If Blakewell kept to his promise that she had to approve any gentleman who showed her interest, she could rebuff them all and hopefully have until next Season to get used to the idea of a husband.

Since Lord Palmer’s death a few weeks ago, only one thing had been on her mind: talking her new guardian into signing over her inheritance.

Constance was still chatting when Peggy walked into the room carrying a tray with Henrietta’s toast and warm chocolate. Peggy’s eyes grew wide with shock as she looked at the clothes scattered across the floor and bed.

“At last, your breakfast has finally arrived,” Constance said. “Good. It’s half past noon. I’m going to leave you to eat and get dressed. I don’t mean to rush you, Henrietta, but we don’t have time to waste. I’ll be downstairs in the drawing room waiting for you.”

Constance walked over to the pile of clothing on the bed and picked through it, finally pulling a light gray morning dress trimmed with silvery-blue lace from the heap and laying it aside.

“Wear this. It’s not your best color, but it should do for today,” she said to Henrietta, turning to walk out with a flourish of rose-colored skirts swishing.

Peggy put the tray on a chest and her hands on her hips as she surveyed the scattered clothing.

“Who is that lady, Miss Henri, and what have you done to your clothes?”

“That was Mrs. Constance Pepperfield, my newly acquired chaperone.”

“Harrumph,” Peggy said. “What do you need her for? You have me.”

“I’m afraid she’s His Grace’s addition for me. Don’t pout, Peggy. She will not take your place, I assure you; your employment is secure.”

“She came into the kitchen this morning and ordered me around like I worked for her instead of you. I told her you didn’t like to be disturbed this early in the day, but she insisted I bring up your tray.”

“It’s all right, Peggy. I don’t think anyone can stop Mrs. Pepperfield once she’s made her mind up.”

“Why did you take out all your clothes? Didn’t you like the way I put them away for you?”

“Don’t be a ninny. Of course I did. You did a superb job as always. I’m afraid this chaos was made by the General—I mean, Mrs. Pepperfield.”

“What did you say to her to make her so mad that she did all this?”

Henrietta looked again at the gloves, capes, and gowns strung across the floor from the wardrobe to the bed, and she smiled. “She didn’t do it in anger, Peggy. Constance claims my clothing is not good enough for London Society, and she is going to see to it that I get all new clothes.”

Peggy’s eyes grew wide once again. “You best be careful around her, Miss Henri. It looks to me like this lady has a mean temperament.”

“She’s not mean.” Henrietta laughed. “She’s just firm and thorough. And for now I have no choice but to do as she commands. Now, I’d best have my chocolate while it’s hot and get dressed before she comes looking for me.”

“We sure don’t want that,” Peggy said and started picking up the clothing. “That woman has no respect for a person’s property.”

Henrietta rushed through her breakfast and then dressed in the morning dress Constance had picked out for her. It wasn’t her best dress, and Constance was right, it wasn’t her best color, but Henrietta didn’t think what she wore would matter much today since she was being fitted for a whole new wardrobe.

The vestibule was empty when she reached the bottom of the stairs, and the house was quiet except for the muffled sound of voices coming from a doorway farther down the corridor. Henrietta peeked into the drawing room, but Constance wasn’t there. She looked down the corridor again and realized that the doorway was the entrance to Blakewell’s book room. Not wanting to disturb him, should it not be Constance in conversation with him, she softly tiptoed closer to the open door and listened for a moment.

“I hope that Henrietta will be prompt and I won’t have time for refreshment, Blake,” Constance said, “But thank you for offering. She and I have a lot to accomplish today and a very short time in which to do it. Here is a list of everything I need from you.”

Henrietta heard the rustle of paper.

“I need accounts set up in her name at the shops listed at the bottom of the list. She’ll also need an expensive, yet not too fancy, carriage with four well-schooled bays. The driver and footman should be even-tempered, their livery dashing, and, of course, they should be dedicated only to Miss Tweed.”

Henrietta almost gasped out loud. She took a soft step back, reeling from the things Constance was asking for. A carriage with four horses, plus a driver and a footman?

“All that seems fair enough; I’ll see to it,” the duke replied.

“And it will need to be done today, Blake. You mustn’t tarry about this if you expect her to be at her first party by the end of next week.”

“I understand, and I’ll get it done.”

It shouldn’t have shocked Henrietta to hear that Constance knew Blakewell well enough to know he liked to put off doing things, and with any luck, that might work to her advantage when he was looking for a husband for her.

“I don’t mind telling you that the price will be high to get her properly betrothed before this Season is out. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all, spend whatever you need. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not taking proper care of her.”

“Splendid. I’ll expect you to be at every party we attend.”

Henrietta heard a chair squeak. “Is that really necessary?”

“Absolutely, you should have the first dance with her at whichever party we decide she should make her debut. Her suitors must know that she not only has your protection and guidance, but also your affection. You will need to treat her as if she were your very own daughter. This will show everyone that you won’t tolerate anyone bringing the least bit of scandal to her reputation. You must work with me on this if you want her suitably betrothed by the end of the Season.”

Betrothed by the end of the Season? That was mere weeks away. That sent a shock of reality through Henrietta.

As far as Henrietta was concerned, the only good thing about having a husband was that she would finally have a home of her own. She wouldn’t be uprooted every couple of years and sent to yet another town, another house, another guardian. But being a wife was not something she’d ever had reason to give much consideration. None of her other guardians had ever suggested that she needed to marry.

“Now, are we set on everything?” Constance asked.

“Completely.”

“Good.” She sighed. “You know, Blake, I’ve never been a chaperone to anyone, but since you visited me the other night and gave me some time to think about the idea, I decided I would like to do it. It will give me something to do rather than just attend the Season’s parties looking for a match of my own.”

“You, Constance, looking for a match? I thought you were enjoying your freedom and your pleasure as a young and wealthy widow.”

Henrietta heard a soft, feminine laugh.

“I do. I have. And I will. It does have its advantages, as you know only too well. But sometimes I think it would be nice to have a husband once again to share things with. Though I would want a much younger husband than my last, God rest his soul.”

“Constance, you are beautiful and intelligent. You could marry any man you wanted. I know of several worthy men who would offer for your hand, if you would give them the least sign you are ready to be courted.”

“Perhaps next year.”

Henrietta felt uncomfortable listening to this private conversation. When they were discussing her, she felt justified in listening, but not now. She slowly backed away from the door toward the drawing room.

She studied about what she should do. She could wait in the drawing room until Constance and His Grace finished their dialogue and Constance came looking for her, or she could go back to the book room and let Constance know she was ready to start their day.

Without further thought, Henrietta started down the corridor at a brisk pace and walked to the doorway and knocked. She looked over at the duke, who was sitting behind his desk, and her heart fluttered deliciously. He was so handsome with his light brown hair and brownish-gray eyes, chiseled features, and broad shoulders hidden beneath his crisp white shirt, beautifully tied neckcloth and dark expensive coat, that she almost forgot what she was saying.

Almost.

She hadn’t seen him since the night he had caught her sitting at his desk.

She smiled confidently at them, though she’d never met two more intimidating people in her entire life. “I thought I heard voices in here. Good morning, Your Grace. Good morning once again, Constance. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The duke rose immediately and said, “Good morning, Miss Tweed. Have you been enjoying your stay?”

“Very much, thank you.”

Constance stood up, too. “Henrietta, I’m glad it didn’t take you long to dress and come down.” She turned to Blakewell. “I trust you will take care of the things I requested earlier without delay.”

“It will all be arranged within the hour, Constance.”

She gave a satisfied sigh. “Good. We’ll be off then. Come along, Henrietta.”

“Ah, one moment, Constance,” the duke said. “I’d like a word alone with Miss Tweed before you go, if you don’t mind.”

Surprised, Henrietta looked from the duke to Constance. It was clear by the tight expression on her face that Constance had not expected Blakewell to want to speak to Henrietta alone, either.

“Certainly, Your Grace, I’ll get my cape and gloves and be putting on my bonnet. I’ll wait for her by the front door.”

Constance left without further words or glances at Henrietta or the duke.

Blakewell moved from behind his desk and stood very close to Henrietta. He had a commanding presence that she had never sensed in any other man. Despite her efforts to stay calm, her breaths grew shallow, her heartbeat raced, and a fluttering filled her stomach. No other man had ever made her feel this way and she was baffled, yet intrigued, by all these new feelings.

He looked down into her eyes and, with a slight smile, asked, “Were you really sorry for interrupting us?”

“Of course, I—”

Suddenly the tips of his fingers landed on her lips. Henrietta froze. An unexpected thrill of desire flared through her, heating her cheeks and radiating through her entire body. The gentleness of his caress was soothing when it should have been egregiously shocking.

“Remember, we discovered that you are not very good at denying the truth, didn’t we?”

His fingertips slowly, gently, outlined her lips as he talked, and his gaze stayed on her face. Unable to speak for the feel of his skin on hers, Henrietta nodded.

Of course she remembered telling him that she hadn’t been tempted to read his letter when, indeed, she had been extremely tempted.

“You were very quiet, but I knew you were there.”

His fingers left her lips and he cupped her chin, tilting her face toward his. She smelled the scent of shaving soap on his warm hand. She looked into his calming eyes, her labored breathing eased, and her shoulders relaxed. There was something strangely comforting about being this close to him.

“How did you know I was there?”

He let his thumb rake across her lips again before removing his hand and taking a reluctant step away from her. “I wouldn’t be a good master of this house if I didn’t know what goes on inside it, now would I?”

She shook her head and let out a deep breath. “I should have known you would know I was there, no matter how quiet I was.”

“I wanted to thank you for reorganizing my desk and arranging my correspondence.”

“Does that mean you’re no longer angry with me for my presumption?”

He chuckled as his gaze took a sweeping glance down her face before racing back up to settle on her eyes. “No, I’m not angry. In fact, I’ve found it quite easy to sit down at my desk over the past couple of days and do the work I’ve needed to get done for quite some time.”