The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (10 page)

“Parson?” Talon asked.

“It is our pet name for Paul, from nursery days, and we have refused to let the tradition die.” Scarlett’s humor was restored. “In the Blackwell house, we are renowned for never letting go of the silly rituals that make us happy.”

“I am curious then. What other rituals might you have? Mr. Martin, if you would enlighten me, I would be grateful.”

Paul nodded. “Let me try. I’ll see if I can give you a few examples without betraying too much. On birthdays, we have picnics on the floor of the person’s favorite room in the house which means an annual feast in Scarlett’s nomadic choice as her favorite changes each and every year.”

“In my defense, I thought the year in the attic was the best,” Scarlett said brightly.

“But what of Starr’s choice?” Talon asked.

“We have a second picnic for dessert and it is always in the library,” Starr replied. “I am not left out at all and I feel I should quickly say that the year in the attic we were eight and going through a very imaginative phase.”

“I
knew
it was haunted and we didn’t want to leave the ghosts out of the fun.” Scarlett stated her case very matter-of-factly. “Paul was the sweetest though. He would have us in the servant’s hall because he didn’t wish anyone to have to climb the stairs with trays on his behalf.”

“Your family…eats below stairs on your birthday?” Talon asked cautiously.

Paul looked at him very directly. “Not since I was ten but I have never forgotten the courtesy and incredible generosity of Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell at that table in their finest evening clothes. Mrs. Blackwell has the heart of an angel and I am humbled to be in her sphere.”

“There can be no higher praise. I did not mean to sound as if I disapproved. I was—forbidden to put one foot across the threshold that led below stairs when I was a boy. I was merely amazed.”

Paul accepted the sincere regret in the duke’s voice. It was, after all, unprecedented to mix the classes under one’s roof. But for the Blackwells, it worked. The loyalty of the staff was immeasurable and the softening of the rules had not led to anarchy but to a broader sense of security and well-being for its inhabitants.

“Any other secret rituals?”

Scarlett touched Paul’s arm and shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t! Secrets must be earned, Your Grace. You’ll just have to trust that ours are entirely benign, begin and end with laughter and are
not
to be examined too closely in the harsh light of day.”

“Then they are the best kind of secrets, Miss Blackwell.”

“Did your family have any fun or unusual practices?” Starr asked gently. “Or are we the only ones in England to make fools of ourselves behind closed doors?”

Talon’s demeanor changed, the light in his eyes shuttered a bit as he seemed to consider the question as seriously as if he’d been asked about the state of legislation for child welfare in factories. “No. I am sure you are not but…I cannot recall any amusing stories to share at the moment and fear it will only cement Miss Blackwell’s poor impressions of me.”

“Scarlett has a high opinion of you, I am sure,” Starr said quickly then realized that Scarlett was very carefully studying the handle in her parasol.

“Is it true that your mother founded a woman’s college?” Talon asked Starr. “What is the curriculum?”

Paul smiled. Here was a topic that his sister had no shortage of enthusiasm and joy in, he only hoped the duke was ready for the floodgates of information he had just opened.

“Bellewood is an outstanding school where women can find a broad education, no matter their station. If they are clever and adept at academics, we turn no one away. Uncle Darius, that is Sir Darius Thorne is the Dean of the College and was educated at Oxford. He’s a brilliant man and shares Mother’s vision for women in the modern world.”

“And what is that vision for a modern woman?” he asked directly.

“To be accepted as equals and respected for our contributions. A woman’s interests should lead her to any profession she desires and when there are no barriers, it is our belief that only then will the human race reach its full potential when all members of society can add their gifts and talents and put forward their best efforts to help us all.” Starr was warm to her speech’s aims. “When men are not distracted with the wasted energies of oppression, I imagine that nothing will be beyond their reach—perhaps not even the stars.”

“My God, you do not have small dreams, Miss Starr,” Stafford exclaimed softly.

“I’m afraid His Grace does not endorse a broad education for women, dear sister. We must not press him on this matter.”

“Oh,” Starr’s disappointment was palpable. “I see.”

“It is true that your sister and I did not see eye to eye on the topic at Pellham’s but I am interested to learn more and have decided to hold judgment. Surely an open-mind attitude and a willingness to hear the other side of an argument out completely counts in my favor?”

“It is the most to be hoped for,” Paul said firmly. “Better a lively debate than a premature leap to conclusions.”

Scarlett looked back at Stafford. “Truly?”

“I promised to always speak honestly to you and I always keep my word, Miss Blackwell.”

“You are reconsidering the idea?” Scarlett stopped walking. “That overly educating a woman is misguided?”

Starr gasped, more at the notion that Stafford would ever have believed such a thing than at the directness of her sister’s question. Paul watched the interplay between them and wondered if the Duke of Stafford knew what he was doing. Provoking the twins about women’s rights to education was like screaming and waving one’s arms in front of a bear.

“I am.” Stafford held his ground. “I am reconsidering the idea.”

“Is it difficult, Your Grace?”

“It is the hardest thing I can recall doing. Usually when I think I know something, I don’t revisit it at the first sign of an opposing opinion. But you, Miss Blackwell, have inspired me to overcome my habits and at least, to look again. Behold, I am a changed man.”

Scarlett smiled. “How flattering! I have influenced a duke of the realm?”

“Very much so,” he said calmly. “Perhaps a modern woman could do more than even she thought possible.”

“By winning you?” Scarlett teased then heard her own words and blushed. “I meant—winning you over to my side of the argument.”

“Yes.” Stafford’s look was not ambivalent. He was a man enthralled.

Paul pulled out his pocket watch as an overt excuse, sure that any chaperone worth his salt would have done the same. “Oh, dear. The time! Lady Winters will want to see you before she departs and…you’ll need to rest and change before dinner.”

Scarlett’s look was comical, as if she were more than a little tempted to stamp her foot and protest the suggestion openly, but reason prevailed. “Duty calls, Your Grace.”

“When you say it, why does it sound so pleasant?” he asked. “Yes, duty calls us all.” He stepped back to let them go. “I hope we meet again soon.”

Paul guided the ladies to retrace their steps and leave Stafford to the peace of the park and his stroll but about thirty paces from him, Starr spoke to her sister. “Lettie. May I speak to him to alone for just a moment?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not sure that’s…necessary.” Paul tried to protest but there was nothing to be done. Scarlett linked her arm with his and pulled him back onto the path away from the duke.

“She’s going to tell him about Bellewood until his ears bleed, Parson. It cannot be helped and if he survives it, then I think I may like him all the more.”

“
Y
our Grace
?”

Stafford pivoted to realize that Starr had doubled back to address him alone. From what little he knew of her, it was out of character for her to be so bold—after all, this was the girl who had fled for a parasol when he’d come to call. “Miss Starr, what may I do for you?”

“I am—Scarlett will assume I am scolding you about women’s rights but…”

“Yes?”

“If you are toying with Scarlett for some reason, flirting or…if your intentions are not honorable, then out of your friendship for the Duke of Chesterton, if no other reason will strike a chord with your conscience, I am asking you to leave her alone.”

“You support Chesterton’s suit?”

She shook her head slowly. “It is not my place to say. I want only her happiness and my sister does nothing in half measures.”

“Nor do I.” Talon shifted on his feet, wary of the study she was making of him. “I have no intention of hurting your sister.”

She gave him a look that made it clear she wasn’t convinced. “You are precisely the sort of man who says ridiculous things like that and…” She shook her head. “No, you would never intentionally break a woman’s heart, is that what you meant to swear? And if I made inquiries? Would it be hard for me to find a broken heart in your wake, sir? Or would it be the shortest quest of all time?”

He blinked. “You would find none that I am aware of. I am not in control of every woman’s heart. If they lose it or throw it away without my encouragement, am I to be truly responsible?” It was a weak and foolish argument but he didn’t have much to stand on. He had not indulged in an overly wicked youth but he suddenly worried that his lack of indulgences might now work against him.
How many women have I blindly slighted by avoiding entanglements? God knows…

Starr brushed off her skirts and gave him a look generally reserved for rodents crossing a kitchen floor. “No. You’re right of course, Your Grace. Why would I expect a man to be responsible…for anything?”

“That is unfair, Miss Starr. You are too quick to judge me. Make inquiries, if you must. Ask of Chesterton while you’re at it. But do not mistake my honesty for an unsavory confession. Surely an educated woman can apply better logic, could she not?”

She tipped her head to one side, her expression growing more thoughtful and soft. “We shall see.” She walked away, the mirror of Scarlett but somehow in his eyes, so very different.

He sighed. Twins. Twice the beauty and twice the pain.

But Scarlett.

Scarlett was unique—a unique threat to the careful balance of his world and now his own peace of mind. He watched them from a distance as Starr reached them and they all turned to go. He watched until her parasol disappeared from view and even then he stood like a statue in Regents Park pondering if any man had endured as much for the pleasure of losing arguments.

She has never been kissed. I would stake my soul on it. And now the notion of any other man living being the one to kiss Scarlett Blackwell first…I am inspired to violence. It’s ridiculous!

But still he stood until only the memory of Scarlett in a pink afternoon frock with a matching parasol remained.

And it was enough to sustain him.

A
t a garden party
the next day, Scarlett was accompanied by Lady Winters while Starr had pled a headache to stay home. Scarlett suspected that it was more of a theatrical claim than a genuine illness but she understood the impulse to withdraw. She had said nothing of her private conversation with Stafford but Scarlett trusted her completely. If there had been a revelation, Tara would have admitted it. No doubt, their debate had ended in a draw.

But today, today she would be on her own and it was liberating.

On her own without a duke in sight.

It was meant to be bliss but she found herself scanning the guests across the lawn seeking a familiar form, eager for the next conversation with Stafford if only to prove that she had completely regained control of her senses.

“Galen made inquiries and the Duke of Chesterton indicated to the hostess that he would not be in attendance,” Lady Winters supplied as if guessing the direction of her charge’s thoughts if not the actual target of them.

Scarlett smiled politely. “I did not expect him to be here.”

“No, but others may press you on the subject and I wished you to feel well-armed.” Haley walked next to her as they explored the extensive gardens of Lord Amersham. “Scarlett, as someone close to your family and to you, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all.”

“Are you fond of the Duke of Chesterton? I mean to say, truly fond?”

Scarlett did her best to keep her voice steady. “He has quickly become a good friend to me.”

“I see,” Lady Winters replied. “There is often pressure on a young woman that has all to do with a man’s title or what could be gained in matches, pressure to ignore her personal feelings against practical matters. I know your parents have never done so but if you’ve taken it into your head to… The prestige and stifling responsibilities that would come with it are not to be taken lightly and an older husband can shorten your own youth as you become more of a caregiver than a true partner as time goes on.”

“Aunt Haley!” Scarlett exclaimed in shock. “Chesterton is not a dottering old man lecherously chasing me about! Do not be so mean, I beg you.”

“I am not being cold or mean, Scarlett. I’m trying to simply…ensure that you have thought it all the way through. He is not ancient but in ten or twenty years when you are still vibrant and full of life, the difference between your ages will be—far more stark than it is today.”

Scarlett took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Please. At every turn, there is someone to tell me how ridiculous it is that he would even consider me, or someone to accuse me of scheming for his title, or better yet, pretending to be thrilled at my good fortune while watching closely for my downfall. I need you to trust me. I need you to simply hope for my happiness and know that I would never advance myself at the expense of another person—not even a duke.”

“
O
f course you wouldn’t
. I’m sorry I—I should not have doubted it for a moment.”

They came across a stone bench next to a manmade stream and miniature waterfall. They sat in the sunshine absorbing the warmth of another bright spring day. Scarlett tipped her head back so that her bonnet revealed her face to the sky.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Scarlett said softly. “Doubts are like echoes. They are repeated back to me over and over but it is nothing I didn’t say to myself first.”

“I’m a bit warm. I’ll go collect us each a glass of lemonade. Do you mind sitting by yourself for a few minutes?” Lady Winters asked as she stood.

“Not at all. It is a luxury I seldom have the chance to enjoy.”

Scarlett leaned back and closed her eyes, savoring the solitude and doing her best to think of anything but Chesterton and even less so about Stafford. The latter was particularly challenging. For all of Lady Winters questions, she had been asking about the wrong duke. Talon Rush was much harder to deny.

Wicked thing. I must stop wishing that he had been the one in the conservatory at Aldridge’s, stop wishing he looked more like Mr. Feltzer so that I wouldn’t feel so giddy every time he pops up and stop trying to pick fights with him. If he gets any more skilled at apologizing, I think I’m lost.

“Miss Blackwell?”

No, it simply isn’t possible.

She opened her eyes slowly. “How do you manage it?”

“Manage what?” Talon asked.

“To appear every time I think of you, or rather, every time I try
not
to think of you.”

“Why are you trying not to think of me?”

“Well,” she sat up primly before she continued her answer. “Since it is my understanding that dukes are showered with attention in their every waking moment, I am sure it is important if at least one person in the realm makes an effort not to think of you too much. It is my Christian duty to keep you humble.”

“A sacred charge,” he said with a solemn nod. “I can respect that.”

“How is it that you are here, Your Grace? Have you bribed my maid for a copy of my social calendar?”

He smiled. “No. Only Chesterton’s valet for his appointment book.”

“He is here?”

“No. He sent a note to advise me that he wasn’t feeling well and had made his apologies to the hostess. So, naturally, I thought to step in and see if you would still be in attendance…”

“You admit it? You are shadowing me, Your Grace?” Scarlett looked up at him in amazement. “If you were hoping for another argument about my ability to speak Latin, French, Italian and Russian, I would rather not.”

“You really speak Russian?”

“You don’t?”

Talon laughed. “My God, may I sit down?”

“Only if you promise it’s not to fight.”

“No fights today.” He took a seat next to her a respectable distance at the opposite end of the bench. “You look lovely in green, Miss Blackwell.”

She blushed as she realized that he had told her it was his favorite color. “Thank you.”

“Are you enjoying the party? I was told that there will be a quartet playing soon to liven things up.”

“It is a garden. Is it supposed to be lively?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, but don’t tell Amersham. He’s been known to hire jugglers and clowns so this was a much more tasteful option and I was quite relieved to hear of it.”

“I like jugglers,” she said pertly.

“What a confession to make!” Talon looked at her in mock horror. “Wait until the gossips get wind of it!”

“Oh, my secret is safe with you.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, yes,” Scarlett said with a mischievous smile. “For if you threaten to expose me, I shall have no choice but to share your penchant for romantic trifles with the world at large.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have given myself away so quickly. Though I could still plausibly deny it.”

“No. For you promised to always be honest with me and if you denied it, then that would mean you’d gone back on your word. Your honor would be forfeit, Your Grace.”

“My goodness, I am once again outmatched—and without a fight!”

Scarlett felt a surge of giddy pleasure at this new experience. The Duke of Stafford with his guard down, sitting with her and conversing more easily than they ever had. This version of him was irresistible and for the first time, that realization didn’t bring down a cascade of nerves and anxiety. She was happy in his presence—just happy. She wasn’t censoring her speech or concerned about offending him. It was ridiculous but she didn’t want it to end.

Enemy or ally, I don’t care anymore. He is…intoxicating to be with.

“So you’ll keep my secrets?”

“I will. And not just because you’re blackmailing me, Miss Blackwell.”

“I find that extremely reassuring, Your Grace.”

“Have you ever been kissed, Miss Blackwell?”

“What?” She stiffened as if a gun had gone off in their proximity.

“I apologize. I misspoke. It was a wayward thought that escaped my mouth before I... Damn it! I meant to prove to you that I could behave without reproach without any effort and apparently when I am not making an effort in your presence, I don’t behave well at all.”

Scarlett touched her lips with her fingertips, nervously trying not to laugh. “Such language!” At that, she began to giggle. “Oh, dear, I sounded like my mother just then when my father speaks without caution.”

“You are laughing at me.”

“
With
you.
Near
you. It is much kinder.”

His gaze narrowed and he shifted to move just a few inches nearer on the bench. It was not a vast change but Scarlett could have sworn the sun’s rays intensified as a new heat uncurled down her spine.

“Answer me then.”

“No. I have never been kissed.”

“You speak so directly, Miss Blackwell. May I speak plainly as well?”

“Speak as plainly as you wish to me, Your Grace. I will not cry off.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am resolute.”

“Then I will tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you. This all started so stupidly. Chesterton is my closest friend in the world and I was so sure that I was the best judge of what woman would be his match and so arrogantly confident that I could discern for him…that I could dissuade…I don’t even remember what I was doing.”

Scarlett nodded. “You were very intimidating, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “You did intend that as a compliment, didn’t you?”

“If it pleases you, yes. Though I will say I’m still very proud of myself for not kicking you in the shins.”

“Miss Blackwell.”

“Yes?”

“This is the strangest exchange I have ever had with a woman.”

“Your final verdict then?”

“I think if I don’t kiss you very soon, I shall go mad.”

“Oh!” Her breath caught in her throat. “I am not sure I can have you in Bedlam…my conscience wouldn’t allow it,” she whispered.

Scarlett couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her own heart. In the novels, women were swept up in crushing embraces and she told herself not to flinch if he lunged for her—but Stafford made no such aggressive movement. Instead it was like a slow dance. He leaned in as if each inch that disappeared between them was a physical barrier to fade at her will alone. She had endless seconds to tell him no, to demur from his intentions, to turn away. But Scarlett didn’t stop him. Instead she listened to the rising chorus from inside her that clamored for his touch. She tipped her face up and when his lips met hers, it was the most tender and reverent contact she could have imagined. He only grazed her flesh at first, his lips like warm silk over hers and then she lost all sense of things. She was in his arms, and he was tasting her and she was eagerly mirroring his every move. It was thrilling and odd and fabulous to surrender to all of it. Molly had once called it ‘mashing’ but she didn’t feel bruised or overcome. She felt worshipped and on fire and—

Footsteps on the gravel path warned of someone coming and he released her instantly, both of them breathing raggedly as if from a sprint.

“Damn it,” he whispered.

“Lady Winters…lemonade….” She managed and shifted back guiltily, looking up to see that it was
not
Lady Winters but Dr. Rowan West approaching them holding two glasses of iced lemonade.

Talon was on his feet and Scarlett noted the way his jaw tightened in his misery.

“Uncle Rowan,” Scarlett spoke first, praying that calm would prevail. “May I introduce you to the Duke of Stafford? This is Dr. Rowan West, Father’s best friend and my godfather.”

“Your Grace.” Rowan came closer, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. “Lemonade?”

“Lady Winters was…did she send you in her stead?” Scarlett asked as she took one of the glasses from his hand. “How kind of you, Uncle Rowan.”

Rowan set the second glass down on the bench. “It was the least I could do. All these tall hedges and…lovely private paths. I was worried she’d lose her way back to find you and naturally, offered to do what I could.”

It was an awkward silence like no other and Scarlett’s knees began to feel like rubber.
Oh, God, if he saw us—if he tells Father—it’s scandal—it’s ruin…

Rowan cleared his throat. “So, you are the Duke of Stafford.”

“I am none other.” Talon straightened his waistcoat.

“I confess I was disappointed when Starr shared her understanding of your opinions of the feminine mind. My own wife is as talented a healer as any licensed physician in my profession. I do hope you’ll reconsider.”

“I already have and am somewhat reformed thanks to Miss Blackwell.”

“Good. It did not seem in character that you would not be. After all, you have such a good reputation for charitable works and a concern for others, it didn’t seem to suit your character to disregard the rights of so many.”

“Charitable works?” Scarlett asked.

“The Duke of Stafford is one of the largest benefactors to the London hospital in the East End as well as his remarkable support of—”

“Those are anonymous gifts and I would rather not have it known, Dr. West, of my efforts to assist those less fortunate than myself. The choice is not always politically appreciated amidst my peers, sir.”

“I apologize. I will never mention it again.” Rowan took a deep breath. “Even so, I need to escort my goddaughter back to the party. The musicians are set to perform and her absence will be noted.”

“Of course. I would never keep her from…her obligations.” Stafford looked to Scarlett, an unspoken apology in his eyes. “Good day to you, Miss Blackwell.”

“Good day, Your Grace.” She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else. Rowan West was too keen an observer to miss anything and if she crumbled now there would be no escape.

She took the doctor’s offered arm and left, stealing only one quick look back at the handsome Duke of Stafford sitting alone, his expression like a man struck by lightning, next to a forgotten glass of lemonade.

“
S
carlett Blackwell
,” Rowan said calmly as they walked toward Amersham’s house. “Is there anything I should know?”