The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (5 page)

“Are you going to be present for this parade?”

He shook his head slowly. “As much as I wish to wade in, it is far too much turbulence to the waters to have a man in the room. All jokes aside about changing my clothes for my betters, I’m afraid this is your cross to bear.”

“You wicked thing! I’m not facing this alone!”

“Of course not,” he said quickly, all reconciliation and sweetness as he took a seat next to her on the settee. “Send for reinforcements. Eleanor would glory in wading through it with you and she has the prim weapons of a crown princess when it comes to the sitting room.”

Caroline smiled. Eleanor Hastings was indeed a force for good and a staunch defender of the requirements of etiquette. She had married their friend Josiah who had become a renowned painter, a scandalous profession that his prim and proper wife loved him all the more for pursuing. “I’ll send her a note and then see if Lady Winters is in town to bring in the cavalry.”

“Or we can turn them all away from the door. Tell them you’re too unwell to accept visitors and—”

“No.” She cut him off firmly but softly. “I will not make more of it than I already have. Not showing up at our daughters’ debut is… People are already going to talk. I’ll not give them another excuse to gossip.”

“Very well, but I want you to rest before the onslaught of callers.”

“Stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.”

“Nor are you offering to throw yourself into the line of fire with teacups and sofas, Ashe Blackwell, so don’t make me throw this tray at you.”

“Perhaps I should be hoping for a long dry afternoon filled with dowagers.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “For the girls, that is.”

“What are you scheming over there?”

Ashe rewarded her with a wicked grin, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. “You never know what an encounter with a dowager dragon can do for a girl and perhaps dissuade them from the appeal of society altogether.”

Caroline looked up from the array of cards in front of her, immediately aware of where his thoughts had taken him. “Lady Fitzgerald was not a dragon and if she inspired anyone, I’d hazard it was you, my dearest.”

He bent over to trail kisses up the side of her neck. “I knew there was a reason I had a soft spot for sour-faced crones in feathered bonnets. Old Lady Fitzgerald made sure I took care of my Quaker and look what happiness followed!”

She leaned into his touch, the fiery pleasure at his attentions undiminished after almost twenty years of marriage. She blushed but had accepted that no matter how much time passed, her handsome rogue of a husband would always have the power to distract and seduce her at will.

“Ashe. The invitations. The cards. We must…strategize…and I have no head for this…social nonsense.”

“I love your American head for social nonsense. Forget the cards.”

It was easy to forget them.

He lifted her from her chair to carry her toward their bedroom, the cards left scattered on the table, some falling to the floor.

“Come and rest, my darling girl,” he whispered in her ear.

“What a waste of a morning, Mr. Blackwell. Did I not mention that I am feeling so much better?” Caroline nuzzled his neck, unwilling to resist the familiar magic between them, grateful for its hold on them both.

“Thank God,” Ashe sighed and kicked the bedroom door closed behind them.

“
P
arson
! I need you!” Scarlett hailed her adopted brother as he passed the twins’ open doorway.

He smiled at the use of their nickname for him. As toddlers, his full name, Paul Martin, had somehow gotten mixed up and from there it was only the lisp of the very young that would make the leap to “parson”. But the name had stuck and he had never complained of it. He was their contemporary in age with only a few months advantage and had long been included in their innermost circle since infancy.

He turned to head inside their room and immediately regretted it when he saw what Scarlett had in her hands.

“Just stand here, please. I am distraught over this blasted bow and I need to see it on someone to make a better try at it.”

Paul sighed. “I don’t think… Scarlett, no matter what you do, that bonnet is bound to look ridiculous on my head so how in the world does that help?”

Scarlett smiled and placed the feminine accessory on his head without hesitation. “I have a grand imagination, Parson.”

“You realize that as an identical twin, you have a living model just there that you can try bonnets on all day long and do so without making any leap of the imagination to picture it on your own head?”

“Shh! Stop moving so much, Parson. I don’t want to accidentally pierce you with a hatpin.” Scarlett’s concentration on the ribbon was such that Paul knew better than to argue. “Besides, Starr hates bonnets.”

“Yes, well…if it makes any difference, I am not a fan of them either,” Paul stated as he did his best not to shift his head.

Starr laughed over the top edge of her book from her window seat, giving him a mischievous look. “I’m afraid it makes no difference at all, dearest.”

He sighed and submitted, before trying to distract Scarlett with conversation. “How was it last night? The front bell has been ringing endlessly this morning and Mrs. Clark and the staff are having fits downstairs by all reports.”

Scarlett shrugged her shoulders, a blush touching her cheeks to foil the attempt at nonchalance. “It was very nice.”

“She danced with a duke.”

“What?” Paul forgot hatpins and turned toward Starr. “Did you say a duke?”

“Three times.” Starr confirmed cheerfully and then closed her book. “Three. Times.”

“Three is not entirely excessive and when you say it like that it sounds positively brazen,” Scarlett protested. “He was merely being kind.”

“Kind?” Paul’s eyes darkened with somber concern. “Kind is when someone returns a handkerchief you’ve dropped. I think three dances is something else.”

“Oh, Paul! Please don’t stare at me as if I’d announced I was eloping with a gypsy.” Scarlett reached over to take the bonnet off his head. “Dancing is the goal of a ball, is it not?”

“True. But what did Mrs. Blackwell say when she heard of it? Or Mr. Blackwell?”

“Parson,” Scarlett sighed. “One does not tell one’s parents of such things if there is truly nothing else to say.”

Paul had known her far too long to be put off. “Nothing else to say? About a duke? I thought they required a great deal of conversation. I mean that’s like saying you spoke to the queen and then dropping off all explanations. I think there’s a law against doing that, Scarlett.”

Scarlett crossed her arms defensively, unwittingly making a perfect impression of her father whenever he felt cornered. “What else would you like to know?”

“Which duke asked you to dance? How did it happen? And why aren’t you giddy about this? Why do you suddenly look so guilty?” he offered. “I’d start with those questions and be quite satisfied.”

“I do not look guilty! I am trying to be disciplined and alter the perception that I am a silly girl.”

“No one has that perception of you, Scarlett Blackwell. Stop trying to deflect the topic at hand,” Starr chimed in from her perch. “Answer Paul.”

Scarlett gave her twin a cutting look. “Whose side are you on?”

“Are there sides?” Starr asked innocently batting her eyelashes. “Oh, my.”

“Careful. I’ll tell Mother it was
you
who danced with the Duke of Chesterton and a simple case of mistaken identity and then whose side are you going to be on?”

Starr laughed. “I yield! I yield!”

“I was not a great social success but while I was lamenting in the conservatory that it should be against the law to set ones sights too high, the Duke of Chesterton came upon me and was very kind. He meant only to cheer me up and that is all,” Scarlett said then smiled. “Though the assumption of a romance doesn’t harm either of us and I’ve cheerfully agreed not to publicly correct anyone if they make such a leap of misguided logic.”

“Oh, dear.” Paul’s brow furrowed with concern. “If there’s a scheme, don’t say more. I want to be able to plead ignorance convincingly when I’m interrogated later.”

“You should come out with us, Paul. You can keep a brotherly eye out for trouble and I know your mother would love to see you in an evening coat.” Scarlett took his hands into hers. “You might even fall in love, Parson.”

“No, thank you. I’m about to start work with your father and I am in no position to pursue anyone. Besides, I’m trying to picture what young lady in society is going to delight in the attentions of the offspring of an East End firefighter and my imagination is coming up strangely empty-handed.” Paul laughed. “My time will come, Scarlett, but I’ve no desire to put one toe inside some overcrowded salon and run a gauntlet of gossips. I had my fill of my so-called betters at school and I do not wish to meet their sisters. I would rather be soundly beaten with clubs.”

“You sound like Starr. She deliberately lost her dance card to avoid the crush.”

“Which availed me nothing after Scarlett’s conquest. I was besieged with dance partners.” Starr pulled a face. “My feet may never recover.”

“Are you in love, Scarlett?” Paul asked. “With your duke?”

Starr sighed and spared her sister the effort to answer. “She is not. He was father’s age, though very nice. I thought him dashing but I don’t think he is what she was imagining for a beau.”

“Don’t be so unkind!” Scarlett picked up another bonnet, the distraction of ribbons and feathers useless in the moment. “Here, come put this one on and let’s see if we cannot salvage it before I am forced to just buy something new.”

“You are hardly in need of a new bonnet,” Starr said.

“Nonsense! A woman can never have too many.” Scarlett placed the piece on his head then tipped it to a saucy angle.

“Says who?” Starr asked.

“Says your father,” Paul supplied. “And well you both know it.”

Daisy, their mother’s lady’s maid, interrupted from the open doorway, “Poor Paul! Working for Mr. Blackwell as he does—I don’t think assisting you with millinery nonsense is part of his duties, you wicked girls!” Daisy gently nudged Scarlett aside and pulled the bonnet off his brown curls. “There you are. Dignity restored, young Master Paul.”

“Thank you, Daisy.”

“You mustn’t let them bully you into these things.”

“I don’t,” Paul replied. “Besides, what other man has such a vantage point into the mysteries of his sisters’ lives?”

“What other man has the patience?” Daisy countered, then smiled. “Mystery indeed! Well, your mother sent word that as you’ve recovered from your evening out, you’re to have luncheon in your room and then make sure you are pressed and polished to receive calls this afternoon. You must ring for Molly to help you dress and arrange your hair.”

“Do you think we’ll receive many calls, Daisy?” Scarlett asked quickly.

“A mountain of them, Miss Scarlett. Cards have been arriving since first light and…well, it’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

Starr slowly closed her book. “A mountain of calls? Oh, dear. Is there any chance you could tell mother that I was suddenly taken with a headache and cannot—”

“There is no chance of it and how can you even jest about abandoning me to all of this?” Scarlett playfully threw the bonnet in question at her sister. “I will never forgive you if you take to your bed, Starr Blackwell. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

Scarlett’s smile failed to fool anyone. She was as rattled by success as she’d been by the threat of failure and there was no remedy but experience.

Paul took her hand in his. “They are coming to pay their respects and make your better acquaintance. It’s not a firing squad, Scarlett. I promise.”

“Easy for you to say, Parson.” Scarlett leaned in and lowered her voice before she went on, “I fear it’s too late to take it all back.”

He nodded, his expression far too wise and sober for his years. “Just remember. That moment when fear tells us no, our greatest happiness may be a single brave breath away.”

“Or our doom,” she whispered.

“Yes, but who’s to say that either wouldn’t be an improvement to decorating bonnets and hiding in your room for the rest of your life?”

“You make a good point, Parson.”

Paul smiled. “I always try.”

“I wanted so much to fit in and to be…a success. I was going to find the man of my dreams. But I think I should have been wiser to set my sights on something easier.”

“Easier?” he asked.

“I should have applied myself to flying to the moon or discovering the alchemist’s formula for creating gold, shouldn’t I?” Scarlett’s voice fell to a whisper, all her bravado fading on a shaky breath. “I overstepped, Parson.”

“It isn’t possible, Lettie.” It was his turn to use her special secret name and evoke nurseries and the sanctuary that only family could offer. Only the twins and Paul knew their names for each other, Lettie and Tara, and the magic worked to calm her. “You have the world on a kite’s tail and all you have to do is reel it in.”

“All I have to do is reel it in,” she repeated then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Who needs bonnets for that?”