The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior (24 page)

“Tell me about your life.” She clasped her hands in her lap so she would be less tempted to touch him. “I know so little about you.” That he'd spoken aloud anyway.

“You know who I am.” He spoke in a low voice, a tone that resonated on her skin, to her bones, and within to her heart. “You know me.”

It made her ache. It made her want to reach over and take his face in her hands and kiss him, show him with her actions just how she felt about him.

But she couldn't.

“My parents—well, my parents were not all that enthusiastic, I think, about having children at all, much less two boys. My brother was the older one, you see, and he was just like my father. At least in the ways my father thought were important. He
was athletic, and stubborn, and proud, and took a dim view of people whom he thought were lower than him.” A pause as he drew a breath. “And he thought I was one of those people.”

Athletic, stubborn, proud? It sounded as though they had had plenty in common. But Lily did not point that out.

“And so my parents gave what little parental attention they had to Joseph. I was sent to school at an early age, and when I was home, I spent more time with the servants than with my family. I learned that if there was something I wanted, I was going to have to get it myself.”

That explained a lot.

“And your brother?”

She felt Marcus's shoulders heave in a sigh. “It was only during the last year of his life that he was even the duke's heir in the first place. The previous Duke of Rutherford was childless, and had brothers who had children. No one expected that Joseph would be the one next in line for the dukedom. And then he died.”

“So you were not raised to be a duke.” He'd said that before, but she hadn't realized just how distant the likelihood was.

“Not at all. I was raised to be a gentleman, I suppose. But that was it. My father entrusted all his affairs to an estate manager, and then my brother. I was told to go away whenever I offered to help.”

“That must have hurt.”

He shrugged. A gesture that meant myriad things, just like his raised eyebrows did. Now
it seemed to Lily it was a rebuttal of the pain he felt, that he still felt, at being cast out for no other reason than his parents' carelessness.

“I survived. And I did not suffer; my father was wealthy, I had the best schooling, I never had to worry about where my next meal might come from. Not like some people.”

Not like me, Lily thought.

“Joseph was a fool.” He snorted, a noise devoid of humor. “He became the duke's heir, and suddenly he thought he was invincible. Our parents had died by then, and he had no one but his younger unwished-for brother to try to talk him out of doing the foolish things he embarked upon. I warned him that the horse he bought was far too wild to ride, at least not without proper training, but he mocked me for being a coward.”

The children's laughter drifted over to them, and Lily felt her heart warm at the sound. What he was describing was his past, not his future. Rose was his future, and he was ensuring his future was well taken care of.

“Joseph took Darkness out after he'd had too much to drink. He tried to jump a fence and was thrown. He was killed instantly. We had to put Darkness down, too.”

She glanced around, not seeing anyone nearby, and took his hand. “I am so sorry.”

He squeezed her hand. “It wasn't as though we were close. He was as indifferent to me as our parents were.” It sounded as though he was trying to be nonchalant, as though it didn't matter, which just made Lily ache for him more.

“He was your family. Of course it is going to affect you.”

“My family,” he said in a musing tone of voice. “I have never felt as though I had any family. Not until now, with Rose.”

A pause, as Lily wondered if he was going to add
and you
. She was both relieved and disappointed that he didn't.

“What was Rose's mother like? She hasn't talked about her much, except to say she worked in a pub.”

Marcus removed his hand from hers and crossed his arms over his chest. “She was a—well, she was not a woman you would know, that is for certain.”

Don't be so sure, Lily wanted to say. But she couldn't tell him of her past, of how just by being in Rose's vicinity she was jeopardizing the girl's future.

“She and I . . . kept company for a time, and when she told me she was with child, I arranged to take care of the babe. I hadn't expected—nor did I even want to—know my offspring.” A snort that wasn't humorous. “In that way, I acted just as Joseph would, disposing of my troubles with money, and not thinking at all about the consequences of my actions. I'm ashamed of what I did.”

“At least you made arrangements for her support. It doesn't sound that Rose was ill-treated or went hungry. She is thin, but she was not malnourished. And the few times she's spoken of her mother it has been with fondness.”

There was a long pause between them as he let
out a deep breath. “I don't even remember what her mother looked like,” he said. “It is odd. As soon as I saw Rose, I knew immediately I had to do the right thing. Or maybe not just the right thing, but the thing that would be best for her, since I knew it would also be best for me.”

Which is why he was currently on the hunt for a proper young lady to marry, she thought.

A proper young lady.

Not a woman from a small town whose closest claim to respectability was a squire father who'd lost everything he ever owned. Not a woman who'd worked in a brothel.

Not her.

Although dukes should be cautioned against excessive emotion, they should also be certain to express their emotions if it seems that holding them in would cause an upset of the stomach or other such physical distemper
.

—T
HE
D
UKE
'
S
G
UIDE
TO
C
ORRECT
B
EHAVIOR

“C
aroline?” Lily called as soon as she stepped inside the door to the agency. Rose was having a nap after spending a very long time at the park—she'd had no fewer than three invitations for later in the week, and she was smiling so much it made Lily's heart swell.

But all that playing made a little girl exhausted, especially after spending half an hour playing hide and seek with her father as Lily watched, trying not to giggle as the duke pretended not to see his daughter even though he was practically about to trip over her.

They'd walked home together, mostly silent, Rose between them holding each one of their hands.

Lily's mind churned as she reviewed everything he had told her. No wonder he was the way he was. And she'd been so wrong about him when they first met—he was arrogant, yes, but he was also so vulnerable, and so clearly in need of love, love he was getting from Rose. No wonder it was
so important to him that she be taken care of and wanted as he hadn't been.

A different man would have repeated the same mistakes from his own upbringing, perhaps sending Rose away, or ignoring her while he was out enjoying Society.

By the time they reached the duke's house, Rose was yawning, the duke was consulting his pocket watch, and Lily knew she had to speak to someone about all of this before she burst.

“Your Grace,” she said as they stepped inside, “would it be permitted for me to go run an errand? Rose will be taking a nap.”

“I will not,” Rose said in a peevish voice.

“And Etta can sit with her while I am away. It should not be more than forty-five minutes.”

He seemed to take a long look at her, almost as though he could see the tumult inside her soul, then nodded and reached for Rose. “Come along, sweet, let us go upstairs and I will read a story to you while you rest—and not sleep,” he said, shooting a quick, wry glance at Lily. “My engagement is not until later this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lily said, waiting as John the footman opened the door for her again.

She scurried down the steps and walked quickly to the agency, hoping Caroline would be there. And, even though she dearly loved her friend, she hoped Annabelle would not, since conversation with Annabelle invariably lasted at least twice as long as you thought it would.

“Caroline?” she called out, walking back into the office. No one was there, but the door had
been open; perhaps one of them had just stepped out to the necessary? Lily sat in the Unfortunate Women seat, then sprang up again as the bell at the door rang. Just as it had only a few weeks ago, when the whole adventure began.

She heard footsteps, then Caroline herself walked into the office, jumping in surprise when she saw Lily. “What are you doing here? Is anything wrong?” her friend asked, stripping off her shawl and dropping it on the desk.

“No, that is—”

“You are all right?” Caroline's eyes scanned her face, then she exhaled in relief. “You are fine, it's just him, isn't it?”

Lily's mouth gaped open. It seemed Caroline needed to look at her only five seconds before gauging what was bothering her. So much for that career in gambling she'd been considering.

“Tea?” Caroline asked, turning to the small stove in the corner of the room without waiting for a response.

She busied herself with the kettle and lighting the fire (“Wretched match!”), and then drew the office chair as close as she could without actually banging into Lily's knees, for which Lily was grateful.

“Tell me what it is. And then I have a favor to ask you.”

Now that she had her friend's full attention, Lily wasn't quite sure what to say. She thought she was falling in love with him? Caroline probably had already figured that out, since she appeared to be psychic. She didn't know what she would
do when he married? Caroline would likely tell her just to bide her time until she could leave the position gracefully.

Why had she even bothered to come, when she could have had this conversation with Caroline in the comfort of her own bedroom, without Caroline even there?

Oh, of course. Because she wanted to say it out loud, have someone else understand just what was happening, maybe even offer some advice that she hadn't thought of inside her own head.

Fine, then
, her own head said to herself. Which was confusing even without all the tumult in her brain.

“I—we've spent time together—”

“More kisses?” Caroline interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

Lily bit her lip and nodded. “And I know there's nothing I can do about it, he told me he is on the hunt for a suitable wife, a lady who can mother his daughter properly. It is not as though he has led me to have any expectations.”

Actually, given that last time—when she had been the aggressor—perhaps she should have been concerned she was leading
him
on.

“But?” Caroline prompted.

“But . . . I don't know. That is the thing. I like him, I even think I—” If she said it aloud, she'd be admitting it, wouldn't she? Not that she hadn't already caught herself thinking it before, but it seemed that if she told Caroline what was in her heart, it would be a reality. She couldn't take it back, even if nothing ever came of it.

Fine, then. “I think I am in love with him.” Not falling in love with him, or enamored of him, or charmed by him. No, she was firmly and definitely in love with him, and she knew that as well as she knew there was no chance anything could ever come of it.

Which Caroline should be telling her in about five, four, three—

“You know there is nothing that can really happen between you. You've heard enough of our women's stories to know that men say things they don't mean.” Caroline glanced up, blinking rapidly, as though staving off tears. “You know from my own story that these things don't work out.”

“I know,” Lily said softly, reaching out to take her hand. This was what she really needed—the comfort of knowing a friend out there knew just what she was going through, and that she understood.

“I know you do,” Caroline replied in a voice that nearly trembled. Nearly, because she hadn't broken down since the first time Lily had met her, long before they started the agency. Back when Lily had worked at the brothel—but not
worked
worked—whereas the brothel was where Caroline had come to work after coming afoul of a suspicious wife.

The kettle began to whistle, and Caroline sprung up from her chair, wiping the back of her hand under her eyes. “What do you want?” she asked as she poured the hot water into the teapot, before shaking it gently.

She turned around to face Lily. Her expression
was kind, but also held a warning that Lily knew the truth of as well. “What do you want?” she asked again, her gaze intent on Lily's face.

Him. “I don't know.” Liar. You want him. “I think I just want things to be as they are, only they can't be, not with me feeling this way. I don't know how he feels.”

“And you can't very well ask him, not without compromising yourself. Either your feelings or your position,” Caroline said in a practical tone.

Caroline retrieved two mugs from the shelf, spooned sugar into each, and poured just a splash of milk in hers and more than that in Lily's. “So you just need to accept things as they are, as much as possible. Until something changes.” She handed one mug to Lily. “He's looking for a suitable wife, is that correct?”

Lily nodded as her insides tightened.

“And when he finds one, that will be your time to search for another position. Luckily, you know some people who can find you something,” she said with a wink.

Lily laughed, as she was supposed to, even though a part of her—a very large part of her, starting with her heart—wanted to cry. Caroline returned to her seat and placed her mug on the desk.

“Now that I have absolutely not solved your problem, I'll ask about that favor I mentioned.”

Lily took a sip of tea, glad to focus on something other than her own incipient heartbreak. “What can I do for you? Please don't tell me you wish to marry a duke, because I don't think I can assist you there.”

Caroline smiled, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. Annabelle and I were talking about how we could help our clients, or even just the women coming here for assistance who we can't immediately help. And it is an awkward subject to broach, especially to someone you've just met, but we thought that if these women had access to certain things, it could help keep them from becoming even more unfortunate.”

Though put in a convoluted manner, Lily recognized what she was saying. “You want to provide condoms?” she asked.

Caroline bent her head in a quick nod. “And neither Annabelle nor I knew even where to get them, and since you do, we were hoping—”

“You want me to buy them?”

Another nod.

“I can do that.” Lily thought for a moment. “There is a druggist nearby who used to have them. I can go there on my way home. I'll bring them by when I come by next. Is that all right? There is no immediate need, is there?”

Caroline shook her head. “No, we can wait. Let me get you the money for them.” She stood and went to the cabinet drawer where the agency kept its fees. “We knew you would say yes, so we went and took out enough from the bank.” She counted out the money, returned to her chair and handed it to Lily, who put it into the pocket of her gown.

“The women will be so grateful.”

Lily swallowed the rest of her tea, then glanced at the clock over Caroline's head. “I should be off, Rose will be waking from her nap in a bit.”

She got up from her chair, smoothing her gown. “Thank you.”

Caroline stood also. “For what? I haven't solved any of your problems, and I've only added more things for you to do.”

Lily planted her fists on her hips and glared mockingly at her friend. “For being here, and listening to me, and knowing exactly what I am going through. For all of that. Thank you.” Her tone softened. “For being my family.”

Caroline smiled and opened her arms to take Lily in a hug. “Thank you, too. And be careful.”

Lily felt the prickle of tears sting her eyes. “I will.”

“Y
our Grace, thank you for attending our little gathering.” The Countess of Daymond swooped in on him as soon as the butler had taken his coat and hat. Her expression looked startled, and faintly alarmed, as though a candle were right in front of her nose and she was blinded by the light.

Oh, dear Lord. Was the light him?

“Thank you for the invitation.” He would have to get a damn secretary, wouldn't he, if he persisted in accepting invitations. A wife might also be of assistance, but he didn't think he could ask his new bride to see to his social calendar as well as his illegitimate child. Although she would likely prefer to see to the former than the latter. But there was only so much he could expect from a marriage.

The countess was still talking, and he had to remind himself to pay attention.

“And of course the Montgomery ladies are here, and my own Lucinda will be playing the pianoforte, and the earl has promised not to steal you away until you have taken a turn around the conservatory and seen the flowers. Do you know, I was able to hire the Queen's gardener's second assistant? Quite a coup, I know there were many other people vying for his services.”

On the other hand, maybe he should remind himself not to pay attention. Or think about more pleasant things. Such as cold porridge, tight cravats, and finally reading the agricultural tomes that were beginning to gather dust in his bedroom.

“The Duke of Rutherford has arrived,” the countess said as she swept into a large room that appeared to be housing a vast number of ladies. Dear heavens, were there any males here at all?

Marcus had more sympathy for the stud in a herd of horses. Or perhaps the rooster in a henhouse.

Or the only man in a group of women, likely some of them unmarried.

His cravat felt very, very tight.

“Duke,” he heard a voice—thankfully, a male voice—say just to his right. He turned and was relieved to see Smithfield, whose smirk indicated he knew just what Marcus was feeling.

“Good afternoon,” Marcus replied.

“Come this way, Your Grace, I wish to introduce
you to my daughter's godmother.” The countess took his arm and drew him farther into the room before he could grab Smithfield and make a run for it.

“Your Grace, may I present Lady Townsend? She is Lady Lucinda's godmother, and she is my dearest friend.” He didn't begrudge anyone having friends, but he didn't necessarily need to be informed of each and everyone's friends' status when he was introduced.

Or perhaps he was just grouchy.

He took the lady's hand in his and bowed. She gave him a thorough look, one that started at the top of his head, down to his feet, then back up again, which was when he recalled he'd met her before, to the same scrutiny.

And like before, he didn't know whether or not to hope he'd been found wanting.

“And here is Lucinda! Come here, my dear,” the countess said, gripping his arm a little tighter, as though he were about to make a run for it.

Could she read minds?

“Your Grace,” Lady Lucinda murmured, lowering her eyes as she dropped a curtsey. He bowed, and then was gratified to see, when she met his gaze, the humorous light lurking within. He did like her, certainly. Enough to make her his wife?

The countess took her daughter's arm in her other hand and drew her to Marcus's side. “Your Grace, you can accompany Lucinda to the conservatory. Mr. Ball is there to inform us all about the new plantings.”

She spoke in a louder voice as she addressed
the many ladies—and two men—in the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to follow the duke and my daughter to the conservatory, I would be delighted to show you the very rare and exotic flowers and plants we have imported.”