Least Likely to Marry a Duke Read online

  ‘It would be a great match, better than I could have ever hoped or dreamed for you.’

  ‘I know, but it would be wrong for both of us.’

  ‘The scandal...’ He threw up his hands, abandoning any attempt to speak with them.

  ‘Yes. I will just have to face it down. I did nothing wrong. The Duke did nothing wrong. I refuse to behave as though there is something to feel guilty about.’

  Her father sighed, then patted her hand. ‘I want you to be happy. I love you, Verity.’

  ‘I know and I love you, too, and I am so sorry to distress you over this. Papa, I cannot see him again—but will you be seen with the Duke on good terms? Show everyone that you do not hold him responsible for this?’ There was nothing better to calm the rumours, surely, than for the neighbourhood to see their much-respected Bishop treating the Duke as a friend.

  Her father nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ he mouthed. ‘I accept that he did nothing wrong and has done all he can to make amends. He can hardly drag you to the altar and I am certainly not going to try to do so.’

  They sat for a while, hand in hand, watching the shadows lengthen over the courtyard garden. Then her father stirred. ‘Your aunt Caroline.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Go to her. London. Fashionable. Knows everyone.’

  ‘You want me to go to London? But the scandal—whatever you and the Duke can do here to make people realise there is nothing to the rumours, people will write to friends and relatives in town. It is too good a story not to share.’

  The Bishop nodded vigorously. ‘Exactly. London is where you must quash the rumours. Caroline can do it.’

  And, Verity realised, she probably could. Her father’s sister had married Lord Fairlie, a mere baron perhaps, but an exceptionally well-connected and very wealthy baron who had the entrée everywhere. His wife held a select monthly salon where one might find princesses mingling with artists, bankers with scientists and industrialists with Members of Parliament. Caroline was invited everywhere, including the Queen’s House and St James’s Palace.

  ‘She will tell the Queen,’ her father said, watching her face. ‘Tell the Patronesses at Almack’s. She’ll know what to do to make it right.’

  Verity felt slightly dizzy at the thought of the Queen contemplating her adventures, but she rather thought that she would be easier to win round than the formidable Patronesses. If she was barred from Almack’s she might as well give up and return home directly, because everyone who was anyone would soon hear about it.

  And Aunt Caroline, who had been known as a dasher in her youth, was not only influential, but blissfully unshockable, and Verity very badly needed an unshockable female confidante.

  ‘That is a wonderful idea, Papa, but I cannot run away and leave you.’

  ‘Why not? Not ill.’ He returned her anxious look with a bland, lopsided smile. ‘Not running away. Tactical retreat and counter-attack. I’ll worry less if you are with Caroline.’

  ‘Very well, Papa. I will write to her straight away.’

  Tactical retreat and counter-attack? I only hope I have the nerve for it.

  * * *

  Of course we understand.

  Melissa’s bold black handwriting scrawled across the page. Verity turned it towards the carriage window to catch the last of the evening light as the wheels rumbled across the cobblestones.

  The letter, in answer to her own to her four friends, had arrived as she was leaving the day before and she had read it and re-read it in an attempt to convince herself that they did understand and that she had not blighted their lives.

  Lucy cannot believe that you can turn down such a very handsome man, she says, but she defends your right to refuse him most stoutly. And Mama is all of a twitter because of the kind letter that your papa sent us, saying how he would miss you and hoping that we would continue to meet in your room to ‘continue our good work’ so he can benefit from our ‘young company’ in your absence. Is that not good of him?

  The rumours and gossip are beginning to spread, but no one knows what to make of it because Mr Hoskins is telling everyone how he is going to help the Duke with his library. They are all going to be agog to see what happens on Sunday at church! No one is going to be listening to the sermon. They are all expecting your papa to be flourishing a shotgun at the Duke!

  Do have a lovely time in London and try not to worry. It will all be a storm in a teacup, you wait and see...

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘My dear! How lovely to see you.’ Aunt Caroline swooped down the steps of the house in Bruton Street, arms outstretched, and enveloped Verity in a warm hug. ‘I couldn’t be happier that you have come to me and you are not to worry about a thing—we will make everything all right.’

  ‘I am sorry to have given you no notice, but it all seemed so difficult and then Papa had the idea of asking you to help and I have to confess, it was such a relief,’ she explained as Aunt Caroline ushered her up the steps and past the footmen waiting to collect the luggage.

  ‘The notice is of no account, my dear. Besides, I would have cancelled luncheon with the Queen for you if I had to. As it is, I will have your company and all the fun of launching you properly into society. With my poor brother’s illness you never did have the Season you deserved.’ She steered Verity into the drawing room. ‘Tea, Wethering.’ As the butler left she added, ‘Dinner in two hours and we dine at home. Now, you are in the Rose room as usual. I see you have brought a maid. Tell me quickly what our priorities must be while we drink our tea. Then you can go up and change and rest a little while I form a plan of campaign.’

  ‘Yes, of course, thank you,’ Verity agreed vaguely. She was tired suddenly, and her mind drifted back almost five years into the past.

  This room... It had been painted a soft green with silver-grey details then and the picture over the fireplace had been a pastoral scene. There was a chaise in that corner and a screen that half-hid it and I was kissed there for the very first time.

  ‘Do you mind if we tell Gresham and Roderick everything, dear?’

  ‘Hmm?’ Verity pulled herself back to the present and tried to look as though she had been about to fall asleep. ‘I am sorry, Aunt. It was rather a tiring journey, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense. You are no more tired than I am and I do not wonder at it. With that luxurious travelling carriage, and a leisurely overnight stop at a most excellent inn, a young lady should be fit to dance all night. These country ways will not suit in London, you know. We have a great deal of work to do and much of it will take place in the evenings. Now, did you hear what I asked?’

  ‘About telling Uncle Gresham and Cousin Roderick. Of course they will have to know, I quite see that.’

  ‘Excellent. My son might pretend to be a rattlepate, but he’s bright enough and he’s fond of you. He’ll want to do his bit with the younger set. Gresham will pull a long face, but he will do his utmost.’ Her smile was wicked. ‘He knows the husbands of the Patronesses.’

  Ah. That probably means he knows things about the husbands of the Patronesses which might persuade them to influence their wives in my favour...

  * * *

  Lord Fairlie nodded at the butler. ‘That will be all, Wethering. We will serve ourselves.’ He waited until the butler and footmen had left and the door had closed behind them, then turned to Verity sitting at his right hand. ‘So, you do not wish to marry the Duke of Aylsham? An unusual position for a young lady to adopt, one would think. What’s the matter with him? Thought the man was a positive pattern card of perfection. His grandfather certainly thought so. He’s been on the town, of course, moves with a fast, fashionable set and he’s called out a man, but he’s never attracted a whisper of scandal.’ He took a sip of wine, nodded approvingly at the glass, then raised one elegant brow at Verity.

  ‘The Duke has many good points. He is clearly a conscientious
landlord and employer. He is doing his best against great odds with his brood of half-brothers and -sisters, he is intelligent, good-looking and even, occasionally, shows a sense of humour.’

  ‘But?’ Her cousin grinned at her across the table. ‘He keeps a string of mistresses? He is a drunkard? He holds Black Masses at the full moon? He uses a revolting cologne?’

  Verity shook her head at him reprovingly. ‘None of those things. But he does not approve of me and makes no bones about it. He thinks ladies should not use their brains, he disapproves of my antiquarian interests, he hates it when I argue with him and he is absolutely determined to be perfect in all things. He would expect his wife to be perfect—his idea of perfection, that is.’ She broke off to catch her breath and made herself slow down. ‘I cannot face the idea of devoting myself to being a perfect duchess for a perfect duke and raising a brood of perfect children. I swear, when that man dies they will find Always Appropriate engraved on his heart.’

  Her aunt gave a little choke of laughter. ‘You want an imperfect man?’

  ‘A human being would be my choice.’

  Aunt Caroline passed Verity the dish of peas. ‘Tell your uncle and Roderick what happened about the lake and the island.’

  ‘I know about it already,’ her cousin said with an apologetic grimace. ‘At least, I know the version that is going the rounds in the clubs.’

  ‘Oh, no. Already?’

  ‘Apparently Aylsham has a love nest on this island, complete with a vast bed and satin sheets. You are variously supposed to have defended your virtue by hitting him with a oar and bravely rowing off into the lake where you drifted about all night until rescued by Bishop Alderton and a flotilla of curates, or you climbed a tree and sat up there all night, fending Aylsham off with pine cones until help in the form of the local boating club arrived. Or—’ He broke off and took a gulp of wine.

  ‘Or what?’ Verity demanded. ‘Tell me, Roderick, please. I would much rather know the worst.’

  ‘Or...er... You were not rescued, you spent the night there, um, amicably, and either he refused to marry you or you refused to marry him. The rumours get a trifle vague at that point.’

  Her uncle made a sound suspiciously like a growl, Aunt Caroline gave a hiss of displeasure and Verity told herself firmly that this was no more than she had expected.

  ‘That settles it,’ Aunt Caroline said. ‘We must ensure that the Queen knows the truth, ensure that you will be received at Court and then I will deal with the Patronesses.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Verity said. ‘I feel encouraged when you speak with such certainty.’ She smiled at them all, cut into her roast guinea fowl and hoped that she was going to be able to swallow it, because inside everything was just one large knot of nerves.

  * * *

  ‘You are not still pining for that curate of yours, are you?’ Aunt Caroline perched on the end of Verity’s bed dressed in a wrapper of such frivolity that Verity feared for her uncle’s blood pressure.

  The thought allowed her to reply lightly, ‘If you mean Thomas Harrington, he is the Vicar of a very fashionable parish in Westminster now, I believe.’

  ‘I know. That young man was always going to do well for himself. He is too handsome by far and knows it, and he has an eye for the main chance, cleric or not. He schemes to become the youngest bishop, mark my words.’

  ‘No doubt.’ Of course Thomas did and an essential step up the clerical ladder was to find a suitable wife. He had almost achieved it, four and a half years ago, when he had wooed the Bishop of Elmham’s naïve daughter. How fortunate for him that his plans had not come to fruition or he would have found himself leg-shackled to the daughter of a retired bishop in ill health with none of the influence over appointments and places that Thomas wanted so badly.

  At the time, when she had found the strength to stand up to him and face down his blackmail, Thomas had been furious. Now he must give thanks daily for a lucky escape. At first, with the stinging hurt so fresh, she had wondered why he had been so ruthless, but, reading between the lines, she had concluded that a father who had granted his every wish, bolstering his sense of self-importance, in combination with early success at whatever he set his hand to, had left him convinced that he was entitled to whatever he wanted.

  ‘And are you pining for him?’ Aunt Caroline was nothing if not persistent.

  ‘No.’

  Giving thanks daily that I found him out in time, yes. Pining, never.

  ‘He was not the man I thought he was and, thankfully, I discovered it before I married him.’

  But not before I was foolish enough to sleep with him, unfortunately.

  Verity wondered whether she could ask her aunt how likely it was that a man could detect whether or not a woman was a virgin. One day she might find this mythical creature, a man who would love and accept her for what she was, and she would have to decide what to tell him. But that was too remote a possibility to worry about, she told herself.

  But the unpleasant thought occurred that Thomas might try to capitalise on the situation now. If he believed that Will might still offer for her, would he try his blackmail again? But surely not—no vicar, however well connected he was these days, would risk alienating a duke. Will could ruin him. Would ruin him.

  ‘Good, I am glad to hear it.’ Her aunt, who knew nothing of what had happened with Thomas, was still picking over his character. ‘He appears to be courting Lady Florence Wakefield and, frankly, given that she is not at all intelligent and very plain, poor girl, I cannot believe he is doing so for any but the most mercenary reasons. One of her uncles is an archdeacon and a cousin is attached to the Chapel Royal.’ She took a sip from the cup of chocolate she held. ‘And her dowry is impressive, I understand.’

  ‘That should appeal to Thomas. If she is biddable, he will not care about how silly she is, or how plain.’

  ‘How did you realise his true character, dear? You never said at the time and I did not like to ask.’

  Verity shrugged. ‘I realised that he was interested in marrying my father’s daughter, not in me. When I became suspicious it opened my eyes to just how rehearsed and mechanical his protestations of affection were.’ That was true as far as it went and it seemed to satisfy her aunt.

  ‘Such a contrast to the Duke, who is an honourable man. But if marrying him would make you miserable, there is nothing more to be said. I know what a happy marriage can be.’

  * * *

  ‘That all seems very satisfactory, Your Grace.’ George Fitcham, Will’s senior secretary, put down a report from the Steward at Oulton Castle and consulted one of the lengthy lists in front of him. ‘Now, if we could move on to the figures from the Home Farm...’

  Four days after Verity had left for London there was an impressive pile of neglected paperwork and, for the first time since he had inherited the title, Will had needed to force himself to send for the patient secretary and tackle it.

  Will let him talk. If there was something he needed to do, or make a decision about, Fitcham would tell him. Like the neglect of the work for several days, this was untypical of him and, while his conscience nagged him about it, something else told him that it was not important, that he had other things to worry about.

  Why has she gone to London? Why is Bishop Wingate being so vague about it? I cannot protect her there. The rumours will be vicious...

  The clock struck three, there was a tap at the study door, then it opened to admit his siblings, all clean—scrubbed and polished, by the look of it—dressed neatly and looking decidedly miserable. He had deliberately delayed announcing his decision on their punishment to give them time to think over just what they had done.

  He waited while they lined up in front of the desk. Fitcham stood up to leave, but Will waved him back to his seat. They could have the added discomfort of an audience.

  ‘You behaved with unconscionable discourtesy
to a guest, to a lady. You lied to me. You put both of us in a situation that was uncomfortable, embarrassing and compromising. Miss Wingate has decided that she cannot bring herself to marry me, which is exceedingly honourable of her, even if her decision probably has a great deal to do with her unwillingness to find herself in a family containing you. And, Basil, if I see one more smirk on your face, you will spend the summer without access to your pony, your fishing rod, your cricket bat and any books other than your school texts.’

  Basil’s expression of dismay at least showed a gratifying belief in his brother’s willingness to carry out the threats.

  ‘Althea, Araminta and Basil will all receive no allowance for the next four weeks. Alicia, Bertrand and Benjamin will receive half their usual allowance. And if I find you lending any of it to your older siblings, then you will lose that as well. Your schoolroom hours have been doubled for a month. In addition, the boys will spend an hour every day assisting in the vegetable garden and the girls in the kitchen. If I do not see signs of improved behaviour and genuine regret by the end of that period, then it will be extended. Is that clear?’

  They stared back at him. If he had not been so angry with them then it would have been laughable, the way they all had the same open-mouthed expression.

  ‘You are just saying that, aren’t you, Will?’ Althea quavered. ‘You don’t really mean it, do you? Not for four whole weeks?’

  ‘You seriously distressed a lady who had done nothing to deserve it,’ Will said. ‘You have compromised my position, made this family, as well as hers, a butt for vulgar gossip and speculation. If you do not know what is due to your name, then I do.’

  He had not meant to extend the punishment beyond the first couple of weeks, just give them all a good scare, but now he realised he did mean it. He kept seeing the despair in Verity’s eyes, the anger and her refusal to compromise, even in the face of the ruin of her reputation. It seemed that the children had ruined the life of the only woman in the country who hated the idea of wedding a duke and he found that upset him more than the besmirching of his own name, the intrusion of tasteless gossip into his privacy and the danger that the tale might have an impact on his own future marriage plans.