Confessions of a Duchess

“Why there was a pool of water on your front step and damp footprints in the hall for a start.”

“You have a talent for investigation,” Laura said. She hoped that Alice’s powers of deduction did not extend as far as working out what she had been up to with Dexter Anstruther in the warming room. She hoped none of her feelings showed on her face.

“I do.” A frown wrinkled Alice’s brow. “Mr. Anstruther is a little odd, do you not think?”

Odd was not a word Laura would have used to describe Dexter. Wickedly handsome, sinfully tempting and very dangerous perhaps, but never odd…

“Laura?” Alice had her head on one side and was looking curious. Laura gave herself a mental shake.

“In what way is he odd?” she asked cautiously.

Alice waved a hand about in a vague way. “Oh, I am not sure. I sometimes think that he behaves like an older man, for all that he can be no more than seven and twenty.”

“He is only six and twenty, actually,” Laura said, before she could stop herself. “What do you mean, older?”

“He seems very grave,” Alice said, “and responsible.”

“He may seem that way,” Laura said, “but it was only a couple of years ago that he was spoken of as one of the most reckless libertines in London.” A fresh wave of guilt assailed her. She had a terrible fear that Dexter’s fall from grace had been her fault. “Though he was extremely responsible beforehand.”

“Before what?” Alice’s bright gaze was penetrating.

Before I took his virginity and ruined his character…

Laura swallowed hard. “Before…um…Before he became a reckless libertine.”

“So he was responsible before, and responsible after, and something happened in the middle that made him behave differently,” Alice said thoughtfully. “I wonder what that was?”

“Yes, I wonder.” Laura moved a few of the ornaments on the dresser at random.

Alice’s bright, intelligent gaze was fixed on her face. “Anyway, how do you know?”

Laura’s confusion grew. “How do I know what?”

“Mr. Anstruther’s age. How do you know he is only six and twenty?”

“Because I know his mother,” Laura said, seeing that she needed to crush this line of conversation if she did not want to give away her feelings utterly. “We are of the same generation.”

Alice was diverted, as Laura had hoped she would be. “Oh come now, Laura, that must be nonsense,” she said. “You cannot be much above thirty yourself!”

“I am four and thirty to be precise, my child,” Laura said. She felt woefully irresponsible, for all her years. A bare thirty minutes before she had almost made love with Dexter Anstruther in her own drying room. How reckless and foolish—and, if she were honest, how utterly enjoyable—had that been?

But Alice had not finished with the subject yet. She lowered her voice and glanced conspiratorially over her shoulder. “The on dit is that Mr. Anstruther works for the government, you know.”

“There is no need to whisper,” Laura said. “Hattie and Rachel are upstairs and there is no one else about except Carrington and Mrs. Carrington, and they are as deaf as two posts.”

“You don’t seem very interested,” Alice said, crestfallen. “The trouble with you, Laura, is that you are so perfectly reserved and composed. Nothing seems to ruffle your calm. I suppose it is the natural consequence of being a duchess.”

“I am good at concealing my feelings,” Laura allowed. “That is the natural consequence of being a duchess.”

She privately reflected that she had not been either reserved or composed in Dexter’s arms. Wanton and abandoned were more accurate words to describe her state. But then Dexter was the only one who had unlocked a wild and passionate sensuality in her that she had never imagined existed. She had known passion in other areas of her life—no one who rode as hard as she did or took up the cause of injustice as fiercely as she had done could consider herself to be truly meek and conventional—but she had never imagined that she could make love with such unrestrained ardor. With Charles the idea had been laughable. With Dexter it was a wild reality.

But now for Hattie’s sake as well as her own she knew she must turn her back on Dexter and all that might once have been. She had to be the perfect dowager duchess once more, restrained and cool, gracious, a little distant and reserved. Violent passion was in the past.

Alice had brightened again. “At any rate, that was not what I came to talk about. Are you going to offer me a cup of tea?”

“I shall go and make it myself,” Laura said, moving toward the servants’ stair.

“Is Mrs. Carrington having another of her bad days?” Alice asked sympathetically, trotting along beside her as they went down the stair and into the kitchen.

“I fear so,” Laura said. “She was in so much pain that she could not lift the pans at breakfast, so I sent her back to bed with a hot brick.”

“You should get some more servants,” Alice said, “competent ones. You cannot be forever making the tea yourself.”

“I have Molly and Rachel, and they are perfect,” Laura pointed out. Molly was Rachel’s sister and acted as both maid of all work and Laura’s personal maid on the rare occasions she required it. Both girls were capable, good-humored and an asset to the household. “And then there is Bart to do the garden.”

“Bart is so old and lame he can scarcely bend,” Alice pointed out. “You do the garden yourself, Laura. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. With the exception of Rachel and Molly you run a home for incapable servants here.”

“Well, there is no reason why I shouldn’t make the tea myself,” Laura pointed out, a little defensively. She lifted the copper kettle and placed it on the hob. “There is no great mystery about making tea—or about cooking or dressing oneself, or growing vegetables, for that matter.”

“But you are a duchess,” Alice said, in horrified tones. “It is not right.”

Laura laughed. “I am a penniless dowager. And that is the marvelous thing. As a dowager duchess I can do as I wish. My relatives cannot interfere and tell me what to do—though they try—and I have no social obligations now that Henry and the dreaded Faye are Duke and Duchess of Cole. And after all, Queen Marie Antoinette played at being a milkmaid, did she not?”

“And look what happened to her,” Alice said gloomily.

“I have no intention of losing my head,” Laura said firmly, “either metaphorically or practically.”

“I almost forgot—I have shocking news.” Alice leaned her chin on her hand and fixed Laura with her bright brown gaze. “There is uproar in the town. We are in the most tremendous fix and it is entirely my fault. You will remember that I refused Sir Montague Fortune’s offer of marriage in July?”

“Of course,” Laura said, reaching for the tea caddy.

“Apparently in revenge he has dug up some ancient law that entitles him to take half our fortunes,” Alice said. “Oh, Laura, all unmarried women in Fortune’s Folly have either to marry or give Sir Montague their money!”

Laura put the caddy down slowly. “Surely you jest? That cannot possibly be legal. It’s iniquitous!”

“Apparently it is legal.” Alice looked tragic. “Even if we all sold our property and left the village we could not escape because it applies to all single women living here now. So I am wondering whether I should marry him in order to save all the other ladies of Fortune’s Folly.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Laura said, stifling a smile as she measured tea into the pot. “You refused Sir Montague for a reason, did you not?”

“Yes. I don’t like him.”

“Quite so. You would like him even less if you felt blackmailed into marrying him.” Laura took the singing kettle from the hob and added the boiling water to the pot. “Besides, I suspect that now Sir Montague has realized he can take half of the fortune of every woman in the village without matrimony, he will not settle for just one woman in wedded bliss.”

“I suppose not.” Alice raised her eyes to Laura’s face. “What is to be done?”

Laura reached the biscuit tin down from the shelf and pushed it toward her guest.

“Try these—oaten biscuits from Mr. Blount.” She sighed. “Well, for my own part, Sir Monty will make very little money out of me, for I have nothing but this house and a pittance to keep it up. But that does not mean I wish to give any of it away and I can certainly help the rest of you if you would like me to.” She smiled reassuringly at Alice. “I will write to my lawyer at once for advice on countermeasures that we may take. Then we will rally the ladies of the village to oppose Sir Montague. There must be plenty of steps we can take to thwart him. A meeting at the circulating library within the next few days, perhaps…” She felt an unexpected rush of excitement. It was a small thing to be organizing a revolt against their grasping lord of the manor but it made her feel as though she was doing something active and worthwhile. For too long she had lacked a cause.