Fit for a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Read online

  ‘I think your Mr Godfrey is reading too much into a single dance,’ Clio said briskly, pushing aside her empty tray and draining the last of her coffee.

  She dismissed Daisy as soon as she was dressed, tired of fending off questions that she couldn’t answer truthfully, even if she had known for certain what the truth actually was. In the cold light of day, there didn’t appear to be any justifiable reason for Ezra’s visit to her chamber, and he had taken an almighty risk in making it. But for what purpose?

  ‘I wish he wouldn’t be so ambiguous,’ she said on a note of ill-usage.

  Dressed in a pretty walking gown of yellow sprigged muslin, Clio tried to decide what to do with herself. It was still relatively early, but she suspected that the ladies would be rousing themselves in preparation for the day’s excursion and had no particular desire to be caught up with any of them, knowing full well that they would all ask her intrusive questions about her friendship with the duke. She smiled as she considered referring them to him for their answers. That would teach him to be so irresponsible!

  A strong breeze was blowing, she could see when she glanced out at tree branches being bent back on themselves. But the rain was holding off, so she would take a stroll outside. Without bothering with a bonnet, Clio left the house and wandered towards the orchard, idly wondering if the stable yard cat had had her kittens yet. She couldn’t go and investigate. There was far too much activity as the horses were being prepared for the day’s outing, and she would be in the way.

  She turned in another direction. Preoccupied and not looking where she was going, she almost collided with another person. A lady. She looked up to apologise but the words froze on her lips when she realised it was the dowager duchess.

  ‘Miss Benton. I saw you from my chamber window.’

  ‘Your grace.’ Clio bobbed a curtsey. ‘You are an early riser too?’

  ‘Walk with me. I would like to talk to you.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ Clio replied, thinking it would likely be anything but a pleasurable experience. Her aunt spoke highly of the duchess, but all Clio saw was a haughty woman who seemed dissatisfied with her privileged position and who had neglected her sons, both living and dead. She was predisposed to dislike her but would keep an open mind, curious to know why she had gone to the trouble of occasioning this meeting. If she wanted to speak with Clio she could easily have summoned her and remained indoors out of the wind.

  They turned together and took another path, away from the house and the prying eyes that were doubtless watching from behind many of the windows. Clio felt no need to instigate a conversation. The duchess had something to say to her and Clio would let her broach it in her own time.

  ‘My son danced with you last night,’ she said eventually.

  Clio confirmed it with the minimum of civility, expecting a barrage of objections and to be warned away from him with chastisements of getting ideas above her station.

  ‘At last!’ the duchess said, her words imbued with a wealth of satisfaction. Clio was so surprised that she abruptly stopped walking. ‘Close your mouth, child, or you will catch flies.’ Realising that her mouth had indeed been gaping open, Clio abruptly snapped it shut. ‘You expected an interrogation?’

  ‘I suppose I did,’ Clio replied in a reasoned tone. ‘I appreciate that we did not meet by accident. Indeed, you made that evident. My maid tells me that everyone below stairs is adding two and two and coming up with seventeen and I assumed that…well, that you had also, and would have objections to make.’

  The duchess smiled. It was the first occasion upon which Clio had seen her do so and it made her seem almost approachable, the very opposite to the impression of an aloof, self-obsessed duchess that had formed in Clio’s mind. ‘My son came to this party with the intention of selecting a bride. He has left it for too long.’

  ‘My understanding is that he hasn’t been the duke for much more than a year, and had been in mourning for his father and then his brother,’ Clio replied on a mild note of censure. She steeled herself for the reprimand that she probably deserved and was astonished when instead of voicing it, the duchess chuckled.

  ‘My, but you are outspoken for one so young. What are you, no more than seventeen?’ She grasped Clio’s chin and peered into her face. ‘And pretty but not too pretty. That’s perfect.’

  ‘I am not a horse,’ Clio responded tartly, shaking her chin free of the duchess’s fingers, ‘so please don’t ask to see my teeth since you can be sure that I shall very likely bite.’

  This time the duchess laughed aloud. ‘I can see why he is attracted to you,’ she said. ‘One tires of the flummery so easily.’

  ‘And yet you enjoy the company of the worst offender.’

  ‘Silas? Oh, he’s harmless enough. He looks out for my interests, even though I am well aware why he does so. No one else ever has. Don’t look so shocked. If you are to become part of this family you might as well learn some of our grubby secrets.’ Clio wanted to protest, but the conversation was so interesting that she held her tongue. ‘Ezra’s father married me for my fortune, it was as simple as that. I knew it, of course, but I wasn’t much older than you are now and was convinced that I would persuade him to fall in love with me in short order.’ She flapped a hand. ‘Romantic claptrap, of course. The old duke didn’t possess the capacity to love anyone other than himself. I don’t think he even liked me very much, so love was never going to happen.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Clio said, meaning it. ‘Everyone deserves to be loved for themselves.’

  ‘Don’t feel too sorry for me. We ladies are not often at liberty to please ourselves, and I wouldn’t have been able to refuse him even if I had seen him for what he was before the event. My family was keen to forge the connection, as are the families of every young woman in attendance at this party.’ She shook her head, clearly lost in past recollections. ‘Oh no, refusing him was not an option. And so I involved myself with my children…’

  Clio opened her mouth, convinced from what little Ezra had told her that it wasn’t the case.

  ‘You have heard, I suppose, that I am cold and unfeeling. Well, Miss Benton, if you had borne two daughters and a son, none of whom survived their infancies, you would have learned by that point to keep your feelings under closer guard, would you not?’

  Clio nodded. ‘I am so very sorry. I had no idea.’

  ‘When the first of my three surviving sons developed recurring illnesses, he was still so very young. I couldn’t allow myself to become attached to him or to the two who followed for fear that my heart would again be broken, and I honestly thought that it wouldn’t survive another bereavement. My husband was no help whatsoever and told me to pull myself together. A lot of babies died, he insisted. It was the way of the world and it was to be expected.’

  ‘That was most unkind of him.’

  The duchess gave a sad little shake of her head. ‘Believe me, you do not know the half of it. No one does. Not even Ezra.’ She paused. ‘Especially not him. Their father would not have permitted me to mollycoddle my sons anyway. He was a harsh man. They went off to school at the age of seven and I seldom saw them in the holidays. It was safer that way. I had been ill myself, weakened by grief I often thought. The doctors were baffled by the nature of my ailments, insisting that there was nothing physically wrong with me. They didn’t seem to consider that ailments can afflict the mind and I didn’t dare to make the suggestion. My husband would have had me shut away in a heartbeat.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Clio gasped.

  ‘Anyway, I knew that my heart couldn’t withstand another tragedy. By the time I realised that Richard and Ezra had grown into healthy, strapping young men we had become distant and it was too late for me to show them affection. Indeed, I had no idea how to. My husband had knocked all the spontaneity out of me.’

  ‘I can well imagine,’ Clio said, realising some sort of response was required from her. She was astonished that the haughty duchess was opening up to her in such a
candid fashion when they were barely acquainted.

  ‘And then Richard died, so perhaps my instincts were right. I grieved in my own way, dignified and aloof, I have heard it said, and Ezra and I have never formed a bond. When he insisted upon fighting against that annoying little Frenchman, naturally I assumed the worst would happen and shut my emotions down. But he came back. He came back, I care very much about him, and about whomever he chooses as his duchess. I do not want to see the mistakes of past generations repeating themselves, but if my instincts are correct there is little chance of that happening.’ She stopped walking and fixed Clio with a probing look. ‘You are very young, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. I think you will do very well. It’s odd, but my eye was drawn to you even before I noticed Ezra’s interest, which perhaps implies a premonition of sorts.’

  ‘I am not the duke’s choice, your grace. Please don’t read more into one simple dance than perhaps you should.’

  The duchess flashed a knowing smile. ‘We shall see, my dear.’ She laid a hand on Clio’s forearm. ‘Anyway, I had best return to the house. I have letters to write before we embark upon our excursion. I do hope the weather holds fair for us. It would be such a pity if it does not. I look forward to seeing you later. It has been a pleasure getting to know you and I hope we can talk again.’

  ‘The pleasure is all mine, your grace,’ Clio replied, bobbing a curtsey and watching the duchess walk away.

  ‘Do let me take you and your cousin in my carriage for the ride into Midhurst,’ she said, briefly turning back before resuming her walk. Naturally, she assumed that Clio would oblige her, which she would have to do, thereby adding to the speculation.

  She continued wandering aimlessly, mulling the incident over. She had avoided the duchess’s company wherever possible up to that point, thinking her distant and unfeeling. Clearly it was unwise to make assumptions based on nothing more than an impression. Clio had just glimpsed an unhappy woman who had made a bad marriage and suffered terrible tragedies. She had wanted to ask why she had not conducted a similar conversation with Ezra after her husband’s death, but that would have been presumptuous.

  And then it occurred to Clio that she had wanted to but didn’t know how to bridge the divide that had grown between her and her only remaining child—a chasm of her own making. She stopped walking and shook her head, a reluctant smile gracing her lips.

  ‘She wants me to break the ice between them, but that’s impossible,’ she said aloud, blushing at the mere prospect of instigating such an embarrassing conversation.

  Hearing the stable yard clock strike the hour, Clio realised that she had been outside for longer than had been her intention. She scampered back in the direction of the house, aware that she must look a fright, having been out of doors in a fresh breeze without a bonnet. Daisy would have her work cut out to make her look presentable in the short amount of time that remained before they were due to leave on their excursion.

  Ezra had correspondence to attend to that he had neglected for too long. He sat at the desk beside one of the windows in his suite of rooms and tried to concentrate on writing instructions for his steward. After several false starts he cursed, threw his pen aside, leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

  Clio had a lot to answer for.

  He glanced at the gardens below him and saw her wandering about, hatless of course, and apparently muttering to herself. The temptation to join her was compelling but he knew that dozens of pairs of eyes behind other windows in this large house would observe them and draw inappropriate conclusions.

  Or perhaps appropriate ones.

  Ezra couldn’t afford to dwell upon his complex feelings for the chit when he had a more pressing need to ensure his own safety. Besides, if he continued to show Clio any partiality, she might become a target for the assassin too. In retrospect, perhaps waltzing with her had been an error of judgement. It had certainly got tongues wagging, according to Godfrey, but by all that was holy, he couldn’t regret an interlude that had been so sublimely sensual!

  ‘Damn it all to hell!’ he cried in exasperation. ‘I shall walk with her if I want to. What’s the point of being a duke if I cannot sometimes please myself?’

  Merlin roused himself from his slumbers and barked in agreement.

  On the point of leaving his chamber with the intention of accidentally intercepting Clio, he paused when he noticed that she was no longer alone.

  ‘Damn!’ he muttered, thinking it was probably just as well that one of the other ladies had joined her before he could give in to temptation and do so himself.

  About to return to his neglected correspondence, Clio and her companion turned back on the path they had just traversed and Ezra got a view of the other lady’s face.

  ‘Mother?’ He scratched his head. ‘It cannot possibly be. Why would she…Damn it, Merlin, she’s probably heard the rumours following that waltz—even though she was off enjoying herself and didn’t witness it first hand—and she’s now warning Clio off. How dare she!’

  Angry enough to explode, Ezra wanted to thump something to rid himself of his growing frustration. He had always treated his mother with the respect due to a lady of her station, but they had never been on intimate terms, nor had they discussed his choice of a wife. Ezra supposed that attending this party was her way of giving tacit approval to Lady Beth. Perhaps Clio wasn’t well born enough to satisfy his mother’s exacting standards, but if she thought he would tolerate her interference then Ezra would be obliged to put her straight.

  ‘It’s a little late to show maternal interest in my affairs and I shall tell her so in no uncertain terms,’ he informed his dog.

  ‘Lady Walder ain’t done anything suspicious,’ Godfrey remarked, entering the room. ‘If you discount the fact that Salford snuck into her room after the party broke up last night.’

  Ezra sent his man a sharp look. He hadn’t known that Godfrey had intended to keep watch over her inside this house. He hoped Lady Walder’s room was in a different corridor to Clio’s and that he had not been seen visiting her. For his own part, he couldn’t have cared less. He would do as he damned well pleased and answer to no one, but he would not have Clio’s reputation tarnished.

  ‘They are welcome to each other,’ Ezra said shortly.

  Godfrey sent him a curious sideways glance as he prepared Ezra’s clothing for the outing, probably wondering why he was in such a foul temper.

  A short time later, impeccably attired, Ezra went to the stables to collect Pharoah himself. He assumed that Clio would travel with her cousin in her aunt’s carriage and wanted to ensure that she arrived at their destination unmolested. He should, he knew, have been considering his own safe passage, which was far less certain, but his priorities appeared to have changed.

  Henry Fryer joined him, as did their respective servants, and the small party of mounted men rode to the front of the house, where six open carriages awaited the ladies, his mother’s cream landau driven by Barnes prominent amongst them. They watched the ladies emerge from the house like a flight of colourful butterflies, chattering among themselves.

  Ezra’s mother climbed into her conveyance, followed by Adele Fletcher and…and Clio? Ezra almost tumbled from his saddle when he realised that his eyes had not deceived him.

  ‘What the devil?’ he muttered.

  ‘Seems the mater has taken matters into her own hands,’ Henry remarked, chuckling at Ezra’s dismayed expression.

  Ezra caught his mother’s gaze and narrowed his eyes at her. It seemed that she approved of Clio after all, but was now inadvertently in danger of getting the chit killed. The duchess tilted her parasol over one shoulder, waggled her fingers at Ezra and instructed Barnes to drive on.

  Barnes whipped up his team, and with a sigh Ezra knew he had no option but to ride alongside.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Clio felt as though the eyes of every member of the party were fixed upon her and cursed her inability to hold back the blushes
, even though no one other than Adele and the duchess were close enough to observe them. Adele had been full of questions when Clio told her they had been invited to travel with the duchess, and had jumped to the same erroneous conclusions as everyone else appeared to have done. The desire to hide her face behind her parasol was compelling, but Clio would not have the world judge her as a simpering nincompoop and so instead tilted it over her shoulder at a jaunty angle and pretended not to have a care in the world.

  Ezra and Lord Fryer rode close beside their conveyance, adding fuel to the raging fires of speculation. Fortunately, Adele was unable to question Clio in front of the duchess—and anyway, with Lord Fryer in such close attendance she had other priorities. The duke’s expression was dark and forbidding. Clio suspected that he wasn’t happy about her sudden association with his lady mother. God forbid that he thought she had instigated it, using the rumours the waltz had created to feather her own nest. She felt hot and cold all over as a thought that more than justified his dour mood took a firm hold. Surely he knew her better than to assume she would take such shameful advantage. He would hardly have come to her room if he believed that she would attempt to manipulate him and felt her own annoyance surfacing at his narrow-minded assumption.

  She had intended to avoid him during the course of the luncheon and instead keep a weather eye out for assassins. Instead, she would now be obliged to actively seek him out and put him straight on the matter, further adding to the general speculation if they were seen together.

  Clio smiled when they reached their destination, momentarily distracted from her concerns. Lady Fletcher’s idea of an al fresco luncheon, a glorified picnic, involved an arrangement of long trestle tables that must have been brought up from her estate at first light. They were set with crisp white linen and a small army of uniformed footmen were busy laying out china and crystal glasses. The only concession to the picnic theme that Clio could see was a table groaning beneath the weight of the food that had been laid out on it, from which the guests must make the effort to help themselves.