At the Duke’s Pleasure (12 page)

“Splendid. Now keep going.”

Nodding, she maintained her concentration, her initial concerns falling away. When the next corner approached, she was ready, positioning the team in just the right way. She made the turn smoothly, the yards sliding past with no difficulty.

Glancing ahead, she was surprised to find Clybourne House rising with grandeur on the horizon.

“Go around another time or two,” Edward remarked. “We’ve already given our neighbors plenty of fodder for their afternoon calls, why not add a bit more.”

“What do you mean?” Keeping a steady grip on the reins, she maneuvered around a delivery wagon, then slowed to let a nursery maid and her young charges walk across the street. Edward covered her hands to direct her well out of harm’s way before returning control to her again.

“Surely no one is paying us any mind?” she remarked, as she signaled the team to continue on.

“Of course they are,” he said. “I expect half the draperies on the square have been drawn back by now to witness our excursion.”

“I certainly hope you jest. I don’t much care for the notion of being spied upon.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll find that one is under almost constant surveillance here in Town. After all, gossip is the lifeblood of the Ton, and the buzz will do nothing but increase as more and more families arrive for the Season. As it is, Mallory and I have been fending off calls for the past two weeks in order to let you settle in. Soon, though, there’ll be no stopping them, particularly once the Season is officially under way.”

Fending off calls?
She’d had no idea. But she supposed it was only natural that people would be curious about the Duke of Clybourne’s fiancée, even if she would much rather they weren’t.

Frowning, she shot a glance at the windows of the nearest town house to see if any of the curtains were moving.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Edward said, having obviously caught the direction of her gaze. “Besides, you must be used to a certain level of scrutiny, even in the country.”

“Yes, but old Mrs. Roddy isn’t quite the same as having an entire city full of tattlers.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad as all that. Well, maybe it is,” he corrected with a laugh. “But you’ll find it easiest to just ignore their inquiring gazes and go on about your affairs as if they weren’t there at all. Besides, any talk about our outing today will only be of the complimentary sort, since you’re doing brilliantly.”

“Am I?” she asked, unable to keep the hopeful note out of her voice.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “If you aren’t careful, I shall have to suggest that the Four-in-Hand Club change their rules about admitting women. We’re around the square again. Shall we venture farther afield or have you had enough driving for today?”

“Farther afield, please. Perhaps there is somewhere we could go that would allow us to take the horses above a fast walk.”

“There might be a place or two,” he drawled with amusement, “if we venture out of the city a bit.”

“I’m game, if you are. Or have you duties to which you must attend this afternoon?” she added. “Perhaps your prolonged absence will cause Mr. Hughes to wear more holes in your office carpet should you fail to return apace.”

Their gazes met, his brow arching with clear awareness of her thinly veiled sarcasm. “Oh, I expect I can be spared for a few hours at least.”

“Good. You work too much anyway.”

“Do I?” he said in a surprised tone before pointing toward the street ahead. “Take Upper Brook Street over to Park Lane. We’ll go up to Tyburn Turnpike, then north of the city. There are some farms up there that should provide a few reasonable roads on which you can let the horses have their heads.”

Guiding the curricle, she followed his directions.

“Actually,” he continued, “you should probably let me drive for now. The traffic is bound to be heavy until we’re out of the city.” He laid his hands over hers to take the reins.

Instead of relinquishing them, however, she tightened her grip. “I’m fine. For now at least. If the traffic is heavy and I become uncomfortable, I will let you drive.”

His hands tightened fractionally over hers, sending a fresh round of quivers through her. Then he let go. Leaning back, he relaxed. But he left his arm looped behind her with his palm on the seat near her hip, exactly where it had been before. “I had no idea you could be so stubborn.”

“There are a great many things you don’t know about me, Your Grace.”

“So it would seem. And it’s Edward, remember?” he said, his words silky and warm.

Yes, I remember
, she thought with a wistful inner sigh.

“So tell me more,” he encouraged.

She tossed him a glance. “About what?”

“About you, of course.”

“Me? Oh, there’s nothing to tell.”

He quirked a brow. “That’s not what you said a moment ago.”

“Nothing interesting, that is.” Slowing the curricle to let a coach-and-four roll past, she used the distraction to change the subject. “Why do you not tell me about yourself instead? For instance, what do you like to do, when you aren’t working, that is?”

“Hmm, when I’m not working—which according to you is rarely—I like to do any number of things. I enjoy reading and music and collecting art. I like to fence at Angelo’s when I’m in Town, and I love to ride. We must ride out together one morning. I have several gentle mares in the stable. I am sure we could find a suitable mount for you.”

“If that is the case,” she replied without governing her response, “then I hope you will choose an animal with a bit more spirit than merely gentle. I am not so accomplished a horsewoman that I ride to hounds, but neither am I shy in the saddle.”

“No,” he said in a considering tone. “I am beginning to realize that you would not be—in the saddle or anywhere else.”

Wishing suddenly that she’d kept her mouth closed, she focused on her driving. Having turned onto the more well-traveled Park Lane, she realized that Edward had been right about the traffic. It was heavier and a great deal more difficult to negotiate. Still, she was determined to try.

“What else then?” she asked, taking up a position behind a rather slow-moving dray. “What else do you particularly enjoy doing?”

“Oh no,” he countered. “I believe it’s your turn now.”

“But there is—”

“Nothing interesting to tell. Yes, I know. Pray enlighten me nevertheless about all the tedious things which give you pleasure. Other than gardening, of course,” he added.

Claire shot him a look, but if he was teasing, she couldn’t tell. Composing herself, she forged on. “At home, I occupy myself with the usual feminine endeavors. Stitchery and the occasional sad attempt at watercolor painting. Flower arranging when the blossoms are in season, and flower pressing if there is an especially lovely specimen. I trim hats, take long walks and pick berries off the wild brambles in the hottest days of summer.”

“Those are all things you do, but you haven’t really answered my question. What do you like?”

“I like those things,” she defended. “Except for the painting. I’m really dreadful with a brush and would be better off painting a fence than a canvas.”

“I shall remember not to accept any invitations to painting parties on your behalf. What else?”

“Reading. I like books, although I rather doubt we share the same interests when it comes to subject matter. I love romances and mystery stories. The more lurid, the better.”

“Mallory loves those too.”

“Yes, I know. She has loaned me several already. She possesses quite an impressive collection of Minerva Press novels.”

“What more?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Nothing in particular.”

He cocked his head and gave her an inquiring look. “But there is something more. What?”

“Your turn again.”

“After you answer,” he insisted. “What else?”

Pausing, she watched as the dray pulled over and stopped, forcing her to go around and continue ahead without its reassuring bulk.

Why
, she wondered,
did I say anything to him?
She wished now that she’d never started this line of questioning. If she’d had any sense she would have spent the entire time making up a series of ridiculous inventions in hopes that a few of them might displease him.

Instead, she’d been hopelessly candid when she ought to have guarded her thoughts and feelings. But it was too late now and couldn’t be helped. And truly, what difference did it make what she’d told him? He was only being polite with his inquiries. He was only doing his duty with this whole outing. And with any luck, mayhap he wouldn’t like the real her at all.

“Puzzles,” she declared. “I like puzzles and games, the sort that give most people a headache. But I find them fascinating and frustrating and immensely satisfying to solve. I’m always looking for new ones to try.”

She expected him to greet her comment with boredom or disapproval, as her family always did. Instead, Edward had a peculiar look on his face, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic light she couldn’t quite read.

“As it happens, I like puzzles too,” he said. “Love them, in fact. There’s nothing more interesting than solving something deemed unsolvable, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.”

He leaned slightly closer, looking for a moment as if he might say more. Instead, he glanced up and nodded toward the cross street ahead. “You’ll need to turn left for the turnpike. If you won’t take it amiss, why do you not let me drive this last portion?”

In the past minutes, the traffic had grown steadily thicker and more difficult to manage. Her pride had kept her going, but she had to confess she wouldn’t mind his assistance. Hiding her relief, she nodded. “Very well. But I want to drive again when we reach the countryside.”

“Of course. I promise.”

She handed over the reins, more sorry than she wished when he slid his arm out from around her. Relaxing back, she lifted her face to the sun, determined to enjoy the rest of the outing.

E
dward strode into his study later that afternoon to find Drake lounging in one of the wide brown leather armchairs positioned near the fireplace. Drake’s eyes were closed, his fingers linked across his flat stomach, his long legs stretched out before him. Anyone looking at him would assume he was asleep, but Edward knew better, the pose one of his brother’s favorites when he wanted to think something through.

Of course, sometimes he really was just sleeping.

“Where have you been then?” Drake said without opening his eyes, proving Edward’s initial assumption to be correct. “I’ve been waiting here over an hour. Croft said something about you taking a drive with Lady Claire.”

“Croft obviously keeps you well informed.”

Drake smiled. “He guards your important secrets, don’t worry.”

Edward gave a mild snort, then crossed to the liquor cabinet. “Care for a drink?”

“Only if you have some of that Madeira you served the other evening. Otherwise, I’ll pass.”

Reaching for the vintage in question, Edward poured them each a glass, returning the crystal stopper to the decanter with a near silent click. Taking up the goblets, he walked over and handed one to his brother, who opened his eyes just in time to accept it.

“My thanks,” Drake said before taking a long swallow. “Delicious.”

Edward lowered himself into the chair opposite, moving Drake’s feet out of the way with a good-natured shove.

Grinning, Drake sat up in his chair. “So, you took Lady Claire out driving, did you?”

Pausing, Edward sipped from his glass, enjoying the dry, slightly fruity notes of the wine. “Actually, she took me. We had our first driving lesson today.”

“Driving lesson? How did that come about?”

Edward shrugged. “This morning at breakfast she expressed an interest in learning. So I offered to teach her.”

“How’d she do?”

“In truth? Phenomenally well. Don’t tell her I said this, but she could drive solo after just the one lesson. Handled the reins like she was born to it. Of course I’d never let her explore the city on her own, but so long as she has a proper escort, I can’t see any harm in letting her take a team out on occasion.”

Drake shot him a look of surprise. “Next I suppose I’ll hear that you’ve bought her a phaeton or some such. Painted in her favorite color, of course, with specially upholstered kidskin seats and fittings made of real gold.”

“How ridiculous. Don’t be absurd.”

“Then again, I’m not sure she’s the type who’d fancy an ostentatious rig,” Drake speculated aloud. “Simple black with plain leather seats and not so much as a crest on the door might be more in keeping with her tastes.”

Edward frowned, realizing he didn’t know what Claire would prefer; he didn’t even know her favorite color. He thought about the twitching curtains of their neighbors and her reaction to the idea of being watched. A showy color that drew every eye would only make her uncomfortable, he decided, whereas the black…not that he was buying her a phaeton. He’d already bought her a fortune in clothes.

Not that he minded.

Not really.

Maybe not at all.

Frowning again, he drank more wine.

“It’s interesting, but she isn’t what I expected,” Drake remarked.

“Oh?” Edward drawled, spinning his glass slowly between his fingers. “How so?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose I thought she might be haughty and vain, having grown up knowing she was going to be a duchess one day. But she’s not. She’s…sweet and interesting and amusingly unpredictable. I like Lady Claire. It may have been nothing more than fool’s luck and Papa’s obstinacy that brought you two together, but you’ve made a good choice. I can see why you decided to go through with the match.”

But he hadn’t decided to go through with the match because of Claire. He’d done it for the sake of duty, honor and, yes, expediency. Yet Drake was right. Claire was sweet and interesting and amusingly unpredictable. She was also a puzzle. A very intricate, very complicated and as yet unsolved conundrum that he was still in the process of figuring out.

But I like puzzles and I like her too
, Edward thought, surprised by the truth of the realization. He hadn’t really considered it before, since liking Claire wasn’t a requirement for their marriage, but he found that he did indeed like her.

Their drive today, for one, had been remarkably entertaining, and not because of the lesson, but because of Claire herself. She was a lively and enjoyable companion and yet she didn’t preen and wheedle as so many ladies of the Ton were wont to do. Nor did she insist on constant conversation, although she was very easy to converse with. Claire was amiable and desirable, and his brother was right that she would make him a good wife—and because of far more than her excellent bloodlines.

Downing another mouthful of Madeira, he swirled the remaining inch of pale gold liquor in his glass, then returned his attention to Drake. “So did you just drop by to chat about my fiancée and drink my wine or was there something else you wanted?”

Drake barked out a quick laugh. “Something
you
want, you mean. As good as your wine cellar may be, I did come by with another purpose in mind. I’ve been studying that newspaper clipping you gave me.”

“Oh?” Edward said, his interest immediately piqued. “And?”

“And I’m certain it contains a code, just as you suspected.”

“I knew it.” Edward tapped a fist against the arm of his chair. “Why else would Everett have folded it up and hidden it inside that false heel of his shoe? If the bloody thing hadn’t shaken loose while I was searching his belongings, we’d never have known. Brazen bastard.”

“Brazen is right and not just about Everett. His contacts, whoever they may be, are trading messages in plain sight and using the newspapers to do it. I’m working on breaking the cipher and I will. It’s more sophisticated than I initially expected. If you could find me another example or two, it would speed matters along.”

“We’re looking, now that we know
to
look. Everett’s guard at the prison mentioned that he’d been complaining about not receiving his morning newspaper the day he was killed. Considered in this new light, his outburst takes on a completely different significance.”

“Clearly,” Drake agreed. “But was he still receiving new messages or was he only hoping to find something he might be able to use as leverage to gain his freedom? I wonder if he knew he’d been slated for death?”

“Maybe so,” Edward mused aloud. “Perhaps that’s why he’d started talking recently, hoping he could make a deal with us once he’d been abandoned by them. Of course, if that were the case, why wouldn’t he have simply offered us an exchange rather than wait?”

“Perhaps he still thought he could work both sides.”

“Unfortunately, it’s all speculation at this point.” Edward spun his glass in another slow circle, then tossed back the last of his wine. “When you break that cipher, let me know.”

Drake smiled, his gaze alight with undisguised anticipation. “You’ll be the first.”

“In the meantime, I shall be busy escorting Claire to one entertainment or another. Easter arrives next week and with it the start of the Season. There’ll be no getting out of the myriad invitations that are pouring in already, especially not with Mama still away.”

“Better you than me. Can’t stand all the hullabaloo that goes on this time of year.”

“I thought you enjoyed the parties.”

“The parties, yes. The frenzied jockeying to snare a husband…now, that I can do without, even if I am left mainly out of the fray. Being fourth in line will do that for a fellow, thank God.”

Edward laughed. “Just think of the trouble you’d be put to if Cade, Jack and I were all killed in some freak accident. Oh, and little Maximillian too. I guess our new nephew bumps you down to number five in the succession.”

“Good, I’m glad of it. You, Cade and Jack are welcome to have as many sons as the three of you like. But for heaven’s sake, Ned, don’t even joke about a thing like all of you dying. In addition to grieving over such a dreadful loss, the idea of being duke gives me the shudders. Frankly, I don’t know how you stand it.”

Edward hid a smile. “Oh, it’s not so very dreadful. Most days at least.”

“Luckily, the odds of such an occurrence aren’t all that good,” Drake continued, obviously running calculations in his head. “Somewhere around two million, seven hundred ninety-three thousand, nine hundred and seventy-six to one, assuming the four of you aren’t all riding in the same coach or sailing on the same ship, to say nothing of contracting the same disease, then the odds increase to…” He paused, a fierce scowl settling over his dark brows before they shot high. “None of you are allowed to be together at the same time ever again!”

“That’s what I love about you,” Edward said, grinning as he got to his feet. “Ever the optimist.”

Drake shot him a look. “You’d be a pessimist too, if you were more serious about math.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m rather indifferent on that score. Now, enough of such maudlin talk. Are you planning to stay for dinner this evening?”

“Oh, I hadn’t considered it. I suppose I could, depending on the menu.”

“Beef medallions and a potato cheese tart, I believe.”

“Well, in that case, I shall.”

“Let me get you some tea, dear,” Wilhelmina Byron said only moments after Claire took a seat next to Mallory on one of the sofas in the family drawing room.

The older woman smiled as she prepared the beverage, her dark eyes kind in her pleasant, slightly doughy, face. Her shape was slightly doughy as well, her hips and bosom ample beneath her dark aubergine crepe gown. When her husband had died several years before, she’d never quite come out of mourning, preferring to remain in somber colors, a lace widow’s cap tied over her greying brunette hair.

Nonetheless, Claire found her a cheerful companion without a hint of malice. She always had a ready smile and never uttered a critical word. If anything she was perhaps a bit too amiable and trusting, giving Claire and Mallory far more latitude than most chaperones normally would. Not that Claire had any complaints, far from it. Nor Mallory, who had confided to Claire that she reveled in the unexpected freedom, especially here in Town. With Cousin Wilhelmina here, Mallory had commented that she could “get away with murder” if she wanted, so long as Edward didn’t find out.

Claire hid a smile at the recollection, as she accepted the cup Cousin Wilhelmina passed her, the steaming tea prepared with one sugar and extra milk, just the way Claire liked it.

“I certainly hope you had a good time on your outing,” Cousin Wilhelmina said, returning the Meissen teapot to the silver tray. “Did Edward take you to the park?”

“Actually, we went north. And I drove for much of the way. He’s giving me lessons, you see.”

“Carriage-driving lessons!” Mallory exclaimed. “You didn’t say you were having lessons. How diverting. What was it like?”

Accepting a plate with lemon biscuits and a small poppy seed cake from Cousin Wilhelmina, Claire regaled her and Mallory with the highlights. She decided to say nothing of the fact that Edward had agreed to the excursion only because he was fulfilling his promise to get to know her better, rather than because he’d genuinely wanted to spend time with her.

Although he had seemed to enjoy himself. At least she thought he had, though maybe he was simply too polite to let on otherwise. But even if he had truly had fun, it meant nothing. He was still marrying her for duty’s sake, and she was still determined not to let him.

After finishing her tale a couple of minutes later, she sipped her tea and nibbled on one of the biscuits.

“Oh, dear heavens,” Cousin Wilhelmina exclaimed, setting down her own cup and plate before reaching for something inside her pocket. “Pray forgive me, Claire dear, but I quite forgot. I can be such a chucklehead sometimes. This letter came for you while you were out. I promised most faithfully that I would deliver it into your hands and I suppose I have…finally.” She giggled at the last, looking embarrassed and younger than her years.

Claire accepted the missive with a grateful smile. Breaking open the seal, she scanned the contents. “It’s from Mama. And there are notes enclosed from Nan and Ella as well. Everyone is as well as can be expected. The doctor Edward sent proved highly knowledgeable and greatly reassuring. To everyone’s relief, he says Nan should recover full use of her leg.”

She paused to read on, leafing through the pages. “Nan is recovering slowly but is frightfully bored and miserable confined to her bed, just as I knew she would be. They all miss me and send their love. There are more details from home but I shan’t bore you with those. Although Mama says that she wants a full accounting of all the balls and parties she is being forced to miss, since she couldn’t stay to enjoy the Season as planned.”

“And so she should,” Cousin Wilhelmina said. “I would be delighted to provide my own account of goings-on, if you think she would appreciate my meager renditions.”

“How kind of you to offer, Mrs. Byron. I am sure Mama would be most obliged were you to share your observations about life here in Town with her. My sisters as well, who are always eager for news about Society. They would all be thrilled to receive your letters, which would be of the most excellent kind.”

The older woman’s cheeks pinked with pleasure. “Then I shall do my best to write. And speaking of the Season, His Grace has asked me to consult with both of you about which invitations to accept. The duke has narrowed them down to a manageable number, but is leaving the final selection up to us ladies. What do you think? Shall I go get the stack of cards now, so we may decide?”

Claire shared a look with Mallory, who gave an agreeable nod. “Yes, most definitely. Let us begin.”