Redemption of the Duke (8 page)

The first letter was to a women’s group that was forming in industrial Birmingham,
with suggestions for speakers at their meetings, as well as the best way to advertise
their events.

“You aren’t just a supporter, my lady, but you are active in the formation of like-minded
support groups.”

Lady Duncan beamed at her. “I do my best. How else will women know how to band together
and accomplish important things, if we don’t help each other?”

They spent another hour on the letters, and Faith was more and more impressed by the
lady’s convictions. It was wonderful to speak so freely, to be unafraid to voice her
own opinions. She and Lady Duncan seemed to relate on a level of deep friendship right
from the start. It was refreshing and gratifying for Faith, who hadn’t had many friends,
except for the Society of Ladies’ Companions and Chaperones.

And that reminded her. As she was taking away the writing desk from Lady Duncan’s
bed, she said, “I know we have not discussed my hours, ma’am, but might I continue
to keep today, Wednesday, as my afternoon off?”

“Of course, of course, that will do well. I am certain I can find other free times
for you.”

“I have friends I regularly meet. But since it is my first full day, I will not desert
you.”

“But you must! You cannot change an appointment so late.”

“That is too generous, my lady. It is hardly work to spend time with you.”

“Good, then you won’t mind accompanying me on a shopping trip in the next hour.”

“Shopping?” she said doubtfully, thinking of the lady’s advanced age and use of her
cane.

“Do not be fooled into thinking I’m infirm,” Lady Duncan insisted, sliding from bed
rather dexterously. “I may need my cane for balance, but my legs are healthy enough
to walk, so walk I do, most frequently. You might accompany me occasionally, and we’ll
see who has the strongest constitution.”

Faith smiled. “You seem to like competition. Remind me not to play cards with you.”

“Oh, you’ll be playing.”

The two women laughed together.

“Now go find your cloak and bonnet,” Lady Duncan said. “It’s still winter out there,
though the sun is out. We will meet in the entrance hall.”

And by “we,” Faith found out that Lady Duncan meant the entire household of women,
including Lady Tunbridge’s daughter, Lady Frances. The girl, ten years of age, had
her mother’s dark hair pulled back in a braid, and the blue eyes of the Chamberlins.
She was eager to attend with the ladies, but shy when introduced to Faith, and even
shyer when her mother spoke gently to her, correcting her posture. So far, Faith had
not heard Lady Tunbridge speak civilly to anyone in the household other than her daughter.
As they walked out to the carriage, Lady Sophia took Frances’s hand, and they swung
their hands together happily.

They rode in the largest coach of the estate, with the ducal insignia displayed on
the side. On Regent Street, that insignia seemed to clear the way for them, and many
people pointed at them from the pavement as they disembarked. Faith was used to being
anonymous in a crowd, and it was disturbing to feel stared at. It didn’t help that
she was self-conscious about her hair, which the bonnet only worsened. She caught
little Frances trying not to stare at her, and once, giggling behind her hand.

But Faith didn’t mind. It was best that she be thought older and out of style. She
hadn’t realized she might not like being so on display with the duke’s family, and
it reminded her that Timothy Gilpin was probably still in town. She didn’t want to
give him any reason to think about her, to wonder why she had to run away to London
to take a position, rather than simply stay home.

They walked along Regent Street, spending the most time in their dressmaker’s shop,
but also visiting a milliner, a cobbler, and a bookshop. Faith wasn’t required to
do much of anything except offer an occasional opinion, and it was relaxing.

The strangest thing was that every time she was on the street, she had a prickly feeling
at the back of her neck, an . . . awareness that something wasn’t quite right. She’d
look around but see nothing more than other shoppers enjoying their day, ladies strolling
arm in arm, gentlemen carrying their parcels, the occasional servant scurrying to
a waiting carriage. She kept dismissing this foolish notion, but every time they reached
the street again, it came back. Faith had the unusual sensation that someone was watching
them—but of course, people were always watching aristocratic families. She simply
wasn’t used to it. And she never could discern one single person with his eyes on
them, so at last, she forced it from her mind.

“Oh, it is Rothford!” the duchess suddenly exclaimed, waving at her son and a friend,
who were about to enter a coffee house.

Faith slipped quietly to the back of the group, where she preferred to be anyway.
The two men crossed the busy street and approached the ladies. She wanted to feel
indifferent toward the duke’s arrival—good Lord, she lived with him now—but she could
not. There was something about him that drew the eye, that made one think of vitality
and fitness and . . . oh very well, his handsome features could surely make a lady
swoon. But not her, of course.

Everyone knew everyone else, until the duke’s friend spied her.

“And whom do we have here?” he asked.

She could feel his gaze touch on her ugly hair, her bulky clothes, and instead of
being embarrassed, she felt safe in her subtle disguise.

Lady Duncan said, “Lord Shenstone, may I introduce my companion, Miss Faith Cooper.”

Faith curtsied. Lord Shenstone had the arrogance of a man who knew his good looks
and his situation of birth gave him all the advantages he would ever need. He had
reddish-brown hair that curled about his head, and the darkest eyes, which seemed
unreadable. They should show happiness, but she couldn’t be certain. He was more slender
than the duke, but she did not assume that meant him to be weaker.

“Lord Shenstone and my nephew have been friends since their days at Eton,” Lady Duncan
continued.

“Friendship—is that what they’re calling our years apart these days?” Lord Shenstone
said with sarcastic amusement.

The duke smiled. Faith felt him glance at her only briefly, and she was relieved.

“Your letter-writing skills
were
sorely lacking,” Rothford said to his friend.

“But I thought of you often.” Lord Shenstone turned to Lady Duncan. “If you needed
a companion, ma’am, why did you not ask? I have so many cousins I know not what to
do with them.”

Like they were all pieces on a chessboard for his amusement, Faith thought, keeping
her annoyed frown at bay. But apparently, she was more transparent than she thought.

“Ah, your new little servant is not impressed with me, Rothford.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but how could she defend herself without making things worse?

“Miss Cooper is not my servant,” the duke said.

His tone was a bit too sharp, and she wanted to wince—and she wanted to stare at him
in surprise. His mother did that for her, and perhaps that was worse.

Lord Shenstone laughed. “I did not know being a servant was such a bad thing.”

“I cannot imagine you wanting to be a servant,” Lady Sophia said, lifting her chin.

“You are correct, of course, Lady Sophia,” Lord Shenstone answered, bowing to her.
He turned to Faith. “Forgive me if I offended you, Miss Cooper, although I’m still
uncertain how I did so.”

She glanced at Lady Duncan, who did not seem like she would restrict anything Faith
would say. To Lord Shenstone, Faith answered, “I simply feel sorry for your cousins,
my lord, since you do not seem to hold them in high esteem.”

“That’s very true,” he agreed, “but since you have not met them, you cannot understand,
can you?”

She nodded. “Then perhaps I am simply sensitive on behalf of companions and women
everywhere.”

Lord Shenstone studied her, that condescending smile still in place.

“I like the way you think, Miss Cooper,” said Lady Duncan. “You and I will do so well
together. Now tell me, Adam, what were you two gentlemen about today? Fencing?”

“Of course,” Lord Shenstone answered. “And though I used to occasionally defeat him
in our misbegotten youth, no more. Now it is like taking lessons from a master.”

The duke shrugged. “I have simply had more practice.”

He made it sound like he’d been sparring genial friends with wooden swords or buttoned
points all these years, instead of opponents trying to kill him. He’d once been like
Lord Shenstone, she suspected, a ne’er-do-well, a scoundrel—she found herself wondering
how he’d first taken the reality of the army.

“It is called skill, Rothford,” Lord Shenstone said genially. “I promise I will try
to give you decent competition again someday.” He glanced past their little group.
“Today is truly the day to run into acquaintances on Regent Street. I do believe my
vicar is in town.”

Lady Sophia gave a little gasp and turned her head away with a blush.

Faith understood Lord Shenstone to mean the vicar of his local village, but she wasn’t
sure about Lady Sophia’s reaction.

“Do you know this man, my lady?” Faith asked softly.

“He is Mr. Percy.” Lady Sophia saw her brother watching, pressed her lips together,
and said nothing more.

Then Faith saw the vicar in question and understood immediately. He was a handsome
young man, plainly dressed but with a lively step. His chestnut hair gleamed in the
sun when he doffed his hat, and his dimples winked into view as he smiled upon spying
their party. By the time he slowed to a stop, he’d concealed those dimples, as with
a respectful expression he bowed to the duke.

“Your Grace, the pleasant morning has only increased upon seeing your party.”

“Mr. Percy,” the duke said, with a brief nod.

“And what are you doing so far from Lichfield?” Lord Shenstone asked.

Mr. Percy smiled. “I am visiting my sister, my lord. Do not fear, I will be back home
for the Sunday service.”

“You are always the model of duty, Mr. Percy,” Lady Sophia said.

There was an interesting edge to her voice that had Faith giving her a second glance.

Mr. Percy bowed to her. “Lady Sophia, I always wish to do what is expected of me.”

“Of course.” Her voice grew even cooler, and she suddenly took Frances’s hand and
drew the little girl toward the window of a pastry shop.

Faith saw the duke watching his sister, brows slightly lowered, even as Mr. Percy
gave his regards to the other ladies of the party. He took his leave, and his last
regretful glance was for Lady Sophia, who only gave a distant nod, then ignored her
brother’s direct stare.

A young woman emerged from a nearby shop, her head turned away as she spoke with a
companion, and ran directly into the duke.

“Oh dear!” she cried.

The duke grabbed both her arms before she could tumble to the pavement. The woman
looked up at him from beneath her stylish hat, her expression full of surprise and
then delight.

“Your Grace, how wonderful to see you again! And to think I once called you Lord Adam,
but now you have a far loftier title. How things change, although I regret that a
tragedy was the cause.”

“Lady Emmeline, good day to you,” the duke said. “And I appreciated your note of condolence.”

Lord Shenstone, though he eyed the young lady with interest, gave a smirk when Rothford
glanced his way.

“Your Grace, London has long missed you these many years, but I do say, you seem the
picture of health after your heroic sojourn on the other side of the world.”

Rothford gave her a smile, and although Faith had seen a more wicked one, it certainly
worked its effect on Lady Emmeline, who blushed and giggled.

Lord Shenstone openly rolled his eyes behind the woman’s back, although he did say,
“You’re looking particularly sunny this day, Lady Emmeline.”

She made a great show of acting like she hadn’t seen him. “Lord Shenstone, imagine
you
blending into a crowd like that. Do forgive my silliness and accept my wishes for
a good day.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, a muscle in his jaw clenching.

Lady Emmeline looked at their party. “Greetings, my ladies!”

Lady Duncan chuckled at the young woman’s exuberance, Lady Tunbridge looked bored,
but to Faith’s surprise, the duchess smiled with sunny pleasure. Faith hadn’t often
seen the woman look interested in anything but her son.

“Rothford, is your dear sister—Sophia!” Lady Emmeline cried. “I’ve been so long in
the country. Thank goodness the Season has brought us together!”

Lady Sophia took her friend’s gloved hands and they smiled at each other. “Emmeline,
it’s been too long since your last visit. Please say you have time to come calling
on me.”

Faith couldn’t miss the shy, blushing glances Lady Emmeline cast upon the duke, while
he looked on with a bland smile.

“Of course, dear friend, I had planned to come today!”

Sophia turned to Faith. “Emmeline, here is one member of our party you have not met,
Miss Cooper, my aunt’s new companion.”

Faith curtsied. “Good morning, my lady.”

Lady Sophia caught her friend’s arm in her own. “Emmeline and I have been friends
our whole lives, school and holidays together. I know her family as well as she knows
mine.”

“How wonderful to have a friend as close as a sister,” Faith said.

And by the way Lady Emmeline glanced at the duke, perhaps the woman wished to be Sophia’s
new sister in truth. It was none of Faith’s business, but she was surprised to feel
vaguely bothered by the idea. The duke had to marry
someone,
after all. Perhaps Lady Emmeline just didn’t seem . . . mature and sensible enough.
He obviously needed a woman who could take him in hand.

After a few more pleasantries, Lady Emmeline reluctantly left them, the gentlemen
took their leave and headed back to the coffee house, and Faith was able to linger
at the rear of the party.