Say Yes to the Duke (18 page)

“I know,” said Isobel with a smirk. She enjoyed bustling about the room in the mornings.
At the moment, she was brushing down Janice’s coat again. “You’re looking extra bright
eyed and rosy cheeked this morning. Could you be coming down with something?”

“No. I’m fine. Really.”

“At least tell me if there was an astonishing development last night.”

“There was.” Janice smiled. “Mr. Callahan named the last puppy.”

“Is that all?” Isobel laughed softly and raised her eyebrow. “It sounds like a poor
excuse he invented to get you over there.”

“No. That wasn’t it at all.” Janice blushed.

“See?”

“No,” she repeated firmly. “There was another reason—a very important one.”

And she told Isobel about the journal.

The maid set aside the brush. “If that don’t beat all. The groom’s mother was a lady’s
maid for Her Grace and she was mistreated?”

“Apparently.” Janice put her finger to her mouth.

“Sorry,” Isobel whispered.

“We need to keep it a secret for the time being. You can help me look for the journal.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Isobel grinned. “But if it’s thirty years old, where would
it be?”

“All I can think is that it might be on a shelf somewhere with other books.”

“I’ll search every one in the housekeeping office near the kitchens as soon as I get
you ready.”

“Good,” said Janice. “And I’ll look in the duke’s library. If he walks in, or anyone
else does, it will be easy enough to tell them I’m an avid bibliophile.”

“Of course. Whatever that means, it sounds grand.” Isobel went back to bustling. “What
if there are books in the attics? How could we find out?”

“Good point. I’ll ask the housekeeper. I’ll tell her my hobby is seeking out vintage
ones.”

“Perfect. We can’t also forget to look in every escritoire in the house.”

“That would involve going into rooms we’re not supposed to be in.” Janice was a little
worried about that.

“Leave it to me.” Isobel was insistent. “I can be furtive when I care to.”

With her bright ginger hair, Janice somehow doubted that. “We’ll split them up,” she
said. “If I’m caught, I’ll say I was looking for a spare quill.”

“And I’ll say I was looking for a spare quill for you.” The maid giggled.

Janice bit her lip, then said, “But if Emily hid her journal, she probably wouldn’t
have put it on a shelf. Or an escritoire.”

“True”—Isobel’s brow furrowed—“but if it were ever found by a maid or footman, no
doubt they’d have slipped it onto a shelf or in a drawer somewhere.”

“Right.” Janice had a busy day ahead of her. Looking for the journal would mean she’d
have little time to think about Luke Callahan, and that was likely a good thing. What
could come of her involvement with him? “We’ll hope for the best. And if we don’t
find it in any of those places, we’ll think about other spots.”

“It would help to know what room she slept in,” said Isobel.

“But how to ask those sorts of questions without stirring people’s curiosity?” Janice
sighed.

“You do something else at the same time that interests them more,” said Isobel. “They’ll
answer you, but they’ll be focused on the other thing. I learned that from the animal
trainers, too.”

“Do you have an example?”

“Yes. While you ask the tiger to sit, you wave a bit of beef about on a stick, and
he sits without a problem because he really wants that meat.”

“Good God, how am I supposed to apply that to this situation?”

“I don’t know, my lady,” Isobel said serenely.

She enjoyed stirring Janice up, without a doubt.

*   *   *

A half hour later, Janice indulged in a large breakfast. She had such an appetite!

Mrs. Friday was there before her. “You’re looking well this morning.”

“Thank you.” Janice swathed more butter on her toast. “As are you.”

Mrs. Friday was so beautiful she would look good in a flour sack.

“Thank you,” Janice’s new friend said, “but I must say that color becomes you particularly
well.” Janice was wearing a periwinkle blue muslin. “Either that, or it’s the country
air that’s brought a bloom to your cheeks. And your lips are a lovely cherry red.”

Goodness.
She was the second person to have mentioned that. Janice couldn’t help thinking that
perhaps what she’d done last night with Luke Callahan had altered her appearance for
the better.

It would be her secret.

And it was the most delicious one she’d ever kept.

Miss Branson, Lady Opal, and Lady Rose joined them.

“The butler tells me that the duke’s in the stables greeting a new guest,” Miss Branson
said. “A baronet called Sir Milo. He’s a runt of a man, but he knows horses. Other
than that, I don’t know what the duke sees in him.”

Janice didn’t know what His Grace saw in his friends Lord Rowntree or Lord Yarrow,
either. She wiped her mouth with her serviette and stood. “I’m going to visit the
dowager now.” After that, she’d look for the journal, and of course she had to go
see those puppies.

And Luke Callahan.

Mrs. Friday stood as well. “I’m off to prepare the noon meal with Cook. I’m to stir
the sauces.”

“I’d like to go with you,” said Lady Opal. “I’m curious about the culinary arts.”

“What are you talking about, Opal?” said Rose over her shirred eggs. “We both cooked
for our parents when they were alive. You’re an excellent cook.”

Lady Opal turned red. “Yes, but—but that wasn’t culinary. I want to learn something
new and exciting from a duke’s chef.”

“Don’t ever call Cook a chef,” said Mrs. Friday with a chuckle. “She’s proud of being
plain old Cook.”

“I like the sound of her,” said Miss Branson. “She doesn’t put on airs.”

“Isn’t that what you want to do here?” Lady Opal was still agitated. “Align yourself
with a duke so you can go back to America a duchess?”

“Hell, no,” said Miss Branson. “I’m never going to marry. I just want to have adventures.
And boy, am I having them.” She chuckled. “English gentlemen are amusing, I must say,
with their big talk and little—”

“Shut
up.
” Lady Opal made a face at her.

Miss Branson frowned back. “Why are
you
two here? Do you really think a duke is going to marry a spinster with no money and
no prospects from some small village? And even if he did, what would happen to the
other sister? One of you is gonna lose, either way.”

Lady Rose’s face scrunched up. “You’re rude, Miss Branson.”

“And you’re a squatter,” she said. “At least I’m paying my way here. Room and board.”

“Y-you are?” asked Janice.

“Sure,” said Miss Branson. “His Grace might be rich, but he’s got a fondness for gambling,
among other things.” She lofted a brow.

“What other things?” Janice asked her.

“Nothing, I’m sure,” Mrs. Friday said quietly, fingering her modest neckline.

Miss Branson grinned at the chaperone. “I’m sorry, but I find this entire setup entertaining.
Now you’ve arrived, and Lady Janice, too. How many more unmarried women are going
to play house here?”

“Lady Janice and I are not here to play house.” Mrs. Friday’s beautiful lips were
white. “She’s visiting the dowager, and I’m her chaperone. Everything is entirely
proper, and while we’re in residence, it shall remain that way.”

Janice was genuinely touched by how protective the young widow was of her. She felt
guilty, too, after what she’d done last night. But she’d do it again.

In a heartbeat.

Beneath her lacy drawers, Janice was a wanton.

On that bench, Mr. Callahan had brought her to a height of pleasure she’d never known.
Even now the memory caused a sharp, pleasurable tingle to descend from her belly to
the heart of her femininity.

Oh, yes, she would most definitely do it again, as wicked of her as it was to indulge
in. From the beginning, Mr. Callahan had been impossible to resist. And now she didn’t
even want to try.

Though you must.

It was Mama’s voice she heard. Mama, who knew that Janice was too full of common sense
to let what happened to Marcia happen to her—now that she’d been warned. Only a fool
would ignore a good warning.

Janice swallowed and tried to think about the dowager and not Luke Callahan’s thighs
spread on that bench in the tack room last night, and his fingers, how well they’d
played with her … making her completely forget all the proprieties that Mama so treasured.

Lady Rose stood. “I want to go with
you,
Lady Janice.” Her voice was thinner than usual.

“I’d love to have all of you come,” she said, “but this time I’m going alone—to prepare
Her Grace for more visitors.”

That was true, but she also wanted to check in with the dowager about their little
secret. She had no idea if the elderly lady remembered sharing it with her. After
all, she’d been the Queen when she had.

When Janice arrived in the dowager’s bedchamber a few moments later, she was pleased
to see that the old lady’s cheeks were a rosy hue and her eyes bright.

The curtains were pulled back, and that bright snow light filled the room. The nurse
was stitching a pillow in a small chair, and this time when Janice said hello the
servant did more than grunt. She actually said, “Good morning, my lady.”

Janice was also pleased to see that the dowager was being herself and not the Queen.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” She sat next to her and held her withered hand.

“Good morning, Lady Janice.” The duchess bestowed a kindly smile upon her. “I hope
you’re enjoying your stay.”

“Yes, Your Grace. In the one day I’ve been here, I’ve enjoyed myself very much.”

“Excellent. What do you think of Halsey?”

“He’s imposing.” Janice chuckled. “I think most dukes are.”

“Yes, they are.” The dowager laughed. “My own duke—Liam, I was privileged to call
him—was very much that way. We produced two boys, a bossy one like my husband—that
would be Russell. And a sensitive one like me: Everett, the heir.”

“But I’m sure you loved them both equally well.” Janice sent her an encouraging smile.
It was obvious the dowager wanted to talk. “I know that all six siblings in my family
are vastly different, but none of us is loved any less than the others.”

“That’s because love can’t be measured.” The duchess’s smile faded, and her eyes clouded
with a tinge of sadness. “It was such a shock when I lost them both—Liam first, and
then Everett, one nearly after the other.”

“I’m so sorry.” Janice gave her hand a little squeeze.

The dowager sighed. “In the midst of crisis, Russell stepped in beautifully. I suppose
I wasn’t grateful enough that he did. I was too immersed in my own grief to thank
him properly.”

“I’m sure he understood.”

The dowager shook her head. “I don’t know if he did. He had a terrible temper. Perhaps
it was his own grief, but after Liam and Everett died, he changed. He was unkind to
me. And indifferent when I was ill.” She swallowed hard.

Janice noticed. “Please don’t upset yourself, Your Grace,” she begged her gently.

“I brought you here to tell you this,” the old woman replied, “before I die.”

“Your Grace”—Janice shook her head—“please don’t speak that way.”

“It’s all right.” The dowager sighed. “Everyone must go someday. But each of us has
a story, don’t we?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“And those stories should be told.” The duchess seemed more content. “And
you,
Lady Janice, are the person I want to tell my story to. There was something in your
eyes that day—when you were a little girl. Even then I saw that you had a sensitive
soul, like Everett. If I’d had a daughter, I would have wanted her to have your eyes
and your grace. Every time I went to your mother for fittings, I always looked for
you.”

“My goodness, Your Grace. That’s such a lovely compliment. Thank you.” Janice was
overwhelmed again. And so touched.

“As for Russell,” the dowager continued, “the boy I knew wasn’t there anymore. He’d
been replaced by an equally strong-willed man. But the man lacked a heart that I was
sure the boy had.”

“Sometimes people change because of their circumstances,” Janice offered as explanation.
“I’m sorry that happened to Russell.”

“I am, too.” The duchess gave another weary sigh.

The nurse stood up and sent a warning look to Janice.

She understood.

“Your Grace,” she began softly, “I’m privileged to hear your story. But perhaps you
should rest for a bit.”

“I think you’re right.” The dowager’s smile was weak. “These memories agitate me so.
And sometimes they disappear—
I
disappear—and I get confused. So very confused.”

“I understand.” Without asking, Janice leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re a
dear lady. I’m so glad you invited me to stay.” She was humbled by the woman’s kind
interest in her. “And about that special strategy you shared with me, I’d like to
thank you.” She leaned in closer so Mrs. Poole couldn’t hear. “Saying no has been …
liberating in a way. It’s hard to explain.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” The dowager’s eyes registered real confusion.

Janice scratched her temple and smiled. “Nothing, really.” Somehow she thought that
the dowager had known what the Queen was doing—but apparently not.

In less than a few seconds, the dowager fell into a light doze.

“I’ll come back, of course,” Janice told the nurse.

“Just not at three o’clock. That’s when His Grace visits.”

“All right. What does he do if she’s asleep?”

“He simply sits with her.”

“That’s so kind of him.” Janice was surprised somehow to hear how devoted he was.

“He’s a good man,” replied Mrs. Poole.

He must be,
Janice thought as she made her way to the main wing of the house.
He really must.

Chapter Fifteen

All morning long, the wind blew and the snow fell. Janice’s conversation with the
dowager had made her rather sad. So she’d wrapped herself up and gone to the stables,
presumably to check on the puppies and Oscar. Poor man, he had no idea how feeble
the residents of Halsey House supposed him to be.