What the Duke Wants (2 page)

Chapter 1

Beckett House…

Amberley, West Sussex…

Country Home of the Earl and Countess of Swindon…

25th April, 1814…

“What are we going to do about her, George? If she ruins everything for our Beatryce with her common…”

Grace Radclyffe, the twenty-year-old niece of the Earl and Countess of Swindon, leaned back against the wall, raised her eyes to the ceiling, and blew out her breath in relief as the shrill sounds of her aunt’s remaining words were cut off by the closing of the study door. Thankfully, her uncle’s response was indiscernible, his answering voice muffled by the paneled walls.

Grace had been on her way outside when Aunt Mary had come barreling down the stairs in high dudgeon. Grace had quickly dashed into an alcove beneath the stairs to avoid a confrontation. She had simply planned to wait for Aunt Mary to pass before continuing on her way outside and was surprised—well, perhaps not surprised as much as…caught unprepared…by her aunt’s reproving words.

Grace’s eyes watered as she fought for control over her emotions. She refused to cry, but it was never easy to know you were the unpleasant topic of a conversation, and there was no doubt that Grace was the ‘her’ to which her aunt referred. Who else could it be?

Grace pressed further into a corner of the alcove in an attempt to remain unseen whilst she pulled herself together. All around her, the staff hustled anxiously about their tasks as they frantically prepared for the arrival of the Duke of Stonebridge, one of a dozen guests expected to arrive today for a week-long house party. She could smell the familiar odors of lemon and oil as a maid set about cleaning the nearby stair rail.

“Miss Grace…”

Grace surreptitiously swiped at her eyes before peering around the corner to see the upstairs maid, Janet, standing there, her brow furrowed with concern.

One of the few joys of Beckett House, her aunt and uncle’s house and Grace’s home for the past year, was the staff, all of whom were welcoming and pleasant despite their employer’s haughty airs. It horrified Aunt Mary to know how friendly Grace was with the staff, knowing them all by name and enough about their families to ask of them in conversation. Aunt Mary put the behavior down to Grace’s father and his lowly beginnings.

Grace shook her head to prevent Janet from saying anything more. She was simply too upset to engage in conversation. However, to reassure the maid of her continued friendship, Grace lightly laid her hand upon Janet’s arm and gave her a tender squeeze and a friendly smile before hurrying off toward the rear of the house and the French doors that led out to the back garden.

Normally, Grace maintained quite a sunny disposition and even now refused to allow her aunt’s bitter prejudice to bring her down, but in order to regain her composure, she needed to get out of the house…

Now, twenty minutes later, Grace sighed with contentment as she sat on an old wooden dock with her skirts hitched above her knees, dangling her feet in the cool, clear water. The dock jutted out over a large lake situated in a clearing deep in the woods behind the rear gardens of Beckett House; thus she was obscured from view of the house and she could relax and enjoy some privacy.

She closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky, the feeling of warmth from the sun at her back inviting her to unwind. Her bonnet lay beside her with her hair pins cradled in its bowl, the adornments all but forgotten as she rolled her head back and forth and allowed the sun to caress her face. Her loosened brown hair just grazed the flare of her hips with the movement. She inhaled deeply, for the air was cool and refreshing.

On her exhale, Grace leaned forward and looked down, staring meditatively at the water. She was content to simply watch its movement as it swirled about one foot where she rotated it in a figure eight pattern just beneath the surface.

Her thoughts drifted to her situation. Her parents were dead a year now and she was living at the mercy of her Aunt Mary and Uncle George, the Countess and Earl of Swindon, until she reached her twenty-first birthday which, thankfully, was only a few short months away.

In actuality, neither the earl nor the countess was her blood relation. Her real aunt was the earl’s first wife, Florence Swindon. Florence and Grace’s mother, Leanne, had been sisters, both born of a Baron. However, whilst Aunt Florence had married the Earl of Swindon, George Beckett, Grace’s mother had remained in Oxford and married a man in trade, a local bookshop owner named John Radclyffe.

Grace barely remembered Aunt Florence, but her impression was that of a rather friendly, shy woman whom Grace did not often see, probably due to the earl and his prejudices against people in trade. Aunt Florence and Uncle George had one daughter, Beatryce, when Grace was three. Unfortunately, Aunt Florence died during the birth of her second child a few years later (the child also passed), and then nearly a year to the day afterwards, the earl married his second wife: Mary Swindon nee Wristwaithe.

Aunt Mary was an altogether different sort: outspoken and pretentious. She and Uncle George had three children together—again, all girls; though as expected, Grace did not know her cousins well since the Radclyffes were rarely invited to Beckett House, and certainly Uncle George and Aunt Mary did not deign to visit them in Oxford.

Now, Grace lived at Beckett House with her four cousins under the guardianship of her Aunt Mary and Uncle George. Though they were passively cruel to her, for they looked down upon her because her father had been in trade, they did their duty, if only just, and kept her housed and fed because, like it or not, she was (unfortunately to their mind) considered a relative even if not actually related by blood. Grace supposed she should be thankful to the earl and countess for taking her in when she was so distantly related. Alas, those feelings of appreciation escaped her at the moment…

“Grace. There you are.”

Grace was jolted from her thoughts as the youngest of her cousins, Adelaide, came skipping down the dock toward her. Grace took a moment to smile at the young girl who, at the age of six, was full of life and energy. As usual, Adelaide was dressed in a play frock sans shoes, a bad habit she seemed to have picked up of late from following Grace about the garden.

“Good morning, Addie. What are you about this morning?”

Adelaide looked about furtively before responding, “Shhhh. I’ve come here to hide out from Mama and my nurse. They want me to put on my new dress and shoes and plait my hair, and I won’t have it. How can I play all strung up like a May Pole?”

“Besides,” she continued, “Mama is too busy calming Beatryce to notice my absence right now.”

Grace inwardly cringed at the mention of Beatryce. Beatryce was the oldest of Uncle George’s four children, and at eighteen, was out in society. Grace could not imagine Beatryce walking the grounds with her head uncovered, let alone dangling her feet in the water. Beatryce was spoiled and vain, and always unsatisfied.

“Did Beatryce really throw the dancing slippers out the window?” asked Adelaide after a moment.

“No, Adelaide, she didn’t, not really. She just felt like it. I’m sure she is just nervous about the duke’s arrival this afternoon and is not acting her usual self…”

Grace cringed at the small white lie, and eyed Adelaide to see if she had swallowed it. It wasn’t her place to speak ill of Adelaide’s sister, so the lie seemed justified in this instance. Just this morning Beatryce had thrown a tantrum when she discovered Aunt Mary had allowed Grace to borrow an old pair of Beatryce’s dancing slippers, and had tossed them out the window rather than forfeit them to Grace. Never mind that Beatryce had at least ten pairs of dancing slippers, while Grace had none.

What made matters worse was Aunt Mary had provided Grace with an old dress of Beatryce’s as well, which was out of fashion and not at all flattering to her slim stature, but based on Beatryce’s hysterics this morning, anyone would have thought Aunt Mary had presented Grace with the Royal Diamonds instead. Not to mention that the dress’s pale shade of lavender did nothing for either of their complexions, thus, she couldn’t imagine Beatryce wearing it out in polite society anyway. Unfortunately, there was no help for it. Grace didn’t have anything appropriate to wear for this week’s events without borrowing from Beatryce, who was of a size.

One might think Beatryce would feel some sort of connection with Grace, having both lost their mother and being true cousins, but alas, Beatryce seemed quite content with her situation and her disdain for her lesser relative.

Beatryce’s half-sisters Hetty (sixteen) and Sylvia (twelve) were quite shy by comparison. In truth, Hetty was attending a boarded finishing school and was not often around so Grace still did not know her well. Sylvia was quiet and strictly obedient to her mother and governess; thus, Grace rarely saw her except at a distance—probably by Aunt Mary’s intention.

Adelaide, however, the youngest at six, was a force all her own. She was always running from her nurse, and from the day Grace arrived to live at Beckett House, had sought Grace out daily—much to her mother’s vexation.

“Well, that is understandable, I guess. I didn’t think Beatryce would be so silly over a pair of old dancing shoes. She has at least a dozen…”

“Yes, that would be silly, indeed.”

Adelaide thoughtfully paused a moment more before chattering happily on about something completely unrelated: bugs (or was that ribbons with bugs?), as was her wont. Grace was relieved the girl hadn’t pushed to further discuss Beatryce’s behavior of late, and with the pressure of the upcoming house party, she couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to drift, somewhat oblivious to her cousin’s innocent babble.

For the most part, Aunt Mary and Uncle George left Grace alone and managed to avoid drawing society’s attention toward their unwanted guest. They never took her with them to parties; nor did they take her to London whenever they made the trip. This was a mutually agreeable decision as Grace had no desire to come under the scrutiny of high society—the ton—and her aunt and uncle had no desire to acknowledge so close an association with trade or to risk some other embarrassment by their wayward ward.

Today, however, they had no choice, for society demanded they throw a house party to announce the engagement of their daughter, Beatryce, to the Duke of Stonebridge; hence all the lunacy over His Grace’s imminent arrival. Grace didn’t think the couple was officially engaged yet, but a proposal and formal announcement were expected, and several key guests were invited to stay the week to witness what was sure to be
the
event of the season.

Much to the chagrin of her aunt and uncle, all of this meant Grace had to be introduced to society after all. They couldn’t very well send her away (there wasn’t anyone to send her to) nor could they hide her in the attic whilst the guests were about—though Grace had caught her aunt looking at her oddly a time or two over the past week and was sure the thought had crossed her aunt’s mind.

For the past month, Aunt Mary had fretted daily over Grace’s upcoming introduction to society at this week’s house party, though not just because of Grace’s shocking family history in trade. No, there was also the wee matter of Grace’s proclivity for accidental mishaps (she was downright clumsy) and her (shocking!) tendency to befriend the servants who, of course, all loved her in return, that had Aunt Mary dreaming nightmares over the possible scandals that could ensue.

Grace sighed as she told herself it was best not to dwell on such maudlin thoughts. She was never one to pity herself or her situation and she was happy, truly happy—though mayhap, in secret (and only rarely at that), she allowed herself to dream…Perhaps she’d envision a handsome, kind man coming to rescue her and carry her away from her reality and into a life of which she could only imagine…It was a brief indulgence—this dream—for she was confident enough in herself to know she would make do just fine with her own resources…and she knew her circumstances could be much, much worse.

Aaah, but sometimes it was nice to daydream…to picture someone else with whom she could at least share the burdens and joys of life.

“Grace, are you listening to me?”

Grace started as she realized she had been daydreaming and had long stopped attending to Adelaide’s chatter.

“I am truly sorry, Addie, I let my mind wander away from me again.”

“It’s all right, Grace. I asked if you think the duke will like having me for a sister.” Adelaide bowed her head shyly and fidgeted with the hem of her dress, such that Grace was startled by the uncharacteristically timid behavior.

Impulsively, Grace leaned over to hug Adelaide and said, “Oh, Addie, how could he not? You’re everything a person could ask for in a sister, truly. Why would you think otherwise? Have you met His Grace? Has he been impolite or rude to you in any way?”

“No, not at all…It’s just that everyone is acting all strange. I keep trying to imagine what His Grace might think of all of us—and our home…”

Beckett House was rather large to Grace’s way of thinking, for prior to this, she had only ever lived with her parents in their small home above their bookstore in Oxford. She supposed Beatryce’s duke might own a much larger house in any one of his numerous estates across the country, thus Beckett House might be considered modest by comparison.

Grace looked thoughtfully at Adelaide a moment before responding. “Addie, first of all, I should hope that His Grace wouldn’t judge anyone by the size and lavishness of their home for it’s a person’s character that truly matters…and if he does consider the value of your possessions as a way of determining your worth as a person, then I think he is not worthy of your consideration in return—even if he does become your brother-in-law.”

“Well, Mama and Papa must think it is important to impress His Grace with their things. They’ve even taken a guest room so the duke can have their rooms whilst he is here.”

Grace thought it was quite funny that her aunt and uncle had done this and to hear them complain (albeit furtively) about having to share a room with each other (gasp!) to provide the duke with three rooms for his own personal use. She knew they had done so simply on account of his standing and the fact that he was planning to marry Beatryce, but really, couldn’t the duke manage one single week with less? Was he so pompous and fickle that he would break off the engagement over something as silly as the number of rooms available to him for his weeklong stay? If so, she might actually pity Beatryce her chosen fiancé, but then she realized, knowing Beatryce, she and the duke might actually be quite alike in their preferences if this were so.