What the Groom Wants (8 page)

He pressed a kiss into her palm. “I will bring whatever you need, my Wind.”

***

Radley was whistling as he strolled away from the dress shop. Everything was falling into place. Certainly, there were changes to come. He was a duke, for God’s sake, and he still had little understanding of what that meant. But he felt as though he was getting it under control. Mostly, he was learning what he had to learn, and that made everything manageable.

He was a smart man, after all, and he’d never failed when he set his mind to something. The responsibilities of a dukedom would be no different. Neither would his courtship of Wendy.

In short, he was pleased. So pleased that he thought he would visit his new home. It was one more duke thing to accomplish before tonight’s seduction. And yes, he decided, it would be a seduction. He was truly primed to follow through on the promise of a kiss. And, if some things happened before the nuptials themselves, then that was the way of it sometimes.

His mind wandered as he strolled to the Grosvenor home of the Duke of Bucklynde. He hadn’t planned on visiting yet. It had been too much to process, and apparently, there was a protocol for meeting the staff. But he knew his mother was anxious to move to the glorified address, and so he wanted to see it.

He came upon the house in early evening. The sun was setting, and it cast the building in a warm glow. Many people might have said it was a pretty house, especially with all those orange and rose tones from the setting sun. He noted it absently, his mind simply reeling from the sheer size of the thing.

All that space for himself and his mother. Good God, it was larger than the ship he’d brought in. He’d checked the address three times to realize that the massive edifice was his home. It didn’t house multiple families shoved together or an entire ship’s crew. Just him, his mother, and… well, servants. Probably a lot of servants, if what he’d heard about the last duke were true. The man had been singularly mindful of his consequence, and nothing said superiority like a household full of servants.

Radley’s steps slowed as he wandered up the street. He had no interest in all that weight—servants, protocol, sixteen ways to tie a cravat. It bogged a man down until he couldn’t move. But his mother would love it. She was itching to order people around. She’d already started talking about his valet, her maid, a cook, and more.

A footman had just hung the knocker on the huge door and was now polishing it. The man stood on a stool, working a cloth in and around the details of the massive eagle clutching the knocker in its claws. Rather fearsome door decoration with its beak open on a silent scream. Dangerous on a ship. He’d be afraid someone would slip and impale himself. But, of course, they weren’t on a ship right now. And come to think of it, there was an eagle in the family crest.

He wandered up, contemplating the bird, when the footman looked down from his perch and curled his lip.

“What you looking at?” he demanded, his tone churlish.

Radley raised a brow. “No need to be nasty, mate. I’m just having a look around.”

“Nasty?” the man sneered. “This is the residence of the Duke of Bucklynde, and we don’t like blokes wandering around. Now get on with you.”

Radley’s expression darkened. He’d forgotten why he never visited this area of town. It wasn’t just that the owners were filled with their own consequence, but the servants jealously guarded it as well. Whereas a viscount might grin happily at any passerby, his valet would likely call the watch if the stranger weren’t immediately deferential. And that was nothing compared to what a footman might say or do. Apparently, this footman was a prime example of exactly what he detested.

So he leaned back and pursed his lips. “Now, that’s not very friendly,” he said. “You haven’t asked my name or if I have any business here. What if I were delivering something important for his grace?”

“Then you’d know to be at the back door, you cur,” the man sneered.

The back door for deliveries and the like. Of course. Stupid that he’d forgotten that. “I’m not delivering anything,” he said genially.

“Now, there’s a surprise,” the footman snorted. “Get yourself gone, or I’ll call the watch.”

“The watch? I’m not doing any harm.”

“You’re harming the very air.” He sniffed in disgust as he descended from the step. The man was slightly taller than Radley, and he tried to use that to his advantage. He didn’t know that Radley could easily best him in a fair fight—or an unfair one for that matter.

Radley shook his head in disgust. “I’m a first mate, and you would be wise to mind your tongue around strangers.”

“Or what?” The footman bunched his fists threateningly.

“What’s the meaning of this?” interrupted the butler. Just in time too, as Radley was considering decking the preening footman.

He turned his attention to the older gentleman. The man had dark hair and narrowed eyes, but was otherwise unremarkable. Certainly, he looked dapper enough in his livery, but beyond a superior tilt to his chin, he seemed as unremarkable a man as any that might be found throughout this city.

Radley frowned. “This man is threatening me with the watch when all I did was walk to the door to have a peek at this fine knocker.”

The butler frowned, his gaze moving between the two, before landing on the footman. “Joseph, what’s the meaning of this?”

“He’s a scurrilous man, no doubt planning to rob us blind in our sleep.”

Radley laughed, allowing a full measure of scorn to slide into his voice. “Scurrilous? Robber? You deduced all that from my proper attire and polite conversation?” He turned his attention back to the butler. “Do you allow the staff to be rude to strangers?”

The butler’s brows shot up, but he didn’t become obnoxious. If he had, Radley would have sacked them both. Instead, the man came back with a stiff but rational response. First he addressed the footman.

“Joseph, please wait for me inside. Thank you.” Then he turned to Radley. “Now, if you will please explain to me if you have any business here, sir, I will see what I can do to assist you.”

Radley allowed a soft smile to curve his lips. “Will he be disciplined? Or is this a normal attitude for the household?”

“I don’t see why that would concern you. Now, I repeat, sir, what business do you have here?”

“No business at all. I came to have a look around.” He would have ducked in the doorway then, just to see if he could get away with it. He didn’t because the butler was blocking the way with the obnoxious Joseph a step behind him. He focused on the footman, wanting to see his face when he said his next words. “I’m the new duke, and I’ll need a good reason not to sack you both.”

In truth, he had no intention of firing the butler. The man had not shown himself unfair… yet. But it would all depend on the next conversation.

In the meantime, young Joseph’s face curled with disgust. “As if you could be—” he began, but the butler silenced him with a hiss.

“Well, this is most awkward,” continued the butler. “I’m afraid I can’t acknowledge anyone as the new duke, you understand. Not when he’s expected tomo—”

“Tomorrow at two. Yes, I’m aware. Big presentation, my mother can’t wait. But I thought I’d pop around early just to see.”

“Seelye,” came a female voice from inside, “is something amiss?”

Both men straightened visibly. Radley did as well. It was hard not to when such a cultured voice filled the air. It sounded lovely, actually, and very proper. So he wasn’t at all surprised when the butler turned to address someone Radley couldn’t see.

“I’m not sure, my lady. This gentleman claims to be the new duke.”

“Really? Well, step aside. Let me meet him!” There was some excitement in the unseen woman’s voice, and Radley found himself smiling as the footman and butler reluctantly gave way so she could step forward. It wasn’t that they were being rude. They wanted to protect her. Radley approved of such an attitude, of course, but he wasn’t going to let it stand.

He pushed forward a bit—well, as much as he could, given that the butler still tried to block his way—and then he simply grinned at his cousin. “Cousin Eleanor, I presume.”

“Oh goodness,” the woman answered. “You look exactly like Uncle Charles.” Then she looked at the butler. “Surely you see it. Think of the portrait in the upstairs gallery.” Then she turned back to Radley. “Do look stern for a moment. And put your hand underneath your coat like this.” She gestured by putting her hand near her nicely shaped right breast.

Radley obliged by doing just that. Then he finally got the reaction he’d been looking for. The obnoxious footman went pale as a ghost and sputtered. The butler drew himself to his full height and bowed deeper than necessary.

“Welcome, your grace. I apologize for the confusion. We had not been expecting you. And I can give you no reason at all for retaining Joseph.”

Radley arched a brow. “Throwing him out so easily?” He wasn’t sure he approved.

The butler didn’t so much as blink. “It is naturally your decision, your grace.”

“But you know the man and his work. I’m just the new employer. Do you not defend your own staff?”

Then the hapless Joseph spoke up with a snarl. “He wouldn’t defend me to the dogs. And a pox on you all!” Then he spun around and stomped away.

Radley was busy watching the dramatic display, trying to decide what he thought of it, when he chanced to look again at his cousin. She had gasped at the man’s words, her face going pale. What the devil?

Meanwhile, the butler responded immediately. “Lady Eleanor! Please, come sit down.”

“No, no,” she said, obviously forcing a trembling smile to her lips. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The butler would hear nothing of it as he gently cupped the lady’s elbow. A bit of fatherly doting there, Radley guessed, as he watched the older man. Meanwhile, the lady turned her eyes on him. “You must think this all very odd.”

“I think my life since returning to London has been very odd.”

She smiled, her color slowly returning. “Well, come in, please. Let us show you around your new home.”

It was at that moment that Radley realized two distinct things. The first, the reason for the lady’s sudden pallor when the footman had said “a pox on you all.” Not very original as insults went, but as nearly the entire ducal family had died from smallpox, it was likely a cruel and deliberate curse.

The second, Lady Eleanor was perhaps the most elegantly beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Well, you’ve certainly stepped in it,” his cousin said with a chuckle. “Mind you, I expected it. Just not so soon.”

Radley didn’t respond to Lady Eleanor’s comment. His mind was locked on her stunning beauty. She was like a Grecian statue come to life—blond hair, blue eyes, and a stature that was just shy of being too tall. She moved with innate grace, and when she smiled, he felt a physical ache from standing near such beauty.

“Your grace?”

He blinked, coming back to himself with a start. “Um, sorry.” He had stepped into the front hallway. The butler was waiting patiently for his hat and coat, and Lady Eleanor had glided back far enough to give him room to enter. But beyond that, he had done nothing more than gape. “This is a lovely, er, home,” he managed.

She laughed, the sound light. “It’s your home, your grace.”

“Er, right.” He forcibly brought his thoughts back in line. “Then it’s a ponderously huge home that is entirely too dark.”

The butler visibly stiffened. “Too dark, your grace? We have practically every candle in the larder burning.”

That was true and exactly the point. As a sailor, he was extremely wary of any fires on board. And growing up poor, even the expense of one candle was often counted as too much. And yet, everywhere he turned, he saw candles burning, as staff alternately gaped or cleaned. He counted a dozen flames in the near parlor. Not to mention four maids and two footmen. Good God, how huge was his staff?

Meanwhile, Lady Eleanor looked around. “It is after six, your grace. One cannot expect strong sunlight now.”

“Of course,” he said, trying to frame his thoughts. It wasn’t that the place was too dark—merely that it was so big. And big required lots of candles. Especially with a large army of servants cleaning every surface. “What is everyone doing?”

“We are cleaning, your grace,” said the butler stiffly. “For your arrival tomorrow.”

Oh right. Then he sniffed, stunned that the place smelled sweet. Of course. Beeswax candles, lemon-scented polish, and clean air. Suddenly, he understood why he appeared inappropriate to Joseph. After all, his coat was nicely made for a sailor, but it carried the scent of the docks. And though his boots were well cobbled, nothing could mistake the London mud that he tracked onto floors that had obviously just been polished.

He flushed at his dirty attire. “Perhaps I should return tomorrow as expected then. Sorry—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lady Eleanor cried. “You are here now. Formal presentations are all well and good, but one can’t learn a house during something like that. Come. Let me show you about. Mind that you remember to be impressed with it tomorrow, of course.”

He smiled, relaxing despite her beauty. “I’d like to, but…” He glanced at his boots, hating that every smudge of dirt showed on this white marble floor. Who would ever think to pick white for a floor?

The butler cleared his throat. “Perhaps if you wouldn’t mind, your grace, I can have a footman polish your boots. Thomas, I believe, has been anxious to try a new cleaning solution.”

Radley looked at the man, uncertain if that was a joke. Either way, he had little choice in the matter as Lady Eleanor clapped her hands. “An excellent idea. Then I can show you about while the cook prepares us a light meal. Have you dined, your grace?”

Radley kept forgetting that “your grace” referred to him. He kept looking around for someone else to answer. “Uh… well no, but…” But he’d thought to pick up a meat pie on his walk home.

“Mrs. Bardsley—she’s the cook—has the most divine sauce for lamprey. I’ve specifically asked her to make it tonight just for me. It’s my favorite. But there ought to be plenty for two.” She glanced at the butler. “Do you think she will be able to accommodate his grace?”

Seelye bowed. “I am sure she will be most honored.”

“Excellent. And please convey my thanks,” Lady Eleanor added with a beatific smile.

“It’s really not necessary,” began Radley, but his cousin cut him off in an undertone.

“She’s been trying new recipes for weeks, just to impress you. Don’t you dare say
no
now.”

Radley swallowed and dipped his head. “Uh, a small meal would be fine,” he said. “But only if she can manage it.”

“Very good, your grace,” intoned the butler before he glanced significantly at one of the maids in the parlor. The woman dipped a quick curtsy and disappeared, presumably to take the message to Mrs. Bardsley. Meanwhile, Eleanor grabbed his arm and was about to lead him down the hallway.

“Now, the first thing you must see is the portrait of Uncle Charles. I’m ever so anxious to see if my memory is correct.”

He took a step forward, only to stop when his boot rang out on the marble floor. “Oh bother.” He barely remembered to change the word to “bother” rather than say something a great deal cruder. “My boots.”

“Oh my, yes,” said Eleanor.

Then at Seelye’s gesture, Radley sat on a nearby chair and awkwardly pulled off his boots. He cringed at the dirt and the smell, while a footman suddenly appeared at his elbow. Presumably, footman Thomas. The poor man would be cleaning something better left in the rubbish bin.

“Perhaps it would be better to leave them—”

“And disappoint poor Thomas?” Eleanor interrupted, her voice showing a hint of censure. “He’s simply desperate to try out that cleaning formula, remember?”

Radley looked to Thomas, who managed a strained smile as he bowed nearly to the floor. “It would be my honor, your grace.”

It couldn’t possibly be, but Radley merely sighed. The nobs always did things strangely, and now that he was one of them, he supposed he needed to act the part. Still, he couldn’t resist adding an apology as he passed his old boots over.

“They’re not meant for fine polish, Thomas. Just knock the worst of the mud off.”

He meant it as a kindness, a way to tell him not to work too hard at boots that would likely be thrown out as too coarse for a duke. But the moment the words were out, the footman’s face fell into disappointment. “Of course, your grace.”

Meanwhile, Eleanor stepped closer. “But if Thomas wants to spend his time cleaning, then you’d be most pleased, wouldn’t you, your grace? If he expressly wishes to?”

Radley wondered if the woman was daft. What man desperately wished to spend his time cleaning another’s boots? But the message was clear in her heavy stare, and so he nodded slowly.

“Well, of course. If he, um, wishes.”

“Excellent!” she cried. He was fast learning that “excellent” was a favorite word of hers. Then she held out her hand. “Now come. Let me show you the upstairs gallery.”

Radley pushed to his feet, his stockings looking even worse on this floor than his boots. They were sailor’s stockings, darned a dozen times over, except for the hole over his left big toe where he hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

“Uh—”

“Come along, Cousin. You simply must see Uncle Charles.”

So he did as he was told. He stood, she placed her hand on his arm, and they walked up a huge staircase to the second story. She chattered about the London weather, her conversation verging on boring, while the butler trailed after them.

“I don’t think he trusts me,” Radley murmured.

She laughed, the sound musical, for all that it was false. “He’s just being careful,” she responded in an undertone. “You aren’t bamming us, are you?”

He looked at her, wondering if she were naive enough to believe he’d confess a lie. “I don’t know how to answer,” he finally admitted. “Of course, I’m not fooling anyone, but I begin to wonder if I’ve stepped into another world.”

“One where sailors become dukes?” she quipped.

“And servants are desperate for more work.”

She grinned. “Oh, no one wants more work, I assure you. But they do want to make sure they continue working. And that requires your favor. Now that you’ve sacked Joseph, every member of the staff from Seelye down to the lowest scullery maid will look for a way to impress you.” She squeezed his arm. “I did say you’d stepped in it, didn’t I?”

He frowned, trying to remember. Oh yes, she had at the very beginning. “But I don’t see how—”

“Joseph is an obnoxious prat and always has been. Oh certainly, he knows his place among our set, but among the lower orders, he can be downright nasty.”

Radley frowned. “Sounds like he should have been sacked years ago.”

Lady Eleanor guided them down a long hall. “And so he would have, except that his father is butler at the ducal seat, and the man once saved papa’s life when he was an idiot and fell into a pig wallow.”

“Who saved whose life?” he asked.

“Joseph’s father saved my father’s life.”

“And that makes it impossible to fire Joseph?” He understood the value of loyalty, of one family’s bond to another’s, but aboard a ship, a man either did his job, or he was left behind next voyage.

Lady Eleanor shrugged. “Joseph is the eldest son of a family that has served us for generations. One doesn’t sack that kind of tradition, no matter how badly he polishes the silver.”

“But now, I have.”

She flashed him a wistful smile. “You have. Which means Joseph is right now packing his bag and deciding which nefarious lies to spread about you to his family back home.”

“His family of servants. Who serve me…”

“Yes, of course. Which means you can count on cold food and damp sheets when you arrive there.”

“And yet here, everyone will be tripping over themselves to please me?” He stopped to look back at Seelye, wondering if the man would agree with all this nonsense. Apparently so because the butler dipped his head.

“Yes,” continued Lady Eleanor. “Because if Joseph can be sacked, then there is no security for any of them.”

He frowned. “There’s no security for any man or woman who does his job badly.”

“How democratic of you,” Eleanor said. He could tell by her tone that it wasn’t a good thing. Meanwhile, she had stopped next to a huge portrait of a man and his hunting dog. At Radley’s confused look, she gestured to the rather dour man. “Meet your great Uncle Charles.”

He frowned, trying to sort face and form from the dark image. Seelye brought candelabra forward, and together, all three compared the portrait to Radley. Well, he thought with a huff, there did seem to be some resemblance. Assuming, of course, he added a couple stone in weight, especially in the jowls.

“Well,” he finally said. “That’s rather… disturbing.”

“Don’t worry,” Lady Eleanor said with a laugh. “Uncle Charles was a likeable fellow, assuming one talked about hunting. He was also a favorite among the ladies when he was younger, or so he claimed.”

“I believe,” inserted Seelye in ponderous tones, “that the tales of his charm grew as he aged.”

“As is true for all of us, I’m sure,” Lady Eleanor returned. Then she looked back at Radley. “I see it in the nose, of course, but definitely in the eyes.”

Radley narrowed his eyes to see more clearly, but it was hard. After all, he didn’t have a mirror to compare. He could only look at the man and wonder if he would age to look so stodgy.

“Oh yes, my lady,” Seelye intoned. “I see it exactly now.”

“What?” asked Radley. “Why now?”

“Because Uncle Charles had terrible eyesight, especially toward the end.”

“Couldn’t see the muzzle of his gun. Made for dangerous hunting.”

He didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he took the candelabra from Seelye and paced slowly down the hallway, looking at the half-dozen portraits filling the space between doors. Were all these people his relations? He couldn’t see the resemblance in some, but in others…

“That’s your great Aunt Matthew.”

He frowned. “Matthew? For a woman?”

“Well, no. Actually, her name was Matilda, but the story went that her twin couldn’t say such a big name. Started calling her sister Matthew, and the name stuck.”

“Blimey,” he breathed. “That’s ridiculous.” And yet, it was funny too. “Tell me more. Tell me about all of them.”

She tilted her head back. “Well, there are diaries you should read. I’ll find them for you. But what do you know already?”

He looked at the very feminine form of his great Aunt Matthew and released a low chuckle. “Absolutely nothing,” he said. “Papa never spoke of it, you understand. And my grandfather grew ill when I was young. All I know of the family came from my mother, who isn’t related. She learned it from the society pages.” He wandered to another picture, this one of a younger man sitting near a sextant and a telescope. Was he related to him?

“That’s my father,” she said softly. “He had quite a passion for astronomy.”

“Did he sail?” he asked, gesturing to the sextant.

“Often. He traveled to Africa to view the stars from the bottom side of the earth, as he put it.”

“I should like to meet him,” he said. “I have been to Africa a few times, and it is a world unto itself.” She didn’t respond, and too late he realized what he had said. Obviously, if he had inherited the dukedom, then her father was dead. He turned, horrified by what he had said. “I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Nonsense,” she said, though her smile appeared strained. “I’m sure this is more bizarre to you than it is to us. And I assure you, it is very strange for all of us.”

By “all of us,” she must have meant herself and the servants. Seelye seemed to think so as he dipped his head. “Just so, my lady.”

He looked at them, studying both closely. Their posture, their expressions, even the way they breathed. In the end, he exhaled his disappointment. “Neither of you thinks I am the true heir.”

Lady Eleanor’s eyebrows rose in the most disturbed move he’d seen her make so far. As for Seelye, he simply looked at the ceiling, just as his former captain used to look at the stars.

“Actually,” said Lady Eleanor gently, “I believe you. And I think Seelye is coming to as well.”

“Really?” challenged Radley. “Then why did you bring me here to dusty portraits in an unused hallway? It had to be to get me away from the staff.”

“Oh, you are absolutely correct in that,” returned Lady Eleanor with a serene smile. “Even you must admit that you’re not quite up to the usual ducal flair.” She didn’t have to point out his stocking feet for him to be excruciatingly aware of his lack. But that didn’t stop him from folding his arms and shooting her a dark look.