Clementine
Prologue: four years earlier
Clementine
Rigby was a well-bred young lady, but she was also penniless -- a more elegant
term for utterly and completely destitute -- and practical. She had been forced
to travel to Town to find a position as a companion or governess with barely
enough money to last her a few days, perhaps a week, at cheap lodgings. By the
end of the week she would have to have found something.
Her
parents were both deceased now and the debts her father had left behind had
allowed her no time for grief. She had sold the house to pay off the debts and
she had been told that very little money remained. A girl of twenty-three would
have liked to be left with better prospects. She had no relatives that she knew
of and her care for her ailing parents, who had died within a year of each
other, had not given her much time to prepare for her future.
She
had but one choice, to travel to London. There, she had been told, an educated
and able-bodied girl would have no problems finding a respectable position
before her last pennies ran out. She had trusted this advice and she had
embarked on her journey with both excitement and resignation. There would be
some frail elderly lady who required a companion and she had experience taking
care of one.
The
road to London was not without dangers for a young and pretty girl. While
coarse men in her small town had always observed the correct distance and
propriety, coarse men on the road seemed to think that no one would ever know
and that there was no danger in harassing a girl travelling on her own.
She
could not afford to spend too much on travelling, which meant she could
certainly not afford to hire private transportation, thus she was greatly
bothered by the many people travelling with her. There was not much she could
do, except push away hands that strayed. She was relieved when they finally
reached the coaching inn where she was to stay the night. Some of the men
travelled on and some stayed, but the encouragements given by the departing
group to the ones who stayed were unsettling. Clementine was resolved to lock
her door.
She
was not easily frightened, but life outside her home village was proving to be
dangerous and harsh. It was true what her parents had always said. A girl alone
was not safe and had to have her wits about her. She had always taken that with
a grain of salt, but it was turning out to be very true.
A
fashionable woman with a shrewd eye struck up a conversation with her at
dinner, but since Clementine did not quite like the look of her, she lied about
her plans and said she was to visit her uncle. Perhaps it was not only coarse
men who preyed on young girls. She had never been an extremely sociable girl
and she had never liked people speaking to her uninvited, consequently she did
not trust the woman entirely.
"Oh,
that is a pity," said the woman. "I have so many friends who are
always looking for girls freshly come from the country. Town girls acquire such
an air about them, you know, so that they are hard to train. Pray why are you
travelling alone? Are you alone in the world?"
"My
companion fell ill at the last moment," Clementine fantasised when she got
an odd feeling of alarm at these questions. "I had, however, a
longstanding engagement with my nieces and nephews and I could not bear to
disappoint them. For their sakes I shall have to suffer the aggravations of
travelling alone." She smiled bravely, but then realised she did not want
this woman to travel with her the rest of the way, for she might find out there
was nobody in London to meet her and then the woman would impose.
"If
you want," said the woman with a kind smile that did not reach her eyes,
"you could accompany me tomorrow."
Clementine
thought quickly. She had not yet said when and where she would be met. It might
even be here, for all the woman knew. "No, thank you, although the offer
is most kind. I am staying here two nights in the hope that my uncle can
release his manservant to meet me here. If you will excuse me now, I am very
tired."
She
went up to her room, but after exiting the room she peered back in to see if
any of the coarse men would follow her. There was a hand gesture from the woman
to one of the men and it really looked as if they knew each other. For some
reason this was not a good development, especially since one of the men rose
and made for the door, as if he had been ordered.
Clementine
exhaled audibly. She was not safe.
Without
wasting another second, she entered the room opposite the main dining room,
which she supposed to be a private room of sorts.
It
was occupied by a young gentleman eating a lavish dinner. He was alone and from
his expensive and fashionable clothing she guessed he would have nothing to do
with the people in the other room, which would make her safe for the time being.
Her
breathless appearance startled him. "I say!" he exclaimed. "You
have not come about the soup?"
"No,
sir."
"It
is cold," he commented regardless.
Years
with sickly and complaining parents had perfected her practicality and without
delay she took his soup bowl and set it on a burner. "That will
work." She wondered why he had not thought of this himself, but if she did
him a favour he might be more inclined to do her one in return.
He
looked at her in admiration. "That is very kind of you, Miss..."
"Rigby,
Clementine Rigby."
"Well,
Miss Rigby, I am the Duke of Muncester," he announced in a manner that
would be rather pompous if he had not also grinned like a boy, "so I know
very little of these domestic things, but I appreciate your assistance."
"Y-Y-Your
Grace," Clementine curtseyed in shock. She had never seen a proper duke
from nearby, although she had trouble believing that this very young man was
already a duke. He looked to be younger than she was. But it fit, if he was a
duke, he would indeed not know anything, she supposed. He would always be
served and assisted.
"They
call me Monster, but that is not funny. I prefer Daniel. Are you the
hostess?" Evidently Daniel was bored all by himself and glad for the
company, even if it was a landlady or a maid.
"No,
Your Grace, I am another guest at this inn, but I escaped from the main
room." She told him in case he had a suggestion for her. Perhaps he would
allow her to remain here for a while. If he did not suggest that himself, she
would ask. He looked to be rather friendly. He could not object.
"Why?"
"There
are some very coarse men in there who have been bothering me for the greater
part of my journey." She gave the door a frightened glance.
"Excitement!"
Daniel said enthusiastically.
"Your
Grace, I do not care for being at the centre of it. I felt very bothered. They
tried to touch me and just now one was about to follow me to my room. He could
not have any good in mind. I do not want him there."
"Should
I set them straight for you?"
She
eyed him doubtfully. Although he was not weak, she did not think he would be as
strong as a hardened labourer. "To be honest, I do not think you are a
match for them. But may I stay here in the hope that they give up if they
cannot find me?"
"I
have always longed to offer a lady my protection." The young duke looked
as if one of his dreams had come true. "But I never knew the opportunity
would be thrown into my lap. I say, Miss Rigby, may I?"
Clementine
looked hesitant. "Your protection?"
"Protecting
you from wicked men. Or do you have relatives?" He seemed disappointed at
that thought.
"I
do not. I do not understand what you mean either." It did not seem to be
completely equivalent to staying here with him.
"It
means I will offer you carte blanche and set you up in a house of your
own." He grinned as if that was a capital idea.
"Me?"
She was stunned at the idea of his giving her a house of her own. Why? And what
would be required of her in return? She had heard people mention carte
blanche in hushed tones, giving a scandalous ring to it, but she did not
know what it was precisely.
"Well,
you are very pretty. I should like a pretty mistress."
"Mistress,"
she repeated in shock. "That is not very proper, is it?"
The
duke shrugged. "I barely know anyone who does not have a lady set up. It
is not very proper to bother ladies on the road, that is what I think. However,
I would not be bothering you. You would be an intimate friend."
"But
d-d-do men not do things with their mistresses that they are supposed to be
d-d-doing with their wives?" Clementine stuttered. She turned a bright
crimson. There were special words for that, although she had never known
precisely what they meant, only that it was extremely wicked to do any of these
things outside marriage. People would surely speak of it disapprovingly -- or
was it common in London or among dukes?
He
was unfazed by the question. "Obviously, but a grown man must find out how
that goes. I am a grown man, but not so grown that I have the intention of
marrying in the near future..."
"Are
you playing a game with me?" she inquired. He might be worse than the
shrewd woman and her band of coarse men, speaking so frankly about such
matters. Yet she could not call him ill-bred because he was a duke. He said he
was, at any rate, but he was dressed well enough for that to be true.
"Would
I admit to being green?" he reasoned. "Men would prefer not to, you
know. I am only doing so because the wine loosens my tongue and I have had one
glass."
"Why
should I want to sacrifice my virtue to satisfy your curiosity?" That was
what it all amounted to, she thought.
"You
will have a house and gifts and money."
She
wondered if that was a fair trade. She could see how it would immediately
appeal to some, though. Even she was tempted by that easy life, knowing that
even if she made it to London unscathed, she would have to work hard for very
little pay. "Who would want to marry a fallen woman when you tire of
me?"
"I
have no idea," Daniel said cheerfully. "Nor whether I might tire of
you. But if it seriously ruins your prospects you must not do it, of course. I
am merely offering."
Clementine
felt a desire to laugh, in spite of the situation. It was too ridiculous that
he should express some sympathy for her prospects. "Are you giving me the
choice, Your Grace?"
"Indeed
I am, but if you travel alone and get bothered, you cannot have much better
prospects. Nobody seems to be looking out for you."
Despite
his youthful enthusiasm, Clementine did not think he was entirely stupid. He
had a point and he had expressed it kindly. "Would I live alone?"
"With
your servants, naturally."
That
was amazing. Her father had not even been able to afford live-in servants and
this young fellow was offering her own house and servants. It came at a price,
naturally, but she did not yet know how high it actually was. "Would that
not be a double sin? Giving up my virtue out of greed?" She deliberately
voiced all those bad words to see if that made a difference in her mind. She
had always thought they would be worse deterrents.
"I
suppose," said Daniel. "However, if you were truly greedy you would
have said yes already. Some among my acquaintance have such mistresses, always
demanding more gifts and money. They are more like parasites. That would be no
good for me at all. I tend to be too nice and then they could have their way at
all times."
Clementine
was tempted to agree. "But you do not even know me."
"You
are a virtuous and practical young lady and very pretty too. I shall be
envied."
She
decided she might as well be a companion to a gentleman as to a lady, since the
former would in all likeliness pay better wages.
It
had not been a very virtuous start to her new life, but beggars could not be
choosers. Her parents had died and Clementine was alone in the world; nobody
would care if she became the mistress of a gentleman of rank. Her gentleman,
furthermore, seemed to be a decent young man, apart from his procuring a
mistress. He treated her kindly.
Soon she was comfortably set up in town, with a house of her own and servants, and she had lost nothing but her virtue. Even that had been easy to lose. The Duke of Muncester was a kind young man, little more than a boy. He was more in love with the excitement of having a mistress than with her character, perhaps, but due to the infrequency of his visits and his sweetness Clementine could feign to be an angel without any effort.
Chapter 1: The New Duke
Unfortunately
dear Daniel died after a lengthy illness, although he had provided for her very
well. She would lack for nothing, he had promised when the outcome of his
illness seemed inevitable, because she had always been very good to him.
Clementine
thought along practical lines after the grief had been dealt with. A young and
beautiful woman set up so comfortably would have no problems in life.
Eventually she might even meet another young man she liked. She would be
foolish to marry, however. Daniel, bless him, had provided for her until either
her death or her marriage, but another protector was something he had not
considered. Perhaps it was because she had never looked at another during his
lifetime that he assumed she never would.
She
could not say whether she would. Not yet, at any rate. Daniel had also not
considered that someone else would look at her.
He
had probably not reckoned with his cousin, the new Duke of Muncester, who
seemed to believe that along with the title he had inherited the mistress as
well.
Clementine
did not think so.
She
had opened his letter indifferently when she received it, curious what Daniel's
successor could want with her, but not otherwise interested in his person. She
had not even known his relatives knew about her.
It
had soon made her furious.
Dear Madam,
I write to you as one of the duties of the position I recently inherited.
It has come to my attention that for several years my cousin the previous Duke
of Muncester kept an intimate acquaintance with you of a by no means uncommon
nature. It is not my intention to deprive you of the provisions he made for
you. You may be assured of my honour in that regard and of my willingness to do
everything required of a man in my position to leave the situation to your
liking, as well as unaltered, but I now consider you to be my responsibility.
You will find me as good at my duties as my cousin was, if not better.
I wish to call on you to discuss some arrangements of an intimate nature that
had best not be mentioned in a letter. I trust that you and I will be able to
come to a satisfying arrangement with regard to these matters and for that
purpose I will call on you as soon as possible.
I remain, &c.
"I
beg your pardon?" Clementine exclaimed. "I am one of the duties he
recently inherited? Daniel's side of the bed is not yet cold, Your Grace!"
He could have but one thing in mind and that was to continue where Daniel had
left off. The sheer presumptuousness made her angry.
Clementine
had learnt many things in the past few years, though, and another young pup was
not what she was looking for. She was a lady of seven-and-twenty, no longer an
innocent country girl, and her friendship with several women in a similar
position had taught her many things that Daniel had not. She had also observed
other relationships and arrangements and drawn her conclusions.
She
was not going to be tricked and she was also not going to instruct and guide
someone on his way to adulthood.
She
was under no obligation to this new duke.
Clementine
had no idea what the new duke understood by as soon as possible. It
meant different things to different people and it could therefore be any time
within the next few months. She was resolved not to wait for his visit as if
she were someone who needed him. She would go about her usual business and she
hoped that he would call in her absence -- although preferably not at all -- so
that he would know she was no helpless creature waiting for his protection.
"Miss
Clementine Rigby?" a male voice inquired.
She
turned, having been about to ascend the steps to the front door.
"Perhaps," she said, letting her eyes travel from his hat to his
polished boots. A gentleman worthy of consideration, proud and well-dressed. He
had come on foot, for there was no carriage. She did not have to guess his
identity. There was but one gentleman who had said he would visit and she was
not in the habit of receiving calls from strangers. It would be a coincidence
if some other strangers called now.
He
took off his hat and bowed. "My name is Julian Lenton, the Duke of
Muncester."
"And
you wished to call on me, Your Grace, I understood from your note," she
said coolly. She did not wish to see him, yet here he was. Very well, she would
speak with him and tell him he did not stand a chance. He would have to abandon
his plans.
"Indeed
I do."
"That
can be arranged. Briefly." She pulled the doorbell and a manservant
appeared to let them in. "Please take His Grace's coat, Vincent."
It
did the new duke credit that he did not begin to speak until the manservant had
disappeared and he had been shown into an elegantly furnished sitting room. "You
have good taste, Miss Rigby," he said with some surprise.
"I
had nothing to do with the furnishing, Your Grace," Clementine told him in
still the same cool voice. "The house was completely fitted out when I was
installed." She had not changed anything, so perhaps she did indeed have
good taste. Why that should surprise him was odd and that he betrayed his
surprise was downright rude. Evidently he believed that being a duke gave him
all sorts of rights.
"Was
there someone before you?" the duke asked impertinently.
She
did not sit down. Standing might give her some superiority, even though she was
not as tall as he was. "I never asked. What have you come to see me
about?"
"Your
arrangement with my cousin," he said lightly, keeping his eyes on a painting.
"Did you call him Your Grace?" he asked, evidently referring
to her attitude, which probably did not convey as much respect as he wished to
receive.
She
did not think this man deserved much respect simply because he had inherited a
title. Respect had to be earned. "I did not."
"How
did Monster find himself such a girl?" the duke asked no one in
particular. He was still not looking at her, but at the furniture.
This
gave Clementine the opportunity to study him more closely. He was not a pup.
She had already seen that. He could be called handsome, she supposed, if one
did not mind making a few concessions. She estimated his age at around thirty
and if she did not know he was a duke, she would have guessed the Navy or the
Army because of his bearing and complexion.
He
was possibly more dangerous than a pup then, for he would be a good deal wiser
than Daniel had been and he would have a more fixed notion of what he was
after, which consequently meant that he would be more difficult to dissuade.
She would have to watch her step.
"I
do not think there was anyone before you," he said, finally looking at
her. "Monster would have been a mere schoolboy. But back to the
arrangements. The settlements puzzle me."
"Perhaps
you should ask a legal man to explain them to you," she advised calmly,
knowing this was not what he meant.
He
let that pass. "You are not in black," he noticed.
No,
she was in grey. He could tell one colour from the other, what an
accomplishment. "Should I be?" Daniel had not been her husband.
Discretion would not allow her to display too much, contrary to him, who could
wear a band without anyone thinking anything of it.
"It
would have been a token of gratitude, respect, love, affection. Did you love
Daniel? You do not seem consumed with grief."
Her
knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands, telling herself not to slap
him across the face. "The state of my emotions can be no business of
yours," she spat out. It was not up to him to judge the depth of her
regard for Daniel by the colour of her clothing or even the number of tears she
had shed. He implied that she had not grieved, which would make her an
insensitive and scheming woman.
He
regarded her silently for a few moments. "Does this mean you are now free
to ... return to the market?"
The
directness began. Clementine steeled herself against inevitable offers.
"Which market?"
The
duke raised his eyebrows. "You can be no ingénue, Miss Rigby, not in your
position. Virtue once lost can never be regained. You must know what I
mean."
"Truly
I do not. Perhaps you could explain yourself a little more clearly, Your
Grace." Her tone bordered on the contemptuous.
It
only served to make him more blunt and uncivil. "I do not know how women
of your sort operate, Miss Rigby. Do you lend your services to one man or to
several at once? And when are you free to choose another? No mourning clothes
to deter them."
Her
eyes began to gleam even more indignantly at this almost direct question of
when he could take his place in her bed. "Do you expect me to answer you,
Your Grace?"
"Yes,
I do," he said simply.
His
nerve was unbelievable. "Why?"
"Because
I asked you a question. Do you have any bastards?"
She
was not going to tell him that if she did not know what he wanted to do with
the information. She would sooner hit him and her voice betrayed that desire. If
he had had any right to make inquiries about any children she might have
borne, he could have referred to them as children and not as bastards.
That disrespectful term removed any need she might have had to answer out of
politeness. "Would you ask such a question of a sister? Would you allow
anyone to ask such a question of your sister?"
He
pressed his lips together in annoyance. "I would not."
"Then
why do you presume to ask such a question of me?" Her eyes dared him to
insult her by telling why he could ask this of her and not of someone
respectable like a sister. He could have no qualms about being blunt about it.
The
duke obliged her without a second's hesitation. "You are a woman of easy
virtue."
She
had been expecting such an insult, so it did not throw her off balance into
speechlessness. It only made her more furious. "And I can attest to the
fact that dukes are men of easy virtue. If I do not like you, I can and will
have you removed from my house. I am too busy to deal with the likes of
you."
He
did not move. "What if I made you an offer that surpassed Danny's?"
"Someone
your age must have several lady friends already," she sneered. "Are
you trying to impress me with your wealth, Your Grace? Or do you want to
minimise the risk of scandal by exiling me to a cottage on the other side of
the country?"
"Have
you got any choice?"
"I
do. I have been well-provided for. I do not need your offer, whatever it
entails, and even if I needed it, I would not take it," Clementine said
proudly.
"Or
so you think. What about the bastards? Give in," he said coaxingly,
although it sounded more like an order. "And I will provide for your
little bastards."
"Out,"
she said quietly, trying not to attack him. "Out. Leave my house."
The
duke bowed. "You will see me again. You are my responsibility and I will
not give up."
Clementine
trembled when the Duke of Muncester was gone. She had never met anyone so rude
before. Although she was aware that she had not exactly been a picture of
polite perfection, her transgressions had wholly been his fault.
She
needed to talk to somebody, yet she had very few people to talk to. The other
women in the neighbourhood envied her and they always had, first for her young and
amiable protector, then for his demise which made her a free and wealthy woman.
They would not understand if she was enraged about the new Duke's offer. They
would encourage her to accept it, because they would do the same. It was their
way to survive.
She
shook her head. It was demeaning and it was not even an offer. How could he
simply believe she would let him replace Daniel? She was a person in her own
right. She was not a child who needed guardians. She was also not an object
that could be inherited or passed on from one man to another.
Whatever
the awful duke believed, even a protector was not something that could be
replaced without a second thought. Not in her case. It would surprise him, but
she had certain standards. Even her acquaintances would have such standards. No
matter how often they changed lovers, they did not do so indiscriminately, she
always thought.
She
read the letter again and again her anger rose. He would do everything required
to leave the situation to her liking, but how could that include insulting her?
Nobody could enjoy being insulted.
He
must have a very low opinion of her indeed -- a mere piece of muslin, only
interested in financial or material rewards. As long as those were provided, he
had the right to behave as reprehensibly as he could.
Well,
he was wrong. He might be the new duke, but even dukes could be wrong. That was
a lesson he quickly had to learn, before he started thinking of himself as the
Almighty.
It
was not long before a neighbour called. Clementine was not surprised. Ladies of
leisure had very little else to do.
"I
saw a gentleman visiting you, but I did not know him," said Mrs. Vine,
mistress of a well-known politician -- for the moment, for it might change at
some point. Quite naturally she was interested in any changes in Clementine's
situation as well.
"It
was the new Duke of Muncester," Clementine replied, knowing that lying
about his identity would be pointless. Mrs. Vine probably knew already anyway,
since she dealt in gossip and information to strengthen her position. The woman
would wonder why if Clementine invented a name for her visitor.
Mrs.
Vine could be friendly if she perceived no threat and in Clementine's case she
rarely did. The girl needed too much advice on how to use men. Not everyone was
born with that skill and Mrs. Vine always felt particularly useful.
"Oh?" she asked with her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What
could he want?"
She
could not say she did not know. A part of her wished to vent her anger about
this, too. "He came to be acquainted."
"Ah,
he supposes you are now lonely," Mrs. Vine said with an understanding nod,
for there was no other reason why he could want to strike up an acquaintance
with a dead man's mistress. Nobody could teach her anything about men that she
did not already know. Then she winked. "Was he any good?"
Clementine
blinked. She did not misunderstand the question -- the women in the
neighbourhood could be remarkably frank, yet the direction of their thoughts
could take her by surprise. "He was too insulting."
Mrs.
Vine clicked her tongue. "Do not spurn his advances. A duke, you know.
Next time give him what he wants and he will be much less insulting, I predict.
That is men for you. Be clever, not proud. He can be of use to you."
Most
men could be of use to her, according to Mrs. Vine. Clementine had heard that
before. She was still as unconvinced as ever. "But the provisions made for
me were adequate. I do not need the new duke."
"Nonsense,
child. Every woman needs at least one man in her life," said Mrs. Vine.
"For whatever purpose. And if you lose one, another will come along,
especially for a pretty girl like you. Do not mourn your loss. If your Daniel
had been any good, he would have made you a duchess." She did not literally
say it was Clementine's fault for not having succeeded, but perhaps the
implication was there.
Clementine had not been in a position to demand a marriage, although she had wished for it frequently. She would have lived more respectably as Daniel's wife, but perhaps not more happily. It was a sore point, however, that for him marriage had always been out of the question.
The
Duke of Muncester stayed true to his word and he called again the next day.
Clementine had just paid her bills when Vincent brought his card. "I am
not in," she said. She had no wish to speak with that rude and insulting
man again.
Vincent
hovered. "He knows you are in, Madam."
She
cast her eyes up in despair. He could not possibly know such a thing. "He
is bluffing. Has he threatened you?"
"If
I send him away, he will be back in an hour, Madam. He said so."
That
was probably true, Clementine realised. He appeared to be that sort of man,
persistent and tenacious. "Very well then. Send him in." She had not
managed to end this yesterday, but she would do so today. She would be clear
about this with no opportunity for misunderstanding.
The
new duke bowed, but wasted no time on further politeness. "This house has
been in the family ever since it was built," he began.
"I
am so sorry," Clementine said sarcastically. "It is now mine. Unless
I sell or I marry, it will remain mine. But what sort of family were you that
you did not even know or care that I was living in it?" It was a trifle
late for such arguments. He could not be expecting her to sign it over to him
simply because it had always been in the family.
"Show
me your child."
Attempting
to throw her off balance by changing the subject seemed to be his favoured
strategy. She was not that easily caught, however, because she had already been
controlling herself. She could stay cool without giving anything away. It was
none of his business. "What makes you think I have one?"
He
picked up a toy that lay half concealed under the desk and held it out to her.
"Someone
brought a child on a visit," Clementine improvised. Quite naturally she
had not expected that he would ever come in here and she had not checked under
the desk.
"Really?"
He was impertinent enough to doubt that. "Into your study? Do you receive
visitors here?"
"Are
you a visitor?" she asked pointedly.
The
duke obviously thought he was more than a visitor. "How many have you
got?"
"Visitors?
One." She was really not hiding some man in her bedroom upstairs, although
he probably thought she was.
"Children."
Clementine
was surprised that he actually knew the proper word for offspring and she
raised her eyebrows mockingly. She was not so gratified by the term as to
answer without thinking, however. "None."
"Then
you will not mind my looking around the house," he said, aiming for
amiability. "Because then I shall not find any, shall I?"
His
plan angered her. "You need to be sent to finishing school. You manners
are little better than those of a savage. Searching a stranger's house is
trespassing and a grave offence." She would not be able to stop him, she
suspected, but she would certainly not accompany him. On no account would she
give him the opportunity to be alone with her in her private rooms. That was
probably precisely what he wanted.
"I
believe I am entitled."
That
was no surprise. "Please carry on and discover to what I believe
you are entitled. It might be painful, though." She focused on some papers
on her desk to indicate she had no intention of going upstairs with the
arrogant and conceited fool.
"You
are not coming?" the duke inquired.
"And
place myself in..." She shook her head, believing he would not go if she did
not come. "No, no. I am most certainly not coming."
She
was surprised when he left the room, but she was too proud to run after him.
"Whose
child is this? Do you know?" Muncester asked bluntly when he had indeed
encountered a nursery, inhabited by one small child, which he now set on its
feet in the study.
His
question enraged Clementine even more than the fact that he had carried the child
down to the study. He was provoking her on purpose by doing all of this.
"Mine," she answered tersely, vowing she would really do something to
him if he had hurt the child.
"Do
you know who the father is?"
She
shook her head in disbelief. "I wonder at your nerve. There is no end to
your rude tactlessness!" She stretched out her hand and pulled the child
towards her, out of the savage's way.
"Is
it a boy or a girl?"
Her
eyes shot fire. "I am not telling you that. I do not see why you feel you
must have that knowledge."
"What
is your name?" he demanded of the child. It responded by hiding itself
behind its mother. The duke drew the child towards himself by the hand and set
it on a table.
"What
are you doing?" Clementine exclaimed, wanting to interfere, but he pushed
her away. She would like to attack him, but she feared the child would start
crying if it witnessed such a scene.
"It
will not be hurt. I am only checking what you refuse to tell me." With a
quick movement he lifted the skirts and unfastened the infant's cloth for a
peek. "It is a girl, I see. She will have to be sent to a school,
naturally."
"I
beg your pardon? She will not!" Nobody was going to take her daughter away
from her.
"I
cannot tolerate such behaviour in my family." He apparently struggled to
refasten the cloth around the little girl's waist.
"Which
behaviour? And do you know what I do not tolerate in my family? I do not
tolerate strange men undressing my daughter, do you understand?" She
pulled at his arm and kicked at his shins.
"I
am not a strange man," the duke said, unperturbed. "If she is indeed
my cousin's child."
Clementine
slapped his cheek soundly for his doubt, but it made her even angrier when he
did not flinch. "When will you stop insulting me?" she hissed.
The
little girl began to cry when the strange man kept fussing about her. "You
do it," he ordered Clementine. "Now that I know this, I shall prepare
arrangements."
Her
mouth fell open. "Are you insane? While I would have issues with your
wanting to send a much older child to school without my permission, I cannot
but doubt your sanity if you speak of schooling a two-year old!"
"Not
a two-year old and why do you have issues?"
"How
could you even ask? I doubt that such a decision would be made in the best interest
of the child, but very likely only in yours. You want to be rid of her. Such a
blemish on the family's good name."
"You
cannot want your child to grow up to be a woman of pleasure. What other
prospects does she have?"
She
lunged at him to slap him again, but he evaded her deftly and caught her wrist.
"I hate you," she hissed. Her daughter would have better prospects
than she had had. She would make sure of that. She had the house. Her father
had had a house, but he had had debts as well and she had none.
"I
see no reason to stay," he announced, releasing her wrist. "I
obtained the information I came for and to be attacked was not one of my
objectives."
"It
makes sense that you would not allow me the pleasure of attacking you."
She rubbed her wrist.
"I
thought you took pleasure in other things," he said.
She
did not think that sort of comment deserved an answer. "Leave," she
ordered, her eyes on the door. He should be moving in that direction.
"Do
not worry. I am leaving."
"And
stay away," Clementine added, feeling that this was probably useless
because he would not listen. She lifted her daughter onto her arm.
"You
will see me again when I have made my arrangements," Muncester said almost
cheerfully. He seemed to take delight in crossing her.
"Spare
yourself the trouble, Your Grace. Any arrangements you make will not be
necessary or appreciated." Her tone and expression emphasised her words.
"Or
so you think."
"I
like a man who keeps his word and who leaves the instant he says he will."
The
duke raised his eyebrows. "Do you? I must keep that in mind. I shall go
instantly." He stayed true to his word and left without even glancing
back.
Clementine
hugged her daughter when the evil man was gone. "He will never send you to
school, sweet darling. Shall we go to the park?" She did not want to send
her child back to the nursery yet. Some fresh air and exercise would do both of
them good. It would restore her temper and make her calm again, she hoped. She
was still very agitated.
"Yes,"
said the girl. It was unclear whether she had understood anything of the
encounter, but she smiled up into her mother's face with a sweet and trusting
expression.
Clementine
kissed her. "Let us get dressed. Did you talk to the man? Did he hurt
you?"
There
was a moment of silence as thoughts were associated. "What is a
duke?"
"A
duke is a bad man." Clementine wondered what sort of fool would introduce
himself as duke to a two-year old. She was proud of her little Julia. She was
such a clever girl and she had inherited her father's enthusiastic
cheerfulness, and even the exposure to the bad duke had not ruined her mood.
Still, she ought to be warned against him. He might be back.
It
was inevitable that the duke should still be talking to somebody on the
pavement outside her house, despite his having left a while ago. She knew the
gentleman by sight; he was a Navy admiral. Clementine supposed she was equally
familiar to him, although she hated to think what he knew of her. He had never
done so before, but he greeted her now. The duke had probably enlightened him
about the connection. He would have had to, if he did not want people to
receive the wrong impression from his visits.
Even
the duke tipped his hat politely as if she were a respectable woman. Inside the
house he was rude and insulting, but outside he pretended to be civil.
Clementine had taken his measure. She greeted him back with icy politeness,
showing she had perfect manners. Presumably he would be able to read in her
eyes that it did not come from her heart.
Julia
had to ruin this scene of politeness. "Bad man!" she crowed in
delight, unmistakably pointing her finger at the object of her censure.
Clementine
lifted her up with a smug look, carrying her away quickly before she could be
asked any questions about this impertinence. She was more amused than
embarrassed, which was entirely Muncester's fault.
It
was only a small park for the residents of the square, more like a garden and
not really intended as a playground for children. She could watch the duke and
the admiral from the park, but this meant they could watch her too. For some
reason Clementine wanted to keep an eye on her house, however. She would not
put it past His Gracelessness to request to be given entrance once again to
search the house in her absence.
When
he and the admiral parted and he disappeared in the direction of the
neighbourhood where he now had his house, she relaxed and took Julia to a
proper park a little further away. There they could run and play without being
spied on.
Playing
could almost make her forget the duke's visits. When Julia tired she thought of
him again, especially of his motives. What were they? That he did not state
them clearly right away did not mean he did not still have the well-defined
intentions from his letter. He might simply be biding his time.
That
she had a child might have posed a small problem if he had meant to pursue her
instantly. She could not see why since it had not deterred Daniel either, but
this man's logic was incomprehensible anyway. Perhaps he was surprised by her
resistance. It was as Mrs. Vine had said. Men did not like resistance.
Nevertheless,
the offer he had mentioned on his first visit had not yet received any
elaboration. Something was yet to come, she assumed, unless he had taken her
attitude as a refusal of the offer he had not voiced. But why did he keep
coming back in that case?
Day Three
"Your
daughter was not mentioned in the settlements," said the duke when he
called the day after. Vincent had let him in at the same time as the day
before.
Clementine
regarded him wearily. It seemed she was never going to be rid of the man.
Instructing Vincent not to let him in was not going to work. "And I was
thinking you might have come to offer your apologies." She knew what was
and what was not mentioned in the settlements. Obviously, since her future
depended on that kind of information, she had made sure to look into it very
thoroughly. Had the duke now gone through the will again since yesterday's
visit?
"Apologies?"
He frowned as if he did not know why they should be offered.
It
would be too long to explain if he insisted on being stupid. "Will you
keep harassing me until I receive you in my dressing room?" That was bold
enough. Mentioning a bedroom was too much.
He
frowned some more at that, as if it were an unsuitable or incomprehensible
remark. "I came to talk about the settlements."
"I
was told I could live comfortably until my death or my marriage." She had
had no reasons to disbelieve that. The attorney had explained it very clearly.
She would gladly sacrifice some comfort for the care of her daughter.
"What
if you died next year? What would happen to your child?"
"Do
you and your duchess want to care for her?" Clementine was past
politeness. He never failed to aggravate her with his simplistic assumptions.
Obviously he thought women could not make any financial arrangements. Of course
such a thought had occurred to her! "Does your duchess even know you are
visiting me every day?" If he had a wife that wife must not be very
pleased to hear of such visits.
He
pursed his lips. "There is no duchess."
"That
is only a matter of time. I am sure you will soon give in to family pressure to
start a family and more candidates will be willing than are suitable. If you
are not too particular you should have no problems. But you would neither of
you want your name to be sullied by taking care of a bastard, furthermore since
it is not your own, but your cousin's."
"Do
you have any relatives?" he inquired, ignoring her speculations. He was
not to be distracted from his purpose.
"I
would not be in this situation if I did." Even Mrs. Vine must have been
forced into this type of situation long ago, she thought.
"Which
situation?"
"That
is no business of yours, Your Grace. I am no business of yours. Why do you not
go to your club to spend your days in a useful manner rather than bother
someone who has absolutely no wish to talk to you?" Perhaps the message
would be understood better if it was delivered literally, although she doubted
it.
"Has
someone offered you his protection?" he asked in a sharp tone.
She
assumed him to be jealous and she felt no urge to reassure him. "That too
is no business of yours."
"What
are you after?"
"I
have repeatedly been telling you what I am after and what I am not after, but
you do not appear to be listening." She wanted to be left alone. She could
say it again, but he would again not listen. It would be useless.
He
could not admit to not having listened, so he changed the subject. "I
shall visit again tomorrow."
"Oh,
of course! Establish yourself in the eyes of the world so that I have no option
but to acknowledge your influence!" Clementine exclaimed sarcastically.
"The only thing you came to tell me today is that my daughter was not
mentioned in the settlements. How useful! Did you think I did not know? Did you
think I would have sat and waited until someone either threw me a crumb or
threw me out of the house? What would my neighbours think?"
He
gave either her or the neighbours or contemptuous snort. "Do you care? I
will see you tomorrow."
Her Grace the Dowager Duchess of Muncester
Later
in the day, Clementine was again disturbed by a visitor. Vincent brought in a
card that announced the Dowager Duchess of Muncester, Daniel's mother. Clementine
stood up in shock. She had never met the woman, nor had she ever wondered if
the woman had any interest in her son's private affairs. Daniel had not
mentioned her much and he had certainly not mentioned whether his mother knew
about his mistress.
She
curtseyed politely when Vincent showed the elder lady in. "Your
Grace," she mumbled, realising belatedly that little Julia was still in
the room as well, playing quietly beside the sofa. That could not be helped.
Julia must be introduced.
"Miss
Rigby," the duchess acknowledged. She was still dressed in black and
appeared formidable because of that.
It
was more difficult to meet the duchess than the new duke, Clementine thought.
The former had no designs on her person and therefore required to be treated
with civility, something the latter rarely deserved. "Please take a seat,
Your Grace. Julia?" She held out her hand for her daughter.
"Julia?"
the duchess interrupted sharply.
"It
was your son's choice of name. Greet, Julia," she encouraged. She had attempted
to teach Julia how to curtsey.
"It
is also a family name," said the duchess, observing the toddler attempt a
greeting.
"Which
must be why Daniel wanted it," Clementine said quietly. Julia had done
very well and she patted the girl's head.
"This,
then, is my son's child?" The elder lady kept her distance, although it
was her grandchild and it would have been adorable to anyone less involved.
"It
is, Your Grace."
"There
can be no doubt?"
Clementine
met her gaze calmly. This woman, while not warm and kind, was a considerable
change from the new duke. He assumed the worst, whereas she asked
first. For some reason Clementine was feeling more lenient towards the
questions. Perhaps because it was a mother who had lost her son, not a cousin
who had inherited a title from a man he had not seen often. "Absolutely no
doubt."
"Why
did he keep a mistress?" was his mother's question. She was looking at the
little girl with some reserve.
The
question raised Clementine's eyebrows in confusion. She had expected his entire
family to be reconciled to that sort of behaviour. They should not have to
inquire into the reasons. "Er ... he said he did not know anyone who did not
have a mistress."
"Nonsense."
She
remained confused by Daniel's mother's disapproval. "I agree it is not a
very convincing reason, but --"
"Let
us reverse the matter. Why did you accept?"
That
might be easier to explain, yet she wanted to take full responsibility for her
choice too. "It was my best option. If one is to be ruined, it had best happen
agreeably."
"Did
it?"
Clementine
kept her chin up. "It did."
"Did
you not attempt to trick him into marrying you?" the duchess inquired.
"I
was grateful for my position, which was no position to make demands. I was
considerably better off like this than I would have been if he had not offered
his protection. I do not know where they take girls they catch on the road, but
I doubt I would have ended up in a nice place. I could not make Daniel marry me
if he did not want to be married, not even by tricking him."
Seemingly
the Dowager Duchess of Muncester had known some aspects of her son's character.
"It surprises me all the more that he should have a woman and child hidden
away."
"Your
Grace, it does not require any act of responsibility or maturity to father a
child," Clementine said dryly, "and the care for her has always been
entirely mine -- save for the financial, which is really a matter of
instructing an attorney."
"I
understand you are well provided for."
"Indeed,
although I have one request."
"Which
is?" the duchess asked sharply. She was not prepared to part with any
money, houses or carriages.
"That
you impress on the mind of the new duke, who has been harassing me most
disagreeably, that I am not in need of either money or protection. I can take
care of myself. He seems to believe women are of weak mind and flesh, but he is
quite mistaken." Her fierce look supported her words.
"I
refuse to believe this account of his character."
"If
he comes home sporting a black eye, I will have given it to him. He wants to
send Julia off to school! But she is only two years old!" Clementine
became agitated. "He only wants to keep the little bastard out of sight!
We are too much of an embarrassment if we remain in town, are we not? Never mind
that none of you knew for four years and we have obviously never drawn any
attention to ourselves!"
Finally,
she burst into tears, the aggravations of the past few days becoming too much
for her. Julia stared wide-eyed, her lip beginning to tremble. She would soon
follow suit.
The duchess saw no reason to stay.
Mrs.
Vine had a note delivered later, inviting Clementine to the theatre to see one
of their mutual acquaintances perform. She did not have many outings lately and
she generally accepted, although today it cost her some effort. A play might
take her mind off serious matters, however, and she decided to go.
Daniel
had taken her frequently, but it had been a few months since the last time. His
friends also had no more reasons for visiting her, since they had always come
at his invitation. Their ladies would not appreciate it if they went alone and
neither would Clementine. She depended wholly on the visits and invitations of
other women.
Not
all of them were at leisure enough to remember her and she was grateful that
her neighbour at least thought of her, whatever other motivations might be
playing a role.
Mrs.
Vine could make use of the box of Mr. Strong, the Member of Parliament with
whom she was intimately acquainted. Clementine had been there before, with both
Mrs. Vine and Mr. Strong and sometimes others, such as Daniel. Today Mr. Strong
brought another gentleman, a Mr. Trelawney, who was rather old and heavy-set.
He was not someone who captured her fancy, far from it.
Whenever
Mr. Trelawney leant closer to allow her a look in the programme, or perhaps to
peek into her cleavage, Clementine had to suppress a shudder. The only gown
that had a cut suitable for the theatre and a colour suitable for some degree
of discreet mourning was this one, but it was not proving to be such a wise
choice. She wrapped her shawl around her and let the ends hang over her chest.
She
could see Mrs. Vine's objectives in having this man brought along, but she
wanted none of this.
"What
of it, Miss Rigby?" he whispered when Mrs. Vine and Mr. Strong had left
them for a moment to speak with friends in the adjoining box.
She
did not have to ask what he meant. It was all too clear from his wink and his
leer. "If you will excuse me for a second," she answered hastily,
gathering her skirts together to facilitate her exit. Trelawney was slow to
react and she had a head start.
She
ran as if she was being chased, which might even be true. She could not look
over her shoulder because people were still going in and out of their private
boxes and they would be very interested in any chases taking place.
Around
a corner she hid in the Duke of Muncester's private box. She had often been
there. It was the most familiar place in all the building and her dark grey gown
did its best to blend into the shadows as she sank to the floor behind the last
row of seats. She was sure her breathing would give her away, however, and she
waited anxiously for Mr. Trelawney to peer out of Mr. Strong's box straight
into this one -- if he was still there.
Mr.
Trelawney did obviously not feel fit enough to chase her and he had not
attempted it, for he could be seen sitting down in Mr. Strong's box, exchanging
headshakes with Mrs. Vine and Mr. Strong. There was no danger from them. It turned
out to be worse than that.
Clementine
had not known that for a full minute she had been the object of close scrutiny
by someone already in the Muncester box. As her breathing calmed down she
became more aware of her immediate surroundings and her eye fell upon a
gentleman studying her quietly. "Oh no!" she said involuntarily when
she recognised him.
"Is
something the matter?" he asked in a soft voice.
"From
one fix into another," she said in despair. The Duke of Muncester could do
with her as he pleased. She would not cry out in a full theatre. People would
only assume she had invited his attentions. There could be no doubt as to who
was to blame for any trouble between them.
"Fix?"
His
slowness to react to this opportunity to misbehave reassured her a little.
Perhaps she was fearing too much. "Mr. Trelawney made me a suggestion. I
thought. What if he did not? I ran." She wondered if it could have been an
innocent suggestion, so that her behaviour had now offended him. It was
difficult to see it like that, however. It could not possibly have been a
misunderstanding.
"A
suggestion?"
Clementine
wondered if he was deliberately slow on the uptake. "What of it, Miss
Rigby? That is what he said. Why would someone say that if it did not mean ... that?"
She hoped he would tell her she had been right in running away. How could an
evil man tell her that, though? Perhaps her distress would alert him to the
fact that a gentleman's attentions were not always welcome.
"You
are uncommonly unsettled by ... that," the duke observed.
"Do
people not see there is a difference?" she lamented and then remembered
she ought to get away from here as soon as possible. "But I am sorry to
have disturbed your peace. I have been here too often to view this as anything
other than a sanctuary. I will leave you now and go home. Please forget about
the interruption."
"My
friends did not come. I will escort you home."
Perhaps
she had been wrong in her assessment and he had merely been biding his time.
Having him escort her home was not desirable in that case. "No, no, no!
Then you will want to come in and be rewarded. I have narrowly escaped one,
only to be caught by the other!"
"You
are talking nonsense, Miss Rigby," he said decidedly. "You have
obviously suffered a shock. If you do not trust me I cannot help you."
"What
are you to gain? Why would you want to help me?"
"I
told you it is my duty to help you."
"Whereupon
it follows in the male mind that it is my duty to reward you." She sounded
mocking, but she was afraid. Men had such different notions sometimes.
"Upon
my honour it is not." He held out his hand.
Muncester
had ordered his carriage to take them to Clementine's house. It was not far and
neither spoke on the way. There, he handed her down and accompanied her inside.
"What happened?" he asked.
She
had been too engrossed in her own feelings of shock and anger to think much
about him, except for feeling some relief at his silence. Now she looked
startled at his question. "Why could you be interested, Your Grace?"
She backed off a little in defence. He had taken her away from there, but she
was still not certain he could be trusted.
"What
happened?" he repeated.
She
was too depressed to be very rude. "Are you afraid I created a
scandal?"
"I
am not. I think you avoided one."
"Your
Grace," Clementine said as she tried to order the thoughts she had had in
the carriage. "If someone like that is bent on having me, there is not
much I can do to avoid a scandal. I shall create one by refusing him and I
shall create one by accepting him -- especially if the refusal is public. I
shall have been seen in the box with one man, though not by choice, and seen
leaving with another."
"Again
not by choice?" the duke muttered. He stood still and straight, his hands
on his back.
"Do
you need a lesson in the workings of gossip?" she asked bitterly.
"Life and gossip are not fair. The only way I can defend myself is by
keeping strictly to myself and not going anywhere with anyone."
"But
what happened exactly? Who was that man?"
She
sat down and inhaled deeply. "My neighbour Mrs. Vine, who is the mistress
of a politician, must have thought it a good idea to introduce that other man
to me. She is always looking for more influence and she thinks everybody ought
to be like her. She must act before her youth and good looks run out, I am
sure, and secure her future, but I need not do such a thing. I do not see what
is useful in accepting such an unappetising man as Mr. Trelawney merely to
satisfy his desires." She gave him a covert glance to see how he
reacted to such frankness.
The
duke merely looked reflective. "Trelawney? He is said to be
influential."
"I
do not care if he could get me my own palace. He would make me gag," she
said with candid disgust.
Muncester
started to pace the room. "Gag, yes," he mused vaguely, as if that
was his reaction to the entire situation. "What will happen now?"
"I
wait for the next attempt?" Clementine asked cynically. "As long as
there are people who believe every woman needs at least one man in her life and
who believe she is at fault for refusing even the most loathsome of them ... I wish I had a son so I could say that was
my man."
"Miss
Rigby, I know nothing of these matters --"
"I
am sure you do not," she said with obvious sarcasm.
"Not
much then," he modified. "But the family would prefer that you do not
go along with any of these schemes."
Clementine
burst. "I have just been telling you that I do not want to go along with
them!" she exclaimed. "Do you ever listen? I know what the family
want -- no scandals! As it happens that coincides perfectly with what I
want!"
He
stopped pacing and looked down at her. "I have been at sea. I was back
briefly at times, but never long enough to find out everything that went on.
Now that I am back to stay I find that some family members have been behaving
disgracefully and I mean to end as much of it as I can."
"Good
luck," she muttered and turned away. "You cannot change people's
characters. Believe me, I have tried." She shook her head. "You
cannot make them grow up and you cannot make them change. And what about you,
Your Grace? Oh wait, there is not much to be perfected in a man of the Navy, is
there?" He believed himself to be as close to a deity as he could be.
"My
manners?" he asked and sat down.
"You
do listen sometimes," she remarked, feeling surprised. Even if he had
listened sometimes, which would only be logical for a normal person, she had
never expected him to admit it.
"Sometimes.
Would a house in the country suit you?" he asked, changing subjects with his
customary skill.
That
surprised her too. "Why would you go through so much trouble? You thought
the same of me as that man did. Perhaps you still do." He had even called
her a woman of easy virtue to her face. She did not understand why he would go
through any trouble for her sake.
"Perhaps
I must reconsider my impression. Think about the countryside," he said,
rising to his feet. He had only been sitting for a few seconds.
"If
you could guarantee my daughter a respectable future you will be assured of my
eternal gratitude and devotion," Clementine said before she could check
herself. "Forget that. I do not want to give you that at all."
He
grimaced. "It is forgotten."
"And
you had best leave before I believe your offer. Gratitude is a dangerous thing."
She did not want to feel grateful to him and she certainly did not want to
change her opinion of him. He should go before that could happen.
"Is
that how you..." But he checked himself and gestured that he did not want to
know.
"Yes.
Go. You will not be grateful for tomorrow's gossip." Clementine did not
doubt that half the neighbourhood -- and perhaps half the theatre-goers -- were
now firmly convinced that she had passed from the hands of one duke to the
hands of another. Staying so long after darkness was suspicious.
"Another
argument in favour of the countryside," the duke said. "Think about
it."
"Why
do men never listen literally?" she sighed. "Daniel would never stay
if I asked him, only if I employed some cunning, and you will not go if I ask you.
Stay then, but do move your carriage." As she spoke, she wondered what
compelled her to say such a thing. It was good that he could be counted on to
do the opposite of what she asked anyway.
Muncester
had indeed not wanted to stay. In fact, the suggestion of staying had sent him
scrambling for the door. He was out and gone in a minute.
Clementine
regretted his departure a little for completely selfish reasons. She could have
used some comfort, but life had taught her that comfort was rarely available
when she needed it most. People were willing to provide it when it suited them,
not when it suited her. No matter how much she wanted to be held, she would
have to find another way. It would merely take longer to feel at ease if there
was no one to speak soft and soothing words while caressing her.
As
a sobering thought, she could not really imagine the offensive duke with his
rough sea manners whispering niceties in her ear to make her feel better. That
was an image that would simply fail to appear before her mind's eye. She could
not even gag at what she could not imagine.
Yes,
she had really sold her soul to the devil when she had ceded herself to Daniel.
That thought crossed her mind when she climbed the stairs to go to bed. It
could not be otherwise, or else she would never be having these ideas.
She
looked in on Julia, who was sleeping soundly. Julia would love the playmates
that the countryside would undoubtedly offer. Clementine's own childhood
memories were full of children. She had been an only child, but there had been
plenty of friends in the neighbourhood. There were few children here in town.
They were all locked up in nurseries and only allowed out to the park very
briefly and under close supervision.
And
people might not like their children to associate with Julia because of her
parentage, which would either be mysterious or tainted. That might be a
conclusion she would have to draw in a few years' time.
Then
she went to bed and thought about Daniel. He had always been very sweet,
although he had not been the perfect man. There was no such thing as a perfect
man, she supposed, but she missed him anyway. He would always live on in Julia,
but it was his actual company for which she now longed.
Gratitude
was dangerous indeed. It could so easily turn into more. It took a long time
for her to fall asleep.
During
breakfast Clementine was told the duke had come in through the mews. She
wondered why it did not surprise her anymore that he should visit, but that
only the manner of his approach could cause her to raise her eyebrows. Why the
mews? Dukes always used the front entrance, unless her cautionary comments
about gossip had been responsible for this secretive approach. Did he think
nobody was watching that end? Perhaps he would be inconspicuous if he dressed
like a tradesman, but he would not.
She
could still not like him. Even disagreeable people had the right to do
something good now and then and he had made use of that right, but it had in no
way altered her opinion of him, she told herself. For instance, he was not more
important than her breakfast.
She
ate quickly nevertheless and joined him in the sitting room, where she found
him eating off a tray. This was possibly even more puzzling than his secretive
approach. The household of a duke would provide a much better breakfast, she
supposed. Perhaps he had come here to find fault with hers.
"Have
you slept?" he inquired after his bow.
"Not
much." She averted her gaze before she continued. He must be able to see rings
around her eyes. She had not dared to look into the mirror because she had felt
quite clearly that she might not be looking her best.
"Because
of the events of last night?"
She
hesitated. The events of last night had been embarrassing. She did not want to
discuss them with him. Yet if she said nothing, he might receive the wrong
impression and think she was weak and helpless. She was not. It was not passive
fear that had kept her awake. "I missed having someone to speak to. Not
that I always had one, but at least I could always try to summon him and now I
cannot do that any longer. My daughter loves me, but she is not an adult."
"I
see," he said quietly. "Were you very attached to him?"
She
wondered if she had said too much that he could so easily make the connection.
Men never liked women to ramble on about their feelings, so she was cautious.
He would not take her seriously as a rational creature if she rambled on too
much. "As attached as one can be under the circumstances."
It
was to be expected that this caught his attention. "Which circumstances
would that be?"
"Would
you mind telling me why you chose to have breakfast here, Your Grace?" she
said instead. He was asking too many questions. It might be as unmannered as
spewing forth insults. It struck her that he could easily have disturbed her
breakfast, but he had not. He had settled for having her informed of his
arrival and he had waited here.
"I
was going to have it after my visit, but the people you employ had food to
spare and they insisted on feeding me. Could I say no?"
"They
never feed stray people at the back door," Clementine said warily.
"Only cats and dogs."
He
took a sip of his coffee. "Perhaps I looked hungrier than a cat or dog.
Which circumstances?"
"You
are probably not going to agree with me," she hedged. He was a duke and
those had different values and standards, especially when it came to other
dukes -- and themselves, naturally.
"Let
me be the judge of that, Miss Rigby."
"You
are a predictable judge."
"Really?
Is that why you came into my box last night? I received the impression that I
did not judge the situation as you expected."
She
blushed deeply at that. "Well then," she said hesitantly, not knowing
why she was going to tell him this. He really did not deserve to be told
anything. "He could have married me when I came to be with child. He did
not."
"Did
he know?"
Clementine
wondered if he had ever seen a pregnant woman and bit her lip. "It is
rather difficult to hide this condition in the later stages, supposing I would
not already have informed him as soon as I knew. He knew. I know why he did not
marry me, but..."
"And
why would that be?"
"Er..."
she was nonplussed. "He was a duke! They do not marry girls of very little
social standing -- or those who have lost theirs." She was certain that he
was only testing her explanation. There could be no other reason for him to
ask.
The
present duke shook his head disapprovingly. "Is that it? Or is it the fact
that you believe he ought to have considered that the child might have been a
boy and that his eventual wife might be barren?"
She
made a helpless gesture. It was something she had thought of, but it was
typically something Daniel had brushed off. He did not like to think ahead and
how appropriate it was to his philosophy that he had not lived. "He would
not listen to that. He was not perfect. I did not even want to be a duchess, so
I left it at that." That must be incomprehensible to people who only heard
the brief and simple summary of events. Life was not always simple.
He
narrowed his eyes. "But you made sure you were taken care of
financially?"
"Obviously.
You may not understand any of this or even his sort of logic. But you will
probably not allow me to be frank about your cousin, Your Grace. He was after
all a duke and your relative."
"Why
not? I knew him well, at least until I went into the Navy. You might not tell
me anything that surprises me. On the whole the faults of the dead are
forgotten, unless they can offer an explanation. Death does not turn a man into
a saint."
"Clemmie,
you are my mistress, so of course I cannot marry you. That is the whole point
of a mistress." She sighed. Muncester was very cold. She was not certain
that he would understand anything about feelings. He did not appear to have
cared much for Daniel. "It is very cruel of you to force me to say
this."
"It
sounds as if it was the secrecy and the excitement that was at least half of
the attraction for him."
"Says
the man who came in through the mews," she commented rapidly. That deserved
to be said. "And thank you for the ... er ... compliment."
"Which
compliment?" He looked genuinely ignorant.
She
had been expecting as much. "Half of the attraction being excitement and
not my assets or accomplishments?"
The
duke blinked as he realised his words could have been taken as a potential
faux-pas and he looked rather disturbed by it. "Oh er ... I am not in the
habit of making compliments. Women really should not be imagining their
presence or absence in every sentence."
That
he never made anyone any compliments was quite obvious and Clementine
suppressed a smile in spite of herself. "I can see how there is little
occasion for making compliments at sea, Your Grace, but I tend to think they
are rather compulsory for a duke on the land."
"Then
I shall be remiss," he said stubbornly. "It is not my duty to flatter
ladies."
"You
will be the toast of the town, I predict," she mocked.
He
did not care. "I was not planning to spend much time here. Once I have
settled my affairs I plan to return to the country. My aunt told me your
daughter's name is Julia. Why did you tell Miss Julia to call me a bad man? I
had some explaining to do to the admiral."
It
was interesting that his aunt should have informed him of her visit -- and of
Julia's name. Obviously nephew and aunt kept each other informed of their
visits. She was curious what else had been said, but she could not ask. If the
aunt had dared to visit after her nephew's initial reports, was that a good or
a bad sign?
"Julia
asked what a duke was, so I said it was a bad man," she said in a
challenging voice.
"Even
though her father was one?"
"She
spoke about you specifically. Who would introduce himself to a toddler with his
proper title? You have to be..." She shook her head. "No, I am not
saying it."
"Julia
can talk?" he asked in amazement.
"Julia
is not stupid," Clementine said proudly. She said nothing for a few
moments and then decided to take advantage of the absence of insults this
morning. Perhaps the man had taken her comment about his manners to heart and
he was genuinely trying to improve. "May I ask you to explain what you
meant in the letter you sent me? I may have misinterpreted you." She took
the letter from a drawer and read the first line. "I write to you as one
of the duties of the position I recently inherited."
"What
is wrong with that?" the duke asked, as if nothing could ever be wrong
about a letter he had written.
"Do
you not see it? What do you mean here?"
"Exactly
what it says." He looked puzzled that there could be room for doubt.
Clementine
tried again. "You write to me as one of the duties you inherited."
"Precisely."
"You
inherited me?"
That
made him frown. "How? I do not see what you mean."
"That
is what you have written. I am a duty you inherited -- and then you proceed to
say you are as good as your cousin was and you mention intimate and
satisfactory arrangements. Well?" She looked at him expectantly.
"I
fail to see your point," he said very stiffly.
"Does
it not sound as if you believed the mistress was a part of your
inheritance?" She wanted him to deny it, but she was not yet sure he
would. He might in principle be against denying again. "Should I clarify
how everyone else interprets intimate arrangements?"
The
duke had tensed and he seemed to have trouble swallowing. After a few seconds
he spoke. "Does this interpretation account for your behaviour?"
She
rolled her eyes. "Your friendly and respectful attitude might have played
some role too, but yes. Can you really blame me for being somewhat prejudiced
towards someone -- whom I do not know -- announcing his intention to become my
bedfellow? Because having lost the one I had, I must be in need of a
replacement? And how easy that you would not have to look for one on your own.
You could simply take your cousin's."
"Give
me that letter," he ordered, almost tearing it out of her hand.
Clementine
watched as he read it, her heart beating rapidly. She wanted to know what he
had meant. "It cannot be news to you. You wrote it."
"I
meant to write a neutral letter to an unknown quantity," the duke said
after he had read the letter at least five times.
"Instead,
you wrote an overbearing epistle propositioning a woman rather disrespectfully
without ever having seen her." She was proud to get such an impressive
sentence out without stumbling over words. Her heart was still racing.
"If
a fear of being treated without respect is your frame of mind I can see how you
might interpret it as such," he said cautiously. "But I think the
neutral interpretation is sufficiently clear. I do not tend to reread my
letters to see if they might be taken the wrong way by people in whose
positions I cannot even imagine myself."
Clementine
gave him a good glare. "But tell me one thing, Your Grace. It was not your
intention to take me as your mistress?" She had begun to think not. He had
left last night, after all. She had only thought about herself when he had
left, but perhaps she should have realised that his departure had been
significant. Many others would have assumed she had been offering herself on a
silver platter. They would assume that at even the smallest hint and they would
seize the opportunity.
He
seemed to colour, but it was hard to tell with his complexion. "First of
all, Miss Rigby, I abhor the practice of keeping mistresses. Second, I had
never seen you when I wrote that letter, which I think would tell a sensible
person enough."
"I
applaud your civility and fortitude in conversing with someone as contemptible
as a mistress," Clementine said with a sneer. She could not forget his
attitude and his answer both relieved and shocked her too much to be
reasonable. "And not even a sensible one at that!"
He
made an obvious effort to control himself and then he spoke very calmly.
"Miss Rigby, had you given the countryside offer any thought?"
"I
accept," she said, although she had not really given it much thought at
all. It would be nice for Julia. That was all she had considered so far. It
might be all that mattered.
"Start
packing," he said with a bow. "I must go now."
Now
she had to start packing without knowing where she was going to be housed. She
did not even know whether she could take everything. And when was she moving?
How could he have a house ready? Dukes were omnipotent, certainly, but wholly
in their own minds and not in practice.
But
how was one to pack if one did not possess any trunks or boxes? She had never
moved and rarely travelled. Daniel had taken her to the seaside a few times,
but those had not been trips on which she had brought many clothes. Besides,
everything had gone into his trunks.
It
was impossible to carry out Muncester's order now and she was loath to send him
a note to inform him of it. He would undoubtedly appear again today or
tomorrow, for he seemed to have nothing better to do. She would ask him then.
She
did not know what to make of the tension between them. The moment they seemed
to get along a little better he had to insult her once again. The only thing
that was good about the entire situation was that he was not out to take a
mistress. She would be safe from him in that respect and that was a great
relief.
Still,
his looking down on mistresses caused many other problems. He abhorred the
practice of keeping mistresses, as if they were a filthy species of animal that
should not be kept in the house. The lack of respect and understanding he
conveyed could make her blood boil.
As
Clementine was assembling trinkets from Julia's nursery, she mused that he
could have given his opinion in a much more palatable manner. "Julia, the
bad man could have said he would marry the woman he adored, the only woman he
would ever love, and that he would be loving and faithful to her forever."
That would have made the same stance sound completely different.
"Duke
-- bad man," Julia said seriously. She was trying to help with the packing
and walked to and fro with small objects.
Her
mother was encouraged by this support. "Indeed. He could have given his
opinion a romantic, a religious or even a charitable twist, but he did not!
Perhaps we should rule out the possibility that he could ever give something a
romantic or sentimental twist?"
"Bad
man -- clothes off!"
"No,
no, no, darling. The bad man shall never take his clothes off
here," Clementine assured her, afraid that little Julia was far too
precocious and bright for her age and that she had somehow understood far too
much. Julia kept nodding vigorously, however. "What do you mean?"
"Clothes
off!"
There
was possibly a better explanation that occurred to her now. "Yes, he was
the man who checked whether you were a girl. Very good!"
Now
Julia shook her head. "Clothes off!"
"I
really do not like your train of thought, Miss," Clementine said sternly.
Muncester with his clothes off! It was not a suitable thought for her daughter.
"Dry
clothes!"
Finally there was comprehension. Clementine laughed, relieved that the interpretation was far from scandalous. "When Julia is a bad girl, she needs dry clothes. When the duke is a bad man, he is ... a bad man."
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