Clementine

Chapter 9: The Circus

Mr. Lenton and Mr. Pritchard called on her on Monday. They had been waiting until they could do so and today was the day, whereupon they presented themselves at the soonest convenient hour.

After a few years of university and idleness, Mr. Lenton was thinking of purchasing a commission in the Army, Clementine discovered. His lack of enthusiasm for the venture was such that she thought perhaps his brother had made him this emphatic suggestion. She would not put it past him.

"Although my chances are much improved now that my brother is a duke," he said, implying that perhaps he would prefer a rich wife over an occupation.

Mr. Pritchard snickered. He at least had the family estate to inherit and was not plagued by occupational concerns, although he would be Lenton's devoted companion in the search for a rich woman. "I somehow think your brother will not support that notion."

"Well, Pritch, you do not really think he will marry and have a brood of children, do you? I think there is hope for me yet, being the heir presumptive." Mr. Lenton gave a careless smile.

Clementine thought his elder brother had indeed not seemed eager to do his duty in that regard, although he had implied he was testing whether he would like to have children. If that desire grew too strong, he might even succumb to making a woman unhappy at some point. He believed he would make one unhappy, at any rate.

"Stranger things have happened, have they not?" said Pritchard. "Some may think him dashing enough. Although he did speak rather disparagingly of women."

"And of flirting. Let us not forget that. He would rather sink a ship than flirt, which is rather required to progress with a lady."

"Should you really be speaking of His Grace in such terms?" Clementine wondered. She felt some discomfort. It sounded a little disrespectful, although she had had worse thoughts about the man -- but she was not related to him.

The implication that they wanted rich women and the mention of flirting promised little good for herself. She did not think she counted as wealthy, so presumably she was only flirting material. It was kind of the young gentlemen to state their purpose so unwittingly. She would not have to feel any qualms about deflecting their attentions and she would not take them seriously at all.

Although she was only a few years older, it felt like decades. The poor dears had much to learn. She could not dislike them for it, but she would be careful.

Her question only managed to unsettle Mr. Pritchard, but he dared not defend himself.

"Probably not," Mr. Lenton conceded. "And we must be boring you with talks of my boring brother, so ... what we really came for is to ask whether you would go with us to see the travelling circus. They set everything up on Saturday."

"I heard about that," Clementine answered cautiously. She had wanted to go, but she had thought of taking the two little girls of their neighbours with her. It might not look as innocent an excursion if Clementine was to be accompanied by two young men. Her neighbours might quite rightly have their reservations. They might assume that she would be too distracted by the young gentlemen to watch the children properly, since quite a lot of young women would be thus distracted.

She knew all about the attractions of lively and enthusiastic young men. She would even be able to enjoy herself tolerably well. However, she did not want to be given the reputation of a woman who enjoyed to be taken on outings by lively and enthusiastic young men. Their enthusiasm had no bounds. They might even fancy themselves in love while she was still able to think clearly and in this situation she could not allow that to happen.

"Had you not wanted to go, Mrs. Rigby?"

"I was going to take a few children. I cannot disappoint them by suddenly going with you. I am afraid I must decline the invitation." She smiled as politely as she could. She had not yet asked her neighbours, only thought of them, and hoped Mr. Lenton and Mr. Pritchard would not ask too many questions about the details of the arrangement.

"We are children too!" Mr. Lenton exclaimed mischievously.

"Perhaps. But you would not enjoy watching small children. They need to be watched very closely." She considered telling him about their emergencies. Why not? "Wiping noses, wiping bottoms; I really do not think that is your province."

"Oh well," said Mr. Pritchard, evidently considering whether it would be fun to take the children with them or not. He leant towards the latter opinion. "How many children?"

"Three."

"Three small children!" Mr. Lenton exclaimed with a shudder. "That would take all the fun out of it, would it not? Though it would be a huge joke to play on my brother. He is utterly undomesticated. Thinks anything not manly is in the way of running his ship, house, life, whatever he likes to run."

Clementine raised her eyebrows. For someone unfavourably disposed towards anything not manly, he had been showing admirable skill in handling Julia, but perhaps this explained why he had been silent about it. He might on the other hand not have done so well if he had not had such a brother. "Er ... but I must still decline your invitation. Perhaps I might run into you there and you will not have to share the burden of supervision?" She did not want to be too harsh.

"Perhaps. Shall we go, Pritch?" Mr. Lenton inquired. They did not have to accompany Mrs. Rigby to flirt with her there. Perhaps what she suggested was even better.

"We could try."

She smiled at both of them, glad they were so easy.

Clementine had gone to her neighbours and made her suggestion. It had been met with cheers from Mary and Sylvia, who would enjoy any sort of outing. Their mother had been a little concerned about the number of children Clementine would have to keep an eye on, but she had two older boys to teach and she could not go with them, no matter how much the boys attempted to persuade her to get out of their lessons. She stood firm.

Clementine agreed with her that Mary and Sylvia would come to her house as soon as they were properly dressed and fed, and she returned home to prepare herself.

At the circus she ran into Mrs. Newman and little Thomas, so they sat together. Mrs. Newman had not looked desirous of company, yet she looked grateful to be approached by someone eventually. Clementine often felt the same. Besides, if there was a kindred spirit in the village, she suspected it to be Mrs. Newman. She would have to risk some initial discomfort to invest in a friendship that might yield advantageous results.

The picture of the two women and the four young children made for far too daunting a scene for Mr. Lenton and Mr. Pritchard to join them, so the gentlemen only greeted them regretfully and passed on before they were invited to sit. Mrs. Newman would never do such a thing and Clementine was not going to do it on this occasion. It was not only the children; she thought Mrs. Newman might also not like the party to be thus enlarged. It would make her new friend very quiet.

She reviewed her promise to the young gentlemen, but she had not promised anything. She had said she would be here and perhaps they might run into her. It was perhaps not very kind of her to sit with another woman, but the gentlemen needed not have seen this as an impediment. That they had done so nevertheless could never be her fault, although she had known it in advance. She hoped they were not clever enough to realise this deceit.

"They had wanted to take me, but I did not want to," Clementine whispered to Mrs. Newman to explain why they had been greeted.

"That explains why they are the only people without children," Mrs. Newman whispered back with a chuckle.

Clementine looked around. "Indeed! I had not noticed that. They must feel very out of place." She chuckled too. Her new friend was remarkably observant.

"Why did you not want to go with them?" Mrs. Newman asked with a blush. She obviously feared she was overstepping her bounds with this question.

"I do not think my neighbours would have approved of such a thing, since quite obviously those gentlemen have no interest in the children, but only in me. I have no intention of encouraging their attentions, but if I accepted their invitation it would seem as if I did. They do not have any serious intentions."

"Apart from a serious intention to enjoy themselves." Mrs. Newman became much more communicative if she felt her conversational partner would not disagree with her.

Clementine agreed. "They should find themselves a woman without a child." She was too serious for them. She enjoyed her entertainments like everybody else, but she could never forget there was a little girl to take care of.

"But do you think the local fathers of women without children are still willing to let either of the two near their daughters?"

Clementine gasped. "Is it that bad?" That would explain why Mr. Lenton was to join the Army as soon as possible.

"No," Mrs. Newman conceded. "Not yet, apart from some slightly improper flirtations. And Pritchard stands a better chance with local fathers than Lenton, on account of his father's estate, although my husband says it will be run very badly indeed if young Pritchard takes over its management."

Then the children interrupted them with questions and they had to focus on the show for a while.

She could still reflect on the two young men and study them where they sat at the back of the tent, possibly feeling conspicuous because they were at a children's show. It was never a good thing to hear there had been improper flirtations. She would have to watch her step, although flirtations went two ways. They would never succeed if she did not respond. It would, for instance, be impossible to flirt with the duke.

Clementine soon found an occasion to mention the Duke of Muncester. She had to speak about him to someone because he was occupying a great part of her thoughts. "I do not know what to make of the duke! He played with Julia yesterday!"

"Perhaps he likes children?" Mrs. Newman suggested. "We saw her speak to him in church. He did not look bothered. Mr. Newman thought --"

"What did he think?" asked Clementine when she did not finish.

Mrs. Newman gave her a shy glance. "That you might not like it, since you said you do not like His Grace."

"We spoke yesterday. I do not know what I think of him now. He has opinions of which I approve, but ... His Gracelessness is so tactless and blunt." If he were more charming she might like him better. His character was probably excellent -- apart from his opinion of the abilities of women -- but that was all unimportant if he aggravated her at every turn.

"But not to Julia," Mrs. Newman observed quietly.

That did not signify. "Julia does not feel provoked. She is always sweet and people can only be sweet in return."

Mrs. Newman smiled as if the solution was obvious.

Clementine uttered an exclamation. "You cannot want me to do that!" She tried to imagine it. Treating the duke sweetly in the hopes that he would return the favour! Yet this suggestion supported what she had been thinking herself: his behaviour was partly her fault.

It would not be so bad if it could easily be remedied, but she did not think it could. There was such a provocative air that hung about that man.

It had been a very nice show for the children. They had laughed and shrieked very loudly and they had enjoyed themselves very well. Clementine dropped some extra coins in the hat that was passed around at the end.

Her neighbour was grateful when she returned Mary and Sylvia and the two boys were jealous when they heard how much fun it had been. They tried to make their mother promise to send them tomorrow.

"Would they not be too old?" Mrs. Carr inquired.

"There were even two men in their twenties," Clementine related truthfully. She almost smiled at how out of place they had looked.

"I must think of this then. Perhaps if they pass their vocabulary test..." But her male offspring began to scream at this indignantly.

Clementine left them to their arguments and went to inspect Vincent's progress on the repairs of the chicken coop. It had served Bessie's chickens tolerably well so far, but Bessie had been asking for improvements since they had moved in. She had also been asking for a cow, but that wish had not been granted. Villagers had presented them with a puppy, a kitten and a piglet and that had been more than enough for the time being.

An hour after the circus, Mr. Lenton and Mr. Pritchard halted outside Clementine's gate with their phaetons. They had been out of luck earlier that day, but they would not give up.

Clementine was not pleased to see them at her gate for all her neighbours to see. She slipped out of the back door into her neighbours' garden while the two men were attaching their horses. "Could you lend me your boys?" she asked Mrs. Carr.

"My boys?"

"There are two young gentlemen at my gate who wish to take me for a drive." She thought it would look a good deal more innocent if the two boys came along.

"But you want to send my boys instead?" Mrs. Carr went to the side window, which offered her view of that particular stretch of the lane. "Two young men, you say? I see three, Mrs. Rigby."

"Three? Mr. Lenton and Mr. Pritchard. I did not see another."

"And Captain Lenton. I mean, the duke."

"No!" Clementine cried, joining her at the window. "What is he doing here? I do not want to go with any of them!"

They watched as the duke jumped down and started to talk to the other two men. Two boys had run out of the house to look at the horses and phaetons. Apparently they were asking questions, because the two young gentlemen spoke back to them and the duke walked towards the Carrs' house.

This house, Clementine realised. Mrs. Carr seemed greatly intrigued by this development. She alternately glanced at her fidgeting neighbour and at the door.

The duke was shown in by the maid, but he faltered when he perceived Clementine. "Er ... I ... Mrs. Carr ... I ... came to ask..." but he could barely keep his eyes off Clementine.

Mrs. Carr looked at him expectantly, as if she was not at all surprised he should be stammering.

He recovered himself. "Whether you would allow your sons to go for a drive with my brother and Pritchard."

"I would not recommend it," Clementine interrupted, suddenly feeling anxious.

Muncester gave her a perturbed look. "Why not?"

"They will go too fast. I should hold myself responsible if something happened." The men would never be at the gate if it had not been for her and that made everything her fault.

The interruption seemed to displease him, or perhaps it was her doubts about his judgement. "Nothing will happen. I shall see to that. Mrs. Carr?"

Mrs. Carr did not know what to think. Both of them were so certain in their opposing opinions. "If I have your assurance, Your Grace."

"They do not listen to you. They call you boring," Clementine said with a shake of the head. "I would not let my child go with them. I am sorry." She left the room to go back to her own house before she erupted into something undesirable.

Chapter 10: The Drive

Mrs. Carr was left in confusion after Clementine's departure. Her neighbour had never struck her as overly fearful. She looked at the duke. "Why is Mrs. Rigby so afraid that something might happen? You say it will not."

"Past history?" He could make a guess. Perhaps it had been one of his cousin's bad habits to drive too fast. "I am sure my brother and Pritchard would be careful with the boys. I am sorry I cannot take them myself, but horses are not my specialty. I cannot go fast enough to entertain boys."

"Perhaps a girl?" she suggested. The pretty Mrs. Rigby was a very intriguing figure to all of these young men, which was a very intriguing situation in itself.

"The girl next door? I do not think she would trust me either. Besides, I came to keep an eye on my brother, not to take Mrs. Rigby. My brother came to take her, but I am pleased to see she has her reservations."

Mrs. Carr was not fooled by any of his words. He would not have wanted to keep an eye on his brother should Mr. Lenton have wanted to take another young woman for a drive. Of course the duke would be pleased to see that the woman had declined. That did not surprise her. Mrs. Rigby's feelings were more difficult to read, however. "She is a very reserved lady, is she not? Very lovely to the children, but she will not speak much about herself. Of course we trusted in your recommendation. You would not let your house to anybody."

"Er...I do not know," he responded, not wanting to say too much. "But can your boys go?"

"If you think it safe, Your Grace. They would deserve it. Mrs. Rigby already took the girls to the circus and the boys were much put out."

"Despite Mrs. Rigby's opinion, I do not think my brother and Mr. Pritchard are completely hopeless." He hoped he would be proven right. "I shall tell them then."

She watched him leave, certain that he knew more about the lady's history than he let on. Her neighbour was a pleasant young woman, but quiet. There was not much wrong with quiet young women, certainly. In fact, she would prefer one over someone too lively and animated, but there were those who were naturally quiet and those who were holding back.

Muncester joined the party outside. He could see the boys were very desirous of going and that it would make them very happy if the permission was granted. "Your mother says you can." These words were met with cheers and it took no time at all for all of them to take their seats and be off. "You stay put," he said to his horses, who might have other plans than he did, for all he knew. He still had some unfinished business with Mrs. Rigby.

Muncester made Clementine open the widow. She had been looking at the scene, he supposed, and she would have seen that the boys had gone. "Does Julia want to come?" he asked, supposing that the answer would be negative. He did not know why he asked. He had to start the conversation somewhere, however.

"Julia? With you?"

"I have to ask, you know. Before I know it you will be angry with me for not asking. I shall not go too fast. I know nothing about horses."

"That is not exactly a recommendation, Your Grace. What if they go wild?" She could already see him and Julia be thrown off if he lost control.

That was a problem indeed, but he hoped he would not encounter it. He saw two small hands being stretched out towards Clementine's waist, even if he did not see Julia herself. He advanced towards the window and peered in. "Julia?"

The little girl turned and squealed.

He smiled at her. "Do you want to come with Uncle Julian?" He was sure this question would settle the matter, since he was still unsure of his exact purpose.

"Yes!"

"May I interrupt this scene of sweetness?" Clementine asked sharply, feeling that he always looked far kinder upon Julia than upon her. There was a certain softness in his eyes that was not there when he looked at her. "From where do these avuncular sentiments spring?" Was he doing this to provoke her? He had said he did not want to take Julia from her, but anyone could say such a thing.

"No sentiments at all, I assure you." He leant over the windowsill and lifted Julia out of the house. Then he held out his hands questioningly as if he could do the same to her mother.

"Are you insane?" she inquired haughtily and closed the window. She would not fall into such a trap. She was resolved to be respectable and proper. Then she hurried to the front door, to reach him before he could drive off with her daughter. "I never gave my permission."

"Not even for a short round through the village?" Now that the idea had occurred to him, he found it appealed to him. He was certain that young Miss Julia would be an appreciative passenger.

"I do not think you realise what you would be committing yourself to, Your Grace. One short round will not be enough." It took a little more to please Julia, especially if she liked something.

He was easy about that. "Then we shall make two."

Clementine stared at the ground. There was something she should say before he went and it was likely that he would go. Julia would like it and that ought to be the deciding factor. "I am sorry if I was too harsh in the presence of my neighbour, but I really do not want to feel responsible if anything should happen to the boys. Your brother and Mr. Pritchard were only here for me. That they now accidentally took the boys does not detract from that. I should have discouraged them sooner."

"You tried. I was there," he said with a quiet smile.

She remembered something. "You were there indeed -- you said you disliked driving." And yet he now offered to take Julia.

"I dislike being forced to take someone for a drive. I have no problems going very slowly, but on the whole if you invite people for a drive, going slowly is not what they like. I dislike being pressured and criticised because of my driving style. Julia will not do so."

She supposed it was connected to his having been at sea and perhaps a general dislike of the abuse of such modes of transport. "I will not criticise you for going slowly. Please bring her back in one piece and unharmed," she said pleadingly.

"You are allowing me and you are not coming?" he asked, certain of her answer to the latter question, but not yet certain with regard to the former.

"No, if I cannot drive with your brother, I also cannot drive with you. What is the difference in the eyes of the village? You know why I cannot come."

"I do not really know why, since I am not at all like them, but I am trying to avoid having things thrown at my head for neglecting to be civil."

She gave him a smile that was overshadowed by her concern. "And I am trying to be trusting." He had said he would go slowly and he would like Julia enough to take care that she did not fall from the curricle.

His expression softened, although not as much as when he looked at Julia. "We shall be good."

She did not look when they climbed into the curricle, nor did she look when they drove off. She had to trust that it would all go well.

Clementine was already having dinner when Julia was brought back. They had stayed away so long that she had given up guessing how many rounds around the village they would have done. If anything had happened in the village she would have been notified, she supposed, and she had no reason to assume they had gone further.

Muncester had handed Julia to Vincent at the door apparently, because she did not see him. Perhaps he was late for dinner too, although she supposed they would dine later at the manor. But then, he would have to dress, something she never did at home when there were no visitors.

Julia was excited, but could not speak well enough to say precisely what she had seen and where she had been. She spoke of horses, which was no surprise, but also of apples, trees and men with cows who were alternately horrible and adorable.

Clementine made sympathetic noises to the entire story, but she did not understand much of it.

"Why did you have to interfere?" Mr. Lenton asked his brother when they ran into each other at the stables. "How come you appeared at exactly the right time?" He blamed his brother for the unexpected outcome of the excursion.

"A fortunate coincidence," the duke replied calmly. It had indeed been pure luck that he had been there at the right time, considering his driving speed.

"I did not think it so fortunate. I wager you took her instead."

It was not so surprising that George thought so, since his whole life revolved around women, it seemed. His brother could be honest. "I did not."

"Oh, of course not. It is a woman. I forgot," Mr. Lenton cried sarcastically. "You must be the only man who would have objections to that! Afraid she would take the reins, are you?"

The duke rolled his eyes, but chose not to offer a comment. He would willingly believe a woman was better at holding the reins to a carriage than he was, but he doubted that many of them were pleasant company. But George was allowed to live with the misunderstanding. "Let us go inside to see whether our guests have arrived."

"Why did I not know we were expecting guests?" exclaimed Mr. Lenton, sounding much put out.

"Because they are Aunt Julia's guests, really, and you are not the master of the house." He had not bothered to inform his brother and apparently neither had Aunt Julia. It was merely a housekeeping matter, was it not? He wondered what his aunt would say to him if the guests turned out to have arrived in his absence. Would she know that this was precisely the reason why he had stayed away?

The day after, Clementine was forced to stay indoors because it was raining heavily. A day of peace and quiet, without interruptions by eager young gentlemen, was not unwelcome. She sewed something unrecognisable for Julia and called it a baby for her doll. The creation was much appreciated nevertheless and they played with it for the rest of the day.

It was lovely that the gentlemen allowed them some respite. Sewing was an excellent opportunity to do some thinking, notably about them.

She would not have to revise her position with regard to Lenton and Pritchard; it was unvaried, even strengthened.

Her feelings towards the duke were ambivalent, although they were beginning to be less so. He improved upon acquaintance and Mrs. Newman had been correct in her estimation -- if he was not provoked, he did not provoke her in return.

Chapter 11: Deflected!

The Duke of Muncester was parading down High Street with a young lady. Perhaps being paraded was a better term, for only the lady paid any attention to who were watching them. They were just stopping to allow the lady a look into the shop window when they were noticed by the people inside that shop.

"Who is that?" Clementine was glad that the question was asked for her. It would look better if someone else did and here the ever-curious Mrs. Tompkins was obliging her by speaking the words that reverberated around in her mind. Who was that lady?

It was about time. The birds of prey had had about three months to circle and now they were beginning to descend for the kill. It was not unlike the situation with Mr. Trelawney, Clementine mused. The chase would not end until something happened. Where there was a prey there would be somebody preying.

She would still like to know who this lady was, however. Just when she was almost prepared to treat him with some more patience, he had to come and show his conquest to everyone frequenting High Street. Whether it was a conquest or a vulture did not signify -- he was with it.

Mr. Potter the shop owner knew the answer and he was more than happy to share it. "That is Lady Iris Cheveney. She is related to the duchess. She travelled here on Monday with her mother." This news had come to him through the village grapevine. He was a little surprised -- yet proud -- that it had not yet reached Mrs. Tompkins.

Clementine studied the fragile blonde beauty on the duke's arm. Even from here she could see the large blue eyes and the pretty curls. Who would not consider her beautiful? The duke's face betrayed nothing, neither smugness nor boredom. It was impossible to tell whether he was enjoying the walk or bemoaning the fact that he had to stop repeatedly to allow her to look at things she was not going to buy.

And the young lady had travelled with her mother, but the mother had already been abandoned in favour of male company. That was telling. They were not wasting any time, were they?

Perhaps it was now also clear why nobody had called on her yesterday. Everybody would have had to entertain Lady Iris and her mother. She would have expected Mr. Lenton to parade the lady, however, but perhaps it mattered that he was not a duke. He would have to give his brother precedence.

"What a pretty couple," Mrs. Tompkins said admiringly. "He should be looking for a wife now that he is on the land. He seems to have started looking."

Indeed, Clementine thought. She had done well to avoid the ride in the phaetons, given how easily people connected such excursions with men to marriage. She could not even fault Mrs. Tompkins for flattery -- they were a pretty couple, although where there was a beautiful young lady on the arm of a tall gentleman there would always be a pretty couple, unless he was particularly ugly.

"What do you think, Mr. Potter?" Mrs. Tompkins solicited his opinion, if only so she would be able to speak more as a reaction to it.

"His Grace cannot err with Lady Iris," Mr. Potter said diplomatically.

"No, indeed. A lady of noble birth will always do for a duke."

That was undoubtedly true on paper, but Clementine studied them for signs of interest and affection. Lady Iris betrayed some interest, almost as much in the duke as in the shop window. He betrayed nothing.

"I want to say hello," Julia announced suddenly. She too had looked outside and seen a friend she must speak to.

"Oh Julia," Clementine said, pulling her back. "You cannot go up to him and say hello if he is with someone." It might require her to come and she had no desire to be civil to either the duke or the bird of prey. She did not even think she would manage. What betrayal this was after having gone so far as to soften his look towards her and to take Julia in his curricle!

That answer made her daughter pout. "I want to say hello," she insisted.

"Julia..."

Julia wriggled herself free and opened the door. She would not be held back.

"I do not know why she likes him," Clementine complained out loud, but not so loud that the people outside could hear her. "I do not encourage this."

"But you do not discourage it either, Mrs. Rigby," said Mrs. Tompkins. She was certain that the lack of a father made the little girl a little too impertinent and strong-willed. Mrs. Rigby was not very strict.

"I cannot. She likes him." She would never willingly deprive Julia of something that gave her pleasure only because it did not give her any pleasure herself. That would be selfish.

The three of them in the shop watched as Julia's little legs carried her towards the duke as quickly as they could. A smile appeared on his face. "Well, Mrs. Rigby," said Mrs. Tompkins, much intrigued. "She may like him because he likes her."

"Lady Iris does not like the competition," Mr. Potter observed with an amused snort when Her Ladyship looked nonplussed at the duke squatting beside the small girl. She was left standing rather uselessly and her forehead creased.

"Indeed!" This intrigued Mrs. Tompkins greatly. She clicked her tongue. "Not a good sign."

"Come back, Julia," Clementine muttered. She was sure the duke was only talking back out of politeness. That thought gave her a sharp jolt, since he was not known to do anything out of a sense of politeness. Mrs. Newman had said he might like children. Perhaps Mrs. Newman's rather more objective opinion was the truth. After all, she had never been insulted by the man.

"Oh let her," said Mrs. Tompkins indulgently, forgetting her earlier thoughts on Mrs. Rigby's permissiveness. "She is not bothering him. She is only bothering Lady Iris."

"But that would be reason enough to interrupt. What is he doing?" she asked in desperation when she saw a package change hands. She ran and jerked the shop door open. "Julia!"

"What did he give you?" Clementine asked when Julia was safely back in the shop with her. The duke and Lady Iris had walked on, she supposed. She had purposely not looked at them, afraid she would betray more emotions than they were allowed to see.

"No, mine," Julia answered, clutching the small package to her chest and turning away.

"She has the right of it, Mrs. Rigby," cackled Mr. Potter. He too had fallen for little Miss Rigby's charms and was not at all surprised that grown men should want to give the little lady a present.

"But I cannot have that man give unsuitable gifts to my daughter."

"It almost seems as if you do not like him." Mr. Potter and Mrs. Tompkins exchanged meaningful looks. Perhaps Mrs. Rigby's face had betrayed something else, such as a deep dislike of other young ladies talking to His Grace.

"I never asked him to become her new father," Clementine responded with an unhappy frown.

"He is not Papa," Julia crowed.

Clementine was glad for that, because Julia could easily have said the opposite. "I am sure he is not yet aware that it is precisely where she feels they are heading, but at some point he is going to realise it and he will abandon her. And this time she will not be too young to understand the loss. She may not even have memories of her real father, but this time it will be --" She stopped and shook her head.

Julia would be hurt if he no longer spoke to her. Julia would already have been hurt if he had not talked back to her now. She would not have understood why her friend ignored her and she would still not understand it in two months.

Mr. Potter and Mrs. Tompkins exchanged another meaningful look.

Clementine tried another time to take the package from Julia, but the latter began to scream and stamp her feet that it was hers. She gave up. It would create too much of a scene to force her will. Julia would soon lose interest and then the package was for the taking.

"One could do worse than a duke for a surrogate father," said Mrs. Tompkins. "Or even a good connection! He may be able to do a lot for her when she is older." Such as keep her in line.

That sounded so much like her old neighbour Mrs. Vine. Dukes existed to be used. Clementine sighed. She had no wish to use or abuse the duke.

Lady Iris, she gathered after listening to some more conversation, was thought to have come here solely to be better acquainted with the duke, who was in need of a wife. That purpose -- and the young lady herself -- had been met with approval by Mrs. Tompkins and Mr. Potter until Julia had interfered with the situation. Julia had now completely ruined His Grace's marital prospects for the time being.

Mrs. Tompkins' and Mr. Potter's loyalties were divided now. On the one hand they wanted to see their duke make a good match and talk about it, but on the other they could not ignore the fact that Lady Iris did not like a villager. They were villagers too and they vaguely felt the slight. It was very complicated, especially since the duke seemed to like Miss Julia better and there was nothing to speculate about anymore. They could relate the incident to other villagers, but they would not be able to discuss when the happy event might take place, for there would not be a happy event. Miss Julia had seen to that.

Clementine was not disposed to dislike anybody simply because they had not known how to react to her unruly toddler's imperious ways, she told herself, but Lady Iris had looked uncommonly insipid.

If the duke cared for that woman, he would not let such an insignificant incident ruin his prospects at all. If His Grace was determined to marry, he would do so. He was not a man who was easily dissuaded. She had experienced his tenacity. Time would tell whether he had any plans with Lady Iris.

Although she told herself that, she could not help but remember how he had not smiled until Julia had appeared and then his face had lit up and he had looked quite attractive. It probably did not signify, for he could have been smiling the rest of the way until there. And quite obviously she would not approve of a man smiling during a discussion of a serious topic either.

That was a silly point, she mused, since she had no interest in approving of the duke. Only for Julia's sake was she interested in the man's future.

At home she managed to persuade Julia to open the package. It contained a small jewellery box that Julia loved instantly, but Clementine knew there might be something inside it. "Let me open it for you, Julia," she tried.

"No, it is mine!"

"I know it is yours, darling. But you do not know how to open it. Let me show you how. Please?" Julia gave in grudgingly and the box turned out to contain a silver bracelet. Clementine took it out with a frown. "Why is he giving you a bracelet?" It was definitely intended for a child. He had not given her a random gift he had happened to be carrying by accident.

"I want that!" Julia stretched out her little hand at the shiny object.

"Give me your wrist and I will put it on. Keep it still." She clasped the bracelet around Julia's wrist. It looked pretty, even if it had come from the duke for some mysterious reason.

"Pretty," Julia commented. "I want the box too." Nobody was going to take any gifts away from her, not even Mama.

"Why did he give this to you?" Clementine asked with little hope of an answer.

Julia, obsessed with keeping her gift to herself as she was, misinterpreted that as jealousy. "My box. Julian has boxes. I tell him."

"No, do not do that!" She knew Julia might. It was not impossible. Telling her not to do it would not make any difference at all.

Julia opened and closed the lid in fascination. "Play with the box. Baby in the box!" The small cushion in the box indeed made it look vaguely like a bed.

"I hope you did not tell him I made you a baby for your doll," Clementine said when another thought occurred to her. It could have come out completely wrong. He would be on her doorstep again to ask if she was expecting.

Julia decided she really liked the idea of using the box as a baby bed. "Baby in box!"

"Baby is too big. Did you tell Julian about the baby doll?"

Julia looked at her with large and innocent eyes. "Yes."

Clementine hid her face. She did not have to imagine the worst, but she did so anyway. "What did he say?"

"Make a baby for Julian, Mama. With a ribbon. A gift?"

"Did he ask for that?" she cried, unable to dispel the images of a naked little baby with a red ribbon around its waist. He would be delighted with such a gift, she was sure.

"Papas do not play with dolls," Julia mused. "He is not Papa. He plays with dolls."

This logic was astonishing. Clementine needed a moment to appreciate it fully. "Ah, you want me to make him a doll? Not a baby?"

"Baby doll. He cannot make babies. You make it. Please, Mama?"

"With a ribbon." She pulled out the sewing basket, supposing she would not be able to escape this task if it was a request made with such politeness and fervour. Besides, she was secretly curious about the duke's reaction upon being presented with such a gift.

"Yes!" Julia peered into the basket. "Where is the baby?"

Clementine held up a rag.

Her daughter dismissed it. "No! No eyes."

That was not so strange; the eyes had not been sewn on yet. "You must go and play with Grace. If you are a good girl, I shall make a baby. Did your friend Julian want a baby boy or a baby girl?"

"Baby Julian."

Chapter 12: Interrogation

"We saw baby cows! Horrible!" Julia began as soon as she had run out to the duke. They had gone for a drive and she wanted to go again.

"Adorable," Muncester corrected, squatting down beside her to make the conversation easier.

"Horrible!" she insisted and then had more news to share. "Grace has a baby."

"Really?" He knew Grace was a doll. He had heard all about Grace on Monday in the curricle. "Grace must be very happy."

She held on to his knees. "Mama made it. Can you make a baby?"

"No, I cannot make babies." He did not know how her mother had made it, but he was almost certain that he did not know how to do it. It probably had something to do with sewing, or carving them out of wood, although he did not think women did that.

His answer surprised her. "No?"

"Only Mamas make babies."

She studied him seriously and then pricked him in the chest with two small fingers. "You are not Mama." He looked nothing like one.

"No. I am not."

"Mama give you a baby?" she inquired.

He smiled at her, whatever she meant. "I am sure she was still too busy making your baby to think of me. But she will think I do not want them. Papas do not play with dolls."

"Are you Papa?" Julia was no longer certain. The term had not come up for a while. It had become vague and she was not sure to whom it applied. It was the man in the painting, but the memories connected to the word had more to do with a real person, similar to this one.

"No, a Papa..." The duke wondered what set fathers apart from other men, in terms a small child would understand. He did not really know. "...sleeps in your house."

"Where?" she screwed up her little face in confusion. "On the sofa!" He had slept there. She had put him to bed there.

He shrugged. He did not know where fathers slept, but she clearly remembered that he had lain on the sofa in the nursery. It was probably not the likeliest spot for a father, but he was not going to argue that point now. "Wherever you put him."

"Can Mama make one?"

"A Papa for Grace's baby or a Papa for Julia?" The former was easy to make, he would say, and the latter impossible.

Making a choice between the two was not even an option. "Me, me, me! I want!"

"You must ask Mama to give you a Papa. I have something else for you." He took something out of his pocket to distract her from her wish. He was not yet in a position to grant it. Besides, he might be misunderstanding her completely and all she wanted could be a doll.

"For me?" she clawed at the package. Any delay might cause him to withdraw the offer, or he might take the package for himself.

"It is a gift."

"Gift," Julia repeated uncertainly, but her little hands closed around the package in determination. This was hers, whatever a gift might be. "Ribbon," she noticed, pulling at it.

"Yes, it is wrapped."

"Julia!" cried her mother angrily from the shop door.

"Who was that?" asked Lady Iris, a displeased frown spoiling her pretty features. She had not liked to be left standing while he spoke to an infant. It was quite an affront that an infant should be receiving more attention than she was and it was even worse that the infant could not yet speak properly, so why it got any attention at all was beyond her comprehension.

Muncester shrugged. "A small friend of mine." He was still mulling over how Julia had been called back inside. Why? She had still been allowed to go for a drive with him two days ago. Why could he not talk to her anymore?

"Who? What is her name?"

It was not interest. She could not want to know the names of all the village girls, he mused. What if they encountered another little girl he knew? Hypothetically that was possible, although Lady Iris could not know it was not going to happen. He did not know any other girls. "Same name as mine, but then for girls."

"Is that how you know her?"

She was making it easy for him. He did not have to put his mind to work now to come up with an explanation. He nodded. "It is."

"You gave her something," she said, almost accusingly.

"I did." It should be his business alone to whom he gave gifts, especially considering that Lady Iris was no more than a stranger, somebody he had first met on Monday evening. She had no right to ask.

"What did you give her?"

"A present." He reflected on Lady Iris' apparent jealousy. It was cruel of him to feed it, yet he was too annoyed by her questions to reassure her. Why should he? He was not her property.

"Why?"

He gave no answer. If she had had any skills in reading somebody's expression she would stop asking, but presumably she would not be able to do that.

She did not. "Why, Julian?" she now asked in a much sweeter voice.

This use of his name made him turn his head towards her. She had never used it before. Evidently she assumed she would receive an answer this way. "Your Ladyship's barrage of questions annoys me," he said simply, not thinking for a moment that it would put an end to anything.

She pouted, but he was no longer looking at her. "Why was that woman displeased?" It had been a very pretty woman, she had noticed. She tended not to like very pretty women.

"Perhaps her daughter did not ask permission to leave the shop?" he said with a shrug. He had seen it too and he had keenly felt how Clementine had not looked at him at all. He did not know what had come over her, but he hoped it had something to do with gossip inside the shop and not with the gift itself. He should be allowed to give Julia presents, at any rate. Why should he not? He did not ask for anything in return. Or did he?

If he was honest to himself those squeals and smiles were oddly flattering and her strange conversation was as endearing as it was amusing. If he was even more honest to himself, he wished she would tell him more of what her mother said to her.

Iris interrupted his thoughts. "Why did the girl mention babies to you?"

He started. He had not considered that Lady Iris was listening when Julia had babbled about babies. Perhaps it had not sounded as innocent to her as it had to him. "She knows I want them," he said, exploring a streak of wickedness he had been neglecting for the most part.

"Want them!" Lady Iris gasped, clutching her cloak at chest height.

"All men of a certain age should want them. We are on earth to --" But he could not recall what Clementine or the local vicar had said about this subject recently. A paraphrase would have to suffice. "-- see to that."

She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "Oh, you are teasing me. I know you are. It is not a male thing! I cannot see you in that role!" Apparently it distressed her to try. "You are to see to the family fortune and to behave like a gentleman."

That settled it even more definitively. He almost gave a snort at her words. "O, I agree with you," he said instead, feeling a wicked satisfaction at knowing he had contributed to the family fortune just now with his gift of jewellery. He had been quite the gentleman too. She would never understand that in some families -- such as Clementine's -- someone like Julia was the family fortune and not the bracelet.

Lady Iris looked at the sky with a worried expression. Dark clouds had gathered above them and they were in no hurry to float on. They only looked as if they were gathering in greyness and about to release their contents upon the earth. "It looks like rain. We should turn back."

"We are on our way," the duke responded. He did not mind getting wet, but this silly girl would insist that he buy her an umbrella or commandeer a carriage as soon as the first drops began to fall.

"But this is not High Street."

"We are not going back by way of High Street. Why indeed? We have just come through it." They had seen and they had been seen. There was no point. "How old are you?" he asked, wondering if she might be closer in age to Julia than to him, although after a second he realised that would be a case of very bad arithmetic indeed.

"Nineteen, Your Grace. But you should not be asking," she said with a blush. "One does not ask a lady about her age."

"True, one asks other people about a lady's age. One does not go uninformed, or did you think so?" He supposed all these things were asked behind a person's back.

"Do I look older?" she asked hopefully.

Muncester wondered if it was good or bad to look older. He had no idea. "I am sure you look exactly nineteen."

She did not look very pleased with that response and said very little for the rest of the way.

Iris had even told his aunt about the meeting, which he found out when his aunt questioned him later. He had not even been home for long. "Why are you giving presents to strange girls, Julian?"

"Not a strange girl. It was little Julia." He wondered if she had any objections to that. His aunt and he had been thrown together only three months ago and he could not yet predict her reactions.

"Oh." That made it acceptable to some extent. "But you did not tell Iris?"

"I told Iris I knew the girl. I do not know why she forgot to mention that part to you." He frowned at that deliberate misrepresentation. "It puts a different spin on the matter, does it not? It is quite a different thing to give something to someone I know."

"You would not tell Iris what was in the present."

"It was not a gift to Iris," he said calmly, feeling he had done right in not informing Iris if she was this petty. It was a serious flaw to be so resentful as to tell a distorted version of the truth to make him look bad. He could never respect it. Her age was no excuse. "She asked, but I did not tell her. Why should I have? It is none of her business."

"What about babies?" She did not suppose he would tell her it was none of her business either. He knew she outranked him in age and some other matters.

"Julia mentioned them. I understood her mother had made a baby for her doll," he said hesitantly, supposing he had been correct. "Julia asked me if I could make them too. I said I could not. Iris should not have eavesdropped on a private conversation."

"And Julia's mother? Where was she?" the duchess inquired, suppressing her reaction to the words private conversation and the subject that been under discussion.

"Shopping. She did not seem well pleased with me. She called Julia back into the shop they had been in as soon as she saw the gift." He was not happy with that.

The duchess looked reflective as she mulled over the situation. "I hope it was an appropriate gift for a little girl. Her mother is wary of you as it is. Did you know that?"

She had seen the wariness when they visited and Julian took the little girl, but she had concluded it long before, when Julian had come back with reports of his visits to Daniel's mistress. She had known Julian had been wary of Miss Rigby in the beginning, but judging by what he had told her of their interaction, the young lady had been equally distrusting of him. She had no reason to disbelieve his accounts -- he had told her literally what had been said, without making himself seem more tactful or polite.

She could not really blame Miss Rigby for having reacted in a certain manner, but she was uncertain whether there would be a different reaction now.

"She can have no reason to reproach me for a bracelet," he hoped, but now thinking of something he had not yet considered.

"Not for a bracelet, but for the fact that you gave Julia a present. If you want to improve the situation, perhaps you had best speak with her, rather than hand out gifts." She wondered about his objectives. He was probably not aware of having any.

"A gift is a grave offence," he mocked.

"What about Iris?"

The duke raised his eyebrows. "Indeed? What about her?" Iris indeed thought it a grave offence.

"Do you get along with her?" His aunt did not yet know how demanding he was. Iris might pass muster if she did not ask too many questions. She was a beautiful girl.

"Not in terms of wanting to marry her. I am sorry." Aunt Julia had invited the girl over especially to see if they made a good match, he was sure, and it might disappoint her to hear of his verdict if she liked Iris. "Is this going to continue until I choose a wife and marry?" He was not looking forward to it.

"I suppose. But Julian dear," his aunt said in an unexpected outburst of motherly affection. "They approach me before they approach you -- the ones with some sense of decorum, at least. Have some sympathy for my plight as well."

She was barely recovered from losing her son and the first candidates for her nephew were already contacting her. Poor Julian. He had managed to evade most of them in town by being too busy, but now that he was settling in at his estate, he became a target.

"Have you never been preyed upon, Aunt Julia?" he suddenly wondered. She had been a widow for some five years now.

She was silent for a few moments. "Not here in the country, but London is evil. Why do the ugliest of men always think they hold some attraction for a woman?"

His middle-aged aunt speaking of the attractions of men was a little too much for the duke. He rose with a startled expression. Somehow he had always been assuming it was a matter of accepting or declining, but that attraction did not enter into it on the lady's side of things. Ladies were the fairer sex, after all, and gentlemen were not.

Someone was playing the pianoforte and he paused to glance into the music room. His brother was draped over the instrument, flirting heavily with the performer -- Lady Iris. He should not be feeling sorry for not wanting to marry her. If this was what she liked to do, he could never indulge her.

"Julian!" Mr. Lenton cried. "Come and listen. We practised a duet."

He groaned. "That can only be horrid."

"Do not be such a bore! Listen. Start playing, Iris." Iris played and he sang a highly inappropriate song. Iris giggled at it as she played.

"Sailors sing things like that too," Julian said coolly when they finished. The words and songs of inebriated sailors were not fit to be overheard by his aunt. He wondered if they thought it was an innocent song, although they should be aware that it was never sung in any places they frequented. It puzzled him how his brother had picked up this song. It could not have been at a club or an assembly and university towns generally did not have sailors.

"You too?" Iris giggled demurely, looking at him through her eyelashes. "I cannot imagine it. You, Julian? Singing? And is there a special woman you sing about? A mermaid?"

He widened his eyes at the thought of a mermaid. "I would prefer not to hear such songs in my house."

"Lord, Julian," said his brother with as much exasperation as he dared. "I wonder that they did not already toss you overboard off Brittany!"

"This is not a ship and you are not a sailor. And Lady Iris..." He turned towards her, not sure she knew what she had heard. "Would be appalled if she discovered what you have sung."

Lady Iris blushed under this censure. "It cannot be that bad," she said softly.

He eyed her coldly. Probably not. He did not know all the images either. Still, Iris was flirting with two brothers at once. That was bad enough. One was responsive to her flirtations, but the other was the catch she was after. What a faithful wife she would be.

Chapter 13: Girls Are Susceptible to Appearances

The duke wandered through the manor reflecting on the attractions of men. He examined every portrait in the family gallery for unattractiveness to women and unless he was very much mistaken in his judgements, all of the old men that hung here had fathered one or more of the old men that also hung here. Even he knew there had to have been a woman involved at some point, who could not have gagged -- or perhaps gagging had to do with scandalous suggestions and not so much with the ugliness of a man.

He consulted his aunt when she passed, hardly knowing what he wished to ask. "Aunt Julia, these men...they all managed to procreate."

Although she was amused by that unusual comment, she made a serious effort to respond. "They did. Why are you telling me this?"

"I see here a whole gallery of old men who must have managed to get themselves a wife, because they all fathered each other." Eventually all of them had succumbed. Perhaps this would happen to him someday. He did not want to be chased, but frankly chasing a girl who would then gag was not a very desirable prospect either and he did not see what else could be done.

She did not yet see his point. "They were dukes -- of course they managed to get a wife. They did not necessarily have love matches, nor did they necessarily do their own searching. Perhaps they managed very little on their own."

"They were sought out?" The whole business repelled him even more. Here on the wall hung the proof that dukes would be chased until they gave in.

The duchess was getting closer to understanding him. He did not like to be sought out, yet why he should compare himself to men from other eras was beyond her. He did not have to do what they might have done and perhaps they were never sought out at all. "I do not know and I have to say I care very little. They are dead."

"But I want to know what I can expect."

"I do not know what you can expect. You are pretty much in charge. Surely you do not think I will force you to marry some suitable girl because you need an heir? I have every confidence that you will be able to come by one by your own means." His aunt observed him. He was a handsome young man and should not have any problems in that regard. "You must sit for a painter soon, Julian."

"Will I soon go into decline?" he wondered, not understanding her train of thought.

"No, no, not soon. Julian, why are you thinking of this odd subject? Managing to procreate, which is really not an accomplishment one ought to be proud of, because even a halfwit can do it. A duke should certainly be capable."

"There could be half-witted dukes," he pointed out.

"Would you say you fall into that category?"

"I would not, but even a halfwit would need to be married first and who would want to marry one?" Perhaps only another halfwit? Or a terrible fortune hunter.

"Why, if you are not a halfwit, do you trouble yourself with wondering who would marry one?" asked the duchess. "The exercise is pointless."

"All this gagging and preying does not sit well with me," he admitted. "Everyone I know is either being preyed upon or preying. I wish to avoid either state."

She put an arm around him to pat his back. "There are other ways."

He could not believe her. He would be thoroughly disgusted before those other ways became apparent to him, if they existed at all, and then it would be too late anyway. "It is a despicable business, marriage."

"It is as despicable as you make it," said the duchess. "Many young men would be flattered by the attention a man in your position will receive. Your brother, for instance, would not find it a chore at all to be so besieged. He will undoubtedly marry, but equally undoubtedly to the wrong sort of woman, the worst flatterer of them all."

"Lady Iris?"

She looked reflective. "She has no reason to flatter him -- he has no title -- yet I do think she is susceptible to the kind of attention he gives freely and you do not give at all. Some women need such attention."

She pondered the young lady's character. The previous time she had seen her this had not yet been so apparent, since the girl had been younger and not yet seriously looking for a good match. Whether Iris was seriously looking now remained to be seen. It could merely be her mother putting her up to it.

"But I do not need such women," he said quickly before she could tell him to acquire the skill.

"Only you know what you need," she teased. "But it is not solitude."

No, he did not need solitude. He would be able to live in this manor all by himself until he died, with no companionship except for that of occasional guests, but it could be better. He would like his days to be brightened by company that was more dear to him eventually, rather than grow old and bitter on his own because he was a hunted duke.

The conversation had made him think about something else as well. What about George and Iris? They were already good friends, it seemed. George might propose to her, although she might not accept him if she was holding out for a duke. That fact did not seem to stop her from flirting with a duke's brother, however. She did not have enough delicacy to focus on one man at a time.

Suppose he married her, he thought, in spite of her closer friendship with George, then George would never be far away. They might not even wait for anybody to be married. They were already singing indecent sea shanties together. It was but a small step to something worse. Suppose George flattered her enough with the sort attention she required. She might then do much of what he asked.

Although George had not been able to support a mistress, there had been associations with girls nevertheless. George had told him that himself, assuming his elder brother engaged in the same type of behaviour and thinking there could be no harm in mentioning it. First there had been his brother's frank admissions and then the shock of Monster's mistress, who was even mentioned in his will.

The morals ashore were in steady decline, Muncester felt, and he could not quite believe how these younger men had been living such an insipid life without proper direction. His Aunt Julia, fortunately, agreed and they had formed an alliance against this ruining of the family name.

They might have to keep a closer eye on George now. Lady Iris would presumably not need to be supported, nor agree to becoming a mistress, but she might still fix on George as the man to satisfy her need to be flattered. George appreciated female beauty, after all, and he made no secret of it.

His brother, on the other hand, admired in silence.

The duke also thought in silence and at this moment it was not doing him much good not to share his thoughts, since they were in danger of running away with his common sense. He could not go back to his aunt and ask about George and Iris. She might not know so very much about such types of young men, since she had also been amazed and appalled about her son's secret life and she had known Daniel better than she knew George. She might not be of use to him.

There was but one person who might know.

"You have to explain some things to me," Muncester said to Clementine after he had trotted over on his horse. "You promised."

She had received him with surprise and wondered about his reasons for visiting in such a manner. He wanted something explained, but regardless of what she had blurted out then, she might not feel like explaining that to him at all.

"You should not be thinking that simply because I know certain things I am willing to share them with you. I really may not think that either useful or appropriate," she said. "I am willing to shock you if you provoke me, but there are not many other reasons why I should like to discuss such topics." But perhaps he was speaking of something else entirely and she was judging too soon.

"You offered."

Clementine frowned at his pleading tone. "The only things I offered to give advice on -- are you thinking of using that knowledge on Lady Iris?" Somehow that thought unsettled her. She would most definitely not co-operate in that case.

"On Lady Iris?" He sounded as if he did not see the connection.

"Are you not planning to make her your wife?" she asked in a cautious tone.

"No!" he said vehemently.

"She would probably think it disarranged her hair to a too great extent anyway," Clementine commented, hardly knowing what she was saying. His answer and his tone had seen to that.

The duke looked baffled. "To be married to me?"

"She seems too much of a pretty picture to be real in her unadorned state."

He frowned at her. "I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."

"Since it concerns Lady Iris, it might not be such a pleasure to understand me." She would be disparaging about a relative of his aunt's, one he might not be considering to marry, but one he might respect after all. "And you are also not planning to make her your mistress?"

Muncester turned red and glared. He opened his mouth but he only managed to splutter inarticulately.

Clementine held up her hands in defence. "I cannot see why else you should be in need of explanations if you do not plan to take up with that woman."

Her tone was not lost on him. "You do not like Lady Iris?"

She thought that by now that was abundantly clear. "Oh, I am sure she is all that is pretty and charming. But how could I like someone who does not like Julia?" She would have given anyone else the benefit of the doubt.

"How could you not like someone who does like Julia?" he shot back.

She ignored that deliberately. She was certain that she did not dislike him, but it was none of his business, not to mention not under discussion. "We were speaking of Lady Iris. She does not like Julia. I am glad you have not considered having an heir with this woman." That sentence alone could make her smile.

"Never," he said most emphatically. "I wanted to ask you about that. Thank you for returning to my request. Can you avoid them?"

"Women?"

"Women having children," he said with difficulty, as if it was an embarrassing thing to ask.

She frowned at him, but still with a smile. Then she turned and reached for a small package lying on a cabinet. "Too late. You cannot avoid children anymore. My daughter has pleaded with me on your behalf. I have had to make you a little baby. With a ribbon."

He took the package uncertainly. "Real children," he stressed.

"If you dare to dispute that this is a real child in the presence of my daughter, I am afraid I must...do something."

He unwrapped and examined it. "Er...thank you."

"Please do not tell Julia again that you cannot make babies or you will find yourself having to provide for a rag doll family."

The duke studied the rag doll. He could see how Julia would accept that it was a baby, although it looked like a rag to him. "I could make this, I am sure."

"Real babies too, I am sure," she said under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said -- how very accomplished of you. Does that mean I can reassure Julia, assuming she cares?" Even her mother was not precisely aware of Julia's motives.

He examined the doll again. "I could not do it this well."

"You would be happy to hear that a real baby would cost you less time and trouble, would you not? And it would look better too," Clementine remarked before she could check herself. "But by no means do I mean that you should..." Well, he would be able to finish that. "On the contrary."

"But, well..." he said after he had turned the rag doll over a few times. "Can one avoid having real children?"

"Yes, go on doing as you have been doing and you will most certainly avoid them." She smiled sweetly. "But I am sure there is no danger of you doing anything else, is there?"

She did not say more. What if he contradicted her now? In his eye she could read a struggle, but it was a struggle for comprehension and not courage. She would not have to be afraid he was going to do anything she had not reckoned with to prove that she was wrong. He was not that type.

"But if I change my habits..." he asked uncertainly. "What? This is not an answer that is useful to me in any way."

"I know." She had not tried to be useful.

"But why..."

"If you are honest with me, I shall be honest with you, but right now you are not telling me for whom this is relevant. I will not tell you anything if I do not know what you are going to do with it." Clementine spoke calmly, but very decidedly. She would not be drawn in too far. There was her reputation to consider. A little too much openness about the wrong subjects could be harmful to her good name.

"I cannot tell you that."

"Then I cannot either." She was happy that he did not press her regardless of her refusal.

He pressed a hurried kiss on her hand, evidently feeling at a loss as to how to continue. This trip had been wasted. "I must go."

"I thought so." She smiled. He was always so reserved. The hand kiss, however, was new. Did he even realise that? Was it a conscious reaction to her order not to do anything different?

"I shall think of what you said."

She had a desire to give a gentle lecture before he went. "You will always do the right thing if you follow your heart. Know your heart first." She placed her hand on her own heart in case he had no idea where to look for such a thing. "And then you will not need my explanations."

"Why not?"

"If your heart is in the venture you will not want to avoid a child."

"I am not in need of sentimental nonsense," he said dismissively.

She looked at the ceiling in exasperation. It was in fact exactly what he needed, even if he did not know it yet.

"Why do I have the feeling you think me stupid again?" the duke remarked rather uncertainly upon seeing her expression.

"Not stupid. Young, perhaps. Do you have a heart?" she asked. "Do you know how to read it?"

"I think I do." It was not spoken with very much conviction. Perhaps being called young was unsettling and he did not think the adjective applied to him any longer. It sounded so much nicer than clueless, however.

She was not so sure he knew his heart. "Are you certain you will not marry that woman?"

"You do not want me to."

"That is not your heart speaking; that is my heart," she informed him. "She does not like Julia and I fear Julia may be hurt if Lady Iris keeps you away from her. But ultimately it is your choice, not mine. If Lady Iris is truly deserving of your love, she will come to recognise that she has nothing to fear from my Julia." She folded her hands demurely as she spoke, suspecting very strongly that Lady Iris was not a deserving woman.

"I cannot even speak to Lady Iris," he confessed.

Clementine smiled. She had never supposed that he could. "Your Grace, you cannot speak to me either. Can you speak to anyone?" Perhaps it was a bit unfair, since he was obviously making an attempt at speaking to her, or at least questioning her.

"Yes, I can."

"Where is that scintillating and charming conversation then?" she teased.

It was not available at this moment, apparently. "I must go."

She would not stop him. She had already got more than she had asked for. "You have my permission. Go."

Muncester thought about the conversation as he returned to the manor. She did not want him to marry Lady Iris because of Julia. He was not sure he was against marrying her for that same reason. In fact, it had not even occurred to him to consider what might happen to Julia if he married anybody. Her mother had a good point, however, for Julia might indeed be hurt and some wives might indeed try to keep him away from a connection that was uncomfortable to them.

Of course he had completely lost track of what he had come for in the first place because she had smiled at some point. What was it again? Something to do with his brother, but it had turned into something to do with children.

His thoughts had not come very far when he encountered a running boy.

"Your Grace! A dangerous prisoner has escaped and he is said to be hiding in the area!" the boy said breathlessly. "I am now warning all the village to keep doors locked till he has been caught. The guards have come and they will keep watch in the village, but better be sure! Especially if you live outside the village, Your Grace!"

Muncester let his horse retrace his steps. "Dangerous prisoner escaped," he said to Clementine, who looked surprised and a little afraid to see him back. "Prowling."

"What? Where?"

"In the area. You had best keep your doors locked at night." As he spoke he realised that was not sufficient. Anyone could come in to harm them or steal food, a famished criminal especially. "Perhaps you had best come to the manor." He thought it would be safer for them there, even though they lived in the village and the guards would be patrolling throughout the night. Even the guards could not be everywhere at once.

"No. Would you abandon your ship if your men were still on it?" She could easily leave, but then her servants would have to deal with it. Bessie would be terrified for her animals. To a hungry fugitive they might be food, but to Bessie they were most definitely closer to children. She would not be able to stop anything from happening, but it would be unfair if she left.

"No, I would not," he had to admit. "Do you have a dog?"

Clementine snorted. "I have an adorable puppy. Lovable, but useless, as all pups are."

He wondered if she was referring to more than simply dogs, but this was not the time to ask. It did sound rather much like a description of his cousin. "I shall send a man or two to stay here then."

"Two handsome menservants for my maids...who are prepared to lay down their lives for Bessie's chickens," she negotiated. The girls should at least be sufficiently distracted from any fears and what better means was there than handsome company that was supposed to act heroically?

"Yes, yes, I shall arrange that. But I have no notion of what girls consider handsome." He frowned at still not knowing this, despite the fact that the topic came up so frequently.

She chuckled. "That all depends on the girl. Best not let them be too handsome. Make it two serious lads who will protect, but not seduce. Girls are susceptible to appearances and heroic actions too. I do not want to be rid of my maids in one night."

He frowned again, but focused on the most important matter. A girl's susceptibility to appearances was probably referring to attitude and presentation and not to physique. "Will you and Julia come with me then?"

She laughed now. Girls were susceptible to appearances and heroic actions, thus Julia and she had no other choice but to come? "Did you mean to let that follow so perfectly upon my words? I am sorry," she said when she saw his exasperation and supposed she should be serious. "I cannot be too frightened by an escaped prisoner. Not yet."

She tried to spy some concern in his manner. He had to be feeling a considerable amount of it, or else he would never have come back, but not much was visible. She would humour him, however, and come. He would never do this if there was no danger at all.

She rang the bell and Vincent appeared. "Vincent, His Grace told me there is a dangerous prisoner on the loose. Julia and I are invited to the manor, but he will send down two men to guard the chickens. Will you guard the girls, Vincent?" She hoped he would not feel too insulted that there would be two extra men to look after the house.

"Yes, Madam."

"Perhaps animals could temporarily be kept indoors? And all doors should be locked after dark."

Vincent turned up his nose. "That will be very smelly, Madam."

"So be it."

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