Say Yes to the Duke (32 page)

“That’s ghastly.” Isobel shivered. “I-I wish I didn’t know that.”

“Me, too,” said Janice. “I don’t think that’s the story that’s told about Everett’s
death in Town. I seem to recollect my father suggesting he died of a fever.”

“So many people do die that way.”

“Sadly, you’re right. A drowning is something people would recall, however, especially
one in which a brother didn’t attempt to rescue the victim.”

“Why would an entire household stay quiet about that?” Isobel asked. “And how could
such a secret be kept all these years? Surely the people of Bramblewood know.”

Janice shrugged. “It’s a painful memory, I’m sure. Perhaps the family asked the staff
not to talk about it. And who knows? The family influence might extend to Bramblewood.
Mr. Callahan told me that the duke supports the town very nicely.”

“It’s such old news now.” Isobel bent down to pet Esmeralda, who’d come running back
to them after sniffing a nearby holly bush. “I can’t imagine it comes up very much.”

“Yes. Nearly thirty years have passed.” Janice sent the maid a warning look. “I have
another unsettling thing to tell you.”

“No,” said Izzy, who was always prepared for drama.

“Yes,” said Janice. “The duchess, when she was very much Her Majesty, told me she’d
found Emily March’s diary.”

Isobel gasped. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“I wish it were.” Janice was gripped with intense regret that their search had come
to such an unproductive end. “Years after Emily left, the duchess found it here at
Halsey House and took it with her to the dower house. I presume she read it, but she
gave it to her gardener to throw into the orchid house stove.”

“Oh, no!” Isobel’s face twisted in disappointment. “Perhaps she can tell you what
was in the journal.”

Janice shrugged. “It’s so difficult getting straight answers from Her Majesty—or the
more gentle dowager—that I don’t know if we’ll ever know anything about Emily March.”

Isobel kicked at a snowdrift. “That’s a terrible shame. And now”—she looked at her
gravely—“you’ll have to tell Mr. Callahan the bad news.”

Janice’s heart ached at the mention of his name. “I can’t. And I’ve already told you
that the duke is watching all of us. He told me that if any of my friends get a message
to him he’ll know, and he’ll punish Mr. Callahan accordingly. So please don’t attempt
to on my behalf.”

“I promise I won’t. But if the duke hates him so much, why doesn’t he simply fire
him?”

“I think it’s a game for His Grace, that’s why. He’s hoping I’m pining after Mr. Callahan,
and that Mr. Callahan is mooning over me in the stables.”

“That’s so romantic if you are!” Isobel sighed.

“It’s
not
,” said Janice. “It’s torture. At least for me. I seriously doubt Mr. Callahan thinks
about me at all.”

“What do you mean? Every night he puts that lantern in the window. That’s his way
of telling you he’s thinking of you.”

“That’s true,” Janice conceded. “But perhaps he’s being ironic. He might hope I’ll
run out to the stables so that he can say he was fooling me and turn me right back
around. It would be so humiliating.”

Isobel stopped walking. “
Lady Janice.
You mustn’t let your experience with Finnian Lattimore turn you bitter.”

Isobel had been privy to that story—at least Janice’s part of it, not Marcia’s.

“Mr. Callahan isn’t like Finnian Lattimore at all,” Izzy went on. “He’s strong and
quiet and sincere. If he didn’t like you, he’d take that lantern down. He doesn’t
play games.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” It was Janice’s turn to stop walking now. Esmeralda looked
up at her quizzically, and she bent down to scratch her ear. “But the truth is, my
dear Izzy, I was playing games with
him.
I can’t be with a groom. We both know that.”

Isobel’s face drooped. “I know,” she whispered.

Janice linked arms with her. “I can get away with being close to you because a lady
and her maid are together so often and it’s natural to feel affection for each other.”

Isobel smiled.

Janice smiled back. “Yes, I’m more familiar with you than some of my friends are with
their maids, but who’s to know? And if anyone did know and objected, I’d tell them
to mind their own business. But I could never consort with a man not of my station.
It’s not done. And for a very practical reason—money and prestige. One would always
wonder if he’s after those. And as you well know, I want to marry for love, if I marry
at all.”

“I’ve heard of some fine ladies running away with their footmen,” Isobel said.

“And that causes great scandal. I don’t want to bring that upon my family.”

“Of course not.”

Janice gave a little laugh. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? I’m banned
from seeing him. So carrying on a torrid romance would require some sort of miracle.”

They’d come to the corner of the house, the side facing the stable block. Janice rued
that they had. She usually stuck to the other side of the garden, but she’d been so
immersed in her chat with Isobel.

And then the worst possible thing happened. Mr. Callahan—
Luke
—walked out of one of the massive arched stable doors.

Esmeralda’s ears perked up.

“No!” Janice cried.

But it was too late. Esmeralda took off like a ball fired from a pistol. She knew
that groom. Oh, yes, she did. And she was determined to get to him.

Chapter Twenty-eight

“Go, Izzy.” Janice pushed the maid in the direction of the kitchens.

“But Esmeralda!”

“She’ll find her way back to the house, or someone will carry her back. We can’t be
seen with Mr. Callahan.”

“Oh, that makes me so angry,” said Isobel.

“It’s how things have to be.”

Inside, they were passing through the corridor on their way to the front hall and
up the stairs when they stumbled upon the Duke of Halsey. He was opening the door
to the library. “Ah, there you are.” He always looked at Janice as if he could see
that she was a bad girl, even if no one else could.

“Hello, Halsey.” She wished she didn’t have to be polite. But the man
was
going to be her husband.

He raked her with a too-brazen glance. She’d worn her prettiest day dress—a white
muslin with cherry red accents—simply to cheer herself up.

“You look lovely today,” he said. “I look forward to outfitting you as my duchess.”

She didn’t like how possessive he sounded already. “Thank you. I’m sure you know that
my mother was a seamstress before she married my stepfather. She’ll want to make my
trousseau.”

“Will she? I hope she’s accustomed to dealing with demanding husbands. I insist on
approving every gown, especially the ball gowns. You must outshine every woman in
the room.”

She saw a spark of lust in his eye that made her rather ill.

“I’m sure Mama will enjoy your opinions,” she said, folding her hands together. “If
you don’t mind, I’m going upstairs”—Isobel cowered behind her—“to rest for a while.”

“Of course. But I’ve a note here for you.” He pulled a square, folded sheet of paper
from his coat pocket. “One of the junior grooms brought it to Cook last night. She
was supposed to give it to your maid, who was then supposed to give it to you. But
I managed to intercept it.”

He didn’t explain how, which she found disconcerting.

“A note?” she asked faintly.

He was about to hand it to her—she put out her fingers to grasp it—when he drew the
missive back and chuckled like a rude schoolboy.

“Fine,” she said, utterly frustrated with him. She wouldn’t enter into his games.
She’d learned that indifference was the best way to annoy her brothers when they attempted
to tease her.

“I was only jesting, my lady.” He relented and gave her the folded piece of paper.
“You must know that.”

Her heart sped up when she saw her name written in a familiar handwriting on the front.
It was from Luke. She immediately thrust it back at the duke. “I don’t want it.”

She brushed past him, Izzy staying close beside her.

“Are you sure?” Halsey taunted her.

Her face burned. “Yes, I’m sure!” she called over her shoulder.

She heard him laughing, and then there was the shutting of the library door.

What had the letter said? She was dying to know. And had Halsey read it yet? No doubt
he had. He was probably gloating over it at that very moment.

She was so upset that she didn’t notice the butler opening the front door.

There stood Luke, holding Esmeralda in his arms.

Dear heaven.
His nearness made Janice stop in her tracks. Isobel actually bumped into her from
behind.

“What are you doing coming up the front steps?” the butler scolded the groom.

Luke.

Janice’s heart nearly burst with wanting him.

“Ask the dog,” the groom told the butler, but his eyes bored into Janice’s. “She scampered
up here and put her paws on the front door, and I went after her. It seemed rather
silly to scoop her up and walk all the way around the house.”

“All right, then,” the butler conceded. “On your way.”

Luke dropped Esmeralda gently to the threshold, and she scampered over it, straight
to Janice.

But Isobel scooped her up. “I’ll take her to her pups,” she said, and she hastened
away.

Thank goodness.
Janice didn’t want to leave the black marble tile she stood upon at that moment,
and no doubt Isobel knew that.

Luke put his hand on the doorjamb. “I’m going,” he told the butler, “but can you tell
me why the cellar door is never locked on the east side of the house? Shouldn’t it
be?”

“Why does it matter to you?” the crotchety old man answered him. “We’ve got nothing
worth stealing in there. We use the cellar on the south side and always lock it. What
were you doing there anyway?”

Oh, dear.
Janice had to move, in case Halsey emerged from the library—or the butler was one
of his spies. She couldn’t simply stand there gaping at a groom.

She walked to the stairs and started up them.

“I wasn’t there,” Luke said in that imperturbable way he had. “A junior groom told
me he’d seen His Grace’s hounds nosing at it. Two of them managed to lift one of the
doors an inch, but it slammed back down before they could get in. It wouldn’t please
the duke to lose one or more of his hounds down there.”

“Hm-m-m,” the butler said. “You’ve got a point. I’ll get someone to secure it tomorrow.”

And then Luke disappeared.

The butler started to shut the door, and raw misery washed over Janice.

“Wait.”

Luke again! Janice’s heart lifted at hearing him speak.

The butler heaved a heavy sigh. “What is it?”

“I might as well tell you,” Luke said, “that there’s a card game tonight in the stables.
We start at midnight and end at three in the morning. Want to join us?”

“Of course not.” The butler huffed. “No decent person is awake at three in the morning.
You’d better watch yourselves out there. The duke wouldn’t approve.”

Janice did think it rather odd that Luke would ask the butler to play cards. He simply
wasn’t the type.

“Three in the morning
is
awfully late for most people,” said Luke. “You know the superstition, don’t you?”

“No, and I’m not interested in hearing it.” The butler’s testiness would have made
Janice laugh under other, less stressful circumstances.

“Oh, but it’s fascinating,” Luke said anyway. “You can’t lie in the dead of night.
Ask someone anything at three in the morning, and they’re compelled to give you an
honest answer—if they’re brave enough to be awake then, that is.”

“Or stupid enough,” added the butler.

Luke chuckled. “Be careful what you say—I hear the duke is often awake at three in
the morning.”

“Not lately he’s not. His friends have left, so he has no reason to be.”

Janice scampered on silent feet up the rest of the staircase and stood back in the
shadows.

“Right,” Luke said cheerfully. “Don’t forget about that cellar.”

“I won’t,” snapped the butler, and slammed the door shut.

Janice took off down the corridor, her mind racing. What had taken her so long? Of
course Luke wasn’t interested in playing cards with the butler—and he knew that the
man would decline the offer.

Luke had been speaking to
her.

The cellar. At three in the morning.

It was an extremely crude way to communicate. But she understood.

And terrified as she was to risk Halsey’s finding out—not to mention that cellars
weren’t her favorite places—she’d be there.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Would Janice understand? Would she know to meet him here?

Luke wrapped the blanket closer about his shoulders. He’d stolen over a whole half
hour early to be certain that he’d have the place ready—which meant he had a lantern
burning very low and another blanket for her.

That desperate babbling he’d done with the butler …

It was because Janice’s blue eyes, wide with the shock of seeing Luke, drove him to
come up with a crazy plan to see her. He’d tried not to care that she’d ignored his
note, but of course he had. He cared very much—to the point that every step he took,
every word he spoke to the other stablemen, even his usual chores, was agony. At the
very least, he wanted to know why she’d completely cut him off. It had taken everything
in him when he saw her not to storm into the house, throw her over his shoulder, and
carry her back to the tack room, their trysting place, to get some answers.

Now he listened—and hoped—through the deep silence, which was broken by the occasional
creak of some unknown beam above his head and the sough of the wind. It was utter
madness, he knew, to expect her to understand that he wanted her to come to the cellar
at three in the morning. But at some point after the sun rose that day, the butler
would see that a lock was put on it.