The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (17 page)

“Have I shocked you?” she asked.

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“Yes, I’m shocked because I don’t think anyone has ever expressed that position so…directly to me. And no, because I’m sitting here looking at you and all of it sounds so natural and—you make it sound inevitable and exciting. I’m unnerved at how when
you
say it, it balances out. How is that possible?”

“It’s a tangle.” She looked at him, her head tipped to one side as if to study him more closely. “But then I should ask you a question. If a woman, in the upper classes or coming from a family with wealth, is to make her way in the world and professions are denied her, education is largely denied her, and public office or the opportunity to work in public service is denied her, then what would she be expected to do? If it is to marry or even to marry well, then why would any woman be derided for trying to do exactly that?”

“I…see…like your sister and my uncle? If I would agree that her choices, that all women’s choices are limited, then how could I be so horrible at the prospect of her doing the one thing she is allowed and even encouraged to do?”

“Yes. That is my question.”

“And the answer brings us right back to my original confession. But now it brings us back with even more authority and irrevocable shame. God, you’d have made an incredible lawyer, Miss Starr.”

“Thank you, Lord Hayle.”

My God, I think I’m falling with this impossibly clever girl…which is not an option on the table.

“Miss Starr, if I could try to make one small defense of my actions it would be to tell you that I love my uncle. It was—it was misguided but I meant to protect him. Without meeting your sister, I assumed the worst. But wanting to protect someone from being misled or having their heart broken, might—and I say this with faint hope of achieving forgiveness—
might
be something you would understand.”

“I do. Completely. I would protect Scarlett from a thousand fortune-hunters and would-be rakes at any cost and without a thought to the consequences.” She smiled at him so sweetly his breath caught in his chest. “I forgive you, Lord Hayle.”

“Thank you, Miss Starr.”

“Chesterton must be besieged by every mother with a daughter of a certain age who is shoving her offspring in his path.”

“I imagine he is. I know I have felt somewhat besieged and I have yet to inherit.”

“There is pressure on all sides of it. Except for me,” she said cheerfully. “My parents know of my aspirations and I am only out for the Season with Scarlett to support her and to try to alleviate her fears. I will never marry.”

“Never?”

“No, because I know how wonderful and…It is a contradiction but I have always admired my mother’s independence and the way she has pursued her dreams. Bellewood College would not exist if not for her vision and determination and I think it will be something the world remembers her for doing. But then I cannot imagine her without my Father, without being the center of his world and I wonder if independence is an illusion when you are married. Their love is so unquestionable and all-encompassing how can it not be included in a survey of them? Doesn’t it define who they are?”

“I suppose but only partially,” Ryder countered her argument. “No one is just defined by one thing or one aspect of their lives.”

“Perhaps though I think he relies on her more than anything and I cannot imagine his life, or our lives for that matter, without her presence. I wonder if I shall ever match her for—all that she brings to this world. I am convinced that I stand no chance at all if I am absorbed by marriage. It is better to see what I can do alone.”

He stared at her in amazement and awe. She was the most unnatural thing he had ever encountered and Ryder Maitland was enthralled.

C
aroline made
her way to the music salon, enjoying the quiet of the house and the memories that the room evoked. The room was decorated in blue with pale grey on the sashes and crown molding. She had no musical gifts of her own to boast of but it didn’t diminish the space’s appeal. She and her husband had spent many pleasurable hours in the room more than once over the years and that particular memory made her blush even now.

She trailed her fingers over the piano’s ivory keys without depressing them and then sat down on the bench.

She wanted her daughters to know what it was to be happy. She wanted all the things that life had to offer and naturally, prayed that they would avoid most of the pitfalls and agonies that may lie ahead.

Ashe was resistant to all of it—though he liked the vague notion of the girls conquering London society, he had said nothing of the attentions of a particular duke or his heir. Not one word across the dinner table or a hint that he had hopes of a match for them.

He wants the Buttons to stay close. He isn’t quite ready to let go.

“There you are, Quaker,” Ashe spoke as he came into the room. “I thought you were resting.”

“I am resting here. See? I am sitting and contemplating if I may yet bother with music lessons or if I should relish my lack of talents. After all, the girls are so gifted and I do love their concerts.”

“You’re a very good audience. I’m not sure you should rob them of that.”

“Ashe. I had an interesting conversation with the girls the other day and I’m worried that Starr is genuinely reluctant. I don’t think she’s taking in the Season with the same enthusiasm as her sister.”

“Scarlett’s spirit is irrepressible. Starr has always been just as strong, Caroline. She’s just quieter. Well, more quiet and more prone to have a book covering that beautiful face of hers so that no one can see what a willful and wonderful girl she is.”

“Stop fussing. The books aren’t covering her up. They are part of her.”

“I love that our daughters are well read, dearest. And God knows, I have cheerfully agreed with you that they should have an education equal or even superior to most men. But you know I have never been comfortable with Starr’s preference for the written page over the world. She’s young, Caroline. She needs fresh air, carriage rides, she needs to flirt and dance and leave a dozen broken hearts in her wake.”

“Heartbreak is not the pretty trophy for women that you seem to recall, Ashe. She will find her match or not. If marriage is not her choice, there is more to life than pleasing a husband.”

“Is there?” he asked, a look of exaggerated shock on his face. “What are you trying to say, darling Quaker?”

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m saying that your daughters each have a financial legacy thanks to your grandfather and to their father’s hard work that frees them from the
requirement
of marriage. They will marry for love and nothing less.”

“Or not at all. I want to point out that the last entry to the contest, Lord Hayle, is the least of our worries. It will never come to fruit.”

“How do you know?”

“He brought flowers. My Starr is not a girl to be swayed by flowers.”

“He was
here
? He brought flowers?”

Ashe shrugged. “It was not a real call and he retreated quickly enough to suit me. If he’s genuine, he’ll try again but I’m not putting down any bets.”

“He is Chesterton’s heir. Don’t be so quick to dismiss him. We may be overrun with dukes.”

Ashe rolled his eyes. “They are like a plague of grasshoppers. And if we’re going with that metaphor, I’m happy to say it may be more apt than you realize. Once they realize that there’s no feast to be had here, they’ll return to their own meadow and plague someone else.”

“Dukes are not insects. Be kind.”

Ashe sighed, then shifted to face her on the piano bench. “I don’t want to talk about dukes. Darling, I have waited patiently but were you not at the Wests’ brownstone on Tuesday? What did Rowan have to say?” Ashe asked.

“Rowan? About what subject, dearest?” Caroline retrieved a sheet of music from a nearby stand, trying not to look at him directly.

“What did Dr. West have to say about…you?” Ashe crossed his arms in frustration. “Or what did Gayle have to say. Or whoever you might be secretly consulting. You are not telling me the results out of some misguided wish to protect me from the worst of it, aren’t you?”

Caroline set the music in her lap. “I’m not trying to be deceptive.”

“But you are, dearest. You’re in pain and something isn’t right.”

“Gayle isn’t sure but it seems the stomach ulcers have returned. And you mustn’t chide me for trying to keep as much to myself as I can. There is nothing to really be done and I confess that it is worse than it has ever been before… I am not happy to find I possess the strength of an infant after the simplest outings. But I am not going to dull myself with opiates, Ashe. She did some research and sent over a modified list of permitted foods which I have passed along to Mrs. Clark. She said it should help.”

He reached over to take her hand. “I hate it when you suffer with this—with anything.”

“I know.”

“What kind of foods?”

Caroline smiled. “The kind that make me glad I have no appetite to begin with.”

“You have to eat, Quaker.”

“I will eat.” She leaned over to kiss him then hesitated just an inch or two from his lips. “Flowers did you say? I shall have to meet this man.”

“You will not.”

He kissed her then and the rest of the conversation was lost to a far more intimate resolution between them from which Caroline knew two things for certain.

She was still desperately in love with her husband.

And Ashe would need her more than ever in the weeks to come because no matter what he said, the girls were already on their way to lives of their own—with or without dukes in hand.

“
I
am here
!” Scarlett announced. “At your bidding and without asking any questions just as your note dictated.”

Ivy smiled. “You said you would do me a favor, remember?”

“I did. Lady Durham would have eaten me alive that day at Madame Beecher’s if not for your energetic intervention.” Scarlett set her reticule aside as she walked into Ivy’s studio. “So I owe you my life which makes any favor you ask, a very small price to pay. And then you trusted me at the museum and said nothing to your mother so—I am in a spiral of debt.”

“Good.” Ivy led her into the workspace, neatly laid out with a blank canvas and easel near a small dais with a chair. “I need a model.”

Scarlett’s steps stuttered to a stop. “Oh.”

Ivy put her hands on her hips. “Scarlett Blackwell, I cannot paint fruit for the rest of my life. And I cannot hire a woman to pose because—well, I am forbidden to hire a woman to pose. Mother says it would be completely inappropriate and since most of the models are…employed in illicit activities when they are
not
posing, I can see her point. Which brings me to my brilliant idea to have you sit for me!”

“I can’t be painted wearing…anything…gauzy or…Father will kill me, Ivy.”

“I’m not asking you to take off your clothes and pose as a nymph, Scarlett. I just need a human being to sit still for a few hours.”

“Truly?”

“Truly, although if you’d do it wearing nothing but a chemise and your underclothes, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Ivy!”

“Just teasing!” she sighed and retrieved her work apron to protect her day dress. “Well, somewhat teasing. But beggars can’t be choosers and so I will work with whatever I am given.”

Scarlett smiled. “Such a gracious capitulation on your part, Mistress Hastings!”

“I am an artist and expected to be temperamental and difficult.” Ivy finished tying the strings of her apron. “Sit there, please, Miss Blackwell.”

“I am taking off my bonnet,” Scarlett announced.

“Oh, the scandal.”

“
And
my gloves,” Scarlett added dramatically.

Ivy laughed. “Oh, however will you bear the shame?”

“I can take off my pelisse but that is where I draw the line.”

Ivy eyed the long light-weight tailored jacket made from the same material as her visiting gown and sighed. It was not exactly the loss of a revealing layer. “Very well, but nothing else. Let us keep your reputation as protected as possible.”

Scarlett finished shedding what she could without forcing Ivy to face the challenge of a ruddy-faced subject and then took her seat on the chair. “I just sit?”

“I think so. You are my first model so my opinions on what works or does not work are a bit limited.” Ivy began to set out her pencils, intending to sketch as much as she could before she pulled her paints. “Let’s see. Well, that’s boring. Try to sit up a bit more and…can you look toward the window?”

Scarlett complied. “How is that?”

“Tip your chin up a bit?”

“Like this?”

“And try thinking of something wicked.”

“What?” Scarlett was startled into losing her place completely. “Why do I have to think of something wicked?”

“Because, the best paintings of people capture them in the midst of…thinking of something wicked. Or at least, that is my own personal theory. If they are just staring out at you bored and blank, then the portrait doesn’t achieve a second look. But if they look as if they’ve just gotten away with something, or they are thinking of getting away with something—well, that’s a portrait you can’t stop looking at.”

“Like Gainsborough’s ‘Blue Boy’?”

“Precisely.”

Scarlett nodded. “He does look like he’s thinking of something naughty, doesn’t he?”

“He definitely does. So, back to looking toward the window, chin up, tipped to me and—let’s have it!”

Scarlett did not struggle for very long to come up with a wicked thought to hold in her mind. Stafford leapt into the frame far too easily and it felt especially sinful to conjure him with someone staring at her. But it must have worked because Ivy’s face became alight with excitement.

“Just that! Perfect!” She began to sketch on the white painted surface and fell silent.

Normally, when they were together, they would chatter away but today Scarlett was grateful for the quiet and for Ivy’s discretion in not asking what she was thinking.

He’d said he wished to kiss her at the museum and Scarlett wondered what such an act would have been like—to boldly kiss a man in public without a care to the gasps and shocked horror of everyone around you? With Stafford, it didn’t matter.

She suspected that if things continued, she would be unable to think of a reason
not
to kiss that man. She fell asleep thinking of him, awoke thinking of him and then wrestled with not thinking of him and thinking of him too much in equal measure throughout the day.

So having permission to sit and daydream about him now was a slice of heaven.

A wicked slice of Heaven.

Ivy worked as quickly as she could. This was the real Duchess Club in action as Scarlett aided her friend in the forbidden pursuit of her art. But time was flying and she knew it was exhausting for Scarlett to sit still for too long. Even so, Ivy had to smile. Scarlett Blackwell was glowing with happiness and brimming over with whatever secret she was clutching to her heart. She was the very essence of youth intoxicated by life and on the brink of joy.

It’s the Duke of Stafford that has her so pleased.

Let us hope he sees what I see—that Scarlett Blackwell is so in love she can scarcely keep it from her eyes. Which means it won’t be long before her parents see it, too.

Or Scarlett notices…

Goodness, it’s more exciting than a horse race!