The Duchess Read online

  He tossed several pieces of paper at her feet, then looked back at the portfolio. “Or would you like a religion from India? Arabia? I have several African religions. Their certificates are rather interesting. One of them is written on bark and two are on animal skin. I don’t think you’d like me to tell you what they used for ink.”

  He tossed the rest of the papers on the floor at her feet and looked at her. “Are those enough religions for you? Do I seem qualified to perform a marriage ceremony now?”

  She looked down at the papers, not stooping to touch them, then back at his eyes. “But you don’t believe any of them,” she said softly.

  Trevelyan’s eyes blazed. “I believe all of them.”

  She could only glare at him. “You made Harry look like a fool,” she spat at him. “You knew Harry wouldn’t want to go against his mother.”

  “Is that what’s bothering you? It doesn’t take much to make Harry look like a fool.”

  She raised her hand to slap him at that, but he caught her wrist and for a moment he held it as his eyes locked with hers. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

  He tossed her arm from him as though he were throwing something away. “Get out of here. I don’t know why I thought you were different. You’re the same as all of them. You like to read my books, you like to hear of other lands and their strange, quaint customs, but when it comes down to it you’re as corseted as all the other ladies.” He made the last word sound filthy.

  “That’s not true,” she whispered. “I believe in what Captain Baker has seen and done. I think he—”

  “Not him. Me. I am Captain Baker. He’s not a hero. He’s a flesh-and-blood man who loves and hates and…and likes boots and pretty girls no matter what age they are and—” He cut himself off and looked away from her. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Go on, get out of here. I need to do some work. Tell Leatrice to find herself a…” He swallowed. “A man with a real, true, sanctioned-by-God religion to marry her, tell her that a marriage performed by an unbeliever isn’t any good.” When he looked back at her, his eyes were blazing. They were so hot that Claire took a step backward. “Don’t come here again. I don’t want to see you again.”

  Claire could only nod. Without a word, she put out her hand to Sarah Ann, who was standing behind her. Sarah took her sister’s hand and walked out with her, through Trevelyan’s writing room, then down the stairs to the outside.

  “He’s not like anybody else in the world, is he?” Brat said when they were outside.

  “No,” Claire whispered, “he’s not.”

  “I think you’d better marry Harry. Harry will be much easier to manage.”

  Claire gritted her teeth. “Harry has his mother.”

  Brat looked up toward the windows of Trevelyan’s rooms. “Harry and his mother combined aren’t like he is.”

  Claire didn’t have anything else to say, and they walked together to the main part of the house.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Claire behaved herself for two whole weeks. She told herself she’d been making a fool of herself with Captain Baker and that she had to start taking her life as the future duchess more seriously. For two weeks she attended every meal. She dressed for breakfast in a lovely, conservative dress and at the table she spoke to no one, just as she was supposed to do. At ten she dressed in her riding habit and went out for a sedate ride, accompanied by a silent groom. She returned from her ride, changed into a dress for luncheon, sat through the long meal and listened to the men and women talk of dogs and horses. After luncheon she read a book that had been personally approved by the duchess, or she tried her best to take up needlepoint, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the canvas. At four she put on a tea gown and went down to tea with Harry’s ancient relatives. She attempted to have a conversation with them but they mostly just looked at her. After tea the ladies went to their rooms to rest. Claire stopped herself from crying, “Rest from what? For what?” Obediently, she lay on the bed in her room, closed her eyes, and tried to be still. After the rest, she began the long process of dressing for dinner. She didn’t wear any of her low-cut, shocking, fashionable dresses, but only the most conservative, unshocking dresses. After a three-and-a-half-hour dinner, she went back to her room to retire for the evening.

  By the end of the second week she was sure she was going to go mad. She had visions of herself running about the house screaming and pulling her hair out. She began to understand why the other inhabitants of the house were so eccentric. It was one evening when she was watching the two old ladies slip silverware up their sleeves that Claire wondered what it would feel like to be a thief. She picked up her salad fork and put the handle to her sleeve.

  Just as the utensil was disappearing up her sleeve, she felt eyes on her and looked up to see the butler staring at her. Claire gave a start and put the fork back on the table.

  The next morning she confronted Harry. “I have to have something to do.”

  “You may do whatever you like,” he said, as he pulled on his riding gloves.

  “May I go with you?” For the last several days she had seen Harry only at meals, but she hadn’t spoken to him. Every day he had been out hunting with her father and some other young men who had come from London for a visit.

  Harry gave a quick frown, then tried to smile. He didn’t believe in women on hunts. They tended to be restless. “Of course you may. But you’ll have to abide by the rules of the hunt.”

  Claire agreed. She would have agreed to anything in order to get away from the dull routine of that house. She promised herself and Harry that she’d be quiet and not cause him any distraction while he was hunting.

  But the minute she was on the horse and riding beside Harry, it seemed that weeks’ worth of words flooded from her. She was so eager to talk to someone. “Harry,” she said under her breath so the others wouldn’t hear, “I’ve been dying to know how your mother took the news of Leatrice’s marriage. I haven’t heard so much as a whisper about it.” She looked away so he wouldn’t see the way her mouth tightened. She’d heard whispers enough in the last few days, but when she’d approached, the whispers had ceased. Twice she had been tempted to do what Brat did and hide behind doors and eavesdrop.

  Harry looked surprised. “Mother wished her daughter all the happiness in the world. She said had she known Lee wanted to be married she would have arranged an elaborate ceremony for her. As it is, with the way Lee disgraced herself, Mother doesn’t feel she should reward Lee’s misconduct with a settlement.”

  Again, Claire had to turn away. The duchess had certainly gotten herself out of that one. Claire wondered if Leatrice and her new husband had enough to live on.

  “You don’t know who the man was who performed the ceremony, do you?” Harry asked.

  “Why do you want to know?” Claire tried to keep her voice light.

  “Mother asked. I think she’s had someone doing some searching.” Harry smiled. “I don’t think Mother is too happy with the man. I think Mother believes she could have dissuaded Lee if that man hadn’t come along and performed the service.”

  Claire gave Harry a weak smile and turned away. She knew that everything she had felt about the duchess that first day was correct. The horrid old woman wanted Leatrice for her servant and she didn’t mean to release her.

  Claire’s next thought was concern for Trevelyan. What would the duchess do if she found out that Trevelyan had performed the ceremony? Claire had had only that one meeting with the woman, but she didn’t think the duchess was the type to forgive easily. What would she do if she found out one of her husband’s relatives was hiding in the west tower and had helped to take away what the duchess considered to be hers?

  In the next moment, Claire’s head came up. What would the duchess do if she found out Claire had been involved in taking Leatrice away?

  “Claire?” Harry said. “Are you all right? You look pale. Perhaps you should return to the house.”

  “No, I’m f