Dalliance with the Duchess (Seducing the Duchess #3)

Chapter Twelve

M arianne jumped up as Sophia entered the breakfast room. She had not seen the other woman since she had arrived, being busy with her own concerns, and with the late nights she had been keeping, she found herself sleeping well into the day. But this morning she had awoken early, and when she came downstairs Marianne was there. There was also a young boy sitting beside her, and seeing him made Sophia’s steps come to a sudden halt.

“Your Grace!” Marianne cried, her brown eyes wide with shock. “I did not think you would be down this early.”

She was already on her way to the door, her arm around the boy at her side. He was complaining about not having finished eating, but Marianne hushed him desperately. It was as if she was trying to be invisible, or cause the least trouble possible, lest Sophia take offense at their presence and tell them to leave immediately.

Sophia put up a hand to stop her. “Not on my account, please! You are my guest, so please finish your breakfasts.”

Marianne looked in two minds whether to obey. Then the boy murmured something about “hungry” and the two of them returned to their seats and sat down. Marianne gave her son a reassuring smile as he fell upon his boiled egg and toast.

Sophia also sat and poured herself tea from the pot. She took a sip as she contemplated the other two. Marianne had some color in her cheeks, different from the wan ghost who had confronted her that evening on the front steps. She must have been very pretty when a young girl, but the past year at least had done her no favors. The boy—he was eight, Sophia recalled—was pleasant looking, with hair more fair than brown and, when he looked up shyly at her, eyes of more brown than green. Oldney’s had been the latter, she recalled—calculating and as cold as green marbles.

For a moment she compared them to Nicholas Blake’s eyes, so dark and warm, and full of emotion as they gazed into hers.

“Your Grace?”

Marianne was watching her uneasily, and Sophia set down her teacup with a clatter. “What was that? I was woolgathering.”

“I asked you when you wish us to leave. I will need to make arrangements. I thought perhaps I could go home, but—” Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them hastily away.

“Home?” Sophia repeated. “Why can’t you go home, Marianne?”

“I-I don’t know if my—my family will want me back. I did not leave under the best of circumstances.”

Like so many young ladies, Sophia thought with an inner sigh. Marianne had probably believed Oldney’s lies that he would love her forever and set her up in a grand house and pay all her bills. Which he had, she supposed, but with his death, Marianne’s precarious position had become even more precarious.

“I do not want you to think of that,” she said briskly. “You and your son are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay. Oldney did not make provision for you, and it is up to me to see you are not thrown out on the street. Speaking of which,” she chose a slice of toast and began to butter it, “where have you been for the past year?”

Marianne swallowed, her eyes wide and still bright with tears. “I... we stayed in the house in Curzon Street for some months after he...” A glance at her son. “I did not know what was going to happen, but every day that passed seemed like a gift. Then a gentleman came and informed me we had to leave. He threatened to call the bailiffs and have us evicted. It seemed better to go before he could do so. I was lucky that I had a friend in Lambeth. For a time, she worked in the Curzon Street house, and we became close. She left to marry a housepainter, and now she has two children, but she told me if I ever needed help to come to her.”

“It is good to have such friends,” Sophia said quietly. “You were fortunate.”

Marianne swallowed. “Yes, very fortunate, because without her...” She shook her head at the images that must be crowding her mind. “Her house is small, and cramped with us all in it, and although she has been so kind, I knew we could not stay there forever. That is why I came to you. I never expected you to ask me to stay. I thought you might pay me to go away, and I was prepared for that, because I was desperate.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, but they did not stop. Hugo, who by now had realized how upset his mother was, wriggled closer and wrapped his arms about her.

Sophia felt an uncharacteristic urge to comfort Marianne but quashed it. Such behavior would only make them both uncomfortable, and it was better not to draw attention to the high emotion. Instead, she turned to more practical matters.

“Tell me, does Hugo attend school?”

Marianne cleared her throat and mopped at her face with her table napkin. After a moment she pulled herself together. “Yes,” she cleared her throat. “He attended the parish school for a time, but recently I have been teaching him at home.”

“ You have been teaching him?” Sophia couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. Women were not generally educated, being taught housekeeping skills instead.

“Yes. He is young enough now, but later he will need someone with a better grasp of subjects such as math and science.”

Sophia was impressed. A thought came into her head, and she waited a moment to allow it to percolate. “I wonder... My housekeeper has recently left and Webster, my butler, is run ragged. I wonder if you would consider taking on the role. If you do not wish it, then that is fine, you can still stay, but it might give you something to do during the day.”

“Hugo needs me to—”

Sophia waved an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, but in return for you taking on the position of housekeeper for me, I would be happy to pay for Hugo to go to a good school. A school of your choosing, Marianne.”

The woman stared back at her. Her mouth was slightly ajar.

“There is no hurry,” Sophia said quickly, worried Marianne was about to burst into tears again, or perhaps even rush to give her a hug. She always found hugs awkward. “You can take your time to think about my offer. I do not expect you to—”

But Marianne shook her head rather wildly. “I don’t need to think. Yes! Thank you. I would be more than happy to be your housekeeper, Your Grace.”

Sophia smiled, but before she could speak, Marianne took a shuddering breath and hurried on, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the table.

“But won’t the gossips make matters difficult for you? You will be taking your husband’s mistress on as your housekeeper. They will think it bad enough that you have invited me into your home, but to employ me as your housekeeper... I think there will be a great deal of unpleasant talk.”

Sophia bit into her toast, chewed, and swallowed. “Frankly, I couldn’t care less what the gossips say,” she said. “I used to care a great deal, but over the past year I have come to understand how little that matters. My husband was...” she glanced at Hugo, “not a nice man. Perhaps he was nicer to you but—”

“He was not an easy man,” Marianne hurriedly admitted, also glancing at her son. “But he was a good father. He took an interest in Hugo. I think, even if he had grown tired of me, that relationship with his son would have continued.”

Sophia felt a wave of sadness wash over her. It took her by surprise. She had not had children with her husband, and she had been relieved by their absence. What would have happened to them, after all? Left alone most of the time while their parents were out socializing? Oldney had said he wanted an heir, and he had blamed her, but he had not seemed to care too much. Now she knew why. He already had a son tucked away in Curzon Street.

Marianne must have seen something in her face, because she hurried into speech, as if afraid of what Sophia might say next. She was evidently still worried about being thrown out onto the street.

“I am most grateful for your kindness, your—your generosity, Your Grace. I will do my utmost to fill the role you ask of me, and I will seek out a school for Hugo. I do not have enough words to tell you how very appreciative I am of your—”

Sophia waved a hand. “Enough,” she said wearily. “I am glad we have come to a mutually convenient agreement. You have saved me from having to advertise for the position and then interview a great many unsuitable applicants. It would be very tiresome.”

Marianne was smiling at her, well aware that Sophia’s protests were meant to soothe, but quickly bowed her head to hide her amusement.

Just then Sophia caught sight of Webster lurking in the doorway, his eyes out on stalks. He had probably heard some of their conversation and was wondering whether his mistress had lost her mind. Sophia had wondered about that, too, but actually being a do-gooder—within reason—was very freeing. She might even join one of those charities that she had heard other ladies waffle on about, but for now Marianne and Hugo were enough.

“Yes, Webster, what is it?”

“The mail has come.” Cautiously he approached, and she saw that he was holding a silver tray. “There are a number of invitations, Your Grace, although none of consequence.”

He sniffed and Sophia couldn’t help but smile. Webster was a far greater snob than anyone she knew in the ton . His uneasy glance at Marianne seemed to confirm her fears he had overheard their conversation. Did he think she was going to grab the silver and run off with it?

The thought amused her, but she pushed it aside. Sophia did not believe Marianne was going to do anything of the kind. She considered herself a good judge of character and she did not often get it wrong, although in Nicholas Blake’s case perhaps she had let her animosity blind her to his good points for too long.

The mail was uninteresting, and she tossed most of it aside. Apart from a letter in a familiar hand. She smiled as she broke the seal. Her sister Ellis was writing to her from her home in Wales, and she had some exciting news. She was with child. As Sophia read on, Ellis wasn’t just wanting to share her good news, she was asking if Sophia would come and stay with her at the expected time of the birth.

“Please come. I will need your encouragement and support,” Ellis had written.

There was a time when Ellis would not have wanted her sister anywhere near her, especially at such a challenging time. Matters had changed when Ellis had come to London and needed Sophia’s protection, which Sophia had been more than happy to give. Ellis had needed Nicholas’s help, too, which at the time had made Sophia particularly angry. But it had all turned out well. Ellis had married her artist lord, Owen, and lived happily with him in Wales. And now they were about to bring the fruit of their union into the world.

Catherine, Sophia’s elder sister, had two children. Her youngest was a daughter, the child of her husband Viscount Albury, while the eldest, a son Jack, was the son of her first husband, the Duke of Wellesley. Catherine and her family lived with Albury at his home in the north of England and seemed more than happy to remain there. She rarely visited London these days and so Sophia rarely saw her.

Again, Sophia pondered on the fact she did not have any children of her own, and whether she wanted them. She had never considered herself the sort of woman who would be a good mother. Her own mother had loved her and her sisters, in her way, but when Sophia’s father was killed tragically, she had seemed to put all her energies into finding her three daughters husbands who were rich dukes.

Sophia did not think she would do that. She knew now the difference between a good marriage and a bad one, and she would never force any child she might have into a marriage that caused them pain, no matter how wealthy their partner was. Better to marry a commoner than someone like Oldney.

As I am often reminded by my enemies, I am a commoner aping my betters.

She glanced at Hugo, who was busily dunking toast soldiers into his boiled egg. He looked like any normal little boy. He caught her eye and smiled, and it was a sweet smile. Sophia asked herself if it was still possible for her to have a child of her own. Not with Oldney, of course, but with someone else. Her thoughts drifted to Diablo’s last night, where drunken men handed over their blunt in games of chance, and women hung over their shoulders and cheered them on. Nicholas Blake frequented such places for his work and his search for the sister who was probably long dead. Sophia could not see him ever stopping. What sort of a parent would that make him?

She startled. Was she really thinking of him as the father to a possible child?

There was passion between them. A burning, hot desire that seemed in no danger of cooling. Although last night had been different—the passion was still there but it had been more tender, as if they wanted it to last. Oh yes, she wanted to see him again but at the same time she was afraid of what would happen if she did. What if she wanted more than he was willing to offer her?

“You are deep in thought,” Marianne said.

Sophia had been so lost in her own thoughts she had forgotten the other woman was there. She forced herself to calmly take a sip of her cooling tea before she spoke. “I received a letter from my sister. She is having a baby, and she wants me to stay with her in Wales.”

“Oh?”

“That will not affect you, Marianne,” she assured her.

Marianne’s tense shoulders relaxed. “I will ensure everything runs smoothly in your absence, Your Grace.”

Sophia smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

Webster was back in the doorway, and she was sure she heard him sniff from her seat at the breakfast table. The man really was insufferable, but she supposed she could expect nothing less. And she’d best get used to it. Soon everyone would be talking about the Dowager Duchess of Oldney and her new housekeeper. The ton was a hive of gossip.