The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Three

Christian and Frederick peered out to see another carriage that had halted in front of them. The drivers shouted back and forth a moment, and Christian quickly looked out the other window when a feminine voice briefly joined the men. All he caught was a glimpse of a woman hurrying into the house, her skirts in her hands as she flew up the steps.

“What was that?” Frederick asked as they both shoved their heads out of the windows.

Christian stared agape at the young woman disappearing into the house.

“That, I’m very much afraid, was the Duchess of Clevesly. I doubt anyone else would be running into the duchess’s home so cavalierly with nary a knock.” He turned to look at his friend. “You were saying,” he muttered to Frederick, who sat back with an incredulous grin, holding his hands up in defeat.

Frederick cleared his throat. “Perhaps a little guidance would not be amiss.”

“Quite,” Christian said, swinging the door open and hopping down before the footmen had a chance to help him alight. Frederick scrambled after him, muttering under his breath. But Christian paid him no mind. His back popped delightfully as he stretched it out.

Despite his renewed concern that the duchess might need to be taken in hand, he was grateful their journey was at an end. Though he did wish they’d been arriving to his cousin’s country estate rather than his London home. Christian had visited Herringbrook Hall often in his youth and had always loved the English countryside. The country would certainly be a healthier place to raise the young duke, in his opinion. In fact, he would discuss the matter with the duchess.

He let out a deep sigh, not looking forward to the next few months. What sort of woman was he about to meet? Certainly, one who had no qualms about nearly causing a carriage accident and sprinting up the steps with skirts flying high enough to expose her calves to all the neighbors. Shocking behavior. He was both dismayed and, if he was honest, more than a little intrigued to meet this commoner duchess.

Christian and Frederick were obviously expected as they were met at the door by Mr. Davis, the butler, who led them toward the salon just off the large entry hall. A sweeping grand staircase led to a large landing that split into winding staircases on either side. Everything was tastefully decorated and screamed of luxury, from the marble floors and columns to the rich tapestries and velvet drapes that hung from every window.

The salon was decorated in shades of green and gold, from the brocade damask on the walls to the Persian carpets on the floor. Every available corner was stuffed with large plants and lush furniture. Comfortable looking yet somehow still elegant. A far cry from the spindly, stiff furniture in his own home.

As they entered, the woman who had hurried up the steps upon their arrival was just disappearing through another door, her arms laden with papers and notebooks.

The door slammed behind her, and Davis, with only a quick flick of his gaze to the now-closed door, looked back to Christian and Frederick. “If you’ll have a seat, my lords, I will have some refreshments brought in.”

“Who was—”

But Davis had already departed before Christian could get the rest of the question out.

Christian looked at Frederick, who merely shrugged. “All your questions will be answered in time, my lord. You may as well relax in the meantime.”

Christian glowered. He was fairly sure he knew who the woman was. But some confirmation would be nice.

A tray of refreshments and steaming cups of tea were brought in and quickly served out, the staff efficient and friendly, but not talkative. The sustenance was most welcome, though he wished to speak to the duchess, not be delayed with morsels and treats.

“Drink your tea, my lord,” Frederick said. “She won’t keep you waiting long.”

Christian downed what was left in his cup and set it clattering on its saucer. “It’s already been…” He pulled out his pocket watch and frowned. Barely a quarter of an hour. That didn’t seem right. Surely it had been much longer.

Frederick smirked and bit into another cake. “As I said. Drink your tea. Eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re starving. It’s been hours since we last ate, and you get cranky when you’re hungry.”

Christian shot him a glare, but Frederick just popped the rest of his cake into his mouth and pushed the plate in Christian’s direction.

They did look tempting…

The door opened just as he picked one up, and he hastily dropped it again on the plate, wiping his fingers on his napkin as he stood to greet—

He faltered at the first sight of her. She seemed perfectly presentable, her black gown of the latest fashion, her jewelry sparse and fitting with her mourning, her sable-brown hair swept into a bun with ringlets spilling from the crown of her head to frame her face—somehow everything was still slightly… off. Her hair slightly mussed, her dress slightly rumpled. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was as though she were just ever so slightly out of focus.

Then he caught her gaze. Her eyes flickered briefly to his boots and back up, giving him the once-over he’d so obviously given her. She tilted her head a fraction and smiled.

And his breath stilled in his chest.

That smile…

He’d read a good many poems about smiles that could launch a thousand ships and other discombobulated nonsense that he’d never given any credence to…until that moment.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, jarring him from his stupor. “Graf von Rauchberg, I presume?”

He clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a sharp bow, impressed she had used his actual title rather than the English equivalent of Count. “Indeed, Your Grace. And this is my companion, Frederick Wilhelm, Freiherr von Feldhagen.”

“Baron of Feldhagen, if the English is easier,” Frederick said, bestowing his most charming smile on the duchess.

She nodded genteelly at each of them and gestured for them to return to their seats.

“I apologize I wasn’t here to pour the tea,” she said, deftly refilling their cups and offering them milk and sugar before fixing her own. “But I know what a long journey you’ve had and wanted to make sure you were offered refreshments straight away while I tended to my son.”

“Yes, our young duke,” Christian said. “Is he often with you when you visit the city? I was of the understanding that my cousin preferred his son to be raised in the country.”

Her eyebrows rose, and she blinked at him a few times, obviously taken aback.

As she should be. He hadn’t meant to broach the topic so soon, and certainly hadn’t meant to sound so critical when he did so. But the woman—with her reckless carriage, flying skirts, disappearing and reappearing act, and…were those ink stains on her fingers?—had him thoroughly confounded.

He hadn’t known what to expect…but he definitely had not expected her .

“My son accompanies me everywhere I go, my lord. I know it is a bit unfashionable of me, but I prefer my son to be with me at all times. And as I prefer London to the countryside, we have been residing here since my husband’s death.”

The mention of her fairly recent widowhood sent a faint thread of shame through him. “I am very sorry for your loss, Your Grace. I was quite fond of my cousin and am sorry for his passing.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Which,” he persisted, “is why I am invested in the well-being of our young duke. As you are well aware, Your Grace, I was named guardian of your son—”

“Co-guardian, my lord. From my understanding, due to his young age, you are here, for the most part, as the trustee of my son’s estates. Not his person.”

“I am at your service in both capacities,” he said, trying to be diplomatic. “And your son will not remain young forever.”

“Of course not. But at the moment, he has not yet reached two years. I believe, as his mother, I am well able to see to his needs. However, your assistance in matters pertaining to the estates and holdings is most welcome, my lord.”

Not so subtly implying his assistance elsewhere was not. Touch é .

“I have no doubt as to your abilities, Your Grace. I merely wished to convey that I am at your service. And,” he added, though her eyes narrowed dangerously, “duty bound to assist in the boy’s upbringing.”

“Then I am more than happy to relieve you of your duty, my lord,” she said sweetly, her eyes flashing.

He shook his head with a silent snort. “Not only do I not wish to be relieved, Your Grace, it is not possible for you to do so.”

She sucked in a breath. “Nevertheless—”

He stood, startling her into silence. “I admire your spirit,” he said, trying to head off what would soon be a full-blown row. “And I respect your dedication to your son. However, you are a woman. And capable though you may be, he will grow to be a man. He will require guidance you are not equipped to provide him.”

The duchess rose and took a step toward him and remained quiet for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was even, the tone polite. But he could almost feel her emotions roiling beneath the surface.

“That may be the case, my lord,” she said. “But for the moment, he is still a babe. I am his mother. And you are a stranger. Passing judgment before you’ve even wiped the dust from your boots.”

Her eyes met his, and the fire flashing in them almost had him taking a step back. She had spirit. He’d give her that. He’d had full-grown men wither under the stare he was giving her. And as far as he could tell, it had done nothing but spur her on. A worthy adversary, at least. Not that he wanted her to be an adversary. Though…the way he’d gone about things, she likely would never think of him as anything else. So much for making a good impression.

“I apologize, Your Grace. You are correct. I did not mean to pass judgment or imply there has been anything amiss with the young duke’s upbringing. The last thing I wish to do is usurp your position here or in your son’s life,” he said, trying to keep his tone calm and even like he would if he were talking to a skittish horse.

“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate the apology.”

“However,” he said, fighting a grin when she raised a brow with a faintly amused smile, “there may be some things about which I cannot, in good conscience, keep quiet.”

“As you’ve made abundantly clear.”

Frederick’s snort turned into a cough when Christian and the duchess both turned to look at him, the duchess’s lips twitching. She at least seemed to be the good-humored sort. Probably a good thing if she had to deal with him. He was certainly making a mess of their first meeting.

“My apologies for the interruption,” he said, standing, “but it has been a rather long journey. Perhaps this conversation would be better had another day? After my lord has had a chance to rest?”

Christian glowered at him, resenting the implication that he was a toddler who needed a rest in order to be in better sorts. Even if it were true.

The duchess flushed, the becoming pink spreading across her cheeks. “Of course, forgive me,” she said, her hand fluttering to her throat, and Christian again noticed the faint smudges of ink on several of her fingers.

She caught him looking and immediately dropped her hands. But before Christian could say anything, she turned and rang the bell for the footman, who appeared so quickly he must have been standing just outside the door.

Christian had the grace to feel another modicum of shame. He’d not only come into this woman’s home, but he’d also berated her in front of Frederick and her own servants.

“I truly do apologize, Your Grace,” he said, hoping she heard the sincerity in his voice. “I did not mean to grow so…impassioned.”

She hesitated a moment before giving him a wary answer. “Nor did I.”

“I have, perhaps, been hasty with my judgments, and that was not my intention. I look forward to becoming better acquainted with you and your son.”

She gave him a curt nod. “Thank you.” Then she turned back to the footman. “Please show my lords to their rooms.”

The boy nodded and waited while Christian and Frederick moved to follow.

“Baths are being prepared for you both,” she said. “And…I must apologize. I was not expecting you until next week, so I’m afraid that I have a small dinner party planned for this evening. Only a few close friends, of course, as I am still in half-mourning. But I would certainly understand if you were too tired to join us and would prefer trays…”

“Perhaps trays—”

“Actually, a dinner party sounds lovely,” Frederick said. “If you do not object, my lord.” He ignored the very obvious objecting look Christian gave him and turned back to the duchess. “I’ve had only Lord Rauchberg’s company for weeks now while we traveled, and it would be most pleasant to see a few new faces.”

The duchess gave him a gracious smile. “We will be most pleased to welcome you, Lord Feldhagen.” She turned to Christian, her mirth fading somewhat, but she addressed him with nearly the same enthusiasm. “And you as well, my lord.”

He bowed his head. “Then we would be delighted to attend, Your Grace. Danke.”

“You’re most welcome,” she said.

His brow raised in surprise, and she gave him an amused smile.

He nodded in acknowledgment. Assuming she didn’t speak German, or at least wouldn’t understand something as simple as thank you if just from context, had been arrogant on his part. A mistake he’d endeavor not to make again.

It seemed he would need to keep all his wits about him when dealing with the enigmatic duchess.

“Until this evening,” he said, his eyes boring into hers.