The Duchess War

  Chapter Fifteen

  The world was made of vinegar, and Minnie’s sinuses were on fire. She coughed and became aware that she rested on an uncomfortable surface—hard and lumpy and warm, all at the same time.

  She opened her eyes.

  Lydia was staring at her, waving a vial of sal volatile underneath her nose. Minnie coughed heavily and batted the smelling salts away.

  “There,” her best friend said brightly. “That’s done the trick. Do you have a dreadful headache?”

  It all came back to her. The flowers. The goats. The crowd. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Lydia, please tell me I did not just faint in front of everyone.”

  “You did.”

  She wanted to close her eyes again. Robert had been there. What he would think of her?

  “Did the goats eat all of my gown?”

  “None of the good bits,” another voice said, this one directly above her.

  And that was when Minnie realized her head wasn’t resting on a pillow. Those uncomfortable lumps were thighs; her head was cradled on the Duke of Clermont’s lap. She jerked upright, ignoring the pounding behind her eyelids, and pushed away from him. She had been laid out on a hard wooden bench. There was a desk at the front and a few chairs off to the side. She was in one of the upstairs merchants’ meeting rooms in New Hall, she supposed.

  Along with the Duke of Clermont.

  “Lydia,” she moaned, “how could you?”

  But Lydia didn’t answer right away. She glanced at the duke and then colored and looked away.

  “Someone had to carry you,” he said finally, “and, as it turns out, I was first to volunteer.”

  She felt sick just imagining it. They’d all have looked at her when she fainted. To have the Duke of Clermont wade in, though—that would make everyone pay attention. No doubt the gossip was running the rounds.

  “Now,” Lydia said, enunciating very carefully, “I am going to go fetch a glass of water—”

  “Don’t you dare leave me alone with—”

  But Lydia was already withdrawing.

  “Lydia!”

  The door closed behind her.

  Minnie shot to her feet with no thought but to put space between them. If he didn’t touch her…

  He stood along with her; when she wobbled, he caught her arm. “Sit down, Minnie.”

  “People must know we are in here together,” she said frantically. “They’ll see her. They’ll think us alone. Everyone will think—”

  “Everyone,” he said distinctly, “is already thinking. Your friend left me alone with you because she knew what I was going to say. Please sit down and listen to me.”

  She looked into his eyes. He seemed quite forbidding, and her head was still spinning. She sat again.

  “When those goats surrounded you,” he said, “I punched the man who was driving them. In front of everyone. And then, when you collapsed, I picked you off the floor and carried you out of the room. Whatever gossip you imagine you might forestall by walking out now—believe me, someone is already saying it.”

  Oh, God. It had happened. It had really happened. Her head felt light. She was ruined; Stevens would come back with his proof, and it wouldn’t matter. Minnie took a breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think. I told you I can be stupid. When I saw you out there, thinking was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to be by your side.”

  Minnie shook her head, which made her feel all the more dizzy. “As much my fault as yours.” If this was disaster, it was a disaster she’d courted. She’d known there was an attraction between them. He’d as good as told her nothing could come of it. And she’d kissed him anyway—kissed him and wanted him to look at her. That’s what came of putting herself forward. “I’ll take care of this somehow.”

  There had to be some explanation she could give, some way that this could all come right. Maybe if someone else fainted, and he grabbed her, too? Then it might be seen as mere chivalry on his part.

  But that didn’t feel right to her. Too forced. Unnatural. Minnie scrubbed her forehead in distress.

  He sat down next to her and took her hand. “Minnie,” he said gently. “Do you recall the time you came to my house and threatened me?”

  “How could I forget?” She frowned. “I suppose I could use that. Expose you now and explain that you were just trying to keep me quiet. It still doesn’t feel right. I don’t think it will work.”

  “At the time, I said that if anything happened, I’d make sure you had a proposal of marriage. I believe my precise words were that I’d make sure of it, even if I had to make one myself.”

  All her plans came to a halt. Minnie looked up into his eyes. It would have been a vicious thing to joke about, and he’d never been cruel before. Still, it was easier to imagine him callous than the universe kind.

  “You didn’t mean it,” she said. “It was said in jest.”

  He shrugged. “It was said in stupidity, not jest. I say a lot of stupid things when you’re about.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair and then sighed. “But stupid as it might have been, it was also true. I meant it, Minnie. I wish you would marry me.” He glanced over at her. “Even without this, I would have asked. I’ve been thinking of nothing else for days. Marry me.”

  She couldn’t comprehend that. Instead, she stood and walked over to the narrow window. From here, she had a view of the square in front of them. The last remnants of the crowd had dispersed, taking their goats with them. No, what he was saying didn’t seem possible. “That makes no sense, Your Grace,” she said. “That is madness talking. You cannot marry someone like me.”

  He didn’t pretend to know what she meant. “That’s what everyone says.” He regarded her. “And I admit, I hadn’t considered the possibility until I met you. But once I started thinking about it, you began to make all kinds of sense. Do you know why I haven’t married yet?”

  “You’re not even thirty. You’ve years ahead of you…”

  She trailed off, suddenly uneasy. His eyes had fixed on her in a way that started her heart beating in a way that had nothing to do with his age. Her hands grew clammy.

  “Minnie,” he said, “do you have any idea what I hope to accomplish? You must have gathered that my father took ownership of a factory here and ran it into the ground—that I hope to make up for that. I have a half brother who matters more to me than anyone in the entire world, who is looked down on for his birth. I don’t stand on my prerogatives.”

  Minnie could scarcely breathe.

  “But that is only part of what I hope to see in my life. If I had my way, I would abolish the hereditary peerage in its entirety.”

  She gasped.

  “Every aspect of it,” he said fiercely. “Lords should be indicted like commoners and tried by juries. We should not have the right to reject laws that Commons proposes. In fact, I don’t think the House of Lords should exist at all. I wish to hell I was simple Mr. Blaisdell. My father—you have no idea how dreadful he was.”

  His hands clenched at his side; his eyes blazed with a light she hadn’t seen since he talked to Finney.

  “I could apologize for the benefits I inherited from him,” Robert said. “But I learned long ago that an apology changes nothing. So I plan instead to use them—use them to make sure that what my father did, no lord will ever be allowed to do again.”

  This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be saying those things.

  But telling herself that did no good. Minnie was just as certain that she was seeing the heart of him now.

  “Of all the benefits I plan to relinquish, the chance to wed some peer’s daughter will be the first to go. Think about what it would mean if I did offer for one for those girls. What would she think when she discovered that my life’s goal was to divest her father, her brother, of their prerogatives? My parents fought every moment they were around one another. I won’t have that kind of marriage. I won’t.”

  She had nothing to say to that.<
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  “Second,” he said. “I’ve never expected love from a marriage. At best, I’d hoped to find an ally. Someone who would support me in what will come.” He looked over at her. “You’re better than I at tactics. You’d be a terrible wife for a duke, but for a man who doesn’t want to be a duke any longer? I can’t imagine anyone better.”

  She couldn’t imagine anyone worse. He didn’t know about her. He didn’t know.

  “Third,” he said. “I want you. I want you very badly. I want you so much that when you fall down half a hall away from me, I’m by your side before anyone else can move. I want you so much that there are nights that I think of nothing but having you.”

  She felt those words, felt them in the inner core of her, in a flash of heat and longing that encompassed every lonely night she’d spent. In that, they were well matched. But…

  “What of fidelity?” she asked. “I should like to know what to expect. Are you to have mistresses? Am I allowed to take lovers?”

  He looked her over. “The last thing I’m thinking of right now is other women,” he muttered.

  “Answer the question, if you please.” Her voice shook.

  “Is that what you want? For us to take lovers at whim?”

  “You’ve said you don’t love me.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. “If I had my preferences, I would want my vows to mean something. I was thinking more of your needs. I don’t want to be unprepared.”

  He exhaled and gave her a glimmer of a smile. “Ah.”

  She crossed over to him. “You said that we’d be allies, that we’d think of each other. I can imagine what it’s like to be a duke. Thus far, you’ve had your choice of women.” And many of them, she didn’t doubt. “Don’t make a promise that will only chafe at you later. I’d rather have flat honesty than fidelity and flattery at this point.”

  “Flat honesty?”

  She nodded.

  “Then, my dear, you’ll have it. I’m not so desperate for sexual relations as you might imagine. I don’t need to wrangle women into my bed to obtain regular release. God gave me a strong left hand, and there have been many nights when I’ve preferred it to a woman.” He wasn’t looking in her direction. He couldn’t be embarrassed by that admission, could he?

  But his confession sent another flash of molten heat through her—the idea of him naked and hard, of his hand on his member. What would he look like when he stroked himself? Would he like long, hard strokes, or soft, gentle ones?

  “I can’t ruin my hand’s reputation,” he said, “or hurt its feelings, or get it with child. It has proved by far the safest option available to me. So you tell me, Minnie. Do you think you need to take lovers?”

  “I have never given the matter any thought.” It was true; she’d never considered being unfaithful in marriage. Not even if she’d married a man who took mistresses.

  “Because I very much believe in making things clear,” he said. “I don’t want any misunderstandings between us. And—if it comes down to it—I promise that if you take a disgust of me, I will let you leave. No little stratagems to try to get you to return. No withholding of pin money. None of that.” He swallowed. “I know things change. There is nothing worse in a marriage than a husband using his power to force his wife. I won’t do it.”

  “Robert.” Minnie turned to him. “There is no danger of my becoming disgusted by you.”

  She wasn’t sure who moved first. Maybe she took a step toward him. Maybe he leaned toward her. Maybe it was mutual, a shift in the air that brought them together at last. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders; his arms came hard around her.

  They were fully clothed, and still his kiss seemed carnal in a way that their last kiss had not. This one was a prelude to what might come if she said yes. His hands roamed, sliding down her, cupping her breasts, clasping her hips. This was a precursor to lovemaking.

  He broke off the kiss, half-smiling. “There’s one thing I need to say.” He sounded almost out of breath. “When my parents married, my father swore that he loved my mother. It was a lie, and it did more damage than the truth. I won’t marry under false expectations.” His fingers flexed, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “I understand perfectly well what we mean to each other. I don’t expect you to love me.”

  “What do we mean to each other?” she asked.

  “I want children. As many as we can manage and maintain your health.”

  “Your Grace,” she said, emphasizing his title deliberately. “That’s not an answer.”

  He shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know how to explain it. You looked at me and instead of seeing a duke, you saw a man who could write radical handbills. You know who I am.”

  And that brought reality crashing in on Minnie’s head. He’d painted a lovely picture. If all she had to do was sit behind him in Parliament and whisper advice in his ear, figuratively speaking, she’d have said yes.

  But this…

  Duchesses went to parties—great big crushes with hundreds of people present. When they went walking in parks, people pointed them out and watched. And Minnie…Minnie began to panic if more than a handful of people looked her way. She’d fainted when twenty people surrounded her.

  “Oh God,” she said, moving away from him, pulling her arms about herself. “This really isn’t going to work.”

  “Minnie?”

  She turned back to him. “What do you suppose happened out there?”

  He blinked. “Out there? There is an out there?”

  “Why do you think I fainted?”

  “Um.” He scrubbed his hair through his hands. “The goats?”

  “I live on a farm, Robert. I’m used to goats.”

  He frowned. “You’re right. It was after the goats had been driven off. Everyone was crowded around you.”

  She usually tried not to remember those moments that sent her into spiraling terror; she’d put it out of her mind as soon as she’d woken. But she could see them now, a wall of faces and fabric, all jeering at her. Her stomach cramped just recalling it. Her heart pounded with a cold intensity.

  “I’m afraid of crowds.” The words squeaked out, but she’d said them. “No, not afraid—terrified.”

  He took hold of her hand.

  “Especially crowds where everyone looks at me. I was caught in a mob once when I was twelve.” She touched her cheek. “That’s where this came from. They were throwing rocks.”

  He raised his hand to her face. His gloves were black leather; she could smell them, so close to her. He set his fingertips against her scar, traced it down her face, first lightly, and then with a little more force.

  She had left off the last two words of her sentence. They hadn’t just been throwing rocks. They were throwing rocks at her.

  “That was a vicious throw.”

  She nodded.

  He traced her scar again, this time pressing.

  “I can actually feel a fracture in your skull. So close to your eye…”

  “For the first few days, when I was all bruised all over, there was some question over whether I would be able to see out of that eye when it healed.”

  He hadn’t moved his hand from her cheek.

  “And so now I can’t abide large groups of people. If they’re all looking at me, it becomes impossible. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I want only to escape.”

  “So you stay quiet. You hide every good thing about you and hope that nobody looks.”

  Minnie stared at her skirts. “Yes.” The word was anguished. She curled up smaller.

  For the longest time, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he tilted her head up. “Too bad,” he murmured. “I’ve already seen you.”

  His lips brushed hers. It wasn’t a kiss. Not really. Kisses would be more than just a light meeting of mouths, an exchange of scents. If it were a kiss, he wouldn’t have pulled away so quickly.

  She found herself looking up at him. His hand cupped her cheek.

  “What was that?” she asked.
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  “If you couldn’t tell, I must have done it wrong.” And then, more slowly, more deliberately, he leaned in. This time, his lips didn’t just brush hers; they met hers. His mouth was warm and dry; instead of a brief pressure, he nibbled at her. His hand cupped her cheek, pulling her closer, and that kiss…

  Minnie turned away, but that only brought her forehead in contact with his shoulder. She leaned against him, learning how to breathe once more.

  “I can’t marry you,” she said. “How could I be a duchess?”

  “It’s easy,” he said. “You say yes. I get my lawyers to draw up the settlements. That will take three or four days, and by then, the special license will have arrived.”

  Oh, God. His version of marriage started with attorneys. If she’d needed proof of how far apart they stood, how different were the worlds in which they lived…

  His hand rested on hers, and every muscle in her body came to a standstill—her lungs ceased to draw air; her mouth froze half-open. And her fingers—well, she didn’t dare move her fingers, not one inch. Only her heart continued to pound in her chest, one staccato beat after another.

  “After that,” he said, “I get to take you to bed.”

  That, at least, was the same. Despite herself, Minnie smiled.

  He drew his thumb along the side of her hand in a caress. “What am I going to do with you, Minnie?” he asked idly.

  She jerked her hand away, her heart stinging with some emotion she couldn’t identify. “Stop. Stop doing anything.”

  He tilted his head toward her. His profile was crisp and perfect. The lamplight kissed the tip of his nose, and Minnie felt an irrational surge of jealousy—that the light could touch him so indiscriminately, and she could hardly withstand the pressure of his fingertips.

  “Your Grace,” she said distinctly, “I must be more clear. I told you there was something in my past. Something I didn’t want to come to light.”

  He didn’t stop toying with her hand. “I can guess what you’re about to say,” he said mildly. “And I really don’t give a fig about that.”

  Minnie’s palms had begun to sweat. She was beginning to feel the first stirrings of nausea. It had been so long since she told anyone, so long since she’d said the words aloud.

  “Until I was twelve years old—” She was beginning to tremble, and he sat up and looked at her with concern. There was nothing for it but to get it out quickly. “Until I was twelve years old,” she said in a rush, “my father dressed me in trousers and introduced me to everyone as a boy.”

  He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. “I was…definitely not going to guess that.”

  “It came out, of course,” she said. “It came out badly.” She rubbed her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. “All of London knew. It was in the papers. That mob I told you about? They were after me. Wanting to punish me for daring to pretend so much. For being so unnatural.”

  “Huh.” He had a small frown on his face as he looked at her. His eyes traveled over her, as if seeing her again, this time as a thing that had not come out right. Maybe he had read about the scandal at the time. Maybe he was trying to recall details. Maybe he’d been part of the crowd, part of the group throwing rocks.

  No. Not that. He hadn’t let go of her hand, and she couldn’t imagine him hurling stones at anyone, let alone a child.

  “It was so bad that I had to give up my life entirely. I changed my name. I was born Minerva Lane. When I was…when I was pretending, my father called me Maximilian.”

  “Huh,” he repeated. His jaw moved, but he didn’t speak.

  “Say something,” she said. “Say anything at all. You didn’t know when you proposed marriage. I won’t fault you for walking away.” She looked up into his eyes. “Just say something.”

  He searched her face for a moment, and then shrugged. “Did you like being a boy?”

  “I—well.” It was not a question she’d ever been asked, and it startled her out of her fear. “It was all I really knew at first. The deception started when I was so young. I didn’t think anything of it.” She sighed. “I hated lying, though. All the pretenses to avoid removing clothing around others. I hated that a great deal. And when I was twelve, I started to fancy one of my friends. That was…deeply awkward.”

  “I should say.” He blinked at her. “This explains a great deal about you.”

  “I had to learn to be a girl again, afterward. How to walk. How to talk. So many little things to do wrong. It was just…easier to be small and quiet. I couldn’t make any mistakes that way.”

  “It makes me think I should have a very long talk with you about the appropriate subjects for female education,” he said with a sudden smile. “After we’re married.”

  “You’re not being serious. Your Grace, I’m a scandal waiting to happen.”

  “Minnie, I want to abolish the peerage. I write radical pamphlets in secret. I am not going to shriek, ‘Oh, no! A scandal!’ and run away. I don’t mind scandal.”

  Minnie looked him in the eyes. “But I do, Your Grace. I do.”

  The door rattled once, then again. A few moments later, after some more extremely loud fumbling with the handle, Lydia opened the door. She came in carrying a pitcher of water.

  “That,” Minnie said, “must be water fetched all the way from Bath. Did you walk there yourself or take the train?”

  Lydia gave her a cheeky grin. “Well? Is everything settled?”

  “My question exactly.” Robert raised an eyebrow.

  And Minnie found she couldn’t answer. She wanted him. She liked him. If he’d been any other man, she’d have taken him. But marrying him would put her in front of not just a few people, but the entire country. And with him at her side, they would all be looking. She felt ill just thinking about it.

  She looked away. “I need more time.”

  “Time? Time for what?” Lydia demanded.

  But Robert held up his hand. “Then have it,” he said. “Think it through from all angles. Consider your strategies, if you must, and advance your supply lines. Whatever it is you must do to feel secure.” He flashed her a smile, a confident smile. A smile that said he knew she wouldn’t turn him down.

  “Take your time,” he said, stepping closer to her and leaning in. “And in the end, Minnie, take me.”