Redemption of the Duke (6 page)

“Have you expressed such sentiments to my daughter?” Lady Warburton demanded.

“I have not, my lady,” Faith quietly said. “I did not think you wished me to converse
about my beliefs.”

“And you thought correctly,” the woman retorted. She turned to her husband. “I believe
Miss Cooper might serve Lady Duncan well.”

“But—” Adelia began, only to be shushed by her mother.

Faith gave her a regretful look. Perhaps the girl really did value her opinion and
assistance. But Faith’s hands were chapped and painful, and she fell into bed exhausted
each night.

“Will you mind if I take Miss Cooper with me right now?” Lady Duncan asked.

“Oh, no, my lady, I couldn’t,” Faith insisted. “Miss Warburton has an outing with
friends at Vauxhall Gardens tonight, and I must help her prepare.”

“You, a lady’s companion, help her to dress?” Lady Duncan said doubtfully, eyeing
Lady Warburton.

“No, no, of course not,” Lady Warburton hurriedly said. “Lady Duncan, if you’d like
Miss Cooper’s companionship this evening, I’m certain it can be arranged.”

“Very good,” Lady Duncan said, rising to her feet. “I’ll send my carriage around for
Miss Cooper and her things this afternoon.”

She limped from the room without waiting for an escort, leaving Faith standing alone
with the Warburtons looking at her. The baron’s expression was disgruntled, as if
only the extra work of hiring a new servant bothered him. But Adelia and her mother
looked both betrayed and suspicious.

With a huff, Adelia turned her back and flounced out of the room.

Lady Warburton said stiffly, “Have you been so unhappy with your employment, Miss
Cooper?”

Without having to lie, Faith said, “Ma’am, I have not been looking for another position.
Lady Duncan’s offer was just as surprising to me as to you. I did not wish to offend
you in any way.”

“I would have said you could have refused the offer, but Lord Warburton does not care
for servants with ideas of equality, so this is for the best. Do go pack your things.”

Faith didn’t bother to bristle at the label “servant.” She was simply happy for so
little drama with her departure. She curtsied again. “Thank you for your kindness,
my lady.”

Not six hours later—and after being ignored by Adelia all day—Faith was in an expensive
carriage alone, being driven to her new home.

She was having second thoughts, only in that she hadn’t even done any research, had
simply accepted Lady Duncan for what she seemed to be. But the Warburtons had obviously
known of her, and she’d attended an exclusive ball. So if things turned out badly,
Faith had only herself to blame.

But the carriage was soon driving through Belgravia, then stopped on the square itself.
Faith eagerly opened the door before the coachman could—and saw Rothford Court looming
up before her. Her mouth sagged open, and she prayed the traffic was so bad that the
coachman couldn’t pull up before the house next door.

And then she realized that the coachman was waiting for the gate to be opened, and
she had to close the door as she was driven within the grounds of the duke’s home.

She felt sick inside at the manipulation. Obviously, Lady Duncan was acting on the
duke’s behalf. Were they related? Faith should have studied her
Debrett’s Peerage
better, but she was always so busy. If he had coerced an old woman to do his bidding,
why, that was simply terrible.

And this was what Faith’s carelessness had wrought: she was out of a perfectly acceptable—if
overworked—position. She felt trapped by the duke, ready for pride’s sake to simply
quit. But of course she had her mother to support, and although she had her initial
letter of reference, she was certain the Warburtons would not give her one for abandoning
them. If she begged for her position back, things would be even worse for her.

Faith reluctantly decided to play the hand she’d been dealt, to see what Lady Duncan
had to say for herself.

Though she did not enter through the servants’ door, the coachman did drive up to
the side entrance rather than the main portico of the mansion—no town house, this,
though it be in the middle of London. Once she was inside, a smiling middle-aged woman
greeted her, wearing a plain black gown with a lace collar, a large ring of keys dangling
from her belt.

“Miss Cooper, I am Mrs. Morton, the housekeeper. Lady Duncan told us to expect you.
Welcome to Rothford Court.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Morton. Would Lady Duncan be available?”

“No, she is out paying calls, but she assures me you will be having dinner together.
I’ll give you a brief tour of the house while the footmen see to your trunk, and then
you can relax in your room until dinner is announced.”

“Would you mind if I ask you one awkward question?”

“Of course. I will do my best to answer.”

“How is Lady Duncan related to the duke? She never quite said. She might simply be
a distant relation, for all I know.”

Mrs. Morton nodded. “A wise question. Lady Duncan is the older sister of the late
duke, and therefore the aunt to the current duke.”

“I see. I never thought to inquire myself,” she added, trying not to blush.

Faith did her best not to gape as she followed the housekeeper through the public
rooms, the drawing rooms, gallery, public and private dining rooms and breakfast room,
and so many others that her head spun from trying to keep the layout straight in her
mind. Everywhere were marble columns and frescos, gilt trim, fan-vaulted ceilings,
and medieval tapestries.

And the library—it rose two stories high, with little secluded window seats and cozy,
deep chairs. The smell of leather was intoxicating, and she inhaled deeply. Mrs. Morton
smiled.

Faith was looking forward to the solitude of her own room until the housekeeper led
her into a room nowhere near the servants’ quarters, with a massive four-poster bed
hung with curtains, gilt furniture, and embroidered curtains on the windows, all styled
in soothing blues and creams.

She didn’t want to appear provincial by asking if this bedroom was really for her,
for obviously Mrs. Morton knew where she wished to put Faith. But she must have looked
a little dazed, for the housekeeper smiled at her.

“You must be a special young woman, because Lady Duncan has never tolerated even the
suggestion of needing a companion.”

Or the duke was a persuasive man, Faith thought with frustration.

“You will find yourself well treated, Miss Cooper, although there is always a . . .
personality or two among the family. As for dinner, I will have someone bring you
down in time to meet the family. You’ll be dining with them.”

Of course she would, Faith thought, trying not to wince.

“Shall I send up a maid to help you unpack?”

“No, thank you for the kindness, Mrs. Morton.”

“Then have a good rest.”

And Faith was soon alone. She walked slowly to the window and stared out at the beautiful
garden within the walls that encircled the mansion. She sat in the window seat and
surveyed everything that was being offered to her.

To appease a guilty man’s conscience.

She tried to tell herself that this was no different from being under Lord Warburton’s
control—it was probably better, for the duke wished to help her.

But she hadn’t heard promising things about his past. What if he hadn’t changed? Could
she count on Lady Duncan to protect her? Everyone in the household was a stranger,
none of whom cared about her.

And none of them knew what scandalous deeds she’d committed in her past. She’d be
unceremoniously banished from the house if they knew.

She closed her eyes. The weight of the secret was sometimes so heavy.

Chapter 6

F
aith had always been careful not to own any flattering gowns—she’d always wanted to
project the air of an aging spinster, so she wore gowns a few years out of date, extra
petticoats to give herself a fuller waist, and all of them could easily be removed
alone. She changed into a fresh gown, and was waiting when a maid came for her.

The maid introduced herself as Ellen, but didn’t meet her eyes. She was a short, pale
girl with limp hair, so blond as to be almost white, pulled back beneath her cap.
Her lashes were pale, her eyes water green—she could have been a ghost, especially
with the white maid’s uniform and apron. She silently led Faith down through the house,
while Faith congratulated herself on remembering the way. She led her toward one of
the smaller drawing rooms, obviously for the family, and Faith found herself tensely
awaiting an introduction—and bracing herself for her first proper meeting with the
duke.

Ellen gestured through the open doors, but did not precede Faith inside. Taking a
deep breath, Faith stepped into the doorway and paused. She had only the briefest
moment to take in the scene, several women standing and sitting as they awaited their
meal, the seated ones chatting, one lounging on a chaise, another standing near the
window. The Duke of Rothford was nowhere in sight, thank God. Faith was worried she’d
be unable to hide her anger.

“Miss Cooper!” cried Lady Duncan, using her cane to rise slowly to her feet. “I am
so glad you arrived without any problems. Come, do come in and allow me to introduce
you to the family.”

Faith thought her anger might arise toward Lady Duncan, but she found it dissipating
in the face of the woman’s cheerful, pleased expression. She was only doing the duke’s
bidding, and he ruled the household.

Lady Duncan turned to the woman leaning back on the chaise longue, who idly lowered
her book to her lap. Faith recognized her as the duke’s mother.

“Damaris,” Lady Duncan said, “please welcome my new companion, Miss Faith Cooper.
Faith, Her Grace, the Duchess of Rothford.”

Faith sank into her best curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

“Likewise,” the duchess answered, then flicked a lazily interested glance at Lady
Duncan. “Your new companion?”

“She will be living with us here, yes. I’ve already discussed it with your son.”

“I never thought you’d admit to needing help, Aunt Theodosia,” said the thin, brittle
woman standing near the window, her elaborate hairstyle seeming to defy physical laws.

“Marian, this is Miss Cooper. Lady Tunbridge is the duke’s sister by marriage.”

“A pleasure, ma’am,” Faith murmured, feeling pity for the woman whose husband had
died.

Lady Tunbridge nodded coldly and went back to looking out the window. The duke’s young
sister was introduced last, and she rose to her feet to give Faith both her hands,
as if they were equals in Society.

“Miss Cooper, I am Lady Sophia. What a pleasure it is to meet you.”

Faith couldn’t help giving the woman a warm smile. “It is the same for me, Lady Sophia.”

“Now you must not feel neglected,” Lady Sophia said in a conspiratorial voice, her
eyes twinkling at Lady Duncan. “My aunt Theodosia is quite proud of her independence.
You might end up reading away your days, waiting for her to need your help.”

Lady Duncan waved a hand, with a “Pshaw,” but she seemed pleased with the observation.

“I’ll gladly keep her company if that’s all she wishes,” Faith insisted, “just in
case she needs something of me.”

“Quite obliging, aren’t you?” Lady Tunbridge said. “But then, you’re being paid for
the position.”

“Marian,” Lady Duncan said coldly. “Not everyone is as fortunate as you are.”

“I, fortunate?” the woman shot back. “I am a widow whose husband died tragically.
Where is my good fortune?”

The duchess frowned and kept reading her book, even as Faith schooled her features
to impassivity.

“I believe you had many fine years with my nephew,” Lady Duncan said sternly, “and
the result is a beautiful daughter. Will she be joining us for dinner?”

“Of course not,” Lady Tunbridge said with exasperation. “She has many years left in
the schoolroom. She ate in the day nursery with her governess. I will see her before
she goes to bed.”

Lady Duncan and Lady Sophia exchanged a glance that seemed to pity the little girl.
But Lady Tunbridge had already turned back to the window and missed the exchange.

And then with no fanfare or introduction, the Duke of Rothford stepped into the drawing
room. Faith didn’t know where to look, so aware was she of their improper, private
conversations, her anger at his highhandedness—and how very masculine he was in a
room full of women. His light brown hair was rumpled, as if he’d run his hands through
it. She couldn’t believe he was nervous upon facing her—no, he’d gotten what he wanted.

And when his blue eyes alighted on her, she kept herself from flinching by sinking
into another deep curtsy.

Lady Tunbridge made a muffled sound very like a snort, then turned away again.

“Adam, we have a new member of our household,” Lady Duncan said. “Shall I introduce
you?”

Faith knew the coincidence would be too great for the duke not to be involved, but
perhaps Lady Duncan did not know they’d already met. Faith took the reins into her
hands so he couldn’t make things worse than he already had. “The duke and I have briefly
met, my lady. He once called upon Miss Warburton. I was her lady’s companion,” she
explained to the others in the room. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“Adam,” Lady Duncan continued, “Miss Cooper is my new companion.”

Rothford gave her a brief nod, his smile pleasant but distracted, as if politeness
were necessary, but nothing else. As if he didn’t really need to notice her. Part
of her was relieved—if he could carry this off, then maybe she wouldn’t have to leave
with no position to go to—but part of her was offended.

And why was she offended? She certainly didn’t want the duke to treat her as anything
other than his aunt’s companion, a woman who meant nothing to him. She’d never wanted
to be the symbol of his guilt he’d made her out to be.

Or did she want him to notice her because he was an attractive man? And that was ridiculous.
She’d seen many attractive men, and she was beyond their notice, a creature from the
wallflower row along the ballroom. And he was a duke, for heaven’s sake, the highest
aristocracy next to royalty. Now that his conscience felt appeased, he would stop
noticing her, too. He already had.

Dinner was announced before another word could be said—the butler had obviously been
awaiting the duke—and the family entered the private dining room in no formal order.
Lady Duncan took Faith’s arm and brought her near the far end of the table, and gestured
for her to sit beside her. The duke sat at the head, of course, his mother on his
right, his sister on his left. Lady Sophia sat on the other side of Lady Duncan, and
across from her, Lady Tunbridge.

Course after course was served, and Faith listened to the flow of conversation, even
as the exquisite taste of each dish seemed to cause a little burst of awareness in
her mouth. The food was far superior to the Warburtons’. There had never been an extravagance
of money when she was growing up, so as an adult out in the world, she’d first noticed
the differences in the variety of foods. She had to go on long walks to keep her figure.

And she was still obsessed by the food, the crimped cod and oyster sauce, grilled
mushrooms and partridge breasts at the duke’s table.

“Miss Cooper?”

She suddenly realized that the duke himself had spoken her name, and she looked up
from her plate, wide-eyed. “Yes, Your Grace?”

He must have called her name more than once, for Lady Duncan gave her a friendly,
amused smile to counter Lady Tunbridge’s disdain.

And then she was the focus of the duke’s blue eyes, which revealed nothing but polite
interest, when recently they’d smiled into her own with wicked deliberation.

“Miss Cooper, since you were working as a companion for another family you must have
made quite the impression for Aunt Theodosia to be so bold—because she’s never bold,”
he added, smiling at his aunt.

Faith felt awkward, guessing he’d put her up to it. And she certainly hadn’t made
the right kind of impression on him!

Lady Sophia tried to reassure her. “Aunt Theodosia is the boldest woman I know. She’s
been to Egypt—twice! Nothing can stop her once she sets her mind on something.”

“Miss Cooper and I had a lovely discussion about the place of women in Society,” Lady
Duncan said, a napkin tucked into her neckline. “I immediately knew we would relate
well to one another.”

“Are you still fixated on this women’s-rights issue?” Lady Tunbridge asked, frowning.

“Do you not care that we cannot control our own property?” Lady Duncan demanded. “That
we cannot vote for our country’s future, that a man can beat his wife and be within
the law, but beat his friend and be arrested?”

“It has always been like that,” Lady Tunbridge said, pointing with her spoon, “and
yet we women find a way to get what we want.”

“Not the vote,” Lady Duncan said. “Not the property that was mine. When I married,
my husband was granted all of my property—not my dower property, of course,” she said
in an aside to Faith. “And then he died without issue, and all of the land that was
mine went to his heir. Yes, he could have provisioned better for me, but we never
thought he would die so young.”

“He had sixty years,” said the duchess for the first time. “I don’t believe he was
all that young.”

Lady Duncan sighed, her wrinkled face relaxing into a reminiscing smile. “He seemed
young to me.”

“He only seemed foolish to the rest of us.”

Faith could have sworn Lady Tunbridge mumbled those words, but Lady Duncan only cupped
an ear and said, “Eh, what?”

Lady Tunbridge blinked at her. “Nothing.”

The duchess’s stare at her stepson’s late wife was confused, but it cleared as she
turned back to Lady Duncan. “You had us to help you, Theodosia.”

“And I was one of the lucky ones,” Lady Duncan insisted, then beamed a smile at her
nephew. “And you’ve all been good to me. But not every woman is so lucky. And that
is just criminal.”

“But not a crime,” Lady Sophia said on a sigh.

“It should be, do you not agree, Miss Cooper?” Lady Duncan asked.

Faith glanced at the duke, uncertain of her place here. He’d wanted to hire her to
soothe his guilt, but she was still closer to a servant in this grand household. How
freely could she speak?

But then again, it wasn’t her choice to be here after all—the duke had taken away
her choices, because as a man and a peer, he could.

Clearing her throat, she spoke calmly. “I do believe women should have the same rights
as men. Of course, some men treat their wives well, but too many do not.”

“Here, here,” said Lady Duncan, lifting her wineglass as if in a toast. She took a
deep sip. “Ah, that goes down well.”

Faith smiled at her, then looked around the table. The duchess looked bored, Sophia
approving, Lady Tunbridge disdainful, and the duke—she wasn’t sure what she was supposed
to read from his expression. She might well be a very interesting insect, so far beneath
him was she in Society.

But she had to admit that thought did not do justice to the man who thought he was
helping her.

Who thought he knew best, she reminded herself.

He’d thought that once before, and men had died. Had he not learned his lesson?

“Where are you from, Miss Cooper?” Lady Sophia asked, leaning forward to see Faith
on the other side of her aunt.

“The far north, my lady, a small village near the Scottish border.”

“You came very far for the opportunity of a position,” she responded.

“I was hired by the Warburtons in Durham, and came south with them for the Season.”

“So you are relatively new to our fair Town,” Lady Sophia said with obvious delight.
“Are you enjoying it?”

“It has pleasant entertainments, of course, but it is so very crowded.”

“And let’s not forget dirty,” Lady Tunbridge added.

“You could remain in the country, Marian,” the duke pointed out.

“Even the dirt is better than such a solitary life year round,” the woman conceded.

“Do you prefer the country, Miss Cooper?” Lady Duncan asked.

Faith smiled. “It’s what I’ve known the most of. Please do not take offense, Lady
Tunbridge, but I do enjoy the peacefulness, the scents of the garden, my hands in
the dirt—”

“Don’t forget the farm odors,” Lady Tunbridge interrupted.

“I don’t even mind those.”

“Wait until you see Rothford’s country seat this autumn,” Lady Duncan said, patting
her arm. “It is so restful and lovely, you will never want to leave.”

Lady Duncan was making plans for months ahead, when Faith still didn’t know if she
could work for a man who’d manipulated her. But it would be Lady Duncan she’d be spending
time with, she reminded herself, not the duke.