What to Do with a Duke (17 page)

“His Grace is merely polite.”

Mama kept looking at her.

“And I think you're interested in the duke, Cat.”

She didn't have
that
much control. She glanced over at the boys playing with their soldiers.

Unfortunately the boys weren't as involved in their game as she'd thought.

“Dook likes you, Cat,” Mikey said.

Tom nodded. “And we like him. He's much better than Mr. Barker.”

She felt trapped.

Ridiculous! She couldn't be trapped by two four-year-olds and her mother.

“I am not marrying the duke or Mr. Barker. I'm not marrying anyone.”

She felt Mama touch her hand.

“What of the duke's friends, Cat? Can you like one of them?”

Horror exploded in her gut. Marry one of Marcus's friends? Good God! “No.”

“But you need a husband, dear,” Mama said softly.

“No, I don't.”

Mama pressed her lips together and forced herself to change tactics.

“Very well, but have you looked ahead to what life holds for an unmarried woman? Have you given any thought to where you'll live, for example?”

If Mama wasn't going to mention the obvious answer, she wasn't either.

Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed the bitter taste of panic. The Spinster House tenancy was for life.

Or until marriage.

Hmm.

She wasn't ready to commit murder, but she was willing to try her hand at matchmaking, if necessary. Mama had mentioned Marcus's friends. They were attending Mary's wedding—Marcus had sent word that Lord Haywood had consented to play the pianoforte. True, she hadn't actually met either of them, but from a distance they appeared pleasant enough. Perhaps one of them would be a suitable husband for Anne or Jane.

Though hopefully
she
would win the house.

Annoyance crept into Mama's voice, even as worry creased her brow. “You'll always have a place with us, of course, but we won't live forever. I can't imagine you'd be comfortable with Tory or Ruth or Mary. Or with Henry or Walter or Pru or Sybbie. They'll all grow up and wed, you know.”

Cat nodded. If she couldn't mention the Spinster House, she had nothing to say.

“A husband does more than provide a roof over your head, Cat. He's a companion.” Mama leaned closer, blushing a little. “A lover.”

“Er, yes. I know.” Mama wasn't going to pursue
that
discussion, was she?

She was.

“I realize you haven't known a man's touch yet—”

The memory of Marcus's mouth on hers suddenly made her lips—and other parts—tingle. She felt herself flush.

Mama's eyebrows shot up. “Have you kissed Mr. Barker, then?”

“Of course not! You know I can't abide the man.”

“That is what I thought, but it wouldn't be unusual if you'd been curious—”

“I would not be curious with Mr. Barker.”

Mama's eyes narrowed. “Then with whom?” A brow arched up. “The duke?”

“Mama!” It hadn't been curiosity in the bushes. She'd only meant to have a moment of privacy with the duke to argue her case for the Spinster House. She'd never dreamed that anything of an amorous nature would occur.

Mama still looked suspicious, but, blessedly, chose not to argue the matter. “Then if you haven't kissed anyone, dear, you have no idea what you are missing.” She cleared her throat and glanced over at the boys—they were still playing, but the battle was suspiciously quiet. She leaned close again and dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Normally I'd wait until the night before your wedding to tell you how it is between men and women but—”

Cat bounded to her feet. “I'm so sorry, Mama, but I have to be going.” She glanced at her watch. Yes, indeed. She should have left several minutes ago. She was almost late.

Mama caught her hand and stood, too, being careful to face away from Thomas and Michael. “Married love is nothing to be afraid of, Cat. A man's love is wonderful.” She chuckled. “I wouldn't have ten children if it weren't.”

Cat's stomach twisted. She knew Mama and Papa must have done whatever it was that produced children, but she didn't want to think about it.

She'd seen dogs and other animals copulate. It looked embarrassing—disgusting really—and most uncomfortable for the female. It was not something she ever wished to do.

But after kissing Marcus—

She would
not
think about kissing the duke, especially with Mama watching her. Mama's eyes were far too sharp.

“I'm sure you are right, Mama. And now I'm afraid you really must excuse me. I, er . . . I have to meet Jane and Anne.” That was true. “And I'm almost late.” She tugged on her hand, but Mama squeezed it instead of letting go.

“I don't want you to go through life alone, Cat. I know I've thrown Mr. Barker at your head—well, and other men before him—but I only want your happiness. Life without a husband and children would be unbearably lonely.”

An ache bloomed in Cat's chest, and she squeezed her mother's hand back. “How can I be lonely with nine brothers and sisters and countless nieces and nephews, Mama?”

“Your brothers' and sisters' lives will be centered on their own families. What will you have?”

What
would
she have?

What she'd always wanted. “My writing.”

Mama's brows snapped down. “Pish! Your writing won't keep you warm in bed at night.”

No, it wouldn't.
Was
Mama right?

Drat it, this was all the duke's fault. What had he been thinking to kiss her?

“I wish to be an author, Mama. I always have.”

Mama's patience was at an end. She dropped Cat's hand to throw her own into the air in disgust. “Author! You'll be the old spinster aunt, that's what you'll be, sitting in the corner while life passes you by.”

“Cat can come live wif me, Mama, if dook doesn't marry her,” Mikey said, coming over to wrap his arms around Cat's legs.

“Or you can live with me, Cat,” Tom said, tugging on one of her hands, “and write your books.”

Mama smiled. “That's very sweet of you, boys.”

“Yes.” Cat swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat and hugged her little brothers. “Thank you, both.” If she didn't leave now, she'd start crying—
and
she might miss the lottery. “And now I
really
must go.”

She rushed down the stairs and out of the vicarage. They wouldn't start without her, would they? She walked faster. Thank heavens the Spinster House was so close. She dashed across the street—and almost tripped over Poppy.

“Oh! I'm sorry, Poppy. I didn't see you.” She bent to give the cat a quick pat.

Poppy glared at her for a moment and then apparently forgave her, rubbing herself against her ankles before running off toward the back gardens. At least if she was lucky enough to win the Spinster House tenancy, she wouldn't have a disgruntled housemate.

She hurried up the walk. Incipient panic made her rap on the door rather more forcefully than necessary, but if they'd held the drawing without her . . .

Randolph opened the door. “No need to knock the house down, Cat.” He looked behind her as she came in. “You haven't seen His Grace, have you?”

“No. Isn't he here yet?”

A stupid question. Randolph wouldn't have asked if the duke had already arrived. Cat stepped farther into the sitting room—and into the narrowed gazes of Jane and Anne.

“We thought he was with you,” Jane said. “You and he seem to be such good friends.”

“What do you mean by that?” The sitting room felt much larger than it had when she'd been here with the duke. She sat gingerly on the edge of the red settee, as far as possible from Anne at the other end. Jane had taken the armchair.

“I saw you dart into the bushes with him yesterday,” Anne said.

Cat's stomach dropped. She wouldn't admit anything. “How could you have? The vicarage is nowhere near Davenport Hall.”

“I wasn't at home. I was here, looking around, planning what I would do with the garden once I move in.”

Jane snorted. “A waste of your time, since I'll be the one living here.” She smiled. “I'll invite you both to visit, however.”

The panic she'd felt at the door thudded in Cat's chest again. “We all have an equal chance.”

“Unless the duke manipulates things to give
you
the advantage. He probably wants you to win so he can sneak in and out to visit.”

That had been Randolph's voice. Cat had been too shocked by Jane's venom to do more than gasp. Jane had never been like this before.

Jane flushed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It was a horrible thing to say. I just want to live here so badly.”

“That is no excuse to forget your manners and even common decency,” Randolph said.

Did the man truly wish for Jane to strangle him?

“You are not my father, Randolph. I don't need you to tell me how to behave.”

“You apparently need someone. I've never seen you act like such a shrew.”

Jane glared at Randolph, her jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might shatter.

“Jane has a point,” Anne suddenly said into the tense silence. “It will look very odd if you win, Cat.”

Good God, what was this? “Why? I have as much right to live here as you or Jane.” More right, since Isabelle was her ancestor, but that didn't seem like a good thing to say at the moment.

“The duke compromised you when he took you into the bushes,” Anne said. “You are more a fallen woman than a spinster.”

“I am not.” How could Anne say such a thing? “And the duke didn't take me into the bushes. I took him.”

Anne, Jane, and Randolph gasped in unison.

Drat! She'd not intended to admit that. “Only to have some privacy to discuss the Spinster House.”

Jane sniffed. “That must have been an interesting ‘discussion'.”

Dear God, don't let her blush.

Anne tittered and then her brows rose. “Indeed. And nothing else happened?”

“Of course not.”

God didn't like liars. Cat felt heat sweep up her neck to cover her face.

Jane and Anne exchanged an unpleasant, knowing look, and then turned their eyes toward her. She felt like a bug pinned to a board.

“Everyone knows your sisters have used those bushes as a trysting place for years,” Anne said. “No one will be surprised to learn that you used them, too.”

Cat suddenly had trouble drawing an adequate breath. Spots danced briefly before her eyes. What would Papa say? And Mama? She'd be disgraced—

No. She must not panic. Nothing had happened.

Well, nothing much.

“Our conversation was perfectly innocent.” It was what had happened after the conversation that had strayed toward the scandalous. “And, in any event, no one but you saw us, Anne. Surely you will not spread unpleasant rumors about me.”

“I wasn't the only one to see you. Lord Haywood observed the scene as well.” For some reason Anne's color was suddenly very high. She dropped her gaze to her hands.

“But he's the duke's cousin. He won't say anything.”

Anne smoothed her skirt. “And someone else might have seen you. The Boltwood sisters were out walking.” She shrugged, still not meeting Cat's eyes. “It's a small village. You know how quickly gossip travels.”

Desperation—and then anger—twisted in Cat's chest. She gripped her hands tightly together, forcing herself to take a slow, deep breath. She would not lose her temper. She would—

“Good morning, Wilkinson, ladies.”

The voice wrapped around her heart and sent her pulse racing. She turned to see the duke standing just inside the doorway.

The room suddenly got smaller, as small as when she'd been here with him before, and she felt warm and breathless as she got to her feet.

“Sorry I'm late. I ran into a small problem.” The duke looked at Randolph. “Shall we get this over with?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I have the lots in the kitchen. If you will—”

“Just a moment, Randolph,” Jane said. “How are you going to ensure His Grace doesn't favor Cat?”

The duke's expression froze. “Are you calling my honor into question, Miss Wilkinson?”

Cat shivered. The temperature had dropped several degrees.

“Jane!”
Randolph could not have sounded more appalled. “What are you thinking?”

Jane, hands on hips, faced her brother. “I'm thinking I want to be completely certain I've got a fair chance to win the Spinster House.” She turned to regard the duke. “I'm sure you're the epitome of honor, Your Grace, but this might be my only opportunity to escape my brother's home.”

“Good
God
, Jane, you make me sound like a bloo—like a blasted jailer.”

“I often feel like I'm incarcerated, Randolph.”

Randolph's face grew very red, and a vein in his forehead began to pulse.

“I have to agree with Jane,” Anne said. “I, too, want to be certain everything is aboveboard.”