Duchess by Mistake (5 page)

He knew nothing about women’s fashions, but he thought her muslin morning dress would be considered fashionable. It would do little to keep her warm in a chill. Its sleeves terminated well above her elbows, and its neck scooped just low enough to display the slight swell of her delectable breasts. Her bearing was as graceful as a swan’s, her figure completely without flaw.

Standing, he moved to her and bowed. “I am bereft of words to describe your loveliness today, Lady Elizabeth.”

She held out her hand, and he brought it to his lips for a mock kiss. “Your grace is too kind.”

“I am many things, but too kind has never been used to describe me.”

“I beg to differ. With all you must deal with after a five-year absence, I am shocked you remembered my little scheme.”

“Your scheme is not insignificant. It's one of the most important things I’ve been considering.” He crooked his arm, offering it to her. “Shall we carry on to Trent Square?”

She tucked her arm within his, and they moved to the entry corridor. “I’ll fetch my pelisse and bonnet.”

A moment later—after she donned her blue pelisse—she and he were climbing into his awaiting carriage. “It’s good that you put on the pelisse. It doesn’t feel like spring at all today.”

She settled on the seat across from him. “It was a bitterly cold winter, and I fear it’s being followed by an unseasonably cool spring. I wonder if that means we will miss summer altogether.”

“It’s happened before.”

They both peered at the gray skies and the congested streets filled with carts of potatoes, loads of hay, and hackneys hurriedly weaving in and out of the other conveyances. Because of all the vehicles clogging the streets, it took them almost an hour to reach Trent Square. A bird could have been there in less than ten minutes. As much as he liked walking, he was enough of a gentleman not to expect his companion to slog along in this mist. Ladies objected to exposing their hair to such treatment.

When the coach pulled to a stop in front of Number 7 Trent Square, he gave the place a long look. He wasn’t sure he had ever before seen the narrow, five-story terrace house. It was constructed of a red brick that had been popular a century earlier.

Once the coachman let down the step and Elizabeth and Aldridge alighted from the conveyance, Aldridge peered around the square. His was the only vehicle in sight. Which was to be expected in this non-aristocratic neighborhood. Keeping horses and carriages was beyond the means of most of those in the middle classes.

At first he and she just stood on the pavement looking up at the house, assessing its condition. “I daresay it could use fresh paint,” he finally said. The white paint framing the casements was flaking in spots.

“I think it has a very solid look.” She began to move toward the three steps that led to the front door. “How does it look on the inside?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never before seen the house.”

She stopped and looked up at him. The tip of her head came just past his shoulder. How could this lovely,
petite
creature be the sister of tall, homely, sensible Lydia? “Do not tell me this is the first time you’ve ever looked at the house!”

He shrugged again. “Then I won’t tell you.”

“It is almost incomprehensible to me that one has so much property one doesn’t have time to examine every last acre.”

“You forget I’ve been away. And I succeeded just a year before I left the country. I have an excellent steward as well as solicitor, both of whom look after my interests exceptionally well.”

She paused after the first step. “Someone’s in there!”

“Oh, yes. I neglected to tell you that I sent my housekeeper over yesterday. She’s assembled a corps of maids to give the place a proper cleaning.”

Elizabeth tried the door, and it opened freely. They walked into a small, rather dark entry hall. Its only feature was a narrow wooden staircase. “Apparently, I own all the contents, but I daresay that’s not much. Not even a proper table in the entry corridor.”

He was not used to stairways without family portraits painted by the great masters. To the left of the staircase, he stepped into the morning room. A parlor maid stopped dusting the wall sconces and curtseyed when she saw him.

"Do carry on," he said, smiling at the youthful maid.

“The light is good here,” Elizabeth said. “Would this not be a lovely place for the children’s schoolroom?”

“I see nothing lovely about it,” he mumbled.

She was hurrying into an adjoining room, then moving back into the entry hall, where he met her.

“Shall we take a look at the basement?” he asked.

They descended a still-darker stairway into the dreary, damp basement where the kitchen was located. She led the way as if this were her own house. To their left was a dark cell. “A wine cellar?” she asked.

“It appears the previous occupants were not Quakers.”

“Do you know anything about the home’s original owners?”

“As a matter of fact, I had my solicitor look into the home’s history. It was built by one Jonas White for his family which included fourteen offspring.”

“Then it will be just what we need for our widows!”

He lifted a single brow. “
Our
widows?”

“Yes, ours. By so generously offering your property, you’ve become a major supporter of
our
war widows.”

“You give me more credit than is my due. I am merely being accommodating in order to woo the mother of the next Duke of Aldridge.” Why in the devil had he uttered such words?

Her eyes widened, and a most becoming blush stole into her cheeks. She spun away from him and continued along the corridor, poking her head into each small, dark room they passed. Choosing to ignore his words, she asked, “How can we re-purpose the wine cellar?”

“Perhaps it can be an auxiliary larder.”

She looked up at him in dismay. “I am surprised a duke knows about larders. I shouldn’t have thought you’d have any occasion to descend into the servant’s domain.”

“But you see, as a lad, I was possessed of an insatiable craving for plum pudding and sweetmeats.”

Her pale blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “Therefore, you had to sneak down to the kitchens for extra portions?”

“Indeed. Miss Bull Face would most certainly have objected.”

“Miss Bull Face?”

He nodded gravely. “The governess who taught me my letters before I went off to Eton. Her actual name was Bullfinch, but I assure you our moniker suited her far better.”

She laughed. “I perceive you’ve always been naughty.”

He moved toward her, and she inched back, away from him, until her shoulders butted into the wall. A sliver of light highlighted her face almost as if she were a celestial being. He came even closer, and his voice grew husky. “Being naughty is much more fun than being nice, Elizabeth.”

Then his face lowered, his breath became labored, and his lips settled on hers as his arms entrapped her.

When she realized he was going to kiss her, she was terrified. Her heart pounded. Fear spiked through her like a rapier’s point. She wanted to get away from this dark man whose mouth was crushing hers. Indeed, she tried to push him away, but her paltry strength was nothing against his.

As the kiss deepened, her entire being was cast into a sensory whirlwind. She felt as if she were spinning faster than Scottish gales. How could a kiss affect one so profoundly? Oddly stirred by his light sandalwood scent, she experienced a comforting feeling of security from the way his large body cocooned her own.

The kiss went from passionate to incredibly tender, the touch of his lips as soft as down. Like his gossamer touch, her eyelids drifted downward, and she stopped trying to push him away.

In the span of a few seconds, she came to understand how so intimate an act could blend two such diverse beings.

Then she realized how scandalous her behavior was. It was bad enough that she'd come alone with him to an unoccupied house, but now she was behaving like a strumpet.

She jerked away and spoke with rebuke. "You mean to completely ruin me!"

His lids heavy, he shook his head and spoke in a husky voice. "No, Elizabeth, I want you for my wife."

Why did he persist with such a ridiculous notion? She stalked away, and this time he didn't  try to stop her. She began to climb the stairs. Seconds later, she heard the click of his boot heels behind her.

Her hand on the banister trembled, but she schooled herself to act calm. "I wonder how many bedchambers there are." Her cheeks stung. The mention of bedchambers so soon after their intimacy embarrassed her.

"Something tells me we're going to find that out."

She watched him through narrowed eyes. "Don't expect me to be stupid enough to enter a bedchamber with you." He was entirely too virile.

His only response was a quirked brow and half smile.

She went straight to the second story where she strolled casually through a drawing room, dinner room, and small library. "Perhaps the library would make a better school room," she said.

He came into the chamber. "And may I ask who's going to instruct the children?"

"The mothers--most of whom are officers' wives--can take turns. One can teach French, another reading, another can work with sums."

His dark eyes flashed. "I can see you've given this a lot of thought."

Afraid he would try to steal another kiss, she merely nodded as she swept from the room and began to mount the wooden stairs to the next level, which was the first to feature bedchambers.

The first bedchamber they came to was furnished with two narrow beds that appeared to have been made up with fresh linens. "Oh, this will be perfect for Mrs. Hudson and her little girl!" She spun around to face him, unable to suppress her gleeful expression. "Oh, your grace, do you think she can come live here straight away?"

"Before the house is in order?"

She nodded. "You see, she had nowhere to sleep, so I used the last of my pin money to procure temporary lodgings for her, but my money has run out. I won't have another farthing until the next quarter."

His gaze softened. "That was very generous of you to use your last farthing to help the unfortunate woman."

She shrugged. "It brought me a great deal more happiness than purchasing a hat for myself."

"Well, Lady Do Gooder, have you considered how much you could assist these poor creatures if you had my fortune at your disposal?"

At least he wasn't trying to smash her against another wall to force kisses on her! "I declare, your grace, I believe you're trying to bribe me."

His dark eyes smoldered as he peered into hers. "Bribe. Purchase. Whatever it takes. I mean to have you, Elizabeth."

There he went--using that low, provocative voice--and causing wild fluctuations in her pulse. "You know I am not in love with you?"

"As I said, I always get what I want. You'll fall in love with me. After we're wed."

"You are positively insufferable!" She scurried from the chamber before he had the opportunity to corner her.

"To belatedly answer your question," he said, "I have no objection to allowing this Mrs. Hudson of yours to move in straight away."

She could have flung her grateful self into his arms. "Thank you, your grace."

For the rest of the tour, she would only enter rooms where chamber maids were cleaning. She hoped the duke was gentlemanly enough to avoid putting on a scandalous display in front of the servants.

After she had seen every room--some of them only from the doorway--her sparkling eyes looked up into his face. "This house is perfect! You are ever so kind to lend it for this purpose."

"It's not as if it's
my
house; it's merely a lease property that happens to have been inherited by me."

"Still, it's a wonderful thing you're doing."

A solemn expression on his face, he offered an arm. "Allow me to escort you to the coach."

She tucked her arm into the proffered crook of his. "Pray, your grace, could I impose on you to take me to Mrs. Hudson's so I can give her the good news?"

"Certainly." When they came to the first floor, he asked, "How is it the plight of Mrs. Hudson came to your attention?"

"My brother, James, served with her husband, and when the man died, James wrote and asked me to look in on her. He had great admiration for her husband."

"How many widows have you?"

"Personally, I have had communication with seven. They're all desperate. My brother has a contact at the War Office who can put me in touch with others."

"I think there will be room enough for thirteen families," he said, "--provided none of them have the progeny of Mr. Jonas White."

She giggled as they returned to his carriage.

"Where do we find your Mrs. Hudson?" he asked.

"Actually, not too far from here. In the Covent Garden area."

"Then, if she's respectable, we need to get her out of there."

"It was all I could afford."

"I don't like your being there at all." Hunched over, he moved to sit beside her, taking her hand into his. Her heartbeat quickened.

"We shall have to see that your pin money is replaced."

She stiffened. "I have no intentions of accepting any money from you."

"As a maiden, you are right to refuse pecuniary imbursement from any man." Then, drawing her into his arms, he spoke in that husky voice that frightened her with its intimacy. "But as my wife, Elizabeth, you'll have a very generous settlement."

Drawing in her breath, she placed both hands upon his chest and pushed away. "I shall tell my brother what a beast you're being."

He began to laugh. "I shall tell him myself."

* * *

Once he and Lady Elizabeth shared his carriage with girlish Mrs. Hudson and her three-year-old daughter, Aldridge felt inordinately satisfied with himself and the manner in which he was spending his day. Mrs. Hudson was the same age as Elizabeth.  So young to be widowed, so young to be a mother. There was an incredible sweetness about her fair appearance and her simple muslin dress that showed signs of having been patched. There was also melancholy. Her eyes sparkled only when she peered at her little Louisa. He saw that the woman still wore a simple gold wedding band. Offering his property for her and others like her made him feel uncommonly good.