Page 10 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

“To do what?”

“Give you lessons in decorum.”

She dropped her fork and turned to him with a curious expression on her face. “And why would I need lessons in decorum?” she asked coolly.

Richard was surprised she had not told him off yet and wondered if her question needed a serious answer or if she was just biding her time.

“Because… well…” He waved a hand, indicating her overall manner.

“You’ve never had a problem with me having breakfast in my nightgown,” she pointed out.

Good point.

“And I should have long ago.”

“Is this about the ball last night?” she asked incredulously. “You’ve barely said a word to me since we got back. Did someone say something?”

“It’s more than that. I’ve been thinking about it for a while…”

“But you never bothered to discuss it with me or seek my consent. You stood back and judged me and took matters into your own hands,” she accused. “How then are you better than the ton?”

“Emmy.” He tried for a soothing tone. “Please understand that I only want what’s best for you.”

“And you’re the best judge of that?” she snapped. “And Catherine? Did she think me a harridan too?”

“You’ve just debuted, and you only danced once at your first ball of the Season,” he pointed out. “You need to secure marriageprospects now. And no, Catherine didn’t think you a harridan. She was quite against it.”

“If my only options are judgemental men who couldn’t look beyond a few faux pas, then I’d rather die single.” She pouted.

“Emmy!” His tone was harsh, but he needed her to see reason. “I only want you to be happy and well-settled with a man of good standing who will love you. But if you lack the necessary social skills, he might not even interact with you to know your brilliant mind. You know I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I didn’t love you.”

Emmy sighed long and low, her face pinched. Richard had no doubt she felt insulted, but she was smarter than to turn down the help she desperately needed. Plus, he’d wanted to spare her the embarrassment of hiring one of those etiquette tutors he knew wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about tutoring a duke’s sister.

“Alright,” she agreed reluctantly. “I could use some help.”

He resisted the urge to whoop in triumph and nodded. “You’ll have to get dressed quickly then. I told her?—”

“Your Grace, Lady Emmeline,” the butler suddenly spoke from the doorway. “You have a letter, My Lady.”

“Oh.” Emmy bolted from her chair excitedly, snatching the letter from his hand and skipping away. “See you later, Brother.”

Richard sighed, shaking his head and taking a long sip of his morning brew. He sincerely hoped Catherine would be able to handle this Herculean task he’d given her.

As the carriage rolled up the cobblestoned path to the Terrels’ townhouse, a feeling of nostalgia hit Catherine, as it had been a while since she’d visited.

The same slightly overgrown shrubs lined the small path to the house, dotted with pretty pink roses that had seen better days. The house had aged in the last two years, and it was no surprise, considering the Terrels’ absence from town first due to their father’s illness and then his death in the following year.

She knew they were still well off, or else word of their ruin would have already gotten out, so she wondered why they had not bothered to refurbish their home.

Pushing the thought aside, she accepted the help of the footman as she alighted from the carriage and climbed the short steps to the house.

Once inside, she was led into the drawing room as her hosts were summoned. She sat straight, her hands folded primly in her lap, wondering what made her agree to this arrangement in the first place.

She was hardly that well-behaved, or she’d never have agreed to such an… uncouth arrangement in the first place. And it should have been seen as an insult, as she was yet to be declared a spinster, so it was unfair to ask her to play governess. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Sure, she had sufficiently good manners and had not had a bad Season, but she’d failed to catch a husband, which was the ultimate goal of any unmarried young lady.

A voice at the back of her head whispered an answer that she immediately shut down as her host stepped into the room.

---