Page 1 of Code Name Duchess
Chapter 1
Winnifred Keating sat on a balcony of Drayton Manor and looked out over the garden below. Her novel, a gothic romance by Ann Radcliff, the author she adored above all others, lay beside her. She swiped a strand of her long black hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear while watching Bell, her black and white cat, tend to her four kittens.
She was about to engross herself in the book when a loud bark sounded. A black pug raced out of the house and toward the cats. Winnie jumped up and leaned over the railing.
“Victoria, watch your dog!” She shouted as the dog charged for the cat and her kittens. Bell’s back rounded, and she hissed at the dog, who shrank back but did not retreat. Winnie slammed her fist on the wrought iron railing and spun around. She dashed through the library, down the hall, and jumped down the last two steps of their grand staircase before turning. She was almost out of the back door when she spotted her sister.
“Victoria, wake up.” Her sister sat in the armchair by the fire, a blanket over her small body, and gently snored. Her pale-pink muslin gown peeked out from under the blanket and her shoes, black half-boots, lay piled beneath the chair. Her pug’s pillow was by her feet, but of course, the dog was not there.
Vicky didn’t stir.
Her sister was a very accomplished young lady, gifted in music. She possessed the ability to play four instruments. She also spoke Latin, French, and Greek, while Winnie struggled to learn French. And yet, despite all of her talents, waking up with ease was not among them.
Winnie dismissed her sister and rushed outside. The hissing continued, and she charged out and snatched Pugsley, who yelped in her arms, away from the cat. Bell’s back was rounded, and her tail twitched, signs of her anger. Pugsley, meanwhile, barked incessantly.
“Bad, bad dog. Bad!”
“What are you doing with my dog?” Victoria’s voice sounded, still drunk on sleep. “Put him down.”
“No, I’m not putting him down. He charged at my cats. Control your dog.” She thrust the dog into her sister’s arms, who immediately cuddled and cooed at him as though he were a baby. Winnie rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her animals. Bell and the kittens retreated to the little wooden house their father made years ago when the family first took in stray cats.
Dubious about the idea of having a cat house, Winnie was more than amazed that several of their pregnant cats had used it. Looking at it always reminded her of her father and the many hours he spent putting it together. It always caused her a peculiar mix of sensations, part sorrow at her father’s passing, part joy at seeing a part of him still with them.
“Why was your dog out here?” Winnie glared at her sister, her green eyes narrowed. Victoria blinked as if she’d slapped her but would not meet her eyes. Instead, she pressed the dog against herself with one arm while using the other to fiddle with her auburn-colored hair, which hung loose into her face.
“I do not know, Winnifred. Someone must have let him out. You know I do not let him go outside by himself; it is not safe for him.”
“Nor for Bell and the kittens.”
Victoria’s blue eyes flashed with rage.
“Maybe you should not be taking in stray cats from the road. You are getting a reputation as an old maid with an obsession for cats.”
Winnie gasped. That was a low, heartless comment even for her sister. At six-and-twenty, Winnifred approached the age where society considered one a spinster. She didn’t wish to think about this circumstance. It wasn’t pleasant, and besides, it was not her fault she was without a husband at this age.
“It is not as though I chose to forgo Season after Season all of these years. Someone had to remain at home and—”
“Do not blame me for your decisions, Winnie. It is not right. I had my coming out ball three years ago now, and you could have taken the opportunity to go to balls with me or go to Almack’s, but you never do.”
“That isn’t true. I went to Almack’s just last week,” she fired back.
Winnie did not care much for the London social scene. Her parents’ sudden death in a carriage accident seven years before sent Winnie into a spiral of melancholy. Instead of spending time preparing for her coming-out ball and frolicking with her friends in the local parks or the Royal Menagerie, Winnie dwelled on her sudden status as orphan and surrogate mother to her younger sister, with whom she’d never been close.
Circumstances prevented her from having a coming-out ball until she was almost one-and-twenty, old for such an event. She despised it when her sister reminded her of these circumstances. Winnie had hoped to have a husband by now. Not just any husband… An image appeared before her, and she almost broke into a smile when her sister’s dramatic sigh drew her back to reality.
“One night at Almack’s does not make a future bride, Winnie.”
She tilted her head to one side and blinked.
“It is not as though anyone has made an offer of marriage for you yet, either. It seems all of your accomplishments and visits to balls haven’t yielded any better results.”
Victoria’s nostrils flared at this, and she stepped toward Winnie, who chuckled.
“Will you sic your dog on me, Vicky? Or perhaps you wish to plant a facer on me?”
The sisters glared at one another, and while outwardly Winnie knew she appeared harsh and unkind, inside, she despised these confrontations with her sister. They were so unlike each other in both character and appearance. There never was any common ground to be found, and they inevitably traded insults—that’s when there was any communication at all.
“By Jove, what are the two of you doing?” A deep, raspy voice sounded out from the house. Both girls’ heads turned, and the change in the atmosphere was almost palpable.
