Page 58 of Fit for a Duke
Clio woke early and thought at first that she must have dreamt the interlude with the duke the night before. It was too unreal to have any possible basis in fact. A half-dressed duke visiting a single female’s bedchamber? She shook her head. He would have to have a death wish, she thought, laughing at the power of her imagination. But as alertness gradually pushed aside the fog of sleep from her brain she remembered every word, every look, every nuance with enough clarity to convince herself that the incident had actually happened.
‘Quite extraordinary,’ she muttered, shaking her head, wondering how she was supposed to feel about it in the cold light of day. Daisy appeared before she had time to decide.
‘You’re awake early, miss.’ Daisy moved to the windows and pulled back the curtains. ‘Excited about today’s excursion, I dare say. There’s dark skies but the luncheon is to go ahead, so Mr Godfrey tells me.’
‘Well, I am sure that Mr Godfrey has got it right and the rain will have the good manners to hold off.’
‘It’s that busy below stairs, which is why I grabbed some hot water and came up right away, knowing that you’re an early riser as a general rule. Would you like breakfast immediately?’
‘I would, Daisy. You run and fetch it. I am perfectly capable of washing without your help.’
Clio wandered towards the ewer, into which Daisy had decanted the precious hot water that appeared to be in such short supply, and washed her hands and face. Standing at the window as she dried herself off, she glanced down and noticed Ezra striding back towards the house with Merlin at his heels. He looked so authoritative from her vantage point, so tall and sophisticated, yet so unapproachable. So far above her in the general order of things that he was completely beyond her reach. Certainly not the type of man to visit a female’s bedroom without seduction on his mind.
And yet he had behaved impeccably. Well almost, Clio conceded, recalling that kiss. Presumably he found her charms relatively easy to resist and really had only wanted to discuss Salford, against whom he bore a massive grudge.
With such sobering thoughts percolating through her mind, Clio did justice to her breakfast when Daisy returned with a tray. She listened with half an ear as her maid pottered about the room, preparing Clio’s clothing for the day and chattering about the situation below stairs.
‘Everyone is talking about the duke dancing with you, miss. Only Mr Godfrey and me didn’t think there was anything odd about his choice.’
‘That’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, Daisy,’ Clio said smiling, despite privately despairing because she had become the subject of such avid gossip, ‘but I thank you for it nonetheless.’ Clio suppressed a sigh, thinking it inevitable that the speculation would be just as rife below stairs as it would be in her aunt’s drawing room.
‘Her ladyship’s butler doesn’t allow anyone to gossip about their betters, but of course it happens anyway.’ She giggled. ‘One of the footmen is running a book, taking wagers on who will be the duke’s choice of a bride.’
‘That’s vulgar, but I suppose servants enjoy a wager just as much as their masters,’ Clio replied sighing. ‘But I would advise against placing your hard-earned money on me, Daisy. The duke feels safe with me since he senses that I am not on the prowl for a husband. He had to dance at least one dance or appear impolite, so…’ Clio spread her hands and allowed her words to trail off.
‘That’s not what Mr Godfrey says,’ Daisy replied, clearly not convinced.
Clio wanted to pretend disinterest but couldn’t prevent her head from swinging sharply around so that she could observe her maid. ‘Whatever do you mean by that?’ she asked, trying for a tone of casual indifference.
‘He’s been in the duke’s service since long before he became the duke. He says that the ladies flocked to him in droves even when he was just Lord Ezra. Now the drove has turned into a stampede, and for that reason he’s careful never to single anyone out.’
‘I think your Mr Godfrey is reading too much into a single dance,’ Clio said briskly, pushing aside her empty tray and draining the last of her coffee.
She dismissed Daisy as soon as she was dressed, tired of fending off questions that she couldn’t answer truthfully, even if she had known for certain what the truth actually was. In the cold light of day, there didn’t appear to be any justifiable reason for Ezra’s visit to her chamber, and he had taken an almighty risk in making it. But for what purpose?
‘I wish he wouldn’t be so ambiguous,’ she said on a note of ill-usage.
Dressed in a pretty walking gown of yellow sprigged muslin, Clio tried to decide what to do with herself. It was still relatively early, but she suspected that the ladies would be rousing themselves in preparation for the day’s excursion and had no particular desire to be caught up with any of them, knowing full well that they would all ask her intrusive questions about her friendship with the duke. She smiled as she considered referring them to him for their answers. That would teach him to be so irresponsible!
A strong breeze was blowing, she could see when she glanced out at tree branches being bent back on themselves. But the rain was holding off, so she would take a stroll outside. Without bothering with a bonnet, Clio left the house and wandered towards the orchard, idly wondering if the stable yard cat had had her kittens yet. She couldn’t go and investigate. There was far too much activity as the horses were being prepared for the day’s outing, and she would be in the way.
She turned in another direction. Preoccupied and not looking where she was going, she almost collided with another person. A lady. She looked up to apologise but the words froze on her lips when she realised it was the dowager duchess.
‘Miss Benton. I saw you from my chamber window.’
‘Your grace.’ Clio bobbed a curtsey. ‘You are an early riser too?’
‘Walk with me. I would like to talk to you.’
‘With pleasure,’ Clio replied, thinking it would likely be anything but a pleasurable experience. Her aunt spoke highly of the duchess, but all Clio saw was a haughty woman who seemed dissatisfied with her privileged position and who had neglected her sons, both living and dead. She was predisposed to dislike her but would keep an open mind, curious to know why she had gone to the trouble of occasioning this meeting. If she wanted to speak with Clio she could easily have summoned her and remained indoors out of the wind.
They turned together and took another path, away from the house and the prying eyes that were doubtless watching from behind many of the windows. Clio felt no need to instigate a conversation. The duchess had something to say to her and Clio would let her broach it in her own time.
‘My son danced with you last night,’ she said eventually.
Clio confirmed it with the minimum of civility, expecting a barrage of objections and to be warned away from him with chastisements of getting ideas above her station.
‘At last!’ the duchess said, her words imbued with a wealth of satisfaction. Clio was so surprised that she abruptly stopped walking. ‘Close your mouth, child, or you will catch flies.’ Realising that her mouth had indeed been gaping open, Clio abruptly snapped it shut. ‘You expected an interrogation?’
