Page 19 of The Duke Not Taken

“In what way?”

“The correspondence and paperwork are piling up. Beck tells me there are applications for students, the business of the parish, bills of lading, and so forth. I think any number of issues come up that he hasn’t the least amount of time to address. He needs someone who is clever and quick. I thought perhaps you might be amenable to spending an hour or two every day helping him. That is, until you are occupied with matters of your own.”

The princess looked at her curiously. “I don’t think my mother will allow you to turn me into a secretary, Lila. She’s very particular about how princesses are to behave and what they are to do.”

“I wouldn’t dream of turning you into a secretary.”

“I do like Mr. Roberts very much. I like all the girls, too, althoughLord,they are so very loud. And you’re right, I have little else to do but annoy Blythe, it would seem. To think she has all that house and all those children and cannot appreciate the help I so desperately want to offer.”

“To think,” Lila agreed. “Now. Would you care to hear about a picnic that is being planned as we speak?”

“That depends. Will there be anyone present under the age of sixty years?”

“Only some very fine gentlemen,” Lila said pertly.

Princess Amelia looped her arm through Lila’s. “Tell me everything.”

To the Headmaster of the Iddesleigh School for

Unruly Girls, Who Seems to have Lost his Command of the Classroom,

Sir, once again a perfectly fine afternoon has been abused by the sound of young girls singing quite off-key and far too loudly. It is beyond my comprehension to understand why it is imperative to conduct these singing lessons out of doors. Why are singing lessons necessary at all? Children should be taught singing in church and by way of hymns. Or, in the privacy of their homes under the tutelage of a true musician. Or, at the very least, in the privacy of their own homes so that only their parents are subjected to what can only be described as caterwauling. But as you have disregarded your own four walls and roof to contain what sounds like funeral dirges for seagulls, I respectfully request that such lessons be limited to certain days or hours so that one may plan accordingly.

One cannot help but wonder whatever happened to the wise counsel that children should be seen and not heard? That is the basis for any church service or public event and should be adhered to at your school.

Sincerely,

A Concerned Resident of Devonshire

To A Resident of Devonshire, Concerned,

Funeral dirges for seagulls is an apt description for our girls and has brought us a hearty chuckle. We can forgive their awful lack of talent (it is abundantly clear that there is not a gifted soprano among them) for they come to the music lessons with such great enthusiasm and joy. Even the coldest of hearts would be touched by the look of determination on their angelic faces as they try and make their way through a song. I suppose we may all count our blessings that we haven’t enough pianos to teach them all to play. We do beg your forgiveness for the outdoor lesson, but on that particular day, one of the girls snuck a kitten into the classroom (for the second time), and the poor thing was so startled by the idea that fourteen girls wanted to hold her that she clawed her way free of at least half of them and hid. It became necessary to clear the classroom so the poor creature could be found. If you are in need of a barn cat, please do advise.

It is our belief that children should be seen and not heard when appropriate, such as at a church service as you so wisely point out, or a public event. But we do pride ourselves on teaching these girls the confidence to voice their thoughts, which will be necessary for their success as adults. We encourage a free flow of ideas so these girls will learn to speak for themselves. Wouldn’t you agree that it shouldn’t be only boys who are encouraged to be thinkers? However, please do trust we only encourage them to think freely when it is appropriate. Andneverat church, for heaven’s sake. That would be an abomination.

Yours kindly,

The Iddesleigh School for Musical Girls

CHAPTER EIGHT

JOSHUAWASDOWNto his shirtsleeves, chopping wood. The damp fabric stuck to his back, and he had to pause every so often to wipe his brow. He imagined he looked like a drunk. Probably smelled like one, too, as nothing quenched his thirst quite like an ale when he was at hard work. Helikedhard work. The harder the labor, the better. He liked the reverberation in his body when he struck a lethal blow with his axe. He liked the pain of the blisters on his palms.

One might wonder why a man who had stumbled into the privilege of being a duke would enjoy hard labor and pain. He had no answer for it.

Stumbling into things was the way life presented itself, he mused. There was Butler, who had stumbled into his profession by way of his name. And here he stood, a duke, who shouldn’t have been a duke at all, or a viscount before he’d been a duke. Also unexpected.

It had all happened so suddenly. He was the youngest son of an earl, with no idea he would inherit the viscountcy. But then his older brother had died suddenly when Joshua was fourteen, his father two years after that. He’d inherited the title and the Parker estate. He hadn’t known what to do with it, unprepared as he was. But with the help of his mother, he’d managed.

And then, when he was four and twenty, his cousin the duke, hale and hearty, was killed in a hunting accident. His cousin had not had time to produce issue. His title would have passed to his living male relative, his uncle, Joshua’s father. But he was gone, as was the duke’s eldest son. Joshua had been the only surviving male heir.

Just like that, he was the Duke of Marley. The very last thing Joshua would have ever expected. Or wanted, truthfully. Unfortunately, by then, it was too late to be a good duke. He’d already laid waste to his reputation.

All that to say that he liked hard labor, because the more he pounded out the inconsistencies and disappointments in his life, the better he felt.

He was thinking of the latest exchange of letters with the headmaster at the school. He was not quite sure if the headmaster actually agreed with him or was perhaps humoring him. Either way, he couldn’t help but admire the gentleman for it.

He’d decided, as he’d chopped away at this wood, that perhaps he would test the headmaster’s sincerity. Instead of registering a complaint, he would put a philosophical question to him. He’d sensed a bit of defensiveness when it came to his complaints about the girls, and honestly, he could hardly blame the headmaster. Joshua recognized that the things he wrote bordered on ridiculous, and thereby proved to himself again that he wasn’t actually mad. Of course he knew that children would sing off tune or laugh loudly or put flower wreaths on Puddlestone’s head. It wasn’t the least bit fair that he took out his aggravation on the headmaster.

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