Beguiling the Duke by Darcy Burke
Chapter2
John Holbrook, the Duke of Lawford, could just barely stand at his full height in the bedchamber assigned to his valet and coachman. Thankfully, they were several inches shorter than he was. Holden sat propped up on his bed, while Yates occupied a chair. The valet wore his usual sour expression, but it was more pronounced today.
Dr. Bigby had left in his small, two-person gig a short while ago after prescribing rest for both men along with a tonic for pain. Holden’s arm was badly sprained, and the doctor indicated he shouldn’t drive for at least a week. He also needed to rest, so he would not be able to help with the coach repair, at least not tomorrow.
“It seems as though we are trapped here at Fieldstone for the duration of this silly festival,” Yates said with considerable rancor. “If my head did not pain me, I would walk as far as necessary in search of a coach for us to flee. We should at least find a way to get word to Lord Gillingham to explain our tardiness.” The valet sniffed, which was his favorite wordless expression of distaste.
Law had managed not to think of the purpose of their journey since the wheel had come off. Now, he realized just how pleasant that had been. Not the accident, but not thinking of his impending betrothal to a young lady he’d never met. “It sounds as if we won’t have luck finding anyone to deliver a message. A week’s delay isn’t that bad.”
“Your father would think it was,” Yates grumbled. He never failed to remind Law of what his father would do or think. Law excused the nuisance because Yates had been his father’s valet for more than thirty years. It made sense that he was incredibly loyal to the former duke, and Yates was particularly invested in ensuring that Law’s father remained a steadfast presence in his son’s life, even from the grave.
He was also correct. Law’s father would have had many thoughts about this entire affair. He would have demanded the Campions drive him to town, and he would have bullied his way into an inn, displacing whoever had the misfortune to stand in his way. Then, he would have used the same overbearing demeanor to compel someone to either fix his coach or drive him to Dorset to meet Gillingham. Law couldn’t bring himself to do those things, but he had tried to press for different results with Campion despite his daughter already telling them the futility of their situation. Law regretted doing that.
Law didn’t respond to Yates, whom he’d taken on after the duke’s death when Law had promoted his own valet to succeed the retiring butler at the London house. While Yates might not have been the valet he might have chosen, Law didn’t have the heart to release him after such a long tenure in the household. That was where he and his father had most differed—Law possessed a heart, though he’d worked to hide that from his father. Since his mother had died when he was fourteen, all his father’s softness, which hadn’t been a great amount, had disappeared. Law had wanted to meet—or exceed—every one of his father’s demands in the hope that it would bring him some measure of happiness.
That was the reason Law found himself traveling to Dorset: to determine if he and a young woman his father had chosen would suit. As the duke had lain dying, he’d insisted Law vow to wed the daughter of his old friend, the Earl of Gillingham. Law had specifically said he would consider it. There was a reason he hadn’t yet wed at the age of twenty-nine. He’d yet to meet a woman who moved him to want to.
His father had taken that as an agreement to wed her, however, and had dispatched a letter to Gillingham before dying, saying that Law would marry the man’s daughter. Six months later, Law had agreed to spend a week with Lady Frederica to see if they would suit, but he feared the earl already saw the transaction as complete.
“Honestly, I’m pleased to have some additional time before potentially consigning myself to the parson’s trap,” Law said. Particularly if it meant spending time with the intriguing Miss Campion. She’d seemed utterly unimpressed with him, and after a lifetime of being told he was more important than nearly everyone else—which was absolute rubbish—he found that rather captivating. He also needed to apologize for his obnoxious behavior. He should not have doubted her, particularly since she was clearly the person in charge here.
Yates wrinkled his long nose. “You can’t leave Lord Gillingham hanging. He was a dear friend of your father’s. They’ve known each other even longer than I attended His Grace. It was of paramount importance to him that you join the two families. Indeed, your father never pressed for you to marry until Lady Frederica was nearing her debut—precisely because he wanted this union.”
That much was true. When, at the age of twenty-four, Law had not demonstrated an interest in taking a wife—in truth, he simply hadn’t found a woman he wanted to wed—his father had started to suggest Lady Frederica as his duchess. He’d said that if Law just waited five or so years, she’d be of marriageable age. Their ten-year age difference was of no consequence to Law’s father.
Now, five years later, Law was indeed contemplating marriage to her. But only because his father had demanded he do so, and Law, as usual, had felt beholden to please his father, especially on his deathbed. Law supposed there was a chance they might suit, but he was not enthusiastic about an arranged marriage. The closer he got to meeting her, the more reluctant he became. This delay was a boon, and Law would seize it.
Law held up his hands. “I don’t see that there’s anything we can do. Don’t trouble yourself. We’ll just have to make the best of it. To that end, I don’t want either of you discussing the purpose of our journey with anyone. Is that clear?” He pinned his gaze on Yates, for he was the one with a tendency to flap his lips, as he’d demonstrated earlier in the parlor.
“I wouldn’t presume to speak of such things,” Holden said.
Law arched a brow at Yates, who crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “I won’t say anything either. I hardly see how it signifies.”
“I would like to enjoy this unexpected…sojourn,” Law said. “I’d prefer not to think of obligations, and I expect you to comply with my instruction.”
Yates made a face that looked as though he’d sucked on a lemon. “If you insist.”
“I do.” Law often found Yates frustrating, but the man did as he was told, likely because his former employer, Law’s father, wouldn’t have tolerated anything else.
“If the coach manages to be repaired in the next few days, you could drive it,” Holden suggested, thankfully changing the subject.
“Absolutely not!” Yates’s blue eyes bulged. “He’s a duke!”
Holden gave the valet a surly stare, but said nothing.
Law worried that they would be sharing a room. They were vastly different in temperament. Whereas Yates would raise his voice and assert his displeasure, Holden would suffer in silence and ignore most irritations. Law just wasn’t sure how long the coachman could ignore Yates, who could be the biggest irritation of all.
“I happen to be a duke who can drive a coach, and I will if necessary. I will also assist with the repair if I am able.” However, Law had warmed to the notion of staying for the week and postponing the introduction to his potential bride. “Furthermore, I am a duke who can unpack his own belongings, which I have already nearly completed.” He gave Yates a smug look.
The valet, in turn, appeared horrified.
Turning, Law went to the tray the maid had delivered earlier. It held tea and biscuits and some pretty little cakes decorated like flowers and crowns. He picked up one of the cakes and took a bite. Almond and mace danced across his tongue. Swallowing, he waved what was left at Holden and Yates. “If these cakes are any indication of the cook’s talents, we are in for a culinary treat.”
After eating the rest of the cake and tamping down the urge to devour what remained on the tray, Law went to the door. Turning back toward his retainers, he said, “You should rest—after you eat those cakes, of course. Yates, please take care of Holden since his arm isn’t terribly mobile, and don’t be gruff about it.” He gave the valet his best ducal stare, then departed.
Taking the stairs down to the first floor, he paused as he saw Miss Campion walking from the chamber situated across the corridor from his. How…interesting to learn his room was so close to hers.
She looked quite different from earlier in the day when he’d mistaken her for the housekeeper. Her light brown hair had been restyled with no errant curls, which was a shame. He rather liked that aspect of her appearance. Actually, he’d found her quite attractive, and when she’d landed in his arms after losing her balance on the ladder, he’d felt her lush curves. He’d experienced a rush of heat before she’d moved away from him.
Her emerald gaze met his, and the nostrils of her small, button-shaped nose flared slightly. She walked toward him, and he gave her an appreciative nod. “Miss Campion. You look lovely.”
She glanced down at herself. He noticed she’d done that earlier too, as if she were self-conscious about her garments. Instead of the earlier sober gown with its muddy hem, she wore a smart, rose-colored walking dress. He would not have mistaken this version of her for a servant.
In retrospect, he wasn’t sure how he’d erred. She possessed an air of confidence and authority that he found most alluring. Hers was not the demeanor of an employee. No, she was the one issuing commands.
“Thank you, Your Grace. How are your valet and coachman?”
“They are doing well, thank you. I left them to fight over the delicious cakes on the tea tray.”
Miss Campion smiled, and Law was struck by just how pretty she was. There was a genuine warmth and care to her that was so unlike most of the women he met in London. It wasn’t that those women weren’t genuine or warm, but that they didn’t allow themselves to be when meeting a duke. He generally believed that when he encountered most people, he was, more often than not, interacting with an untrue version of that person. At least that was what he’d observed with his father over the years. He’d seen gentlemen behave a certain way in front of him and then in a more relaxed fashion when the duke wasn’t there or paying attention.
“Mrs. Rowell does make the best cakes,” Miss Campion said. “It’s why she supplies them for the welcome reception. She started several years ago, and I wonder what will happen when she decides to retire from doing so.”
Law noted that Miss Campion seemed more pleasant than earlier. Or, more accurately, less harried. “I do apologize for causing trouble with our arrival. It is most inconvenient of us to disturb your plans for the festival.”
She blinked at him. “That is…thank you. It’s very kind of you to say so.”
“I also wanted to apologize for thinking you were the housekeeper.” He realized he hadn’t met the housekeeper and presumed they didn’t have a butler. “Where is she, by the way? I should like to thank her for accommodating our intrusion.”
“I’m not surprised you assumed I worked here. I certainly looked as if I do, and well, that’s because I do. We do not have a housekeeper, and before you ask, there is also no butler.”
Then it was no wonder she was left to clean the front door. Still, one of her brothers should have helped her. Or better yet, they could have done the task entirely. “It did seem as if you manage the household, but I didn’t imagine you wouldn’t have a housekeeper. Isn’t that challenging?”
She shrugged. “We haven’t had one since I was twelve, when Mrs. Evans died.”
“I see.” He wanted to ask more questions, such as where her mother was, but he assumed she too had passed away and didn’t want to bring that up when Miss Campion was clearly about to embark on a social occasion. “Where you are going?”
“To the welcome reception for the matchmaking festival.”
Law also wanted to ask more questions about the festival. Since he would apparently be staying here, he may as well make the most of the situation. He had an idea. “I’ve never been to a matchmaking festival. Perhaps I could join you?”
She hesitated. “Ah, yes, I suppose you could. I confess I’m surprised you would want to. I thought you were keen to be on your way to something important.”
“Since that is not an option, I’m not going to spend my time fretting about it. I’d much rather learn about your festival. Would you mind if I just fetch my hat and gloves from my chamber?”
“Certainly. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“Oh, and I owe you one more apology,” Law said. “I should not have doubted the information you provided me regarding our situation. You were trying to be helpful, and I was being…difficult.”
She blinked at him again. “That’s kind of you to say. Thank you. Now I feel as though I’m repeating myself.”
“Well, I did apologize—necessarily—several times.” Smiling briefly, he hurried to fetch his things, checking his appearance in the glass before running his fingers through his hair.
When Law arrived downstairs, Mr. Campion stood with his daughter. He wore a wide, expectant smile. “There he is! How splendid that you are driving Sadie to the reception.”
Miss Campion narrowed her eyes at her father subtly and briefly, but Law caught it. What was that about?
“I didn’t realize I was driving,” Law said. “I thought your vehicles were insufficient.”
“For a long journey yes, but our gig is perfect for two people and drives nicely. Go on now.” Campion clapped his hands together. “Make sure my girl is chosen as a maiden fair, will you?”
Law had no idea what that meant, but said he’d do his best. Offering his arm to Miss Campion, he enjoyed the rush of anticipation her touch provoked. It was hard to believe that he’d awoken that morning with leaden feet, wishing he didn’t have to go to Dorset to meet Lady Frederica. And now he was looking forward to attending a provincial festival with the pretty daughter of a squire, a young lady who was also basically a housekeeper. His father would be repelled. Perhaps that was why Law felt the opposite.
They went outside to where the gig was waiting in the drive. An older man of around seventy stood beside the single horse. He scrutinized Law for a moment before turning his attention to Miss Campion. His grizzled features softened. “Sadie, you are prettier than any maiden fair to ever be crowned.”
Miss Campion laughed lightly, and the happy sound fluttered across Law’s chest. “Thank you, Jarvis. This is His Grace, the Duke of Lawford. Did Esmond speak to you about his coach?”
“Yes. I stopped by the stables.” He shook his head and looked at Law. “You’re lucky you’re walking about. That was a bad accident.”
It had been rather frightening, and Law was certain that several parts of himself were bruised. “I do appreciate any assistance you can provide. My coachman can also offer guidance on the repair, though I doubt he possesses as much knowledge as you.”
“He’s also recovering from an injury,” Miss Campion said.
“We’ll take care of it.” Jarvis gave Law a confident stare. “It’ll take a couple days, especially with everyone so busy at the festival. I imagine the boys will be off most afternoons bowling or spending too much time in the brewer’s field, but we’ll manage.”
“I appreciate it.” Law handed Miss Campion into the gig, then circled around to get in.
She waved to Jarvis as they drove away, and Law didn’t wait to begin satisfying his curiosity. “This festival really does monopolize everything, doesn’t it?”
“It is the heart and soul of Marrywell. Where do you think the town’s name comes from?” she asked with a wry smile.
Stupidly, he hadn’t put that together. “The town was founded around the festival?”
“Yes, May Day celebrations were quite popular hundreds of years ago. Marrywell sprang up around one particularly successful festival that boasted a great many matches. It is the oldest May Day festival in England.”
“Indeed?” Law was impressed. He turned onto the road, near where they’d lost the wheel. “If you don’t mind, explain to me this maiden fair business. How am I to ensure you become one?”
“You can’t, regardless of what my father said. The May Queen will spend the reception surveying all the young ladies who are looking to wed, then tonight, she will name seven maidens who will become her court for the duration of the festival. They will be crowned at a celebration in the botanical gardens.”
“You wish to be crowned this evening?”
She lifted a shoulder, and he sensed a hesitation. Or perhaps a discomfort. “I suppose every young lady does.”
Law didn’t know her age, but she wasn’t as young as someone embarking on their first Season. He would guess she was in her early twenties. Had she attended this festival many times and not made a match? He found that almost criminal, especially if this festival claimed to make a great many matches.
He tried to keep things light. “Here I thought the purpose of the festival was to find a match.”
“It is—mostly—and being a maiden helps that along because those seven ladies become the most popular of the celebration. However, the festival is also just a wonderful time for everyone, with dancing, food, games, and so much more. The Grand Picnic on the middle day of the festival is not to be missed.”
“I think I’m quite glad to have my business delayed,” he said with a smile.
“What business is that?”
“I was to meet with someone about a potential…arrangement.” That was a particularly cold way in which to refer to a betrothal, but in this case, it fit. If there was to be a match between him and Gillingham’s daughter, it would be entirely arranged as a transaction. If Law managed to like Lady Frederica into the bargain, so much the better. However, given that she was chosen by his father, he didn’t expect that to happen.
Moreover, he didn’t want to go through with the marriage if he wasn’t drawn to her in some way. What sort of marriage was that? Even his obnoxious father had loved Law’s mother.
“I hope your delay won’t cause trouble for you,” she said.
Law was actually hoping it would. Perhaps Gillingham would declare him feckless and call the arrangement off. “I’m sure everything will work out as it should,” he said benignly. “Now, do tell me how I can help you become a fair maiden.”