Chapter Fifteen

 

All morning long, the wind blew and the snow fell. Janice’s conversation with the dowager had made her rather sad. So she’d wrapped herself up and gone to the stables, presumably to check on the puppies and Oscar. Poor man, he had no idea how feeble the residents of Halsey House supposed him to be.

Of course, she was hoping to see Mr. Callahan as much as she was the puppies and Oscar.

No, more.

She felt guilty about that fact when she pulled open the door to the stables and stepped inside, comforted by the familiar smell of horse and hay and the warmth that pervaded the space. Esmeralda was her delightful, wagging self. Her babies, their eyes closed tight, had each managed to roll and scoot at least a foot from their mother. Aaron, the junior groom, and Oscar laughed with Janice over their antics.

“Where’s Mr. Callahan?” she asked outright. The question wouldn’t draw attention, she was sure, as he was the person who’d found Esmeralda in the first place and arranged her bed.

“He’s in Bramblewood,” said Oscar. “Stranded with Sir Milo, who refused to be stranded here. He said it wasn’t as interesting a place to be as the pub there. So he asked His Grace if he could take Luke to serve as both valet and groom.”

“Oh.” Janice tried not to be disappointed. But she was, terribly. “When is he coming back?”

“When Sir Milo sends him,” said Aaron. “It could be a few days.”

“I see.” Janice’s heart sank. But perhaps it was a good thing. She needed to forget about the groom.

She must.

What was she doing seeking him out, other than torturing herself?

Back in the drawing room at Halsey House, she was determined to read—hoping she’d forget about him—while sitting next to Mrs. Friday, who was working on her sampler. It was a verse about love, and at the bottom the assiduous chaperone had stitched her late husband’s name entwined with her own.

But gazing at it made Janice remember that the night before she and Luke Callahan had been entwined, too, in their own way.

So she focused on watching the duke, Lord Rowntree, and Lord Yarrow play cards. The other women, who always seemed to be bickering, lingered behind them, making nuisances of themselves by looking over the men’s shoulders and making supposedly cryptic comments about the hands the men had been dealt.

“That’s quite enough interference, ladies,” Halsey eventually said to them in a clipped voice. “Find something else to do.”

The women pouted about their dismissal but sat at another table together and began to play whist. A few blessedly quiet moments passed—although for Janice they dragged because she was desperate to see Mr. Callahan—and then the clock on the mantel chimed.

It was half past two.

“That’s enough.” The duke threw down his cards. “We’ve played too long.”

“But you’re ruining this hand,” Lord Yarrow protested.

“You’ll live,” said His Grace. “We’re not playing for high stakes anyway.”

“Not today, maybe, but it’s bad form—,” Lord Yarrow began.

Lord Rowntree sent him a threatening look.

“Lady Janice,” His Grace called to her, “if I might have a word!”

She noted that his tone was warm, much warmer than it had been to her yesterday or today, to the other women. Not only that, the look he threw her was charming, attentive. He was, in fact, a new man toward her—but he was the same intimidating duke to everyone else.

She was thrilled that her strategy of saying no was working so well.

“Your Grace?” She refused to say the word yes to him—ever.

“Would you like to take that tour now—the one you missed yesterday, of the conservatory and the portrait gallery?”

“No, thank you.” She was actually at a particularly enjoyable part of her book, but it would be unkind to use that as an excuse.

The room was silent.

“May I ask why you won’t go?” He angled his head, and for a moment again … he was Pan … hot, earthy Pan. His finely tailored clothes did little to disguise his sensual nature.

Oh, dear. She had to think of an excuse fast, and it was most awkward. For him, not you, a small portion of her brain reminded her. She was gaining some authority—true power—and with it came the knowledge that it was often uncomfortable to exercise this power.

“Mrs. Friday is in the middle of a difficult stitch.” Janice ignored the stares of the other guests. “I don’t want to interrupt her.”

Mrs. Friday laughed. “Why, Lady Janice, I’ll be happy to set it aside for now. If I do, will you go?”

She was such a cheerful woman.

“I suppose I will,” said Janice. “There’s a particular portrait that intrigues me.”

“It’s about time,” Miss Branson said under her breath.

“Very good.” The duke didn’t smile, but his mouth angled up the slightest bit.

A few moments later, he showed no signs of resenting Mrs. Friday’s presence as they walked through wide, luxurious corridors to the conservatory, a truly splendid room.

“So much glass!” exclaimed Mrs. Friday.

“And the plants are beautiful.” Janice looked round in wonder. “To be able to walk among them when there’s snow outside is such a gift.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said the duke. “Wait till you see the stove house at the dower house. The orchids are stunning. But they need constant tending. I spend a small fortune maintaining that hobby for Granny.”

“I look forward to touring it.” Janice felt genuinely drawn to him for the first time. “Does Her Grace ever go over to see them?”

“No.” He plucked a bay leaf and put it in his pocket. “She has a Bath chair, but she much prefers to stay in her room. On occasion, I’ll bring her an orchid in a pot.”

“I’m sure she loves that.” Janice thought his carrying an orchid to her was such a special gesture. But she also wondered why he said the dowager preferred to stay in her room. She’d made it very clear to Janice that she didn’t. “Wouldn’t she like to come down here to see the plants?”

“No.” Halsey gave a light shrug. “She gets too agitated. If she tells you otherwise, you mustn’t believe her.”

“Oh.” What he said made sense, but Janice thought it was terribly sad.

So did Mrs. Friday. She had a sheen of tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Their host raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Granny’s situation is painful. It isn’t easy for her or for anyone.”

Mrs. Friday bit her lip. “We understand, Your Grace.” She turned to examine an orange tree, no doubt to give him a moment to recover.

“Of course.” Janice turned away, too, to admire the same tree.

There was a moment’s awkward silence.

“But we can cheer her up,” he said.

He was trying so hard, wasn’t he? That did more to win Janice’s approval than anything he’d done yet. She and Mrs. Friday exchanged pitying glances.

“When it stops snowing so hard”—he wore an earnest, serious expression—“we’ll take that sleigh ride over to the dower house, and I’ll let you pick out the perfect bloom for her, my lady. Will you do that?”

“No, thank you, Your Grace.” Janice winced at Mrs. Friday. “I can’t.”

“No?” The duke couldn’t disguise his astonishment.

Without even knowing what Janice was about, Mrs. Friday stepped in. “She only says no because she can’t bear to choose between them, Your Grace.” Her tone was light. “Isn’t that right, Lady Janice?”

“I’m terrible at choosing.” Janice sent her friend a grateful look, then turned to the duke. “I’ll pick out three orchids, Your Grace, and leave the final selection to you.”

“Very well.” But the warmth in his eyes had slightly cooled.

So they’d taken a step backward. Or was it forward? Janice couldn’t be sure. She wished she could go to the dowager right now and speak to her while she was channeling the Queen. Janice wanted to tell Her Majesty that she was having strong second thoughts about her strategy to win her grandson.

But until Janice and her mentor had that conversation, she’d continue saying no to the Duke of Halsey, who from all appearances—ducal quirks aside—was as fine a man as his reputation in London suggested. All he needed was a wife to weed out the hangers-on and to teach him patience.

Janice could do that.

Up in the portrait gallery a few minutes later, she went straight to the portrait of the woman in love. “Who is this woman?” Janice couldn’t help smiling when she saw her. “She’s such a bright light. A wit, I can tell. And she appears to be madly in love. She has a glow about her.”

“She’s my grandmother as a young duchess,” Halsey said.

“Oh,” Janice breathed. “She was remarkable.”

“She was. And is,” he added. “She loved my grandfather very much.”

Mrs. Friday was as fascinated by the painting as Janice was.

They strolled by all the other portraits, and the duke was so entertaining that Janice was completely overwhelmed with this new favorable impression of him.

“Thank you,” she said at the end of the tour. He’d been such a gentleman.

“It was my pleasure.” He gave her a slight bow.

How gratifying, to be bowed to by a duke!

Mrs. Friday descended the wide staircase to the main hall slightly ahead of them. About halfway down, Halsey slowed and Janice slowed with him.

“I just want to tell you,” he said, “that the glow you mentioned in my grandmother…” He paused, seeming to search for the right words.

She waited patiently.

“You have a glow, too,” he said. “I couldn’t help but notice it today. When you walked into the drawing room, no one could look away. Including myself.”

Janice’s face got so hot, she was sure it was red. “Th-thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, embarrassed at the lavishness of his compliment. Yet it was also extremely kind—

Everything an unmarried young woman wanted to hear from a duke.

She took another few steps. His Grace followed at her side. Future husband, a wicked voice in her head teased her.

But Janice had to wonder: Was he inventing that impression of her? Or did last night’s interlude with Mr. Callahan literally change her appearance?

She recalled Isobel’s words from that morning, as well as Mrs. Friday’s. Surely her rosy cheeks and lips had dimmed by the time she’d entered the drawing room a few hours later. And she’d been in that terrible funk because a groom named Luke Callahan had left the estate.

It was all very confusing—unless she credited the dowager’s secret strategy of saying no for actually working.

Why not?

Mrs. Friday reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up at them expectantly. “I’ve always been a fast walker,” she said with spirit, and laughed.

She was such a delightful person, and she knew just what to say when the moment called for it.

Halsey excused himself when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “It’s time to see my grandmother.” He held on to the banister, prepared to go right back up again.

“Oh, that’s right.” It touched Janice, how thoughtful he was. She still felt very flustered by his remarks on the stairs. “Please send Her Grace my best.”

“I will.” He raised Mrs. Friday’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then he did the same for Janice. “I’ll see you both at dinner.” He smiled again.

And when he turned his back and climbed the stairs, Janice and Mrs. Friday exchanged another glance.

He’s wonderful, mouthed Mrs. Friday.

Janice smiled, understanding, and looked up at his retreating back. Fall in love with him, she told herself. Fall in love.

But her heart refused to be stirred.