Chapter Six

 

With a footman in tow, Janice returned to the house furious at herself. It appeared that kissing a groom and wanting to do it again because he’d saved a darling puppy was a more complicated scenario than she’d ever imagined. There was nothing easy about the charming Luke Callahan. He posed a threat that she wasn’t sure she understood.

Think about the pups!

She tried; she really did. But instead of focusing on images of tiny wet noses and scrabbling paws, her mind slid to recollections of Luke Callahan’s chiseled mouth, his strong back, and the way he lowered himself in the straw on muscular haunches to cradle a limp puppy in his hands.

Janice actually smiled to herself thinking of how he’d appeared when the near-dead puppy stirred. Mr. Callahan had been shocked and pleased—and there was a brief moment when tenderness appeared around his eyes, in the curve of his lips.

It had done something to Janice’s heart, that look. She’d felt an ache like nothing she’d ever known, a desire to touch that tenderness—

To touch him.

He’d charmed her thoroughly. But in the end, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t to be trusted. And yet … she couldn’t help being drawn to him, even so.

Perhaps it was his honesty—she’d take an honest scoundrel over a sly one any day, she supposed.

But what did that say about her, that she was attracted to a rogue of the worst sort, a self-confessed one who teased her one minute and pushed her away the next?

When she entered Halsey House, she was still seething as the butler took her coat and bonnet. The hounds sniffed her up and down. They smelled dog. And hay.

The butler shooed them away. “Everyone’s gone off to the billiard room,” he informed her quietly.

“I think I’ll seek out the duchess, then.” Janice had yet to freshen up, but it was time to visit Her Grace—the sooner the better. She’d most certainly take Janice’s mind off what had happened in the stables.

“Your chaperone, Mrs. Friday, is putting away her things,” the butler said. “She’ll be down for dinner.”

“Oh. Very good.” The news was a boost to Janice’s spirits. Mrs. Friday’s presence would make everything easier.

A maid led Janice up the enormous staircase, down two long corridors upstairs and around several corners, and finally across a balcony running the length of the ballroom. “Almost there, my lady.”

“Goodness, the duchess appears far removed from the rest of the household,” Janice said, and surreptitiously smoothed down her skirt. She didn’t know why she should feel so nervous. She knew eccentric people. London abounded with them. This woman couldn’t be any more eccentric than they.

“In her own wing, she is,” said the maid.

“Why is that?”

“The duke said it’s for her own protection. He thinks the quiet is good for her.”

Was quiet beneficial for a person who didn’t live in her own mind? Shouldn’t there be distractions? Familiar sights and sounds? “I suppose the doctor agreed,” Janice said.

“I have no idea if one’s been consulted.” The maid eyed her balefully. “This is a family matter, the duke told us, and we’re to remain silent about it.”

Janice refused to cringe. So she’d been caught fishing, but who could blame her? She’d been invited by the dowager, and she had a right to know something of what was going on.

Surely a doctor had been consulted if Her Grace’s condition was so dire. Janice felt a sudden sense of urgency to see her. This is why you’re here, she thought, to check on this woman. Not to win a duke. And definitely not to daydream about kissing a groom.

Her heart lifted. Perhaps the complications she’d faced here would quickly fade away if she could be of real use. She hadn’t felt truly useful to anyone since Mama had left her sewing shop behind and married Daddy. Everyone around Janice these days was entirely too competent. Even her younger siblings, Robert and Cynthia—despite their occasional foray into high jinx that made no sense to her—were generally sensible and able to handle their own business.

The maid brought Janice to a large door and opened it quietly. “Lady Janice Sherwood to see you, Your Majesty.”

“Send her in,” a tiny voice proclaimed with a great deal of haughtiness.

Janice walked shyly into the room, which was small and dark, entirely inappropriate for an elderly convalescent or a queen.

A nurse stood in the corner, folding cloths. Deep in the pillows was a petite elderly lady with a proud chin and nose. She had silver hair and wore a beautiful mauve muslin dressing gown. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival.” Her eyes were narrowed, her gaze unrelenting. “Don’t you know that one must never, ever keep a queen waiting?”

Janice felt a moment’s shock but tried not to show it. Without hesitating, she went to the woman’s bedside and sat down in a chair already placed there. “I’m so glad to be here, Your … Majesty.”

The old lady extended her tiny, wrinkled hand. There was a giant ruby ring upon it.

The duchess might be frail, but she managed to keep her hand aloft. Obviously, she wanted Janice to kiss that ring. Gingerly, Janice lifted the bony fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips to the cold red stone. She felt silly. But immediately the dowager withdrew her hand, so Janice supposed she’d done the right thing.

“I didn’t send for you so that I can reminisce of my childhood and bore you to tears,” her hostess said testily, “so don’t you dare imagine we’ll be sitting here all day wasting time. I’m not an invalid. I have things to do. Places to be. If only Halsey would let me out.”

“Won’t he?” Janice didn’t know what to think.

“No, he won’t.” The dowager’s eyes filled with the most interesting mix of scorn and bravado. “How does he expect me to find my crown jewels?”

“Oh.…”

“Do you know where they are?” Her tone was accusing.

“I-I don’t at the moment.” It must be awful to be so worried about something that is entirely in one’s head, Janice thought. “But I’m sure they can be found.”

The old woman gave a gusty sigh. “Perhaps a princess is borrowing them. If that’s the case, she’d best bring them back. Do you know if there’s a ball tonight?”

“Yes,” Janice said. “I believe there is a ball.”

The old lady stretched out her other hand, which was completely bare. Ah. She simply wanted someone to hold it. Janice took it and felt a great tenderness toward her. Her nerves disappeared. The duchess was only someone who wanted love and attention. Janice could manage that easily.

“Where are the festivities to take place?” the dowager asked impatiently, even as she clung to Janice’s hand as if she never wanted to let go.

“Down the street.” Janice was surprised how easily she was able to lie. But the dowager was like a little girl in this state, even if she was rather haughty, too. Janice wanted to please her. “There’ll be loads of women in bright gowns. And the men will look quite elegant, I should imagine. Flowers will spill from every window, and the chandeliers will blaze with candles.”

“What address?”

“Somewhere on Half Moon.” Janice smiled just thinking of the lovely residential street.

The dowager frowned. “Must be Lord and Lady Foster, then. He’s entirely too cocky, and she—well, she’s a watering pot, cries at the least little thing. No wonder he has no patience with her.” She released a gusty sigh. “I knew I could trust you to tell me all the goings-on.”

“Of course,” murmured Janice.

The dowager lifted an enormous handkerchief to her nose with her free hand and sneezed.

“Bless you.” Janice saw the nurse pause in her housekeeping for a moment, then return to folding a cloth with a sure, steady motion.

The dowager fisted her handkerchief and leaned toward Janice as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re Lady Janice, are you not?” Her eyes were softer now, even friendly.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty?” The duchess gave an indulgent little laugh and waved her free hand. “You must be travel weary, my dear. I’m merely the Dowager Duchess of Halsey. Not the Queen.”

Oh, dear. This wasn’t going to be easy. Janice caught the nurse’s eye—the woman shrugged and continued about her business.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” Janice wondered how long the dowager’s moment of clarity would last. “Of course. My mistake.”

“It’s all right.” She eyed Janice kindly. “I had my secretary write you. Would you like to know why?”

“I did wonder. But I was very glad, Your—Your Grace.”

A fond smile passed over the old woman’s face. “Your mother used to sew for me. She made me a gown, and you were there when it was being fitted. You held up a scrap of velvet cut from the same cloth and said that someday you’d be a duchess, too. You said no one ever made fun of duchesses nor pounded on their door for the rent. I never forgot that. Your mother was terribly embarrassed. You were a pale little thing sitting in a corner with a book. I almost didn’t see you.”

Janice blushed. “I wish I could remember. I must have been very young.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the dowager. “I remembered. I kept track of your mother. She made me a good many more gowns, and I referred all my friends to her until she became quite the thing among seamstresses. She deserved the business—her talent is remarkable—but in my mind’s eye, I always saw you, the little girl who wanted to be a duchess.”

“Your Grace.” Janice blinked back tears. “How very kind of you to help my mother so.”

“And I was so happy to see her meet her marquess. I knew that would make you a lady. Lady Janice. No longer the little shopgirl.”

“No, I no longer am.” Janice swallowed the lump in her throat. In a very odd way, the duchess had contributed to Janice’s mother’s success … and even to her meeting Daddy. Life was certainly funny.

The dowager sneezed again into her giant handkerchief.

Janice blinked. “I’m sorry you’ve a cold.”

But when the old lady looked up, her eyes were different. They were narrowed once more. “Enough of colds,” she said in the same superior tone she’d employed when Janice had first entered the room. “There’s something you must do for England, young lady.”

She was being the Queen again!

“Really?” Janice wasn’t so taken aback this time. In fact, it was rather exciting talking to the dowager—illness aside, of course. She was a challenge, to be certain, but terribly interesting. “What’s that, Your Majesty? Aside from finding the crown jewels?”

The duchess threw a suspicious glance at the nurse, then crooked a finger at Janice.

Janice came closer.

“I have a mission for you,” the dowager whispered in her ear. “You’re a girl after my own heart.”

Janice laid a hand on her heart, which was thumping wildly. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“But why do you say so? You don’t even know my name.”

“You’ve got a look in your eye,” the dowager whispered again. “You’re clever; I can tell. And I see the same sense of frustration in you that was in me at your age. You’re a competitive spirit denied a chance to shine, all because you’re too frightened to speak up.”

“How can you see all that? We’ve only just met.”

“I’m the Queen,” said the duchess in a patronizing voice. “Do you think I don’t know my own subjects? Halsey, for example, needs a wife in the worst way.”

“I-I suppose he does,” Janice said low, “as he’s a duke.”

“Indeed,” said the dowager, “but not just any wife.” She poked Janice in the shoulder. “You.”