Chapter
Forty-Seven

The duke stood near the fire with his elbow on the mantelpiece, observing the others in the drawing room: Lady Grace, still looking sad; Lady Elizabeth, determined; Lady Kate, restless, as though one too many days without riding had put her on edge; and all the rest. To a person they looked shocked at what the butler was now telling them.

Fanny wasn’t there, of course, more’s the pity. How he wished she were! He hadn’t seen her yet today, although he wanted to. Last night, after Daniel had left him, he’d had the damnedest time falling asleep. Of course there’d been the events of the day to relive: the awfulness with Dr. Webb. The even greater awfulness with poor Mr. Young. But more than that, there were the words Fanny had spoken to him. No one had ever paid him such a fine compliment before.

“Fanny did what?” the earl said.

The duke noted that Mr. Wright had mentioned Fanny and no one else when he’d given his report. Why had he said nothing of the duke’s involvement? Was he made of glass? Of course not. The duke knew he’d seen him there, spoken with him, too. What then? Did his actions not matter? Then it occurred to him. Mr. Wright might be quick to tell on Fanny, figuring it to be his duty, but he’d be less quick to say anything about him. He was, after all, the duke. Huh, he thought. Well, that’s a good privilege.

Privilege or not, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Fanny should hang alone when they had acted together.

Even if it had been all her idea.

He was about to say as much—not the part about it all being her idea, which would not be very gallant of him, but rather that they’d enacted the idea together—but then he thought: Am I really brave enough to speak out?

He thought he was. Maybe. But maybe not. May—

But it didn’t matter any longer what he thought, for now the butler was speaking again.

“I know, my lord. And I would have told you about it earlier, but you see, you were having your breakfast. I know how you hate to have any meal spoiled with unpleasantness, most particularly the first meal of the day. I simply thought it could wait a bit. Shall I throw them all out now?”

Throw them—

“Of course we can’t do that,” someone said, a female voice, and the duke was surprised to see it belonged to Lady Kate.

“We can’t?” the earl said.

“No, Father. It’s our duty. It’s your duty as head of not only the abbey but all of Porthampton itself. We must do whatever we can.”

This struck the duke as surprising, coming from Lady Kate. She hadn’t exactly impressed him as one who cared overmuch about other people. But maybe something in all this had caused her to change a bit, to think more generously about others? Or maybe, he thought, it was exactly the word she used: “duty.” As a member of the British Empire, one could never escape it. Duty. To what’s right. To what’s the done thing. To being, simply, British. Well, the duke supposed, he had that sense, too.

The earl looked as though he were still stuck on the outrage he’d felt earlier, unwilling to give it up, and the duke thought for sure he would overrule her, however much she was his obvious favorite.

But then: “Kate’s right, Wright.”

The butler could ill disclose his shock. “She is?”

“Of course,” the earl said. “It is our duty, now that they’re under our roof. Although I do wish someone had thought to ask me about this first. It is, after all, still my house.”

“And if they had asked you,” Lady Kate said teasingly, “you’d probably have said no.”

“You’re probably right, my dear,” the earl confessed with a rueful grin. “But now that they are here, Wright, do see that they’re comfortable and have everything they need, but not too comfortable. We don’t want them to think they’ll be staying on forever once the danger has passed and everything has been returned to normal.”

Did the earl genuinely believe, the duke wondered, that the danger might pass with any sort of speed or that anything would ever be normal again?

“Very good, my lord.” The butler all but clicked his shiny heels. “As you wish.”

“Now, then.” The earl clapped his hands together. “I think what we need here is a plan of action.”

“A plan of action?” Her Ladyship said.

“My, that does sound overly ambitious,” the dowager countess added. “And all before I’ve had my tea.”

“Be that as it may,” the earl said. “We’ve been putting this off, no doubt because none of us wanted to face the truth of what is happening. But after the events of last night, we can put it off no longer. We must organize! We must prepare a line of defense! Toward that end…” Here, the earl turned to Benedict Clarke. “Benedict, might we enlist your help?”

“My help?” Benedict said.

“Of course! You’re the only one here who’s been to war. I thought perhaps that, with your training and skills…”

“Yes, well, I-I don’t…” came the stammered reply.

“No, no, no, no, no! You’re doing this all wrong!”

It was only when all heads turned in his direction that the duke realized he hadn’t merely thought those words, but rather, they’d actually flown out of his mouth.

“You had something to add to the discussion, did you?” the earl asked him.

Did he? Have something to add?

Once upon a time, the duke thought he had been born into greatness. He was a duke, after all! How much greater could one get? Well, king. There was that. But then, as he’d started to grow up, he’d realized that greatness hadn’t come along to accompany the title. And those times the possibility of having it thrust upon him had occurred? He’d pretty much run the other way. But now, in this moment, could he reach for it? Could he do and say the things that needed to be done?

He thought of Fanny’s ears, and he found that he could.

To the earl, he said, “I don’t mean to offend you, but you’re making a hash of things.” Then he turned to Benedict. “Look,” he said, “I don’t mean to be rude, and you’re a fine enough chap, or at least you seem to be, but you’re simply not the right man for the job.”

“And who is?” the earl said.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting yourself,” the dowager countess chortled, peering at him, “can you?”

“No, of course not. The person I’m suggesting is Daniel.”

“Daniel?” the dowager countess said. “Who, pray tell, is this Daniel?”

“Your footman,” the duke said, feeling some impatience.

“Yes, but which one?”

“The one who tore off his shirt to bandage Mr. Young yesterday,” Lady Kate provided, smiling when she mentioned the part about him tearing off his shirt. “It was quite thrilling, actually.”

“Oh,” the dowager countess said thoughtfully.

What was she thinking, the duke wondered, that like her granddaughter, she too found it pleasing and thrilling when the footman ripped off his shirt?

“Look,” the duke tried again. “I’m sure that Benedict is well-meaning and I hate to be rude, I wouldn’t want to give offense—”

Benedict Clarke waved a hand. “None taken, I assure you.”

Well, that was a relief, at least.

“But I do think Daniel knows more about what may be required here. He saw more, did more in the war. He has real military training, and I think his instincts are exemplary. I just,” the duke finished, “think he’s the best person for the job.”

“Well,” the earl said, “I thank you for sharing your opinion on this matter with us, and I will take it under advisement. Now then. Where was I? Benedict—”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me right,” the duke said.

“Of course I am,” the earl said peevishly, “but this is still, as I have already been forced to point out once today, my house.”

“And I am still the duke.”

“Pardon?”

“It pains me to say this, but I outrank you. You are an earl. I am the duke. So unless you want to bring the king in here to overrule me, I suggest we do this my way.”

“This one.” The dowager countess pointed a wavering finger at him. He’d always thought it was considered rude to point at people—he’d been taught as much by his nanny—but he didn’t correct her. “This one, I think, is a dark horse.”

“You think I’ve been rude?” the duke said, the realization of what he’d just done hitting him for the first time.

“Of course not,” the dowager countess said. “One can never be too rich or too rude. But to look at you, with those ears, one would never suspect there was any intelligence between them. Although now that I think about it, the sheer size of them does lend itself to better listening and, one would hope, better learning.”

“What are you saying, Mother?” the earl asked, still peevish. “What has any of this to do with his ears?”

“Nothing, Martin. But I do believe he’s right.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“If we need a line of defense, what does it matter who organizes it? The footman or even the stable boy, it is of no concern to me. All that matters is our survival. We do want to survive, don’t we?”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“I say we get this footman person in here right now,” the dowager countess said, “this Daniel person, although I do hope he can manage to keep his clothes on this time. Martin?”

“I suppose you’re right, Mother,” the earl said grudgingly. “Wright? Go fetch Daniel and tell him we’d like to see him for a word.”

While most of this conversation was taking place, the butler’s usually stoic expression had gone through a series of transformations, most containing at least some element of shock. Now he merely looked resigned.

“Yes, my lord.”

The butler turned to go.

Speaking of the stable boy…

“Mr. Wright!” the duke stopped him.

“Yes, Your Lordship?”

“After you’ve sent Daniel in, please fetch Will Harvey as well and tell him we’d like to see him. Now that I think about it, I believe he could prove quite useful, too.”

Lady Kate’s lovely eyebrows arched at this but it was impossible to read what she was thinking.

“As you wish, Your Lordship,” said Mr. Wright.

That’s right, the duke thought, pleased, watching Mr. Wright go, I am Your Lordship.

Daniel arrived first.

The duke invited him to sit in an actual chair, which he seemed flustered by, finding the suggestion confusing. Once he’d finally been persuaded that he could sit in their presence without fear of reprimand, the duke explained what they wanted from him as Daniel listened intently.

“Yes,” Daniel finally said when the duke was finished. “I do have some ideas.”