Chapter 5
FIVE
WILLIAM
William smiled knowingly at Edmund, who sat across from him in the swaying carriage, staring out of the window as they made their way into Kent.
Edmund’s gaze flitted to him. “What?”
“Come, then,” William said with amusement. “Let me have it.”
“Have what?”
William chuckled. “Edmund. If you keep it inside, it will spoil your day. Give me my reprimand and be free of it.”
“I haven’t any idea what you are talking about, Your Grace.” Edmund looked through the window again.
William watched him for a moment, then stretched his legs as far as the carriage would allow. “Very good, then. I am glad my behavior today meets with your full approval.” He pulled off a glove finger by finger.
Edmund shifted in his seat.
“What was that?” William asked.
Edmund cleared his throat. “Nothing, Your Grace.”
“Mmhmm.” William set his gloves beside him on the seat, then laid his head back and closed his eyes.
The silence lasted all of fifteen seconds.
“It is only that I am here to advise you, am I not?”
William smiled and opened his eyes. “You are.”
“And you are paying me a generous salary to do so.”
William nodded.
“But if you do not think my advice worth taking, it feels wrong of me to take your money.”
William tried to control his smile. “I take a great deal of your advice.”
“But not in this instance.”
“It is only the matter of one maid, Edmund.” That maid was currently seated outside next to the coachman.
“A maid you bought. From her husband, no less. How do you think that news will be received at Rushlake? Or in the House of Lords?”
William didn’t respond. Perhaps it had been unwise of him to pay the maid’s husband and to agree to employ her. But how could he have done otherwise? How would he have lived with himself?
“At the very least,” Edmund said, “would it not have been prudent to ask for a reference from the lady she claims employed her?”
“But I do not need a reference for a lady’s maid, Edmund.
Whether she can dress a woman or coif her hair has no bearing at all on what will be required of her at Rushlake.
Besides, her manner of speech seems evidence enough that she has experience working in a large estate with a genteel mistress.
And a woman who can perform the duties of a lady’s maid, an ostler, and a coaching inn maid can surely manage the duties of a housemaid. ”
Edmund sighed. “Let us hope you are right.”
“In the utterly impossible event that I am not,” William teased, “she can easily be dismissed.”
He hoped, however, that for the sake of his pride and Edmund’s confidence in him, Clara would not force such an event.
William had not been exaggerating when he had warned Clara she would be required to do a great deal of walking at Rushlake Hall.
The estate had been constructed with the intent to impress, which meant long corridors, multiple floors, and a multitude of bedchambers and other—in William’s eyes—superfluous rooms, such as a correspondence room, a trophy room, and a map room.
“They all add to your consequence,” Edmund said as they walked into the study for a meeting.
“And to the number of servants I must keep,” William replied dryly.
His mind flitted to Clara. How was she faring? Though it had been almost a week since their arrival at Rushlake, he had yet to see her. It was not abnormal, of course. The servants were meant to do their work as inconspicuously as possible.
He had been hesitant to ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, about Clara, thanks to Edmund’s warnings.
It wouldn’t do for him to take too keen an interest in a maid, particularly given the circumstances surrounding her employment.
And yet, it was precisely such circumstances that made him wish to ensure she was well.
Had the wound on her cheek been properly cared for?
Had she settled into her duties without undue difficulty?
“Has Mrs. Finch said anything about the new maid?” he asked casually as he poured them drinks from the decanter.
When he looked up, Edmund was watching him. William raised his brows, but Edmund remained silent. “What?”
Edmund took the glass. “She is a very pretty young woman.” The comment was meant to sound offhand. It was anything but that.
“And a married one.” William took a seat.
“To you?”
William shot Edmund an unamused look.
Edmund lifted his shoulders. “She would be considered something akin to it in the eyes of many.”
“Excepting the law and the church,” William said flatly. “Now, shall we return to my question?”
Edmund tipped his glass gently from side to side, eyes on the liquid within. “Mrs. Finch has made her an upper housemaid. She made an impression, I gather, with her proper speech and calm confidence.”
William took a sip from his glass, stretching his feet onto the velvet-upholstered footstool. It didn’t surprise him that Clara had made an impression. She exuded a level of capability most housemaids only achieved with significant time and experience.
“I gather, however,” Edmund continued, “that not everyone is thrilled with her arrival. It seems the story of the auction has made the rounds.”
William frowned. “How? You have not said anything, have you?”
“Naturally not. But the haut ton does not have a monopoly on gossip, Your Grace. It has always amazed me how news can travel from London to Edinburgh in a matter of days.”
William sighed. “And what form have these feelings amongst the other servants taken?”
“Mrs. Finch did not say, but given what I have seen in the past, I imagine a bit of ostracization and a generous dose of coldness. Nothing you need concern yourself with. This is all Mrs. Finch’s domain.”
William nodded, but it bothered him all the same. Surely, the maid deserved a reprieve from poor treatment. “You wished to speak on another matter, I think?”
“I did.” Edmund set his empty glass on the table beside his chair and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. “On the matter of achieving your acceptance and increasing your influence amongst your peers.”
William stifled a sigh. It was not that he didn’t wish for acceptance and influence.
He did. Deeply, even. His duty to magnify his position and the Yorke name had been drilled into him by his father as far back as he could remember.
It was just that he hadn’t realized a strategy would be necessary now that he held a dukedom.
He had assumed the title itself would come with such things. “And what do you suggest?”
“I have a few ideas, Your Grace.”
William narrowed his eyes. “Your tone alone frightens me.”
Edmund chuckled. “There is no need for fear. I am not suggesting anything out of the ordinary for someone in your position.”
“Someone in my position…. And how many men are there in England who have come suddenly into a dukedom?” He raised his brows, waiting. “A rough estimate will suffice.”
Edmund grimaced.
“Precisely. But let us have the first suggestion. What must I do to court the favor of my esteemed colleagues?”
“Do you want the most effective option first? Or the most palatable?”
William stared at his friend for a moment, considering. The sooner he could garner favor and influence, the better. He rose to his feet. “Effective.”
“Very well. What you now lack that your fellows have in abundance is connections.”
William nodded, pacing the floor, and spun the large globe as he passed it.
“And the most certain and tangible connection is…”
William stopped the globe with a hand and stared. “Edmund.”
Edmund stood, putting up his hands, as though trying to reason with the duke. “I know. I know. But you cannot deny it would be effective.”
“I can hardly wrap my head around the life I am leading now. The last thing I need is to throw myself into marriage.”
“But only think, Your Grace. You could easily find a daughter of a peer, ready and willing to become a duchess. Someone born and bred to fill such a role. And what is more, I think if we played things right, we could kill two birds with one stone, as it were.”
William narrowed his eyes. “Meaning…”
“We have discussed the obstacle you face as a result of your brother’s…situation.”
They had. Ad nauseum, in fact. William’s younger brother, Silas, had fled to France over a year ago as a result of a murder accusation.
An unmerited one, William now knew. As though that was not scandal enough to be attached to the Yorke name, the man who had accused Silas of the murder was Lord Drayton, one of the most influential and wealthy peers in England—and the man truly responsible for the murder.
Drayton’s animosity toward the Yorke family was a significant barrier to William’s thriving in his new position.
“I have not heard from him in almost two months,” William said with a frown. “I am beginning to worry.”
Edmund blew out a breath. Anytime the topic of Silas was broached, his stress was tangible.
“What of his situation, though?” William asked. “Do you have an idea?”
Edmund leaned forward even more. “Can you imagine the bridges a marriage between you and Drayton’s daughter would build?”
“No,” William said flatly. He gave the globe another spin and set to pacing again.
He had thought he was ready to discuss this topic, but he had been wrong.
It was entirely overwhelming. And marrying a daughter of Drayton’s was utter hogwash.
Drayton would never allow it. And William would never ally himself with that man in such a way even if it were a possibility. “Next suggestion.”
“You mean my next suggestion for a wife?” Edmund clarified.
“Edmund,” William said in a warning voice, “I will marry eventually. I will produce heirs. I promise. But for now, I am unable to entertain such a thought. Let us move on to the next, non-marital suggestion.”
Edmund sighed. “My next suggestion is that you host guests here. A great number of them, preferably. People will be able to see you at your ease at Rushlake. They will be able to socialize and enjoy themselves under your wing.”
“Under my wing and at my expense.”