Chapter Eight #3
‘Certainly. Her parents own Jasmine Court, the cottage just over the ridge from here. It’s enormous, and her mother would have taught her since she could toddle about how to run such a place.
All for just such an eventuality as duchess-hood.
’ They turned at a landing and went down more stairs, the scent of baking floating up towards them to draw them onward.
‘But she might make you keep the French chef.’
The kitchens of Shore’s Edge were a bustling world all in themselves, humming along quietly behind the glittering facade of opulence upstairs.
Massive copper pots and gleaming brass utensils hung neatly from racks overhead, catching the soft light from the high windows.
The room was cool despite the heat of enormous cast-iron stoves.
The air was scented with fresh herbs, baking bread, roasting meats and the faintest hint of coal smoke.
High shelves were lined with neatly labelled jars, spices and candied fruit.
It reminded him sharply of those long-ago childhood days, those little escapes with the meringues.
But no one was tossing him out of this kitchen, not with Jane’s easy presence beside him.
‘Miss Jane!’ a plump, red-cheeked lady in a strawberry-streaked apron cried happily. ‘What a surprise to see you this morning. You must have heard of the strawberries delivered this morning.’
‘I do hope we’re not disturbing you, Mrs Smythe,’ Jane said. ‘We just came to look for leftover scones and maybe steal a cake or two. This is…’
‘We know who this is, miss,’ Mrs Smythe said softly. She made a wobbly curtsy, watching him with a mix of awe and wariness.
‘Fancy, a duke in our own kitchen,’ one maid whispered to another, and they giggled and blushed.
Benedict shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling awkward.
‘Enough of that, you two,’ Mrs Smythe said sternly to the maids.
‘Fetch some cakes; they’re just out of the oven.
There’s a drop of tea left in the pot, Miss Jane, if you have a minute, and I’ll just make a tray to send up to Mrs O’Neill.
Your chair’s just over there.’ She glanced uncertainly at Benedict.
‘But if the duke prefers to be upstairs…’
‘He certainly does not,’ Benedict said, and plopped down in a chair before anyone could change their mind. ‘I refuse to miss out on fresh strawberry cakes.’
Jane went to pour the tea then joined him at the table. She seemed absolutely comfortable here. ‘What’s planned for luncheon, then, Mrs Smythe?’
‘Menu is there, Miss Jane, if you want to look at it,’ Mrs Smythe said as she stirred a bubbling pot on the stove.
Jane studied the papers in front of her. There were menus and table settings labelled with each guest’s name, each place a thing of strategy; there were merchants’ bills. Surely she could run a house of her own, a larger, older one than this? She would be such an intelligent custodian.
‘Maybe you’d like to stay for luncheon?’ Jane asked him. She sounded strangely shy, as if unsure he might want to be around them any longer, when he was worried the problem was that he would never want to leave.
‘I think Kate might like a walk after, don’t you? And we need to add to my list of things to look for in an American wife,’ he said.
‘Ah, yes,’ she murmured. ‘The list…’
The gardens at Shore’s Edge were like paradise in the afternoon sun as they strolled its pathways, full of a fine lunch and champagne, laughing as they watched Kate scamper under hedges and bark in delight.
‘How happy she looks,’ Jane said, and found she too was happy just then. The day glowed like a jewellery box.
‘I think that is all thanks to you, Jane,’ he said, watching her with his unreadable, adorable half-smile. ‘Everyone around you is always happy. I’ve never had such a fine, fun luncheon.’
She felt her cheeks turn pink at the compliment, and looked away over at the sea just beyond the garden. ‘You are the one who rescued her. Her shining knight.’
He laughed, the sound as sunny and warm as the day itself. ‘Then we have both done a good deed today.’
‘And I am the beneficiary. Look how lovely she is.’ She smiled at Kate’s antics even as she remembered why they were actually there. ‘Now we must do our best for you, Benedict.’
He glanced down at her quizzically. ‘For me?’
‘To find you the right wife! You haven’t forgotten I told you I would help?
The list…?’ She also remembered something else—their kisses.
But those had to be put firmly in the past now.
Benedict was the most attractive man she had ever known, and rescuing Kate had only made him more so.
She longed to latch onto him, to hold tightly.
Yet she knew that her presence could hold him back from what he really needed, what he was there for.
Her heart ached as she chose to step back so he could step forward.
‘How could I forget?’ He looked away, and she could see only his profile, perfectly classical and sharply carved against the sea-blue sky. ‘So, what suggestions do you have?’
‘There is Florence Livingston: she is considered to be quite the prettiest lady this season, and seems sweet.’ She was also one of Regina Van Joort’s loyal bunch of followers, but she did have a fine dowry.
‘There are a few Astor nieces—any of them would make good duchesses; their aunt would make sure of it. And then there’s… ’
‘There’s?’
Jane shook her head. She had to do her best for him. ‘Well, there is Miss Van Joort. She has one of the largest fortunes in Newport, any list of eligible ladies must have her on it.’
‘Why is that?’
‘She has the most rare of all combinations—an old name and a fine fortune. And she is pretty.’ Even Jane had to admit that.
And Regina was haughty enough to out-duchess anyone.
She looked out at the yachts bobbing on their moorings.
‘Her father owns that vessel there, the second-largest after Connor’s. ’
He tilted his head to study it, and Jane wished more than ever that she could read his thoughts. He gave nothing away. ‘I am afraid I have not the first idea how to woo an American lady, you know.’
Jane had to laugh. He was a handsome duke! What else did he have to do? ‘Well, how would you woo an English lady?’
‘Oh, now that would be easier in some ways. She would probably be someone I had known for a very long time, or at least knew her family. We would have visited each other’s homes, hunted together and I would belong to the same clubs as her father and brother.
I would have attended a few debutante balls, some tea parties or theatre evenings… ’
Jane felt a pang of envy for those unseen ladies, all so comfortable in his world. ‘And they would all know you.’
‘Yes. Once it was known I was looking for a wife, their mothers would start to work, setting up meetings, things like that. I would just have to…’
‘Choose one,’ she whispered.
He laughed ruefully, and ran his hand through his hair to leave it standing on end in that adorable way he had. ‘That sounds so awful, but basically, yes. Though she would have to choose me in return.’
Jane couldn’t imagine a girl who wouldn’t choose him. ‘Well, that sounds a great deal like what you should do here. Let the mamas do their work—go to parties, dance with ladies, chat with them and get to know them a bit.’
‘But American girls do seem rather…’ His brow arched with quiet scepticism, his lips pressed into a thin line, part-frown, part-hesitation.
‘Bolder?’ she said with a laugh.
‘Something of the sort. They do seem to like making their thoughts clear, which I very much appreciate.’
‘Yes. I could see why that would make it all easier.’ Just as she wished she could see his thoughts clearly.
‘Maybe. I can never quite tell with English ladies. They are so quiet, so discreet, always smiling and nodding. I would so much like to find someone I could be friends with, share things with, not just someone whose family wants an alliance.’
‘American families want an alliance too. But, yes; many American girls would not let themselves be pushed into a match if it is not really what they want. They have their own plans, dreams.’
‘Just like you, Jane?’
‘Me?’
‘I can’t see you agreeing to something that would not make you happy or fulfilled.’
That was exactly what she had fought for in her life. To do good in her own way, make a real difference, find out who she really was. ‘No. Nor will you have to, Benedict. We will find you just the right lady, I promise.’
She smiled up at him, and she felt as if she were standing barefoot in the cold, watching a door close. She was sure she was holding something fragile for the last time before she released it, knowing she couldn’t hold onto it much longer at all.