His Duchess (His and Hers 1)

Taviston’s chest tightened. The words I will not marry you echoed in his head again and again, as they had for the past two days with no relief. He rubbed his chest briefly. After suffering stomach spasms at Northfield’s party he had then lost his appetite and couldn’t sleep. Now he was having chest pains. Maybe he was dying. The only comfort in the thought was that he wouldn’t have to witness either the scandal or Peyton being the next duke.

“You know full well the story will leak out somehow. Sketches are probably being printed in Hither and Yon as we speak.” Taviston sank heavily against the back of his chair. “These things have a way of becoming general knowledge.”

A man of few words, James just shook his head.

But Peyton leapt up from the sofa. “Why do you have such an obsessive fear of scandal? You have worried about scandal since you learned to speak. Frankly, it’s become more than tiresome in, oh, the last ten years.”

Taviston eyed Peyton wearily. “Of course you wouldn’t understand. You are not the head of this family. It is up to me to protect the Danforth name. All that we are, all that we have, all that we do—it rests on my shoulders.”

“But who cares about scandal?”

“Everyone, you fool! Never once, in the past three hundred years, has the Danforth family name been besmirched. There has never even been a whisper of scandal.”

Why was this so difficult for Peyton to comprehend?

A feminine voice sounded from the doorway. “Then perhaps it is time.”

Taviston rose. “Mother!”

She waved her hand at him. “Sit down before you fall down. I don’t believe you’ve eaten a thing in two days.” She arranged herself on the sofa Peyton had vacated.

Taviston saw James and Peyton exchanging knowing glances.

The duchess directed gentle words towards Taviston. “Perhaps it is time for some scandal. You are correct this family has a venerable reputation going back centuries. However, a little scandal never hurt anyone. Quite often it only adds an air of excitement to one’s name and amusement to one’s life.”

“You and Father never created any scandal. You led exemplary lives,” Taviston said, almost accusingly.

She smiled at him. “Yes, we did. And I wouldn’t trade that life for anything. But I am quite sure we could have handled any untoward situation that arose. No one ever dies from scandal, Taviston. They might be physically harmed by foolish actions but the whispering, the gossip itself, doesn’t hurt them.”

Taviston’s skepticism stood firmly rooted. He could not believe his mother actually advocated a scandal. Looking her right in the eye he asked, “Are you saying, Mother, that you are neither ashamed nor appalled by my behavior the other night?”

She returned his gaze. “I am never ashamed of you, my dear Charles.” Her eyes twinkled, however, as she continued, “I will, however, admit to being slightly appalled by the fact that you chose to engage in a passionate embrace in the portrait gallery of Northfield House during a dinner party.”

Both James and Peyton developed coughs that sounded suspiciously like laughter and Taviston found he could no longer look his mother in the eye.

Any further discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door. All four Danforths commanded, “Enter.”

Halston did so and his gaze settled on Taviston. “Your Grace, Miss Forster is here to see you.”

Taviston was certain his heart stopped beating for a moment. Victoria? Here?

“I beg your pardon, Halston?”

The butler graciously tried another turn of phrase. “Miss Forster has requested a moment of your time.”

There was nothing for it. “Very well, show her in.”

Halston replied, without a twitch, “I have shown Miss Forster to your study, sir.”

“Well, you may now show her in here,” Taviston said tersely.

“I do believe, sir, what Miss Forster wishes to say is of a private nature. She awaits you in your study.” And with that he turned and glided from the room.

“Halston!” What the devil did his butler know about the nature of Victoria’s visit? Perhaps it was time to employ more obedient servants.

VICTORIA SURVEYED TAVISTON’S study. Everything was neatly arranged. Not even a single piece of paper adorned the desktop. It was exactly as she would have expected, and yet it was a comfortable room nonetheless. There was a window, situated between bookcases, which overlooked the garden at the back of the house while two armchairs sat cozily in front of the fireplace. But what first drew her attention were the strange items gracing the mantel, including what looked like an old, much worn child’s ball and a pair of gentlemen’s leather gloves. Odd adornments for a gentleman’s study.

It was the third day after the most humiliating episode of her life. She had thought initiating a kiss in a garden had been embarrassing. No, getting caught was more so. She couldn’t believe she was here, at Taviston House. But after forty-eight hours of brooding like a lord she had come to what should have been a foregone conclusion. She should marry Taviston.