Bewitching the Duke

“That stupid fool boy,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Randall let you in this morning, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Randall was the youngest footman in service to the duke, and everyone questioned his mental capacity. Selina’s mother had told her that he’d taken a terrible fall when only three. He’d never been the same since.

“He knew the duke arrived last night. He should have told you.” The older man leaned in closer. “Was the duke angry?”

Remembering the way the duke had looked at her when he thought she was a prostitute brought heat to her cheeks. “Of course. He tossed me out of his bedcha

mber.”

“Oh, dear.” Mr. Roberts twisted his hands together. “He’s been in a foul mood since he arrived. He must have seen the condition of the house last night and it upset him.”

Selina frowned. “But the estate was, and still is, his responsibility to maintain. He hasn’t sent money for the needed repairs. He should be ashamed of his actions.” Lack of action was more the term.

“Shh,” he reprimanded as he glanced back at the duke’s door. “We all know the duke has failed his responsibilities to the estate and its tenants. But you don’t want to be the one to remind him of that.”

“Someone should.”

“Perhaps. But no one with a bit of sense would dare speak of it to him.”

Selina shrugged. The duke needed someone to set him to rights. Most of the tenants were frustrated with the lack of attention their cottages received. The only thing that kept them on the estate was the generous income the duke let them retain. The fertile land provided a welcomed source of income for both the duke and the tenants.

“I fear His Grace may have taken one look at this old place and decided that having a wedding here was a dreadful idea. And if that’s true there will be no hope of getting this beautiful house restored to its former glory.”

One of the tenants had told her there was to be a wedding. She couldn’t imagine the type of woman who would marry a man like him. Then again, she’d heard the stories of women so eager for a title they would do just about anything. The woman was most likely as shallow as he. But what would possess the man to have a wedding at his most decrepit estate? The one place he hadn’t visited in eight years. “Why are they having the wedding here, Mr. Roberts? He despises this place.”

“She insisted, miss. Thought it would bring happy memories to the estate instead of the ones that haunt him.”

Selina had to agree with the bride. Perhaps now that he was getting married he would put away his rakish ways, refurbish the house, and have his children here. While that would be excellent news for the tenants, she had no desire to deliver the child of the duke.

“Did you finish the cleansing?”

“No. I still need to finish the duke’s wing up here, and then his library and study.” Her mother had always insisted the rooms used most intimately by the family should be cleansed last so they were fresh when the family arrived. Now Selina worried she might not get the chance to finish. The cleansing was one of the few rituals a wise woman still performed. Not that there were many of the women left. Generations of ridicule and threats of being labeled a witch had forced many to give up the ancient ways. Selina only knew of three other women who kept up the practices.

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Walk with me down the stairs,” Mr. Roberts said as he glanced over at the duke’s bedchamber door again. Once downstairs, he stopped. “The duke was always a man of habit. While he hasn’t been here in years, I would still wager that he takes a morning ride at nine. If you get here by then, you should have an hour to do your cleansing.”

“But it might take me two days at that rate.”

He sent her a paternalistic smile. “Better than not finishing at all.”

“True.” But after her first encounter with the duke, she wasn’t certain she even wanted to complete the cleansing. She’d never met such an aggravating man in her life. But she knew her duty. Hopefully, she could avoid him and finish her work.

“I’ll send a stableboy to your cottage tomorrow if the duke takes his ride.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roberts.”

“No, thank you, Miss White. Where would we be without you? You take care of all us servants and the tenants too.”

She kissed his weathered cheek and headed for her cottage. Where would they be, indeed, she thought. She tended to their ills and delivered their babies. If only the duke understood how important her work was to the estate.

But she couldn’t explain it to him. After what happened eight years ago, she needed to do her best to avoid him completely. God only knew what would happen to her if he ever learned the truth.

Colin Barrett, the seventh Duke of Northrop, stared at the closed door with a scowl. How dare that woman enter his house . . . his bedchamber . . . without his permission? He tossed the coverlet off his body and reached for the trousers he’d left on the floor last night. His valet and trunks wouldn’t arrive until later in the day. Having not spent a day in this house for years, Colin was certain there was nothing in the linen press worth wearing.

After dressing, he headed for the door determined to confirm that Miss White had departed. The last thing he wanted or needed in his house was some woman who believed she held a type of mystical power or could cure all ills. No woman had such power. It was 1814; medicine belonged in the hands of educated men.