Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove 4)

“I didn’t think you’d attend,” she breathed. “I was hoping, of course. I just wanted to see you again. To tell you I’m sorry, and that you were right. I was afraid. I’m still afraid, to be honest. I don’t think I can do this at all. But if you—”

He didn’t let her finish. “You shouldn’t be here. ”

She was seized by a pulse of pure terror. It didn’t matter to her if the rest of the gathering scorned her. But if even Griff would cast her out . . .

He didn’t cast her out.

He took her by the hand.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, more gently this time. “The most beautiful woman in the room does not belong in the corner with the potted palms. Come out from there. Or else Flora did all this for nothing. ”

She pulled up short and stared at him. “You. It was you. You sent Flora. And the gown. You didn’t sack her at all. ”

A little smile played about his lips. “You wouldn’t have come if I’d asked. ”

Of all the tricks. She couldn’t believe it. “I thought you were furious with me. ”

“I was furious with you. For about . . . ten minutes. Perhaps a full quarter hour. Then I came to my senses. ” He tugged her forward. “Come. We have a bargain to complete. There’s someone to whom you should be properly introduced. ”

Not the Prince Regent, she prayed.

Worse.

He steered her straight toward the Haughfells. All three of them—mother and daughters—were united by the grim sets of their mouths and their refusal to even look at Pauline.

What was Griff playing at now?

“Lady Haughfell. ” He bowed. “What a happy coincidence. I know you’ve been longing to further your acquaintance with Miss Simms. And here she is. ”

Sheer horror flickered across the matron’s powdered face. “I do not think—”

“But this is ideal. What better time or place? In fact”—he took a dance card and its small attached pencil from the older Miss Haughfell’s hand—“let me write down the key details. Just so there can be no question in the scandal sheets tomorrow. Miss Simms hails from Spindle Cove, a charming village in Sussex. Her father is a farmer, with thirty acres and some livestock. ”

As Pauline looked on in amazement, he narrated the entire tale for them. His mother’s kidnapping ploy, their arrival in Spindle Cove. Pauline’s appearance in the Bull and Blossom—sugar-dusted and muddied. His visit to her family’s cottage and their eventual bargain. He spared no detail, but told the story plainly and with good humor. Occasionally, he noted an important fact on the dance card:

Bull and Blossom.

Thirty acres.

One thousand pounds.

“You see,” he said, “I brought Miss Simms to London to thwart my mother’s matchmaking schemes. She was supposed to be a laughable failure. A hilarious joke. ”

One of the Misses Haughfells began to giggle. Her mother smacked her wrist with a folded fan.

“No, no,” Griff said. “Do laugh, please. It’s most amusing. A barmaid, receiving duchess lessons. Can you imagine? The best part was the diction training. My mother was forever drilling Miss Simms on her H’s. ”

“Is that so?” Lady Haughfell arched a brow. “I don’t suppose she made much progress. ”

“Oh, but she did. Show them, Miss Simms. ”

Pauline smiled. “Hideous. Ham-faced. Hag. ” She looked to Griff. “There. How was that?”

“Brilliant. ” He beamed at her.

“Write it down?”

“Of course. ” As he scribbled the epithets on Miss Haughfell’s dance card, he went on talking. “But you haven’t heard the funniest bit, Lady Haughfell. See, I thought I was playing a trick on my mother—and all London—but it turns out, the joke was on me. ”

The matron stiffened. “Because you have lost what remained of your family’s honor and society’s good opinion?”

“No. Because I fell desperately in love with this barmaid and now cannot imagine happiness without her. ” He looked up and shrugged. “Whoops. ”

All three Haughfells stared at him in mute, slack-jawed horror. Pauline wished she could have a miniature of their expressions to keep in a drawer forever and pull out on dull, rainy days.

Griff sharpened the pencil stub with his thumbnail. “Let’s make sure to have that down. It’s important. ” He spoke the words slowly as he inscribed them. “Desperately . . . in . . . love. ”

“Don’t forget the ‘whoops,’ ” Pauline said, looking over his shoulder. “That was the best part. ”

“Yes. ” He looked up, and his dark gaze caught hers. “So it was. ”

They stared into each other’s eyes, utterly absorbed in affection and silent laughter.

The moment was perfect. He was perfect. Teasing, wonderful man.

“Is that a waltz they’re playing?” Griff suddenly asked. He stared at the marked-up card in his hand before handing it back. “Pity your card is full, Miss Haughfell. I suppose I’ll dance with Miss Simms instead. ”

He led her to the center of the ballroom and slid one arm about her torso, fitting his hand between her shoulder blades. Together, they joined the waltz.

Almost immediately, other couples began to disappear. One by one, at first. Then two or three at the same time. And the more alone they grew, the less self-conscious she became. Soon it felt positively magical. Here they were, dancing under the full weight of society’s disapproval. And it felt as though the orchestra and canopied ballroom and general resplendence of the setting had all been arranged just for the two of them.

“I suppose I’ve fulfilled my end of the agreement,” she said. “I’m not going to be the toast of London tonight, nor any night. ”

“No. You won’t. ”

With that, she thought surely Griff would put a stop to the dance, but he didn’t. He just twirled her into turn after turn.

“I think we’ve done enough,” she whispered. “I’m a confirmed disaster. ”

“Oh, yes. A comprehensive catastrophe. A beautiful, perfect failure. ” He pulled back to regard her. “And I could not be more proud. ”

His words settled as warmly as a hug. They both knew she could never have sustained any pretense at gentle breeding. Families like the Haughfells would not have been fooled. Instead, he’d embraced Pauline for her true self—publicly and completely, in a manner that ensured they’d never accept her at all.

But by letting her fail, he’d made her a success. At long last, she was a triumph. The serving girl who’d conquered not society, but its most recalcitrant duke. A huntress, draped in the elusive white tiger’s pelt.

Just for tonight.

He swept her with an adoring look. “Radiant. Just as you were that first day. ”

She laughed. “I am sure I look nothing like I did that first day. ”

“You do. You sparkled. ”

“That was the sugar. ”

“I’m not convinced. I think it was just you. ” His voice softened to a caress. “It was always you. ”

A lump stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard.

Out of the corner of her eye, Pauline spied a few of the Prince Regent’s hussars conferring in the corner, hands on their sabers. If they didn’t leave the dance floor soon, armed guards might chase them from it. That would be a night to remember.

“We’re down to minutes, I think. ”

“So let’s make them count,” Griff said. “Here I am, a duke. Waltzing with a serving girl. Holding her improperly close, for everyone to see. ” He shivered for effect. “What’s that I feel? Could it be the social fabric unraveling?”

Her mouth twisted as she tried not to smile. “It’s probably just the gout. I’ve heard dukes are gouty. ”

“Well, I’ve heard serving girls taste like ripe berries. ” He touched his lips to hers.

She gasped. “Griff. ”

&nb

sp; “There. Now I’ve kissed you, in front of everyone. Shocking. And look, I’m going to do it again. ”

He stopped dancing and used those strong arms to pull her close, and claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss.

When they parted, he wore a sly, roguish smile. “What would Mrs. Worthington say?”

She didn’t know about Mrs. Worthington, but somewhere a clock began to chime the hour. Pauline’s heartbeat stuttered.

The mail coach.

“I have to leave,” she said. “I must go, or I’ll never make it home in time. ” She tugged out of his embrace. “I’m sorry. I promised my sister. You promised her, too. ”

She dashed away from him, streaking out of the ballroom, back through the crowded antechambers, to the portico and down the stairs—just as fast as her slippers would carry her.

“Wait. ” He called to her from the top of the stairs.

“Don’t,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t make it harder, Griff. ”

“Pauline, you can’t leave yet. Not like this. ”

She tried to hurry but his footfalls outpaced hers easily. These stupid heeled slippers. When she tripped again, she kicked one off and threw it over her shoulder.

He dodged the flying slipper and caught her by the arm. “Wait. ”

“Just let me go. ”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” he said.

All the fight went out of her. She blinked at him. “You’re not?”

“No. I’m not. ” His expression turned serious. “You need to go. Go home to your sister and open that circulating library. It’s your dream, and you’ve earned it. As for me . . . I have some work to do, too. I think it’s time I lived up to the vaunted Halford legacy. ”

“Truly?”

He nodded, solemn. “To start, I’m going to be a man of my word. I promised to have you home by Saturday, and so I will. ”

This was it, Pauline realized. He was truly letting her go. She would return to Spindle Cove and be a shopkeeper, and he would become a respectable duke. They would be further apart than ever.

Oh, God. They might never meet again.

“I have my carriage and fastest team waiting to see you home. But first there’s something I owe you. ” He rummaged in his pocket.

The thought of him paying her made her stomach turn. The words spilled from her lips. “I can’t. I can’t take your money. ”

“But we agreed. ”

“I know. But that was before, and now . . . ” She shuddered, thinking of Delacre and his five-pound note. “It would make me feel cheap. I just can’t. ”

“Well. You must take this much, at least. ” He pulled a coin from his pocket and placed it in her hand. He folded her fingers over it, still breathing hard. “For Daniela. I don’t have a penny. ”

Oh, Griff.

“I expect great things of you, Pauline. ” He touched her cheek. “Do me a favor and expect the same of me? Lord knows, no one else will. ”

As he retreated back into his glittering, aristocratic world, she opened her fingers and stared at the golden sovereign on her palm.

Dukes and their problems.

Chapter Twenty-six

Griff watched his mother closely as she turned in place, taking in the walls painted with incongruous rainbows and frolicking Arabian colts.

“I did want to tell you. ” He took a seat on a wooden stool draped with a Holland cloth. “I just didn’t know how. She was gone so quickly, and then afterward . . . ”

His voice trailed off, and the duchess raised a hand in a firm, silent gesture, letting him know further words were unnecessary. She was no stranger to quiet suffering, holding her aristocratic grace through all manner of trials. He knew this news would hurt her deeply—it was why he hadn’t wanted to tell her. But she was the duchess. If he knew his mother, she would cling to her composure. Bear up under the weight and never crack.