The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“No. You’re not,” Chloe disputed with quiet wisdom. “Great-Grandfather would be the first to understand. Do you know what I think he’d say? He’d say, ‘Noelle, the Lord can spare you for a day. Especially knowing that by doing so He’ll be ensuring you find the peace that will enable you to serve Him better.’”

With a quavering breath, Noelle eyed her sister. “How did you ever become so smart?”

“I had an extraordinary teacher—you.” With an impish grin, Chloe jumped to her feet. “The towels must be ready now. Lie back. I’ll fetch them.” Scurrying into the bathroom, she carried out a basin that had three steaming cloths soaking in it. “Put these on your face, neck, and forehead. Leave them there for a few minutes—or for as long as you can withstand the heat. After that, I’ll fetch Mama. One glance at you, one brush of her fingertips, and she’s bound to think you have a fever.”

“Chloe—” Noelle caught her sister’s hand. “I feel dreadful making you lie for me.”

Her sister’s expression was the epitome of innocence. “Who said anything about lying? I’ll simply tell Mama that you claim not to feel well, that you look flushed, and that you feel warm to the touch.” She placed one cloth gingerly on Noelle’s forehead. “Which, after I’m through, won’t be a lie.”

“Thank you,” Noelle whispered.

“Just be careful. Don’t do anything foolish. And be back before we are.”

“I will. I won’t. And I will.” Noelle’s mind was already racing. “I’ve devised the perfect plan to convince Grace to accompany me.”

“Grace?” Chloe’s brows shot up at the mention of Noelle’s stout, fiercely protective, ever-militant maid. “Why on earth would you want to take her along?”

“I need a chaperon. It’s the only way I can board the railroad without arousing suspicion.”

“She’ll never agree to it.”

“Oh, yes, she will. I’ll win her over the same way I always do—by telling her I’m doing this for Papa.” Noelle winced as Chloe placed the second hot cloth on her face, draping it from one cheek to the other.

“I can’t wait to hear the details.” Chloe peered out the window, seeing the first rays of dawn trickle in. “But they’ll have to wait until later. We’re running out of time. Mama and Papa will be up any minute, preparing to go. We’ll talk tonight, after they’re asleep.”

Noelle nodded, holding her breath as she pressed the third towel to her neck. “I think I’ve caught fire.”

“Not quite.” Chloe lay a palm against Noelle’s cheek, smiling with satisfaction as she headed toward the door. “Hold the towels against your skin until you hear my voice coming down the hall. Then stuff the cloths and the basin under your bed.”

“I’ll probably be numb with pain by then.”

“No,” Chloe assured her, easing open the door. “But you will be if Papa finds out what you’ve done.”

The railway station at Poole was crowded with people awaiting the morning train to London. The January day was grey and cold, inspiring many passengers—especially those with small children—to stay inside the musty one-story building after purchasing their tickets rather than going out to brave the chilly winter air.

Noelle wasn’t one of those people.

Urging Grace along, she pushed through the door and hurried outside to stand as close as possible to the fence bordering the tracks that would soon bring their train. Impatiently, she shifted from one foot to the other, wrapping her mantle more tightly about her and praying the train would arrive on schedule. No one else appeared to be concerned, she noted, observing the businessmen who leaned on their walking sticks, skimming the pages of the London Times and taking an occasional peek at their pocket watches, or the women who chatted gaily amongst themselves, keeping a watchful eye on their frolicking children whose peals of laughter emerged in frosty puffs.

Then again, none of these other passengers shared Noelle’s frenzied haste.

“Are you sure the gift you want to buy Lord Farrington can be found only in London?” Grace demanded, retying her bonnet with a scowl.

Noelle sighed, answering that question for the dozenth time since she’d presented her dilemma to the all-too-suspicious lady’s maid—offering her the same vague, easily fulfilled objective as she had the last eleven times. “I’m sure, Grace. The tiepin I spotted for Papa was in a shop on Regent Street. It was exquisite and most unusual. I’m certain we could never find anything even remotely like it in the village.”

“Still, with your parents away from Farrington all day, I’m uneasy about traveling—”

“It’s for Papa, Grace.” Without mincing words, Noelle went straight for the maid’s Achilles’ heel, unwilling to lose the battle now when she was so very close to achieving her goal. “I want his birthday to be special, and I know how much he admires that tiepin. He’s said so countless times—in a most wi

stful tone.”

“Very well. Since it is for Lord Farrington. …” With a conceding sniff, Grace folded her arms across her ample bosom and fell silent.

Thank goodness. Noelle nearly sagged with relief—although mollifying Grace’s objections was but a small portion of the battle. She’d feel a lot better if they were already seated in their first-class carriage on that bloody train, en route to London. She chewed her lip, reminding herself that, with a modicum of luck she’d be in Town in just over four hours. That would give her several hours before she needed to catch a return train to Poole, then summon a carriage to transport them the five miles back to Farrington Manor.

If her family left the village even one minute earlier than was customary on these full-day excursions, their arrival at Farrington Manor would precede hers, and they’d discover she was gone.

At which point her father would have her head.