Page 5 of The Duke’s Impossible Match

“That is a low thing to say, Gerald.”

“I did not mean…” Gerald tried to excuse himself, but Eleanor walked to the door, silently asking for him to leave.

“Let us get this over with,” she muttered. Gerald did as she wanted, although he intended to speak to her again a little later in the hope that her ire would cool.

At Tinkerton Manor, as with all the other events, Gerald would try his best to blend into the background. At the other events, he raised his hand, attempting to keep his face hidden, and tried to engage other men in conversation, hoping that they might shield him from the attention of the women.

Unfortunately, all his efforts were for naught. The women still found him, like water oozing towards any hole through which to trickle. They flashed smiles as dazzling as their jewelry and tried to pin him to engagements and courtships. Every one of them promised that they were different than all the rest, yet this had the effect of them blurring into one monotonous drone, like the unwanted buzz of a housefly.

Part of Gerald wanted to command them to leave him alone, to point to Eleanor and thrust her forward, making sure they all knew that this was her time, her season, and all the attention should be on her. However, he knew that this would only cause a scandal and would hurt Eleanor’s cause even more. So, he remained polite, trying to weather the storm until it passed, although he glanced across and saw Eleanor becoming more and more dispirited.

This wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what his life was supposed to be. His father had left him with the legacy of protecting the family, the estate, and Eleanor. Gerald had done his best, but now it felt as though he was failing. Another event beckoned, another moment where Eleanor would fail to shine all because people were eager to tie an eligible Duke to marriage.

There simply didn’t seem to be a way around it, and he hated that Eleanor was becoming so disheartened.

Later that afternoon, just before Gerald was about to speak with Eleanor again, the butler, Addams, announced guests. The Dowager Duchess of Stonewood and a Miss Clara Sterling. The visit was unannounced, so Addams asked Gerald if he should send them away or rearrange the visit.

Gerald wracked his brains. The Dowager Duchess of Stonewood. The title stirred a distant memory. Then it came to him. She had been one of his great-grandmother's closest friends. The two ladies had even founded a children's home together, and his great-grandmother had always spoken of her with great affection. It was odd that she should visit after all this time, but there couldn’t be any harm in accepting their company. Besides, it would prove a welcome distraction from their troubles.

“Send them in, and call for some tea and refreshments,” Gerald said, sweeping back his curled hair and adjusted his cravat, making sure everything was in order to receive visitors. Addams showed them in. The Dowager Duchess was older than he expected, although that shouldn’t have taken Gerald by surprise. However, he found his attention captured by the woman with her, Miss Sterling.

Miss Sterling was of average height, although this must have been the only average thing about her. Lustrous chestnut locks twined into an upswept creation that Eleanor could probably have put a name to. All he knew was that the rich color made him think of candlelight in the library, inviting and yet somehow comforting. Her skin was pale, her arms slender. The dress she wore was not inelegant, but it was plainer than all the styles he had become accustomed to seeing at the various balls. Her hazel eyes flashed towards him. For a moment he caught something challenging in them, but then her gaze dropped to the floor.

“Please sit down, Your Grace,” Gerald said as the tea and biscuits arrived. Agatha beamed as she sipped her tea.

“You may call me Agatha,” she said as she smacked her lips, seeming pleasantly surprised. “Oh, good, it’s warm. The maids at St. Margaret’s have an awful tendency to serve tea cold. I wonder if it’s a habit brought over from the continent,” Agatha said.

“Grandmother,” Miss Sterling said quietly, placing a hand on Agatha’s arm.

So they were related. Gerald leaned back, watching them both with curiosity. Miss Sterling seemed to keep a close eye on Agatha, and her hands were ready to catch any misplaced saucer or tilted cup.

“I’m not sure if you’ll remember me, but I was close to your great-grandmother, Rose,” Agatha said.

“I do remember. She spoke fondly of you, and she was proud of the children’s home. How is it?” Gerald asked. He couldn’t fail to notice the sharp glare that Miss Sterling cast his way, although he wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve such a look of enmity.

“Your Grace, I’m afraid that is why we have come,” said Miss Sterling. I do apologize that our visit is unannounced, but time is of the essence. You see, the lease has expired and if it is not renewed within one month then the house will be forced to close. We have children there, and they have nowhere else to go.”

“I see.” Gerald leaned back, stroking his chin. While he couldn’t recall the exact details, a lease renewal was not an inexpensive thing.

“With your bidding, please read this,” Agatha said, leaning forward.

Miss Sterling handed him a folded piece of paper that looked so fragile he feared it would crumble as soon as he touched it. Her slender, tapering fingers released the paper almost reluctantly. How much did that scrap of correspondence mean to her? he wondered.

Her eyes were fixed on the paper. Gerald’s wandered unbidden to her hands. The skin was unerringly smooth, or at least it looked so, like cream resting in a jar. There was a single freckle at the top of her palm, just by her wrist, nestled to the left. For some reason that he could not fathom, it captivated him, and he found himself staring at it until she pulled her hand back.

“If you would be so kind, Your Grace,” Agatha said, bringing his attention back to the letter. He opened it and read the faded words that had been penned so many decades before. It was a promise.

Another promise.

His life had been defined by them. In this letter, his great-grandmother Rose had stated that her family would always care for St. Margaret’s and its residents. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the last time he had held a letter from a family member speaking about promises. Here was another burden to bear, another matter to manage.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I shall arrange a visit before making such an important decision. I know that it was important to my great-grandmother, but it would be a costly investment. I must see it for myself,” he said.

Agatha and Miss Sterling glanced at each other. Agatha closed her eyes and shook her head, but Miss Sterling turned back towards him, addressing him for the first time.

“Your Grace,” she began, although the words seemed to hold more disdain than respect. “Perhaps we did not make it clear, but there are children currently residing in the house, and they cannot wait for you to weigh your decision. Would you have them thrown to the streets?” The words were clipped, winged with anger.

Gerald was part offended, and part intrigued. After all the fawning he had endured, it was somewhat refreshing to be faced with a bold woman who did not tailor her words to gain his favor.