Page 218 of Dukes for Dessert
“Fine.” She shooed Judith out of the way in order to open the door. “We won’t be gone five minutes. It’s just a quick errand.”
Carole let out a breath when she finally stepped out of her doorway and into the afternoon sun. The welcome warmth on her face perfectly complemented the scent of springtime as a cool breeze rustled the trees. It was a gorgeous day. No wonder the neighborhood children were out in the streets kicking balls and trundling hoops.
She waved at the children, but hurried down her walk without stopping to chat or play. Once her sketchbook was safely under lock and key, then she could take advantage of the fine weather. As soon as she reached the street, she quickly turned toward the duke’s cottage.
“Carole!” a familiar voice called out warmly.
Her good friend Gloria Pringle strolled toward her, arm-in-arm with her new husband. They looked adorable together, and deliriously happy. Carole was thrilled for them.
“How is married life?” she asked, and wished she hadn’t.
For years, Carole had ignored the hollow little thump in her chest every time another of her friends fell in love and started a new life. She was perfectly satisfied with her existing role as her father’s caretaker. He wouldn’t eat if it weren’t for her. That was fulfillment enough.
“Married life is perfect.” Gloria and her husband Christopher Pringle gazed at each other as if they’d been presented with a king’s treasure. “We’re going to go to London this year for the Season.”
“You are?” Carole asked in disbelief. Gloria was the only other person who never went anywhere. Married life must be magical indeed if it had extracted Gloria from her shell. “That’s wonderful!”
“I’m nervous,” Gloria admitted, “but I can’t wait to see the—are you wearing just one earring?”
Judith slid Carole a betrayed look. As lady’s maid, she was responsible for the upkeep of Carole’s outward perfection.
“I usually can’t coax her to wear earrings at all.” Judith lowered her voice. “I imagine she thinks this is some sort of compromise.”
“I think it’s piratical,” Carole informed them. “Also, I expect to find its mate in Azureford’s cottage.”
Gloria blinked. “When were you in Azureford’s cottage? Is he here?”
“He is not.” Carole gripped her empty reticule. “And I was there for his dinner party, same as you.”
“You’re just now coming to fetch an earring you lost six months ago?” Gloria asked doubtfully.
This was why Carole had wanted to undertake this mission alone. Friends asked questions. The butler would not ask questions. She would just grab her sketchbook and be gone.
“She probably didn’t notice it was lost until today.” Judith held up a liver-marked hand to stage whisper, “She hates earrings. You should see the fights I must put up if I’m to get a curling tong anywhere near her—”
“It was a dinner party, not a bride auction at Almack’s.”
“No less a marriage mart,” Judith said primly. “His Grace is single, and perhaps he wouldn’t be if you would have let me accentuate your heart-shaped face with a few ringlets.”
Gloria shook her head. “He’s a confirmed bachelor.”
“A confirmed bachelor in want of an heir and a spare,” Judith pointed out. “Carole is perfectly suitable to become—”
“A broodmare?” she finished archly. “No, thank you. Tell everyone you know that I am a confirmed spinster.”
Whenever she became melancholy about not having children of her own, why, there was an entire neighborhood of lads and lasses all around her. She wasn’t missing a thing.
“He is handsome.” Gloria giggled at her husband’s cross expression. “Not as handsome as you, of course.”
Carole was forced to disagree. Before he’d come to town, she’d heard the same rumors as everyone else: His Grace was cold, aloof, judgmental—and handsome as sin.
She hadn’t paid much attention to the gossips, but when she happened to spy the duke alighting from his stately coach… good heavens, had she paid attention! Dark hair, dark eyes, dark lashes, strong jaw, broad shoulders, impeccable everything. The entire village had skipped a collective heartbeat.
Not that Carole would indulge such twaddle. Whatever her lady’s maid might dream, Carole was no future duchess. In large part because she did not plan to marry… and in equally large part because the Duke of Azureford was patently uninterested. He had thrown precisely one party and didn’t speak to Carole the entire time.
“Come by later,” she told her friends. “We’re having pies for supper.”
“We’re already promised to Nick and Penelope… mayhap next week?”
