The Reverend was sure the absence of her husband was very much at the forefront of her riotous behaviour and should the Duke ever decide to return, this wildness would cease immediately. The problem was, it might also result in his daughter being sent away in disgrace. Sighing, Reverend Shackleford saw all his aspirations about to be trampled in the dust. He couldn’t even reprimand Grace, since she now far outstripped him in rank.
This called for some kind of action. The problem was, he had no idea what action to take. Should he write a letter to his son-in-law urging his immediate return to Blackmore? Could a mere clergyman urge a duke to do anything at all?
Tare an’ hounds, he was in the suds and no mistake. So far, he’d managed to keep the sorry state of affairs from Agnes, which hadn’t been too difficult since she generally only moved from the sofa to her bed, and up to now she’d not questioned the reason why silence suddenly reigned in the house for most of the day. The problem was, in two days hence, little Anthony was due his monthly ‘afternoon’ with his mama, and it was certain the catastrophe would then be out in the open. It was no good him trying to cut a wheedle – she could spot a Canterbury tale a mile away.
If Agnes found out, his life would truly not be worth living. Clambering to his feet, he resolved to seek out Percy. Two heads were undoubtedly better than one, and he always seemed to come up with his best plans when prompted by his curate. The Red Lion would ensure complete privacy while they came up with a strategy. Calling Freddy to him, he hurried out of the house before Agnes could ask for her salts.
Two hours and three tankards of ale later, neither man had come up with anything remotely useful. The Reverend was beginning to think his only option was to lock all eight daughters up until Grace’s husband decided to come home. However, that wouldn’t stop the gossip mongers from having a field day the minute his grace stepped foot back in Blackmore. That was providing the sordid details hadn’t already reached him in Scotland. The Reverend felt his collar tighten uncomfortably at the notion of what the Duke would do once he found out.
What they needed was something to replace the gossip. Something that would overtake the current preoccupation with the Duchess of Blackmore’s scandalous behaviour.
“We could pay someone to kidnap her?” Percy offered desperately when the silence became too oppressive.
The Reverend paused with his ale halfway to his mouth. Staring into its amber depths his eyes narrowed in a way that curdled the recently consumed steak pie ominously in the pit of Percy’s stomach.
∞∞∞
Grace retied her long hair in its ribbon as she hurried round the side of the house towards the kitchen. She was hot and tired and was hoping the cook Mrs Higgins had made some of her delicious lemonade. She was looking forward to spending a peaceful half an hour in the sanctuary of the kitchen before dressing for dinner – a custom she still found tiresome in the extreme. Especially when she spent every evening meal alone in the silence with only a book for company.
While the housekeeper had initially voiced her disapproval at the idea of a duchess spending time in the kitchen, Grace knew both Mrs Tenner and Mrs Higgins secretly enjoyed her company and, over the last two months, she’d spent many an hour learning how to both cook and look after a house. While the latter was certainly a desired skill of a chatelaine of such a large mansion, as a duchess, she didn’t need any of the former skills.
That said, if she managed to persuade her husband to banish her, she would at least be able to look after herself and her sisters. The thought of having a small house somewhere with her siblings was becoming more and more appealing. Much more so than living a lonely life in solitary grandeur.
As the weeks went by with no word from Nicolas, she had finally accepted that her husband had no intention of making her his wife in the fullest sense of the word, or indeed allowing any closeness between them. If she was to be denied the solace of children, she had decided she would do her utmost to ensure a future for herself elsewhere. She knew the Duke of Blackmore would be very unlikely to divorce her given the scandal it would cause to his family name, but if she continued with her current course of action, he would be certain to wish her out of his sight.
So, she’d enlisted the willing help of her siblings and together they had occupied themselves in all manner of dubious activities as publicly as possible in the hope that word of their conduct would reach her husband’s ears. Today had seen all nine of them hiding in a hay cart, jumping out and nearly giving the unsuspecting farmer an apoplexy as he began to unload.
So far unfortunately, while they were clearly the talk of the village, the gossip didn’t appear to have travelled any further and Grace had no idea what else to do to get her absent husband’s attention.
She entered the welcoming dimness of the kitchen, enjoying the respite from the heat. The July weather remained oppressively hot and Grace fanned herself vigorously with her kerchief as she seated herself at the kitchen table. Mrs Higgins clucked disapprovingly at her mistress’s dishevelled state as she first wiped her hands on her apron then poured the young woman some cooling lemonade. Mrs Tenner was nowhere to be seen
