Page 38 of A Most Improper Duchess
Arley squeezed the rough papers in his palm, then slapped them onto the table. ‘You wanted a tour to inflame a ready mind, didn’t you? Enlightenment? New beginnings? Explore Paris after the siege? This is it. It’s different from before. The place feels like it’s on the cusp of something amazing. There’s a weight and a lightness to it all at once. And if a young person is going to go there, it feels remiss to not expose them to all that energy. Going from site to site and missing all the places in between won’t do that for them. Odette, surely, as an artist, you appreciate this list?’
The soprano pursed her lips as she raised the paper. ‘I would like to see all these places. And to watch the rain fall in les Jardins du Luxembourg again.’
Arley settled back into his chair and tented his fingers across his chest.
‘Which is precisely why you should not include them,’ she continued. ‘I have always felt that England is ahead with one foot, and behind with the other. Our clients need to trust us. We are unknown. We need to walk slow. At least for the first year.’
‘The parents will expect something a little more structured. More supervised learning,’ Lawrence said.
‘But what about the speech Lady Dalton gave when we all agreed to be part of this? How travel could change a person and open them up to the world? That’s what this is.’ Arley slapped the pages onto the table. ‘How will they learn if they’re always bloody watched, always under scrutiny and never given a chance to damn well fly!’
Arley gulped air through the last of his outburst. The table held a collective breath. Iris lifted the sheet before her, her eyes flicking hesitantly across the page.
‘I like Garnier and Colonne Vendôme. The rest is too vague. Too much of a risk. It won’t appeal to our clientele.’
‘I will ask Vivianne—’
Iris spread her thumb and forefinger across her forehead, before pushing her fingers through her hair. ‘I have a book, your grace. I will send you a list to confirm that the remaining sites I think will suit are still standing. That will be enough. The tour leaders need to be trained. We don’t have time for more. We will launch with what we have.’
Early morning at the start of spring was Arley’s favourite time on the water. Before the river became too busy with traffic and the wake from passing boats made it difficult to get up a good pace. He balanced his oar across the skiff’s breadth, then knelt to untie its rope.
‘Why don’t you ever race?’
Arley grunted his frustration. Damn publican. He should have paid him a special ‘lie to my mother if she makes an enquiry as to my whereabouts’ premium. His mother had a way though. The wealth of Croesus would not be enough to keep the man silent. She’d extract the information she needed, regardless.
‘The Ilex Rowing Club doesn’t race. Not in open competition, anyway.’
‘You’re very good though. You could join another club.’ His mother took a quick step back as the wake from a passing boat washed over the deck, but the water still reached the circle of ruffles and turned the light blue trim of her gown dark. He’d been waiting for this conversation since she’d arrived. Over stiff dinners, and breakfast, she had said nothing.
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ he grumbled, not looking up from his boat.
‘That McGlinty has sided with Clarke? I won’t tell you then.’
Arley swore under his breath. He’d hoped that despite their run-in last year, he might still have gotten the man’s backing.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.
‘If you came here to warn me away from Vivianne, you have wasted a skirt hem. I’m going to marry her. And you cannot judge. It seemed to suit you to marry down.’
‘Is that why you don’t come home? Because I married Tillman?’
She was normally so stiff and formal, and the vulnerable ache of her words caught him. He’d left the estate for many reasons, but none of them were because of Tillman. He liked the man, and he was a competent manager.
Arley shook his head, embarrassed by the unintentional barb, but still not ready to back down. ‘I came to town to have some peace from being the damn duke in the big house. From all those picnics you kept hosting.’ He stomped to the edge of the deck. ‘Besides, you never visit.’
‘I was trying to help you make friends. After all that happened at school, I was worried you were lonely.’ Arley’s mother never looked away once engaged in a verbal spar, but now, her gaze flicked to the ground. ‘I help more by staying away. They only cut me, not you. If I came to town more, they may not be so generous.’
Arley slung his skiff into the water and steadied it as it bobbed. His mother followed him across the deck.
‘I know we lost years. I shouldn’t have sent you to school so young. I didn’t know what else to do. There are no guides on how to raise a duke. You may not believe it, but I am trying to help. She’s unconventional, but she loves you. Do you think me so rigid that I cannot be happy for my son? I came here to speak with you because I want to know why you are making a bid for the Exchequer.’
‘You know why. I’ve always wanted to win an appointment on my merits. It’s his legacy.’
‘If you want a wife who will further your ambitions, you should have chosen one raised for the task.’
How to explain that in this one part of his life, when it came to who he made his wife, he didn't want to be like his father, and that was because of her? ‘I’ve never forgotten that day when they read his will, and Winton and his mother were named. You didn’t even flinch. Just sat up higher in your chair and nodded. I never wanted a wife to think so little of me as to be completely unperturbed at my demise.’
‘It was not an easy moment for me. I cried myself to sleep for more than a week.' She stared into the water, as if she might find redemption in its depths. 'But one cannot show emotion in those moments. It’s too dangerous. I am trying to help Vivianne understand, but she is all fire and energy. She wasn’t raised for this.’
