Page 33 of The Trouble With Her Duke
He kept himself from wincing at her grey dress, although he approved of the softer hairdo. “Color.”
“Begging your pardon?” she asked.
“I’ve given this a great deal of thought over the last month, and I believe a chasm created by the drabness of your predecessors’ garb contributed to the problems. A more cheerful, colorful wardrobe could be helpful.” It would certainly be more flattering. Even in the dull grey, she was beautiful.
“I don’t see how that . . .”
“It does. Trust me.” He hated the grey on her. “The twins want warmth, not severity. My mother had much to say over the holiday and I did a good deal of listening.” He gave a wry smile. “I will bear the cost but would like you to have colorful gowns made for the job. I feel strongly about this . . . and hope you’ll humor me.”
She had a befuddled look on her face. “You think the color of my dress will make a difference?”
“I do. I believe my children are looking for a softer female influence. They have never known a mother.”
She opened her mouth and closed it before speaking. “I hadn’t thought of that, Your Grace. I will commission the dresses . . .”
“Nonsense. I am requiring it. I shall pay. Can you take care of this within the week?” he responded. Standing, he held out his arm. “If we are settled here, shall we meet the children? I’ve arranged to break our fast together in the anteroom off the nursery.”
Smarting over his demand that she wear bright dresses for a job as a governess, even at his own cost, Lydia decided to retreat to the safety of her room. But as they left his study, Lydia heard a female voice arguing with Jenkins in the front entry.
“I must see him, Jenkins,” the woman demanded.
“Let me see to this, Miss Hammond. I will meet you in the nursery. Cook will have already had the room set up for breakfast.” The duke turned and went downstairs.
Lydia assumed the woman must have heard his voice because she pushed past Jenkins and cornered the duke at the bottom of the stairs.
“Can you follow me to my study, Lady Withers?” the duke asked.
“And hide what you have done to me?” she scoffed. “You have left me five months pregnant. I am with child and am ruined.”
“That’s impossible, and you know that. I haven’t seen you in six months, Naomi,” the duke hissed. “Come into my study so we can discuss this.”
Lydia climbed the curved stairs to the first landing before stopping. Glancing down, she saw the dark-headed woman point to a protruded, rounded belly. A silent gasp escaped her. Was this the femme fatale Eliza and Bridget had spoken of? Glancing around and seeing no one, Lydia strained to listen.
“I’m five months along,” she cried.
The duke signaled to Jenkins for assistance while Lydia stayed rooted in her spot. She tried to move, but her feet were rooted beneath her.
“I won’t allow you to sweep our child under the rug and give everything to the brats upstairs,” she screamed. “I won’t do it. I demand you keep your promise and marry me.”
“Madame, you go too far. I made no such promise,” he said through gritted teeth. I provided as promised for our . . . former liaison. “Had you not gambled the funds away, you would have money to raise your child. Leave the house on your own, or I will have you carried out.”
Lydia noticed that as angry as the duke was, he never touched the woman. Something else going on here. Could Eliza have been right about this one?
“You refuse to acknowledge this is your babe?” the widow screamed.
“I do.”
Lydia moved quickly to the second-floor landing, hoping she would remain unseen long enough to make it to the nursery—and hoping the children were behind closed doors.
“There!” Lady Withers pointed.
Lydia froze and looked down. The woman peered up with narrowed eyes. Hearing a giggle, Lydia glanced at the stairs above, seeing the twins on their knees with their faces pressed into the rails.
Withers threw her hands on her hips, seemingly oblivious to the children. “Seems you’ve replaced me. If I’d known your cruelty, I’d have had nothing to do with you,” the woman cried, falling to her knees to avoid being picked up by the duke and Jeffrey.
Seeing the children, Lydia scurried up the stairs, intent on removing the children to their room before they heard more. That they didn’t know her didn’t matter.
The duke didn’t look up. Instead, he kept a steady watch on the intruder. “Careful, Lady Withers,” he warned. “That you’ve involved a child in your deception is grievous. I suggest you accost the real father. I will not be a party to your wild machinations, and I will not marry you,” he ground out.
