Page 2 of Her Passionate Duke

“I don’t think we’re going to wait much longer.”

Indeed, a moment later, the Duchess gave a decisive nod, and rang for a footman.

“Tell the kitchen to serve now.” The man bowed, and went to do as he had been bid, and the Duchess turned back to the people around her. “We will go in to dinner now, my Lords and my Ladies.”

Everyone rose, and followed the Duchess to the dining room. Once they were seated, Linnet and Lady Caroline being placed together, two footmen appeared from the kitchens bearing gleaming silver trays laden with baked vegetables, chicken, duck, lobster, and sucking-pig.

“Oh, it looks magnificent.”

Linnet almost moaned the words, her stomach rumbling faintly, as the footmen placed the pieces which she indicated onto her plate.

On the other side of Lady Caroline, a man rubbed his hands together in what seemed exaggerated anticipation. He was wearing a plum-coloured frock coat, his dark hair lathered with pomade, and had earlier been introduced as Monsieur Gustave Fournier. Before tonight, Linnet had neither seen nor heard of him.

“You English have a reputation for dreadful cooking,” Monsieur Fournier said, “a reputation which I have always considered unfair.”

His French accent lent an odd emphasis to his words. Lady Caroline studied his face with an inquisitive air.

“Monsieur Fournier, what brings you to England, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“My Lady, I have been in England for the past three weeks trying to avert a diplomatic crisis. Those in power never cease to find something to argue with each other about, it seems. We ambassadors are oft neglected and forgotten during peacetime, but when war threatens it’s every man to the service of his country.”

Linnet listened with interest. She had never paid much attention to politics and it was surprising to her that another war might be on the horizon.

“I think that it would be hard to go to war with someone after you had been in their home and enjoyed their excellent cooking.”

“No one is planning on going to war with the Duchess of Grantsham, fortunately,” said Monsieur Fournier. “And sadly, the decision for war and for peace isn’t made by ambassadors; all we can really hope to do is to put out fires before they erupt into a conflagration. For every war that is fought, there are at least three others which we have managed to avert before they started — but of course we never get credit for it, and history books don’t mention us.”

Linnet wondered what could induce the man to continue to perform a role which he clearly resented – perhaps he was simply loyally dedicated to his country. But Lady Caroline seemed to find him fascinating, and they continued to talk as the first plates were cleared away and the second course laid on the table: rabbits, pigeons, beef tremblant, guinea fowl smothered in a special sauce, and strawberries covered in Chantilly cream.

Linnet ate this course with diminishing relish, periodically scanning the room to see if the Duke had arrived yet – she had to admit to a growing curiosity about the man – after all, he was rumoured to be a rakehell, but most dashingly handsome.

The Duchess had, quite regularly throughout the dinner, glanced towards the door and frowned – presumably because her son was still not present. Finally, the Duke came wandering in, just after the third course had finished, when the footmen were laying out the blancmanges and jellies. At the first sight of him his mother glowered and seemed on the brink of exclaiming about his tardiness, and shaming him in front of everyone, so deep was her apparent frustration. But the Duke pacified her easily by bending low beside her and giving her a warm kiss on the cheek. He spoke a few words into her ear - which Linnet couldn’t hear - and when he rose to his feet the Duchess of Grantsham was smiling in spite of herself, her face thoroughly flushed.

“If you want to know how he gets away with things,” said Monsieur Fournier to the girls, quietly, “there’s your answer.”

Linnet barely heard the words beside her – for upon sight of him, her breathing had stuttered, and her heart pounded in her chest. He was more than handsome – he was quite the most striking man she had ever seen. For a moment, she wished that it was her cheek he had kissed, and the thought made her feel oddly heated.

“I can’t see the harm in indulging him,” said Lady Caroline, oblivious to Linnet’s reaction. “On our way through the foyer I passed a portrait which looked strikingly like him. I was surprised when Mother explained that it was actually a portrait of the late Duke, the resemblance was so strong.”

Linnet had noted the portrait, vaguely, but she felt that the man before her was far more appealing, far … more… in every way.

“He inherited his looks from his father, to be sure; but not one-tenth of the father’s discipline or temperament. Though who can really blame him, when his father died so young? I suppose that explains how he came to be so… disreputable… in his activities at times.”

Linnet’s attention was drawn back to Monsieur Fournier by the mention of the old Duke’s death. She found herself with an intense curiosity about the life of the current Duke of Grantsham, and his family.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did he die?”

“A hunting accident,” said Monsieur Fournier, reaching for the decanter of canary wine. “Dreadful business. He and Cecil Gascoyne, Baron Northwald, were out pigeon-hunting on a misty autumn morning, some years ago now. The Baron was cleaning his gun when it accidentally fired, killing his oldest and best friend.”

Linnet considered for a moment, unable to imagine what it would have been like to lose one’s father in such circumstances – her own father’s death, of an apoplexy, had been shocking, but natural – a failing of the body which could not have been prevented. But this… how dreadful it must have been for the current Duke, when he had been so young.

“Oh, how horrible!” she found herself exclaiming, and Lady Caroline’s face paled.

Monsieur Fournier nodded sadly.

“The Baron was so grieved that he died shortly thereafter of a broken heart, but not before leaving the Duchess of Grantsham a third of his unentailed estate. Between that and the income from the late Duke’s estates she was able to finish bringing up her three sons in comfort, even with the grief of losing her youngest son and her husband so close together. The Grantsham estates are extensive, and she managed them well for her son until he was of age to take on the full responsibilities of his title.”

“At least she received some monetary reparation after all her travails. Not that I suppose, she really needed it – a Duke is rarely impoverished…” said Lady Caroline.