Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)

Chapter Twenty-five

Ensconced at Rycliff House, safely away from the crowds, Lady Rycliff—who now insisted Pauline call her Susanna—poured another cup of tea. “What a week you’ve had, dear.”

Pauline watched the fragrant liquid filling her porcelain cup. Lady Rycliff serving her tea. The world had turned upside down.

“It has been eventful.” And the story had taken the better part of two hours to relate, from the first tossing of clayed sugar to the cold, bitter end.

Of course, she hadn’t told everything. She left out the amorous details. And Griff deserved his privacy where Mary Annabel was concerned. She’d never tell another soul about that.

“I knew Halford was a villain.” Lady Payne—who insisted Pauline call her Minerva—plucked a biscuit from the tray and took a vengeful bite.

“You’re mistaken,” Pauline said. “He’s a good man. The best kind of man.”

And she’d hurt him. Whenever Pauline closed her eyes, she saw his angry, betrayed expression. The image was stamped into her memory, embossed in guilt. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pushed, but she’d been so concerned for him . . .

And so afraid.

Griff was right. She’d been so very afraid for herself.

“Did he truly propose marriage?” Lady Rycliff asked.

Pauline nodded.

“And you refused?”

She nodded again. “You must think me a fool.”

“You are not a fool.” Susanna reached to squeeze her hand.

No. Pauline supposed she wasn’t. In truth, she was a coward. She’d panicked and pushed him away.

His suggestions had been such madness. The two of them, marry? Her, become a true duchess? An elegant lady, admired by the London elite?

It just couldn’t be. The crowd outside Halford House knew the truth. She could still feel them tugging at her clothing, shouting in her ears.

Griff could claim not to care about gossip—but that was easy for a duke to say. He’d never been the object of mockery and scorn. He didn’t know how it felt to be at the bottom of the pecking order, and if Pauline tried to live in his world, that was exactly where she’d be. Always. Even if she could withstand a lifetime of snide remarks and subtle cruelty, she couldn’t expose Daniela to that treatment.

“You were right to refuse him,” Minerva said. “But we can’t let it end this way.”

We?

Why should either of these ladies care how her week ended? Pauline felt lucky enough that they’d offered her a place to gather herself and help finding transportation back to Spindle Cove.

“This ball tonight,” Minerva said, adjusting her spectacles. “You must go.”

“Why would I do that? I doubt the duke will attend.”

“Even if he doesn’t attend. Go for yourself. Just to let those gossips see you, undefeated and proud. Simply to prove you can.”

To prove you can.

But could she, really?

Pauline shook her head. In Spindle Cove she’d half listened as Minerva Highwood lectured the other ladies on the most impossible topics—vast underwater caves and giant prehistoric lizards. This latest suggestion seemed no different.

“I can’t attend the ball tonight,” she said. “I wouldn’t even know where to go, or how to get there. I haven’t anything to wear.”

“Leave all that to us,” Minerva said, tapping Susanna on the arm. “We’ll handle the arrangements. You need only supply the courage. Spindle Cove ladies band together.”

“I’m not a lady, my lady.”

“We would stand by you even if you were a serving girl,” Susanna said. “But I believe you’ve always been something more.”

Pauline warmed a little. She did have more inside of her, and maybe Griff wasn’t the only one to notice. To be sure, she wasn’t up to the standards of Lady Haughfell and her set, and she certainly was no duchess. But neither were Susanna or Minerva, or any of the other ladies who sought refuge in Spindle Cove.

She belonged there. Her heart expanded with a sense of certainty. She knew her right place in the world. She was going to have her cozy, welcoming, wonderful-smelling library, and it would be a home for any girl who needed it.

And she would have her sister—the one person who loved her wholly, without shame or reservation. That was something even the fourth-largest fortune in England couldn’t buy.

“I want to go home,” she said. “As soon as it can be managed.”

“Go to the ball first,” Minerva urged.

Pauline shook her head. “I must be back in Spindle Cove tomorrow. I promised my sister.”

“You can do both. The mail coach is the fastest way home, and it doesn’t leave London until after midnight. Isn’t that right, Susanna?”

“I suppose,” Lady Rycliff replied. “Pauline, if you wanted to attend the ball for an hour or two, we could still have you to the mail coach in time.”

Pauline hesitated.

“My lady?” A housemaid entered the room, looking apologetic. “I beg your pardon, but there’s someone here for Miss Simms.”