Page 20 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“Yes, yes. I understand,” Hasmik muttered.

“Do you? Because I need you to be on my side. Our plan will not work without your understanding and support.”

“You know I will always stand by your side. Your mother asked it of me, and I love you.”

“Thank you.”

“But I also must inquire. What if a false courtship turns into more?”

Adeline’s stomach tightened. “No. Warwick is stubborn, selfish, and insensitive. He called Henry bacon.”

Hasmik shrugged. “He isn’t wrong. The animal is a pig.”

She had to understand. There was no future, no more. “He insinuated that women lack intelligence.”

“He sounds like most Englishmen. You must educate him.”

Adeline’s frustration grew by the second. How could she convince Hasmik that there could never, never be anything between her and the duke other than a business arrangement? She didn’t want a titled man, let alone a duke. She wanted to marry for love. Her future husband would most likely be a commoner who accepted her mixed race, her profession, her ideals. “I do not like him.”

“Then why treat his wound?”

Hasmik had a good point, but she also knew Adeline better than anyone. “You know I cannot let anyone suffer.”

Hasmik smiled broadly. “Ah, but the duke is not just anyone, is he? He is the duke who is courting you.”

…

“Pardon, Your Grace?”

Warwick leaned back in his chair in his workshop cum study and contemplated how to explain the turn of events to his longtime butler. He preferred things to be logical and well thought out, like solving a mathematical problem. But he’d recently acted uncharacteristically illogically. How best to tell his staff?

“I am courting a lady, the half sister of the Earl of Foster,” Warwick said.

To Nelson’s credit, the only reaction was one arched eyebrow. The butler’s posture was ramrod stiff. “I wasn’t aware you had met a lady, Your Grace. As the head of the household, I can also speak on behalf of the staff to say that no one was aware.”

Warwick’s staff at Chilham consisted of his butler, housekeeper, a maid, two gardeners, and a cook. He required little else. This handful understood that he despised interruption and sought quiet to concentrate. Warwick had even left behind his valet. He was perfectly capable of shaving and dressing himself, although Nelson could aid with his clothing in a pinch.

“No need to be concerned,” Warwick said. “It was a decision made quickly.”

“I have never known you to act quickly. In anything. And certainly not in matters of the heart.”

Warwick frowned. He knew what Nelson meant. Warwick had previously avoided social events and the ambitious mothers of the ton. He’d also never expressed the slightest hint of interest in a lady. He wasn’t a monk, and like any man he had biological urges which had led to liaisons—satisfactory interludes with widows and older women.

Never young ladies like Adeline.

“When can we expect the lady?” Nelson asked. “Mrs. Posner will need to be notified straightway.”

“Before we notify Mrs. Posner, you should know something else. Lady Adeline has treated my wound. She will continue to do so.”

“Your wound?” This time Nelson looked utterly confused.

“She is a healer.”

All pretense of formality seemed to drop as Nelson squinted at him. “You are courting a lady, the daughter of an earl, who is a healer?”

“Yes.”

“What about the treatments from your London physician, Your Grace? I’ve been applying the flour.”