Page 43 of Manufacturing a Duchess

“How long do we have, Papa?”

“Not long. A few months, perhaps. I wanted to be well enough to introduce your husband-to-be to the business. I realized, if you secured a gentleman of the Ton, he most likely would not be interested in getting acquainted with the details of grubby trade and manufactory work. Even so, as a husband, all this would be his.”

Aurora found herself bristling. “I would beg to differ, Papa.”

Her father sighed. This was another old argument, and one that was an actual disagreement. “Daughter, the ways of the world.”

“I have learned something about the ways of the world, Papa. I still would beg to differ.” Aurora looked around for the tiny stool which traditionally stood in a corner of the room, dragged it right next to her father’s chair, and sat on it. This was their old arrangement, one she had followed from the years when he was a doctor, writing up his patient receipt books and explaining the various medical ailments of the countryside. Those were the days when they lived in a smaller house, before the factory and the wealth. This habit of theirs continued afterward.

She looked up at her father. “Papa, I have done everything you and Mama have asked of me. I went to that horrid school where the girls were awful to me and where I was reminded each and every day I did not belong. Yet I did not run away. I went to London, as you asked, and have secured—at least, nominally secured—an eligible match. With a duke, no less!

“But I am still me, Papa, and I cannot seem to stop being so. I am your daughter, and no one else’s. I have learned at your feet from the time I was very small. I have studied the business inside and out. I know how to work a loom. I know how to negotiate and order. I know how to organize the ledgers. I know how to direct the workers. I know how. I also know how important it is to you that the manufactory continues to be run the way you wish it to be, not like those other enterprises where we know of so much suffering by the workers.

“When you meet with the Duke of Selkirk, I need you to insist he not be given full control over all my monies and assets.” Aurora paused and took a deep breath. Something that had been floating in the back of her mind, untethered and cloudy, had suddenly swum into focus, and she knew what she had to say. “I wish to operate the manufactory, Papa. Even after all these weeks away, I know that is what I want to do. I know this now. My place is not in London with all those fine lords and ladies. My place is here. With this work.”

Her father spluttered, “Aurora, that is most irregular. Furthermore, I am sure no gentleman worth his salt would agree.”

“Well,” Aurora continued, “I would argue such a gentleman would then have nothing to do with me. I have come to believe the Duke of Selkirk might be amenable to such a conversation. He has a young daughter of his own—Marjorie. He adores her. Absolutely and utterly. He clearly wants more for her than the standard portion of things. I believe I can offer him that—I believe I can offer him something for his daughter, something more than simply money. Doing this requires me to maintain some manner of control over my own affairs.

“Papa, I need this. This is what you have raised me for.”

Her father’s eyes searched her face again. Then he sighed. “Well, it shall have to be broken to him gradually. I do not know that a man of his class would consent to such an arrangement. Frankly, I do not know of many, or even any, men who would consent, regardless of class.”

“Oh, Papa. Simply show him around—introduce him to the people in the neighborhood and at the factory. Let him see this world and how different it is from the world he knows. See how he processes and absorbs it. After that, let him know this is my world, that I know my way around it and that I should be the leader in this. I think it can be done.”

Her father reached out and patted her hand. “Well, well. We shall see. Now, goosey, you should have a short rest before dinner. I will try to join you for the actual meal. Your mother, Aurora⁠—”

She had stood, but his words stopped her from leaving.

“This has been extraordinarily hard on her. Please look after her for me. Please? I know the two of you have not often seen eye to eye: you are both very different people. She is precious to me as well, daughter. And she loves you very much, though you have tended to see it as judgment and chastisement.”

Aurora clamped down on her lower lip to stop it from wobbling. “Yes, Papa. I promise.”

It was a very different Aurora who climbed the stairs back to her room than the one who had left for the Wentworths’ estate all those months ago. The time in London had altered her more than she had realized. She had learned to maneuver in a more rarefied society but knew she would never be at home there. London had also rubbed off some of the adolescent edges she had still possessed when the carriage had first deposited her onto the city’s hubbub of streets and drawing rooms. She supposed she was still naïve, in fact, she knew she was. But not as much as before. And now, this conversation with her father had shifted something further inside of her. The knowledge of the shortness of time they had left was throwing all of her expectations into the air. While simplifying them as well.

But she admitted to herself, I do not know how much more change I can take. I really do not know. Into her memory swam the feeling of the Duke of Selkirk’s arm supporting her into the house; the fact he noticed and cared enough to act brought with it a note of hope. Perhaps she had something solid under her feet as she navigated this new world of what had once been her old home. She certainly no longer had a best friend in whom she could confide.

Thirty-Four

The familiar angle of sun coming through Aurora Hardcastle’s bedroom windows had her up bright and early the next morning, regardless of the long days of travel she had just endured, so she decided to put on her riding clothes and take a short gallop before everyone else was awake. She had not counted on the Duke of Selkirk being an early riser as well, and she encountered him in the breakfast room, helping himself to a healthy plate.

He started, clearly not expecting to see her, but recovered so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. He immediately set down his plate, stepped toward her, bowed, and kissed her hand. “Good morning, Miss Hardcastle,” he said.

The ridiculous thumping of her heart and plummeting in her stomach were still there and stronger than ever. Aurora tried to put on her best chatelaine look and only curtsied. He remained standing while she selected some items for her own plate, then he pulled her chair out for her and took a seat next to hers.

“I hope you don’t mind the informality of our dining habits at this early hour,” she said. “It is not up to London standards, I know. We have always treasured the informality of our mornings. Things become a little more formal when my mother descends to eat. My father and I always liked the privacy of just the two of us.”

“I do not mind in the slightest, Miss Hardcastle. I confess to a much more informal daily existence in what might be described as a fairly rackety way of living. I am not very high in the instep. I am hoping you can demonstrate to my daughter some more appropriate, shall we say, options for regular living. But—” and here a teasing note entered his voice, “no chaperone?”

“There is a footman right outside the door there,” said Aurora, “Well within calling distance. Yes, perhaps not exactly the thing.” She gave him a shy smile and then continued. “I would like you to see how I like to conduct my life. And how I would prefer to keep on conducting it. Oh, I know accommodations will need to be made once we are, once we are—” She had difficulty getting the word out and blushed, “wed. Yet, when we are at home, I would prefer to keep things simple. No airs and graces and hovering retainers. I know it is not the thing, if one is a member of the Ton. But, still, I wish to be honest with the man who is to be my husband.”

“Well, I most heartily approve. We may have more in common than we initially assumed.”

“Indeed, sir.” She took a bite of her food and chewed, as did he. Then she set down her fork again. “Sir, I realize this may be quite untoward of me, but, as we are, to all intents and purposes, affianced, perhaps—” She stopped.

Alec set down his knife and fork and waited. Finally, he spoke, “I confess, Miss Hardcastle, you have me on tenterhooks as to what you might mean.”

At that, she laughed. “Oh, it is not quite that exciting. No, it is that, perhaps, when it is only the two of us, you might address me as Aurora.”