Page 55 of Manufacturing a Duchess

“Was one of those two my daughter? The other one must have been Stephen, yes? But, why— and what was Marjorie doing here, and dressed like that? And, you knew? What is going on here? Am I being made a fool of? Why was my daughter—Damnation!”

As he spoke, Alec was fully on his feet, and out the main door by the time the final words left his lips. Calling for his horse, he grabbed the reins from the attendant who handed them to him and leapt up onto the stallion’s back.

“Which way did they go?” he barked. The people in the courtyard simply looked at him. “Damnation!” he swore again, and took off pell-mell, tearing away from the factory and toward the house.

He scanned the horizon. No luck. Where could they be? And then he remembered the small stream he had discovered earlier that morning, which was tucked into a grove of trees. He turned his horse around and headed in that direction. As he got closer, he could see two figures following the stream and flitting through the trees as they ran toward the house along the pathway.

He dug his heels into his horse and yelled, “Stop!” The figures kept running. Riding forward a few more feet, he jumped down and began running toward them himself. The two figures stopped, panting, each looking at him with wide eyes.

“Papa?” asked Marjorie. “Am I in terrible trouble?”

Forty-Five

Marjorie’s father marched right up to her and snatched the cap off of her head. She was clad in a pair of sturdy trousers and a clean, frequently mended shirt. Her feet were shod in sturdy boots. She backed up away from him until she was pressed up against her companion.

“What is the meaning of this?” he barked. “Why do you have my daughter dressed as a common laboring boy? This is shocking behavior. I gave no such permission for her to be taken out in public looking like this. This—this is a step too far.”

Marjorie’s companion, similarly attired, stood still and looked steadily at Alec. Clearly, the jig was up. Any further attempt at escape had been abandoned.

“She is wearing my old clothes,” said Aurora. “These were what I used to wear when I visited my father and Calum at the factory. Much more appropriate for being in a place such as that—no skirts to get caught in the machinery and cause an accident. Very practical, quite sensible.”

At that, Alec roared, “They are not. No lady would be seen in such a state. It is shocking. Again, I gave you no permission to treat my daughter in this way: dress her like a boy, take her into the factory. You never asked me—I am her father! How dare you so disregard me, disregard her! Is this how you intend to treat me, treat us? Secrets? Lies? What about Marjorie’s position? She is the daughter of a duke! This is no game! How dare you!”

Aurora swallowed but continued to stand where she had planted herself. “I wanted to show her the manufactory, the business. I wanted to let her know about such places. I wanted to let her know about the possibilities.”

“What possibilities?”

“That women can learn about business and how to manage places such as this.”

“And this is how you see yourself—a manager of your father’s manufactory?”

“Well, yes. I have been coming here since I was a little girl. I served as Calum’s apprentice—I learned the business from the ground up—how to work each piece of machinery. How to order, sell, and manage the books.”

“What?”

“Yes, Alec. This is my world. I know it inside out. And I wished to share it with Marjorie.”

“Out of the question. Out. Of. The. Question. Again, you never asked me. She is my daughter, not yours. You told me you were going to take my daughter on a walk. You said nothing to me about this! And now you wish to teach my daughter how to run a business? I am doing all I am to keep my daughter safe from want, safe from need. Not to turn her into some type of businesswoman! And a businesswoman wearing trousers? That is scandalous! Our estate may be in distressed circumstances, but we have not sunk that low!” He threw the small cap at Aurora’s feet.

Aurora wavered, almost taking a step back. He watched her try to slow her breathing. The realization she had gravely overstepped was writ plain across her face. Nevertheless, she once again attempted to explain. “I did not. I should have. I see that now. That is why I ran. Because I meant to explain all of this to you—or, rather, my father did, and coming upon me, us, this way.” Her voice died out, and she swallowed again. “This was not how I intended to share this with you. I was less than deft in how I handled this, explained all this. So, I panicked. I ran—from my own manufactory! I am sorry for the shock, Alec, but, but is it so very terrible?”

“Yes!” Alec took a couple of steps closer to Aurora, so he was practically looming over her. “This is beyond the pale, Aurora. Or, should I say, Stephen? And why on earth do they call you that?”

“It is an old nickname. Once used in jest and now habit. And, also, to try and keep the extent of my involvement in the manufactory from my mother.” Alec watched her wince at this last statement, as the words appeared to press an emotional bruise. “It is part of my name: Aurora Stephanie Elizabeth Rose Hardcastle.”

Alec shook his head, his gloved hand running through his hair to try and keep himself in check. “And they said nothing to me. Kept referring to Stephen the apprentice. All the while, they must have considered me a fool.”

“No!” Aurora attempted to protest. But he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“And you—you thought to humiliate me—me and, and my daughter, with this game you play? Who even are you?”

Aurora’s eyes blazed at his words, and she interrupted him again, raising her own voice. “This is no game, Alec. I do realize the prohibitions around women and business. At least, women of a better class and factory work. And women of the middling class doing physical work and then accountancy.”

“Well, if you think it is a step too far for that class, it is out of bounds for the class you were planning to marry into.”

The two of them stared at each other. Alec watched the heat rise in Aurora’s cheeks; he felt his own jaw clench with outrage, his lips pressed so tightly together they ached.

It was then he felt a tugging on his sleeve and looked down into the pale face of his daughter, a face drained of color for the second time in a handful of days. He abruptly snatched her up and headed to his horse. Putting Marjorie in front, he mounted and picked up the reins. Aurora stepped out of the woods and into the open where father and daughter were on horseback.