Page 58 of Manufacturing a Duchess

“He said that? Oh.” Aurora swallowed. He watched splotches of color rise in her cheeks as her eyes softened and grew moist. She ran a tongue along her upper lip, but snapped her mouth closed when she noticed him watching her. She squared her shoulders and continued.

“Yes, I would be one of the ways to manage the business. I have been raised for this. I know the factory, its operations and its people, inside and out. I know I am repeating myself, but I have been apprenticed to Calum almost from the day my father took over sole management, and it was clear he could not keep me away. This work, these people: they are my father’s legacy, and I owe them. I also owe it to him to keep that legacy alive.” She looked down at her hands and clasped them together.

“I do understand, Miss Hardcastle.” The continued formality between them, the use of the Miss and not Aurora—he clung to it. He could not bring himself to speak to her with familiarity, otherwise, he might be undone. The strictures of polite conversation were perhaps the only thing propping him up right now. But he also could not stop talking. “So, I now know your terms to be this: you would maintain management of the manufactory, and I, as your husband, would simply be your partner in this.”

“Yes.” A pause, and then, “And⁠—”

“You mean there is more?” He couldn’t keep the scorn from the words.

His tone served as a goad to Aurora, he could see that, and it caused her to look directly at him again. This time, she did not stop a note of defiance from creeping into her voice. “And I also wish to maintain control of my money, that is, continue to have a hand in how those funds are used. In short, I wish my marriage to be a partnership of equals.”

Alec gaped at her, then burst out with, “Aurora, have you run mad? This is not how it is done. This is not the role and duty of a wife. A proper wife. Damnation, woman! The husband is to manage the finances. The husband is the head of the family and the estate. The wife’s proper domicile is the children and the managing of the household, to see it is smoothly run. Yes, she should know something about the estate should the husband be away but—manage her money? Once she marries, it is no longer her money. And run a business? Impossible.”

The two stared defiantly at one another. He had no idea what she was thinking. And de’il take it—he wanted to know. He wanted to know what was going through her head now, so badly. Just a day ago, he had assumed he could. Not read her mind exactly yet still understand her. But now he was lost. He could not find the words.

He had spoken truth. That was how things were. He was in the right; he knew he was. But he also felt muddled and uncertain. And deucedly uncomfortable. Why would his wretched body not turn and take him out of the room?

Once again, it was Aurora who broke the silence. “You are still in love with her.”

“What?” Alec felt as if he had taken an uppercut to the jaw and his head swam.

“Millicent. She is still your Ideal. She is the type of woman you wish to marry. After all that has happened, she is who you want.”

Alec simply stared at her. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Of course you do. All this about the way I dress at my father’s manufactory, about bringing Marjorie to see it, dressed as I used to, about my wishing to be a co-partner in the business with whoever my husband is, about retaining a say in how my money is spent, this is really not the nub of it, is it?”

“Well, Miss Wentworth’s flaws aside, she has been bred to be a duchess, that is true.”

“Ah ha! I knew I was right!” But the look Aurora gave him was far from triumphant.

How could she have it so wrong? And after the way Miss Wentworth had treated Marjorie, too? It bewildered him. Why was she bringing up that awful woman now? They were talking about today, the manufactory, his daughter. Because what Aurora was asking of him was simply unthinkable. That was what they were discussing. He was to be the husband. He was the man. There were ways in which things were done. And I have stretched myself so far. But this was beyond what any man could accept. No one could expect me to accept this.

He ignored her words about Miss Wentworth and returned to what was, for him, the heart of the matter.

“I cannot, Miss Hardcastle. I cannot submit to this form of marriage which you are demanding of me. You are asking me, demanding that I allow my wife to run a manufacturing business and retain control of her own money, instead of bringing all financial affairs under my own control, as is only right and proper, as a husband. You are bringing my honor as a gentleman, damnation, my worth as a man, into question. And you are dragging my daughter into all of this, dressing her in boys’ clothes and introducing her to how a manufactory works. It is necessary for me to do so, to secure her future. That is, to go into business. But not for her. Never for her. She is the daughter of a duke.” He stopped speaking, but his thoughts spilled on.

He could not abase himself that way. And he most assuredly could not abase Marjorie that way. He had to find another means out of his financial difficulties. Until then, he and his daughter would simply have to manage. But why did it have to be so deucedly painful?

Aurora did not respond but only looked at him. Once again, he tried to guess what she was thinking and came up empty. Once again, he did not leave. And, once again, the silence lengthened between the two of them. For the third time, it was Aurora who broke it.

“I do love your daughter, Your Grace.” Aurora swallowed. “She is special. I believe I have things I can offer her. Beyond Keats and Homer, though those as well.”

On hearing the mention of Marjorie, Alec’s heart gave a further lurch. What was Aurora doing to him? He accepted this peace offering. He found refuge, again, in the proprieties, and gave her a stiff bow. “For that I thank you, Miss Hardcastle. For seeing that she is special. For, for loving her. Or at least thinking so. I do acknowledge that, regardless of how misguided your actions toward her have been.”

The bitterness in the tone of her response to his bow, however, was like a slap. “Well, we have given up the farce of this ever being anything more than a business arrangement. Of my only being a means to an end. You do not have to pretend anymore.”

Stung, his re-built composure slipped again, “I have never pretended anything less in my life! I am no actor. I have always dealt plainly and honorably with you. You sit there, impugning my honor, impugning my motives, impugning, well, just impugning!”

Aurora glared at him, “I am not impugning anything. I am simply stating.”

“No, you are not. You are impugning beliefs and feelings to me which I have never claimed, and which I wholly and thoroughly reject. You are outside the pale, Miss Hardcastle, and I am lucky to have escaped your clutches.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously. “My clutches? I never clutched at you, you horrid man.”

“Of course you did. All that blushing. Making eyes at me. Yet all the time, butter would not have melted in your mouth.”

“Then it is a good thing we will not ever be married, sir. You are free. I wish you all happiness.”