Page 37 of The New Earl’s Convenient Wife

Chapter Twelve

Two weeks later, Rafe escorted a nervous Juliana up the steps of the Duke of Fenniston’s imposing London townhouse in Jermyn Street.

‘I thought Thornthwaite House was large,’ she mumbled. ‘This is a great hulk.’

‘It should be. Hart is a duke, I’m only an earl,’ Rafe said, giving her an amused look. ‘Surely you’ve entered some grand edifices when in London.’

‘Not really. On my only sojourn, I wasn’t “out”, you’ll remember. The few members of Society I encountered I met at home, in the townhouse Father rented for the Season, my family not being sufficiently wealthy—or important—enough to own a house in town. It was comfortable, but certainly not imposing. I never returned to London, since, as you know, after Ian and I agreed to marry, it wasn’t thought necessary to present me officially. Not doing so saved my family a great deal of blunt, which Carlisle was already spending freely and saved Mama palpitations from wondering how my odd behaviour might embarrass her in front of Society. Anyway, I was perfectly agreeable to remaining at Edgerton.’

Rafe frowned, as if about to comment that he saw that as yet another slight visited upon her by her family. But before he could say anything, the door opened and the butler bowed them in. The interior was just as opulent and ornate as one would suspect from the exterior: marble floors, elaborate plaster decoration on the walls, an elegant crystal chandelier swaying above her head.

As they turned over her cloak and Rafe’s hat and cane, a tall, regal woman emerged from the room off the entryway. ‘Thank you, Tompkins, I’ll take over now.’

‘As you wish, Your Grace. Shall I have tea sent in?’

‘Yes, and notify the Duke his guests have arrived.’

Juliana looked up in some trepidation. Her hostess, nearly as tall as Rafe, towered over her by almost a head. Though the rest of her appearance was not alarming. Unlike the ostentatious surroundings, the lady was simply dressed, her lustrous dark hair arranged in an uncomplicated style, her gown, though fashionable and of obviously expensive material, plain, unadorned by lace or embroidery, and she wore a single strand of pearls.

While Juliana was inspecting her, the Duchess turned to her husband. ‘Lieutenant Tynesley! How good it is to see you! Hart has been impatiently awaiting your visit. Though I should properly call you Lord Thornthwaite now.’

She turned startlingly blue eyes on Juliana and held out her hand with a smile. ‘You must be Lady Thornthwaite. I’m so pleased to meet you! Not knowing when you might arrive, Hart is finishing up some estate business in the library, but he will be down directly. We are both delighted to welcome you to London. Do come in,’ she urged, waving them into the parlour from which she had emerged and seeing them seated on the sofa before the hearth.

‘Have you settled in yet?’

‘Not quite,’ Rafe answered when it became obvious Juliana was not going to. ‘We only arrived night before last. Yesterday we were buried in a flurry of unpacking.’

‘You’re to be introduced in the Lords shortly, I expect.’

‘Yes. I’m dreading the elaborate ceremony almost as much as Hart tells me he did his presentation. The Black Rod, the King of Arms, sponsors fore and aft in full regalia, bowing to this and that! Though I suppose I must get used to calling Hart “Fenniston”.’

‘As I must get used to calling you “Thornthwaite”,’ a deep voice said from the threshold.

Rafe jumped up and strode over to embrace the tall, dark-haired man who’d just entered. As they backed to arms’ length, looking each other over, the Duke laughed. ‘Quite a change in circumstance from our days on campaign, isn’t it?’ he said, gesturing to the ornate room around them.

‘Are you accustomed to it yet?’

The Duke made a wry grimace. ‘Not really. Though my charming wife has done all she can to make it easier. Now, you must introduce me to your charming wife.’

Waving Juliana to keep her seat, the Duke walked over to kiss his wife on the cheek. Juliana couldn’t help noticing the warmth in his eyes as he looked at the Duchess…and the corresponding joy in hers as she leaned up into his kiss.

They are in love, she thought with a pang, trying not to feel envious.

‘Darling,’ Rafe said, interrupting her melancholy, ‘May I present my dear friend, the Duke of Fenniston? My wife, Lady Thornthwaite.’

As the Duke turned to her, despite his gesture meant to set her at ease, Juliana rose and made him a deep curtsey. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Duke.’

He gave a deprecating wave of the hand. ‘Please, don’t call me that. I have to tolerate it from outsiders, but not from the wife of my best friend. If you can’t bring yourself to call me “Lieutenant,” at least call me only “Fenniston.”’ He made a face. ‘I’d still rather be “Edmenton”, but there you have it.’

‘I see you’re not much more reconciled to the title than you were when you first learned it had landed upon you,’ Rafe said.

The Duke shrugged. ‘There was no choice but to accept it, and duty is duty, so I’m doing my best. Thank Heaven, I have Claire to help make it tolerable.’

‘Any chance that among ourselves, we might be just “Hart”, “Claire”, “Juliana” and “Rafe”?’ her husband asked. ‘I’m not as resistant to catching a title as you were, but I still think of my father whenever someone says “Thornthwaite.”’

The Duchess gave him a conspiratorial glance. ‘I don’t see why not, when it’s just us. Hart still chokes over the “Duke” title and when someone calls “Duchess”, I look around to discover who they are greeting.’ She turned to Juliana. ‘Being addressed by title is quite an uncomfortable leap for a girl who grew up simple “Miss Turnville” and spent several years as a lowly lieutenant’s wife, following the drum through the mud and heat of Portugal.’

‘Say, now, we lieutenants were not “lowly,”’ her husband objected.