It's Hard Out Here for a Duke(12)
Miss Green, on the other hand, looked nervous. Very nervous.
“So if I were to insist that we remove all the furniture and fetch some musicians so I might dance around the room with Miss Green, everyone would have to obey my orders.”
Miss Green looked horrified.
The duchess didn’t bat an eye.
“Of course you could do that, Your Grace. It is well within your rights. But it is deliberately misunderstanding your role. Such power is not bestowed so one might act like a petulant schoolboy or licentious rake.”
She paused to give him a sharp, reproving look.
One that made him feel like a petulant schoolboy.
Miss Green gave him a similar look.
One that made him feel like a licentious rake.
Again, he became acutely aware that he was no longer Just James and she was no longer just a beautiful woman he met in a tavern one night.
He might have been the most powerful man in the room, but he wasn’t sure how to wield that power.
He just knew he didn’t want it.
“Then I suppose it is also within my rights to declare that this session is over. As duke, I should like to inspect the stables and ensure they meet my standards.”
The duchess pursed her lips, but otherwise made no outward show of exasperation. They both knew he wished to escape and go muck around in the stables, with the horses, where he might pretend this duke business wasn’t happening and where he might feel like himself, if only for one blessed hour.
“Your Grace, it is vitally important that a man of your station set an example to others. People will be watching you for clues as to how to conduct themselves. If you disregard your station, it indicates that those below you may as well.”
In other words: the perpetuation of this archaic British aristocratic system rested on his shoulders. His reluctant, provincial, American shoulders.
“Once you enter society, all eyes will be on you, and they will be watching for the slightest misstep.”
“I take it going outside to see the horses is a misstep. The things that interest me, that I care about, are missteps.” Here he couldn’t resist another look in the direction of Miss Green. She held her head high, but looked away.
“A duke does not muck around in the stables, though if one wishes for a ride, one might request a groom to saddle a horse and bring it around,” the duchess said.
“And how does one do that?”
“One does not when one is engaged in important estate business.”
James felt his temperature rise. His valet, one Mr. Edwards, had tied his damned cravat too tightly, in spite of James’s requests to do otherwise. So much for being the most powerful man in any room. He stood swiftly, nearly knocking over his chair as he did so.
“So the first rule of being a duke is that I am not truly the most powerful person in the room. I am to devote my life to service of the dukedom, which I may or may not want, and set an example for people I may or may not give a damn about.”
He was irate. Self-righteously so.
James knew he sounded like a petulant, ungrateful brat. It seemed impossible for him to explain that he wasn’t ungrateful, just scared of failing in such a supposedly sacred mission, in which so many relied upon him. The only example he’d had of interacting with the dukedom was his father happily leaving it all behind and never speaking of it again.
He wasn’t certain that he was the man for the job, and yet it now all rested upon him. Perhaps he never should have come to England.
“Most people would consider it lucky indeed to be a duke. Many come to understand it as a great honor to be tasked with stewarding tradition, family, and prosperity from one generation to another.”
Yes, but . . . it was just a circumstance of birth. It wasn’t because he was worthy, or qualified, to say nothing of whether or not he wished to. James had a hunch he wasn’t worthy or qualified. The idea of even trying to become worthy or qualified had him running for the stables.
“Regardless of what you may think of the situation—and I can see that you think very little of it—you are the duke now. It is done. You may flee and shirk your responsibilities, or you may remain and make a valiant effort to uphold the Durham estate for another generation. It depends upon the kind of man you are. And given that you have so diligently cared for your three sisters, I think we both know you are capable of rising to this occasion.”
The duchess had to bring up his sisters. She had to bring up the three reasons he was here and the three reasons he would have to try. She was good. And she, clearly, was the most powerful person in this room.
The duchess rose to her feet. And even though he towered over her, she still managed to look down at him. Quite a feat, that.