Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)(14)

He fished in his pocket and produced a coin, then dropped it in her outstretched hand.

She peered at it. “This isn’t a penny. It’s a sovereign.”

“I don’t have anything smaller.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dukes and their problems. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Pauline drew her sister aside. She pulled her spine straight. The only way to keep Daniela from dissolving was to hold herself together. There could be no cracks in her resolve. She must be strong enough for them both, as always.

“Here’s your egg money for this week.” She opened Daniela’s hand and put the coin in it, closing her fingers over the sovereign before she could notice the color wasn’t right. “I want you to go upstairs and put it in the tea tin straightaway. Tomorrow, it goes in the collection at church.”

Daniela nodded.

“I’m going with the duke now,” Pauline told her. “To London.”

“No.”

“Yes. But only for a week.”

“Don’t go. Don’t go.” The tears streamed down Daniela’s reddened cheeks.

Don’t cry so, I beg you. I can’t bear it.

Pauline very nearly gave in. To distract herself, she thought of the golden coin squeezed in her sister’s hand. She imagined a thousand of them, stacked in neat rows. Ten by ten by ten by ten . . .

If only she could explain to Daniela what this would mean for them, and how it would better their lives in all the years to come. But her sister wouldn’t want to hear more talk of change. She needed routine, comfort. Familiar tasks to see her through the week.

“I’ll be back next Saturday to give you your egg money. I swear it. But you must earn that penny. While I’m gone, you must work hard. You cannot laze abed crying, do you hear? Collect the eggs every day. Help mother with the cooking and the house. When the week’s gone, I’ll be home. I’ll be sitting with you in church next Sunday.” She framed Daniela’s round face in her hands. “And I will never leave you again.”

She hugged her sobbing sister tight and kissed her cheek. “Go inside now.”

“No. No, don’t go.”

There was no good to come of prolonging it. Parting wouldn’t get any easier. Pauline released her sister, turned, and walked away. Daniela’s sobs followed her as she went through the gate and entered the lane, where the duke’s fine carriage waited.

“Pauline?” Her mother’s voice, calling from the front step.

“I’ll be home in a week, Mum.” She didn’t dare look back.

When she moved to enter the coach, her step faltered. The duke extended a hand. His hand was ungloved, and when his strong fingers closed over hers, a tremor passed through her.

“Are you well?” he asked. His other hand went to the small of her back, steadying her.

Pauline drew a deep breath. His strong touch made her want to melt against him, seeking comfort. She pushed the temptation away.

“I’m well,” she said.

“If you need more time to—”

“I don’t.”

“Should you go to her?” he asked.

No. No, that would make everything worse.

It was useless to explain. What did it matter if he thought her unfeeling and callous, anyhow? She wasn’t after his approval. She was doing this for his money.

“My sister always cries, but she’s stronger than you’d think.” She released his hand and mounted the stairs on her own power. “So am I.”

It took a great deal to impress Griff. Many an afternoon in Court, he’d looked on as officers and dignitaries were awarded ribbons, crosses, knighthoods, and more for service to the Crown. Some likely deserved their honors; many didn’t. The pomp and ceremony had him jaded by this point, and God knew he wasn’t prone to heroics himself. But he liked to think he could still recognize bravery when he saw it.

He had the feeling he’d witnessed a true act of courage just now. The girl had steel in her. He’d felt it, beneath his palm.

A good thing, too. Because if she was going to spend the next several days with the Duchess of Halford, Pauline Simms was going to need it.

“You have a week,” he told his mother, settling into the coach.

“A week?” Twin spots of color rose on her cheeks, matching the rubies at her throat.

“A week. Simms’s family can’t spare her any longer than that.”

“I can’t possibly accomplish this in a week.”

“If our Divine Creator could make the heavens, earth, and all its creatures in six days, I should think you can manage one duchess.”

She huffed with indignation. “You know very well I’m not—”

“Wait. Hold that thought.” Griff sent a hand into his breast pocket, searching. When he came up empty, he muttered a mild curse and fumbled in his waistcoat pockets, too.

“What on earth are you looking for?” his mother asked.

“A pencil and a scrap of paper. You were about to say you’re not God, or something to that effect. I mean to have the exact quote, date, and time recorded. An engraved commemorative plaque will hang in every room of Halford House.”

Her lips thinned to a tight line.

“You claimed you could make any woman the toast of London. If you can manage that with Simms in one week, I’ll marry her.” He leveled a single finger at her. “But if this enterprise of yours fails, you will never harangue me on the subject of marriage again. Not this season. Not this decade. Not this lifetime.”