Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)(58)

Pauline shook her head. “It’s not going to happen.”

“I know my son, girl. He’s half in love with you already. It started that very first day, and then this morning . . . ?” She hmphed. “One strong push in the right direction and he’ll fall hard. Don’t try to tell me you’re not feeling something for him.”

She sighed, not knowing how to argue. He’d declined to take her to his bed. But after the bookstore today, she believed that Griff did care about her. At least a little. And she knew herself to be dangerously close to falling in love with him.

But what did it matter? That didn’t mean he’d want to marry her. Or that she could ever marry him.

She rose from the bedside. “I’ll leave you to your rest.”

“One last thing,” the duchess said just as Pauline had reached the door. “You’re to have the amethysts tonight. I’ll tell Fleur.”

The amethysts?

Pauline was stunned. “But, your grace, I couldn’t possibly wear—”

“You’re ready for them. And what’s more, he’s ready to see you in them.” As she left the room, the duchess called after her, “I’m counting on you, girl.”

Too many people were counting on her, it seemed. Her loyalties were growing more and more divided. The duke had hired her to save him from matchmaking. The duchess wanted to be rescued from a creeping tangle of yarn. Pauline was coming to care for them both—and she knew they each needed something more.

But somewhere, much too far away, there was poor Daniela, faithfully gathering eggs and counting the days until Saturday. Her sister needed her most of all.

Pauline drew to a halt in the corridor and cast a look at the porcelain shepherdess she’d nearly demolished a few days back.

What am I doing here?

To these people, country life made for decorative figurines. She knew it to be backbreaking, ceaseless work. No matter what delusions the duchess suffered under, she could never belong in this aristocratic world.

All she wanted was a little shop in Spindle Cove and a circulating library of naughty books. Not to mean well, but to do well—for her and her sister both. She couldn’t start dreaming of the wrong fairy tale.

She was a hardworking girl, and she’d been hired for a reason. To be a comprehensive catastrophe.

“Colin. Colin, something terrible has happened.”

Colin Sandhurst, Lord Payne, looked up from the letter he was writing. His wife stood in the doorway of his study—as always, an enticing vision of dark hair and plump, kissable lips.

But her lovely eyes had gone grim behind her spectacles.

He rose from his desk at once. “Good God, Min. What is it?”

“We must do something,” she said.

“Of course we will, darling.” He crossed the room to her. “Of course we will. I could crash through the window this instant, if you asked. Or pen a strongly worded letter to The Times. But the actions we take will be more effective if you explain to me first what’s going on.”

He took her by the shoulders and guided her to the divan.

“It’s that horrid, debauched friend of yours,” she said. “From before we married.”

He chuckled. “That description fits a shocking number of people, I’m afraid. You’ll have to narrow it down.”

“The duke. That grabby, disgusting duke from Winterset Grange.”

“Halford?”

“Yes, that’s the one. He’s got Pauline Simms. Our Pauline, from the Bull and Blossom. And he’s holding her hostage here in Town.” She shuddered. “God knows what he’s done to the poor thing. Probably made her his sordid love puppet.”

Colin struggled not to laugh. “Minerva, I’m trying to follow you, but you’re making it quite difficult. Perhaps you can start again and tell me what actually happened today.”

“I saw them together. I was going to the bookshop to . . .” She blushed a little. “To see if any more copies of my book had been sold. I can’t help it.”

“And had they?”

“Yes,” she said proudly. “Three.”

“Excellent, Min. That’s brilliant.” Colin had only purchased two of them himself.

He knew she’d throttle him for buying them up, but he couldn’t help it. The market for geological treatises wasn’t especially robust. But she was so damned adorable when she was pleased with herself—and especially creative in bed. His motives were entirely selfish.

“Anyhow, as I was approaching the bookshop, I saw the two of them leaving it. The Disgusting Duke of Halford and Pauline Simms. Clear as day.”

Colin sighed. He hated to prod at a sore spot, but this was too much to be believed. “Were you wearing your spectacles?”

She gave him an offended look. “Of course I was.”

“Still. I think you must have been mistaken.”

“I’m not. I know I’m not, Colin. Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe, without a doubt, that you believe you saw them.” He clasped one of her sweet little hands in his and stroked it soothingly. “But I still think it a great improbability.”

“It’s true that two more different people never existed,” Minerva agreed. “That duke is vile and debauched. And Pauline is so well-meaning.”