One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(51)

“How was your time in York?” Spencer asked her. “Can I expect good reports from your tutors?”

“I don’t know.” She jabbed at a fillet of turbot. “I was rather a disappointment to my German master.”

“What of your music?”

“The music master was rather a disappointment to me.” Sniffing, she laid down her fork. “The shops were lovely, though.”

“I sent you to York so that you might improve your mind, not distribute your pin money to the local merchants. Why should I bother arranging for tutors if you learn nothing from them?”

Resentful eyes snapped up to his. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you hungry, dear?” Amelia interjected in a smooth, conciliatory tone. She nodded at Claudia’s abandoned fish. “You didn’t touch your soup, either.”

The girl still refused to look at her.

“Please excuse me.” Chair legs scraped the floor as Claudia rose to her feet. “I’ve little appetite this evening.”

With that, she fled the room. Spencer braced his hands on the arms of his chair and started to rise. He froze halfway. Should he even bother going after her, or would that only make matters worse?

“No, don’t,” Amelia said, reading his thoughts. “She needs time.”

He lowered himself back into his chair.

With a sigh, Amelia signaled the servants to remove the fish. “Spencer, what do you intend to do about her?”

He was too fatigued to be anything but honest. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t known what to do with Claudia for some time now.

“How old was she, when she lost her parents?”

He started to answer, then hesitated as liveried sleeves reached between them. The servant positioned a roast of lamb in the center of the table. Spencer impatiently motioned for the knife and carving fork. Perhaps dukes didn’t typically carve their own roasts, but he found it easier to talk when his hands were occupied.

And surprisingly enough, he wanted to talk about this.

“She was an infant when her mother died. That was shortly before my uncle summoned me from Canada. He had no wish to remarry and produce an heir of his own, so he and my father agreed I would come here and prepare to assume the duties of the title. Claudia was nine years old when the late duke passed away. Since my own father had died in the meantime, that’s when I inherited the dukedom and assumed her guardianship.”

And he’d begun failing her almost immediately thereafter. At least, that’s the way it had felt. He had tried. He’d kept her close for the year or two after her father’s death. Let her travel with him, taught her to ride, read aloud to her in the evenings from Shakespeare, Homer, Milton—never letting her guess that the classics were new to him, too. She was a clever child, and endlessly greedy for affection. He’d given her as much attention as he could, considering the demands of his own new title, but he’d always known she deserved more. And the older she grew, the less he knew what to do with her. She needed education, refinement, guidance, exposure to society—none of which he could adequately provide.

“Of course,” he said, flicking aside a sprig of rosemary as he sawed the meat, “I’ve hired governesses through the years. The past few winters, I’ve been sending her to her great-aunt’s in York. She was supposed to have the benefit of some masters there.”

Amelia sipped her wine. “No wonder she resents me. Poor girl.”

“Why should she resent you?”

Her eyes widened at him over the wineglass, but Spencer truly didn’t understand. He’d hoped Claudia would be happy to have a feminine influence in the house, since she’d never known her own mother.

“Spencer, you are the sole adult she’s lived with all her life. To her, you are like cousin, brother, guardian, and God Himself, all rolled into one. It was plain from one minute’s observation how much she adores you, and here you’ve only been sending her away. She came home early just to see you, only to learn you’ve married with no warning whatsoever. For the first time in her life, she has a rival for your attention. Of course she resents me.”

He had the vague understanding that he’d put Amelia in a very awkward situation. The portion of meat he slid onto her plate seemed poor compensation.

“Have you considered,” she said, testing the lamb with one tine of her fork, “that Claudia might have hoped to marry you herself?”

He dropped the carving knife with a clatter. “Lord, no. We’re cousins. I’m her guardian. She’s fifteen years old, for God’s sake. Barely more than a child.” He suppressed a shudder. Marry Claudia? The idea made him ill.

“I know, but …” She shrugged, cutting into the meat. “Such matches do happen. And she isn’t unthinkably young. When I became engaged for the first time, I was barely older than she is now.” She took a bite.

“You were engaged? To whom?”

It took her an eternity to chew that damned bit of lamb.

Finally, she swallowed. “To no one you’d know. A wealthy squire, in Gloucestershire.”

“What happened?”

“He was so old, and … well, I just couldn’t go through with it.” She poked at her lamb again, looking tense and fragile. Spencer already felt such welling hatred for this Gloucestershire squire, he had no idea how to question her further without … breaking something. And that wouldn’t do much to assure her of his nonviolent nature.