When a Duchess Says I Do - Grace Burrowes Page 0,111
at Ivor.
“It vill be my pleasure,” Ivor said, bowing.
“That’s all right, then,” Mary said, taking another bite of bread.
Duncan had no sooner bowed his good night to the lady when Quinn took him by the arm and steered him into the corridor.
“I meant what I said.” Quinn’s grip was as fierce as his tone.
“I do not typically ascribe a penchant for dissembling to you.”
“Nor would Jane tolerate a lying duke.” Quinn turned loose of Duncan’s arm. “I honestly meant that my debt to you cannot be repaid in this lifetime.”
What in the name of the seven wonders of the ancient world was this about? “It’s late.” Duncan moved toward the steps, desperate for solitude in which to consider the information Mary had provided. “We’re tired, and we can continue this discussion at first light.” Or never. Quinn Wentworth in a forthright mood was a disquieting prospect.
“We will have this discussion now and not visit the topic again, because your sensibilities are delicate. Jane says you think we regard you as a poor relation.”
Her again. “I am a poor relation, by ducal standards.”
Quinn stopped at the foot of the staircase. “You saved Stephen’s life. He was an impossible boy, plotting his own demise, planning for it, and I had no idea what to do. You came down from York by post, no questions, and you saved his life one foreign language, one theorem, one learned tome at a time.
“When I didn’t know what a bunch of letters on a page meant,” Quinn went on, “you spent every Sunday teaching me to read, though you had to travel for hours each way to make that happen. Every accomplishment I’ve achieved has rested on that foundation. You were good in a world where I had no examples of goodness, and I will be damned if I’ll let Atticus Parker hand you misery or put you in Newgate in return for that goodness.”
Quinn Wentworth did not make speeches, but that was…a speech.
Duncan cast about for anything to say in reply and could offer only the truth: “Stephen saved my life too. You all did. I was in the grip of unrelenting despair and failing rapidly.”
“To hell with despair. You’re a Wentworth.” Quinn yanked Duncan into a hug and thumped him once on the back. “Tomorrow, we save your duchess, or my duchess will take matters into her own dainty hands.”
The duke ascended the steps as if such affection was normally exchanged among the Wentworth family members. He didn’t look back, didn’t stop at the top of the stairs. He proceeded in the direction of the apartment he shared with Jane until he was lost around the turn in the corridor.
While Duncan stood alone in the shadows at the foot of the stairs, trying to put a name on the emotions rioting through him. Surprise, certainly. Teaching Quinn to read had been easy—the duke was as bright as his younger brother, and equally determined. A handful of Sundays explaining phonetics, reading the Book of Common Prayer with Quinn, and he’d puzzled out the rest for himself.
Becoming Stephen’s tutor had set a wonderful puzzle before Duncan: How to occupy an overactive mind when that mind was housed in an underactive body? How to foster emotional maturity in a youth who was treated as a perpetual toddler?
Those tasks had given Duncan’s life meaning, and had also brought him joy. He’d had no idea Quinn felt a sense of indebtedness, though if Quinn did, Stephen likely did as well.
“Perhaps,” Duncan muttered, taking the steps slowly, “this is what it means to be a family—to be a Wentworth.” A sense of belonging, acceptance…a knowing of one’s place and cherishing that place.
And some fine day, Matilda might be a Wentworth, too, provided Duncan could checkmate Atticus Parker at daybreak. Duncan ascended the stairs, his heart full of hope—the lone comfort against all the ills to escape from Pandora’s box.
Chapter Nineteen
Matilda passed her night in useless speculation. Why should an exhausted seamstress who’d been given nothing for her trouble take the time to rouse a ducal household long after dark? Would Parker go through with the ceremony? Would the ceremony be real or a sham?
Where was Papa? If he’d left the country, then Matilda need no longer be as concerned for him, and could focus all her worry on herself and Duncan. Parker could have Duncan arrested, and Duncan—untitled, without significant wealth, too honest for his own good—would face the very fate Matilda had tried to spare him.