The Duke's Prize

Chapter 3

When Cordelia awoke, she found that her head was pounding in a most abominable manner. She had cried herself to sleep, and she reached up to her cheeks, tracing the salty dry vestiges of tears that decorated her cheeks. It would not do to lose herself to hysterics. She sat up in the bed, and once again washed her face with the basin of water that had been left in her room. She sat down at the small desk in the corner and searched for some paper and a writing instrument. Cordelia had a plan. She would write to Lotte, who would most assuredly come to her sister's rescue. Cordelia breathed a small sigh of relief. She would stay in the room forever if it was not for the fact that she was absolutely starving. Her stomach groaned in protest as she stood and steeled herself for whatever horrors she was about to face.

Cordelia slowly made her way down the stairs. The house was quiet and dark, and it seemed like no one was there. She wandered around the parlor and once again into the dining room, where she almost bumped into a round, graying lady.

"Excuse me, Miss." The lady laughed a little and moved out of the way.

Cordelia thought she looked kind enough, like a grandmother, pleasant enough face and ruddy cheeks, but she also recalled that anyone in the employ of the devil that was the Duke of Marlborough was not to be trusted.

"You must be the lucky young lady that my master has set his cap for. Well you are quite a bit older than I would have thought, a flower past blooming."

"Excuse me. I am only one and twenty." Cordelia stood up as straight as an arrow. The audacity of the woman, to speak to her in such a manner.

"Blimey, Miss, I did not mean to slight you. I'm glad the Master has chosen someone with maturity. It is a blessing. Them young things are trouble. I can tell that you might be another special kind of trouble, though."

A firm frown settled on Cordelia's face. She stood their silently and crossed her arms, staring into the woman's face.

"Well," crowed the woman. "Are you hungry or not? Come with me into the kitchen and I'll serve you some stew."

Cordelia's perfidious stomach made the most appalling noises at that exact moment, horrifying her, and she was surprised to find that when the woman started laughing, she also found herself laughing, and following the forward creature into the kitchen.

Cordelia took a seat and her eyes lit up when the woman served her a large portion of stew that smelled absolutely divine. She took a moment to say grace and soon tucked in, barely taking a moment to pause and come up for breath.

"Well, you certainly have a good appetite. Mind you, that is a complement. I can't understand them ladies that eat like birds pecking at a crumb. It's no wonder the Master chose you, you will be sturdy and give him many heirs, I'spose."

At that statement, Cordelia almost choked on her stew. She put her spoon down and looked at the woman.

"Mrs..."

"Oh, how thoughtless of me, haven't even given you my name. It's Potter, Miss, but not Mrs., no, I never did marry. But I prefer Mrs. if you please. I am far to gray to go by Miss."

"Mrs. Potter. Are you related to the butler?"

"Oh yes, Robert's my brother. I got him his position, you know. I worked for the former Duke as a scullery maid and worked my way up you could say."

"Mrs. Potter. Where, pray tell, is my...fiancé at this moment?"

"Oh, the Master, he's gone out to fetch some baubles and the like for the wedding. It's mighty odd that he wants the ceremony done in a fortnight, so simple like with just the minister at the church and so few witnesses. I had hoped he would open up Brookington Hall again but I suppose it would be months before that place would be ready, and I'm sure the Master is dying to get himself into the wedded state with a pretty thing like you."

At that statement, Cordelia blushed and turned her attention back to the stew, watching the woman peeling apples. She emptied her bowl, and Ms. Potter served her once more without a word, but with a nod and a little gleam of her eye. Cordelia felt that she just might scream. She was trapped in this godforsaken house, with these terribly uncivilized people and she was fated to wed the Devil himself within a fortnight. She just might go completely mad.

Cordelia's reverie was broken by a young man coming into the kitchen with a few sacks.

"Here's the flour and the sugar, Mrs. Potter." The young man smiled at Cordelia who nodded to him.

"Wait a minute, Jack." Mrs. Potter put down her paring knife and turned to the counter. "I have some letters for you post and a few pence for you to get me some of those anise flavored sweets from the sweet shop, if you please."

"Letters." The words escaped Cordelia's mouth without a thought. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter she had written to Lotte. "Do you think the young man could perhaps post this letter to my step-sister."

Mrs. Potter smiled and took the letter from Cordelia, handing it to the young gentleman.

"Well, of course Miss. I have to imagine that you would want your sister to be there for your nuptials and with your courtship being so...well....hasty and such, I'm sure you haven't even had the chance to let her know of your good fortune."

Indeed. The thought stayed in Cordelia's head as she picked up her spoon and put another heap of the warm deliciousness into her mouth. The young man stared at her even more now, and gave a little deferential nod to the lady who would be Duchess, before quickly flying out the door and into the street. Cordelia relaxed because she knew that the young man was the good sort, and her letter would reach Lotte without fail, and soon she would be free of this prison.

After her repast, Cordelia went to see her father. He was in better spirits, talking animatedly of her improbable conquest, and what it would mean for her and even for him and for Lotte. Surely, she could find it in her heart to forgive her father, because although his actions were rash, they had turned out in the most favorable manner. Cordelia tried to reason with her father, tell him to beg or persuade the Duke to change his mind, to help her escape this terrible and dreadful fate, but her father's eyes were blinded by the silver candlesticks and the vision of his daughter all finely trussed up as a Duchess, with perhaps some pocket money to spare for her ne'er-do-well of a father. Cordelia sighed and silently reached for the cloth in the basin, pressing the cool water to her father's damp forehead. Although he seemed better, she realized that he was not out of danger. His skin had a strange yellow pallor and he still seemed to be in the throes of a fever. She stayed with him until he wheezed into sleep.

As Cordelia left the room and stepped into the hall, she almost collided with the Duke. The apology left her lips before she could stop herself, and she frowned that she had showing even the smallest kindness or courtesy to the man who was her jailer. Before she could spin away and back into her room, the Duke placed his hand on her arm.

"How is your father?"

"Like a parrot perched upon the shoulder of a pirate or privateer, naming all of the treasures. But I fear he has taken a turn for the worse. Can we call the doctor for him, Sir?"

"Oh no formalities, please, my Winter Rose. You shall call me Edward. And yes, I'll have Potter send for the doctor directly."

"Thank you, Your Grace. If you please, I would like to retire to my room."

"Oh Rose. You remind me of a particularly wild steed I had as a young man. He would buck and squeal at anyone who came near, but with a firm hand I was able to tame him."

"You do me a grave injustice to compare me to an animal."

"Not your mind, Rose, your spirit."

Rose closed her eyes for a minute and thought of the horses back at Green Boughs, and particularly her favorite, a white steed she called Lancelot, and she thought of him trotting through the green hills of her home for just a minute until her thoughts were broken by the Duke's words.

"You will join me for dinner. And please, change out of that dress. You should find something suitable in your room. I've got a maid for you, a skittish little thing named Daisy, take care not to frighten the poor chit to death. She doesn't have the strength of a Mrs. Potter."

"I take this as a command, Your Grace, and not a request. Very well."

Cordelia turned away in fury, tears spilling from her eyes. The man had almost seemed kind for a minute, but his voice had turned cold and insistent at his last command. She imagined in horror what kind of dress would be waiting for her in her room. Would he have her painted and dressed up like one of those Sybarites that he was used to? She entered her room and slammed the door, almost throwing herself on the bed until she heard the low shriek of a young pale girl sitting at the foot of the bed.