Duke Looks Like a Groomsman Read online

  She’d had no clue that he’d had no intention of coming back. He’d let her believe like a fool and he’d even taken her blessed handkerchief as if he had any intention of keeping it to remember her by. God, he’d been a rogue, a scoundrel. Detestable.

  A sennight had passed and then a fortnight. She’d done her best to keep up her happy carefree façade in public, but the longer he was gone with no word, the more difficult it was for her to believe he was ever coming back.

  Finally, after the Season had ended and she and her family had left for her father’s country house, she’d received a letter from Worthington. It was poorly written and vague. Its contents were completely inconsistent with how he’d acted the last time she saw him.

  He wrote some asinine thing about how he hoped she hadn’t thought more of their acquaintance than he had. Lies, all of it. Hurtful lies. But she’d vowed to never let him see her pain.

  Fine. Perhaps she’d looked for him the following Season. Perhaps she’d kept an eye out at every single ton event she attended. But he hadn’t returned. It was as if he’d disappeared. In fact, she hadn’t laid eyes on him again until this afternoon in Clayton’s stables.

  Yes, the Duke of Worthington had hurt her, deeply, and she intended to inflict the same amount of damage on him. If she could learn why Rhys was pretending to be a groomsman, she’d have the upper hand in this entire situation and could use it—would use it—to her advantage. He obviously meant to continue to pretend he was a groomsman. She’d already thought of half a dozen ways she could torture him. What was better than revenge that was fun at the same time?

  This afternoon, they’d been interrupted by one of the other groomsmen riding out to inform them another one of the guests wanted to see Alabaster. But Rhys had managed to whisper to her to meet him in the same location at the same time tomorrow and he would give her his answer. His answer regarding whether he would tell her the truth about whatever game he was playing. The way Julianna saw it, the man had little choice but to tell her the truth. Money wasn’t about to sway her. Only the truth would do.

  She glanced around the dining room. It was full of guests talking and laughing, but for some reason she felt as if she was all alone. Where was Rhys at the moment? Out in the stables? Was he sleeping on a pile of hay? She nearly snorted at that thought. Surely, he wasn’t spending the nights out there. Or was he? She supposed it depended on exactly what he was up to. Wherever he was, she hoped he was completely unsettled, and she was the one who had unsettled him. Turnabout was fair play after all.

  Mary said something to her that she didn’t hear, and Julianna did her best to smile and nod. She glanced around at all of the young ladies at the table. They were all here for the same purpose. To find a husband. It hadn’t escaped her notice that the guest list seemed to be comprised almost entirely of young ladies who had made their debuts this past Season and who were still not betrothed. Of course, her darling Mary was one of them.

  It also hadn’t escaped Julianna’s notice that the guest list seemed to be sorely lacking in eligible males. Given that, and the fact that one of the nation’s most notorious dukes was gallivanting around the stables pretending to be a groomsman, Julianna was convinced this was no ordinary house party. It was no ordinary house party at all.

  Her perusal of the table turned up Miss Frances Wharton. Julianna had met the young woman briefly at one of the events of the past Season, but they hadn’t had much of a chance to speak. Tonight, the poor lady looked bored to tears listening to Sir Reginald Francis drone on and on about his friendship with the Prince Regent. Sir Reginald could be a complete drain on one’s nerves. She hoped, for Miss Wharton’s sake, that Sir Reginald wasn’t considering offering for her.

  Apart from her proximity to the knight, Julianna had a flash of envy for Miss Wharton. It had to be somewhat freeing to simply be a normal young woman. She and Mary had been raised to be anything but normal. Since the day she was born, at least as far back as she could remember, Julianna was marked for greatness (her mother’s words).

  For the daughter of a duke, greatness meant ensuring she made the most advantageous match with the most eligible partner possible. Was it terribly simple to be Miss Wharton? Just a pretty girl with a normal family. Instead of an ‘incomparable’—Julianna hated that word— with the largest dowry and best connections, expected to make the best match.

  Julianna expelled her breath. She’d never been at liberty to simply speak to a gentleman, decide if she actually enjoyed his company. God forbid. No, she’d been pointed in the direction of the most eligible man in any room and told to use her looks and manners to entice him. Her entire life, all anyone ever said to her was how pretty she was. All anyone ever thought she wanted to talk about was what sort of a match she would make once she came of age.

  When she’d met Rhys, yes, he’d been the most eligible man in the room. He was powerful and titled and handsome, but she’d actually enjoyed his company. She’d actually believed for one short, sweet bit of time that she’d found love in addition to fulfilling her duty.

  And that’s what had made his betrayal all the more painful to bear. She’d been foolishly falling in love with him, while he’d merely been playing a game with her. The same game he no doubt played with every Season’s crop of debutantes. The man was cruel, pure and simple.

  Julianna stopped pushing the goose around the plate and set down her fork and knife. She no longer had it in her to pretend she was hungry. Her lack of appetite had little to do with her dinner companions and everything to do with the fact that she would be confronting Worthington again tomorrow and was certain to come away the winner.

  A smile curled her lips as she allowed a footman to remove her still-full plate. She glanced up just as the footman pulled the plate to his chest.

  Wait just a moment! Was that the Earl of Kendall dressed as a footman?

  Chapter Seven

  Was she coming? Rhys kicked at the dirt near the fence with his boot and paced back and forth for the dozenth time. If so, she was certainly taking her time. He should have known better than to trust Julianna Montgomery. Why, for all he knew, she was back in the house regaling all the other young ladies with the scandalous news that the Duke of Worthington was out in the stables, pretending to be a groomsman.

  After a fitful night’s sleep, Rhys had talked to Clayton this morning in the library when he’d met all his friends to discuss their first day as servants. Clayton had given him some excuse about not knowing until the last minute that the Duchess of Montlake and her daughter Mary were bringing Julianna with them. Rhys supposed that stood to reason.

  Still pacing, he slapped his gloves against his leg so hard he was certain it would leave a welt.

  Damn it. If she didn’t arrive, he would be forced to face his friends and the fact that he lost the bet due to ill-timing and an unfortunate last-minute addition to the guest list. He turned again when the sound of galloping caught his attention. He swiveled to see Julianna riding hell-for-leather across the meadow toward him. Her cheeks were red with her effort and she had an enormous smile on her face. Still clutching his gloves in his fist, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her as she approached. No doubt she was looking forward to telling him she’d already sounded the alarm.

  She came to a stop near him, dismounted quickly and effortlessly, and threw him the reins.

  “You’re the groomsman, aren’t you?” she asked with a coy smile when he gave her a surprised look in reply.

  Rhys took the reins and tied the horse to the fence near his own mount. Then he crossed his arms over his chest again and stared down his nose at her. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” She stared right back at him. Today she was wearing a sapphire blue riding habit and had a perfectly unrepentant look of delight on her face. “I thought I came here for you to tell me what you’d decided.”

  Rhys frowned. “What I decided about what?”

  She pursed her lips. “Oh, come now, you’re older
than I am, but you’re not that old. You told me yesterday you needed to decide whether you’re willing to tell me the truth.”

  “First of all, you’re right, I’m not that old, and secondly, I don’t think I have much choice other than to tell you the truth. You said you don’t want money. Have you changed your mind?”

  If it was possible for the smile on Julianna’s face to widen, it did. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want money. I want you to tell me why you’re sneaking around Clayton’s stables pretending to be a groomsman.”

  “Blast it. Isn’t there some amount of money you need?” he grumbled.

  She gave him a tight smile. “No. You cannot buy me off, Rhys.” Her voice was firm and deliberate.

  Rhys cursed under his breath again. “Fine. If I tell you, you must promise—no, swear—not to tell any of the other guests. Including your mother and sister.”

  “I promise.” She gave him a beatific smile.

  “Fine.” Damn it. He didn’t entirely trust her, but he had little choice. He paced away and then turned to face her again. “The truth is that I’ve made a bet with my friends.”

  Her brows shot up. “Really?” She shook her head. “I should have guessed.”

  “Too late to ask for money now.” The look he gave her dripped with sarcasm.

  She rolled her eyes. “Who did you make this bet with?”

  “Clayton, Kendall, and Bellingham.”

  “Kendall, eh?” The hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips.

  Rhys scratched at the back of his neck. “It was sort of Kendall’s idea,” he admitted.

  A gleam came into Julianna’s eyes. “Is that why he was parading around the dining table last night pretending to be a footman?”

  Rhys’s eyes widened and he gave a start. “You saw him?”

  “Of course I saw him. I’m not blind. What I want to know is what in heaven’s name are you two up to?”

  Rhys shook his head and searched her face for the truth. “Did you say anything? Did you tell anyone?”

  Julianna crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course not. I’m far too interested in learning why the two of you are trying to pretend to be servants.”

  “The three of us,” Rhys replied with a sigh. He might as well out with the entire plot. She already knew too much.

  “Bellingham’s doing it, too?” She arched a brow.

  “Yes,” Rhys replied. “He’s valeting Lord Copperpot.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Of course he is. Very well, go ahead,” she continued with a nod. “Tell me why the three of you are pretending to be servants.”

  Rhys pushed his hair back with one hand. “If you must know, we bet each other a goodly sum that we each couldn’t pass as servants for the duration of this house party.”

  “A fortnight?” she breathed. “That’s a lofty goal indeed.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Without being found out, you mean?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s part of it.”

  “What’s the other part?” Her eyes remained narrowed on him as if she didn’t believe he was telling the truth.

  “We must be convincing and actually perform duties as servants. The party’s occupants mustn’t find out who we really are.”

  She pressed her lips together briefly. “But you haven’t lost yet even though I know?”

  “That’s correct. We expected there to be at least one or two people who’d recognize us and who we’d have to take into confidence.”

  She looked positively delighted. “Am I the first?”

  “To my knowledge. And hopefully the last,” he nearly growled.

  “Oh, come now, Rhys, you didn’t truly believe you’d all be able to pass as servants and have no one recognize you, did you?”

  When he didn’t answer, she paused for a moment in thought and then said, “Allow me to guess. You all came up with this idea while drinking.”

  The disgruntled look on his face must have told her she was right. She laughed out loud. “You did, didn’t you? You were intoxicated and came up with this scheme. However did you manage to convince Clayton and his lady?”

  Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was throbbing. How had he managed to get himself into this situation? “Clayton was with us. How he convinced Theodora, I’m blissfully unaware.”

  “And you’re all doing it?” she asked.

  “Well, not Clayton, of course. We needed someone to play host.”

  Julianna shook her head. “How did you ever think you’d manage it? Kendall was standing in the dining room for all to see.”

  Rhys tilted his head to the side. “Did anyone else recognize him?”

  “Not that I noticed,” Julianna replied, “I kept glancing around, expecting others to realize who he was, but no one did.”

  “Yes, that was Bellingham’s point. Servants are often overlooked by those whom they serve.”

  Julianna appeared to quietly contemplate that thought for a moment. “I noticed you right away,” she finally said. Was it his imagination or had her voice caught?

  “I’m noticeable,” he replied with an unrepentant grin.

  She pursed her lips. “I see you’re also still arrogant.”

  “Confident is the word I prefer. And I’m quite serious, one of the reasons Clayton stuck me in the stables is so that I would be less noticeable.”

  “Let me guess, the other reason he stuck you in the stables is because he was entirely certain you would never be able to perform the duties of either a competent footman or a decent valet?” She finished with an undaunted smile.

  Rhys narrowed his eyes on her. Whatever else he disliked about her, she was astute. She’d been able to guess a great deal about their plan and the details surrounding it. He could only hope she was trustworthy. At least when it came to this. Because he had no other choice but to trust her to keep her word.

  She tapped her cheek with the tip of the crop. “The guest list makes sense now, I suppose. Most of the guests are debutantes and their mothers. Chosen to ensure the majority of them wouldn’t know any of you, I presume.”

  “Precisely.”

  “I think you’re all mad,” she said, turning and walking back toward her mount. “I also think there’s no possibility you won’t be found out.”

  Rhys blew out a deep breath. “Be that as it may, I’ve told you the truth. Will you promise to keep the secret for all three of us?”

  “I’ve already promised,” Julianna replied, using the fence post to hoist herself easily upon her horse’s back.

  Rhys breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He let his chin fall to his chest momentarily. He was getting off easily. She’d promised to keep the secret and he could keep his winnings. Dare he hope she was actually a bit decent after all?

  Julianna gathered the reins and turned the horse to face him. “I promised to keep your secret,” she said. “I never promised not to enjoy every moment of watching you try to pass yourself off as a servant. Including ordering you about myself.”

  Chapter Eight

  She was already having fun and she’d barely even begun. After Rhys accompanied Julianna back to the stables, she immediately began peppering him with demands to perform a variety of chores.

  “Violet needs a rub down,” she pointed out, gesturing to her beloved horse that she’d brought with her.

  “As you wish, my lady,” Rhys said, bowing. He left momentarily and returned carrying two buckets of water. One he placed in front of Violet to drink, the other he used with a sponge to rub down the horse. He talked quietly to Violet in soothing tones as he did so.

  Julianna found herself wishing very much that she knew what he was saying to the mare. It sounded kinder than anything he’d said to her since he’d seen her yesterday. He finished by softly brushing Violet, including her lovely dark mane. He was adept with horses, she would give him that.

  When he was finished, he stood to the side, bowed and said, “What do you
think, my lady?”

  Julianna thought she’d never wished so much to be a horse, but she was not about to say that out loud. Instead she lifted her chin and said, “Now Violet’s stall needs mucking.”

  He arched a brow, then glanced down at the hay in the stall. “It looks clean to me, my lady. I mucked it this morning actually.”

  She scoffed at that, highly doubting he knew how to muck a stall. She would challenge him to prove his boast was true. “Be that as it may, I’d like it mucked again, please.” She did her best to sound imperious.

  Julianna watched from several paces away as Rhys pushed a wheelbarrow over to Violet’s stall, gathered a pitchfork from somewhere in the recesses of the stable, and set to his task with an enthusiasm she found quite surprising.

  After only a few minutes, sweat dripped from his brow and his shirt became plastered to his broad chest, outlining his muscles and flat abdomen. Julianna plucked at the neckline of her riding habit. It was unseasonably warm today, wasn’t it?

  Rhys didn’t stop, nor did he look up. He pitched fork after fork of hay into the barrow. The stall was cleaned in under a quarter of an hour. And perhaps most astonishing of all, he’d done it all with nary a complaint. He wheeled the dirty contents to another part of the stables, returning with a wheelbarrow full of fresh hay, which he then proceeded to dump into Violet’s stall and spread in a thick, clean layer using the pitchfork again.

  When he was finished, he propped up the pitchfork and rested a gloved hand atop it. “Is it to your liking, my lady?” he asked in his most congenial tone.

  Julianna had to pick up her jaw from the stable floors before she could answer. She marched toward the stall, haughtily lifting her nose, and examined his work as if she were the stablemaster herself. “It’ll do,” she replied, secretly thinking he’d done a better job than the groomsmen in her own stables.

  She didn’t have long to examine his handiwork, however, before she had to invent his next task. She might have been impressed by his ability to muck the stall so thoroughly, but he’d only completed two chores, after all. She intended to make it her daily occupation to get him to quit and forfeit his bet. She suspected it would take several more chores before he’d be willing to give up the bet that seemed so important to him.