Page 65 of Her Royal Houseguest

‘I cannot write English as beautifully as your daughter does. The language is different, the quill awkward for my hand.’ It was the truth. He was accustomed to using brushes, not stiff feathers.

‘I am sure anyone who reads your letters would forgive it.’

‘May I ask your daughter for help? I understand she writes your wife’s letters as well.’

‘She does?’

‘So beautiful is her handwriting that the duchess asks her to correspond with the dressmaker, the bootmaker and your tailor. Indeed, I hear that they cannot praise her writing enough.’

‘My tailor! That’s ridiculous. I have a secretary who…’ His voice faded away. ‘Bloody idiot,’ he grumbled. ‘I shall see that her tasks are cleared right away so that you may use her as you need. She’s a good gel. Not likely to get married because of her affliction but she’s got other skills. You’ll be right pleased with her.’

Deva barely held on to his temper. ‘Affliction? I see none. The choice of left hand over right is no curse, merely a preference appearing in youth and growing in beauty.’ He leaned forwards, citing a tale that Vaji had read in the books left upstairs. ‘I believe she is a swan, not a duckling and it is only—’ ignorance and stupidity ‘—your cleverness that whispers such humble statements.’ He pitched his voice louder as if proud of his own discernment. ‘I see that you say these silly things to discourage the fools and find the clever men. I see that your daughter is a ruby among a sea of dull glass.’

The duke blinked, clearly at a loss to know what he should say.

‘Ah!’ Deva crowed. ‘It is true! I knew it! You save your daughter for a smart man.’ Then he leaned forwards. ‘But know that I am the smartest, for I saw her first.’

What could the man say now? He couldn’t claim a prince was a fool. Neither could he suddenly claim that he’d never had such a ruse in mind. That would make him the fool. And so he chuckled in good humour, though there was confusion in the man’s eyes.

‘Yes, yes, Prince Deva. You have seen right through me.’ Then he grinned. ‘I told you she was a good gel, didn’t I? Didn’t I?’

Deva made all the appropriate responses, pleased when he saw others frown and quietly re-evaluate their opinion of Lady Anna. It wouldn’t completely change things. Superstitions ran deep. He, for example, knew that a monocle was not an evil eye. And yet, every time he saw one, a shiver ran down his spine.

Such would be many people’s reaction to Lady Anna. But he figured that was for the best. If a person could not get past their own idiocies to see the lady she was, she did not need to know them.

So, pleased with this day’s work, he returned with the duke when it was time for tea. He did not attend, of course. That would have prevented the frank discussions between the duke and his wife. But he had good hearing and loitered near enough to hear.

The duchess was humiliated. The duke equally furious. There was much shouting and anxious whining but Lady Anna remained composed. This showed her fortitude. Deva did not think he could withstand so much without lashing back. But she remained calm, speaking in simple sentences. Yes, she bribed the servants. How else was she to make them obey?

Whip them as Deva would do? That was not done in England.

Send them away as ship captains did with useless sailors? She had not been given that power.

She bribed them with only marginal success. And so the whole rotten system had been exposed.

The housekeeper was summoned and dismissed.

The butler was summoned and pensioned off.

Even the duke’s secretary was chastised for allowing the duke’s correspondence to fall to his daughter. He was handed his hat and sent away.

And every servant in the house was lined up to be harangued. It was a tirade worthy of the king of Siam. The only difference being that in Siam, many of them would have been beheaded. Though, of course, the disaster would not have grown to this level.

The only soul who escaped punishment was the cook who was deep in preparations for the evening meal. She did, however, receive a stinging rebuke in the middle of her own kitchen. And after grave apologies, she was allowed to continue her work.

It was two hours before the duke stormed off to his club and the duchess ran sobbing into her bedroom. Deva knew just where to wait for Anna’s appearance. He sat amid her clutter, idly sorting through a stack of correspondence that had come for him that day. He knew she would come to him soon, thanking him for his interference, filled with the gratitude of a woman well served. And if she suggested ways to please him, well then this was the best time, yes? When the servants were in an uproar and everyone was obsessed with their own affairs.

He should not be pleased to have created such a circumstance but he was. And he was man enough to admit that he relished what might come of his efforts.

Except the longer he waited for Lady Anna’s arrival, the more he began to doubt himself. Where was she? What—

The door pushed open. It had not been fully closed, so there was no sound of the knob twisting. Deva looked up with excitement only to be shocked by his brother’s appearance. The man stood in his monk’s robe, his expression angry and his fists clenched.

‘Vaji?’

‘What have you done to this household?’ the man demanded. ‘Why are you so difficult?’

Chapter Twenty-One