A Duke of Her Own (Desperate Duchesses #5)

A Duke of Her Own (Desperate Duchesses #5) Page 37

Some minutes later, Lisette sat beside him in the carriage, chattering like a magpie about the children, the treasure hunt, and about Mrs. Minchem, who ran the orphanage.

“Mrs. Minchem?” Eleanor inquired. “I don’t like that name.”

Villiers didn’t like it much either.

Lisette was off in a peal of laughter. “You can’t judge people by their names, silly Eleanor!” she said. “Why, think if we were to judge you by the name Eleanor.”

“What of it?” Eleanor said, raising an eyebrow.

But Lisette galloped ahead. “You know what I mean,” she cried. “It’s a heavy name, isn’t it? Don’t you think so, Leopold?”

“It’s a queen’s name,” he said. “A chaste name.” He didn’t look at Eleanor. “Yes, I think it sounds like the kind of queen who is locked in a tower and never allowed to fall in love.”

“That’s sad,” Lisette said, her mouth drooping.

“Whereas your name is as pretty as you are,” he said.

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed and he realized too late that he had inadvertently implied that Lisette was prettier than Eleanor. Lisette was prettier than Eleanor, but since Eleanor had that sultry ladybird look, no red-blooded man in the vicinity of the two of them would want Lisette over Eleanor. Eleanor was bewitching.

He could hardly point that out, though, so he just leaned forward as the carriage jolted to a halt and examined the orphanage’s façade. It was big enough, but it looked like a mausoleum. He’d been in a number of orphanages and children’s workhouses in the last two months, and had yet to see one that he’d want to live in.

Not that the question was really important. He was a duke. He’d never even noticed the many places he wouldn’t want to live in before, so why was he giving a second thought to the issue now?

He was still thinking about the many unpleasantries that dukes never contemplate when his footman announced them to the orphanage’s headmistress.

Mrs. Minchem, unfortunately, lived up to her evocative name. She looked like a cheese-paring, bitter woman, the kind of woman whose small mouth was more vertical than horizontal. She looked like an irate rodent. But she smiled, showing every single tooth.

“Your Grace,” she said, dropping into a curtsy that made all the keys on her chatelaine jangle. “And Lady Lisette, what an honor it is to welcome you to Brocklehurst Hall. Lady Eleanor, it is indeed an honor.” The ribbons on top of her cap trembled with her emphatic words.

But Villiers wondered, looking at her pinched mouth. He decided to say nothing of his children for the moment.

“We would much appreciate a tour of your establishment,” he said with his most charming smile.

Mrs. Minchem wasn’t stupid; she actually recoiled. There must be something in his smile, he thought, that wasn’t quite as benevolent as it could have been.

“Do you take both boys and girls?” Eleanor asked, intervening.

Mrs. Minchem snapped the answer out as if she were being interrogated by the Watch. “No, indeed, my lady! There are no male children. Ever. This orphanage is run by a ladies’ committee, and we allow orphans of the female persuasion only.”

Villiers instantly felt twice as male as he had a moment ago. Lisette was drifting around the room, humming a little tune, and examining some rather dreary watercolors depicting the dells. “What do your orphans become when they leave your establishment?” he inquired.

“Not that!” Mrs. Minchem said. “Good women is what they become.”

Eleanor walked forward a step. “My dearest Mrs. Minchem, the Duke of Villiers is considering the foundation of an orphanage of his very own. He has heard such excellent things about Brocklehurst Hall from Lady Lisette that he insisted on coming here first thing this morning.”

“It is rather early in the morning,” Mrs. Minchem allowed, thawing slightly.

“Are the orphans not awake?” Villiers asked.

“Of course they are! They’re up at four-thirty in the morning, Your Grace, with a full hour of improving prayers before they begin their day.”

“Four-thirty. My goodness,” Eleanor said. “And a full hour of prayers before breakfast?”

“Of course. Children learn better on an empty stomach,” Mrs. Minchem said authoritatively. “After they’re fed, they’re good for nothing and fall asleep on their feet.”

Likely because they were up at four-thirty in the morning, Villiers thought grimly. He was starting to have a very bad feeling. And Eleanor shared it, because their eyes met, and there was a frown in hers.

“We are interested in seeing everything,” Eleanor said, turning to Mrs. Minchem and smiling like a madwoman. She seemed to think that lavish charm would win admittance.

Equally clearly, Mrs. Minchem wasn’t charmed. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable without the agreement of the ladies’ committee,” she said, jangling her huge circle of keys. “They never authorized me to allow sightseeing trips.”

Lisette drifted over from the other side of the room. “There’s no need to worry about that, Mrs. Minchem,” she said. “I am on the committee. Don’t you remember that you didn’t wish the orphans to visit me until I joined the committee?”

She turned to Villiers. “Mrs. Minchem is an absolutely wonderful headmistress for the girls. She is fiercely protective of them, which is of course exactly what she should be.”

“I would prefer to have warning before I give tours of this nature,” Mrs. Minchem stated.

But Eleanor could have told her that no one gainsaid Lisette when she had made up her mind. “Dear, dear Mrs. Minchem,” Lisette cried. “You know that I am tasked by the committee to make four visits a year. And because I do delight in having the orphans to my house, I haven’t paid you a visit in…oh…three years.”

“I thought you said you had never visited Brocklehurst Hall at all,” Eleanor said.

“True,” Lisette said. “And all the more reason that we absolutely must pay a visit today. Now.”

Mrs. Minchem still looked ready to complain, so Villiers stepped in. “You certainly wouldn’t want anyone to think that there was something untoward happening with your orphans,” he said softly. “So annoying…the investigation…”

Mrs. Minchem’s eyelashes flickered, and she protested with real-sounding distress, “But the beds won’t be made yet! The house will be—”

“We know exactly how it will be,” Lisette said, putting her hand on the woman’s arm. “Now you just show us their cunning little beds, Mrs. Minchem. We don’t mind if they’re not made up. We know that the girls need to learn to care for themselves, and I’m sure that some of them are rather lazy!”

“They are that,” Mrs. Minchem said grimly. She nodded to the servant standing by the far parlor door, opposite where they entered, and he opened it.

The door opened into a perfectly ordinary corridor, lined with doors. Mrs. Minchem seemed resigned now, and she opened the first on the right. “These girls are learning to sew,” she said, standing to the side. “They begin with sheets and progress to sewing a man’s shirt before they leave.”