Twelve Days of the Duke's Disguise

Chapter One: Carlisle

Carlisle de Winbourgh, 14th Duke of Carlisle (yes, his parents named him after the dukedom, for convenience’s sake), came into his manor in London as quietly as he could. He rationalized this as politeness, because as the lord of the manor, he did not want to admit to himself that he was simply afraid of waking up his mother well past midnight.

It was nearly impossible to close the massive front door of the home without a large amount of ghastly creaking. He made a mental note to order one of the manservants to grease the hinges tomorrow. He shut it ever so slowly, trying to minimize the creaking, but only succeeded in drawing out the painful moment.

The door finally closed with a bang from its own weight. Carlisle put a hand over his mouth to subdue his urge to curse at it. The door, after all, was not at fault for doing its job and closing properly.

A voice erupted from the darkness behind Carlisle, making the duke jump a good eight inches into the air. Your Grace, Her Grace your mother wishes to see you in her sitting room.

The duke whirled around and saw, in the darkness with a single small candle, the ancient butler, Brettle, standing only a few feet away. He asked him, How long were you standing there?

Brettle responded, Quite a while, sir.

Carlisle asked pointedly, You were standing there watching me try to close the door?

Brettle said with a humble tilt of his head, You seemed very engaged in the action, sir, and I did not wish to interrupt.

Carlisle gave Brettle a sharp look. He could not tell if he was being impertinent. He said, Next time you see me struggling with a door, you may interrupt and assist.

Brettle nodded. Very good, sir. I shall make a note of it. Her Grace your mother wishes to see you in her sitting room.

Brettle held out his single candle to Carlisle, who looked at it dubiously. Do you not have another candle for yourself? How will you get back to your quarters?

Brettle said, The candle is for you, sir. I do not need one.

Carlisle made another mental note to stop reading novels with ghostly attendants. He was starting to wonder about Brettle.

He took the candle and dismissed Brettle, who disappeared into the dark portal out of the foyer toward the servants’ quarters. Carlisle wondered if he might not still sneak upstairs and deal with Her Grace his mother the next morning.

He decided against it, since he would have to claim Brettle had not met him in the foyer, and that would quickly be denounced as a lie. When Brettle was given a task, he accomplished it, whatever the difficulty, and it was not so difficult to capture Carlisle on his way into the manor. Carlisle was glad he had not made himself even more ridiculous by swearing at the door.

Carlisle made his winding way through the house toward his mother’s sitting room, which was at the very back left-most corner. It was directly next to the kitchen, because his mother liked her tea boiling hot when served, and the room had a marvelous window that looked out onto the garden.

The house was not so big as the family seat in Derbyshire, which had four floors, over one hundred rooms (Carlisle had never bothered to count), and one hundred acres of private land. Their London manor only had two floors, around twenty rooms, and a pleasure garden to walk through in front and behind. Compared to the family seat, Carlisle felt, the London house was a hovel, but it was in London, which made up the difference.

Still, on his way to his mother’s sitting room, Carlisle had to step carefully through a music room, a tea room, an art room, another music room (this one with a grand piano), and another sitting room that, now that he thought about it, was used more for tea than the tea room. The tea room was more generally used for his mother and her guests to paint. So what did they use the art room for?

Carlisle was distracting himself with such inconsequential musings when he finally entered his mother’s garden-facing sitting room. The dowager duchess sat on her plump, oversized chair like it was a grander throne than any the prince regent had for his own use.

His mother still wore her black dress and cap of mourning for the previous duke, although he had been gone two years. It was unusual for the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle to fly in the face of any protocol, so the fact that she had extended her mourning twice as long as required had caused a great amount of gossip. The general conjecture was that she wanted to prolong the attention she received as a widow of one of the richest, most powerful men in the nation.

Carlisle knew the real reason was a lot less fashionable than seeking attention. His mother was truly still sad about her husband. For all the gossip and conjecture, the two had been very happy together, and the duke had died young compared to his other powerful counterparts.

He greeted her with a polite bow, perfectly executed, and said in a solemn tone, Good evening, Your Grace.

His mother waved her hand, as if she smelled something horrible and wanted to waft it away. You can save your breath, calling me ‘Your Grace,’ and instead live a graceful life, Carlisle.

The dowager duchess was the only one who called him by his Christian name. It always made him cringe when he heard it. His mother was one of the few in the peerage who still held that just because you were the son of a duke did not mean you could not be spanked if you misbehaved.

Carlisle responded smoothly, I do not know what you mean, Mother. Between my dance lessons and my boxing classes, I would say I am the most graceful man in England.

The dowager duchess retorted, A woman should strive to be graceful in movement and deportment. A man should live his life with grace and honor.

Carlisle shook his head and ventured, If I may, that is an outdated idea. We are in the reign of the prince regent, not his father. The prince regent values a good dancer just as much as a good soldier. I should know. He has complimented me on my dancing many times.

His mother asked him, with a tight expression, Has the prince regent turned that favor into any kind of honor for the family? Have you brought any glory to our house because of your fine dancing?

Carlisle thought hard about that one. Finally he said, He sometimes loans me use of his house in Paris. I would say that is a great honor.

He had never seen his mother’s face turn such a strange shade of purplish red. After steaming a moment like a kettle, she finally burst.

His mother’s voice raised as she asked, In two years, you have lost all the political power your father ever gained. You are a nobody at court. You sit in Parliament by the grace of your title. You should be the speaker, you should be leading parties, you should be advising the prime minister! You should be the prime minister in a few years’ time!

Carlisle did not have much to say to this. The only honest answer he could think of was But I don’t want to do that, which he knew would not be satisfactory to the dowager duchess.

When she saw he was silent on the matter, she continued briskly, Your gallivanting about town and constant parties is a disgrace. It may be that the prince regent thinks such a life is appropriate for himself, but while he is living extravagantly, someone must run the country. That someone should be you. It is your birthright.

Carlisle said with a short, false laugh, I thought my birthright was to be master in my own house, and come and go when I please, without being scolded like a child.

His mother retorted, If you behave like a child, you will be treated like one.

Carlisle quipped, I assure you, no child has ever done the things I did tonight.

His mother sat in anguished silence. Carlisle felt guilty over his joke. After all, it was not his mother’s fault she was stuck in the past with her old-fashioned ideas of duty to the state and responsibility to the people.

The dowager duchess recovered enough to say simply, In January, you will be married as promised to Lady Susanna, and I hope she and her family’s good breeding will finally be able to tame you and set you to a proper purpose. Her father is much respected in Parliament, and he has the ear of the prime minister. Some say he is considering running for the position himself. Once you are his son-in-law, he can take you properly under his wing.

Carlisle slumped into a chair, holding his face in his hands, sure that his shocked eyes were properly communicating his confusion and upset. His mother stared back at him, unflinching.

He finally said, Who is this I am marrying? Is it Lady Susanna or her Parliamentarian father?

The dowager duchess’s jaw dropped, but then she regained her composure. You are joking. Surely you have not forgotten your betrothal. You were promised to Lady Susanna in your twenty-eighth year and her eighteenth. This is your twenty-eighth year, and she turned eighteen last month.

Carlisle racked his memory. He reached far back in time to try and connect his mother’s words to the reality he knew.

Finally he remembered. He said with great shock, You mean that contract I signed when I was ten? The one I signed in exchange for extra syllabub for dessert? You mean to have me follow through with it?

The dowager duchess sat up even straighter, though one would not have thought it possible, and said grandly, I expect my only son to keep his word, as the Fourteenth Duke of Carlisle.

The Duke of Carlisle squeaked in an undignified manner as he protested, I was ten! I could barely read what I was signing. It was in convoluted legal language. I had no idea what marriage was. And she was just a baby! How did they get her to hold the pen to sign it in turn?

His mother said simply, clearly not understanding his concern, They waited until she was five and could hold the pen for her to sign the contract, of course. Your father signed it as your guardian, and the Earl of Warhurst signed it as his daughter’s guardian. Everything was done properly in the legal manner.

Carlisle pointed out, You engaged a ten-year-old boy to a newborn baby.

His mother rolled her eyes. Marriage is not for love. Marriage is to build alliances. And the Earl of Warhurst’s family has become an even more profitable match for us than when you signed the contract eighteen years ago.

Carlisle looked at his complacent, self-satisfied mother and asked, Does any part of you recognize how insane it is to throw my whole life away on a stranger so that her father will like me better? Especially when her father is a lower rank than myself?

His mother responded sternly, Her father is in line to be the next prime minister. You are in line at cheap dance halls. You tell me who is higher in society. She said with a burst of firmness, If you are so concerned about your rank, it is time you start acting up to expectations. Starting with being a good husband and son-in-law.

She got up, clearly done with the conversation. Carlisle said, quietly fuming, I do not even know the girl.

His mother said, "You could meet her over the Christmas season. Her family is hosting quite a few guests. I will not be going. I have not been feeling well, and I am not confident removing from London would help. But