The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior Read Free

circles, waving the duke’s note and yelping.
    Not her most dignified moment. Her precise self was horrified.
    But who could blame her? If Annabelle and Caroline were here, they’d be joining her in the yelping. This was why they’d started the agency, after all (well, not for the chance to yelp, but for the chance to aid unfortunate women), but she hadn’t expected this kind of chance would come so soon.
    She grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and
outlined a few details about where she was and who their new client was, addressed it to her partners, grabbed her cloak, locked the door, and headed to her new position.
    After emitting one last little yelp, of course.
    L ily’s excitement about the opportunity dimmed somewhat as she mounted the stairs to the sizable front door. A duke’s house—his mansion—was larger than any private residence she’d ever seen, much less been inside.
    She was already intimidated, and she hadn’t spoken to anyone yet.
    After taking a deep breath, she banged the knocker. She heard it echo within and felt herself tremble at making such a noise at such an impressive door.
    Yes. She had to admit it. She was impressed by a door .
    The door in question swung open and an older gentleman, his head placed at the properly dismissive attitude, looked at her. Noting, likely within seconds, her very worn cloak, barely a whisper of protection against the raw temperature, and the not-so-skillfully darned gloves she had on.
    â€œI am here—” she began, only to have him interrupt.
    â€œI know, and you should have come around to the back entrance. But since you’re here, please do come in.”
    Was every person the duke employed entirely too full of themselves? Or perhaps it was just the
two servants she’d met thus far. Still, it was worth keeping in mind when she spoke to the man in question.
    She followed the full-of-himself butler inside, trying not to stare at all the grandeur inside.
    â€œWait here, I’ll let the duke know you have arrived.” The butler walked into one of the rooms to the side of the foyer, leaving Lily alone to get more intimidated by the foyer.
    Imagine how she would feel when she actually saw one of the rooms.
    She counted no fewer than ten doors leading off the entryway. It was hard to fathom just what purpose each room had; perhaps the duke allotted separate rooms for each one of his digits? “Oh, no, Mr. Thumb, it’s not your turn. We’ll be in the ring finger’s room today.” Or did he spend one day a week in each room, with the balance of the three left for holidays, birthdays, and . . . Incredible, she couldn’t even dream up what purpose so many rooms could serve. It must be very hard work to be a duke, given everything one had to do.
    Pairing digits with rooms, or making sure nobody used Boxing Day’s room on Michaelmas. Or vice versa. Things like that.
    The butler reappeared, making so little noise Lily jumped when he spoke. “The duke will see you now,” he said, managing to imbue his words with the proper amount of correctness plus a healthy dollop of disdain.
    He walked ahead of her to one of the many doors and flung it open. “The lady is here, Your
Grace,” he said, then gave her a sharp nod that indicated she should enter.
    She did, and immediately decided this was the pink room, because nearly every item in the room was pink. And not the healthy pretty color of a late summer rose; no, this was the insipid pink of a wan begonia that had gotten too much sun and not enough water.
    It was . . . well, it was tremendously pink, and exactly the opposite of how she presumed a duke would choose to live.
    But all thoughts of interior design fled her head when she saw him. Just him; the child was not there.
    But his presence was enough. He looked exactly the opposite of how she presumed a duke would look.
    He stood next to a spindly escritoire, pink of course, and