MyUnfairLadyExcerpt

London, 1885

   Summer Wine Lee peeked through the drapery covering the second story window of their rented London townhouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man she intended to hire to change her life forever. She’d sent an invitation to the impoverished Duke of Monchester asking that he meet with her today regarding an urgent business matter, but she wasn’t quite sure if he’d come or not.
   She started twisting the fringe that adorned the dark green drapes. They’d been in London for over a month, and nothing had happened. No invitations. No visitors. Not even a nod from the elegantly clad English people when they passed her by as she strolled along Curzon Street. Her friend Maria had told her to be patient, that she needed to gather all the information she could before they implemented their plan.
   But it was hard to be patient when she felt so lonesome.
   Summer sighed. She’d been lonely her entire childhood; why should she start feeling sorry for herselfnow? Pa had been obsessed with that mine in Arizona and she’d foolishly thought that he’d spend more time with her when he’d found that vein of silver. That the huge strike would rid him of his obsession for wealth. Instead, he’d uprooted her and Maria from the frontier town of Tombstone and plunked them in New York while he’d continued his obsession in other ways—investing in railroads and banks and property.
   Summer glanced around the room at the raised-panel walls, velvet upholstery, and plush rugs, all of it a bit frayed and worn. Everything felt so old in England—unlike the burgeoning newness of New York—and yet neither city had welcomed her. New York society had shunned both her and her friend, until she’d met Monte. She smiled at the thought of her intended, the man she’d come all the way to England for… so that she could become a different person, a real lady, that his family would accept.
   She just wished that Pa had come with them, instead of staying in New York. He claimed that his health wouldn’t allow him to travel, and he did have a horrible cough from working in the mine all those years, but Summer still had a feeling that he simply didn’t want to leave in the middle of business negotiations. The only time she heard from him was when he sent more funds.
   But she had her best friend Maria, she reminded herself. And although she couldn’t have brought all of her slobbery crew of pets with her on that terrible ocean voyage, she did manage to bring her little Chihuahua, Chi-chi. She wasn’t entirely alone.
   “Maria, this had better work,” Summer muttered to the empty drawing room. For this was her friend’s plan, not her own. Summer had wanted to hire one of the American heiresses who had already married into a title, the ones that had gone through money so quickly entertaining Prince Albert that they sponsored young American girls looking for an introduction into society.
   “Not good enough,” Maria had responded, flipping her long, black hair over her shoulder. “Trust me when I tell ya’, if ya’ want to be a lady, ya’ hire a man to teach ya’ how to do it. And I finally discovered the perfect fellow, a poor duke with two falling-down castles, who’s feared by all in the social circle for his quick wit and nasty tongue… but is also a particular favorite of His Highness.”
   Neither of them had ever met the duke, yet Maria had been confident and told Summer it was her Golden Opportunity. So Summer had sent her invitation and didn’t know what scared her the most: the idea that the duke might just show up out of curiosity, or that he’d ignore the invitation entirely.
   Feet pounded up the stairs.
   “He’s coming!” panted Maria, her green eyes wild with excitement.
   Summer’s stomach flew up into her throat and she felt her entire body tremble. “How do you know?”
   Maria put her hand over her heart. “’Cause one of the chambermaids seen him before and I set her up to watch the street.”
   Summer pressed her nose to the pane of glass, trying to see around the edge of the window to the cobbled street below. Several men strode towards the directionof her house. “Which one is he?”
   “The one without a hat,” answered Maria before she spun back around.
   Summer only heard her steps pounding downstairs, for she couldn’t take her eyes off the man who strode towards her home. All the other men wore bowler hats, so he was easy to pick out. Even the feeble rays of England’s sun reflected off his blond hair, making it glow a golden yellow. He wore it unfashionably long and bare of the pomade that slicked most other men’s hair back. Summer liked it.
The duke had on a long coat of pale blue, narrow trousers, and a deep blue cravat. He carried no umbrella or cane, and as he passed a group of gentlemen going in the opposite direction, she realized that he was also not a particularly tall man. For some reason this made her feel more at ease, so that when the bell jangled, and Maria came in to announce that she had a visitor, Summer felt almost quite calm.
   Until he walked into the room.
   She had arranged herself on the settee, folded her hands in her lap, and then quickly covered Chi-chi with her skirts, mentally scolding the chambermaid who’d promised to keep the little critter from underfoot. She felt the dog settle down beneath the warmth of her petticoats—none of them had been prepared for the coolness of England even in the summer—and breathed a sigh of relief.
   “Are you Miss Lee?” inquired the duke as he ran his eyes from the top of her head to the tips of her kidskin boots. “Miss Summer Wine Lee?”
   The deep richness of his voice made her heart turn over with what she could only assume was terror, and she jumped to her feet, jostling Chi-chi and making her growl. Tarnation, she didn’t need her dog to attack this man’s ankles, so she quickly sat back down, lifting one slippered foot beneath her skirts to rub the side of the dog’s belly.
   “How… how do you do?” she stammered, holding out her hand but not attempting to get up again.
   His golden brows rose in astonishment, but he came to her anyway as if nothing were amiss, as only a true gentleman would, and took her hand as if to kiss it. But the moment their skin met he froze, staring at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a mouth so perfect it reminded her of a statue of Apollo, and above that masterpiece a nose that seemed slightly crooked, saving him from being extraordinarily handsome to just boyishly so.
   Chi-chi started to growl again and broke the spell that had fallen over them. The duke glanced around looking for the source of the sound, while Summer renewed her belly rub and the little dog quickly quieted again. With more bravado than she felt, she imperiously waved at a chair next to her and with a frown he took it, his compact frame settling elegantly into the velvet upholstery.
   The duke studied her, trying to believe what his eyes told him. He’d met many an American heiress intent on claiming a title and a position in society, but they generally resembled Englishwomen, albeit sometimes prettier and… healthier. But this one looked like some elfin creature that had tumbled out of a fairytale from his childhood, with her hair and eyes and skin all shades of golden brown. “You have an interesting name. I presume that you’re an American?”
   Summer’s eyes widened. He said it as if it were a curse. “Yes.”
   “And you have a business proposition for me?”
   “Yes.” He sounded as if he should be the last person in London she should approach for anything.
   “Do you know who I am?”
   Tarnation, his voice dripped with arrogance, thought Summer. “Yes.”
   His eyebrows rose again. “Including my reputation?”
   She opened her mouth and closed it again. How confident was she in Maria’s information? Was he some kind of rake? Had inviting him into her home already ruined her reputation, and spoiled any chances of her social success?
   “I… I’m not sure what you mean.”
   “Then madam, let me enlighten you.” He leaned forward, his masculine presence filling the room, his eyes glittering with anger. “Before you present any proposition to me, you must understand that I do not like American women. I abhor this method of purchasing titles. I use every opportunity I can to discredit these social hunters to His Highness, who is a particular friend of mine, as I’m sure you’re aware. Why else would you seek me out? As a gentleman I feel it only fair to warn you of this. My truthful comments entertain the prince, which allows me to live in some of the comfort I’ve been accustomed to, and I would use all information at my disposal to continue to entertain him. Including any proposals you wish to put forth… as well as information about your person.”
   Summer stared at him in utter astonishment, unprepared for his speech. She’d been rehearsing herown proposition and hadn’t considered he might have something to say as well. She could only think to ask, “My person?”
   “Quite.”
   “Such as?”
   “Such as the quaint cut of your dress, several years out of date if I don’t miss my guess, and the appalling way your hair continues to escape from your coiffure and flop about your head. And what is wrong with your voice? Unfortunately, I know several American women and none of them have that twangy accent making them sound even more uncultured than they already are.” The duke relaxed back into his chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And oh, please, please enlighten me about this condition of yours that makes your leg twitch.”
   Maria had told her he wielded his tongue like a sword; Summer just hadn’t thought it could cut so deeply. She tried to remember that this was exactly why she wanted his help. With his support she’d be able to conquer society in half the time than with any other sponsor.
   He pierced her with his steady gaze, full of arrogance and confidence, waiting for an answer, waiting for her to burst into tears. Summer grinned and lifted her skirts.
   The duke’s mouth dropped open, those beautiful lips that disguised such a wicked tongue forming a complete “o” of surprise when Chi-chi popped out—five pounds of snarling, snapping fur.
   “I was trying to prevent her from biting your ankles, but now I think I’ll let her have a go at it.”
   Unfortunately, the duke wore tall boots, and Chi-chi only managed to scuff the leather up a bit.
   “Bloody hell, what is it?” he asked as he shook his leg to make the animal let go.
   “It’s a dog,” snapped Maria, who’d obviously been listening at the door. She charged into the room and swept the white bundle of fur up into her arms. “And she don’t like ya’, and neither do I.” She spun and faced Summer. “How can ya’ sit and smile at the man? Draw yore knife! Poke him a good one and send him on his way! I’m sorry I ever got this crazy notion to invite him here.”
   “You have a knife on your person? Is it beneath your skirts as well?” inquired the Duke of Monchester, staring at the ruffles in alarm. He’d never met another woman like her before. Boredom had become an almost constant companion to him, yet the moment he’d walked into her presence, the world had suddenly come alive, this woman somehow making the very air sparkle.
   Summer could feel laughter welling up inside. His expression looked so funny! It was a good thing she’d given up carrying her gun around her calf after they’d left Arizona. But she’d never give up the knife her Apache friend, Chatto, had given her. “Of course.”
   The duke raised a golden brow. “May I inquire what else might be under there?”
   “No, ya’ may not,” Maria spat, her pale eyes sparkling with anger, her black hair nearly lifting from her head with the force of it as Chi-chi continued to yip and growl and squirm to get out of her arms and find a vulnerable place in the man’s clothing. “Ya’ain’t no gentleman, and I suggest ya’ leave this house at once!”
   Summer didn’t know what it was, but the duke’s attempts to insult her didn’t bother her in the least. After all, she was used to this type of man, although he used his prowess differently. And the laughter that kept bubbling up inside her had to be released, first in giggles and then outright guffaws, until the tears ran down her cheeks and she slapped her leg to get it all out.
   Maria’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see nothing funny a’tall.”
   “Neither do I,” said the almost-gentleman, but his face was alight with humor and a grin kept twitching at his lips, as if he didn’t smile very often and his mouth wasn’t used to the configuration.
   Summer wiped the tears from her eyes. “Don’t you see, Maria? He only came to get some amusing gossip. He’s got enough ammunition already to completely destroy my hopes for entering polite society. At this point, my only option is to try and buy his silence, along with his sponsorship, if I can.”
   Maria humphed.
   The duke nodded his head at the black-haired beauty, studying her exotic looks. Where had these women come from, anyway? “Who are you?”
   “Her friend,” spat Maria. “Although I’m sure ya’ wouldn’t know a thing about friends, now, would ya’?”
   “Enough, Maria. Take Chi-chi and go now. Let me see if his lordship’s silence can be bought.”
   He leaned forward. “His Grace, not his lordship, and it will have to be a great deal of money, madam. This little tableau would keep the prince in stitches for a week, at least.”
   Summer leaned forward as well, startling him enough with the move that he lunged back in his seat. “Your feelings are obvious, sir, but it’s my understanding that the prince does like American girls. And the more unusual, the better. So perhaps I’m doing myself a disservice by hiring you, for I’m sure your tales would only arouse his curiosity.” And ruin her chances of being presented to the Queen, she thought silently to herself. And that was her true goal—for surely that conservative woman’s acceptance would meet with the approval of New York’s own queen of society, the formidable Mrs. Astor.
   He digested her words for a moment, then nodded. “I’m willing to listen to your business proposition.”      “Good.” Summer grinned at him and rang a little bell on the table. Her footman entered with the tea tray, face flushed and eyes averted. Maria had urged Summer to hire him because he seemed to lack the snobbishness of most of his kind, or so she said. Summer felt sure his athletic build and charming face had something to do with it as well.
   “Thank you, Charles. That will be all.” She had a suspicion Maria had set him up to spy on them, and waited until he’d left the room before she continued.
   “The proposition I have for you, sir, is a little unusual.” She spoke and poured tea at the same time, unaware that she spilled most of the liquid onto the white lace covering the tray, too agitated over smoothing out that “twang” in her voice. She’d taken voice lessons in New York, but she still couldn’t achieve that sophisticated smoothness. “I’d like to hire you to introduce me into society.”
   The duke snatched the cup from her hand before the slopping tea could soil any more lace. “I believe I’ve already expressed to you my views on this subject. Do you honestly think I’d actually help an American dupe one of my fellow countrymen into giving you their title?”
   “Oh, but you misunderstand. I’m not searching for a husband.”
   Those golden brows rose again in patent disbelief. “Then you are in a class by yourself.”
   Summer set down her own teacup before she was tempted to toss it into his arrogant face. He obviously didn’t believe her. “I’m already engaged with a man back home. A wonderful man, whose family is highly placed in society.”
   “Aah.” He relaxed back into his chair. “And you aren’t quite up to their standards, is that it?”
   “What makes you think… no, never you mind. Your brain is as quick as your tongue, and I won’t set myself up for your insults so easily again.” She glowered at him. “Yes, I need to be brought up to their standards. I need to be presented to the Queen. And then I assure you, I’ll leave your precious lords alone and head straight back to America.”
   “To your wonderful American man?” His face fell as if something about that bothered him. Could he actually be upset that she preferred an American over one of his English lords?
   “I told you, I don’t want a title.”
   “I’m inclined to believe you, from that silly glaze in your eyes when you mention this American.” An odd feeling swelled inside the duke’s chest. Now why would it bother him to learn that she already had an intended? He refused to think about it any further. “Does this paragon of virtue have a name?”
   “Monte.” The girl sighed when she spoke his name.
   His teacup clattered as he slapped it down on the table. “How much?”
   “How much—oh, money. Well, as I understand it, your estate is rather sadly in disrepair…”
   His blue eyes glittered. “That, madam, is none of your business.”
   His tone suggested that she pry no further into his family matters, so he had to assume that it was her faulty American upbringing that made her blurt out: “But how do you support yourself?”
   “You are an ignorant savage, aren’t you? Gentlemen don’t work, madam. That is what makes them gentlemen.”
   “You’re blunt with your words, sir,” she retorted as she jumped up and began to pace the confines of the drawing room. He made it obvious that he scrutinized her every move.
   For such an unpolished woman, he thought, she had remarkable grace, as if she didn’t so much as walk but flow across the room. “As you are with your questions. Don’t they teach you American girls any manners?”
   “I’m not like most American girls.”
   “That is rather obvious. You pour tea as if you were slopping hogs, yet you pace this room with such grace, I’d swear you were walking on water. How does a woman like you get made, anyway?”
   Summer laughed. Didn’t he realize how funny the looks on his face were whenever he watched her? But perhaps only she created those puzzling frowns and that’s why he wasn’t used to being laughed at, the way his brows rose in astonishment when she did so. But he took it well; it even seemed to amuse him that she thought him funny when he wasn’t trying to be.
   “If you let me hire you,” she proposed, “you’d get to find out.”
   He adjusted his cravat and smoothed back the hair that kept falling elegantly over his ears. His face settled into polite boredom. “I’m not that interested.”
   “Would, let’s say… a third interest in a railroad be enough to get you interested?” Summer had thought long and hard about what to offer him, and the way society in New York was about new money led her to believe the English may have that prejudice as well. Offering him cash might be something that wasn’t done. The railroad was small, which was why Pa had given it to her, but profitable enough that she thought he wouldn’t be able to say no.
   Although, any price would be worth gaining her the man she loved. She’d be willing to give away the entire investment if needed.
   The duke frowned, fighting surprise and interest at the same time. He’d supported himself by entertaining the prince and was welcomed into the finest houses as a guest, all on the strength of that relationship. He wondered what it would be like to be independent again, to not have to seek out funny stories and humiliate others? Although, he reminded himself, those whom he exposed usually deserved it, but it’d be a relief not to have to depend on anyone else’s generosity. And what she proposed wasn’t exactly work, so it wouldn’t betray his status as a gentleman.
   Summer found his face quite easy to read and, as long as she ignored what he said, found him almost pleasant.
   “I’d have to see the papers.”
   She sauntered over to the sideboard, scooped the pile up, and laid them in his lap. He shook his head, as if she’d done something vulgar again, but began to peruse the papers with eagerness while she paced the room. He finally sat back with a sigh and studied her with such intensity she felt her dander rise. This man didn’t need a sword or a gun to threaten anyone. He did it with the look on his face and the cruelty of his words.
   “You’re going to take a lot of work.”
   Summer refused to rise to the bait and wondered how a man like him had been made.
   “That gown, for example—what is it, cotton? Give it to your maid… better yet, just burn it. And those eyebrows, don’t you know what tweezers are for?” His voice lowered. “But your bones are good, I’ll give you that, and your eyes…”
   He caught her up in his gaze and Summer couldn’t breathe, her foot frozen in mid-pace. She’d never felt anything like it before, as if he held her captive with just that look and she couldn’t have fought away from it even with her knife. The hair rose on the back of her neck and she felt the warning of trouble—like the time she’d shot that claim jumper, as if she were being mortally threatened. And then she mentally cringed at the thought, for she’d promised herself never to think of that man’s death again.
   The duke kept doing peculiar things to her. She found herself internally chanting Monte’s name like a mantra just to break the spell he had over her. “Do your insults mean that you’ll sponsor me?”
   He shook his head as if emerging from a trance. “Bloody hell, I suppose it does. I’ll have to show the papers to my solicitor, of course. But I warn you now, I’ve never done anything like this, and I do not wish anyone to know about it, understood?”
   Summer nodded, brown curls flopping around her face, heart skipping with joy. If she could raise herself to this man’s standards, Mrs. Astor would be easy.
   “And there’s some things I don’t know about women’s fashion, like underwear and so forth.” His eyes flashed back to hers and Summer knew he expected her to be shocked by his words. So, ladies could not discuss underwear? See, he’d already taught her something.
   Summer nodded in feigned sympathy. “Of course. I understand you may have to do a little research yourself.”
   His face fell as if disappointed by her reaction. He looked at her hopefully again. “No matter. My current mistress is Lady Windolm. The Marchioness of Windolm. I’m sure she’d be able to enlighten me about some of the more delicate matters.”
   Summer shrugged. “Excellent. But I’d prefer no one else knew of our arrangement as well. Can she be trusted to keep our secret?”
   The duke cocked his head at her, shoving back the blond curl that spilled over his left ear. This crazy woman, he thought, doesn’t even know that one didn’t discuss one’s mistress with another woman. “Madam, weren’t you listening? I’m bloody well sleeping with her! If she can keep that a secret—”
   “Good,” sighed Summer. “I’ll look forward to meeting her, then.”
   He stood, the gentleman in him hearing the tone of dismissal in her voice and automatically reacting to it. He smoothed the front of his blue coat, adjusted his cravat, and stepped toward her. She barely had to tilt up her face to look into his own, which confirmed Summer’s first impression of his height. Yet he still didn’t seem short to her. His presence negated any such considerations. She noticed that the color of his clothing brought out the blue in his eyes, making them stand out even more.
   He took her hand and brought it to his lips, the breath from his words warming the top of her fingers. “You are a match for me, aren’t you?”
   Summer snatched her tingling hand back. “What do you mean?”
   He shrugged. “One of these days, madam, I will shock you.”
   Just as he turned to leave, Chi-chi came running into the room, Maria hard on her heels. “Give it to me, ya’ little varmint!” she cried. The dog dove beneath Summer’s skirts. “Don’t think that’ll save ya’.” Maria sank to her knees and began lifting layers of petticoats.
   Summer didn’t move, afraid she’d step on the little dog. “What’s the matter?”
   “This is the stealingest dog I ever did know,” muttered Maria beneath the lace. “She’s got something and won’t give it up.”
   The duke hadn’t moved, his eyes widening with each passing moment. Summer thanked God that she’d paidhim to be on her side, ’cause it seemed that a day didn’t pass in this house without some kind of shenanigans going on, and if he was going to be a frequent visitor it was best to get him initiated anyway.
   “Chi-chi,” she admonished. “Give it to Maria.”
   The dog responded with a muffled growl. Maria leaned back on her bustle and shook her head, black hair flying.
   “Chi-chi…” warned Summer.
   The teacup-sized dog shot out from beneath her petticoats, circled the room a few times, then hopped into Maria’s lap and spat out the thing in her mouth. Maria screamed and stood, tumbling dog and a very dead rat onto the carpeted floor.
   “Tarnation, it’s only a rat, Maria.” Summer picked the thing up by its tail while Chi-chi jumped up and down in excitement. “Here, take it.”
   “I’ll do no such thing,” stammered Maria as she backed out the door. “Don’t even know how ya’ could touch such a nasty thing.” Her pale green eyes flicked from her to the duke, and her face reddened in sudden embarrassment. “I forgot he was—oh, tarnation! Ya’ll never be accepted—I plumb—”
   Summer took the dead animal and wrapped it in a doily from the back of the settee and handed it to Maria. “Here, take this and the dog back downstairs.” Maria made a hasty retreat with a whining Chi-chi in her arms. When Summer turned back to the duke and saw the exasperation written on his face, she couldn’t help giggling.
   “I have shocked you, sir.”
   “Any other woman would have been screaming right along with Maria.”
   “Oh, she’s just squeamish. There’s no reason to be excited about a dead rat.”
   He stood frozen as if his feet were rooted to the floor. “It makes me wonder what you’ve seen—that a dead rat pales in comparison.”
   Summer gave him back a perfect imitation of his own shrug.
   “And,” he continued, “it seems that you have more activity beneath your skirts than all the whores in the East End.”
   Summer suppressed a grin. Wouldn’t he be surprised if he knew the hours that she and Maria had spent in the company of “light skirts” back in Tombstone, Arizona. That Maria’s own mother had worked in Hafford’s Saloon, and after she’d died the other women had all pitched in to care for Maria. Summer knew that most of the ladies had been forced into the business in order to eat, and had found them to have kinder hearts and more honor than many of the society people she’d met since.
   Besides, if Maria’s tales were true, once a woman became married and provided an heir and a spare, she was free to pursue any number of dalliances. What was the difference between them and the ladies at the saloon? She couldn’t take offense at his remark; rather, she thought it a very witty joke.
   His face fell when he observed her reaction, obviously downcast that he hadn’t shocked her with his witticism. For some reason he was keeping score on who shocked who, and he kept losing. Summer found the duke quite easy to read and wondered why he had a reputation that frightened so many people. Perhapsthe prince took his comments seriously and that’s what worried others.
   The Duke of Monchester sighed and took her hand, making a slight bow and murmuring that it was time he took his leave. But when he turned to walk out the door, he didn’t let go of her, and Summer was forced to walk along with him, for a moment feeling that it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be alongside this man hand-in-hand. As soon as she recognized that feeling, however, she quickly twisted her fingers the way her Apache friend, Chatto, had taught her and planted her feet, dismayed that for a brief moment she’d actually forgotten about Monte.
   It was just that this stuffy lord made her laugh like she hadn’t in ages, that was all.
   He looked down at his suddenly empty hand and turned toward her, his mouth parted in astonishment, as if he hadn’t realized that he’d been holding onto her, until she was no longer there. Then his lips quirked, and those brilliant blue eyes clouded in confusion. “It seems that I’m actually looking forward to our next meeting.”
   “I predict,” said Summer, “that we shall become great friends.”
   He shook his head. “As your companion so eloquently pointed out, madam, I have no friends.”
   He strode out of the room, and the feeble sunlight through the parted draperies seemed suddenly dimmer, the air less buoyant, the very atmosphere lacking the crackle of electricity. Summer sighed and went to find Maria and Chi-chi.
The Duke of Monchester closed the door of her home behind him and shook his head, feeling as if he’d just survived a cyclone—dizzy, giddy, and relieved that he was still in one piece.

EXCERPT

My Unfair Lady