might butt one’s head against authority.
“I am inclined not to give you the money,” the duke finally said.
“I never asked a donation of you, Your Grace.”
“True. You asked a more preposterous thing—the hand of my son.”
“Lord Blackthorne asked for my hand, as you well know because you were in the room when he did so. I would not reject your financial assistance, however, should you find it in your heart to help my family.”
“If I were to give you the funds to pay an attorney, Miss Webster, I expect you might willingly expire rather soon. You would have saved your father from execution, and you would lose the will to battle this grievous injury to your leg. In short, you would die, and I should feel most melancholy at having played a part in your demise.”
Anne prickled. “If you do not wish to help my family, Your Grace, simply state your position. Your vain attempt to wash your hands of the matter by claiming to want to extend my life is very low.”
“Low, am I?” Again the duke turned to the butler. “Errand, do you take note of this girl’s insolence?”
“She is brazen, Your Grace.”
“Yes, she is.” The duke was practically purring like a cat at a bowl of milk when he returned his focus to Anne. “Miss Webster, you are audacious, bold, and impudent. Moreover, you are arrogant.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. I intended no offense.”
“No, no, I am quite charmed. I should very much dislike to see you die. In fact, I shall have to send the physician to tend you when he comes from London.”
“The physician has arrived,” the butler said. “He is in the drawing room awaiting your son’s return from Tiverton.”
“Is he now?”
“Your Grace, the marquess expressed the desire to have the physician examine the young lady. I thought it best to await your wishes in this matter.”
“Errand, send for the man at once. In fact, go to him yourself. And you, Miss Watson, please excuse yourself. I will speak to Miss Webster alone.”
As Anne’s sole supporter hurried out of the room just ahead of the butler, the duke leaned across the top of his cane and peered at Anne. “I am not going to give you any money, Miss Anne Webster,” he said in a low voice. “Your father is a Luddite, and I despise all forms of insurrection. For all I care, the authorities can execute your father and spike his head on the town gates.”
Anne swallowed. The duke was more a devil than his son. At the thought of her father’s death, she blinked back the angry tears that filled her eyes. “You are cruel,” she declared.
“I am rational,” he retorted. “Luddites seek power, and power in the hands of the masses is a deadly thing. You view the world through the tiny window of your own experience, Miss Webster. I should not mind except that—like my son— you clearly have the wit to see beyond such triviality. Look, please, at life beyond the servants’ hall at Slocombe House in Devon, England. Imagine the globe as a great game board spread out before you.”
He plunged his cane into the rose-strewn wool carpet and raised himself to a standing position. Anne watched, almost mortified, as he walked toward her. “France, Italy, Spain,” he said, stabbing the tip of his cane onto a different bouquet of roses as he called out each nation. “America. India. Africa. China. The entire earth lies at your feet. You, Miss Webster, are England. You are monarchy.”
“Yes, sir,” she mouthed.
“Are you a great world empire, England? Do you rule all these small countries—enriching your coffers with their silk, wine, tea, cotton, sugar, precious gems, opium, and gold?”
“No, sir.”
“Not yet, but you could. In the strength of the king lies the strength of England. Look what happened to France when the people revolted. Do you wish that a renegade like Napoleon ruled England?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Of course not! Look what happened when the American colonies revolted. Do you wish to
“I am inclined not to give you the money,” the duke finally said.
“I never asked a donation of you, Your Grace.”
“True. You asked a more preposterous thing—the hand of my son.”
“Lord Blackthorne asked for my hand, as you well know because you were in the room when he did so. I would not reject your financial assistance, however, should you find it in your heart to help my family.”
“If I were to give you the funds to pay an attorney, Miss Webster, I expect you might willingly expire rather soon. You would have saved your father from execution, and you would lose the will to battle this grievous injury to your leg. In short, you would die, and I should feel most melancholy at having played a part in your demise.”
Anne prickled. “If you do not wish to help my family, Your Grace, simply state your position. Your vain attempt to wash your hands of the matter by claiming to want to extend my life is very low.”
“Low, am I?” Again the duke turned to the butler. “Errand, do you take note of this girl’s insolence?”
“She is brazen, Your Grace.”
“Yes, she is.” The duke was practically purring like a cat at a bowl of milk when he returned his focus to Anne. “Miss Webster, you are audacious, bold, and impudent. Moreover, you are arrogant.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. I intended no offense.”
“No, no, I am quite charmed. I should very much dislike to see you die. In fact, I shall have to send the physician to tend you when he comes from London.”
“The physician has arrived,” the butler said. “He is in the drawing room awaiting your son’s return from Tiverton.”
“Is he now?”
“Your Grace, the marquess expressed the desire to have the physician examine the young lady. I thought it best to await your wishes in this matter.”
“Errand, send for the man at once. In fact, go to him yourself. And you, Miss Watson, please excuse yourself. I will speak to Miss Webster alone.”
As Anne’s sole supporter hurried out of the room just ahead of the butler, the duke leaned across the top of his cane and peered at Anne. “I am not going to give you any money, Miss Anne Webster,” he said in a low voice. “Your father is a Luddite, and I despise all forms of insurrection. For all I care, the authorities can execute your father and spike his head on the town gates.”
Anne swallowed. The duke was more a devil than his son. At the thought of her father’s death, she blinked back the angry tears that filled her eyes. “You are cruel,” she declared.
“I am rational,” he retorted. “Luddites seek power, and power in the hands of the masses is a deadly thing. You view the world through the tiny window of your own experience, Miss Webster. I should not mind except that—like my son— you clearly have the wit to see beyond such triviality. Look, please, at life beyond the servants’ hall at Slocombe House in Devon, England. Imagine the globe as a great game board spread out before you.”
He plunged his cane into the rose-strewn wool carpet and raised himself to a standing position. Anne watched, almost mortified, as he walked toward her. “France, Italy, Spain,” he said, stabbing the tip of his cane onto a different bouquet of roses as he called out each nation. “America. India. Africa. China. The entire earth lies at your feet. You, Miss Webster, are England. You are monarchy.”
“Yes, sir,” she mouthed.
“Are you a great world empire, England? Do you rule all these small countries—enriching your coffers with their silk, wine, tea, cotton, sugar, precious gems, opium, and gold?”
“No, sir.”
“Not yet, but you could. In the strength of the king lies the strength of England. Look what happened to France when the people revolted. Do you wish that a renegade like Napoleon ruled England?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Of course not! Look what happened when the American colonies revolted. Do you wish to
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