The Reason a Piano Tuner Ended Up at the Duke's Mansion novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: A Sensible Offer

Everard lays out his practical reasons for marriage and Clemency refuses the first time, and he says he will ask again.

He did not make the proposal there.

He stood up, set the lamp on the closed lid, and held out a hand to help me off the floor.

I took it, because my knees had stiffened.

His palm was dry and rough, and he let go the moment I was upright.

"The library," he said. "A fire. A chair."

"I am a tradeswoman, Your Grace, not a guest."

"You are a woman who has been kneeling for four hours on a bare floor. I'd like to give you a chair."

I went with him.

The library was a long brown room full of books nobody had read.

He lit two candles from the fire, then pointed me to a chair and took the one across from it.

He sat with his elbows on his knees, which no duke in any story I had heard ever did.

"I will be plain," he said.

"Please."

"I need a wife."

I waited for the rest.

"I have a mother who is holding a musical evening," he went on.

"She means to put eleven eligible ladies in a row for me to inspect."

"I have a cousin who stands to inherit the title if I die without an heir."

"He reminds me of it kindly each Christmas."

"I am sorry for you."

"I do not want your sorrow. I want a wife I can talk to."

"And you've spoken to me for four hours."

"I have. You are the first person in six years who corrected me and did not apologise for it."

He said it so simply that I almost missed what he was doing.

"You are asking me to marry you," I said.

"Yes."

"We met this afternoon."

"Eight hours ago. I counted."

I stared at him.

The fire cracked, and a log shifted, and a small bit of ash fell on the hearth.

"You are sensible," he said.

"You are skilled at something I cannot do. You do not flatter."

"You do not want my money, or you would have mentioned it by now."

"I mentioned twelve pounds."

"That is your wage, not your price."

I almost laughed, and I was cross at myself for almost laughing.

"What would I do?" I asked. "As your duchess."

"Sit at my table. Argue with me. Run this house, or leave it to the housekeeper."

"My mother would be satisfied and would leave me in peace."

"Your father would be provided for."

"And your cousin?"

"Barnabas would complain at Christmas."

He leaned back.

"I will give you a workshop," he said. "A proper one, with a stove."

It was a very good offer, and it was the worst I had ever heard.

I put my hands in my lap, because they wanted to fidget, and I looked at him honestly.

"Your Grace," I said. "I came here to mend a piano."

"I know."

"I am not a thing in your house that wants repairing. I am not a sensible solution to your mother."

"I did not say you were."

"You said I was sensible. You said it three times."

He opened his mouth and shut it again.

"No," I said. "Thank you. I'm sorry. No."

I stood up.

I had said it plainly, and he had listened plainly, and my heart was still going.

He rose too.

I thought he would argue, or sulk, or look wounded.

He did none of those things.

He looked at me for a long moment, a careful, assessing look.

"Then I will ask again," he said.

"You have been refused."

"I have been refused once."

"You will be refused every time."

"Then I will have the pleasure of hearing why," he said.

He opened the library door for me.

"Good night, Miss Tallis. Breakfast is at eight. Do not take it in your room."

I walked up the wide staircase with my back very straight.

At the top I stopped, put my hand against the cool wall, and pressed the other to my mouth.

He wanted me for a wife because I was convenient.

It did not feel like an insult.

It felt like a hand held out across a river, and I was the one who had to decide whether the water was too deep.

In the blue bedroom the bed was turned down and the candle was lit.

I lay on top of the coverlet in my petticoat and listened to the house.

It ticked and settled and groaned.

Somewhere under me, in the dark, a piano that wouldn't hold its pitch was waiting to be mended.

I did not sleep until the clock struck three.

At eight I came down to breakfast.

He was already at the table, with a plate of kippers in front of him and an empty cup beside mine.

He stood when I came in.

"Good morning, Miss Tallis," he said, and poured my tea himself.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"I have decided not to ask again before Thursday," he said.

"Thank you."

"I wanted you to know that I have a plan."

"I have a piano," I said, and sat down, and buttered my toast.

I did not look at him again until my cup was empty, and then I found he had not looked away.

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