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The Duke's Dying Wish

Chapter 4

The duchy of Howlester had been in Evelyn's family for many generations, given to her ancestor by an ancestor of the king. The manor she shared with her brother sat on a hill above the little duchy, red brick and solemn statues, dark evergreens and stone fountains.

Evelyn galloped at the gates without pausing and the gatekeeper scrambled to open them. She left her tired mare at the stables, and when she returned to the rose bushes beneath her bedroom window, the sheet she had used as a rope was still there. Unfortunately, when she had hauled herself to the window, her brother was waiting.

Evelyn paused, sheet in paw, and gave her brother a wince of a smile through the glass. He had closed the window, and now he stood on the other side, wrapped in a red evening robe, his spectacles perched on his nose, a disapproving glint in his usually warm brown eyes.

"Come on, Charlie," Evelyn called through the window. "Let me in!" Her tired arms were starting to shake. The rifle was slung on her back and knocked softly against her high boots.

Charles only narrowed his eyes. His white mane was pulled back in the usual tail, only there was nothing dignified about it tonight. White locks fell in his furious eyes, disheveled evidence of his anxieties. "Why should I let you in? You seemed so determined to go out, after all."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Don't be a prat! Open the bloody window!" She hit the glass with her fist and it vibrated as her hazel eyes flashed.

Charles smiled and shook his head, and Evelyn knew what he was thinking: she was just like their mother.

Their mother had been the Duchess Victoria, sweet and loving but also firm and commanding. How many a time had the duchess held court, bumping their fist on the armrest of her throne while the subjects of the duchy cowered before her? And yet, Duchess Victoria had been widely known for her sweetness, her kindness, and her genuine devotion to her subjects and her family.

Their father, Duke Verneus, had been a soft-spoken, thoughtful, and quiet creature; a male who enjoyed sitting for long hours on the veranda with a fascinating book while the duchess stood near, humming as she painted.

Charles pushed the window open, and as Evelyn climbed over the windowsill, she saw her father's gentle eyes looking out at her. Charles even smelled a bit like Duke Verneus.

"How many times," Charles began, "have I asked you not to go gallivanting off to the forests? You can't go on with this, darling. The court will think you're a tramp. Beasts will talk."

Evelyn glowered as she reeled the bed sheet in like a rope.

"Those savages would call lightning down from the sky and kill you on sight," Charles added, tossing his paws. "But you insist on putting yourself in direct danger by going to that forest - and in the middle of the night this time? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"Did you happen to notice our guests were missing?" Evelyn said lightly.

Charles blinked. He glanced at the door, and Evelyn realized for the first time that Nana was standing there, coldly and calmly waiting for her turn to lecture.

Nana was a fussy old Pointer with sagging cheeks, her white fur speckled gray, her back straight as an arrow. She stood beside the door in her usual white apron and long blue dress. Her gray mane was pulled up in a tight and strict bun - as tight and strict as her face. With Nana was Daisy, but Evelyn didn't dare to even look at her.

Daisy was a gorgeous fluffy white female, young and beautiful, long lashes and tiny waist, with a white mane that poured to her tail in straight tresses. Her family originally hailed from the far north. The land was always white with snow there, and the dogs lived in small villages, simple folk whose white fur allowed them to hunt the caribou of the tundra with ease. Daisy had never known the tundra, though. Her mother migrated south long before she was born, abandoning her village to marry a young Andalusian tailor in Howlester. The end result was Daisy.

"Dick and Haskell?" Charles said, glancing at Nana. "They're missing? Did you find them? When were you going to say something!" He clutched at his robe, suddenly panic-stricken.

"Probably never," Nana said with a snort and her long jowls shivered. "She doesn't want the lout here to begin with. Neither do I."

"Nana, please," Charles begged wearily and gave the old female a tired glance.

Evelyn smiled to herself as she reeled the last length of the bed sheet in. If there was one thing she and Nana ever saw eye to eye on, it was how much of a bounder the marquis was.

Charles looked at Evelyn and did a double take. "And are you wearing my bloody clothes!"

"Charles! Language!" Nana barked. Shaking her head, she came forward with Daisy, fussing under her breath as she and the young maid began untwisting the bed sheet. Daisy glanced coyly at Evelyn, but the duchess avoided her eye.

Charles sputtered, went red, and turned away when Evelyn shamelessly pealed off her waistcoat: she was wearing no undergarments. "Where are your corsets? For god's sake, if you're going to sneak out, at least dress like a lady! I bet you've stretched my waistcoat terribly with your - bosoms."

There was a dressing screen near the armoire, but Evelyn didn't bother going to it, instead pealing off her brother's clothing as she passed through the room. She dropped the waistcoat over the armrest of the fainting couch, her naked breasts jutting high as she stretched her arms above her head and pulled her mane loose of its tail. Her white tresses tumbled free, spilling around her in pretty curls. She glanced at Daisy and saw the little maid had gone wide-eyed with silent admiration.

"You mustn't worry yourself, Charles, it pleases your sister to act like a tramp," Nana said with a dismissive sniff.

Brushing her mane at the vanity, Evelyn glowered. "If you are quite finished, Nana - please leave."

Nana dropped the rumpled sheets and straightened, looking indignant as she stuck her paws on her hips. She frowned, and her long snout wrinkled up, the black nose wriggling. "I been nothing but a mutha to you pups since your poor parents died - rest their souls," she said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and placing a paw on her breasts, "and what do I get in return? I get ordered about like a servant! Your mutha is turning in her grave, mistress. Come, Daisy!" Nana marched out with a jerk of her chin.

Daisy followed the old Pointer, but Evelyn caught her paw as she was passing. Daisy's lashes fluttered when Evelyn said softly, "Stay."

"Yes, m'lady," Daisy whispered. The flustered maid took the brush when it was passed to her, and standing behind Evelyn, she carefully began to brush.

"Now what about Dick and Haskell," Charles said, appearing in the mirror behind Evelyn. He removed his glasses and massaged his tired eyes. "Should I send a fire brigade for them or wot?"

"They got drunk and wandered into Crinnington. The foxes left them in the trees. I rescued the kittens and made my way back home."

Charles breathed a sigh of relief. But he suddenly scowled. "That still doesn't excuse what you did, Evie," he scolded. "Do you enjoy giving the court something to gossip about?"

"To hell with the court," Evelyn said wearily as Daisy placed her white robe around her shoulders.

The little maid carefully smoothed Evelyn's mass of tresses out of the way, and her loving fingers brushed Evelyn's breasts as she closed the robe for her. Evelyn caught the girl's eye in the mirror and exchanged a smile.

Charles began pacing, unaware of the silent exchange. "Oh, it's all fine and well for you. You don't care what the court thinks, you avoid them like the plague - but I care! Could you at least think of your brother? I need the court's approval. I've got to marry one of the fools one day! I've got to maintain my dignity and good standing as the Duke of Howlester!" He halted and shook his head miserably. "Or else no one will bloody marry me."

"No one would bloody marry you anyway, Charlie."

Daisy giggled softly.

Charles made a face. "Yes, mock your brother. This is serious, Evie. Our reputation is on the line. You promised me you'd start acting like a lady. Nana is right, you know. Mother is turning in her grave."

Evelyn laughed. "I don't recall promising never to get Dick and Haskell out of their messes."

"Yes," Charles said slowly. He tapped his glasses against his lip with a smile. "Most curious indeed. You ran to Dick's rescue tonight. Does this mean . . ." he leaned against the vanity and smiled down at his sister, "that perhaps you've _warmed_to our favorite self-absorbed, spoiled cousin?"

Evelyn's lip curled, revealing a fang. "Don't be absurd, Charles," she said, gesturing for Daisy to fetch her chemise. She rose gracefully from the vanity and went behind the screen, where Daisy helped her dress for bed. The material clung to her nipples and the shape of her high breasts. Hidden behind the screen, she smiled at Daisy and lifted the girl's chin.

Daisy was so young and fresh. Nineteen years old, she had come into their service only the year before. Her father had tailored one of Evelyn's gowns. Evelyn walked in the shop and saw Daisy . . . and hired her as a handmaiden on the spot.

"Well, there go my hopes," Charles said.

Evelyn heard his robe rustling and knew he'd taken a weary seat on the couch. She frowned. "What do you mean? I only went after the miserable fool to stop him hurting the foxes. The dumb creatures didn't stand a chance." Evelyn glowered sadly to think of it. Daisy touched a soothing paw to her cheek. The duchess caught the girl's paw and kissed it, loving the gleam of her pretty pink nails.

Charles awkwardly cleared his throat. "It was Father's dying wish that you would marry him, Evie."

Evelyn froze. "Wot!" With a toss of her mane, she peered around the screen at her brother, who was sitting on the fainting couch as she had supposed. "Daddy wanted me to marry that prick!"

Charles looked at his sister unhappily and rested his ankle on his knee. "Unfortunately, yes. He and Mother promised Aunty Giselle that the two of you would marry. We both know she just wants to get her paws on Howlester."

Evelyn's lip curled. "So why go along with this, Charlie!" she cried, bursting from behind the screen.

Seeing his sister in her chemise, Charles fumbled for a book and shielded his eyes. He frowned. "Because Father asked me to! It was his dying wish, Evie!"

Evelyn halted and her mane tumbled around her as she clenched her fists. Her nipples were jutting through her chemise. Daisy came up behind her and wrapped her robe around her shoulders with a blush.

"He wanted to see you taken care of," Charles went on in a softer voice. He lowered the book when Evelyn had pulled on her robe. "The de Lions are wealthier than us, respected, and the extent of their influence is only surpassed by the king himself. We both know what a gold-digging mutt Aunty Giselle is. The way she sees things, this piece of land belonged to her sister, and therefore, now belongs to her. But we exist and that's a bit of a problem. The only way she can really get this land is if one of us marries Richard. Preferably you." Charles smiled sadly.

Evelyn shook her head, her eyes wide and incredulous. "But . . . this land is yours! Mum left it to you!"

Charles cleared his throat and said delicately, "Our dearest aunt has discovered that I am . . . illegitimate."

Evelyn scowled. "What the hell does that matter! You're my brother, aren't you?"

Charles only looked at his sister with something between sadness and amusement.

It was true that Charles did not belong to the late Duchess Victoria. Charles was actually the result of their father's tryst with a maid. The duchess claimed Charles as her own, and the whole affair was kept a secret for years. Evelyn grew up in the large manor playing with Charles and never knowing that he was, in fact, her half-brother.

The duke finally told his children the truth on his death bed. Evelyn and Charles looked at each other and knew nothing had changed: they would always be brother and sister.

"So Mum's will has been ignored!" Evelyn said when Charles didn't answer.

"When our dear Aunty Giselle discovered the truth," Charles confirmed wearily. "The old hag came by the estate last week. Had a parcel of lawyers in the standard black garb and everything. She told me if you weren't married in a month, you would have to marry Dick. The marriage has been planned for years, she said. The only way out is to marry someone else."

Evelyn shook her head angrily. "That backstabbing, ruthless -!" Her eyes widened. "Bloody hell: I own the estate! When were you going to tell me?" She took a stumbling step back and sat hard. There was nothing behind her, so if Daisy hadn't swept forward with a chair, she would have hit the floor.

"I wasn't going to tell you," Charles admitted, polishing his spectacles on his robe. "Because I thought perhaps you and the turnip would make nice, perhaps even come to love each other. Barring his obvious imperfections, Richard is a perfect catch, Evie. He's intelligent, handsome, wealthy --"

"--cruel, self-centered, and selfish!" Evelyn finished for her brother and stared at him incredulously. "Charles, you can't be serious!"

Charles swallowed miserably and said nothing. He was completely serious.

"I can't marry Dick! Listen to yourself! You started calling him Turnip when we were little. Do you remember why? He called you an effeminate and you hit him in the face with a turnip."

Charles smiled widely. "Yes, I did, didn't I?" he said with a laugh. He looked at Evelyn seriously over the top of his glasses. "But you must promise this behavior will stop, darling."

Evelyn scowled and came to her brother, wrapped in her housecoat with a worried Daisy on her heels. "So what should I have done tonight?" she demanded. "Allowed Dick to go wobbling off drunk to the forest? One day those foxes are going to get angry and they're going to strike back! Dick is a lot of things, but he doesn't deserve to die."

Sitting composed on the couch, Charles' lips quivered strangely, as if he was holding back a smile. "Dick is a big boy, Evie. A very big boy. He can take care of himself."

Evelyn's brows shot up: those words were heavy with meaning. She studied her brother curiously through the white locks that tumbled in her eyes.

Charles stood abruptly and turned away, gathering the clothing Evelyn had "borrowed" from him. "This behavior must stop, regardless of Dick's wellbeing. You're acting like one of your characters in your precious books - the wild and defiant bitch trying desperately to wear a male's pants. It's tacky."

Evelyn folded her arms. "Well, one of us has to wear the pants in this house. Ugh. You sound like Dick. I can't believe I'm hearing this." She looked at her brother in amazement.

"It's for your own good," Charles said softly. His long lashes were lowered as he gathered his rumpled waistcoat from the back of the fainting couch and threw it over the clothes already in his arm. "Mother would want you to face your responsibilities. Did you think she wanted to marry Father?"

Charles suddenly sounded very sad, and Evelyn knew why: he missed the duchess. The Duchess Victoria had pretended as if Charles was her son, announcing to all the court that she and Verneus had a new baby the moment he came into the world. Before Evelyn was even born, Charles was sitting in Duchess Victoria's lap, doted upon by all the court with sweets and toys. Meanwhile, Charles' real mother - a maid named Lillian - ignored him entirely and continued her tryst with the duke unabashed. When Evelyn was later born, her first memories were of Charles looking down in her crib and singing to her.

"It's for the best, Evelyn," Charles went on, his tail swinging low from the hem of his red robe. He adjusted his glasses and looked at her gravely down the length of his brown snout. Like her, his mane was white, but his snout and ears were rusty brown. His nails were fleshy pink and capped in translucent white as he continued through the room, picking up what discarded clothing belonged to him. "It's for the duchy. If you marry Dick, everything will run smoothly. Rightful blood will be on the throne and there will be no court intrigue . . . gossip . . . poison in our wine."

Evelyn laughed sadly. "Mother always taught us that the wellbeing of the duchy comes first . . . our subjects come first," she said dully.

"Yes," Charles agreed - with such sadness this time that Evelyn came to him and took his arm.

"Charlie, you don't want this anymore than I!" she accused. "So why push it? I could just marry someone else . . ." The words stuck in her throat when her eyes fell on Daisy, who was turning down the bed for her.

Daisy's high backside was in the air as she worked. Hearing her mistress' words, her ears lifted. Her lashes fluttered and she looked over her shoulder at Evelyn sadly.

Evelyn was startled when Charles pinched her chin and said fondly, "No, Evie. You couldn't."

Evelyn swallowed hard and averted her eyes. She had never told Charles that she liked females . . . but the two of them were so close, it was hardly surprising that he had guessed. She also had her suspicions about him. As they were growing up, he never courted the females who practically threw themselves on him during balls. Having been passed off as the son of the late duke and duchess for years, Charles was very handsome, courteous, and wealthy, the sort of young male any mother could only dream of for her daughter. There was no shortage of suggestions over tea, eager mothers, flirting daughters, and jovial nouveau riche looking to rise a few rungs in the social ladder. But Charles never made a move to settle down.

"I don't want to see you in an unhappy marriage," Charles admitted heavily. "I don't want to see you like Mother . . ."

"Mother was happy," Evelyn said - but she sounded as uncertain as she felt.

"We made her happy," Charles agreed. "But Father didn't. You deserve someone who can make you happy, Evie. But we both know . . ."

Evelyn glanced again at Daisy, who was listening miserably as she pretended to adjust the coverlet. "We both know that can't happen," Evelyn finished and swallowed grimly. "So I might as well marry the wealthiest heir in the kingdom."

"Just short of marrying the king, you couldn't do better," Charles added, as if he was trying to make the situation lighter.

But they looked at each other and knew it was just as heavy.