The Devil Duke and Miss Granger
Chapter II- The Second Waltz
...
Hermione was awake, it was barely dawn yet and even the maids hadn't stirred. Everyone in the Greengrass household kept much later hours than herself, even though she knew her regular sleep schedule was not the reason she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes.
She, Hermione Granger... companion and improvised Miss had just lied, to the face... of a Duke. She found herself much too calm at the prospect, she should have been shuddering in her warm woollen socks if she had any sense. While 'twas true they didn't move in the same circles of Polite Society one fact remained, the Devil was not at all what she had expected.
In her mind she allowed herself to take liberties with his given name, not his title either. Draco...
Oh dear, she ducked her head under her blanket in mortification. But by all 'twas holy, the man was as handsome as sin. And while he wasn't darkly romantic in the ways of Byron as was the current fashion of the fashionable men; dandies and rakehell's of the Haut Ton. The raw masculine beauty of the Duke drew Hermione to him. He was like the heroes of one of her favourite Horrid Novel authoresses, Miss Luna Lovegood wrote about.
Of course Miss Lovegood's creations were merely fiction, yet the Duke had been wonderfully real. Warm to the touch, with tensile strength all coiled up inside his magnificently broad shoulders and his thickly muscled arms.
Anyway, she reminded herself firmly, keeping up this train of thought would only lead to trouble for her in the future. Besides she could hear the beginnings of the house waking.
She yawned and stretched, pushing aside her blanket. After all was said and done her aunt and uncle didn't keep her in abject poverty. Yet her place in this house was difficult... she was too highborn to be a servant yet dependent on her uncle's good favour. While she dined with the family, there was little else she had in common with her beautiful yet spoilt cousin Astoria.
She had gotten along much better with her elder cousin Daphne and had been heartbroken when she married and left to live in her husband's house. Her and Daphne had been like close friends, sharing secrets, reading together, riding together; yet with Astoria the relationship was different.
Her younger cousin treated her like she would a ladies' maid. Hermione was obliged to fetch her breakfast, ready her beauty treatments and often help Astoria's actual maid in doing her hair. All before she allowed the flurry of suitors, which she has gained during her First Season to pay her any calls.
Indeed, the men were just as eager; Astoria was beautiful, a diamond of the first water with gem-like green eyes fringed with thick blond lashes that she knew just how to flutter coquettishly, an appealingly full mouth and thick amber hair that glinted like shot gold in the sunshine. Yet her beauty wasn't the only reason they slavered over her; her handsome dowry set aside by her dear Papa was nothing to be scoffed at.
Hermione knew that the Duke hadn't paid a call to her yet, which was surprising considering the contents of his note and it was for that reason alone she had decided to take the risk that she had.
Yet her unmasking was unanticipated... especially for her, a woman who held her unimpeachable record of practicality in high esteem. 'Twas truly an unnerving prospect of being found out and then ridiculed by Polite Society. She would be turned out on her nose from her uncle's house as well. But her hope was that in the dark of his library he hadn't gotten a proper glimpse of her face.
Her worries continued to plague her even as Hannah the upper scullery maid opened her door and began to light her fire, yet she couldn't dawdle, she had to wash her hair today and Astoria normally took her chocolate before breaking her fast at noon. She would expect Hermione to have it waiting for her despite them both coming home from the ball during the wee hours of the night.
She quickly dressed in a serviceable jersey gown, a dull blue in colour with a high neckline. She had informed Cook of her intention to bathe today and was sure that there would be a tub of hot water in the garderobe waiting for her. Giving Hannah a small smile she gathered her linen drying cloth and a fine soap purchased from the parfumerie Daphné had recommended.
Her cousin was well aware how much Hermione adored the sweet-smelling soaps and the beautiful glass bottles of perfume often on display in Gaspard's and had helped her purchase some orange blossom and clove oil soap for herself. 'Twas one of Hermione's small luxuries, she could afford few enough with the stipend provided to her as a companion.
Soaps and ribbons were her weakness. Oh, and of-course, her beloved Horrid Novels and Penny Dreadful's. She knew it was in poor taste to enjoy the macabre, gothic and overly romantic worlds in what the upper crust liked to call 'twaddle' however since she wasn't strictly in the upper-class anymore, she didn't really have to comply with all their dictates. She also believed firmly that all her years of playing the pianoforte made up for all the horrid novels she did read.
After all, she thought philosophically... she still had her virtue and her reputation and really that was the only important thing in the eyes of Polite Society.
One of these days she vowed, once she began her own novel and published it, made enough money to move far – far away from London; she would find a man, someone who she could love freely,maybe even marry.
But for right now. she couldn't even afford to buy the ink that it would take to put down her words on paper.
She washed quickly and efficiently, using the maximum amount of water whilst it was hot in the minimum amount of time. For the bathing room was cold and the water in the tub was cooling rapidly. She then washed her hair which was perhaps her one true vanity, thick and springy chestnut curls that trailed the tops of her buttocks. When loose they gleamed like the richest sable and were soft to the touch however most of the time her hair was hidden away under a serviceable white cap.
With her bath finished she rushed to get dressed and begin her daily duties.
Today would be a busy day, it was a Saturday and normally this was the most fashionable day to be seen promenading in St. James Square Park in Mayfair. She was certain Tori would have a number of young men vying for her attention this afternoon and would want to look extremely well turned out. Hermione had selected a gown of pale pink grosgrain silk, trimmed in a lovely white ermine with rani-pink satin slippers and pearls for her cousin to wear.
It was standard to put the young women, especially those unmarried and in their very first Season in light fabrics, those that gave the impression of purity and innocence. Astoria was nothing if not fashionable so while her dresses may have been of modest dyes, their daring cuts and her eye-catching jewels made certain that every eye remained riveted on her. Hermione was certain that Tori would be married by the end of this Season and to someone in the exalted circles of the aristocracy; her beauty, wit and dowry guaranteed it. Hermione wondered what would become of her then. Maybe she could work as a governess or perhaps become a paid companion. Then at least she'd have the ability to save some meager funds.
It made Hermione unaccountably angry that women weren't allowed to earn a living, at least nothing beyond a companion or a governess and even then, women were at the mercy of the male members of the house; a lecherous husband or a brother in the family with a wandering hand and a woman in her position would be finished. And it was rare... neigh on impossible for the woman in employ to be believed. More often than not they were turned out without references, a treacherous and precarious position for any woman.
She yearned for the day when she; a woman would be able to walk in Lloyds and open a bank account for herself, when she didn't have to rely on the good graces of word-of-mouth and silly things like one's reputation standing in the way of women working gainful jobs and for the day when she could publish one of her beloved stories under her real name. After all, even Jane Austen wrote incognito.
Well, 'twas a pleasant daydream but for now Astoria and her chocolate awaited.
...
Draco studied the small note in his hand, it was his own handwriting, and he was well aware of where he had sent this note. Since he had sent many like it and the Duchy was now his.t was his responsibility to provide an heir to carry on the line of MacFoy.
Miss Greengrass, the daughter of a Baron, was one of the women on his list. He had never met the chit, but she fulfilled his requirements of having an old noble name and an impeccable lineage, her dowry while large was of no interest to him since he had a fortune of his own made in the South China sea trade and in the West Indies.
He hadn't seen his small spy's face yesterday due to the corner she had stood in, but he couldn't forget her dark, doe eyes... or her scent, so fresh and tart... like cloves in oranges during Christmas.
If she was indeed one of the women already on his list that made his life far more interesting. He hadn't expected to feel such a compelling and visceral attraction to the woman with the charming voice and eyes as dark as maple, one who could be his future bride.
Indeed, he had been willing to marry, do his duty and beget an heir after which he would leave his wife to lead whatever life she chose. While he would return to his country seat in Scotland, where the wild and misty Highlands were a part of his soul and he could contemplate living nowhere else. Especially not London.
But maybe for a wife with laughing eyes and a sweet dimple that beckoned him to put his lips against her cheek... maybe he'd not be content to leave her behind in London.
Today he would pay a call to the Greengrass House and see for himself if Miss Astoria Greengrass was his spy and then... he thought with a feral smile... she was his.
...
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Terms you probably want to know about
Grosgrain- A type of heavy silk with ribbed fabric
Horrid Novels- The first Gothic novels of their type, often published by women they were considered to be bad taste yet were wildly popular with the normal folk around England. Like Penny Dreadful's were purchased and consumed by the public, fuelling the Victorian Era fascination with horror and the afterlife.
Chocolate- a type of early hot chocolate drink that was consumed in great quantities by the Victorian's especially those who could afford it.
Lloyd's- One of England's first banks (source: I lived in England for 5 years for university)
If Astoria is a Baron's daughter, why is she Miss and not Lady?
-Daughters of lower aristocracy like Viscounts and Baron's do not receive the title of Lady, only their mother's do.
-The title normally is given to the daughters of Earls, Marquees and Dukes.
Were women really not allowed to have bank accounts and own property or work jobs during the Regency Era
so, this is a little bit of a complicated question, the regency era comprises of a number of years and there is no consensus as to when it began and when it ended, among all its scholars they all have different time they think it ends and begins; it comprises the Victorian Era, that we all are familiar with, the Georgian Era (of which there are a couple) and a few more. Towards the latter half of the Victorian Era more women were starting to work however the work was mostly of companions, governesses or eventually secretaries and typists. And no, they could not open a bank account without a male member of the family and the same went for property.
Hope you enjoyed reading!
