The Duke's Decision

Avery paced impatiently in his study; a task made more difficult by the canopied bed that carpenters had assembled in the room. Maude had decided to convert the ducal chambers into bedchambers for the duchesses, and the process of remodeling was underway.

Her reasoning made sense, which was why he hadn’t countermanded her or demanded details—the duchesses needed to be treated with a level of respect commensurate with their new rank if he wanted his marriages to be accepted as legitimate by his peers. For that matter, once the question had been raised about the eight of them fitting permanently in the quarters of the tower keep, it seemed obvious he should expect them to take over multiple chambers, starting with the four chambers of his solar.

Perhaps I could return to my old familiar bedchamber, Avery thought to himself. Or perhaps Lucas’s old bedchamber. Earl Ricard of Northumbria will not be staying there with his son indefinitely, and I might still have need of a separate ducal study. His thoughts were interrupted by a tap at the door. “Come in,” he said aloud, turning towards the sound.

The door opened and Rose slipped in, a small scrap of paper in one hand.

“Should you be here alone?” Avery asked. Private conversations with unrelated women were something Aunt Maude had assured repeatedly were dangerous; and neither his conversation with Bella nor his conversation with Sabine had proven innocuous.

“If anyone should notice that we’re alone together for this brief few minutes, I think our reputations will be safe, Your Grace, given that we were engaged and that I've jilted you,” Rose said with a smile. “Not that you seem broken up about it.”

For a moment, Avery paused, staring blankly at Rose as he reflected on Aunt Maude’s lectures. An indiscreet woman who had time alone with him might blame him for any bastard gotten by another man. For that matter, if he did father a bastard himself, that indiscretion would come out eventually. Even if he dallied with a woman who wanted to conceal the source of her indiscreet bastard, she would have no chance at pretending a different father if the child later developed his silver skin, his golden slit-pupiled eyes, or his talons.

Avery shook his head. Rose did not seem indiscreet at all, and whatever leverage she might have gained from obtaining a ducal bastard was less than she could have gotten by choosing to marry him. Logically, it was safe for him to have a private conversation with her.

“I still have too many brides, and there are considerable complications from that, small and large.” Avery gestured at the bed dominating his study. “Sometimes, I think this was a terribly unwise mistake rather than the brilliant idea it seemed at first. Though I have scarcely gotten used to the duke’s solar – returning to my old bedchamber seems a comfortable notion, a silver lining to the cloud. So, what brings you here?”

“I come with a message from your many brides. You and Maude and Marcus have been planning the wedding; they’ve been planning for what comes after.” Rose held up the small scrap of paper, a shy smile creasing her face as she stepped forward. “They've come up with the… um… consummation queue. Here's the list.”

“Consummation queue?” Avery asked, reading the list of names. Each name was next to a number.

“Yes. The order in which you will consummate their marriages. First comes Johanna, then the next bride in line, then the next, and so on. From their further discussions, I believe this will also be the basis for a regular rota for conjugal duties.” Rose shifted from foot to foot, clasping her hands behind her back. The pleasant scent of fresh-baked bread was evident as she peered up at the duke from close range. “Obviously, for a rota, there would arise needs for adjustments along the way.”

“Oh,” Avery said, frowning. “I hadn't really thought about that. I mean, I know how it's supposed to work, broadly:”

Rose stared back at him, her eyes wide and her mouth tightly creased, the corners of her lips twitching.

Unsure what else to say, Avery decided he was meant to prove his point. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The man goes into the woman and seed spills out of him and then she gets pregnant. Unless she uses a necromantic charm to kill the seed, or they do something else to prevent it. Or there are some complications of some kind, or one of them is sick or cursed or something, so sometimes it takes a few tries. And…” Avery swallowed nervously, bright blue eyes looking up at him. “It's supposed to be pleasant?”

Rose fought down an inappropriate giggle and stepped back, eyeing the tall silver man carefully from a distance that didn’t require craning her neck. “Your Grace, I think that you should perhaps talk with an older married man about the husband’s part in a marriage.” She paused, considering what else she could say without accidentally insulting the tall young man in front of her. “For now, let me tell you what your brides are expecting, in their queues and likely in rota thereafter.”

Avery nodded. “Go on.”

“As the singular husband of multiple wives, you are a likely object of jealousy. When it's Johanna's turn, she'll want you to stay with her the whole night and sleep with her in her bed.” Rose held up a finger. “In fact, she would let you sleep in her bed every night—she unwisely said as much, making herself a likely subject of jealousy. And since she’s first in line, she’s setting example and precedent. Every one of them must demand a full wedding night from you if they wish to be considered a full wife thereafter. That precedent will likely extend to any regular rota afterward.”

Avery blinked. “Maude said that nobles don't sleep in the same bed,” he said. “As a rule.”

“Not all of them sleep in separate beds,” Rose said. “And most dukes don't have eight duchesses. My mother has said she barely gets enough time with my father, and my father doesn't have eight wives to keep up with. Humbly, I cannot give Your Grace orders, but I advise sleeping in the duchesses’ chambers exclusively and in the regular rota they establish. This will dole out your scarce time fairly, even if it’s time with you sleeping on a couch because you thrash about, take up too much space, and annoy them. All things considered, I expect most of them to become as desirous of your time as Johanna, and you haven't the time to spare for sleeping alone. Spending more time with one wife than another may be considered a mark of greater favor.”

“Ah,” Avery said. “Then, if I’m late to bed or late to rise, someone will feel slighted? Wouldn’t the politically easiest course of action be to minimize all contact outside of the necessary acts of congress?”

Rose snorted involuntarily, then composed her face, holding silent for a moment before giving a considered reply. “I don’t think that’s either practical or wise. As I said, I think you should speak with an older married man about the husband’s part in a marriage. If you like, I can send up my father; I know his marriage with my mother has been a happy one.”

“Um. Please do,” Avery said, flustered. He wasn't sure what to ask the man, but that in and of itself was a sign that there were gaps in his knowledge.

Madame Jocosa came with three boxes, one long and slender and tucked under her arm, the other two flat and wide and carried by a dwarven man whose face betrayed a familial connection of some kind with the middle-aged halfling woman in spite of his greater height and bulk. Behind her, one of the duke’s footmen carried a chest, towering above both of the townsfolk at an ordinary human height.

“I’ve the dresses and my traveling chest to finish the fine details of the fit,” Madame Jocosa said, then looked over her shoulder. “That will do, Master Lew, just leave the dresses on the bed, the lady won’t want you hanging around while she’s changing dresses.” She turned back to Anna. “Where is Rose? I thought she was with you.”

“She’s around somewhere,” Anna said as the men left, glancing reflexively around Isolde’s chamber as if Rose might suddenly materialize. “Somewhere in the castle, at least.”

Madame Jocosa shook her head, tucking the long thin box into a pocket in her apron. “I already saw your parents on the way in, and I was hoping to talk privately with Rose… Well, let’s get you out of that old thing and into your new dress, and I’ll see if my guesses were right. I had some luck and a little inspiration.”

Anna cracked open the first flat box, but the first glimpse of familiar embroidery over black velvet told her that it was the dress she’d made herself – the dress that she had outgrown without realizing it while it lay packed away, the dress that now, with Madame Jocosa’s alterations, would belong to Rose. After a moment of staring wistfully at the dress she’d long expected to wear to her wedding, Anna shook her head, then opened the other box, pulling out a second gown, black broadcloth trimmed with thin strips of green satin and decorated with green and blue beads.

“I couldn’t replicate the embroidery, not as a rush job; but I could add glass beadwork. The real bit of inspiration was to mirror the whole dress in broadcloth instead of velvet. It’s less similar, but that makes it more convincingly a sister design rather than an inadequate copy.” Madame Jocosa bobbed in a modest curtsy. “If milady would try it on? While I had a good measure of Rose, I expect to make slight adjustments with yours – I cut with the expectation of having to take it in a little bit, as it is easier to fix measurement mistakes in that direction.”

Anna held the gown out over herself, looking in the mirror. The satin trim and the alternating blue and green glass beads did look nice, and somehow a little familiar.

“Well, hurry up, off with the old and on with the new, it needs to be on you for me to make fine measurements.” The gray-haired halfling impatiently waved her hands at the tall dark-haired woman.

“I was just thinking for a moment first,” Anna replied defensively, laying the dress back down to pull the dress she was wearing up and over her head. As she donned the new dress, the door opened, admitting Rose.

“Sorry, I saw you on your way into the courtyard, but I had to speak with my father first about certain matters.” Rose dipped her head apologetically.

“No matter, milady, I was just getting started with Anna here.” Madame Jocosa dipped into a deep formal curtsy, turning her back to Anna. “Your dress is on the bed – I expect it should fit you neatly now that I’ve taken in the bodice. I understand the duke has given you Leeds?”

“Oh. Well, yes,” Rose said distractedly as she shucked off her dark gray wool dress. “Really, that mainly means I’ll get rents from holdings there. It’s not as if I’ve been granted power over life and death or anything like that.”

“I’ve a cousin in Leeds – Morris – he’s a tinker and occasional silversmith,” Madame Jocosa said as Anna crossed her arms. “Breathe in deep, dear.”

Rose obediently inhaled.

“Perfect,” Madame Jocosa said with a smile, then turned to Anna. “Isn’t she beautiful? Lady Anna, your embroidery really is quite excellent.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, her foot tapping impatiently.

“Now, I know you haven’t necessarily a great deal of cash on hand, but I happen to have a necklace that would bring the whole thing together perfectly. As nice as the embroidery is, you really simply must have some glittering jewelry on you when you marry the duke.” Madame Jocosa pulled the long thin box out of her apron pocket, holding it out to Rose. “And given your recent gift from the duke, I dare say I can afford to let you buy it on credit.”

Rose accepted the box being pushed in her hand, glancing apologetically at her friend before opening it. Inside, silver links glittered, green and blue glass beads identical to the ones on Anna’s dress framing a polished teardrop-shaped turquoise cabochon, sky blue with a tracery of veins.

“I had Master Lew add the beads to echo your friend’s dress, but it matches your eyes neatly, as well as the green embroidery matches your friend’s eyes. I had it from my granduncle Bill – when he retired at the ripe old age of a hundred and eleven, he left it to me with his bag shop, which is my dress shop today.” Madame Jocosa leaned forward, lowering her voice as if imparting a grave secret. “It’s a genuine moon rock, Uncle Bill had it from Ivar’s second expedition. And you know what they say about moon rocks? I wore it on my wedding night and had my first son nine months later. But I’ve no daughter to pass it on to, and I’m willing to let it go for a fair price.”

Rose’s eyes widened with skepticism, Anna’s with open surprise. Rose spoke first. “It is very beautiful, but… I’m not marrying the duke.”

Madame Jocosa’s face fell. She reached for the box holding the necklace.

“Wait,” Anna said, hope and desperation spilling out of her voice in equal measure. “If you can credit Rose, can’t you credit me? I’ll surely have access to some funds as duchess. Especially if I bear his first child.”

Madame Jocosa cleared her throat. “Well, truth be told, with so many brides and the new duke perhaps straining his treasury, I’m not so sure the duke might make allowances of funds to each duchess for fripperies. But my cousin Morris is a bit of a tight spot – not likely to make this year’s rent, at least not in timely fashion – and I thought in a matter of a bind, I might be able to trade forbearances between us.”

Rose looked over at Anna’s face, then back at Madame Jocosa. “She’ll have it for the wedding on my credit, then. As long as the price is fair.”

Madame Jocosa paused. “Fifty pounds?”

Rose frowned. “If it really is a moon rock…”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Madame Jocosa put her hands on her hips, glaring up at Rose.

“I haven’t met your granduncle Bill,” Rose said.

“Forty, then.” Madame Jocosa said with a sigh. “But you’ll promise outright to let my cousin Morris have one or two years of forbearance on rents if and when he needs it. He’s a good man, just not always good with settling his accounts quickly.”

“Done,” Rose said. “Now, would you see to Anna’s fit?”

“Of course, of course,” Madame Jocosa said, smiling brightly as she turned back to Anna. Several minutes of poking and prodding were followed quickly by swift sewing, stitching, and one accidental pinprick that made Anna jump. Soon, Madame Jocosa was ready to be on her way, a spring visible in her step as she left.

Anna stared at herself in the mirror, fingering the necklace. Worry flitted across her face. “Do you really think I could have the duke’s first child with this? His first legitimate child, at least.” Anna frowned. “I suppose he may well already have a bastard or two somewhere.”

“I don’t think he has any bastards out there,” Rose said, very quietly. “Now that I’ve spoken with him privately, I’m pretty sure the man you're marrying is pure and untouched.”

“What? But… he's a duke. I thought noblemen usually practiced on servants before marriage,” Anna said. “Or on village girls if their parents keep a disciplined household. Are you sure? How did you find out?”

“I'm pretty sure,” Rose said with a giggle. “I told him about the rota, and he got very flustered, and… yes, from the things he said, I think so.”

“That’s good,” Anna said. Then she sighed. “Although with my place in the queue, I still won’t be his first.”