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duke.”
    “Indeed,” said the dowager, “but not just any wife.” She poked Janice in the shoulder. “You.”

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    “Oh, no, Your Majesty,” Janice told the Dowager Duchess of Halsey. “I’m not suited
     to be a duchess.”
    “Of course you are.” The woman who thought she was the Queen curled her fists in her
     lap. “He needs a wife who’ll make the most of her power. That’s why you’ll suit him
     well.”
    “I don’t want power,” Janice said. “I want to read and take long walks and be with
     my family. I don’t need power.”
    “Certainly you do,” said Her Majesty. “And there’s only one way to win the Duke of
     Halsey.”
    “Perhaps you should tell Lady Opal and Lady Rose. Or Miss Branson.” Janice almost
     giggled at the thought of one of them becoming the next Duchess of Halsey, but she
     decided that would be churlish of her.
    “Absolutely not,” said the dowager. “This is a state secret, and only I know it. Whoever
     I divulge it to will win Halsey, no matter what she looks like. No matter how big
     a dowry she has, or whether she’s even from a good family. None of those things will
     matter.”
    “I see,” Janice replied uncertainly. The conversation was getting to be more interesting—and
     nerve-wracking—by the second. “But you needn’t bother telling me the secret. I can’t
     marry him. I need to love the man I marry. And I don’t even know Halsey. Not to mention
     that he’s a duke and I’m—I’m simply a girl who’s had two Seasons and didn’t take.”
    “Pah,” said the dowager with a wicked gleam in her eye. “He’ll want you, all right,
     once I tell you what to do.”
    “No, thank you.” Janice stood up. “Really. You’re too kind. But I’m here in Surrey
     to see you, Your Majesty.”
    “Of course you are.” The old woman grabbed her wrist and held it tight. “And to hide
     from all those London gossips who’ll relish seeing you on the shelf. But are you going
     to let this opportunity slip through your fingers? It’s time for you to shine.” She
     leaned forward. “I know it must frustrate you no end that you’re not more influential.”
    Janice’s hand flew to her heart. “Why would you say that, Your Majesty?”
    The dowager slapped her coverlet. “An astute monarch always recognizes hidden ambition.”
    Janice sighed. “I’m not ambitious.”
    “Ridiculous.” The dowager curled her lip in scorn. “What’s wrong with you? You’re
     young! You should be reaching for the stars, child, not simpering in fear that you’ll
     offend someone.” She thrust out her shriveled chin. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying
     to me and to yourself.”
    “But there are rules, Your Majesty, and a girl in my position must adhere to them.”
    “Proper is as proper does. It only takes you so far. Life is short. You must live
     it while you can.”
    “I appreciate the sentiment—”
    “Oh, leave my sight.” The dowager flung her hand out. “I’ve no patience for flatterers.
     If you insist on becoming a spinster, suit yourself. But in your dotage, you’ll remember
     this day. You’ll remember that you could have become a duchess, and you threw the
     opportunity away.”
    Janice opened her mouth to speak, but she was so astonished by the vehemence of the
     dowager’s words and the shock of her actual proposal that she didn’t know what to
     say.
    The old woman grabbed her handkerchief and sneezed again. “This blasted sneezing.
     I can’t seem to rid myself of it.” She paused and looked indignantly over the lacy
     edge. “I blame Parliament.”
    “Your Majesty,” Janice said softly, “please don’t upset yourself.”
    The old woman continued muttering as she leaned back against her pillows and closed
     her eyes, but within thirty seconds she began to snore.
    Janice bit her lower lip. She was confused, yet at the same time it was really quite
     simple. The dowager duchess had two distinct facets to her