Scandalizing the Duke

by Leslie V. Knowles

  If the ladies were not true ladies, then that meant that their escorts might well enjoy their company for more than supper when they left the theater. The thought made her glance at Elizabeth. Charlotte had considered Ravencliffe as a possible match for her, but if he publicly consorted with women of ill repute perhaps, she needed to reconsider.

  She knew from her visit to Madame Fochet's that many of the ladies there had whispered about whose husbands kept mistresses while they pretended they didn't know if their own male relatives consorted with such women. How could they pretend not to know, if the men attended public venues in their company and where the respectable world could see them together? The idea of an unfaithful husband made her shudder with disgust. But did a wife have any say in the matter? Annoying as it was, men were excused all manner of bad behaviors.

  Charlotte studied Ravencliffe and his guests. Neither he nor Lord Norcross were as obvious as the third man’s familiarity toward the women, but there was still something about their behavior that was less formal or—proper?—than they had displayed at Lady Anne's ball. Charlotte frowned. She'd overheard women speak of men's needs when they'd whispered about mistresses. Did that mean all gentlemen engaged such women? She glanced at her Uncle Aubrey. Surely not all of them. Then, again, her aunt and uncle did disappear with a frequency that put her to the blush. She was quite sure Uncle did not keep a mistress. But had he before he married Aunt Poppy?

  Her troubled thoughts were interrupted when the duke and Lady Anne entered the box with her mother. The duchess invited them to attend their box for refreshments during the intermission and Aunt Poppy and Uncle Aubrey accepted with delight.

  His Grace, Charlotte noted, gave a slight start when he glanced across the theater to where Ravencliffe and his party filled the earl's box. She might have missed the fleeting tightness of his lips, before they relaxed into what she recognized as resigned amusement, had she not been so aware of his presence.

  That slight twitch of his lips when he spied the Ravencliffe party made her pulse leap in the hope that those elusive dimples would bracket his smile once again. Unfortunately, his expression settled into the polite public persona that kept all but his family at a distance. He radiated dignity mixed with a masculine air that made her breath quicken, though she didn’t like the fact that she was drawn to a man who acknowledged her only because he was too polite to ignore a friend of his sister’s.

  When his gaze turned to Charlotte, her breath hitched. For a mere instant something lit his eyes before the flame vanished, replaced with the cool assessment she had come to recognize as his usual demeanor. He wouldn’t have asked her to dance last night had he not been caught at her side when the set began. Still, though he'd frustrated her with his attitude about introducing her to other gentlemen before he'd returned her to her aunt's side, she'd been aware of his whereabouts every moment.

  "Be careful not to lean too far over the railing," he warned with what stuck her as mocking amusement at her fascination with the crowd, “Lest you fall into the pit." He stepped closer to observe the group of young men below.

  "I assure Your Grace I am not so foolish as to make such a spectacle of myself."

  He gave a slight bow of acknowledgement. "I stand corrected."

  He greeted Elizabeth before turning back and adding, "I recommend you observe the gentleman in the bilious green waistcoat and mustard colored cravat in the fifth row. That is the Earl of Grantley behaving in his usual form." When she looked, the gentleman in question was engaged in a friendly tussle over the possession of a flask. "Should you still wish to make his acquaintance after the evening is finished, he will be at my aunt's garden party on Friday a fortnight from tonight and you may ask her to do the honors."

  The sardonic twist to his lips made it clear he doubted that after the performances, both onstage and off, she would not choose to ask.

  She smiled brilliantly. "I am sure she will. She struck me as a most gracious lady when we were introduced last night."

  “More likely, she will graciously decline,” he informed her. “She doesn’t approve of his current behavior.” His eyes met hers with cool assessment before Uncle Aubrey asked him a question and he turned his attention to the conversations between his stepmother and her aunt and uncle.

  When Anne took a seat beside Elizabeth and Charlotte, Charlotte debated whether she should mention her aunt's assessment of the ladies in Ravencliffe's box. Before she could decide, Anne gave a sharp little gasp, then turned to her friends with laughter lighting her eyes.

  "I wonder how Lord Ravencliffe will manage to pay his respects during the intermission without offending Mama and your aunt," she said with a giggle. "My brother warned me that Lord Ravencliffe is to host the Marquess of Clarehaven this Season. He is held to have a most scandalous reputation, and Lucien decided it best to warn me to avoid his company as much as possible."

  She turned her attention to the Earl's box and grinned. "It is obvious the ladies in their company are not ladies, and they dare not bring them to our attention, nor would it be good form for the gentlemen to abandon them while they come alone. Yet, they cannot pretend they have not seen that we occupy our box this evening." Chuckling in delight she added, “This should be most interesting."

  After the Wolvertons returned to their box Charlotte tried to become engrossed in the performance taking place on the stage. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep her attention from drifting to the questions that now plagued her about men. Before coming to London, she had never contemplated the difference between men and women other than their accepted duties and roles in life. Did men really have different needs as well as duties? If so, what exactly were they? And how were they different than for women?

  The curtain came down for the intermission and she realized with a start that she had lost the thread of the comedy being portrayed on stage. When Elizabeth commented that the soprano had less range than one would expect from a leading performer, Charlotte blindly agreed with her assessment. She parroted the same observation to Her Grace when they visited the Wolverton box moments later.

  "If you will excuse me," His Grace said shortly after they entered the box, "I must pay my respects to others before the performance continues." That said, he gave a quick bow to them all, and left. Soon after, Lords Ravencliffe, Norcross, and the earl’s guest entered the box without their escorts.

  When the gentlemen made their bows to the duchess and Aunt Poppy, Anne nudged Charlotte and tipped her head in the direction of Ravencliffe's box with a grin before whispering, "I vow I should have known they would find a way." Charlotte looked across the theater to see the duke at Lord Ravencliffe's box. "The women are not deserted, the men can pay their respects, and Mother and your aunt can pretend they don't know where Lucien is while they do."

  The women in the opposite box apparently knew the duke though Charlotte had not seen the earl introduce them. Did His Grace consort with such women? If all men had needs, and there was no denying that the Duke of Wolverton was a man, then it made sense he did. As she watched, one of the women placed her hand upon his arm as she made a comment. He grinned, and those devastating dimples could be seen all the way across the theater. Charlotte bristled when he leaned low over the woman’s shoulder and said something in her ear that made her laugh and tap his arm with her fan. Charlotte decided his behavior was proof that he had never belonged on her list.

  It struck Charlotte that Anne knew a great deal more about men and their needs because she had brothers to observe. Anne had immediately understood the situation and found it funny rather than shocking. With no brothers of her own, Charlotte had no practical understanding of males or their interactions with females, whether respectable or not. Clearly, she needed to explore this question. It was one thing to know men and women were different and quite another to understand exactly how and why.

  She was pulled from her musings when Lord Ravencliffe presented the brown-haired gentleman she’d observed earlier. "May I introduce Lord Cl
arehaven?

  Charlotte rose and curtsied along with her sister and Lady Anne. Lord Ravencliffe introduced each of them in turn and she extended her hand.

  "I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said as he bowed to her. He straightened, his eyes fixed on Charlotte's bosom and he murmured, "Very pleased."

  Charlotte’s eyes widened at his blatant flirting. She might not know a great deal about the private aspects of male and female relationships, but she recognized a man who believed every female found him irresistible. He clearly supposed his heated gaze would make her swoon with romantic bliss. But handsome as he was, he did not send shivers of awareness down her spine. Amused instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and smiled demurely as he released her hand.

  Lord Ravencliffe cleared his throat, and she saw the Marquess's lips quirk before humor lit his expression and he turned to Uncle Aubrey, who was now the only male in their party. "You are most fortunate to be surrounded by such lovely ladies." He smiled ruefully, bowed to each of them, then made his excuses. "It has been an honor, ladies. However, I have seen a gentleman with whom I have been corresponding for some months and will need to speak with him before the intermission ends."

  Once he and the others had gone, her family took their leave of the duchess and Lady Anne. Charlotte found her attention returning to Wolverton and the women of dubious virtue. Though Lord Ravencliffe and his guests returned to the women moments later, it was not until the warning gong sounded for the second act that the duke quit their box. That fact caused her to lose a bit of her enjoyment of the evening. The curtain rose and Charlotte forced her attention away from the questionable women and focused on the performance.

  The soprano's range was, indeed, a bit narrow, even for a comedic role.

  After the performance ended and they waited outside the theater for Uncle Aubrey’s coach, Charlotte noticed Lord and Lady Dalton a short way from where she stood. The vivid red dress had indeed had its neckline lowered and Charlotte gasped to realize Lady Dalton wore the scandalous French stays brought to England by escaping immigrants. The stays did little more than support underside of the woman’s bosom, and the dress revealed as much of her as possible without quite exposing all. She stood with distant dignity, while a middle-aged gentleman ogled her as he chatted with her husband.

  How distasteful it must be for her to be subject to such rude attention. Lord Dalton’s demands did not surprise her. Charlotte suspected the lady’s cool demeanor was her armor against the scandalous gown her husband had forced her to wear. He had treated his first wife as nothing more than chattel over whom he held complete control. His attitude had not changed with his second, as demonstrated by his demands in the fitting of her dress. She did not doubt that if Lady Dalton’s wrist injury had truly been the result of a fall, Lord Dalton had been the cause. Changing one’s name and location did not change the man.

  LUCIEN NOTICED THAT Charlotte Longborough had drifted slightly away from her family's party, her attention on Lord and Lady Dalton and the Duke of Dovehurst. Her earlier liveliness had turned troubled. What had upset her? He noted the deep décolleté of Lady Daltons gown and wondered if she was shocked by the generous display. Modest country life didn’t embrace the more extremes of evening fashion, but a low-cut gown shouldn’t cause such a disturbed alteration in her demeanor.

  He stepped to her side.

  "For someone who has recently left a comic opera, your expression is far too serious. Is there something amiss?"

  "Not at all, Your Grace," she said as she turned her attention to him.

  He studied her face for a moment before accepting her denial. Whatever had disturbed her thoughts lingered only a moment in her eyes and posture before she regained her usual humor. For that brief moment, though, her demeanor spoke of more maturity than he'd believed her to possess.

  "I thought the entertainment to be quite diverting, do you not agree?" she asked.

  Her comment, however, revealed the naïveté he expected from someone in her first Season. "As comedies go, I agree. Though the farces often become more silly than entertaining."

  "Do you prefer drama, then, Your Grace?" Her eyes glinted with renewed humor that dispelled whatever had deceived him into thinking her more mature than she was.

  "Drama offers more in the way of depth and reflective thinking," he assured her. She would do well to expand her tastes to weightier matters than frivolities of lovers hiding in closets while servants aped their employers behind their backs. "It raises questions about one's role in history and one's obligations to others."

  "But don't comedies, especially farces, do the same thing?" she asked. Her tone was not one of question but of challenge.

  He clarified, "Comedies may entertain, but they do not enlighten or improve their audience."

  "I beg your pardon for disagreeing, Your Grace." She did not give the impression she wished his pardon. Her eyes sparkled and her eyebrow lifted. "They point out the absurdities and hypocrisies of social situations and historical events and make us laugh while acknowledging our own foibles."

  How could she attempt to dignify the ridiculous contrivances he'd witnessed tonight as worthy of discussion? Histories and tragic dramas had meaning. They reminded people that the mistakes of the past had consequences. People who didn’t learn those lessons paid the price of those consequences. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

  "Making light of serious issues allows the public to treat those subjects as though they hold no importance."

  Her posture stiffened, revealing her irritation. "Making light of the issues they address makes it possible to bring such things to light in a less disturbing manner, and in so doing, they at least bring them into the light." A gentle breeze fluttered the ruffle on her dress, and she seemed to realize the challenge in her stance and relaxed her posture. Her voice modulated into a reasoning tone. "Histories and dramas scold, condemn and moralize.” she said with a smile. “Comedies acknowledge that we are human." Her eyes, nearly black in the semi-darkness of the street, glinted with a flash of sudden amusement. "I would wager that theaters have far greater attendance when they present a comedy than when they present a drama or history."

  Audacious chit. What made her so confident in her assessment? "And you, fresh from the country schoolroom, are an authority of the role of theater in human commentary?"

  His words made her flush, though whether from anger or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he’d reacted too strongly. It was her first Season, after all. She still had a lot to learn about life.

  "I have read a great many plays though I have not had the privilege, until now, to see one performed on a real stage," she admitted. "But I believe Mister Shakespeare had it right. The world is a stage and the people in it play their parts as written by Providence. The theater, whether imitating life in the country or town, merely condenses those human stories into a three-hour performance."

  He recognized a certain truth in her statement, and she’d voiced them with a dignity he had to admire. There was a brain beneath that lovely caramel brown hair.

  A new carriage pulled up and several brash young men moved to claim it. They rushed forward to race each other for the forward-facing seats, laughing and wagering as they jostled for position. In the melee, one young man crashed into Charlotte’s back who, with a cry of alarm, fell forward. Lucien quickly caught her in his arms and hauled her up against his chest before she hit the pavement.

  "Watch what you are about, sir!" He ordered sharply. At the same time, he registered the pleasure of holding a well-endowed female in his arms. "You and your unruly friends nearly knocked this young lady to the ground."

  The young lady in question currently had her face buried against his chest and he was acutely aware of the full feminine curves pressed against the rest of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the scent of wildflowers. He made himself release his hold to set her upright lest she realize how much she affected him. Holding her upper arms gently he
leaned down to look into her eyes and asked, "Are you alright?" He realized his mistake when his gaze shifted and fastened onto tempting plump lips that made him want to scoop her back up and kiss her senseless.

  "Yes. Yes, of course," she murmured. Her face flamed in obvious embarrassment.

  The young man's voice intruded. "I am sorry." His boisterous demeanor had altered to apologetic as he bowed toward Charlotte. "I do beg your pardon. I am glad you are unharmed, Miss." He shot a glance at Lucien and correctly interpreted his expression. "I shall remove myself immediately." With a quick final bow, he took his place in the carriage and they drove off.

  "You appear to spend much of your time in the path of disaster, Miss Longborough,” Lucien teased as he placed her hand on his arm to guide her back to where her family's carriage had finally arrived. Thankfully, the dim light of the street concealed his discomfort of body. Too bad it did nothing to relieve the disturbance to his peace of mind.

  Bloody hell, he'd nearly forgotten himself and created a scandal in front of a public theater house. With careful civility, he assisted her and her sister into the carriage where her aunt was already seated.

  CHAPTER 6

  "I had an odd dream last night,” Sarah murmured at breakfast the next morning. She looked sideways at their aunt and uncle to see if they'd heard her before making eye contact with Elizabeth and Charlotte. "I'm not sure what it meant, but..." She pleated her napkin with precise folds, undid the folds, and repeated her actions as she said, "I was at a strange outdoor menagerie during a wild thunderstorm with frogs croaking and snakes slithering through the mud."

  "A rat chased a hedgehog in circles while a hawk swooped down and carried off a mouse. Then Harry chased a weasel over the barriers and up a tree. Everything was so strange and at the same time it all made perfect sense."

  She surveyed her sisters with solemn concern. "What woke me up," she whispered as she sent another worried glance to where Uncle Aubrey sat reading the Times and Aunt Poppy reviewed her appointment calendar. "Was a red fox caught in a poacher's trap." She took a short tight breath. "It had Cousin Edward's eyes."