The Duke and the Spinster: Clean Regency Romance (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 1)

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The Duke and the Spinster: Clean Regency Romance (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 1) Page 3

by Arietta Richmond


  Garrett found himself struggling for a response to that, and the barely repressed giggles emanating from his sisters did not help at all. He glared at Isabelle, who merely giggled more.

  In the end, he chose a dignified expression, and completely ignored his sisters.

  “If you say so, Mother. Regardless, I am sure that you’ll be pleased to hear that I have decided to actually attend this house party each day. Perhaps meeting more new people is worthwhile – and there are some excursions planned, I believe.”

  The Dowager Duchess blinked at him in surprise, processing his words, and lost for a response. She was used to having to nag Garrett to attend social functions – this sudden

  co-operation had thrown her completely off balance. Garrett almost laughed at her expression, but decided that would not be wise. He took another sip of his coffee, and attempted to look completely casual. There was no possible way that he would admit to his mother that his decision to go back to Hallingbrook Grange this week was specifically because he wished to discover more about one young lady in particular, to see her, and converse with her, again.

  If he gave the veriest hint of that, he would never have any peace – his mother would hound him about it forever. After a few moments, his mother seemed to decide that acceptance was easiest.

  “An excellent decision. I’m glad that you are coming to your senses about your social obligations.”

  He didn’t bother to respond, already allowing his thoughts to drift to the picnic planned for that afternoon, and wondering what Lady Juliana might have to say, to surprise him again.

  ~~~~~

  Juliana settled onto the blanket which had been set out on the grass near the rather attractive lake on the Hallingbrook Grange property. Eleanor was fussing about, as usual, worried that her gown might get grass stained. Juliana simply sat. But she was not looking at the view. She was watching the steady trickle of people walking across the lawns towards the designated picnic area.

  Her heart thudded faster than usual, and foolish hope rose in her breast, despite her best attempts to repress it. She wanted to see him again, to talk to him again. The Duke. The only man who had ever treated her as an intelligent being, and actually listened to what she said. ‘The only man’, whispered the small voice in her head, ‘who has ever managed to cause you to dance successfully, without even one stumble’.

  That thought made her remember how it had felt, to be held in his arms, to move amongst the other dancers as if she belonged there. To be surrounded by his scent. Oh, and what a scent! She wanted to meet the parfumier who had made it, to know where it came from, and what ingredients went into it. And then she wanted to try to make something even half as good.

  Another cluster of gentlemen approached, followed by a collection of footmen bearing the baskets of food and drink, ready to serve the guests. She watched the men closely, but he was not there. She turned her eyes away for a moment, staring out across the lake, forcing herself not to sigh sadly – it would never do to give Eleanor any chance to tease her – which would most definitely happen if she even suspected, in the slightest degree, that Juliana was smitten. Which she was, she admitted to herself – completely.

  “Oh look! Ducks! And they have tiny baby ones, swimming behind them! Aren’t they adorable?”

  Juliana obediently looked. There were ducks, and yes, they were rather appealing.

  “Yes, Eleanor, I see them, and yes, they are rather adorable – aren’t all babies like that, of any kind?”

  “Well yes. Do stop being so logical at me, Juliana!”

  Juliana turned back to look towards the house, and her breath stopped. There he was, walking towards the lake. He looked, in the warm afternoon light, even more handsome than he had by the light of the chandeliers in the ballroom. He moved with such powerful grace, his perfectly fitted clothes enhancing his lean, muscled frame. She flushed, just looking at him, at the thought of the body beneath those clothes. She had felt that strength when he had drawn her to him to dance.

  Finally, her body forced her to breathe again, with a little gasp. She dragged her eyes away from him, turning to watch the ducks as they left a V shaped wake behind them on the still water of the lake. Her heartbeat settled a little, and she managed to breathe normally. At least for a few minutes.

  “Good afternoon my Lord, my Ladies. I trust that you are well today. Might I join you, if there is room here?”

  Her breathing ceased again, and her heart raced. Slowly, as if the air were treacle, she turned, hearing her father respond.

  “Of course, Your Grace, these blankets are more than adequate to seat another. Thank you for favouring us with your presence.”

  She watched as he lowered himself smoothly to sit.

  He was not two feet away from her. For a moment, she felt dizzy, as if the world was spinning around her. Again, her breathing resumed with a slight gasp, and the world steadied. He heard it. His eyes met hers, filled with genuine concern.

  “Are you well, Lady Juliana?”

  How was she supposed to answer that? She thought desperately for a moment, as he continued to watch her.

  “I… yes Your Grace, I am well. But I fear that I have just discovered an unwelcome, and most poorly placed pin, lurking in the hem of my gown.”

  He laughed – a gentle, sympathetic laugh, with nothing of mockery in it. Relief flooded through her – he had accepted her excuse. For she could not have been honest and told him that the mere sight of him took her breath away – that would never do.

  Eleanor looked at her, as if very much doubting her words, but, thankfully, said nothing.

  “Ah. An issue that gentlemen do not risk, fortunately. The very thought of sharp objects in my clothing makes me wince.”

  His eyes twinkled with good humour as he spoke and, to Juliana, there was a tone in his voice, something about his manner, that seemed different from any other conversation she had ever had with a man. Not that there had been many of those, beyond talking to her father.

  It was almost, she realised, as if he were flirting with her. And her analytical mind could not help but consider his words – where might a pin be accidentally left in a gentleman’s clothing? And what part of his anatomy might it prick?

  That thought was enough to make her blush, instantly.

  Eleanor chose that moment to insert herself into their conversation.

  “Your Grace, have you seen the adorable ducks on this lake? I do declare that they add just the touch to the view – it’s enough to make me wish that I had brought my paints and could capture the scene.”

  Juliana, watching the Duke, unable, in fact, to remove her eyes from him, was quite sure that he actually winced at Eleanor’s words. Curious. Could it be that he genuinely did not like ‘typical young ladies’? For surely what Eleanor had just said was exactly what most men would expect of a young woman in such a situation. But his face was now calm and all evidence of that previous expression was gone – had she imagined it?

  “You will simply have to come back to this location on another day, Lady Eleanor, and do just that.”

  “Ah, but, Your Grace, on another day, it is unlikely that the weather will be as perfect as today. I will simply have to imprint it upon my memory, and try to paint it from that memory.” Eleanor sighed dramatically, then looked up at him, as if coming to a sudden realisation. “Your Grace, would you consider escorting me for a walk around the lake, that I might study the scene from all angles, the better to memorise it?”

  Juliana cringed internally. How obvious a ploy! For a tiny moment, a flicker of something crossed the Duke’s face again. Then that calm smile was back, and he rose, offering his hand to help Eleanor up.

  “Of course, Lady Eleanor, it would be my pleasure.”

  Juliana had the distinct feeling that he lied when he said those words. But he was the consummate gentleman – he could not refuse a Lady a polite request. Eleanor took his hand and allowed him to draw her to her feet, and to settle her hand on
his arm. As she rose, she cast a sly glance at her sister, which Juliana could only describe, even if it was uncharitable of her, as gloating.

  Juliana watched them walk away, and felt as if the day had somehow become less bright, less warm, without his close presence. Her father spoke softly.

  “Clever girl, our Eleanor, clever girl.”

  Suddenly Juliana found herself on the edge of tears. She could not, simply could not, find it in herself to regard such manipulation of a man as good. She would never be the daughter that her parents wanted, never be the kind of woman that society wanted. Never be the kind of woman that a man like the Duke of Kilmerstan would want, no matter what sense of connection with him she had felt. It was best that she kept that very firmly in mind.

  Still, she could not help herself. She watched her sister and the Duke as they walked around the lake, her sister no doubt nattering away about inanities, watched as other women cast envious glances that way too. When they had crossed the bridge over the stream, and were on their way back, Juliana could not bear it. She rose quickly, and brushed down her skirts.

  “I believe I will walk a little too, perhaps to that copse of trees over there.”

  The trees she pointed to were in the opposite direction from where the Duke and Eleanor approached.

  Her father nodded, and her mother did not even acknowledge her words, so focussed was she on watching Eleanor and the Duke. It obviously meant that they did not regard her as needing an escort, to wander around in the light of day, with so many people about. She sighed, and walked away, as always, concentrating on moving smoothly, on keeping her footing steady on the uneven ground. She refused to look clumsy, if she could possibly avoid it.

  She reached the trees, and the cool shade was welcome, tempting her a little further in amongst the leafy shelter, away from the sight of her sister charming the only man that Juliana had ever found truly interesting.

  ~~~~~

  The Earl of Fondleton, whilst chatting idly with a few of the young men, discovering who might be easiest to fleece at cards, was also watching the other guests as they lounged about on blankets, eating and drinking. Lady Juliana was with her family, and he wondered if she ever left them, if he would have a chance, soon, to get her alone, to put his plans for seduction into effect. He chided himself for impatience. But, the more he watched her, the more he wanted her. She might, as the gossips suggested, have been a gawky and awkward girl, three years before, but she was far more than that now. He licked his lips, and took a large swallow from his drink.

  By the time that she finally moved, almost half an hour had passed, and he had arranged a card game for that evening. When she stood, and walked off alone, he rose also, sauntering casually off across the lawn, as if just going for a stroll.

  She was going towards a copse of trees, some distance from the picnickers, and heat rushed through him at the thought that he might get her alone, in a secluded spot amongst the trees. It was a perfect situation for his first moves.

  Ahead of him, he saw her sister return to the family picnic spot, on the arm of the Duke. The Duke appeared to speak further with her family for some little while, as Fondleton got closer and closer to the trees, his approach off to one side from where the picnic was laid out. The Duke bowed to them all, apparently taking his leave of them, then turned away – in the wrong damn direction! If he kept going as he was, the Duke would arrive at the trees before Fondleton.

  If that was the case, then he would have to simply turn and proceed as it he was just walking randomly. He could not risk anyone intruding on his seduction. He walked on, hopeful, but already feeling frustrated.

  ~~~~~

  Garrett was astounded by how different the sisters were. By the time that they were halfway around the lake, he could quite cheerfully have pushed Lady Eleanor in. Her continuous chatter was utterly devoid of true content, and totally uninteresting. Still, he gritted his teeth, and kept the smile on his face. This was reminding him of exactly why he had avoided social engagements for so long. He discovered quite rapidly that Eleanor did not require much input from him - if he kept smiling and nodding, and spoke the occasional word, that seemed to be enough. She did not appear to study her surrounds at all, so he suspected that no painting would ever happen.

  He was grateful for only one thing – when they passed the group of picnickers where Lady Prudence sat, she glared at him, but did not move – he was quite sure that, had he been alone, she would have found a way to detain him. He looked about him, his eyes drawn repeatedly back to where Lady Juliana sat with her parents. She seemed so still, so peaceful, compared to the other people around him.

  Then, as he finally approached the family’s blankets again, she rose, with a smooth elegance and economy of motion that was beautiful to watch, and turned away, walking alone towards a copse of trees some distance away. In that instant, he knew that he was going to follow her. He wanted to speak to her alone, however inappropriate that might be. He tracked her movements, as he delivered Lady Eleanor back to her parents and endured their compliments and banal conversation. As rapidly as possible, he excused himself, promising to see them again that evening, and walked away, drifting, a little indirectly, in the direction that Lady Juliana had taken.

  He looked about him, and was amused to see that most of the guests were now well into their stride with food and drink, and paying little attention to anything else. The one, somewhat surprising, exception was Fondleton, who was walking across the lawns as if with some purpose, but without company. He could not like the man – he was usually first amongst those wanting to eat and drink at others expense, and gambled at every opportunity. Garrett was almost certain that he cheated at cards. Why was he wandering about alone?

  In the end, he ignored the man, and returned his attention to Lady Juliana, just in time to see her slip in amongst the trees, and out of sight.

  Chapter Four

  Fondleton was not far from the trees, but the Duke was ahead of him. Damn Kilmerstan! He was quite sure that the Duke was following Lady Juliana, and that became absolute certainty when the Duke slipped into the trees exactly where she had. Fondleton turned away, sauntering past the trees and back towards the lake, as if that had always been his intention. But his mind was racing.

  Had Kilmerstan beaten him to it? Was the spinster already seduced? If so, perhaps she would be easier prey than he had imagined. He would have to observe carefully, and discover what he could use against her, what he could use to ensure that she fell in with his plans. For he found that she had gone from being a convenient target, to being somewhat of an obsession – he had to have her, no other woman would do, at least until he had tasted the delights that Lady Juliana could provide.

  ~~~~~

  Garrett slipped through the trees, the dappled sunlight filtered to soft green and shaded gold. The cool of the shade was welcome, and the whole effect was almost like an imagined underwater scene. In front of him a small clearing opened up at the centre of the small wood.

  He stopped, his mouth gone dry, and his breath coming short. She stood in a pool of sunlight, the rich burnished gold of her hair glinting like treasure, the soft green of her gown blending in with the setting, as if she was some woodland nymph, part of the trees. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

  He should move, should alert her to his presence, but, somehow, he was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but drink her in with his eyes, and imagine what that golden hair might feel like between his fingers. Time seemed frozen, and he did not care, could not care for anything but the vision before him.

  Finally, a bird fluttered down to land on a branch not far above his head, the movement and sound breaking the spell that held him. He drew in a large breath, and stepped forward, startling the bird into flight again. She turned, seeking the source of the sound, and her eyes met his. They were blue green, he remembered, but in this light, they seemed almost as glowing a green as the sunlit leaves around them. They both paused, neither speaking.
She did not appear surprised to see him there, nor disturbed by his presence in any way. Somehow, it felt right that they should be here, alone.

  After a moment, he moved again, going forward until he stopped mere inches from her. Her eyes never left his as he moved.

  “Lady Juliana, I… I saw you walk away, alone, and was concerned. Is all well with you?”

  Her eyes flicked down for a moment, as if she was unsure of the wisdom of answering. He waited. She looked up, and he saw a decision in her face.

  “As well as it ever is, Your Grace. I fear that I am not well suited to social occasions. I have always been more likely to embarrass myself and my family than to shine. Unlike my sister, who seemingly has a gift for doing so. Today, I reached the point where I felt overwhelmed, so I went seeking a place of peace and quiet.”

  “If I intrude, if I am unwelcome, I will leave you be – you only need say the word.”

  “No… stay. For it is not that I dislike company, but that most company does not find me entertaining at all.”

  “Then they are blind and deaf. For not only are you beautiful, but you are by far the most articulate and intelligent woman that I have met.”

  She looked at him, genuine shock in her eyes, and he wondered why – surely, she had been told that she was beautiful, many times over? A blush rose in her face, and he could almost feel the heat of it, so close did they stand. He wanted to reach out and cup her cheek in his palm, to feel that heated softness. He did not, though he ached to do so. He did not understand her well enough, did not know her well enough, to have earned the right to take such a liberty.

  “Surely you jest. I would not have thought you one to mock me.”

  Her voice shook, and the shock in her eyes had turned to hurt, in the few seconds before she looked down, her fingers twisting together in distress.

  “I do not jest. And I would never mock you. I speak only the truth as I see it.”

 

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