Dukes to Fall in Love With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “No, not ridiculous at all.” Henry seemed suddenly keen to help. “Is there nothing else you can tell me about her?”

  “Her mask was so extraordinary, Henry, that I realize I would never recognize her without it. I think I could describe her better in terms of her personality, her character, than regarding her appearance.”

  “Then I am afraid that unless I actually know the young lady, I cannot see how I can help.” Henry shrugged again. “But perhaps if you tell me a little something about her.”

  “She was very bright and amusing,” Rufus began as his mind wandered, not for the first time, back to the frank and enjoyable conversation the two of them had shared.

  “Right,” Henry said slowly.

  “And you are about to tell me that more than half the young ladies in my ballroom last night were bright and amusing, are you not?” Rufus gave a self-deprecating laugh. “But it was more than that, Henry. There was an openness to her; she had a very frank manner without being at all gregarious. I can only describe her as honest and natural.”

  “I see,” Henry said and seemed a little perturbed. “And these are qualities that you enjoyed?” he said cautiously, seeming a little incredulous.

  “More than anything,” Rufus said with a sudden burst of honesty. “There was something about her character traits which felt familiar for a little while.”

  “So, you might know the lady after all?”

  “No, I am certain that I have never met her in my life.”

  “Then forgive me, Your Grace, but how can her character traits have felt familiar to you?”

  “I realized after giving the matter some thought that she felt familiar simply because she is just the sort of woman I had always wanted to meet. These last years I have searched for such qualities and never found them. I daresay that is why her character seemed familiar to me last night.”

  “I see,” Henry said again. “Tell me, how long did you speak with this young lady?”

  “Just a matter of minutes, Henry.”

  “In just a few minutes can you be quite sure of a young lady’s character? Not only that but everything else about her.”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, Henry, but there was something about this young woman that I cannot seem to get out of my mind.”

  “And you did not ask for her identity, Your Grace?”

  “I did, and she promised that she would give it.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I left her alone for just a moment, to speak to you, Henry, as a matter of fact. Then, when I returned, she was gone.”

  “She had left the spot? Or she had left Hillington Hall together?”

  “She had left the hall altogether. She was gone.”

  “Are you sure she had not rejoined her company?”

  “No, she arrived alone.”

  “Alone?” Henry sounded so comically scandalized that Rufus almost laughed.

  “Yes, she must have arrived alone.”

  “And why do you say that, Your Grace?” Henry looked woefully down at his list of suitable young ladies with an air of resignation, almost as if he thought that they might never get to it.

  “Because she left alone.” Rufus ran over the contents of the curious conversation he had had with two of his footmen the previous evening. “I went looking for her, you see, and when I could not find her anywhere in the ballroom, I made my way out, and it was then that I discovered that a young lady matching her description had hurried away sometime before. She had quite startled my staff, taking down her own cloak and dashing out into the night.”

  “Good heavens,” Henry said, his eyes wide with astonishment. “Then I can hardly think that this young lady had been invited at all. For one thing, there was no young lady invited last night who was alone, that much I am sure of. And for her to have run away rather than admit her true identity to you would seem to confirm it, would it not?”

  “Yes, I believe that you are quite right.”

  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I cannot help thinking it a good thing that we cannot identify this young lady after all.”

  “You think her likely to be most unsuitable?” Rufus laughed.

  “I cannot see how she could be anything else,” Henry said seriously. “Her behaviour was not only unsuitable but rather scandalous.”

  “Perhaps she is just adventurous, rather than scandalous, Henry.”

  “Perhaps she is, Your Grace, but I do not see how you can discover it one way or the other.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is very true.” Rufus heard the disappointment in his own voice.

  He had somehow nurtured the hope that Henry would know who the young lady was. His old attorney was most observant, for one thing, and Rufus had been so sure that he would have seen the two of them talking and made a note of the young lady.

  If only he had not taken his leave of her; if only he had stayed until she had parted with her identity. But, of course, it was clear to him now that she had not wanted to announce herself. When Rufus thought back, he realized that she had very gently and cleverly sent him away so that she might slip out of Hillington Hall unseen and unknown.

  “I am bound to say, Your Grace, that there were a great many young ladies of fine quality last night whom we can, at least, identify.” Henry gave his master a hopeful look.

  “So, you have narrowed it down, I take it?” Rufus knew that it was time to attend to the real business, time to stop daydreaming about an adventurous stranger.

  “I interviewed several families last night, Your Grace, albeit surreptitiously.” Henry began to nod as he looked at his list. “And I must say that it was not an easy thing to thin them out; I was so impressed.”

  “Really?” Rufus was trying to sound interested and hopeful, and yet he was sure that he had not had so fine a conversation with any of the young ladies present last night as had taken place with the masked woman.

  “Yes, it is true to say that you have attracted some of the finest families in the area.”

  “But I suppose that a Duke always does, does he not?” Rufus countered almost by unstoppable instinct.

  “I daresay.” Henry sounded a little resigned, and Rufus realized that he was embarking on the same old argument.

  “Forgive me, Henry. I am not being very helpful, am I?”

  “Would you like me to run through the list of young ladies?” Henry smiled kindly.

  “Yes, why not.” Rufus nodded with an enthusiasm that he did not feel.

  “I have narrowed it down to four,” Henry began, and Rufus was surprised, not expecting his attorney to have made so much progress so quickly. “Well, four families, but five young ladies.”

  “Ah, we have some sisters in all of this, do we?” Rufus chuckled.

  “Yes, two very agreeable sisters, I must say. The daughters of the Earl of Dandridge, as a matter of fact.”

  “Oh yes, the blonde, well-dressed young ladies?” Rufus said, remembering how he thought that they both might have been quite appealing had they not continually tossed their heads.

  But perhaps that was just a little competition between sisters, for they seemed to look at each other as much as they looked at him.

  “Yes, Patience and Georgiana Belville.”

  “Very good. And who are the remaining three young ladies?”

  “Laura Savile, daughter of the Earl of Lockridge.” Henry repositioned his pince-nez on the bridge of his nose. “Very beautiful, Your Grace.” The ageing attorney nodded appreciatively. “Flame-haired if you remember?”

  “Oh yes, I remember. And she seemed so quiet.”

  “Yes, but I think it more a matter of poise and self-possession than shyness, Your Grace.”

  “And who else?”

  “Madeleine Kensington, daughter of Baron Kensington. Very wealthy family, Your Grace, and a very fine old family too.”

  “Yes, I remember speaking with her.” Rufus smiled as his heart plummeted.

  Madeleine Kensington reminded him greatl
y of Eleanor Camden; a beautiful and confident young woman with her eye on a major prize. He knew he might be condemning her without evidence, but her presence had drawn to mind the old, overheard conversation of so many years ago, and he could easily imagine Madeleine Kensington taking Eleanor’s part with ease.

  “And finally, we have Caroline Gainsborough, daughter of the Earl of Mortcombe. A most accomplished young lady who is extraordinarily popular in society. She is much in demand currently and seems to be an absolute must at every gathering.”

  Rufus could find no real objection to Caroline Gainsborough, although he had spent little time in her company the previous evening. But she had been engaging and had taken her part in the conversation without saying too much or too little.

  She seemed to be very clever at gauging the society she was in, and Rufus could easily see how a young woman like that would be much in demand. He could also see how a young woman like that would be a great benefit to the Duchy.

  And yet, even though he had but five women to choose between, he could think of only one.

  “I must say, Henry, this really is a fine list indeed.” Rufus was not one bit interested in any of the young ladies they had discussed.

  In fact, it was true to say that he was not interested in any young lady who had attended the ball at Hillington Hall the previous night, barring the one he did not know.

  Still, he was desiring someone who was nothing more than a ghost, a phantom. Someone he had never met before and would likely never meet again. And, of course, none of that was Henry Mercer’s fault. He had only done exactly what Rufus had asked of him, and he had done it very well indeed.

  “So, shall I make a few inroads, Your Grace? Set up an afternoon tea here and there, with your permission?” Henry removed his pince-nez altogether and rubbed absently at the bridge of his nose.

  “By all means, Henry.” Rufus rose to his feet and stretched, clearly getting ready to leave his attorney in the dark, oak-panelled study. “And thank you, your efforts are most appreciated.”

  “You are welcome, Your Grace.”

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will take a turn around the grounds,” Rufus said nonchalantly, his voice belying the fact that he wanted to get out of the study, away into the cool air of the spring morning.

  Without words, Henry Mercer rose to his feet and graciously inclined his head before the Duke took his leave.

  Rufus left the hall wearing a thick brown tailcoat which did not suit the rest of his attire at all. But it was a very cold morning, the sort of morning upon which he would always favour the battered old coat.

  With his golden retriever, Archie, bounding excitedly ahead of him, Rufus struck out across the lawns, risking the scorn of the head gardener as he took the shortest route towards the woodlands.

  There was something about the woods on his estate; they were so thick and vast. Once he was inside, he always felt that he had achieved complete privacy. As the Duke, he could go wherever he liked, that was true, and he could demand to be there alone. But it was a natural sort of solitude in the thick of the trees and bushes, making it a place where he always, absolutely, felt like himself again.

  As he walked, Rufus stooped more than once to gather up fallen branches and thick twigs of suitable size, throwing them one by one through the trees for Archie to chase. The activity was as fortifying to Rufus as it was to Archie, seeming to take his mind off his quandary.

  He knew that it would do him no good to continually think of the strange young woman from the night before. She had decided to remain a stranger to him, and that was unlikely to change, especially given the manner of her exit. In many ways, he wished he had never met her at all, for her very existence on the earth was going to make it even more difficult for him to settle for one of the other young ladies that his dear old attorney had identified as most suitable.

  He sighed and stooped again, reaching out for another piece of twisted, fallen branch, just the right size for Archie to retrieve when he threw it.

  However, as he reached for the stick, Rufus’ eye was drawn to something golden on the ground just a few feet away, something partially hidden beneath fallen foliage. He hurriedly threw the stick for the golden retriever, whose impatience seemed to be growing exponentially, and then hastened to pick up the object.

  The moment he had it in his hand, Rufus knew exactly what he was looking at. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the same mask that his unidentified adventuress had been wearing the night before.

  “Who are you?” He said under his breath as he stared into the empty, sightless sockets of the mask’s eye holes. “Who are you?”

  Chapter 9

  The fire in the morning room at Dandridge Hall was set, but not lit. Nobody had used the room that morning, and so the servants, quite rightly, had not put a match to the kindling.

  Of all the rooms at Dandridge Hall, the morning room seemed to be much underused. Not only that, but it lacked the somewhat dedicated attention to detail that the rest of the house enjoyed. But for Ella, that was part of its charm. It was a room in which she felt at home, for it had that certain warm imperfection that had always reigned supreme at Longton Manor.

  It was nicely decorated, but perhaps just a little shabby in comparison to the rest of the house. But therein seemed to lay its comfort somehow, not to mention the fact that it was not used by either Ronald Belville or his daughters.

  Her mother had begun to use it when they had first moved in all those weeks ago, but she had quickly abandoned it in favour of other rooms which were better appointed. But at first, she had used it as a place to sit quietly and write her correspondence, check the menus, and deal with other little household matters.

  But the room, despite being the morning room, was not well orientated. It did not get the full sunshine in the morning, as just such a room ought to. There were other rooms on the other side of the hall which were much better placed to have been appointed as the official morning room. And Ariadne, wasting no time, had identified just the room she wanted to use instead, leaving the old morning room to almost the sole use of her daughter.

  Ella did not want to call one of the maids to light the fire. She enjoyed the solitude of the morning room and did not want to announce her frequent use of it by causing a fuss. As much as Patience and Georgiana would be little interested in the place, she felt sure that if they knew what a great refuge she had begun to find it, they would do something to upset it all.

  Whilst they were not interested in Ella and her life, they were certainly spiteful enough to amuse themselves for a few moments in upsetting her day.

  Ella rose from the ageing, comfortable russet-coloured couch and made her way to the fireplace. There was a small and ornate golden box on the mantel shelf and, when she lifted its lid, Ella was pleased to find that it did, indeed, contain matches.

  Although the door to the room was closed, she could not help looking over her shoulder to check that she had no witness to the fact that she was lighting the fire herself. It was not something that she had done before, although she had watched her old maid at Longton Manor perform the task many times.

  Without much hope of success, Ella was pleasantly surprised when the paper caught instantly and very quickly had the kindling alight too. She threw the match onto the fire and hurriedly returned to her seat on the couch, picking up her book without reading it so that she would look as if she was well established in the room if anybody deigned to enter.

  The morning room was not large, and she was pleased to feel the warmth from the fire take effect within a matter of minutes. Still, she kept the warm woollen blanket over her knees, finding it more of a comfort than anything else.

  Looking down at her book, she thought she would, perhaps, turn her attention to it for just a little while. However, at that moment, there was a light tap on the door.

  Ella turned in her seat as the door opened, and Violet peered around the edge.

  “Oh, Violet,” Ella said brig
htly. “Come in, come in.”

  Violet, small, neat and pretty, hurried into the room, and Ella could see that she was carrying a small, round silver tray.

  “I took the liberty of bringing you some tea, Miss Winfield.” Violet quickly set the tray down on the low side table next to the couch where Ella sat. “It is just that I have taken tea into the drawing room and realized that you were no longer there. I did not want you to miss out, Miss Winfield.”

  “Oh, Violet, how very kind of you. And how thoughtful.”

  “I knew you would be in here,” Violet said with a secret smile. “But I would have lit the fire for you,” she said, looking over to the fireplace.