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

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Dukes to Fall in Love With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 44

by Bridget Barton


  If he was honest with himself, Rufus realised that the answer to the second question was very much more important to him than the answer to the first.

  But he would have to take it very cautiously. He would have to give as much of an eye to the road as his driver, just in case there was something wrong out there in the world. But at least he was prepared for it if such a circumstance existed. At least he would not be taken entirely by surprise, would he?

  Rufus knew that his mind was made up. He would take his original route, but he would leave extraordinarily early. He would instruct his driver to drive very slowly, making use of every extra minute they had. That way he could watch from the carriage window and could focus every ounce of his attention on the task.

  Deciding that he did not have a moment to spare, Rufus turned to leave his chamber. He paused at the last minute and returned to his nightstand, opening the little drawer once again.

  This time he took out the golden mask that his mysterious lady had worn and awkwardly tucked it into his capacious inside pocket. Suddenly she was real again, no longer a phantom. And he could not help hoping that there was a chance, however slim, that their paths might cross again someday.

  And he decided that until that day came, he would keep the only thing he had of her on his person as a talisman, a symbol of good luck that would draw her to him, however fanciful the notion.

  His driver had been entirely surprised when Rufus had demanded that they leave almost an hour earlier than intended. He explained it away by saying that he was ready and at a loose end and, as such, would rather take a slow drive than a fast one.

  The driver was as good as his word and took them at a very steady pace through the county. It was certainly the tail end of the day, and night was drawing in, although it had not come down entirely. Fortunately, it looked as if it was going to be a clear night, and Rufus had high hopes of a bright moon to light their way.

  Ordinarily, the drive to the Mortcombe Estate would have taken no more than half an hour. As they drove, Rufus tried to remember the route in exact detail, trying to draw to mind any points at which an incident could occur. But not knowing what that incident might be, he could come to no conclusion.

  Finally, all he could do was focus on the road ahead and the ground around them. It had been his original intention, and he knew that that was the only pastime that would serve him well. But surely even that was not foolproof.

  Just as the moon began to show itself, Rufus realised that they were coming upon a heavily wooded area. He could see the black mass of trees in the distance and suddenly had a great sense of foreboding. It was impossible to see what was ahead of them, and he realised that it was the only place along the route that was so ill-favoured regarding view.

  He was about to call up to his driver to slow down even further when something caught his eye in the black, indeterminate mass of trees ahead of them. It was a light, he was sure of it. He had seen it wink for just a moment before it had been extinguished.

  Was somebody out there waiting in the woods, hiding in the trees? Somebody who had heard them approaching and had sought to conceal themselves fully by extinguishing whatever flame they had at their disposal?

  Rufus’s mouth went dry, and he had a sense of impending doom. He tapped hurriedly on the ceiling of the carriage with his cane, and the driver pulled the horses to a stop.

  “As quickly as you can, turn the carriage around and head back the way we came,” Rufus called up to the driver. “I have seen something in the distance that I do not like the look of,” he added by way of explanation.

  The driver wasted no time in carrying out his master’s demands and, in just a matter of moments, they were on the road again, and the driver quickened their pace. He was no longer heeding his master’s instructions to take the slowest possible drive and instead, quite intuitively, had sensed the warning in the Duke’s voice.

  As they sped along the road, Rufus turned to look out of the back of the carriage. Once again, he saw the flickering of a light and was as certain as he could be that there was somebody there who had, after all, been waiting for him, somebody who had lit their torch again as the carriage had turned. But who was it, and what had been their intention?

  As much as he wanted to know, he knew that he could not risk the safety of either himself or his driver. He felt sure that anybody waiting in such secrecy in the dark could not have good intentions.

  And he could not imagine for a moment that his masked woman would be waiting there for him in the darkness. It was the most unlikely of all explanations, and he dismissed it without a second thought.

  No, whatever she sought to warn him against was far more serious than he could have imagined. But why was it that she could not simply tell him? Why could she not seek him out and speak to him in person? Or even write him a much more fulsome and explicit note than the one she had given? Was it possible that she was in danger also and could not risk saying too much?

  As he called up to his driver to take an alternative route to the Mortcombe Estate, he wondered if he would ever truly make the acquaintance of that mysterious woman.

  Chapter 22

  The following day, Rufus set out as intended to make his afternoon tea engagement at Dandridge Hall. Ordinarily, he would have refused such an invitation and made a very plausible excuse, especially when he had so recently been at Dandridge for dinner.

  But when the Earl had made yet another pushy request, Rufus had agreed to it immediately. He had wanted to see Ella again, keen to know that all was well with her. And yet, as the carriage rumbled on through the weak sunshine of that late spring afternoon, he realised that he had not thought about her much since the letter from the masked woman had come into his possession.

  It was as if he could not concentrate on anything. One minute he was full of curiosity for the woman’s identity and just how it was that she seemed to know so much about him. The next minute, his mind was full of the night before and the danger that he had very nearly found himself in. Who on earth had been waiting out there in the darkness? And to what ends? And how did it all tie in with his determination to find himself a wife?

  All that Rufus could hope for was that the curious circumstances at Dandridge Hall would somehow divert his runaway mind for a while. No doubt a few surreptitious glances between himself and Ella Winfield would set him to rights again.

  He really did like Ella very much indeed; he more than liked her. He thought back to their most recent meetings and realised how comfortable they had become with one another. It was refreshing to spend time with the young lady who did not have designs on becoming the next Duchess of Hillington. If anything, Ella Winfield seemed to be the only young lady for many a mile who apparently had no interest whatsoever in his matrimonial prospects.

  And despite her stepsisters being a very obvious target for her scorn and derision, she had never once seemed to play upon it. It was almost as if it did not matter to her if he chose to marry one of them, and he was not sure if he was pleased by her seeming disinterest, or disconcerted by it.

  He was convinced that had it not been for the masked woman, he would most certainly be disconcerted. Ella Winfield was the only woman of his acquaintance whom he found himself at all drawn to. There was strength about her that he found most appealing and, in their last couple of meetings, there was a somewhat unguarded sense of humour that made itself apparent now and then and found itself to be another point of attraction for the lonely Duke.

  And then, of course, there was much else to recommend that young woman. She was clearly very bright, and whenever he spoke to her, he found himself fully engaged. And surely there was no man who found himself in her company who would not have noticed her beauty.

  It was the sort of beauty that took a man by surprise, crept up on him almost without warning. Most of the beauty he saw around him was generally heralded by just a little too much effort.

  So many young ladies relied on fine gowns and complicated adornmen
ts to announce their charms, rather than letting nature speak for them.

  And Ella Winfield certainly did let nature speak for her. Despite being plain, her gowns always suited her very well. They were subtle and well-made, if not absolutely up-to-the-minute.

  He suddenly thought of the haberdashery shop and how she had spoken of adding some lace to a gown she already possessed. Not only that, but he had felt her embarrassment when she had opened that little purse to reveal so very few coins; coins which she carefully counted out to pay for her purchase.

  When he had followed her along to the tearooms, Rufus had wondered at her circumstances at Dandridge Hall. Did she not receive the full attention that her stepsisters did regarding everything she needed? Was it not an unusual thing for a young lady from a fine household such as that to even consider making some adjustment or other to a gown she already owned?

  However, when he had finally sat down to take tea with her, Rufus had been so transported by her lively conversation and ready wit that he had forgotten all about it, to his shame.

  As his carriage turned onto the driveway of the Dandridge estate, Rufus realised that thinking about Ella Winfield was the only thing that had finally stopped him thinking about the mysterious masked woman. He smiled to himself, thinking how strange it was that he had two women on his mind, and not one of them was on his list of suitable brides.

  He could understand entirely dear Henry Mercer’s objection to any ideas of the masked woman as being suitable, given that she had sneaked her way into his home and made herself a guest at his ball. Where he found that exciting and amusing, Henry found it unseemly and inappropriate.

  But he wondered what Henry would think of him perhaps adding Ella Winfield to his list. He laughed quietly as he wondered exactly what Miss Ella Winfield herself might think about it. She did not strike him as the sort of young woman who would be at all flattered to find herself one of a number of young ladies in the running for the Duke’s attention.

  And the idea of that made him like her all the more.

  “For goodness sake, Rufus.” He sighed quietly to himself. “As if life is not confusing enough, you are creating your own circles to run around inside.”

  He had no sooner finished berating himself when he saw none other than Ella Winfield in the flesh. She was some distance from him, making her way into the vast woodland that surrounded the estate on all sides. She was wearing a plain and practical gown in a shade of pale green with a darker green velvet Spencer jacket over the top. With a bonnet of the same colour, he thought she looked very pretty, even from a distance.

  Realizing that the sight of her outside undoubtedly meant that she would not be a feature of afternoon tea, he decided that he must at least have a few moments with her. He rapped loudly on the ceiling of the carriage once again, causing his beleaguered driver, who seemed barely recovered from the night before, to pull the horses to a halt.

  “Just give me a minute, would you?” he called up to the man as he jumped down from the carriage and headed off into the woods.

  They were still some distance from the hall itself, and he was certain that the carriage could not be seen from any of the windows on so winding and tree-lined a driveway.

  He broke into a trot in the hope of meeting up with Miss Winfield somewhere nearby, and when she finally did see him, her mouth fell open in complete surprise.

  “Your Grace?” she said and looked suddenly completely upended.

  “Fear not, Miss Winfield, my carriage is quite hidden from the house,” he said a little breathlessly, somewhat more breathlessly than his little trot might have warranted. “You just caught my eye, and I thought I would have a few minutes with you, if I may.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said and smiled at him, unable to stop looking over her shoulder.

  “Miss Winfield, please do not worry. I would not have stopped if I thought there was any danger that you would be seen speaking with me.”

  “Forgive me, it is just a habit.”

  “I daresay I am not entirely surprised that you would feel that way,” he said and stared at her beautiful face.

  Her beauty really had crept up on him; it really had taken him by surprise bit by bit. Perhaps the fact that she did not sport the adornments and distractions that other ladies sported had become of itself a distraction. Whatever the case, he found himself studying her at that moment in a way that he had not done before.

  Her blue eyes were bright and wide and the clear, pale skin of her face was turned just a little pink from the exercise. She seemed to exude good health in a way he found most attractive. As he tried to search for something to say, Rufus realised that he had allowed his eyes to stray to the rest of her, taking in the fact that she was tall, but not too tall, and curvaceous, but not too curvaceous. All in all, she really was a very fine-looking, very beautiful young woman.

  “You are on your way to tea, are you not?” she said as if to remind him of his reason for being at Dandridge in the first place.

  “Yes, I am,” he said with a shrug. “It seems that the Earl cannot do without me.” He laughed.

  “Well, you are very fine company, Your Grace. It is only natural.” She smiled, her eyes narrowing a little, and he quickly realised that she was teasing him again.

  His masked woman aside, Rufus could not remember ever having been teased by a woman before. Perhaps it was that spirit which seemed to be drawing him to Ella almost as much as it had drawn him to his woman of mystery.

  “I would thank you if I did not think you were in jest, Miss Winfield.” He laughed and was pleased to see her blue eyes seemed brighter still.

  “I may have been teasing a little, Your Grace, but still I spoke the truth.” She inclined her head gracefully.

  “I daresay I shall just have to accept what you say.”

  “I do not see that you have any other option, Sir.” She laughed, and it was so spontaneous and unguarded that it gave him the most curious feeling of familiarity.

  For a moment he could not think what to say in response and nurtured the feeling that there was something that he had forgotten, but something that he could not draw to mind however hard he might try. She stared at him quizzically, and he knew he must shake the feeling and continue.

  “So, am I to take it that I will not have the pleasure of your company for afternoon tea?” he said, pleased that his tongue seemed to be working again.

  “I am afraid not, Your Grace.”

  “You have been denied the pleasure, I take it?” he said and found himself growing angry on her behalf.

  What sort of a family could behave in such a way? How could the Earl be so single-minded in his pursuit for a good match for one of his daughters that he would be so openly rude?

  “On this occasion, no,” she said, surprising him. “You must not take offence, Your Grace, but I excused myself from afternoon tea.”

  “When you are invited to take it so rarely?” He knew he was staring at her intently, but he could not stop.

  “Yes,” she said simply and cast her eyes down for a moment.

  “Miss Winfield, I truly hope that I have not done or said anything to offend you in any way,” he said, suddenly concerned that his continued prying into her personal circumstances had become too much for her.

  “Not at all,” she answered and held out a small gloved hand. “No, you must not think that, Your Grace. It is not your company that I do not want; it is merely that I find it very hard to be in your company and my family’s company at the same time.”

  “Are things really as bad as all that?”

  “I think you must know from all that I have said so far that they are, Sir.” Her cheeks were pinker still, and he knew that she was embarrassed. “My stepfather grows more agitated with me by the day, and I cannot escape the feeling that he suspects me of trying to gain your attention, even though I know I have done no such thing.”

  “And so, it is too fraught with anxiety for you to be able to enjoy it?”

/>   “Yes, but only with my family in attendance. It is certainly not on your own account, Your Grace.”

  “I thank you for your honesty.”

  “And I thank you for your understanding, assuming that I have it.”

  “You most certainly do have my understanding, Miss Winfield.” He bowed graciously. “And I am sure that you always shall.”

  “That is not only very kind, Sir, but very reassuring.” She inclined her head to convey her gratitude.

  She really was so dignified and curiously confident. He had not seen it at first, and why would he? When he had first happened upon her, she had just been thoroughly humiliated and was dreadfully upset.

 

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