A Solitary Duke

by Fenella J Miller

  Mama was delighted to hear there would be a ball so soon after their arrival. ‘I cannot wait to meet the other residents. You will accompany us, I hope, my love. Unbeknown to you I have had several evening gowns made for you.’

  ‘That was very kind of you, but, as you know I dislike crowded places…’

  Her father, who had been perusing his paper, looked up. ‘Fustian, my dear girl. I shall withdraw my permission for you to ride my stallion if you do not agree to attend tomorrow.’

  ‘Reluctantly then, I agree. I was going to say that I cannot dance but we all know that’s a Banbury tale. I suppose a small event such as this will not be quite as bad as those that I was obliged to attend in London last year.’

  Her mother rose gracefully to her feet. ‘Come with me, my love, and see what delights I have had made for you. You will be relieved to know that those appalling gowns you insisted on wearing last year have been disposed of.’

  After an afternoon spent making castles and paddling in the water with the children Lucy was content with her lot. Little Freddie had been entranced with the sea and howled miserably when carried away by his nursemaid.

  There were not just one but two splendid bathing rooms in this bright modern house. It was a miracle to her to see the dirty water from her bath gurgle happily out of the plug and vanish who knows where. Of course, the unfortunate chambermaids still had to stagger up the stairs with jugs of hot water, but at least they didn’t have to do it in reverse.

  Over dinner she joined in a lively conversation about what impact the return of the victorious army from France would have on the local populace. ‘There will be a lot of common soldiers looking for peacetime employment. I sincerely hope this won’t cause unrest in the countryside,’ Papa said.

  Mama didn’t like to talk of such things so changed the subject. ‘I wonder, Frederick, should I wait until I’ve met some of our neighbours at the ball tomorrow, or send out cards to those you think are suitable tomorrow morning?’

  ‘There are not that many permanent residents of our social strata, my love. I thought there to be a dozen families of rank residing here. However, I’ve no idea of their names or locations.’

  Lucy had been holding her breath expecting to hear him suggest a card was sent to Mr Gilbert’s house. She began to relax but then he mentioned The Rookery.

  ‘The nearest house of any note is occupied by a recluse. The gentleman living there is not seen abroad, does not entertain, and as far as I can ascertain has not even set foot in the town in the two years he’s been here.’

  ‘An elderly gentleman no doubt who has retired to live by the sea in his declining years.’

  ‘I cannot confirm that, my love, but it seems the most likely explanation. Lucy, sweetheart, will you play for us tonight?’

  ‘I should love to. If you will excuse me, I’ll go at once and see if there’s anything interesting in the music sheets that were waiting for me. I’ve not yet had time to examine them.’

  When she retired she was pleasantly tired. The half a dozen beautiful gowns, with all the matching accessories considered necessary, were neatly folded on the shelves in her closet. They were certainly an improvement on the ones she’d worn last year, but she was more interested in the men’s attire that she’d managed to find for her first ride astride Bruno.

  She had absolutely no intention of venturing anywhere near the beach at dawn but would ride within the bounds of the estate as she’d promised. Daisy had been scandalised when the breeches, shirt, waistcoat and jacket had appeared in her closet.

  ‘You cannot go outside in those, miss, what if anyone sees you?’

  ‘The only people I’ll meet at dawn will be those that work on the estate. They are not in the position to comment either way on my behaviour.’

  Somewhat mollified, her maid nodded. ‘If his lordship’s given you permission then I suppose it must be acceptable. I’ll have a bath drawn for when you return. I’ll put out one of the new muslins.’

  ‘No, my oldest gown will do. There’s no point in ruining something pretty when I’m going to be raking about the garden and the beach with the children all day.’

  *

  Edwin made a point of swimming in the opposite direction the following morning. This time he took Hamlet, the gelding was less likely to abandon him. Later he was busy on estate business when a footman arrived with the morning post.

  He didn’t have a secretary, but his estate manager had two clerks working for him and one unfortunate young man spent his time travelling back and forth from Rochester Towers to The Rookery.

  He flicked through and discarded most of them. One caught his attention. He didn’t recognise the handwriting and there was no seal pressed into the wax that kept the letter closed. He opened it and read it through not quite believing what he was seeing.

  Your grace,

  I thank you for your kind invitation to visit Rochester Towers but I must politely decline. The fact that I am in direct line to your title, that my eldest son could possibly become the next duke, is of no interest to me or my family.

  I am a businessman; I own several manufactories as well as a shipping line. I have no wish to be part of an aristocracy which I despise. Every penny I have I earned for myself. I don’t wish to have a silver spoon thrust into my mouth.

  I think it highly unlikely you will die without a direct heir but if you do then my son will reject the title, the estates and the inheritance.

  Yours with respect,

  Edward Gilbert

  He wasn’t sure if he was offended, impressed or amused by this missive. There was little point in pursuing the matter as his distant cousin had made his position abundantly clear. This left him no option but to find himself a suitable wife. Definitely not a debutante, but an experienced widow with a child or two. There was no need to panic – he was in his prime at eight and twenty and had no need to set up his nursery for another ten years at least.

  He read the letter again and smiled. Despite the unpalatable contents he admired Gilbert’s straightforward attitude to things. He had no relatives alive on either side apart from his redoubtable mother. When she returned home, hopefully sooner rather than later, he would close the house and go in search of this man. Not to convince him to change his mind but hopefully to get to know him and his family and demonstrate that not all aristocrats were useless individuals.

  His father had instilled in him that the title was an honour, a responsibility, and had to be earned by hard work and kindness to those who depended on him. Therefore, he had kept the staff that he hadn’t brought with him to Margate on his payroll. All the villagers in his demesne lived in well-maintained cottages, nobody went hungry on his estate. There was a schoolroom to educate the children so they would be more self-sufficient when they grew up.

  His town house in Grosvenor Square, which he rarely used, was also fully staffed and rented out to any family who wished to spend the London Season dragging marriageable daughters and sons around the place. He did not discriminate against tradespeople – indeed – last year the house had been taken by a nabob recently returned from India with his family.

  He wouldn’t reply to Gilbert but turn up unannounced thus not allowing the man to refuse to meet him. He was eager to head to London and search out this person who apparently lived all year round in the metropolis. He scowled. He would much rather leave today, but had first to attend this damned ball.

  At five o’clock, having dined early for once, he was impatiently pacing the drawing room awaiting the arrival of his parent. The carriage was outside. It was unpardonable to keep the team waiting even when the weather was so warm.

  ‘Come along, your grace, you cannot dawdle here. We shall be late and that would never do.’

  He bit back a sharp retort and nodded. ‘I thought you preferred to arrive fashionably late so that you can make an entrance?’ She would certainly do that dressed as she was in a startling ensemble of puce silk with yet another hideous turban adorned wi
th feathers.

  He offered his arm but she ignored it. She sailed in front of him and regally held out her arm to be assisted into the carriage by the waiting footman. He jumped in making the carriage rock alarmingly. She tutted and he laughed.

  He was surprised to find their carriage obliged to join a queue of other vehicles waiting to disgorge their passengers at the Royal Hotel. When eventually it was their turn, he was impressed with what he saw. There was a red carpet, flambeaux on either side, and several uniformed flunkies ready to assist the ladies and gentlemen from their vehicles if necessary.

  This time she deigned to take his arm and he slowed his pace to accommodate her shorter legs. They entered through the door into the hotel itself and then up a wide, carpeted staircase to the first floor upon which the assembly rooms were situated.

  He was surprised to find those ahead of him as finely dressed and as well-spoken as himself. His mother was looking from side to side as if searching for someone.

  ‘What is amiss, ma’am?’

  ‘Why do you ask that, your grace? I merely take note of the other guests and I must say that I am pleasantly surprised.’

  They walked first into a large reception area where maidservants were waiting to take evening cloaks, top hats and so on. From there he could see on the left there was a card room, to the right a chamber for supper, and directly in front the ballroom itself from which the sound of a surprisingly good orchestra was coming.

  He half-expected there to be a master of ceremonies announcing each arrival but they were left to wander in as they wished. This didn’t please his mother. With the advantage of his height he could see across the throng that there was a vacant group of chairs close to the dance floor.

  ‘Ma’am, if you wish to have somewhere to sit and watch the dancing then I believe there’s only one space left vacant.’

  ‘Then take me there at once, your grace, I have no wish to stand all evening.’

  He guided her through the crowd and thankfully deposited her on one of the spindly gilt chairs. ‘I shall stand behind you, ma’am, I fear those chairs would not support my weight.’

  She didn’t answer but was staring towards the entrance. Suddenly she waved her fan. ‘Do look, a dear friend of mine has just come in. I’d no idea that she intended to come here.’

  He glanced up and his lips thinned. He recognised the matron as the relic of the Earl of Newham and beside her was her daughter, Lady Catherine. This meeting had been contrived between them. The girl was quite lovely, with golden curls and blue eyes exactly as he liked.

  He stepped backwards, bumping into several people in his haste to get away. He refused to be manipulated and had no intention of being introduced to this girl who would no doubt expect him to do the pretty and dance with her twice.

  He would remove himself to the card room and wait there until it was time to leave. His mother would be livid but she had only herself to blame. Her visit and the arrival of her crony and daughter were no coincidence.

  After dodging several disgruntled guests, he emerged into the comparative safety of the first reception room. Entering at that moment from the staircase was a gentleman who looked vaguely familiar. He was tall, with mid-brown hair and blue-grey eyes. God’s teeth! He’d escaped from one potential disaster and stepped straight into another.

  Lord Stanfield, for it must be he, was accompanied by his lady and his daughter. Miss Armitage was wearing a golden gown, something shimmery over the skirt. Her hair, which he had considered a dull colour, was the reverse. Standing as she was beneath the chandelier it reflected the light, showing that strands of gold and red ran through it.

  His feet moved of their own volition and he was walking towards them before giving the matter any real consideration. She had been smiling, her eyes alight with laughter but on seeing his advance her colour drained. How could he have ever thought her plain? She was quite lovely, her skin flawless, no sign of the scratches she’d received yesterday.

  He stopped in front of the small group and bowed. ‘Lord Stanfield, I believe we are neighbours. I am Rochester.’

  ‘Your grace, I’d no idea someone so illustrious lived close by. Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Lady Stanfield and my eldest daughter, Miss Lucy Armitage.’

  Both ladies curtsied and he bowed a second time. ‘I’m delighted to meet you. Miss Armitage, the first set is about to form, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

  For a horrible moment he thought she would refuse but then she nodded stiffly. He held out his arm and she placed the very tip of her fingers on it as if the contact was abhorrent to her.

  They were third in the set. She danced well, didn’t miss a step, but refused to meet his eye even when they were standing clapping as another couple skipped down between them.

  ‘This will not do, my dear, you cannot ignore me so pointedly. It is drawing attention to us both.’

  She looked at him then and her beautiful eyes were dark with anger. ‘How you must have laughed at me, your grace. Why did you not tell me who you really were?’

  ‘I can’t explain, not now, Miss Armitage. If you would agree to stroll around the reception room after this dance I will try and put in plain words how this misunderstanding occurred.’

  The tension in her lessened somewhat and she smiled, not warmly, but it was a start. ‘Were you referring to the matron in an extraordinary puce ensemble when you said that we were drawing unwanted attention? That lady has been staring at us with disapproval, no I would say it was more than that, she’s looking at me with such venom it sends shivers down my spine. The wretched woman has done so ever since we set foot on the dance floor.’

  ‘Oh, I believe that you must be referring to my mother. I think she was hoping I would dance with the daughter of her friend first. It’s not personal, Miss Armitage, she would hate anyone who thwarted her plans.’

  Chapter Five

  Lucy stared at the duke and saw his eyes brimming with laughter. She snorted inelegantly drawing more unwanted attention and then bit her lip to try and hold back the giggles.

  To make matters worse he waggled his eyebrows and then said solemnly. ‘I cannot wait to introduce you to her grace. I’m sure that you will become bosom bows in no time.’

  This was too much. She knew of old that once she started giggling, she wouldn’t be able to stop. If she’d been disapproved of before, at any moment she was going to be considered fit for a lunatic asylum.

  He trod heavily on her gown and she heard it rip. ‘I do beg your pardon, Miss Armitage, pray allow me to escort you to the ladies’ retiring room so that a repair might be made immediately.’

  He whisked her from the floor, the hem of her dress trailing behind her, and she saw sympathetic faces rather than condemnation. All desire to laugh had vanished at his clumsiness. He didn’t release his firm hold until they were in the comparative privacy of the first reception room.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but I could see no other way out of the situation.’ He dropped to his haunches to examine the damage. ‘Tarnation take it! I didn’t intend to ruin your gown merely give you an excuse to leave the floor.’

  Her anger vanished. He’d acted quickly in order to save her blushes. ‘Fiddlesticks to that, your grace. Please get up or someone will think you’re about to make me an offer.’ No sooner were the words out than she regretted them. Fortunately, he took them in the spirit with which they had been spoken and laughed as he stood up.

  ‘I would not dare to do so, Miss Armitage, as you have already made it abundantly clear that you cordially dislike me and have no intention of marrying me under any circumstances.’ His smile made her pulse quicken. ‘Are you prepared to reconsider now that you know my true identity?’

  ‘Absolutely not. You are the very last person on my list of eligible husbands. We are constantly at daggers drawn and anyway her grace would never countenance such a mésalliance.’

  ‘Then we are in complete agreement on the matter. I shall stay here i
n case your gown is irretrievably damaged and you have to leave. Do you wish me to inform your parents?’

  ‘No, not at the moment, thank you, your grace.’

  There was a seamstress in the ladies retiring room ready to take care of any mishaps. ‘Let me see, miss, I believe I can soon put this right. It looks far worse than it really is. It won’t take me long.’

  The woman was as good as her word and within a quarter of an hour the gown was as good as new and she was ready to rejoin the dance. She wasn’t sure if she was hoping the duke would be there or the reverse. He was a most disturbing sort of gentleman and so far above her in status that him spending even a short time with her would be frowned upon by his peers.

  He was leaning against the wall watching the entrance, his arms folded across his chest, such an expression on his face that no one would dare to accost him. On seeing her he straightened and strode across smiling that toe-curling smile again.

  ‘There’s another set forming and as we had to abandon the first one halfway through, I can see no one could possibly object to us standing up again.’ He held out his arm and this time she slipped her hand through it without hesitation.

  ‘I can think of one person who will object most fiercely if given the opportunity. Please do not introduce me to your mother. My knees tremble at the very thought of the set down I’d be given for being so presumptuous as to dance with you a second time.’

  ‘I shall dance with whom I damn well please.’