To Desire a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 8

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To Desire a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 8 Page 11

by Wendy Soliman


  ‘I have already told you that you can. In spite of everything, I rather like the storm that her appearance has created. I dare say that the moment the rest of the gentlemen set eyes on her she will be inundated with attentions. Anyway, I hope I am never impolite to our guests.’

  ‘You are not, but I need you to project the image of being delighted with Mrs Gilliard. I have a good reason for asking,’ Troy added when Deb opened her mouth, presumably to request an explanation. ‘And I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.’

  ‘Oh, very well, but when this is all over and the woman has left the castle, I hope you will satisfy my curiosity and tell me what this is all about. I have heard a whisper or two about her late husband.’

  ‘What sort of whisper?’ Kensley had been following the discussion without making any contribution to the siblings’ mild disagreement. He sent Deb a startled look and broke his silence.

  ‘Oh, you know, the usual. That he was handsome and reckless and died a hero’s death. Such a terrible waste. A very wealthy man. As I say, one cannot help feeling sorry for his widow. Rachel tells me this is the first time that she has shown her face in society, even though she has been out of mourning for some months. Why she chose to come in the first place as Rachel’s maid is another matter, but I suppose it’s all to do with your mysterious work for the government, and that you wouldn’t tell me even if I bothered to ask.’

  ‘Which you will find a way to do anyway,’ Troy said with a smile. His sister, his only sibling, was the greatest possible fun when she wasn’t trying to marry him off to some mindless ninny or other. He kissed her brow and turned her towards the door. ‘But you know that I cannot tell you. Now go and get changed. Time’s getting on.’

  ‘Your Mrs Gilliard has spoiled my numbers so I hope you will be dining at table this evening, Alfie, rather than gallivanting around in my brother’s service, as you so often do,’ she said, glancing at Kensley.

  ‘How can I refuse such a delightful invitation?’ he asked, smiling to take the sting out of the rebuke.

  ‘Oh, don’t mind me. Sorry. No offence meant. You are always a welcome addition to any table.’

  ‘You make me sound like the main course.’

  ‘I have heard some of the ladies talk of you in such terms,’ Deb said, laughing as she left the room.

  ‘Come on then,’ Troy said, standing. ‘I suppose we had better change as well and report for duty.’

  Gladys proved to be a very proficient lady’s maid, cheerful and obliging, even though she told Brione that ordinarily she was employed at the castle as an upstairs maid.

  ‘You are wasted in that capacity,’ Brione told her.

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so, ma’am,’ Gladys replied as her nimble fingers twisted Brione’s hair into a flattering style. ‘Unfortunately, there’s not much call for ladies’ maids here at the castle. Lady Murray has her own, and until the duke marries there are no other ladies here for me to serve. That’s why I’m enjoying this opportunity so much. Even when he does marry—the duke that is,’ Gladys added, pouting, ‘I dare say that his duchess will bring her own maid with her.’

  ‘You never know.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose he will select anyone who isn’t already surrounded by servants whom she is accustomed to. Ladies are that particular about their hair and don’t like changes. I used to work for a lady in a big house close by, but she died and they had no further need for my services. I was lucky to get a position here.’

  ‘Is the duke a good master?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t see anything of him. It’s Lady Murray who runs the place, and she is firm but fair.’

  ‘I see.’

  Brione glanced in the mirror as Gladys continued to work wonders with her hair, piling it behind her head and securing it in place with a small plume that accompanied the apricot silk evening gown with a silver-spangled overskirt and low cut bodice that she had elected to wear. Gladys left long spiral curls dancing around Brione’s face, falling to her bare shoulders.

  It was a long time since Brione had dressed to impress. Not that she intended to do so now. There was no one in this castle—definitely not a disturbingly poised duke with a dark penetrating gaze that made her feel as though he could see into her soul—whom she wished to attract. Looking her best was important because it gave her the confidence to undertake the daunting task that she had set for herself.

  Yes, that was definitely the only thing that mattered to her. Even so, thoughts of the duke had caused her pulse to race a little faster. She waited until it returned to a more regular rate and then felt guilty for allowing her passions to be stirred by anything other than memories of her late husband. A husband with whom she had not spent nearly enough time before the devastation of war had taken him from her forever.

  ‘There we are, ma’am.’ Gladys stood back, comb in hand, admiring her handiwork. ‘Is that to your satisfaction?’

  ‘It exceeds my expectations, Gladys. Thank you. You are a miracle worker.’

  The girl flushed at the praise. Brione wasn’t sure if their paths had crossed below stairs during her brief sojourn as a maid but was pleased to see no recognition in the girl’s eyes.

  ‘Oh, it’s easy enough with hair as thick as yours, ma’am.’

  Brione stood and examined herself in the long glass, turning sideways to ensure that the fall of her borrowed gown didn’t let her down. She was gratified to observe that the silk clung to her form, showing off her figure without being too revealing.

  ‘You had best take a shawl, ma’am,’ Gladys said, picking up the garment that matched the gown. ‘I dare say you will want to stroll in the keep after dinner and it can still be chilly at this time of year.’

  ‘Very well. I shall.’ Brione draped the shawl over her arms.

  ‘Mrs Woodley is ready. I did her first. She said to kindly call for her when I had finished.’

  ‘Then that is what I shall do. Thank you for your help, Gladys.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure, ma’am,’ Gladys said, bobbing a curtsey and opening the door for Brione.

  ‘Well, I must say,’ Rachel said, glancing up and smiling at Brione when she entered her room. ‘I think it safe to assume that no one will recognise you as my former maid.’

  ‘Thank you for the loan of the gown. I am sure it is one of your best and I could have made do with something far less glamorous.’

  ‘Nonsense! I am ashamed to say that I have more clothes than I know what to do with and I am happy to see you wearing a few of them. I shall try not to be offended because they look a great deal better on you than they do on me.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure about that, but I am grateful nonetheless.’ She sighed. ‘I shall have to see this thing through now, and an expensive gown works wonders for my self-esteem.’

  ‘Are you having second thoughts? If so, tell me at once. We can make an excuse and leave immediately.’

  ‘The fact of the matter is that I have been totally focused on getting to the truth,’ Brione said pensively, ‘but now that I have the opportunity, what shall I do if I don’t like what I learn?’

  ‘Dearest, surely you are not questioning Evan’s loyalty?’ Rachel asked, frowning.

  ‘No, of course not, but there was something on his mind that he wouldn’t share with me, I am absolutely sure of it. And now I shall never have the opportunity to ask him what it might have been.’ Brione sighed. ‘Take no notice of me! I am probably seeing shadows where none exist. It’s the anticipation getting to me, I dare say. The moment we join the rest of the guests I shall be fine.’

  ‘Well then, let us do so.’

  The ladies made their way down the stairs and heard voices raised in cultured conversation coming from the open doors to the drawing room.

  ‘Ready?’ Rachel asked, squeezing Brione’s arm.

  Brione took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘As much as I ever will be.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You will be a sensation.’ Rachel chuckled. ‘And give all those sil
ly gooses making cow eyes at the duke a run for their money.’

  ‘Rachel!’

  Laughing, Brione felt the tension drain out of her as they entered the drawing room. Lady Murray glided up to them before they had been noticed by anyone else.

  ‘I shall introduce Mrs Gilliard to those she has not already met, Rachel.’

  ‘Thank you, Deb.’ Rachel squeezed Brione’s arm once again. ‘I shall see you again in a few minutes, if the gentlemen allow me to get anywhere near you.’

  Brione shook her head at Rachel, then smiled at her hostess, surprised by her friendly overtures. The lady of the house had not been pleased to have Brione foisted upon her and had made her displeasure apparent up until now in small ways. But if she was willing to offer an olive branch, Brione was more than ready to grasp it.

  ‘I apologise once again for being such a nuisance,’ Brione said as Lady Murray led her towards a group of gentlemen standing at the side of the room, all of whom paused their conversation to watch them approach.

  ‘Your presence is guaranteed to enhance our little gathering,’ Lady Murray replied, smiling.

  Brione didn’t seek clarification on that point and instead glanced around, amused by Lady Murray’s idea of a little gathering. There had to be forty people in the room. She sensed the same degree of resentment emanating from many of the young ladies as she had experienced earlier, and from their chaperones too. She pretended not to notice but did glance up when she felt a heavy gaze focused upon her from across the room. The duke stood in the middle of a bevy of females, but he was watching her rather than listening to whatever they were saying to him. He smiled the slow, somnolent smile that played havoc with her equilibrium as he momentarily held her gaze. She inclined her head in acknowledgement before returning her attention to Lady Murray as they reached the quartet of gentlemen at the side of the room.

  Presentations were made and the gentlemen all seemed gratifyingly keen to make her acquaintance. Sir Gregory Frazer proved to be the only one of them to interest her, and she allowed him to draw her into private conversation.

  ‘I was a comrade of your late husband’s, Mrs Gilliard,’ he told her. ‘His was a great loss. A finer man and soldier I never knew.’

  Brione felt tears swamp her eyes but refused to let them fall. She must become accustomed to such acclaim, even if she was unsure whether Sir Gregory was being sincere. She thanked him, taking stock of the man himself as she did so. He was short, far shorter than the duke, and in danger of developing a paunch. His manner was pleasant, his looks unremarkable. She was aware that he had conducted his sister and mother to this gathering but was unsure if the man himself was married. She realised now that she ought to have asked the duke for more particulars about the suspects’ personal circumstances—but had she done so, her conversation might have seemed less spontaneous. Besides, it would be interesting to see how each of them projected himself.

  ‘Thank you, Sir Gregory,’ she said in a composed tone. ‘Evan mentioned your name on more than one occasion, so I am especially pleased to make your acquaintance. I depend upon you to tell me everything you know about him that I do not.’

  ‘The pleasure, dear madam, is entirely mine.’ He beamed at her in a gracious manner. ‘But as to revealing Gilliard’s secrets…’ He shook his head, smiling benevolently. ‘You cannot ask a gentleman to betray a friend and comrade in arms.’

  ‘Now you have definitely aroused my curiosity.’

  ‘I am jesting, ma’am. To the best of my knowledge, Gilliard had no dark secrets. Besides, if I knew about them, they would no longer be secret.’

  ‘Very true.’ Brione was unsure what to make of the man. He was either pleasantly inoffensive or the best actor who had ever crossed her path. She reminded herself that the traitor had to possess the ability to appear…well, inoffensive and above suspicion, otherwise he would have been caught long since. She vowed not to let her guard down. ‘I believe I made your sister’s acquaintance earlier. A charming girl.’

  ‘The silliest chit that ever lived,’ he replied cheerfully, putting his empty glass aside and taking two from a footman’s tray as he passed them, handing one to Brione. They were full of champagne, but it was not the bubbles that made her sneeze. It was the footman, Joseph, sending her curious looks as though he knew her from somewhere, which obviously he did. Botheration! Hopefully, if he placed her, he would keep his suspicions to himself. ‘But then, young gels nowadays are so very liberated. The mater is run ragged trying to keep up with her.’

  ‘You are being too strict, I am absolutely sure of it,’ Brione replied, but having seen the manner in which Miss Frazer had so brazenly attempted to monopolise the duke that afternoon, she wasn’t sure of any such thing. ‘Young girls require some freedom. Do you reside in this county?’ she asked.

  ‘No, ma’am. I have a small estate in Wiltshire. The ladies are for spending the season in London but I’m not so sure I like that idea.’

  ‘Miss Frazer is probably keen to enjoy her share of society.’

  Sir Gregory rolled his eyes. ‘An expensive way to have fun,’ he said, clearly regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. He was attempting to impress her and would hardly achieve that ambition if he came across as being parsimonious.

  Others joined them and Brione got her first glimpse of Robert Craig. He was a more attractive man, with kind eyes, a sweep of thick fair hair and a ready smile. Dinner was announced at that moment and Brione noticed Sir Gregory frown when Captain Craig offered her his arm. She smiled at Sir Gregory as she accepted the captain’s escort. She noticed the duke offer his arm to one of his admirers; not Miss Frazer, who looked very disappointed.

  Brione was delighted to see Rachel making her way to table on Mr Kensley’s arm. They were laughing about something, and Brione knew that her friend would enjoy herself this evening. She was glad for her sake and hoped that the attentions of an attractive gentleman would bring Rachel out of herself. It was beyond time that she moved on with her life. Rachel would return that sentiment in respect of Brione, but their circumstances were very different. Brione could not, would not know any peace until she cleared Evan’s name.

  ‘I am very sorry that I didn’t have the pleasure of making your acquaintance while we were overseas fighting that impertinent Frenchman,’ Captain Craig said, having helped Brione to settle herself and then taken the chair at her side. ‘He spoke of you often. I gather you were in Europe at the time.’

  ‘I was in Austria caring for my ailing mother. I had hoped to follow the drum once her time came, but Evan said it would be too dangerous. I failed to see why and we quarrelled about the matter. It was almost as though he was ashamed of me.’

  ‘Hardly!’

  Brione picked up her soup spoon and smiled at her amiable dinner companion. ‘It wasn’t as though I would be on the frontline. I pointed that out to Evan but he was overprotective and wouldn’t hear of it.’ She sighed. ‘Now I shall never disagree with him over anything ever again.’

  Captain Craig looked uncomfortable, as though she had said something that he wanted to disagree with but was prevented from doing so by good manners. ‘He was one of many excellent men who made the ultimate sacrifice in that wretched campaign,’ he contented himself with saying. ‘Our regiment was more fortunate than most. We had a colonel who possessed a sharp military brain and knew what he was doing.’ He glanced down the table at the duke with almost puppy-like adoration. ‘Others did not and experienced far greater losses as a consequence. Not that that will be any comfort to you, but still…’

  ‘Indeed.’ She smiled at him, sensing his unease. ‘But we will not talk about such gloomy affairs on such a fine evening. Tell me, Captain, are you a frequent visitor to this castle?’

  ‘I have been invited several times. The duke likes to see the faces of some of his former officers and we can none of us resist the lure of the race.’

  ‘Ah, men and horses.’ She smiled. ‘Shall you compete?’

  ‘Oh
yes, but I doubt whether my mount will best that fine stallion of the duke’s.’ He paused to sip at his wine. Joseph stood on the other side of the room, awaiting instructions from Glanville to remove the soup plates. He kept looking at Brione, obviously trying to decide where he knew her from, and Brione found his attention unsettling. ‘One forms a camaraderie with one’s men in battle situations. It is a great leveller, but then I don’t suppose you need me to tell you that. Oh dear, I apologise. We have strayed onto the subject of the war again. Hardly a suitable topic of conversation to engage a lady in, especially one who is still mourning her loss.’

  Brione smiled. ‘It’s inevitable, I suppose, given the circumstances. Tell me, Captain, are you here only for the sport or did you come with the intention of finding yourself a wife?’ she asked with a mischievous smile. ‘I ask because it seems to be the sole intention of all the unmarried ladies I have spoken with to snare themselves an affluent husband. I am sure you know that and it would be a brave gentleman who accepted Lady Murray’s invitation unless he was prepared for exposure to their machinations.’

  Captain Craig laughed in an easy, relaxed manner. ‘I rather suspect that they are all here in the hope of tempting his grace,’ he said in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘The rest of us are invisible. Really, if I didn’t admire him quite so much, I would be obliged to resent him. The wretched man has it all. Looks, wealth and an exalted position in society. Frankly, I am surprised that he has evaded the matchmakers for as long as he has.’

  ‘You do yourself a disservice, Captain,’ she said. ‘I am sure you have a very great deal to offer a lady.’

  ‘Is that a proposal, Mrs Gilliard?’ he asked with a whimsical smile.

  ‘Good heavens, no! I don’t have the least intention of taking the plunge again myself. In my situation as a widow though, I have no objection to interfering in the matrimonial affairs of others.’

  ‘Alas, I am a younger son without prospects, forced to work for a living, so I must somehow resist the charms of the ladies at this gathering.’

 

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