Duchess Diaries [2] How to Pursue a Princess

by Karen Hawkins

  “A courtship!” Emma’s gaze grew starry and then she gave a shaky laugh. “I never thought that he would ever—” She shook her head. “I’m dizzy even thinking about it.”

  There was a commotion in the front hallway, the sound of men laughing, Huntley’s and Wulf’s voices among them. Boots thudded through the marble entryway and mingled with the barking of the Roxburghe pugs. At Emma’s startled look, Lily explained, “Some of the men went out riding this morning, but I’m surprised they’re back so soon.”

  But Emma wasn’t listening. Her gaze was fixed over Lily’s shoulder, her lips parted, her eyes filled with such longing that Lily’s throat closed.

  Without knowing how or why, Lily knew what she’d see when she turned. Wulf stood in the hallway, laughing at something Huntley had just said, looking dark and dangerous and far too handsome not to make every woman fall in love with him, whether he meant to or not.

  As if he could feel Lily’s gaze, he turned her way and gave her a mock salute, his green gaze twinkling, before he turned back to continue his conversation with Huntley.

  Lily turned back around, feeling hollow, as if something necessary had been stolen from her. “Emma, this kiss—”

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” Emma’s attention was now focused firmly on her breakfast plate, her face so red that she looked as if she’d been slapped. “It was very indiscreet of me to even mention it. Please, let’s talk about something else.” Before Lily could respond, Emma launched into observations about the weather and the day’s events, and speculations about whether tomorrow’s dinner party would include a waltz, and rumors that she’d heard about the coming Butterfly Ball, which would be on their final night at the duchess’s.

  Lily listened with but half an ear, aching at the light that warmed Emma’s brown eyes. Oh, Wulf, what have you done?

  Twenty-four

  From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe Charlotte has come up with the most delightful ideas for the Butterfly Ball. Since we’re having it outdoors in the gardens, we will release hundreds of butterflies just as the orchestra strikes up the first dance. The butterflies will waft through the air, delicate and lovely, and cause such a stir! In addition, we will dress the Roxburghe pugs in little butterfly costumes, which will add an air of gaiety.

  Surely Mrs. Cairness will know a good seamstress who can make six costumes in short order.

  When all is said and done, the ball will be one that our guests will never forget.

  The next morning, the duchess peered into the small breakfast room. “Ah! I was hoping you’d be here.”

  Lady Charlotte looked up from The Morning Post, her spectacles perched on the end of her nose. Even with the spectacles, she was still holding the paper at arm’s length, but on seeing the duchess, Charlotte folded the paper and set it aside. “Good morning, Margaret. You’re up early.”

  “The pugs arose at six for some reason, and there was no sleeping after that.” Margaret stood to one side to let the pugs enter before she shut the door. “But I’m glad they awoke me, for I’ve work to do of a most important nature today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, we’ve things to do for the ball, for Miss Balfour, and Huntley, and—oh, so many items that must be dealt with, and in a scant two days.” Margaret took the chair beside Charlotte and poured herself some tea as the pugs found comfy spots on the rug before the fire. “I spoke to a gentleman this morning who says he can orchestrate the surprise we’ve planned for our Butterfly Ball.”

  Lady Charlotte hopped in her chair. “I knew it could be done!”

  “He knows of a butterfly arboretum that will sell him a large number of butterflies. It is such a good idea, Charlotte—quite brilliant! This will make my ball the most talked-about event for months to come.”

  “I do hope that—”

  A soft knock sounded on the door and MacDougal entered. “I beg yer pardon, yer grace, but Miss Balfour has asked fer a word wit’ ye.”

  “This early?”

  “Aye, yer grace. If ye dinna mind me sayin’, but she seems a mite distressed. Somethin’ is wrong, yer grace.”

  “Oh, dear. Please bring her here.”

  “Yes, do.” Lady Charlotte picked up her knitting basket. “We’ll have a lovely coze over some tea. Mrs. Cairness just brought a tray.”

  MacDougal bowed and went to fetch the young lady. The small breakfast room was not widely known to the guests who visited Floors Castle. Tucked away, it was a private room where the family had their meals when they wished for something more intimate than the large, formal dining room.

  MacDougal made his way to where Miss Balfour stood in the foyer, staring out the window to the courtyard beyond. Something about the curve of the young lady’s mouth was tragic, as if the weight of the world sat upon her shoulders. MacDougal liked her grace’s young guest who, according to Mrs. Cairness, had voluntarily darned the stockings and fixed torn flounces and ripped seams of nigh half of the staff with such tiny, perfect stitches that the housekeeper was in raptures.

  The butler cleared his throat. “Miss Balfour?”

  She turned from the window and he noticed faint circles under her eyes. “Yes, MacDougal?”

  “Her grace will see ye now.”

  “Thank you. You were very kind to find her for me.”

  “Och, ’twas my pleasure, miss.” He gestured to the small hallway and then led the way.

  Lily followed. She felt as if she were moving in a fog this morning, her mind unable to function. Last night, sleep had been impossible. Every time she’d closed her eyes, Emma’s expression as she’d looked at Wulf had flashed through Lily’s mind. She’d known that Emma and Wulf had been spending a lot of time together, but . . . love?

  Yet she could not mistake the glow in Emma’s eyes, nor ignore the question the other woman had asked about a kiss. Emma was obviously deeply in love, and not with Huntley as Lily had once thought.

  Lily couldn’t imagine that Wulf’s emotions were similarly engaged—at least, not yet. But it had brought home one icy reality: once she was out of Wulf’s life, he would move on and eventually fall in love with another woman. Somehow Lily had managed not to think of that before this morning, but she could no longer avoid it.

  And why not Emma? Lily asked herself for the thousandth time. She’s kind and very, very nice. Plus she possesses a fortune, which would surely be to Wulf’s advantage. It would be a good match for both of them. Yet Lily’s heart still ached.

  Her restless night had made one thing clear: after only two and a half weeks, she was perilously close to caring for Wulf. She had to move forward quickly with her plan to secure Huntley’s proposal, before it was too late.

  But she wasn’t entirely certain how to proceed. How did one encourage a suitor to come up to the mark without seeming—well, desperate? Especially when you were desperate? It was a delicate matter. And so, as the sun rose, Lily realized that she needed the duchess’s help.

  The butler paused before a small door partially hidden by a large palm. He knocked once, which caused a cacophony of barking. A greeting was called out and he opened the door.

  Instantly, Lily was surrounded by sniffing pugs and wagging tails. She bent to pat the closest ones.

  “Miss Balfour,” MacDougal announced, standing to one side as she straightened and walked inside. He waited for the dogs to follow her back into the room before he closed the door.

  “Lily, how lovely to see you this morning.” The duchess patted the seat of the chair beside her. “Come and sit. Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thank you.” Lily sank into the chair, her stomach as knotted as the skein of yarn beside Lady Charlotte’s feet.

  Lady Charlotte’s knitting clicked along. “How lovely of you to visit. The other guests all seem to be abed.”

  Lily watched as the dogs took spots upon the floor as if they’d been assigned to them, panting happily. If only life were so simple for the rest of us. “Your grace, Lady Charlotte, th
ank you for seeing me.” She took a deep breath, feeling lower than the rug beneath her slippers. “I’ve come to ask your advice.”

  The duchess’s blue eyes brightened. “We are always willing to offer advice.”

  “Oh yes,” Lady Charlotte agreed. “Whether you wish it or not.”

  Lady Margaret frowned. “Speak for yourself, Charlotte. I never give unsolicited advice.”

  Lily had to smile. “I am asking for advice now, and I feel quite awkward about it. I don’t really know how to begin this. . . . I recently received news from my father that my sister is on the verge of going to Lord Kirk in an effort to sway him from collecting the debt. I fear that, in return, Kirk will demand her hand in marriage, and I cannot allow to happen.”

  “Oh dear, things have come to a head, haven’t they?” the duchess said.

  “That does sound dire.” Lady Charlotte adjusted her lace mobcap. “Although I don’t really think Lord Kirk would ever wish to—”

  “Charlotte, Lord Kirk is not the issue.” The duchess patted Lily’s hand where it rested on the arm of her chair. “Preventing Dahlia from making a connection she might regret is the issue.”

  Lily nodded gratefully. “And so I must ask your help in securing Lord Huntley’s proposal. I—I think he’s interested in me—”

  “Obviously so,” her grace said.

  “But I don’t know how to get him to . . .” Lily gestured.

  “Ah yes. That is a tricky point in every courtship.” The duchess’s shrewd blue eyes locked on Lily. “You’re sure of your feelings for him, then? You won’t regret this marriage?”

  “No. To be honest, there are fewer and fewer reasons not to marry him. It’s time I finally admitted that.”

  The duchess’s brow knit. “That’s an interesting way to put it, that you’ve ‘fewer and fewer reasons not to marry him.’ What about ‘more and more reasons to marry him’?”

  “I mean no disrespect to the earl. He’s been most kind, and while we’re very different in a number of ways, I think we’ll suit well enough.”

  Lady Charlotte tsked. “My dear, marriage can last for years and years. It requires far more than a mere ‘I think’ and ‘well enough.’ ”

  The duchess sipped her tea, her gaze never leaving Lily’s face. “To be honest, I rather thought your enthusiasm for the match to be waning over the last two weeks.”

  Lily looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. She’d put off the inevitable by allowing herself to explore the attraction she’d felt for the prince. At first it had been a delaying tactic, but now . . . now she had to admit that she cared for him.

  Her heart thudded hollowly. I do care for him. And I have to stop pretending otherwise. But sadly, it doesn’t change things; I still must see to my family’s welfare.

  Her gaze grew blurry as tears filled her eyes. I may never feel passionate about the earl, but I will be the best wife possible and will try to make him happy.

  The glowing look in Emma’s eyes still haunted her. Wulf deserves a love like that.

  Lily realized that the duchess and Lady Charlotte were both watching her, and she blinked back her tears. “What do I do now? What do I do to bring Huntley to point?”

  Lady Charlotte put down her knitting needles. “Huntley? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather—”

  “Charlotte,” her grace said, “allow me to assist Lily in this. I believe I know what she needs.”

  Lady Charlotte resumed her knitting. “Of course, Margaret. You always know what’s best in these cases.”

  Her grace turned to Lily. “I know for a fact that the earl is on the verge of making an offer.”

  Lily’s heart sank. “You . . . you know this?”

  “Yes. He told me last night when I ran into him on the terrace.” Her grace smiled. “I think he was embarrassed to be caught outdoors after he’d pled a headache as an excuse from dinner. However, he told me that I had been right in suggesting that the time had come for him to find a wife, and that he was ready to do so. In fact, he specifically said that he hoped to leave Floors Castle an engaged man.”

  Lady Charlotte nodded, her cap flapping over one of her eyes. “Margaret was most excited by that pronouncement.” She pushed the cap back. “We both were.”

  A lump seemed to have lodged in Lily’s throat. So Huntley would soon propose. That was good, for all of her troubles would be over. Except one. How on earth am I to fill this hole in my heart? She smoothed her skirt over her knees, her palms suddenly damp. “I’m glad to hear that, of course. What should I do, then?”

  “Just wait,” the duchess said with an ease Lily was far from feeling. “Let Huntley pick the time and place. The ball is the day after tomorrow. Perhaps he will propose before then so that he can make the announcement at the ball.”

  “Unless he wishes to make his proposal at the ball,” Lady Charlotte said, “to take advantage of the romantic nature of the event.”

  “That’s possible,” her grace admitted. “Lily, what sort of overtures has he made to you?”

  “He says that he enjoys spending time with me, and that he finds me very pleasant and interesting . . . and pragmatic.”

  Both ladies looked a bit taken aback by that last one.

  Then Lady Charlotte said encouragingly, “That seems quite significant.”

  Her grace added, “Especially when you consider how reserved he can be.”

  “Yes, he’s very, very reserved,” Lady Charlotte added. “Even a bit cold.” When Lily looked surprised, Lady Charlotte hurried to add, “But I’m certain he’d be passionate with the right lady.”

  “Someone he might love, for instance,” the duchess said with an arch air.

  Lily gave a brittle laugh. “Love has nothing to do with this match.”

  The duchess and Lady Charlotte exchanged glances.

  Lily’s cheeks heated and she cursed her unguarded tongue. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say is that I’m sure that once we’re married and spend more time together, I’ll grow to love him as dearly as he deserves.”

  “I’m certain that you’d try.” The duchess smiled brightly. “Now, not another word about this. You sit back and let Huntley do the rest.”

  “Yes, your grace. Thank you for your reassurances. I was afraid this would be much more difficult than it seems to be, but—” Lily tried to calm her thoughts. “I can’t thank you and Lady Charlotte enough.”

  “Nonsense. We enjoy seeing people happy.”

  Lady Charlotte nodded. “It’s what we live for.”

  The duchess stood and walked Lily to the door. “Rest easy, my child. We’ve two more evenings until the grand ball. Tonight is dinner followed by a small dance, and we’ve scheduled a quiet evening tomorrow so that we may all rest up for the next night’s merriment. By the night of the Roxburghe Butterfly Ball, your problems will be resolved.”

  “That will be a relief. Thank you so much. You’ve been everything kind.”

  “I’m your godmother, my dear. It’s the least I can do. Now, why don’t you take a walk about the garden? You’re looking a bit pale, no doubt because you’re in a knot of excitement awaiting Huntley’s proposal.”

  “A walk would be lovely. Thank you.” Lily gave the duchess a polite curtsy, murmured her good-bye, and let herself out of the breakfast room.

  The duchess listened to Lily’s footsteps fading away before she returned to her seat.

  Charlotte shook out some more yarn. “That was interesting.”

  “Very.” Margaret picked up her teacup. “Our hopeful bride doesn’t seem the least bit bride-like in her excitement.”

  “No. She seemed resigned, as if she were being consigned to some punishment and not a joyful marriage.”

  “When I first met Lily, she was quite willing to marry Huntley and fall in love. Judging by her demeanor this morning, I must wonder if perhaps the opposite has occurred: she’s fallen in love, but sadly now must marry.”

  Charlotte blinked. “In love? With Huntley.”
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br />   Margaret frowned. “Charlotte, do pay attention. Why would Lily be sad if she thought she was going to marry the man she loved?”

  “Ah. So she’s fallen in love with someone other than Huntley.” Lady Charlotte frowned. “That’s most unfortunate since Huntley said he’s on the verge of asking for her hand. He will be so disappointed if she refuses him.”

  “Actually, he told me that he’d planned on asking someone to marry. Now I wonder if . . . Hmmm. Interesting.”

  Lady Charlotte’s knitting needles paused. “What’s interesting?”

  “Something Huntley said . . . I shall have to speak with him again, just to be certain. All I really know for certain is that Lily is not in love with Huntley, but someone else.”

  “Prince Wulfinski?”

  “I can think of no other man brash enough to woo a lady right out from under the nose of a wealthy earl.” Margaret cupped her hands about her teacup. It’s just possible that that Gypsy might have been right.

  “Oh dear. Margaret, it seems to me that everything is in quite a muddle.”

  “Not yet, my dear. Not yet.” Margaret set her cup back in its saucer. “But we’ve work to do. As I’ve told you before, matchmaking is not for the weak-willed.”

  Twenty-five

  From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe Tonight we have planned some dancing after dinner to whet the appetite of those who will be attending our splendid Butterfly Ball on Saturday. The orchestra, needing to practice for the ball, agreed to give us their services for this night, so it will be quite festive.

  I hope some of the gentlemen take advantage of this opportunity. All of it.

  When Wulf and his grandmother arrived at the castle, both the duchess and Tata Natasha were surprisingly cordial as they greeted one another. Tata even went so far as to say in a grudging voice that she liked the duchess’s feathered headdress.

  Tata was also amazingly calm while they all gathered in a salon before dinner, sitting quietly as if thinking about something important. When Wulf asked what she was pondering, she’d merely admonished him to better spend his time by talking with all of the pretty women in the room. And she didn’t once use the terms “pale” or “pasty-faced.”