Bachelor Duke

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Miss Langford may count on me, of course,’ Lady Myers went on. ‘But how long Lord Myers will remain in London, I do not know. He travels a great deal and I always accompany him…’

  ‘I see.’ He did see, very clearly. Lady Myers’s offer was made out of duty, out of the charity Miss Langford so much denigrated, and she would be glad to have someone take the girl off her hands. And Miss Langford was intelligent enough to realise that.

  ‘Lady Myers,’ Sophie implored her, ‘please do not go on. I am not incapable of earning a living and would rather do so than be the object of charity, especially charity so reluctantly given.’

  ‘Earn a living,’ he repeated, ignoring her accusation. ‘How?’

  ‘I have an education, I can teach—I have done it before. I could offer myself to a girls’ school or find a position as a governess or companion.’

  ‘And what will you teach?’ He did not know why he was quizzing her in this way—to see how resolute she was? Or simply to tease? There was a faint blush to her cheeks that could have been embarrassment, or anger—he suspected the latter.

  ‘Whatever is asked of me,’ she said. ‘The basics of reading and writing, literature, languages. I speak French well, German a little and Italian fluently—’

  ‘Good heavens, a blue stocking!’

  ‘That, sir, is better than being a milksop, dependent on the generosity or otherwise of a man who can give it or withhold it at his pleasure.’

  He had a sudden vision of what it might be like to be a young lady alone in the world. She must either work or beg, scrimp to eat and to buy the clothes for her back, unable to go into society, unable to enjoy the sort of social occasions most young ladies of his acquaintance took for granted, unable to marry well. He was used to the ladies of the ton, aristocrats who peopled the Regent’s court, simpering helpless females who did nothing without the permission of fathers, husbands or guardians, or demi-reps who flouted convention and were therefore not received in respectable drawing rooms. But the woman who faced him now was neither. He wished he had not been so sharp with her, but he did not know how to retrieve the situation.

  The footman reappeared with the tea tray. ‘Lady Harley has just returned, your Grace,’ he said, as he set it down. ‘She asked me to say that as soon as she has taken off her hat, she will join you.’

  ‘Thank you, Collins.’

  The footman began pouring the tea into thin china cups and, while he did so, Sophie was able to look about her for the first time. The room was dominantly pale green and cream, light and restful to the eye and furnished in the French style; it seemed the war with France did not inhibit people from wanting beautiful things no matter where they came from. There was no fire, but the hearth contained a huge bowl of cream roses whose scent filled the room. A Turner hung over the mantelpiece and a cabinet displayed porcelain figurines, which she recognised as Italian and very valuable. The windows were deep and long and looked out into a narrow garden with clipped lawns and beds of those same cream roses; a blackbird flew down to worry a pair of thrushes, squawking its annoyance until they left what he considered his domain. She wished she was out there, walking in the fresh air and not sitting on this elegant sofa being watched by the master of the house, who stood facing them with his back to the fireplace, a picture of studied elegance.

  She risked a glance at him, but his expression was bland. He would be difficult to get to know, she decided, a self-contained man who did not let his feelings show. Was that because he belonged to the English aristocracy or was there a deeper reason? As Lord Ubiquitous who could make a small child laugh, she had been drawn towards him; as the Duke of Belfont, she found him top lofty and unsympathetic. It was almost as if he were two people. But wasn’t everyone like that? Did she not have two sides to her? The sad, lost child, in spite of her twenty-one years, and the independent, prickly woman of the world vied with each other according to the situation in which she found herself.

  She looked up as a newcomer entered who could only have been Lady Harriet Harley. Dressed becomingly in amber silk, she was slightly older than the Duke; her features, though like her brother’s, were softer, more rounded, and her eyes were not the steely blue of his, but a soft aquamarine. Her hair was a shade darker and piled up on her head and fastened with two jewelled combs. She came forward, smiling.

  ‘Harriet, may I present Lady Myers and Miss Langford,’ James said, vastly relieved to see her. ‘Ladies, my sister, Lady Harley.’

  Sophie rose along with Lady Myers to greet the newcomer, but before she could curtsy, she found both her hands grasped and Lady Harley holding her at arm’s length to look at her. ‘Oh, my dear, how pleased I am to make your acquaintance. If I had known you were arriving today, I would have been at home to greet you. But never mind, I am here now and you shall tell me all about yourself. I see Collins has brought in the tea.’ She turned to the footman who was standing by the tea urn, a cup in his hand. ‘You can leave that, Collins, I will see to it.’ Then to Sophie, ‘Come and sit by me and we shall get to know each other.’ She drew the girl to another of the three sofas that furnished the room, leaving Lady Myers to sink back into her original seat opposite them. ‘When did you arrive in London? Where are you staying?’ She stopped suddenly and looked up at her brother. ‘Oh, do sit down, James, you look so forbidding hovering there.’

  He folded his long form into a winged back chair on the other side of the hearth and waited. Harriet could take over now; he need say no more, which was a great relief. He was a man of the world, used to dealing with all sorts of people and situations, known to be cool in a crisis, not easily shaken, but this child-woman had set him at a stand. He had no idea what to do with her.

  ‘Lady Myers, you will forgive me, I know,’ Harriet said. ‘But I want to hear all about Sophia from her own lips.’ To Sophie she added, ‘You do not mind me calling you Sophia, do you?’

  ‘Mama and Papa called me Sophie,’ she said with a smile, which made James, watching her, realise she was not plain after all, nor overweening, simply shy. No, definitely not shy, he corrected himself, reserved perhaps, a private sort of person and proud with it. ‘I was Sophia only when they were displeased with me.’

  ‘And we are certainly not displeased with you, are we?’ She appealed to her brother, who nodded agreement, his mouth twitching slightly. ‘So Sophie it shall be.’ She rose and busied herself with the teacups and handing round a plate of little cakes before resuming her seat. ‘Now, my dear, do begin. Tell us first about your mama and papa. You see, we never knew them. I remember Papa had an older brother called Robert. That would be your grandfather, would it not?’

  ‘I believe so. But I can tell you very little about him. I believe he disapproved of Papa and so Mama did not correspond with him.’

  ‘Oh, how sad it is when families fall out,’ Harriet said. ‘It leads to so much conflict and it is not right to visit that on the next generation.’

  ‘Just what I hoped you would say,’ Lady Myers put in suddenly. ‘It wasn’t Sophie’s fault. Lord Langford was a—’

  ‘Lady Myers, please,’ Sophie begged her, hating to hear anyone condemn her father, however justified that might be. She had loved him once and her mother had never ceased to be held in thrall by him even when their fortunes were at their lowest.

  ‘Very well, I will say no more. Lady Harley may draw her own conclusions. I have told his Grace and will not repeat it.’

  Harriet looked at her brother, who shrugged his elegant shoulders and smiled. ‘It seems Miss Langford had already appealed to the present Lord Langford and been rejected.’

  ‘Oh, how mortifying. Sophie, why did you not come to us first? My goodness, how anyone could turn away a relation in need is beyond me. Never mind, you are here now and we will do our best to help you.’

  Sophie looked from one to the other, wondering why one should have been so dismissive and the other so welcoming. Even now, his Grace was frowning as if he were afraid his sister might offer
something he could not agree to, although Harriet seemed unaware of it. ‘I only need somewhere to lodge until I can find my feet,’ she said. ‘I can and will earn my keep.’

  ‘Miss Langford has expressed the intention of becoming a companion or a governess,’ James told his sister.

  Harriet turned to Sophie; there was a smile and a hint of friendly teasing in her eyes, which made Sophie warm to her. ‘Is that really what you wish to do, or was it said in a spirit of independence?’

  Sophie found herself smiling back in spite of her discomfort. ‘Independence, I think, but that doesn’t mean I was not serious.’

  ‘No, of course not. I admire you for it.’

  ‘What I really want to do is write a book,’ she said.

  ‘A novel?’

  ‘No. The story of our travels on the continent, the places we went to and the people we met. You see, Mama instructed me, showed me how to look at buildings and monuments with a fresh eye, how to observe characters, and she encouraged me to write about them.’

  ‘How very clever of you!’

  ‘Mama was the clever one.’ She did not add that her mother’s cleverness irritated her father. Sometimes when he was disguised in drink he would call her a blue stocking—it was not meant as praise, but in the same derogatory way the Duke had meant it. Mama had told her that men did not like clever women, because it diminished them and shattered their illusions that women were not only physically inferior but mentally too. It was best not to flaunt one’s cleverness; though Sophie did not hold with boasting, she did not see why she should hide what talents she had. After all, she was not beautiful; no one would fall at her feet on that account. ‘But until it is written and I have interested a publisher in it, I must live and being a companion will serve…’

  ‘I doubt that,’ James put in. ‘I believe ladies’ companions are on call twenty-four hours a day—you will have no time to yourself.’

  ‘Then I will make time.’

  ‘That is very commendable,’ Harriet said. ‘But we will not talk of companions or governesses. There is no need.’

  ‘Miss Langford is lodging with Lady Myers,’ James told his sister in a warning voice, which she ignored.

  ‘It is very good of Lady Myers,’ Harriet said, smiling at the lady to mitigate what she was about to say. ‘But what would everyone think of us if we were to allow Sophie to lodge anywhere but with us…?’

  ‘Harriet,’ he warned her, ‘you know my feelings on the matter.’

  She laughed. ‘Indeed I do. You are as sensible of your duty as any man I know and I am persuaded you are determined to take Sophie into the bosom of the family and do your very best to make her happy. To do anything else would be quite scandalous…’

  Sophie was well aware, as was everyone else, that Lady Harley had manoeuvred him into a corner. Though she longed to tell them she would not stay if she were not welcome, she also knew that living permanently with Lady Myers was also out of the question; the lady herself had made that clear. She waited, unspeaking, pinning her hopes on Lady Harley.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, giving his sister a grin that told her she had won. ‘But you must make yourself responsible for her.’

  ‘Oh, I shall. I am quite looking forward to taking our cousin out and about.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘Take no notice of his gruffness. What with all the fuss over King Louis’s visit and more state visits to come later in the year, he has a great deal on his mind at the moment. But we can manage quite well without him.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady, I am grateful, but there is no need to take me out and about. I shall be quite content to have a room and board until I can earn enough to repay you.’

  ‘Repay us! What nonsense. You are kin and it is our privilege to give you a home for as long as you want it. Now, off you go with Lady Myers and fetch your belongings. By the time you return, your room will be ready.’

  Sophie heard the Duke give a low groan. He had been bested and she was not sure whether to feel satisfaction or mortification, but beggars could not be choosers, she told herself. He had come to his feet and she rose too and faced him. ‘I do not expect to be given a come-out, your Grace. I am determined never to marry. I accept your offer of a home only because I have no choice, but rest assured I shall be as little trouble to you as possible.’ She turned to Lady Harley. ‘My lady, I am grateful for your intervention and with your permission will return tomorrow, if you tell me a time that will be convenient.’

  ‘Any time will do. I have no pressing engagements.’

  ‘Then I shall bring Sophie at three,’ Lady Myers said. ‘Good day, Lady Harley. Good day, your Grace. Come, Sophie.’

  Sophie curtsied and followed Lady Myers to the door. An imp of mischief made her turn as she reached it. ‘My lord, what was it the Regent gave the little boy yesterday?’

  ‘Little boy?’ he queried, then smiled as he remembered. ‘A silver button from his waistcoat. His Highness’s coats are so tight the buttons are always popping off.’

  ‘The child seemed bemused. What did you say to him?’

  ‘I told him it was real silver and he should sell it and buy his family a good dinner before someone stole it from him. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh, I rather envied the little one that he had managed to elicit a kind word from you.’ And with that, she sailed out on the heels of Lady Myers.

  His initial annoyance gave way to a wry grin as he turned and saw his sister laughing.

  ‘You deserved that,’ she said.

  ‘No doubt I did. But I wonder if you know what you have taken on. It will not be easy. She is too proud and outspoken for her own good.’

  ‘Of course I know, but that is due to her strange upbringing. She is a delightful girl and when I have done something about her clothes and shown her how to go on, she will take beautifully, you’ll see.’

  ‘Perhaps. She certainly needs someone to look to her wardrobe. Why, that yellow gown Lady Myers was wearing would have suited her better than that colourless lilac. I had begun to wonder if they had exchanged wardrobes or perhaps their maid was half-cut and confused the two.’

  Harriet smiled. ‘James it is not kind to make fun of her. She was in desperate straits…’

  ‘She could have stayed with Lady Myers.’

  ‘And been an unpaid companion because that is what she would have become and, although the woman did say she would bring her out, I doubt she would have made a very good fist at it. And think how badly that would reflect on us.’

  ‘I know, which is why I agreed, but I warn you if she does or says anything to embarrass us or our friends, she will be packed off to Dersingham Park and I do not care what social occasions you have planned for her. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t know why you are so gloomy about it.’

  He did not know either, he admitted to himself, as he left her to meet Richard Summers at White’s. How could a slip of a girl make him feel so old, so weighed down with cares? She meant nothing to him and he would not need to see anything of her; Harriet would look after her. It must be a family trait, this stubbornness, he decided, for his sister had taken the girl’s future on herself, dismissing his misgivings with a wave of the hand as if they were no more important than dandelion seed. She was right of course, he could not have turned the chit away without bringing down the censure of the haut monde, but, having done his duty, he could forget her.

  Richard was sitting in the library of the club reading a newspaper, a glass of cognac at his side. He looked up as James flung himself into a chair opposite him. ‘You look as though you need a drink.’ He reached for the bottle and filled the empty glass beside it. ‘Ellen playing up again, is she?’

  ‘Ellen?’ His mind had been so much on Sophie he had forgotten his erstwhile mistress, who seemed unable to understand their affair was at an end. She had done her best to embarrass him in public, hoping to wriggle back in his favour, but he had never shared his mistresses with anyone, except their husbands, naturally
, and he did not propose to make an exception now, especially as the man she had been seeing was Alfred Jessop, his cousin and heir. ‘No, nothing to do with her.’

  ‘Then what has given you that air of distraction? It can’t be his Highness, can it? You usually take his whims and tantrums into your stride…’

  James gave a grunt. ‘He is behaving as if he had won the war single-handed and accepting the adulation of his subjects as his due. I cannot make up my mind if he is deluding himself or trying to persuade those around him that he is not the most unpopular ruling prince the country ever had. It makes my job doubly difficult.’ He drank his brandy in one swallow, holding out his glass for a refill. ‘Yesterday was a case in point. Why was it necessary to go to Dover to meet Louis and, when he did, to keep stopping and making a fool of himself and laying himself open to an assassin?’

  ‘Nothing happened, did it? No one took a shot at him, no one attempted to pull him out of the coach and tear him to shreds. The abuse is only verbal and he seems to be able to ignore that.’

  ‘He can, but I can’t. Not that Louis is any better. We had no sooner delivered him to Grillon’s, than he sent for a chair and insisted on sitting in the vestibule holding court like some fat potentate. Good God, it’s a hotel where anyone can come and go. His Highness was with him some of the time and they were sitting targets. It is making me very on edge and I find myself suspecting everyone…’

  ‘Even two dumpy travellers and a mousy companion in that hired coach, which followed us all the way to London. But perhaps you were right; they could have been in disguise.’

  ‘Those! That was no disguise. It was Lord Myers, one-time ambassador to somewhere or other, his lady wife and Miss Sophia Langford, or Sophie as she prefers to be known.’

  ‘You are acquainted with them?’

  ‘Until today I was not. Miss Langford is a cousin of mine, though I don’t know how many times removed, but the number of removes seems not to weigh with her. She has turned up from Italy, having just buried her father, and expects me to welcome her with open arms…’