Bachelor Duke

by Mary Nichols

  ‘They come in the hope that James will put in an appearance and notice them,’ Harriet said. ‘But you can be sure he will find something to keep him from home. I have asked him how he proposes to find a wife when he refuses to meet prospective brides, but he simply smiles and says, when he decides to marry, he will have no difficulty. That is true, of course; the mamas will fall over themselves to push their daughters in his path, though I am not at all sure the daughters are as keen.’

  ‘They are a little in awe of him, I think.’

  ‘Perhaps, though I could tell them that the last thing he wants is a simpering schoolgirl who dare not say boo to a goose, let alone express an opinion in his presence. They had been brought up to believe young ladies are not supposed to have opinions.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘You are not in awe of him, are you?’

  ‘Me?’ Sophie asked in surprise, then added, ‘No, I do not think I am. His bark is worse than his bite, I think. And sometimes I imagine he is lonely. No, not lonely, because he must have many friends, but solitary perhaps. His responsibilities weigh heavy with him. And I have added to them, even though he denies it.’

  ‘Does he? Deny it, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, yes. He said he would not let my presence in the house disrupt his routine.’

  Harriet laughed. ‘Oh, Sophie, you are a blessing, you really are. I am so glad you came to live with us.’

  ‘Thank you. But I have already annoyed him.’

  ‘Oh, you mean last night. Do not distress yourself over that. I think he was a little jealous that you had so quickly made new friends.’

  ‘Jealous!’ Sophie’s laughter pealed out. ‘Oh, that is beyond everything. It is more likely that he likes to be in control and it was his way of controlling me. I am the poor relation and must fall in line, like a soldier on parade.’

  ‘Oh, no, Sophie—’ She stopped in mid-sentence when she noticed the footman ushering in yet more visitors. ‘Oh, no,’ she repeated, but this time it was not to answer Sophie, but to express dismay.

  ‘Mrs Jessop and Mr Jessop, my lady,’ the footman announced.

  Sophie recognised the cousin she had met the evening before as he came in and made his bow. Beside him was a white-haired roly-poly figure in widow’s weeds, who could only have been his mother.

  ‘Aunt Amelia, how do you do,’ Harriet said. ‘May I present Miss Sophia Langford?’ To Sophie she said. ‘Miss Langford, my aunt, Mrs Jessop.’

  ‘So this is the gel, is it?’ Mrs Jessop lifted her quizzing glass from where it hung on her ample chest and subjected Sophie to a prolonged inspection. ‘Had to come to see for myself, couldn’t believe James could be such a ninnyhammer as to give her house room.’ It was evident she did not intend addressing Sophie directly.

  ‘Why should he not?’ Harriet demanded, a flush of anger spreading across her cheeks, while Sophie stood beside her, too taken aback to ask the question herself. ‘He may invite whom he chooses. Sophie is the daughter of Cousin Louise and that makes her one of the family.’

  ‘She is also a Langford. You should know Dersinghams and Langfords never meet, never acknowledge each other’s existence.’

  ‘Why not?’ This time it was Sophie who spoke and very loudly so that all conversation in the room ceased and everyone turned to look at her. She was too angry to care.

  Mrs Jessop turned and looked her up and down and then sniffed loudly before turning back to Harriet. ‘Pushing herself forward, making herself the subject of gossip. I know what she is up to, don’t think I don’t. Where is my nephew? I need to make my feelings plain.’

  ‘He is not at home,’ Harriet said, looking round at the assembled company, knowing that news of the altercation would be on everyone’s lips before the day was out. ‘If you wish to see him, then you must come another time. Or, better still, write and ask for an appointment. He is a very busy man.’ She picked up the bell from the mantel and gave it a vigorous shake, though there was no need to be so energetic, the silence in the room was profound. Everyone was staring, some with mouths open, others smirking, others trying to pretend they had not heard. Sophie was quaking in her shoes. The Duke had said she would not be allowed to disrupt his household and here she was doing it again. It was all her fault, though she did not understand the reason. She would have to leave.

  The footman appeared so quickly that everyone knew he had been listening at the door. ‘Mrs Jessop and Mr Jessop are leaving, Collins,’ Harriet said. ‘Please show them out.’

  The lady, her black bonnet askew, her face the colour of a squashed raspberry, turned to her son. ‘Alfred, are you going to allow me to be spoken to in that manner?’

  ‘Mama, I think you have said enough,’ he said, giving Sophie a look she could not interpret. Was it meant to be apologetic, conspiratorial or simply feebleness? ‘Let us leave.’ He turned to Harriet. ‘My apologies, cousin.’ He ushered his mother out without speaking to Sophie.

  It signalled the end of Harriet’s at home. Everyone began making excuses to leave, though many had already been there longer than the customary fifteen minutes; the entertainment had been too good to abandon and now they must be off to the next call to relay what had happened. Harriet knew it and Sophie knew it and she wished herself anywhere but where she was.

  ‘I am so sorry you had to suffer that,’ Sophie said, when they were alone again and enjoying a fresh cup of tea. ‘But I know nothing of a feud between the Dersinghams and the Langfords. I knew Mama’s grandfather did not approve of my father, but surely that was not enough to cause such a rift that Mrs Jessop could not even speak to me.’

  ‘I think it goes deeper than that, Sophie. I seem to remember when I was a child my governess talking about them being on opposite sides in the Civil War. The Langfords were for the king and the Dersinghams for parliament…’

  ‘But that was over—’ she stopped to calculate ‘—a hundred and seventy years ago! How can anyone hold a grudge for that long?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember the details, if I ever knew them. I expect whatever it was had died down until Louise decided she wanted to marry Hugh Langford. Her father was dead and she was brought up by her grandfather, the second Duke. He had been born at the beginning of the 1700s, I do not know the exact year, but his father, the first Duke, would have been in the thick of it.’ She paused. ‘But it is of no consequence. I am sure it has nothing to do with Aunt Amelia’s antagonism towards you. That was simply an excuse because she would not voice her real reason.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Can you not guess?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Alfred is James’s heir, but if James were to marry and have a son, then Alfred would be bypassed. There is nothing he wants more than to be the next Duke of Belfont and I am persuaded he and his mother will do anything, short of murder, to make sure that doesn’t happen. They see you as a threat.’

  ‘Me?’ Sophie was astonished and then remembered Mrs Jessop’s words: I know what she is up to, don’t think I don’t. Did she think… ‘Oh, Harriet, that is ridiculous.’

  ‘They do not think so.’

  ‘But you told me yourself, his Grace could have the pick of every marriageable lady in London, so why should your aunt single me out for her attention?’

  Harriet smiled, but decided not to voice what was in her mind, had been in her mind almost from the day Sophie arrived. She was so exactly right for her brother, but it would never do to say so. They would both be embarrassed, deny such a thing was possible, even pretend to dislike each other. James would treat Sophie like a child and she would rebel, because that was her nature. ‘Who knows what goes on inside that lady’s head?’ she said, dismissively.

  ‘Do you think others might have the same notion?’ Sophie was worried. Harriet, and even the Duke in the end, had made her welcome, intimated that Belfont House was home, but it could not be, could it? His Grace tolerated her out of a sense of duty, it was no more than that, and to have his name linked with hers by the tattlers wa
s the outside of enough. He would be furious when it reached his ears.

  ‘Who knows? But everyone is used to Aunt Amelia’s ambitions for her son. She pushes him forward wherever she can. I could almost feel sorry for him, but I don’t because he is a mopstraw.’

  ‘He was firm with her just now.’

  ‘Even he knew she had gone too far and in front of other people too.’

  ‘I think I had better find somewhere else to live. I am bringing disrepute on you and his Grace, making you the subject of gossip.’

  ‘There is always gossip; James seems to attract it. No doubt it is because of who he is and the fact that he is unmarried. I will not hear of you moving and neither will my brother. Goodness, what sort of people do you think we are to abandon you at the first hurdle? Think no more of it, Sophie, for I shall not.’

  Sophie was not at all sure the Duke would agree with his sister, but she subsided into silence. It was all very well to say she must move, but where could she go? The only other people she knew in London were Lord and Lady Myers and she could not throw herself upon them again. There was always her uncle, Lord Langford, but he had made his feelings very clear and she supposed he also knew about the feud between the Langfords and the Dersinghams and that might have been his true reason for rejecting her. If she had not been so worried, she might have been more curious about it. As it was she excused herself and went to her room to make a determined effort to start on her book.

  She sat at the desk and spread out her notes, checking one or two details, then she drew forward a clean sheet of paper and picked up her pen. It was a moment or two before the words began to flow, but once started they carried her along with them.

  Three hours later, when Janet came to tell her it was time to dress for supper, she found her neck was stiff and her fingers curled up with holding the pen; it was a minute or so before she could massage them into moving properly. Janet helped her to change into a simple blue gown and arranged her hair, then she went downstairs, shaking in her shoes at the prospect of meeting the Duke again. But he was not there; she and Harriet were to dine alone.

  ‘James often stays at Carlton House overnight if the Regent keeps him late,’ Harriet said as they took their places at the table in the small dining room. ‘And in the last few weeks that has happened more and more often. Next month the Tsar is paying a state visit and his Highness is determined to entertain his guest lavishly, which means James must become involved in the arrangements. No matter, we shall have a comfortable coze on our own and make plans for the rest of the Season. There are routs and picnics and several balls we could go to. In fact, I am determined to give a ball myself. It will be your come-out—’

  ‘Oh, please do not go to the trouble,’ Sophie said, worried about the cost. ‘I do not need to be brought out.’ She gave a cracked laugh. ‘I feel as though I have been out for years already.’

  ‘That is not the same. Sophie, dear, you missed out on so much when you had to take over the housekeeping for your papa and I want to make it up to you.’

  ‘You are very kind and I am truly grateful for your friendship and for being allowed to stay here. It is enough.’

  ‘You may think so, but you may be sure the ton won’t see it like that. The Duke of Belfont is known to have very deep pockets and if he cannot give a cousin who has no other kin a good home and all the advantages she would have had if—’ She stopped suddenly, realising she was about to criticise Sophie’s father.

  Sophie laughed. ‘If the Dersinghams and the Langfords had not been on opposite sides in the war between king and parliament.’

  ‘Yes,’ Harriet agreed, though that was not what she had been thinking. Her mind had been on Hugh Langford’s gambling. That had been the reason the family had gone abroad, why Sophie had missed having a Season, why she had been forced to grow up too quickly. Sophie knew that as well as she did. ‘So, for James’s sake, let me have my way on this.’

  ‘He might not agree.’

  ‘I promise you he will.’

  As soon as the meal was finished they retired to Harriet’s sitting room where she fetched out a pile of invitations. ‘Now, let us make up our minds which of these to accept.’

  James had been working very late at Carlton House. The Regent was having a suite of rooms made ready for the state visit of the Tsar, whom he particularly wished to impress, and James had been made responsible for his security, which meant overseeing the workmen and delivery men and checking every new item brought into the house and everything leaving it. And then he had to attend the unending receptions. He hated it. The Regent could be charming when he chose, but he could also be difficult. He would quarrel with his friends, flirt with their wives, behave abominably towards his own wife and play the heavy-handed father with his daughter, while at the same time pretending great affability to those currently in favour. Unfortunately James was one of those. If he could find an acceptable excuse for resigning, he would do so, but so far every reason he had put forward had been dismissed as of no account.

  It was three in the morning before he was allowed to go and normally he would have sought out the bed he had not far from the Regent’s own apartments, but tonight he felt he had to get away from the stifling atmosphere, the false bonhomie, the fawning sycophants, among whom Alfred and Ellen were prominent, and so he decided to walk home and sleep in his own bed and breakfast with Harriet and Sophie. At least they were sane!

  Sophie. She was unique, an intelligent young lady who did not simper and giggle, who did not agree with every word he said simply because he had said it. Not that he would agree she was right, but it was a refreshing change to have an argument. He smiled as he let himself in the front door, waking the night footman who slept in his chair beside it. The man scrambled to his feet in a fluster at not being alert to the need to open the door, but James merely smiled and bade him goodnight as he passed him. It was unreasonable to expect a man to sit and do nothing and not fall asleep and he would not censure him for it, but if he were to catch him asleep when there were guests or strangers in the house, woe betide him.

  He paused at the top of the stairs, before turning towards his own suite of rooms. The house was silent, but he could see a slit of light under Sophie’s door. Surely she was not still awake? He moved towards it and stood outside. Not a sound. He should have gone on, but instead he turned the handle and gently pushed the door ajar, looking towards the bed. He knew it was a shameful thing to do, but he did not seem able to walk away. He was only making sure she was all right, he told himself, that she hadn’t fallen asleep and left the candle burning because that could be dangerous and he would enjoy telling her so.

  The candle on the chest beside the bed was down almost to a stub, but she was not in bed. He pushed the door open a little further and looked round the room. She was not there. He crossed to the open door of the connecting room. She was sitting at the desk, her head on her arms, her hair spread about her, fast asleep. A quill had dropped from her right hand and splashed ink over the sheet of paper she had been writing on. A lamp burned at her elbow. He trod softly over the carpet to stand beside her. She did not wake. ‘Come, little one,’ he murmured, gently picking her up. ‘Time for bed.’

  She was light as thistledown. He looked down at her, cradled against his chest, her hair falling loose, her lips slightly parted as if she were about to say something, but she was still asleep, did not know who held her. If she was dreaming, it was a pleasant dream, for a half-smile played about her mouth. She was wearing a nightgown and a thin robe that did little to disguise her figure. He should not have been looking at it, but he could not help himself and a wry grin spread across his features. To think that he had thought she was a child at first, and, even when he realised she was not, had still imagined her as a chit not long out of the schoolroom. How wrong he had been. He had a woman in his arms, a very beautiful and desirable woman. He felt his loins stirring. He had to get out of there before he disgraced himself.

  He put he
r on the bed and covered her before bending down and lightly touching his lips to her forehead. She smiled, her eyes flickered, but she did not wake. He blew out the candle, turned and crossed the room to put out the lamp, then he left, closely the door gently behind him.

  Sophie was having such a pleasant dream she did not want to wake up. She was being held in someone’s arms, someone strong, someone who made her feel safe and loved. She had not felt like that since she was a little girl, before Papa had ruined them with his gambling, before Mama had died, before she had assumed the mantle of breadwinner. But that was in the past; she did not need to struggle now, because whoever held her would protect her. She dreamed on, savouring the feeling of being warm and comfortable.

  She woke only when Janet came in with hot chocolate and warm water to wash. The euphoria lasted while she sipped her drink and dressed herself. Who had been the man in her dream? After saying goodnight to Harriet, she had prepared for bed, but then, thinking of something she wanted to add to her notes, had returned to the desk. How long had she worked? She could not remember stopping and getting into bed. She must have been so tired, she had done it half-asleep. But her dream was so vivid. Of being cradled in someone’s arms, of a gentle masculine voice. She was being foolish, she told herself. No one had come into her room in the night—she would have been awake in an instant.

  She went downstairs to find Harriet and James already seated. He was dressed in a brown riding coat of Bath cloth, a yellow-and-white-striped waistcoat and a plain neckcloth. He rose politely as she entered and she noticed well-fitting buckskin breeches and highly polished boots. Harriet was in an undress robe of green silk. Sophie bade them good morning and went to the sideboard to help herself to bread and butter. She rarely ate more than that before midday.