She lifted her eyebrows slightly. “Should I feel honoured that you are offering those few spare hours to me?” she asked, her tone haughty for a moment before a slight frown pinched between her eyebrows and she sighed again before shaking her head ever so slightly. “Actually, I do feel honoured,” she said, in an altered tone. “And I would, in fact, enjoy riding with you tomorrow, thank you for asking.”
James momentarily wanted to freeze her out suddenly. Wanted to resist the lure of her awakening sense of responsibility. But it was alluring, and his resistance was dwindling.
He nodded toward her before releasing her arm as they approached one of her sisters. “It has been a pleasure, my lady.”
Without a backward glance he strode away.
∞∞∞
James left the wedding celebrations feeling decidedly out of sorts. He couldn’t quite put a finger on the source of his disquiet, but a part of him rather suspected the blame could be placed at Lady Rosabel’s dainty feet. He couldn’t recall ever having been intrigued by a woman since he was perhaps sixteen years of age. But her surprise over her charitable feelings was the sweetest thing he had witnessed in an age. He hoped to see her embrace the inclination.
He ran a negligent hand through his hair. It wasn’t as though he would have a great deal of time for this observation, though. As it was, even though he hadn’t lied to her when he said he had time for a drive the next day, it would stretch him thin. She hadn’t been wrong when she questioned his availability. The Season coincided with the sitting of the House and increased audiences with King George. It was the busiest time of his year. Not that there was ever really a non-busy time.
Making a rare appearance at White’s, James hoped to finalize some negotiations he had been pursuing. A few articles of business from the House were dragging on far too long. It was ridiculous that Lords Heatherington and Prescott couldn’t make up their minds upon which side of the issue to take their stand. If he could convince them over a couple glasses of port, he would feel even more comfortable with his plans for the next day.
It was incomprehensible to James that the matter of British North America even needed to be discussed again. It had only been four years since it was agreed that the War Office would oversee the colonies rather than the Home Office. While James could understand why some didn’t think the Secretary of State for War needed to be involved in such oversight, the fact that the colonies were so fractious made it prudent, to his mind. The fact that some members of the House wanted to debate the issue once more was only going to rile up the colonies for more conflict, in James’ opinion. He needed Heatherington to agree to support the side of peaceful resolution and leave the matter as is. James was reasonably sure he could convince the man. It was Prescott that wanted to rile things up.
James still couldn’t figure what Prescott thought to gain from the conflict. He would have to remember to have his secretary look into that aspect. In the meantime, he could see Lord Heatherington sitting alone. His timing was impeccable.
“Could I join you in a glass of port, my lord?”
“Wexford! What a surprise to see you here.” The rotund, older gentleman struggled to get out of the chair he had sprawled in. James quickly waved away the man’s efforts to rise in order to bow to him.
“Be easy, my lord. I’d appreciate some company.” It might not have been completely truthful, but James was comfortable with his words, as they had the desired effect of settling the other gentleman, who quickly waved over a passing waiter.
“A bottle of your best, my good man,” Heatherington ordered.
Two hours later, the duke was finally able to mount the steps to his house. James had managed not to overindulge, even though the same could not be said for Heatherington. It had made the conversation much easier, though, and James had managed to secure the information he needed from the man. Both his agreement to stop supporting Prescott’s bid to unsettle the colonies, and a little insight as to why that man thought to do so. There was still much he needed to know, but James felt a little more settled in his obligations on the matter.
As he entered his house, James was relieved that he hadn’t worn court dress for the wedding, but he was still looking forward to changing into something a little more comfortable before he adjourned to his library to review the paperwork left there by one of his clerks. It didn’t take long to loosen his cravat and remove his outer layers. He could don a dressing robe for the little bit of time he would spare for seeing to his own personal business.
A quick glance told him that his silver mine needed some shaft reinforcements and a storm had damaged the roofs of a couple tenants on the Carstowe estate. Those would be the most pressing issues he would have his secretary, Dale Lewis, see to. The rest could wait or at least be left to clerks to handle. After making several notes for Mr. Lewis, including the request that Prescott’s business interests in Upper and Lower Canada be looked into, James headed toward his chamber to submit himself to his valet’s ministrations. His day wouldn’t be over until long after night fell.
James kept his gaze averted from his bed. It would be too tempting to take a moment to lie down and rest.
Chapter Three
“What were you doing with Wexford?”
Her sister’s hiss couldn’t quite dispel her bemusement. “I’m not quite sure,” Rosabel said to Hilaria as she struggled with her own puzzlement and was now confronted with her sister’s ire.
“Dukes are my forte, Rosabel. Don’t you dare set your cap at him.”
“Hilaria Sherton, don’t you dare be so vulgar as to accuse me of setting my cap at someone.”
“Then don’t do something so vulgar as setting your cap. Especially not at a duke. They’re mine.”
“Hil, lower your voice. If someone hears you, they’ll know you’ve lost your mind.”
Glancing around, Rosabel knew no one had heard them. They were both skilled at the social scene. Well, on second thought, perhaps Hilaria’s skills were less than stellar. But she had still managed to keep her voice low enough not to be overheard, even as she harangued her sister. It was all Rosabel could do not to roll her eyes and gnash her teeth. They had been nearly inseparable as children, but now Bel couldn’t understand her sister at all.
With a soft sigh, Rosabel didn’t bother saying anything else to her sister, merely casting her a slight glare before turning on her heel to join her mother as she was seeing off the remaining guests.
Going through the motions of the social niceties, Rosabel was relieved that the family didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day. There had been such a flurry of activities and preparations leading up to the wedding, besides the early morning that day, Bel was looking forward to curling up in her room and reading or maybe even just going to bed, although she would never have admitted as such to anyone else. She needed to process what had taken place that day and decide how she would treat the duke on the morrow.
Finally, they waved off the last of the guests, and Rosabel was able to make her escape to her room. Her maid was waiting to take down her hair and help her out of her wedding finery.
“Thank you so much, Sally. I have been itching to remove this gown since about ten minutes after I left the room.”
“Literally or figuratively?” the maid asked with a giggle.
“Both, unfortunately,” Bel admitted with a sigh. “I never would have thought this fabric would cause an itch. It looks soft enough. And the gown itself is elegant and beautiful, but I just couldn’t be comfortable.”
“Must be the lace around the edge,” Sally opined prosaically. “And the occasion,” she added with a pointed exchange of glances with her mistress.
Bel exhaled a long breath and then allowed her first genuine smile of the day to split her face. “You are quite correct. The occasion made me itch.”
“Was it completely dreadful?” Sally puttered about the room, gathering the more comfortable garb her lady would prefer for the restful day at home she had planne
d.
“Not dreadful in the least, on one hand,” Bel admitted. “Georgia should be quite pleased with how her wedding day turned out. My mother quite outdid herself, and no one could find the least thing to be displeased about. Cook exceeded himself, and the servants were exceptional in their service.”
“So why the glum face, then?” The maid had been assigned to Rosabel when she turned fourteen and was more like a friend than a servant. Bel knew it was highly inappropriate, but she valued the relationship. “You mentioned you were happy for your sister’s friend.” There was a pause before she asked, “But you wish one of these weddings were your own?”
“You got it on the first try, Sally.” Bel smiled for a moment before sobering. “But not just any husband, mind you. And I don’t envy Georgia her groom. Only his devotion.”
“Seems to me that there’s something else troubling you, though, m’lady. We’ve already discussed your feelings about Crossley as well as Miss Georgia’s wedding.”
Bel sighed. “Wexford invited me to go for a drive with him tomorrow.”
“At the fashionable hour?” the maid asked, sounding excited before another thought occurred to her and her eyes widened. “Does Lady Hilaria know?”
Rosabel grimaced at the maid. “She took me to task for allowing the duke to speak with me, if you can imagine. I haven’t the first idea how she thought I could refuse to even speak with him. So, no, I haven’t yet informed her that he invited me to drive.” She sighed and sank onto the bench in front of her dressing table. “Ought I to have refused his invitation, do you think, Sally? And how would I go about refusing a duke’s invitation anyway?”
Sally nodded sympathetically at her mistress. “Well, you are an earl’s daughter. Surely you could refuse him if you wished.”
“Of course, I could, except Mother would cast me from the family if she were to find out about it.”
The maid giggled, agreeing there was a degree of truth to her lady’s dramatic words.
Bel sighed again. “But for the first time ever, I find a gentleman at least a trifle intriguing. And really, how can Hilaria think she has a right to lay claim to any and all coronets in the realm? She couldn’t force his attentions upon herself. If he wishes to escort me, it’s not for me to demure.”
“So, you like this duke?”
Rosabel shrugged. “I don’t know, Sally. He’s handsome beyond belief. And it’s not the showy sort of handsome that is merely the result of creative tailoring. He’s the sort of handsome that will likely age well. But for me, the most attractive trait is that I felt like he really saw me. Not just the pretty trappings that everyone seems to admire. I felt as though he listened to me. It was the first time since my debut that I felt as though a gentleman were truly listening to me. It was most attractive.”
Rosabel sighed again. “But one of the things he was listening to me about was my thoughts about the wallflowers at our reception for Georgia and Crossley. He saw me speaking with these three young women, Miss Perkins and the Misses Bridgestone. When he asked me about it, I couldn’t clearly express myself, as I didn’t rightly know what I was doing when I had approached them. It was a most awkward experience. So, I’m not completely sure how I feel about Wexford’s invitation. Is he amusing himself at my expense? Is he merely curious about what I’m up to? Does he perhaps have an interest in one of those women?” She quickly interrupted herself. “Well, no, that one’s a foolish idea. If he were interested in one of them, he would speak to them directly. He barely knows me. He would surely not consider using me for such an action.”
Sally giggled again. “You have yourself worked up into quite a taking, m’lady. Now simmer yourself down a wee bit while I brush out your hair for you. You’ll feel better presently.”
This time, when Bel sighed, it was one of pleasure rather than disquiet. “Thank you, Sally. You were right, I just needed to be quiet and relax for a moment. Perhaps I have been running around just a little too much of late.”
“You have been dreadfully busy.”
Rosabel wrinkled her nose at her maid in the mirror. “But most of the busyness is just for the sake of being busy, really, isn’t it, Sally? It’s not as though we’re being useful contributors to the good of others.”
“Are you sure you aren’t coming down sick, m’lady? You don’t usually concern yourself with such matters.” The friendly maid sounded worried, making Bel feel even worse.
“That’s just the very problem, Sally. I don’t concern myself with such matters. That’s the entire point. What sort of selfish creature am I that I have never thought about such things?”
Sally appeared to be torn between amusement and worry for her mistress. “Well, you are the daughter of an earl, m’lady. You haven’t been presented with the less favorable side of life overmuch.”
Bel shrugged. “Perhaps not overmuch, but I rather think I shouldn’t have been quite so oblivious.”
“Do not be so very hard on yourself, m’lady. Tell me why this is troubling you so.”
With a sigh, Rosabel slumped from her usual correct posture. “I can’t rightly say. I am troubled by the fact that I never really thought about wallflowers or those who must make a match to keep their families fed before now. But I’m also troubled by the fact that those situations exist. And I’m troubled by the fact that I wish none of it troubled me.” She allowed a small puff of air that could have passed for a laugh and paused for a moment before adding, “My life of unconcern for everyone but myself was quite comfortable.”
She closed her eyes and relaxed into her maid’s brush strokes on her hair. Opening her eyes once more, she added her final concern, “And now there’s Wexford. And my sister’s declaration of desiring a coronet being attached to me somehow. Hilaria will feed me to the Sherton pigs if she thinks I’ve stolen a duke from her. Not to say that I have. For one thing, one cannot steal a duke. For another, it could be perfectly innocuous.”
Meeting her maid’s gaze in the mirror, Rosabel nodded and laughed a little. “I know. Dukes don’t do innocuous.” Another slight sigh slipped past her lips. “I cannot decide how I feel about Wexford, to be honest. Not to say that he isn’t remarkably handsome, but there’s just something so remote about the man most of the time.”
“One might say the same about you. It could perhaps be a good match for you, m’lady.”
“That’s questionable, Sally. If we’re both remote, it doesn’t seem to me there would be much conversation.” Bel smiled slightly before sobering. “And I don’t know what Hil is thinking to be so enamored with dukes. It seems to me, being a duchess would be a great deal of work and a massive responsibility.”
“Do you think you aren’t up for it?”
Rosabel’s smile widened even as her eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “Are you trying to present it to me as a challenge by any chance?”
The maid shrugged. “Not really, but I do think you would make a perfect duchess.”
Bel narrowed her eyes at the servant. “You just want to elevate your own station.” She had to laugh at the maid’s guilty expression. “Surely, you do realize that serving a duchess is probably far more challenging than a mere earl’s daughter.”
“I’m fairly certain I would be up for the challenge, as well, m’lady.”
Bel laughed. “I’m fairly certain we are getting far ahead of ourselves quite needlessly.”
“You accepted his grace’s invitation.”
“I did,” she admitted. “Really, it seemed unavoidable. I know it’s been mentioned already, but can you even imagine the countess’ reaction if she were to learn that I had refused him?”
“I do shudder to consider it. You were right to accept.”
“There really was no choice, but I cannot decide if I’m looking forward to it or dreading it.”
Shaking off her unusually thoughtful mood, Rosabel stood from her dressing table and, after a quick smile at her maid, donned the comfortable gown she was holding and headed toward the window s
eat and the book she had left there earlier. She had been anticipating the quiet time that afternoon and looking forward to it for days. She hoped the book she had chosen would be interesting enough to keep her mind off her concerns for long enough that she could relax.
Rosabel woke up when her book hit the floor with a thud. She had to laugh. She supposed it had done the trick of relaxing her if she had been able to fall asleep, but it had clearly not been the scintillating story she had been hoping for if it had lulled her into oblivion. With a sigh, she stooped to pick up the volume and decided she might as well mark the day as complete. If she went to bed now, perhaps she’d be returned to her normal self by morning.
Chapter Four
There was an ugly dustup when Hilaria found out with whom Rosabel was driving that afternoon but thankfully, their mother dealt with the situation handily.
“There are thirty-one dukes in the realm, according to Debrett’s, Hilaria. If you are so determined to wed a coronet, you only need one. You needn’t begrudge one to your sister.”
“But hardly any of them are unwed, mother.”
“That is neither here nor there, Hilaria Sherton. If he had invited you, you would be the one going. But he did not. And I can assure you, your sister did nothing to deserve your ire. Would you have her refuse?” The tone of their mother’s voice as she asked the question let all in the vicinity know exactly how preposterous the countess considered the question.
Rosabel had been correct in her assumption that she would be in more trouble from her mother for refusing than with her sister for not. And truly, everyone was well aware that one did not refuse a duke in the first place. It was a rather rhetorical question. The good news was that aside from her misgivings about her sister and her own state of mind, Rosabel was looking forward to the afternoon. If nothing else, it would be diverting.
Those thoughts were jangling in the back of her mind when the duke was announced. Or rather his servant was announced.
A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1) Page 3