A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1)

by Wendy May Andrews

  “If all this is true, then you ought to be sleeping already.” She pulled back the covers and steadied Bel as she climbed up into the high bed. “Now, see that you don’t allow these anxious thoughts to chase themselves around in your head and keep you awake. Nothing will be served by not sleeping. Tomorrow is soon enough for tomorrow’s problems.”

  “You’re so wise, Sally,” Rosabel said around a wide yawn.

  What felt like a blink and a heartbeat later, Sally was shaking her gently.

  Rosabel groaned.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s morning, my lady.”

  With a gasp, Rosabel sat upright in the bed.

  “Good heavens, what time is it?”

  “Hush, my lady, there’s plenty of time. I’ve got your chocolate here and some toast for you to break your fast while I do something with your hair. It’s quarter past nine but there’s plenty of time.”

  Rosabel’s stomach churned. “I don’t think I can eat.”

  “You’ll have to, now don’t be childish. I knew you’d be nervous, that’s why I only brought toast. But you need to eat it. If you’re serious about keeping your secrets from Wexford, you’ll be needing every ounce of your strength.”

  Bel knew Sally was right, so she took a tentative bite of the toast and a sip of her chocolate. To her surprise, it was strangely comforting, and she was able to eat it all.

  Chapter Eleven

  James stared at the handsome façade of the Sherton townhouse. It was a large home, not as large as his, but still quite impressive for a London home. From where he sat in the front seat of his curricle, it didn’t look as though there was any movement in the house.

  He probably shouldn’t be there. The street was quiet with only a few servants hurrying along the sidewalk with very little clatter and only glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes. James’ smile was rueful as he recognized that even this early hour wouldn’t protect the lady from gossip.

  Just as he was about to goad his horses into movement to take him home, he saw a face at an upstairs window for just a flash of a moment. He couldn’t be sure that it was her, but something gave him the feeling it was Rosabel. His resolve firmed. He couldn’t postpone questioning her any longer. His momentary thought to give her a reprieve was foolish. If he returned later in the day, he would only open her up to more speculation, besides delaying his investigation that much longer. It had already been too long. He needed the Prescott matter wrapped up. It would have been better if it was over already. The colonies could not be allowed to destabilize through Prescott’s schemes. He couldn’t allow his convoluted feelings for this young woman to interfere any longer.

  Wexford hadn’t brought a servant with him so for a brief moment, he wondered what he ought to do about his team. Before he could even get down to tie his traces, a footman was coming down the Shertons’ stairs.

  “Good morning, Your Grace. Would you like me to hold your horses for you? Or would you like to just wait a moment? Her ladyship should be along in just a moment. She is just writing a note so Lady Sherton won’t wonder what became of her.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be happy to wait, in that case.”

  James was fairly certain the lady would be accompanied by one of her sisters or her maid, which was why he had left his own servant behind. So, he wasn’t in the least surprised to see another young woman bouncing down the steps when Rosabel finally appeared, following behind her closely but with more grace. Rosabel’s expression revealed none of her thoughts, but the maid appeared happy for the outing.

  “Thank you, Tom,” Lady Rosabel murmured as the footman helped her up into the carriage. Tom then quickly handed up the maid and watched as Wexford allowed his horses to pull them away from the edge of the street.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would turn up.”

  “Then why were you waiting in front of my house?”

  James chuckled. He laughed even harder when he heard the maid snort behind him, as though she were trying to suppress her amusement and was failing.

  “Hope springs eternal,” James finally answered in as grave a tone as he could manage around his mirth. That earned him a frown from the beauty by his side.

  “Well, I appreciate that you didn’t knock and wake the household.”

  “And I appreciate that you didn’t make me.”

  The look she then turned on him appeared speculative.

  “I wonder if you really would have,” she murmured. “The fact that you were just sitting there in front of the house leads me to believe that you were perhaps having second thoughts. Perhaps you had begun to realize that you were being foolish to think I have anything of import to say on any subject.”

  “Now, my lady, that is going altogether too far. I am certain that you have many things of import to say on many subjects.”

  This earned him a snort from the rear once more. He glanced at Rosabel with a quirked eyebrow, earning him a slight smile for the first time since she’d joined him.

  “Doing it a little too brown, am I?”

  “Perhaps a touch.” The laughter he observed in her gaze made his heart swell. Despite the fact that she didn’t appear to be cooperating with him, he found he quite liked the girl. It was true that she had caused him to question her stability on a few occasions, but he suspected there were reasons for that. Reasons that he hoped she would share with him. James found himself wanting to know everything about the young woman sitting calmly by his side. If only he didn’t have this blasted investigation hanging over his head.

  They sat in almost companionable silence for a few moments as he navigated the streets, making swift progress as there was far less traffic at this early hour.

  “Where are we going, might I be so bold as to ask?”

  Her tone was deceptively mild. James doubted she was quite so sanguine about going with him to some unknown destination.

  “What did you tell your mother?”

  “I beg your pardon?” She seemed puzzled over his apparent turn of the subject.

  “Your footman, Tom, was it? He mentioned that you would be right along, as soon as you finished writing a note to let your mother know where you’d be.”

  James was surprised to see colour tingeing her cheeks.

  “I was deliberately vague, as I had no idea where we might be going. But I did say I’d be in your company, so they would know where to start the investigation if you see fit to do away with me.”

  James laughed a little at her words before turning a sharp examination upon her face. Surprisingly, she met his gaze with her own. He could see challenge there, but also, to his shame, a glimmer of fear. He reached over and clasped her hand, again surprised at how natural it felt. Hers trembled slightly, but she didn’t shake him off. Rather, she turned it over within his grasp and returned the pressure, as though seeking and offering comfort simultaneously. His heart turned over in his chest, and he vowed to himself to protect this woman, no matter where the investigation led.

  “I shan’t be doing away with you as long as you cooperate,” he replied in what he hoped was a teasing tone, as he struggled to accommodate his growing feelings for her within his conflicted chest.

  Her brief tinkle of laughter was soothing to his troubled spirit.

  “You still didn’t tell me where we’re going. Just as a matter of conversation, of course. But if you’d prefer silence, I don’t really mind. I’m quite accomplished at silence these days.”

  Her cryptic comment puzzled him. “I knew I recalled that you used to be more expressive, but I know you were never a chatterbox like Miss Perkins.”

  Rosabel laughed again. “Oh dear, I thought we agreed not to disparage our peers.”

  “I wasn’t disparaging her, but I must say, I was fairly surprised over the reception I received from both her and Miss Bridgestone. Whatever could have possessed you to suggest that I might consider the Bridgestone chit for the position of duchess? She didn’t have a single thing to say to me throughout w
hat seemed an interminable cotillion. And then Miss Perkins made up for the silence during our quadrille. I almost felt as though my ears were bleeding by the time we were finished.”

  “Perhaps you make them nervous,” Rosabel surmised. “They spoke normally to me. In fact, I would have considered Miss Bridgestone to be the chatterbox of the two of them.”

  “Perhaps she was trying to impress you.”

  “Impress me? You are mistaken to be sure. For one thing, why would she wish to do so? And for another, she and her sister seemed quite determined to wed in their first Season, impressing an available duke would be far more prudent.”

  “I think I ought to be put out that you seem so determined to marry me off to someone other than yourself.”

  As he was still holding her hand, he found he could gauge her reactions far better than watching her face. While her face barely revealed a flicker of emotion, her hand had tensed quite rigidly before she collected herself. He wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling, but he knew she wasn’t as indifferent to his words as she would like him to think.

  “Why would that bother you? We already agreed I’m in search of a plain mister to marry and you are searching for a society leader to match with.”

  He wasn’t going to answer her question but wanted to keep her talking. “Have you come across many appropriate misters to suit your fancy?”

  James was surprised that this resulted in a squeeze of his hand and a soft sigh from her.

  “You’d think there would be plenty, wouldn’t you? Any number of younger sons should be roaming the ballrooms of the ton. But none seem to have taken any interest in the Shertons, sadly.”

  “You never seem to lack for suitors,” he pointed out.

  “I think they’re merely amusing themselves. And there are always plenty of young women filling our drawing rooms as well. You wouldn’t believe the number of matches that seem to have been made under our roof. Her ladyship is torn between delight and despair. She would love to think she is a matchmaker, but she would rather the matches be her daughters.”

  “The new Countess Crossley was highly successful under your mother’s guidance.”

  “True, but surely you do realize that she didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  James lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “She hides it well.”

  Rosabel’s light laughter rewarded his remark. But then she sighed.

  “My poor mother. She is trying not to force any of us, of course. But I think she considers me to be her biggest failure. I should have launched spectacularly in that first Season. There was just me. I’m well connected, and my dowry is far from miserly. But I didn’t. And now I’m in company with a duke, who has no intention of offering for me. She shall have apoplexy if I’m not careful.”

  “Perhaps I’d be willing to offer for you if you weren’t forever trying to fob me off onto others.”

  Again, James couldn’t interpret the twitches of her hand, but he knew she was reacting anyhow.

  “I still think you’d do well with Vicky,” she countered. “And then my mother would have other things to concern herself with.”

  James wasn’t going to bother with that comment. “Why didn’t you find a match in your first Season? It surely wasn’t for lack of offers.”

  She clearly didn’t appreciate his question. Rosabel did the closest thing to snatching her hand away as someone as inherently graceful as she could manage. The light laugh that followed his question sounded forced, but her face was bland as she looked at him.

  “No, we lost track of the number of offers I received. Thankfully, my father was kind enough to decline most of them on my behalf, so I wasn’t put in an awkward position. The earl is such a good man. It must have been uncomfortable for him. Of course, the offers have dwindled somewhat. So far this Season, we’ve only had one.”

  “I suppose the gentlemen don’t want to offer a second time,” James tried to sympathize. “Have you run through all the eligible men already?”

  “Hardly,” she countered dryly. “The ton might be a small Society on one hand, but there are rather a large number of available matches.”

  “And yet, here you still remain.”

  Rosabel’s averted profile revealed nothing, but James knew she was troubled by his words. He hadn’t meant them to be hurtful. He wished he could reach for her hand again, but both of hers were tightly clenched in her lap. He would watch them for her reactions. She was clearly agitated even if she hid it well.

  “Brixton.” His one-word statement brought her attention back to his face.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You asked where we were going, and I just remembered I didn’t tell you. We’re going to take tea at the inn in Brixton.”

  “Because there are no tea shops between here and there?” Her sarcastic tone made him smile.

  “Because I know the proprietor there. We shall be able to have a private conversation without compromising you or your reputation.” James glanced behind his shoulder at the lady’s maid. “I suppose you must keep your maid. Do you trust her?”

  “Of course, I must keep Sally near me. How else are you to avoid the parson’s mousetrap?” She said it lightly and no doubt meant it in jest, but James had the sudden thought that he wouldn’t mind it so very much. “And also, of course, I trust her implicitly, which is why she is with us.” She paused for a moment before adding, almost as an afterthought, “I suppose I ought to warn you, Sally has been trained by the footmen in all sorts of methods of defence. So, it’s only fair to tell you that if we don’t like the private conversation you wish to have with me, she shall be forced to extract me from the situation.”

  James blinked at the pretty woman beside him, for a moment giving no thought to his team of horses as they bowled along swiftly toward their destination. “Did you just threaten me?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Not a threat, Your Grace. I was just telling you the facts. I have accompanied you as you demanded. While, inexplicably, I find that I enjoy your company, I didn’t appreciate being commanded to accompany you at an unusually early hour. And I especially didn’t appreciate your demand to be privy to my thoughts without explanation. So, I am expecting that this private conversation you have arranged will be a true conversation consisting of information being shared and exchanged rather than an interrogation. If you are intending an interrogation, you have most likely wasted your time today, I’m afraid.”

  It was the longest string of words he had heard her utter in his presence. His admiration for her rose with nearly every word. She was a formidable young woman. She wanted a quiet life and didn’t seem to like flashy attention. But she was willing to fight for respect and proper treatment. He could respect that. Not that he wanted to tell her very much, but he understood where she was coming from in her sentiment.

  “How do you take your tea?” he asked blandly, not bothering to acknowledge her words. Her laughter broke the tension that he had felt emanating from her in increasingly higher levels as she had been speaking. James was mildly thrilled to note that it was true laughter. He had never heard it from her before. It was refreshing and made him grin.

  “I am, as you have remarked occasionally, quite strange. I prefer my tea black with one sugar.”

  “I suppose, then, that I am just as strange. That is how I prefer it, too.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him in the most adorable manner he’d ever seen. “Are you bamming me right now, Your Grace?”

  James laughed, both at her question and her use of the cant phrase.

  “Why would you suppose I am?”

  “It seems like it would be a good method of interrogation to make me comfortable by thinking we have things in common, even if it’s something as mundane as how we take our tea. But the joke will be upon you if that’s not actually how you like it and you have to suffer through an entire pot just to prove your point.”

  “Have you always been so suspicious?”


  She laughed again. “It’s a fairly recent development,” she admitted. Her apparent good humour made James feel lighter, and he was looking forward to the rest of their excursion even though the subject was unpleasant.

  “Back to your previous question, I’m actually serious. I thought I was the only one in all of England who didn’t take my tea with milk. When did you stop taking milk?”

  Rosabel offered him a shudder. “The last time I had milk in my tea was when I was about ten or eleven. We were going to take our tea outside. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, quite unusual for our region. My sisters and I were slow to respond to our governess’ call that the tea had been served. Perhaps it was already old, or perhaps we were far longer than we had thought, but the milk had curdled by the time it made its way into my teacup. And for some reason, the governess thought it suitable punishment that we had to drink it for not responding to her calls immediately.”

  “Good heavens. But you were children.”

  “No, we were young ladies in training, according to her. And young ladies in training are expected to respond to the commands given at any time.”

  “She sounds like a sergeant.”

  “I think she wished to be,” she agreed with a laugh. “I could never consider milk in my tea again after that. I’m not sure if my sisters got over their aversion or not. I am ashamed to admit that I haven’t really paid attention to how they take it.” She added a sigh at the end. “My efforts at personal growth are rather stunted, aren’t they?”

  James chuckled. “I think siblings might be the hardest to consider as real people.”

  It was exactly the right thing to say, it would seem. She turned shining eyes of approval upon him, and he basked in the glow of their warmth. For a moment, all was peace between them as the team of horses rapidly ate up the distance between Mayfair and Brixton.

  “Do you expect that I shall like your inn?” She finally broke the silence. James was surprised to hear the tentative nature of her question. For the most part the girl seemed so sure of herself; he never expected to hear any evidence of nerves coming from her.