"That is certainly not a cause for celebration. I have not come of my own accord."
"No matter," smiled Frederick. "I am perfectly capable of celebrating it by myself." He knocked his glass against Edward's with a loud clink and took a hefty swallow. "Now then, old chap, I'm simply dying to hear all your news."
"News?"
"Yes, Thorne! I assume that something noteworthy has occurred. Nothing short of a miracle – or a disaster – could possibly winkle you out of Redhaven Castle. What has happened to bring you all the way back to the bosom of society?"
"I'll be avoiding society's bosom as much as possible," said Edward wryly. Frederick laughed as though he had told a very clever joke. "The fact is, Lathkill, I've recently received some disturbing news about my cousin – Mr Reginald Thorne."
Frederick raised an eyebrow. "He's your heir, isn't he? I didn't think the two of you were terribly close."
"We are not, and a good thing, too. He has recently been mixed up in some legal trouble – a servant was beaten half to death. Well, Reginald managed to make the whole business go away, but it did spur me on to have a closer look at him." Edward took a sip of the brandy. It ran down his throat like fire, pouring heat on the simmering coals of anger that burned inside him whenever he thought of his cousin. "To make it brief, it turns out that my cousin is not what anyone would term a gentleman. His behaviour is utterly appalling. It is only through luck and, I can only assume, hefty bribery, that the law has not punished him for his actions."
"Gracious," said Frederick. "That's a disappointing thing for a man to learn – especially a man who takes such great care of his estate and tenants as you do."
"I have never done more than my duty. But, I must admit, I take duty more seriously than most. No, it has become clear to me that I cannot allow the situation to continue any longer."
"The situation?"
"The unfortunate twist of fate which risks putting the Dukedom of Redhaven into the hands of my black-hearted cousin. I must do something about it, Lathkill."
Frederick lowered the glass of brandy from his lips. "You're not talking about – killing him, are you?"
Edward's hand went unconsciously to toy with the silver watch in his fob pocket. It was a habit of his whenever something had made him particularly unhappy. "Really, Lathkill. It's precisely that sort of rumour-mongering that has kept me out of London all these years."
"I'm sorry, old chap. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." Frederick held up his hands in apology. "What do you propose to do about Mr Thorne's behaviour, then?"
"The only thing I can do. I must block him at all costs from inheriting my lands and running my tenants into misery and penury. I must get myself a new heir."
Frederick spluttered a mouthful of brandy across the exquisite leather top of Edward's desk. "Pardon me," he said, dabbing at the mess with a handkerchief. "It's only that, as far as I'm aware, the only way to get a new heir is... is, well..."
"Precisely," said Edward, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "I intend to find myself a bride. Within the week, if possible. A week is about the longest time I can stand in this foul city."
"A week?" Frederick covered his mouth to hide a laugh. "My word, Thorne, you really never do things by halves, do you? And where, may I ask, do you intend to find this bride? Unless you have an array of eligible young women stacked upon your bookshelves, hiding yourself away in this study is hardly the place to start."
"That is exactly the reason why I wrote to you to let you know I was in town," said Edward. "You are an Earl, after all, and tolerably well-connected, I imagine. Any assistance you can render me will be most gratefully received."
"That's the only reason you wanted my company?" asked Frederick, a little hurt. "Really, Thorne, that's a little cold of you."
Edward shrugged. He was the man that he was. Frederick knew that. There was very little chance of Edward blossoming into a socialite at the age of five-and-thirty. If Frederick objected to the terms of their friendship, he knew where to find the door.
"Let me think," said Frederick, drumming his fingers against his chin. He had recently begun to grow a beard, which Edward did not think entirely suited him. "I suppose we had better get you out and about in society as quickly as possible. I know well enough that you will not be able to tolerate the endless parties, theatre trips, and morning calls for long. It's the very atmosphere I thrive in, and the one which you find most intolerable. Ah! Here's an idea! If I recall correctly, your father used to be very good friends with Mr Adam Stirling. Do you remember him?"
"I believe so. My father had a vast number of acquaintances. Great men always have lesser ones tugging at their ankles."
"Mr Stirling is now a man of substance, you may be surprised to hear. A trade fortune, naturally, but an astonishingly large one all the same. Anyway, he happens to be throwing a ball this very evening. I believe it is in honour of his younger daughter's Come Out."
"Is it now the custom to attend a private ball without an invitation?" asked Edward dryly.
"It certainly is not, but, if my supposition is correct, that will not be a problem. Mr Stirling has invited half of London to the ball. It is one of the largest of the Season. I would not be surprised if, as a very old acquaintance of his, and if he has heard that you are in town, you have not received an invitation yourself." Frederick narrowed his eyes at Edward. "Am I correct in guessing that you have not bothered to read any of the correspondence which has arrived since you came to London?"
"Why on earth should I waste my time on correspondence? None of the people who come calling are anything to me. Besides, I know all too well what society thinks of me. I had a good reason for hiding away in the countryside, Lathkill, as you well know. London is full of gossip and rumour. I cannot stand it."
"Let us hope that the rumours are not enough to put Mr Stirling off the dream of snaring a Duke for one of his daughters," said Frederick brightly. Before Edward could stop him, he had rung for the butler. "Ah, Simmons. Would you do me the favour of fetching His Grace's recent correspondence?"
Edward sat and glowered while they waited for Simmons to return. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the evening at a ball. How very irritatingly like Frederick, to prescribe him the exact medicine he least wanted! Surely, there were more sensible ways of going about finding a bride. His original plan, such as it was, was simply to visit a few gentlemen's clubs and make enquiries among the wealthy fathers of London. As far as Edward was concerned, there was no need to waste his time dancing and courting and actually speaking to the girl at all. Her father's permission was all that was required – whoever she might turn out to be.
"Ah!" said Frederick, riffling through the post and drawing out a gilt-edged invitation. "I was right! Come now, Thorne, it would be quite rude to refuse Mr Stirling's generous invitation."
"With a reputation such as mine, I cannot imagine he is longing for me to make an appearance. The invitation was issued out of politeness, nothing more. I will not sully his party by making an appearance."
"Don't be ridiculous, Thorne! You must and will attend Miss Angelica Stirling's Coming Out ball. It will be good for you. I am sure you have not forgotten how to dance. And when you are dancing there is very little need to talk to anyone, if you do not desire it. You may pass the entire evening in near silence, if you so wish. I will do all the talking for you. And, who knows? You may meet the woman of your dreams this very evening."
"The woman of my dreams is any girl who knows how to keep house and hold her tongue," said Edward.
"And, I daresay, she must also be tolerably attractive?" asked Frederick, with a broad wink. "A good head on her shoulders, and big-hearted enough to love a miserable old fool like yourself. It's a tall order. We must begin our search without further delay."
"Love has nothing to do with it," said Edward, unable to stop himself rolling his eyes. Frederick could really be the most ridiculous man.
"We shall see," laughed Frederick
, irrepressible as ever. "We shall see!"
Chapter Three
Everything was perfect. From the six-hour beeswax candles burning in the candelabra, to the tables full of partridge pie, white soup and water ices, to the golden champagne filling her father's finest glassware, it was all everything that Angelica had dreamed.
Everything... except, perhaps, the pallor in her sister's cheeks. Lily had not managed a single dance. Still, she seemed happy enough to sit and watch the others. Angelica made sure to go and talk to her in the interval between every dance. She was glad, although not surprised, to see that Lily was not lacking for attention from the gentlemen, despite the fact that she could not dance with them. Lily had always been the prettiest sister. If she had her health, too, she would have been the belle of every ball in London.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Angelica?" whispered one of her new London friends, Lady Cecily Balfour. Cecily was the daughter of the Duke of Loxwell, and Angelica knew very well that it was only her father's substantial fortune which allowed her to mingle with Cecily. She had been disappointed in some of the other girls of the ton. She knew that it was still whispered, here and there, that her father's money had come from trade. Cecily did not seem to mind. In fact, Cecily seem to mind very little. No matter who she was speaking to or who asked her to dance, she remained perfectly poised and aloof. Angelica wished she could say the same for herself.
"Me? Really, me? You want to dance with me?" she had squeaked when Lord Kingston asked if her dance card was full. The gentleman had been rather taken aback, and the baffled expression on his face did not decrease as Angelica babbled her way happily through their first dance, talking about every little thing that popped into her head. Perhaps that was not the way a real lady was supposed to behave. Cecily, certainly, would never be heard to babble. But Angelica could not contain herself.
She turned to Cecily with an enormous smile plastered on her face. "I am enjoying myself so much that I can hardly bear it. I feel that I shall float away on a cloud of happiness. It is everything I wanted."
"I am so glad," Cecily smiled. "I found my own coming out ball was rather a let-down. It is so easy to get carried away with plans for the future that when the anticipated moment arrives, it can hardly stand up to expectations. But I see that you are more sensible than that."
"Who are you dancing with next?" Angelica asked.
Cecily checked her dance card. "Oh, only the Earl of Ramford. He is pleasant enough. And you?"
"I have kept this dance free," said Angelica. "I really must go and sit with Lily."
"Angelica, do you mean to tell me that you have turned a gentleman down for this dance?" Cecily was too well-bred to be shocked, but her eyebrows shot up into her forehead all the same. "What were you thinking? You know that it is most impolite to refuse any gentleman unless you are finished with dancing for the evening."
"Oh, gracious! I had quite forgotten. I shall have to beg Lord Henry's forgiveness."
"I am sure he will understand," said Cecily. "After all, tonight is your night."
"Excuse me, ladies," came a smooth voice behind them. The Earl of Ramford made Cecily and Angelica an extravagant bow. "I believe this dance is mine, Lady Cecily?"
"Delighted," said Cecily, taking his arm. She blew Angelica a kiss as she was whisked away.
Angelica was making her way towards Lily when she became aware that a hush had fallen on the room. The musicians had begun playing, but, seeing that nobody was dancing, they soon came to an awkward stop. Angelica turned around, trying to work out what everyone was looking at.
Then she saw him.
A tall, dark-haired, impossibly handsome man was standing in the doorway. Angelica realised that she had just heard his name announced, but she had not paid it any attention. She tried to remember it. The Duke of something – but she did not recognise him at all. The Duke of Redwood, perhaps? No, Redhaven. How peculiar. She had never heard of the man – and yet he was a Duke.
The Duke accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman and retreated into the corner of the ballroom opposite the one Lily occupied, seemingly oblivious to the whispers racing through the room around him. Angelica's father appeared at her side and caught hold of her elbow, steering her rapidly towards the strange new man.
"The Duke of Redhaven!" he hissed. Astonishment lent an edge to his voice. "What on earth is he doing here? He hasn't been seen out in society for – why, it must be almost ten years now."
"The Duke of Redhaven?" whispered Mrs Stirling, taking Angelica's arm from the other side. She shot Mr Stirling a look of horror. "I thought I told you not to invite him!"
"I had no choice, my dear. You know that his father and I were good friends. Believe me, I only invited him because it was the proper thing to do. How could I possibly have known he would actually make an appearance?"
"This is just what we need," sighed Mrs Stirling. "A murderer at Angelica's Coming Out ball! Just imagine what people will say!"
"Now, now, my dear," said Mr Stirling. "We do not actually know that he murdered anybody."
"Did you say murder?" asked Angelica, her voice a high-pitched squeak.
"Hush!" Her parents both said at once, and, before she knew what was happening, Angelica was being presented to the possibly-murderous Duke of Redhaven.
"Your Grace," her mother simpered, dropping an elegant curtsy. No-one would have imagined that only moments ago she had been bewailing the Duke's presence. Mrs Stirling was the epitome of a society lady: an expert at concealing what she truly felt. "How good of you to make it to our little celebration! Welcome to our home."
"Mrs Stirling!" It was not the Duke who replied, but his companion. Angelica was so riveted by the mysterious interloper that she had not even noticed that he was accompanied by the Earl of Lathkill. How strange that the pleasant and friendly Earl should be friends with a man her parents suspected of murder!
"What a delightful ball, Mrs Stirling," the Earl continued, kissing her hand. "I don't think I have ever seen such a pleasant gathering. And Miss Angelica Stirling, let me congratulate you on your entrance into society! Such a happy occasion."
"Thank you, my lord." Angelica remembered to drop a curtsy only when her mother dug an elbow into her side.
"If it would please you, I would like to introduce you to my good friend, the Duke of Redhaven," said the Earl. A long silence elapsed before Angelica realised that they were waiting for her to speak. Of course! A lady had the right of refusal. And she was a lady now.
Did she really want to be introduced to this stand-offish man who was running a cold, disapproving eye over her mother's carefully selected company?
"I would be delighted," she said, exactly as she'd been trained to do.
"Wonderful! Miss Stirling, this is Edward Thorne, the Duke of Redhaven. Don't let appearances deceive you; he's not nearly as forbidding as he seems. Isn't that right, Thorne?"
The Earl clapped a friendly hand onto the Duke's back. Edward gave him what appeared to Angelica to be a look of disdain.
"Thorne," prompted Lathkill, "this is Miss Angelica Stirling. The young lady we have all gathered here to celebrate."
Edward turned his cold, calculating gaze onto Angelica. He looked her up and down. She had never been studied in this way before. There was something about his eyes. They were as cool and green as a storm-tossed sea – but it was not the chill in them that startled Angelica. It was their deep, shrewd intelligence. It was the way they made her feel that she was a book and he was riffling through the pages. Angelica had the mad idea that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that she could hide from those eyes. If they desired it, they might penetrate her soul.
In short, Duke or not, he was looking at her in the most impertinent fashion, and she had a good mind to tell him so.
Once Angelica set her mind on something, there was very little stopping her...
"Do excuse me, my lord, Your Grace," said her mother quickly. Angelica's attention immediately snapp
ed away from the green-eyed Duke to the other side of the room.
"Lily..."
Her sister was doubled over, grey-faced and gasping for breath at the centre of a crowd of concerned guests. Angelica tried to join her mother in running towards her, but Mr Stirling caught her arm. "She will not want you to miss your ball," he whispered. "Leaving will only distress her more. Stay. Your mother is with her."
"Is something wrong?" asked Lathkill. Mr Stirling nudged Angelica forwards with a bright smile.
"Not at all! I was just wondering where the music had got to." He gestured to the musicians to begin playing. Around them, the hushed whispers slowly rose back to the usual hubbub of a well-filled ballroom. "The cotillion, Angelica! Who has engaged you for this dance, eh?"
Angelica's mind was following Lily out of the room. She couldn't care less about dances and gentlemen. She wanted to be at her mother's side, helping Lily upstairs and into bed, fetching the infusion that would calm her and help her breathe, and rubbing her pale hand until her fingers did not feel so terribly cold.
"No-one," she answered, truthfully.
"We can't have that!" smiled the Earl of Lathkill, offering her his arm.
"We certainly cannot."
Angelica's head turned back around at the sound of that voice as though she were a puppet tugged by a string. She couldn't help herself. There was something so commanding about him; something that called to her on such a fundamental level that she simply had to obey.
The Duke of Redhaven was holding his hand out towards her. "May I have this dance?"
The last thing Angelica wanted to do at that moment was dance with a cold-hearted, bad-tempered Duke who thought himself too good for the company and was possibly a murderer to boot.
A lady had the right of refusal...
"I'm sure Angelica would be honoured," said her father, in tones which brooked no disagreement. Angelica floundered, her heart still upstairs with her sister.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said, too distracted to remember the proper way to turn him down. "I would be delighted."
The Duke's Defiant Debutante Page 2