Poor Lord Henry! By rights, if she was dancing the cotillion at all, she ought to be dancing with him! She would owe him a very sincere apology the moment she was free of the Duke.
Fortunately for Angelica, the Duke of Redhaven proved to be a competent dance partner with no desire for conversation. He whirled her through the dance without a word. Ordinarily, Angelica would have been horrifically embarrassed to be caught with nothing to say. At that moment, it was a blessing.
It was all her fault. Lily had only agreed to come to the ball because Angelica had asked her to. They both knew the strain on Lily's weak heart was likely to be too much for her.
Guilt twisted in Angelica's stomach like a knife.
She dimly realised that the Duke of Redhaven was still the centre of attention. People were not exactly staring, of course – staring would have been uncouth – but they were casting glances in his direction and whispering behind their hands. Angelica tried to avoid touching him as much as possible and made especial efforts to evade his disconcerting eyes. Thankfully, he was a very tall man. She would have had to stand on tip-toe to look him in the eye, anyway. Angelica had rarely felt as short and dumpy as she did besides this elegant, silent, forbidding man.
Well, there was nothing for it but to grit her teeth and get through it. The moment she had finished dancing, she would make her excuses and go to Lily.
The music stopped. Angelica realised the Duke was bowing. She made a hasty curtsy.
What was the best way to get rid of him? The last thing she wanted was to be forced into polite conversation with a strange man when all she wanted was to be with her sister.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"The pleasure was mine, Miss Stirling. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening."
"You're leaving?" Angelica asked, relieved. The Duke bowed again.
"Good night, Miss Stirling."
He left the ballroom without another word. More whispers spread behind him. Angelica wondered what awful thing he had done, to cause such a stir wherever he went.
Oh, well. He was gone now. She had more important things to worry about.
Lady Cecily Balfour ran up to her the moment the Duke was gone. "Was that really the Duke of Redhaven? Oh, Angelica, what did he say to you?"
"Nothing at all, thank goodness," said Angelica. "Now, Cecily, I need some sort of distraction. My poor sister has had to go upstairs unwell, and my father says I mustn't check on her – but I can't bear to leave her alone, I really can't."
"Leave everything to me," said Cecily, with a gleam in her eye. As Mr Stirling approached them, she turned around with such force that he walked directly into her. Cecily let out a cry of shock and collapsed to the floor.
"Lady Cecily! I do apologise!" cried Angelica's father. "Here – let me help you up!"
"My ankle," Cecily moaned, rolling her eyes in pain and, in Angelica's opinion, rather over-doing it. "Oh! I don't think I can walk."
"I am so sorry," Mr Stirling gasped, bending down to offer her his arm. "Can you move at all? I will send for a doctor at once if you require it –"
"No!" Cecily interrupted, shooting Angelica a quick, meaningful look. She turned back to Mr Stirling with a smile. "No, I am quite sure I don't need a doctor. Please, let me just take your arm – ow – ow – there, if you would just help me to a chair..."
With her father capably distracted, Angelica took the opportunity to slip out of the ballroom and run upstairs.
"Lily?" she whispered, pushing open the bedroom door.
"Angelica!" came her mother's voice, laden with disapproval. "My child, you should be downstairs."
"I'll only be a moment." Angelica tiptoed into the dark room. "Is she asleep?"
"Quite awake," said Lily faintly. She was lying in bed in a profusion of pillows and blankets. Angelica sat beside her and listened for any rasp in her breath. "No need to fuss over me." Lily grasped Angelica's hand and pressed two fingers to the pulse in her wrist. "Feel it."
Angelica waited, silent and still, as Lily's heartbeat made itself known to her fingertips.
"It's strong," Lily whispered. "Isn't it? And steady?"
"Of course," Angelica lied.
Lily's eyes fluttered closed. She smiled serenely. "I had a wonderful time, even though it was short. And Mama says she left you speaking to a Duke... A Duke, Angelica! How marvellous!"
"I danced with him," Angelica confided. "And would you believe that I held my tongue the entire time?"
"You were nervous? Surely not."
Angelica stroked her sister's cheek. "I was worried about you."
"Angelica! Don't you dare worry a moment longer." Lily cracked open an eye. "Go back to the ball and enjoy yourself. I'm quite well. Besides, the Duke will be wondering where you've got to."
"I doubt that very much," laughed Angelica. "I never saw a man enjoy himself less. That's the last we'll be seeing of him, I promise you."
Lily made no answer beyond a sleepy smile. Satisfied that her sister was resting peacefully, Angelica bent down to kiss her forehead and crept out to rejoin the ball.
Chapter Four
It was raining the morning after the ball.
Edward wasn't surprised. This was exactly how he remembered London: wet, grey, and dismal.
In a way, he was glad of the foul weather. He had a call to pay that morning which he had avoided for a very long time, and it would have seemed wrong to finally break his absence in cheerful sunlight.
His carriage rattled to a halt outside a tall iron gateway. Edward gestured for the driver to wait.
"I won't be long."
Besides, it wasn't as if the carriage was blocking anyone's way. This was not a place for the living.
Edward strode into the graveyard with an air of purpose he did not feel. It was a peaceful place, as such places went. There were beds of flowers between the neat rows of gravestones and elderly fir trees cradling the graves in their sombre shadows.
He still remembered the way. After all this time, he remembered. His feet made his way to her resting place as confidently as if it had been ten minutes, not ten years.
He wished he remembered her face as clearly as he remembered the way to her gravestone.
Rain plastered Edward's hair in black streaks across his forehead. He reached his sister's grave and carefully sat down beside it, not caring that the mud would seep into his greatcoat.
Adelaide had never cared much for appearances, after all.
"Good morning," said Edward, not knowing what else to say. His voice was surprisingly hoarse. He coughed to clear his throat and continued, "I know it's been a long time."
The air was filled with the soft sounds of rain. Adelaide made no answer.
Edward leaned forward and wiped some of the moss from the name engraved in the grey stone. Lady Adelaide Thorne. 1792-1809. Rest in Peace.
"I am sorry that I don't come by more often, Addy," he said. "You know I never liked London. And now, it seems, London does not like me."
Still the rain pattered. Edward let his gaze drop to the muddy ground. His hand went unconsciously to the watch in his fob pocket. After all this time, his anxious fingers had worn a small indentation in the silver.
He took it out, sheltering it carefully from the rain, and showed it to the gravestone. "I still have this, you'll be pleased to know. I've taken good care of it. My twenty-fifth birthday present. I don't know if you remember." He cleared his throat. "No, I expect you do remember. You were always so good at giving presents. That was one of your talents. And, after all, this was the last gift you ever gave me."
Ten years suddenly seemed like a terribly long time. He could barely remember what it had been like to be twenty-five. He must have been hot-headed. Daring. No, rash.
Adelaide had been lively and spirited and charming – as unlike her older brother as the rain was from sunshine – and, if she had lived, she would be twenty-seven now.
Someone's wife, no doubt. A mother.
No. Th
at had been taken away from her.
"I am to marry," said Edward, to take his mind off the way his fists involuntarily clenched at the memories. "I am to marry soon. It's our cousin, you see. I...I have no choice."
He knew Adelaide would not approve of his method of choosing a bride. Still, he could not help but feel ridiculous making excuses to a silent gravestone.
"I know that I have not lived my life the way you would have wanted me to," he admitted. "But you are not here, Addy. And it's because you're not here that –"
He stopped himself just in time. He could not blame Adelaide for the wrongs of the past. Still less, for the whispers which still chased him in the present. The ball had been a mistake. It was the last time he'd take advice from the Earl of Lathkill, that was certain.
People had noticed him. No – people had stared at him.
Perhaps they had good reason to.
Well, that was simply another motive for Edward to leave London as soon as possible...wife in tow.
"It has been good seeing you, Adelaide," he lied, laying a hand on the gravestone.
He walked rather quickly on his way out of the graveyard, telling himself that it was because he wanted to get out of the rain.
If only he could leave his whole past behind as easily as he left Adelaide's grave.
Chapter Five
Angelica barely glanced up from her book as her mother entered the drawing room. She had already been through the indignity of being forced to put up her hair, put on her nicest day dress, and keep her gloves pristine – not to mention the trauma of spending an entire day sitting in the drawing room waiting for gentlemen to arrive! She had already received morning calls from three of the young men she had danced with at the ball, and the experience had bored her almost to tears. Thank goodness social convention kept the visits brief!
If Angelica was forced to say another word about the weather, the delightful company at the ball, or her family's health, she could make no promises not to scream. The last enquiry was particularly egregious, since Lily had not yet recovered from her exertions and had spent the day in bed.
Angelica knew she was being unfair to the gentlemen. It was perfectly polite to enquire about her sister's health. They meant no harm by it. But surely, by now, everyone who came calling knew that Lily suffered from a weak heart? What good did it do to ask about it?
"Reading again," sighed Mrs Stirling, pressing her lips together. "It would be more appropriate to occupy yourself with needlework, Angelica. That is the most genteel task when one is At Home and between visitors."
Angelica held up her thumb by way of answer. It sported several red marks from her errant needle, one of which was still lightly bleeding. "I did my best, Mama. You know how needlework disagrees with me." Sighing, she set the book aside. If catching a husband meant being bored to death, she could only imagine what horrors actually being married would bring. "I could sit at the pianoforte and play a little?"
No-one had ever dared to describe Angelica as an accomplished young lady. She could never sit still for long enough to truly apply herself to the study of music. The only thing that ever held her attention was a book, and only then simply because she loved to imagine herself in the place of the heroine, having adventures she could only dream of from her safe, quiet life in the bosom of her family. Still, she enjoyed the pianoforte when she was in the mood for it. And it was, at least, a genteel option.
"That is not entirely a good idea," said Mrs Stirling. "What will you do when the next gentleman comes calling? You will not be able to speak to him while you play."
Angelica rolled her eyes. "Mama, do you really believe that any of these fine gentlemen are at all interested in hearing me speak?"
She thought she saw a smile hovering just behind her mother's eyes. "Perhaps keeping you behind the pianoforte would not be such a bad thing, after all," Mrs Stirling allowed. "Very well. Go and play something light and cheerful. We do not want the house filled with a funeral march, or another of your impressions of a church organ."
Angelica pulled a face – she was not entirely in the mood for anything light and cheerful – but went to the pianoforte and leafed through her sheaf of music all the same. She unbuttoned her gloves and stuffed them into her reticule, caught a glance from her mother, took them out again and laid them neatly on the side.
She was halfway through the most light-hearted piece she could find when Kitty made an appearance in the room, causing Angelica to play a series of wrong notes in surprise. Mrs Stirling, too elegant to wince, waved her into silence.
"Begging your pardon, Mrs Stirling, but it's Miss Lily," said Kitty, wringing her hands. "She tried to get out of bed and it brought on another fit of breathlessness. I'm sure she'd be ever so grateful if you came up to sit with her."
"Go to the kitchens and ask them for another infusion," sighed Mrs Stirling. "I'll be there in a moment. Angelica? Make sure you don't receive any gentlemen until you are properly chaperoned again."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Mama," said Angelica, rising to her feet. "But mayn't I come up too?"
"Lily does not like being crowded, you know that," said her mother sympathetically. "I will send for you when she's feeling stronger. Don't distress yourself. You know how these episodes come and go. Sit down and carry on playing."
Angelica did as she asked. The only time she would ever obey her mother without question was when Lily's health was concerned.
She had only been playing for a few moments when the butler, Mr Hinchley, came in with a calling card.
"A visitor, Miss Angelica."
The calling card was small, too small to be a lady's – gentlemen's calling cards were designed to fit into a pocket, while ladies' were not.
It was also printed on thick, heavy card that screamed money even to Angelica's inexperienced eyes. The elaborate, curling font on it spelled the name:
Edward Thorne, Duke of Redhaven
Angelica almost dropped the card onto the floor. Mr Hinchley raised an eyebrow. "Is something the matter, Miss Angelica?"
"Nothing!" she squeaked. The Duke of Redhaven! The strange man who had shown up late, danced one dance with her and left as abruptly as he appeared! The man whose name had made her father whisper about murder!
Mrs Stirling had been quite clear: Angelica was not to receive anybody unchaperoned. But...was it really possible to refuse a Duke in that manner? Would it not be seen as rude?
Angelica wondered if Mr Hinchley would have the answers. He had been their family butler for years, and her father trusted him implicitly. Did he understand all the complicated rules of the ton which left Angelica baffled?
"Hinchley... This calling card is from the Duke of Redhaven."
"Yes, Miss Angelica." Hinchley waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "An important visitor, I can only assume."
"Yes," said Angelica faintly. What would make her mother angrier? Letting the Duke in – or rejecting his visit? "Ought I to ask you to show him in, Hinchley?"
"Unless you are not At Home, Miss Angelica."
Angelica slapped the calling card down onto the shining top of the pianoforte. It was so unlike her to be indecisive. She utterly abhorred that trait in others; now was certainly not the time to display indecision herself. "Show him in, please, Hinchley. I am indeed At Home."
Angelica did not often admit to being nervous, but when she was, she had a bad habit of twisting the buttons on her gloves. It was only this that reminded her she had taken them off to play the pianoforte, and which sent her scrambling to put them back on again. She could only imagine how horrified her mother would be to hear that she had received an actual Duke without gloves!
In the interval between their dance and the Duke appearing in the drawing room, Angelica had managed to convince herself that it was only morbid fascination and a trick of memory that made him so alluring in her mind's eye. She remembered him as tall, so he certainly must have been tall – but, surely, he had not also been strong-jawed, handsome, muscul
ar, with striking green eyes full of melancholy darkness?
Angelica knew she had a tendency to let her imagination run away with her, and so she was perfectly prepared to greet a thoroughly ordinary-looking man.
Unfortunately for Angelica, the only way in which memory had deceived her was in failing to give the Duke's looks full credit. The moment he stepped into the room, her heart gave a little judder of recognition.
This man, it seemed to say, is the finest-looking of your entire acquaintance.
The Duke bowed to Angelica silently, and turned his head to look about the room, giving her ample opportunity to take in his elegant profile, the almost cruel tilt of his lips, and the delicately-carved line of his nose that seemed almost too refined for a real person. He might as easily have been a Greek statue.
And this man might be a murderer? Truly, the poets Angelica loved were wrong when they wrote that outer beauty meant inner grace.
Angelica struggled to pull herself together and remember the proper thing to say. "Good afternoon, Your Grace," she managed. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"
Angelica had spent long hours training in the proper way to pour out tea, and only when she managed the ceremony without knocking over the sugar pot or spilling a drop was she allowed a key to the closely-guarded tea cupboard.
"Forgive me, Miss Stirling," said the Duke, still looking about curiously. "I did not realise you were alone."
Angelica felt a flush of horror creeping up her neck. She never blushed when she was embarrassed – her mother always said she did not have the necessary grace to feel embarrassment – but guilt always turned her cheeks as red as two ripe apples. "My mother has just now been called away," she said. "It's Lily, you see."
The Duke did not see. He simply watched her with those sea-green eyes and waited for her to explain herself.
"Lily is my sister," said Angelica.
"Ah. I am not acquainted with Miss Lily Stirling."
"She's older than me." Angelica had no idea why she found it necessary to explain everything in detail to the Duke, but the words were falling from her lips now and if there was a way to stop herself blabbering once she had started, she was yet to discover it. "She has been Out in society for some years now, but she suffered a bout of rheumatic fever that left her heart very weak. My mother is attending to her."
The Duke's Defiant Debutante Page 3