Mending the Duke's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “I’m not that terrible,” the Duke reluctantly grumbled.

  “You really are,” Lord Melvin chuckled.

  “Fine, and how do I determine one that isn’t just out for my title and money, saying and doing what she thinks I would like? I refuse to open up again only to find myself ensnared by another…well by another one like her.”

  “Oh, that’s even easier to fix. Simply assume that they are all like that and securely tuck your emotions away. Find a lady that is easy on the eyes and enjoyable to talk with from time to time, and that is it. Stop thinking about your mother and father’s relationship. It was the exception. Find someone you could reasonably stand and just assume that your worth is in what you bring to the marriage.”

  “It’s a very cynical view,” the Duke stated, surprised to hear it come from such a normally positive person.

  “I am a realist in this matter,” Lord Melvin stated. “Perhaps I was once blind as you were, but when it became known that my father had squandered all he had, well, it was very clear to me who my true friends were, and what ladies of the ton really considered quality attributes. They are only looking for title and security, the lot of them. I don’t say this as a negative either. One must also understand that it is very necessary for their survival. But coming to that realization has saved me a lot of resentment. I know that I am not desired, not by my own lacking, but simply the happenstance of fortunes.”

  Lord Melvin shrugged in indifference after his little speech.

  The Duke thought over his friend’s words for the rest of the night. Perhaps if he too came to this realization that the need to open up to emotional attachment was not really necessary in securing a match.

  He had refused to even consider courting a lady simply because he was unwilling to allow himself to reawaken those emotions he had set aside. Now he considered the idea of following Lord Melvin’s advice.

  If he went into this Season, knowing that the ladies he considered were simply only looking for the opportunity to be Duchess and nothing more, then there would be no disappointment when this was, in fact, the case.

  It was true he was out of practice charming, or even conversing with ladies of society. He thought about ignoring the suggestion of practising his abilities on his sister’s companion. But there was truth to Lord Melvin’s assertions. Miss Ward had been completely hardening against him. If he were to win over her friendship, there would be nothing stopping him from pleasing a lady enough to convince her to marry him.

  Chapter 15

  As soon as the sun was up, Ella woke to a buzz of activity all throughout the house. She expected the family would still be sleeping despite the commotion and took the chance to sneak down and see the ballroom as it was put together.

  She had seen nothing of this room up until this point besides the two large oak doors. Creeping in her nightgown and a light wool wrap, she tiptoed on bare feet, making sure to dart out of the way as someone came hurrying by.

  Several more servants and kitchen staff had been hired for the day, and even from the main level, she could hear the clanking of pots and pans from downstairs as the meal was already underway.

  Making her way into the ballroom, she was momentarily stunned. Two large gas chandeliers were lowered in the centre of the room while no fewer than four maids worked on polishing every inch of its glittering crystals. Sheets were being pulled off of side tables where brass candelabras were placed.

  Large bay windows filtered light from the back garden, and she saw that the small walking path with its multi-coloured flowers was just beyond them. Along another wall, a miniature stage was being put together for the musicians. Next to the stage was a winding staircase that led to a second-story balcony where one might look over the whole grand room with a bird’s eye view.

  Along the final wall were two doors. One, she noticed, led downstairs, perhaps to allow the servants easy access from the kitchen to the ballroom, and a second door whose destination wasn’t entirely clear.

  As of yet, no one had seemed to pay her much mind. Far too busy with their extensive list of tasks, the regular maids hadn’t even given her their usual scowl as they passed by.

  Ella tiptoed over to the mysterious door and peaked her head in. It seemed to lead into a card room where several small round tables were being set up with chairs around them. A matching door was at the other end of the card room, and beyond that, she could see the drawing-room she had sat in so often. With all the doors open, it was easy to see the natural flow from room to room.

  She couldn’t believe she had lived in this house for over a month and yet there was still so much of it she had no idea was even there. For the first time, she truly saw the utter extravagance that accompanied the upper class.

  She turned and made her way back into the ballroom. She didn’t recognize any of the maids left cleaning the chandeliers and expected they were hired for the day. One of them, who didn’t look more than fourteen, must have thought she was a lady of the house as she curtsied nervously as Ella passed.

  Standing near the stage, she did her best to imaging how grand it would all look later that night. She never once thought she would ever be invited to a ball as extravagant as this one. For a second, a wave of nerves came over her. What if she forgot her dance steps? Of course, that was assuming someone would actually ask her to dance.

  Suddenly a burst of giggles bubbled up and out of her. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. To first be recognized in her mother’s shop for her wonderful dress designs and now to be here in the house of a fine duke—a sour one to be sure but still fine—and about to attend one of the most talked-about events of the Season.

  She spun around in circles, dancing to the music in her head, giddy with excitement. She felt like a princess.

  “What on earth are you doing?” a severely shrill voice called out.

  Ella stopped dead in her tracks, nearly toppling over as she was mid twirl.

  “I was just looking around,” Ella responded.

  Mrs Jenkins was standing in the doorway leading to the card room. Despite the early morning, she was already dressed in her usual black dress with her hair pulled back tightly in a bun, it was practically pulling the wrinkles on her face back with it. Her arms were set fiercely on her hips, and her face had the usual scowl that she saved just for Ella.

  “You are barefoot and improperly dressed for the world to see! For goodness sake, do you have any sense at all?”

  “I was just havin' a bit o’ fun,” Ella retorted as she shifted the wool shawl on her shoulder.

  “Just a bit o’ fun,” Mrs Jenkins mimicked her slip in speech. “Perhaps you should return to your quarters until you are properly dressed before you have your bit o’ fun. We are, in fact, very busy down here, and I don’t appreciate you flaunting your flesh in front of the menfolk.”

  Ella lifted her chin a little higher and narrowed her eyes at the housekeeper, who turned and walked away without even waiting for a response.

  Ella had no intention of letting that bitter old woman ruin her happiness.

  “Who put a bug in your marmalade?” Ella mumbled to herself as the housekeeper stalked off.

  She noticed that the young maid did her best to hide a giggle at the question. Their eyes met, and they both let out a good laugh before Ella hurried out of the room.

  Upstairs she changed into her simple baby blue walking dress. It would be several hours before she needed to get ready for the ball and there was no sense putting on the fancy garment now with so many hours in between.

  In fact, she'd hatched a plan for those hours. Something that would keep her out of the way as Lady Pamala prepared for her presentation at court before the party. Ella figured she would wait around until Lady Pamala was dressed, to make sure there wasn’t any last-minute sewing she could help with, and then she hoped to make her way over to her mother’s dress shop.

  Though she had written to her mother every week, after informing Mrs Ward that she would be sta
ying on with Lady Pamala for the rest of the Season, Ella only received one response from her. Mrs Ward voiced her disapproval and had stayed completely silent since.

  Though Ella suspected it was because her mother wasn’t happy with her choice, no doubt because Mrs Ward still refused to see the benefit of the situation, she still worried about how things were going.

  The added money sent weekly to the shop, as well as Ella’s own pay that she sent along to her mother, was more than enough to hire several girls. Really her mother could have easily just overseen the front of the store and left others to do all the sewing. She had no idea if this was in fact what her mother was doing, however, having not received a single response to the letters she had written over the last few weeks.

  Ella was a bit unsure if she could just leave the house and see her mother, though. She knew if she brought it up with Lady Pamala, the latter would wave off the question with a laugh and tell her that of course she could leave the house and visit her mother. But it wasn’t Lady Pamala who was her employer, it was the Duke.

  She hesitated as she wondered if she should ask him. Already she knew she had blundered things with him. Quick to anger, she hadn’t even considered that the Duke wouldn’t enjoy the mutilation of innocent creatures. After their carriage ride home, she quickly learned she had been wrong in her assumptions about him.

  Still, she didn’t see any reason to show the Duke she was mistaken in her opinions at the time. Even when Lady Pamala went on and on about how hard-working he and Lord Melvin both were, she refused to let it show that she had possibly judged the Duke too harshly.

  This morning, however, she was beginning to regret that decision to stick to her pride and not apologise for the argument she had incited at the dinner party. Indeed, after such a poor interaction, he would be less inclined to allow her the morning and early afternoon off to see to her mother.

  And in asking, he could very well deny her request. Then she wouldn’t be able to go at all. She wondered if it was better just to go and pray for forgiveness if he found it inappropriate or to ask and hope he allowed her to go.

  Having finished dressing and setting her hair in a simple chignon, she headed over to Lady Pamala’s room while she still chewed over her two options.

  She entered Lady Pamala’s room after a quick knock to find her beautiful court dress laid out on the bed and Lady Pamala sitting in front of her mirror as the lady’s maid worked on her hair.

  Stealing a piece of toast from a breakfast tray, Ella took her usual spot in the window seat, tucking her legs under her. Scrapper came quickly to her side, only tripping over his own feet once, and yipped till Ella reached down and scooped him into her lap.

  She felt just as at ease in Lady Pamala’s room as she did her own. Chewing on the buttered toast, Ella exchanged reports with Lady Pamala on the quality of sleep they received last night.

  “I expect we will be back around five, and the first of the guests will begin to show up around eight,” Lady Pamala explained through her reflection in the mirror. “I told Abigail to start helping you dress and seeing to your hair as soon as she is able. I would recommend four or so.”

  “I don’t need all of that,” Ella said dismissively. “I can slip into my own gown, and I figured I would just keep my hair like this. Perhaps tie in a ribbon in it at the most.”

  “Oh, no, you really must have it done,” Lady Pamala insisted. “You will see, it’s quite necessary, and you will feel silly if you don’t.”

  “I just don’t want to make more work. I mean, everyone is so busy as it is,” Ella hesitated.

  “Abigail doesn’t mind at all. Do you Abigail?”

  “No, my lady,” she agreed with Lady Pamala. “I’ve plenty of time to see you both done up nice, miss,” she reassured Ella.

  “Alright, if you’re sure then,” Ella conceded as she gave the last bit of toast to Scrapper.

  She spent the next hour chatting easily with Lady Pamala while Abigail twisted and twirled and pinned Lady Pamala’s hair into what could only be described as a golden masterpiece.

  Together the three of them worked to get Lady Pamala into her dress. It had several more petticoats than usual and was so wide at the base she barely fit through the door. But Lady Pamala said that though she thought it was gaudy, it was what was expected for a court appearance.

  Lady Pamala had wisely made the outside cream layer of her dress so that the long train could be tied up at the back and let out once she got to the palace.

  Ella took a step back just as Lady Pamala finished dressing to take in the full view of her. She looked utterly stunning. The pink underlay of the dress was the perfect colour to bring out just a bit of rose at her cheeks. Her stiff collar framing her face looked perfect against her hair piled high with its cascade of ringlets that rested gently on one shoulder.

  “Oh, we did that a bit faster than I thought we would,” Lady Pamala announced as she glanced at a clock on her mantle. “I suppose I will just go wait downstairs in the drawing-room for Mother to arrive.”

  Ella helped her friend out of the room and down the stairs, both giggling at they did their best to navigate the halls and doorways without ruffling the dress.

  “I don’t even think I can sit,” Lady Pamala laughed as they made their way into the drawing-room. “How will I ever walk backwards in this?”

  “Walk backwards?” Ella asked, confused by the notion.

  “You can’t turn your back on the queen,” Lady Pamala explained. “After I am presented, I must leave without turning to her.”

  “My goodness, that seems a little silly,” Ella laughed. “What does it matter if the queen saw the back of you? At least then she could appreciate that long train that took us so long to embroider.”

  “It is suggested that to turn your back on a monarch is a dismissive act and therefore disrespectful,” a deep voice explained from the doorway.

  Both ladies turned to find the Duke standing there in his finest. Ella couldn’t help but catch her breath at the handsome figure. He was wearing a brick red dress coat that was double-breasted with silver buttons. Beneath it was a cream vest with gold stripes and a perfectly tied white cravat. His pants were long cream pantaloons with black shining shoes instead of the high boots he was often seen wearing.

  He stepped into the room and cleared his throat.

  “Pammy, you look stunning,” he complimented.

  Ella turned and beamed at her friend.

  “But I think you are missing something.”

  She watched as Lady Pamala’s eyes searched herself with worry.

  “I don’t think I am. I have my gloves right here in my hands,” Lady Pamala said, holding up the white silk gloves.

  “I mean this,” the Duke replied, motioned to a mahogany box he held in his hands.

  Walking forward, he opened it for both ladies to see.

  Ella couldn’t help but gasp. She had never seen anything so beautiful in all her life. Inside the box, delicately resting atop blue velvet, were a pair of ruby earrings, a diamond and ruby necklace and a small ruby-encrusted tiara. They were small, humble pieces with just three rubies on the tiara with a few pearls framing them. Still, it was the most beautiful thing Ella had ever seen.

  “Winthrope, I couldn’t,” Lady Pamala hesitated.

  “Of course you can. Grandmother wore them on her wedding day, and I am sure she would be glad to know you are wearing it today.”

  Ella helped Lady Pamala put the jewels on and stood back to take in at the complete look.

  “You look like a princess,” Ella remarked.