A Duke in Disguise (Westham Chronicles Book 3)

by Rachel Osborne

  “This is Miss Edith Barnes,” Miss Deveraux said, nudging her friend sharply in the side with one elbow and startling her into sense. The wide eyes softened, and her mouth, hanging half-open in shock, rearranged itself into a vague smile. Both young ladies dipped into a slight curtsey which Samuel returned with a bow.

  “There, now,” he said. “We are all acquainted. What directions were you seeking?”

  “We wished to go to Milsom Street,” Miss Deveraux began, before her friend silenced her with a subtle kick, undoubtedly an answer to the painful nudge of a moment earlier.

  “But we are just as happy to remain here a little longer. Tell us, Mr Nicholls, what do you find most enjoyable about the pump rooms, the water or the society?”

  “Oh....the water,” Samuel said, cheerfully swigging the last of his drink and exaggerating his cringing reaction for comical effect. His humour won no reaction other than confusion from Miss Barnes, but Mss Deveraux laughed prettily and he met her gaze with a grin. Yes, he did approve of those brown eyes and even, natural features. They suited her even more than they did her brother.

  “Surely Bath society cannot be so very bad,” she began, and Samuel opened his mouth to continue before a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

  “Wondered where you’d got to, Nicholls!” Edward’s booming voice reached him. Samuel flinched, but not because of his friend’s sudden appearance. He did not know why it was Edward seemed determined to adopt a particular voice and style for his role as the duke. I do not act so, do I? Samuel thought, fleetingly, as he turned to make the necessary introductions. He could not help but feel his earlier enjoyment lessen as Edward dominated the tiny circle and when even Joanna’s eyes widened in delight at the honour of being introduced to a duke, his heart sank further into his stomach. This was what Edward had complained of and before now, Samuel had never really credited his friend with anything other than an overactive imagination. If his is overactive, mine must be out of control, he thought, morosely concentrating on his empty cup as his friend entirely monopolised the interest of both young ladies. It is not merely that they prefer a duke to a gentleman - they scarcely notice I am here at all!

  THE DUKE WAS FRIENDLY enough, Joanna supposed. Particularly when he was given to understand that Joanna’s surname was Devereaux. His recognition of the name as belonging to her brother confirmed where his friend, Mr Nicholls, must have first come across Sir Benjamin, and Joanna was poised to address the damage to his reputation done by rumours, but neither gentleman seemed poised to pursue that particular line of questioning. Indeed, the conversation changed soon afterwards, turning to a discussion of all of Bath’s attractions and which were considered the most preferable for two newly-arrived young ladies.

  “The assemblies are nothing in comparison to those in London, of course,” the duke declared, in a slightly bored tone. Joanna’s eyes slid to his friend, whose expression was a studious blank. She sensed that Mr Nicholls did not quite share his friend’s opinion, or perhaps it was merely the duke’s way of delivering his opinion that he was not fond of. Either way, he jumped in with a comment designed to soften the criticism.

  “We can hardly comment, Edgmont, we’ve not yet attended one.”

  “Indeed, indeed.” The duke waved his hand, brushing away his friend’s point without even pausing to engage with it. “Well, we shall see for ourselves in but a few short days.” He fixed his watery blue eyes on Joanna and Edith. “You both plan to attend, I presume?”

  Joanna heard Edith’s gasp of delight at the notion that the Duke of Edgmont was inviting them to the assembly and strained not to roll her eyes. It was one thing to be a little awed at the attentions of a handsome, titled gentleman, but Edith was acting as if the duke were a celestial being, sent from the heavens to grace them with his presence. Anybody who affected a lisp as obviously as he did could not be anything other than human, by Joanna’s estimation, and as such the level of awe she felt at his presence was rather less all-consuming. All the same, it was rather thrilling to have won the interest of a duke their first week in Bath, to the degree that he would be eager to insist on their attending an assembly that they had, until that moment, been oblivious to.

  “We did not know there was an assembly!” she admitted, with a self-deprecating laugh.

  “Oh yes! Twice weekly!” the duke replied. “More than that, if one counts the less formal assemblies at the lower rooms.”

  “Which you do not?” Joanna strove to keep her voice innocent, but wagered, from the sharp look her words won from Mr Nicholls, that her true meaning was not altogether obscured.

  “Well, it is an assembly,” the duke conceded. “But hardly the type of gathering people of substance ought to attend.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Their doors are rather more open to...well...to anybody!”

  “Perhaps that is the type of assembly at which my friend and I might be more welcome,” Joanna said, no longer striving to conceal the arch tone in her voice. The duke’s classification of people into desirable associations and the standard hoi polloi annoyed her, although she could not have explained why. Was it not a distinction that she, herself, had been only too fond of making in Westham? It had kept her social circle deliberately small and cost her more than one suitor. She had learned it at her Mama’s knee, of course, this constant reminder that she was a Devereaux and ought to associate only with the cream of society. These were somewhat lacking in Westham, but as her brother seemed to have no trouble at all in forming associations and friendships with whomever he passed, regardless of their social standing, Joanna could not help but think that his was the better way. Mama is not here, she reminded herself. I must learn to make my own decisions.

  Edith laughed, then, a barking, forced sound, breaking the awkward silence that had descended on the small group.

  “My friend is a comedienne, your grace.” She beamed. “We had indeed planned to attend the assemblies at the Upper Rooms but had not yet had the good fortune of learning when they were to be held. Tuesday, you say?”

  “Tuesday.” The duke’s voice boomed with authority. “You young ladies must acquire a copy of the Bath Chronicle, for it will tell you all you need to know of what happens when, and what sights one must determine upon seeing.” He drained the last of his cup, pulling a face at the bitter taste of the water, and set it down, turning towards his friend. “Come, Nicholls. We have dallied here far too long. You wished to call in at the bookseller, did you not?”

  Mr Nicholls flinched as the duke clasped him tightly on the fore-arm, but nodded, shooting a reluctant glance at Joanna and Edith.

  “Alas, we must be on our way. Perhaps, then, Miss Deveraux, Miss Barnes, we might look forward to seeing you at the assembly?”

  “Oh, will you be there as well?” Edith asked, vaguely.

  Joanna’s eyebrows rose in alarm at her friend’s evident disappointment, but if Mr Nicholls was offended, he did not show it.

  “Indeed I shall, Miss Barnes.” He laughed. “I hope, now that we are acquainted, I might be able to rely on you and your friend for a dance apiece?”

  He addressed both young ladies as he spoke, but his eyes rested on Joanna at the close of his question and she nodded, eager to undo Edith’s slight with an enthusiastic acceptance.

  “That would be very nice, although I dare say Edith and I are ill-acquainted with the dances made popular in Bath. Our home is very small, and our local assemblies rely rather heavily on the popular country dances that I am sure are very unfashionable in society.”

  “We must rejoice then, Miss Devereaux, that we are only in Bath. “Society” is a little less fashionable here.” He winked - or did Joanna imagine it? Yes, she must have for his expression was altogether unremarkable now.

  The duke harrumphed.

  “Society is quite fashionable enough in Bath, Nicholls, as it is in London, and altogether more agreeable.” He fixed an obsequious smile on Joanna that noticeably faltered as he bid Edith farewel
l, and in another moment both gentlemen had departed, leaving the ladies alone.

  “Well!” Edith breathed. “Wait until we are back at home, Joanna. Mama will not believe that we are now acquainted with a duke and that he insisted on dancing with us at the next assembly!”

  “I believe it was his friend, and not the duke, who secured a dance, Edith,” Joanna reminded, her, as the two girls began to take a turn of the room. Edith was undeterred, and after walking a few paces an idea occurred to her.

  “Joanna! Come with me.” Grabbing her friend’s hand, she tugged her towards the door, spying an open guest book and flipping studiously through the pages.

  “What are you doing?” Joanna asked, wriggling free, for her friend held her so tightly that her fingers pinched.

  “Aha!” Edith pointed triumphantly at the page. Joanna looked, frowning at the list of signatures in elegant hands that dominated the page. She saw nothing that was of any great significance and turned with a questioning glance towards her friend, who pointed all the more insistently at one signature in particular, about halfway down the page. Joanna read it, realisation dawning.

  “This gives us the Duke of Edgmont’s address!” Edith declared, smiling mischievously at her friend. “And, I think, our next point of interest on our tour of Bath.”

  “Edith!” Joanna was shocked and not a little horrified. “You cannot mean to go and call on a man we barely know!”

  “I certainly do not mean that!” Edith shook her head. “Joanna, I thought you were quite canny and clever but I am quite convinced you left your brains behind for you are being very slow today. I mean that we should walk along the street where he lives, and if we should happen to bump into him, why, that will be a very unusual coincidence, do not you think?” Her smile, all innocence, grew wider. “It would be a very good thing for our acquaintance to be a little more established before we go to the assembly, I think, and it seems to me that this is the very best way to achieve that.”

  Chapter Four

  The bath streets were busy, but that did not seem to deter Edith, who hurried towards her destination at such a speed that Joanna almost had to run to keep up.

  “Do you know where we are going?” she asked, when her friend paused, at last, at a crossroads, as if unsure which path to take. It was but a moment before the decision was made, however, and the young ladies were moving once more. “I thought you did not know how to navigate Bath well!”

  “I know where Camden Place is!” Edith exclaimed, with a toss of her head that silently declared anybody who has brains in their head must know where Camden Place was.

  “But the duke was not listed as living in Camden Place,” Joanna said, meekly, wondering if her friend was quite well.

  “I know that,” Edith said, with feigned patience. At last, she stopped and turned towards Joanna, her eyes dancing with excitement. “It did not say Camden Place, but I am sure his street must be close to it, for he is a duke and could not dream of staying anywhere else!”

  This was logic of a sort, but Joanna could not help but question her friend’s certainty. There was no guarantee that the duke lived at or near Camden Place other than a healthy dose of wishful thinking, for Edith had read of the elegant street and had longed to make an acquaintance who lived there even before they had arrived in Bath. Joanna had not dared to consider her own acquaintances or her brother’s, for it was likely that there was somebody in residence there who might know of the name Devereaux and invite her to call. For reasons she could not quite understand she had been reluctant to make the connection, but now, Edith seemed to have found her own way forward.

  They reached a street of elegant, tall houses and Edith stopped.

  “Here! Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Joanna could not disagree with her friend. Camden Place was beautiful, with the smooth street lined with elegantly flowering plant pots and each house possessing its own immutable style and grace.

  “What was the name of the duke’s street?” she asked, suddenly curious to see where the Duke of Edgmont had made his home in Bath. He himself was so wealthy there would be no doubt in her mind that his house would be beautiful, but she was eager to see if his taste for excess in his own personal dress had translated into the building he resided at or not.

  “Slater Street,” Edith said, frowning faintly as she looked one way and then another. “It is not here....” She wandered down one street and then another, with Joanna in tow. At last, they were forced to acknowledge that the address they sought was not close to Camden Place, at least not as close to it as Edith had supposed. At last, tiring of seeing her friend still more demoralised with every false turn they made, Joanna decided to take matters into her own hands and approached a round-faced woman a few years older than them, who was walking along the street with an older gentleman who must have been her husband.

  “Excuse me,” Joanna said. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where Slater Street is? My friend and I are looking for - for a particular address...” she finished, lamely, not wanting to betray to a stranger the real reason behind their fruitless errand.

  “Slater Street?” The lady wrinkled her nose and turned to address the question to her husband.

  “You’ve not gone far enough, my dear,” he said, with a kind smile. “Slater Street is a few hundred yards that way.” He pointed with his cane a little further down the road, further from Camden Place and the pump rooms. Joanna smiled her thanks and turned back to relay the directions to Edith, who looked rather doubtful but agreed they might try the older man’s suggestion.

  At last, they found the street in question, and both Joanna and Edith were surprised that it was, in fact, quite an ordinary-looking street. Not unpleasant, by any means, but certainly rather too common to house a duke. Edith exclaimed as much, wondering if there had been some mistake.

  “Perhaps we did not read right across the page,” she mourned. “And this is the address of some other person who signed it after him. Oh, bother!”

  “No, I recall that this was the address given both for the duke and the signatory beneath him, his friend Mr Nicholls.”

  “Mr Nicholls!” Edith declared, clapping her hands in delight. “Of course! I am sure this is his address. No doubt the duke put it as his own in order to avoid unnecessary visits from new acquaintances or people seeking to bump into him by chance -”

  “Like we planned to?”

  Edith scowled, ignoring her friend’s criticism.

  “It is a little peculiar to avoid the necessary calls from other members of his class, but I suppose he must prefer to meet in person and avoid sparking the interest of others. How clever he is. Do you know, I thought that he must be quite clever, for he had that countenance, do not you think so, Joanna?”

  “I think you are a little touched, Edith!” With effort, Joanna turned her friend away from the anonymous, unremarkable house and the girls retraced their steps slowly back towards their own lodgings. “Honestly! Imagine running all over Bath looking for a house belonging to a gentleman we met only for a few minutes at the pump rooms!” she teased, nudging her friend in the side with her elbow.

  “It was an adventure!” Edith protested. “Just think, our first few days here in Bath and already we have met a duke! Not only that, but he seemed genuinely concerned to meet us again.” She sighed. “It felt like something from the beginning of a novel, only it was really happening, to me! Well, to you,” she conceded, pouting at her friend.

  “To both of us,” Joanna protested. “I do not think the duke really noticed either of us in particular.”

  “He knew your brother,” Edith replied, her countenance lifting. “Perhaps that is the very thing that will distinguish us from the other young ladies of his acquaintance. Yes, Joanna, you must write to Sir Benjamin and ask him what he might tell us about the duke’s interests. I am sure we might use that information to our advantage...”

  “You wish me to write and receive a reply before the assembly?”

&
nbsp; Joanna was incredulous, but Edith would not easily back away from this particular part of her plan, regardless of the failure of the first.

  “You might at least try! Come on and do it now. I will let you use my nicest writing paper!”

  With a laugh, Joanna obediently fell into step with her friend, and the two young ladies made their way back home.

  “ARE YOU NOT AT LEAST a little concerned about what people might say?” Edward glanced surreptitiously around the small room Samuel had secured for a study in the nondescript house he had taken for the duration of their stay in Bath. “They will expect something a little grander for a duke!”

  “Then the duke is more than welcome to pay for something a little grander,” Samuel retorted, a little more sharply than he meant to. Edward seemed oblivious to his irritation, though, and continued to tie and re-tie his cravat, while Samuel attended to a last bit of correspondence before their short journey to the assembly rooms. “I have secured a carriage for this evening, that should please you.”

  He had intended upon walking, but Edward had been so disagreeable to the suggestion that, rather than argue his case, Samuel had relented and hired a small but elegant carriage. He was not sure why it was over the course of the last few days his friend had grown so particularly tiresome but it seemed that every word Edward uttered, whether they were alone or in company, was chosen specifically to irritate him.

  “How strange that we should make an acquaintance out of Devereaux’s sister.”

  Samuel’s head shot up, his eyes going straight to his friend, but Edward’s attention had moved from his cravat to his fingernails and he examined them with such care he was oblivious to the reaction his words had caused.

  “It is not so very strange,” Samuel commented, striving to keep his tone neutral. “As you say, Bath is not so unfashionable as I had thought it, and if she is reluctant to go to London...”