The Duchess

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The Duchess Page 25

by Danielle Steel


  “I feel the same way about being king,” Angélique said with a straight face. “So vulgar and so much work.” And then she laughed, and he did too. He noticed that she looked very young when she laughed.

  “Have you ever met the king?” he asked. He had the impression it might be possible, but she shook her head.

  “Not this one.” She didn’t say she was related to him, and to the new king of France. It was interesting that both countries had new monarchs in the same year.

  They walked along for a while longer, and he introduced her to some people he knew, who looked intrigued by her. And then they sat down on two deck chairs and ordered tea. It came with delicate biscuits, which were delicious.

  They talked about American politics then, and the election of Andrew Jackson two years before, who seemed like an impressive person to her. And Andrew explained some things that she didn’t understand and found confusing about American elections. It was all unfamiliar to her, but she found his explanations to her easy to understand as they talked.

  “What did you do in Paris to keep busy?” he asked her, and she thought about it for a minute, trying to decide how to translate it palatably for him.

  “Some charitable work, helping young women who had grown up disadvantaged, and many of them had been seriously abused and exploited. I did what I could to help them improve their lot in life.” She made it sound like a noble cause, and in some ways it was, and was the truth, although she didn’t try to change what they did for a living and had benefited from it herself. But she had seen to it that they were paid handsomely, and the money they earned made it possible for them to follow a different path now if they wished.

  “And did you succeed?”

  “I think so.”

  “That’s a little bit like politics, trying to help the masses and get them a fair deal.”

  “I never thought of it that way. Sometimes I think our kings just eat a lot and drink too much, and indulge themselves at our expense.” It had certainly been true of the previous kings of England and France, both of whom were obese, drank excessively, and had lost touch with their subjects, with dire results. And the economies of their countries had suffered because of it.

  “Are you interested in politics, Angélique?”

  “Sometimes. The brief revolution in Paris in July was very unnerving.”

  “Were you in the city?”

  “No, I was a coward, and took refuge in Normandy with friends.”

  “That sounds sensible,” he approved. “And the monarchy in England certainly seems more solid than the one in France.”

  “They haven’t had a revolution in England. My French relatives were all killed in the last one, except my mother, who was sent to England as a baby, which is how she met my father later. She was French.” Hence her name, he surmised.

  “Are your parents still alive?” She shook her head, looking sad for a moment.

  “No, they’re not. Both of them are dead. I have two brothers, but we’re not on good terms.” To say the least, she thought.

  “I’m an only child, and I lost my mother too. And I have a father I don’t always get along with, and sometimes try not to see. He’s very ambitious about my political career, more so than I am, so we frequently don’t agree. I see politics as a chance to make a difference, which is important to me. I’m not content to just accept things as they are. I want to have a voice in how the country’s run.” She looked fascinated as he said it. She would have liked to do something like that too, which was impossible for a woman.

  “You’re lucky to be a man. Women don’t get that opportunity.”

  “Maybe they will one day. Things change.”

  “Very slowly. That probably won’t happen in your lifetime or mine.”

  “Sometimes things happen faster than we expect,” he said hopefully. He had a lot of ideals and exciting ideas, some of them too early for his time. But he believed that someone had to take the first step. “Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked cautiously, not sure if she would think it proper, and she nodded and smiled. She went to change a short while later, and met him in the saloon, where tables were set up. She was wearing a black taffeta dress, with a diamond pin on her shoulder that caught his eye, and he complimented her on it.

  “It was my mother’s,” she said simply, and had been in her locked trunk for a while, although she’d worn it once or twice at Le Boudoir on special nights, where it had been admired too. “My father gave it to her.” She didn’t tell him that her brother’s wife, Elizabeth, had gotten most of the jewels. There were many things he didn’t need to know. He was curious to know who her father was, but not enough so to ask, and he didn’t want to be rude.

  They had a very pleasant time during the meal, and she dined in her stateroom again that night. Claire came to visit her, and said she was having a good time with the people in steerage, there was a very nice Irish girl in her cabin, going to meet her relatives in the States, and they had made friends. She hoped to see her in New York. Angélique felt the same way about Andrew, and hoped they’d meet again. And for now, a comfortable friendship was developing. It made the trip more agreeable for them both, as they nursed their respective wounds and losses, although hers were different than he thought.

  On the third day of the trip, when they met on deck, she noticed several people watching them as they walked along. They made a striking couple, and the women admired her clothes and watched to see what she wore each day, and they thought there was something mysterious about her. Andrew had noticed their attention too, and the admiring gazes of other men. He liked being with her, and being the lucky one she was talking to. And she looked deeply intent on everything he said, as though he was the only man in the world she wanted to be walking and having a conversation with. She made him feel important and special, which was how he was coming to feel about her. When she listened to him, she was fully engaged, unlike so many women he knew who seemed bored, or were overly interested for all the wrong reasons. There was none of that with Angélique. She was a straightforward person, who was comfortable talking to a man, with no ulterior motives behind it, other than the pleasure of his company.

  On the fourth day, she agreed to have supper with him, and he was delighted. She wore a spectacular, simple black evening gown with a discreetly bell-shaped skirt, and a low-cut neck, diamonds at her ears, a string of pearls, and long white gloves, which she only removed when she ate. And they both enjoyed listening to the musicians play for the entertainment of the guests. And after a while, Andrew suggested they go out on deck for some air. The sea was very calm and the boat steady, as he helped her put a small fox wrap on her shoulders, and they stepped outside. They had met the captain, and he was very pleasant to both of them, as they passed him leaving the saloon, where he had been visiting some of the passengers. And he greeted Mrs. Latham like the lady that she was. He didn’t address her as Her Ladyship, because he didn’t know, and it didn’t occur to Andrew that she had a title. As an American, he didn’t think in those terms.

  They dined together many nights thereafter, when she didn’t dine in her cabin. By day they walked on deck, talked for hours about a multitude of subjects, and played cards. The weather had been perfect, and the trip went faster than expected under cameo blue skies.

  They got to know each other during the voyage, and felt like old friends by the last day, after just over three weeks on the ship, seeing each other night and day. Andrew had had a wonderful time with her, and told her so as they sat in the saloon sipping champagne on the last night.

  “I’d like to see you again in New York, if that would be all right.” He hoped that she’d agree, and she had enjoyed the voyage as much as he. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone, and didn’t want to. She had been intending to mourn her lost life and prepare for a new one, and instead he had swept her off her feet like a fairy tale, and it made the prospect of New York much more exciting.

  “I’d like that very much too,” she sa
id demurely, lowering her eyes. It was hard to look at him sometimes. His gaze was so direct, and his infatuation with her so obvious. He was the first man she had ever met that she genuinely wanted to spend time with, and where it was even a serious possibility. The others were all either unsuitable, too much older, or married. Andrew was none of those, although Angélique knew full well that she was the unsuitable one, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it, but she knew she didn’t want the fantasy to end. She had become accustomed to him, and didn’t want to lose that now.

  “Where will you be staying?” he asked quietly.

  “I have a reservation at the City Hotel.” It was the best hotel in New York, and supposedly quite large, with a hundred and forty rooms, a ballroom, shops, a library, a dining room, and several large suites, one of which she had written to reserve. “I thought I’d stay there for a while, and perhaps find a house to let for a few months, perhaps six months, or longer, until I go back.” He nodded thoughtfully.

  “I can help you find one, if you like. I know New York better than you do, and you’ll want to be in the right neighborhood.”

  “Yes, I would,” she agreed, as they smiled at each other. New York was going to be so much more fun now because of him.

  “I’d like to show you around the city,” he offered, and she looked pleased, and then they went back inside for a last glass of champagne. He left her at her cabin with regret that night. He liked having her to himself and not having to compete with all the men he knew would pursue her in New York. He had been well aware too that there were several who would have liked to do so on the ship, but he had happily monopolized her for the entire three weeks, and she didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, she seemed to be as delighted as he was to spend time together.

  They stood side by side on deck as the ship docked the next day. Claire had packed all her trunks and bags, and they were waiting in Angélique’s stateroom to be removed. She was wearing a dove-gray satin dress and matching coat, with a hat made of the same fabric by her favorite milliner in Paris, with a small silver fox around her neck. She looked like a picture in a magazine, as the other women stared at her in envy one last time. They had been watching her wardrobe for the entire trip and so had he.

  “Is anyone meeting you?” Andrew asked with a look of concern, and she shook her head.

  “I asked for the purser to arrange for a carriage to take me to the hotel.” He nodded, satisfied.

  “I’ll come to check on you at the hotel later, to make sure that everything is all right.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, but she appreciated his help. This was a turn of events she had never expected. She would have managed without him, and had been determined to do so on her own, but his appearance in her life was a gift she was grateful for now. And she had had fun with him, and could tell that he had enjoyed it too. It had been healing for them both. “Will you be very busy?” she asked him, and he nodded, as they watched the dockworkers secure the ship with enormous ropes.

  “I have to go back to work. I’ve been dodging my responsibilities for two months. That’s about as long as you can get away with for a broken heart.” He smiled as he said it, and looked as though it wasn’t troubling him anymore. He turned to Angélique seriously then. “You’ve changed everything for me in the past few weeks. I never expected this to happen,” he said in a gentle voice. He wanted her to know how he felt before they parted and went on to their lives in New York.

  “Neither did I. I thought I’d cry for the entire trip.” She smiled at him. “I had a wonderful time with you, Andrew. Thank you.” He didn’t answer her, and slipped her small gloved hand into his until the disembarkation was announced, and then he walked her to her cabin and left her with Claire, and went to check on his own bags, and then returned to escort her off the ship and see her to her carriage. They walked off the ship together, both of them beaming, and when he handed her into the carriage, she turned, and he kissed her on the cheek. He could barely tear himself away. He could no longer imagine not being with her every day.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said gently. He had given her his address, and told her to send a message if she had any problem. And she waved as they rolled away, with a separate carriage behind them for her bags. Claire was riding with her, and seemed sad to leave the ship and her new friends. They had both had an unexpectedly happy voyage, and exchanged a smile as they rode to the hotel.

  Chapter 18

  The City Hotel was grander than she had expected, but it was at a price she could afford, with her father’s money and her own. She was always careful with it, and knew that what she had would have to last her forever. She could expect no one’s help, and didn’t. And despite her fondness for fashion and expensive gowns, she wasn’t extravagant. But her suite of rooms at the hotel was beautiful, and the decorating excellent, and Claire said she had a very nice room too, on the top floor with the other maids.

  Two hours after they’d arrived, as Claire was unpacking her many trunks, and seeing what needed pressing, and Angélique ordered a light meal, an enormous arrangement of flowers arrived for her. It looked like an entire rose garden. It was from Andrew, and the card said “Welcome to New York. I miss you already. Fondly, A.H.” They set it on a table, and Angélique was admiring it when an assistant manager came to tell her that Mr. Hanson was in the lobby and wished to come up.

  “Send him up,” Angélique said, and gave the man some coins, and a moment later, Andrew strode into the room, looking energetic and happy to see her as he kissed her on the cheek. The time on the boat, with so much opportunity to be together, had brought them closer faster, and in greater intimacy than might have happened otherwise. She felt as though she had known him for months, or even years.

  “How would you like to look around New York?” he offered. His carriage was downstairs. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, and he had decided not to go to work until the next day. “One more day of shirking my duties can’t hurt.” He looked young and mischievous as he said it.

  “You’ll never become president this way,” she scolded him, but she was pleased, picked up a wrap, and followed him out of the suite. And a moment later they were rolling through the streets of New York in his very handsomely appointed carriage. It wasn’t showy, but it was extremely fine and appropriate for a man. And she enjoyed sitting next to him while he pointed out the sights, and instructed his coachman where to take them next. By late afternoon, she had seen all the important landmarks. They drove past Niblo’s Garden, with its theater, Vauxhall Gardens, the National Theater, and the Morris-Jumel mansion, the James Watson home, and Gracie Mansion, as well as Castle Garden, City Hall, and St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mott and Prince streets. It was an extensive tour, and they were back at the hotel for a late tea.

  They had it in the dining room, where they could watch guests and visitors going in and out, and she could observe what they were wearing, and the different styles of dress. Women seemed more conservatively dressed in New York than they were in Paris, although there were some beautiful coats and gowns, and a few very pretty hats, though none as elaborate or elegant as her own. Andrew loved the way she looked with every change. He had never known a woman as fashionable as she. His lost fiancée had been very plain compared to her, and far less sophisticated and interested in the world. He was beginning to feel that their broken engagement had been a blessing in disguise. He could never have guessed that Angélique would come along and steal his heart.

  He left her to settle in that night, but invited her to supper and the theater at the Sans Souci the next day, the opera at the National Theater two days later, and for supper and dancing at Delmonico’s and Niblo’s Garden after that. She barely had time to catch her breath, between evenings with him, and discovering the city on her own by day.

  By the end of two weeks, she hadn’t met any of his friends, and he openly admitted that he wanted her to himself, although they ran into his acquaintances at the theater and in restaurants a
nd he introduced her proudly. His male friends were struck by her beauty, and even the women were impressed and liked her easy, sunny ways. She didn’t put on airs, and didn’t seem taken with herself. She was happy to meet them, and seemed ecstatic at Andrew’s side.

  They looked at a few houses for her to move into, but she saw nothing she liked, and said she was happy at the hotel for now. And three weeks after they’d arrived, Andrew kissed her firmly and passionately one night. After six weeks constantly in each other’s company, he could no longer stop himself and settle for a kiss on the cheek. And she didn’t object, she was as in love with him as he was with her. It was the beginning of November by then, and he said he wanted to introduce her to his father, but he was very busy at the moment with some important deals, and traveling back and forth to Boston. Andrew was happy to spend all his time with her when he wasn’t working himself, and they spent Thanksgiving together at the hotel, since his father was away with friends. Andrew explained the holiday to her, and she liked the idea of a day, spent with friends and family, based on gratitude.

  It was nearly Christmas, three months after they’d met, when they came back from a walk in the snow one afternoon, when he took both her hands in his to warm them, and then as she took off her hat and put down her fur muff in the parlor of her suite, he stunned her by dropping to one knee.

  “Andrew, what are you doing?” she asked him gently, her eyes bright with all she felt for him, and her cheeks pink from the cold.

  “Angélique Latham,” he said with tears of emotion shining in his eyes, “will you do me the honor of marrying me?” She hadn’t expected it, although anyone else would have, watching them. Marriage wasn’t the outcome she’d anticipated, and she had had no expectations or designs on him. She sincerely loved him, and tears filled her eyes then as she nodded.

 

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