“I wouldn’t go as far as to claim she’s exquisite but I dare venture to say that you won’t have to put a bag over her head before attempting to produce an heir.” Pierce let out a loud laugh before Elliot shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and continued, “But from what I remember she’s very nondescript but I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“Beauty fades with time, let’s hope that I can at least stomach the chit and pray that she isn’t some sort of spoiled shrew. I suppose the spoiled part is inevitable but the shrew part doesn’t have to be, right?”
“For your sake I sure hope so. I find it highly ironic that a man with your title and brooding dark looks had to win a wife in a game of piquet. You know you could’ve had your pick of any lady, don’t you?”
“So could you and I don’t see you taking advantage of the opportunity.” Pierce said, trying to turn the focus on Elliot instead of himself.
“Let’s not go over this again. What say we race back to Ridgecrest Manor, see if you still have it in you?” Before Pierce could answer Elliot had turned and galloped off in a fury and Pierce had no choice but to follow. When Ridgecrest Manor came into view they were riding neck to neck but at the last minute Pierce leaned forward as he kicked Tristan in the flank and was able to pull forward and beat Elliot by a mere head. He had forgotten how exhilarating a good race could be.
Laughing good-naturedly they led their horses back to the stable before heading back into the house. The duchess was waiting for them in the drawing room as they entered.
“Boys, do come in and I’ll ring for tea, I have some things I’d like to discuss with you.” Though they both would’ve liked to freshen up first they knew it was always easier to just agree with whatever the duchess had in mind. They moved into the drawing room which was decorated in shades of blue and ivory and sat precariously on the dainty furniture that filled the room, feeling as if their large frames could topple the furniture if they weren’t careful. The duchess lifted a gloved hand to her mouth to hide a giggle that threatened to escape at the sight of the two virile young men sitting perched on her delicate furniture. Oh what a picture they made with their matching dark hair and mysterious looks, but while Elliot’s eyes were a striking pale blue, Pierce’s were so dark they almost appeared black.
After she rang for tea and everyone had been served, the duchess spoke, “Pierce I’ve decided that I want to host a country party here at Ridgecrest Manor next week for you to announce your engagement. I need you to help compile the guest list and of course to inform your soon-to-be fiancé. Plus it’ll be the perfect opportunity for us to spend a little time getting to know the girl, don’t you think?”
Pierce wasn’t sure he liked the idea of having to spend time getting to know Lady Noelle under his mother’s watchful eye. The situation would prove to be awkward enough without her meddling, but he didn’t know how he could politely refuse without hurting her feelings, so he said nothing and just listened as she chattered on.
“You must inform Lady Noelle as soon as possible, I’m sure she’ll want to have a new gown made up for the special occasion. And don’t worry about any of the planning, leave the details up to me.” He’d fully planned on it.
Then turning to Elliot she said, “And Lord Martineau, you will attend won’t you?”
“Of course, I love a good country party.” Though he said it dryly, she didn’t seem to notice.
Setting her saucer down she placed her hands in her lap, “Well now that that’s settled, you best be getting back to London to meet your soon-to-be bride and inform her of the upcoming event.”
Pierce swallowed hard, though he had told Lord Brattondale he would call on Noelle in a week, he had actually intended on that time frame being a flexible guideline and had hoped to spend a few more days at Ridgecrest Manor before returning to London and the fate that awaited him. But now that there was to be a party thrown in their honor in a week’s time, he had no choice but to return promptly and meet the girl who would become his wife.
***
“Oh Hope, I can’t believe this is goodbye forever,” Noelle exclaimed as she pulled Hope into a fierce embrace. The sun was still hours from rising but Noelle had to escape the premises before a soul woke up and could discover her, though she was disguised as Hope just to be safe.
Hope felt herself getting teary at the goodbye. She had been with Noelle for nearly four years and in many ways she had become a good friend to her, despite this latest scheme that still made her uncomfortable. She tried to push away her feelings of anxiousness and unease knowing that despite Noelle’s excitement to marry Soren, there were many things she was sacrificing as well. She had to consider herself lucky that she at least had had the opportunity to give her mother a proper farewell. Noelle spent her last three days in London with her family pretending that everything was as it appeared and had no opportunity to tell Devon or her father goodbye, for her secret depended on their ignorance. If everything went according to plan, they’d never know she had left their lives.
Hope handed Noelle her reticule, “Are you sure I can’t wait to inform your father of my supposed absence till later this afternoon? I mean, what if something happens and you don’t go away with Soren? Surely you’ll want to come back and resume your proper identity and then nothing will have had to change, I’d still be here waiting for you.” She tried to voice her worries delicately, but she was worried Noelle saw right through her.
“You’re not implying that Soren may not have meant what he said, are you? He’s a man of honor and he’ll keep his word, of this I am sure.”
Hope wished she could be as confident. “I’m not trying to discredit his honor in any way, I’m just trying to think of all the possible outcomes.”
Noelle softened slightly, “No, it has to be this way. Father would wonder what took you so long to come to him if you waited. Trust me, I’ll be sailing to America long before then, rest assured.”
She began walking towards the door and as she had one hand on the handle ready to pull it open Hope called softly, “Be safe…and be happy.”
Noelle turned and smiled over her shoulder, “I will. I owe all my future happiness to you, for that I will be eternally grateful. Try to be happy yourself.” And with that Hope watched her silently slip out of the door and out of her life forever.
Hope stood staring at the door for what felt like an eternity, part of her anticipating the moment when Noelle would return and exclaim the whole thing had been a grand joke and that there was no way she could leave her privileged existence behind. She didn’t know how long she sat and stared until she realized that Noelle wasn’t coming back. She walked over to the big bed and wished she could cuddle up under the thick covers and fall asleep but she knew that sleep would only elude her. Instead she decided to go back to her own room one final time. She still had to collect her writings and make a few adjustments in the room to make it appear as if she had packed up and left with no thoughts of returning. She also had to grab the note she had written explaining her hasty departure to show the earl.
Walking into her room she became nostalgic. She never thought she’d miss the plain quarters but they had been home to her for the past four years, the one place in the world she could go to have privacy and to just be herself. It saddened her to think that in a short time there would be another lady’s maid sleeping on the lumpy mattress, enjoying the view of Mayfair that the small window afforded, enjoying long hours of rest and relaxation while she herself would be out at one society event or another, uncomfortable and out of place and living a lie.
She quickly grabbed her stuff and made her way back to her new room, shutting the door forever on her past. She still had a few hours until the earl would rise and start his day. She knew that it would appear odd if she went to seek out Lord Brattondale too early in the morning so she had to bide her time until an acceptable hour. She thought the time would drag but much to her chagrin it sped by quickly, too quickly. Before she knew it, i
t was time to put the remainder of their plan into motion—it was time to officially and permanently become Lady Noelle.
Part Two
Chapter 10
Taking a deep breath, Hope shakily opened the door leading into the hall. She poked her head out and glanced back and forth to make sure no one was there before stepping out onto the cold parquet floors. Her feet were bare and she had on a simple white morning dress, her hair flowing freely down her back. She felt silly being out and about in such disarray but it was an important part of the plan, without her lady’s maid, Noelle wouldn’t have been able to properly dress and ready herself for the day.
Hope began walking tentatively down the hall, knowing that Lord Brattondale would most likely be found in the breakfast room taking his morning tea. She dreaded going into that part of the house, knowing there was no way she could go undetected—there would be a surplus of servants scurrying about attending to their daily duties. As she came to the corner that would take her down past the drawing room and towards the breakfast room she straightened and took a steadying breath before slipping into her role as a frantic Noelle who had just discovered her lady’s maid had gone missing in the night.
Grabbing her skirt she forged ahead at a hurried pace, attempting to look frantic. And though she was only acting, she did indeed feel frantic but for entirely different reasons. From somewhere behind her she heard a noise that startled her and quickly averted her gaze. The moment she looked down she felt herself collide with a solid mass, causing her to push back in resistance and trip into the mahogany bench sitting against the wall. Before she could steady herself she felt her back arch and reached her hands back to catch herself on the piece of furniture that proved to be too close to the ground to offer any help and immediate support.
Instead of her hands coming in contact with hard wood of the bench, they flailed wildly as she desperately tried to grab onto something, anything to keep her aright, but to no such luck. She fell to the ground awkwardly with a thump, her left ankle twisting unnaturally beneath her in the process. The sharp pain in her ankle that accompanied her fall momentarily distracted her from her mortification. She reached down and pulled up her skirt to inspect her foot, rubbing it to ease the pain, oblivious to the stranger watching her every move.
Pierce sat back and stared in shock. He had been waiting in the drawing room for a quarter of an hour and was growing impatient with the delay. The butler had told him that Lord Brattondale would be with him shortly but he had yet to grace Pierce with his presence. When he heard a noise in the hall he had stepped out to see what was going on when he felt more than saw someone crash into his chest. He then watched in horror as the girl did an un-choreographed dance with the bench only to finish by falling gracelessly to the floor in a heap of white muslin and golden waves of hair.
Pierce had reached forth to try and steady her but it had all happened too quickly that he hadn’t been able to respond in time so he watched helplessly as the girl fell to the floor. He immediately made to assist her to her feet but was distracted by her motions when she pulled up her skirt to reveal a slender ankle and one dainty foot. The appearance of that one bare limb had him mesmerized—it was a provocatively feminine leg and he couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away.
He watched for a second while the girl rubbed her foot before his brain seemed to kick into gear and start working again. He squatted down next to her and cleared his throat. The girl looked up sharply, seeming to become aware for the first time that she was not alone.
“Oh! I apologize.” She quickly pulled her skirt down, much to his regret, to cover the view he had just been appreciating so fully. “I was just looking for my father.”
Pierce looked at the disheveled girl in front of him with new eyes. Could this be Lady Noelle? By father certainly she was referring to Lord Brattondale. He briefly scanned her body before returning to look at her face. If this was indeed Lady Noelle then Elliot had been wrong, terribly wrong, for this girl was not plain in any way. Her long hair fell all around her shoulders in cascading waves of honey, tempting him to reach out and run his hand through the thick locks. How had Elliot described her? Nondescript. She was the farthest thing from nondescript he had ever seen—her pale face was artfully arranged with full pink lips, a straight nose and when he looked into her eyes he gasped. She had the most amazing eyes he had ever looked into! They were the color of brandy and he couldn’t seem to look away. He had a sudden desire to reach out and brush a wayward strand of hair from her face, stopping himself before he did just that.
He reached for her hand instead, watching as she stared at his extended hand before offering hers in return. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before saying, “It just so happens I’m waiting for Lord Brattondale to arrive. Let me help you to the drawing room where we can take a look at your foot.” He made to help her to her feet and watched as she grimaced in pain. Without thinking he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the drawing room, depositing her gently on a rose damask settee.
“Thank you but that was hardly necessary, I’m sure I could’ve managed the few feet it took to get in here.” Hope felt her face burn with embarrassment. She looked up into the dark eyes of the stranger and couldn’t believe she had allowed him to hold her in his arms, but then again, he hadn’t given her much choice in the matter. She looked down at her hands resting in her lap, mortified that he was seeing her dressed so indecently. Who was the man anyway?
Before she knew what he was doing he was kneeling before her, reaching to take her injured foot into his hand. She gasped and tried to pull back but his grip was firm and unyielding.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked, highly unnerved by the feel of his large hand on her bare foot.
“You took a bad tumble and I think you may have sprained your ankle. I think you should take it easy and stay off of it for awhile. Of course I’m no doctor, it’s merely a suggestion.”
Pierce continued to inspect her ankle, sure that it wasn’t hurt beyond a minor sprain but unwilling to take his hands from her soft, smooth skin, despite the indecency of the gesture.
Finally Hope pulled back, “That’s quite enough, thank you.” She waited as he stood once more, noting his impeccable attire—he was dressed to perfection in tan breeches that accented long, muscular legs. She briefly noted that one of his thighs was almost as thick as her waist before continuing her observation of his attire; he wore a dark waistcoat and jacket with an expertly tied cravat that appeared even starker next to his dark skin. Every inch of him looked flawless. She noticed how perfectly his jacket was tailored to fit snuggly across his broad shoulders without appearing too tight.
The stranger seemed to find her appraisal of him humorous as he watched her with one eyebrow cocked. When her eyes came to settle on his face he smirked, “See something you like?”
Her face flamed once more. She would never admit to him that she found his dark, roguish looks wildly appealing. He was a magnificently made specimen, something her wildest imagination couldn’t have conjured. Instead she took the offense, “I was just wondering who you might be and what you are doing in my house?”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Pierce Chadwick, the Duke of Kerrington. And who might you be?” Though he was almost positive he knew he still had to ask.
Hope gasped, her eyes widening in alarm. So this was the Duke of Kerrington, the man she was now expected to marry in Noelle’s place. Her palms began to sweat and her thoughts raced. She had pictured a stodgy middle aged duke, not an outrageously handsome man with a wicked glint in his dark eyes. How would she ever be expected to be wed to such a man?
While her thoughts were racing the duke asked once more, “May I ask who you might be?”
“Oh! Pardon me your grace, I just didn’t expect…I mean, I thought that…oh forget it. I’m Lady Noelle.” It felt odd referring to herself as someone other than Hope but she knew from here on out that Hope was dead to her an
d that Lady Noelle would be her only identity.
Though he had expected her to confirm his suspicions that she was indeed Lady Noelle, he found he was still partially dreading that he might be mistaken and that she would end up being a younger daughter or cousin. He was at once relieved and oddly delighted until he remembered she was just another spoiled lady of the ton, most likely with nothing more to offer him but a pretty face. Not that he’d complain, at least luck had favored him with a beautiful future wife.
Hope watched as Pierce took his turn appraising her, feeling as if she was a horse on display at Tattersall’s and he was deciding whether he liked what he saw enough to purchase. Unfortunately for him, and much to his own doing, whether he liked what he saw or not, the purchase had already been made.
Being scrutinized by the duke was making her squirm and finally she had had enough of his piercing gaze raking her body and she snapped, “Like what you see?”
Pierce let out a sonorous laugh, “Whether I do or not is of no consequence now, I fear it’s past time for me to be picky—I’ve won you fair and square and I’m much too honorable to back out of the deal now. I suppose we’re stuck.”
The arrogance and brashness of his statement made any positive impressions she had formed of the duke vanish, being replaced by the opinion that Noelle had been wise to flee this marriage while she had a chance for real love and happiness, highly doubting she would have ever come to love the conceited Duke of Kerrington.
When she finally spoke she did so through gritted teeth, “I’m not exactly impressed with you either but I wasn’t the one foolish enough to play for your hand in a silly game of chance. You were, after all, the one who misused his agency to gamble with both of our futures. Pardon if I very much agree with your assessment that we are indeed stuck, as you so inelegantly put it. At least you had a choice, whether you chose honorably or not I suppose is a matter of opinion and for now I’ll keep mine to myself.”
Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington (Ladies of Deception) Page 7