A Damsel for the Mysterious Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Yes, a week which will, unfortunately, culminate in two very tedious social engagements undoubtedly designed to show off the Earl’s new acquaintance.”

  “There, see? Sooner or later the title of Duke was bound to come in handy, Sammy.”

  “Very funny.” He returned her mischievous smile with one of his own, his green eyes staring into hers in a way which made her feel lightheaded.

  “And we will get to speak to Beatrice?”

  “Yes, in fits and starts, I believe,” he continued as he leaned forward in his chair and reached out to touch the side of the teapot with the back of his hand. “Cold,” he said and rose to his feet to cross the room and pull the bell rope for another tea tray.

  “In fits and starts?”

  “From what I can make out, the Dowager Countess’ health is such that only short visits are advisable.”

  “Oh, I see.” Georgina could not help hoping that the Dowager Countess, a woman she now began to suspect was very frail, would at least cling onto life for long enough that they might get some useful truths from her.

  She knew it was not a particularly charitable thought, but every time she thought of Beatrice Ellington, or Beatrice Montgomery as she now was, she could not help thinking of David, the brother she had helped to betray.

  “Well, I suppose now all that remains is for us to come up with some reason for going to Cornwall that would be suitable for my father,” Fleur said and winced. “For if he is not satisfied with the explanation, there is a very good chance we will not be going at all.”

  “Fear not, Miss Allencourt. I have a plan.”

  Chapter 21

  By the time the Duke had arrived at Winton House, and they were all settled in the drawing room drinking tea, still, Georgina’s nerves had not improved. She had felt them most dreadfully all morning as she wondered if the whole thing really would go to plan just as Sammy said it would.

  For one thing, Felix Allencourt was nobody’s fool. If he suspected any untruths in the account that Emerson Lockhart gave him, he would not allow Georgina and Fleur to accompany him to Cornwall, Duke or not.

  Still, that particular Duke had come up with a plan, one which would seem to soften the blow and add a certain legitimacy to the excursion. And not only legitimacy but most appropriate chaperone.

  It was clear to Georgina that Fleur had suffered a similar bout of nerves, given that she had spent the entire morning preparing the drawing room for the Duke’s arrival.

  Of course, to all present, that would have looked quite natural. After all, whilst the Allencourt family had attended Calder Hall for tea, the Duke himself had never come to Winton House. The fact that Fleur flew around the room with her perpetual straightening and setting out of vases of flowers that she had picked from the garden without once seeking the gardener’s approval, looked to all but Georgina to be nothing more than commonplace excitement.

  But Georgina knew that her cousin was not nervously trying to impress the Duke of Calder with vases of hastily cut roses. Fleur had merely been looking for an outlet for her nervous excitement. She really did wear her heart on her sleeve as Great Aunt Belle had said, and Georgina silently prayed that Fleur would do nothing to give them away.

  And at least Great Aunt Belle would not be there for the afternoon since she was having afternoon tea with Lady Maud Aston in Rowley. That really was a great mercy, for Mirabelle was no fool either.

  She would only need to hear the name of the Earl of Wighton to realize that their interest in Beatrice Ellington still persisted. Whilst that was not a great problem in itself, that sharp and shrewd old lady would finally realize that there was a further connection in this little conundrum, a connection that led to the Duke of Calder. Perhaps she would not be quite so keen to leave things be as she had before. Perhaps she would not be quite so keen to help without questioning, to keep quiet and not make trouble for them.

  Of course, it was very likely that Mirabelle Allencourt would easily find the thing out over the next few days, especially if Felix allowed them to go. But at least the Duke would not be there in the room when she discovered it, and Georgina decided that she would simply have to address the matter as and when it arose.

  As the Duke began to relay his well-rehearsed little speech about his acquaintance, the Earl of Wighton, and his invite to the Duke and any party he wished to bring with him, Georgina could hardly look at him.

  But she knew she must, for to not do so would draw a very different kind of attention and perhaps even a little suspicion from her father’s cousin. Felix, for his part, simply leaned back in his chair with his cup and saucer suspended mid-air as he listened with interest. He certainly showed no signs of suspicion, although Georgina knew that that was not necessarily a sign that he did not harbour any.

  “So, it is something of a grand party?” Felix asked with interest.

  “Yes, the Earl has two sons a little older than me, and they have a great many friends who will be in attendance. There will be others from the county, of course, but since his invitation extends to a party of my own choosing, I thought of your family, Sir.”

  “Indeed.” Felix nodded slowly as he digested the information.

  “I thought perhaps it might be a jollier party than if I simply wrote off to an old school friend or two to invite them, you see.” Georgina realized that Sammy’s delivery was so good because it was largely the truth.

  He had not merely given the impression that he did not have appropriate friends to ask for the sake of their little mission; the truth of the matter was that Emerson Lockhart did not have close friends.

  “And I daresay it is a little short notice to write off to your old friends and get a response in time,” Felix said and nodded sagely.

  “Quite so, so I wondered if your son and daughter and Miss Jeffries might enjoy such an excursion.”

  At the mention of himself, Jeremy Allencourt sat up a little straighter and began to take better notice. He looked across at Georgina and narrowed his eyes as if he suspected something that he could not quite put his finger on. And yet he did not look at all perturbed by it, but rather excited.

  The Duke, Fleur, and Georgina had discussed the thing at length over tea at Calder Hall, and in the end, it had been decided that to ask Jeremy would be the surest way to get Felix to agree to it all. It had been Emerson’s idea, an idea which Georgina had initially opposed.

  But Emerson had quickly persuaded her that there was no other way. He realized that there was a great chance that he would have to do some explaining to the smart, intelligent young man, but he assured them both that it was a risk he was willing to take.

  And Fleur, who knew Jeremy better than anybody, easily assured them that, as silly as he could sometimes be, Jeremy was the sort of young man who would take somebody else’s secret to the grave.

  “Well, I must say that it is very kind of you to think of the young people of Winton House, Your Grace. I am sure that they are all champing at the bit for me to agree to it all, so I will quickly put them out of their misery,” Felix said and looked from Jeremy to Fleur to Georgina and back again. “I hope that you will all have a wonderful time,” he said, and his decision was made.

  “Then that is settled, Mr Allencourt. I shall write back to Lord Wighton tomorrow morning and accept his invitation. I will make all the arrangements for travel, and we shall take the largest of my carriages for the journey.”

  Georgina felt her spirits soar when she realized that the very thing she had hoped for would come to pass. Within a week, they would be making their way to Cornwall and Beatrice and perhaps one or two answers. It was beginning to become as important to Georgina to find out who Sammy really was as it was to Sammy himself.

  Surreptitiously, Georgina allowed her eyes to stray to Fleur. A certain amount of excitement would be expected, of course, but this was one of those moments when Fleur might easily give herself away, as well as Georgina.

  However, Fleur sat neatly in her chair with her han
ds in her lap and a demure expression on her face. Georgina almost laughed when she thought of what it must be costing her cousin to sit still and say nothing at that moment.

  “I wonder if Miss Jeffries would care to show me your grounds and gardens, Mr Allencourt?” the Duke said, and Georgina suddenly focused.

  “Georgina?” Felix turned to look at her.

  “Yes, of course,” she said and rose to her feet.

  As she made to leave the room, she caught Jeremy’s eye. He smiled at her warmly, but there was something of a knowing look, a silent teasing. As subtle as it was, Georgina felt her cheeks warm as they blushed, and she found herself scurrying out of the drawing room.

  Of course, Felix would also be thinking much the same. The Duke had paid her enough attention in the last weeks that anybody would easily assume that such interest was purely romantic.

  He had joined her to listen to the musicians in the assembly rooms, he had invited her family for afternoon tea, he had danced with her twice at his own ball, and now he was inviting her and her cousins to join him on a trip to Cornwall. Of course, her father’s cousin would think his interest romantic, who would not?

  “Well, what do you think?” he said the moment they were alone outside.

  “I think you did it very well indeed,” Georgina said and then pointed around the side of the house. “Let us take that path to the camellias.”

  “Very well,” he replied and held his arm out for her to take in a habit that was becoming most natural.

  “I am certain that Fleur is right, and Jeremy will not let you down, Sammy.”

  “I am equally certain, Georgie. If he is anything like his sister, then I do not have a moment’s worry.”

  “But I am bound to say that it is a case of when you will have to tell him something and not if,” she went on as they walked slowly along a rambling path surrounded by tall lupins and foxgloves.

  Every time she closed her eyes, Georgina could detect the scent of stocks. She was not entirely sure where they were but knew they must be there somewhere in amongst the foxgloves. It was such a sweet smell, and it suited the warmth of the summer afternoon perfectly.

  “Yes, it is clear that he is a very intelligent man, so I am ready to give him an explanation.”

  “But is this not becoming everything that you feared? First, I discover you, and Fleur is aware, and now Jeremy will know everything. Not to mention the fact that Great Aunt Belle, whose suspicions are already heightened, will undoubtedly discover that we are to attend the home of Lord Wighton and realize some connection to Beatrice.”

  “I suppose it really is everything that I had dreaded for so long. But now I must know, you see. Now that things are moving in a direction I had never dared to dream of, I could not go back. Georgina, I do not want to live a lie for the rest of my life. Or if I am to live a lie of sorts, at least I must know what the actual truth is.”

  They walked in silence towards the dense trellis-work covered in camellias. Georgina held tightly to his muscular arm, and the moment they stopped to admire the camellias, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I suppose everybody thinks that your attention is simply a means of courting me,” Georgina said and hoped that her cheeks were not blushing again.

  “Yes, I suppose that is the natural assumption,” he said and turned to face her. “And I suppose it works very well in our favour, for it is an explanation of sorts that allows us to spend valuable time together.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Georgina said quietly and experienced the same dull sensation she had felt when he had asked her to dance with him so that he might be spared dancing with the young ladies.

  “But I cannot help wishing that …” he began and then halted abruptly.

  “Wish that what?” Georgina said, keen not to let him slip away.

  She was certain that he was on the verge of telling her something, and she did not want to let it go. Whatever it was, she wanted to hear it, and she wanted to hear it now.

  “Oh, nothing. Really, it is of little matter.” He tried to speak dismissively, but Georgina could see clean through it.

  “I cannot help thinking that it is not of little matter, Sammy. Whatever it is, I wish you would say it.”

  “I do not think it is something I can yet put into words.”

  “But please try,” she said and looked up at him.

  They were standing just inches apart, and he was so tall and broad that Georgina wanted to walk into his arms and have him hold her tightly.

  He was wearing a lightweight brown tailcoat, and the colour suited him very well as always. His thick, unruly hair lifted a little here and there on the light summer breeze, and she wanted so much to reach out to touch it. Georgina did not want any idea of romance between them to merely be a piece of theatre, something to keep her father’s family occupied and diverted away from their original intention. She wanted it to be real, to be theirs.

  Georgina could not understand why it was so difficult to find the words to simply tell him as much. After all, he was her oldest friend, and there was not a person on earth with whom she felt so at ease as she did with him.

  She studied his face intently and could see that he was struggling with something. Perhaps he was simply trying to find the words to tell her that he knew he would hold little interest for her if he were still the servant he had been back then. Perhaps he was trying to find a way to tell her that he could not forgive her for the idea and could therefore never love her.

  However, Emerson did not speak. Instead, he took hold of her upper arms quite suddenly and stared into her eyes intently. She had not realized how big his hands were before that moment and stood as still as a statue as she waited for him to say or do something that would take them from one moment to the next.

  Still holding onto her upper arms, Emerson took his final step towards her, and there they stood, face-to-face, their bodies almost touching. And then, as suddenly as he had taken hold of her in the first place, he kissed her.

  His lips felt warm and smooth and wonderfully unexpected. For a moment, Georgina could not move, could not respond. She merely stood there with her eyes closed and her entire awareness focused on her own lips as if her very soul lived there.

  The moment she had come to her senses and decided to return his passionate kiss instead of simply standing there, he suddenly released her. He released her entirely, letting go of her arms and stepping back from her with a look of such regret on his face that Georgina could have cried.

  “Georgina, forgive me,” he said hastily. “Please, forgive me … I should not have done that.”

  “But Sammy, really, it is not …”

  “I am afraid that I was overcome by foolishness, and I promise you that there will be no repeat of it. Can you forgive me, Georgina?”

  “I do not need to forgive you, Sammy.”

  “But I should like you to know that I am sorry, nonetheless,” he said and turned back towards the house.

  “You need not think about it,” she said and quickly took his arm, keen that he should suffer not a moment longer.

  If only she could find the words to tell him how wonderful his kiss had been, how very welcome. If only she could find the words to ask him to kiss her again.

  Chapter 22

  After an almost entirely sleepless night, Georgina had risen early to take some hurried breakfast before settling down in the morning room with a small pot of tea.

  The night seemed to have been filled with all manner of alternative versions of events which would have seen the preceding afternoon end in a very much happier and more excited tone.

  Georgina had imagined herself immediately responding to his soft, warm kiss, instead of standing as still as a statue in the afternoon sunshine. And in her imaginings, Emerson spurred on by her obvious interest, kissed her yet more passionately still.

  However wonderful the little piece of theatre that her own mind had conjured up was, each time it led her back to the idea th
at he had thought her appalled. After all, why else would she stand stock still and make no response whatsoever? How was he to know that it was simply a case of nervousness, excitement, and awe?

  Worse still, when her mind went to darker places, she imagined him truly believing that she had not wanted to kiss him because, in her own heart, she still thought of him as a servant. An orphan boy that even the Hatfield home for children could not find room for.

  If only she could have found the words to tell him that she would have given anything for the kiss to go on and on forever. But she knew, of course, that a mixture of a careful upbringing and the judgement of society at large had rendered her as mute as it would have any other member of her own sex. Ladies were not expected to give voice to such feelings. In truth, she wondered if they were even expected to experience them at all.