Charming the Duke

by Holly Bush

  Alice sighed as she stood with Mrs. Plumsbly at the top of the steps and watched the Duke race across the foyer. “He loves her, you know.”

  Mrs. Plumsbly nodded. “’Bout time, I’d say. And sure better than the last one he picked.”

  * * *

  Matilda scrubbed her hair and body early in the day. She grumbled each time someone came into the room while she was dressing. Inevitable it was her mother or Mimi or Alexandra or Juliet. She’d torn her silk hose and broken the heel off of her satin shoe. She was in a frightful fit. If she were to consider Thornsby, then she’d best try and listen to him. Try and imagine if she’d want to listen to him for the next forty years.

  Matilda had had a terrible argument with Ethel and her sisters. Her mother had sided with her. Matilda flatly refused to wear a dress her sisters and grandmother considered the height of fashion. She had no need of the Duke staring at her breasts and still trying to make sensible conversation. Matilda chose a pale blue gown that had been hanging in her wardrobe since the day she brought it from the dressmakers. The pale blue of the satin fabric complemented her eyes. It was completely void of any trimmings or lace. Square necked, with capped sleeves; it was low-cut enough to be suitable for a ball but not so much that she felt the need to tug at the edge. It cinched tight around her waist with a scalloped edge at the hem. The day Matilda saw the silk was the first time she’d actually been excited at the dressmakers. Small diamond designs were sewn onto the fabric in exactly the same shade as the fabric. It was understated and elegant as far as she was concerned.

  “Matilda wants to wear this dress, and it has been hanging here for ages untouched,” Frances said. “Undoubtedly, she has been saving it for something special.”

  “It is very beautiful, Matilda,” Juliet said, “but there are no bows or ribbons or feminine things at all.”

  Ethel shrugged. “Dresses rarely are able to make a woman feel feminine and beautiful nearly as well as the right man is. I daresay Thornsby will make you feel that way with a one look.”

  “He is terribly sophisticated,” Alexandra said, hands under her chin.

  “That he is, my dear,” Frances said as she attached single pearls to Matilda’s ears.

  “It is almost eight-o-clock,” Matilda said. “I should be getting downstairs.”

  “Make him wait a moment,” Ethel said.

  As it turned out Matilda waited anxiously with her family in the drawing room. The Duke was late by twenty minutes. Matilda was almost certain he’d changed his mind. In fact, she was considering taking the dress off and climbing into bed the very moment the footman opened the door.

  Thornsby strode past the earl, her mother and sisters, and walked straight to her. “I’m sorry to be late. I was talking to Jonah and Alice and lost track of the time,” Thornsby said. He bowed low over her hand and ran an approving eye over her outfit. “The dress is perfect for you, Miss Sheldon. Shall we go?”

  Matilda did not hear another word spoken by her family in the foyer. Her stomach was a knotted mess, and her hands clammy in her white gloves. Ethel followed behind. Frances wiped her eyes as Fran slung his arm around his wife’s shoulder and sighed. Juliet and Alexandra were starry-eyed.

  “What were you talking to Jonah and Alice about, Your Grace?” Matilda said now seated beside Ethel in Thornsby’s carriage.

  Thornsby chuckled. “They were deciding if I looked well enough to escort you to the ball.”

  “You look wonderful,” Matilda said before she realized she uttered the words.

  Ethel harrumphed.

  Matilda sat and stared at him, although secretly, while Thornsby chatted with Ethel. He was everything she’d always said she was not interested in and more. Cropped jet, black hair outfitted in a formal dark jacket. Square jaw, straight nose, piercing green eyes above broad shoulders. And she was going to the Benford Ball with him. She had no idea how she’d manage. How did one hide amongst the ferns with a man like Thornsby on her arm?

  Matilda found out shortly one did not hide when on the arm of The Duke of Thornsby. One stood center stage. Matilda licked her lips and tried desperately to inch behind Ethel. Thornsby would have none of it. He propelled her forward and made the introductions, not releasing her hand.

  “Would you care for some refreshments? Miss Sheldon? Ma’am?” Thornsby said finally.

  Matilda croaked a reply. He nodded and left them. Matilda took a deep breath and released it slowly.

  “Whatever are you fussing about, Matilda?” Ethel asked. “You look lovely, regardless of my prior misgivings, and the Duke is most attentive.”

  “I find it unnerving just considering the man,” Matilda said. “I’ve never considered one before, you know, in that regard anyway.”

  Ethel faced her granddaughter. “He is just a man, Matilda. Just the same as every other man in many ways, I daresay. You were not this uneasy at the orphanage when you spoke to him.”

  “I only thought of him as an annoyance then, Ethel. Tonight I intend to consider other aspects,” Matilda replied.

  Ethel watched Thornsby return, punch cups in hand. “Quite well-put-together aspects.”

  “Ladies,” Thornsby said when he returned and handed them each a glass of punch.

  “I see Miriam, Lady Fitzroy, watching her granddaughter. There seems to be an available chair. Think I’ll make use of it,” Ethel said and turned away.

  Matilda watched the crowd and prayed her breathing would even out. Many called out greetings to her who wouldn’t have given her so much as a nod in the past. The women spoke behind fans and the men stared in surprise. Why wouldn’t they, Matilda thought? She was a plain, clumsy girl with a handsome, rakish Duke. The ton was accustomed to seeing Thornsby with tall, commanding beauties. Matilda, truth be told, was much more comfortable at the orphanage in her brown shoes and plain dresses.

  “How are Jonah and Alice?”

  “Would you care to dance?”

  They uttered in unison.

  “Do go on. What were you going to ask?” Thornsby said.

  “No, no, Your Grace. What were you saying?” Matilda wished she had listened to Juliet more often when she spoke to men. Her elder sister always managed to have them laughing, smiling and staring at her. Matilda just fumbled around.

  “Please call me Thornsby,” he said. “When you say ‘Your Grace,’ I wonder if you’re not making sport of me. You have called me Thornsby before, you know.”

  “Usually when I’m shouting at you,” Matilda said.

  “True enough,” he replied. “Deservedly so on some occasions. Did you care to dance?”

  “If you wish,” Matilda replied.

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” Thornsby said looking down at her.

  “I’m not terribly good at it. And I hate knowing everyone’s watching. As if it is of the utmost importance that someone can sling her feet around in the right tempo in the correct direction.” Matilda looked up at Thornsby and colored. “Oh, dear, I am sure you feel those arts important.”

  Thornsby smiled. “Expected rather than important. Let us take a stroll around the room. You do not find strolling beneath you, I pray?”

  Matilda looked up and realized he was teasing her. She laughed aloud. “Only when done in satin shoes too small for one’s feet.”

  “Then let us sit,” Thornsby said as he escorted her to a small table.

  Matilda looked around the room. Every woman was finely dressed. Many looked at her curiously. She found herself searching for some conversation to make with Thornsby. He sat, gazing at her, looking completely comfortable in his surroundings. He had not deigned anyone at the assembly thus far, other than the Benfords, more than a cursory nod. Matilda fingered her bag and gave Thornsby a weak smile.

  “What were you going to ask before our discussion of dancing?” Thornsby said.

  Matilda searched her brain. She could have died from embarrassment when she’d spoken about dancing with such disdain. Clearly a duke danced and adher
ed to all the other societal expectations she had little experience with. But he was trying to set her at ease, Matilda could tell. He was so devastatingly elegant. Rather a silly description of a man, but it was true. Thornsby was what all the men about her yearned to be and why all the women in attendance could not help but stare their way.

  “I was just wondering how Jonah and Alice are doing?”

  “When I left, Jonah was bouncing on my bed as my valet scolded him. Alice was reading a book aloud,” Thornsby replied. He cocked his head and pulled his lips to one side in a grin. “Jonah said I looked every inch the gentleman.”

  “You often apply to children on your state of dress?” Matilda asked wryly. “What did Alice have to say?”

  Thornsby paused and looked into Matilda’s eyes. “She said she doubted you notice overmuch anyone’s looks. Smart girl, my Alice.”

  Matilda colored and shrugged. “I suppose it’s highly unfashionable to dismiss all this. I can’t say, though, I’ve ever found those things any indication of one’s merit. It is after all just clothing.”

  Thornsby crossed his legs. “You do not find basic cleanliness or order necessary?”

  Matilda laughed. “Heaven’s no. I believe my sister Juliet is happy to have escaped a proposal from a certain viscount. She said he had an odor about him.”

  “So you have some requirements in outward appearances?”

  “Well, yes, certainly. But clothes or the money to buy them is hardly the measure of a man. Or a woman for that matter.”

  Thornsby stared at his drink and turned it in his hand. “What is your measure of a man then, Matilda?”

  Suddenly their conversation had turned in a serious direction. Matilda felt certain Thornsby’s question held more weight than the pleasant conversation they’d just had. She wasn’t exactly sure how to answer him.

  “Do you mean any man?” she asked.

  “No.” Thornsby said and looked up at her. “I mean a man you would consider as a . . . friend, perhaps.”

  Matilda searched herself. Searched her brain for some witty barb to lighten what felt like a test of sorts. For herself or him, she did not know. There was nothing light about her reply. “Honor. Loyalty. Intelligence.” Matilda stared straight at him. “The ability to sort the chaff from the wheat. Kindness. Many things, I’m unable to think of right now.”

  “High standards, I’d say, coming from a member of England’s society,” Thornsby replied.

  “It is, I imagine, why I have few friends,” Matilda said with a shrug.

  “My parents kept to themselves mostly. They had few close friends and rarely attended functions. My father often said there were only a handful of people he could tolerate amongst their set.”

  “What happened to you?” Matilda clamped her lips shut and wished fervently she could have taken back the words. Even though Thornsby gave her a lighthearted smile she feared, well, she knew she’d hurt his feelings. “Oh, do forgive me. This is exactly why I venture out rarely. I have the most terrible habit of sticking my foot in my mouth.”

  “Why, Thornsby, how good to see you and so soon,” Millicent Marsh said.

  * * *

  Thornsby closed his eyes. He had hoped Millicent would have been too embarrassed about their broken engagement to attend. To cut Millicent directly would beg questions and incite her wrath. He stood and gave Millicent a curt bow while turning to Matilda. Best not to attract any more attention than Millicent had already succeeded in doing. There was not an eye or ear in the room not bent to their conversation.

  “Won’t you make the introductions?” She smiled at Thornsby and touched his arm.

  It pained Thornsby to introduce Matilda, more so that Millicent had interrupted their conversation. On the other hand, Matilda had insulted him soundly, and he had no defense. Millicent’s appearance at their table had proved Matilda’s assertions. His friends, even former fiancés, were exactly the sort of persons Matilda loathed. Mayhap she loathed him as well. Best to make this meeting brief without any further ado.

  “Miss Sheldon. Countess Rundel.”

  Matilda curtsied. “Countess.”

  Millicent took an assessing gaze from the top of Matilda’s head to her toes. “Miss Sheldon.”

  All eyes in the room watched them, Thornsby knew. “Excuse us.” His hand on Matilda’s elbow tightened to lead her away.

  Millicent turned to stand beside Matilda and smiled up at Thornsby. “What is the hurry, Thornsby? I will miss the pleasure of making an acquaintance with your little friend.”

  “I don’t believe Miss Sheldon cares to speak to you, Millicent. Nor do I,” Thornsby said in a whisper.

  “I do so love it when I hear my name on your lips, Thornsby. It recalls more pleasant, I daresay intimate times,” Millicent purred. She turned quickly and threaded her arm through Matilda’s. “Do tell, Miss Sheldon, for all here are curious. Whatever have you done to bewitch this rake? While every woman here would like to claim she’d charmed him, they also keep their innocent daughters at quite a distance.”

  “That’s enough, Millicent,” Thornsby hissed.

  Matilda shrugged off Millicent’s arm. “Your charm was ill effective on the Duke, Miss Marsh. Quite a brief engagement.”

  Millicent smiled wickedly. “My charms, Miss Sheldon have satisfied the duke many times. He really is insatiable. But then a young girl such as yourself could hardly imagine keeping a man like Thornsby interested for long. Even with a ring on her finger.”

  Matilda sputtered. “I have no claim on him.”

  “Good Lord, Thornsby. Get my granddaughter away from that hussy,” Ethel said as she approached.

  “I am trying, madam.”

  Ethel tapped up and took a look up and down at Millicent. “Looking for deep pockets in Thornsby, eh girl? The fortune the old earl left you near gone from what I hear.” Millicent’s eyes were wide and malicious. “Good speed you’ve made from bed to bed as well. You’ll be lucky some merchant will overlook your indiscretions and allow you to marry his son.”

  Millicent’s eyes narrowed. “You nasty, old witch. How dare you?”

  Ethel propelled Matilda and Thornsby to the door. “I dare because my granddaughter is on the arm of a duke, and you are quite solitary. Let us go watch the dancing, children. I have had enough fun to last me for a while.”

  “If you wish to leave, I’ll call for the carriage,” Thornsby said to both women.

  “No. We will not leave and allow the gossips to titter. Straighten your shoulders, Matilda. Smile pleasantly. Put your hand under her elbow, Thornsby,” Ethel barked her orders.

  “You don’t care for these affairs any more than I, Ethel. Perhaps we should leave,” Matilda said.

  “Nonsense. I may hate these affairs and the dandies they attract but I’ve had a vast deal more experience handling these sorts of things than you,” Ethel said as she lifted her fan in a greeting to a matron. “You’ve backbone, Matilda. Show it. Ladies don’t retreat at the first firing of a cannon.”

  “We hardly have Napoleon at our heels,” Thornsby said. “But if we left now, it would allow the gossips to continue. Our continued presence will stem it. Unless you prefer to leave, Matilda. If you do, say so. I will escort you.”

  “Humph. Millicent Marsh is more evil than Bonaparte ever was,” Ethel said.

  Matilda looked as if someone dear to her had just died. The grandmother was as formidable as any general, and for that Thornsby was glad. He realized now that bringing Matilda to the Benford ball was the last thing he should have done. It only served to reveal him in the same light, as those Matilda hated. The scene with Millicent was dreadful and while he was glad of Ethel’s defense, a stately exit would have been more to his style. In any case, he and Matilda were attached; affixed, doomed he imagined Matilda would think, after that episode. Thornsby looked down at her when Lady Nottingham addressed her, and she did not respond.

  “I would like to go home, now,” Matilda said.

  They made t
heir goodbyes and Matilda sat glumly in the corner of the carriage.

  “Oh, do not let someone as dreadful as Millicent Marsh affect you so dearly, Matilda. You were quite a success tonight. Although you did not dance,” Ethel said from across the carriage.

  * * *

  “I did not care to dance,” Matilda said flatly. She sat alone across from where Ethel and the Duke sat. Abysmally alone. She had deciphered nothing of Thornsby tonight. Other than that he’d been intimate with the most loathsome creature in London. He also was the most attractive. It had been as if she’d been forced to stand beside Juliet and Alexandra for a whole evening but far worse. Miss Marsh had cut her to ribbons. “She is very beautiful, is she not?”

  “To whom are you referring?” Thornsby said.

  Matilda sat straight, determined to put aside the misery, the envy she felt. She had for some reason wanted to shine this evening. Wanted to glow. She should have stayed in the ferns. “Why Miss Marsh, of course.”

  “Millicent Marsh is a nasty, unpleasant woman. My apologies for putting you in her path, Matilda,” Thornsby said.

  “Oh, I agree most heartily, although no apologies are necessary. You did nothing to encourage her.” Matilda looked at Thornsby. Stared straight at him. “But her disposition is not in question. She is a most attractive woman. Attractive enough for you to be intimate with. Attractive enough to affiance yourself to. She is really quite stunning.”

  Thornsby threw a quick glance at Ethel. Her grandmother’s eyes were closed. “Miss Marsh’s beauty is skin deep as the old saying goes. I won’t deny I found her beautiful at one time. But she means nothing to me now. I now find her hard to countenance, in fact.”

  “I’m taking Jonah and Alice to the museum tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to join us if your grandmother would chaperone,” Thornsby added as they drew up to Maplewood.