She jerked as the familiar female voice blew her mental fog away on the breeze. A laughing green gaze met hers. “I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I’m a most inattentive rider today.”
Lady Flora Campbell smiled as she leaned down to pat her mare’s neck. She was perched expertly on her black mount, with her glossy raven curls pinned up under a smart, but practical riding bonnet. Her lilac habit accentuated her rosy complexion, and her charming dimples bracketed what the gossip sheets called the “Most Winning Smile in London,” creating an alluring picture of English beauty.
Except she wasn’t English, and she was quick to assert this fact.
“What’s snagged your attention?” Flora looked at her expectantly.
Alethea raised a shoulder. “This and that.”
“This and that sound very annoying,” Flora commiserated.
“Have you always been this obnoxious and I’ve just been blinded to it?” Alethea chuckled as she pulled her reins to the right to avoid a street vendor who stepped in her path.
“It’s usually the first thing people notice about me. Or so my brother claims.”
“And we don’t like your brother because he’s pressuring you to marry, correct?”
“Anytime you want to exchange brothers, I’d gladly participate. At least Lord Firthwell doesn’t worry your tongue will scare off potential suitors.”
“Maybe not scare off suitors, but perhaps say things that might reflect poorly on the family,” Alethea said as she turned into Hyde Park.
“I don’t see how that’s possible.” Flora’s green eyes snapped wide. “You always say just the right thing. Or so my aunt likes to point out.”
Alethea nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “Well, I may have overstepped myself. I offered to help the Duke of Darington find out what happened to his brother.”
“I thought—” Lady Flora glanced about to ensure no one had heard. Dipping her chin, she continued, “I thought the late duke was killed by footpads.”
“So did Dec—Darington,” Alethea said, proceeding to explain what she’d learned.
In the following minutes, the only sound was the steady clop of their horses’ hooves on the park path. Geese honked in the distance, and faint chatter and laughter came to them on the gentle breeze.
“Mo chreach, if there’s something more to the duke’s death, how do you propose to help?” Flora asked, her brogue making Alethea’s heart constrict with longing for the Highlands.
“I honestly don’t know.” She stared straight ahead. “I figured I could discreetly ask questions. He was a duke after all. How much privacy did he really have?”
She sensed Flora’s frown in her words. “That may be more challenging than you think. Considering your family’s history with his, tongues will wag if you so much as glance at Darington, let alone ask questions about his late brother.”
“True,” Alethea grumbled, irritation making her jaw stiff. “I haven’t been able to escape mention of him. It is all anyone wants to discuss when we’re about.”
“Well, naturally. Darington’s return has shaken the beau monde from their boredom.” Flora curled her lip. “I’d ask you about it if I didn’t know you’d stomp away in a huff.”
“You know me so well.” After directing a dry look at her friend, Alethea giggled and welcomed the release. “Oh, Flora, I’m so glad to have encountered you today.”
“Well then, let’s have some fun.” The grin that spread across Flora’s pink lips was decidedly wicked. “I’ll race you to the lake.”
Before she could nudge her horse into action, Flora was off like a streak of lilac lightning. Alethea leaned low over her horse’s neck, determined to exert her best effort, but her friend could not be caught. Flora the horsewoman had no equal.
Alethea reached the banks of the Serpentine as her friend was dismounting, not a single curl out of place. She followed suit and patted her mount as she led her to the shoreline.
“Feel better?”
“I do.” Alethea filled her lungs and released a deep breath.
Flora hoisted her skirts above her ankles, and sidestepped a clump of reeds before she perched on a flat rock. “What does your father think of Darington’s return?”
“I’m not sure really, but I suppose he seems pleased.”
“Pleased?”
“Darington is the son of his oldest friend. I believe my father intends to offer him his assistance in adjusting to his title.”
“Do you think Darington will allow him to help?” The skepticism in Flora’s voice was evident.
“I don’t know.”
And Alethea hated that she didn’t know. She had no notion of how Declan viewed her father, or if he still blamed him for the scandal. He hadn’t mentioned the rude words he’d thrown at her before he departed to France and had definitely not apologized, and if she were truthful, that omission irked her. Perhaps dealing with the talk would be easier to handle if she knew what he was thinking. If she knew the kind of man he’d become. But he was still very much a stranger to her.
“I’m surprised your father isn’t concerned the gossip will hurt your marriage chances.”
“He’s been tense since the duke returned, no doubt dreading the renewed interest in that long-ago investment scandal. If the talk continues, I’m sure he will be.”
Flora snorted. “Oh, it will. It always comes back to marriage for us, doesn’t it?” She gripped the train of her habit so tightly, the leather of her gloves strained around her knuckles. “As if we couldn’t possibly do anything else besides marry and bear scores of children.”
Alethea sighed. “It must. Why else would my father prohibit me from working additional days at Little Windmill Home? Why would he forbid me from doing anything that made me feel productive?” She looked down the shoreline. “I’ve saved enough money on the household expenses since I’ve returned to buy new livery for the footmen and a new stove for the kitchens. He hasn’t even noticed.”
Flora dipped the toe of her half boot into the water. “Why would my brother keep me from running Loch Kilmorow’s stables and horse training? I know almost everything there is to know about it, and I’m willing to learn what I don’t. But he won’t hear of it.”
Alethea ran a hand down her mare’s head. “I feel guilty for complaining when we have so much more than other women.”
“All women occupy one cage or another. Some are merely gilded.” Flora’s face was hard before she angled it toward the water.
Alethea wrapped her arms around her waist. “I fear if I don’t choose a husband this Season, one will be chosen for me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“A feeling.” Alethea casually lifted a shoulder even as anxiety crept along her spine. “I wish I could pinpoint a tangible reason why, but I feel that an hourglass has been tipped on end and the sand is running out on my freedom.”
“Freedom, indeed.” Flora’s nose scrunched in consideration. “Why haven’t you accepted any of the proposals you’ve received?”
“Why haven’t you accepted any of the gentlemen who’ve offered for you?”
“Because I’ve never desired to marry, let alone marry a chinless younger son with political aspirations who views me as a way to wealth and political connections.” She tilted her head to the side. “But you want to marry, do you not?”
“I do, if it’s the right man.”
“Define the right man.”
Alethea’s gaze focused on a group of ducks dipping their heads under the water, their orange feet bobbing in the air.
“A man who is content to let me be his partner and doesn’t view me as a woman to take in hand, or worse, a delicate creature to coddle and protect. I want someone who makes me laugh. Who greets me at the breakfast table with a smile, as if he’s thrilled to share a scone and cup of tea with me.” She reached up to pat her hair. When had her hands started to shake? “I want the exact opposite of my parents’ marriage. Is that impossible?”
“Probably.” Flora’s voice was gentle. “For us.”
She nodded and looked back at the ducks. They had swum further down the shoreline, no longer fishing for food. Even they couldn’t escape beneath the water for long.
“Marry the duke.”
Alethea whipped around to face her friend. “The duke?”
“The Duke of Darington.”
“No.” She turned away to hide the flush that colored her cheeks at the suggestion.
A soft chortle met her ears. “My, so emphatic. Whyever not?”
“Because…I don’t even know him. Not anymore.” Alethea’s voice was strained. “And I’m not confident my father would countenance a marriage between us.”
Flora blinked. “But he’s a duke.”
“I know. I just don’t think my father has ever really liked Declan.” Admitting such aloud hurt for reasons she didn’t wish to examine. Hastening to change the subject, she said, “Plus, I doubt Declan wants to marry, let alone marry me.”
“He may not want to marry, but he needs to marry. I’m sure it’s written in the pages of the peerage handbook. ‘All unmarried dukes must find a wife and beget an heir, posthaste.’” The corners of her mouth dipped. “I’m positive it’s next to the chapter that outlines all the things women are forbidden to do.”
“It should list the things we’re allowed to do.” Alethea reached out and squeezed her disgruntled friend’s hand. “I’m sure it would be much shorter.”
Flora’s eyes turned serious. “Why wouldn’t he want to marry you? You’re clever, witty, thoughtful, and beautiful, with all that glorious red hair. Plus, you have a dowry that’d make a man as rich as Croesus. Some would say you’re bloody perfect.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re too kind.”
“I know. And too honest.” Flora’s teasing grin melted away after a moment. “Do you not find him attractive?”
Alethea balked. “I…I do. He’s just so…so…much more,” she finished lamely.
“Well, I should hope so. How long do you suppose you have until you receive the marriage decree?”
“I can’t say,” she said, shifting on her feet. “But I doubt I’ll have a choice when the time comes. Ladies like us can rarely do as we please.”
“Sadly, neither can dukes.”
Alethea jumped at the unexpected deep voice, her foot slipping in the soft, wet ground. She pitched forward, her arms extended to break her fall, when she was suddenly jerked back.
A firm, warm arm wrapped around her waist and steadied her, and when her feet met solid ground, she experienced a pang of loss as it slipped away.
“Are you all right?” Declan’s breath tickled the sensitive skin beneath her ear. She shivered before she could suppress the reaction, and her internal temperature exploded into a rapid boil.
She thought she felt him run his nose lightly across her lobe, but when she turned her head, he was watching her from a few feet away.
Alethea looked at him greedily for a moment before she busied herself with straightening her cap. But in that quick assessment, her eyes gorged on the way his rich-green riding jacket complemented the deep gold of his skin and how his buff-colored breeches conformed to the firm, lean lines of his legs and thighs.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Yes, thank you. It seems to have become a habit of yours to sneak up on me. I find I don’t like it.”
Straight white teeth flashed as he grinned, the expression more amused than chagrined. “My apologies, my lady.” He rocked back on his heels, a playful smile on his distracting mouth. “Although, I wouldn’t have been surprised had you fallen to your knees all on your own. You wouldn’t be the first woman to do so.”
She glared at him even as a laugh tickled her throat. She was equal parts delighted by his teasing and shocked by his gall. Flora’s chuckles vaguely registered.
Just as she was straightening her shoulders, Declan faced her friend and bowed.
“Would you introduce me to your lovely friend?”
Although Flora’s dimples made an appearance, her assessing stare was fierce.
An uncomfortable feeling burrowed into Alethea’s gut, but she did her best to ignore it. “Your Grace, this is my friend Lady Flora Campbell. Flora, this is His Grace, the Duke of Darington, who has apparently morphed into a shameless rogue under the island sun.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Flora sank into an effortless curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.” She looked at Alethea with a gleam in her eye. “I must admit that I hadn’t expected to find you so…charming. A rakish duke will surely scandalize society. In the best ways, of course.”
Despite knowing her friend was jesting, jealousy nipped and clawed inside Alethea’s chest. When Declan took a step toward her beautiful friend and extended his hand to help her navigate to the shore, she turned away, her hand opening and closing around the leather reins in her palm.
Seeing Declan touch Flora created a painful lump in her throat, and the realization disturbed her.
“I appreciate your assistance,” Flora remarked as she came to stand by Alethea, her head cocked becomingly to the side, inky curls brushing along her cheeks. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m expected home.”
Declan bowed politely, his motions crisp and graceful. His eyes flitted over Flora’s face for a moment before they returned to Alethea’s face. And stayed.
Her mood brightened.
Her friend offered her a quick hug. “We’ll talk more at the ball tonight. I find there are numerous things we haven’t discussed.” A strangled giggle escaped Flora before she twirled around. She retrieved her black mare’s reins and led her up the path, crooning softly as she did so.
“Did you meet Lady Flora in Scotland?”
“No, I met her here in the park,” Alethea explained. “She’d seen me jump a bush and complimented me on my seat.”
Meeting his enigmatic black gaze made her mouth go dry. She licked her lips and when he tracked her movements with hooded eyes, her skin grew hot under her habit.
She wanted to ask him a slew of questions. About his life in St. Lucia. His business endeavors. His suspicions about his brother’s death. Instead she took a step back, needing to create some space between them. His intensity threatened to singe her, and she couldn’t afford for him to know how much he affected her.
“Allie.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I want to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
Declan’s gaze burned into her. “Yes. The words I said to you before I left were…unfair. You didn’t deserve my anger, and it was wrong of me to direct it at you. I’m sorry.”
Surprise stole her words, and she stared at him with large eyes. He looked so contrite, his forehead crinkling in the adorable way it used to when he was upset.
“Thank you for saying that.” She licked her lips, debating whether to minimize the incident and his need to apologize. Remembering how much his words had hurt her, how she’d replayed their parting scene in her mind over the years, she thought better of it and busied herself with patting her mare.
Shifting in discomfort, she observed how very much alone they were. Her groom sat idly on his mount two dozen yards away, but Alethea knew many wouldn’t consider him a proper chaperone. She mentally cursed for permitting herself to be in such a situation. If they were discovered, what would her excuse be?
Resolving to depart for home, she turned a bright smile on Declan, hopeful it hid the anxiety making her nervous.
The sound of approaching horse hooves rose from the ground. Alethea jerked around and a sudden wave of nausea caused her to sway on her feet. Lady Banbury, the biggest gossip in London, was smiling broadly as her landau approached, her eyes narrowed in calculation.
Hopes of escape dashed, Alethea clenched her eyes shut as she considered whether her fortitude, or more importantly, her reputation, could survive the encounter to come.
Chapter Six
May 1803<
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Reputation. Family history. Respectability. Duty. How I loathe the words.
-Diary of Lady Margaret Gordon
The look of horror that flashed across Alethea’s face at the sound of the carriage wheels, before she quickly shuttered her expression, soured Declan’s cheerful mood.
The landau full of women approaching were the sort he’d learned to avoid, and if the predatory gleam in their eyes was any indication, they had Alethea and him in their sights. Apparently, avoidance was harder to come by as a duke. He’d wandered into the park to walk off some of his frustrations, not to be waylaid by a feral clowder of town tabbies.
“It’s Viscountess Banbury, the ton’s biggest gossip. Just smile and follow my lead,” she said through her teeth. She sent the women a welcoming smile.
The landau jerked to a halt next to them, and an elderly woman with a bonnet adorned with large, garishly colored roses leaned out toward them. A grin stretched across her face, leaving Declan thinking he’d inadvertently stumbled across a macabre show.
“Why Lady Alethea, what a delight it is to see you.” The woman cast her gaze dramatically around, alighting on the waiting groom. “But where is your father?”
“He had an appointment.” Alethea flicked her hand in a cavalier fashion. “How do you do, Lady Banbury? Ladies?”
“We’re well, dear. Delighting in this lovely weather,” Lady Banbury said, even as her eyes focused on Declan. “And it appears you and your male friend are, too.”
From the way her brows disappeared into her white hairline, and how she was practically hanging out of the carriage, the woman was positively salivating at the possibility she’d encountered a scandal in the making.
Alethea stiffened, although he was convinced no one else noticed. But his every sense was trained on her in his effort to play along with whatever storyline she concocted.
Or so he told himself.
She gestured to him with a solicitous smile, and Declan amused himself that she could produce the expression without willing it. Years of practice dealing with busybodies had obviously made her an expert.
To Love a Scandalous Duke (Once Upon a Scandal) Page 5