A Damsel for the Daring Duke

by Bridget Barton

  “Well, perhaps we can agree to trust each other on this point at least?” he said and laughed also. “For I promise you most sincerely that I am not here to play any games, Miss Cunningham, however much I enjoy our friendly little confrontations.”

  As they continued to walk, Charlotte had to admit to herself that his words, his open admissions, had given her a good deal more confidence than she had approached Wolverton woods with.

  She believed him wholeheartedly when he said that he truly liked her, and she knew that she was beginning to genuinely like him also. No, she had liked him all along.

  Her interest in Lord James Harrington had been born the moment she had looked back at him across the gravelled front of Hanover Hall. From the moment she had turned her eyes to squarely meet his, however defiantly, Charlotte had been mesmerized.

  “Well, I did promise to have you returned after half an hour, and I shall keep my promise to you,” he said and laughed as he turned her around and began to head back in the direction from which they had come.

  Charlotte, for her part, wished that the afternoon could go on forever.

  Chapter 8

  As James began to attend Hanover Hall with greater regularity, his valet had become an old hand at quickly packing whatever it was his master needed. He always took his valet with him, knowing how the man liked to be away from Sandford Hall whenever he had the chance of it.

  And James liked Samuel Jones very much and was more than pleased to give his long-serving valet a few days respite here and there from the booming, bullying tones of the Duke.

  “I think that is everything, My Lord,” Jones said before closing down the lid of the small trunk that James had begun to take with him to Hanover Hall by custom.

  “Yes, you have made very short work of that, Jones. Thank you,” James said graciously. “And you have packed your own things?” he added and was pleased to see Jones’ eyes light up when he realized that he would, once again, be going along with his master.

  “It will take just a few minutes, My Lord,” the valet said with a smile.

  At that moment, the door to James’ chamber flew inward, and there stood his father. For a moment, James found himself inappropriately wondering when the last time his father had actually attended his chamber was.

  Very likely he had not walked into that room for many years, and James had a sudden recollection of it being almost twelve years ago when his mother had died.

  “I see you are getting yourself ready to go off gallivanting again, James.” His father still stood in the doorway as if it was somehow displeasing to walk further into the room. “But I shall save you the trouble of continuing to pack.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your valet may return later to reinstate your luggage to the wardrobe,” the Duke said and motioned with a tip of his head that Samuel Jones should leave them.

  The valet, doing his very best to hide his disappointment that he and his master would not be getting away for a few days, hastily made his way out of the room, pausing only to bow at the Duke.

  “It will not be possible for you to take your customary trip to Hanover Hall this time, James. There are Duchy matters to which you must attend, and I will not have this continual gadding about.”

  “What Duchy matters? As far as I am concerned, I have attended too much which requires it. I have spent all week with the overseer and, as far as I am aware, there are no outstanding matters of Duchy business to attend to, or at least there are certainly none which are so urgent that I must disappoint my friend and insult him with my non-attendance.”

  “Ah, you misunderstand me. There are more things to the matter of running a Duchy than the simple mechanics of it, my dear boy,” he said in a patronizing tone. “And since you still have not sat down with Charles Holt and I as promised to go through our list, I have been forced to make certain arrangements for you.”

  “Ah, so it is the ongoing search for a bride for me, is it?” James snapped angrily.

  How could he possibly tell his father of the true necessity of his visit to the east of the county? After all, even if the Duke was well acquainted with Baron Cunningham and his daughter, there was no way on God’s green earth that Charlotte would ever have made her way onto the list that he had drawn up with his scheming old attorney.

  It would be pointless to tell his father not to worry, that he had found a most suitable young lady for himself; his father would never hear of it. James had visited Thurlow Manor several times and had a very good idea of Lord Cunningham’s wealth.

  It was certainly a respectable wealth, something that many would be extraordinarily pleased with. But it was not the sort of wealth that the old Duke would be pleased to hear about, and Charlotte would certainly not come with the sizeable dowry that every young woman on his father’s list would enjoy.

  For one thing, Charlotte’s father was not a man determined to have his daughter married away so fortuitously. It really was the case that his own idea was that his daughter’s happiness should come first and foremost.

  As long as the suitor was respectable, he might be a Duke or an attorney or anywhere in between. And so, James already knew that Lucas Cunningham would not play that game.

  He would not sell his daughter away at such a high price when all that he wanted out of the situation was her own contentment. And that, in the end, was something that money could not buy.

  Lucas Cunningham would make a very fine father-in-law, James had no doubt, but he had a certain way of doing things, and his refusal to play along with such matrimonial games would certainly not go in James’ favour when it came to dealing with the Duke.

  And even if the Baron did decide to do everything in his power to have his daughter become a Duchess, he could not possibly spare the sort of funds that the fathers of the listed women might.

  All in all, James knew that he had been keeping Charlotte something of a secret, and he knew very well why. The moment his father heard of their regard for one another, he would undoubtedly do everything in his power to put an end to their association.

  James wanted things to be further along than they were. He wanted to be at the point at which he was sure of Charlotte’s heart, and she was sure of his. In that way, he would ask her to marry him and, securing her agreement he would simply present her at Sandford Hall as the woman he intended to marry. In the end, under such circumstances, it would be very difficult for his father to interfere.

  It was these early, delicate stages which must be protected. This was the point at which, if his father had sufficient knowledge, he would seek to intervene.

  James thought it a great shame that he could not trust his father, but to drop his guard would be foolhardy, for he knew the man and his ruthless determination well.

  “I have arranged an afternoon tea here tomorrow with Felicia Trent and two friends of hers whose names I cannot quite remember,” he said and wafted his hand this way and that as if the two friends were neither here nor there. “And on the following evening, we have a dinner of several guests, chief among them being the Earl of Whittingham and Felicia. A good many of my friends are coming, and I will not have to sit and explain your absence.”

  “Quite so, Father,” James said brightly, even though agitation burned in his veins.

  He wanted so desperately to see Charlotte that he could almost not deal with his own disappointment in knowing that it would not come to pass on this occasion. But if he fought his father, if he made it so plain that he was determined to go to Hanover Hall, his father would start to suspect something.

  As much as he could not bear it, James knew that he would have to go along with it for now. He had absolutely no intention whatsoever of marrying Lady Felicia Trent and could feel his heart beginning to harden towards the priggish young woman.

  Of course, he knew that none of it was her fault. Her father was as determined as his, and it was likely that she had very little say in what became of her.

  Still, he did no
t want her, and he would not have her. There was only one woman in the world he wanted, and he knew that all he needed to do was to continue to court her until he had the confidence of both her and her father. All he needed was a little more time, and if he did not play the game his father had set for him, all would be known, and time would run out.

  “Oh, I see,” the Duke said, and it was clear that he was instantly upended by James’ early capitulation. “Right,” he went on as if struggling for something to say. “So, it is settled then.”

  “Yes, it is all settled.” James could hardly believe how very convincing he was.

  He sounded for all the world as if he were looking forward to the pointless and tedious social events that his father had set him, and he once again imagined himself to be an actor on stage.

  “I must admit I had expected rather more of a fuss. I had been quite ready for your objections on the matter.” The Duke seemed just a little less gruff and somewhat more curious.

  “Well, as much as I enjoy seeing my old school friend and taking advantage of what I think is rather better countryside over in the east, my dear Hector will not evaporate simply because I shall not see him on this occasion. He will manage, I am sure.” James added a hearty laugh as if to set the seal on his little performance.

  “I am very pleased to hear it.” The Duke went on. “You have spent a little too much time over there of late, and I think it would be more prudent for you to stay on this side of the county for a while. Especially when negotiations are at such a delicate stage.”

  “Negotiations?” James said innocently.

  “Between myself and Whittingham,” the Duke said by way of explanation.

  “As far as that is concerned, Father, I am not entirely sure that I am ready to settle on Felicia Trent,” James said as delicately as he could. In truth, all he wanted to do was prevaricate and play for a little more time. “And I believe that Lady Penelope Colchester is a name that has come up between yourself and Charles Holt. I must admit, I find her rather an agreeable young lady,” he said and winced inwardly as he remembered her nodding and smiling and quite literally agreeing with every point he made.

  Dear Lord, what a tedious young woman she was. Still, it would muddy the waters for a little while and keep his father’s suspicions out of the way. It would occupy the old Duke, perhaps even pacify him somewhat if James appeared to be engaging a little more in the process.

  “Oh, you do, do you?” The Duke raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Well, see how you get along with Felicia Trent over the next few days and then, perhaps we can arrange something with Lady Penelope and her father. No sense in settling for the first one you lay eyes on, eh?” His father looked at him in an almost conspiratorial way and, for a brief moment, James sensed a little closeness between them.

  He realized immediately, of course, that it was based on absolutely nothing. His father could only see any worth in him if he behaved as he wanted, choosing his father’s opinions and wants over his own. As tempting as that tiny moment was, it was not worth a lifetime of battening down his own desires and nature.

  “Quite so, Father,” James said in a hearty tone.

  As his father wandered away, and James looked at the already packed trunk, he felt his heart sink. The idea that Charlotte would be waiting for him upset him greatly, and he could not bear to think of letting her down, nor even her father.

  Wasting no time, he sat down to write her a hurried letter, hoping that it would reach her before he had been due to arrive. More than anything, he could not bear to let her down.

  He was falling in love with Charlotte Cunningham, and he knew there was no going back.

  Chapter 9

  Charlotte had been hovering listlessly all morning, moving from morning room to drawing room and back again. It had been some weeks since she had last seen James Harrington, and she was a little dismayed to discover how much she had missed him.

  Still, he had sent her a message that he was now back with Hector and Lawrence Hanover at the hall and would be pleased if she would receive him for a few hours. Of course, Charlotte had immediately sent a message back to him at Hanover Hall to confirm that she had no prior engagements and would expect him for afternoon tea.

  Her father, who had received the Duke’s son now on no less than three occasions, was already comfortable with the whole thing. He was neither hopeful nor concerned. His daughter had a new friend whom she would either take to or not, and that was all there was to it.

  Lucas Cunningham had no expectations of this burgeoning alliance, and his daughter could not be more pleased. It was a relief to her not to suffer the same pressures that many other young ladies of her status undoubtedly endured.

  That her father made no demands of her, that he did not urge her into his own idea of a good match, was something for which she would always be grateful. And it was something which made father and daughter very close indeed, for Charlotte loved him all the more for his well-developed common sense and his determination that his only daughter be happy and nothing more.

  Charlotte often wondered if it was because she had grown up without a mother. She had been a little child when Lady Cunningham had died and had no recollection of the woman whatsoever.

  As sad as that often made her, Charlotte devoted herself to treasuring her wonderfully close, always amusing, and often exasperating relationship with the father she adored.

  He was loving yet allowed her to simply be, something which might have suggested a certain level of disinterest to the casual observer. But then, casual observers were likely used to watching fathers who plotted and schemed and constantly interfered; all the things which were foreign to the old Baron.

  Lucas Cunningham was, in fact, inordinately interested in his daughter; interested in seeing her develop in her own way, within acceptable limits, of course. And in honour of his respect for her as a human being, never mind a young lady, Charlotte was always honest and careful never to behave in a way which would bring any kind of upset to him.

  That was why she had very quickly admitted her new friendship with the son of the Duke of Sandford. Whilst she had omitted the element of pre-arrangement to their meeting in the woods, she had told her father about the walk they had shared nonetheless.

  She was relieved when he simply accepted the whole thing, likely assuming that she had just happened upon the man when she was out on a solitary walk. But she had not had to lead him to that supposition; she had simply left out a detail or two. And that was as far as she was prepared to go regarding her father. From that point on, she had determined to be open and frank whenever discussion of Lord Harrington sprang up between them.

  Just as predicted, her father’s concentration when it came to fully entertaining the handsome young man had waned very quickly. It was her father’s way to drift a little without appearing at all rude or dismissive.

  He just had a nature which was easily distracted, and whilst he was always polite and took tea with them, often some issue or matter of the household would occur to him, and he would excuse himself to deal with it; more often than not forgetting to return to them at all.

  “You are hovering, my dear. Am I to take it you are all fluttering nerves and romantic notions as you wait for your young suitor to arrive?” Her father appeared so suddenly in the drawing room that Charlotte gasped. “Oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you whilst you were so deep in daydreaming.” Lord Cunningham laughed warmly.

  “Papa, you must not tease me,” Charlotte scolded lovingly. “And no, I am perfectly myself. I am as sane and sensible as ever I was,” she lied.

  Her father’s knowing smile was enough to let her know that he had already perceived otherwise, but she was determined to hold her ground, hoping all the while that she would not blush.

  “If you say so, my dear. But having spent the last hour trying to concentrate on the household accounts in my study to the accompaniment of your little feet pacing from morning room to drawing room, I could only c
onclude that you have been peering nervously out of windows on every elevation of the house. Obviously, I was mistaken, so please forgive me.” His amusement was clear, and Charlotte, despite feeling embarrassed, could not help being amused by his little piece of comedy.

  “You are not teasing me anymore, Papa; you are mocking me,” Charlotte said with a laugh.

  “Only gently, Charlotte.” Her father came further into the room and kissed her cheek.

  She was, indeed, standing by the window and peering out expectantly, and her father made much of joining her and looking out for the Duke’s son also.

  “Papa.” She sighed and scowled at him.

  “Alright, alright,” he said and held his hands up in surrender. “But do come away from the window and sit for a while. Allow yourself to relax, Charlotte. Your young man is already smitten, and you have no need to turn yourself into a wreck of nerves.”