The men fell silent.
Hannah put up a hand. “It’s not what you think. His Grace was kind enough to help me when I twisted my ankle.” She smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You know me, my usual clumsy self.”
Alicia folded her arms and glared at the duke, obviously unconvinced. Cole dismissed the others and strode toward them, his gaze thunderous.
As Bennett set her down on a nearby chair, he whispered, “You’re stronger than you know, just like Katherine. Or Aphrodite.” Without waiting for her reply, he stood, facing the others. “I found her limping near the bridge and I could not, in good conscience, allow her to walk so far on an injured foot.”
Alicia and Cole wore equally concerned expressions bordering on anger.
She couldn’t allow her sister and brother-in-law to believe the worst of Bennett’s actions this afternoon. “That’s true. I don’t know how I would have made it home without his aid.”
Alicia glared at the duke but spoke to Hannah. “What did he do, carry you all the way home?”
“No, we rode his horse.”
Her sister’s amber eyes opened wide. “You rode a horse?”
Hannah nodded. “I didn’t think I could do it, but His Grace walked the horse and kept my mind off of it.” At Alicia’s look of alarm, Hannah rushed on. “We discussed Shakespeare, and I wasn’t nearly so afraid.”
“Suttenberg?” Cole looked at the duke for verification.
He donned his ducal mien, all traces of her Bennett vanishing. “I give you my word, I did not touch her in an improper way. I admit to a lapse in judgment at the ball, but I hope you know I’d never take advantage of an innocent girl.”
Cole let out his breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “Of course. My apologies for doubting your honor. When Hannah didn’t come home, we grew anxious. Then you come in carrying her...”
“It looked bad,” the duke finished. “Understandable.” He bowed to Hannah. “Good evening, Miss Palmer. I hope your ankle heals quickly.”
“Thank you for your assistance.” She blocked out the memories of his arms around her while they rode and while he carried her to the house. And she most especially blocked out the softness of his kiss at the ball and the stirrings inside her heart.
Alicia crouched in front of Hannah. “Which ankle?”
Hannah lifted her injured foot and held still while Alicia unfastened the boot to examine the damage.
“This changes nothing, I trust?” the duke said. “You’re still coming to my hunting lodge in Netherfield in two weeks’ time?”
Cole and Alicia exchanged weighted glances. Alicia nodded briefly. Cole’s expression relaxed, and he said, “Yes, we’re still coming.”
The duke smiled. “Excellent. Until then.” His gaze rested on Hannah briefly, and her Bennett peeked through his ducal posture. He bowed and strode away, his lean body filling out his suit beautifully. Blushing, Hannah forced her attention back onto her foot.
Alicia stared at her, and her voice took on an incredulous tone. “You like him.”
“No!” Hannah put a hand over her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so charming at the ball. And just now, when he brought me home, he was so kind. He took off his saddle so I could ride, and he didn’t make me feel foolish for being so afraid. But it’s pointless. I’m beneath him.”
Alicia sat next to her. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s looking for someone who’ll be the perfect duchess, not someone young and shy like I am. I’m not mature enough, nor do I have enough Town polish.” Not to mention he needed someone to bear children and protect the ducal line. Fate had made her a failure in the most basic feminine duty. She curled her hand into a fist in helpless anger.
“Being a duchess brings on a great deal of responsibility, not to mention public scrutiny,” Alicia agreed. “Everyone looks to a duchess for comportment, dress, everything. She is usually held as some kind of example to follow, but if she slips up, people are delighted to find evidence she’s no better than they. People can be pathetic sycophants to a duchess’s face but ruthless behind her back.”
Cole broke in. “She’s right. Suttenberg is always doing everything he should and excelling at it. Naturally, I found it vastly startling, not to mention amusing, to learn he’d lost his head at our ball. It reassured me the rest of us mere mortals aren’t as far behind him as it appears.”
“You’re an earl,” Hannah said. “You aren’t far behind him in rank.”
“Not just rank, but in everything. He seems so perfect. Like my brother Christian.” He smiled ruefully.
Hannah nodded at the mention of Cole’s handsome younger brother. But Christian fell short in comparison to her Bennett, the Duke of Suttenberg. Intelligent, witty, accepting—even encouraging—of her ideas and dreams, and thoughtful, Bennett truly was as amazing as people thought. He wasn’t perfect, but that added to his appeal. Oh heavens, was she losing her heart to him?
Foolish girl! Her feelings were irrelevant. She wasn’t meant to be a duchess: she disliked attention, she lacked poise, and most of all loomed that horrifying possibility that she couldn’t bear children so crucial to the continuation of the line.
She stared at the lilacs in her hand. “I understand what you’re saying; liking him would be pointless.”
Alicia touched her arm. “No, not pointless at all, dearest. Your dowry is respectable and being Cole’s sister-in-law raises you from the level of a country squire’s daughter, and you’re so beautiful and kind that everyone admires you. You have no reason to believe yourself beneath consideration. But a duchess is not an easy role to bear.”
“I wouldn’t want people to watch me and talk about me, nor have false friends.” Hannah shook her head. “I won’t give him another thought. When we go to his hunting lodge, I will content myself with his library and gardens. The visit will be a pleasant diversion, nothing more.”
Alicia hugged her, and they turned their attention to her ankle. Cole carried her up the stairs to her room. Though he was broader and more muscular than the duke, being in his arms invoked none of the pleasure of being in Bennett’s. She sighed. She’d have to put thoughts of Bennett out of her head.
But that night before she retired, she carefully pressed Bennett’s lilacs between the pages of her favorite book.
Chapter Eight
The Duke of Suttenberg stood in the small drawing room of his hunting lodge and tried not to look too often or too longingly at Hannah Palmer. He must resist temptation. Though he’d discovered in her an uncommon delight, someone as young and inexperienced as she would crumple under the pressures required of a duchess. He wouldn’t do that to her. Besides, he was nearly twice her age.
But she drew his focus. She stood serenely, almost aloof, watching the others with an aura of quiet dignity. While the earl and countess conversed with everyone, Miss Palmer seemed content to observe.
Since the houseguests were all assembled, he began the formal greetings. He led his mother to the Tarringtons. “You remember Lord and Lady Tarrington, of course, Duchess?”
Voices in the room hushed as they often did when he spoke, and the guests turned to watch him.
“Certainly.” Mother spoke confidently, unconcerned with the attention.
Lord Tarrington bowed low. “You’re looking well, Duchess.”
Lady Tarrington curtsied gracefully. “Lovely to see you again, Your Grace.”
“Congratulations on the birth of your son,” Mother said.
She received equal looks of pride. “Thank you, Your Grace,” the earl said. He gestured to Miss Palmer. “Please allow me to introduce Lady Tarrington’s sister, Miss Palmer.”
With flushed cheeks that only added to her beauty, Miss Palmer curtsied without lifting her gaze.
“My, you are even more beautiful up close,” Mother said.
Blushing, Miss Palmer stammered, “Th-thank you. Your Grace.”
Suttenberg smiled, hoping to steady her nervousness. “I trus
t your ankle has healed?”
She took her lip between her teeth briefly, those lush, sweet lips he’d kissed once. “Yes, Your Grace. It’s... well.” Her blush turned crimson, and her eyes narrowed as if she were in pain.
Apparently the question had the opposite effect. Mother looked at her in—was that sympathy or pity?—and moved on to meet the others. Pity was never a good sign. The duchess pitied the unfortunate, not ladies who won her approval. Miss Palmer took a step back and bumped into a small table. It teetered, setting a vase to wobbling. She turned and tried to catch the vase but knocked over a small picture in a frame.
Some of the younger guests giggled. Miss Blackwood, the daughter of a marquis that his mother hoped he’d consider, stared at Miss Palmer as if she were a street urchin.
After throwing a withering glare at the uncharitable girls, Suttenberg went to Miss Palmer. He steadied the vase and righted the picture frame. “No harm done,” he said.
After darting him a glance, she closed her eyes and swallowed as if trying to prevent tears.
Poor girl. She’d never survive the spotlight always shining on a duchess. Odd, but when she’d pretended to be Aphrodite, she’d been so poised, so confident, not the bashful, clumsy girl he saw now. Even when she’d been limping and frightened of his horse, she hadn’t been so awkward.
Miss Palmer’s sister, the Countess of Tarrington, went to her and squeezed her hand, giving the girl a sympathetic smile, then straightened her posture as if giving unspoken guidance. Miss Palmer followed suit, but kept her gaze downcast, her cheeks still reddened.
To keep attention off the distraught girl, Suttenberg continued guiding his mother to each guest as if nothing had happened. He greeted Miss Blackwood and her parents without undue warmth, lest they be too encouraged by his attentions, and he welcomed Mr. Gregory, a longtime friend of the family, who managed to show both deference and friendly affection for them both.
Suttenberg clapped Gregory on the shoulder. “Always glad to see you, Gregory.”
“You as well, Your Grace.” Mr. Gregory smiled and glanced at the duchess, his smile turning affectionate. “You’re radiant, as usual, Duchess.”
As Mr. Gregory and Mother exchanged pleasantries, Miss Palmer practically disappeared into the background. After the butler announced dinner, they filed into the dining room and sat to a sumptuous meal, but Bennett hardly tasted it as his focus returned often to Hannah Palmer. She seldom spoke to her dinner companions. Trying to keep to his vow to avoid temptation, and to spare her the guests’ focus, he hardly looked at her all evening. But she occupied his thoughts all night, even as he tried to sleep.
The following day, after he took all interested guests out to enjoy a morning hunt, he returned home while many of the guests went on an extended ride. Inside the stables, he brushed his hunter, enjoying the uncomplicated pleasure of bonding time with his horse. After he’d finished, he headed for the hunting lodge, absently glancing at the pasture behind the stables where some of the horses grazed. Miss Palmer stood with her arms crossed on top of the fence, her chin resting on them, her attention wholly focused on a pair of colts prancing as if performing a dance for her. Despite his best intentions, he went to her.
He leaned against the fence and watched her, admiring the soft curve of her cheek. His fingers itched to touch it. Puzzled by her rapt attention on something that clearly terrified her, he asked, “What is it about horses that frightens you?”
With a little start, she turned to him and smiled ruefully, “I have always been afraid of them; I feel small and helpless next to such big creatures. But when my brother Armand got a new horse, he wanted so badly for me to ride with him. So he brought out one of the smaller mares and convinced me to ride. I had no sooner found my seat when something spooked the horse, and she started running. I was terrified. I was sure I would fall off and die.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I stayed on somehow. My brother caught up to us and pulled the horse to a stop. He pulled me off and held me, telling me over and over he was so sorry. I shook all over. I realized how very little I could control such a big, strong animal. And I don’t really understand them. They seem so volatile. They are beautiful, and I love watching them—from a safe distance.”
He nodded. “If you understand them, they may not seem so frightening. For example, look.” He pointed to a colt with his ears pricked forward. “He’s curious. But look at those two at the top of the hill. See the position of their heads? They’re aggressive. When they put their heads down and flatten their ears, they’re angry. And that one is pawing. He’s about to charge. But those four are relaxed—you can tell by their heads and their postures. That one over there, the little mare, she’s listening to us. See how her ears are turned our way?”
Her face brightened. “I see.” Her smile turned rueful. “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t noticed that before. I’m normally fairly observant about people. I’m surprised I didn’t see that about horses.”
“You have to spend time in their company to discern little clues like that.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She returned her chin to her resting position with her arms atop the fence. “But they’re easily spooked. Can that be predicted?”
“Sometimes. Sudden movements or loud noises will often do it. Some horses are more high-strung than others.” He turned to study her. “What do you observe about people?”
She began an astonishingly accurate and detailed discourse about each of his guests—their names, habits, and relationships—ending with, “Dr. Power doesn’t mind everyone asking him for free medical advice. He’s such a gentle, fatherly sort of man. Oh, and Miss Blackwood has set her cap for you, in case you didn’t notice.”
He nodded. “I did notice. My mother wants me to notice her in return. She fits all my mother’s requirements. From the exterior, she seems ideal, but she’s too calculating. I’m not entirely sure she has a heart.”
Miss Blackwood would not stoop to help a lady who couldn’t remember the steps during a dance the way Miss Palmer had. And he could never allow a woman like Miss Blackwood to see the weakness deep inside him, a weakness he feared would reveal itself if he let down his guard.
She smiled as if they were comrades. “I didn’t want to say that about her; it would have been impolite. She probably rides beautifully.” Her tone turned wistful.
“She does.”
Miss Palmer slumped a little. “I’d never make a good wife for a duke or a lord. I’d be better suited for a country squire—someone who won’t seek London society.”
He ached to tell her that it didn’t matter. With a lady like her at his side, he wouldn’t feel so alone, wouldn’t feel the need to keep up pretenses every moment of the day. But she was right; she’d be happier living the country life with a man who wouldn’t subject her to moments when her shyness would cause her to become flustered and knock over vases, to the delight of gossips.
Her voice drew him from his thoughts. “Mr. Gregory and your mother have a particular fondness for one another.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh, no, Mr. Gregory is a longtime friend.”
“He doesn’t want simple friendship, and I don’t believe she does, either.”
“Why do you say that?”
“They converse like old friends, but every once in a while, they cast longing glances at one another. And once he looked at her with such admiration that I almost teared up. He seems a fine man.”
Odd, but Mother had never mentioned Mr. Gregory in that particular way. He’d have to ask her about it later. His mother remarrying? He turned that over in his mind. Honestly he was surprised she hadn’t yet. He’d been five when his father died, and the duchess had been alone ever since. She was still an attractive woman, only in her early fifties, and had a great deal to offer a husband—wit, intelligence, kindness. Certainly she ought to remarry if she had that desire. Suttenberg agreed with Hannah Palmer; Gregory was a fine man.
M
iss Palmer’s voice broke in to his thoughts. “Your mother is a gracious lady.”
He studied her face. “Do you think so?”
“I do. She wasn’t condescending at my awkwardness when you presented me to her or when I acted like a clumsy fool. And she’s inordinately fond of you.”
He smiled. “She is, fortunately. And I hope to stay in her good graces.”
“Surely you’re not worried. Why, with such a paragon of a son, she must be very proud.” She smiled as if enjoying a private joke.
He shook his head. “I’m no paragon, as you well know.”
A small chestnut horse trotted to him, nodding her head and nickering a greeting. He smiled affectionately at the old mare. She stretched her neck out over the fence. Miss Palmer stiffened but didn’t step away.
“Good morning, Daydream.” He rubbed the mare’s nose and ran his hands along her neck.
“Are your mother’s expectations so high?” Her nonjudgmental compassion as she gazed at him had an odd effect on his tongue, loosening it in a way that it normally would not.
“I became the Duke of Suttenberg at the age of five.”
She nodded and recited, “Bennett Arthur Partridge, the Fifteenth Duke of Suttenberg.” She smiled. “The current book of Peerage is expected reading for any young lady who will have a Season in London.” She sobered and touched his sleeve. “What happened then?”
“My mother explained that my rank carried a great deal of responsibility. I not only must learn to manage my lands, but be an example of a peer of the realm to everyone who would watch me. My father had a reputation for excellence, and she wanted me to follow his legacy.”
“A heavy load for a five-year-old.” She regarded him somberly.
He rested one arm on top of the fence while the other continued rubbing Daydream, who nuzzled him and wuffled in his ear. “She told me the time for catching frogs and learning my letters in the nursery was over. I went to school the next day and spent the rest of my life trying to live up to family ideals.”
Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade Page 15