by Sara Bennett
“I wish I could go away from Belmont Hall,” she said suddenly, passionately. “I wish I could leave my family behind and launch myself into a new life.”
She gave him a flicker of a glance, as if uncertain whether her words would offend him in some way. He wasn’t offended. While he did wonder why he’d been the recipient of her unexpected confidence he was rather pleased she’d chosen him.
“Why don’t you?” he said cautiously.
She laughed. “I can see you do not understand the difficulties of common folk. How could you? You have everything you might ever want and if you don’t have it then you can quite simply purchase it or find it or—or take it. You are a duke and everyone defers to you.”
“I would have thought that brings its own bonds and ties. I have obligations and responsibilities, remember?”
“But don’t you sometimes wish you could just throw aside all of it and head off on an adventure? Or do something completely out of character, something wild and dangerous? Have you ever done anything wild and dangerous and—and reckless, Your Grace?”
“Can’t say I have, Miss Belmont.”
She sighed. He found himself wondering what she was thinking. She seemed disappointed in him, as if he’d failed her in some way. Sinclair didn’t want to be a disappointment.
“When I was a young boy, I considered being a tinker the most exciting life I could imagine. Wandering free through the countryside, sleeping under the trees and cooking rabbits over a campfire. No parents to insist I do my lessons or sit up straight at the table, no one to remind me of the heavy burden coming to me when I became duke. But when I began tying Cook’s pots and pans about my person and affecting a tinker’s accent my mother put a stop to my ambitions.”
She smiled, and he felt pleased, as if she was rewarding him for effort. “I remember that tinker. He had long dark hair and a gold earring.”
“I think it was the earring that I wanted most of all.”
“I should think, now you are duke, you could wear an earring and no one would dare to comment upon it. They may think you eccentric, but the rich are allowed their eccentricities. Nice try, Your Grace, but I do not think I would consider that reckless behavior, not in your case.”
Sinclair watched as she set down her teacup. What did she consider reckless behavior then? When she rose to her feet he felt his own stab of disappointment. “I’d better find my brothers before they wear out your staff.”
He opened the French doors onto the terrace and she paused to admire the potted orange trees in flower, enveloped in their sweet, heady scent. The sunlight caught the red tints in her hair, where the curls were evading the confines of her straw bonnet.
She was no classic beauty.
Nevertheless there was something very fetching about her, something that drew him and made him want to . . . well, to kiss her.
A pulse began beating in his throat as she turned to smile at him, and he wondered what would happen if he did kiss her. Here. Now. Would that be wild and dangerous enough for her? Could he do it? Did he dare?
He leaned closer and she gazed back at him, her lips slightly apart, her pupils enormous and dark. Her scent came to him, an undertone to the orange blossom, sweet and fresh and womanly.
“Eugenie . . .”
But just before he took her into his arms, a familiar voice drifted toward them. Sinclair straightened up. Across the lawn and under a tree was his sister, seated on a swing, and pushing her rather too vigorously was Eugenie’s appalling brother.
Sinclair leaped off the terrace and began to stride toward them with ominous speed.
Eugenie hurried behind, skirts held up above her shoes and stockings, more curls tumbling from beneath her straw bonnet.
“Whatever is the matter, Your—Your Grace?” she called, her voice fading as he outstripped her.
“Annabelle?” he said in his most glacial tone. “Where is Miss Gamboni?”
His sister stopped swinging and looked at him, her beautiful face mutinous. “I wanted some air, brother. Do I need a chaperone for that? Surely you would not begrudge me some air? There will be little enough to be had in London once I am residing there.”
Sinclair eyed Terry with displeasure. “I see you have met Mr. Belmont.”
“Mr. Belmont was kind enough to accompany me for a stroll around the garden,” she replied primly, but with a sly sideways glance at her companion.
Eugenie arrived, breathlessly trying to straighten her bonnet. “Terry, I think we must go now,” she said anxiously, reaching for his arm.
As if, Sinclair thought with surprise, she was drawing him away from danger. Was he the danger? Did she think he was going to punch her brother in the nose? He might deserve it, certainly, for inveigling himself into Annabelle’s company, but Sinclair knew he was far above such petty behavior. Still, he took a moment to calm himself.
“Let me introduce Miss Eugenie Belmont,” he said in a milder tone. “This is my sister, Lady Annabelle.”
Caught off guard, Eugenie gave a wobbly curtsey.
Just then a fair-haired girl came hurrying toward them, flushed, her gaze anxious. “Your Grace,” she said breathlessly.
“Miss Gamboni,” he retorted coolly. “We will discuss your failure as a chaperone for my sister later.”
Eugenie felt sorry for the girl, but Annabelle was more interested in persuading her brother to let her have her own way. “Mr. Belmont says there is a ball in the village on Saturday night, Sinclair. Shall we go?”
“Annabelle, you know that is not possible.”
“Why not?” Her voice had grown a little shrill. “He says they have a ball every year at this time and we have never gone. Don’t you think that is a little odd, when we have lived here so long? I want to go, Sinclair. Just because I am marrying Lucius does not mean I cannot have a little treat. Indeed, I think I deserve a treat. Please. You know I love to dance. It is the one thing I miss about London. We have never attended the village balls and yet Mr. Belmont tells me they are a great deal of fun.”
“Rather tedious, sometimes,” Terry put in. “Very strict when it comes to manners, aren’t they, Eugenie? No high jinks allowed.”
Eugenie looked as if she might say something else, but her brother nudged her and instead she reluctantly nodded in agreement.
Despite all of his inner doubts, Sinclair felt himself waver. Annabelle was going to London soon. There would be no time to form a tender for the appalling brother, so what harm could it do? She would probably find the village ball boring and uncomfortable; she would not enjoy being jostled among so many smelly farmers and local worthies. And Sinclair and Miss Gamboni would be there to keep an eye on her.
“We shall see.”
She pouted and tossed her head, but he thought it was more for Terry’s benefit than his own. “You’re so stuffy, Sinclair. You never have any fun and you want everyone to be as boring as you.”
“We must go,” Eugenie said again into the uncomfortable silence, with an urgent glance at her brother. “Thank you again for your invitation, Your Grace. We are most grateful for your kindness.”
“Yes, thank you,” Terry murmured, as he ambled in her wake.
Sinclair watched them go, their heads close, as if in serious conversation. It wasn’t until Annabelle tucked her hand into his elbow that he realized she’d been speaking and he was miles away. Determinedly putting Eugenie Belmont out of his thoughts, he concentrated on his sister.
“You cannot have enjoyed being with Terrence Belmont,” he said. “He’s not up to your mark.”
Annabelle smiled at him fondly. “Sinclair, you are such a snob. And the thing is you don’t even know it.”
Jack was back in the stables after a visit to Erik, but content to be loaded once more into the old coach. The twins were tired from a game of hide-and-seek with a stable lad and leaned against each
other, sleepy-eyed. Terry waffled on about Lady Annabelle and how unaffected she was for a duke’s sister.
“Do you think she’ll come to the village ball?” he mused. “A guinea says she will.”
“You owe me a guinea.”
“Then we’ll be even. If I could find a wife like Lady Annabelle I’d be made for life.”
“Once she sees where the ball is held, in the rooms above The Acorn, she may not be quite so unaffected,” Eugenie said dryly. “It is hardly what she is used to, Terry. I’d be very surprised if her brother lets her go. That poor girl . . . Miss Gamboni. Obviously Lady Annabelle gave her the slip.”
“All the gossip about him is right, isn’t it? He’s an arrogant stuffed shirt. Did you hear how he spoke to me when I dared to touch his old sword?”
Eugenie wasn’t listening. Her thoughts were drifting. Would Sinclair be at the village ball? And if he was, would he dance with her? The rooms above The Acorn were crowded and stuffy and couples were known to slip away for a cuddle and a kiss. Would Sinclair ever do anything so daring, something so far beneath his usual rigid code of behavior? If she could persuade him to do something so unlike himself then her chances of marrying him would surely rise a notch or two?
She wondered what it would be like to kiss Sinclair.
Her lips tingled, as she recalled the manner in which he’d looked at her when they were standing on the terrace, the way he’d moved closer, almost as if he was about to take her in his arms. The way he’d spoken her name.
Terry might think him stuffy and arrogant, but Eugenie saw something else in Sinclair’s dark eyes. His Grace, the Duke of Somerton was lonely and quite possibly shy, hemmed about with his duties and responsibilities and his grand house. She smiled, remembering his boyhood wish to be a tinker with a golden earring. She was beginning to understand him. Whereas Eugenie wanted respectability her duke needed to do something completely undukelike and a little wild.
And Eugenie was the girl to help him do it.
Chapter 5
Jack was full of talk about the duke’s stables and all that he’d seen there. Sir Peter didn’t appear to be taking any more interest than normal, but Eugenie noticed he hung about after supper rather than retiring to his newspaper. She could almost see the cogs in his brain turning, formulating some plan whereby he would sell his services to the duke for a small fee. “I taught Jack everything he knows about horseflesh,” he would boast, and then offer to share his expertise. Eugenie cringed at the thought, and hoped her father would think better of it. Unfortunately, knowing him as she did, she was more inclined to fear the worse.
As she’d grown up, her family had become more of an embarrassment to her. When she was young she was like Jack, naïve, believing there was nothing wrong in what her father did. But the years had changed that, and as Eugenie grew into a woman who found such behavior unacceptable, she felt the gap between herself and her family widen. She was like a changeling and sometimes she thought it would be a wonderful thing to walk away from these people who were so unlike her. Why, she asked herself, couldn’t she have been born into a different family altogether—a respectable family with morals and ethics? A family she could be proud of instead of wanting to hide them behind closed doors?
But of course she couldn’t walk away. Jack needed her, and the twins were not completely beyond redemption. She had a duty to them, to help them as best she could, although some days the burden was great indeed and she could not help but wonder if there would ever be a time for her. When would she be able to live her own life?
Eugenie tried not to give a sigh as she made her way upstairs to her small bedchamber. At least it was hers alone, she being the only girl in the family, and she treasured the small private space. With the door closed she could shut out the trials and tribulations awaiting her and lose herself in her books and her dreams.
She went to her wardrobe and stood staring at her few dresses. There wasn’t much to choose from, but there was the ball on Saturday and she wanted to look her best. Her Sunday gown was too drab and serious, and she had grown out of many of the girlish dresses she’d worn before she went to Miss Debenham’s. The truth was she needed something new, but that was unlikely to happen when the boys desperately required new shoes.
As she examined each garment, Eugenie imagined what Sinclair would think, and her dissatisfaction grew. How could she attract such a handsome, eligible man when he must be used to the most beautiful women in the most gorgeous outfits? Eventually she shut the door with a bang and flung herself back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, and indulging in her favorite pastime of make-believe.
The make-believe world was always so much more satisfactory than real life. She could make the story end as she wished, and lately it always ended the same way. With herself happily married to the Duke of Somerton.
But today she couldn’t seem to place the story threads to her satisfaction, and restlessly she turned over, her cheek on her hand, and gazed at the window. Downstairs she could hear the twins arguing and her mother’s desperate and useless threats, and then her father’s roar of displeasure, which worked better. It was no use. In a moment there would be a tap on her door, the long-suffering servant requesting she come and help.
Eugenie rose and left her daydreams behind.
Sinclair found his sister in a surprisingly good mood following the Belmonts’ visit. He had his suspicions this was something to do with Terry Belmont, and the coming ball he’d let himself be persuaded into attending, but as Annabelle would be leaving for London soon he didn’t concern himself too much. And he had had words with Miss Gamboni and instructed her sternly on the need to be vigilant when it came to his sister.
If there were tears when it came time for Annabelle to go, he would deal with them as he always dealt with her tantrums. By reminding her she had a position to maintain and a birthright to uphold.
He found himself thinking of Eugenie Belmont instead. Don’t you ever feel as if you’d like to do something dangerous? He hadn’t, not until that moment, or if sometimes he felt restless then he’d simply refused to allow such rebellious thoughts to form in his mind. He’d been born and bred to the title and everything had been sacrificed to it—that was just the way it was. He couldn’t say he’d really felt dissatisfaction with his lot, not for years. Why should he? People were jealous of him, not the other way around.
But now he felt a stirring inside him, an urge—one he tried hard to quash—to do something reckless and wild. To show Eugenie he wasn’t the stuffed shirt she imagined him.
He shifted restlessly, glancing down at the note on his desk. He’d written to his mother about the village dance and just received a reply, and now he forced himself to read it.
“Do be careful, Sinclair,” she’d written in her neat scrawl. “Annabelle is at an impressionable age and if you don’t keep a close eye on her one of those yokels will make off with her fickle heart. A heart, which I should not have to remind you, belongs to Lucius!”
Sinclair had no intention of allowing Annabelle to forget where her future lay, but he couldn’t help but wonder what his mother would think if he told her how much his own thoughts had recently become preoccupied with Miss Eugenie Belmont. She’d raise her narrow eyebrows and fix him with one of her cool aristocratic looks.
“Really, Sinclair,” she would say, “can’t you do better than that?”
He’d explain to her what it was about Eugenie that made her so fascinating, although because he didn’t really understand the reason himself he’d probably make a hash of it.
“You have a duty not to make your family a laughingstock, Sinclair.”
He thought about the painting in the gallery, the fierce Boudicca, bare-breasted, with her sword raised against the Roman invaders. Her red curls tumbling about her shoulders and her eyes glittering with purpose.
“You are lusting after Boudicca?” his mother w
ould sneer. “Dear me, Sinclair. Wasn’t she a savage?”
But he wasn’t lusting after the woman in the painting; he was far more interested in Eugenie. She seemed to occupy a special place in his thoughts. And when Annabelle began speaking about the village ball and what she would wear and how excited she was to be going, he might tease her and roll his eyes and play the bored older brother, but in truth he was just as eager.
The cobbled square, on one side of which sat The Acorn, was alive with people and noise and flaring torches. The rain that had at one point threatened to spoil the evening was gone, leaving the ground washed clean and the air fresh and sharp. The Belmonts were on time, mainly because Terry had harried them like a sheepdog a mob of sheep in his impatience to get here, although he was sensible enough not to tell his parents the real reason for his impatience. Eugenie felt frazzled, wondering if she was properly turned out. There hadn’t been enough time to check her appearance as often as she’d wished to, and now it was too late.
Her tentative, “Do I look well?” was met with a chortle from her father and a teasing, “Are you hoping to catch a husband tonight, Genie? Make sure you ask him whether he is rich before you fall in love with him, because if he is poor then I will refuse to give my permission for the banns.”
“This was where I first met and fell in love with your father,” Mrs. Belmont said, sighing. “He was by far the most handsome man in the room.”
“And did you ask him if he was rich, Mama?” Eugenie asked innocently.
Her mother pretended not to hear. The difficulties of her marriage to Sir Peter Belmont were well known, but Mrs. Belmont’s manner of dealing with them was to always believe the best of her husband and to turn a blind eye to the worst.
Eugenie had always expected to meet her future husband at a ball like the one tonight at The Acorn. That was before she’d got herself into this scrape with her friends at Miss Debenham’s and the Husband Hunters Club.
They went indoors and up the stairs to the rooms set aside for the ball. Eugenie swallowed her nervousness and smiled at her acquaintances, exchanging a word here and there, and gradually she began to relax and stop herself from worrying about what may or may not happen, and how she was going to play the part required of her if Sinclair did turn up.