“It’s too bad you couldn’t marry Jane Fairmont and get her out of the way,” Yvette remarked rather dryly.
Jeffrey laughed in spite of himself. He had to give her credit for determination if nothing else. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Yvette, but the lovely Miss Fairmont is not my type.”
Suddenly Yvette’s expression grew quite mischievous and she regarded him steadily. “And just what is your type, Jeffrey?”
He took a deep breath. Now was the moment to begin his romancing of her, his first move. He needed to turn her head a little. “Well, you are.”
Yvette burst into giggles. “What?”
Bristling somewhat at her reaction, Jeffrey stated, “Well, you asked. And you are my type. Or someone like you.”
Yvette rolled her eyes merrily. “Oh, Jeffrey! That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say!”
He frowned at her. “Why do you say it’s ridiculous?”
“Because, Jeffrey,” she spoke to him as if he were a small child, “if someone like me were your type, you’d be a respectable married man with a large passel of children by now.”
“Not necessarily.”
“You only consort with actresses and dancers. Women like that.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He was not comfortable with the idea of Yvette knowing about his private affairs. “How on earth would you know whom I ‘consort’ with?”
She laughed again. “Women always know about these things even if we never mention them. Everyone knows. Everyone talks. Have you forgotten how long I’ve known you?”
“No, I hadn’t forgotten, but you were a little girl. I didn’t think you were aware of my private life.”
“I was a child then, but I am not a little girl any longer, Jeffrey.” She gave him an arched look that shook him to his toes and added, “In case you haven’t noticed yet.”
He held his breath for a moment. Yes, he’d certainly noticed. His little Yvette was now a strikingly beautiful woman. A woman who wanted only to be a duchess.
“Besides,” she continued, “your private life is hardly private. Everyone talks about you.”
“Enough about me.” Jeffrey knew he had a reputation. In fact, he had done more to create it over the years than he should have. But for the first time in his life, he wished he had been more discreet with the ladies he’d romanced. The idea of Yvette knowing about this aspect of his life did not sit well with him.
“Tell me, Yvette, just how do you plan to win over the future Duke of Lansdowne?”
She suddenly grew flustered. “I don’t have a plan exactly . . . I just wish to . . . that is . . . I shall endeavor to convince him in my manner of behavior and dress that I am better suited to be his duchess than Jane Fairmont. I hope to make him fall in love with me.”
“Yes, and of course he will.” Jeffrey almost felt sorry for the man.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to do, I would think.” Yvette gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders. “Other men have fallen in love with me when I wasn’t even trying. Do you have any advice for me?”
He shook his head. “No, I believe you will do fine on your own. But may I ask you a question?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Why do you wish to be a duchess?”
“What woman wouldn’t want to be a duchess?” she asked incredulously.
“I know plenty of women who would not be interested in such a position. However, I’m posing the question to you, Yvette. Why do you want to be his duchess when you don’t even love him?”
“I never said I didn’t love him. I am still getting to know him, for heaven’s sake!” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “As it is now, I like Lord Shelley very much. He’s quite handsome, well-mannered, distinguished, and gallant. And I shall come to love him in time, I’m certain. And if I were his duchess, I would be a very important and grand lady.”
“You don’t believe you are important and grand enough now?” he questioned.
She waved her hand airily. “You know what I mean. I must say that I’ve grown weary of this conversation, Jeffrey. You used to be far more entertaining than this.”
Reluctantly, he supposed she was right. He had not been at all amusing and teasing with her as he usually was. Now that he had a clearer perspective on the situation, he should refrain from criticizing her and make himself more appealing than the highly regarded Lord Shelley. In order to protect her, Jeffrey had to make her want him more than she wanted to be a duchess.
He groaned inwardly, hating himself a little for what he was about to do.
Flashing her his most engaging smile, he caught her gaze. He gave her a heated look he usually reserved for his most desired conquests and Yvette’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He noted that she caught her breath.
“Far be it from me to allow a beautiful woman to be displeased in my company.”
She giggled, relaxing a bit. “Now there’s the Jeffrey I’ve come to know and love!”
Yvette’s words, said lightly with no hesitation on her part, should have made him happy, but instead left Jeffrey suddenly feeling very empty inside.
6
Autumn Days
William Weatherly, Marquis of Shelley, Earl of Cheshire, and the future Duke of Lansdowne, rode his horse across the fields that sprawled around his ancestral estate, Lansdowne Manor. He loved the fresh air and his horses. He was on a particularly fine mount today, a large black stallion named Charger. This was exactly where William wanted to be. Outside, feeling the bracing wind on his face, riding over his lands dotted with trees painted in autumn colors, watching the sun sink behind the distant hills. Not in some infernal drawing room at a musicale listening to a silly chit embarrass herself by thinking she could sing.
His entire afternoon had been wasted on such drivel.
He’d intended to take the enchanting Miss Hamilton for a carriage ride through the park, but the weather had not cooperated. Instead, his mother had cajoled him into attending the aforementioned dreadful musicale. Afterward, they had escaped to the relative serenity of his ancestral home. The sunset ride about the grounds had been good for him. Cleared the cobwebs from his head.
And so did Miss Yvette Hamilton. Now there was a lovely thought.
She was undoubtedly beautiful. And quite entertaining. She had a quick wit and had not fawned over him as the other females did. When William had asked to take her riding, she’d seemed reluctant to accept his invitation and, he had been on pins and needles for some moments waiting for her response. Finally, as if she had had a difficult time making up her mind, she had looked up at him with her incredibly blue eyes, and smiled enchantingly.
“Yes, I would be honored to go riding with you, my lord.”
His heart had done a somersault at her acceptance. It was ridiculous! How could such a little slip of a girl have that effect on him? William was accustomed to ladies of all classes making themselves readily available to him. It had been that way his entire life, and at times it had been quite an asset and at others, just a boring reality. As the heir to a wealthy dukedom, he was more than sought after. He was also pursued, harassed, and harried by every female and their mother trying to arrange a marriage for him.
That was the reason William had gone abroad in the first place. Spending time traveling the Continent had removed some of the pressure and stress of his position and allowed him to be himself. For years it had been his escape. He knew one day he would have to return home and pick up the reins of his duties and responsibilities, but while his freedom lasted it was wonderful. He could admit that he’d had more time than most to enjoy himself before marriage, and enjoyed himself he certainly had!
However, it was the letter from Mother that had brought him back to London this summer. He’d been on a warm beach in southern Spain when he’d read her elegant script.
Dearest William,
It is with a heavy heart that I write these words, but I shall be brief. Your father has been stricken w
ith an illness that has weakened his body and, most tragically, his spirit. In spite of excellent care from the best doctors, he does not seem to be recovering.
I implore you to come home. It is long past the time for you to marry and provide an heir. Your father may not have much time left with us. Please come back, my dearest boy, and assume your duties as son and future head of this family.
I await your speedy return.
Your with love,
Mother
Like any loyal son, William had left the arms of the Spanish beauty he had been attending, packed his bags, and begun the journey home to England that very day.
Seeing his father again had been a terrible shock, for his mother had greatly understated his condition. The man lay in bed, his seventy-year-old body withered and pale, unable to move or speak. It was as if he were asleep permanently. For all intents and purposes, William was now the duke in everything but name. It suddenly became William’s responsibility to handle the affairs of the estate and all that that required. And as he’d neared his fortieth birthday, he’d realized that his mother was quite right. It was time he settled down properly and took up permanent residence on the estate. It was definitely high time to find a wife, someone to be his duchess, the mistress of Lansdowne Manor, and most importantly to provide him with an heir.
William pulled the reins of his horse and guided the obedient animal to a stop at the crest of a high ridge. He looked back at the grand manor house that had been his childhood home. Generations of Lansdownes had lived there and pride swelled within his chest. The line would not end with him. He had given himself a deadline. He would choose a bride by Christmas.
He had spent the entire summer weeding through the scores of pretty debutantes angling for a chance to be his duchess. And as late in the Season as it was, there were scores of them, preening and prancing for his attention! He could have his pick of them without even trying. Spending his nights in crowded, noisy ballrooms with people who tended to bore him had quickly grown tedious and he longed to be done with the matter. However, choosing his duchess required a good deal of careful thought and consideration. Through all the contenders, only two ladies had stood out from all the rest.
Miss Jane Fairmont and Miss Yvette Hamilton.
He had narrowed his selection down to the two of them.
They both were beautiful, accomplished, and elegant ladies with much to recommend them. Yet they were vastly different.
Tall and slender, Jane Fairmont was very alluring with her wavy chestnut hair and dark green eyes, and William had always been more attracted to dark-haired beauties like her. She came from a long and illustrious family and had a hefty dowry, and he was quite attracted to her. He enjoyed her company and had a feeling she would be more than agreeable in the bedroom.
On the other hand, Yvette Hamilton was her complete opposite in looks. Fair and petite, with soft blond curls and pretty blue eyes, there was an elegance and delicacy about her, almost like that of a china doll, which he found most appealing. She was bright and vivacious and delightful company. She utterly enchanted him and he could not say exactly why that was. There was something about the shape of her sensuous mouth that drove him mad. He wanted desperately to kiss her full, pink lips....
However, Yvette had been born the daughter of a shopkeeper! Although her uncle held a minor title, she had not been raised a daughter of the nobility but in a family that was in trade. It seemed her older sister had married quite well for herself, snaring the Marquis of Stancliff, and another sister had married an Irish earl. He’d discovered that Yvette had come to live at Devon House when her sister married Stancliff, and had acquired niceties and polish fine enough to make anyone forget her middle-class beginnings. But it still begged the necessary question. Could Yvette Hamilton be a proper duchess?
In all truth, he wasn’t so much of a snob as to let her background spoil her chances with him. He simply needed to assure himself she was up to the task and the great responsibility that came with being his wife.
Yvette Hamilton or Jane Fairmont.
How would he know which lady would best fit him as his wife? He needed to spend a little more time with each one to become more familiar with them before making such an important decision.
He rode Charger back to the house, leaving the animal in the family’s prized stables with one of the grooms. Once inside the manor house he found his mother. She sat at her oak desk in the study, penning a letter.
“Hello, William, dear.” She glanced up from her papers. His mother, Wilhelmina Weatherly, the Duchess of Lansdowne, smiled, her face brightening at the sight of him.
On his return to England, his father’s appearance wasn’t the only one that had surprised him. His mother had also changed while he had been away. Although well over sixty years old, Wilhelmina was still an attractive woman, thin as a reed and with only a touch of silver in her blond hair. Her fine features and pale green eyes had once made her a great beauty. But now he noticed a different change in her that made him quite anxious. The puffiness and redness of her cheeks and her frequently slurred speech were telltale signs. He hoped now that he was home again he would be able to control the situation and help her.
“Hello, Mother.” He eyed her warily, noting the half-full decanter of wine on the desk near her. There was an empty crystal glass beside it.
“How was your ride, William?” she asked.
“Invigorating. It was good to clear my head.”
“Are you spending the night here or are you going back to town?” she asked.
“I’d love to stay here, Mother, but I should return to London.”
“Wait until morning?” Her sad eyes pleaded with him.
He could not deny her. With a heavy sigh he said, “Of course, I’ll stay the night, if you wish.” Although what difference it made to her, he wasn’t entirely sure. After dinner his mother would more than likely hide herself in her room with a silver flask of wine for the remainder of the evening and believe that he hadn’t a clue as to what she was doing.
“Oh, that’s wonderful, William. I just feel better when you’re in the house.”
“You have an army of servants at your beck and call, Mother.”
“Yes, but they’re not family. They don’t love me.”
William sighed heavily. When had his mother become so maudlin? “Well, I shall leave in the morning. I have business in London which needs my attention.”
Wilhelmina suddenly giggled like a silly schoolgirl. “I know what that business is!”
Perhaps she’d already had more to drink than he realized. She’d certainly started earlier.
She gave him a slightly lopsided grin. “I’m delighted that you are serious about finding a wife and starting a family, William. I was beginning to have doubts about you. I feared that perhaps you were the type of gentleman who doesn’t prefer women.”
His mother had most definitely been dipping into the wine! She never would have uttered such an outrageous statement otherwise. If her remark had not been so appalling, he might have laughed.
Frowning at her, he said, “I can assure you, Mother, that is most certainly not the case. I immensely enjoy the company of women. And I promise that I shall be engaged before the year is out. However, I think it’s time we dressed for dinner. I’ll walk you to your rooms.” He removed the wine decanter from her desk and set it on the far table.
Wilhelmina blithely ignored him. “Have you set your sights on a particular lady yet? Do I know her?”
“I have narrowed my selection down to two ladies. And no, I don’t believe you know either of them. Come now.” With a gentle touch he placed his hand on her arm and began to lead her from her desk. She followed obediently, like a small child. There was a frailty about her that twisted his heart.
He silently chided himself for waiting so long to provide grandchildren for his parents. They had never pressured him to wed, unlike the parents of so many of his friends who had been pushed into marrying before th
ey wanted to. His mother and father had not been happy that he’d stayed abroad for such a long duration, but they had never reproached him for it. They had understood, as he had, that he would return and assume his role and take on his duties eventually. There had never been a doubt of that. They both loved him and had doted on him, their only child, his entire life.
When he had first come home, he’d been so preoccupied with his father’s illness and throwing himself into the social Season to look for a bride that he had not given much attention to his mother. His mother should be bouncing the future heir to the Lansdowne dukedom on her knee, not drowning her sorrows in decanters of wine.
Now William regretted that he had waited so long to marry. He had been selfish and only thinking of his own desires. He was now forty years of age and his parents . . . well, his father was on his deathbed and his mother . . .
“Will you tell me who they are, William? Can I assist you in any way?”
He guided her from the room, unable to bear the look of longing in her hopeful expression. “Of course, you can assist me, Mother. I value your opinion and should like to know your thoughts on the woman who would be my wife. She will, of course, be filling your shoes as Duchess of Lansdowne, which will not be easy to do since you have done it so beautifully.”
A genuine smile lit her face at his compliment. “Thank you.”
They walked together and reached the grand staircase that dominated the front hall. As a young boy he had run up the curving oak steps and slid back down the wide banisters with reckless glee. Now, as he escorted his fragile mother up the stairs, he thought that if she had a wedding and grandchildren to keep her occupied perhaps she wouldn’t drink so much.
“I promise you, Mother, I shall announce my engagement at the Duke of Rathmore’s annual Christmas ball and be married before the spring. In the meantime, I shall invite the two ladies I have in mind to have tea with you, and together you can help me decide who would be a better duchess.”
His By Christmas (Hamilton Sisters) Page 5