Adrian’s eyes widened. It seemed there was no end to the surprises Lady Hester could provide.
She faced him now as one equal to another, again a trait that set her apart from every other woman he had ever known. Some, the vain ones, had believed themselves superior to him; others, the hopeful ones, had an almost pathetically needy manner. “Should you not take that to the duchess?” he said at last. “We wouldn’t want her to catch a chill, would we?”
“No, Your Grace, we wouldn’t.”
He watched her go, wondering at the emphasis in her final words to him. We. We, as in you and I together here? We against the others?
Not alone anymore.
Tempting thought. Tempting, foolish thought.
He lit his cheroot and sauntered after her, deciding his stomach could bear witnessing the tender reunion of mother and son, if only to see how the surprising Lady Hester would react to his half brother, the fair and charming Lord Elliot Fitzwalter.
Chapter Six
By the time Adrian reached the foyer, a pair of footmen were already carrying in a trunk, maneuvering the bulky piece of baggage up the wide stairs. Outside, three more servants stood ready to receive smaller pieces of luggage at the direction of Elliot’s Italian valet.
Elliot, all five foot nine of him, looking healthy as a horse, his hair lighter from the sun of southern Italy, his eyes bluer in his tanned face, and sporting the latest in European fashion, met his mother at the door, smiling blandly as she embraced him.
“Elliot, my dear boy, how are you?” the duchess cried.
“I am much better, Mama, now that I am here with you.”
The duchess hugged him again, but his attention had already wandered toward his half brother. “I see you have other company, Mama.”
The duchess drew back. “Yes.”
“Elliot, how good of you to arrive at last,” the duke said in greeting.
Lord Elliot made a crooked little smile, one side of his mouth rising slightly higher than the other, and continued to survey the foyer. His gaze came to rest on Hester, who stood silently at the bottom of the stairs, the shawl draped over her slender arm, waiting patiently, more like a good servant than a woman of rank.
The duchess had some right to be vain of her son, Hester thought. He was tall, attractive, fair and blue eyed, his manner pleasing, his posture erect and his movements athletic. His lopsided smile added to his charm and was not nearly so sardonic as his brother’s. They were nearly the same height, and their voices remarkably similar in their smooth, deep tones. She also realized that for a man who had been too ill to travel, he looked extremely healthy. Indeed, it was interesting to contrast the appearance of Lord Elliot with that of the duke upon his arrival.
“And who is this delightful creature?” Lord Elliot asked, moving toward her.
When he took Hester’s hand in his, she was acutely aware of two things. The first was that the duke was watching, the second was that despite Lord Elliot’s manner and good looks, she was not pleased by his touch, although there was nothing obvious to make her feel that way.
Except, perhaps, a certain speculation in his expression. The type of speculation she could imagine a man giving the inmates of a house of ill repute before selecting one. The comparison leapt into her mind so swiftly and so strongly, she could think of nothing to say.
Then she chided herself for a fool. Perhaps her mind had been unduly influenced by the presence and reputation of the Dark Duke. “Good afternoon, my lord,” she said as she curtsied.
The duchess hurried forward and clasped her son’s arm in her long, clawlike fingers. “This is Lady Hester Pimblett. Hester, my son, Lord Elliot Fitzwalter.”
“I am charmed, Lady Hester,” Lord Elliot said. He glanced at his mother. “You did not tell me she was so lovely.” He pressed his lips to the back of Hester’s hand and smiled at her.
Hester fought to keep her displeasure from her face. What kind of foolish girl did he think she was not to realize that his overt flattery was completely outrageous? It was better to have a man explain his kiss as a moment of weakness than to be subjected to such empty praise.
She gently pulled her hand from his grasp and moved to give the shawl to the duchess.
“We were beginning to give you up,” the duke said, walking closer.
“I was unavoidably detained,” Lord Elliot said, facing his sibling.
“I thought so,” the duke replied sarcastically.
How could any man’s voice be so warm one moment, and then so chillingly frigid another? Hester wondered as she looked at him. And how was it that a smile could look so much like a threat?
Surprisingly, Lord Elliot Fitzwalter seemed quite immune to the hostility in his brother’s eyes. “When I stopped in London, I heard you got hurt in a fight”
“Yes.”
“Too bad.”
“I’ll tell you all about it later.” The duke took one step toward his sibling. “When we are alone.”
Lord Elliot’s gaze faltered for the briefest of moments before the duchess took her son’s arm and drew him toward the drawing room. “Come, Elliot, we’ve been waiting tea for you.”
He smiled at her. “I knew I could count on you, Mama. I’m famished.”
“Come along. Lady Hester,” the duchess commanded.
Hester took a few steps after the retreating pair, then regarded the duke, who had not moved. “Your Grace?”
“I have lost my appetite,” he muttered before striding out the front door, pushing past the footmen.
His brusque discourtesy was quite a contrast to the charming manner of his brother, Hester thought as she followed Lord Elliot and his mother into the drawing room, and her curiosity as to the cause of the animosity in the family grew, for it was surely based upon more than a difference in their treatment by the duchess.
“I must say, Mama, that I am surprised to find Adrian here,” Elliot said as he guided his mother to her customary seat on the sofa.
“He came to recuperate,” she said. “Another nasty episode in his vice-ridden life, I fear. But let us not ruin our talk with tales of Adrian’s doings. How was Italy?”
“Sunny, hot, delightful,” Elliot replied with a smile as warm as the Italian sun. “I am only sorry I wasn’t here to be with you through another trying time. When I heard about Adrian, I was in London on my way home. I thought he was quite badly hurt.”
“Not at all,” the duchess sneered, “as you could see for yourself.”
“I am glad of that,” Lord Elliot said, smiling at Hester, who hovered uncertainly in the doorway. “Do take a seat, Lady Hester. Ah, the tea!”
Hester made way for the housekeeper and a maidservant as they set out the tea things on the large round table before the fireplace. There was a host of delicacies and small sandwiches, the light meal far more elaborate than any tea Hester had partaken of at Barroughby Hall before.
Hester sat on the farthest chair, nearest the window. When she glanced outside, she caught sight of the duke walking down the garden path, his dark head bowed in thought, and he was limping. Not badly hurt, perhaps, but more so than he let on, she suspected.
Why hide the true extent of his injuries? To seem impervious to the duchess’s slights and angry words? Could it be that he was affected by his stepmother’s opinions more than he let on, just as he affected her more than she dared to show?
Hester turned her attention back to the duchess and her favored son as the servants finished their work and left the room.
“We are planning a ball for you, Elliot,” the duchess announced as she poured the tea gracefully.
A bored and peevish look that had more of the mother than the brother in it crossed Lord Elliot’s face. “That’s delightful, Mama,” he said. His words were filled with an enthusiasm that was a distinct contrast to his expression moments before. “Lady Hester, you must be sure to save at least two dances for me”, he continued.
“I shall be happy to,” Hester said, not entirely lyin
g. It would be a new experience for her to stand up with so handsome a young man, and although she felt something was amiss with him, she was willing to dismiss her first impression as faulty, influenced by the tension in the household.
Then she reminded herself that Lord Elliot hadn’t seen Damaris Sackville-Cooper yet. It would be better not to expect to be asked to dance except out of duty.
“I suppose Adrian will be gone by then,” Lord Elliot said lightly.
It had not occurred to Hester that the duke would not be at the ball, and she found this idea rather distressing. Why should she be upset, she chastised herself, for surely he would not dance with her anyway. Indeed, with his leg injured, he probably wouldn’t dance at all.
“I have no idea how long Adrian intends to stay,” the duchess said with an aggrieved sniff. “You know he never deigns to inform me of his comings and goings.” The duchess picked up a sandwich, then turned her stony gaze onto Hester. “If you have finished your tea, Lady Hester, you may leave us.”
Hester had barely touched her beverage, but she knew a dismissal when she heard it.
“We shall see you at dinner, Lady Hester,” the duchess said.
Lord Elliot rose and bowed, and gave her the merest hint of a smile and an apologetic shrug. “At dinner, Lady Hester.”
Hester tied her bonnet firmly on her head and wrapped her thick woolen shawl about her shoulders. The day was fine, although cool, and she needed some fresh air. The atmosphere inside Barroughby Hall had grown stifling, with the increase of tension Lord Elliot’s arrival had occasioned.
She hurried down the back stairs and headed for the stables. She chose that destination for two reasons: the first was that she liked to go to the stables, which were always warm, and the smell of the straw reminded her of the barn at home where she used to seek refuge when her sisters were quarreling. The second was that they were in the opposite direction to the way the duke had taken.
The grooms, heading for the servants’ hall after a day’s work, nodded silently at her as she entered the dimly lit brick building, leaving her in blissful solitude. This was not her first visit here, and she knew most of the animals. As she walked slowly down the center aisle she took note of the duke’s fine carriage horses and his saddle horse, which stamped impatiently. He was not getting enough exercise, she suspected. “But I would not trust you any more than I would your master,” she murmured as she paused to admire the animal.
“Which is to say, not at all, I warrant.”
Hester whirled around to see the duke standing in the middle of the aisle, his weight leaning on his uninjured leg, his arms crossed against his broad chest, his face barely illuminated in the weak light so that she could not clearly see the expression in his eyes.
He walked slowly toward her. “Come now, Lady Hester, don’t be demure. You are an intelligent woman, so I do not expect you to trust me.”
“After yesterday, you can be certain of that,” she snapped, her surprise making her sharp when she would have preferred to sound nonchalant. “Good day, Your Grace.” She tried to walk boldly past him, but he stepped into her way.
“There is no need to run off. I promise you I will keep my distance.”
“I am not afraid of you.”
“My dear young woman, are you telling me I am losing my ability to inspire terror and awe in the female breast?”
She eyed him warily, wishing she could see more of his face in the dimness. “It would be better if you tried to inspire admiration and respect.”
He put his hand on his chest in a gesture of surprise. “Do you tell me I do not inspire admiration and respect? Alas, fair maiden, say it is not so, or else I have to drown my sorrows in yonder trough.”
“A good dunking might help,” Hester observed coolly, trying her best not to smile at his melodramatic words.
“But then my hair would cling damply to my fevered brow, and I assure you, Lady Hester, that will certainly not inspire admiration.”
“I meant admiration for your character, not your looks.”
He staggered back a few steps, one hand over his eyes. “Woe is me! She wants me to be known for my character—a hopeless business.” He put down his hand. “I fear it is far too late to inspire any such sentiments,” he said, and this time she thought she detected a serious note in his tone.
“It is never too late,” she said.
“What can you know about such things?” he asked softly, his voice suddenly intimate. “You are a blameless, respectable young woman.”
Hester’s face flushed and her heart started to beat quickly. “I…I must go, Your Grace.”
He did not get out of her way. “I suppose dear Elliot inspires admiration and respect. Most women seem to think so.”
Hester wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to be dragged into the family conflict. “I haven’t known him long enough to say,” she finally replied.
“But which way tend your thoughts?” he pressed.
“I cannot say, at this particular moment.”
“So, you are telling me that you are not swift to cast your judgment?”
“I should hope that I would never judge in haste, in case I was led astray by first impressions.”
He came a little closer. “So, it is possible that although my reputation is well-known, you were not predisposed to dislike me?”
She nodded slowly.
He chuckled quietly. “A most rare woman who gives no credence to gossip. Pray tell, Lady Hester, what was your first impression of me?”
“I thought you held your temper remarkably well.”
“What, no remarks on my good looks or sardonic wit?”
“If you ask me questions only to receive compliments, I believe you are wasting my time, and yours.”
“Stay a moment!” he said as she once again prepared to walk past him. “You don’t trust me, do you?” he challenged.
“While I do not believe unreservedly in gossip, I do hear it, Your Grace, and I do not think it would be wise to trust you, given what I have heard.”
“Ah!”
“You asked me, so I told you, Your Grace.”
“Oh, I am not offended. Indeed, I applaud your rational wisdom, Lady Hester. There is just one thing I wish to say, and then you may go, as seems to be your heart’s desire. I hope you do not trust my dear brother, either.”
“Why should I not?” She regarded the duke steadily, trying to read the inscrutable expression on his face.
“He is a man, after all, and a damned attractive one. You might forget yourself.”
“If I do not forget myself in the presence of the infamously handsome and seductive Dark Duke, why would I do so for your brother?”
“Half brother,” he specified.
“Very well. Half brother.”
“So perhaps only half as dangerous—but dangerous still.”
“Do you mean to keep me here until it is time to dress for dinner?” she demanded, quite fed up with his banter and, deep down, truly confused. He sounded so sincere, she could believe he was truly concerned for her well-being, something that touched her heart.
He laughed softly. “Very well, run away, my dear. As long as you promise me you will not trust either one of us.”
She forced herself to meet his bold gaze steadfastly. “He has not kissed me upon the lips, Your Grace, or made any improper advances,” she said, as much to remind herself of that fact as him. “If I do not make my decisions based on gossip, I will not make them based on what you tell me, either.”
“I see.” He stepped back, out of her way, and she finally saw his face completely.
She wished she hadn’t, for there was a hard and cold expression upon it that chilled her. “If anything happens, don’t say you were not warned,” he said.
“Such as?” she inquired.
“I am not the only Fitzwalter guilty of breaking hearts,” Adrian replied lightly, retreating from his serious manner. He had given her fair warning, and now it was
up to her to heed it, or not.
“I do not believe myself to be in any great danger,” she replied just as lightly. “Now I really must beg to be excused,” she said. Then she hurried past him without so much as a backward glance.
Which was just as well, Adrian told himself. He was beginning to enjoy being alone with her far too much. She was better off avoiding him, as long as she avoided Elliot, too.
He softly and eloquently cursed as he walked toward his stallion. “I tried, Drake,” he murmured, stroking the beast’s muscular neck. “I tried.”
Lady Hester had no conception of her danger. A woman like her, lonely, plain, past the first blush of youth—she would be easy prey for Elliot’s elegant allure. Unfortunately, Adrian feared his warning had fallen on deaf ears, for despite her words about not making judgments, surely she would never believe anything the Duke of Barroughby had to say, and Elliot’s fatal charm could sway the most virtuous of women.
The narrow door at the other end of the stable opened, and Jenkins came tottering in as fast as his ancient legs could carry him. The sound of his wheezing breath was too loud in the silence, and Adrian faced the old retainer with concern. Perhaps it was time he pensioned Jenkins off, whether the duchess agreed or not, or whether Jenkins agreed or not.
“Your Grace!” the elderly man panted.
“What is it?” Adrian asked loudly. “What is the matter?”
“Young Bolby’s come by, all in a state, Your Grace. It’s his father. He’s not expected to last the night.”
Adrian swallowed hard, then hurried to grab a saddle.
“Should I fetch the groom?”
“No. I shall do this myself.”
“You’re not dressed for riding, Your Grace.”
“I don’t give a damn. Where is young Bolby?”
“Already left for home, Your Grace. He said he wouldn’t stay to see you, but he hoped you’d come.”
“Convey my regrets to the duchess and the others,” he said as he tightened the cinch. “I will not be dining at home tonight.”
The Dark Duke Page 6