Freddy’s phaeton was indeed fashionably high. Minette leaned over. ‘How do you do?’
‘Oh, very well. This is my companion, Miss Bernice, who used to be my governess. When I left the schoolroom we could not let her go she is so much a part of the family.’
The companion, a short, thin young lady in a drab coloured walking gown and a pair of spectacles on the tip of a pointy nose, dipped a curtsey.
‘I am so glad I saw you,’ Lady Priscilla said. ‘I wanted to ask if you would care to go shopping tomorrow afternoon with Mama and me? We are going to the warehouse in Houndsditch to choose fabric for new curtains.’
Minette glanced at Freddy. ‘We don’t have any plans for tomorrow afternoon, do we?’
‘None. I did have it in mind to ask you to attend an event with me the day after.’
Minette smiled at Priscilla. ‘I would love to go.’
‘Good. We always go to Gunter’s afterwards for ices. We will call for you at two.’
Freddy bowed again and moved back into the traffic on the drive.
‘I thought you said you hadn’t known Lady Priscilla long?’
She winced at his frigid tone. He was still suspicious. ‘Believe it or not, I met her for the very first time at Gosport’s ball. It is strange. I feel as if we have known each other for years. It is nice to find a friend.’
‘A fortunate first meeting, then.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, do not tease. You know what happened was an accident.’
His lips twitched a fraction. ‘Very well. We will never mention it again.’
‘And I will tell Madame Vitesse that whoever was making enquiries about her brother was not you.’
A brow shot up. She’d clearly surprised him. ‘You do believe me, then.’
‘Gabe wouldn’t have you for a friend if you were without honour. And lying is dishonourable, n’est pas?’
He bowed. ‘You are as intelligent as you are beautiful, sweetheart.’
Sweetheart. A casual endearment that warmed her through and through. She felt the heat of it rise in her cheeks. ‘A compliment?’ she shot back, with a glance askance to hide her confusion. ‘Now, that is something new.’
‘Well, you are my fiancée.’
Something inside her delighted at the teasing note in his voice.
She batted her lashes in pretended flirtatiousness. ‘So that is the reason. I suppose it makes sense when we have to keep up appearances. What is this invitation you mentioned to Lady Priscilla?’
‘A cricket match at Lord’s Ground.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Cricket is a game I do not understand very well.’
‘Mr Brummell is to play for Hampshire.’
For a moment she didn’t quite believe she’d heard him correctly. ‘Beau Brummell?’
‘Indeed.’ The teasing twinkle was back in the depths of his blue eyes. ‘That Mr Brummell.’
She cast him an arch look. ‘It would be important to attend, then.’
‘Exceedingly.’
‘Do you think we could ask Lady Priscilla to go with us?’
He frowned.
‘She feels very badly about what happened. It would go some way to relieve her mind that you do not hold her to blame.’
‘Not altogether to blame.’
The mock severity in his voice made her chuckle. ‘Then you agree. And it would save Nicky the bother of having to act as chaperone. She becomes very tired in the afternoons.’
‘Very well. If your friend will bring her antidote of a companion with her to give the whole event a veritable aura of respectability.’
‘Then it is settled. I will ask Lady Priscilla tomorrow.’
This new feeling of harmony between them was very welcome. Indeed, the day seemed brighter than it had before. She glanced up. How strange, the sun was covered by cloud, but she was definitely feeling warm. Apparently, it was nothing to do with the sun, it was a glow inside her at their newfound accord.
They reached the end of the carriage road. ‘Do you want to take another turn?’ he asked.
She cast him a sideways glance. ‘Would you let me drive? I hear lots of ladies own their own carriages and drive themselves.’
‘They do.’
‘And they have races,’ she said, recalling a conversation.
‘If that is your plan you can ask someone else to teach you.’
She recoiled from the harsh tone in his voice. ‘It is all right for a man to race but not for a woman?’
‘It is reckless for anyone.’
Her spine stiffened. Always this man had to be in control. ‘Then certainly I will ask someone else. If you would be so good as to drive me home? I must dress for a ball this evening. It would not do to rush my toilette.’
He headed out of the gate.
‘Are you also going to Lady Cowper’s ball tonight?’ she asked, breaking the chilly silence.
‘I was not invited. She is another of my mother’s friends.’
Did his mother really wield so much influence? ‘Then I will look forward to seeing you at the cricket match.’
‘I’ll send a note to Gabe, just to make sure he approves before you invite your friend.’
‘Perfect,’ she said.
It was anything but perfect. Once more they were at odds. But one thing was certain, she was going to ask Gabe about Freddy’s mother and her friends.
* * *
After properly messing up their budding friendship during the drive in the park, Freddy hoped today’s outing would regain the ground he’d lost. He’d been a fool to react so strongly to her casual remark about racing. Clearly she had not heard the rumours about what had happened to his brother and he should not allow guilt to ride him so hard.
The past was over and done with, and if his mother could not let it go, he could do no more.
She would not be pleased about his engagement. Not one bit. He’d written to her, of course, given her the news and set things in motion for the betrothal ball. The people on the estate would be delighted. An engagement promised a wedding and a bride promised an heir and all the security of a continuing dynasty. Unfortunately, Mother hadn’t replied to his missive. Not one word. No surprise there.
She would do her duty to the dukedom, as she always had done her duty. But no force on earth could make her show anything but martyrdom as she did it. A problem looming on the horizon. The woman’s negativity would lend the perfect excuse to Minette’s diffidence about the wedding. Something he would have to work hard to counter, when he hadn’t yet managed to overcome his fiancée’s objections.
Meanwhile, he needed to find out who else was clumsily trying to put a hand on Moreau’s collar. He didn’t want the Home Office or anyone else queering his pitch.
He had been surprised by Minette’s acceptance of his word that it was not him or his men stomping around and poking their noses into finding Madame Vitesse’s brother. He had discovered the man’s last name. Every foreigner who entered the country had to register with the Department of Aliens and one Henri Latour was no different. But that was all they had done or would do—unless Madame Vitesse did not provide the information she’d promised.
To his relief, the ladies were ready and waiting in the drawing room at Gabe’s town house.
‘You recall Lady Priscilla and Miss Bernice,’ Minette said, the light of mischief in her eyes.
‘How could I ever forget you, Lady Priscilla?’ he said, bowing, ‘or you, Miss Bernice.’
‘Too kind,’ the companion murmured with a quick nervous glance at his face.
‘I am grateful you were able to indulge us this afternoon and become one of our party or we would have had to cancel,’ Freddy continued. ‘Since I understand Lady Mooreshead had another engagement.’
‘One of long standing,’ Minette said.
Long-standing as of the day before yesterday. It mattered not one whit who accompanied Minette, provided he had an opportunity to spend time in her company and convince her that she desired to be wed. As long as those occasions were in places where he wouldn’t be led any further astray by his lust for the woman. Uncontrolled desire came with unfortunate consequences, like children.
‘Are we ready?’
‘Nicky wondered if we should put up a picnic basket,’ Minette said.
‘All looked after.’
Minette gave him a brilliant smile, and he found himself wanting to nip at her full bottom lip as a reminder to keep that smile only for him. Damn it all, when had he ever been possessive about a woman?
Not with any other woman. The thought echoed in his mind. He decided to ignore it. Their engagement wasn’t about possession or about passion and it would be wrong to let her think it was anything more. It would be not only dishonourable but cruel. He’d been acquainted with the cruelty of false hope all his life.
He helped the ladies into his carriage, seating the Sparshott party facing forward and Minette next to him on the opposite side.
‘Oh,’ said Miss Bernice, clearly dismayed. ‘I should change places with Miss Rideau. It is not right for me to face forward.’
‘Nonsense,’ Minette said. ‘I understand you do not travel well.’
‘You are too kind,’ the governess said, ‘but I feel I really should insist.’
Freddy looked down his nose at the young woman in his best imitation of duke bored to death. ‘I can assure you I have no ungentlemanly intentions towards my fiancée, Miss Bernice.’
The poor woman gasped.
‘Freddy,’ Minette said admonishingly. ‘Take no notice, Miss Bernice. He is putting you to the blush because he is trying to be nice to you.’ She gazed up at him. ‘Isn’t that so?’
‘When did you become an expert on my intentions?’ Then he smiled at the governess. ‘Miss Rideau is correct. But you can blame her for my consideration. When she wrote to tell me of your acceptance of my invitation, she mentioned your affliction. And while it may be more proper for you to sit beside me in the polite world, I prefer you not be made unwell, with all its attendant difficulties.’
‘Enough, Freddy,’ Minette said. She smiled at Miss Bernice. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable, ma’am. It is only a very short journey and I will not speak of our unusual arrangement if you will not.’
Lady Priscilla beamed. ‘Poor, dear Bernie. She really is the worst of travellers. And she is very grateful for your kindness.’
The woman gave up with good grace. ‘You are very kind, Your Grace. Thank you.’
‘Have you ever attended a cricket match, Miss Rideau?’ Lady Priscilla asked.
‘I played once,’ Minette said. ‘On the lawn at Meak one summer. I have to admit I had trouble understanding the rules.’
‘I expect His Grace will instruct you,’ Miss Bernice said.
‘Will you, Freddy?’ Minette asked, her eyes full of laughter.
‘I think between us, Lady Priscilla, who has three brothers, and myself, we should be able to make things clear.’
‘Three brothers?’ Minette said.
‘I know,’ Lady Priscilla said with a sigh. ‘Such a trial. They are so overprotective.’
‘Were they concerned about you coming with me today?’ Freddy asked, the darkness inside him rising up.
‘Oh, no. They trust Bernie to keep me in line, don’t they, dearest?’
The little woman shoved her glasses up her nose, looking terribly unsure.
If they thought a timid companion could handle him, Freddy thought grimly, they were idiots. Which they weren’t. He’d met the Sparshott twins and their older brother. He had no doubt at all that he’d find them at Lord’s Cricket Ground, glowering at him in case he put a foot wrong with their sister.
The carriage pulled up, and he jumped down. ‘This way, ladies. I have bespoken chairs for us.’
Being a duke carried responsibility, but it also had advantages he had, up to now, not utilised. Partly because the opportunity had not arisen, given his current line of work, and partly because he always felt like an impostor. A fraud. No matter what his mother thought, he hated having inherited his brother’s title. He’d been set for a career in the army but once he had become heir to the title, his father had made sure no colonel would accept him. Losing one son was enough. If it had been because he’d been worried about Freddy, it might have mollified him, but it had only been out of concern for the succession. Mother, on the other hand, would have been very happy to send him off to war, never to return.
Knowing that, if not for Gabe’s offer of employment he might have enlisted as a common soldier, he’d hated the ducal duties so much. The paperwork. The political manoeuvring. The criticism when he failed to live up to his brother’s memory.
He shut the door on those useless thoughts. On the past. As time had progressed he’d come to understand that he would never be forgiven for being the one left alive. He’d learned to enclose his pain and guilt in a layer of ice.
He was Falconwood. For as long as he lived. And awaiting him and his guests were tables and chairs set beneath a shady tree with attendant footmen. ‘You should have a good view from here,’ he said as he seated the ladies. ‘Champagne?’
‘Yes, please,’ Minette and Lady Priscilla said together.
‘Oh, dear,’ Miss Bernice said. ‘I really don’t think—’
‘How about tea for you?’ He gave her a gentle smile.
Her frown turned into an expression of heartfelt gratitude. ‘Thank you.’
He signalled to the footman, who smartly went about the business of catering to the ladies’ wishes.
‘I don’t see The Beau,’ Minette said, scanning the field.
‘No,’ Freddy said. ‘Hampshire is at bat.’
She wrinkled her nose, staring at the two men at the crease in what he was becoming to think of as a kittenish expression. It made him want to kiss her every time she did it.
‘He is playing for Hampshire county cricket team and he is in the clubhouse,’ Lady Priscilla elaborated further. ‘Only two people are at bat at any one time.’
Minette seemed satisfied with the explanation and sat back to watch, with the occasional explanation from either Lady Priscilla or himself when terms like ‘bowled’ and ‘stumped’ came up.
The buzz of insects, the crack of the bat, the shouts of ‘Huzzah’ and polite applause of the ladies washed over him in a wave of nostalgia. It was such a familiar scene. He and Reggie had played on the local village team that last year. Happy memories he hadn’t recalled for years.
And if it hadn’t been for his engagement, he might never have experienced them again, so focussed had he become on the darkness of what he did. He glanced at his betrothed, at her lively, beautiful face as she listened to something Lady Priscilla was explaining, and felt wonder at the feeling of the rightness of the day. Perhaps he could have this for the rest of his life.
Deserved or not.
Once he had served the ladies, the footman handed Freddy a glass of champagne. He lowered himself to the ground, his back to the tree, and settled in to enjoy watching his fiancée try to understand the rules of play.
‘Oh, well caught, sir,’ he called out, along with several others at a particularly good catch.
Minette glanced over at him with a smile. ‘You like this game.’
It wasn’t really a question, but he answered anyway. ‘I do.’
‘Do you also belong to a team?’
It was an innocent enough question, but it meant more than she might have guessed because she didn’t see any reason why he might not belong to a team. The villagers hadn’t minded his
lameness, either. He may not have been a fast runner but he could hit, and had a good eye when it came to catching. He grinned at her. Yes, he was actually grinning. ‘Dukes have their dignity to maintain, you know.’
She laughed. ‘Lazybones.’
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the companion twitching anxiously. Looking as if she felt the need to set the record straight, to defend him from the accusation of laziness and attribute it to his lame leg. His grin died.
‘Oh, look!’ Minette said. ‘That is Monsieur Brummell. I really thought it was a tease to get me to come with you today.’
Brummell strode out onto the pitch to a round of applause and a few catcalls. As usual he looked cool and elegant.
‘How on earth did they convince him to take part?’ Lady Priscilla asked. ‘I heard he hates any form of violent exercise.’
They watched in silent awe as the arbiter of fashion made run after run, reaching a grand total of twenty-three before he was finally caught. The man was good. He bowed to the applause that broke out as he left.
During the interval, the servants served delicacies designed to please the ladies—cucumber sandwiches and little cakes, along with more champagne and a fresh pot of tea.
‘It is all so very English,’ Minette said, glancing over at him with a challenging look.
‘Is that good or bad?’
‘Très bon,’ she said in a decided way that gave him a sense of great contentment he found unexpected. She frowned. ‘There is a man over there, he keeps looking this way.’
He kept his voice low, for her ears only. ‘He’s probably wishing he was here instead of me, given my lovely companions.’
She sat up a little straighter. ‘Are you flirting with me, Freddy?’
‘Is it not the duty of a fiancé to flirt with his intended?’
The kittenish look reappeared. ‘Now you really are teasing.’ She smiled at him, and something inside him contracted.
It wasn’t lust, though there was always an undercurrent of that whenever she was nearby, it was about liking. Not something he had ever expected. On a day like today, it was too easy to imagine living this sort of life of easy companionship, mutual respect perhaps even— No. That was too much to ask. This marriage was all about maintaining the proprieties and keeping Gabe’s friendship. It would only ever be one small facet of his life, of necessity.
The Duke's Daring Debutante (Regency Historical Romance) Page 9