The Devilish Duke: Book eight in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  “Did he, perchance, mention where the Scotts are lodging?” he asked, apparently very interested in surveying the road before them in case the rogue flock of parrots appeared.

  “Lansdown Place, I believe,” she replied, searching her memory for any indication that either of them had a previous meeting with the two unknown Scott siblings. “Why, are you acquainted with Mr Ferdinand?”

  “Not at all,” he replied, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “I can quite safely say that I would not know him from Adam. And before you ask, nor do I know the Colonel, although Sir Edmund is a very distant acquaintance. Not distant enough if you ask me, but I do know the man. MP. Self important. More hair than wit, but considers himself worthier than all the Dons at Oxford.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Devenish, what are you not telling me?” she asked in her best mother voice.

  It worked about as well as always.

  He flashed an amused smile and shook his head, refusing to say anything more.

  Their arrival at the Pump Rooms was timed well, for while plenty of people had already arrived to drink the waters or simply to be seen, it was neither as stuffy nor overcrowded as it could get on the busiest days.

  As always, their presence was met with a ripple of conversation from those below their social circle, for although the Devenishes might spend much of the year in Bath, they had only just returned for the Season after spending winter in the country, and their arrival in town gave people hope that other peers would follow them.

  A vain hope, thought Emily. The heady days of Bath as a resort of the upper classes had gone the moment Prinny established Brighton as the place to see and be seen. Still, the reputation of the waters continued to bring in the wealthy that were in search of healing; Queen Charlotte often stayed at Sydney Place with her entourage, and the Royal connection could never be fully undone. There would always be the established residents of title and status to lend the town their caché.

  Residents such as the redoubtable Dowager Baroness Harden, known to all and sundry as Lady Seraphinia, undisputed Queen of Bath.

  “Your Grace, how wonderful to see you,” called Lady Seraphinia as soon as her eyes fell upon Emily. “Come sit with me, if you please. I was just saying to Jane that I wondered if we would see you today.”

  Emily instructed Carter to steer her chair towards Lady Seraphinia’s party, where General Mortimer was thoughtfully making a space for her. Her reliable footman made sure she was comfortable, before stepping back to allow them privacy to talk.

  “How lovely to see you, Lady Seraphinia,” Emily said, inclining her head to the woman who, although of lower social status, was old enough to be her mother and an acknowledged leader of Bath society. “I’m so pleased to see you again, General Mortimer, and you as well, Miss Lindon.”

  Jane Lindon, Lady Seraphinia’s young companion, stood up so that she could perform an excellent curtsey. General Mortimer gave a deeper bow than was necessary, making his stays creak in the process.

  Lady Seraphinia, as usual, did not stand or show deference beyond a deep incline of the head but waited expectantly for Carter to manoeuvre Emily’ chair between her own and that of Jane.

  Devenish and the General fell into an easy conversation about an upcoming boxing match and their thoughts about that noble art, her son paying little more notice to either Lady Seraphinia or her companion than politeness allowed for.

  There had been a time when Emily had truly believed that Miss Lindon could have made Devenish a good wife, but as that fine young woman showed as little preference for the Duke than he did for her, she’d let those hopes die rather quickly.

  There were moments where she suspected there was more to Jane Lindon’s past than anyone other than Lady Seraphinia knew. However, since she was neither on close terms with the ladies in question, and nor was she so vulgar as to mine for gossip, it was not something she was likely to uncover.

  “Are you pleased to be back in Bath, Your Grace?” asked Jane with a polite smile.

  “Of course she is, you silly girl! Who in their right mind can think ill of Bath?” said Lady Seraphinia before Emily could respond.

  “You were speaking rather ill of it yourself only five minutes ago,” replied Jane with a good-natured smile. “I believe you were saying that there was nobody of interest in town, which quite wounded both the General and me.”

  Lady Seraphinia scoffed at this pronouncement.

  “As though Mortimer gives a fig for what I think. About as much as you do, you insolent wretch!” She turned her attention to Emily, shaking her head in exasperation as she did so. “I have no idea why I put up with her, really I don’t.”

  “Because you will not tolerate fools, which limits your options for companions,” replied Emily. Lady Seraphinia gave a bark of laughter but bowed her head in acknowledgement of the hit on Jane’s behalf.

  “I suppose that’s your reason for putting up with this son of yours,” added the older woman, nodding toward Devenish. “There are plenty of accusations one could level at him, but being a fool is not one of them.”

  Devenish, well used to the Dowager Baroness and her ways, paused in his conversation with General Mortimer to turn his attention toward Lady Seraphinia.

  “I am not sure that everyone would agree with you on that matter. It was only yesterday that I was called a foolish man and quite thoroughly put into my place.”

  “Indeed?” said the Baroness, looking interested despite herself. “And who dared to tell Your Grace that you were less than you believe?”

  “A young woman in a very dowdy dress,” he replied, an odd little smile playing about his lips as he recalled the event. “She also informed me that I am a rude fellow quite unfit to be called a gentleman, and what’s more, I need to take up some meaningful activities if I wish to be judged on more than the contents of my wardrobe.”

  Jane gave an amused gasp at this disclosure, while Lady Seraphinia tried and failed to contain her own mirth.

  General Mortimer looked rather shocked by this disclosure. “Do you mean to tell me that a mere nobody berated you in public – and you allowed it?”

  There was a momentary flash of anger in Devenish’s eyes, gone before Emily could even be sure that she’d seen it.

  How curious.

  “I suspect she is far from a nobody, General, but she was certainly within her rights to berate me. You see, I had just walked straight into the woman in question, causing her to drop all of her packages.”

  “She was carrying her own things?” said Lady Seraphinia, appalled at such a notion.

  Devenish smiled. “Well, she was until I walked into her.”

  Jane seemed amused. “In that case, you thoroughly deserved to be berated, Devenish.”

  “Agreed,” said Emily, studying her son with a thoughtful expression. “Present company excepted; I think you lack people in your life willing to give you a well-deserved dressing down.”

  “Believe me when I say that you would have approved of every word that was said to me!”

  Her son actually grinned. Emily was filled with a burning desire to meet this mystery woman if only to thank her for the positive impact she’d had on Devenish in such a short meeting.

  It was absolutely, definitely, most certainly not for her to decide if this person would make a suitable Duchess and wife for her son.

  She was not a matchmaking mama. Definitely not.

  “I think you might have met your match, Devenish,” chuckled General Mortimer. He threw a meaningful look over at Lady Seraphinia. “There’s nothing like a woman who challenges you and keeps you on your toes. You should seek her out, for ten to one you’ll enjoy sparring with her again!”

  “I might just take your advice,” smiled Devenish.

  And Emily decided that whoever this mysterious woman turned out to be, she was going to love her. She would love anyone who made her son smile like that.

  “Well, I for one am heartily bored of talking about you, Your Grace
,” said Lady Seraphinia with a sniff. “I would much rather talk with your mother about her plans for this Season. I am considering holding a soiree, you see, but naturally, I do not wish it to clash with any entertainments that you have planned.”

  Used to the older woman’s ways, the Duchess sank into conversation with Lady Seraphinia, while her son and Jane made occasional comments that were mostly ignored. The General relaxed in his chair, not even attempting to edge in a word. As this was the usual pattern with Lady Seraphinia, none of them seemed in the least put-out, and if anything, made a sport of it.

  It was not long before a new distraction drew the attention of their group – much to the relief of Emily. Lady Seraphinia may have treated her with the respect due to her station, but the woman was a force of nature in more ways than one, and even ten minutes in her company could be quite exhausting.

  “It seems that we have some new residents in Bath,” said Jane, indicating some new arrivals as they passed through the entrance into the Pump Room. “What an odd-looking trio! I wonder who they are?”

  A hush fell over their group as they all turned to see who Miss Lindon was referring to. The girl was neither a gossip nor prone to mockery towards her fellow Bath residents, so anyone who caught her attention must have stood out.

  Emily, stretching up in her chair to see the people in question, saw at once who Jane was referring to, and immediately suspected that at least two of the party where the siblings Mr King had told her about.

  The first of the group was a young gentleman being pushed across the floor in a rather sporty-looking wheeled-chair that she immediately coveted. He would have been handsome if he were not so gaunt, and his clothing hung from his frame in a way that suggested he had, until recently, been well built. The black coat and striped trousers were of good quality, but the careless tie of his neckcloth was lackadaisical rather than romantic, and his half boots were not really the appropriate footwear for his outfit.

  He looked to be under thirty, but his unfashionably straight, ear-length hair was already streaked with grey, and the hollows under his eyes suggested he was battling with pain that usually did not arrive until old age.

  This, she surmised, was Mr Ferdinand Scott, which made the young woman walking beside him likely to be his sister.

  Miss Scott was older than the Duchess had expected from Mr King’s description of her as an intelligent but rather naïve girl. Emily estimated her to be on the shady side of twenty-five, closer to Jane Lindon in terms of age than the usual country girl on her first foray into town.

  Miss Scott’s brown walking dress and matching Spencer, both sporting woollen embroidery of flowers and vines, were certainly of good quality, but the cut was a good five years out of date, the embroidery not of the finest hand, and the ensemble did not flatter the girl’s shape or colouring in the least. The chip-straw bonnet was unadorned save for the brown ribbon tied beneath her chin and lined with a white cap from which two poker-straight lengths of plain brown hair escaped to frame her face.

  She was, however, remarkably pretty, and looked all about her with an expression that suggested she was excited and pleased with everything she saw. A country miss for certain, but her awe at her surroundings was in such contrast with the fashionable ennui practised by the Ton, that Emily could not help but like Miss Scott on sight, and wonder how much she would show to advantage in fashionable attire.

  The third member of the party had not been mentioned by Mr King, and although the tall man was pushing Mr Scott’s chair, it was obvious from his attire alone that he was no servant to the country siblings.

  His bottle-green coat appeared to be of fine broadcloth and had been cut exquisitely for his slim build. The velvet collar matched his silk waistcoat, setting off the cut-velvet detailing, and was in contrast with the plain cotton trousers that came to an end above a pair of plain black leather shoes.

  He was considerably better dressed than both the Scott siblings, and his easy manner with them both was on display as they made their progress through the Pump Room. His dark skin and tight black curls drew many an eye to his handsome features, and everything about his deportment spoke to his status as a gentleman.

  Emily would have bet her title that it was this individual that had drawn Jane’s appreciative eye, and the arrested look on Lady Seraphinia’s face suggested that the Baroness was thinking quite the same thing.

  Emily had no leisure to consider this information, however, for Devenish surprised her out of her deliberations the moment he looked over to the newly arrived group.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” exclaimed her son, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

  “Language, Devenish,” said Lady Seraphinia, but with a degree of boredom that showed she had no expectation of being listened to.

  “Do you know them, then?” asked Jane. “I must say that the gentleman pushing the chair is very handsome.”

  “I have had the pleasure of meeting the young lady already,” said Devenish, his face lighting up with a smile that Emily could not remember seeing for years. “She gave her name as Miss Scott; I believe the gentleman in the wheeled-chair is her brother, Mr Ferdinand Scott, and that the tall man is most likely one Dr Lacey.”

  Emily did not miss the odd inflexion her son put on the tall man’s name and had she not known better, she would have accused him of being jealous.

  Impossible, of course. Devenish had never been jealous of another man in all his life. Not even Rothman, despite the rumours.

  “I wish you had mentioned this to me earlier, Devenish,” she said with a shake of her head. “The siblings that Mr King wished to present to me appear to be your new friends.”

  “Hardly friends,” smiled Devenish. “I do not know the two gentlemen from Adam, and as Miss Scott is the young lady who so decidedly put me in my place, I am terrified to introduce her to you! You see, she refuses to believe that I’m a Duke.”

  “What an odd thing to think,” said Lady Seraphinia, her brows knitting into a scowl. “Mortimer, ensure they do not presume to come near us.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, or we shall never be friends again,” said Devenish, his amusement a wonderful thing to behold. “I perfectly deserved the set down, and it was a reminder that not everyone knows my title from merely looking at me!”

  “You don’t look very Ducal, now you mention it,” said Jane, looking him up and down. “Dukes are all old and lecherous, in my experience.”

  “Lexborough will never forgive you for that comment,” said Devenish. “Besides, you’re confusing us with the Royal Dukes. They are the lecherous ones. Dukes, especially unmarried ones, are all held to be handsome, intelligent, witty and manly.”

  “Ah, that’s why she didn’t realize you were a Duke, then,” said Jane, causing General Mortimer to let out a loud guffaw of laughter, and a slight smile to play on the lips of Lady Seraphinia.

  Devenish cast Jane a look that promised revenge, which only caused her to assume an air of bewildered innocence.

  “Well, if Mr King thinks that they are worthy of an introduction to my mother, I suppose I better go fetch them,” said Devenish, a wicked glint in his eye that Emily could not decipher. “I’ll only be a moment!”

  He set off at a clipping pace, making short work of the space between their party and that of the Scotts. There was a stunned silence, and then Lady Seraphinia, Jane and General Mortimer all turned to her with quizzical expressions.

  Emily gave a helpless shrug.

  “Your Grace, I do not wish to cause offence, but Devenish looked almost… jaunty,” said Lady Seraphinia, looking as though she had just taken a mouthful of the Waters.

  General Mortimer, however, seemed deeply amused by the situation. “Imagine how the matchmaking mamas are going to react when they discover that the secret to winning His Grace was to instruct their daughters to be rude to him!”

  Emily considered this quietly, but Lady Seraphinia gave a rude sniff of disagreement.

 
“Don’t be such a dolt, Mortimer! Men don’t fall in love because a girl gives him a dressing down, and certainly not men like Devenish!”

  The General cast her a fond look. “I don’t know about that, Phinnie. I believe you stole my heart the moment you informed me that I was the most ridiculous toad to have ever worn my regiment’s colours.”

  Lady Seraphinia’s response was not repeatable, but the softness in her eyes when she looked at her old friend was unmistakable.

  Emily felt a pang of loss for an experience she’d never had, and never would.

  An experience she so desperately wanted her son to have for himself.

  “I do believe Miss Scott recognized Devenish and has introduced him to her companions,” said Jane, whose eyes had not left the trio of newcomers.

  “Nobodies,” sniffed Lady Seraphinia, which irritated Emily considerably.

  “Their brother is Colonel Scott of the Fifth Foot, and their uncle is Sir Edmund Scott, the politician,” she snapped with more force than was appropriate.

  Lady Seraphinia studied her in silence, her old-fashioned beaver riding hat and mass of grey curls lending her an hauteur that modern fashion would never achieve.

  Emily stared back. The Baroness may have been older, but she was of a lower rank, after all.

  Finally, Lady Seraphinia inclined her head almost imperceptibly, before settling back into her chair, looking her age for the first time Emily could remember.

  “Miss Scott, may I present you to my mother?” said Devenish as he approached them again, the young girl on his arm and the two gentlemen at his side.

  The Duchess gave a fake gasp of horror, seizing an opportunity to repair relations with the Baroness.

  “Devenish, you have broken protocol! Everyone knows that Lady Seraphinia holds precedence over all while in Bath!”

  Her son raised a questioning brow but followed her lead without missing a beat.

  “How remiss of me, Your Grace! You are perfectly correct, however, and I hope both you and my dear Lady Seraphinia will forgive my shocking vulgarity. Mr Scott, Miss Scott, and Dr Lacey, make I make you known to Lady Seraphinia Harden, the renowned Queen of Bath?”