The Lady and the Duke_A Dangerous Season

by Penelope Redmont

  But he had. David had said that he meant to marry again.

  After dinner, the ladies left the men to their drinking, and retired to a drawing room. Lady Merrill, Sommerforth's aunt, his hostess both at the Abbey, and at Blackwood House, the duke's London residence, organized two young ladies to play at the pianoforte.

  "Smile," Catherine said to Elaine, under cover of the music. She drew her aside. She'd seen the curious glances raking her sister. Elaine had become aware of them, but she had maintained her calm demeanor.

  "They're looking at you because they're curious," Catherine said. "Sommerforth singled you out. They'll be more curious tomorrow, if you ride with him."

  "Should I not?"

  "He's asked you, so of course you will ride with him. You're a very pretty girl, and you will become accustomed to people looking at you. Cormac will accompany you, as well as a groom. His grace showing you attention will lend you consequence in London."

  Elaine yawned.

  There was something else. "Sir Oliver Destry." Catherine had been seated opposite the man at dinner. The handsomest man in England, indeed, but rakish, and she'd caught him looking at Elaine more than he should.

  "He's engaged to Felicity."

  Catherine watched her sister carefully, and forbore rolling her eyes. As soon she heard that Sir Oliver had come to stay at Foxton Park she'd sent for Elaine to return home.

  She had no time for Destry or for Robert Baynes, the banker who had the wardship of Lady Foxton. She'd been surprised that Baynes had promoted Felicity's engagement to Sir Oliver. The banker must know that Destry was debt-ridden.

  She mused on Destry and Baynes. Money had changed hands of course. Sir Oliver had paid Baynes for Lady Foxton, she was convinced of that. Her guardianship must be lucrative. No doubt the two men had made an arrangement which suited them both.

  "Sir Oliver's mistress is here," Catherine said. "The widow, Desirée Buckland-Wilson. I've seen Sir Oliver watching you. I don't like it. Has he ever paid you any special attentions?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I would —" Catherine meant to say that she would prefer that Elaine have nothing to do with Sir Oliver, but she knew that she couldn't say that. Elaine could be contrary. It would be just like her to seek out the wretched man, if Catherine asked her to avoid him.

  "Nothing," Catherine said, and cleared her throat. She'd ask Anne and her mother to ensure that Sir Oliver stayed away from Elaine. If necessary, she'd speak to him herself.

  The mere thought that Sir Oliver would entangle Elaine made her hackles rise. She told herself that she had no need to worry. Sir Oliver was engaged, and his mistress was here. What possible interest could that man have in Elaine?

  "I've had the two mares I wish to show you brought up to the stables," Sommerforth told Elaine next morning. "They're both bred to Black Thunder. So what do you say to two mares in foal? Four horses for one?"

  At this hour of the morning – it just turned 8 o'clock – only the grooms and exercise riders were busy with the horses. Stable lads cleaned out the loose boxes, and fed the horses which had returned from exercise.

  Two grooms led the mares around the stable yard so that Elaine could watch their gait at a walk and trot. When Sommerforth nodded, the two grooms stood the mares so that Elaine could examine them.

  She checked their teeth, and ran her hands lightly down their legs. Calm, well-schooled horses. She liked them. They were both around five years old, she judged.

  "Would you like me to have them saddled?"

  She finished examining the second mare's legs and stepped back.

  Both horses were beautiful. A bay and a chestnut with elegant conformation, and pretty heads. She couldn't find a single fault in either horse, and that annoyed her. It made it harder to refuse the duke.

  He'd made her an excellent offer. But Joy? She couldn't imagine giving up Joy. "I like them both very much."

  "But not enough to trade?"

  Elaine compressed her lips. No, she didn't want to trade.

  The duke laughed. "The answer is no, is it not?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  At the duke's nod, the grooms led the mares away. Another two grooms brought up their hacks, leading Elaine's horse to a mounting block.

  The duke didn't ask Elaine about the trade again. She was grateful for that.

  She was also grateful that the duke spent so much time with her. They rode for over an hour. It was excellent country. They rode across fields, and through woodland.

  Back at the stables, the Duke helped her to dismount.

  She rested her hands on his shoulders and he lifted her down easily. She felt the jolt again, but was ready for it.

  When he released her, despite being ready for her strange reaction to Sommerforth, Elaine found that she had difficulty regaining her breath.

  Grooms led their horses away.

  "When will you be in London?" The duke asked.

  Elaine grinned. "I'm unsure, your grace. Mother changes her mind daily. In March, I should think."

  "Are you excited about your first season?" He extended his arm, to escort her back to the house.

  Elaine frowned. She was excited of course, because she would be grown up. She'd have pretty clothes, and would go to parties and balls. "Yes," she said.

  He was very tall, she thought. She could feel the warmth of his body along her side, and under her fingers. His scent was delicious too, woody and fresh.

  "You don't sound certain — what perturbs you?"

  "I love Gostwicke Hall," she said before she could think. "And my family. I don't want to leave them."

  She blushed furiously. What on earth had made her say something foolish like that? The duke couldn't possibly be interested. He had merely asked her about London out of politeness. He'd laugh, and think her young, and foolish.

  Besides, she'd implied that someone would offer for her, and that she'd accept, during her first season. How arrogant of her. Mother and her sisters were against anything like that, she knew. They thought her too young for marriage.

  He didn't laugh. "You're very lucky."

  When she looked up at him, he smiled at her. His grey eyes were warm. "I am?"

  "You are," he said firmly. "You won't ever lose your family. And Gostwicke Hall will always be there."

  He was a kind man, she thought. "What of your family, your grace?"

  "My parents are gone. My wife died many years ago… but I've Lady Merrill and other aunts, and cousins." He laughed suddenly. "You're making me maudlin, my dear. I wanted to ask you — will you allow me to call on you in London?"

  Elaine blinked. Call on her? But… She realized that he was waiting for her to speak. "Of course, your grace. I would be honored. But only if you stop asking to buy Joy."

  He laughed.

  When they reached the house, David was distracted by his aunt, who followed him into his private study.

  "The Eardley girl?" Lady Merrill asked, after a footman had closed the door behind them. She'd seen him enter the house with Miss Eardley. "She's very young, and beautiful, I grant you that — but she's not even out. A schoolroom miss. I thought you disliked the type."

  David glanced at her. At almost sixty, Laura was still lovely. Her hair was as black as his own, without a trace of grey, her skin glowing and smooth. Why hadn't she married again? "Were you and Father close?"

  "Close? I barely knew him, my dear. He was older than I, and he was always away at school. Then he had his duties to the dukedom, and I married. No, we were not close. Why?"

  "Elaine has a close family. I like them all — and I like her." He laughed aloud at the memory. "Let me tell you how I met Elaine. She was Fred, a young stable lad."

  "What are you talking about?"

  He told her about Fred.

  "Scandalous," Laura chuckled. "Very. Does she know that you saw through her disguise?"

  "No. I would never wish to embarrass her." David sat down behind his desk, and pulled a stack of open lett
ers towards him. His secretary had arranged them.

  He met his aunt's gaze, and spoke frankly. "I intend to speak with her mother, and call on her in London. And my dear Laura, you will need to manage our guests on Boxing Day. Mrs. Eardley asked me whether I'd like to attend their Boxing Day Hunt, and I will tell her that I'll be there."

  "I'll leave to your work."

  Almost at the door, Laura turned again. "David — why? Why Elaine Eardley?"

  "One reason. Herself. I find that I like her. Yes, she's young, but she's strong. And kind."

  "I wish you all success then — but she is young, and she'll need convincing that she wants to be a duchess. She's not one of your amenable misses. When you asked her to ride tomorrow, I heard her tell you that she hoped you wouldn't trot out four mares for her inspection."

  "There's that," he admitted. "She's not swayed by my consequence."

  "You're chagrined at that, admit it!"

  He was still laughing when Laura closed the door behind her.

  "What do you think?" Elaine asked Denise.

  She turned slowly around, looking at her image in the long cheval glass. She loved the gown. Lightly embroidered emerald net covered a pale green satin gown with a low bodice. Anne had spent many hours on the exquisite embroidery.

  But the bodice was too low. She stared at the swell of her bosom and hitched the bodice a little higher.

  Denise slapped her hand. "No, ma'am," she sounded horrified at Elaine's fidgeting. "The gown is meant to be as it is. The bodice is just where it should be. You look lovely. Lady Kingston has such skill! Now sit down, please, so that I may finish arranging your hair."

  Elaine sat down at the dressing table, and frowned at her image. She realized that she was nervous.

  It was Saturday evening. Denise was helping her to dress for dinner and for Lady Merrill's Christmas Ball, which would begin right after dinner.

  The duke had already claimed two dances, unfortunately. He'd ridden with her once more, but she hadn't seen him since, other than at a distance. She didn't want to see him.

  She was wary of Sommerforth after her unsettling conversation with her mother, Catherine, and Anne the previous day.

  She'd been called to her mother's rooms. When she entered, she saw that her mother looked perturbed. "Come in, Elaine… We need to speak with you."

  Catherine paced up and down the small sitting room. Anne sat calmly sewing ribbons onto Catherine's ball dress.

  "What have I done?" Elaine didn't think she'd misbehaved. Yes, she'd had an argument with Christobel, but that was all.

  "It's nothing you've done," her mother said. "It's his grace. He will be at our Boxing Day Hunt. And he's asked to call on you in London."

  Elaine didn't see why that should upset them. "Why shouldn't he call in London? I like him well enough. And you said that —"

  "Never mind what we said!" Catherine snapped. She kept walking.

  "Catherine, calm down," Anne said.

  "Yes, calm yourself — and sit down, will you?" Mrs. Eardley rubbed her forehead. She lay on her sofa, swathed in shawls, even though the room was warm.

  Her mother was talking to Catherine, but Elaine sat down in a chair beside Anne.

  She watched Catherine, wondering why she was so upset. Catherine's long blonde hair, streaked with glittering red strands, flowed down her back. As she watched, Catherine gathered her hair up and wound it into a rope. She twisted the rope into a bun, which she secured at her nape with pins from her pocket.

  Finally Catherine turned to face her. "Sommerforth is much too old for you. He's twice your age, and he's been married. He's not for you."

  Elaine stared at Catherine open-mouthed. Then she closed her mouth with a snap. "Oh for…What are you talking about? You're thinking marriage? The duke? Really, Catherine?" She laughed. "I've no wish to marry the duke — and he has no wish to marry me. Why should he? He has a mistress… and she's here."

  She met Catherine's grayish-green eyes with satisfaction. She'd managed to shock her.

  "What do you know of mistresses? No —" Catherine lifted her hand. "Don't bother to tell me. It's a distraction — I know that we left you at Foxton Court longer than we should have done…" She paused for a moment, and took a deep breath.

  Then Catherine sat down on the end of the sofa, and washed her face with her hands. "Listen to me, miss." She glared at Elaine. "I like his grace well enough — but to single you out! I won't have it."

  "Why?" Elaine was confused. "I thought that —"

  Anne laid her hand on Elaine's arm. "Catherine, please. Let me explain to the child. Elaine, we worry that the duke's attentions…" She paused.

  Catherine threw up her hands. "When a duke singles you out, it means that everyone will watch everything that you — that the entire family — does," Catherine said. "And when he drops you, as he will, you'll be harmed by the gossip… People will think that there's a reason that he dropped you; that there's something wrong with you. No one else will take you up, and your season will be over before it even begins. We'll have to leave town."

  "Child…" Anne said, taking Elaine's hand in both of hers. "This is your very first season. You know that we — that Mother — feels that this season is your chance to gain some knowledge of the world. We want this season to be special. Father pitch-forked Catherine, and me, into marriage…"

  Her mother sat up. "Your father wasn't a bad man —"

  "Stop telling the child lies," Catherine interrupted with spirit. "Father was a horrid scoundrel, a wretch, with never a thought for anyone other than himself. He sold Anne into marriage, and used me to pay off his gambling debts…. That's the sort of man he was. He owed Grove debts, so Grove got me."

  She shook her head and sighed.

  Elaine stared at her sister. Their father had sold Anne? Grove had married Catherine because Mr. Eardley owed him money?

  Catherine went on. "But you, Elaine, you will have what neither Anne nor I had — a season to enjoy yourself. There's time enough for you to understand a little of yourself and the world, before you marry."

  "What Catherine means, my dear," her mother said, "is that we wish you to be happy."

  "I see," Elaine said. She didn't see at all. "So I will refuse the duke's invitations. I can do that."

  Both Catherine and Anne stared at her, speechless.

  Mrs. Eardley glanced at her two eldest daughters, then looked at Elaine, obviously pained. "Dearest… You can't do that, recall — no one says no to a duke."

  "Then what am I to do?" She asked, bewildered.

  "That's just it," Anne said. "We don't know."

  "You can't refuse the duke," Catherine said with a shudder. "That would be beyond anything. If you displease him, and he drops you, your season is over. The gossips will make a game of it. You'll gain a reputation as a stupid, foolish, and vain girl, who thinks herself too good for a duke."

  Elaine stared at her mother, then at her sisters, exasperated. They thought that she was a child. For the briefest instant, she was tempted to tell them about Sir Oliver. Then she thought better of that. "I shall say no to the duke as much as I like," she said.

  She shook her head, and grinned. What a lot of fuss they were making about nothing at all. "Of course I can refuse Sommerforth. Haven't I done it already? I won't sell him Joy, no matter how many times he asks… You've said it often enough, Catherine. Father was the son of a duke. I will not be frightened of him."

  She stared at Catherine, and held up her hand when Catherine started to speak. "No. I don't care. If I upset the duke, then so be it. I'm quite happy to forgo my season and return to Gostwicke Hall." She frowned. "But after my new gowns, Mother… You promised me new gowns. Once I have my gowns, the duke may cut me if he wishes."

  Elaine stared at herself in the mirror, watching Denise put the finishing touches to the curls which framed her face, and realized that she did care about the duke. She liked him.

  However, she understood that he was dangerous. So it wa
s best that she have as little to do with him as possible.

  Denise pinned the diamond and emerald hair clip which Anne had loaned Elaine into the back of her hairstyle. Then she picked up a hand mirror, and angled it so that Elaine could see the effect. "You're ready, ma'am."

  4

  Elaine found herself sitting beside Talverne at dinner. "You are well?" She asked him.

  "I think so. I have a plan," he announced, under cover of the footmen delivering soup.

  Her gaze widened. "A plan? No, I don't think I want to know. Your plans never work. Remember?"

  She recalled that Pierce and Melly had often had plans when they were children. Invariably the plans ended with Melly confined to her rooms at Gostwicke Hall for a week or sent away to stay with cousins for a month. Pierce's punishments were swift and painful: his tutor administered a thrashing.

  Suddenly he leaned back in his chair and stared at her. Appreciation shone in his gaze. "I say, Elaine, well done — you look very well this evening. I like that gown."

  "Stop staring at my bosom, you oaf," she kicked him under the table.

  He merely grinned.

  Elaine turned to speak with the man who was about to sit down on her left. She'd been introduced to so many people that it took her a moment to remember his name.

  "Worley," he reminded her, and bowed, his sky-blue eyes twinkling at her. "And I agree with Talverne, I like the gown too, Miss Eardley."

  "Lord Worley," she said. She remembered him now, he was a cousin of Sommerforth's, and she'd played whist with him one evening. He and his partner had beaten her and Talverne soundly.

  She spoke with Worley until the soup was removed, then turned to Talverne. "What plan?"

  He looked around the table to see whether anyone was looking at them, then said softly. "I know how I can get Christobel to cry off."

  "You can't do that."

  "Of course I can. Sommerforth gave me the idea."

  "What?"

  He lowered his voice even more, so that she had to lean close. "I shall engage a mistress." His eyes gleamed.