The Lady and the Duke_A Dangerous Season

by Penelope Redmont

  "All right, if you must know — I'm paying for Felicity's clothes for the season."

  Catherine's eyebrows lifted. "Whatever for? She's richer than we are!"

  "Sir Oliver told me that he wouldn’t allow Felicity to have her season, because Mr. Baynes paid Sir Oliver's debts on their engagement. And Fee won't come into her inheritance until she's 25, so all she has is her pin money, and Sir Oliver insists that he's all done up…"

  "He's been run off his legs for ever," Catherine said, and sighed. "That's nothing new."

  "When he said that he hadn't the blunt for her to come to town, I said she could stay with us — and that I would pay for her gowns." Elaine rubbed her forehead, not daring to look at her sister.

  Catherine was silent. When she finally looked at her, Elaine saw that Catherine had perched herself on the long library table and was frowning down at the carpet.

  She waited, bracing herself for a blast of Catherine's temper.

  However, she was surprised. Catherine wasn't angry.

  "All right," Catherine said finally. "The gowns — I'll cover them. Ask Madame Lola and the milliner and whoever else to send their bills to me. Felicity has always been kind to you, so it will be my pleasure… but that's not what concerns me. What I'd like to know — and please don't prevaricate, my dear — is why Sir Oliver should confide in you? Why in heaven's name would he discuss his private arrangements with you?"

  Elaine blinked. She had no answer to that. "Why — well, I was cross, and asked him why Felicity couldn't come to town. We planned our season for months."

  When Catherine stared, Elaine met her gaze without looking away.

  "I don't like that man," Catherine said. "He's a gambler and a wastrel, and trades on his looks. Much like Grove, aside from the looks, of course. Grove looks like the rear end of a bullock. A fat bullock."

  She shook her head. "I wish that Felicity wasn't such a good friend of yours… I can't imagine why Destry would discuss his financial concerns with you." Her gaze narrowed on Elaine. "You're not to discuss anything else with him. Do you understand? You are not his friend. And you won't be alone with him, ever."

  "Of course not. I've no wish to discuss anything with him."

  "I should hope not. Now — go and change out of your riding habit. Cormac and another footman will accompany you and Felicity to Madame Lola's. Remember to ask Madame to forward Felicity's bills to me… make me a list of her other bills as soon as you can. I'll settle them — and I'll ask Mother to increase your pin money too."

  Elaine had just reached the door when Catherine spoke again. "You've a kind heart, Elaine. You're a good friend to Felicity — but mind what I said. You're never to be alone with Destry."

  Elaine managed to speak to Madame Lola privately when Felicity retired to the shop's workroom with a seamstress to try on her new ball gown. "Please send all Lady Foxton's bills to Mrs. Grove, Madame."

  "Of course, Miss Eardley, it will be done," Madame said. "Now, let me show you samples of our exquisite new silks — just arrived at the warehouse. You'll tell Mrs. Grove that they've arrived?"

  The woman dived under the counter and brought out a book of samples. "You see this charming dark blue — there, I'll just cut off a swatch for Mrs. Grove." She handed the swatch to Elaine. "It will be perfection for your sister, the blue will suit her coloring admirably, with perhaps…"

  The sound of the shop's bell made Elaine look up, and she stopped listening to the dressmaker. The Duke of Sommerforth. And the Countess of Hazelbridge.

  Although duke's gaze skimmed over everyone in the shop, it didn't pause on Elaine.

  He'd cut her. Elaine swallowed hard, and looked down at the sample book.

  "You'll pardon me for a moment, Miss Eardley, I must —" Madame Lola hurried to greet the duke.

  Elaine folded the swatch of silk, and put it into her reticule. She felt dizzy, and knew that she was blushing. Whatever was the matter with her? So, the duke had cut her — how dare he?

  She pinched her wrist underneath her glove, then pinched again harder and straightened her back. If he thought to ignore her, he didn't know her.

  Closing the sample book, Elaine strolled across to the group. Lady Hazelbridge was chatting with Madame Lola, while the duke looked out through the shop's main window at the street beyond. His back was to Elaine.

  "Duke," Elaine said, moving to his side.

  He turned, his slate grey eyes unreadable, and his face expressionless. He bowed. "Why — Miss Eardley, what a pleasure to see you again."

  She doubted that it was a pleasure, judging by his lack of interest. Refusing to be put off, and determined to annoy him, she infused as much warmth as she could into her tone. "I'm so pleased to see you, your grace. We've been in town this past month, but I understand that you've been at Sommerforth Abbey."

  "Indeed," was all he said, and turned away.

  How arrogant, she thought. "I'm disappointed in you," she said. "I had a wager with my sister that the first words out of your mouth when you saw me again would be a request to buy Joy — my horse. You do recall that you made several offers for her?"

  "Miss Eardley," the countess turned to them, and took the duke's arm possessively. She smiled tightly at Elaine; her blue eyes wintry. "You'll excuse us." She spoke to the duke. "I bespoke several gowns — Madame has some wonderful new silks. Shall we go?"

  "Miss Eardley," the Duke bowed to her.

  "So good to see you again, your grace," she curtsied to him and to the countess, and watched them walk out of the shop.

  She maintained her composure, resisting the temptation to throw something at the duke's elegant back.

  Suddenly Felicity was at her side. "I don't know how you can speak so confidently to the duke — just as if he were anyone," Felicity said. "That man makes me so shy that I can't say a word to him." She lowered her voice. "Did you know that the Countess of Hazelbridge is rumored to be — "

  "Ah — have you finished, Fee?" Elaine broke in quickly. She smiled at Madame Lola. "Thank you. You will remember my request for Mrs. Grove?"

  Madame Lola bowed them out of the shop.

  "When will your gown be ready?"

  "The seamstress said that she would have it sent to Eardley House within the hour," Felicity said happily. "I can't wait until you see it. It's absolutely beautiful."

  Elaine realized that she should have asked Felicity not to tell Catherine that the duke had been at Madame Lola's. Unfortunately Felicity couldn't wait to tell everyone as soon as they arrived home. "His grace the Duke of Sommerforth was at Madame Lola's establishment!"

  Catherine was in the drawing room with Anne and Mrs. Eardley, working on her account books at a small writing desk. Anne was stitching, while Mrs. Eardley reclined on a chaise longue, with a book resting on her stomach.

  "Oh yes… Will he call?" Catherine asked Elaine.

  "I doubt it. He behaved quite as if he'd never pestered me to sell him a horse. I don't wish him to call — he's insufferably high in the instep," Elaine said. "He's forgotten his country friends now that he's back in town. If I hadn't spoken to him first, I think he meant to cut me."

  Felicity gaped at her, but Catherine merely raised her eyebrows. Anne and Mrs. Eardley looked surprised. Elaine told them about Felicity's gown, eager to change the topic of conversation.

  Elaine knew that Catherine would tackle her about the duke later, and she was right.

  When Elaine was changing for the soirée that evening, Catherine entered her dressing room, and waved Denise away so that they could speak privately. "Now you may tell me about the duke," she said, when Denise had left. "What happened at Madame Lola's?"

  Catherine looked lovely. Her green silk gown brought out the green in her eyes, as did the emerald choker she wore, and the jeweled combs holding her hair. Elaine laughed. "You needn't fret that he'll call. He's angry — no, perhaps that's overstating it. He's definitely annoyed — he wouldn't have spoken to me at all if I hadn't forced a conversation. He mea
nt to cut me, but I wouldn't allow it."

  "You approached him?"

  "I couldn't help it. Once it was obvious that he meant to cut me, I had to speak — how dare he?" The memory aroused Elaine's temper. "Just because I dared to ride astride, in breeches, on our own property? What concern is that of his? He's a horrid man, arrogant and unpleasant. I'm so glad I didn't sell him Joy."

  Catherine smoothed back a red-gold curl which had escaped from her Grecian hairstyle. "Tell me exactly what he said, and what you said to him."

  Elaine recounted the conversation as it had happened. "I don't think he wants to continue our connection — he won't call. I don't mind… I thought I liked him, but I definitely don't. Not after that."

  She did like him, Elaine thought with annoyance. She'd thought him kind, at Sommerforth Abbey, but she'd been wrong. She finally admitted to herself that his icy demeanor at Madame Lola's had not only embarrassed her, but had hurt her feelings too.

  "I'm relieved," Catherine said.

  However, Elaine noticed that Catherine's mouth remained compressed into a thin line. She knew her sister. Catherine always took her revenge, and she was unlikely to countenance a slight to the Eardleys.

  "I won't speak to him again — and the next time I see him, I'll cut him," Elaine said.

  Catherine adjusted the red curls massed on Elaine's head. "A moment."

  She looked into the mirror, and removed a diamond and emerald comb from her hair. Then she slid the comb into Elaine's curls. "There… Very nice. You may have this comb, and I'll lend you an emerald choker for the Fenchurch Ball."

  Elaine tilted her head. The green emeralds made her indigo blue eyes darker. "Thank you."

  "Now. The duke," Catherine said, meeting Elaine's gaze in the mirror. "You won't cut his grace. That would cause talk. And there will be talk anyway, because he invited us to Sommerforth Abbey. Remember, no general should fight a battle simply out of pique. You will be all sunshine and light with Sommerforth…"

  "What are you going to do? You're planning something, Catherine — I know that look."

  Catherine laughed. Her grey-green eyes glittered. "No, my dear… Not planning a thing. Yet."

  "Tell me, do — please, Catherine."

  "I've no plan, as such. But I have heard a little whisper of something that perhaps his grace would prefer that no one knew. I intend to rummage amongst the Duke of Sommerforth's secrets… It's always advisable to know the condition of the enemy."

  More than that, Catherine wouldn't say.

  At midnight, after her maid had left her, Catherine sat at her dressing table and made a note in her little black book of war. She would infiltrate a spy into Sommerforth's London home, Blackwood House.

  A footman, perhaps…

  She'd heard from one of her informants that the Countess of Hazelbridge's sister Marion was in an interesting condition. The girl had been shipped off to Cornwall. The countess's maid had hinted to Mrs. Buckland-Wilson's maid that the child was Sommerforth's.

  A handsome footman then, who could befriend the countess's maid.

  But perhaps she was making too much of the duke's interest in Elaine… Her gaze narrowed on the design of the Savonnerie carpet underneath her bare feet. Scrunching her toes, she pondered the situation.

  No, she decided, she wasn't making too much of it. She didn't care about Sommerforth, but she cared a great deal about Elaine. The fact that the duke's behavior angered Elaine meant that Elaine cared.

  She sighed. If Sommerforth were to become an enemy of the Eardleys, it mean that ignorance was peril. The more she knew about Sommerforth and his circle, the better.

  The Fenchurch ball was the first major ball of the season, and was accounted a sad crush — that is, a huge success.

  Within half an hour of their party's arrival, Elaine's dance card was full, as was Felicity's. Elaine found herself looking for the duke, but he wasn't in attendance. The fact that she had looked for him annoyed her.

  Within a short time Elaine was presented to more men than she could remember, but a Russian nobleman made the biggest impression.

  Lord Worley presented him to her. "Miss Eardley — may I present to you Count Volkov. He's a distant cousin — he's staying with me for the season. He gave me no peace until I made this introduction." Worley's sky-blue eyes gleamed wickedly. "I can assure of you of his good behavior."

  Elaine had to look up, and up. The Count was very handsome and very tall. Her gaze met turquoise blue eyes, which assessed her for a moment, and then lit up.

  "Enchanté, Mademoiselle Eardley," he said, in a deep, gravelly voice. He took her gloved hand, bowed deeply, and kissed her fingertips. Then he retained her hand, so that he could check her dance card. "Mademoiselle — just one dance left. And it is now mine. I am delighted that it's a waltz."

  "Let her go, and come away, Alexei, she will think you an oaf," Worley bowed to Elaine, and he and the count stepped away from her.

  Elaine had no time to muse about the handsome Russian. Her next partner came to claim her. However, she felt Volkov's gaze on her several times over the next hour. She realized that he was positioning himself so that he could watch her, and smiled to herself.

  Catherine was aware that Volkov watched Elaine. When her partner returned Elaine to her mother, Colonel Marsden, and Catherine, after a country dance, Catherine looked from Volkov, who was across the large ball room, to Elaine, and raised her brows. "Well done, my dear," she murmured.

  Behind her fan, Catherine said to Mrs. Eardley, "our little Elaine is the success of the evening, Mother. She's caught Volkov's eye. Most pleasing, considering the snares which have been laid for him."

  "Who is he?"

  "The tall blond man in the center of that large group, with Lady Fenchurch. I wonder why he's in London…"

  "I imagine that you'll make it your business to find out," Mrs. Eardley said, her tone dry.

  "Who are you talking about?" Felicity joined them. She was on Sir Oliver's arm.

  "Count Volkov," Elaine said. Sir Oliver had done no more than nod to her all evening, which suited her very well. She had been on tenterhooks for months, hoping that Catherine never learned why he'd had that bloodied nose at the Hunt Ball.

  "Oh look — Sommerforth has arrived," Felicity said. "Who's the lady he's escorting? I adore her gown, and my heavens, those diamonds!"

  "That's Miss India Minty, the catch of the season. Her father made his money in India, hence the name," Mrs. Eardley said. "I never approve of young ladies wearing diamonds in their first season, but her father is in trade."

  "Your beaux will desert you now," Catherine said to Elaine, "Miss Minty will be all the rage, with her diamonds — and with the duke giving her consequence."

  She was welcome to him, Elaine thought, surprised at her irritation at the duke, and at the tall and very elegant woman at his side. She knew the duke had seen her, because when she looked up, his gaze was on her, although he immediately looked away.

  Half an hour later, in the retiring room, Lady Fenchurch introduced Elaine and Felicity to Miss Minty. "These girls will look after you, my dear," Lady Fenchurch said. "You're all having your first season together, so I know you'll be great friends."

  "Not a word to say for herself," Felicity said to Elaine when they left the room to go back to the ballroom.

  "She's shy," Elaine said. Miss Minty had scarcely looked at them, keeping her eyes downcast. After Lady Fenchurch left, she hadn't tried to make conversation. Speaking to her was torture. It was like speaking to a wall.

  "I don't know about that — perhaps she just doesn't like us? At any rate, she's not pretty at all. Her mouth and nose are too large."

  Elaine laughed. "You're such a little cat. Why don't you like her?"

  "I don't know." Felicity looked startled, as if she'd just realized that she didn't like Miss Minty. "I just don't. I suppose it's the diamonds. She must be wearing ten thousand pounds around her neck."

  A few moments later, Count Volkov bo
wed in front of Elaine. "Miss Eardley? Our dance I believe?"

  She took his arm, and he led her onto the dance floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the duke speaking with Miss Minty.

  Then the count's arm was around her waist, and when the music struck up he whirled her into the dance.

  He was a wonderful dancer, and didn't try to make conversation, merely smiling down at her when she glanced at him.

  Volkov kissed her hand again when the waltz ended, and begged her to walk in the garden with him. The garden would be a relief, she decided. With so many people, and thousands of candles, the ballroom was hot. Although Elaine fanned herself it didn't help.

  "You ride in the park early every morning, Worley tells me."

  "Yes, we've brought several hacks to town. They need the exercise, and I enjoy the park — in the early hours there's little socializing. Everyone is there to ride."

  He chuckled. "Would you ride with me tomorrow? If I promise not to socialize?"

  She laughed too. "That wasn't what I meant — I am happy to socialize with you, so of course I will ride with you… You're here for the season, Lord Worley said?"

  "Yes, for the season. I was in the army for many years, my eldest brother was the heir, but he died… So, ma mère sent me to London, for a little polish, and experience."

  "I'm sorry," Elaine said. How devastating for him.

  The count was very proper and correct. He didn't try to lead her down any dark paths in the large garden. They stayed within the brightly lit area of the garden, with many other couples who'd ventured outside into the cool air.

  Volkov was telling her about his family estate in Russia, when Elaine looked up to see Sir Oliver striding towards them.

  So Oliver bowed to the count. "Volkov," he said. "Miss Eardley, your mother is asking for you."

  Elaine took Sir Oliver's arm without comment. He led her back into the ballroom to Catherine and Mrs. Eardley. "Your sister was out in the garden with Count Volkov," he said to Catherine. "Most inappropriate."