A Damsel for the Daring Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “I believe it is Lady Penelope Colchester, daughter of the Earl of Paynton.”

  “I do not know her.”

  “Then count yourself lucky.”

  “As bad as that? Why? Is she, too, a serial corrector?”

  “No, she barely speaks at all. She just nods and smiles at everything I say, so I am compelled now to make the most absurd utterances just to see if she will agree with every silly thing I give voice to.”

  “And does she?”

  “Yes.” James’ response was as flat as before, and Hector was just as amused.

  “My dear fellow, it seems that it is all rather a case of personalities. I am bound to say that you have become the sort of man who values a little character and wit over the more obvious charms a young lady might possess. Well now, who would have thought it?”

  “I am not so shallow as you would paint me, Hector.” James laughed.

  “I know, I am teasing.” Hector smiled amiably. “So, why not simply tell me who it is that you do like.”

  “There is likely nobody on my father’s list that I like at all.”

  “I am not talking about your father’s list.”

  “Oh?”

  “Come along; I have seen you these last three days making your little advances upon my cousin. Well, my very distant cousin, but a relative nonetheless.”

  “Miss Cunningham?” James tried to sound innocent.

  “Yes, Miss Cunningham.” Hector laughed. “And I must tell you I am not fooled by the look of surprise. And Charlotte is likely too smart to be fooled by it either.”

  “Oh yes, I should say so.” James smiled in fond memory.

  “Ah, so you admit it then?”

  “Of course I admit it. She is an angel sent to earth to torment me, and I am sunk,” James said with playful drama.

  “She is very pretty, that much is true, but she has a little too much intelligence and is a little too forthright for the tastes of many,” Hector said. “Although I must say I have always found her tremendous fun. She is far less scheming than other young ladies, and she was always an adventurous sort of a child if I remember rightly.”

  “So, your families are close?” James said with interest.

  “Close enough. Her father, the Baron, is something of an old dear. He has a great capacity for blundering about that makes the whole thing seem like an art form.”

  “Yes, he is something of a clumsy horseman, that much I have seen.” James laughed at the memory.

  “But nobody minds because he is so very pleasant. He is a distant cousin of my father, and the two get along. I know Charlotte well enough, but not too well.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, she is a good bit younger than us, James. I think she is but twenty, so as a boy she was of little interest to me as a playmate of any kind. I was already a growing young man at Eton when she had reached the age young girls reach when you can play and not fear breaking them.”

  “And now?”

  “I like her,” Hector said firmly. “She is… how can I put this? Different.”

  “Yes, I perceived as much myself.”

  “For instance, I daresay she did not fawn over you or nearly expire with excitement when you made yourself known to her.”

  “No, she most certainly did not.” James laughed.

  “Because she is not a title hunter at all. And neither is her father. As I said, he is a decent sort of a man and one of that curious breed who values his daughter’s happiness over her benefit to him as a commodity to trade.”

  “Good Lord! Imagine that!” James laughed loudly. “I like him better and better.”

  “Well, she is a fortunate young woman for I imagine that dear old Lucas will allow her a free reign in the choosing of a husband.”

  “If only I were so favourably blessed.” James laughed, but it was true to say that he felt the veracity of his words.

  He was, of course, free to marry at will; as long as the lady was of a breeding acceptable to his father with a sizeable dowry to match.

  “Although I daresay she will not be a lady who accepts the first proposal to come her way. She is a thoughtful sort of a woman, one who would consider things at length. And she is not easily fooled, and so I can only suggest that any declaration of love be an honest one.”

  “Declaration of love?” James said with surprise. “You are jumping ahead some distance there, my old friend.”

  “Perhaps not so great a distance as you think. I know you, James, and I can say I have never seen this look of admiration on your face before. Something about my young cousin has caught your imagination, I can see it. And I know her to be a very tricky sort of a character, and so I envisage a long and hard road ahead of you. But I have a feeling that it would be the sort of journey you would favour over the ordinary sort of courtship.” Hector laughed. “Yes, I would say that you were very well suited. Certainly, in terms of stubbornness and wit, at any rate.”

  James laughed and gave the matter some serious consideration as two maids came into the breakfast room to replenish the tea and coffee pots.

  There was a much more relaxed atmosphere now that the other guests had gone, and it was obvious even in the demeanour of the staff.

  The late morning had a languid feel to it as if they might sit there drinking tea until dinner time and nobody would mind a bit. How James wished he could just stay there and forget all about the Duchy of Sandford and his ever-furious father.

  “So, since I have never met or heard of Lord Cunningham before, am I to assume his estate is nearer to yours than mine?”

  “You did not ask the lady?” Hector said with amusement.

  “I did not get that far,” James admitted dolefully.

  “Goodness, you are slowing up my dear fellow.” Hector was thoroughly enjoying himself. “But to answer your question, yes, Lord Cunningham’s estate is only a few miles from here. You could ride in the carriage for twenty minutes, or go across country on horseback in about seven, depending on your sense of urgency.”

  “I take it they do not have acquaintances in the west of the county?”

  “No. Why? Were you hoping to see her in someone’s drawing room quite by chance? I rather fear not. They are well-respected in society here in the east and rarely travel about much. Although I think Charlotte has an aunt on her mother’s side who is closer to Sandford.”

  “So, I am rarely, if ever, to cross paths with the lady again.” James looked down purposefully. “Unless, of course, my finest and oldest friend, a boy by whose side I have stood year upon year, sees fit to help me.” James looked up at Hector with a conspiratorial expression.

  “By which I assume you mean to visit me more? Pay me a little better attention that you have done of late?”

  “Hector, do not look wounded. It does not suit you.” James laughed.

  “Alright.” Hector recovered humorously. “So, what would you like me to do? Find out where my cousin is going to be and when? Engineer some pathway upon which the two of you could serendipitously meet?”

  “Something like that, yes.” James poured himself another cup of tea from a tall, ornate china pot. “Perhaps you could find out which events Charlotte Cunningham will attend locally and, if they seem equally natural for you to attend, perhaps I could go with you.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Unless it would cause you a problem to attempt to secure me invites?”

  “For heaven’s sake, when will you learn to capitalize on your status? You are one day to be a Duke, and it counts as much on this side of the county as it would on your own side. You shall have no concern in that direction. It will be a simple thing to get you an invite to every drawing room for miles if that is your want.”

  James smiled and thought that he would never now capitalize on his status, as Hector put it, if only because he would not want Charlotte’s early thoughts on his character to be true.

  And her opinion, he realized, was going to become more and more important to him now that he and
Hector had a plan.

  Chapter 5

  “It is so late, Ruth, that I nearly did not pull the bell to have you come up here at all,” Charlotte said with something of a guilty tone. “But I have so much news for you that I am sure you will not mind it in the end.”

  “I do not mind it at all, Miss. I never mind waiting up and hearing all the delights of the evening,” Ruth said genuinely, and Charlotte knew that she meant it.

  Whenever Charlotte was out in society, particularly in the evenings at a dance, ball, or something similar, she always silently wished that she had Ruth there with her.

  What fun the two of them would have if they were actually able to discuss the people they inevitably discussed from the vantage point of both having seen and heard the same things.

  But it was more than that, and Charlotte knew it. She had many acquaintances but none she cared about anywhere near as much as she cared for Ruth. Charlotte and her maid seemed to be like two peas in a pod when it came to opinions and their likes and dislikes.

  Ruth understood Charlotte better than anybody, and it was always so much easier and so much more comfortable to be in conversation with a person who already understood you. Charlotte did not feel the need to perpetually explain for one thing, nor the need to apologize for being different for another.

  “Oh, how I wish you could have been with me. How much simpler it would have been and how much more I would have enjoyed myself.”

  “Did you not enjoy yourself at all?”

  “Oh yes, I did enjoy myself, more or less,” Charlotte said and then thought about it for a moment. Yes, all in all, she had enjoyed herself, not least because she had been surprised by the most unexpected appearance of Lord James Harrington. “Yes, I did enjoy myself. But I would have enjoyed it so much better had I been there with you and not Olivia Orpington and Ariadne Beckwith.”

  “Were they not good company this evening, Miss?” Ruth said with a smile, clearly knowing in advance that her mistress was going to answer in the negative.

  “When are they good company, Ruth?” Charlotte blew out a great puff of air and sat down heavily on her bed as Ruth took the little stool from beneath the dressing table, pulled it towards her mistress, and sat down on that. “Which is not to say that I do not like them, I just wish I could feel them to be true friends.”

  “Yes, you have said as much before. And I think if you do not mind me saying, that if you cannot feel that friendship, then it does not exist. What I mean is, there is no point in chasing something that is not readily available.”

  “Very wise, Ruth,” Charlotte said and absentmindedly plucked at the little clips which held her hair up in place.

  As she pulled them out, one by one, her rich chestnut hair began to fall around her shoulders and down her back in large, soft waves. Ruth, obviously keen to be doing something, rose from her perch on the stool, took the large paddle brush from the dressing table, and sat down on the bed next to her mistress and began to brush out her hair.

  “But did they vex you in some way this evening?”

  “Perhaps just a little. Well, maybe I was not vexed, just a little agitated. Or exasperated is probably more the right word.”

  “So, what happened? And who else was there that I would be keen to hear about?” Ruth was always excited to hear the details of any social occasion that Charlotte attended, and Charlotte was so grateful for the fact that she had a person with whom she could gossip a little, even air a grievance or two, at the end of such an evening.

  “Well, for one thing, and I probably should have said this in the beginning, Lord James Harrington was there.”

  “The Duke’s son?” Ruth said with squeals excitement. “He was over here? I mean, does he not live on his father’s estate over in the west of the county? It would seem to be a long way for him to come for a simple dance. I mean, it was not a ball, was it?”

  “No, it was nothing so grand. It was very nicely done, though, I must admit. Lady Darnley does put on a very nice spread, and the musicians were absolutely first rate. She does not have a ballroom as such, but rather a large room, a small hall really, and it is perfect for that sort of occasion.”

  “Yes, yes, but as nice as it was, would a Duke’s son really make his way so far to attend it? I mean, is he even particularly acquainted with Lady Darnley? You have been there many times before and never once seen him. This is very intriguing.” It was clear that Ruth was already building a story around the event, one of her own, and Charlotte was already feeling herself swept up in it.

  “That is a very good point, actually,” Charlotte said thoughtfully. “No, I cannot think for a minute that he is acquainted with Lady Darnley otherwise everyone in her acquaintance would know it. You know what Lady Darnley is like.” Charlotte gave her maid a significant look.

  “Oh yes.” Ruth nodded her agreement, really only knowing Lady Darnley through the many verbal accounts given to her by her mistress.

  “Anyway, I do not think that he was particularly invited by Lady Darnley. He was with Hector and Lawrence Hanover, and so I can only think that he was a tag-along of sorts.

  Probably Hector secured him a proper invite, not that such a thing would be difficult to come by for a Duke’s son.” By the end of her sentence, Charlotte realized that she sounded a little dismissive again.

  She could not shake the idea that James Harrington must, even if he hid it well, suffer certain ideas of grandeur and entitlement. Of course, she was bright enough to realize that her own prejudices were likely playing a great part in her assumption, but she did not let that spoil her theories.

  “Miss, you must realize, surely, that he was there by design. There is nothing else for it.” Ruth, having finished brushing her mistress’ hair, sauntered across the room to take a fresh nightgown from the dresser drawer.

  She laid the nightgown out on the bed and then sat down again, clearly having no intentions of yet helping her mistress to get undressed. After all, there was gossip to be had first.

  “I do not know about that, but you are right, it is a little curious,” she said and wondered at her cousin’s friendship with Lord Harrington.

  She had never heard him say that he was a particular friend of the son of the Duke of Sandford, although she had never heard Hector say that he was a particular friend of anybody. It was not that he was secretive, just that their families were not quite close enough to know so much about each other.

  And Hector was almost ten years older than she was; he would hardly have given her chapter and verse on all his friends and acquaintances in the two or three visits a year that she and her father made to Hanover Hall.

  For the most part, certainly whilst she was growing up, Hector was away at school. And when he had finished with Eton, there was, of course, Oxford, and so there was a great swathe of almost ten or eleven years when the two of them barely met.

  However, Charlotte was quite determined that if she found herself in Hector’s company again in the near future, and it was safe to do so, she would question him thoroughly and without any compunction whatsoever.

  Very likely it was the fact that Hector had such an easygoing nature that Charlotte thought she knew him better than she did. Still, she was certain he was easygoing enough that he would put up with a little questioning from her when she got the chance of it.

  “So, forgetting whether or not it was curious because we can come back to that later, what happened? What was he wearing? Did he look as handsome as he did before? Did he speak to you? Goodness, did you dance with him?”

  “Ruth, Ruth!” Charlotte said and began to laugh. “Slow down.”

  “I cannot slow down, I am just too excited. Did you speak to him?” Ruth went on determinedly.

  “I could hardly avoid it. It was only a small gathering of forty or so, and he seemed to appear everywhere I chose to stand.”

  “On purpose,” Ruth said and nodded in a way that would not be argued with.

  “Yes, if you like,” Charlotte
said indulgently. “And I did manage to speak to him a little.”

  “What did you talk about?” Ruth said, getting to the very heart of the matter.

  “Well, he enquired after my well-being,” she began and remembered how he had smiled at her from some feet away, making his approach in a most decided fashion.

  And Ruth was right; he had looked as handsome as ever. He was wearing a very neatly tailored black tailcoat and breeches with a pale cream waistcoat and a white shirt.

  His hair was immaculate, just as she had seen it before, and the perfect simplicity of his dress seemed to make him all the more handsome. It was as if the lack of an elaborate necktie somehow enhanced his very fine features.