by Joyce Alec
The duke shook his head. “That is ridiculous.” He eyed Charles keenly. “I hope you did not…?”
Hearing the rest of the unspoken question, Charles shook his head. “No, I gave him nothing. I threw him from my house, in fact.” He sighed heavily, hating that he had been forced to do such a thing and recalling, with some pain, just what his brother had called him. “I want to help him, but I know I cannot.”
The duke said nothing but nodded and held Charles’ gaze steadily.
“As for the matter of Miss Jones, in that, you were quite right, Duke.”
It took a good deal of effort for Charles to admit such a thing to his friend, but as he was well aware that the duke had been perfectly correct in urging Charles to treat Miss Jones in a much more considerate fashion, he knew that he ought to acknowledge as much.
“Oh?” The duke lifted one eyebrow, his lips twitching.
“I should have been more considerate of the difficulties that Miss Jones faced when she first arrived,” Charles said heavily. “I was not as I ought to have been and for that, I am sorry.”
“It is not to me you should be apologizing,” the duke answered with a hard look. “I must hope that you have spoken to your betrothed.”
Charles nodded, directing his gaze pointedly toward where Miss Jones and the duchess stood, talking together as some of the other guests moved about them. “I have,” he replied, seeing the duke nod in approval. “However, I do not think that she is yet fully willing to trust me. She appears… reluctant.”
The duke did not appear surprised. “She cannot trust your word as yet. That is fair. She does not know you particularly well, given that you have made no great effort to further your acquaintance.”
“I am doing so now,” Charles answered hastily, a little uncertain as to why he felt such a desperate urge to have Miss Jones trust him, to have her smile up at him in the free and open manner she seemed to do with both the duke and the duchess. “It has been some time since the duchess spoke to me and since then, I have done all I can to ensure that I have changed my ways entirely.”
The duke chuckled, tilting his head and regarding Charles carefully. “And yet you stare at her with such a fervor that I fear you are losing your heart to her.”
It took a moment or two for Charles to realize what the duke had said, and even longer for him to turn, face his friend, and then shake his head with such determination that the duke laughed aloud.
“You may try to protest and state that you feel nothing for her, but I am quite certain that would not be the truth,” he said with a grin. “You are to be wed in ten days’ time, are you not?
“I am,” Charles answered, feeling rather uncomfortable at the duke’s comments. “The final banns will be called on Sunday, and we will wed only three days afterwards.”
“The day after Christmas Day,” the duke murmured, a gleam in his eye. “You could wait for another week or so until the festivities are over entirely, but something tells me that you do not wish to wait even a moment longer than you have to.”
Charles bit back a sharp retort, telling himself that the duke was, in fact, quite right and that he did not need to hide it from his friend. There was something about Miss Jones that was beginning to make its way into his heart. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be by her side. She was interesting, witty, and even though she spoke bluntly at times, he found that he quite liked the honesty that came through in her words. And yet, there was still something that she was keeping back from him, something that she was unwilling to let go of. He feared that he knew what it was, but the truth of the matter was that he did not wish to speak of it to anyone.
If he told her the truth, then she might think that he cared only for the money and would return home regardless, just when he was beginning to care for the lady herself. He wanted a wife. He wanted someone to live life with, to share in the joys and the difficulties that he knew would come. He wanted someone to talk to, to share what he felt and to listen to her in return.
He wanted Alice.
“You are not refuting my observations, I see.”
With a long, exasperated sigh, Charles turned back to his friend, dragging his eyes away from Miss Jones. “What is it that you want me to admit? That I find that I like Miss Jones exceedingly? That I have an increasing regard for her?”
The duke grinned, his eyes twinkling. “And do you?”
Running one hand through his hair, Charles dropped his head. “Yes, I will admit that I do,” he admitted as the duke chuckled loudly. “Although I do not see it as a laughing matter.”
“I must apologize,” the duke said at once, slapping Charles hard on the back. “It is only that I find this transformation to be both unexpected and predictable all at once!” He smiled as Charles lifted his head, glancing back toward Miss Jones. “My wife told me that Miss Jones was a very lovely creature and we considered that it was only a matter of time before you discovered such a thing also.”
Charles shook his head, letting out a small but audible groan. “What am I to do now?”
“What is there to do?” the duke asked, sounding surprised. “You are to marry the lady, are you not? So what else must be done?”
Trying to find a way to express himself, Charles took a moment or two to choose his words. “I—I find that I have a desire for a closeness with her that, at present, seems unreachable,” he admitted as the smile slid from the duke’s face. “Miss Jones has asked me to be honest with her about the agreement between her father and myself and as yet, I have not done so.”
The duke frowned. “What is there to explain?”
“She asks if I am to gain anything if she returns to America,” Charles said heavily. “I have not answered her as yet, but I fear that this question continues to dog her mind, to the point that she cannot consider anything other than what the answer might be. I believe it is holding her back a little.”
“And why does she want to know?” the duke asked, sounding a little confused. “Does she intend to return there and break off the engagement?”
Aware that this fear was steadily growing within his own heart, Charles let out a long breath and shrugged. “I cannot say,” he replied slowly. “She says that she does not have any such intention, but she will not let go of this particular question.”
“Then tell her,” the duke answered, as though this was the most obvious, the most pertinent answer. “Tell her the truth: that you gain nothing.”
Charles shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his friend. The duke’s eyes widened, his expression shocked. “You mean to say that you will, in fact, be given something?”
Charles cleared his throat as sweat beaded on his brow. “There was always the possibility that Miss Jones might wish to return. I promised her father that, should this be the case, I would make certain that she was returned safely. I would make all the arrangements.” His heart squeezed hard, feeling a small sense of guilt which he had no need to feel. This arrangement made complete sense. “If she returned, however, then Mr. Jones would give me a fair amount of money in recompense. It would pay for the arrangements made for her return, for anything that I might have spent on the wedding day itself, and the rest would have simply gone into my coffers.” He looked toward Miss Jones, as though fearing she might suddenly glance over at him, having somehow overheard what he had said. “That is all that was arranged.”
The duke said nothing for a moment or two, looking steadily at Charles and then shrugging one shoulder. “I can see no particular difficulties,” he answered with a small smile that relieved Charles of some of his anxiety. “That is a wise arrangement to have made with her father.”
“But she may not think it wise,” Charles protested, suddenly deathly afraid that Miss Jones would hear of this and decide to return to America regardless. “I do not want her to leave.”
“Because you have come to care for her or because her fortune is what you require?” the duke asked, sending a jolt of anger through Ch
arles. “Which is it, old boy?”
Charles’ eyes narrowed, feeling a surge of irritation toward his friend. “You cannot think that I care only for money!” he exclaimed as the duke held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Surely you know that I—”
“I know that you can often act without fully thinking the consequences through,” the duke answered calmly. “You gave a good deal of money to your brother time and again, without once thinking of what it might do to your own fortune. And now the situation you are in is precisely because you did not give yourself the time you required to think things through with careful consideration.” He did not speak harshly, but rather with a calmness that told Charles that the duke did not have any intention of shaming him but was rather urging him to behave in a cautious and restrained manner. “In this matter, you have decided to remain utterly silent on the subject and have not given Miss Jones the answer she seeks, because you think that she will reject you and return to America. Have you thought about what will happen if you marry and this question remains unanswered?”
“I do not think anything will happen,” Charles answered truthfully, not understanding what the duke meant. “The question will remain unanswered and will simply be a part of our past, and something that we need not any longer consider.”
The duke shook his head slowly, his expression turning a good deal more serious. “I must tell you that you are quite mistaken,” he said softly. “I have been married for a little less than three years and in that time, Susanna and I have grown infinitely closer. There have been times when there has been a sharp disagreement between us and I have learned that one simply cannot throw the issue aside. It must be dealt with otherwise there is a vast chasm between us that cannot be filled.” He gestured toward the duchess and Miss Jones. “If you are beginning to have an affection for Miss Jones, then you cannot let this question remain as it is, in the hope that it will simply float away. It will remain in her mind and also, I believe, in yours. It will be infinitely easier for you to tell her the truth now than to keep it from her.”
Charles swallowed and looked away from the duke, back toward Miss Jones. He accepted the duke’s words without hesitation, knowing full well that the man understood more about marriage than he did at present. But yet, the thought of answering her question about the arrangement made should she return to America sent a chill through him. What if she decided to return? He could not bear the thought of watching the ship sail away with her on board.
“You will have every opportunity to tell her the truth of your feelings thereafter,” the duke murmured quietly, as though he could see into Charles’ mind. “Have courage, Allerton. It will all work out very well indeed, I am sure, just so long as you tell her the truth.”
“I do not believe that I have ever asked you if you play the pianoforte.”
Charles smiled at the burst of laughter that came from Miss Jones, thinking to himself that the answer was, evidently, more than a little obvious.
“I do not, Lord Allerton, no,” Miss Jones replied with a wry smile. “I was never given the opportunity to learn and I confess that I do not think I would have done very well even if I had been taught.” She sighed and shook her head, looking up at him with a gleam in her eye. “I am somewhat stubborn.”
“Indeed?” he queried wryly, as if he had not heard her suggest such a thing before. “I had thought you to be a quiet and willing sort, who would do anything asked of you without hesitation.”
Again, she laughed and this time, Charles could not help but join in. It was lovely to have such a camaraderie between them now, instead of the harsh unfriendliness that had been there at the first. He was responsible for the delay of this increased regard, of course, but he did not allow the wave of guilt to come crashing down on him all over again. There was a future to think of now, and with it came the knowledge that he would have to tell Miss Jones the truth about his arrangement with her father.
“The musical part of this evening is due to start within the next hour, Lord Henderson said,” began Miss Jones, mentioning the name of their host. “I am glad that you now know that I am not inclined toward the pianoforte, since you will not push me forward in front of the rest of the guests in order to sing Christmas carols or the like!” Her eyes twinkled. “Nor do I have a fine voice, Lord Allerton, in case you think me blessed in that area instead.”
“Ah, Lord Allerton.”
He stiffened at once, the smile sliding from his face as the sound of Lady Venables’ voice reached him. Lady Venables was one of London’s biggest gossips and she took pride in the fact that most people knew of her reputation. He did not want to converse with her and certainly did not want her to get her claws into Miss Jones, but given that they were guests together in the very same room, he could not exactly ignore her. To give her the cut direct would start all manner of rumors—rumors he could not permit to come to life.
Gritting his teeth and with a warning look toward Miss Jones, he turned toward the older lady. She was beaming at him, her dark brown eyes fastened onto him in eager anticipation as though she knew she would be able to get a good deal from him.
“Lady Venables,” he murmured, bowing quickly and seeing her quick bob of a curtsy. “How good to see you this evening.”
“I have been out of London,” she informed him, her high-pitched voice setting his teeth on edge. “I have only just returned and what do I hear? That you have managed to secure a wife.” Her eyes turned toward Miss Jones and Charles had no other choice but to introduce her.
“A wife from America, indeed!” Lady Venables exclaimed as Miss Jones rose from her curtsy. “It is not surprising, of course, given how you are viewed by society, but I always thought you would marry a delicate English rose.”
Charles felt a flush begin to creep up his neck, a tight spiral of anger settling in his chest. “I am very glad indeed that Miss Jones has been willing to travel to England in order to marry me,” he said coldly. “She is quite wonderful and I look forward to my wedding day with great anticipation.”
Lady Venables trilled with laughter and patted Miss Jones on the arm, as though she believed Charles’ compliments to be nothing more than fripperies that meant very little indeed. Charles threw a desperate glance toward Miss Jones and saw that, whilst her face was a little white and her lips very thin, she was managing to keep her composure with remarkable dignity. She said nothing, which, Charles considered, was probably for the best given their present company.
“And your own daughters?” he asked, remembering that Lady Venables had as yet two unmarried daughters. “Are they here for the Little Season?”
Lady Venables laughed again and struck his arm lightly with her fan, as though he were being quite ridiculous, and it was all Charles could do not to explode with frustration.
“Oh, now, Lord Allerton, you must not attempt to coerce one of my daughters into matrimony, just because of what I have said,” she answered, as if he had been deliberately attempting to do such a thing. “I am sure that Miss Jones is more than suitable for you and, besides which, I fear that I cannot think of accepting a gentleman in your position.” She sighed and shook her head. “You must understand, Lord Allerton, that even with your title, you are not particularly eligible.”
“I—”
Charles opened his mouth to protest, only for Lady Venables to exclaim aloud that their host was ushering them toward the music room, where they might hear some of the young ladies play and sing. She brushed past Charles at once, leaving both himself and Miss Jones standing silently, staring after her.
“I do not know what to say in order to excuse Lady Venables,” Charles began, looking at Miss Jones and seeing that her face was still quite pale. “She is ill-mannered and thoughtless in her speech and I am sorry for it.”
Miss Jones smiled tightly, glancing up at him before returning her gaze to the lady in question. “You did nothing, Lord Allerton,” she answered quietly. “I do not hold you responsible. Although I am glad to know
that you will not be throwing me aside to chase after one of her daughters in my stead.”
“Never,” he grated, speaking with more force than he had intended and seeing just how she looked up in surprise. “I find more in you than I have ever found in her daughters, I assure you.”
There was a moment of silence then, and Miss Jones continued to study him quietly, as if there was something she might discover in his expression if she looked long enough. Then she sighed, tipped her head, and gave him a half-smile.
“Might I ask what your ‘situation’ is?” she asked softly as the room began to empty of guests. “Was Lady Venables speaking only of your lack of funds?”
Charles hesitated for a moment, thinking about his brother and wondering if he should share what his brother had done and what he himself had chosen to do thereafter. Deciding that such a revelation might bring him low in her estimation, Charles chose not to do so. “Lady Venables has always been rather haughty,” he said, in answer to her question. “But it means nothing.”
Miss Jones sighed heavily. “I can well understand it,” she answered, a touch of sadness in her voice.
“You can?” he asked, a little surprised with how evident her feelings were on the matter. “From this Season only?”
She looked up at him for a moment, considering. Then, she shook her head and sighed again.
“No, Lord Allerton,” she answered eventually, looking away from him. “It is not only the English that have behaved in such a manner toward me.” Her eyes narrowed just a fraction but she held his gaze steadily, as though he might be inclined to laugh at what she would say next. “My father did not gain his fortune until much later in life, as you know. I was thrown from one world to the next.” Her eyes searched his. “Those above me looked down on me for not having the manners, knowledge, or propriety that they had—which I did try to attain, but having to learn so much in such a short space of time was very difficult.”