A Duchess in Name

by Amanda Weaver

  “Until tomorrow.”

  She kept her smile fixed in place as he left, even as that flare of optimism flickered like a candle about to snuff out.

  Maybe he needed more time to come to grips with their situation. After all, she’d been training for this moment since birth. Perhaps he thought he’d have more choice in marriage. In time, he’d come around and they could begin forging a relationship. And if there was anything they had in abundance, it was time. They had the rest of their lives together.

  Chapter Four

  Meeting a stranger and being forced to propose to her an hour later had seemed to be the worst thing he’d have to endure, but Andrew was wrong about that. When a duke’s son becomes engaged to a millionaire’s daughter, it seemed nearly everybody in Society was interested. The next afternoon, he was informed, in no uncertain terms, that he would be required to accompany his fiancée to a ball being held at Lady Longville’s. Their first formal appearance as an engaged couple was every bit as official as the announcement that had appeared in the Times this morning.

  And it wasn’t only Miss Carson and himself. They were accompanied by her parents and his, two carriages full of the most unpleasant company he’d ever had to endure.

  As they congregated in the Longvilles’ elegant marble entry hall, being divested of coats and capes, he looked up as Victoria shrugged her cape back off her shoulders and into the hands of a waiting footman. Once again, he found himself struck dumb by the sight of her. When he’d fetched her from her townhouse, she’d already been covered from neck to toe in heavy velvet and he’d been almost able to forget what the sight of her the day before had done to him.

  Now he was being reminded in a most forceful way. The pale pink satin dress was certainly demure enough. Nothing compared to her mother’s ostentatious green and black striped silk, or his own mother’s scandalously low-cut red satin. Which only made Victoria stand out in more marked contrast. Next to the two of them, she was all elegance and understated grace. It bared her chest, shoulders and arms. Nothing shocking, but it was still a great deal more skin than she’d exposed at their first meeting, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  She met his eyes and a flush of color suffused her cheeks.

  Andrew cleared his throat. “You look lovely, Miss Carson.” Good God, his voice was barely audible. He needed to get a handle on himself.

  “Thank you, Your Lordship.”

  Miss Carson. Your Lordship. Marrying a stranger was awful.

  He’d called on her as promised that morning, in an attempt to get to know her better. He’d brought her flowers and they’d spent half an hour taking a turn around the Serpentine. They’d started off discussing the weather, but before they could move on to more meaningful subjects, they’d been greeted by one after another acquaintance of Victoria’s and he’d returned her home knowing scarcely more about her than when they’d set out. The only things he could say about her with any authority were that she was relieved spring was nearly upon them and she was exceedingly polite to everyone she spoke to.

  Now they were about to launch into another social event as a couple when they’d had yet to have a real conversation. He wordlessly held out his arm to her and she rested her hand on it before they turned to follow their parents into the ballroom.

  Since he hadn’t been seen in London society since Cambridge—and barely at all then—he expected to be an object of some curiosity. But he didn’t expect the room to fall completely silent when they were announced.

  All eyes turned to observe them. People stared, then people began to whisper. Given a moment to consider it, he supposed the interest was understandable. He’d been socially nonexistent, the duke’s almost theoretical younger son. Now he was back, arrived quite suddenly, as the heir to the dukedom, and with a rich fiancée in tow.

  To his right, Hyacinth Carson preened under the attention. To his left, his mother glanced around the room, no doubt sizing up the men present and determining whom she might bed tonight. At his side, Victoria drew in a deep breath and raised her chin. He had to hand it to her, she was no shrinking violet. Not a hint of nerves disturbed her placid beauty.

  As they made their way through the guests, whispers followed in their wake, some merely gossipy, some downright malicious. Envious glares from many an unmarried young lady and her mother seemed aimed squarely at Victoria. Of course she would take the brunt of their criticism. She’d thwarted their ambitions and she was an outsider, an American, and this tribe was notoriously insular.

  They greeted Lord and Lady Longville first. At least they were tactful enough to hide their rapacious interest. Andrew shook hands, forced a smile and said as little as politely possible. Victoria, however, was the picture of good breeding, accepting their congratulations with a genuine smile and a curtsy fit for the queen.

  They’d turned from the Longvilles, about to face the gauntlet of the rest of the room, when a thin-faced young woman edged herself directly into their path. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn’t place her.

  “Miss Carson,” she said. “Let me be the first of your friends to congratulate you.”

  Victoria gave her a small, insincere smile, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was almost a sarcastic tilt to her lips. “Thank you, Miss Ponsoy.”

  Ah, yes, she was the younger sister of the Ponsoy brothers. The eldest had been at Eton with him. He might have met the sister once or twice during those terrible years at school. “Have you met Lord Dunnley?” Victoria motioned to him. “Lord Dunnley, Miss Katherine Ponsoy. Miss Ponsoy, Lord Dunnley.”

  “Oh, of course. We go back simply ages,” Katherine said with a flirtatious smile, as he bowed over her hand. “Lord Dunnley is bosom friends with my brothers.”

  He wouldn’t go that far. They were nodding acquaintances at best. And he barely remembered her at all. But pointing it out would be rude, so he didn’t correct her.

  Katherine turned back to Victoria. “Lord Dunnley went to Eton with my brother, Peter. All the best English families send their sons there, but of course, being American, you might not know that.”

  What a little brat. He looked to Victoria to see how she handled the swipe. She smiled serenely at Katherine. “Yes, Kitty, I must have missed hearing about Eton’s historic significance in the eleven years I’ve lived in England.”

  Katherine’s eyes flared with temper, but she swallowed it down and smiled saucily. “Well, I must hand it to you, it was very sly of you, Victoria, securing the affections of Lord Dunnley before anyone knew he was back in London. It’s quite clever, getting in quick before you had any competition.”

  This girl was abominably rude. Victoria began to reply, but Andrew spoke before she could, urged on by some angry, protective instinct he hardly understood. “As Victoria quite outshines every other young woman in the room, I doubt there would have been much competition, even if I’d spent the next year in London.”

  Katherine gaped, struggling for some sophisticated comeback she couldn’t formulate as Andrew smiled smugly at her.

  She gave a perfunctory curtsy. “Please accept my good wishes for your marriage. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

  When he chanced a look at Victoria, she was studying him carefully, as if trying to make him out. “Thank you for that. Kitty Ponsoy’s always been a bit of a shrew.”

  “It was nothing.” Now that the obnoxious little chit was gone, he was embarrassed she’d managed to goad him into such a declaration. It was nothing, a bit of glossy flattery that nobody took to heart. Every person in this room understood what was behind this hasty marriage, Victoria most of all. Defending her was the gentlemanly thing to do. Surely he’d have done the same for any young woman.

  More guests came forward to congratulate them, although most were far more polite about it than Katherine Ponsoy. The undercurrent of en
vy was always there, but not so flagrantly displayed. Was he supposed to find their interest flattering, being wanted just for the title he unwillingly bore? Victoria might not be as crass about it as Katherine Ponsoy, but she wanted his title, too. The only thing separating them was that Victoria had won it. It wouldn’t pay to forget that.

  Another obsequious Lady Something-or-Other had just paid her respects and curtsied before leaving. What a blur they all were, in their sea of evening gowns and jewels and tuxedos. How did Victoria keep them straight? She must have been studying Debrett’s from birth—which, come to think of it, was likely the case. As the woman departed, a man moved to take her place before them. This one, Andrew remembered. Lord Sturridge. He’d been famous in Society since Andrew was a boy, both for his gin consumption and for his string of rich young wives.

  Polite bows were exchanged.

  “Mr. Hargrave,” Sturridge began, then stopped and smirked. “Oh, do forgive me. It’s Lord Dunnley now, isn’t it? I forgot.”

  The insulting old bastard. “That’s all right,” Andrew replied evenly. “It’s only been a year. Easy to let little details slip past when you’re older.”

  Sturridge’s eyes flared with anger. “I’ve come to issue my congratulations on your rather surprising engagement.” At his side, Victoria stiffened, like a startled deer. Sturridge turned to her, and the look he gave her made Andrew’s skin crawl. The drunk old lecher was practically undressing her with his eyes, making no attempt to hide the way he stared at the swell of her breasts above the edge of her dress. Her fingers curled into his arm. Without thinking, he laid his other hand over hers, pressing it securely until she relaxed. Sturridge caught the small gesture and barely concealed a sneer of disdain. “I’d had no idea you were back in England, Lord Dunnley, never mind that you’d set your cap at Victoria, here.”

  He grit his teeth and nearly growled his response. “She’s Miss Carson to you, Sturridge. And soon to be the Countess of Dunnley.”

  “Of course, of course. Simply a slip. Miss Carson and I have known each other for some time, haven’t we, my dear? One can forgive the occasional lapse in propriety.” Sturridge grinned at Victoria, a slick, familiar grin that turned his stomach. Was he implying...? Of course he was, but judging from the way Victoria’s face had gone ashen, he was only doing it to get a dig in. She certainly didn’t react to him like a lover. The very idea made Andrew want to break something, preferably Sturridge’s neck.

  When he had enough control to speak, his voice was low and full of menace. “Well, you’d better find your propriety again, Sturridge, because she’s my fiancée now and you will treat her as such.”

  Sturridge looked mildly alarmed at the threat. “Naturally. May I wish you the best of luck? I’m sure you’ll enjoy having the lovely Miss Carson as a wife. I know I would have.”

  Before Andrew could reach out and wrap a hand around the filthy lecher’s scrawny neck, Sturridge bowed briefly and slipped away into the crowd.

  Andrew watched him go, then turned to her. “What was that about?”

  Victoria exhaled as Sturridge retreated. “Lord Sturridge has been pursuing me since I came out last year. For some time before that, to be honest. He was likely who I’d have married if you hadn’t... Well, if things had turned out differently.”

  The idea of Victoria as that man’s wife, on his arm, in his bed... It was revolting. “Are you unhappy about that outcome?”

  “Not marrying Lord Sturridge?” She let out a soft huff of disbelief. “I’m delighted to have been saved from such a fate.”

  Well. She wanted a title and she was modestly grateful that it came attached to him rather than Sturridge. He supposed he should feel flattered. “You could have refused him.”

  Victoria sighed, her eyes skimming over the room. “If not him, it would have been someone equally odious.” She caught herself and her horrified gaze flew to his. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean...”

  Despite the situation, despite how much he didn’t want to be here, despite the bloodless, acquisitive nature of their association, he laughed. “It’s all right. I understand what you mean.”

  “It’s only that I forgot about you for a moment.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, dear, I’m making this worse.”

  On the contrary, for the first time since he’d met her a day ago, he wasn’t in misery. Seeing Victoria flustered and undone was unexpectedly charming. He couldn’t help teasing her a bit. “It’s nice to know I’m so memorable. Then again, we did only meet yesterday. One can hardly be expected to recall a gentleman of such short acquaintance, even if he is one’s fiancé.”

  In spite of her embarrassment, she laughed, and a flush of color bloomed along her cheekbones. “Perhaps we should talk about something else now.”

  “I don’t know. I’m rather enjoying watching you forget who I am.”

  “It’s impolite to point out my missteps,” she said, trying and failing to restrain her laughter.

  “I very much doubt you ever misstep, Miss Carson.”

  “I just declared you forgettable. It’s abominably rude, and not at all true.”

  “So you don’t find me forgettable?”

  She met his eyes and paused before replying in her husky whisper, “Not at all.”

  Heat shot straight through him. “You’re rather memorable, as well.” Good God, he was flirting with her. She was flirting back. How had this happened?

  Victoria cleared her throat and glanced away. “You mentioned you’d been in Italy. Were you there on holiday?”

  Yes, a change of subject was most definitely in order. “No, I work there. I’m an archaeologist, working on a dig.”

  She blinked in surprise. “An archaeologist? How extraordinary. Do you study the Romans, since you’re in Italy?”

  “No, the Etruscans. They predated the Romans in Italy.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of them.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Few people have.”

  “What happened to them? Were they conquered?”

  “No, they flourished for centuries, and as best we can tell, they were eventually assimilated into Rome as the empire expanded.”

  “As best you can tell?”

  Despite his earlier resolution to keep things all business, he was unable to resist expounding. “Well, they had a unique language, and none of their writings have come down to us. All we know of them is what the Romans said about them, and what can be surmised from grave findings.”

  “They left no record of themselves? What an intriguing mystery.”

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  “And are you excavating one of their cities?”

  He looked down into her bright, excited eyes. For the first time in their brief acquaintance, she wasn’t spouting a lot of polite nonsense by rote. She truly wanted to know. The crush of bodies and the curious gazes of the onlookers fell away and he spoke only to her.

  “No, I’m looking for a tomb. The tomb of an Etruscan queen.”

  “Oh, my. It sounds like something out of a novel! A mysterious people and the final resting place of their lost queen. It’s quite romantic, isn’t it? And her tomb is there in Italy?”

  “We hope it’s there. I found a reference to her death in a Roman text when I was at Cambridge. She was of quite high standing, so her tomb would have been notable. There’s a large Etruscan necropolis nearby, but none of the tombs are hers.”

  “And so you believe she’s elsewhere.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “I’ve spent three years in Italy looking for her.”

  “Have you found anything yet?”

  Absently, he slipped his hand into his pocket to finger the Roman coins he carried. One for the queen, one for Randolph, one for... Best to leave that thought alone.

  How was he ever going to e
xplain this to Luciana? He’d made a quick visit home and would return to Italy engaged to another woman. His stomach made a sickening roll. This was all backward. One shouldn’t be wondering how to explain a wife to a mistress. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? And why was he feeling so guilty just touching the third coin meant to represent Luciana?

  He drew his hand out again. At least his work in Italy would go on now. This step he was reluctantly taking would ensure it.

  Whatever momentary spark had been kindled between them flickered and died as he brought himself back down to earth.

  “Nothing significant yet,” he replied with a shrug.

  She waited for him to continue and when he didn’t, the light in her eyes dimmed. She looked down at her hands. “It’s all very interesting.”

  “It is.” After a moment, he pointedly added, “I live for my work.”

  “I see,” she replied, and he was left feeling as if he’d kicked a puppy. This girl seemed so lovely and genuine at times, and yet she was caught up in this distasteful business of titles for cash. She was likely no different than all these other Society misses, angling for an advantage. Still, he hated feeling as if he’d rebuked her, so he held out his hand.

  “Perhaps we should dance. I believe it’s expected of us.”

  She glanced up at him. “I believe it is,” she said with a conspiratorial smile that made his heart stumble over itself. Why did she have to have such an unsettling effect on him? It was making it hard to keep this all straight in his head.

  He led her to the dance floor, once again feeling all eyes on them. It had been a glorious few minutes when they’d talked about his work, just the two of them. But it wasn’t the two of them. They weren’t two people getting married, they were two dynasties allying. Their marriage was an obscene farce.

  In the middle of the floor, he turned to face her, holding her left hand in his, settling his palm on her waist, as the string quartet on the balcony played the opening strains of a waltz by Strauss. It had been years since he’d waltzed. Victoria, however, was a master. She didn’t move, she glided, floating an inch above the floor, outside the bounds of gravity.