by Jade Lee
The smile faded. “After dinner. Eleven, probably.”
Too late. Much too late to see Wendy. She’d likely be asleep, and he couldn’t go banging on her door, demanding to see her. Not after the mess he’d made of it last night.
Damn it, he had to find a way to see her. Today. Then he had an idea.
“You said a dinner fit for a king?” Or perhaps, a queen. “Do you think I could invite someone to join us?”
“Just one? Certainly.”
Excellent. He was going to get his Wind back. And he was going to do it in style.
Ten
The footman arrived at the dress shop mid-afternoon. His loud and ponderous voice reverberated through the door between the front parlor and fitting area.
“I have a message for Miss Wendy Drew from his grace, the Duke of Bucklynde.”
Wendy jumped at the sound of her name. She was in the middle of fitting a matronly baroness and had pins in her mouth. Fortunately, Helaine was also there. Wendy looked to her friend, trying to hold back her panic. She had no idea how to handle such a situation. She was on her knees, for God’s sake, and most customers didn’t even like talking to her. They preferred all discussion to be with Helaine, the dress designer, while Wendy silently obeyed commands. How would the baroness react to a message from a duke?
Fortunately, Helaine had an answer. She clasped her hands and appeared mortified. “I’m so sorry, baroness. I can’t imagine what is—”
“A message from a duke!” the woman squealed. “The new duke? The one everyone is talking about?”
“Uh…” Helaine looked to Wendy, who nodded miserably. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Send him in! Oh, send him in! I’m decently covered, aren’t I? Do I look acceptable? Is my hair—”
“You look wonderful,” Helaine said. “That color compliments your complexion to perfection.” And it did. Helaine had quite the eye for color and design. That’s why they were the premiere dressmakers to the ton. Meanwhile, she glanced at Wendy, silently asking if she was ready.
Wendy had found her feet and set the pins into a cushion, but she was anything but ready. Really, after last night’s disaster, what could Radley be thinking to send a messenger? What could the man possibly say that would make up for what he’d done last night?
Meanwhile, everyone was waiting on her, so she gave a reluctant nod. Helaine opened the door to reveal a young footman in the blue and gold livery of the Duke of Bucklynde. He held a dozen hothouse roses in his grip, which he extended to the room at large.
“Miss Wendy Drew?” he asked.
“That’s me.”
He turned to face her and executed a deep bow. “His grace sends these with his compliments.”
“Ooooh!” squealed the baroness as if they had been given to her. Meanwhile, the curtain that blocked off the workroom twitched. No doubt Tabitha and Lady Chelmorton were peeking through to see what was going on.
“Um, why don’t I take those?” inserted Helaine, as she grabbed the bouquet. “There’s no card that I can see.”
The footman continued, his voice booming through the room. “His grace wishes to express his deepest apologies for any slight and wishes to make amends over dinner tonight. Would you honor him with your presence this evening at his London home? A carriage will be sent at eight.”
Wendy stared at the footman. Had there been a question in there? If so, he had rolled right over it. Meanwhile, the baroness squealed again.
“Dinner with his grace? How exciting! Is he throwing a dinner party? How many people are invited? Have you known his grace long? Oh goodness, do you think he would come to my musicale? It’s next Tuesday. I could introduce him to some very influential people. What do you think? Would he come?”
Helaine held up her hand, thankfully silencing the baroness. “Wendy?” she asked softly. “Do you wish to dine with his grace tonight?”
Wendy bit her lip and looked at her dress. She hadn’t the clothes to wear to an evening with a duke. And beyond that, she was supposed to work at Damon’s hell tonight starting at eleven. “I—I can’t,” she whispered.
“You can’t!” gasped the baroness. “But you must. He’s the new duke!” She said the words as if Wendy didn’t know exactly whom they were talking about.
The footman nodded, as if he had expected such an answer. He bowed deeply then spoke again. “His grace feared that you might decline, so he bid me give you this.” He extended a pristine note in an envelope so fine Wendy feared to touch it. But as Helaine had her hands full with the roses, Wendy had no choice, unless she wanted the baroness to snatch it up. So she took the missive and silently ran her finger over the engraving—the ducal crest, bold and beautiful, on white linen.
“Well? Open it!” exclaimed the baroness.
Wendy’s hands shook, but she managed to open the envelope to see another engraving of the ducal crest, this one three times as large. Then she opened the missive.
Dearest Wind,
I know you are angry with me and rightly so. I behaved abominably. If you were a woman to want gifts, I would shower them on you. But you are not, so I must rely upon my meager charms to convince you. Please come to dinner tonight. I wish to apologize. I wish to see you. And even worse, I need your strength behind my sails. This is all strange to me, and I fear I will founder without you.
In desperate hope,
R
Wendy read the letter three times, pausing only to take a deep breath.
“Well?” asked the baroness as she craned her head to see.
Wendy folded the letter closed and held it tight to her chest. She didn’t know what to think, but she knew what she felt. Hope. A sweet, seductive, undeniably sneaky hope that moved straight through her fears to warm her soul. It was the dream that whispered through every girl’s heart that she would marry the handsome prince and live happily ever after.
The revival of such a silly dream was as painful as last night’s crushing disappointment when her prince had turned out to be just another drunk man wanting to get between her legs. And the two feelings—hope and disappointment—fought each other until she didn’t know what to do.
Thankfully, her best friend was there, compassion on her face as Helaine took her hands. She didn’t try to read the letter. Her gaze was trained on Wendy’s face.
“What does he want?” she asked quietly.
“To apologize. For being such a beast yesterday.”
Helaine smiled. “But you are afraid to believe that he could be sincere. Especially as most men are completely useless.”
To the side, the baroness released a sigh. “Well, that is certainly true.”
“But you know,” Helaine continued, “many men are quite good. My Richard is wonderful. Samuel adores Penny, and even Grant has made Irene incredibly happy. All are good men, and all of us are happy. It could happen for you too.”
Wendy didn’t realize she was shaking her head until Helaine argued with her.
“Yes, it can. Isn’t he the one who sent you presents all these years? The silk shawl, the carved ivory box—all under your brother’s name.”
Wendy nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Didn’t they understand? She was too busy, her life too chaotic, to add a maddening aristocrat. A duke, no less, who said he was lost without her.
She didn’t know how to respond to such a heartfelt plea. No one in her experience had ever spoken like that. They all demanded things from her or told her what they intended. Only Radley with his gentle touch and earnest eyes ever said words like that. Radley, who had nearly overwhelmed her last night, against the worktable when he was drunk.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
The baroness snorted in disgust. “You go to dinner, silly girl. Let him apologize. Good heavens, men never apologize! So, if you’ve found one who does—snatch him up! Or at least go to dinner, so you can live the experience once in your life.”
Helaine’s lips twitched at the baronness’s impassion
ed speech, but she didn’t laugh. Instead, she squeezed Wendy’s hands. “Go to dinner, Wendy. What harm does it do to hear what he has to say?”
The harm wasn’t in the evening, but in the time afterward, when she had to rush away to Damon’s gaming hell. How did she explain that? “I… um… but, is it proper? I am an unmarried woman without a chaperone.”
Helaine started to answer, but the footman cleared his throat, effectively silencing everyone. Then he spoke again, as if he were speaking heaven’s proclamation. “His grace also expects his mother, sister, future brother-in-law, the Earl of Hartfell, and Lady Eleanor to be in attendance.”
Wendy straightened at the mention of Lady Eleanor. She would like to get a look at the woman, and this was the perfect opportunity. She looked to her friend. “So, it’s proper?”
Helaine nodded. “You can bring a maid along if you like.”
As if Wendy had a maid to follow her around. “But what would I wear?”
“What about that gorgeous gown you wore to my ball? The green one that brings out your eyes.”
She did look lovely in that. But she’d have to change before going to the hell. That dress was much too revealing for dealing vingt-et-un.
“Oh, say yes!” cried the baroness. “Before I say yes for you, slap on a green gown, and go in your stead!”
Everyone laughed, effectively breaking the tension. So with a pounding heart, Wendy turned to the footman. “Please relay my thanks to his grace. I shall be ready at eight.”
He bowed deeply. “Excellent.” And then he withdrew, backing out so obsequiously that Wendy fought a hysterical giggle, while Helaine squeezed her hands in joy.
“You shall have such a wonderful time, Wendy,” she breathed. “You’ll see. It will be delightful.”
“Well, of course, it will be delightful,” the baroness huffed, waving her hands. “Now go on. Go get the dress so I can see it on you.”
Wendy blinked, abruptly confused. “But baroness, your fitting—”
“Tut tut. Don’t you have another girl who can set the pins? Go on. I want to see this green gown!”
Wendy didn’t have to call Tabitha. The girl pushed through the curtain, the movement awkward, as she was setting her glasses on her ears. “I’d be happy to set the pins.”
“I guess that’s settled then,” Helaine said with a laugh. “Go get the dress. Let’s see if it still fits.”
And so it was done. The pile of work yet to do, the baronness’s fitting, even the shipment of new silks that Irene brought in an hour later—all was secondary to dressing Wendy in a gown that turned out to be loose. Obviously, she’d lost weight. So Tabitha was set to tucking in the seams, while Lady Chelmorton did the hard work of filling a tub for Wendy to bathe. And even Helaine remained late to dress Wendy’s hair. Then, just before the carriage arrived to whisk her away, Penny arrived with a pair of slippers to which she had added a stitched flower along the sides for decoration.
Then everyone stood back to smile as if she really were Cinderella heading to the ball. “It’s just a dinner,” she whispered.
“We know,” said Helaine, her tone light.
“It’s just a dinner,” Helaine’s mother continued, “with a duke who sent you roses and wants to apologize.” As Lady Chelmorton had nearly witnessed what had happened the previous night, she was the one who should have objected the most. Instead, she was giddily happy and couldn’t stop fussing with the wrap she set around Wendy’s shoulders. “All men get drunk, you know. And he did just land two days ago. It’s important to be gracious as you forgive him. Make him work for it, of course, but he did send you roses.”
“Coo, and he’s a duke,” murmured Tabitha. She had Wendy’s pile of stitching in her lap and was plying her needle with skill. The sight should have reassured Wendy, but part of her still tightened in anxiety. It was stupid, really. She was worried that Tabby couldn’t do the work well and afraid the girl would prove too good and would replace her.
Wendy pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to cool her flushed face. “I can’t think,” she whispered.
“But that’s the beauty of it,” Irene said with a laugh. “You’re not supposed to think tonight. You’re supposed to feel. Enjoy! Make the duke kiss your hand and implore you to forgive him.”
“Then be gracious,” said Lady Chelmorton.
“But not too gracious!” inserted Helaine, and they all laughed at the slightly bawdy suggestion. “Hold out for a ring.”
“And then we’ll all be calling you ‘your grace’!” cried Tabby.
Again, everyone laughed, Wendy included, though the idea of becoming Radley’s duchess was… was… what? A giddy dream? A terrifying possibility? She didn’t dare hope, and yet, she did. Her, a duchess! And when she stepped out to the gleaming blue and gold carriage, Wendy felt like a duchess indeed. Two footmen hopped from their perch—one to open the door, the other to set down the step and hand her inside.
Her friends stood watching, and Wendy caught sight of Helaine pressing a handkerchief to her eye. Was she weeping? Wendy felt tearful herself, but she didn’t dare release a tear. It would smudge the kohl darkening her eyelashes.
Then the carriage started its ponderous trek through the London streets. She leaned back against the squabs and thought of what was to come this night, of all the advice she had been given, and of what she would do. She didn’t know. She couldn’t sort out how she felt, much less plan a course of action.
In the end, she simply closed her eyes. Tonight would be magical, she decided. Tonight, she would be Cinderella on the way to the ball, even though it was just dinner. And if Radley wanted to kiss her again… Well, she would decide then what she would do and not think more about it now.
But, of course, she did think about it. She did think and dream and wish all the way to his home and up the steps. And then, everything came crashing down when she saw the stunningly beautiful Lady Eleanor about to kiss Radley.
***
“I feel like I’m being strangled,” Radley groused to the room at large as he tugged at his cravat. How did people stand these things? The tight shirt was bad enough, but add to it a cravat, waistcoat, and coat, and he was afraid that he would drown. He couldn’t move in all this damn finery, couldn’t grab a rope, or save himself, if he were blown overboard. Yes, he knew he wasn’t on board. He was, in fact, in the drawing room before dinner, waiting with his whole family for the dinner bell. He wasn’t even outdoors, but logic had little traction against years of training in going barefoot and shirtless on board.
“Stop fiddling,” Lady Eleanor scolded as she stepped before him.
He stood in front of the fire, too nervous about Wendy’s arrival to sit down. Plus he was afraid he’d split his pants if he so much as bent his knees. So he’d stood there by the fire and fidgeted with his clothes.
“Goodness,” his cousin huffed. “You’re worse than a boy in short coats.” She slapped his hands away from his shirt points and tried to smooth his cravat into place.
On the settee, his mother laughed. “Good luck keeping him properly dressed. I’d no sooner tie his shoes than he had his coat off. Then, when I made him put that back on, I’d find he’d toed off his shoes.”
“Ridiculous to truss a man up like a Christmas turkey,” Radley shot back.
“I couldn’t agree more,” intoned Gregory, his Scottish burr more pronounced with his grumble.
“Oh hush,” Radley’s sister shot back to her fiancé. “You look very handsome.”
Eleanor smiled as she touched his face. Her hand was cool, but her blue eyes sparkled. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “Very handsome indeed.”
Radley froze for a moment, his body and mind stuttering at the feel of his cousin right there touching him that way. He knew it was an intimate gesture, knew too that it wasn’t really an invitation. Due to the magnitude of their obvious differences, she wasn’t really open to marrying him. He had no idea if it was primarily a sacrifice to the family hon
or or pure female interest, but either way, she was giving him a mixed message. And he couldn’t stop himself from being all too aware of the apparent invitation. She was a beautiful woman. He was a red-blooded man who had been months at sea. Of course, he reacted, even as his mind recoiled.
She was not the woman he wanted. Beautiful as his cousin was, he had no interest in her charms. And yet, the realization came too late as his sister suddenly squealed a greeting.
“Wendy! My goodness, look how beautiful you are!”
Radley turned. Eleanor’s hand was still on his cheek, but he brushed it away. And then he saw her—his Wind—looking like a green goddess stepped from the sea. Her gown was a shimmering emerald, her wrap a frothy cream, and her eyes shone bright. Too bright, he realized belatedly, as if there were a sheen of tears as she stood framed in the doorway. Her gaze was trained on him. No wait. She wasn’t looking at him, but at Eleanor as the woman swept to the door.
“You must be the lovely Miss Drew. Welcome to Bucklynde House. We’re so pleased that you could join us for dinner.”
Radley frowned, his thoughts too slow as he struggled with what irritated him about his cousin’s actions. She was being gracious, drawing Wendy into the room and introducing everyone one by one. It took him too long to realize that she was acting as the perfect hostess. Acting as his hostess, as if they were already a pair.
Damn it, that wasn’t what he wanted, but he didn’t have time to stop it, especially as Wendy asked about Caroline’s engagement. His sister started talking about her courtship with Lord Hartfell, details that he guiltily realized he didn’t even know, and then his mother stepped forward to kiss Wendy’s cheek.
“You are a dear girl for coming,” she said somewhat stiffly. “And I hear your little shop is doing well.”
“Shop?” his cousin asked, clear shock in her tone. “Do you work?” No one could miss the implied disdain in Eleanor’s voice at the word “work,” and finally, Radley found his opening.
“She owns A Lady’s Favor dress shop.” He moved forward and quickly grabbed Wendy’s hand. As he brought it to his lips, he tried to make the gesture warm, to re-establish the intimacy he’d once managed so effortlessly. But she pulled away, her manner reserved.