He’d left his rakish ways far, far behind him when he became the Duke of Hartridge.
“Rebecca,” called the earl. She stopped on her way across the room and he saw her physically draw back her shoulders before turning and making her way toward the earl.
She curtsied prettily as she reached them and kept her eyes fixed firmly on her father.
“Where have you been, darling? We’ve been wondering.”
She blushed self-consciously and her eyes darted toward Edward for a split second. He suddenly knew that she had no idea what to say. Neither of them had given any thought to what they should say about being missing at the same time.
“I, um.”
“I was just telling your father that I’ve been on the balcony and had not seen you, my lady.”
The duke’s soft tones interrupted her frantic thoughts as she tried to figure out what to say. Relieved that he’d stopped her from making a faux pas she rushed to answer, “I was just in the library Papa. I had, er, thought to play something and seemed to remember I had left some music there.”
“Capital idea my dear.” Her father beamed at her. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“The music you went in search of.”
“Oh. Well, it wasn’t what I wanted after all,” she answered weakly. Really, she just wanted to get as far away from Hartridge as the room would allow.
What must he think of her? What sort of lady kisses a virtual stranger? Rebecca wanted to cry again.
“Well, never mind. You can play something from memory,” said her father jovially.
“No. That is to say, I do not think — her grace must be tired from her travelling and—”
“My lady, I am sure we would all be honoured if you would consent to play for us.”
She looked up to find Mr. Crawdon smiling kindly at her. She refused to look at the duke and so did not know what his expression held.
Contempt and disapproval probably.
“What’s that, Rebecca?” her mother’s voice called from across the room.
“We were just asking Rebecca to play for us,” her father answered. “She sings like an angel,” he boasted proudly to the gentlemen.
“Really?” her mother sounded a little angry and Rebecca, seeing Caroline’s thunderous expression, began to realise why.
Rebecca should not be the one performing and drawing attention to herself. Rebecca wasn’t the bait to catch the duke, she thought bitterly.
She should blend into the background and let Caroline do all the performing and talking. And kissing.
Caroline’s angry words from earlier came back to haunt her.
Even if he felt no attachment to her sister. Even if he had no plans to marry Caroline. Rebecca was so far from duchess material it was laughable.
There could be no future for her with the duke. Even if he wanted one, which she very much doubted.
“No. Not really,” she answered interrupting whatever her father was about to say. “What I mean is, I had thought about it but, really, if we are to entertain our guests then surely Caroline should be the one to perform. She is exceptionally talented and will do us proud, I think.”
Caroline looked closely at her for a moment and then smiled softly and Rebecca felt a sort of reconciliation.
“Thank you, Rebecca.” Only the sisters knew that she was thanking her for more than the compliment. For Caroline, this meant that she had Rebecca’s support in endearing herself to the duke. Little did she know that he was not here to marry her and would very likely refuse to do so.
Caroline made her way to the pianoforte and Rebecca took the opportunity to take her seat immediately, avoiding all temptation to sit beside Hartridge.
From now on, she would stay as far away from him as possible. Though it felt very close to heart breaking, she would keep her distance and do all she could to help Caroline.
Caroline was duchess material. Caroline had been preparing for this since wearing long skirts. Rebecca had been left to scamper around the countryside at her leisure and, though she was well loved, she could not help but feel that there’d been little or no thought given to whom she should marry!
The idea had never crossed her mind before. There was no rush. But her feelings for Hartridge and Caroline’s harsh words were enough to make her take stock of her situation.
Rebecca was old enough for a Season. She had avoided one because, frankly, she did not want one. But she could not stay single forever. She must marry.
She had hoped to marry for love…
Caroline began to play and sing a famous Italian piece, much favoured by the sisters. . The song was a good choice for Caroline as it showed off her obvious talent for the language. Plus, there was an ever so slightly husky note to Caroline’s voice when she sang which lent the song a dramatic flair, perfect for the flamboyant Italian emotions of love and betrayal which the song described. Rebecca risked a glance across the room to see if Hartridge was enraptured with the sound of Caroline’s voice.
Her stomach jolted when she looked at his strong face and realised that he was staring at her. She blushed profusely and quickly looked away before anyone saw their heated exchange. Good Lord, if he continued to pay such particular attention, people would start to notice. And then what would she do?
She thought again of her future prospects. She had no desire to remain a spinster, relying on the kindness of her brother for a home.
Imagine being underfoot whilst he married and began to have children. The thought did not appeal in anyway.
And, if Caroline did marry the duke? What then? Would she be expected to spend time with them? Watch them go about their married life, always in the background, always pining for—
No! She stopped the thought in its tracks.
She would not live that life, would not be that girl.
If she could not marry for love, she would marry for all the usual reasons— security, safety, family connections.
And who was to say that she would not find love anyway? Rebecca could easily meet and fall desperately in love with the perfect gentleman. Of their own accord her eyes drifted once more to the duke.
She had not known him long enough to feel anything. The kiss, it had been sheer folly. A moment of complete madness. A sign of her immaturity!
Well, it was time for Rebecca to grow up. She would speak to her father and make arrangements to have her Season.
She would hunt for a husband and would finally and firmly put the Duke of Hartridge from her mind.
CHAPTER SIX
Edward listened politely as Lady Caroline sang and played. The lady clearly had talent which made the performance very enjoyable and, he had to admit, her face was beautiful when she played. Obviously, the music helped her to relax some of her rigid control.
She seemed softer, more approachable. Any sane man would find her immensely attractive as a potential bride.
Unfortunately, he had been driven to insanity by her younger sister.
He looked at her again. It seemed he could not stop looking at her. Damn the woman! This was a complication he just did not need!
He intended to speak to his mother at the very first opportunity. Find out what the devil was going on here.
Then, he intended to make his excuses to the earl, apologise to Lady Caroline and get the hell out of there.
He did not intend to spend every agonising second lusting after Lady Rebecca, driven to distraction by her mere presence in the same room.
What an absolute mess.
Lady Caroline finished playing and the assembled groups showered her with well-deserved compliments. She curtsied charmingly and made her way toward her mother and sister.
Edward heaved a sigh of relief and was about to make his excuses when the earl’s booming voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Thank you my dear, you did very well. And now, your sister’s turn.”
Rebecca looked at her father in horror and then glanced toward her si
ster. Quite an overreaction to being asked to play, thought Edward. She certainly did not seem the shy sort given that she climbed statutes in company and punched unsuspecting peers in the face!
Young ladies of the house were always rolled out to play for their guests, whether their guests wished it or not.
Much as he’d been looking forward to retiring, he found his curiosity piqued. Was she shy? Embarrassed? Perhaps she did not have the talent her sister possessed and it made her self-conscious.
The thought softened his mood. That must be it. The poor thing must be ashamed of inferior talent.
It was to be expected really. She had a sharp wit. He’d discovered as much when he had been eavesdropping on her conversation at dinner.
She was incredibly beautiful. Funny. As charming a young lady as ever he’d met, if a little scandalous.
It only stood to reason that she would lose out somewhere.
He suddenly felt rather protective of her, as irrational as that was. He would sit and support her. Enjoy her performance, outwardly at least.
The sound of her wailing may even help to cure some of the lust raging around his body. He sat back and got ready to pretend to enjoy the performance.
Rebecca had leaned forward to whisper frantically to her sister but had, after a moment, made her way to the instrument although, from the way her feet dragged it seemed she did so reluctantly. She looked altogether miserable, poor dear.
As she rustled some papers looking for some music to play, Edward prepared his ears for possible bleeding. There was no telling how bad she was going to be. But he’d been tortured by enough debutantes in the past to know they could truly make some inhumane sounds when performing.
Finally, she cleared her throat and took a breath. And then she began to sing…
Edward’s jaw dropped open. He could feel it but could do nothing about it.
Her voice was, quite simply, exquisite. When her father had said that she sang like an angel, he hadn’t been exaggerating.
She had picked an Irish air about unrequited love. Full of sorrow and sweet poignancy. Her clear soprano soared around the room and made him feel like gathering her in his arms and never letting go.
Blast it! The girl was supposed to be terrible! She had no right to sing as well as she looked.
The situation was untenable and Edward felt his control slipping. Desperate for distraction, he looked around the room.
His mother was entranced, the earl looked proud as punch. Even Lady Mary and Lady Caroline were smiling while they watched the performance.
None of them were helping! They were too enthralled by the temptress.
Finally, he turned to Tom hoping for some whispered conversation to take his mind off Rebecca and her selfish talent.
But Tom’s expression had Edward wanting to leap out of his chair and throw it at Tom. He was bewitched. Utterly bewitched. Edward knew from his face because he was sure he wore the same expression.
Tom had no business feeling that way. He, Edward, felt that way. She was hi-
He stopped himself short. She was his? No. She wasn’t. They’d shared a mistaken kiss. And even if that one kiss had brought about a stronger reaction in him than any other contact he’d had with a woman, she was still not his. It meant nothing. It could not!
He was a duke. He had responsibilities. One of which was finding and marrying a suitable young lady.
Rebecca Carrington was far from suitable. For one thing, her behaviour could be termed scandalous. For another, he’d never get anything done with her around all day distracting him!
He had no right to feel possessive of her. But he’d be damned if he would sit there and watch Tom salivate over her.
So, although he’d never considered himself to be the immature kind, he pretended to yawn and stretched his arms above his head, then brought them down, making sure his right one hit Tom squarely on top of the head.
Tom leapt and almost shouted aloud but managed to contain the shout and not interrupt the performance.
He glared at Edward, who gazed innocently back.
“Terribly sorry, Tom. How clumsy of me.”
Tom just grimaced and turned his head back toward where Lady Rebecca was finishing up her beautiful solo.
It hadn’t served to distract him, but it made Edward feel childishly better.
Still, he could not spend the next two weeks attacking his cousin! And he sure as hell could not spend it under the same roof as Lady Rebecca and manage to keep his hands to himself.
Mostly, he could not stay and encourage whatever fantasy Lady Caroline and her family seemed to be nurturing.
As Lady Rebecca finished her performance and stood to graciously accept the applause and praise, Edward made up his mind.
He would speak to the earl first thing tomorrow morning. And then he was heading back to London. Away from the Carringtons, away from the pressure of his mother and away from the torturous temptation of Lady Rebecca Carrington.
****
Rebecca finished the performance and immediately made her way to her mother. She meant to make her excuses and take her leave of the assembled party. When her father had asked her to play, her stomach had dropped.
She had always loved to sing and did it well. But this was Caroline’s night to shine, not hers. She’d bent toward Caroline to ask how she could get out of performing without seeming rude but Caroline had cut her off.
“Rebecca, I should not have said the things I said earlier. I beg that you forgive me. I would not have you stay quiet as a mouse on my behalf. Not that you could anyway,” Caroline said gently, a wry smile on her face, “You must perform. We cannot embarrass Father. Now go.”
With a quick pat of encouragement on her arm, Caroline urged her to stand. And so she had. For what else could she do?
She avoided eye contact with everyone in the room and began to rifle through the music sheets though she knew several songs by heart.
Her eye was drawn to a particular piece. A sweet song that had been taught to her by Mrs. Maguire, the cook.
It spoke of love, of heartbreak, of desire and loss. It seemed natural to her that she would sing this piece.
Once she began to play she forgot everything and everyone in the room. She lost herself in the music and felt herself relax for the first time since this morning.
The song held extra meaning for her tonight as she thought of everything that had happened today. The duke with his overwhelming presence, the kiss and the knowledge that he would never be hers.
The song expressed feelings that Rebecca could not.
When she finished, she thanked the assembly for their compliments without really hearing a single one. She had reached the end of her tether tonight and wanted nothing more than to leave the room and even to be coddled a little by Maura. After all, it had been a very trying day.
After making her excuses to her mother and Lady Catherine, she bade a general good evening to the room, avoiding eye contact with everyone, particularly the duke, and made her way wearily up the stairs and to her room.
As she opened her door, she was filled with gratitude as she noticed the fire lit, her nightrail laid out and a cup of tea waiting for her by the bed.
Maura began to fuss about her, removing her dress and leading her gently toward the dressing table to brush out her long chestnut locks.
“How was your evening, my lady?” Maura asked jovially.
Rebecca looked into the eyes of her maid and confidante. Before uttering a word, she promptly burst into a fresh barrage of tears.
Maura stared in shock for several seconds before dropping the brush and folding Rebecca in her arms.
She had seen her mistress in some hairy situations and had nursed her through some terrible accidents. But rarely had she seen her cry.
“There, there my lady. It is not as bad as all that surely,” she crooned leading Rebecca gently to her bed.
“It is, Maura. Oh, it is,” sniffled Rebecca.
Mau
ra settled Rebecca against the pillows and handed her the teacup.
“You should drink that up and get a good night’s sleep and you will be right as rain,” she assured pulling at the coverlet and plumping the pillows behind Rebecca’s head.
After a few moments and some reassuring platitudes from Maura, Rebecca began to feel calmer.
She assured Maura that she was feeling better and dismissed her without any more tears.
Then, settling herself down she determined to sleep, dream pleasant dreams and forget all about the man downstairs who had been playing havoc with her emotions from the second she’d set eyes on him.
Rebecca willed sleep to come quickly and began to make preparations in her head for her upcoming Season and search for a husband.
Would he be handsome? Charming? Kind?
Hopefully he would be all those things. She closed her eyes and tried to envision his face. But all she could see was the face of the Duke of Hartridge.
Well, what harm would it be to dream that he was to be her beau? Nobody needed to know about her dreams. Nobody but her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day dawned bright and sunny. Rebecca was awakened by Maura bustling in to draw the curtains.
For a moment, she was tempted to pull the pillow over her head and sink back into the dreams which had comforted her through the night. But that simply would not do.
It seemed impossible that she had only met his grace yesterday morning and so much had happened since.
But, although Caroline had apologised for her harsh words last night, Rebecca knew there was truth in them. The duke had been brought here to marry her sister and it would do Rebecca no good to continue on in her childish ways and ignore her duty to the family.
She must grow up and marry.
That meant she must make plans to go to London.
Her sense of adventure reared its head and Rebecca found herself quite excited at the prospect of a Season in London. She was quite sure that there’d be faux pas after faux pas but she’d also get to experience all the glorious sights, sounds and experiences London had to offer.
An Unlikely Duchess Page 6