The Duke Dilemma

by Shirley Marks

  “Just put it over the chair,” Sir William instructed the footman and returned to his seat. “Now tell me, Edward, is it true your son is looking to marry? Isn’t he a bit young?”

  “He’s concerned for the line of succession.” The Duke tilted his glass from side to side, watching the port swirl about.

  “As well he should be. He is the heir and your only son. He’s got a responsibility to the family. I’m glad to see he’s taking it seriously,” Sir William stated in a no-nonsense manner.

  “He is, I can assure you.” Edward actually felt proud to admit it. “I must confess I’ve never seen him quite this determined about anything.”

  “Good, good,” Sir William grunted his approval.

  Gerald quickly added, “I heard you’ve been in his company, attending parties, assemblies, his morning calls, and drives in the Park.”

  “I have,” Edward admitted, “for moral support, sometimes to lend a bit of respectability when the situation calls for it. He does venture out on his own, as you see tonight, but I must admit not all has gone well.”

  “What are you saying there, Duke?” Sir William sat up, lowering his glass and widening his eyes.

  Edward wondered if he should continue. He did not wish the unpleasantness to become fodder for gossip, but then again, these men were family. “This afternoon Frederick and I drove with Miss Dayton. Her mother came along as chaperone.” He placed his glass upon the table. “During the outing, Miss Dayton and Frederick seemed to enjoy themselves. We returned the ladies to their abode, stepped inside, just for a moment, to bid them farewell. I remained in the foyer with Lady Dayton. We both were of the mind the young persons might wish some limited privacy. We kept them within sight and heard them speaking, but not their exact words, which I now have come to regret.”

  “Come now, sir, empty the bucket!” Sir William insisted.

  “I cannot say what exactly caused the altercation…” Edward remained reluctant to speak the truth, even to his own family. “There was a row.”

  “By Jove, you don’t say?” said Gerald, who knew the Earl of Brent tolerably well.

  “Has he gone mad?” Sir William sounded outraged. “The lad wasn’t in his cups, was he?”

  “I do not believe so, perfectly sober.” Edward continued, “Lady Dayton rushed into the parlor, going to the aid of her daughter and”—there was no other way to put it—“Frederick raged at her. I did hear him shout something along the lines of if she had been contemplating marriage elsewhere, he should have been told.”

  “If he’d formed an attachment to the young lady, he should have made it known.” By the gentle delivery of the sentiment, Gerald seemed to hold some compassion for his cousin.

  “Frederick stalked out of the house, right past me without a word. We subsequently returned to Worth House and he left in a pique. This evening is the first I’ve seen of him since that time.”

  “Of course he was angry. Who could blame him?” Sir William blustered. “The gel’s been playing him false!”

  “I haven’t heard that Miss Dayton is contemplating an offer.” Gerald, who was more current with the goings-on about Town than his two older companions, sounded thoughtful in his contemplation. “You don’t think he could have misunderstood and took exception to Lady Dayton’s forthcoming nuptials?”

  “Impossible!” The notion struck Edward as odd. Why on Earth would his son care if Lady Dayton remarried?

  Augusta’s aunts led the ladies from the dining room to the small parlor at the back of the townhouse, where the females withdrew after dinner. Constance linked her arms with Augusta and Charlotte, and they trailed behind Frances Kimball.

  “What is it, Connie?” Charlotte whispered.

  “I must tell you what I overheard from my mother and Aunt Penny,” she whispered. “It is the oddest thing; I cannot imagine why they have come upon such an idea.”

  “Go on, cousin,” Augusta urged. She wondered what her aunts were about, or was it some odd notion Constance had contrived so they would have something to gossip about.

  “They wish to find a wife for your father,” Constance said even softer. “Isn’t that famous!”

  Charlotte shushed her, and Augusta glanced ahead to check if they’d drawn any undo attention.

  “Can you imagine…a new duchess?” Constance appeared delighted at the prospect. “Does that put you out?”

  Augusta met Charlotte’s gaze and replied, “Don’t be absurd. It does not bother me in the least. I should be happy to see Papa happily wed, if it is his choice to do so, of course.” And that was the key. It would have to be his choice.

  His Grace would wish it, Augusta assured herself, if he took the time to give it proper thought and if he met the right lady. Not someone of her aunts’ choosing, to be sure. No, the new duchess had to be sponsored by one of the Duke’s children, and more ideally, her.

  The three young women stopped at the threshold of the small parlor and entered one at a time: Augusta, Charlotte, and finally, Constance.

  “Now that we’ve discussed our children, their children”—Aunt Mary walked past the lit hearth, taking the one of the chairs flanking the fireplace—“what about other family news? The type men do not wish to hear?”

  “I might have been mistaken, but I do not believe the gentlemen cared to hear any of it.” Aunt Penny settled into the closer seat, near her sister. “They looked far too interested in the filled plates before them to take any notice of what we were saying.”

  Augusta sat between Charlotte and Constance on the matching green-patterned chintz sofa, and Mrs. Kimball eased into the chair next to them.

  “It was an excellent meal, as always, my lady.” Mrs. Kimball arranged her skirts, pulling the material behind her legs. “Anytime your cook feels it necessary to leave your kitchen I beg you inform her she will be most welcome in mine. Gerald would never forgive me if Mrs. Sheldon were to slip through our fingers.”

  No one could dispute that Lady Kimball employed one of the very best cooks in London.

  “Mrs. Sheldon is happy enough in our employ, thank you very much.” Aunt Mary smiled all the same and did not take offense that her daughter-in-law would try and steal a member of her staff. “The beef roast was particularly good this evening, wasn’t it?”

  “I was quite impressed with the salmon,” Charlotte commented. “Our Muriel adores salmon, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, I had quite forgotten that,” Constance replied with a lilt of reminiscence.

  “Dear little Moo…” Aunt Penny smiled, looking wistful.

  It had been almost a year since she’d married and gone.

  “She’s in Italy last I heard, isn’t that right?” Mrs. Kimball turned to her mother-in-law.

  “I believe so.” Lady Kimball added, “Rome, I believe, unless she and his lordship have moved on.”

  “I daresay Rome will hold their interest for quite some time.” Augusta knew if her sister had her way she might never return to England. “We’ll be lucky if we see them within the next two years.”

  “Two years!” Constance exclaimed in outrage. “They cannot remain on the Continent that long.”

  “I must agree with Gusta.” Charlotte glanced at her folded hands resting in her lap. “There is no telling how long Moo will remain abroad. Her Roman studies, not to mention those of her husband, need not be curtailed. They may indulge themselves for as long as they desire.”

  “The Earl of Brent remains the only unwed sibling…” Aunt Mary’s statement may have faded but it was clear by her expression she was leading to something.

  Freddie was the only unmarried sibling but not the only unwed man in her family. Augusta realized that it had been left unsaid but completely understood by this aunt, aunts…no, all of them.

  “I would not have believed his determination to find a bride had I not heard of it from the Duke himself,” Aunt Penny continued. “Frederick’s far more serious than I remember.”

  Lady Kimball stood and moved a
round the room. She came to a halt behind the sofa, where Augusta and Charlotte sat, and placed her hands on its back. “Edward is far from old, wouldn’t you say, Penny?”

  “Oh, no, His Grace is in the very prime of his life and still quite a handsome man.”

  Augusta realized Constance had been correct. The aunts had every intention of leading her papa to the altar. She stole a glance at her sister. Would Charlotte dare admit any of these ladies to her confidence? Would Augusta be able to stop her?

  “His daughters have all married and gone. I feel it’s a shame for him to remain alone. It’s not at all natural.” Aunt Mary rubbed her hands together and walked toward the center of the room so everyone could see her.

  Didn’t Aunt Mary have enough on her plate trying to find Constance a husband?

  “It is very unfortunate,” Aunt Penny said with uncharacteristic sadness. “I wonder if he has given any thought to marrying again?”

  “Men do not think to marry on their own, Mrs. Parker, didn’t you know?” Mrs. Kimball chuckled. “They must be prodded into it.”

  Careful not to turn her head and stare directly at her sister, Augusta chanced another look in her direction. Charlotte sat wide-eyed and very still. Surely she would not be so careless as to blurt out, “Gusta, Freddie, and I are doing the very thing!”

  “Then there are those rare instances where men fall instantly in love. I believe such was the case when Edward met our Sarah.” Aunt Mary recalled the courtship of the young Duke of Faraday. “That may not happen again, but I cannot see any reason why he should not be able to make an agreeable match.”

  “Certainly. Why could he not find a suitable woman to share his company and be a comfortable wife?” replied Mrs. Kimball.

  “I wholeheartedly agree with you. The Duke cannot remain alone.” Aunt Penny turned to Augusta and Charlotte. “What do you think, girls?”

  “La, what a notion,” Charlotte answered, to Augusta’s relief. Without giving a hint that she and her siblings were currently involved in the very thing.

  “Gusta? What are your thoughts?” Aunt Mary, speaking as one elder sister to another, addressed her directly. “His Grace is still young yet. If he married someone a bit younger he need not be a duke with only one heir. There is time for him yet to beget a spare or two.”

  A new family? Augusta’s stomach felt as if a lead weight had taken residence. Not even Constance dared offer such an upsetting suggestion.

  “I haven’t given that much thought, Auntie.” That was not at all what Augusta, nor any of her siblings, she would guess, had in mind for their father. A subsequent glance at her sister did not reassure her that Charlotte felt the same. Augusta would not allow her expression to show her growing distress.

  “I may even be convinced that it is our duty to do what we must to find him a new wife, ladies.” Aunt Mary, who had previously directed inquires to her sister, now included Augusta and Charlotte in her scheme. “I think there is something…someone we could think of to fill the position of duchess.”

  Augusta wasn’t certain she wished a mere someone should marry her father. She doubted Frederick’s ability to search for an appropriate bride. Charlotte had encouraged two antidotes from her husband’s family to win their father’s favor. Aunt Mary wanted a young wife for His Grace and thought he could start a second family.

  Before this night had passed, it seemed the matrimonial field had far too many matchmakers. Augusta could not trust anyone to introduce the proper lady to her father. The others could not want for him what his own children thought most important—his happiness.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  How had it turned out that Edward accompanied these ladies to the Art Exhibition? He wasn’t quite sure. He rubbed the top of his cane with his gloved hand in contemplation and made a concerted effort to stare in their direction and not to rest upon any of them. To gaze out the window and ignore the guests would be beyond rude.

  “I thank you again for your generosity, Papa. You are so kind to offer to escort us this afternoon.” Charlotte’s inherent charm was what had convinced the Duke to collect his daughter and her two guests at Danbury Place and accompany them on this outing.

  “I am happy to do so, my dear.” He gazed upon his daughter and the first thought that came to him was: Could anyone ever refuse her anything?

  The Duke descended from his crested carriage before Somerset House and waited for the remainder of his party to disembark. Besides Charlotte, accompanying him were Lady Margaret and Miss Orr.

  Charlotte’s visitors had preened for nearly the duration of the drive. They might not have even considered their small movements, adjusting their hair here, shifting the arrangement of a ruffle there. No, it had not gone unnoticed. They batted their eyelashes, practiced various facial expressions, and continued to fiddle with their accessories from the moment they entered his carriage until they rolled to a final halt.

  Were they practicing their attitudes for some unsuspecting gentleman whom they might encounter during the afternoon? The thought that Lady Margaret and Miss Orr had come to Town to catch a husband had occurred to him. They were far from young ladies coming out for their first Season, but they were unmarried, and why shouldn’t they have a chance at marital bliss?

  He must make some effort to encourage them, he supposed. It wouldn’t be too long before Charlotte would have the talk with him. The benefits of being connected with his family, with him—a public display to show he approved of them would cause all of Society to open their arms in welcome.

  Frederick might have done Edward the same courtesy and accompanied them this afternoon. The Duke completely understood his son’s previous engagement of driving in the Park with Miss Davies-Holmes, and part of him delighted that he could not be the fourth in his son’s carriage, keeping Lady Davies-Holmes occupied. While Frederick might have some interest in Miss Davies-Holmes, Edward did not, and considered himself outré because he still could not imagine what attracted his son to the young lady.

  Once Lady Margaret, Miss Orr, and Charlotte had alit from the carriage, they proceeded without a squabble. Miss Orr, wearing a hat adorned with a half dozen or so pheasant tail feathers, stepped forward, taking his arm to be escorted into the exhibition.

  Edward had to commend Miss Orr and Lady Margaret for not fighting over who would be the first to take his arm. They had, no doubt, worked that small detail out before his arrival. All was calm, peaceful, and both were fully accommodating during the entire journey to Somerset House.

  It was remarkable, quite a difference from the previous evening he had spent in their company, when raised voices and deadly glares had passed between the ladies. This afternoon, if all went well, might be enjoyable even to him.

  They passed through the front doors, entered the foyer, and headed for the staircase. Up and around, and up, up, up, and around again, and again, and again they climbed, as the Exhibition Room lay at the very top of the winding staircase. It looked as if one hundred visitors occupied the enormous room. They lined up along the edge to see the paintings, rested on the seats in the center of the room, or meandered between the two, making their way to the doorway to exit.

  “Oh! Is this not splendid?” Miss Orr exclaimed. Her gaze swung from one end of the room to the other. “Where shall we begin?”

  “The choice shall be yours,” Edward told her. “Whether we study the paintings from here to there or from there to here, it makes no difference to me.”

  “Let us wait for Lady Charlotte.” Miss Orr motioned for the Duke to step to one side, allowing the flow of traffic to pass while they waited for the other half of their party.

  “Come, ladies.” Charlotte forged ahead, clearing a path for the rest to follow. Miss Orr trailed after Lady Margaret as she passed, with her voluminous capote perched on her head, and Edward brought up the rear.

  It wasn’t near the crush he had thought it would be. Edward stepped through the room with no obstruction, following Miss Orr’s lead. He paused once
he spotted Miss Orr’s pheasant feathers still, indicating she was no longer moving forward. The Duke slowed to a stop.

  “We are delighted to see Your Grace once again. It has been an age, has it not?” a woman’s voice called to him from his left.

  “Lady Gelsthorpe,” Edward replied once he faced her. “It has, indeed, been a very long time. Are you enjoying the exhibition?”

  “Extremely. We are especially taken with the landscapes at the far end of the room. We cannot recommend highly enough that you spend some time, at length, admiring them.”

  The Duke glanced in that direction, making a mental note to devote time for appropriate study as deemed by Lady Gelsthorpe.

  “Will you allow us to present our guests?” With the sweep of her arm, she bought his attention to the trio of ladies next to her. “We believe you already know Lady Ashton, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, of course, Lady Ashton.” Edward inclined his head, glancing beyond their small gathering to his own group.

  “May we introduce Lady Vernon, Mrs. Dumfries, and Miss—”

  Edward caught sight of Charlotte turning about, searching for him. “I beg your pardon, I do not wish to be rude, but my own party desires my presence. My humble apologies for the lack of proper introductions, ladies. Another time perhaps?” He hurried away toward Charlotte. By the look on Lady Margaret’s brightening face at his approach, he supposed it was her turn to take his arm.

  “That”—Edward heard Lady Gelsthorpe announce to those in her party—“was His Grace, the Duke of Faraday.”

  Duke. He was a duke?

  Louise could not believe her own eyes. The Duke’s name was very familiar to Louise. She had heard it used time after time but had no notion it referred to this man. She stood, stunned, absolutely astonished beyond belief. She had recognized him as a gentleman upon first laying eyes on him in her garden yesterday, of course. He’d spent the good part of the afternoon in her company. Hours.

  And he wasn’t just any duke, as if making the acquaintance with dukes was a daily occurrence, which it had never been, but he was the Duke of Faraday—of Faraday Hall.