The Duke Dilemma

by Shirley Marks

  Because he attended Lady Shrope’s ball with far less than delight, Edward felt in no mood to encourage any social interaction. Dressed in a black superfine jacket and pantaloons, he looked a bit severe for a ball, perhaps. His breeding and manners would not allow anyone to suffer the consequence of his displeasure. He would make the best of this situation and do his utmost to take care that no one took his annoyance of his obligatory attendance personally.

  He greeted each guest with a bow and a smile on his way to the main room. Edward judged this to be a well-attended affair. Lady Shrope must have taken exemplary pains to make certain her ball was the finest party of the Season. Sparkling crystal chandeliers soared high above, illuminating all below with the most flattering light. The musicians, ensconced in their box, played an airy melody to welcome the guests. The floors had been polished and chalked for the dancing that would soon take place.

  Frederick found Edward some minutes later. “I count myself lucky that I’ve claimed a country dance with Miss Shrope. I’ll see if I can arrange a drive in the Park in the next day or two. What do you say?” He sounded enthusiastic, his father’s earlier pronouncement forgotten.

  “You are most welcome to try. Do not expect me to join you if you end up with a trio,” Edward informed his son. For the second time.

  “Oh, come now, sir. We’d make a fine frolicking foursome, don’t you agree?” Frederick continued as if his jolly good humor were infectious. It appeared to be a somewhat false cheer.

  Edward kept his composure and allowed his son to continue.

  Frederick pulled a face when it was quite evident his paternal parent had meant what he’d said and had no intention of changing his mind. “Can you really mean that nonsense you were telling me earlier?”

  “That is correct.” Edward withheld the withering stare that would normally accompany such a setdown.

  “Right, then.” Frederick’s jovial manner faded completely. He quickly brightened up and called out past his father, “Good to see you, Fieldstone.”

  “Lord Brent,” Fieldstone replied. The Viscount, impeccably turned out, as always, looked to be a man in search of something, and he never settled for second best. “Good evening, Your Grace.” He turned back to Frederick. “How is Champion working out for you?”

  “Oh, he’s a capital goer, ain’t disappointed at all,” Frederick gushed. “How’s your new bit o’ blood?”

  “Seems to be a bit skittish in Town. It’s the hustle and bustle, but he’s young yet. I’ll see how he does in the country, may make a hunter out of him.”

  “You don’t say?” Frederick gazed upon Fieldstone with more interest than Edward had ever seen him pay Miss Shrope. “Perhaps we can ride out some morning?”

  “Agreed. Tomorrow…no, the day after.” Fieldstone glanced over his shoulder, into the room, as if momentarily distracted.

  “Excellent. Can’t wait to show you my new boots.” Frederick clapped the Viscount on the shoulder and confided in him, “Hoby made ’em. Bang up to the mark, they are.”

  “Are they?” Fieldstone’s brow rose. “If you will excuse us, Your Grace.” He joined Frederick as both stepped away from Edward.

  “Gentlemen,” he bowed, silently remarking to himself how easily young men were distracted.

  He heard Frederick exclaim, “Wait till you set eyes on them. Not even a hint of a wrinkle in them. Tell me true, Fieldstone, does your valet have a secret for keeping a shine on them?”

  Edward never did hear the answer. Dressed in a respectful medium maroon shade, Mrs. Raley, accompanied by his sisters-in-law, stepped toward him.

  “Good evening, ladies.” The Duke was glad to see Mrs. Raley attending another party.

  “Your Grace,” they all murmured and sank into curtsies.

  “I hope you are enjoying yourself once again, Mrs. Raley.” Edward acknowledged her with the incline of his head. “As the dancing has not begun, would you care to take a turn about the room?”

  “I would be delighted.” She offered a gracious smile and placed her hand upon his proffered arm. “How kind of you to ask.”

  And off he led her.

  Augusta stood not far from a trio of ladies and watched her father across the room. Apparently, the ladies took notice of the very same couple. It did not seem they thought her close enough where they thought to be in danger of being overheard and spoke freely among themselves.

  “Is it the Duke of Faraday across the room?” A haughty voice inquired, then declared, “That man should be married.”

  “We have been saying that for years, Lady Forbes.” The imperious bearing of a second woman was evident even though she remained unseen by Augusta. “Quite a waste of an exceptional title, not to mention a great loss for some fortunate lady who could be his wife.”

  “He seems to be quite taken with that woman…who is that woman, Lady Gelsthorpe?”

  Some moments passed. Augusta could only suppose Lady Gelsthorpe had raised her lorgnette to better see who the Duke had on his arm.

  “She is quite unknown to us and cannot be of any significance.”

  “Mrs. Ophelia Raley,” the third replied in a softer tone. “I made her acquaintance at the Greenway party the other night. She is just setting aside her blacks and reentering Society—but to set her cap for such an esteemed duke is outside of enough!”

  “Who is she, Lady Emerson? Who is her family? Does she have any connections?” Lady Gelsthorpe asked. Once again the lady’s arm lifted her lorgnette to her eyes for a second look. “No, this Mrs. Raley cannot be a suitable company for His Grace.”

  “Mrs. Raley appears clearly smitten with him,” Lady Forbes continued. “She was introduced to him by way of his sisters-in-law. They must approve of her.”

  “Family approval does not a match make.” Lady Gelsthorpe’s imperious tone returned. “But His Grace need not marry an heiress, or for an heir, or for political gain. She cannot be just anyone.”

  “Who do you think is worthy of the Duke?” Lady Forbes posed the ultimate question.

  There was a long silence. Augusta could hardly wait to hear who these magpies might recommend.

  “I suppose that might be for him to decide,” Lady Forbes said in an even voice. “If he decides to marry at all.”

  Papa’s laughter caught Augusta’s attention. She watched him lay his hand atop Mrs. Raley’s, which was settled on his arm.

  There was no denying they looked happy in each other’s company.

  “Oh, my dears,” Lady Gelsthorpe whispered in restrained excitement. “We do believe His Grace is secretly courting.”

  “What? You cannot mean he is—” the other two exclaimed.

  “Shh—oh, yes. The Duke of Faraday must be looking for a bride!” Lady Gelsthorpe continued.

  “She must be the one, then!” Lady Emerson proclaimed.

  “That is why they appear so delighted to be in one another’s company.” Lady Forbes had disregarded Lady Gelsthorpe’s pronouncement that the couple did not suit.

  Augusta gazed toward the heavens in exasperation and did her utmost to remain quiet.

  “We cannot know what he is about for certain,” Lady Gelsthorpe stated, sounding very suspicious. “But there is some kind of mischief going on.”

  Augusta would never openly confirm Lady Gelsthorpe’s statement, but she was entirely correct. In these past few weeks, there had been, indeed, a great deal of mischief.

  Edward could not help but glance at Mary and Penny, who, it seemed quite apparent to him now, had it in their minds to champion Mrs. Raley.

  “I must thank you for your gift. I received it this afternoon.” Mrs. Raley touched her wrist where the lace edging of the handkerchief he had procured for her protruded from her sleeve. The rose-colored embroidery along its edge matched her gown well enough.

  “It is merely a gift to welcome you back to society.” The Duke returned his attention to the female next to him.

  “It is most kind, truly, and much appreciated, Your Grac
e.” Mrs. Raley seemed agreeable and spoke with gentleness. She was a pleasant enough widow for some man, other than himself, to wed.

  “It is merely a token. I beg you think nothing of it.”

  “My brother was most pleased to see you had come to my aid, socially, that is. He says no other person could have greater influence to my reputation.”

  “Your brother?” Edward questioned with only slight interest. “Do I know him?”

  “I expect so. His country house is near your own Faraday Hall,” she stated with some pride.

  “Is it?” It seemed curious that he had known of her brother. He gazed upon her hoping to detect some family resemblance that might suggest the identity of her sibling.

  “Destin Heath.”

  “Destin…” Edward repeated, quickly realizing the answer, and did his best not to react to this news. It had, however, taken him by surprise. Destin Heath, a country estate neighboring his own Faraday Hall. “Then your brother would be…”

  “Sir Nicholas Petersham.” She smiled up at him.

  Edward remained impassive. He felt a flood of anger rising, threatening to overtake him. Inside, his stomach was churning. This was outside of enough, to have that scoundrel further attaching himself to the Duke by way of his sister.

  “Ah, yes, Sir Nicholas. I know him very well.”

  “Excuse me, Your Grace.” Lord Wells approached and bowed respectfully. “Ma’am, it is nearly time for our dance.”

  Mrs. Raley turned to her escort. “Do you mind, Your Grace?”

  “Mind? No, not at all.” He relinquished her hand and silently wished Mrs. Raley every success with Lord Wells, who seemed smitten with the widow. Gad, did the man know Sir Nicholas Petersham would constantly plague him if he should marry into that family? Someone should warn Wells. It would not, however, be the Duke. The pair strolled toward the dance floor.

  Still perturbed by the mention of Sir Nicholas Petersham’s name, Edward decided that learning of Mrs. Raley’s connection to the Baronet had put a period to both his association with her and to his attendance at this party.

  “It has been an age since I’ve attended the opera,” Louise told Augusta while vigorously fanning herself at the start of the intermission. “I daresay I do not recall ever becoming so involved in the story.”

  “Nor do I.” Augusta dropped her fan open to cool herself as well. “I find the men’s voices particularly resonate. It’s as if I can feel them here.” She pressed her fist against her heart and exhaled. They both sat quietly for a moment before she continued, “I suppose there is no use in delaying the unpleasant any longer. I must visit Char in her box.” She turned her sorrowful eyes toward Louise. “I would much rather remain and discuss how dearly Frederica and Angelo love one another.”

  “And what a villain Count Theodore appears to be. But if he were not, this would not be much of a story.” Louise stifled her merriment at the staged comedic situation with her open fan. “Can you dread seeing your sister that much?”

  “I do.” Augusta’s mirth subsided. “Not Char-Char, of course, but her relatives. I am so absolutely alarmed at the very thought!”

  “I could accompany you if that would make the task more pleasant.” Louise was more than willing to lend support.

  “I cannot see how ruining your evening may improve mine. No, my lady, you are all that is kind to offer. You’d best remain and wait for me.”

  “Well, then, go quickly so you can be done with it.” Louise motioned her friend away with her fan.

  “You are right. I shall do exactly that.” Augusta stood, closed her fan, and smoothed her skirts. “And when I return we can contemplate the plans the villainous Count has in mind for lovely Frederica and how our handsome and brave hero Angelo will thwart them.” She paused at the doorway and murmured to Louise, “I shall not be gone long.”

  “Yes, I know,” Louise replied with sympathy and made a steadfast effort to employ her fan. The heat in the box was dreadful. She pulled the ends of the fichu from her neckline and removed the fabric to further cool herself.

  She stilled, then turned at the sound of someone entering. Augusta had been away for only a few minutes. There was hardly time for her to have even walked the entire distance to the box located almost opposite where they sat. Augusta could have only returned if she had changed her mind about the visit.

  “I beg your pardon. I—” The Duke of Faraday appeared, stepping from the obscurity of the rear of the box into the light where he was easily recognized.

  Louise gathered her skirts, preparing to rise.

  The Duke stayed her motion with his outstretched hand. “I beg you, do not trouble yourself, Lady Vernon.”

  What was he doing here? Louise thought him occupied this evening, heard it from his own lips this very afternoon. She felt conspicuous without her fichu, but with it crumpled in one hand and her fan in the other, she could not hope to replace it. For modesty’s sake, she drew her fan toward her décolletage.

  “May I join you?” Edward gestured to the seat to Lady Vernon’s right.

  “I believe this is your box, Your Grace. I could hardly deny you a seat.” She closed her fan and clasped it to her heart.

  “But I intrude upon your party, do I not?” He stepped in front of the chair next to her and sat.

  “There is only Lady Augusta and me, hardly a party.” Louise quickly added, “And do not, for one moment, think you must have disturbed us. You must feel easy upon that account.”

  “Thank you, I shall.” Edward settled in his seat and glanced around the theater. “Are you enjoying the performance?”

  “Oh, yes. Very much so. We were discussing the characters and their plans to make one another’s lives miserable for our enjoyment.”

  Edward could not prevent himself from smiling. That was a true description of any story that hoped to keep its audience entertained. “And, pray, where is my daughter?”

  “She’s gone to visit her sister and her guests in their box. Perhaps you can see them, just there.” Louise pointed across the way with the end of her closed fan. “Lady Augusta wears a puce gown and Lady Charlotte is in blue.”

  Edward perused the boxes, searching for a glimpse of puce or blue.

  “I believe Lady Charlotte’s relatives accompany her.”

  Edward had no doubt they did. Miss Orr and Lady Margaret seemed to be constantly in her company; why should the opera be any different?

  “I expect they would be delighted if you were to pay your respects.” She sounded quite encouraging. Perhaps she even wished him to leave her in solitude.

  “I have no doubt you are correct, my lady. However, I do not wish to sound rude, but I have recently made a resolution to avoid those ladies.”

  “Avoid them?” She did not appear to Edward so much shocked as puzzled.

  “Again, I do not wish to come across as indelicate, but I suspect you may be here under false pretenses.”

  Now it was quite clear that he had shocked her.

  “How—but I—” Lady Vernon began several times, unable to complete a coherent thought. She straightened in her chair and her eyes widened with each effort.

  “Believe me when I tell you that you are not to be blamed.” He did not feel uncomfortable confiding this to her. Indeed, for the lady to understand the whole dreadful scheme would make their evening bearable.

  “Blamed?” she echoed before finally continuing with, “Your Grace is most—”

  “I fear my dear Augusta may have had hopes of contriving a match between us,” he said with ease.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “I have it on the best authority”—White’s betting book—“that I am determined to find a new wife.”

  “Really? You do not sound wholly convinced.” Lady Vernon had not been fooled at all. “Then you are not looking to remarry?”

  “That is correct. I’m not certain how this nonsense began or how it grew so out of control. It seems I cannot trust anyone.”

&nbs
p; “Goodness, me,” her ladyship exclaimed. “I cannot say I blame you for putting an end to the rumor. If I may be so bold, perhaps I can offer a possible reason for your predicament?”

  Was there one? Edward gazed at her, encouraging her to continue.

  “Soon after my mourning period had ended, my family thought it best that I remarry. I understand their reasons. I had been a young widow, after all, barely thirty years of age. I had no thought of a new husband. My family had not the least bit of consideration for my wishes and continued to push me in that direction. I cannot tell you how horrible that time was for me.”

  “I can sympathize with your plight.” Edward remembered back to when he lost Sarah. Remarrying at that time, even after the two years he remained in deep mourning, had been inconceivable.

  “I believe I finally wore them out, and now, I daresay, they have completely given up hope that I shall ever take a second husband.”

  “I applaud your tenacity. As a woman, you are far more dependent upon the good graces of your family and the succeeding baron.”

  “Exactly. Eventually the pieces of my life sorted themselves out.” A small smile of satisfaction appeared.

  They must have, indeed. Lady Vernon appeared quite pleased with her present situation. She looked as if she fared well and was very much content with her circumstance.

  “I imagine I shall endure this and find such contentment myself.”

  “You have the right of it, Your Grace.”

  Edward delighted in her natural, unaffected smile. This woman had not any hint of pretense. Her words were genuine, heartfelt, and her reaction was refreshingly honest. He did not need to fear entrapment from her.

  “I believe that is exactly what is occurring. How my offspring, my family, acquired the ridiculous notion of finding me a bride I’ll never understand.”

  “I am sure they had your best interest at heart,” she reassured him, but how could she know for certain? “They are doing what they think best, bless their souls. They just don’t want to see you alone. But you’re really not alone, are you? No, you have servants, an entire household full. And I’m sure you have a secretary, your man of business, and an invaluable valet. Then there are your friends, of which you have many, of which your children have no knowledge in the least.”