Aubrey likely would hardly recognize him.
He stepped out to the pavement at half past nine. It was not at all the thing to arrive right on time. And he didn’t bother with his carriage, either. The walk from Chauncey House was not a long one. As he neared Aubrey’s home, coaches lined the street several houses in both directions.
When he knocked, it was Carrington who opened the door. Of course, his former butler would not send Chance away.
“I’m here at the express invitation of Dandy Dick.” He offered.
Mr. Carrington smothered a grin, shaking his head, but opened the door wide for Chance to enter. “In the Large drawing room, Your Grace.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Carrington,” Chance handed over his top hat and cane.
Mr. Edwards had tied Chance’s cravat no less than seven times before deeming it acceptable and then insisted Chance wear every fashionable accessory known to mankind. Chance nearly laughed out loud as he fingered the item in his pocket, a very expensive monocle. It was almost as though his valet knew the nature of Chance’s mission for that evening.
Likely, the blasted man did. It seemed everyone in Mayfair knew his business these days.
Chance had visited Aubrey’s home a handful of times by now, and he’d done his fair share of looking through the windows more recently, but he’d not yet been inside while she was in residence. Knowing she could appear at any moment, he paused to take a deep breath to slow his racing heart. One hand on his jacket, he strolled casually along the foyer, occasionally lifting the ridiculous magnifier to his eye when anyone stared at him too long.
Piano Forte music drifted from the smaller setting room where a handful of guests listened politely, harmonizing pleasantly with the hum of conversation. Skirting around the edges, Chance made his way into the larger of the two public rooms where banter rose and fell, punctuated by occasional laughter.
When he stepped inside, he drew in a sharp breath.
Princesse, indeed.
Aubrey stood speaking to two middle aged ladies and a younger gentleman, nodding and smiling in a most welcoming manner. Her glorious hair had been swept up into an intricately braided coiffure with curls trailing onto her shoulders. The emerald velvet dress she wore was short sleeved with a low bodice, revealing more than a hint of the tops of her perfectly shaped bosoms.
Breasts that tasted of sunshine and begged to be laved, sucked, and teased.
By him. By Chance. And only Chance.
She must have sensed his presence in that moment, for she frowned and turned toward him at the same time he subdued his wayward thoughts. Forrest colored eyes held surprise and then displeasure, but Chance thought he saw something else flicker in them before she could hide it.
Excitement.
Secret Pleasure.
Or perhaps he was fooling himself.
Just when he decided she was going to ignore him again, she excused herself and made her way to where he stood.
“My salons are by invitation only, Your Grace.” She lifted her chin defiantly. Chance didn’t listen to her actual words but read the look in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and by God, so was the pale flesh threatening to overflow from her bodice.
“Dandy Dick invited me.”
“Pardon?”
“Mr. Richard Cline.”
Tiny vertical lines appeared in her forehead. “He did not inform me.”
“Ah, well, he said you’d be more than pleased to have a duke for a guest. Said it would make invitations to your affairs even more sought after.”
His words didn’t goad her into arguing farther, as Chance thought they might. Instead, she glanced behind her and then up and beyond his shoulder.
“Why must you insist on… Can you not simply leave me alone? Surely you are not interested in hearing poetry.”
“Do you not discuss politics as well? Is not that a part of the purpose of your intellectual gatherings?”
“But of course, we do. Of course, they are. I just don’t see how you are interested in any of this.” She pressed her fingertips into her forehead, released a deep breath, and then for the first time since he’d returned to London, she looked at him. Really looked at him. In fact, she stared at him with that vulnerable look he’d become accustomed to over the course of their travels together two years ago. “Why didn’t you tell me who you really were? Did you mean to make a fool of me? Was it all some sort of game to you?”
Chance winced. Finally, she was willing to listen to him and they were surrounded by a room full of gossips. He wasn’t keen to discuss the reasons for his marriage, nor what the two of them had done, the intimacy they’d shared, in a room where they might be overheard. Women were far more vulnerable to Society’s opinions.
And yet he had her full attention.
Taking her arm, he drew her toward an unoccupied window bay. Took a deep breath and… Nothing. “I don’t know why…”
Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Damn his eyes, he’d been biding his time for weeks and now that he had her attention, he had no idea how to answer this particular question. “You did not see me as Chauncey, as a duke. I was simply… We were friends, weren’t we? Could you have been as comfortable with me as your traveling companion if you’d known I was a duke?” He winced. “It was nice, to simply be Mr. Bateman. I knew that when you looked at me you saw the man––Chance––not the duke.
“Mr. Bateman,” she corrected him. “You did not give me permission to address you as Chance until that last day…” She moved her gaze away from him to stare out the window. “I trusted you. I believed in you.”
“I know. I wanted to explain but…” And suddenly he felt shame for the situation he’d gotten himself into. Not shame for protecting his sister, for punishing the man who had hurt her, but shame for pretending he was free. He had never made any promises to Aubrey, but he had wanted to. And he had acted on more than one occasion as though he might do so. Without knowing his circumstances, she’d had every reason to believe it was possible that he could change his mind.
Which he had, in part. He’d made love to her.
Aubrey closed her eyes. “I loved you Chance.”
Loved.
Past tense.
He’d known this. He’d guessed at the time, but he’d never been absolutely certain. To hear the words now, but relegated to the past, he kicked himself a thousand times that he hadn’t managed all of this differently.
“Two years have passed.” She was incapable of hiding the pain in her voice. “For six long and lonely months, I hoped. I prayed. I bargained with God and then I convinced myself that you would come back to me. I yearned to see you. I wanted you, Chance. I dreamt of you. And every time I saw a man with your build, a man with copper-brown hair and an easy swagger, or heard a French accent, I was certain it was you. But it was not. It was never you, Chance. In addition to being disappointed the morning you left; I was to be disappointed another thousand times afterward.
“It took almost a year for me to accept that you had abandoned me in truth, purposefully. If you had wanted to be with me, you would have stayed. At the very least, you would have given me some sort of explanation.” She closed her eyes. “You would have told me goodbye.”
Each word pierced his heart like a sharp dagger. “I am so damn sorry, Aubrey. I didn’t have a choice. I—”
“You married.” Her eyes flew back open. “Was that the obligation you needed to fulfill in such a hurry? Was it even your birthday or was that a lie as well?”
“It was my birthday. My betrothed’s father gave me until my thirtieth birthday to decide my fate.” He lowered his voice when he felt a few curious gazes land on them. “At the time, I didn’t know if I would ever be free, and I didn’t want you waiting for me forever. I left that morning knowing you would hate me. If I had waited until you were awake, saying goodbye wouldn’t have been any easier.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Easiest isn’t always best.”
“Ambrosia, d
arling.” Dandy Dick appeared behind her, an abundance of lace draping over his wrists. His elaborately embroidered turquoise waistcoat was buttoned in a manner that did not look very comfortable. Made taller by standing in pumps with bulky heels, the blighter placed one hand on Aubrey’s tiny waist while reaching the other around to offer Chance. “I didn’t realize that you knew His Grace.” He smiled amicably.
Dandy Dick’s handshake was soft, weak. Chance could not believe Aubrey was seriously entertaining attaching herself to such a man.
His Princesse simply rolled her eyes. She would do this while Chance was the only one who could notice the societal transgression. “The duke and I met a few years ago. Vaguely. It was nothing. In fact,” she added cruelly. “I hardly even remember the occasion.” And then she turned to smile up at the dandy. “Are you ready to commence tonight’s reading?”
All Chance could do was smile at the slight. She’d been dazzling two years ago, tonight, she was absolutely magnificent. Bravo for the set down, he wanted to applaud her. Absent doing just that, he met her gaze and winked.
“Indeed.” Aubrey said, scowling over her shoulder at Chance but making some progress dragging her dandy away. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again. Your Grace. Enjoy the readings and feel free to see yourself out once you’ve grown bored. There’s no need, you see, to say goodbye. Far too difficult.”
“I’ve a new piece I’ll be reading tonight. It’s—“ Dandy Dick began but Aubrey did not give him a chance to finish.
“Come along, Richard. You don’t want to keep your admirers waiting.” She didn’t look in Chance’s direction again. In fact, she avoided him rather successfully for the remainder of the evening.
Chance took that opportunity to watch her. She’d matured since he’d last known her, possessing a confidence she’d lacked before. She was not as naïve, however. She’d erected a barrier of sorts, whereas he remembered the openness she’d had with everyone they’d met at the festival in Joseph’s Well. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was to blame.
Chance swallowed hard. Watching her like this was a bittersweet torture. He would much rather have been the man standing at her side. They belonged together.
“Just a friend, eh? I didn’t realize gardeners were such aficionados of the arts. I definitely did not realize they possessed such finery as this.” A sultry voice interrupted his thoughts at the same time he caught a whiff of heavy perfume. Chance dragged his gaze away from Aubrey to appreciate the exotic beauty standing beside him. Raven hair, black eyes and ruby red lips, the woman who’d leaned close to him seemed vaguely familiar. When his eyes strayed downward, he realized she was the neighbor who had been watching him almost as closely as he was watching Aubrey.
Chance narrowed his eyes in her direction. “And you are?”
“The Contessa Philomena Reynaldi.” Upon hearing such a name, Chance lifted his brows skeptically. “Surely you’ve heard of my husband. He is from Spain. Emigrated just before the wars.”
“I’m afraid, My Lady, that I have not.” Chance tried stepping backward but found himself pinned against the wall, the eager Contessa nearly pressing herself against him.
“I was so very happy when I realized you were in attendance tonight. I’ve been meaning to ask you, sir, if you would be willing to take care of me, the same as you are doing for my neighbor?”
“Take care of you?” Chance checked to be sure Aubrey hadn’t left the room before allowing his gaze to fall on the Contessa once again.
“My… garden has been sorely neglected and I would be ever so grateful if you’d direct some of your attention my way… toward my garden, that is.
“Ah, Mademoiselle,” Chance smiled, feeling more pity than anything else for the woman. “I’m afraid I work exclusively for Mrs. Bloomington.”
Ruby red lips pouted. “Such a shame.” But then she slid fingertips of one hand from Chance’s shoulder to elbow. “If you wish alternative employment, the offer remains open.”
Chance chuckled. “Noted.”
“Lady Bambina.”
Chance jerked his head over to see that Aubrey had returned.
“Mrs. Bloomington, I was just having a word with your… gardener.”
Aubrey let out a burst of laughter that resembled a snort. Was his Princesse showing some claws?
“Don’t believe a word he says, he’s been known to fudge the truth on occasion.”
“Oh…?” The countess frowned, obviously confused by her hostess’ bad behavior.
“The reading is about to begin, in the other room,” Aubrey smiled cajolingly but urged the other woman away. She did not revisit Chance until she’d effectively dispatched with Contessa Philomena Reynaldi.
“She doesn’t hold a candle to you, Princesse,” Chance spoke near her ear, pleased beyond measure that she’d been compelled to return.
Aubrey pursed her lips, staring at the floor, and then lifted her chin. “I have a request.”
“Anything,” Chance began. “Except to leave you alone before you’ve heard me out.”
“That’s not it. I realize now that there are no limits to your obstinance.”
“Then ask me anything.” If they were alone, he’d take her in his arms and kiss away her frown. Some days he wondered if he ought to simply resort to that.
Only it would not be fair…
“You are… planting flowers for me.” Green eyes showed appreciation, albeit reluctant.
“You never planted any. It was one of your dreams.”
She swallowed hard. “I didn’t feel much like it at first, and then after a while… It no longer seemed important.”
Chance simply watched her. She’d yearned for flowers two years ago.
“I’ve planted both perennials and annuals. You’ll be able to enjoy them more in a year of so.”
But she was shaking her head. “That’s not it.” And then she bit her lip. “It’s Lancelot. He’s very interested in them and I’d hate to see any of your work go to waste because my dog wanted to dig all of it up. In addition to that, I have no idea which plants could be harmful if Lancelot tried to eat them. I was wondering if you might, incorporate some sort of a fence? To protect both the flowers as well as Lancelot from himself?”
In his mind he was already designing it. “But of course. Anything else?”
She hesitated. “Is it true that you have plans to build a hot house?”
He nodded.
This time she licked her lips before answering. The adjacent room had fallen silent and Chance assumed the reading was about to begin. He could not care less that they were missing it but he sensed her anxiousness to return to her guests. “I—I—Thank you.” She finally said. And then just as quickly as she’d come, she disappeared again.
Chance didn’t remain after that. He’d accomplished more than he’d expected. Not only had she talked to him, but she was happy about the flowers.
His determination renewed, he took his exit and headed toward Hyde Park Place where he would spend the balance of the evening with his obnoxious friend.
He almost felt as though he had something to celebrate.
Chapter 19
Chance
“Haven’t seen your ugly mug lately,” Hollis tilted back on his chair, balancing it on the back two legs. “Has she forgiven you yet, or are you still acting as her unpaid gardener?”
Chance ignored the sarcasm and dropped onto the sofa near the hearth. “I’m making progress, Hol.” He then went on to explain the nights events as well as the plans he had for Aubrey’s garden. Before he could finish listing off all the supplies he planned to include in the hothouse, Hollis was shaking his head and laughing.
“Good God, man! Get on with it already. Either she’s going to forgive you are she isn’t.”
Chance frowned. “It’s not as though I kissed her one evening then disappeared.” He couldn’t say anything more. To reveal the full extent of what had transpired with Aubrey would be the height of dishonor. “My action
s are quite unforgivable.”
“And yet you want forgiveness more than anything else. What makes you believe you’ll ever get it if you never ask for it?” And then… “Ah. That’s precisely what you’re afraid of. But if she’s happy, if she’s gone on with her life, don’t you think it’s best you get on with yours as well? There are hundreds of chits out there who are more than willing to allow the liberties that you crave. And a hundred others who would happily consent to replace your recently departed duchess.”
“I don’t crave hundreds of other chits.” But his friend had an annoying habit of exhibiting highly rational thinking. Was Chance simply prolonging the inevitable? Before he could rise and pour himself a drink, Hollis placed another glass in his hand.
“I’m not ready to give up yet.” Chance groused.
There were moments, days, when he doubted his own sanity… and others when he knew that if he didn’t give this his very best he would regret it forever.
He and Aubrey had shared something special, a once in a lifetime… connection. Even before he’d made love to her.
He was not ready to give up yet.
Two weeks later, his confidence began to flag once again. He’d completed the flower garden, fenced it in so that Lancelot wouldn’t tear it up, and built a small hot house where his Princesse could try her hand at propagation and what not.
Today, he’d decided to build a short bench—large enough for two people but not so large that they wouldn’t be touching while they sat and appreciated the blossoms in the years to come.
Chance pounded in the last nail and then dropped onto it in defeat.
Dandy Dick had taken her driving again and when they’d left, she’d looked inordinately happy on the blasted scribe’s arm. He knew she’d spent time in her new garden but never when Chance was around. She hadn’t waved at him or even smiled.
Chance had been back in London for nearly two months now. He hadn’t pressured her at all as he waited for her to trust him again. He stared at the house.
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