The Reluctant Duchess
Page 20
“The baroness did ask us to attend the opera, but I could tell her you have plans.”
“No, love, we’ll go to the opera and then I shall be a man about town, shall I? I’ve no doubt we’ll be receiving invitations to other events.”
“Everyone is curious about the Duke of Kendal, it seems.”
“I had no idea my father was so well-liked. It seemed that when I was a boy, he was always about, but he must have traveled to London frequently. I’ve lived my entire life without realizing what I’ve been missing out on.”
“I am so glad you are happy, Oliver.”
He thought he sensed a bit of hesitation in his wife. “And you? Are you happy?”
“More terrified than anything,” she said, laughing.
“I daresay, if I can do this, you can. You are lovely and I, despite the warm welcome here this evening, am a bit of a curiosity. I know they still refer to me as the Ghost Duke.”
“True. But you were born into this world. I feel as if I’m a fraud, that any minute now, someone will discover I’m a common girl from a common family. I think they already suspect it.”
Oliver tilted his head to better see her expression. “You are perfect to me, you know. I particularly adore it when you call me your ’usband.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes in mock anger. “I haven’t dropped an h in at least three weeks,” she said. “Mrs. Habershaw raps my knuckles whenever I do.”
Oliver lowered his gaze to her lips. “Would it be too shocking if I kissed you right now?”
“It would be entirely too shocking. Dukes are not supposed to love their wives, did you not know that?”
He moved closer until he could breathe in her perfume, and said softly into her ear, “Dukes are also not supposed to constantly picture their wives unclothed even when they are wearing such a pretty frock.” He laughed aloud when her saw her cheeks turning pink and couldn’t help but think of her other pink places. Breathing in, he stepped back before his body reacted to his wayward thoughts. “I cannot wait to get back to the hotel.”
“I agree. I am reading a book that is ever so fascinating. It’s about the flora and fauna of Wales.”
“That does sound wonderful, but I have something else in mind.”
Giving him an innocent look, she said, “I cannot imagine what. You know how I adore reading about the flora and fauna of Wales. Would you deny me my pleasure?”
“Never,” he said meaningfully, and won himself another blush.
“I thought I told you to stop looking at your wife as if you adore the ground she walks on,” Michael said loudly, slapping Oliver on the back. “Makes the rest of us look bad.”
“My apologies, Henley. I am newly wed and still infatuated with my wife. I am certain in a week or so I shall grow bored and look at her far less frequently.”
Rebecca pressed her lips together and smiled, looking so adorable, he couldn’t help but find himself staring at her again and smiling.
“Good God, I give up,” Michael said, throwing up his hands in mock despair. “Are you certain you can tear yourself away from your bride long enough to attend Whites? There’s an entire city we’d all like to share with you, Your Grace.”
“I am looking forward to discovering my father’s London with great anticipation.”
Rebecca sat on one of the hotel’s pretty but uncomfortable chairs, the type that look soft and cushioned but actually hurt one’s derrière. The upholstery was pink and cream striped, the wood dark and highly polished, and Rebecca was sick of looking at it. This was the third night she’d spent alone in their suite while Oliver went out and “discovered London.” Apparently, her husband was making up for all those years lacking male companionship. He’d discovered a fencing club and spent his afternoons sparring with new friends, the sort he would have made in school had he attended university. At night, he was lured to various men’s clubs, where he relished the banter and camaraderie of his peers. He returned to their bed, smelling of cigars and whisky, too exhausted to do more than pull her close and kiss her neck.
He was ecstatic, and Rebecca was simply bored. Yes, the invitations poured in, but they were addressed to both of them. She could hardly attend a supper party or concert without Oliver. And so while he enjoyed all that London had to offer, she sat in her room, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, fuming.
“You’re angry with me,” Oliver said, looking in the mirror and adjusting his cravat. “I promise, we shall go somewhere this afternoon. Perhaps the Royal Academy. I think Mr. Henley mentioned some sort of exhibit there. Or was it Sir Wendell?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” she said, frowning when he didn’t acknowledge her acerbic tone.
“And tonight is the opera. Though I cannot say I am looking forward to it. Last time I could hardly see a thing.”
Rebecca had been bored silly during the opera they’d attended with Baron and Baroness Ashly and she’d been dreading going this evening. “I adore the opera,” she said, just to be contrary.
“Do you? Then we shall go every night this week. A different opera house each evening.”
She picked a piece of lint from her sleeve, pouting. “Perhaps we could go home soon?” Hope bloomed in her chest. Already, with the ball this Friday, they were staying longer in London than first anticipated. Spending so much time alone—Mrs. Habershaw was visiting her sister, who lived just outside of Mayfair—Rebecca found herself missing her St. Ives friends terribly. She’d written them yesterday to tell them about all her wonderful adventures, but in truth, she longed for St. Ives’ cool, fresh breezes and the scent of the sea. Though winter had not hit London yet, the air seemed dense and dirty. It didn’t help that but for one day, it had been overcast and drizzling. But unlike the refreshing mist of St. Ives, Rebecca found London fog raw and miserable.
“Of course we’ll return before the holiday,” Oliver said cheerfully. “I’m having such a smashing time right now, I rather dread going back to Horncliffe. It seems so dreary now that I’ve experienced a bit of the city.” He came over and kissed her cheek. “I promise, you’ll have fun this afternoon. I know I’ve been neglecting you…”
Rebecca instantly felt guilty. Poor Oliver had never had much fun at all in his lonely existence, and here she was feeling sorry for herself. “You go have your fun, Oliver. Goodness knows you deserve a bit of gaiety in your life. I shall be content to stay here. Perhaps I can go out shopping while you are gone. I’m sure Darlene would love to accompany me. I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“Was I worried?” he asked, clearly jesting.
“I truly thought you might expire from worry. I know you can hardly enjoy yourself at all knowing I am here alone.”
“I shall endeavor to have some fun,” Oliver said, then kissed her again. His expression turned serious. “Are you certain, love? I would hate to think you unhappy whilst I run around London.”
“I want you to enjoy yourself, Oliver. Truly. I was feeling a bit melancholy because I do miss my friends back home and I suppose I am a bit jealous of your popularity. It’s just that I don’t have anything in common with the women I’ve met so far.”
“That shall change after the ball. Everyone will adore you.”
The night of the ball was bitter cold and a light snow fell on the city, unusual for November. The flakes, glittering in the light of the gas lamps, looked magical to Rebecca, who marveled at how cold it was, how beautiful.
“Oh, it’s snowing! I’ve never seen the snow. It’s like little fairies floating to earth,” Rebecca said.
“The snow is like fairies?”
“You see, the moon is shining and the snowflakes are glittering, like fairy wings.” Oliver chuckled at her fancy. “Do you think it will snow a lot?” she asked, and Oliver smiled indulgently. Snow was a common event for someone from the north. “Enough to build a man of snow?”
“Your Grace, we only have two hours before you must leave,” Darlene reminded her as she bustled around the room, taking out all she would need for the ball. The gown was a lovely deep red with cream lace in the latest style—or so the seamstress had boasted. It was by far the prettiest and richest dress Rebecca had ever worn. Her shoulders were exposed and cunning little lace sleeves left her arms mostly bare. A series of oversized draping bows cascaded down the back of the gown making her just as alluring coming as going—that was what Oliver said at any rate. Unused to having quite so much flesh exposed, Rebecca worried that the dress was too risqué, but Darlene tutted and reassured her the style was quite acceptable, particularly for a married woman.
“It’s a dress worthy of a duchess,” Darlene said, lifting the heavy silk gown and laying it on the settee. “And how lovely your ermine stole will look, Your Grace. Truly, you will be the envy of every lady present.”
Mrs. Habershaw had returned from visiting her sister in time to drill into Rebecca the rules of attending a ton ball, and Rebecca’s head whirled with the information. “She is not prepared for such an event,” she’d warned earlier that day, but Oliver waved away her concerns.
“Rebecca will be the belle of the ball,” he said grandly, making her laugh and Mrs. Habershaw scowl.
“Can a married woman be the belle of the ball?” she asked.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Habershaw and her husband answered in unison and Rebecca couldn’t help but laugh again.
“I shall endeavor to remember all your fine teachings, Mrs. Habershaw. I believe I am ready.”
Despite her reassurances, Mrs. Habershaw wrung her hands together in worry. “They can be so cruel,” she said softly, an odd pain running quickly across her face as she darted a look to Mr. Winters.
“They wouldn’t dare,” Oliver said. “I have come to learn in these last days that the Kendal title commands great respect. My father was well liked and that regard has thankfully been transferred to me. I have powerful allies in the ton, Mrs. Habershaw. No one will dare insult my wife.”
Rebecca gazed at her husband with surprise. She’d never heard him speak so authoritatively, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in him. He was acting more like the duke he was every day.
His words, however, seemed to do little to reassure Mrs. Habershaw. “I do wish I was able to attend with you.” Rebecca found herself moved by the older woman’s real concern. While it did nothing to put her mind at ease, it was a bit of a surprise coming from a woman she’d thought didn’t care a whit about her.
“That is not possible,” Mr. Winters had said, sounding irritated with the older woman. Rebecca looked from one to the other, wondering if they’d had some sort of tiff. Usually the pair seemed as cozy as two peas in a pod.
Now with the ball just two hours away, Rebecca’s confidence wavered. Even with a beautiful gown and her hair intricately coiffed, she was still just a common girl from St. Ives underneath. If only one of her friends was in attendance to shield her, she would feel so much better. But every woman at the ball would be a stranger and from a world that was far from her own experience.
Which would mean she would be thrust into society with Oliver as her only ally.
Chapter 11
Rebecca gazed at her reflection in the mirror, entirely too pleased with the image that looked back at her. Her knowledge of fashion was limited at best, as she’d never had the sort of money that would allow the purchase of even a single gown like the one she was now wearing. And her hair, piled on her head in an intricate style that had taken Darlene more than an hour, perfected the image of what a duchess should look like. Glowing on her head was a tiara, larger and more glittery than the simple one she’d worn to dinner. Rebecca Caine wearing a diamond-encrusted tiara and going to a London ball. It seemed like a dream—and one she was gaining enthusiasm for.
She looked…like a duchess.
Oliver came in and stopped suddenly, as if he’d walked into a wall. “By God, you are lovely,” he said, coming up behind her. Rebecca could feel herself flush with pleasure. This night that she had dreaded for so long just might be the most wonderful night of her life. She’d worked so hard in the last two weeks, even gaining praise from Mrs. Habershaw, who had returned from her visit in time to drill her on decorum, proper topics of conversation, and a rejoinder to always, always remember her diction. Though she still insisted Rebecca was not prepared well enough, her thin praise gave Rebecca more confidence to face the ton. Above all, if something did go awry, Mrs. Habershaw reminded her she must never show emotion, neither anger nor hurt. Rebecca found that advice slightly unsettling. After all, what could happen at a ball to make her angry?
“I am actually looking forward to this evening,” she said, looking at Oliver in the mirror.
“I have something for you,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit shy, and Rebecca turned to him. “We do have family jewels locked up in Horncliffe. I didn’t think to bring them as I hadn’t expected that we would be attending a ball. So I visited Mr. Morrison and purchased this.”
He handed her a large velvet box. “Oh.” Rebecca felt her eyes prick. And when she opened the box to reveal a stunning necklace of rubies and diamonds, she gasped and very nearly dropped it. “Oh, Oliver. It’s lovely. It’s the most beautiful necklace I have ever seen.”
“Allow me,” he said, taking up the necklace and moving around her so he could fasten the clasp. “Mr. Morrison assured me these are of the highest quality gems. It’s quite heavy.”
Her hand fluttered to her neck to touch the necklace. The rubies matched her deep red ball gown perfectly, and she was touched that Oliver had taken the time to inquire about the dress.
“Look at you, Your Grace. You look like a princess, you do,” Darlene said, her own eyes looking a bit misty.
“Oh, Oliver, thank you.” She twirled around and gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. “Tonight is going to be the best of nights.”
It took Rebecca only a handful of minutes upon entering Lady Greenwich’s mansion in St. James Square, to realize that something was slightly off. Though not experienced in society, she soon sensed that those in attendance were staring at her. At first, still floating on a cloud of happiness, she assumed they were looking at her lovely gown, her stunning jewels. But as the night went on, she because of aware of whispers, titters of laughter, sly glances, that seemed to be directed her way. At first, Rebecca assumed it was mere curiosity. She was, after all, someone unknown to them and someone who had married the Ghost Duke. Any malevolent intention must be her imagination.
Oliver stood by her side, greeting a few fellows who stopped by for a handshake or a hearty backslap. No one, not a single person, acknowledged her. While it was clear Oliver was well liked and highly sought after, after the third couple came up to him and struck up a conversation without even a glance in her direction, it became clear something was afoot.
Remembering Mrs. Habershaw’s instructions that she must never show emotion of any kind, she continued to stand by Oliver’s side and smile as Oliver engaged in animated conversation. Seeing how relaxed and happy Oliver was made Rebecca momentarily forget her own discomfort. It was as if Oliver had been part of society all along. He was charming and funny and attentive, full of a confidence that had been missing not two weeks ago. Rebecca wished she could exude the same confidence and polish, but in reality, her insides were all ajumble and she found herself growing more and more terrified that she would do something to ruin their evening.
Why was no one talking to her?
Mr. Henley spied them from across the room and came over to give each a greeting, something that Rebecca vastly appreciated. Perhaps it was her imagination. After all, she had said nothing to anyone, why would she assu
me anyone should speak to her?
“You must see my stables,” he said, clearly proud of his horse stock. “Once you see them, I daresay you’ll want to start your own stable. Never met a man with so few horses. Perhaps I’ll even sell one or two of my own.”
“For an exorbitant fee, I’m sure,” Oliver joked.
“Of course,” Henley said, laughing. “Listen, I hear there’s a lovely billiard room here somewhere. Heberts is already there. Why don’t you join us?”
“Well…” Oliver said, looking down at Rebecca.
It was clear he was itching to go, so Rebecca smiled and said, “I shall be fine whilst you play your game. But do not be gone too long.”
“Never,” Oliver said fervently, making Henley roll his eyes.
“I thought we told you not to act so besotted,” he said, drawing Oliver away.
Rebecca watched the two men leave, and laughed, pleased that Oliver had found such a good friend.
Left alone in a sea of strangers, Rebecca felt increasingly uneasy, and she realized just how much she had come to rely on Oliver. No one came forward to introduce themselves, and Rebecca hardly had the courage to walk up to a nearby group of women and insert herself into their group. With a smile plastered on her face, chin perfectly parallel to the floor, back straight and steps small, Rebecca made her way to the refreshment table, keenly aware that she was drawing attention to herself. The ballroom was quite a crush, and maneuvering from one side of the room to the other was nearly impossible, but she could hardly remain where she was, standing alone in the center. It appeared the orchestra was about to begin playing, so she tried to hurry her steps. A small group of debutantes, dressed in pastels and surrounded by an air of privilege, blocked her direct path to the table. Rebecca waited patiently for a small space to open up so she could squeeze through and fetch something to eat, even though she had quite lost her appetite. Her stomach felt odd and tense and the worst was not knowing why or even if she were imagining things.