"I heard that Miss Loretta Bingham was flirting outrageously with Lord Moore. Imagine the daughter of a nabob thinking she had any chance of snaring an earl. She's rather the upstart, don't you agree, Lady Emily?"
"Beg pardon?" Ava stuttered, as she realised that Priscilla Huntington had directed a question at her. Over the course of the past half hour, as Miss Huntington had dissected every word uttered by every person at Lady Jersey's ball, Ava had found her eyes glazing over. Was this girl really Emily's friend? Ava could not understand how her twin could tolerate such a vain, vapid dullard as Miss Huntington.
"I said," Priscilla said, her pointed face narrowing further into a frown, "That Miss Bingham is rather the ambitious social climber."
"Perhaps she has ambitions to a title?" Ava replied sweetly, "For that I do not blame her; why spend a life having people look down their noses at you, when, with marriage to one fat earl, she can look down her nose at others from the lofty position of Countess?"
From across the room, Ava saw Mary bless herself in horror. Perhaps she had gone too far? Still, if she was to purge her sister's life of unwanted persons, a good place to start was Miss Priscilla Huntington.
"Lord Moore is not fat," Miss Huntington replied, her cheeks flushed with indignation.
Ah, Ava thought with realisation; Priscilla was not bothered by Miss Bingham's social aspirations, but rather that in her attempts to climb the social ladder, she had attempted to climb up Priscilla's earl.
"No, he's not," she lied, "Though, if you are afraid that he is in danger of being abused so outrageously by Miss Bingham, perhaps you should let him know that he has other options..."
"Oh, I couldn't," Priscilla held a scandalised hand to her chest, "Though he was looking at me all of last night—perhaps you should watch this space, girls!"
On that jubilant note, Miss Huntington took her leave, leaving Ava alone with Lady Eunice Dunstable.
"He wasn't looking at her all night," Lady Eunice said with a sigh, once the door had closed behind Priscilla. "He has a lazy eye, it rather follows one around the room."
Ava snorted, then clapped her hand to her mouth as she noted Mary's frown of disapproval.
"Forgive me," she said demurely to Lady Eunice, who waved away her concerns with an easy smile.
"Sadly, I rather think that Miss Huntington has lofty social ambitions herself," Eunice confided, "Though the fifth daughter of an impoverished country baron, probably has less hope of snaring the heavily indebted Earl of Downfield, than an untitled heiress—no matter how pure she thinks her pedigree to be."
"Who would believe that in the upper echelons of society, love is no more than a financial transaction?" Ava replied sadly, for this afternoon, her rose tinted view of the ton had been heavily tarnished.
"Anyone who has been to Almack's would believe," Eunice replied with a laugh, "They don't call it the marriage mart for nothing! Though, even with the hefty bounty my parents have placed upon my head, I am still too plain to be considered a catch."
"You are not plain," Ava exclaimed. True, Eunice wore spectacles, was rather more big-boned than was fashionable, and her nose was decidedly Roman, but Ava thought all these unusual features married together well and rendered Eunice quite striking.
"Now you are lying through your teeth," Lady Eunice replied affectionately, "We can't all look like Irish nymphs. Though, if looking like a lost fairy renders one engaged to the fearsome Duke of Kilbride, I'd rather keep my great, honking snout, thank you very much."
"He is fearsome," Ava agreed, remembering the duke's thundering expression the night before, "Though, have no fear Eunice, I fully intend to scare him away. I can be quite fearsome myself, when I put my mind to it."
Had she shared too much? Ava's heart leapt a little as Eunice gave her a thoughtful gaze. Would Emily have confided such a thing to Lady Eunice? Ava cast a glance at Mary, whose face was now puce—presumably from restraining herself from shouting at Ava to stop blathering—and guessed not.
"Good for you," Eunice whispered, glancing to where Mary and her own maid stood in attendance to make sure they could not overhear, "Women should have power over themselves, but we relinquish all power to our husbands when we marry."
Goodness, Ava had not been expecting a quote from Mary Wollstonecraft that afternoon, but she was quite glad to hear it.
"My thoughts exactly," she whispered back with a smile.
"Well," Eunice continued in a loud voice, so that her maid would hear, "I'd best be off. Mama has insisted that I have a new dress made for her ball, so she has booked me in with Madame Lloris. I don't know who shall find the appointment more disappointing, me or Mama."
With a gay smile to take the bite from her rueful prediction, Eunice rose and left the room, with her lady's maid trailing behind her.
Once she was certain that the door had closed, Mary rushed over to the plush sofa and sat down beside Ava, her face creased with worry.
"Lud," she whispered in lilting rush, "You can't go around calling earls fat and insulting Miss Huntington. She's a tongue on her like a viper's bite—if you cross her, half the ton will know about it before sundown."
"Yes," Ava agreed, "But she's not likely to try to cross me—I mean Emily—whilst she still thinks I'm going to become a duchess—is she?"
Mary cast her a dubious look, which was wiped off her face as the door to the parlour room was opened by Graves, the butler.
"My Lady," Graves said, then paused as he took in the shocking sight of ladyship and lady's maid sitting side by side upon the sofa.
"Indeed," Mary said quickly, reaching out and placing a hand on Ava's forehead, "You're quite clammy. Let me away to Mrs Hardy and fetch you one of her famous nostrums."
Mary bustled out of the room, bestowing upon Graves a look so dismissive that Ava almost laughed aloud at her audacity.
"Did you want something?" she asked the poor butler.
"A letter has arrived for you, my Lady," Graves said, proffering a piece of paper, which was sealed with a red, wax stamp, toward her.
Ava reached out and took it from him, not recognising the seal but guessing immediately whom it belonged to.
Goodness, she thought, as she tore open the letter with trembling hands, I wonder if he is writing to call off our engagement already? If the twins' plan had worked that quickly, she would be able to write to Emily and let her know that it was safe to return to London.
All thoughts of being reunited with her twin sister were dashed as Ava scanned the angular, confident scrawl upon the page. The duke had not written to vent his anger, but rather to invite her, and her family, to the theatre.
I pray you will do me the great honour of attending, in my private box, a showing of The Winter's Tale at The Theatre Royal this evening. I can imagine no greater privilege than the pleasure of your company.
Your humble servant,
R
Underneath the solitary, yet intimate, "R", the duke had taken the time to write out the full list of his titles; Duke of Kilbride, Marquess of Brightford, Earl of Lexington—there were so many, it was a wonder he could remember them all! He had clearly taken Ava's lecture on letter writing seriously, she thought, with a little thrill.
"There is a footman waiting in the hallway for your reply, my Lady," Graves said, as Ava turned her eyes toward him.
Her reply? While a part of Ava was touched by how the duke had so obviously listened to her criticism of his last invitation, another part knew that she must refuse him. She was pretending to be Emily so she could repel the duke, not so she could hobnob at the theatre with him. Before she had a chance to voice her refusal, however, Lord Fairfax bounced into the parlour, beaming with delight.
"I say," Lord Fairfax said cheerfully, "Is that the invitation to the theatre? I bumped into Kilbride's man waiting in the hallway and he said that the duke had invited us all to some Shakespeare this evening."
"Indeed he has, father," Ava replied demurely, "But I am afraid I cannot attend—I am not feeling w
ell."
Luckily, to add credence to her fib, Mary arrived back, with a cup of Mrs Hardy's malodorous nostrum in hand.
"Oh dear," Lord Fairfax's face fell, "I have already told the footman that we would gladly accept. Take a few sips of that, my dear, and lie down for the rest of the afternoon. I'm certain it will pass by this evening, for you don't look ill at all—quite the opposite, in fact."
To Ava's dismay, Lord Fairfax waited patiently to watch her swallow the rancid, medicinal concoction that Mary had brought, only leaving once he was satisfied that she had swallowed every drop.
"That'll put hair on your chest," Mary observed drolly as she took the empty cup from Ava's hand.
"Perhaps a hairy chest is what's needed to dissuade the duke from our impending marriage," Ava responded with a sigh. The Duke of Kilbride was proving more difficult to handle than she had anticipated.
Despite her annoyance at Lord Fairfax having accepted Kilbride's invitation, Ava could not help but feel a thrill of excitement as their carriage drew up outside the Drury Lane theatre. In all her life, she had never once attended a play, and to be seated in a private box for her first performance was beyond her wildest wishes.
"My dear, you are near hopping with excitement," Lord Fairfax observed, as he escorted his daughter into the thronged foyer of the Theatre Royal.
"You know how much I adore the Bard, Papa," Ava replied nervously. Was she being too obvious? It was difficult not to be awestruck by the opulence of the theatre, or the glittering crowd which jostled and pushed within. Feeling a little self-conscious, Ava tried to adopt a more disinterested air, similar to that of the other patrons, some of whom looked bored to tears. In certain circles, it seemed that it was most unfashionable to express enthusiasm for anything—particularly amongst the young men.
"Shakespeare, how ruddy dull," Ava overheard one man say to his companion, as they climbed the staircase to the boxes.
"True—though it will be interesting to see McCasey perform again, after such a long stint abroad."
"That puffed up ignoramus?" the man snorted, "Nothing but a lowly thespian with ideas above his station."
McCasey? Ava stifled a gasp; whilst the young man might not be impressed at the thought of seeing the famous, Shakespearean actor, she most certainly was. Douglas McCasey had, for decades, been one of London's most respected and admired actors, and had been much esteemed by Mr Hobbs and the customers of the library. He had left London some years ago, to tour the continent, and now it seemed he had returned. How thrilling!
"I did not know that Mr McCasey had returned from the continent," Ava whispered to Lord Fairfax.
"And I did not know that you knew who he was," Lord Fairfax chuckled in reply, "Where has this sudden interest in Shakespearean theatre come from?"
Ava bit back a groan of dismay; she must try harder to remember that she was Emily and not Ava. Evidently, her twin sister did not share Ava's love for Shakespearean dramas.
Luckily Ava and Lord Fairfax's arrival at the duke's box prevented her from having to answer Emily's father's query. Unluckily, their arrival also heralded a new set of faces, amongst them one that Ava knew well—Lady Georgiana.
"Lady Emily," the duke's niece called with a smile, "Come sit by me."
The dainty young woman patted the plush seat beside her and, grateful to escape the unfamiliar crowd, Ava sat down promptly.
"How wonderful to see you again," Georgiana said, "You look different—have you done something with your hair?"
"Er—" Ava's heart thundered in her ears as Georgiana gave her an appraising look. Was it possible that the young lady recognised her as the shop-assistant from Mr Hobbs'?
"I know what it is," Georgiana said with a smile, "You're glowing; now, you must tell me if you glow for my Uncle, or with excitement at seeing Mr McCasey tread the boards."
"I have always wanted to see McCasey perform," Ava replied, relieved that Georgiana had not recognised who she truly was—though a little disgruntled all the same. Was Mary right—did the higher classes look through servants and not at them?
"And I," Georgiana whispered back, "I had to beg Mama to let me come. It's not quite the done thing when one isn't out."
Was it not? Ava had a tenuous grasp of what was acceptable and what was not in the eyes of the ton. Just when she thought she had mastered the rules, Mary would point out another thing she was doing wrong. A lady might have dozens of beautiful dresses, jewels and carriages at her disposal, Ava thought, but she had very little freedom.
"Fiddlesticks to propriety," Ava whispered, "McCasey is too good to miss."
"My, my," a low voice said with amusement, "I did not know that my wife to be was a secret society rebel. Whatever would the matrons of Almack's think if they were to hear you?"
"Your Grace," Ava turned to her left where, unobserved, the Duke of Kilbride had slipped into the vacant seat beside her. She saw that his handsome face wore an expression of amusement rather than annoyance, and breathed a sigh of relief. She really must take more care with what she said, or she would give the game away.
"Not a rebel," Ava replied delicately, "Rather, I am an appreciator of genius. I don't see why Lady Georgiana should be deprived the opportunity to see McCasey perform, just because some stuffy so and so has declared it improper."
"Nor do I," Kilbride replied with an easy smile, "That is why I insisted her Mama allow her to come."
Kilbride waved lazily across the box at the woman seated beside Lord Fairfax. The Dowager Duchess of Kilbride smiled tightly back at him. The duchess was a beautiful woman, with flaxen hair like her daughter's, though she still dressed in half-mourning, despite the fact that her husband and son had been dead for well over a year.
"Laura is finding it all rather difficult," Kilbride confided in a low whisper to Ava, once he was certain that Georgiana's attention was elsewhere, "If she had her way, neither she nor Georgiana would ever leave the house."
"I suppose it's only natural," Ava replied, hiding her astonishment at the intimacy of his conversation, "To want to wrap her only remaining child in cotton wool."
"True," Kilbride gave a heavy sigh and stared out across the theatre. Below them, the packed theatre was packed with crowds jostling, talking, and shouting jubilantly--but Kilbride's sad countenance was in direct contrast to the revellers below.
He is grieving too, Ava thought sadly; the loss of his brother and his nephew must have been a horrific blow—and yet Kilbride tried to put a brave face on the matter.
"Do you miss them?" she questioned in a whisper, so struck by his obvious pain that she longed to reach out and stroke his brow in comfort.
"Yes," Kilbride's reply was curt, though as he turned and caught the startled look on Ava's face, his expression softened. "I miss them both desperately; but my grief in nothing compared to that of Laura and Georgiana."
"It is there though," Ava said earnestly in reply, "Do not dismiss it because you think it not worthy. You have every right to grieve the loss of your brother and nephew. An unexamined wound will only ever fester."
And then, wishing to comfort him, Ava reached out her hand and gave the duke's arm a squeeze.
Goodness, as soon as she touched him she knew that she had made a mistake. Her hand, even through her satin glove, hummed and thrummed with energy upon contact with the duke's forearm. Even through his coat sleeve, she could feel how hard and muscular his arm was. His masculinity was a little shocking, for she had not once thought about what lay beneath his perfectly tailored clothing—and now it was all she could think of.
Kilbride too seemed a little shocked, staring down at his jacket sleeve as though it belonged to someone else and not he.
Fiddlesticks, Ava thought, praying for something to distract them from her foolishness.
"Oh, it's starting," Lady Georgiana whispered with excitement, as the gas lights of the theatre dimmed and the actors walked out on the stage.
Thank heavens for that, Ava thought with relief, though
for the entirety of the play, she was acutely conscious of the man seated next to her. The duke was so large that he completely dominated the space, and by the play's end, Ava was utterly flustered.
"What did you think?" Kilbride asked, as the curtain fell and the gas lights illuminated the theatre once more. "Was McCasey everything you thought he would be?"
"And more," Ava replied with a quick smile, though in truth, she had not been able to pay much attention to the drama unfolding below, as her attention had been occupied by the man seated next to her.
Dash him anyway, she thought with irritation.
There was much hustling and bustling as the assembled group gathered their belongings and made their way for the door. Lord Fairfax was deep in conversation with the dowager duchess, Georgiana was chattering excitedly to Theo and Beatrice, and so the only person left for Ava to fall into step with was Kilbride. They made their way quietly toward the main staircase, Ava feeling overly aware of the silence between them. It was not an easy silence, but rather a tense one, as though something was weighing on Kilbride's mind that he could not voice.
"I wanted to apologise, if I have been curt with you. It was not my intention at all."
His words came out in a rush, catching Ava off guard. Around the pair, the crowd surged, as streams of people made their way to the foyer, but even in the crush Ava felt as though they were completely alone.
Kilbride's blue eyes held hers steadily and his hand reached out to hers, drawing her toward him, as dozens of people filed past.
"I am not an easy man," he said, hesitantly, his brow creased in a frown; "But I can try."
Gracious; as apologies went, it was rather short, but what Kilbride lacked in verbosity, he made up for in sincerity. Never, in all her years, had Ava seen a man look so fiercely determined, yet lost at the same time.
The urge to stroke his brow and comfort him, overcame her once again. The man standing before her was not a boor, nor a cold-hearted brute, but a human, who was aching and broken, just like she.
Still, she reminded herself, the man standing before her was not hers—he was promised to her sister. And Ava was not pretending to be Emily in order to invite confidences and searing looks from the duke, she was there to scare him away.
The Duke's Bride in Disguise (Fairfax Twins Book 1) Page 5