‘There’s a river close to this estate, I’m told, but at this time of year and with all the rain we’ve had, I would advise against exploring its estuaries. Return in the summer if you are interested in seeing the mud flats. Any number of wading birds root about in them. You would enjoy the sight, I think.’
‘You seem very well informed about the local geography,’ Farrah replied, sending him a suspicious frown and regretting her insistence that they not introduce themselves. She was now most curious to know whom this person was. He couldn’t be the duke, that much she was sure of, since that gentleman would no doubt be busy discharging his duties as host. Or most likely over-imbibing with the other gentlemen in the billiards room. But he must be a close friend in order to be such an authority on the area.
Perhaps he was Lord Hardy, whom Lady Beardsley had insisted that Ellen throw her cap at. If so, Farrah didn’t imagine that her campaign would be successful. This intriguing sophisticate appeared to share Farrah’s disinterest in the formal proceedings, and didn’t look as though he would be satisfied with a vacuous sixteen-year-old wife who was completely incapable of stringing two sensible sentences together.
‘I have visited frequently.’
Farrah stood on the banks of the lake, mesmerised by the rippling water lapping almost against the toes of her boots, which were now hopelessly muddy. She felt a pang of guilt. It had not been Farrah’s intention to make additional work for the boot boy.
A sudden gust of wind caused the water to splash against her skirts and rain began to fall again. Farrah shivered and pulled her cloak more closely about her.
‘Come.’ The gentleman placed his hand on her arm and turned her away from the water. ‘This is no time to be outside. I will escort you back to the house.’
‘Thank you, but there is no need. You did not come outside to be inconvenienced by me. I can find my way unaided. Indeed, the abbey is difficult to miss.’
‘It is, shall we say, imposing,’ he said mildly, acknowledging her implied criticism as he released her elbow and fell into step beside her.
‘Indeed. It is also interesting.’
‘I don’t know who you are, mysterious lady, but I already know enough about you to realise that diplomacy is not your way. You like to speak as you find and enjoy being unconventional.’
‘How very disobliging of you to get the measure of my character so quickly, sir.’
He chuckled; a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through his chest and had a most disconcerting effect upon Farrah. ‘I have made a successful living by assessing people’s character at a glance.’
‘Oh, do you work for a living?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’
‘Ha! Tell that to the duchess. She would be mortified to realise that money does not grow on trees.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, my assessment of you was not intended as a criticism, in case you were about to take offence.’
‘Oh, I am very difficult to offend.’
‘Yes,’ he said softly, looking intently at her profile. ‘I rather suspect that you are.’
‘Anyway, you asked for my opinion of the Abbey.’ Farrah paused to consider her response. ‘I thought upon arrival that it looked rather gloomy—but then so was the weather. However, it seems the duke has done a fair amount of restoration work and it is now very comfortable.’ She grinned mischievously. ‘Are there ghosts, do you suppose?’
He quirked a brow. ‘Do you believe in such things?’
‘Naturally I do. It would be rather arrogant to assume that we die and that’s that, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I wouldn’t dare to disagree with anything you say.’
‘How disappointing. There is nothing I enjoy more than a lively difference of opinion.’ Farrah pouted as she wiped rainwater from her face. Her hood was doing a bad job of protecting her in the strong wind, and the rain still managed to get into her eyes, blurring her vision when she particularly wanted to enjoy looking at her handsome companion. ‘The clergy would have us believe in heaven and hell, so it follows that there must be something to come after…well, after all of this.’ She waved an arm in a wide circle to demonstrate her point.
‘But fails to account for the ghosts you insist exist. What reason do they have to cling to this world?’
Farrah smiled. ‘If I encounter one in these glorious cloisters,’ she said, gasping when her companion steered her in their direction, ‘you can be sure that I shall ask him.’
‘They are rather magnificent, are they not?’ He followed the direction of her gaze. ‘They were in danger of crumbling away but happily specialist restorers managed to save them.’
Farrah wondered how he could be so intimately acquainted with all the particulars, but the sound of the dressing gong resonating through the house distracted her.
‘Goodness, is that the time?’ She glanced down at her mud-stained attire and gave a wry smile. ‘Fortunately, no one will take much notice of me. Even so, I had best go up and change into something that will not offend the precious duchess.’ She bobbed a curtsey. ‘Please excuse me. I have enjoyed our conversation and look forward to a formal introduction at dinner.’
Her companion gave her a stately bow. ‘As do I,’ he muttered, watching her scurry through the nearest door. ‘As do I.’
Chapter Three
Susan proved to be an adept lady’s maid and overcame the customary determination of Farrah’s hair to misbehave, taming it with skilled hands.
‘You have worked wonders,’ Farrah said, turning her head from side to side and admiring the way that loose curls danced around her face without losing their shape. ‘If I don’t make any sudden moves it might even stay in place for the entire evening, which will be a novelty.’
‘I’ve always had a way with hair, miss, and yours is thick, so it’s easy to style. I’ve used plenty of pins so it shouldn’t move.’
Farrah remained to be convinced. ‘Well, thank you for making me look respectable.’
A tap at the door preceded Hazel putting her head around it. ‘Ah, there you are, Farrah.’ Hazel was dressed in a very pretty pink gown that had cost a fortune and was probably in the latest style, but which Farrah privately thought too frilly. She came into the room and smiled in response to Susan’s bobbed curtsey. ‘We missed you earlier, and I wondered if you had got lost.’
‘Actually,’ Farrah admitted, ‘I went for a walk.’
‘In the wind and rain?’ Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘I should have known that a little inclement weather would not affect your addiction to fresh air.’
‘I didn’t think I would be missed.’
‘I missed you.’
Which was all the confirmation that Farrah needed. Her absence might have been remarked upon, but it was not lamented by anyone other than her loyal friend.
‘Did you have a jolly time of it?’ Farrah asked, standing to examine her image in the full-length glass, her gown a study in simplicity that would likely offend the sensibilities of the more fashion conscious. She wore a muslin sheath in a shade of green that perfectly matched the colour of her eyes, adorned with a few simple ribbons and seed pearls nestling along the neckline and hem. Her gown didn’t give the impression that she was attempting to…well, to impress anyone, since she most decidedly was not. Even so, her mind briefly dwelt upon her companion in the grounds, to whom she would shortly be introduced, and she found herself wondering if he would like what he saw.
‘I felt as though I was on trial,’ Hazel said, shuddering. ‘Ellen was more enthusiastic and lost no time in making herself at home.’ Farrah nodded, well able to believe it. Hazel and her sister were complete opposites. Ellen was not held back by shyness or her extreme youth, and probably saw this invitation as an opportunity to shine. ‘She chatted away to the duke’s three rather aloof sisters as though they were long lost friends. One of them is Ellen’s age, so perhaps I am being unkind in criticising her forwardness, since they likely felt a connection.’
Farrah doubted it. There was something about Ellen that didn’t sit comfortably with her. The girl could be spiteful and was definitely envious of Hazel. Farrah was careful to keep her conversations with Hazel private, especially when discussing Hazel’s dilemma over her feelings for Mr Anglesey. She wouldn’t put it past Ellen to eavesdrop and then tattle to her mother.
‘Thank you, Susan,’ Farrah said. ‘That will be all. Please don’t wait up for me. I can manage on my own. I’m accustomed to it.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, miss. It would be a blessing to get to bed early, but if you change your mind, be sure and ring. I shall not mind.’
Once the door closed behind Susan, Hazel looked relieved to have a moment alone with Farrah; a situation that Lady Beardsley would no doubt go out of her way to prevent during the course of the week since she considered Farrah to be a disruptive influence. Farrah wondered how she would react if she knew that Hazel fully intended to follow her heart when it came to selecting a husband, and that she had made her decision without any encouragement from her supposedly rebellious friend.
‘Did you see your Mr Anglesey?’ Farrah asked, smiling.
‘No.’ Hazel pouted. ‘None of the gentlemen joined us. I haven’t had a peep at the duke yet, but the duchess took every opportunity to sing his praises. All the other ladies agreed with every word she said, so I didn’t have to talk a great deal myself.’ Evidence of strain showed around Hazel’s eyes. ‘Oh, Farrah, what shall I do? I didn’t realise that the duchess was as keen as Mama is to see me married to the duke, even though Mama kept assuring me that she was. They just assume that I will go along with their plans and that the duke will too, which is very wrong of them. I ought to have some say in the matter.’
‘What of Lady Melody? Perhaps the duke possesses poor taste and will prefer her over you.’
Hazel looked very worried by a possibility that Farrah had mentioned in the hope of cheering her up. ‘Mama would disown me if that happened,’ she said bleakly. ‘She will take it as a personal affront, especially since Lady Kirkham will crow over her for the rest of her life.’
‘Since you have no intention of marrying the duke anyway, it really doesn’t matter,’ Farrah said, striving for patience. ‘You will have to exert yourself, my love. It’s your future we are discussing, and I fail to see why you should be miserable with the curmudgeonly old duke just because your mother is aiming so high, determined to eclipse her friend. Or because the duchess is so anxious to see her son respectably married, for that matter.’ Farrah gave Hazel’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. ‘I am sorry if that sounds impolite, but your mother is most definitely putting her own ambitions ahead of your happiness, so it is up to you to take charge of your own destiny.’
‘You’re right, but it’s hard to stand up to Mama when she sets her mind on a particular course of action. You know how determined she can be. I am very cross with her, but I don’t want to disappoint her. I am not as forthright as you are.’ She managed a wan smile. ‘But then perhaps the duke will not like what he sees.’
‘Not a chance, unfortunately,’ Farrah replied with a sympathetic smile. ‘You are far too lovely for there to be any danger of that.’
‘Well anyway, I stood up to Mama just now. You would have been proud of me. We were all about to go down but I refused and insisted upon coming to find you. Mama did not like it, but I gave her no time to forbid it and simply scampered off.’
‘Well done!’ Farrah smiled. ‘Start the way you mean to go on, that’s my advice.’
‘I wish we could share the same room, as I had intended.’ Hazel glanced around Farrah’s much smaller space. ‘I hope you are comfortable here.’
‘Perfectly so. Your mama didn’t want me with you the entire time, talking you into rebellion, I expect.’
‘As if you would.’
Farrah chuckled. ‘God forbid!’
‘Anyway, dearest, I promised Mama that we wouldn’t tarry, so we had best go down.’
‘Of course. I am ready.’
Farrah draped a shawl over her arms and accompanied Hazel from the room. ‘I am surprised you found me tucked away here,’ she remarked.
‘I had to ask for directions from a footman.’
Farrah linked her arm through Hazel’s as they made their way back into the main wing of the house.
‘You’re trembling,’ she said, casting Hazel a surprised look.
‘It’s anticipation. I shall have to meet the duke, but I will also see my beloved Daniel again. That thought gives me courage.’
‘Well then, hold onto it.’
The girls descended the wide sweeping staircase together. As they drew nearer to the vestibule, they could hear the sound of a dozen civilized conversations drifting from behind the closed drawing room doors.
‘Ready?’ Hazel asked as they paused and a footman placed his hand on the door handle, ready to open it for them.
Farrah nodded, unaccountably nervous, despite the fact that no one was likely to spare her more than a passing glance. The doors swung open on silent hinges. Conversations paused as the girls stood on the threshold and Farrah was conscious of being closely scrutinised. Momentarily discomposed, her embarrassment passed when the duchess’s loud voice cut through the air.
‘Ah, Lady Hazel, there you are.’ She made no reference to Farrah. ‘Brinley, do let me make Lady Hazel Beardsley known to you.’
‘By all means.’
Farrah’s entire body jerked with a combination of surprise and irritation when an imposing figure she would have recognised anywhere stepped from the centre of the throng. Only this time he wasn’t windswept and casually dressed, but impeccably attired in evening clothes that included a flamboyantly patterned silk waistcoat and a superbly cut coat. Farrah sent him a condemning look as Hazel curtsied and he bowed over her hand. Her cheeks warmed when she thought of the forthright manner in which she had spoken to the man who was obviously the duke about his mother.
He made matters ten times worse by raising Hazel from her curtsey and having the audacity to wink at Farrah.
*
Brin’s excursion in the grounds with Miss Dorset lifted his spirits and had a most beneficial effect upon his mood. He had enjoyed her irreverent company enormously, even though he suspected there would be hell to pay when she discovered his true identity. He should have insisted upon introducing himself, thereby saving her from speaking quite so frankly and suffering subsequent embarrassment when she learned his identity. But it would have meant an immediate end to the forthright manner he had admired so much about her, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Being born into a privileged position and considered highly eligible meant that almost every man of his acquaintance required his patronage in some form or another, while every female aspired to become his duchess.
It was tedious.
Brin was unable to recall the last occasion upon which anyone of either sex had spoken to him quite so candidly and in the case of females—married or otherwise—without any attempt to flirt. He suspected that Miss Dorset didn’t have the first notion of how to flirt, and that possibility filled Brin with an irrational desire to teach her the basics. However, the moment she knew who he was, she very likely wouldn’t speak to him, and that would be that.
The wait for her to appear in his drawing room had seemed interminable, but the moment her person graced the open doorway he forgave her tardiness. Those sparkling green eyes, a deep shade of emerald fuelled by a combination of irreverence and amusement, had lived in his imagination ever since their chance meeting. So too had her lively wit, her refreshingly frank manner of expressing herself and total disregard for her windswept appearance.
Now he was rewarded by the sight of her in all her finery, and the view didn’t disappoint. A simple muslin gown that his sisters would die before being seen in clung to her svelte form, its elegant lines making every woman in the room seem fussily overdressed by comparison, gave him a graphic hint of the delights hidden beneath it.
He cursed the number of people crowded into the room, wanting her all to himself. He sensed Kent and Nyle, standing directly behind him and looking at her with speculative interest.
Leave her alone. She’s mine!
The nature of his unbidden thought took him by surprise. He admired Miss Dorset, there could be no denying that. She would make a charming distraction at what had promised to be a dreary week spent fending off unwanted attention from ruthlessly determined females, but his aspirations went no further than that, did they?
Brin shook his head to dislodge the ridiculous possibility.
‘This is Miss Dorset,’ his mother said with scant politeness, having gone on for several minutes about Lady Hazel’s attributes. Lost in thought, Brin scarcely heard her, but the mention of Miss Dorset’s name assured his clearly aggravated parent of his full attention.
‘Miss Dorset, what a pleasure.’ Brin made a point out of bowing over her hand and kissing the back of it; a gesture that he had not bestowed upon Lady Hazel. ‘Welcome to my house.’
‘Your grace,’ she said sweetly. ‘You deceived me!’ she added sotto voce when his mother turned away to introduce Hazel to some of the other gentlemen. ‘And let me make an utter fool of myself.’
Miss Dorset was swept up by his mother, who suddenly seemed to recall that she existed, and introduced to the others along with her friend. Brin was embarrassed by the way in which his mother treated Miss Dorset as if she was a poor relation, and wanted to apologise for her rudeness. Instead he stood back, the suggestion of a speculative smile flirting with his lips, content to bide his time. Sometimes actions spoke louder than words.
‘Who is that?’ Kent asked, watching Miss Dorset’s progress around the room and clearly liking what he saw. Damn him!
‘Things are looking up around these parts,’ Nyle added. ‘But I don’t think your lady mother approves of the sensation she’s creating—quite unintentionally, I’m sure. She doesn’t seem to be the type to put herself forward.’
‘Her father and brother are active in re-establishing trading links with the French, who are our allies again,’ Kent, who played some sort of undefined role in shadowy governmental circles, remarked. ‘Very good negotiator. The father that is. He’s nobody’s fool and won’t let anyone pull the wool over his eyes. Done very well for himself, by all accounts, but is seldom at home, which leaves the daughter at a bit of a loose end, I would imagine. Your mother won’t approve of Dorset’s trading links, which hide his true agenda, of course.’
Never Dare a Duke Page 4