Never Dare a Duke

by Wendy Soliman

  Brinley Wentworth had captured her interest in a manner that no other gentleman had previously managed to achieve. There, she had made the admission, albeit only to herself! She gave a wry little laugh, thinking it typical of her to hanker after the unattainable. But she couldn’t help the way she reacted to him, and it didn’t matter anyway. It was her guilty secret. She would take it with her to her grave. If anyone were to guess the truth, especially the duchess, Farrah would be mortified. Her nemesis would be able to congratulate herself upon having pegged Farrah as an ambitious, disrespectful strumpet with ideas above her station.

  Farrah wouldn’t dream of giving her that satisfaction.

  Thoughts of facing the condemnation of the rest of the ladies when she entered the drawing room a short time from now proved a compelling antidote to such inappropriate speculations. Farrah turned her mind to the thorny question of what to wear to counter her critics. Her wardrobe, at least, was of the finest quality and none of the ladies here would be able to find fault with it, much as they would not hesitate to criticise its owner.

  ‘The rose silk, I think, Susan,’ she said decisively when the maid entered the room with yet another ewer of hot water and asked Farrah what she intended to wear.

  ‘A good choice, miss. I’ve been admiring that gown since I hung it in the closet. It’s quite unique.’

  That much was true. Her father had commissioned it for her in Paris, taking the advice of the most fashionable and ruinously expensive modiste, who had not disappointed. She had been saving the gown for the penultimate night, when there was to be a grand banquet with more guests invited. Farrah wondered if the duchess had planned it in the hope of announcing Brin’s engagement to either Hazel or Lady Melody. Her heart constricted at the mere prospect. He might choose not to marry either of them, but he would have to marry someone sooner or later. He had a duty to produce a legitimate heir; a fact that she was perfectly sure his mother wouldn’t permit him to forget. Farrah hoped that he would have the goodness to hold back from making a choice until after she had left, thereby relieving her of the need to wish him joy.

  In view of her current dilemma, she changed her mind about holding the gown back. Never had she been in greater need of the confidence she would be afforded by wearing an expensive, exquisitely designed, up to the minute dress. A daring Grecian high-waisted sheath that clung to her figure and fell about her feet with an elegant swish of silk. The bodice was cut low and decorated with an understated line of silk rosettes and seed pearls. The short puff sleeves left her shoulders completely bare and the small feathered plume that nestled in her hair was her only other adornment. Less is more, she reminded herself, examining her image when Susan had finished dressing her hair. She looked ready to do battle, which is rather how she felt. Let them think what they like of me.

  ‘Thank you, Susan, that’s perfect.’

  ‘You look a picture, miss, and that’s a fact.’

  Farrah pulled on her gloves and smiled at Susan. ‘Thanks to your skill.’

  ‘You have a pleasant evening, miss, and don’t let them bully you.’

  Farrah appreciated Susan’s support but thought her comment a little forward, so she made do with smiling as she walked through the door that the girl opened for her. She lifted her skirts and descended the stairs at a steady pace, hopefully not showing any outward signs of the fluttering nerves that had taken up residence in her stomach. As she neared the foot of the stairs, she could hear the sound of cultured voices coming from the drawing room, the doors to which stood slightly open. If she hesitated she might be seen, her procrastination taken as a sign of a guilty conscience. She reminded herself that she had done nothing to feel guilty about, tilted her chin and walked regally through the door that a footman pushed open for her.

  All conversations ceased as her presence was noticed and scathing glances tinged with a hint of envy occasioned presumably by the sight of her gown were sent her way by the ladies. The duchess gave her a haughty look and pointedly turned her back without acknowledging her. Most of the others followed suit. Her gaze fell upon Hazel, whom her mother had cornered on one side of the room. Hazel could have excused herself and come to Farrah’s aid, but did not. She had never felt lonelier, more unjustly ostracised, but all Hazel could manage was a weak smile of apology.

  Lady Melody gave a terrified squeal when she saw Farrah and shrank back into her chair. Her mother glowered at Farrah and set about comforting her daughter. The silly chit had her arm in a sling. Farrah knew that there was nothing wrong with her arm, or with the girl herself, other than a glancing wound to the back of her shoulder. Her face was unnaturally pale. Farrah suspected that a generous dollop of the white face paint still fashionable with older ladies in an effort to disguise the ravages of time was responsible for her fragile appearance. Huge eyes regarded Farrah with caution and underlying cunning.

  ‘Keep her away from me, Mama,’ she said, in the little girl voice that grated on Farrah’s nerves.

  She wanted to ask what Lady Melody imagined she would to do to her, but simply gave her head a little shake and walked past the girl without acknowledging her.

  ‘Well, really!’ she heard Lady Kirkham exclaim. ‘To show her face after what she did.’

  The duke stepped forward, his eyes alight with appreciation as he took in her appearance.

  ‘Miss Dorset,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear him as he bowed over her hand. ‘You look enchanting.’

  Farrah bobbed a curtsey, conscious of every eye in the room watching them. ‘Your grace.’

  The duke’s friends, Lord Hardy and Nyle Gower joined them and made an elaborate show of greeting her. She heard mutterings of disapproval from behind her, led by Lady Kirkham.

  ‘Lady Melody is feeling fragile, your grace,’ she said pointedly when Walker announced that dinner was served; a cue presumably for Brin to offer her his arm.

  ‘Then perhaps she should take dinner in her chamber,’ he replied, winking at Farrah. ‘She can be sure that we would excuse her.’

  Ignoring the outburst of comments, Brin turned to Miss Seymour, a quiet and plain young woman disinclined to put herself forward. She was, Farrah suspected, a keen student of human nature. She had noticed her several times, sitting back and observing and appearing to find amusement in the ladies’ habits. A woman who did not suffer fools gladly, Farrah thought, sensing a kindred spirit. Miss Seymour shared Farrah’s disdain for society’s mores and Farrah would like to know her better.

  ‘Miss Seymour,’ Brin said, proffering his arm. ‘May I have the pleasure?’

  ‘Good heavens,’ she replied, looking shocked. She glanced at Lady Melody, who was now pouting, and nodded. ‘Ah, I see. Happy to oblige,’ she said, chuckling as she stood and placed her hand on the duke’s arm.

  Lord Hardy offered his arm to Farrah. ‘Shall we risk it?’ he asked. ‘I promise to stop them from eating you whole if I possibly can.’

  ‘You are a brave man, Lord Hardy.’ Farrah smiled, ignoring the disapproving looks she received from all quarters as the second most eligible gentleman in the room singled her out. ‘But if you are willing to take the chance of being ostracised then I shall accept your company with pleasure.’

  ‘I am not afraid of a few squawking hens,’ he assured her.

  ‘Then you are very foolish,’ she replied playfully, sweeping past a scowling duchess who had just taken her seat at the foot of the table. ‘Surely you are aware that females are the more deadly species.’

  ‘Towards one another, perhaps, but they will not turn their disapproval on me, so you will be safe for the next few hours.’

  They took places on one side of the table, a few seats down from Brin and Miss Seymour. She felt Brin’s gaze resting upon her as Lord Hardy held her chair for her and sent him a brief smile. She suspected that he had persuaded Lord Hardy to take her in, since having escorted her himself the previous evening he couldn’t do so again without inviting speculation. He clearly wasn’t prepared
to go quite that far in his support of her cause. Lady Melody had, predictably, not followed Brin’s suggestion and retired but limped into the dining room on Mr Anglesey’s arm.

  ‘Why in heaven’s name has she developed a limp?’ Farrah asked Lord Hardy in an undertone as he settled himself on the chair beside her.

  ‘She is desperate for sympathy which has not been forthcoming from any of the gentlemen. They will all follow Brin’s lead.’

  ‘I should not have come,’ Farrah said, as the disapproval of the ladies seated across from her began to wear her down. ‘I don’t belong here.’

  ‘You are the most interesting person to grace Brin’s table in many a long year. Don’t let the tabbies’ disapproval concern you. They would all secretly like to be more like you but don’t have the courage to be anything other than images of one another. It can become quite trying.’

  She offered him a wry smile. ‘If that was intended as a compliment then I thank you. I don’t mean to be different, if that’s what I am. It’s just that I cannot seem to help saying what I think. And then, of course,’ she added, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper, ‘Papa is in trade.’

  ‘Well, if I had known that,’ he said, pretending to be scandalised.

  ‘It’s quite shocking, don’t you think?’ Farrah began to enjoy herself as she widened her eyes with feigned horror. ‘Only imagine. It could be contagious, so the ladies are wisely taking no chances of becoming contaminated. They chose to avoid me even before I disgraced myself.’

  ‘They chose to ignore you because they envy you.’

  Farrah flapped a hand. ‘Careful, Lord Hardy. If you continue in this vein, my head will swell.’

  He smiled and changed the subject, talking to her with intelligence about literature and his recent travels around Europe.

  ‘My father and brother are in Paris. I have not been myself. They tell me that times are still uncertain following the conflict with Napoleon and that it wouldn’t be safe for a lady. I’m not sure I believe it. I think it’s more a case of their being too lazy to put themselves out and entertain me, but perhaps I am wrong and do them a disservice.’

  ‘Paris is still in a state of considerable upheaval, with a lot of residual resentment on both sides, which is only to be expected since we were sworn enemies set upon killing one another a little more than a year ago. Even so, there are opportunities for those willing to take the chance. In your father’s position, I would not want you in the middle of all that chaos. You are much safer here in England where you can’t get into mischief.’

  Farrah laughed so hard that she almost spilled soup on her gown. Several heads turned and tutted their disapproval. It was considered vulgar for ladies to laugh aloud, so she had probably confirmed their opinion of her, providing her detractors with further grounds for grievance. ‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said reflectively, after Lord Hardy had spent the requisite amount of time talking to one of Brin’s sisters seated on his other side and returned his attention to her, ‘that as the duke’s contemporary, you are under pressure from your connections to select a bride as well.’

  He flexed a brow. ‘As well?’

  She smiled. ‘Come, Lord Hardy, we all know why we are really here. The duchess’s less than subtle attempts to force my friend Hazel and Lady Melody upon the duke cannot have escaped your notice. Or his.’

  ‘Be careful, my dear, or I might feel a capricious desire to propose to you.’

  She laughed. ‘I didn’t mean me, you idiot! I would make a terrible countess. Even you must realise that following today’s debacle.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s been royally entertaining.’

  ‘For you perhaps. But I will concede that my behaviour today hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary. I seem to make a habit out of giving offence without meaning to by being too outspoken. You can be sure that I would never be granted admittance to Almack’s. Well, certainly not for a second time anyway.’

  ‘A dreary place with impossible standards and terrible refreshments. You’d be well advised to steer clear of it. God alone knows why people clamour for vouchers.’

  ‘Because it is the place to see and be seen, and to look for a wife. Shame on you, Lord Hardy, you really should make more of an effort.’ She sent him a capricious smile. ‘How about Lady Melody? She is very pretty and since the duke could not have made his lack of interest in her clearer, I dare say she is in urgent need of a broad shoulder to cry on.’

  ‘That I should be a consolation prize?’ He shook his head, sharing her light tone. ‘Absolutely not. Besides, that silly voice and her neediness would bore me rigid.’

  ‘Well then, I shall cease to interest myself in a subject that is none of my business, even if you are far too polite to remind me of the fact.’

  ‘Your little friend Lady Hazel has prospects, but I can see that Anglesey has a prior claim to her affections.’

  ‘The duke told you why I was in that clearing?’ she asked, her smile fading as they both glanced across the table at Hazel, who had been taken in by Lord Nyle but appeared to be paying scant attention to his conversation. Instead, she stared steadily across at Lady Melody, whom Anglesey had taken in. There was a great deal of animated conversation taking place between them and Hazel was clearly not happy about it. She constantly frowned and took frequent sips of her wine. That would be noticed and…well, frowned upon. Ladies were not supposed to overindulge.

  ‘He did,’ Lord Hardy said, recalling Farrah’s attention. ‘Can’t say that I approve of Anglesey’s behaviour but if the lady’s mother puts up obstacles to the recognised courting ritual, I suppose the man is left with little choice.’

  ‘Oh, Lady Beardsley is very ambitious on Hazel’s behalf. If she has given up hope of Hazel attracting the duke’s interest, then you can be sure that she will transfer her attention to you.’

  ‘Thank you for the warning. I shall be on my guard.’

  ‘I think it a terrible pity that you gentlemen cannot enjoy the sport that you came here to participate in without all these complications.’

  ‘You could marry me yourself and save me from the clutches of ambitious matrons with daughters to marry off.’

  ‘I could and would, but for the fact that you appear to be eminently capable of looking out for your own interests.’

  He laughed. ‘Heartless wench!’

  ‘I have been called worse. Much worse.’

  The duchess glowered down the table at Farrah as she and Lord Hardy continued to tease one another.

  ‘If you are ready, ladies,’ she said imperiously, pushing her chair back.

  ‘Goodness, the time has flown by,’ Farrah said, as Lord Hardy stood and helped her from her seat. ‘Thank you for your company.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘I enjoyed it immensely, but all pleasures come with a price to pay, I find, and now I must face the disapproval of my own sex.’

  ‘Help will not be far behind you,’ he assured her, bowing over her hand and kissing the back of it. ‘I have enjoyed myself too.’

  Farrah glanced over her shoulder as she left the room alone, none of the other ladies seeming inclined to walk beside her. She could feel Brin’s gaze burning into her back and smiled fleetingly at him before the lady behind her blocked him from view.

  As she walked through the drawing room door, Farrah was gratified to have Hazel fall into step beside her.

  ‘I am sorry I could not get to you earlier, dearest, but Mama was being especially insistent, and I did not want to start a public dispute with her.’

  And yet, Farrah thought, she would have to embark upon a dispute of a far graver nature if she seriously intended to marry Mr Anglesey.

  ‘Don’t give it another thought.’

  ‘You handled the situation brilliantly, and that gown is perfection,’ Hazel said, a note of envy entering her tone as she slipped her arm through Farrah’s. ‘The ladies were beastly to you, which I am very sorry about, but the gen
tlemen went out of their way to put you at your ease, which is something.’

  ‘And will make me even more unpopular,’ Farrah replied, sighing. ‘They will assume that I am some sort of femme fatale who has bewitched them all with her questionable charms and loose morals.’

  Hazel laughed as she released Farrah’s arm in order to accept a cup of coffee from a maid. Farrah took one also and looked about her for a seat. The rest of the ladies noticed her gesture and shuffled closer to one another as though worried that they would be contaminated by her presence.

  ‘There are two seats at the back,’ Hazel said, steering Farrah in that direction. ‘Let’s sit there. I need to talk to you most urgently, and we are less likely to be overheard there.’

  Hazel ignored her mother’s frantic gesturing as the two of them walked in the direction of the seats in question.

  ‘It is quite shocking the lengths that some females will go to in order to get themselves noticed,’ Lady Kirkham said in a loud voice that silenced all other conversations.

  It was a totally unjust accusation and Farrah’s instinct was to turn and retaliate, but the pressure of Hazel’s hand on her arm prevented her.

  ‘Let her vent,’ Hazel said softly. ‘She won’t dare to do it when the gentlemen rejoin us. She has not given up all hope of the duke marrying her daughter. Mama told me so and is most vexed that it was Lady Melody who was attacked and not me.’

  Farrah looked at her friend in astonishment. ‘What a thing to say. She meant for you to suffer a brutal attack in order to further her marital ambitions for you. You have finally managed to shock me, Hazel.’

  ‘Yes well, Mama doesn’t always mean what she says.’

  Farrah was equally sure that she did. ‘It must have given your mother a great deal of satisfaction when the duke suggested that Lady Melody return to her room.’