Scandalizing the Duke

by Leslie V. Knowles

  Back in her room, Charlotte climbed into the bed and pulled the thick quilts up high enough to all but bury herself, then lay in wonder and confusion. He kissed me. Her lips still tingled from the hot pressure, the shocking intrigue of his tongue against her own. The Duke of Wolverton kissed me.

  In her dream she’d been hurrying, watching for Edward's ship along the Portsmouth docks. She searched without success until she'd become aware of a sense of warmth and security, the likes of which she'd never experienced before. She'd clung to that security, that feeling of being sheltered, protected... cherished. Then she'd responded to the seductive invitation of moist heat against her lips. She'd needed to accept the enticing demand until she realized she was not dreaming and the arms holding her close were real.

  He kissed me.

  Her body still quivered with the heat that warmed her blood... and the absolute certainty that she hadn't wanted him to stop.

  She knew she sometimes walked in her sleep, and she knew why she had tonight. Though she and her sisters hadn’t made any particular fuss about being left behind when Aunt Poppy and Uncle Aubrey hurried off to meet Edward's ship, they all worried about his injuries. Staying behind had been the most practical solution. But they would all worry until they received further word from Uncle Aubrey... And when she was worried, Charlotte walked the floors in her sleep.

  She stifled a groan of mortification. It had been years since she'd last experienced a sleep walking incident. Why did that particular quirk in her nature have to reassert itself in front of the one man who already considered her lacking in admirable traits?

  But, he'd kissed her– and she'd kissed him back.

  How would she face him in the morning?

  LUCIEN ENTERED HIS breakfast room the next morning and nearly backed out of the room at the sight of six bright-eyed females waiting expectantly for him to take his place. His glance went to Charlotte whose cheeks flushed and she quickly looked down at her plate. Good, God. Surely she hadn't told... He cleared his throat. "Good morning, ladies," he said as he went to the sideboard to make his selection.

  Their chorused response raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He knew better than to think it a coincidence that they had all decided to have breakfast downstairs. Sitting at the head of the table, he surveyed their cheerful faces while the footman filled his cup with the strong coffee he preferred with breakfast. He took a fortifying sip and resigned himself to the inevitable before asking his stepmother, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"

  "You promised Rowena you would take her to the Exeter Exchange Menagerie this morning and we," she gestured to everyone at the table, “are joining you."

  He had made the offer when they'd arrived in town to keep Rowena from feeling left out of the festivities of the Season. He didn't remember specifying a day. "I thought today was Great Aunt Ridley's garden party." he commented as he sliced a chunk of ham. "Which does not begin until three." He put the bite of ham into his mouth and chewed with deliberation as he awaited her response.

  "That is tomorrow." she replied.

  He glanced out the window to realize heavy clouds darkened the morning sky. "If it does not rain."

  "Oh, it won't rain,” Sarah assured him, then her eyes widened, and she glanced to her sisters in dismay.

  Did the child think he would take offence at her speaking at the breakfast table? He knew many of his fellow members of parliament believed firmly that children should be seen but not heard and banished them to the nursery for their meals until they left the schoolroom.

  "As the Menagerie is on the upper floor of the exchange, the weather need not be a concern." He smiled at her so she would know he took no offence. "I was referring to Aunt Ridley's garden party."

  "So was I,” Sarah murmured. "I..." She flushed, then looked toward her sisters, took a quick breath and said, "If it rains today, it will be clear by tomorrow."

  Two hours later they climbed the stairs toward a hallway from which the pungent odor of the captive animals filled the air. Once on the first floor they discovered barred rooms containing a wide spectrum of exotic animals including a lion, a tiger and, to Lucien's amazement, two elephants. How in the name of all things holy did they get not just one, but two of them up the staircase to the main floor?

  Rowena and Sarah stood before each room in fascination sharing their book lessons and impressions with each other. His stepmother, Anne, and the Longborough sisters did much the same, though with less giddy animation.

  "I had no concept of how large elephants were in actuality," Elizabeth commented. "I believed the illustrations in books exaggerated."

  Charlotte wrinkled her nose before removing a scented handkerchief from her reticule. "Nor did I realize how unique their aroma would be."

  Lucien shared her sentiments, though he refrained from resorting to burying his nose behind a square of cloth to mask the strong odors trapped within the building. Fortunately, the younger girls satisfied their curiosity about the exotics before he gave in to the temptation.

  "It is a bit chilly and damp to visit Gunther's for ices," Lucien announced as they entered the carriage once they had made their way downstairs. "Perhaps a visit to a confectioner's for cream cakes before returning home would make a pleasing finish to our outing."

  "To say nothing of how pleasant the scent of freshly baked goods would be in contrast to the menagerie,” Anne said with a chuckle. "I believe I shall be content to learn about the unique animals of the earth from books in future."

  They all laughed at that and Charlotte discovered the duke’s genuine laughter revealed a side she’d not seen until now. More than the reappearance of those elusive dimples, it altered her perception and her heartbeat. It softened his usually taciturn expression. His genuine amusement unsettled her almost as much as the fierce desire she'd glimpsed the night before when he'd claimed his kiss to be nothing more than an attempt to wake her safely.

  How could she wake safely with Wolverton’s lips on hers and his arms pressing her to his body? Her mouth dried and her pulse quickened. Not Wolverton’s lips, but Lucien’s. How could she think of him by his title after the intimacy of their shared kiss?

  Charlotte was the last to alight the carriage and, as he assisted her down, Lucien's firm grasp on her hand sent a warm tremor through her. They had not had occasion to speak privately to one another since the night before, and though his action was properly impersonal, she could not help remembering the intriguing comfort of his embrace. When he shot her a narrow look of assessment, she felt that heat rise to make her cheeks burn.

  "Again, my apologies if I upset you last night," he murmured. "You need not worry it will be repeated."

  "And I shall place a chair at the doorknob to ascertain that I remain in my room." She met his eyes briefly, then dropped her gaze before hurrying to catch up to the rest of their party at the confectioners.

  Lucien ordered a selection of cream cakes, tarts and sweet biscuits. There were few customers in the shop, which did indeed, smell far sweeter than the menagerie. They chatted about their plans, including Aunt Ridley's garden party. Lucien remained with them and Charlotte noted that he consumed two cream cakes, a strawberry tart and four sugared biscuits. Who would think a man of such sober habits would have a sweet tooth?

  When he told them he intended to meet Ravencliffe and the Marquess at Tattersall's the next morning, Sarah asked, "Are you planning to buy a horse?"

  "I may," he answered. "I have considered purchasing a new mare for my stables."

  "Is it true some less scrupulous traders sometimes use paints or dyes to give the appearance that a pair are matched when they are not?" she asked. She took a sip of her chocolate and glanced over at her sisters before turning her guileless eyes back to his. "I’ve heard they use shoe blacking to cover white stockings and blazes."

  "That’s true,” Lucien agreed. "Though I’m not looking for a pair."

  "That's good,” Sarah announced with satisfa
ction. "Because I wouldn't like anyone to be cheated."

  Lucien chuckled. "Nor would I. Though such tricks are far more common at country markets." He reached for another cream cake. "Tattersall's has a reputation to maintain, so such instances are rare."

  THE MORNING OF LADY Althea Ridley’s garden party dawned as clear and sunny as Sarah had promised, so the hour-long carriage ride to the estate near Richmond was as pleasant as Charlotte could have wished. The duchess, Anne, Elizabeth and Charlotte chatted pleasantly while the duke cantered beside the carriage on his horse.

  When they arrived, they were directed through the entry hall and morning room to the terrace overlooking the gardens at the back of the house.

  Lady Ridley’s garden was a riot of late spring blooms that had been laid out to give the impression of comfortable space. Charlotte surveyed the carefully tended flowers and realized how much she missed her own gardens at home. Tending young plants always calmed her.

  They descended the stairs to the ground level where Lady Ridley welcomed them.

  "How fortunate the weather has cooperated for your garden party," the duke said to Lady Ridley after Elizabeth had greeted their hostess. "After yesterday's dark clouds I feared you might be forced to cancel."

  "You know Aunt Ridley would never allow the weather to interfere with her plans, Lucien." Lady Anne teased as she greeted her aunt. "When she selects a date for an outdoor event, she sends an invitation to the Almighty Himself to guarantee good weather."

  Lady Ridley laughed. "I’ll admit that my entertainments have been blessedly free of inclement weather over the years, but one mustn't tempt fate by trying to order it to one's liking, especially in spring." She gestured to the terrace where French doors led into the house. "I always make a contingent plan in case the good Lord decides to deny my requests. Had the weather remained uninviting we’d have gathered in the music room and entertained each other for the afternoon." She gave an amused smile. "I firmly believe that if you have an alternate plan you won’t need it, but if you don’t, you will." A footman approached and spoke quietly, and she excused herself to speak to another of her guests.

  Charlotte didn’t know quite what to do now that they had greeted their hostess.

  Anne solved that problem when she linked arms with her and Elizabeth and said, "Come, we must circulate."

  They strolled across the gravel path that wound around the formal garden. Near a fountain they saw Ladies Jane Pomphrey and Millicent Littlemarsh chatting with Mr. Hook and Lord Bascomb. Millicent's cheeks glowed pink and Jane appeared to be trying to hold back laughter. Lord Bascomb must be in rare form to make Jane relax her usual disapproval of rakes.

  When they joined them, Lord Bascomb bowed over their hands then turned to Elizabeth and declared, "I have recently been told the drollest rumor and you must answer me truly. Did your grandmother, or did she not, use a potion or cast magic spell upon your uncle to make him fall in love with your aunt?"

  Charlotte gasped and realized that was what had so amused Jane. Where had he heard that piece of gossip? She’d thought it confined to the boundaries of their village.

  "I cannot imagine who would believe such nonsense, can you?" Lady Millicent said. Her expression was one of uncertainty, and Charlotte guessed she was half-embarrassed that Bascomb had raised the subject and half hopeful it was true.

  "It is an old tale told by the ladies who envied his devotion to our aunt. No potions or spells were involved, I assure you," Elizabeth told him with a smile. "Even if such magic were possible, Grandmama would not condone such means to procure a mate for anyone. Whether by contract or love, marriage weaves its own spell to establish its success. It is called cooperation."

  Lord Bascomb nodded his head and grinned before he added. “And where there is no cooperation, it casts its own curse.”

  Before the conversation could tread into more family matters, Charlotte scanned the garden for a way to change the subject. She saw the duchess at the far side of the garden. "I beg you will excuse us," she said. "I believe Her Grace is signaling us to join her." With that, she curtsied and turned it that direction. Elizabeth followed suit, and a clearly amused Anne did as well, before they slipped around the group and escaped to the collection of tables and chairs where the duchess sat visiting with friends.

  As they made their way to the table Anne assured them, "I know what people say about the Longborough family, so you needn't have worried about any revelations Lord Bascomb might have brought up." She chuckled at their wary response.

  "When Lucien first learned of our acquaintance, he questioned my furthering it on the grounds of rumor regarding some of your relatives, but Mother told him she’d met you and that he needn’t worry. I taxed mother about it after Lucien left for his club and she told me some of the more fantastic rumors that passed about the ballrooms when your uncle offered for your aunt. Imagine anyone believing in witches, or of accusing someone of casting some magical love spell in order to marry a titled gentleman." She laughed merrily. "I don't know how people can still believe such silliness."

  The sisters exchanged surprised glances before Elizabeth queried, "You knew our grandmother was accused of witchcraft?"

  "Oh yes,” Anne said. "According to Mama, the gossip was most diverting. Some said your grandfather rescued your grandmother from being burned at the stake, others claim she cast a spell on Lord Elsworth to propose to your aunt, and still others—“ She lowered her voice as they passed a cluster of young ladies and gentlemen, “Said your aunt was already married to a gypsy.” She laughed outright as she added, “How could she be married, if she married Lord Elsworth?"

  "Don’t worry that I’ll hold such stories against you.” Anne assured them, “Scandalous as many might find such suppositions, I find them wonderfully droll. I agree with Mama that most rumors emerge from a tiny grain of truth, and the final product is generally a mountain of imagined and incorrect detail. Perhaps one day you will share those grains of truth with me, but for now I shall simply enjoy your company and tease Lucien with the absurd stories I've heard."

  Charlotte's pulse jumped in alarm. "I pray you’ll not disclose any more stories than he already might have heard," she protested. "He’s been gracious about our staying in your home, but I wouldn’t like to cause him to question his generosity."

  "Don’t worry," Anne said before they reached her mother. "Lucien has more sense than to act upon silly rumor. He may be strait-laced and eminently proper, but he’s fair minded and is entirely familiar with the salacious inaccuracy of the scandal-mill.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The duchess looked in their direction as they approached. She gestured to the empty bench near her chair, then introduced Elizabeth and Charlotte to the ladies with whom she sat. They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes before Lady Templeton, a lady of impressive girth and strong opinions, returned to the subject of their prior conversation.

  "I tell you," Lady Templeton stated as she accepted a fresh cup of tea, "I do not approve of the styles that we are seeing of late. Did you see Lady Dalton's gown at the opera? Utterly shocking."

  She gave a theatric shudder and shook her head before continuing with a sniff of disdain. "Jezebel red with an indecently low neckline. And those shocking French stays that do nothing to conceal the bosom. Even if the garment were not indecent, it is a fashion followed by our enemy. I cannot imagine what she was thinking with such a vulgar display. Why, her appearance was more scandalous than any of the courtesans who attended." She stopped abruptly and glanced over at the unmarried ladies who sat nearby.

  Charlotte, Elizabeth and Lady Anne lowered their eyes at Lady Templeton's slip, and Charlotte worked to keep her expression innocently neutral lest the woman curb her comments. Lady Templeton cleared her throat and adjusted her seat before continuing. "I do not understand why Dalton allows her to go about like that. He has ambitions in the diplomatic core, you know. Yet if a wife shows no awareness of proper dress and decorum, how is she to further her
husband's interests?"

  Charlotte was tempted to tell them that it was Lord Dalton and not his wife who had chosen that shocking gown. Before she could decide if she should admit to eavesdropping, Lady Templeton added, "To say nothing of how her poor health becomes an impediment to hosting diplomatic events. As it is, I understand that she took another severe chill and did not join Dalton at the Harris rout. If you will recall, she missed several events last Season for similar reasons as well. Such skimpy clothing leaves one most susceptible to exposure related illnesses."

  She looked up to where Lady Ridley had just greeted the newly arrived Daltons and lowered her voice. "At least she is well covered today. Perhaps Lord Dalton has finally put his foot down."

  Charlotte turned to see Lady Dalton dressed in an afternoon gown of salmon pink with ruffles that rose high on her neck and sleeves that disappeared beneath the edge of her short gloves. Her pale complexion had a pallor that underscored Lady Templeton's assessment that illness had prevented her attending the recent ball but raised Charlotte’s suspicions.

  Such modesty of dress on a warm day struck her as unusual and she wondered if it served to hide bruises. Mrs. Franklin had been in the habit of resorting to high necklines and long sleeves in the days following the frequent abuses Charlotte had witnessed. Ten years might have passed, and Albert Franklin might have come into a title since he had left their village, but he had not changed—and Lady Dalton was in danger of suffering the same fate as Martha Franklin.

  When the Daltons exited the terrace away from where Lady Ridley had greeted them, she breathed a sigh of relief that he had not seen her. After the evening at Lady Winterstone’s, he knew she was in the city. She hoped he would assume her childish spying had ended when he locked her in the shed. She wished it had.

  A question from one of the matrons lead Charlotte to agreeing that she enjoyed gardening, and Her Grace asked if she'd yet visited Lady Ridley's orangery. Charlotte's negative and request for directions allowed her and Elizabeth to escape before the Daltons paid their respects to the duchess. Crossing the lawn, Elizabeth saw Lady Jane and excused herself to join her while Charlotte continued to the orangery. She was relieved to go alone so she could calm her thoughts.