The Duke and the Spinster: Clean Regency Romance (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 1)
Page 4
She looked up again, her face full of confusion. After a moment she spoke, the edge of old pain colouring her voice.
“Then perhaps, Your Grace, it is you who are blind. For I have never been accounted beautiful, nor has intelligence ever been something that I have seen women judged by.”
He was astounded. Never been accounted beautiful? Had the world gone mad?
“Or perhaps I see more clearly than others? For you are beautiful, never doubt it. And far more interesting than most young women of my acquaintance.”
Her eyes expressed her disbelief, and he was sure that she had been hurt, and badly, in the past. He had a sudden desire to seek out whoever had hurt her, and punish them for their actions. She turned away, raising her face to the sun, with no concern for her complexion. She quivered, as if on the edge of tears which she refused to allow. He could not bear it. Unthinking, he reached out, and gently touched her shoulder.
She spun back towards him, and he worried that he had frightened her – but there was no fear in her expression, only surprise. Her eyes glittered, as if, indeed, they were filled with unshed tears. He lifted his hand and brushed a gentle touch across the silken smooth skin of her cheek, his mouth suddenly impossibly dry.
“Your Grace…”
He allowed his hand to drop back to his side.
“I apologise. But you seem distressed, and I…”
“Do not apologise – there is no need. You startled me, that is all. I appreciate the fact that you even bothered to seek me out, to enquire after my wellbeing. I am not used to being sought out.”
The edge of bitterness was in her voice again. He wanted to wipe it away, to make it possible for her to be filled with happiness, and only happiness. And then the humour of it struck him, and he could not help a small laugh.
“I believe that a blessing, perhaps. For I am all too used to being sought out. Usually by young ladies who care nothing for what sort of man I am, and everything for the possibility of becoming a Duchess. I generally avoid social occasions as a result.”
She considered a moment, then laughed herself, her whole manner brightening.
“Oh, yes, that is funny. Here we are, both avoiding the social occasion – you due to being pursued, and me, due to being so very tired of being ignored. Two opposite things, producing the same result.”
“Yes – but, funny or not, I am glad it happened, glad that I am here, talking to you. For I find that I enjoy your conversation. Perhaps we can assist each other, over the remaining days of this house party? For if we spend time together, others will hopefully not pursue me as much, and may treat you with better regard.”
She nodded, smiling, and he felt his heart lift. He would be able to spend time with her. She tilted her head a little to one side, looking almost bird like for a moment, her eyes filled with a sparkle of humour.
“But, if you avoid social occasions, it occurs to me to ask – why are you attending this house party at all?”
“Ah! You have hit upon the key issue. I am here to placate my mother, who sees it as her duty to drive me to marriage, and the production of an heir, as soon as possible.” She nodded, obviously seeing the logic of his answer. “But, Lady Juliana, your question leads me to ask the same of you – if you so abhor social occasions, why are you here, at this house party, providing the boorish with an opportunity to treat you with disregard?”
Lady Juliana shook her head a little, causing loose tendrils of rich gold hair to move and glint in the dappled light.
“Why I am here, as you are, to placate my mother. It is her highest hope that Eleanor will make a good match, and that I might at least eventually marry. So I was commanded to be present, in the faint hope that I might meet an eligible man who did not find me unbearable.”
“So, we are similar again.”
“We are. And I find that I am enjoying this conversation far too much – for it has tempted me to stay away from the picnic for too long. Eventually, my father will begin to wonder where I am. I had best return.”
Garrett smiled at her, repressing the urge to take her hands, to pull her to him. Instead he bowed, at his most elegant.
“Until this evening, then, my Lady.”
He watched her walk away, a woodland nymph fading into the trees, and wondered what had happened to him. For he had not wanted her to leave.
~~~~~
Juliana walked calmly, but her heart was pounding in her chest. All of her practice at moving smoothly, no matter what the circumstance, was needed at that moment. Unbidden, her hand rose to touch her cheek, tracing the path that his fingers had travelled. She had not wanted to leave him, yet sense had finally prevailed. She could not risk her reputation, or his, for that matter, by being found alone with him in such a secluded location. She had felt perfectly safe with him, at all times, but the gossips would never believe that a man and a woman might be alone together, and not be tempted to impropriety. And she would not risk a situation where he might be forced to marry her – for that would be a recipe for a lifetime of resentment.
Although, she thought wistfully, he was a man that she could stand to marry, perhaps the first that she had met of whom she could say that. She would treasure this interlude amongst the sun-drenched trees. His scent had surrounded her, dizzying in its complexity. But his words had been more dizzying still. He thought her beautiful! It was the oddest sensation, most disconcerting. But he had seemed absolutely sincere in his words.
She stepped from amongst the trees, to see that little had changed. Scattered across the grass, people sat or reclined on blankets, with food and drink before them, and the rumble of conversation came from all directions.
Her family were no different. It appeared that no-one had noticed her extended absence. She sighed – she should have expected that to be the case. But… perhaps this demonstrated that there might actually, occasionally, be an advantage to going largely unnoticed.
She dropped onto the blankets near her father, who looked up, almost as if surprised to see her.
“Oh, there you are Juliana. Do have some food – the kitchen staff have outdone themselves – this is truly delicious.”
She selected a sandwich, and ate in silence, mulling over the fact that it seemed no one cared enough for her reputation to even ask where she had been.
~~~~~
Garrett prepared for the evening’s entertainment – cards and conversation back at Hallingbrook Grange – with far more care than he might usually have given to such an occasion. He found himself wanting to look his best, dare he say it, to impress. But there was only one person he wanted to impress. And she, given what he had already discovered of her, would most likely not be impressed by something so superficial as his attire.
He almost laughed at himself, but repressed the urge, lest Timms become confused, or, worse yet, ask him what he laughed at. Timms was an excellent valet, but rather prone to curiosity. Once ready, he went downstairs, careful to appear casual and unconcerned, lest his mother suspect his motives more than she already did.
His mother, fortunately, had other concerns. She was extolling the virtues of their local dressmakers to his sister. Which was actually remarkable – for his mother was quite the fussiest person when it came to her gowns, and few London modistes could satisfy her, so for the Upper Nettlefold dressmakers to do so was most worthy of note. He would add a little extra to the Merton sisters’ payment, when they sent the bill.
As they walked out to the carriage, his sisters were chattering excitedly. Isabelle seemed quieter than Eugenia – but then she was older.
“Kilmerstan, are there any gentlemen there that I might like, who might also be acceptable?”
Eugenia gave Isabelle an odd sideways look as she asked the question of Garrett, and he wondered what that was about, before consigning it to the impenetrable thing that was sisters.
“Eugenia, do you expect me to know what you might like? For I fear I cannot predict that. But yes, there are some acceptable gentlemen
there, some of whom even have reasonable fortunes and are not prone to gambling, or affected attitudes.”
Isabelle made a small stifled snort at his answer, but said nothing. Eugenia appeared satisfied.
“You will, of course, introduce me to them, won’t you? I met so few of the guests at last night’s Ball. It was most disappointing.”
“Yes, I will introduce you.”
She nodded, and they settled into silence, as the carriage bumped along the road towards Hallingbrook Grange. Upon arrival they joined the throng of people who moved from room to room, some already settled at the card tables, others simply wandering, conversing, or watching the card players. Garrett’s first response was a wish to turn and leave, but he made himself stay. He could ignore the usual predatory young women and their conniving mothers, if he could only make the opportunity for some relatively private conversation with Lady Juliana. If he left, that would be impossible.
As if to test his resolve, almost the first people that they met were Lady Prudence and her mother.
“Your Grace! So delightful to see you again tonight. I do believe that you must have finally begun to enjoy social occasions. I am told that there will not be any dancing this evening – so disappointing, don’t you agree?”
Lady Prudence fluttered her eyelids at him, attempting to look flirtatious, and her strident voice grated on his nerves. Only his upbringing as a gentleman allowed him to be polite. Especially when his own mother smiled encouragingly at the annoying woman!
“Indeed, Lady Prudence, although I am sure that we will all manage to enjoy ourselves regardless. Good conversation is always worthwhile.”
He attempted to slip past her, but she clung to his side, moving with them into the room. His sisters regarded her with carefully guileless eyes, but Garrett knew that they were amused at his expense.
His mother looked approving – he would have to try, again, to convince her that he would not consider Lady Prudence, ever. He suspected that would be an unpleasant conversation, for Lady Prudence had made a point of ingratiating herself with his mother. He sighed, nodding and, completely ignoring the woman’s words, scanned the crowded rooms for the one person he did want to see.
Then he saw it – a flash of golden hair, in the furthest corner of the room, amongst a cluster of potted palms. She was here! He released the breath he had not realised he’d been half holding, and immediately wondered how on earth he would get rid of Lady Prudence, so that he could manoeuvre a conversation with Lady Juliana.
Finally, an idea struck him.
“Mother, why don’t you tell Lady Prudence of your dramatic success with this gown, and your other new purchases. As she is such a connoisseur of fashion, I am sure that she will want to know all about it.”
Lady Prudence spun towards the Dowager Duchess, her expression avid.
“Oh, yes, please do tell me!”
Lady Prudence had the most terrible fashion sense of anyone he had ever met – but firmly believed herself to have the height of taste. His sisters eyed him as if he had gone mad, stifling giggles, but then realised what he had done, as he slipped away from the women. Soon after, both Isabelle and Eugenia also slipped off into the crowd, seeking friends to converse with.
He eased his way through the crowded room, greeting people as he passed them, catching snippets of conversation here and there, but always moving, until he had crossed the room, and slipped past the row of palms into the shadowed corner. She looked up, nervous, and then visibly relaxed.
“Your Grace. You startled me. I had thought myself well-hidden here.”
“Ah. But I have excellent eyes. And… your hair gave you away – it caught the light and glinted, even through this small forest that Mooresfield has provided.”
“Then I will have to obtain one of those rather odd-looking turban style hats that are so fashionable. That would hide my lamentably garish yellow hair.”
She had shocked him again – ‘lamentably garish yellow hair’? Her hair was beautiful, a rich burnished gold – how could she so describe it?
“Lady Juliana, I do not know where you came by that description of your hair, but it is far from the reality that I see. What I see before me is a silken pile of strands of finest burnished gold.”
Her eyes widened, and she studied his face for some time.
“You mean it, don’t you? That’s actually how you see it?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand how you manage to see me so differently from the way that others have been seeing me for years.”
He shrugged, unable to explain it. He saw what he saw.
“Does it matter how? Or is it more important that I do see you as I do? Perhaps others are blinded by their past memories of you, when you were young and perhaps a little awkward, as we all were at some point in our life. But you are not awkward now. You are beautiful, elegant, and graceful.”
She turned away with a little laugh, almost bitter, and spoke softly without looking at him.
“I cannot believe you, although you have no reason to gull me. I have spent too many years being mocked and disregarded for my failings to easily accept that they have magically disappeared upon my arrival in Upper Nettlefold.”
“Well, if you cannot believe me, we shall have to agree to disagree. Let us talk of other things. I will not embarrass you further with protestations of your beauty – for today, at least.”
She turned back to him, a spark of mischievous amusement in her eyes.
“Only for today? I will need to have this conversation again, every day that I see you? What a tiring prospect!”
“Ah, but perhaps repetition will make it easier for you to believe – I must hope.”
She shook her head in silent denial, but her smile remained.
“Talk of other things, you say? I am curious – why do you wish to talk to me at all? Why are you not like the other men, and playing cards, or talking with other men of hunting and the like?”
“Perhaps I find you far more interesting? I have never been one to gamble, and there is only so much one can say about hunting.”
“Are you not afraid that the ‘predatory young ladies’ will see you speak to me, and queue up for their turn at conversation?”
He laughed, and shook his head.
“They may try to obtain my attention, but I have put intensive study into the art of ignoring people whom I do not wish to converse with. There are some advantages to being a Duke…”
“Then I still do not know why you wish to talk to me. But I will admit that I enjoy your company, so I will not push you further on that matter. What other topics shall we discuss?”
Garrett considered a moment, remembering her words of the previous evening.
“You told me, last night as we danced, that you have an interest in the art of scent making. That seems an unusual interest for a young Lady – please, tell me more. I admit to being a little intrigued, for all of the parfumiers I have met have been flamboyant and annoying little French men.”
“I would not go so far as to claim the title of parfumier, by any means, but I do, one day, aspire to create scents of distinction. I wish that I had the skill to create a scent like the one that you wear. It is complex, and subtle, and layered with delicious exotic notes. Perhaps, one day I will.”
“I see. I fear that my understanding of scents is rather uneducated – I wear what I like, and I appreciate the difference between a fine and subtle scent and a heavy unsubtle one, but beyond that… My own choice of scent comes from one of those annoying little French parfumiers, in London. I believe that he obtains his ingredients from the East.”
“I wish that I could afford the imported essences and spices to use in my scents, but, alas, I cannot. One day…”
Garrett felt an irrational desire to seek out whatever business supplied the man who made his colognes, and buy her whatever she wanted. He did not understand the way that this woman made him think.
“I confess that you have a
roused my curiosity further – how does one use a spice in making a scent?”
She answered him, in detail, and the conversation flowed on for some time. They were, in a sense, isolated, although they stood in the corner of a room full of people – somehow, he felt as if they were alone – perhaps it was that, when he was with Lady Juliana, he forgot about everything else. They passed the evening that way, unaware of the others who watched them.
~~~~~
The Earl of Fondleton had spotted Lady Juliana, hiding away in her corner, when he had arrived. Satisfied that she was unlikely to venture far, he went to his arranged card games. It took a few hours, but, soon enough, he was far wealthier than he had been at the start of the evening, and the other players were far poorer. He would leave them be tomorrow, but perhaps the day after he would fleece them again.
But now, feeling pleasantly excited by his wins, he went in search of a success of another kind. He slipped through the crowds carefully, listening to the gossip as he went, and obtained a drink from the refreshment table. Now for Lady Juliana.
He turned his steps to the room where she had been, hiding away in the corner like the mouse that she was – which suited him perfectly – if she was so quiet, she would be unlikely to argue with him, once he had her at a disadvantage. He lifted his wineglass, taking a sizeable mouthful, then nearly choked as he lowered the glass.
She was still in the corner, as he had expected, but – damn it! – Kilmerstan was with her. The Duke was fast becoming the bane of his existence. Something would have to be done, and soon. He would find a way to get her alone – he just needed to be vigilant enough – a chance would present itself, he was certain.
~~~~~
Eleanor stared across the room, and her eyes narrowed. How did Juliana do it? She was talking to the Duke, again! Eleanor was, she had to admit, utterly jealous. How inconsiderate was Juliana being? Eleanor was the pretty one, the one that all of the men wanted – so how dare Juliana steal the Duke’s attention? Eleanor turned, and went to find someone to adore her.
~~~~~
Lady Prudence Baggington stood, ostensibly watching a card game, but actually watching the Duke and that annoying Lady Juliana. She ground her teeth in frustration. How did the woman do it?