Bryghton Alcott, fifth Duke of Wychwood, stood on his enemy’s front steps for a long moment after the door had been firmly closed behind the young lady and her charges. It crossed his mind to hope the butler had not noticed him there, which caused him to realize he was running the risk of making a fool of himself, and so he quickly turned on his heel and regained his seat in the saddle. With a final quick glance at the closed door and unopened drapes, he dragged his attention away and set off on his own errands. But the lovely young Lady Victoria did not leave his thoughts despite all the other distractions he dealt with throughout his day.
Bryghton was relieved to meet up with Fred at his club late that afternoon and hailed him heartily as soon as he was free of the doorman.
“Alfred my boy, I am quite delighted to see you, you can have no idea!”
Surprised by this uncharacteristic outpouring of enthusiasm, Fred raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his friend and waited for him to continue.
Realizing he might be attracting the attention of the other patrons, the duke frowned to himself and bit his tongue, waiting silently while they were shown to a table and served with their usual drinks. As soon as the waiter departed, Bryghton again launched into speech.
“You know much more about the law than I do, do you not, old chap?”
Fred was gratified by his friend’s words, but modestly replied, “Well, I did pay more attention in school than you did, so perhaps I know a bit more, but I cannot guarantee I know what you are looking for.” The duke shot him a wondering look, and the baron capitulated. “But I would probably be able to find out whatever you would like to know. What particular part of the law might you be interested in, Alcott?”
“Women’s rights,” the duke declared, keeping his voice low, having the presence of mind to realize it was not a highly popular subject and would give rise to uncomfortable speculation were they to be overheard.
Fred barely contained his own tones as he repeated the duke’s words incredulously. “Women’s rights? Why ever would you be wondering about the rights of women? You take excellent care of your mother and sister—they certainly have no cause to complain that their rights are being infringed upon!”
The duke nodded in agreement, accepting his friend’s words with pride, but then shook his head in quick denial. “It is not my mother or sister’s rights I am concerned with. You are correct; they have little room for complaint.” After a brief pause he continued in even lower tones, a hardened edge creeping into his voice.
“I am worried about the young Lady Victoria Bartley. She has already turned twenty and is being kept as a veritable indentured servant in her own home. Did you know that house where the earl is living is actually hers? Of course you do, you mentioned it that first day I laid eyes on her,” Bryghton interrupted himself before continuing. “And she has been ordered not to associate with me by her cad of an uncle. I am wondering what her rights are as to her inheritance and entering Society.”
Fred had been nodding thoughtfully as the duke vented his frustrations and concerns about the young woman. Now as Bryghton wound down to a conclusion, he had some questions of his own.
“What do you hope to accomplish by getting involved, Duke? When we first saw her I thought we could somehow use her to get to her uncle, but now that I have gotten to know her, I have no intention of being party to using her. It strikes me that she has absolutely no involvement in her uncle’s schemes and as an innocent young lady she deserves our protection.”
“Well, I agree with you, of course,” Bryghton interjected with some puzzlement.
“That protection extends even to us, Bryght. As gentlemen of the ton, we cannot get involved in her situation without some sort of intentions to offer her our protection. You know how it works. If we draw attention to her, she will be exposed to the censure and criticism of all the biddies and busybodies of the ton. You could inadvertently put poor Lady Victoria into a rather uncomfortable situation. Or, on the other hand, you could raise her expectations as to your intentions.”
Bryghton’s mouth was left momentarily ajar, as his glass stalled midway towards it. After blinking rather owlishly at the baron, the duke threw back his head and laughed heartily. He lowered his volume when he noticed inquiring looks directed their way, but his eyes continued to dance with merriment.
“Thank you, Fred. I was so caught up in my concerns I needed a good chuckle. And your concerns are valid, if a bit unfounded. I have absolutely no intention of raising false hopes in her heart, or of exposing her to the claws of the cats of Society. But I am worried about her. As gentlemen,” he placed gentle emphasis on the word, repeating what Fred had said, “we have an obligation to protect her from her predator of an uncle.”
The duke waited for this statement to sink in before repeating his question. “So I still wonder what her rights are. Do you know how we could find out? And would the stipulations of her inheritance be a matter of public record that we could access without the earl knowing? I know you said that everything not entailed went to her but we need to find out when she gains control of it. Is it like most young ladies—that she can gain her independence at the age of 25—or is she to be under the cad’s control all her days, or until she marries, whichever comes first?”
Alfred sat in quiet thought for a few moments before answering. “Either one of our secretaries would know how to find the information. I do believe the matter of inheritance is considered public information, but I do not think we can access specific details without that becoming public knowledge as well. You know how these things work, Alcott.”
Now it was Bryghton’s turn to sit in quiet speculation for a moment before he snapped his fingers. “Most everyone knows about my issues with the earl. We could start with our continued investigation into him. It would not be considered terribly odd to be looking into his guardianship as well. This should not bring any untoward attention on his niece if our interest is expressed in that context.”
“You are ever a canny one, your grace. I do believe you have hit on just the right strategy.”
Satisfied that he had the outline of a plan, the duke finished his drink and then rose to take his leave. “I am promised to my mother’s dinner this evening. My sister is supposed to be arriving this afternoon. Would you care to join us?”
“Thank you, but I doubt she would appreciate her numbers being thrown out at this point.” As the duke was about to protest he interjected, “Besides, my aunt is expecting me for a dinner of her own. Speak to your secretary and we shall come up with a plan of action on the morrow.”
The duke accepted his friend’s refusal with good grace, nodding his head in acquiescence. “Then I wish you good day.” He strode from the rooms, his purposeful strides preventing much interference, and a footman hastened to open the door for him.
The major domo hastily gathered his composure to bow over his well-born customer. “Good day, your grace.”
Ever polite, but clearly distracted, the duke nodded and smiled briefly in the servant’s direction on his way out the opened door. He remained in a brown study until he swept into his mother’s home some twenty minutes later.
“Bryghton!” shrieked his sister as she dashed hoydenishly down the stairs, hurling herself into his outstretched arms as she reached the bottom.
“Hello, brat,” he greeted her affectionately, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“I am not a brat, I am a lady,” she declared, laughter gleaming in her eyes even as she tried to look severe.
“It would be much easier to treat you like a lady if you acted like one,” Bryghton said with a sarcastic quirk to his brow.
“Children, no squabbling.” Drake entered and disarmed the potential scene as he enveloped his young sister in a warm hug. The two were close in age and had shared the nursery for much of their lives until Drake had gone away to school. “Have you been here long? Why did you stay on the estate for so long? Did you not know our mother would be pining for you?”
&nbs
p; “She was not pining for me, you gabby head,” replied his sister warmly. “You know she loves Town so much more than I do. I am quite certain she has been having the time of her life without me underfoot complaining.”
“You might be right, sister dear. Clearly she has forgotten how you feel about these things or she would not have planned a large dinner party on the night of your arrival.”
Alanna groaned audibly. “Must you remind me? I had barely gotten my foot in the door before she was hurrying me off to my room to get ready.” She paused for a moment but then grinned at her brothers. “But if it means having both of you around I suppose I can tolerate all the rest. Tell me, duke, will I pass muster even though I am travel worn?”
Bryghton bowed over his sister’s outstretched hand and flourished a courtly kiss to her wrist. “If I were not your brother I would say you look ravishing, my dear. I do believe you are more in your looks than even the last time I saw you. Is it possible that you are growing even lovelier as time passes?”
Alanna blinked at her brother in awe. “I now understand where your reputation comes from.”
The Duke of Wychwood grinned rakishly at his sister but forbore to comment. It was just as well, because at that moment his mama the duchess arrived on the scene.
With an indulgent smile at her three children, she heaved a dramatic sigh. “There is nothing in the world as lovely as having all my children together at one time.”
“Good evening, your grace,” Bryghton greeted formally as he bent over her hand with another gallant flourish. “One would never believe that you could possibly be our mother. It could be argued that you could pass for our sister, to be sure.”
“Well, I would hope so, you flatterer,” she answered with delight before taking a more serious tone. “But I am your mother and as such you should listen to me. It is high time you all saw to finding mates. I know I do not look the part, but it is probably time for me to have grandchildren. You, Alcott, must be thinking about the line and what you owe to the family and all that. What would your father say if he were here to see how you are carrying on?”
Bryghton caught Drake’s eye and both gentlemen burst into raucous laughter. The duke sobered first. “I apologize, Mother, but you must know he would no doubt pat me on the back and say good for me. I know the passage of time allows memories to fade, but surely you remember how he carried on.”
The duchess coloured slightly at this reminder that all had not been as perfect as she would like to let on. “Well, be that as it may, you must still produce an heir. You are not getting any younger, Bryghton.”
“But I am quite far from my dotage,” he countered drily.
The duchess carried on as though he had not spoken, turning to chide her daughter, “And you Alanna, surely you should have been able to find someone to suit you by now. This is to be your third Season, you unnatural girl.”
Alanna maintained a rather stony silence, familiar with this routine, and waited for their mother to conclude her tirade. Having said her piece, the duchess abruptly changed the subject.
“Now my darlings, are you ready for a lovely evening?”
Her three darlings looked at each other rather dubiously before shrugging almost helplessly. Drake finally gave voice to their thoughts. “I suppose we are as ready as we will ever be.”
“Who are you expecting this evening?” Alanna asked.
“Ah, the guest list is sure to be pleasing.” With that, the duchess launched into a descriptive list of all whom she was expecting.
Chapter Eleven
“Aunty ‘Toria?” began the youngest of the girls, standing bashfully at Victoria’s side.
“Yes, Vanessa, what can I do for you?” Victoria crouched down to give her shy young cousin her full attention.
“Do you s’pose we will get in trouble for talking to the duke?” she asked with a worried frown.
“No, my dear. We did not engage his lordship in conversation, nor did we spend any amount of time with him, so I should not think your father will find fault with us.” Victoria made every effort to sound convincing, but she was herself unsure of the truth of her statement.
Victoria wondered if she should have made a greater effort to keep the children entertained indoors, but the poor darlings had been dreadfully bored of being shut up inside. She could not be blamed for the rotten timing of the duke riding past at just the same time as they were returning home. Could she? She chewed on her lip absently as the worry chased itself around in her head.
Seeing the worried faces of the children, Victoria quickly shook herself out of her doldrums. It was her responsibility to take charge, and if she could not reassure the children, she could at least distract them.
“Who would like to play hide and seek?” she asked with forced enthusiasm.
“Me!”
“Me!”
“I do!”
“I will be ‘it’ first,” declared Victoria. As she closed her eyes and slowly counted aloud to ten the little ones scurried around the room stifling their giggles as they searched for a hiding spot. Victoria tried to ignore the sounds they made, grinning wryly and knowing it would be an effort not to find them too quickly. Half the fun for the children was the terror of being found.
With exaggerated concentration she gazed about the room. “Where could they have all gotten to?” she asked out loud. “Is Gwennie under the table?” This question elicited a hastily muffled giggle from the other side of the room.
By the time she had “found” all the children, they were giddy with hilarity. Their happiness dimmed marginally when Victoria announced that it was time to go visit the earl and countess, but the fear did not return to their eyes. For that small fact Victoria was relieved.
Upon entering the countess’ drawing room they discovered, much to Victoria’s relief, that the earl was not going to be joining them that afternoon. Victoria made every effort to hide her relief, and was thankful for once that the countess was so inattentive.
After the usual awkward half hour of stilted conversation between the children and their mother, Victoria answered the few questions Lady Bartley had in relation to the children’s studies and activities. They were just about to leave the room when Victoria forced herself to face the difficult subject weighing on her mind.
“M’lady, I recall that the earl decided I was not to take the children to Hyde Park, nor are we to speak to the Duke of Wychwood, but might I ask if going out of doors at all with the children is forbidden? We have stayed inside these past few days, but it is nearly unbearable for the young ones and me too, I must admit. Do you suppose it would be acceptable if we were to walk around the block on occasion, and perhaps run about in that small parkette at the end of the street?”
“Oh, I should not think there would be anything unacceptable about that. Just see that you do not stray too far from home,” Lady Bartley answered rather distractedly, feeling at a decided disadvantage before her beautiful, articulate niece.
“Thank you, my lady. I bid you goodnight.” Victoria nearly fled from the room, relief pouring through her. She had not thought to ask permission in advance of taking the children out, but now that it had been granted, she was more certain that the earl would not take her to task for their outing that day. Now that it was all above board she would be able to take them the next day with a clear conscience and no feelings of trepidation.
Gwen had lingered at the door and had heard the exchange between her mother and her aunt. Almost dancing on light feet in her delight, she still looked at her aunt with serious eyes. “It is a relief to be sure, is it not?”
Grinning at her too-knowing cousin, Victoria agreed, “That it is, my dear. Now let us be off. The youngsters are going to have the nursery torn apart before we get there if we do not make haste.”
Giggling softly, they dashed to the top of the stairs.
Victoria struggled to keep the children entertained that evening and was deeply grateful for the increasing maturity found in Gwen
dolyn’s help. After supper and some games, she got the last of the children bundled into bed and she finally made her way with relief to her own chamber. Bidding the nursery maid goodnight, Victoria shut the door and allowed the events of the day to wash over her in remembrance.
Looking into the mirror as she took the pins from her hair she silently asked all the questions tumbling around in her mind. What could the duke be thinking, looking for me in the park? What possible reason could he have for pursuing a relationship, however distant, with me? I am no suitable wife for one such as he, but neither could I be anything less as the daughter of an earl. Perhaps he finds some amusement in pestering me. No doubt he has no idea what my uncle is like, so he cannot realize that he is making trouble for me.
Victoria gazed off into the middle distance for a moment, and concluded, Perhaps he has the sensation that he saved my and Daniel’s life, and so somehow has a connection or obligation to us. That does seem in keeping with what I know of him. I really do not know him at all, but he seems to be the type to hang much importance on chivalry and honour.
With a heartfelt sigh, Victoria tried to force her mind away from the trouble sure to be stirred up should the duke’s attempt to be a presence in her life continue. All the same, a delightfully warm sensation formed in the pit of her belly at the thought of him actually caring about her future. It had seemed that since the death of her parents no one had cared much for her. Of course, the children loved her and the servants were kind, but it was not the same as the attentions of someone in a position to do something to aid her—someone who could give heed to her needs, wants, or desires. While the proud duke seemed not to be giving much heed to her feelings about his intrusion into her life, he had expressed concern over her future well-being, and it had felt genuine to her.
She took that thought to her pillow, warmed and comforted, and was not at all surprised when the handsome man, Bryghton Alcott, Duke of Wychwood, held center stage in her dreams for another night.
The Reluctant Debutante: A Sweet, Regency Romance (Ladies of Mayfair Book 4) Page 9
