“Rowena! You shall have a Royal wedding! Just like Princess Charlotte did.” Catherine had dropped her gown to the floor and clapped her hands together.
Rowena forced a smile while inside her stomach began to turn. Her heart was racing, and she felt a cold sweat run down her spine. Royal wedding. The Regent. It was all too much. She rose, holding on to the window frame.
“Rowena?” Her mother’s voice was tinged with concern, but she did not get up. “Are you ill?”
She raised a hand to ease her mother’s concerns but found that her hand appeared to be shaking before her. It was not only her hand which moved on its own volition. Her legs were shaking too. She took a step forward, hoping to reach the bed but as soon as she took one step, she felt her legs buckle beneath her and she felt herself falling. The last thing she saw were her mother’s arms, outstretched and coming her way as if to catch her before her world turned black.
Chapter 5
Christopher paced the room and watched as Burroughs, his valet, hung the freshly ironed tailcoat on the hook at the wall. He stepped back and eyed his newest acquisition. Double breasted as was standard, he’d had the waist cut straight, in a more modern style than what the older lords were wearing. It was in a navy color which would look dashing with the black straight trousers he intended to wear.
“Thank you, Burroughs. Would you have my watch fob polished, the one on the gold chain? And set out my quizzing glass. The pinchbeck. It’s rather stylish. That’ll be all.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the valet bowed and made his way out of the room, leaving Christopher alone with his brother. Henry had been sitting quietly, with a smirk upon his face while Christopher had stood, utterly transfixed by his tailcoat. Or rather, by the idea of who he would be meeting while wearing it.
“It is as though you have never set eyes on a garment before,” Henry commented.
Christopher glared at him. “One wants to look one’s best at a social function, especially a ball.”
“Yes, but as I see it, you put much effort into this particular ball,” his brother said, taking a sip of ale from the cup in front of him.
“And so, what if I do? Lord Hazelshire may well become an important connection for us. It is most fortunate that he requires assistance with his vineyard when you and I are so well versed in the running of them. It may well lead to important business connections.”
Henry tossed a piece of candied orange peel at his brother’s head, “Come off it! We both know that the connection you are hoping to make it’s not with Hazelshire but with his daughter. The illustrious and elusive Lady Rowena.”
Christopher swallowed. It was true that ever since he had seen the woman standing across from him on the street outside her father’s house, he had not been able to keep her from his thoughts. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her deep dark hair stood in contrast to her pale skin and his heart beat happily when he thought of the way she had so elegantly moved; it was almost as though she had floated. She was truly ethereal.
He knew it to be foolish, to be so preoccupied with a woman he had never met in person. And yet it could not be helped. Lady Rowena Burton was on his mind more than any other woman ever had been.
“Is it wrong to want to make the acquaintance of a beautiful lady?” Christopher defended himself to his brother.
“Of course, it’s not. However, I feel that you have built this young woman into a Goddess in your own mind and the poor dear will have no chance of ever living up to it.”
Christopher shook his head “I have not. I am aware that she may have flaws. Yet, I must meet her. I must make her acquaintance. She is…I cannot describe it. I simply cannot. You will know how I feel when it happens to you, Henry.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “I should hope not. Love and marriage appear to be rather tedious, time-consuming affairs. The arranged ones as well as any other. Frankly, I do not understand this desire humanity has to be eternally paired up. What is wrong with one’s own company? No, I shall be happy never to get involved in any of it.”
Christopher laughed. “You say so now but you will change your mind once you meet a woman whom you desire. Or once you reach a point in your life where you find that it is your own company which is tedious, not marriage.”
Before Henry could protest, Christopher continued.
“I do not understand your reservations about marriage anyhow. Not given the example Mother and Father set for us.”
Indeed, the Duke and Duchess of Westmond were perhaps the most content couple Christopher had encountered in his life. Like most marriages in their society, theirs had been an arranged match. Christopher was well aware that such matches were often doomed to result in an unhappy union based on nothing but convenience and comfort. That had not been the case for Christopher’s parents.
While initially advantageous, theirs had been a match that had turned from practical into romantic. Christopher smiled when he thought of his parents who had gone everywhere together. Holding hands, stealing kisses, glancing at one another with so much love. He would not tell his brother this but in his mind, he pictured himself and Lady Rowena in just such a marriage.
“It is precisely because I saw the love between our parents that I am so opposed to experiencing it myself.” Henry’s voice broke into his daydream. “For one, they were exceptionally lucky not to just fall for one another but to hold onto those feelings for all of their lives. And for another, you saw how devastated Father was when Mother became sick. And then when he lost her. He was a broken man for the rest of his life, and I venture to say that it was the loss of Mother which led to his illness and death. No, thank you. I should rather spend my life as a bachelor than risk getting stuck in a loveless match, or one in which my heart is broken due to love. I shall remain wed to my books.”
Christopher sighed. He and his brother would never agree on the matter of marriage. Henry had been opposed to it for as long as he could remember, and he doubted there was a woman alive who might change his brother’s mind.
“If we were Catholics, Henry, I would suggest the priesthood for you rather than the military.”
“If we were Catholics you would not be a Duke and we might both have no choice but become priests.”
Christopher shrugged, knowing the argument was not to be won.
I cannot see how he feels this way. For me, a life without a wife would not be a fulfilled one.
He knew, of course, that he had no choice but to marry. He’d always known that he would be expected to produce an heir. However, he had to admit that he’d always hoped to not just make a match for the sake of securing his line. He’d always hoped to find what his parents had found. True love. And he’d intended to search for it for years if he had to.
He knew that, even though his wealth was not what it once was, his title would carry weight with the ladies of the ton and he would be able to have his choice. In fact, he could have simply hired a matchmaker and made a match with the daughter of some wealthy marquess, or earl and married into money. Thus, foregoing the hard labor of re-building his family’s fortunes. It was how many down-on-their-luck nobles saved themselves from ruin.
But not Christopher. For one, they were not in that desperate a position and for another, he did not wish to trade in his future happiness for wealth. No. He’d intended to rebuild his own fortunes, buy back his London House, and then search for a wife. For the right wife. At least, that had been the plan. Until he’d laid eyes upon Lady Rowena.
The moment he saw her, he knew that his search was over before it had ever begun.
Chapter 6
Rowena watched as her friend bit into a large piece of marzipan with such vigor it crumbled and fell into her lap.
“I am a clodhopper sometimes. You simply cannot take me anywhere,” Betsy laughed while Rowena sat beside her, smiling now. She was holding a piece of marzipan on a handkerchief in her own hand but hadn’t dared to bite into it. Whenever she was about to allow herself some sweet
s, she’d hear her mother’s voice inside her mind. Warnings of what it might do to her figure, how it might ruin her looks.
And she could not afford any missteps right now. Not on the day before she was to meet her future husband. Again.
“This is delicious,” Betsy declared. “Have some, it will cheer you. I promise you!”
Rowena raised the sweet to her mouth and took a nibble, causing her friend to chuckle into her handkerchief.
“You are always quite the lady, Rowena.”
She sighed. “It is what I was raised to be. Perfection at all times.”
Suddenly her friend’s smile waned, and her eyes narrowed.
“I am concerned for you. You have been quite melancholy ever since you were told of your impending betrothal. And the fainting spell–”
“It was nothing,” Rowena protested. “The physician said it was only the excitement at my impending wedding. No cause for alarm at all.”
Betsy pressed her lips into a fine line and tilted her head to the side while examining her friend.
“Please, do not pretend with me.”
“Whatever do you mean? I do not pretend. And I am not melancholy. All is as it should be. Catherine is finally able to have her ball, Mama is as happy as can be, and Papa seems relieved as well.”
Betsy wrapped the remains of her sweet into the handkerchief and carefully tucked it into the pocket of her cape.
“As usual I hear you speak only of the happiness of others, of their needs and wants. But what of yours? And do not tell me that you are content. I have known you since we were children. I know when you withhold the truth.”
Rowena sighed heavily and looked out over the vast green space which spread out ahead of her. It was early still, and the park was filled with children brought out to play by their governesses who huddled together on the benches surrounding the green, chatting and laughing. Off in the distance, she spotted a young couple, walking along the lake with a woman, a chaperone no doubt, following at a discrete distance.
That shall be me soon enough. Lord Thornmouth and me.
She felt Betsy’s cold hand on her wrist and turned to look into her friend’s concerned face.
“He may turn out to be a good man. He might turn out to be all you’ve ever wanted. More even.”
She shook her head. “Oh Betsy, it does not matter at all. I must do what I am expected to do. I had only hoped…” she shook her head and waved a hand, dismissing the thought, “never mind. All is as it should be. I will meet him, wed him, and have an heir. And that will be my duty fulfilled.”
Betsy shook her head. “Sometimes I do not envy you at all, Rowena.”
“Sometimes?” Rowena asked.
“I suppose, despite my circumstances, I have more freedom than you. At least I shall have a choice in life, and I am not expected to wed and produce an heir. I can choose to remain alone, become a spinster, rather than wed a man I do not care for.”
Rowena nodded, “We each carry a burden.” She paused and glanced at her friend. She’d been so occupied with her own worries that she’d not considered to ask her friend how her search for a position was going. To be sure, her mother would not send Betsy away, but she knew that the time had come for Betsy to begin her future. For the past few years, she’d served as a companion to Catherine, but with her out and in search for a husband, Betsy’s services were no longer needed.
“How are your morning calls with Mama? Have you found a prospective position?”
Betsy smiled but looked away.
“You have, haven’t you? Where? Why have you not told me?”
Betsy shrugged. “You have been so melancholy and withdrawn. I did not wish to make you feel worse at the prospect of me leaving.”
Rowena’s face fell. Indeed, she was not ready for her best friend to depart her side. They had been so close for so many years, it felt as though Betsy was a part of her. And without her, she would certainly feel as though she was missing a limb. But she knew she could not show her friend her sorrow, for she had to let her go on her way, just as she had to go on hers. In any case, they would be friends for all of their lives, she was certain of it.
“Faith, Elizabeth Carmichael, do not be silly. I shall be as happy for you as you are for me.”
Betsy tilted her head to the side and frowned.
“As you wish. Lady Hazelshire has introduced me to a number of ladies in need of a governess and I am almost certain that I have a position with Lady Portsmouth.”
“Lady Portsmouth? That is wonderful news. I hear their home is magnificent indeed, and she is a nice young woman, only a few years older than us.”
The Portsmouth’s Estate was located in Bedfordshire, only one county over from where Crawford Castle, the Duke of Thornmouth’s country home, was located. She would be able to see her friend, though not as often as she’d like, but more than she’d feared. Her relief appeared apparent to Betsy, whose eyes widened.
“Do you know her well, then? It seems you do.”
Rowena shook her head. “I know her, although to say I know her well would be a lie. Margaret knows her. I believe they were quite friendly.”
“Faith, I had quite forgotten that Lady Dorset was from Bedfordshire. Of course, they would know one another.”
She glanced at her friend, an unspoken question on her face. Rowena smiled.
“I shall inquire about them once Margaret returns from Shropshire with Charles. I will find out more about the Portsmouths, do not worry yourself. When are you to start?”
Betsy shrugged, “I am to meet with her and the children this upcoming Thursday, after the ball. If it all goes well, then I am to start as soon as possible.” She paused and bit her bottom lip.
“What it is? You look as though you are not telling me everything.”
“I am not. It is why I was going to wait until after the ball. After you met the Duke and saw that your future is as bright as the sun.”
Rowena stopped. Betsy’s words did not comfort her at all. “Tell me, please.”
Betsy raised her shoulders and let them drop with some force.
“Lord Portsmouth does not wish to remain in London for all of the Season. They will be returning to their country estate next month, early June. And I am to go with them.”
“In June? That is only two weeks away. Faith, Betsy. I hoped we would at least have one last Season together before we each must begin these new chapters in our lives. Stroll the parks, eat sweets, go to the theater…who am I to do these things with if not with you, my best friend?”
“I know, I was ever so eager to go to the Menagerie with you once more. Alas, it cannot be helped. The Portsmouths are a very wealthy family and their children are young. I could have a secured position with them for many years. And it is so very near His Grace’s estate that we could see one another often.”
Rowena nodded and linked her arm with Betsy. She wet her lips.
“It is a wonderful opportunity, to be sure. If we must move on with our lives at least we will not be too far from each other.” She looked at Betsy and broke into a grin. “In fact, I had a thought. Maybe one day, when I have a child you can come and be my governess.”
Betsy’s eyes sparked. “Yes! Faith, yes. It would be glorious, would it not?”
Rowena could not help but giggle. “It would be. And perhaps it could be soon. I am to wed within the year. Perhaps within two years, God willing, there could be a child already. Once the child no longer needs a nurse, you can be their governess.”
They resumed their walk, both now carrying a content smile on their faces. The idea suddenly filled Rowena with hope for the future.
If I can have my dearest friend in my life, perhaps the idea of being wed to the Duke is not quite so frightening. As long as he agrees to let her come.
Rowena found herself totally mesmerized by the idea of having her friend become governess to her future child. It was almost as if, out of nowhere, she’d been handed a rope to keep herself above the wa
ter; to help her through these next few vexing days. Perhaps Betsy was right. The Duke could turn out to be a wonderful man with nothing on his mind but her happiness.
Perhaps after all the fretting and worrying, there was a light at the end of it all. For the rest of the afternoon, Rowena found herself light and hopeful.
That evening, Rowena was seated in the drawing room with Pugsley, her mother’s pug by her feet. She squinted at the embroidery project she had been working on for the past fortnight and shook her head. Noticing imperfections in the tulip she’d been stitching, she shook her head. It was useless, she had no talent for it. She turned the project around and began to pull out the stiches she’d spent the last hour inserting.
A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke Page 5
