Henry sighed. “Distract them? How? With a magic trick?”
“You have your head in books all day long. Does it not inspire your imagination? I rely on you, brother.”
“Very well,” Henry muttered and made his way back to the table where dessert was about to be served. “Havisham House will indeed be entirely mine by the time this is all over and done with,” he said under his breath but loud enough for Christopher to hear.
When they returned to the table for the dessert course Christopher felt so full that he did not think he could eat another thing. However, the Earl had indeed spared no expense and the table was once again laden with offerings.
“Are these lemon cheesecake bites?” Henry said with his eyes wide. Christopher smiled, for his brother was all but salivating over the cake.
“They are! They are my favorite,” Lady Catherine said and took a piece for herself. She was about to reach for the Bath buns which were laid out next to the cake when Lady Hazelshire cleared her throat, causing the young girl to remove her hand.
Beside him, Lady Rowena had reached for the smallest piece of tea cake. He noted how she looked toward her mother who gave her an almost unperceivable nod.
“Do you not care for the cheesecake, Lady Rowena?” he leaned in and asked quietly. She turned and dropped her voice.
“I do, Your Grace. I am fond of all sweets, especially the Bath buns. However, my Mother does not approve. She is ever worried about our waist lines, Papa’s included. Otherwise, I would have two pieces,” she giggled a little when she said it, and the sound brought him an immense feeling of joy.
“Perhaps I shall smuggle a piece out for you.” He was delighted when she responded with another suppressed laugh. Showing that he was entirely serious, he reached for the buns, placing two pieces on his plate. Then, making a great show of looking around to table to ensure nobody was watching, he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket.
“And now, for the maneuver…” He winked at her and slipped the wrapped bun into his inside pocket. “Ready for the Lady’s enjoyment later on this evening.”
“You are not like any of the other lords I’ve met, Your Grace. Now we must only find occasion to exchange the contraband.”
It was a compliment. Of this, he was certain.
“I simply aim to please, Lady Rowena. And we shall, in the drawing room after dinner.”
They smiled at one another and for a moment, Christopher felt as though there was nobody else in the room but the two of them. Wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. He would have gladly remained this way beside her for the rest of the evening, but reality caught up to him much sooner than he’d hoped.
From across the table, the sound of someone clearing their throat drifted to his ear. It was Henry, alerting him to the fact that he was losing his sense of place. At once, he saw Lady Catherine looking from him to her sister and back, her face darkening.
Christopher swallowed, suddenly reminded of the fact that he did not simply have to win over Lady Rowena any longer. He had to do it by also convincing the Earl that he was not the right match for his younger daughter and do so without causing the young girl humiliation.
He closed his eyes, wincing at the pounding headache which insisted on making its way toward his forehead. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Lady Rowena once more as she stole a glimpse at his face. She blinked at him and flashed a tiny smile before turning her attention back to her mother.
It was a small gesture, a small smile, but it was enough. Yes, it was enough to convince Christopher once more that it would all be worth it.
Chapter 16
The party was settling in the drawing room, or as Rowena and Betsy liked to call it, the gilded cage. Her father was occupied with the young Mister Newmont, no doubt deep in conversation regarding their fledgling business. Catherine on the other hand, had taken the opportunity to converse further with the Duke. Although, and she had to admit this pleased her immensely, he continuously looked in her direction, so much so that it did not escape Betsy’s attention.
“Rowena, I cannot believe I am saying this, but you are enamored of him, are you not?”
“Shh,” Rowena hushed, even though nobody was near them. “I am–” She wanted to deny it but there was no way she could. Her friend knew her all too well.
“It is true. I have tried my best to not look at him, not engage with him, but I cannot help myself. I long to talk with him.” She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from grinning as she leaned in closer to her friend. “He spirited a Bath bun away for me to indulge in later as I told him Mama is very restrictive of our sweets.”
Betsy broke into giggles. “Indeed, he did? How charming. He does appear besotted with you.”
Rowena’s eyes grew large. “Do you believe the others have noticed?”
Betsy shook her head, an eye on Rowena’s father who was still engaged with the Duke’s brother. “I should think not. It is only I who noticed, for I looked for signs. We must find a way for you to engage with him.
Rowena sighed and glanced over at her sister, who was beaming at the Duke while he appeared rather bored.
“I am ever so torn, Betsy. I–” Before she could say another word, Betsy had raised her hand and waved at Catherine.
“Join us for a game of whist, the both of you.”
“Betsy!”
In response, her friend simply shrugged. Rowena felt her back stiffen as her sister and the Duke came toward them and took a seat across from them.
“I adore whist. Don’t you, Your Grace?” Catherine purred; her head tilted to the side. Rowena felt the urge to roll her eyes at her sister but refrained. If it were not for her own feelings for the Duke, she would be in complete support of her sister’s flirtatious ways. She was, after all, out in society now and in need of a husband.
“I play, but it is no passion of mine. I much prefer chess.”
Rowena’s heart jumped. “Chess?”
He nodded as he picked up the cards that Catherine had just dealt.
“My Father taught me when I was a very young boy. It was one of the few activities I could share with him.”
“Rowena plays chess frequently with his His Lordship,” Betsy quickly said. The Duke’s eyes grew wide as a smile appeared on his handsome face.
“Is that so? Well, perhaps one of these days I shall challenge you to a game.”
“If you enjoy losing to a woman, certainly,” Rowena replied, surprised at her own feistiness.
“I take it as a challenge accepted then, Lady Rowena.”
Catherine glared at Rowena, for she was taking the attention from the man her sister already considered her own. Not knowing, of course, that Rowena had lost her heart to the Duke.
To avoid further antagonizing her sister, Rowena decided to change the topic to something her sister could participate in. As she played her hand, she smiled at her sister.
“Catherine, how is your Latin coming along? I heard you mention it at dinner.”
Her sister’s face brightened. “As I told the Duke, it’s been ever so difficult, but I am making progress, Rowena.” She turned her head toward the Duke who was currently scanning his cards in deep concentration.
“Your Grace, do you speak any languages other than English?”
He looked up over the rim of the cards.
“In fact, I do. I speak a little Hindi, from my time in India.”
“India? Is that so? You must tell me all about it.”
Rowena shook her head, knowing full well that Catherine had no interest in travel. She found the journey from their country home to London taxing. For the sake of the Duke, however, Catherine turned herself into a keen traveler.
She does what she was raised to do, as was I. Present ourselves as that what our intended wishes to see. Whatever pleases our future husband. Whatever pleases society.
Suddenly, Rowena found herself growing angry at it all. The way she’d been raised by her parents to be pr
im and proper. The way she was expected to marry not for love, but convenience. The way all the women in their society were nothing but pawns in the hands of the men around them.
Her eyes fell on Betsy.
Perhaps she was indeed the lucky one. Despite her poverty and tragic upbringing, Betsy had a choice. She could be a governess. Or a teacher. Or a nun. Or, if she wished, a wife and mother. Nobody was forcing her to choose any one path in life.
She sat her cards down, feeling hot with a rage she had never known before.
“I am ever so sorry, but I feel the need to take the air. I am feeling rather faint.”
Beside her, Betsy jumped up. “Should I accompany you?’
“No, it is quite alright. Remain here and entertain our guests.”
With that, Rowena made her way past her father, who looked up from his conversation with Mister Newmont in surprise, as she fled out the door.
Rowena slipped out of the back door into the small garden that lay beyond the house. An apple tree was in bloom beside a mighty oak. The setting sunrays worked their way through the thick leaves, giving the evening a shimmering glow.
She sat on the bench under the oak tree and closed her eyes when the crunching sounds of feet walking across leaves raised her attention.
“Your Grace!” She jumped up when she saw him come her way.
“I did not mean to disturb you, but I grew worried when you departed with such haste.”
She blinked, thinking of what to say. The truth was that a part of her had hoped he would follow her. Yet another part of her was horrified at the idea of being alone with a stranger. The damage to her reputation! And what would the Duke of Thornmouth think? She shook her head. This was the kind of thinking that had been put into her head her entire life.
She lifted her head and smiled at the Duke.
“There was no need to worry. I simply needed to breathe the air.”
“May I?” he pointed at the bench she’d jumped up from.
“Of course,” she took her seat again and indicated for him to join her. When he did, she felt herself grow hot and cold all at once. The scent she’d been so bewitched by at the ball lingered about him once more.
He stuck his hand into the inside of his tailcoat and retrieved the well-wrapped Bath bun, handing it to her with a sheepish grin.
“I assume now is a safe time to give this to you. If you’d like to enjoy it now, I am more than willing to stand guard.”
“Perhaps His Grace might be willing to share?” she unwrapped the bun, making sure to keep the handkerchief spread across her gown to keep crumbs off it.
He gave her a slight nod and Rowena broke the precious bun in half, giving him the larger of the two.
He frowned. “May I?” he said before taking the smaller piece from her and placing the larger back into her lap. She decided to accept the gesture without protest and took a small, delicate bite of the bun.
“You are ever the lady, are you not?” he commented while taking a bite out of the bun that left almost nothing in his hand at all.
“It is how I was raised. To have perfect manners at all times,” she shrugged and placed another piece in her mouth. The sweetness filled her every sense and she closed her eyes for a moment, relishing it.
When she opened her eyes again, he saw that he was looking at her, his head cocked to one side.
“What is it? Your Grace is staring at me in the most alarming manner.”
He shook his head. “Nothing at all. I simply thought to myself that it must be exhausting for you, to have to be aware of how you carry yourself at all times. It must be a burden.”
She shrugged. “It is what I was born to do. And I hesitate to call it a burden. Not when there are others less fortunate than I. The little girls in the orphanage with nobody to look after them, or those in the poorhouse. They might look upon me and laugh if I said I felt my life a burden.”
She grew silent then. It was true that she often felt as if this life she was raised to have was cumbersome, but it was a gift compared to the hardships of others.
“We each carry out own lot, no matter what class,” the Duke said. “Although I understand you well. My Mother felt as you did. She spent a lot of her time at the local parish in Lancashire, raising funds for the Vicar and the nunnery. She was particularly fond of the Foundlings’ Hospital in Blackpool.”
“What an extraordinary woman she must have been,” while Rowena loved her mother, she could not imagine Lady Hazelshire engaging in such work.
“She was,” the Duke said, his voice thick with melancholy. To her surprise, she saw a tear spring into his eye and he wiped it away hastily. The urge to place her hand on his overcame her but she forced herself to keep it in her lap.
“Your Grace–” she began but he quickly forced a smile back on his face.
“No, let us not talk of such sad things. How are you enjoying your sweet?”
She looked at her lap where most of her half was still sitting. “I am enjoying it, thank you. I am simply trying to make it last, for I may not get another for some time. Not if my Mother has anything to do with it.”
He shook his head. “Dash it all! If you were my wife, you would have all the buns you could eat.”
She grew cold at his words and he appeared to understand at once that he’d overstepped the bounds of their uneasy connection.
“I apologize, Lady Rowena. I should not have…well. No. I should. I am not sorry at all. You must know how I feel about you. It is obvious to all.”
“I do.” She looked away, taken aback by this sudden, serious change in their conversation.
“And what of you, Lady Rowena Burton?”
“I am not…I cannot–” she shook her head quietly.
“Lady Rowena…” To her utter shock, he took ahold of her hand. The feeling of his skin on hers sent her entire world into a spin but she did not pull it away. She had no desire to. “You are a diamond of the first water. I have not been able to take my eyes off you since the first day I saw your portrait in your Father’s office. It might be silly of me, but I have imagined this, us, together and talking, for so long. And I have a strong feeling that you feel the same. Please, if I am making a cake of myself, tell me and I shall stop.”
“If I was a woman that could make her own destiny,” she said quietly, looking him in his beautiful eyes, “I would be ever too pleased at your declaration. I would tell you that I too feel the same, that I have thought of nothing but Your Grace ever since the ball. Alas, I cannot make my own destiny. I must do as my Father has planned. I must wed the Duke of Thornmouth, as much as I wish I did not. We are at a point non plus, Your Grace.”
She was shocked at her own words. She’d known them to be true. She’d carried these feelings in her heart with no intention of letting them escape her mouth. But something about him had forced her, something about him made her act against everything she’d ever been taught.
“You can make your own destiny, Rowena. We can–”
The Duke looked at her with pleading eyes and she felt herself melt at his word. She was about to reply when–
“Rowena, quickly. Your Mother is looking for you,” Betsy appeared in the door, her voice full of urgency. “You cannot let her see you out here.” Her eyes settled on the Duke. “Nor you, Your Grace. Follow me, quickly.”
Rowena got up, the handkerchief and bun still in hand and rushed up the steps into the house, the Duke behind her.
“Let me take this,” Betsy said and took the bun from her, tucking it safely away in the pocket of her dress. Footsteps could be heard on the marble floor, heading their way. Rowena looked around, panic rising.
“Rush up the servant staircase and then descend from the front, claiming to have recovered from a dreadful headache. The Duke and I will stroll in and I will say that I …”
“You have found me out in the garden, exploring on my own and we fell into conversation about…” he stopped for a moment, scratching his chin. Then he snapped h
is fingers. “Lord Portsmouth. We were conversing about Lord and Lady Portsmouth, given that I know him, and you are to work for him.”
Betsy’s pointed her index finger at him. “You are a genius indeed, Your Grace.”
“Betsy? Is it you I hear?” Lady Hazelshire’s voice called out.
A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke Page 12
