It had left Aaron with no room for love. He considered Julia. Considered how elegant and proper she was. She would make a proper Duchess, a devoted and loyal wife. And yet, he found himself thinking idly about the maid—Eleanor. She had been so sincere, when she spoke of love. He envied her that belief—that hope.
He shook it all off, then got up, and rang for his valet to come and help him dress.
After changing, Aaron went down to supper. He was dressed in his tail suit, which was coal black, a nice white shirt, his best shoes.
In the withdrawing room, he poured himself a glass of scotch. He was the first there, for which he was glad. His thoughts had been so scattered, he warmed to the idea that he could have a few moments to gather himself.
The door opened, and Jack entered.
“Got one for me, Old Man?” Jack asked. He was only seven years younger than Aaron. Sometimes, the age difference felt much larger. No duty was lain down on Jack’s shoulders when their father had died prematurely. He had gone on as he had been—focusing on his schooling. Meanwhile, Aaron had had to take control over the estate.
“Of course,” Aaron replied, pouring a few fingers into another glass.
“So? What do you think of Lady Julia?” Jack wondered aloud, taking a sip.
“She’s not what I expected,” he replied.
Jack beamed. “Mother will be pleased to hear that.”
“I’m sure that she will. Which is why you mustn’t tell her.”
“Why not? Isn’t it good news?”
“Can’t I figure it out for myself before she starts congratulating herself?” Honestly, was nothing a secret? He had often felt jealous about the close relationship between Louisa and Jack. While Aaron had been close with his father, his mother had passed when he was young.
“Very well,” Jack said, pouting a little. “I’ll keep your secret.”
“Thank you.”
The ladies all entered then in a cloud of brightly colored silks, and glistening jewels.
As usual, the Dowager Duchess took Lady Whitecier aside, and Jack wandered off, leaving Aaron standing beside Lady Julia. She was resplendent in a peacock-blue silk dress. Unlike Lady Whitecier and the Dowager Duchess, she wore only a single strand of pearls.
“How do you find your quarters?” he asked her, playing the attentive host.
“Quite comfortable, Your Grace,” she replied. “My maid said that you helped her find the servants’ hallway. Thank you for helping Eleanor. I cannot bear to think of her, wandering the halls lost.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied. “If I didn’t know the place so well, I’d surely get lost as well.” He was curious to know more about the enchanting maiden who had never been anywhere before.
“She’s very bright. And kind,” Lady Julia added. “Since we’re so close in age, and she needed employment, it was the natural conclusion. She’s very good at what she does. I’m very fortunate to have her.”
“I’m sure,” he replied.
“We were playmates when we were young,” Lady Julia said, smiling. “It takes quite a lot to get Eleanor down. She’s always so happy.” She sighed. “I wish I could bottle up a little of her joy.”
They both smiled at each other. His curiosity was piqued, but just then, the gong rang for dinner. He offered Lady Julia his arm, and together, they walked into the dining room, which was lit up. As they entered, Mr. Stanley appeared, and behind him, was Arthur.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Stanley said. “Lord Felton has arrived.”
“Arthur!” Aaron said, pleased to see his friend. “You’re late!”
“Much apologies, Your Grace,” Arthur replied. “I came as soon as I could.”
When Aaron turned toward the company to make introductions he was met with a look of displeasure on his step-mother’s face. It gave him pause, wondering if she was about to speak out against Arthur. Her eyes met Aaron’s.
No, he thought, daring her. This is my house. My rules.
Chapter 4
After she’d eaten her own dinner in the servants’ dining room, she had dressed in one of her sober gray muslin dresses. She had been tucked into the corner in the parlor. She sat, looking around at all of the finely dressed people.
She was there, on the off-chance that the Duke and Lady Julia should need a chaperone. Perhaps, to go and take a stroll of the gardens before it got too dark. Or even, to go and visit the gallery of art upstairs, which Eleanor only knew about because the Duke had promised to take Lady Julia to see it. Lady Julia had been very excited at the prospect.
Eleanor sat in the corner, listening in to all of the conversations. She had seen members of the ton, when they had come to Clayriver Manor. Everything was so unfamiliar to her. She wondered what she would do, when Lady Julia married and came here to live. She felt like she didn’t belong here, even if it was a job.
She looked around, her eyes going to Lady Julia and the Duke. She froze, when she saw that he was watching her. Her face went hot. He smiled at her, his eyes taking on a strange glint. She looked away, her heart racing.
Only the stable lad at Clayriver Manor had ever looked at her in that way. Though, she had never returned his feelings. A similar heat welled up inside of her, warming her skin, when the Duke looked at her in that way. It made her heart race.
“Lady Julia’s chaperone, I presume?”
Eleanor glanced up toward the male voice, finding herself being addressed by a bespectacled gentleman with pale, downy hair. He was well-dressed, just like the others, though less ostentatiously than the Duke and his brother, Lord Jack Ayles.
“Yes,” she said, standing up. He was unfamiliar to her.
“I apologize,” he said. “I arrived in the middle of supper, which the Dowager Duchess has already informed me is horribly rude.”
“I’m Eleanor Betham,” she replied.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the gentleman replied. “I’m Arthur Felton. The Viscount of Mallen.”
Eleanor felt odd at being addressed. He was a Lord and she was but a maid. He was studying her closely.
“Have we met before?” he asked.
“No, My Lord,” she replied.
“You remind me of someone that I’ve met, but I can’t recall who.”
“I can’t see how. This is my first time among anyone of the ton.”
“Strange,” he murmured. “I am clearly mistaken.” He laughed, softly, shaking his head. “You do seem as though you aren’t quite at your ease. However, I would advise you to pretend that you are.” He looked at her. “You belong here more than I.”
“I see, My Lord.” She had been expecting him to bring up the somber state of her dress. However, she was relieved that he did not.
“I’m just a Viscount, you see. Among this company, I barely rate.”
“Much better than an orphan and a lady’s maid, I imagine,” she replied.
“You don’t say?” He adjusted his spectacles on his nose as he looked at her with open curiosity.
“It’s true,” she admitted. “Although, I was raised by a wonderful woman, who treated me like her own daughter,” she told him. “She’s always been very kind to me.”
“Well, I suppose it was a happy accident for you.”
“Very much so.”
“Interesting, interesting. And now, you’re a lady’s maid?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor noticed that the Duke and Lady Julia were approaching them. She curtsied. When she raised her eyes, the Duke was beaming.
“Ah, Eleanor, I see you’ve made the acquaintance of my dear friend, Lord Mallen.”
“She has indeed,” Lord Mallen said.
“His Grace wants to show me the gallery,” Lady Julia told Eleanor.
“I won’t keep you,” Lord Mallen said, bowing and then retreating. Eleanor followed Lady Julia and the Duke from the room.
Aaron kept his attention on Lady Julia, while they walked the gallery of art work, which had been gathered by the l
ong line of Dukes of Durnsott over the years. It was an impressive collection; even he had to admit it.
“This is a Rembrandt,” he commented, as they paused in front of a hazy, light-filled work.
“Oh,” Lady Julia gasped, her hand going to her lips. “I always like how he uses light and shadow.” She turned toward Eleanor. “Do you see this?”
Aaron, curious to see how the maid would react, stepped aside to allow her space. Her eyes widened as she looked at it.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted. “It’s very beautiful.”
“My Mother and I saw an exhibition of Rembrandt paintings when it was at the National Gallery in London last year,” Lady Julia said. “I told you all about it.”
“I recall,” Eleanor replied. “Though I certainly didn’t imagine this when you described it.”
Looking at the two of them, side by side, he was struck by how naturally he was drawn to the lady’s maid, and not the lady. He turned away from them, if only to escape his own inclinations.
Aaron walked on, slowly. He heard the soft sound of footsteps, so he paused by the next work of art. It was in the Rococo style—a new one, which his step-mother had purchased. He glanced over at Lady Julia, who smiled serenely at him.
She has no idea.
It was a thought coupled with relief. He imagined that he was feeling this way because his step-mother had forced him into it. Perhaps, his own mind was playing tricks on him. He offered Lady Julia his arm. She accepted it, placing her delicate, white-gloved hand on it. He could smell her perfume—a mix of rose and gardenia. It was light.
“I heard from my Father that he’s looking to make a political alliance through our marriage,” she commented.
“Yes,” he replied, turning his gaze toward her.
“It is strange, is it not, that we are mere pawns?” she asked, clearly a little hesitant on that regard.
“I like to think myself a person, with feelings,” he replied. “Though we might wed for a political alliance, I hope that we can meet on a more…human level.”
“Do you believe in marrying for love?” she asked.
Suddenly, he could sense Eleanor’s presence, behind them. He could feel her, listening. And he wondered what she could be thinking.
“I once did,” he replied, honestly.
“But you do not now?” Lady Julia asked, frowning delicately.
“No. Not anymore. That’s all I can say about it.”
She nodded, though she didn’t press any further. He regarded her closely. She looked back, smiling hopefully. She was very pretty. She was intelligent, kind—a lady of the ton. Everything that he should want in a wife.
“I hope that someday, we can meet on a human level, as you say.”
“Perhaps we can,” he replied, smiling. “Shall we return to the rest of the party?”
“Of course.” Lady Julia was beaming. Aaron wished that he could take more pleasure in that radiant smile. He glanced back, at Eleanor. Her face was turned away, as she looked at a painting of a woodland scene. He wondered again what she was thinking.
Eleanor was helping Julia undress for the evening. She unlaced Lady Julia’s corset, tugging at the strings. Lady Julia was in a bright mood, and she had barely stopped talking from the moment that the door to the bed chamber had closed after them.
“He says that he does not believe in love,” Julia was saying, even though Eleanor had been there, and heard everything. “But that he hopes that we can meet on a human level. I suppose, given the reason for the match, it’s the best that I can hope for. No matter what you say of love and romance.”
“He does seem very kind and genteel,” Eleanor said carefully as she helped to put the nightgown over Lady Julia’s head. She then brought Lady Julia her silk peignoir, holding it up so she could put her arms in the sleeves.
“He’s everything that I’ve always hoped for in a husband,” Lady Julia remarked, going to sit down at the dressing table. “He’s handsome, kind…”
“I’m happy for you, My Lady,” Eleanor said as she began to pull the pins from Lady Julia’s hair. “It seems like the two of you were made for each other.”
As she said it, she felt sad. She recalled the way that His Grace watched her. She didn’t know enough about gentlemen or even men to know how to read it, but it sent a thrill down her spine. She could never aspire to marry a Duke—not in her wildest dreams. But it sounded like he had no interest in romance, which was something that Eleanor craved.
“All I have to do is to get along with the Dowager Duchess.” Lady Julia was looking at her own reflection in the mirror.
“That is an intimidating thing, indeed,” Eleanor agreed. “Isn’t she the one who invited you here?”
“Yes. I believe she is.”
“So, then she must be interested in you.”
“I don’t know.” Lady Julia sighed. “I saw you talking to Lord Felton.”
“Yes. He was very kind to me.”
“Hm,” Lady Julia said, widening her eyes suggestively.
“He’s still a Viscount,” Eleanor told her, “and I am entirely common.” She began to brush Lady Julia’s hair.
“True,” Lady Julia said, wrinkling her nose. “What if you meet an ordinary man? One who falls madly in love with you?”
“That’s precisely what I hope for,” Eleanor told her.
“And then what?” Lady Julia asked. “I suppose you’ll leave me.”
“No. I rather like having a job,” she replied as she worked. “No. We’ll have a small house, perhaps in the village. I’ll walk here every morning.”
“No! You shall have a horse to ride,” Lady Julia said, laughing. “You so love them.”
Eleanor beamed, giggling. “Very well, then, I shall have a horse,” she went on, playing their game. “She will be dapple gray and very stout. And we shall come here, and I shall dress you in all your fine silks and muslins.”
“I don’t know what I would do without you.” Lady Julia said, grinning.
“Mellicent would dress you,” Eleanor replied, her eyes wide.
“She’s very stern.” Lady Julia shuddered. They both laughed. Mellicent was a forbidding presence. She seemed to lack the ability to smile or joke at all.
“Indeed she is.”
“She tugs my hair when she brushes it,” Lady Julia added. “And you never do.” Eleanor beamed as Lady Julia squeezed her hand. “Oh, Eleanor! I’m so nervous.”
“Don’t be, My Lady. When you’re yourself, everyone loves you.”
Lady Julia smiled, which was what Eleanor had wanted to happen. After all, Lady Julia had been born to be a Duchess. She would be perfect in the role. Eleanor was merely a lady’s maid. She could easily be replaced, should she choose to remain at Clayriver Manor.
It was growing very late. Aaron and Arthur had retired to the library, where they were sipping brandy and talking. He leaned back into the leather armchair.
“What ails you, my friend?” Arthur asked. His spectacles caught the light from the candelabra.
Aaron sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”
“How do you find Lady Julia?” Arthur asked, curiously.
“She is very kind,” he said. “Intelligent. Everything that I should want in a bride.” He took a deep sip from his glass.
“But?” Arthur asked.
Aaron shrugged. “Nothing. I suppose I just need to spend more time getting to know her. This is the first time I’ve seen her since we were children. She’s practically a stranger to me.”
“Very well.” Arthur turned his face away, in an effort to hide his smile, and Aaron caught it.
“You’re smiling, Arthur.”
“I’m not.”
“You are! What is it?”
“Well, I just wonder—is it that you believe you’re going to get hurt again if you open your heart to another?”
“You know me far too well,” he replied.
“That was years ago,” his friend pointed
out. “Lady Julia is not Lady Antonia. I don’t think that she’s going to act in a manner so vile and heartless.”
Undressed to Impress the Duke : A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 3
