Mallory laughed. “I suppose it does at that. He’s a very private man. On the other hand, when the mood strikes, his tongue wags as well as the rest of ours and there’s scarcely any shutting him up.”
The idea of a loquacious Edward sounded unlikely yet intriguing. He was always so formal and precise. Although there’d been nothing formal about their kiss, an experience that had the power to resonate within her even now.
To her sudden relief, she had no more time to contemplate such notions as Mallory stopped and opened a door. “This,” the other young woman declared, “is your room. For the time being at least. Once you marry Edward, you will move into the duchess’s suite in his section of the house.”
“He has a section?”
“Oh yes. Though nothing so large as at Braebourne. He has an entire wing there. But come, tell me what you think.”
Gazing around, Claire decided the room was utterly charming. And soothing, done in muted tones of peach and rose with sheer, warm-white curtains and a rectangular rug decorated with tiny, gold Grecian keys. The satinwood furnishings were carved in a light, sophisticated style that harkened back to late in the last century, while the bed was wide and comfortable-looking—a pale rose counterpane spread invitingly over the plump feather tick.
“I think it’s simply lovely,” Claire murmured, smiling as she walked deeper into the chamber.
Mallory’s face lit with a smile. “Traditionally ducal brides-to-be stay in a room at the other end of the house, since it’s larger and overlooks the square. But Edward thought you might like this one better. The furnishings here are so airy and you have a gorgeous view of the garden. Plus it’s delightfully quiet in case you wish to sleep late once the Season begins.”
Edward suggested it? How unexpectedly thoughtful of him. And observant, since obviously he had realized she would like this room. Then again, after their last encounter, perhaps he was trying to placate her, butter her up a bit so she would fall in with his wishes more easily.
“His Grace is most kind,” she said.
“Ned is, actually, even if he puts on a stern face sometimes. All of us just hate to disappoint him, though we still do so with depressing frequency,” Mallory said, adding a humorous smile at the last.
Yes, well, I plan to disappoint him quite severely if I have my way.
“I should leave you to change and rest,” Mallory said. “Let me know if there’s anything you need, even if it’s only to talk.”
Claire’s mood softened, finding herself liking Edward’s sister a great deal, probably more than she ought. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner, if not before.”
Mallory nodded, then turned toward the door. As she did, a flash of light sparkled on her hand, Claire’s gaze going straight to the gleaming ring on Mallory’s finger. “Oh,” Claire said without thinking, “do you have one too?”
“One what?”
“A ring. I didn’t realize that you are engaged as well.”
Mallory held out her left hand, staring for a moment at the gemstone. “Yes.”
“Will the wedding be soon?”
“No, not soon. Michael is away fighting on the Peninsula. I would wed him in a heartbeat, but he wants to wait until things are more settled with the war. He won’t hear of me going abroad with him. He says I’ll be safer and happier staying here and I suppose he’s right. Still…”
“Yes?”
“It’s very hard to wait, and worry, though I do my best to keep my spirits high. Which is why I’m so vastly glad you’ve come to stay. The Season will start soon. Before it does we can visit all the shops on Bond Street. Do say you love to shop.”
Given her father’s frugal ways and edicts, Claire had long ago resorted to finding other methods of entertaining herself, namely ones that did not involve spending money. However, just because she’d trained herself to be frugal didn’t mean the spending impulse wasn’t still there.
“Of course I do,” Claire said. “What woman doesn’t love to shop? And I am in need of a new pair of gloves and some handkerchiefs to refurbish my current supply.”
Mallory’s aquamarine gaze sparkled with a knowing light. “Oh, you’re to have a great deal more than that. Have you not heard? Edward has agreed to give you a trousseau. Whatever you like. I heard him say so myself.”
Claire stood in astonishment. “No, I was not aware.”
Leave it to Papa to convince the duke to pay for my wardrobe.
“I’m to take you in hand,” Mallory continued. “With your mama’s help, of course. You’re to be outfitted from head to foot. I can scarcely wait.”
“Neither can I, it would seem.”
“Well, I had best leave before I talk your ear all the way off your head. Until later.”
“Until later.”
Dinner that evening was a quiet family affair. Or at least it would have been quiet had Claire and her mother been residing with anyone other than the Byrons.
Despite the elegant atmosphere and delectable, sophisticated cuisine, Claire soon realized that the Byrons were as talkative and lively as Mallory had told her. Particularly the twins, Lords Leopold and Lawrence, who lounged in their chairs like a pair of sleek young hunting cats, devilment dancing in their warm hazel eyes as they ate their dinner and sipped from their glasses of wine.
Even now, as the entire family made its way to the drawing room for after-dinner tea and brandy, Claire found herself struggling to tell them apart. Identical as two peas, the twins were both tall and leanly broad-shouldered, with heads of thick golden brown hair and faces so handsome she was sure they regularly drew admiring sighs and wistful glances from any number of hopeful ladies. Were it not for the fact that one twin had a slightly greater amount of green in his green and gold eyes, she would have no hope of distinguishing one from the other.
And then there was Lord Drake, who had put aside one of his experiments for the evening so he could meet her. He was tall and dark with the same gorgeous features as the rest of his siblings. And charming, at least when he paid attention long enough to make the effort.
Earlier, Edward had informed her in a proud, serious tone that Lord Drake was a genius who held several advanced degrees from Oxford and Cambridge. His theoretical work was lauded in the scientific and mathematical communities, and if Drake occasionally appeared to drift away, it was merely because he was having one of his insights.
She found Drake equally amusing and endearing, with a keen intellect that clearly took him off into worlds of thought that she imagined only a handful of other people on the planet could even attempt to understand.
Watching now from her place on the sofa, she saw him draw a pencil out of his jacket pocket and begin scribbling something on the back of a calling card. A fresh flash of genius, she assumed.
“Tea?” asked a honeyed masculine voice near her left ear.
“Or sherry?” inquired an identical voice from her right.
Quick as a pair of foxes, the twins took up flanking positions on the sofa, pinning her neatly in between. Glancing from one to the other, she laughed. “At the moment, I’m not sure.”
The greener-eyed one—Leo, she believed—sent her a dashing smile. “Not to worry, there are plenty of hours left in the evening.”
“Exactly,” the twin she surmised to be Lord Lawrence agreed.
“I admit I can see why Edward has kept you hidden in the country all these years,” Leo continued. “You’re quite a beauty.”
“He probably worried one of us might try to steal you away.” Lawrence leaned a hand on the back of the sofa.
“Most definitely,” Leo agreed. “Shall we try to lure you away now?”
The brothers exchanged wicked looks and chuckled in tandem.
“How old did you say the two of you are?” Claire ventured, suddenly feeling out of her element.
“Eighteen,” Lawrence said.
“Nineteen, this July,” Leo clarified.
Thirty is more like, she thought. She was three ye
ars their senior and yet she felt a complete innocent in their midst. “Is this really your first Season?” she asked.
Two dark golden brown heads nodded, while two identical mouths smiled.
“Your first too, I understand,” said Leo. “Vastly exciting, ain’t it? I can hardly wait for the parties to begin.”
“Although we’ve gone to a few already,” Lawrence volunteered. “None to which we could escort a lady, however.”
Before she had a chance to reply to that salvo, Edward appeared. “Enough, you two,” he said. “I believe you’re scaring my fiancée to death.”
“No!” denied Leo, his attractive brows drawing close.
“’Course we aren’t,” protested Lawrence. “Are we, dear Lady Claire?”
“Well, I…” she began.
“See,” Edward said, “you’ve thoroughly discomposed her and on her very first evening in Town. The both of you owe Lady Claire an apology.”
Before her eyes, their suave bravado fell away. “We didn’t mean any disrespect. Truly,” Lawrence defended, abruptly sounding his eighteen years.
“Not a bit. We were only teasing and having a little fun,” Leo added with equal chagrin.
“You can have fun at someone else’s expense.” Crossing his arms, Edward fell silent, his disapproval plain.
In unison, the twins sprang off the couch, each one reaching in turn for her hand.
Lawrence went first, bowing low. “I most humbly beg your forgiveness, if my behaviour has offended you in any way.”
“And I as well,” Leo said, sincerity plain in his hazel eyes. “We’re thoughtless buffoons sometimes. We know you are to be our sister and are deuced glad of it. Pray say you forgive us so we may begin again.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said, “but you have it nonetheless.”
After making her another pair of respectful bows, they strolled across the room and took up places next to the fireplace, dark golden brown heads bent together in consultation.
Edward reached down a hand to draw her to her feet. “Sorry about that.”
“Honestly, I wasn’t alarmed or offended,” she said, as she let him assist her from the sofa. “They just surprised me is all. You need not have been so severe upon them, you know. They are just boys.”
“They’re a plague, is what they are. A pair of inveterate flirts and scapegraces, who are going to make my life a misery over the next few months. I can only imagine the peccadilloes into which they are sure to land themselves. I probably ought to save myself the trouble and send the both of them packing back to Braebourne.”
Without thinking, Claire laid a hand on his sleeve. “I hope you will not. I should hate to be the cause of any discord.” At least not the kind that didn’t involve her own personal issues with him.
He nodded. “I hope they’ll realize and be grateful that they have you to thank for their reprieve.”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “You wouldn’t really have sent them away, would you, Your Grace?”
A long moment passed before he gave an enigmatic smile. Tucking her hand more tightly against his arm, he drew her into a slow walk. “We haven’t had a chance to speak privately since you arrived. How are you finding the house? Is everything to your liking?”
“Yes, very much. You have a beautiful home.”
His gaze met and held her own. “I am glad you approve.”
For a few seconds she couldn’t look away, her skin tingling as she realized precisely how close they were standing together, near enough that she could feel the warmth of his body through his sleeve and catch the clean scents of soap and man hidden in the clothing he wore. She found herself wanting to lean closer. Then called herself ten times a ninny for the impulse.
“My hope over the next few weeks,” Edward said, “is that you will begin to think of this as your home. Because it is, you know. Or at least it shall be soon.”
Trembling, she lowered her gaze.
“I see that Mallory is making her way to the pianoforte,” he observed. “Perhaps you might care to join her for a song? I understand that you have an excellent singing voice.”
“It is nothing remarkable, I assure you, Your Grace.”
“Edward,” he reminded. “And that is not what your mother says. Lady Edgewater informs me that you sing so sweetly you put canaries to shame.”
She gave a dismissive shrug. “Despite my mother’s praise, I don’t believe that canaries have anything to repine over.”
“Nevertheless,” he said, drawing them to a halt next to the richly polished pianoforte, “I should like to hear you sing. Mallory, what do you say to accompanying Lady Claire in a song?”
Mallory’s face brightened. “Of course. Have you any favourites?”
“Your Grace…Edward,” Claire corrected. “I would really rather not perform tonight.”
“But we are all family here,” he said. “I would not ask otherwise, and I think you will find us a kind and generous audience.”
“Oh, do say we may make a duet together,” Mallory urged. “Your pretty voice will conceal any mistakes I may make in my playing.”
Claire chuckled and felt herself weaken. “Very well, since you both insist.”
Edward smiled, his deep blue gaze warming in a way that made her feel rather warm in return. With a bow, he excused himself and left her to consult with Mallory. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pause to converse with Lord Drake before he took up a seat at the far end of one of the Hepplewhite sofas.
Paying only partial attention to Mallory as she discussed which song to choose, Claire silently weighed her options. Without his intending to, she realized that Edward had given her an excellent opportunity to shock and displease him once again. Or try to at least.
Her mother was right that she often garnered praise from others for her singing. But what if tonight she sang poorly? What if she sounded like an off-key screech owl, making sounds so horrible they would all be covering their ears?
She smiled inwardly at the notion and were it only Edward in the room, she would definitely have proceeded with the plan. But considering her first failed attempt back home at Marsden Manor, she wasn’t necessarily confident of her success. Edward had seen through her ploy then. What if he did again?
Then too, there was the reaction she was sure to draw from her mother. Last time, after having her mother ring a peal over her head, she’d managed to convince Mama that she had only been playing a silly prank on the duke and that he’d found it vastly amusing. But she knew Mama would not condone a repetition of such antics, particularly in front of half of the duke’s family.
And then there were Edward’s siblings themselves, who had been nothing but kind to her. Somehow it didn’t seem fair to torture them in order to extricate herself from their brother.
Should she or shouldn’t she?
She was still considering her decision when Mallory took a seat at the pianoforte and played a few practice notes. “Ready?” Mallory asked, sending her an encouraging smile.
Nodding, Claire waited for the music to begin. Nerves writhed like a handful of little green snakes in her stomach, her pulse beating faster than normal. The song began, the notes racing quickly upon her as she tried to keep pace with the beat. And then the moment arrived.
Sing or don’t sing? Sing well or make a hash of it?
Pulling in a hasty breath, she decided at the last second to sing well.
Instead, the first note croaked from her throat, a cacophonous sound that erupted like a drunken belch that shot high at the end.
Her eyes widened, along with those of everyone else in the room.
Mallory’s gaze flashed upward, despite the fact that her fingers continued to move over the keyboard.
Edward’s dark brows drew tight, while the twins’ faces froze in mirror images of astonishment.
Lord Drake’s pencil fell still.
As for her mother, Claire didn’t have the nerve to glance in her direction.
Without asking her permission, one of the twins—Leo, she believed—poured a glass of wine and brought it across to her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, giving him a tiny smile.
Eyes twinkling, he winked at her before turning away.
“Shall we try again?” Mallory asked.
Lifting the wine to her lips, Claire took a long drink.
And so here she was with yet another chance to appal Edward. Several more murdered notes and a few remarks afterward about how much she loved to sing and the duke might indeed have second thoughts about saddling himself to a lifetime of potential auditory torture.
But as she gazed around the room at the others, she knew she still couldn’t go through with it. Taking another drink, she set the wine aside, then nodded to Mallory. “All right. Let’s try.”
A hush fell, as everyone waited to hear her next attempt.
This time when she began, her voice rang out clear and strong, each note rounded and sweet. Approval filled the room, along with relieved pleasure, the entire group relaxing to enjoy the music.
From his place on the sofa, Edward watched her, his gaze filled with contemplation and curiosity. And then he smiled, his mouth curving in a slow upward tilt that signalled the depth of his pleasure.
Pride swelled in her chest. Pride and something more, something treacherous that she had no business letting herself feel. Yet there it was nevertheless, an insidious need to earn his approval. To make him like her.
Love her?
Closing her eyes, she fought the weakness as she let her voice soar, intertwining with Mallory’s beautiful piano playing.
Seconds after she finished, applause rang out, together with huzzahs from the twins and enthusiastic clapping from Lord Drake. She smiled, a glow of accomplishment spreading through her chest. Then she gazed at Edward and found him not in his seat, but standing halfway across the room.
He was reading a note; the footman, who must have brought it, already exiting the room. Claire watched as Edward perused the missive, then folded the paper in half. She expected him to turn and rejoin the party, to re-join her. Instead, he tucked the note into his jacket pocket and crossed to murmur some quick aside to Drake. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he strode to the door and out of the room.
At The Duke's Pleasure Page 6
