Bachelor Duke

by Mary Nichols

  ‘It is my pleasure,’ he said, smiling easily now and sounding as if he might mean it. ‘Shall we go?’ He offered both arms and the ladies took one each. The footman sprang to open the door and they went down the three steps to where the carriage waited.

  ‘Lady Carstairs is a very good friend of mine,’ Harriet explained as they rode. ‘She is also known for a society hostess of the first water. If you are invited to one of her soirées, then you know you will be accepted by the ton and more invitations will follow.’

  ‘Has she invited me?’ Sophie asked, meaning, had she been foisted on Lady Carstairs by Harriet; it would be difficult to refuse the sister of the Duke of Belfont.

  ‘Naturally she has. As soon as I told her about you, she wanted to meet you.’

  According to Harriet, the party was not to be a large one and she would soon get to know everyone, but when they were ushered into her ladyship’s salon, she found herself wondering what a large party might be like. The room was packed to suffocation, everyone talking and laughing at once; the clamour was unbelievable until the stentorian tones of the footman announced, ‘His Grace, the Duke of Belfont, Lady Harley, Miss Langford.’ The silence that followed was just as overwhelming as the noise had been as everyone stopped in mid-sentence to turn and look towards the entrance where the Duke stood, surveying the scene, his hand lightly under Sophie’s elbow.

  He exerted no particular pressure, but she could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin material of her sleeve and was grateful for it; such a light touch and yet so reassuring. He guided her into the room, followed by Harriet, and slowly the broken conversations were resumed, as Lady Carstairs came forward to greet them, her old-fashioned wide skirts billowing around her, a smile of gratification on her face.

  ‘Your Grace, you honour us. I had no idea—’ She stopped, suddenly aware of Sophie.

  ‘My lady, may I present my cousin, Miss Langford,’ he said.

  ‘Miss Langford, I am pleased to meet you. Lady Harley tells me you have recently come home from a protracted stay abroad.’

  ‘Yes, we could not come home because of the war,’ Sophie answered.

  ‘And now you are alone in the world.’

  ‘Not at all,’ James put in before she could answer. ‘Miss Langford has returned to live with her family.’

  ‘Of course.’ Aware of the set-down, she turned to Sophie. ‘One day you must tell us all about your adventures. But now, do enjoy this evening. We plan to have a little music on the pianoforte and a string quartet is to play for us. Later there will be a few country dances for the young people.’ She paused and addressed the Duke. ‘You will stay for those, will you not? I am sure your cousin will enjoy a measure or two.’

  He looked about him. There were dozens of young ladies whose mamas were giving them nudges and whispering. It was always the same whenever he appeared at a gathering like this, which was why he tried to avoid them. He could not, for the life of him, think why he had decided to come tonight. The sooner he escaped, the better. On the other hand, having offered to escort Sophie and his sister, he could hardly drag them away too soon. He bowed an acknowledgement.

  ‘Do you know everyone?’ She waved a hand in the direction of the throng. ‘If there is anyone…’

  He smiled, knowing she would love to be able to say she had introduced the Duke of Belfont to his future wife and that it was in her salon they had met and fallen in love. ‘Not at present,’ he said. ‘But I am sure my cousin would like to meet some of the company.’

  ‘Of course. Come, Miss Langford, I will make the introductions.’

  Sophie followed her into the throng and was soon trying to remember names and faces and the potted histories her hostess was giving her, as they moved from one group to the next. When her ladyship was called away, she found herself the centre of a group of young people, all wanting to know about Europe under Napoleon Bonaparte. ‘Were you imprisoned?’ one young man asked. His name was Theodore Buskin, the son of an admiral, she had been told when he was presented to her.

  ‘No, we were allowed to live at home and move about freely, but we could not leave. No doubt they were afraid we might pass on intelligence.’

  ‘And did you?’ It was asked eagerly.

  She laughed, suddenly enjoying their attention. ‘Now, that would be telling.’

  ‘You did!’ This from a young lady whose name escaped Sophie. She was dressed in bright pink with matching silk roses sewn all over her gown. Sophie thought she looked like an animated rose bush. ‘Oh, how exciting. And dangerous.’

  Sophie realised her error at once. She should have denied it instead of hinting like that. Now they were sure she had been involved in secret dealings, which was so far from the truth it was laughable. ‘We lived very ordinary lives,’ she went on, trying to retract, but by now they were determined she was being modest and that her life had been full of excitement.

  ‘Do tell us.’

  ‘There is nothing to tell.’

  ‘Gammon!’ another cried. ‘You surely do not expect us to believe you spent years living among the enemy and learned nothing at all. Unless, of course, you were on their side all along.’

  ‘We never were!’ She was angry, so angry her tongue ran away with her. ‘Papa was as patriotic an Englishman as any you could name. He would do anything, give his life, to help his country. It is uncivil of you to quiz me about it.’

  ‘I see, you are sworn to secrecy.’ Young Buskin tapped the side of his nose and smiled. ‘But the war has ended, it does not matter now.’

  ‘No?’ she queried, still incensed. ‘What about Napoleon’s promise to return? Do you think that was an idle boast?’

  They were divided on that issue and her question engendered a lively debate in which she took no part. Glad they seemed to have forgotten her, she tried to slip away, only to find herself confronted by a man who had been standing on the edge of the group, listening but saying nothing. He was older than the others, older even than the Duke, shorter than he was, dressed in a dark green coat and buff-coloured pantaloons. He bowed to her. ‘I collect, Miss Langford, that you wish to escape. Let me escort you back to Lady Harley.’

  He offered his arm, which she ignored. ‘Sir, I do not know you.’

  ‘That is only because James has forgot his manners. He should have made me known to you from the start.’ He sighed. ‘Like you, I am for ever condemned to be the poor relation.’

  ‘We are related?’ she queried.

  ‘Indeed we are.’ He bowed again. ‘Alfred Jessop, cousin to his Grace and therefore second cousin to you, and your obedient servant.’

  ‘Mr Jessop.’ She curtsied. ‘I would like to return to Lady Harley, but I am not sure where she is.’

  ‘In the music room, I think, waiting for the entertainment to begin.’

  ‘Then let us go there at once.’ She laid her fingers on his sleeve and together they walked out of the stuffy room and into the hall. ‘I am surprised Lady Harley did not mention you, Mr Jessop,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, she is always loyal to her brother and would stand buff for him whatever the circumstances.’

  ‘That is commendable, surely?’

  ‘Of course. But, Miss Langford, a word of warning. For all his charm, James Dersingham has a black heart. Do not become embroiled with him or you will surely regret it.’

  ‘Mr Jessop, how can you speak to me so? You do not know me—’

  ‘No, but I know the Duke of Belfont. He is an incorrigible rake who gambles with people’s lives. The path behind him is littered with broken hearts. Make sure yours is not one of them.’

  ‘Mr Jessop, please do not say any more. His Grace has shown me nothing but kindness and I will not listen.’

  He smiled. ‘No, you are right. I should not have spoken. Better to let you find out for yourself.’ He pushed open the door of the music room where rows of seats had been arranged around the instruments. ‘Ah, there is Harriet.’ He led the way to where Harriet sat. ‘I have re
turned our little cousin safely to you,’ he told her. ‘I am afraid she was being pestered by that bantling Buskin and his friends.’

  ‘Alfred, how do you do?’ Her ladyship’s greeting was cold.

  ‘I do well enough, though I could do better. I see the Duke is in fine form.’ He nodded to where James stood surrounded by eager young ladies, his smile a little stiff as he parried their questions. ‘Living up to his reputation.’

  ‘As a gentleman,’ Harriet said. ‘It is a pity you cannot take a leaf from his book.’

  He laughed harshly. ‘Oh, I shall, my dear cousin, when the time comes, I shall. Now, if you will excuse me, the music is about to begin and I do not care to stay for it.’ He bowed and strolled away, leaving Sophie to sink on to a chair beside Harriet with a sigh of relief.

  ‘He said he was your cousin,’ Sophie said when he was out of earshot.

  ‘So he is. He is the son of our Aunt Amelia and unfortunately James’s heir.’

  ‘You do not like him?’

  Harriet laughed. ‘He is a toad.’

  Sophie turned to look at his retreating back and chuckled. ‘Yes, he does remind one of a toad, all green and slimy. But that cannot be the reason you do not like him.’

  ‘No. He and James have never got on, not since childhood, but that doesn’t stop him from holding out his hand for largesse, especially when he loses at cards. Unfortunately James’s sense of family honour will not allow him to ignore the pleas, though he threatens to do so every time Alfred comes to him to pay his gambling debts.’ She paused. ‘Enough of him. Have you enjoyed meeting the other young people?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She said nothing of her faux pas. The young people were only having a little fun and would soon forget what was said. They were, she had realised, the same age as she was, perhaps a year or two younger in years, but infinitely younger in maturity. She need not bother her head about them.

  The musicians began tuning their instruments and James excused himself from his admirers and returned to sit beside Sophie. He did not look pleased; in fact, his face was black as thunder. She was tempted to ask what had angered him, but the music began before she could form the words. It was not until they were on their way home in the carriage that she learned the reason for his annoyance.

  Chapter Four

  The crowds in the streets prevented their coachman from making any speed and they were going at walking pace. ‘Fools!’ James said, referring to the press of bystanders. The crowds were made up of people from all walks of life, high and low mingling together, standing about to catch a glimpse of someone important, it did not matter who it was. ‘Haven’t they got homes to go to?’

  ‘James, what has put you into such a bad humour?’ Harriet asked. ‘You knew when you offered to escort us what the evening would be like.’

  ‘Yes, listening to a crowd of fribbles with nothing better to do than gossip and speculate and Alfred there, drinking it all in.’

  She laughed. ‘What else did you expect?’

  ‘I expected Miss Langford to have a little more sense.’

  ‘Me?’ queried Sophie in surprise. ‘What have I done?’

  He turned towards her and, though she could not see his expression in the gloom of the coach, she did not need light to tell he was angry; his voice was full of it. ‘What in heaven’s name possessed you to boast about intelligence gathering?’

  ‘I did not. They assumed—’

  ‘You must have given them good reason. Miss Langford’s father was a spy, I heard. He gathered intelligence about Napoleon’s intentions and died because of it—’

  ‘I never said that!’ she protested.

  ‘You didn’t need to, one hint, that’s all it takes.’

  ‘You are making something of nothing, your Grace. It was only a little fun. No one took it seriously.’

  ‘No? They took it seriously enough to repeat it. And then you had to imply you knew something of Napoleon’s intention to return.’

  ‘I was only repeating hearsay.’ She could not understand why a little harmless tattle could make him so annoyed. ‘All the way through France we heard it and I cannot believe it has not reached London.’

  ‘Oh, it has, but when someone comes from the source of it, so to speak, and hints they know something others do not, then who can blame the listeners for wondering and perhaps actively trying to find out the truth. It is a dangerous game you are playing, Miss Langford.’

  ‘Oh, that is ridiculous—’ She felt Harriet’s hand on her arm and stopped in full flow. Growing up as she had, surrounded by adults, and allowed to speak her mind, she had forgotten for a moment her debt to the Duke. And one simply did not argue with him.

  ‘James, do make allowances, please,’ Harriet begged him. ‘Sophie meant no harm. The war has ended in victory. There is no need to fly into the boughs.’

  He allowed the tension to drain from him and sat back in his seat. Perhaps he was being unreasonable. She was simply a foolish girl wanting to make an impression. It was unfortunate that it was the wrong impression. The image he had wanted for her, what he had hoped for, was that she would be accepted as a demure young lady, ready for marriage. He would have found her a husband and settled a dowry on her and thereby discharged his duty to her. He chuckled to himself. There was nothing demure about Miss Sophia Langford. It was only three days since she had turned up on his doorstep in that childlike faded gown, looking as though butter would not melt in her mouth, and already she was disrupting his life.

  He had found himself thinking about her in odd moments when he should have been concentrating on something else, trying to imagine what her life must have been like with her dissolute father and feeling sorry for her. No, he corrected himself, not sorry exactly because she did not invite that—in fact, she positively rejected it—but sympathetic, admiring. Yes, it was admiration for her courage in working for a living, not only her own but her father’s too, when the man should have been taking care of her, making sure she was brought out and groomed for marriage.

  According to Lady Myers, whom he had quizzed about it, Sophie’s future was the last thing Lord Langford thought about. She had been allowed to go out alone to conduct tourists round places of interest for money, to see whom she pleased, argue and debate with her father’s cronies. ‘It amused them to provoke her,’ Lady Myers had said. ‘And Langford said nothing against it. When I saw what was happening, I was glad her mama was not there to witness it, she would have been mortified.’ She had sighed heavily. ‘I did try to make him see, I even offered to take the gel under my wing, but that would have meant he had no one to lean on, and I am afraid I was given the right about for my pains.’

  Sophie did not know he had learned all this and he would not wound her pride by telling her, but she must be made to see that such behaviour would not do in London, certainly not in polite society. ‘I will say no more about it,’ he said, conscious he sounded condescending, but how else could he behave? He was head of the family and as such must keep a firm hand on the reins and a cool head. ‘But, Sophie, please think carefully before you allow yourself to be drawn into conversations like that again. The war may be over, but we are not out of the woods and, with London full of strangers, I surely do not need to explain that some of them are not friendly towards us.’

  ‘I am sorry to have displeased you,’ she said, noticing that he had dropped the formal ‘Miss Langford’ and was using her given name again. ‘But surely the chatter of a group of young people, who are for the most part ignorant, can have no significance?’

  ‘Probably not,’ he said, agreeing with her opinion of her listeners. ‘I am afraid my position makes me extra careful.’

  ‘I will try to remember that,’ she said solemnly. She still did not understand what she had done that was so wrong, but she was learning not to question him too closely. Her instinct told her he was hiding something, something he knew that no one else did, a state secret perhaps. The idea intrigued her. She smiled to herself in the
gloom of the carriage; there she was, fantasising about him again. If she kept on like this, she would finish with a complete fictional history for him. It might make a good novel, after she had written her book on her travels in war-torn Europe: the battle-weary hero saving the heroine from a terrible fate at the hands of the villains and declaring his undying love. No, that was going too far; she could not imagine him doing that—it would mean swallowing that stiff-necked pride of his.

  What was she smiling about? he asked himself as the carriage passed close to a street lamp and for a brief moment lit the interior. Did she take him for a doddering fool? If he had any sense he would pack her off to Dersingham Park where she would not embarrass him. But even as he thought it, he began to imagine Belfont House without her in it and realised he would miss her, miss her lively presence, the way she had of making him see the world from her point of view, bringing him down off his high horse. How could that have happened in the space of three days?

  His conjecture was brought to a halt when the carriage drew up at Belfont House and the coachman jumped down to open the door and let down the step. James alighted and turned to help his sister down and then turned back to Sophie, offering her his hand. ‘Home again, Sophie,’ he said, giving her a genuine smile. Her smile in return warmed his heart. She bore no grudge. But was she child or woman?

  Home, he had said, Sophie mused, as she went up to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Home. How good that sounded. Did he really mean she could call it home? But if she did, then she must also subjugate herself to his will, his way of doing things, his idea of correct behaviour. It might be dreadfully boring after the life she had been used to. And had she not made up her mind she would be independent? The sooner that book was written, the better.

  Harriet was ‘at home’ the following afternoon and the drawing room at Belfont House, though large, was full of callers, matrons in silk turbans, wide skirts swishing; young ladies in thin muslins; and dandified young men with starched cravats and collars so high they could hardly turn their heads. They had been coming and going all afternoon, which Harriet assured her young friend was not out of the ordinary.