“Aunt Catherine is coming? Oh, that is exciting news indeed. One never knows what my aunt will say with each successive opening of her mouth. She is most diverting.”
“To be sure, but I have more nefarious motives in desiring her arrival. She will surely be against this marriage scheme of Jonas and Mama and will likely side with me to thwart their plans. She suffers no restraint when it comes to voicing her opinions and I shall be delighted to hear hers concerning my sought-after matrimony. She will do quite nicely indeed.”
“I hardly think my aunt will step in and admonish your mother against seeking a husband for her only daughter. She may not have had a happy marriage, but she is certainly not against the institution.”
“She has supported your plans,” accused Miranda. “Why not mine? I am not so far removed from your family as to prevent her from taking up my cause.”
“True, but you will have to persuade her to your side. She will not simply ride roughshod over your family's plans for your future. But if you win her to your side I daresay the battle will have been decided most assuredly in your favor.”
“Oh, yes. She is the ultimate weapon to unleash on Jonas. Mayhap I will sound her out then plant the seeds of mistrust of his motives. If she can be won to our side I pity my brother.”
Juliet sent Miranda an assessing look. “We must be cautious, however, not to seem so uncontrolled as to need a firm hand. My aunt has declared to me before that I should marry someone strong enough to tell me 'no.' She gives supportive voice to my future plans but to this day declares there is a wonderful match just waiting for me to open my eyes and carpe diem.”
“Well, I definitely plan to carpe diem. On the morrow, in fact. I will heed your warning but feel assured that your aunt will be the best of allies in our war.”
Chapter Eighteen
This above all: to thine own self be true.
William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3
The arrival of Juliet's spirited, uncensored, widowed aunt was indeed cause for excitement. The older sister of the Marquis of Lansdowne, Countess Ashford, Catherine Allendale, was loved and somewhat feared by both family and friends alike. She was a staunch ally and defender of those whom she loved, but as a wealthy and titled lady of a certain age she was also unafraid to wield a sharp tongue and an occasional strike with a weighted reticule to make her point. She came to the house party without an invitation yet without a doubt she would be heartily welcomed and allowed to stay. Her favorite niece happened to be here and the Countess planned to be deeply mired in whatever marital schemes were afoot, be them for Juliet or her dear friend Miranda.
Her lustrous black carriage had scarcely ceased its roll before the Countess threw open the door herself. A liveried footman scrambled to lower the steps as she made her most regal exit. Her blue traveling gown had not dared to wrinkle, nor had a single silver hair ventured to escape her elegant chignon. She surveyed the grounds from her vantage point on the gravel drive. If one must rusticate, at least one would be doing so in style and splendor at Edgecliff, she thought. She determined it to be her favorite spot when in the country while with the same breath she vowed how much she detested being anywhere save Town. She swung her gaze back to the front steps and door as the Duke and his mother emerged from the house. She chuckled softly to herself as she decided the view had just greatly improved with the appearance of the young Duke.
“Lady Ashford, it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust your trip was uneventful,” offered Jonas with a bow. He straightened and took her proffered hand, brushing a kiss in the air above her knuckles.
“The trip was tolerable, Your Grace, and only just so because I knew a warm welcome and handsome face awaited me here.” She dropped a curtsey to mother and son before moving her hand to take Jonas' arm, allowing his escort into the house. “And your dear mother. It is nice to see you, Your Grace,” she intoned to the Duchess. “Thank you for allowing the addition of my presence to your party.”
Margaret Leighton, Duchess of Dorset, smiled with warmth at the formality and prevarication of her old and dear friend. “You may keep your curtsies for someone who needs them, virago. You are welcome anytime, as you well know, Catherine. However, given your preference for Town I do so wonder at your sudden appearance in the sticks and brambles. Are you here for the so-called marriage mart, perhaps?” she teased.
The Countess scoffed and reached out to take her friend's arm as well. “If I thought it would disturb the rest of the not-so-dearly-departed Cecil, I would jump into the mix with both feet. As we both know, his black soul is keeping rather warm and sulfurous company, so I need never take on shackles of any sort again. I am simply here to observe and make as many astute and slanderous remarks as possible on the general goings on.”
The Duke started visibly at the Countess's caustic comments about her late husband, but his mother only laughed conspiratorially. “No doubt the Earl wishes he had packed lighter clothes for his journey,” she added with a chuckle.
Countess Ashford stopped in the entry hall and let go the arms of her escorts. “Well, enough about the happily departed. I want to know the whereabouts of my niece and her faithful friend. They are the true reasons for my travel. I desired a front row seat to the Juliet and Miranda Exhibition.”
Jonas turned and summoned a footman. “Please tell Lady Juliet that her aunt has arrived.” He turned his attention back to the Countess. “You make me nervous, Lady Ashford. Are you privy to information that begs to be known?” he asked with a hint of worry about his brow.
“I keep a close counsel, Your Grace, so you'll get no information from me. But to put your mind at ease, I know of nothing yet that should over-set your nerves. The sheer fact that you are having a house party populated with the young and unmarried should be enough to keep you on your toes, however. I am always vastly entertained by my niece and Miranda, no matter what the setting, so when word made it around that you were seeking an attachment for your sister, well, I could not pass up the potential for diversion.”
A noise above alerted them to the coming arrival of the two ladies. “Speak of the devils,” muttered Jonas as he turned to watch them glide down the stairs. He glanced at his sister then found himself transfixed by the sight of Lady Juliet flushed with excitement over the coming of her aunt. She had grabbed the front of her skirt and slightly pulled it up to aid her faster-than-fashionable descent and he was able to see her dainty slippers and nicely turned ankles. He shook his head and blinked several times to break the trance he seemed to be perpetually caught in when in her presence of late. He straightened his posture and flexed his fingers, suddenly restless.
The Duke's sudden discomfiture and fidgeting was not lost on the Countess. She followed his gaze to her niece and narrowed her eyes calculatingly. How very interesting, she thought. She congratulated herself on the wise decision to remove to the country for this party as she turned to greet her niece. “Juliet and Miranda, my two favorite mademoiselles! Come, give me your greetings and then someone pray show me some hospitality with a strong cup of tea and a decadent sweet.”
Miranda and Juliet fairly skidded to a halt in front of the Countess, taking turns to both hug and kiss the older woman. She grabbed a hand of each and squeezed them affectionately.
“Oh, Aunt Cath! I am so excited to see you. I had no idea you were coming,” burst Juliet.
“No one did, dear. 'Tis better that way as no one feels brave enough to bid me leave. I could not bear to be absent from a party that included my two favorite diables,” she added with a grin and a wink at the Duke.
Juliet followed her aunt's gaze with a quizzical raised brow while Miranda seized the opportunity to tangle with her brother. “I need not ask how you came to the appellation for us, do I, dear brother?”
“It seemed an apt descriptor, although I grant you are without the requisite tail and horns.” He poked at Miranda's coif and glanced at her back. “At least I think you lack those telltale signs.”
&nbs
p; Miranda's eyes flashed for the fight but the Countess intervened. “Actually, my dears, the devil of which we speak is my happily departed Earl, unrest his soul, although perhaps your guilty consciences are getting the better of you two, hmm?”
Both ladies surprisingly blushed but were saved from further comment by the arrival of two more guests, Lady Juliet's brother, Major Lord Marcus Quinn, and his friend, Captain William Hughes, both of the Royal Horse Guards.
“Marcus!” she squealed. “We thought you still on the continent! Mother and Father will be beside themselves to see you. How are you?” Juliet ran to her brother, who braced himself as she launched into his arms. He swung her around easily with one arm, his left hanging still and straight at his side, although Juliet failed to notice.
“I am well, Jules. I am well. And glad to be home.” He dropped her back to the ground and kissed her cheek before making his introductions. “Allow me to present Captain William Hughes of Devon, but late of His Majesty's Guards. Will, my brat of a sister, Lady Juliet Quinn.”
Juliet turned to make her curtsey as the captain raised her hand, brushing his kiss on her bare knuckles. Juliet's eyes widened in surprise at the contact but held no affront. The gesture did not pass the notice of the Duke, who took a step toward the captain, nor the Countess, who smiled secretly at the Duke's involuntary reaction.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Hughes. I assume you serve with my brother's regiment?” she queried.
“Yes, my lady,” he replied. His sandy brown hair was a touch too long for the current fashion but he had the broad-shouldered bearing so common in the men of the Horse Guards. He had an affable smile and a pleasing if weathered face with visible laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.
“Will is the reason you see me standing before you, in one piece, as it were,” began Marcus. “We had quite the dust-up finishing off old Boney and Will here saved the day.” The captain made to argue but Marcus held up his right hand. “I will sing your praises no more, Will, have no fear. Let us present you to the rest of the gawking mob here in the hallway,” he joked, making introductions to Miranda, Jonas, the Duchess, and the Countess.
Juliet turned to the footman. “Thomas, please tell my parents they have guests to greet. I believe they are in the library. Do not tell them who has arrived,” she instructed. He departed to carry out her instructions and Juliet turned back to her brother, reaching for his left hand. He twisted from her reach and moved her away from the group, leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“Jules, I've been wounded and am not fully healed. It is my left arm. Call no further attention to it than its own limp presence does, and do not grab hold of it or I am afraid you will see me cock up my toes with the pain.” Juliet opened her mouth to reply but Marcus continued. “We can speak of it later, not now. Just help me greet Mother and Father with as little incident as possible.”
Juliet nodded her agreement with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously before flashing a smile to the group. At the arrival of her parents she moved to Marcus' left side, blocking his injury from the effusions of her parents as they greeted their son. With the danger of embraces past, she moved nearer the captain, grabbing his hand tightly.
“I know there is a story to be told, but I will wait for Marcus to tell it,” she whispered, causing the captain to lean in close to hear her words. “Just know that you will have the appreciation of our family for your role, however great or small, in bringing Marcus home. You are heartily thanked, Captain Hughes.” She squeezed his hand before stepping back to a proper distance as she shared a smile with the military man.
Jonas watched the exchange with curiosity and some undefinable pique. He was at a loss as to why the unheard exchange left him feeling so annoyed so he vowed simply to forget it. Stepping back to the boisterous group, he announced tea and a light treat would be served in the drawing room. Rather than follow the happy family members, he turned on his heel and went back outside.
All this was watched with eagle-eyed precision by the Countess of Ashford. While happy to see her nephew returned seemingly safe from the continent, she was reminded that she came to Sussex for the entertainment that a house party of young people was sure to afford. Based on the stolen glances and pretty blushes, she was delighted to find she would be quite thoroughly entertained during her stay.
Chapter Nineteen
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start. The game's afoot . . .
William Shakespeare, King Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1
All the guests, both invited and not, were present and accounted for in the drawing room after an informal and boisterous dinner. Small groups were clustered and scattered about the room as personalities emerged and preferences became known. While Juliet and her family still huddled around the returned son and his comrade, Major Quinn and Captain Hughes, the Duke was pleased to note his sister dutifully making her rounds, acquainting herself with each gentleman despite her avowed refusal to find a suitor. If only she could be like Lady Philippa, he thought as he watched the Earl of Dartmouth's sister also tour the room in effort to solicit appreciative looks and comments. Much could be learned about stalking a husband just by watching that persistent and determined lady, although he was supremely happy Miranda lacked Lady Philippa's undercurrent of malice and ire.
Jonas leaned back in his Chippendale chaise and caught the eye of the Countess of Ashford. His nod of acknowledgment was followed by a summons from her fan. He rose and obeyed her implicit command to join her on the settle near the edge of the room.
“Your Grace,” she began smoothly but immediately stopped, a peculiar look crossing her face. “I cannot believe I am addressing the young scamp Jonas Leighton as 'Your Grace.' It seems like only yesterday you and my nephews were in leading strings. I suppose you are at last settled in to your new duties?” she queried.
“Please call me whatever you wish, my lady. There is no need for ceremony between us. To answer your question, my comfort level with my new duties varies, sometimes several times during one day. I am unsure if I will ever be truly 'settled,' as you put it.”
“Fustian, Dorset!” she replied, wasting no time taking him to task nor choosing to use a more familiar name. “You were born to be a Duke and were raised by two of the most august and loving parents in the realm. Even your behavior as a child was more refined than the other rapscallions with whom you kept company, especially my nephews. For my tastes you have always been a touch too solemn and controlled, but it has no doubt served you well in your transition from son to head of the family.”
The Duke flushed from the compliment and the critique. He had often been accused of being too rigid and sober and had developed a growing sensitivity to the labels. “I agree I was blessed with ideal parents, but I think even they would dispute your notion of my uninterrupted exemplary behavior.”
“I did not say you have always been the model of perfection, but you must admit that even the stories of your youthful carousing and inebriation at school were more tame than most.” The Countess tapped his arm with her folded fan. She paused to lean in closer to keep her conversation limited to their ears only. “I trust that since you have been Duke for nigh on two years that you are now in need of a wife. Tell me your candidates.”
Jonas bolted upright in his seat, nearly upsetting the perch held by Lady Ashford. “I assure you, madam, that I am neither in want nor need,” he sputtered. He was prevented from further discourse by the rap of her fan on his knee and the subsequent pain it caused.
“Bah! If I know you, and I believe I do, you have 'wife' scribbled on your list of things to check off to be a 'proper' Duke. You know your duty and obligations. You were raised to know them! I have no doubt you have spent this last year working through your list; surely you are near to needing to make a check in the column next to 'obtain wife.'”
Jonas flushed slightly from a combination of irritation and resignation. The Countess was correct
on all counts, much to his dismay. He had a list, although it was strictly kept in his mind, and he had come to the point of thinking it might be time to look for a wife. He was loath to admit such to anyone, especially a matchmaking female, no matter how much he loved her as if she was his own relation. His gaze swept the room in an effort to seize on a change of subject when he noticed the close situation of Lady Juliet and Captain Hughes. This was the second time today he had seen them so situated and he began to wonder if they had a longer-held association, and more than just the connection of Juliet's brother in common. He lost the thread of his conversation with Lady Ashford and was quiet for too long. His new preoccupation drew her discerning attention. She followed his gaze to her niece and gave a slight smile of understanding.
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