DukeAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  Drake nodded, feeling foolish as well as grateful. A quick glance at Sebastian and Lizbeth made him feel even more of a half-wit. Sebastian was leaning against the wall, listening intently as Lizbeth talked. Listen wasn’t even the right word. He was enraptured by whatever it was she was saying. Well, damn. How’d his cousin know more about how to love a woman than he did?

  With a flash of a smile to Hazel, he swaggered to the opposite side of the room to join his wife at the pianoforte.

  “The Argot sisters, Mother,” Drake instructed several days later while the rest of the family enjoyed a picnic hosted by Sebastian.

  “And why is it I’m inviting them to the dinner party? I’m not fond of their mother, as you well know,” his mother replied from her chair in the study.

  Drake tucked the box of cheroots in his desk drawer, lit the one he was holding, and joined her, hooking one leg over his chair and sliding into the cushion to lounge languidly.

  He inhaled the strong, earthy flavor of the tobacco before replying. “You’re inviting them because I wish them to be invited. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  While his mother had always seen to the invitations and party plans, and such had been preferable for them both since he had no wish to waste time with such tedium, he now felt a pang of irritation.

  This was his house, after all, yet he was having to request invitations from his mother. He shouldn’t feel resentful since he never meddled before, but it irked him now.

  His mother treated all events at Lyonn Manor as though she were hosting at her house, and he never thought before how unsettling that felt. It had once been her house, but it became his house when his father died, so why did they still carry on as though it were hers?

  He really ought to do something about that. He couldn’t even put a finger on the source of his irritation. Was he annoyed she’d not only never included him in estate business but had pointedly blocked him from it, or was he annoyed because he’d always accepted that and never shown an interest? With the new direction of his life, he was interested now.

  Catherine reproached him. “Sending an invitation this late is ill-mannered. They’re not likely to come on short notice.”

  “While you’re at it, see to it one or even two of the three sisters are seated next to Sebastian.”

  His mother narrowed her eyes. “Am I to presume you wish my nephew to take to one of these empty-headed gels?”

  Drake choked on a puff of smoke as he guffawed at the idea of Sebastian being tempted by a snotty chit.

  “On the contrary, they’re a perfect contrast to Charlotte’s sister and will thus show her to advantage. He’ll have eyes only for Miss Trethow with even one of those yappy brats at his side. I should feel guilty for using the girls so abominably, but I don’t. They are fortune hunters of the worst sort. Will you adjust the seating chart?”

  “I will see that it happens, but I would prefer you choose a more suitable bride to throw at my nephew. Training Charlotte has been most tiresome, and she was at least educated in some manner, no matter how gauchely. My nephew may only be an earl, but Miss Trethow is far from qualified. The gel is a wild, country girl with no style or manners. I like her spirit and her conversation, but she’s uncultured.” She poked Drake’s leg with her cane.

  “And you’d consider Sebastian cultured, well-mannered, and stylish?” He arched a brow. “Not everyone marries for title and duty, Mother. Ever think the two of them are hopelessly in love?”

  Catherine snorted. “Only commoners marry for love. Regardless of their reasons for romantic interest, the title requires duty. One cannot avoid duty. It is Sebastian’s responsibility and that of his future wife to fulfill the requirements of his title. Love or not, his wife would need to learn at haste how to be a countess. He can only hope she is a quick study.”

  Three short puffs later, Drake shrugged and said, “Whatever you say, Mother.”

  Nothing his mother said surprised him, but it all made him grumpy.

  He shouldn’t have to explain himself to her, explain his cousin to her, or seek her approval. He was a grown man, and this was his house. But how, after all these years of allowing her to run the household in his stead, could he demand she move to the dower house and let him be the lord of the manor? The whole of it made his head ache.

  She leaned on her cane to leave, but then settled back to add, “While we’re discussing guests, I have invited the Marquess of Colquhoun to dine with us. He may be Scottish, but the estate is not far north and is an exceedingly wealthy estate. I believe him a good catch for Mary. Have a word with her, Drake. She was unforgivably rude to the previous suitors, much to my mortification. See to it she is polite to the marquess. You have a way with the girl. I intend to invite him again if he likes the look of her.”

  He grunted.

  Leaning his head against the chair back, he gnawed at the end of the cheroot. “If we’re exchanging desired guests, I’ll add one. Another last-minute invitation, as it were. I’d like to invite Winston. I mentioned the dinner to him this morning not realizing he hadn’t received an invitation.”

  “I don’t like that boy and do not want him in my house. He is a gamster and associates with rabble. I will invite the Argots, but I will not invite that boy.” She thumped her cane.

  Her house. His own best mate couldn’t come to dinner because his mother didn’t want him in her house.

  “I want Winston at the party, Mother. It’s been nearly two months, and he has yet to meet Charlotte.”

  “He is a rogue. I don’t care how wealthy his father is. He is a rogue, and I will not soil the dinner with his presence. Invite him to go riding if you want his company.” She stood to leave, daring him to have the last word.

  He let her win.

  The days rolled by, days in which Drake tried Hazel’s advice. He couldn’t help but notice Charlotte seemed more at ease with her family present. He was sure it had nothing to do with his listening and all to do with her family.

  Most days Charlotte practically pirouetted through the manor in such high spirits. She spent her mornings in the Gray Parlor with her sister and Mary while Hazel broke her fast with his mother. Most afternoons, she received callers in the Red Drawing Room with Lizbeth and Hazel by her side. The afternoons, he suspected, were especially rewarding because Charlotte had the opportunity to show off her hosting skills, a role she relished.

  The evenings were Drake’s favorite time of the day. Naturally, he enjoyed his mornings of sleeping until noon, as well as the weekly morning fencing match with Winston, his afternoon chats with Sebastian or whatever diversion he could invent, and his late evenings in the music room, but the early evenings were his time with Charlotte.

  Every day, he found himself counting down the hours to dinner. Their discussions relaxed with each passing evening until she spent most of the time laughing with him. Her eyes twinkled. Her laugh chimed. His heart pounded.

  Drake drank her in with his eyes, inhaled her lemony freshness, and sensed her warmth with every pore of his flesh. The conversations varied, but he focused each on her thoughts and interests, discovering in her answers just how much he genuinely enjoyed her company and deeply enjoyed her.

  She carried on about her garden walks. He listened. She shared ideas for improvements to the house. He listened. She described her visits to the village. He listened. She talked about her childhood and how her father spoiled her. He listened.

  He did everything in his power to follow Hazel’s advice and not dominate the conversation as he was prone to do, but it was more than following her advice. By Jove, he liked listening to Charlotte. When she wasn’t offended by his crass jokes, denying a compliment from insecurity, or nervously shy, she bubbled with conversation. He’d never shared such unalloyed conversations in his life in which he could be himself without reservation or machinations.

  A revelation that startled
him for at least a day, was that he didn’t feel the need to joke inappropriately around her. He always had been a jokester, but the more he talked with her, the more he came to realize he made such jests to deflect his own insecurities. Not that he didn’t continue to enjoy a dirty joke, but he didn’t feel the need for such humor. He was perfectly content sharing plans for the future and listening to her stories.

  The evening before the dinner party went especially well, at least from his perspective. The more she spoke, the more he realized how many interests they shared. Their conversation was simple, nothing earth shattering, but he enjoyed it immensely.

  That evening, as with most dinners during the week, Sebastian joined them and monopolized Lizbeth’s attention while Hazel enjoyed his mother’s conversation alongside a bored Mary.

  Drake had Charlotte all to himself.

  “And what of the Red Drawing Room?” he asked in response to her discussion of redecorating rooms.

  “I’ve wondered since I first saw the room. Did it used to be a ballroom?”

  “It did, but not during my time. My father used to regale me with stories of the grand balls he’d host. No one can say he couldn’t organize a squeeze.”

  “Oh, how disappointing that it was transformed into the gaudiest of all drawing rooms.” Charlotte took a moment to taste a few bites of her dinner.

  “Am I to assume this is a prelude to you wanting to turn it back into a ballroom?”

  She thought for a moment then shook her head. “I won’t deny I long to host a ball, but I’d much prefer to turn it into a performance hall. Imagine the concerts we could host!”

  Drake’s heart soared to hear such a declaration. Not only did she refer to them as collaborators, but he’d wished to do the same with the room for years. Even if he wouldn’t showcase his own compositions or perform the music himself, he’d still enjoy bringing music back into the house, filling his world with that which he held dearest. His greatest dream, which he’d told no one, was to bring the music to the people, not for drawing room entertainment to wealthy peers, but music for the people who genuinely enjoyed music, regardless of their status.

  It had always been nothing more than a dream. He would have never risked his reputation to realize such a dream. But if she wanted to host concerts….

  Drake smirked. “Are you saying this because you know I compose and are trying to win favor?”

  “No! I’m saying this because it’s what I’ve wanted since the first day I arrived. The acoustics in the room are exceptional!”

  “Mmm. Then I suppose I should never kiss you senseless in that room. All the house would hear,” he goaded.

  “Oh, how gauche you are.” She swatted at his arm but didn’t seem to take offense.

  “It’s only a dream, of course. We could never do it. Mother would never approve. She abhors music and the whole scene,” he defended, though desperately wanting her to find a way to make his dream possible.

  “This is our home. If we want a performance hall, then we shall have a performance hall.”

  “Look who suddenly has a will of iron! And you’re going to stand up to her, then? Tell her to sod off?” He eyed the other end of the table to ensure his mother wasn’t listening. She was deep in conversation with Hazel, looking livelier than he’d ever seen her.

  Charlotte harrumphed. “That is not what I meant. She is your mother.”

  Tutting, he reached under the table to squeeze her hand. “No quarrelling, eh? Tell me more about the conservatory.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she launched into an explanation of her grand plans to make it an aviary. The conversation circled back to music before dinner concluded. He wanted to know, specifically, which pieces she favored and which techniques she found challenging. As she spoke, he began composing a piece for her in his head, a piece that would be written in his style but for her talent, evidencing her skills to advantage.

  Such conversations, however brief, however casual, filled his heart with a warmth he’d never known, for he realized he’d chosen the perfect wife, even if she still needed convincing.

  With each passing day, he became more enthralled with her vivaciousness, captivated by her vibrancy. An unexpected benefit of encouraging her to do all the talking was his ability to admire her while she talked without causing discomfort. He could esteem her smile, regard her countenance, appreciate her rosy cheeks, delight in the slope of her neck, and in general take the greatest of pleasure in her beauty.

  How had he ever thought her an ice duchess?

  Drake suspected he might see the ice duchess return and ruin their newfound friendship if he tried something as imprudent as kissing her in a dark corner. Drake hoped it wasn’t too much to ask that one day he be able to kiss her whenever and wherever he’d like without risking their relationship, being called vulgar, or being slapped or kicked. They’d made such progress. Was it enough for happiness?

  Drake had never enjoyed his mother’s events at the manor and generally made himself scarce, for she always invited the same droll people. For the first time, Drake enjoyed a dinner party held at Lyonn Manor, and he owed it all to his wife.

  She had arranged the party herself except for a few minor details his mother saw to correct, including the invitation of additional guests, such as the Argot sisters and the Marquess of Colquhoun.

  As the family stood in the receiving line to greet the guests, he watched Charlotte. While his mother had taught her the art of condescension, Charlotte donned it with a warm grace his mother did not possess, making the guests feel as though it were not an honor to be invited but Charlotte’s honor to receive them. His mother had only ever conveyed the stern message that the guests should feel fortunate to be invited to the noble home of the Duke and Duchess of Annick.

  Despite the two weeks of intermittent rain, the weather held steady long enough for the ground to dry, enabling the guests to take wilderness walks and drink madeira on the grotto outside the Red Drawing Room.

  The only disappointment was the absence of Winston. Drake had no one with whom to commiserate about the stuffy guests since Sebastian had absconded with Lizbeth and Hazel for a walk in the park, and since Charlotte was playing the dutiful hostess, flitting from group to group. Mother had cornered Mary and the marquess. His heart did go out to Mary, for the man wouldn’t suit no matter how noble his brow. Mary grimaced every time he spoke, his long, gray beard bouncing against his belly with each laugh.

  Drake enjoyed the evening as best he could, finding a few acquaintances with whom to whinge. He talked about the upcoming shooting party with some of the men, complimented some of the ladies into fits of hysteric blushing, and eventually settled next to Colonel Starrett. Always fond of the retired colonel, he had spent some of his youth learning to hunt from the old man, although Drake proved a terrible shot no matter how many times he tried. May he never have to fight a duel requiring pistols.

  “How’s Duncan?” he asked the colonel between sips of wine.

  “Following in my footsteps, the good lad. I’ve purchased him a commission. He is too overeager for my liking, what with the trouble brewing in France, but he has a good heart and a desire to serve crown and country. I’m proud of the boy. I only worry what will come of him if we go to war.” The colonel’s bushy brows met on the wrinkled forehead.

  “I’m glad to hear he’s made a decision! The service is a good choice. Does he hope to see action or avoid it?” Drake didn’t know the first thing about playing soldier, but he liked the Starrett family and would hate to see anything happen to Duncan.

  “I’d like to see him avoid it. He wants otherwise. He wants to make a name for himself with decorations and accolades. I keep telling him war isn’t what he thinks. He’d do better in the reserves, hold rank from a safe position and take on a wife while he’s young and un-maimed.” Colonel Starrett huffed.

  “I take it he doesn’t see
the sense in marrying? Twenty is a perfectly respectable age for a young man to marry.” Drake couldn’t imagine marrying at twenty. He shuddered at the thought.

  “That’s what I tell him, but Duncan’s a headstrong boy with ideas of grandeur and a romantic notion of war. A few bullets whizzing past his head will remedy that view. I only wish he’d see reason in leaving an heir behind before becoming a hero. Ah, is it time for dinner?”

  Drake looked up to see everyone filing back into the drawing room and lining up at the formal dining room. He shook the colonel’s hand, set his glass on a footman’s tray, and headed across the room to find Charlotte.

  She stood next to his mother, smiling at him in greeting as he approached. She radiated happiness, her newfound confidence glowing about her as a halo. This confidence became her.

  They led the guests into the dining room, a room rarely used but grand enough for royalty.

  Not until he took his seat did he see with satisfaction that Lady Argot, the eldest of the Argot sisters, sat next to Sebastian. His cousin cast the poor girl a notably menacing scowl. Unperturbed, the girl continued to flirt. Lizbeth sat adjacent from Sebastian and in full view of him but not close enough for conversation. Perfect. Before the month was out, Sebastian was certain to propose to Lizbeth. The contrast between Lizbeth and Lady Argot was too perfect not to goad Sebastian into that needed reminder that he would never find anyone quite like the eldest Trethow.

  His mother sat at the head of the table, though she was neither hostess nor the current Duchess of Annick. That suited Drake well enough on this occasion, because it allowed Charlotte to sit next to him at the foot of the table. She looked stunning in a silver and green gown adorned with the diamond and emerald necklace and matching hair comb he had gifted her.