The Lady and the Duke: A Dangerous Season (The Eardleys of Gostwicke Hall Book 2)

by Penelope Redmont

  She stretched out on the sofa, and closed her eyes. "You're made, Elaine, you're positively made."

  I'm ruined, Elaine thought. She didn't trust the duke. Fred? He knew something, the wretched man.

  London, St. James Square, Hazelbridge House

  Three days later, Sommerforth called on Lady Hazelbridge, his mistress, with a diamond necklace in his pocket. The Hazelbridges lived on the southern side of St. James's Square, across the way from his much larger home, but he took his carriage. He meant the visit to be brief — she'd know that he couldn't keep his horses waiting in the cold weather.

  Her butler showed him into the library, and brought him brandy. Isobel kept him waiting fully 20 minutes, but considering his errand, he didn't begrudge her the time.

  He sent a footman with a message for his coachmen to cover the horses and tool them around the square.

  Finally Isobel entered the library, wearing a pretty morning dress, and swathed in a long cashmere shawl. He stared at her, his eyes widening. Her head was a mass of glossy brown curls. She'd cropped her hair. "You look wonderful, as always… But what on earth have you done with your hair?"

  She patted the curls which framed her small face, and drew attention to her blue eyes. Then she lowered herself into an elaborate curtsy, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes. "How good of your grace to notice the efforts of my friseur," she said softly. "David — it's been an age since I've seen you."

  There was the hint — the merest hint — of a reproach in her tone.

  She took his hand, and led him to a well-cushioned sofa. She sat. "Sit beside me, do."

  Instead, he pulled up a chair to sit across from her. He didn't relish the next half-hour, but it had to be done. Besides, she knew what was coming. His lack of attention these past weeks had made it obvious, surely? "I've been out in the country. At Sommerforth Abbey. How is Harold?"

  "Harold is well. Between his clubs and his sporting activities I rarely see him. I've been pestering him to visit his tailor before we join you at Sommerforth Abbey next week."

  "About that. I'd rather that you and Harold stayed away. I'm sorry, my dear."

  "I see. You're giving me my congé, of course."

  She kept her tone even, and he released a long sigh of relief. At least she didn't mean to enact him a tragedy.

  He opened his jacket and handed her the long box containing the diamonds.

  She clicked the box open and stared down the stones. The triple-strand necklace had a history. It had come from a French aristocrat who'd lost her head on the guillotine.

  "It's lovely. And expensive, I am certain. But David – I wish that…"

  "It's for the best… It's occurred to me that it's time that I marry again."

  "I thought you'd decided that you wouldn't marry." She stood up and walked to the library table. She tossed the box onto the glowing walnut carelessly. "You said that your cousin is your heir."

  His brows rose, and he stood too. Although she faced away from him, he'd seen that she had become pale. He frowned. He hadn't expected Isobel to mind. She had been his mistress for six months. He never kept a mistress for more than a few months, she knew that.

  "So you don't want us to attend your Christmas house party. And you want to marry again. I assume that you've got someone in mind?"

  He didn't respond.

  She turned to face him again, a defiant look in her eyes. "Harold and I will be at your house party. You can't snub us — I have your invitation, and I suppose that you won't turn us away." She drew herself to a full height.

  Isobel was a tall woman. She could be imposing. Her eyes were cold. "You might have waited until after Christmas," she said bitterly. "Harold and I will be at your party because people expect it."

  He sighed, and nodded briefly. "Very well. But I want you to put it about that you and I are over. We will continue to be friends, but you must look for another diversion, and you may malign my character as much as you wish."

  "I certainly will, I've plenty of reason for doing so after all."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, my sister."

  He had no idea what she was talking about. "Your sister? Marion?"

  She stared at him defiantly."She is with child."

  Incredible. "Are you suggesting that it's my child?" He asked coldly.

  "And you're saying that it isn't, I suppose?"

  "What a scoundrel you must think me. Has Marion said that the child is mine?"

  "She hasn't… Not directly. But what else are we to think? You were paying her much attention. It happened at your summer house party."

  He didn't have any by-blows, as far as he was aware. He always took great care to ensure that it wouldn't happen. And he was blameless as far as Isobel's sister was concerned. He'd paid her attention yes, but merely as a kindness, because she'd seemed overawed and shy. It hadn't gone any further than that.

  It hurt him that Isobel would think that the child was his. Or perhaps this was a ploy, meant to wrong-foot him.

  He bowed to her. "Lady Hazelbridge."

  He left her abruptly, not trusting his temper. His coachman brought the carriage up, and he instructed him to take him to Richmond. He spent the entire journey thinking about the guests at the house party where he had supposedly impregnated Marion.

  Once he discovered the man who had, he'd ensure that he looked after the child.

  Mrs. Eardley and her daughters arrived at Sommerforth Abbey late on Wednesday afternoon.

  Elaine decided that she'd avoid the duke as much as possible. Then he wouldn't get a chance to offer to buy Joy again. Avoiding him would be easy enough. Her mother had told her that there would be at least 100 guests. The lucky few from the fashionable world would be at the Abbey, as would members from the political and diplomatic worlds.

  Christobel had told Elaine that Sir Oliver Destry would be there when Lady Talverne, Christobel, and Pierce had come to Gostwicke Hall for dinner on Sunday. "You've met Sir Oliver, have you not? He's engaged to your great friend, Lady Foxton."

  Elaine made a noncommittal reply.

  "I'm determined that I shall dance with him," Christobel continued. "I long to be able to say that I've danced with the most handsome man in England. I'm sure that you must have fallen in love with him… Mother says that he has such address, and is a rake."

  A rake? "You're a very silly girl," Elaine said repressively. "You're engaged to Talverne."

  "What on earth has that to do with anything?" Christobel looked sly. "I daresay that you've a tendre for Sir Oliver yourself, and that's why you want to keep me away from him."

  Elaine's palm itched to slap her.

  Now they had arrived at Sommerforth Abbey. Elaine put Christobel out of her mind.

  The Eardley ladies followed the housekeeper up a long staircase.

  "The house is said to have 200 bedrooms," Catherine murmured to Elaine. "It's as well that we brought Cormac. I've told him that he's to accompany you everywhere you go… especially in this house. You're not to go about alone. Far too many rooms, and far too many strange men."

  Elaine was surprised at the worry in Catherine's voice. "What do you mean? What strange men?"

  Catherine lowered her voice even more as they walked down an endless hallway lined with forbidding portraits of the duke's ancestors. "Any men, child. They'll be in their cups, half the time. You're a very pretty girl, a young girl. Do you understand me?"

  Another of Catherine endless supply of lectures had focused on never being alone with a man.

  Luckily the housekeeper opened a door before Catherine could develop the never be alone with a man theme. "Miss Eardley — these are your rooms. I trust you shall find them to your liking."

  "Thank you." Elaine closed the door to find that Denise was already unpacking. "Quickly now. My green walking dress, and my warmest cloak — I've time to see the duke's horses before dinner."

  "Ma'am, I don't think that that's a good idea. Mrs. Grove said that y
ou were to rest before dinner. She also said that –"

  "I don't care what Catherine said," Elaine said sharply. "Please find Cormac for me. I want to see the stables."

  The Eardleys had brought several of their own servants. Denise, and Cormac, Elaine's personal footman, were among them.

  Swathed in a thick wool cloak trimmed with fur, Elaine was protected against the cold. She followed Cormac from the house.

  Even for a footman, Cormac was tall. His parents worked on the Gostwicke Hall estate. He'd been a boot boy, then a page. After that, at 14, he'd helped Bendish on the estate. Now 21, he had become a footman. Elaine knew that Cormac hoped to take over Bendish's role one day.

  "The stables are at some distance ma'am," he said, sounding concerned. "Are you certain that you wish to walk?"

  "Of course I am. Lead on."

  The stable master was only too eager to show Elaine around. She enjoyed the visit. She didn't enjoy meeting Sir Oliver when she and Cormac were on their way back to the house.

  She had been determined to avoid Sir Oliver. His unexpected appearance was a shock, but she realized immediately that avoiding him, or snubbing him, would be a mistake. How could she begin her campaign against him if she avoided him? She hadn't forgotten her plan to make him offer for her.

  So she smiled broadly at him. "How good to see you again, Sir Oliver. Is Lady Foxton with you?"

  He couldn't hide his surprise at her bonhomie, but looked relieved. "A pleasure to see you, Miss Eardley. No, Felicity is at home, she's unwell. Just a winter cold… My father has business dealings with the Duke, and asked me to attend the Abbey in his stead. You've been to see the stables?"

  "Indeed. I couldn't resist it. The duke wished to buy my mare, Joy, so I wanted to see his horses."

  "Well now, there's a feather in your cap — to sell one of your horses to Sommerforth."

  "I didn't sell him my horse. Although he offered me a good price."

  He looked shocked. Before he could respond, she curtsied to him again, and strolled away. She was aware that he was staring at her; she could feel his gaze like a touch on her back.

  "Cormac, don't mention to Mrs. Grove that we met Sir Oliver." Catherine didn't like Sir Oliver. She'd made that very plain.

  "What are you about, Miss Elaine?" Cormac asked, staring down at her suspiciously.

  "Nothing. What on earth could I be about? It's just that Catherine doesn't like him… But I daresay that's because he's so friendly with the major. Sir Oliver is engaged to my friend, so I must speak with him. It would be thought odd if I didn't."

  "I won't lie for you."

  "I didn't ask you to lie," Elaine snapped. "There's nothing to lie about."

  When he looked hurt, she apologized. "I'm sorry — I didn't mean to be abrupt, but you're my footman, not my nursemaid."

  She realized that she'd need to evade Cormac. How annoying that Catherine had set him to spy on her.

  Denise fussed over her when Elaine returned to her rooms. However, Elaine barely noticed. She was thinking about Sir Oliver, and her own odd reaction to him.

  She'd dreaded meeting Oliver, and had resolved to hide her feelings. But there had been nothing to hide. She'd felt nothing at all. He might have been anyone she knew, not someone who'd kissed her.

  What had happened? Her heart had been broken, hadn't it?

  It seemed that it had not.

  Elaine decided that she was very fickle.

  Isobel, the Countess of Hazelbridge, wore the diamond necklace that the duke had given her. Harold hadn't accompanied her to Sommerforth Abbey. She suspected that he had a new mistress, he'd looked very cheerful these past weeks.

  She been in two minds whether she should come herself. However, if she didn't attend, it would give rise to gossip. Soon enough, gossip would go the rounds that the Duke had dismissed her. Action was imperative before that happened — she had no intention of being discarded.

  Marion was the perfect weapon.

  His grace's child. Or at least, someone's child. David had paid attention to Marion, so she would put it about that the child was his. Marion was eager enough to agree. Isabel had sent her away to Cornwall. The girl had orders not to return to London until Isobel sent for her.

  Many of the guests were still arriving, so dinner tonight was an informal meal. She knew that the guests always gathered in the large salon before going in to dinner.

  She went down early. David wouldn't be there, but she meant to keep her wits about her to discover who the duke's latest flirt might be.

  But David was there. His back was to her, and she couldn't see to whom he was speaking. She turned away, to greet her friends. How interesting. David had come down early. She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

  3

  Elaine was happy to admit that Catherine was right — she adored frippery.

  The duke's Christmas house party was her first opportunity to see what fashionable ladies were wearing, so she didn't wait for Catherine before she went downstairs. She wanted to look at the ladies' dresses. La Belle Assemblée was very well, but she wanted to see how the dresses in the fashion plates looked when they were worn.

  Her comeout was just a few months away, and she was determined to have a wonderful wardrobe of new gowns. Fashionable gowns. Anne, who was extremely talented with her needle, and always dressed in the height of fashion, had promised to help.

  Catherine had told her that guests gathered in the large salon before they went in to dinner. So Elaine went down early, and when she arrived in the large salon, she was one of the first guests there.

  Cormac had accompanied her from her rooms, and stood stolidly against the wall, watchful, and at ease. Elaine looked at the other footmen. The duke's footmen wore livery. Perhaps she'd suggest to Mother that when they went up to Eardley House in London, their footmen should wear livery too?

  Suddenly Elaine saw the gathered guests look up, then bow to someone behind her.

  She turned. Sommerforth, elegant in evening dress. She curtsied low. He smiled at her, and bowed over her hand. "Miss Eardley, what a pleasure — welcome to Sommerforth Abbey. I hope you will enjoy your visit."

  "I'm sure I shall, your grace," she said politely.

  He held out his arm, and she rested her fingertips upon it. She expected the sharp jolt. It came, and disconcerted her once more. She frowned.

  "You enjoy riding," the duke's deep voice was a rumble.

  She had to think for a moment. What had he said? He scattered her wits. "Indeed I do, your grace."

  He chuckled. "You realize that I intend to change your mind about the mare? I have an idea. What if we made a trade? Two of my horses, for your mare. If you'll ride with me in the morning, I will show you the horses I have in mind."

  She glanced up at him from underneath her eyelashes. He was making a game of her, she was sure. "Two horses? I appreciate your interest, of course, and of course I wish that I could agree, but please… No."

  "Why do you frown?"

  "I've been told that no one says no to a duke, your grace."

  He chuckled again. "Would that that were so. It hasn't been my experience, to my sorrow. But will you ride with me?"

  "Most certainly, and with pleasure. I've been to your stables already."

  His eyes widened. "Have you indeed. And what did you think?"

  The duke was still speaking with her when Catherine entered the salon. Her sister saw them, and approached immediately, curtsying low to the duke.

  "How long were you speaking to Sommerforth?" Catherine asked Elaine in a low voice several moments later, after the duke had left them.

  Elaine frowned at the suspicion in Catherine's voice. "A few minutes. He came up to me." She laughed. "He still wants to buy Joy. His latest idea is that he will trade for her. Two of his horses for Joy — I've said that I'll ride with him tomorrow."

  "I don't know what to make of it," Catherine said to Anne, a few minutes later. "Would you credit it? When I came downstairs Somm
erforth was speaking with Elaine."

  Elaine ignored her sisters' whispers. She was too busy making mental notes about the gowns the ladies were wearing. A train? Several elegant ladies were wearing trains. She needed to speak with Anne about a train.

  She tapped her chin as she assessed one especially elegant lady with cropped brunette hair, who wore a glittering diamond necklace. She also wore a triple band of diamonds as a hair clip. She'd have to ask her mother whether she could borrow her sapphire hair clips.

  "Stop staring," Catherine took Elaine's hand, and tucked it under her elbow. "Never stare, it's gauche."

  "Who is the lady with the diamond necklace? I like —"

  "Stop it," Catherine hissed. Then she whispered. "You will most definitely ignore her — that lady is the Countess of Hazelbridge. You will not stare at her. Ah, here's Mother — and Talverne."

  Lady Hazelbridge swallowed her temper. Never by so much as the flicker of an eye did she betray her anger at the attention that Sommerforth paid to the pretty redhead. She was a child. She couldn't be David's latest flirt, she was too young.

  "Who's the chit?" She asked her friend, Mrs. Buckland-Wilson. A widow, Desirée was currently Sir Oliver Destry's mistress.

  Desirée shrugged. "One of the Eardley girls. I've no idea why Sommerforth invited them."

  "Recall that one of the daughters married Linton; David recently stayed with Talverne, Linton's nephew."

  "That's right… I'd forgotten. Wonderful diamonds, Isobel."

  "Thank you." Isobel kept smiling. Of course Desirée knew who'd given her the diamonds. Soon everyone would know that David had dropped her. He always dropped his flirts, but that was no comfort.

  "I advise against it," Desirée said softly.

  "What do you mean?"

  Desirée smiled at her. "I know what you're thinking, because I know you. Sheathe your claws my dear. Recall that Catherine's scandal sheets turned Lady Burnley into a laughing stock. Only Linton marrying the Eardley girl saved la Burnley, for all her money… the Eardley's chit's too young to be a concern. David's shown no inclination for marriage."