Duke's Folly

by Melinda Hammond

  'I regret, most sincerely, that I deceived you, but I cannot regret coming here. These past two weeks have been amongst the happiest of my life.'

  He did not look at Sophie, but he hoped, prayed she knew his words were aimed at her. They were all standing, and an awkward silence followed. Then Monsieur Coutras spoke.

  'It has been a morning full of events, your grace.' He put his hand on his daughter's shoulder. 'I hope you will forgive me if I leave my sons to see you to the gates.'

  The old man nodded to the boys, who rose and walked to the door. Very much like an armed guard, to see him safely off the premises, Perry thought ruefully. They accompanied him from the house and across the yard to where Wragg was waiting with the curricle. Hugh was pale and silent, a young man very much on his dignity. Perry guessed that he would like to let rip, to tell him what a scoundrel he had been to deceive them all, but one could not do that to a duke. Armand, too was fighting to remember his manners, but he could not quite manage the reticence of his older brother.

  'Will you come back?' he asked as he walked beside Perry. 'Will we see you again?'

  'Of course not.' It was Hugh who answered. 'A duke will not concern himself with the likes of us.'

  The hurt and bitterness in the older boy's voice hit home. Perry said gently, 'I do not think it advisable for me to call again.'

  'But I thought you liked us,' said Armand. 'I thought we were friends!'

  Perry climbed up into his carriage, the boy's words battering his already smarting conscience.

  'We are friends,' he said at last. 'I value that, and the time we spent together, very much. Perhaps one day, at some time in the future, we will meet again, but not yet.' He gathered up the reins and paused. 'If you need me, if any member of your family ever requires my help or protection, I pray you, do not hesitate to write to me. Do you understand?'

  'No!'

  Armand's eyes were suspiciously bright, and Hugh put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded. 'We will remember that, your grace.'

  Perry looked at the boys, wanting more than anything to stay, to forget he was Duke of Cullenmore, but it could not be. He could not avoid his duty. With a nod he whipped up the team and rode away from Duke's Folly. Forever.

  The parlour was very quiet once the boys had gone out with the duke. Sophie kept her head bowed.

  'Your tea has gone cold,' said her father. 'Would you like a glass of wine?'

  'No, thank you, Papa.'

  He returned to his own chair.

  'I fear you had grown rather fond of his grace.' She nodded and he sighed. 'I confess I noticed it, and did nothing. I thought, hoped…'

  'He told me he was not free, Papa.' She hunted for her handkerchief. 'I do not believe he meant to hurt me.'

  And it was true, she did believe it, now that it was over. She blew her nose and straightened her shoulders. Now he was gone.

  'And do you think he meant what he said?' asked her father anxiously. 'Do you really think he will allow us to remain here?'

  Sophie got up and went over to him. She dropped a light kiss on his head.

  'Yes, I do think he meant it. He is a good man, I am sure of it.'

  It would be easier to think ill of him, to rail at the way he had lied to them all, but she preferred to remember the times they had spent together. Such happiness might not come again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After the freedom of the past few weeks, Perry found life at Cullenmore stifling. With the bell system, installed by his grandfather shortly before his death, he saw no need to have liveried servants stationed outside every door waiting to do his bidding, but when he had suggested to his butler that the footmen might be found other duties, Barton suggested, respectfully but with the air of one who knew his business, that his grace might like to delay any decision until he could discuss it with his future duchess. And so the footmen stayed, Perry being in no doubt that Lady Honoria would consider such pomp and ceremony necessary to their status.

  Some days he thought it might have been best if he had not taken a holiday at all. But if he had not, he might never have visited Duke's Folly. He might not have met Sophie. Thankfully, during the day he could push thoughts of her to the back of his mind while he attended to his duties and by throwing himself into those duties, keeping busy from dawn until dusk, he managed to fall into a dreamless sleep of exhaustion most nights.

  He had remained in Hyndmarsh only long enough to meet with Rafford and apprise him of the situation. Perry had not seen Grieves again, fearing that if he did so he might not be able to control his temper. He dearly wanted to call the villain to account, but while it was all very well for plain Mr Wyre to thrash a rascally land agent, even call him out, such actions were beneath the Duke of Cullenmore. However, his steward assured him he would deal with matters and by the time Rafford returned to Cullenmore a week after Perry, a new agent had been appointed and Grieves had moved his family out of the area.

  Rafford had also drawn up the agreement regarding Duke's Folly and the future of Monsieur Coutras and his family was assured. It had had to be altered slightly, because although the old man was willing to allow the duke's patronage for his sons, he had refused point blank to accept a dowry or allow Perry to hire a companion for his daughter. Perry was convinced this was Sophie's doing, but when Rafford advised him of it he made no demur. Whether it was pride, heartache or a mixture of the two that caused her to refuse his aid, he would not force his will upon her.

  Perry could now turn his attention to his own future. He had not called upon Lord and Lady Flintley since his return. He knew he must do so, and soon, for the September Ball was looming. He had made a promise to Lady Flintley and he could not go back on it. Yet whenever he thought of riding or driving to Dulverton House he always found some excuse to put it off for another day.

  *

  Perry was awake when the first rays of the morning sun crept into his room. He turned and buried his head in the pillow. It was the fourteenth. He could put it off no longer, he must call upon Lady Honoria, and make the proposal she was expecting. Any hopes he had that the arrangement might have been forgotten had been dashed yesterday, when a gracious invitation had arrived from Lady Flintley, inviting Perry to join them for dinner before the ball.

  A promising morning faded into a dull afternoon and by the time Perry set out for Dulverton House, grey cloud blanketed the sky and a gentle rain was falling. He honoured the occasion by using the family chaise with the Cullenmore crest emblazoned upon the door panels. When he reached his destination one liveried servant dashed out to open the door and let down the steps while a second held up an umbrella to protect the ducal head from the rain.

  Resisting the urge to run a finger around his collar, Perry jumped out and was shown into the drawing room, where his host and hostess were waiting to greet him. A small fire had been kindled in the hearth but its sullen glow did little to improve the chilly atmosphere in the room.

  'Good evening, your grace,' Lady Flintley came forward, a regal smile on her thin mouth. 'We had expected you to call before this, but no doubt there has been much to do after your absence.'

  'Yes indeed, ma'am.' Perry took the proffered hand and bowed over it, his lips stopping a hair's breadth from the satin covered fingers.

  'Now now, my dear, don't chide the boy when he has this minute walked through the door!' Lord Flintley laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Will you take a glass of wine your grace?'

  Perry wished he had the nerve to ask for brandy. He felt like a man about to be executed.

  'Honoria will be joining us shortly,' Lady Flintley informed him. 'We decided to make dinner a private affair, just the four of us your grace.'

  Perry inclined his head politely. Once it was known that he was the only guest―and he had no doubt that Lady Flintley would lose no time in telling everyone―it would be taken as a sign that an announcement of their betrothal was imminent.

  His heart sank when they went into the dining room. The tabl
e had been extended with its full complement of leaves, and so much silverware had been piled along its length that it would be impossible to talk without craning his neck to peer around it. Impossible to talk in any case, he thought sourly. With only the four of them spaced equally around the table, the only way of communicating would be by shouting.

  An hour later Perry was wishing himself anywhere but in the dining room. He had never endured such a meal. Servants circled the table, silently hovering behind his chair as they waited to refill his glass or fetch for him any dish that was not within reach. He thought of the cosy dinners he had enjoyed at Duke's Folly with Monsieur Coutras and his family, everyone crowded around the little table, laughing and talking at the same time. Not that he needed to exert himself to converse today, for Lady Flintley kept up a constant flow of talk in a carrying voice that any actor at Drury Lane would have been proud of. She rarely required an answer and gave her opinion on everything from the shortcomings of the government and the price of corn to what would be expected of the consort of any great man. She never mentioned the future duchess of Cullenmore, but Perry was not deceived.

  'I hope you enjoyed the cod, your grace,' she called to him as the first set of dishes was swept away. 'Honoria ordered that it should be brought in from the coast especially. Such a distance, and the fish packed in ice, too. A great expense at this time of year, as I am sure you will understand, but Honoria considered it worth the effort, and the fine French wine that was used for the cooking of it. Honoria was very particular that only the finest ingredients should go into the sauce.'

  Perry leaned back in order that his hostess might see his smile of appreciation at such efforts. How much more enjoyable had been the fish he had eaten fresh from Hyndmarsh Lake, with nothing more elaborate than a caper sauce. Thankfully he was not expected to respond. His hostess continued almost without pause.

  'My daughter had the ordering of the whole menu tonight,' she declared in her stentorian tones. 'There is nothing I can teach her about holding household.'

  Perry said nothing as he watched the second course being brought in. He reached fifteen before he lost count of the number of dishes. Clearly economy was not something that featured in Lady Honoria's education, he thought acidly, and immediately rebuked himself. The lady was trying to impress him, he should be grateful for that. He tried to look around the huge silver epergne on the table between them and catch Honoria's eye, but it was impossible. Lady Flintley was speaking again.

  'Of course, the dinners here cannot be anything to compare with those you enjoy at Cullenmore. I remember dining there in your dear father's time. Why, I am sure there were never less than thirty dishes removed at any one time, and so many servants, all in the Cullenmore livery with the gold frogging. I was never more impressed.'

  'But that would have been at a grand dinner, Mama.' Lady Honoria's disembodied voice floated out from behind the epergne. 'A cosy, family dinner would require far less staff, although no less thought should go into it. For myself I should consider ten dishes sufficient for each course.'

  'Indeed, my love, you are very right,' agreed her fond mama. 'Your grace, do you still employ a French chef in your kitchens? Honoria has never been accustomed to anything else and is quite fluent in the French language. Not that she deals with the staff directly, of course. Dear me, no, I can assure your grace that she has never even entered the kitchens. Nor any of the service rooms. That is the province of housekeepers, stewards and butlers. A lady can direct matters quite satisfactorily from the morning room.'

  Perry leaned back in his chair again. 'And what of the garden, Lady Flintley. What is the role of the lady of the house in the garden?'

  'To look decorative,' she responded with ponderous humour. 'Apart from that, there is no need for her to do anything more strenuous than collect flowers for the house. And even that task can be delegated to a servant, if the weather is inclement.'

  'My mother always insisted upon picking her own flowers,' he said, irritated by his hostess's complacency. 'She often chose the fruit for the table, too. She is now arranging the gardens at the dower house according to her own design.'

  'We met the duchess at the Asherton's levée, did we not, Mama?' remarked Lady Honoria. 'She was most gracious. She told me how comfortable she is in her new home.'

  'Yes we did, my love. That was a few weeks' past, your grace, while you were away. Did she not mention it?'

  'I have not had an opportunity to call upon my mother since my return, ma'am,' admitted Perry, digging his knife into the slice of beef on his plate. At that moment he hated himself for his cowardice in avoiding his parent, but she would have known immediately that something was wrong, that he was unhappy, and he did not wish to worry her.

  'No? Then I can tell you she was looking very well.' Lady Flintley raised one finger and a hovering footman refilled her wineglass. 'The duchess must find life very different at the dower house. Such a modest establishment after the grandeur of Cullenmore, but as one grows older, one has less energy for these big houses.'

  Perry felt his good humour slipping away. Lady Flintley had his word that he would offer for her daughter, was that not enough? The constant reminders of his duty did not endear him to his future mother-in-law at all. But she had not finished yet.

  'I am sure your dear mama is eager to see a new duchess installed. One who can run Cullenmore as it deserves.'

  Perry shut his mind to Lady Flintley's continued commentary and gave his attention to the plate. It occurred to him that Lord Flintley had said very little during dinner and he wondered morosely if that would be the situation at his own table, once he was married. The thought did nothing to lighten his mood.

  *

  The gentlemen did not linger over their brandy, Lord Flintley informing Perry with a note of apology that their presence would be required in the hall when the guests began to arrive. After a single glass, Perry accompanied his host to the drawing room, but as they crossed the hall Lord Flintley bethought himself of some little task he must undertake.

  'Do you go on in, my boy, and I will join you shortly.'

  Perry entered to find Lady Honoria alone, sitting on a sofa with her hands folded in her lap. She smiled at him as he entered, but did not move, and it struck him that she was posed, not a hair out of place and her skirts elegantly arranged about her, as if for a portrait.

  This has all been planned. This is the moment you must ask Lady Honoria to be your wife.

  Perry cleared his throat.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sophie straightened from her task of lifting onions and pressed a hand into the small of her back. It was a good crop this year, and the wheelbarrow would be too heavy for her to take to the store but she would ask the boys to do that for her. She could have asked them to help with the harvesting, too, but she preferred to be busy. Gathering the last of the beans and sowing seeds for the winter crops did not stop her thinking about Perry, but it did prevent her from falling into melancholy.

  It was mid-September, only a matter of weeks since he had driven away from Duke's Folly, so it was understandable that she still missed him. Her father's meetings with the duke's steward regarding the tenure of the castle had brought some comfort, but she hoped that now it was settled and Mr Rafford had left Hyndmarsh everyone would stop talking about the duke and they might be able to get back to how things had been before he had come into their lives. Not that she would ever forget him, but the pain would pass, in time.

  It was not as if anything could ever have come of their friendship, she told herself as she bent to pull up more onions and shake the earth from the roots. It was foolish of her to fall in love with him. Even before she knew he was a duke she had known that he was too much of a gentleman to offer for someone like her, a girl who cooked her own meals, one whose hands were rough and her nails broken from toiling in the garden. From the corner of her eye she saw a movement. Joan was hurrying towards her.

  'Mr Bonworth is here to see you, Miss Sophie
.'

  'Again?' She frowned. Surely it was only two days ago he came to play chess with her father. 'Does he wish to talk to Papa?'

  'No, Miss, he asked for you especially. I've shown him into the parlour.'

  Sophie dropped the onions into the barrow and rubbed her hands.

  'Very well, I shall come now. Pray offer him refreshments, Joan, I must wash my hands and change my dress before I see him.

  *

  Perry smiled at Lady Honoria, hoping no sign of his anger showed in his face.

  I am damned if I will have my hand forced.

  He walked further into the room but made no effort to speak and after a few moments of silence the lady invited him to sit down.

  'Mama was called away,' she told him as he lowered himself into one of the elegant gilded chairs. 'Some last-minute arrangements for the ball.'

  'Your father also,' replied Perry dryly.

  They conversed idly. Lady Honoria looked a little put out, but Perry stubbornly refused to say the words he knew she wanted to hear. At length there was a soft scratching at the door and Lord Flintley looked in.

  He said, with an arch look, 'I hope I am not interrupting?'

  'Not at all.' Lady Honoria was unable to keep the displeasure from her face or her voice as she replied.

  'I was telling Lady Honoria that we have been experimenting with winter crops in the long acre field,' said Perry, taking a perverse satisfaction in his host's surprise. 'What think you, sir, would it be better to turn over more of my land to cattle?'

  Lord Flintley rose manfully to the challenge, and Perry continued to ply him with questions until Lady Flintley came in some moments later, an undisguised look of expectancy upon her face.

  'Come in, my dear,' her husband called, clearly relieved to see her. 'We were discussing the harvest.'

  Perry met his hostess's amazed stare with a bland smile. For a moment he thought she would challenge him, but something in his face checked her. She responded with a regal nod of her head.