Her dear aunt's kindly reminder caused Isobel to relax. 'I beg your pardon, Aunt Laura, you are right to chide me. It's just that I feel over large and I was wishing I were a foot and a half shorter tonight.'
Petunia stretched up to kiss her cheek. 'You are the most beautiful woman here, like a goddess, so tall and elegant. With your lovely red-gold curls and huge green eyes I'm certain you shall be the talk of the town'
'You are dear to say so, cousin, and I love you for it. However I can't tell you how unpleasant it is to be staring at the top of a gentleman's head all night.'
Her companions were still laughing when the first guests were announced. Uncle Benjamin, who had been absent from the line, hurried to join them, brushing cigar ash from his person as he did so. He'd been blowing a cloud in the billiard room, and no doubt downing a steadying brandy or two.
He beamed at her. 'My dears, I shall be the proudest man in London tonight. I expect to be beating off your many suitors with a stick before the evening is finished.' He winked at her as he took his place beside his wife. He knew how she felt and appreciated, as no other person did, what a sacrifice she was making in order to save her family from disaster.
'I think you are a trifle premature, Uncle. However there are a prodigious amount of people invited, it would be churlish of me not to find someone to make me an offer when there is so much choice.' His laughter made several heads turn in their direction. 'I am deeply grateful for the opportunity you have given me, my lord. Tonight I shall make an effort to simper and flutter my eyelids in exactly the way Pet has shown me.'
She loved her relatives; if she was honest she preferred them to her own family. Whatever the outcome of this venture she was determined to enjoy her stay in Town, attend all the soirees and at homes with good grace, but when everyone else was still abed in the morning she would ride in the park and visit the sights. Her lips curved at the thought of her trip to Hatchards that morning when she had been able to purchase several promising novels.
Her smile froze as a tall gentleman dressed entirely in black caught her attention. Her knees almost buckled. It was the one gentleman she didn't want to meet. Her enquiries had assured her Lord Bentley did not attend balls or parties, was a dissolute aristocrat, more interested in gaming and drinking than finding a wife. There was a sudden flurry of movement and the crowd parted like the Red Sea to let him through. He was staring directly at her.
Had he recognized her as the young lady who had tipped him into a ditch? That strange heat flickered through her, her cheeks coloured and her chest tightened. She couldn't look away, was held by the gaze of his blue-black eyes and the arrogant thrust of his chin. This time he was smiling and she could not help responding. The master of ceremonies announced his name with due aplomb.
‘His grace, The Duke of Rochester, Lord Bentley.’ She dipped in a deep curtsy wondering if he knew who she was. Presumably his invitation card would have stated her name, and as her cousin was the image of Aunt Laura it must be immediately obvious that she was Lady Isobel Drummond and not Miss Petunia Illingworth. She straightened, raising her head to discover him watching her. His smile made her toes curl.
‘Lady Isobel, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. I hope you will honour me with a dance or two.’ This was not a question, but a bald statement of fact.
Almost too late she found her tongue. ‘Thank you, your grace, it is I who shall be honoured.’ He nodded and was gone. Someone touched her hand and she looked down to see her cousin staring at her round eyed. ‘Do you realize who that was?’
Isobel smiled. ‘He was announced, he’s The Duke of Rochester.’
‘No, silly, he’s the most eligible parti in the world and he has singled you out. Whatever happens next, your season will be successful.’
Now was not the time to tell Pet she had already made his acquaintance. She shivered. Was he planning some sort of revenge for her mistreatment? Would he lead her out and then abandon her on the dance floor, make her a laughing stock? Could one man have the power to do that? Her cousin was prone to exaggerate, no doubt this was another of those instances.
‘I think he was an objectionable man, so top lofty I cannot imagine how he does not fall over his own feet. He did not stay to greet any of you; even a duke should have good manners.’
Aunt Laura looked scandalized and Petunia giggled. Her uncle winked and the moment of excitement was over. Having jumped the queue in his superior fashion, Rochester strolled off into the ballroom. As the remainder of the guests were introduced Isobel curtsied and smiled until her face ached.
An hour later she was finally free to join the throng milling about the place. Whoever arrived at her side first, if she liked them, then she would dance. Then, when she became bored with the evening, she could absent herself without giving offence to anyone.
Petunia was to lead the first set, no doubt some gentleman would invite her also. To her astonishment Rochester appeared neatly cutting out a small queue of hopefuls.
‘I believe this is my dance, Lady Isobel.’
She was tempted to refuse, to say she was promised to another, but something in his eyes made her accept and she curtsied and stepped forward. Just the touch of his hand sent tremors rushing round her body.
‘I believe that I owe you an apology, my lady.’
Her eyes flew up. His expression was suitably solemn, but his eyes twinkled. ‘It is I that must apologize …’
His smile made her lose her feet and she stumbled, he steadied her. ‘I should have called on you, but was recalled on business matters. Without your intervention things might have been far worse.’
Her gurgle of laughter attracted the attention of the other couples in the set. ‘Shall we agree to forget the incident, your grace?’
He nodded. ‘As you wish. May I say that I almost didn’t recognize you this evening?’
With wide eyes she replied. ‘And I you, your grace. Mud is an excellent disguise, is it not?’
This time his shout of mirth caused the unfortunate young lady to her left to step on her hem and tear the flounce clean off. The dagger look Isobel received almost made her lose her composure. As he whirled her away in the promenade she struggled with her giggles, he not assisting her efforts by winking down at her.
The remainder of the ball whirled passed far quicker than she’d anticipated. In spite of her reservations she was not bored, in fact had never felt so invigorated in her life. She had danced with a variety of gentlemen both young and old, but none had been as charming or as handsome as Lord Bentley.
He had returned to claim her for the supper dance and by the end of the evening she had quite revised her former opinion and was halfway to liking him a great deal. She was not so I as to believe he was so afflicted and did not expect to hear from him again.
However, when she returned from her early morning ride she was greeted by a frantic Aunt Laura. ‘My dear girl, such an honour, indeed it is quite worth the aggravation of rising at the crack of dawn.’
‘Aunt Laura, I’ve no idea of what you speak. Indeed, I am astonished to find you abroad so early.’
‘I told you, my love, The Duke of Rochester has come to call on you. He’s been here half an hour already. Poor Illingworth has been obliged to talk to him. I could not remain in the same room, he puts me all in a flutter, he stares at one in such a way as to make you believe you have a smut upon your nose.’
Isobel was dumbfounded; for such an illustrious person to make his appearance but a few hours after the end of the ball was incredible. Had he been as taken with her as she was with him? Had their encounter in Norfolk made her seem a friend and not a stranger?
‘I had better not waste time by returning to my chamber and changing from my riding habit.’ The look of horror she received from her aunt made her laugh. ‘He cannot expect us to be in our finery if he chooses to call so early. This is a very becoming habit, it exactly matches my eyes, have you not told me so several times before?’
Not
waiting to hear the reply Isobel walked straight across the chequered entrance hall and into the drawing-room. Two heads turned. Her uncle was patently relieved and the duke showed unmistakable appreciation in his eyes.
She dipped in a deep curtsy; the jaunty ostrich feather on the brim of her military style swept the floor. Straightening, she gazed across the room at the two men, waiting for one of them to speak.
‘Lady Isobel, forgive me for calling so early, but like you I am in the habit of riding before anyone else is around. I wished to invite you to drive in the park with me this afternoon.’
She was surprised at his statement. He did not look like a man who relished exercise at any time. Then she recalled his wild appearance last year and reconsidered. He had a slightly jaded air about him today, as if he had been spending his days in idle pursuits not something as invigorating as a gallop around Hyde Park.
‘I should be delighted to accompany you, your grace, if my uncle gives me permission.’
‘I am quite happy for you to do so, my dear, as long as you are accompanied by your abigail.’
A flash of something passed across the duke’s handsome features. This was quite possibly annoyance. Had he really believed his title would allow him to ride roughshod over her good name?
‘Forgive me, gentlemen, but as you see I have not yet had the opportunity to change from my riding habit …’ She stopped, appalled that she’d been so gauche as to mention changing her apparel. This time his eyes glittered with something she did not recognize. Her cheeks blazed, hastily she curtsied a second time and without further comment turned to go.
His deep voice followed her. ‘I shall arrive to collect you at two o’clock, Lady Isobel.’
She was sorely tempted to return to the drawing-room and tell this autocratic gentleman that two o’clock was not convenient, but common sense prevented her. A man like him had been born and bred to issue orders in the expectation that they would be obeyed without question. His dark
visage had often filled her dreams these past few weeks, it would be no hardship to drive with the most attractive man in Town.
Running upstairs, her skirt draped over her arm, she smiled at the thought of being seen in his company. If Petunia was to be believed, she would now be the talk of the town. Was it really possible one man could influence opinion in this way?
*
Mary stood back, her dear face glowing with pride. 'My lady, I don't believe there is another as beautiful as you in Town this season. The leaf green of your promenade gown was a perfect choice, I must say I wasn't sure it was quite right for you when you selected it.'
'It seems a pity to cover the pretty beading on the bodice with my pelisse, but it's decidedly chilly this afternoon. I know it's the end of March, but it doesn't feel like spring.' Isobel lifted the hem of her dress to stare at her new half-kid boots dyed to exactly match her ensemble. 'These are decidedly uncomfortable, it's fortunate I shall not have to walk far in them.'
'You know how it is, my lady, they will ease with wear. Your bonnet brim is so deep it's going to prevent you from speaking to the duke. You will have to turn your head in order to see him.'
'That's exactly why I selected it. If I find his company tedious I can stare straight ahead and he will have no notion that I am pulling faces at him.'
'My lady! You must not jest about such things, if you offend such an illustrious person your season could be ruined. One word from him and your invitations will be withdrawn. Remember how you met last November?'
'He is a man like any other, I shall treat him with the respect he deserves.'
Picking up her gloves and reticule she checked in the glass she was looking her best. After all, her appearance was the only thing she had to offer. Being the daughter of an impecunious earl would not impress this man. He was prodigiously handsome, fabulously wealthy and a duke - but for all that unless he engaged her affections she would not consent to
marry him. Was it possible he had been thinking of her as she had him since their first encounter?
Good grief! She had been invited to drive and already she was anticipating an offer. On hearing voices in the vestibule she paused at the head of the stairs. She had not expected him to leave his carriage and come in person to collect her. He must not keep his team waiting a moment longer on her account. They were the same handsome chestnuts he had driven in Norfolk.
'Lady Isobel, you are ravisante. And equally important, you are not tardy.' He bowed and she paused halfway down the stairs to dip in a curtsy.
'Thank you, your grace, for your compliment. I am famous for my punctuality, am I not, Uncle?'
He nodded solemnly. 'Indeed, my dear, you are an example to us all.'
She hid her smile beneath her bonnet brim, it was a standing joke that she was always the last to appear having had her nose in a book or become lost in her music.
Bentley met her at the foot of the staircase holding out his arm. She had no option but to place her hand on it. It was the same as when they had danced together last night, just touching him made her feel decidedly odd. She daren't glance sideways, he would see that her cheeks were flushed and know he was affecting her in this way.
'Oh my! A high perch phaeton - I had no idea you would drive such a thing.'
'I am a noted whipster, my lady. Unfortunately, as you can see, I will be unable to accommodate your maid. However, it's perfectly permissible to drive in an open carriage in broad daylight without risking your reputation.'
Mary was rigid with disapproval. Isobel was tempted to refuse to accompany him, but the resulting fracas would cause distress to her relatives and she would not willingly do that. He was perfectly correct, only in a closed carriage did she need to be chaperoned.
Smiling apologetically at her abigail she continued down the marble steps where the alarming vehicle was waiting. A diminutive tiger was all but swinging from the head of the lead horse as it stamped and pawed the ground in its eagerness to be away.
Without a by your leave two strong hands gripped her waist and she was all but tossed aboard. The phaeton rocked alarmingly and she clutched the side, it did so again as he joined her.
His tiger released his grip and shot to the rear of the vehicle to scramble, not a moment too soon, on to the step at the rear. With a flick of his whip the duke released the team and they moved smoothly away from the path and on to the main thoroughfare. There was no conversation between them, she kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead fearing that at any minute the spirited team would spook and deposit her on the road.
Her worries receded as they progressed safely through the traffic. He was in control of his horses, she was in no danger with him beside her. She began to relax, to look about her with interest. This was the first time she'd travelled in such a modern vehicle, its prodigious height gave one such an advantage over other road users. She saw the park gates ahead several minutes before they arrived there.
There were many like-minded carriages entering the park. Two o'clock was obviously the time to be seen bowling around the paths. They had not been inside for many minutes before she became aware that every head turned in their direction as they trotted past.
'Lady Isobel, delightful as your bonnet is, can I ask you not to wear it on our next excursion?'
She shifted sideways in order to reply. 'I know, it has more the appearance of a coal scuttle than a hat. I cannot imagine what possessed me to buy it.'
His chuckles sent shivers up her spine. He was all but irresistible when he smiled in that particular way. 'Excellent, my lady, we are already on agreement on one matter.'
'I have never ridden in one of these before, it's an exciting experience. However, being so high from the ground and exposed to the elements is not something I would care to do unless the weather is clement.'
'Shall we ride together tomorrow morning, Lady Isobel? I shall collect you at …' He hesitated as if not sure what would be a suitable time to suggest.
'I normally go out at seven o'
clock, your grace.' This was pure fabrication, she rarely left the house before half past eight. She doubted if he was aware that such an hour existed.
'Seven o'clock?' He smiled at her and her insides somersaulted. 'I had no notion you were such a dedicated rider, Lady Isobel. I believe you must have been out for three hours this morning.'
Hoist by her own petard! Suddenly she felt comfortable in his company, able to speak naturally to him. Laughing at his perspicacity she nodded. 'I am discovered, I thought to frighten you by insisting you joined me at dawn. I leave at half past eight and should be honoured to have you accompany me tomorrow.'
She returned from her drive fizzing with excitement. Unbelievable as it might seem, he appeared to find her as appealing as she found him. Had she already met the man she would one
day marry?
Chapter Three
The next two weeks Isobel hardly had time to gather her thoughts. Lord Bentley was constantly at her side and she was whisked to the opera, to the theatre and escorted to all the most prestigious social events. It could only be a matter of time before he made her a formal offer. He was to dine with them tonight and had asked for a private audience with Uncle Benjamin who stood in loco parentis.
She was sitting in front of the fire in her sitting room drying her hair when Aunt Laura came in. 'My dear, I must speak to you. As your dear mama is not here it falls on me to do what she would do.'
'Aunt Laura, there's no need to explain what will be required of me when I become a bride, I am well aware what my duties will be.'
'That's a profound relief, my love, I can now move onto the next matter. Rochester intends to speak to your uncle this evening. If you have any doubts about marrying him then you must say so now.'
'I had thought there would be longer to make up my mind. I have known him only three weeks as last year's encounter cannot count. I know I should not hesitate; I shall be a duchess, have everything I could possibly wish for, but I keep remembering his anger. I could not marry him, even though I am almost in love with him, if I believed I should spend my time in fear of what might happen if I upset him.'
The Duke's Reform Page 2
