When Miss Millpost had arrived at Casterfield Grange to school Georgiana in the basics, she was also expected to coach her in the ways of gentility. In that area, she would later admit that she wasn’t quite as successful as she’d originally hoped. She had imparted good advice along with the daily lessons.
“You might have to disguise your wits, young lady, for an intelligent woman is seen as both a rarity and a novelty and therefore something to be feared. But never abandon them, for they are a rare enough gift either in men or in women!”
Georgiana had studied hard and learned to appreciate her governess’s warmth and encouragement, despite her strict and formal manner as they explored the Baron’s extensive library.
Miss Millpost had agreed to stay with them, as companion now, rather than governess, until Georgiana was married. Shortly before the Baron died he had informed her that he had settled on her, in his will, a substantial annuity, and a cottage, in thanks for her long service. Both Cordelia and Georgiana suspected that Miss Millpost looked forward to the day of Georgiana’s marriage with thorough enthusiasm, simply because it would free her to live her own life.
If she had her way, Georgiana fully intended to persuade the Duke to simply release her inheritance to her, and let her run the lands and the household on her own, rather than forcing her to marry before she could do anything. She knew that she was more than capable. She just had to persuade the Duke to see sense. She’d studied hard and understood the rules of agriculture, bookkeeping, finance and how people could flourish when relieved from poverty and oppression. Her father had always treated his tenants well, and she had seen, at first hand, how much impact that had on their lives and their productivity.
Georgiana was completely convinced that she could run her estate successfully, that she could manage the household perfectly well and make sure that the workers and tenants were properly fed and cared for. Her ideas would, most likely, never find favour with her neighbours in the surrounding estates, but she had learnt so much from Miss Millpost, from her private tutor, and from the estate manager, that she now felt a deep responsibility towards the people who lived and worked on her land. She wanted a chance to prove her worth and the only obstacle to that ambition was her sister’s future husband, the Duke himself.
Whilst she had to admit that she liked the man, and that he had her best interests at heart, she was also certain that he would do his utmost to abide by her Papa’s last wishes. She also had to admit that she had never really demonstrated her ability in his presence – for, until her Papa’s death, she had not truly known her own heart, and had simply learned for the joy of it, with no particular purpose in mind. It was quite reasonable that he currently perceived her as a somewhat scatter-brained, if intelligent, girl.
The idea of returning to her wonderful house at Casterfield Grange as the wife of some half-wit, pretentious young nobleman from the local gentry sent shivers of dread down her spine.
At last, they approached the line of handsome poplars which marked the boundary of the Duke’s estate, and Cordelia leaned out of the carriage window to catch sight of the lanterns shining atop the magnificent wrought iron gates that were being swung open to admit them. She admired the elegant gatehouse and noted the liveried servants bowing to her as the carriage passed along the gravel driveway that led to the stately house, slowing to a more comfortable pace as the coachman eased the horses to a walk.
This was her moment. She was coming to her new home. She was to be the new Duchess of Rotherhithe, with all of the lands, titles and privileges that came with marriage to Philip Canterwood, Duke of Rotherhithe.
Her share of her father’s inheritance would add to the Canterwood fortune (although part would always be hers alone, as per the conditions of her father’s will) and the two families would be united forever.
The only minor obstacle now, to her complete happiness, was to find a suitable match for Georgiana, her beautiful, headstrong little sister.
The wedding, due to be held just a few short weeks from now, had provided a perfect opportunity to invite every eligible bachelor of noble blood, in the Duke’s very wide circle of acquaintance, to a house party, leading up to the celebration. Surely there would be enough handsome young men for one of them to catch Georgiana’s fancy and, she was certain, the Duke would lend a hand in making sure that the right man was chosen. It was the least he could do to please his pretty young bride.
Her own was a match made in heaven and Cordelia was determined that her sister should have the same happiness, and be at the altar within six months of her own wedding - whatever it might take to achieve that.
Georgiana was not the only member of the Branley family with a stubborn streak!
After the darkness of the countryside, it seemed that, at Canterwood Park, the lights from a thousand candles lit the many windows of the magnificent house as the carriage pulled up in front of a sweeping stone staircase, flanked by a matching pair of elegantly carved lions. The wide entrance was lit by a row of flaming torches that flared in the cool, evening breeze, casting light and shadows upon the broad, granite steps. There was a hint of late frost in the air as the horses snorted and steam curled from their sweating flanks.
Miss Millpost started awake as footmen dashed forward to open the carriage door and unfold the steps, ready to assist the Ladies as they alighted on the freshly scrubbed and swept flagstones. Cordelia almost tripped on the edge of her gown as her heel caught in a loose tangle of the decorative ribbon on her hem, but Georgiana caught her sister’s arm, and the two sisters looked at each other and couldn’t help laughing.
“What an entrance, dear sister,” Georgiana’s tone was arch, and Cordelia giggled.
Georgiana pointed at the wide, carved doors and the liveried servants scurrying to untie their luggage from the carriage’s roof.
“But at least you fell in amongst good company, Cordelia!”
They laughed as they held onto each other, releasing all the tensions of the long journey, feeling quite tired after the constant pitching and rolling that had been more like a sea voyage in a tempest than a road journey by coach and four. Two sisters, still so young in so many ways, standing on the threshold of their new lives, not really knowing what the future would hold. Cordelia, poised to assume the mantle of the Duchess of Rotherhithe and Georgiana, feeling lost and uncertain of how her destiny would unfold.
Miss Millpost, standing behind them, cleared her throat pointedly.
“Perhaps, girls, we should move towards the stairs?”
There was a distinct stiffening amongst the servants and footmen as a tall and distinguished figure emerged at the top of the stairway, his polished Hessians and perfectly tailored breeches and coat of blue superfine setting off his fine figure. He smiled and revealed an even row of good teeth. His shock of thick, dark hair, given a distinguished air by the light streaking of grey at his temples, was tied back in a black silk ribbon and his eyes sparkled as he looked down at the two Ladies at the bottom of the stone steps. He raised his hands and opened his arms in a dramatic greeting.
“Venus and Aphrodite are come amongst us poor mortal men!”
Georgiana bowed her head and giggled.
“Venus and Aphrodite are the same goddess, Cordelia. Do you think his eyesight is failing?”
Cordelia, wondering inwardly why Philip was being rather more effusive than usual, nudged her sister gently in the ribs and made a graceful curtsey to acknowledge the Duke’s presence above her at the top of the staircase. He stepped lightly down the stairs and waved the servants back to their tasks.
“My dear,” he spoke with a warm, melodious voice. “How lovely the day has become because of your presence. Welcome to my humble abode which, by God’s good grace, we shall soon be blessed to call our home together.”
Georgiana stared at the older man in wonder. The Duke’s ‘humble abode’ consisted of a hundred and fifty rooms with banqueting halls, exquisite ballrooms and some of the finest artwork and tapestrie
s in the county. He dined off silver plate and was a confidant of the Prince Regent. Although considerably older than his bride-to-be, Philip Canterwood was still a handsome man who avoided the perils of a sedentary life by riding to hounds and hunting whenever the opportunity presented itself. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and his great passion was to bring down birds and small game with his highly trained falcons. Falconry might have gone somewhat out of fashion, but Philip had never let fashion dictate his actions. He had, in the past, happily whiled away many hours in the company of his treasured birds, stroking the soft feathers and plumage.
The Duke bowed courteously before Cordelia and brought her slender, gloved hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss upon the silk fabric.
The warmth of his mouth in the cold air sent a small thrill chasing along her arm and Cordelia smiled at the gesture. There was no doubt that she was thoroughly besotted with the charming Duke. It was obvious to all who had eyes to see that she was utterly certain that the distinguished gentleman before her was the love of her life. She smiled with all of her heart and the Duke seemed genuinely charmed by her grace. Clearly, Cordelia was an open book and the Duke could read her heart, mind and intentions without the slightest hint of deception. It made the young woman all the more appealing to him.
With a small inclination of his head, he turned to Georgiana and offered his greetings.
“Welcome to you too, dear Georgiana. I hope you find my home to your liking. Please feel free to enjoy its comforts for as long as you wish.” He smiled at her, seeing her almost as a daughter. “But pray do not keep the young bachelors waiting too long or we’ll be seeing pistols at dawn as the young bucks duel for your hand!”
She bobbed demurely in a small curtsey.
“I thank you with all my heart, your Grace, for your generous hospitality. We can but hope that enough suitors survive the culling to ask for my hand, or the county will surely run perilously short of its young nobility.”
The Duke frowned for a moment as he absorbed the unexpected reply and then nodded as the girl’s wit made him smile. And then he tossed back his head and laughed out loud.
“’Well, Cordelia, she has a rare wit, that pretty sister of yours. Wit and intelligence – that should be enough to catch the attention of the young men. Very good indeed!”
He was still laughing as he turned to greet Miss Millpost.
“My dear Miss Millpost – so good to see you again. It is obvious that you have been taking good care of the young Ladies!”
Miss Millpost’s stern expression softened at the praise, and she curtseyed deeply.
“Why thank you, Your Grace!”
Philip took Cordelia’s hand on his arm, guiding her up the broad staircase and into the welcoming light and warmth of the great house. Georgiana, with Miss Millpost at her side, followed a few paces behind, suddenly aware of how society might see her new position as the younger, unmarried sister of the future Duchess of Rotherhithe.
The grand entrance hall was lined by rows of staff in uniform, all turned out to meet their new mistress-to-be, each member of the household bowing their heads as the couple moved along the hallway and entered the library to warm themselves before a roaring fire and take a small glass of refreshment.
“A glass of madeira to warm the bones and give you an appetite for dinner, my dear?”
Cordelia smiled her assent and a servant stepped forward to pour two small glasses for the Duke and his bride-to-be.
“What about you, Georgiana, Miss Millpost? Would you care to join us in a glass?”
It seemed that the new roles were being very clearly distinguished right from the outset. The Duke and his future Duchess were served first. Everyone else had to wait their turn and would always follow at an appropriate distance behind the noble couple. Philip had not seemed so formal last year in Bath, nor when he had visited Casterfield Grange. Still she supposed it was to be expected, here, and with a houseful of guests.
Georgiana didn’t really mind. As long as her sister was happy. She politely declined the Duke’s invitation with a demure nod of her head. Miss Millpost, however, gratefully accepted the offer, and settled close by the fire with her glass.
Georgiana asked leave to be shown to her room so that she could unpack her baggage.
“No need for that, my girl. Your chamber maid will attend to your valise.”
“Then may I be permitted to withdraw to my chamber to rest after the long journey, Your Grace? I am sure you have much to say to Cordelia without me intruding on you.”
“Of course, of course, dear girl. One of the footmen will show you to your rooms. Dinner will be served at eight and I shall send someone to escort you to the dining room. We can’t risk you fading away after your arduous journey, can we?”
He was obviously determined to be as genial as possible – yet there was no need – Georgiana liked the man anyway, even if she most decidedly wished that her father’s last wishes had not placed her fate in his hands. She smiled politely as she turned away to be shown to her bedchamber, and to think about what she should wear for dinner on this, her first night in the Duke’s magnificent house.
Her private chambers were sumptuously appointed and would have done honour to a visiting head of state. Silk brocades and rich tapestries were matched by luxurious Persian rugs.
It reminded Georgiana of a tale from The Thousand and One Nights. Never having been one to fuss much about her appearance, Georgiana decided not to waste too much effort on her decision.
She donned the first suitable gown she found, where the maid had hung it in the closet, placed a simple diamond necklace from her mother’s collection around her slender neck, and wondered how she should spend the next hour or so until dinner was served.
Bored within minutes, she jumped up from her bed and resolved to explore the house and see if she could find her own way to the dining room. The concept that it might not really be appropriate for an unmarried young lady to wander the halls of a huge house, where there were a number of young men to whom she had not yet been introduced, never occurred to her.
The house was enormous by anyone’s standards and Georgiana noted the vast collection of portraits that lined the walls. The Canterwood family looked down on her from their exalted, canvas positions and she hurried along past niches with polished suits of armour, and displays of ancient weapons that lined the wide, candlelit corridor.
She eventually made her way to the grand staircase which led from the upper floor to the marble reception area, an open space that was designed to welcome and impress visitors, as well as reflect the Duke’s enormous wealth.
Classical statues in Italian marble were tastefully arranged around the circular entrance hall and intricate plaster mouldings graced the ceiling. Georgiana felt somewhat overwhelmed by the scale and opulence of her new surroundings. No wonder her Papa had been so keen to settle his elder daughter into such a family. This was wealth on a level that took her breath away. And all of it owned by one man. A Duke, no less. A peer of the realm. Her sister’s future husband.
From the reception hall, Georgiana had the choice of three separate corridors and she stood, feeling suddenly like a small child playing a game, and pointed at each set of doors before deciding on the middle pair. As she approached, a footman bowed his head and opened the doors for her. It was still a surprise for her to see so many servants wherever she looked, as they lived very simply at Casterfield Grange, but she assumed it must be entirely normal for such a large house.
Candles had been set in glimmering silver candelabra that stood upon beautiful inlaid tables placed at intervals along the corridor. The effect was enchanting. The gentle, flickering light was reflected in the highly-polished table tops and cast shadows and pools of pale luminescence across the silk-patterned wallpaper. She could smell the beeswax that shone like glass on the marquetry. Georgiana felt as if she had entered a land of fairy tale and make believe.
A sudden noise drew her attention, and she turne
d towards a half-open door, through which she could see into a comfortable drawing room. Slowly, she opened the door a little further and noticed that the light in the room came from a five stemmed silver candelabra. No other lights were lit in the room.
It cast a pool of golden warmth across a small table where a young man was seated with a sheaf of papers in one hand and a fine quill pen in the other.
His clothes were fine, yet had the appearance of being slightly worn. His boots had been repaired, and not by a particularly skilful cobbler. His thick, dark hair was a mass of curling, unruly locks, loosely tied at the back with a green twist of silk ribbon that had, undoubtedly, seen better days.
He had not shaved for a day or two, and his cheekbones sported a growth of side whiskers that were too poorly tended to be considered fashionable. He was powerfully built and somehow, intent as he was on the papers he held, reminded Georgiana of a panther preparing to pounce upon its prey. About his badly-shod feet lay a collection of crumpled and hastily discarded sheets. After a moment of absolute stillness, the young man returned to his writing, scribbling with his quill in such haste that he managed to spill droplets of ink upon the table and upon his breeches, although he didn’t seem to notice.
Fearful of intruding, yet equally concerned about being rude, having already opened the door somewhat, Georgiana politely coughed, opening the door further.
“Pardon me for intruding, Sir, I trust I am not unduly disturbing you?”
The words hung in the air and the polite question remained unanswered as the young man did not even pause or look up from his notes. Georgiana coughed once more in an attempt to draw his attention.
“My name is Lady Georgiana Branley and, although we have not been formally introduced, I would count it an honour, Sir, to make your acquaintance.”
Redeeming the Marquess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 6) Page 2
