Chapter Three
What was the chit up to? Langley couldn’t quite make her out. The mouse was offering to teach the cat a few tricks? Teach him how to speak to a young lady, as if he hadn’t been doing so all these years—and seducing a few of the more experienced ones into bed.
Still, in view of his recent failed proposal attempts, his methods clearly needed adjustment. Who could it hurt to play her little game? In fact, if he raised the stakes a little, he could guarantee he’d have his betrothal ball the duchess planned to throw on Saturday. “What if I’m not able to convince any of these ladies I would make a good husband?”
“Do you doubt my ability to teach you?” With her hands on her hips, Lady Charlotte looked like a slender version of his mother.
“Not at all. My concerns were focused on my own abilities to seduce a lady.”
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Sir, we aren’t speaking of seduction. On that subject I’m certain you have much skill. I am speaking of capturing her heart.”
“Her heart, is it?” Langley glanced at the French doors, fully expecting to see his mother standing outside them with her arms folded across her matronly bosom, chastising him with her pointed glare for being alone so long with Lady Charlotte. But they were in full view of the morning room, and every other window along this wing of the house, so no one could accuse him of behaving less than gentlemanly.
Still, Lady Charlotte’s reputation would be marred by such an implication. While that might force her to accept his offer of marriage, that was not how he wished to win a wife. He needed to seal their bargain so they could go inside with the others. “I shall accept your kind offer of instruction on one condition. If I fail to achieve my goal of convincing one of the other young ladies to marry me, you will agree to become my wife.”
Lady Charlotte’s lips parted and her eyebrows pulled together. Her hand pressed her necklace against her heart. She closed her eyes for a moment, her mouth turning down, then met his gaze. “Agreed.”
Langley released a breath of air that came awfully close to relief. Ridiculous. He had no attachment to this girl over any of the others, so there was no call for relief she might still consider his offer. Just so long as he could move forward to the next stage of setting up his nursery, he’d be happy. “Glad to hear it. Now, you’d better hurry inside. Your mother will wonder what’s keeping you.”
She laughed. “She will assume I slipped into the library. She won’t look for me until dinner. Good day, sir. Thank you for the lesson in pall mall.” She hurried inside.
As the door closed behind Lady Charlotte, Pembrook stepped out from behind a tree. “Well played, Langley. You will have her believing she tricked you into marrying her.”
Langley shook his head. “How so? She turned me down.”
“You haven’t noticed the way she looks at you? She has been smitten with you since her arrival. Longer, I’m certain.”
“Then why would she turn me down?” Langley stroked his chin. It made no sense. If she wanted a proposal, why wouldn’t she accept it when it came? She didn’t seem to be the type to refuse the first time by rote, as some were said to do.
“Because she’s female? Who knows how a woman’s mind works? She is surprisingly outspoken, though. Perhaps you should consider one of the other ladies. Her sister is much more biddable.”
“Lady Alison is engaged as of last month, if you’ll recall. Lady Charlotte intrigues me.” As he said it, a ripple of excitement coursed through him. She was quite complex for someone who appeared so meek. While not completely biddable, neither was she so headstrong and temperamental that life beside her would be a continual trial. “I am quite curious how she expects to instruct me in matters of comport. I haven’t looked forward to anything as much as I do this next week.”
“Just be careful. Remember, this is a person’s heart you are playing with. Marriage might be just another business arrangement for you, but to this girl, it’s her entire life.”
“I imagine so,” Langley muttered in response, but Pembrook’s words haunted him for the rest of the afternoon, wiping away any traces of his good mood. His closest friend thought him callous and calculating. Hardly. He was disciplined, yes. Focused. He was a duke; he had duties to fulfill. He would be the first to admit he wasn’t the romantic sort, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a pleasant wife.
As he suspected, his mother must have seen his long tête-a-tête with Lady Charlotte because the young miss was seated at his right at supper. To his left sat a slightly older, but still unmarried, young lady who had come with the Martins. Her name was Viola—or Daisy—Fielding, or some such common flower.
Miss Fielding was all politeness and polish. “Your Grace, the weather was perfect this afternoon for our little game of Pall Mall. You couldn’t have planned it better.”
She spoke as though the weather were under his purview, something he scheduled to suit his moods. “I am glad you approve. I have a thunderstorm on the agenda for our game of charades tomorrow. You shall all choose a gothic novel to portray.”
Lady Charlotte coughed into her napkin.
“Do you enjoy charades, Lady Charlotte?” He watched her expression before taking another spoonful of white soup.
She cleared her throat. “Very much so, although I don’t claim any talent when performing. Your mother mentioned a short play we all would take part in later in the week. Are you a skilled actor?”
If she was referring to his ability to portray a suitor, his answer should be no, from what she’d told him earlier. “I have not the talent that many do of pretending something I am not.”
“Did you never fantasize being a knight or a pirate as a child?” Lady Charlotte kept her focus on him, awaiting his reply.
“I don’t recall any such flights of fancy. I did enjoy reading, and I suppose I pretended to be the characters in my books.”
Lady Charlotte smiled, then nodded pointedly in the direction of Miss Fielding. Langley frowned, unable to determine what she meant him to do, then realized this was part of her lessons. He was to make casual conversation with all his guests. “Do all young ladies enjoy make believe, Miss Fielding?”
The woman set down her spoon. “I can’t speak for all girls, but my sisters and I spent hours in the attic exploring trunks filled with my mother’s old gowns and dressing in them.”
Langley forced a smile. “How charming.” He refused to look at Lady Charlotte, for it might appear he sought her approval of his behavior. He hoped tonight was one of his mother’s simpler menus, no more than eight take-aways, but that wasn’t likely. Polite conversation was simply not his forte. He’d be happy when he could escape to the billiard room with the gentlemen.
Unable to stop himself, he glanced at Lady Charlotte. She appeared deep in conversation with the man beside her. Her laughter tittered lightly, stirring up a tightness in his gut. He wanted to be the one to provoke her delight. He forced himself to wait until she’d turned her attention on the next dish, the stewed endive.
Her hand went to her neckline, where the gold heart had rested earlier, but she only wore a short strand of pearls now.
He frowned. “Is your pendant missing?”
She quickly placed her hand in her lap. “No. I took it off when I dressed for the evening.”
“That must be bothersome, changing jewelry as often as you ladies are required to change gowns.”
She swallowed before replying. “It’s not a bother, really. I wouldn’t wear such a casual piece with an evening gown.”
“I see. Yet you reached for it as if you wear it often. Is it a special piece?”
Her cheeks turned rosy, a flattering look that made him even more curious about her thoughts. “Not especially. It’s just something my sister gave me.”
“A birthday gift?”
“No…” She dragged out the word. “It’s simply something…she had no use for any longer.”
He nodded. “I understand. She has begun sorti
ng her possessions, deciding what to take with her to her new home when she marries.”
“You could say that. She…felt I might have occasion to wear the pendant.”
“It is a quaint old piece.” He had no interest in the necklace, but wanted to draw her out more. Discover just who this minx really was.
“I’m hoping the luck increases the more I wear it.” Her fork dropped with a clatter and her fingertips slapped over her mouth as her eyes grew round. She tore her gaze from his and fidgeted with her napkin in her lap.
Had she given away some secret? The necklace was a good luck charm, perhaps, given to her by her sister, who recently became engaged to marry. How very interesting. He shouldn’t pursue the matter, regardless of how it intrigued him. The chit was obviously embarrassed to have admitted she was relying on a pendant to help her find a husband. That might not be what the luck involved, but the fact her engaged sister no longer needed it made him think it was so.
Langley couldn’t bring himself to question her further in front of all these people, so he let it drop. But later, instead of escaping to the billiard room, he would seek her out.
Charlotte’s appetite vanished. She’d almost blurted out the truth, that she hoped the necklace won her a lifetime of love. Saying so was the surest way to keep it from coming true; he’d never consider someone so flighty. She was foolish to think it could happen. No piece of jewelry could grant true love upon the wearer.
She had a horrid feeling the arrangement she’d made with the duke would only prove to torture her over the next few days. She had no fear of a sudden change in her affections toward him, but watching him flirt with the other girls would only make it more obvious that no one sought to flirt with her.
Taking a sip of her wine, she debated her own skills at making a man fall in love with her. She would need to relax and be herself, something she only felt comfortable doing when surrounded by her old friends. Now that they were all married, she felt so alone. She should do as she told Langley and use the time to feel at ease in a roomful of strangers.
And she would keep her promise to help him make conversation with the other young ladies. She must make certain he married one of them, or be trapped herself. She glanced at each of the young ladies around the table whom she could see without straining. Langley didn’t seem terribly interested in Miss Fielding, but perhaps one of the Martin sisters might catch his eye.
After the last course had been consumed, the duchess rose from her seat at the head of the dining table. “Ladies, shall we leave the men to their cigars?”
The other ladies followed her into the drawing room a few doors down the hall. Their chatter bounced off the gilt-trimmed walls and high ceiling. Charlotte sought out Mama, who sat with the duchess near the fire.
Mama motioned for her to sit on the settee with her. “You must tell us what Langley had to say that kept you from returning with the others this afternoon.”
The room quickly became too warm, the air too close. It was one thing to tell her mother what they said, but admit to the duchess they’d discussed marriage? There’d be no backing away from an engagement if she did. “The duke offered me tips on playing Pall Mall. He could see I was in need of assistance.”
The two older women glanced at each other before pinning Charlotte in place with their gazes. She felt like an insect under glass. The duchess even held up her quizzing glass as she commented. “Langley must have gone into the entire history of the sport, since you’d put away your mallets and balls.”
“He was, ah, very thorough and wanted to be certain I understood.”
“And this…understanding between you concerned the sport, and nothing more?” The elegant woman exchanged a wise, motherly glance with Charlotte’s mother.
Charlotte chewed her lip. If she lied outright, she’d giggle. She’d never outgrown the nervous habit. “I wouldn’t call it an understanding.” It took every ounce of concentration not to squirm in her seat.
The duchess leaned back, a slight smile softening the lines between her eyebrows. “I see. My son is a very proud man, you know, but I don’t believe that to be a fault. He was greatly disappointed to learn the betrothal his father had arranged was not to be.”
Charlotte tried to recall if there had been anything in his manner that suggested disappointment. Annoyance was the word she’d choose. Like discovering his favorite tailor had removed to the Continent. Or his favorite solicitor had eloped with his fiancée. “Was he fond of Lady Eleanore?”
Mama pinched Charlotte’s arm. “I taught you better than that.”
Looking down at her hands clasped in her lap, Charlotte almost whispered. “Forgive me, Duchess.”
The duchess leaned closer. “It’s a natural question. One I’m certain all young ladies wish to ask at some point before they marry. I don’t know the answer to that, I’m afraid. If it’s important to you, I suggest you ask him yourself if the occasion arises.”
Charlotte raised her head. The duchess undoubtedly knew at least the gist of the conversation Charlotte and Langley had. Would she be shocked to know Charlotte had turned him down?
That hadn’t been a real proposal. It rang of a business deal, to shake hands over and break out the brandy and cigars. She shuddered. She didn’t care for brandy one bit, much less cigars.
Langley’s voice carried over the chatter around her. He crossed the room casually, stopping to exchange a word or two with each grouping of guests. He appeared much more the relaxed host she would expect of the man she’d spoken to this afternoon.
He eventually reached Charlotte’s party and she realized she’d been staring. She quickly turned her attention to the buttons on her gloves.
“You ladies don’t find the fire too warm, sitting this close? The evening air is still rather pleasant.” Langley stood near Charlotte but looked at his mother when he spoke.
“I appreciate the warmth,” the duchess said. “But why don’t you escort Lady Charlotte onto the balcony? I see some of the other young people are out there.”
“Splendid idea.” Langley held out his hand to Charlotte. “Will you walk with me?”
“Of course.” She hadn’t brought her shawl when she’d come down for supper, so she hoped the air wasn’t too cold. She took Langley’s arm. Heads turned to watch the duke cross the room, as usual, and she heard whispers in their wake. The gossips would have them posting the banns before the evening was out.
“I believe this is where I should engage you in small talk,” he began when they stepped through the open French doors onto the rather large balcony. It was actually the roof of the rooms below, lit by torches placed evenly around the wrought iron railing. A dozen or so of the guests stood in conversation, their voices low.
“If you wish to learn to speak with the other young ladies, that would be the best way to do so.”
“I wish to know one lady better.” He led her to the corner of the rail, leaning back on it to face her.
Her heart fluttered at the same time her stomach knotted. Was he speaking of her, or some other girl? Reason told her he’d never say such a thing to her if he spoke of another, but she could hope. Best play her part as tutor. “You could ask her if she enjoys poetry, or drawing.”
“But I know nothing about either of those.” Propped as he was, he was almost eye-to-eye with her and his cologne wafted to her on the breeze.
The subtle scent made her think of walks in the woods after the fog lifted, and was only noticeable when she stood this close. Such an intimate, ephemeral sensation. His dark hair glistened in the torchlight. Was it as soft as it looked? She tore her thoughts away from his hair. “You don’t need to know anything on the subject. You may ask questions of her and let her carry the conversation. Many young ladies enjoy speaking of themselves.”
“Not you, though. You have the knack of turning the topic away from anything too personal or revealing.”
It was difficult to smile with trembling lips. Almost as difficult as it was to stan
d so close to him and not notice how handsome he was, and how his soft, deep voice could lull her into a daze. Charlotte leaned away from him. “We aren’t discussing me, we’re speaking of the girls you wish to court.”
“See there? You did it again. However, I’ll play along. Lady Charlotte, do you enjoy poetry?”
“Now, wasn’t that simple?”
“But you haven’t answered.” He folded his arms across his chest. “How can I learn to carry on a conversation if you won’t continue it?”
“Forgive me, sir. I do enjoy some forms of poetry.” A breeze stirred, cooling her heated skin. She prayed she was not bright red. No man should make her so nervous.
“Only some? Perhaps Byron. ‘And all that's best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes…’ Or Shakespeare, ‘I was content thy servant to remain/But not to be paid under this fashion.’”
He was obviously more well-versed in poetry than he admitted. He likely chose love poems to unnerve her, and it was working well. “Of course, those are two of the more popular poets. I brought a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets with me. I enjoy reading them before I fall asleep.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I had you pegged correctly, then. I’ve heard you have been caught in your host’s library on more than one occasion during the Season.”
“Who said such a thing?” Charlotte gasped. “I’ve never had an assignation, in a library or anywhere else.”
He glanced about the balcony, his lips turning up at the corners. “You might wish to keep your voice down. I wasn’t suggesting any such thing. I merely meant you appear to enjoy books more than dancing.”
If she could have crawled behind a potted Cyprus, she would have. “Oh. Perhaps you could work on your phrasing. Consider whether it could be misconstrued as reflecting poorly on a lady’s character.”
The Heart of a Duke Page 32
