“A better question is what did we miss when I kept you from the Aldridge’s last night?”
“You didn’t keep me from Aldridge’s, darling. I was happy to stay home.”
Caroline shook her head. “Ashe. I think our daughters need you more. Staying home and holding my hand when I am…unwell… I feel guilty for keeping you away from—”
“No. I’m not going to have that conversation, Caroline. I’m not going to have the exchange where there is any question of fault or guilt. I will make a point of being more vigilant with my beloved Buttons having their debut when I can but when I feel that my wife needs me then I will be with my wife. Even when my wife disagrees and puts on a brave face and tries to order me from the house, yes?”
“Yes.” Caroline conceded the argument, aware that her handsome husband’s penchant for hovering was not something she could control. “Would you prefer to have a conversation about,” she held up a new card, “the Honorable Mr. Horatio Hightower?”
“Goodness! He sounds terrifying.” Ashe stood then crossed the room to yank on the bell pull. “Have you spoken to the girls this morning?”
“Not yet. It has been unusually quiet in their rooms but I thought after getting in just at dawn, it’s only natural that they should sleep in, dearest.”
“Of course. They’ll be exhausted and I wouldn’t want them disturbed.” He leaned pensively against the mantle, a small photograph of the twins when they were much younger catching his eye. “How is it possible to be so proud and so much in love with your children? I’m terrified of letting go but I’m eager for them to find their happiness in this world.”
“You feel as all fathers must.”
“Ha! I feel stupid for not campaigning harder for them to find their happiness in nunneries.”
“As all fathers do,” Caroline said softly. “Ashe, you are the one who insisted that they get out into society. Starr would happily hide in the library if you’d allow it and Scarlett…”
“Scarlett is not happy to hide anywhere.”
“She is too much like her father to shy away from the challenge and too much a creature of charm and guile to miss her chance at a waltz or two.” Caroline began to fan out the cards on the tray. “We wanted them to blossom. Behold, the harvest!”
Ashe walked back over to take another look. “I’m not as happy with this bumper crop as I expected to be.”
“Ashe.”
He picked up a random card from the silver tray. “I know. I know. It was my idea and I should be giddy at the prospect of Lady Hillcrest’s rump landing on my salon cushions but I’m not. I’m a father and I’m entitled to be irascible.”
Caroline laughed. “Yes, darling. No fear. You can set a challenge for all suitors and order the ones who don’t meet your standards executed if you like.”
“Can I?”
“No. No, you may not but I do love how excited you suddenly looked at the notion.”
Mr. Godwin knocked and then cleared his throat as he entered the study. “May I get something for you, Mr. Blackwell?”
“Is Mrs. Martin still abed?” he asked.
“No, sir. She’s finished breakfast and was downstairs in the library when last I saw her.”
“Would you ask her to come up please?”
“Of course.” Mr. Godwin nodded and retreated, as smartly as any general.
“Ashe?”
“Who better to tell us what happened last night at Aldridge’s than their intrepid chaperone?”
Caroline pressed her fingertips against her temples. “We threw her to the wolves last night. Poor Sabrina! And if the twins misbehaved, she’ll have taken it personally!”
“She’s known them since the day of their birth. Their behavior short of running naked through that ballroom would not shock her. But…” Ashe gave her a rueful grin. “By the look of this tray, they did something, didn’t they?”
Silence reigned as they each began to sift through the names and tried to absorb the implications.
“Good morning, Mrs. Blackwell. Mr. Blackwell,” Sabrina greeted them as she came into the room. “You wished to see me?”
“We wondered how things had gone last night,” Caroline said. “Here, come sit. Have you recovered from the outing? Did you get any sleep at all?”
“I am well and you are too kind to worry.” She lifted a hand to push back a curl that touched her cheek. “I did as Mr. Blackwell asked and tried to look as intimidating as possible though I suspect I just managed to look pained. More than one guest asked if I had a headache. I…feel it only honest to let you know.”
Ashe laughed. “My fault that. Asking a lamb to growl like a lion is a terrible thing. I’m sorry.”
“Mrs. Martin is not a lamb.” Caroline protested then looked to her friend. “You are made of sterner stuff and I do not doubt your mettle. No one can survive motherhood without acquiring steel in their bones.”
Sabrina smiled as she sat shyly next to Caroline. “We are fellow warriors then.”
“Paul is a testament to your character,” Ashe added. “I should compliment you more often on that young man, Mrs. Martin. Darius tells me that he’s completed his studies in a blaze and all despite my leaning on him so heavily as my right hand at the office. He has a better head for business than I ever did.”
Sabrina blushed, brimming with pride for her only son. Paul had been with her when she’d come to the Blackwell house the night the twins were born and when they’d taken her in as a milk nurse, they’d accepted Paul as well in an unspoken fosterage. He’d been raised alongside the twins as a brother and Ashe had come to adore him as a son. He’d recently completed an education befitting a Blackwell or any son of the peerage and had already been offered a position to work for Ashe.
“You flatter us both and it never fails to work,” Mrs. Martin said. “But I have the feeling you didn’t ask me to come in to talk about my son.”
“The girls haven’t surfaced yet and we were eager to hear what happened at the ball last night,” Caroline said.
“I’m sure the girls will be eager to tell you themselves.” Sabrina nervously smoothed out her skirts. “Would they not?”
“Mrs. Martin,” Ashe said then cleared his throat. “What happened at Aldridge’s to explain this mound of cards? Don’t mistake me. I’m happy to put on my best waistcoat and pretend it’s an ordinary day as I receive members of the peerage but I just thought I would ask.”
“The girls said they had a lovely time.”
“Did they?” He pressed the question again, his golden lion-like gaze never wavering as he awaited her answer.
“I…” Sabrina took a deep breath and surrendered. “Scarlett was asked to dance by a…”
“A footman? A phantom? A cat?” Ashe asked with a wry grin. “I am on the edge of my seat, Mrs. Martin.”
“Ashe!” Caroline protested. “Let the woman speak.”
“What? I couldn’t help myself. It’s not as if my daughter being asked to dance is out of the ordinary! So I was using my imagination.” Ashe crossed his arms defensively. “I apologize, Mrs. Martin. Do go on.”
“A duke,” Sabrina said.
“Pardon?” Caroline asked softly.
Ashe’s spine stiffened. “A duke asked Scarlett to dance?”
“Yes. More than once.”
Caroline sighed. “Well, there you have it. Two dances with a duke and she’s—”
“Three. Three dances.”
This time, both Caroline and Ashe simply looked at her in astonishment.
Sabrina continued calmly though her hands trembled in her lap before she hid them in the folds of her skirt. “The Duke of Chesterton was kind enough to dance with her three times.”
“Not in a row.” Ashe took the seat across from the women, the intensity of his expression bringing a flush of nervous color to Sabrina Martin’s face.
“Yes. He danced with her three times in a row. It was a bit of a blur after that and we left Aldridge’s shortly before f
our in the morning. Scarlett was very sweet and apparently, quite a success.”
“Of course she was,” Caroline said with a smile.
“You are sure it was three times in a row?” Ashe asked.
Caroline waved him off. “What difference does it make, Ashe, if he danced with her consecutively or sporadically throughout the evening? Once, twice or three times? Surely it’s a compliment and the reason for the cards.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Martin. I want to thank you again for stepping in last night when we were unable to attend the ball and for seeing the girls so elegantly through the evening. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Ashe spoke directly to Sabrina and she immediately nodded and stood to prepare to withdraw from the room.
“You are most welcome and they truly were as well-behaved as any young ladies could be. I know you’d have been proud to see them.” Sabrina nearly curtsied then blushed, remembering how Caroline had begged her not to do it over a hundred times. Sabrina was not the kind of woman to forget where she’d come from even if Mrs. Blackwell refused to remember. “I was proud to see them, Mrs. Blackwell.”
As the door closed behind her, Caroline sighed. “Dearest. I think we have no choice but to concede that the girls had a lovely time, that Scarlett danced with a duke and that you need to ask your valet to lay out your best afternoon coat.”
“She danced with the Duke of Chesterton three times in a row.”
“I believe that fact was already established.”
“My beautiful Quaker, if a man dances with a woman once, it is a nice social gesture of flirtation. If he dances with her twice, it is a potential indication of his serious interests in that woman, even if those dances are not followed by each other. But to dance with a woman three times in a row…”
“Is equal to a proposal of marriage?”
“Don’t jest. It could be interpreted as nothing short of a public declaration to court that woman.” Ashe stood and began to pace the room. “And the object of courtship is generally understood to be matrimony, wife. But if I saw a young woman dance with a man three times in a row, I’d assume they’d already reached an understanding.”
“Ignoring that one person’s declaration of intent is not another person’s acceptance, sir, may I say, that woman is our daughter and it may all have been completely innocent.”
“He’s a duke. I think if anyone is aware of the subtle nuances of a ball, it’s a duke. This is not a country squire new to the game.”
“Or an American?” Caroline sighed. “I love you, and so I must point out that no one has formally declared anything, Scarlett has yet to give us her side of events and I highly doubt that there is any cause for alarm.”
Ashe squinted at the pile of cards as he mulled over the implications. “Damn it! Why do I have the sinking feeling that I’ve stepped off a cliff and already lost them?”
“Language, Ashe,” Caroline chided softly without any force. “You are an overly protective father and you wouldn’t be my darling rogue if you felt differently. But admit it—if there were no cards in this tray, would you not be pacing and growling about how ‘those people’ could have been so ignorant to have slighted your precious daughters?”
“Of course.” He folded his arms defensively. “Your point being?”
“My point being that you are not going to be happy with any result and wouldn’t most fathers be over the moon at the notion of a duke landing at their daughter’s feet?”
“They would be. Hell, I should be but…I do not know the Duke of Chesterton.” Ashe stopped pacing, a bit contrite. “A duke undermines my entire strategy of arguing that no man is good enough for one of my Buttons. I mean to say, it’s a bit difficult to—not that I care what a man’s title is.”
“You’re adorable and a terrible liar.”
“Do you think it’s too late to insist that only a prince will do?”
“I think you should stop fussing and help me sift through these.” Caroline lifted two more cards, one in each hand and frowned. “My goodness! Do we have to choose who to return to make calls of our own?”
“No. If their intention is to call, you don’t have to do a thing except cancel every appointment you had for the next several days and see them all. It appears that the parade is in motion, my love.”
“Are you going to be present for this parade?”
He shook his head slowly. “As much as I wish to wade in, it is far too much turbulence to the waters to have a man in the room. All jokes aside about changing my clothes for my betters, I’m afraid this is your cross to bear.”
“You wicked thing! I’m not facing this alone!”
“Of course not,” he said quickly, all reconciliation and sweetness as he took a seat next to her on the settee. “Send for reinforcements. Eleanor would glory in wading through it with you and she has the prim weapons of a crown princess when it comes to the sitting room.”
Caroline smiled. Eleanor Hastings was indeed a force for good and a staunch defender of the requirements of etiquette. She had married their friend Josiah who had become a renowned painter, a scandalous profession that his prim and proper wife loved him all the more for pursuing. “I’ll send her a note and then see if Lady Winters is in town to bring in the cavalry.”
“Or we can turn them all away from the door. Tell them you’re too unwell to accept visitors and—”
“No.” She cut him off firmly but softly. “I will not make more of it than I already have. Not showing up at our daughters’ debut is… People are already going to talk. I’ll not give them another excuse to gossip.”
“Very well, but I want you to rest before the onslaught of callers.”
“Stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering.”
“Nor are you offering to throw yourself into the line of fire with teacups and sofas, Ashe Blackwell, so don’t make me throw this tray at you.”
“Perhaps I should be hoping for a long dry afternoon filled with dowagers.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “For the girls, that is.”
“What are you scheming over there?”
Ashe rewarded her with a wicked grin, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. “You never know what an encounter with a dowager dragon can do for a girl and perhaps dissuade them from the appeal of society altogether.”
Caroline looked up from the array of cards in front of her, immediately aware of where his thoughts had taken him. “Lady Fitzgerald was not a dragon and if she inspired anyone, I’d hazard it was you, my dearest.”
He bent over to trail kisses up the side of her neck. “I knew there was a reason I had a soft spot for sour-faced crones in feathered bonnets. Old Lady Fitzgerald made sure I took care of my Quaker and look what happiness followed!”
She leaned into his touch, the fiery pleasure at his attentions undiminished after almost twenty years of marriage. She blushed but had accepted that no matter how much time passed, her handsome rogue of a husband would always have the power to distract and seduce her at will.
“Ashe. The invitations. The cards. We must…strategize…and I have no head for this…social nonsense.”
“I love your American head for social nonsense. Forget the cards.”
It was easy to forget them.
He lifted her from her chair to carry her toward their bedroom, the cards left scattered on the table, some falling to the floor.
“Come and rest, my darling girl,” he whispered in her ear.
“What a waste of a morning, Mr. Blackwell. Did I not mention that I am feeling so much better?” Caroline nuzzled his neck, unwilling to resist the familiar magic between them, grateful for its hold on them both.
“Thank God,” Ashe sighed and kicked the bedroom door closed behind them.
“Parson! I need you!” Scarlett hailed her adopted brother as he passed the twins’ open doorway.
He smiled at the use of their nickname for him. As toddlers, his full name, Paul Martin, had somehow gotten mixed up and from there it was only the lisp of the
very young that would make the leap to “parson”. But the name had stuck and he had never complained of it. He was their contemporary in age with only a few months advantage and had long been included in their innermost circle since infancy.
He turned to head inside their room and immediately regretted it when he saw what Scarlett had in her hands.
“Just stand here, please. I am distraught over this blasted bow and I need to see it on someone to make a better try at it.”
Paul sighed. “I don’t think… Scarlett, no matter what you do, that bonnet is bound to look ridiculous on my head so how in the world does that help?”
Scarlett smiled and placed the feminine accessory on his head without hesitation. “I have a grand imagination, Parson.”
“You realize that as an identical twin, you have a living model just there that you can try bonnets on all day long and do so without making any leap of the imagination to picture it on your own head?”
“Shh! Stop moving so much, Parson. I don’t want to accidentally pierce you with a hatpin.” Scarlett’s concentration on the ribbon was such that Paul knew better than to argue. “Besides, Starr hates bonnets.”
“Yes, well…if it makes any difference, I am not a fan of them either,” Paul stated as he did his best not to shift his head.
Starr laughed over the top edge of her book from her window seat, giving him a mischievous look. “I’m afraid it makes no difference at all, dearest.”
He sighed and submitted, before trying to distract Scarlett with conversation. “How was it last night? The front bell has been ringing endlessly this morning and Mrs. Clark and the staff are having fits downstairs by all reports.”
Scarlett shrugged her shoulders, a blush touching her cheeks to foil the attempt at nonchalance. “It was very nice.”
“She danced with a duke.”
“What?” Paul forgot hatpins and turned toward Starr. “Did you say a duke?”
“Three times.” Starr confirmed cheerfully and then closed her book. “Three. Times.”
“Three is not entirely excessive and when you say it like that it sounds positively brazen,” Scarlett protested. “He was merely being kind.”
The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) Page 4
