“We are friends, aren’t we, Miss Blackwell?”
“Yes. We truly are, or at least, that is how I feel. I still marvel that you are not awash in regret and avoiding greenery as often as you can lest another debutante or two set upon you.”
“What a gift you are to me,” he sighed. “All right then. As a true friend, you must tell me what troubles you, yes?”
“I will tell you but only with the understanding that you can do nothing to resolve it, that I would not have it of you to interfere in any way.” She reached for his hand. “Promise? Promise that you will not take it upon yourself to solve things or…guide them?”
He said nothing but waited patiently, his expression the soul of caring.
“They say that love makes us fools. But I fear I was a fool to begin with to even—” Tears overtook her and her composure crumbled. “What is the use in being wise enough to know that someone is an impossible choice if your heart refuses to listen?”
“Ah, there’s a question to plague a poet,” Chesterton said with a sigh.
“Worse. I think I truly am a Blackwell.”
“I am lost on that point, dearest. What does it mean to truly be a Blackwell?”
“My father—he does not love in half measures and his attachment to mother is…” Scarlett let out a ragged exhale to try to steady herself. “I truly believe his love for her frames his every heartbeat, his every thought, his every decision. We tease him about it, Your Grace. I…I teased him but secretly I admired his fate.”
“A natural enough thing to envy.”
“But I fear it, too. I think Starr does as well and that is why she loses dance cards and hides in the library.”
“Is it really that terrifying a thing?” he asked.
Scarlett nodded. “Yes. Because once he was set on her, what if she had refused him? Who would he have become? Or what if she’d been a terrible choice and said yes? He’d have loved her blindly into ruin and never looked back.”
“Ah, I begin to see.”
“I worry that I am not in danger of being mildly fond of Rush. I am not caught in a passing infatuation. I am…oh, God! I would be lost! I’m sick with it and stupid—I am made the very caricature of romance that I’ve spent a lifetime trying to hold at arm’s length. I made light of it! Can you imagine? I? I am a girl who is now mooning after a man who is so far above me socially that I am exposed to the worst judgments and condemnation. I am in danger of falling for a man who made me want to kick him in the shins when we first met; a man who makes me weak and warm and unstable every time he touches me? How is this even possible that I could have missed the critical step?” Scarlett covered her face with her hands. “What if I’m already in love with a duke? God help me!”
Out of her sight, Elgin struggled to keep a straight face as she accented the word ‘duke’ the way a person would accent the word ‘donkey’. She was the prettiest and most miserable creature in the vast world and as he was not the duke in question, it was easy to enjoy the subtle irony of love’s cruel twists. He reached across the table to gently pat her on the shoulder, the awkward gesture only adding to the comedy of the moment.
“There, there. I’ve met your father and he strikes me as a very strong man. I like the way he carries himself and there is a charm there that negates every effort he makes to demonstrate his lack of concern for the opinion of others. He wins them over while projecting the fact that he needs none of them.” Elgin took a deep breath. “I say this only because you see your father as vulnerable because of his tender passions and I see something else.”
“What do you see?” she asked without lifting her head.
“I think the way he loves, so single-mindedly and without apologies, makes him stronger.” He sat up a little straighter, the role of wise mentor dictating a more serious stance even as he began to reshuffle the cards yet again. “You are a lioness, Miss Blackwell. And while weeping does tend to provide temporary relief, I don’t think it’s a solution, do you?”
Scarlett spread her hands slightly to peer warily at him through the blades of her fingers. “It never is.”
“First, we must see what the problem truly is. Is it that you are in love? Or is it rather that you are in a love with a most unworthy animal known as a duke? Or is it just the Duke of Stafford that we find challenging in the species?” Elgin cleared his throat. “Mind, I am hoping you are going to choose the latter.”
Scarlett dropped her hands, her countenance slowly brightening with the game. “I don’t know which has me most pained but if it were not Stafford I don’t think I can imagine feeling this way.”
“I see. So you would not be so unhappy to love as completely as a Blackwell is prone to love if it were a less prominent man?”
“Yes, but it is Stafford. And he is a duke. So that was a circular bit of advice, Your Grace.”
“I haven’t gotten to the advice yet. Patience, Miss Blackwell.”
“I apologize. Do go on.”
“Stafford is very confident and self-assured. Good qualities, granted, but we must not let him get ahead of himself. He approached you at first because he thought I was mistaken in setting my sights on you.”
“Especially since I am very elusive and difficult.”
“Very good! That’s the spirit!” He was warming to the topic now. “I wonder that his interest in you is not vaguely encouraged by the notion of a rival… So rather than clear the way for him too quickly, let’s keep him on his toes. That way you have a good excuse to set whatever pace you are comfortable with. Talon is a gentleman and must respect your wishes. It also gives you time to discern his true feelings. What do you think?”
“I don’t want him to conclude that I’m lying to you and drawing things out to…hurt you.”
“Agreed. Tell him that I didn’t let you get a word in edgewise and that you are doing your best to let me down gently. Then it is my fault that things have not progressed and not yours. He will believe that I am dragging my feet without a single question.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. You are not the only one who can be difficult.” Elgin gathered up the cards to tuck them away, feeling supremely pleased with his talents for matchmaking. Talon was the perfect match for her and even if Talon had already fallen for her, the boy needed to step up and declare himself.
This should do the trick!
“Now what?”
“Well, let’s take that turn about the room, look cheerful in each other’s company and keep them guessing which duke you will finally choose, shall we? After all, you don’t want your handsome young Stafford to become lazy or arrogant in his pursuit, right?”
“No.” She stood as he did. “You are sure?
“I am sure of this and nothing else. Hold as tight to your heart as you can, Miss Blackwell. Hold fast until you are so sure, that you swear you could fly to him if he asked it. Trust me in this. Let him declare his feelings and beg for your hand in marriage and only then, relax your hold and then never look back.”
“This conspiracy of ours has become nothing I expected, Your Grace.”
“I was about to say the same thing, but I would not have it any other way.” He held out his elbow again. “Come, Miss Blackwell. You’ve a duke to catch.”
Ryder walked into Sussex House and did his best to ignore the ache in his back from his brutal journey from Cornwall to London in record time. He’d wasted no time, not even stopping in to let his uncle know he was in Town but had raced to be in place. Fatigue made all his mother’s arguments seem sounder and more plausible as the hours unfurled.
By the time he’d handed his coat to the footman, he was nearly convinced that his next stop might be a magistrate.
“Lord Hayle!” Lady Durham approached him in the foyer. “We have not heard from you since last Season, you naughty man! Stealing my Charlotte’s heart and disappearing into the wilds of Cornwall!”
He sighed. Lady Durham was a notorious matchmaking mama and a woman he strenuously avoid
ed and her daughter had said three words to him over three months of disinterested meetings so if he’d stolen her heart, Ryder couldn’t imagine how or why. But tonight, when he saw her he recalled that there was no bigger gossip or hoarder of vital information in his sphere—which made her the perfect person to help him make quick work of his mission.
“Lady Durham, I wonder if you might assist me this evening. I particularly wish to meet Miss Scarlett Blackwell. Word has reached me in Cornwall that the young lady is…a person I must be introduced to.”
“Oh, yes! Yes, of course!” Lady Durham led him into the party. “I try not to speak ill of others but if I may say in trusted confidence, Lord Hayle, she is the worst sort of girl! The very worst!”
“Truly?”
“I can see how a man of a certain age would be prone to flattery and be so quickly beguiled by such a creature but she is so—forthright and without a shred of modesty. I have forbidden Charlotte to be within a hundred steps of her for fear of the influence and association that women like that can taint the innocent with. Shocking, isn’t it? To consider the loss of the connection with the Duke of Chesterton but who knows how many backs will turn if she has her way?”
Ryder had to press his fingertips against his temples to try to regain his composure.
God, it’s worse than I thought. Gossip or not, she spoke without any restraint—with words that struck every fearful note in the choir screaming in my head.
The party was extremely crowded at this hour but Lady Durham stopped in the doorway of one of the grand salons with confidence. “You are a wise enough young man to make your own judgments. I am not surprised that word would have reached as far as the coasts of Cornwall about this girl. But here we are, Lord Hayle.”
“Can you point her out, Lady Durham? This girl that my uncle has lit upon?”
Fern gave him a wicked smile before nodding, openly thrilled to be a witness to the meeting. “There. That’s her! In a blue gown, near the windows. That’s the Blackwell girl!”
“Thank you, Lady Durham. You are too kind.” Ryder made his way across the room, his stride purposeful enough to cause a small stir as a few of the other guests took note and began to anticipate the confrontation.
Let them get an earful then and be damned. I’ve come too far to play some weak game out or shy from the battle.
“Miss Blackwell?”
She turned from her quiet study of the reflections in the glass, a stunning young woman with aristocratic features and lean lines set off by the color of a lioness to make an ordinary mortal man wish for the power to win her. “Yes?”
Ryder reminded himself that in this instance, he had no desire to win the lady and that her blonde beauty was a great part of the potential problem. “I am Ryder Maitland and while I’m sure you’re familiar with the name in light of your present ambitions toward my uncle the Duke of Chesterton, I thought it only fair to warn you that I am not going to stand aside while you make a shallow and thoughtless show of playing him for an old fool.”
She blinked in surprise and then her chin came up, a defiant light coming to life in her eyes. “Is that so? A shallow and thoughtless show? Is the Duke of Chesterton so easily led then?”
“Any man might be by a heartless young beauty, but I care too much for my uncle to allow him to make a mistake.”
“A mistake? Do I look like a mistake to you, Mr. Maitland?”
“You look, Miss Blackwell, like a girl who could very easily expect her looks to open any door she desired but I must warn you that this door and my family are not in a position to provide any such welcome. Whatever amusement or advantage you’ve garnered until this moment you may count it as lost.”
She faced him squarely, not in the least contrite but instead treating him to a look of open contempt and disregard that threatened to wither him to dust. “Your fair warning of an impolite lack of welcome and a ridiculous string of insults betrays only your own shallow thinking and thoughtlessness, sir. I’ve met street vendors with better manners and am tempted to inquire into your schooling so that I may send a letter to each and every tutor you ever possessed and shame them into retirement since they overlooked teaching you the most basic fundamentals of human decency and civility.” A curl fell down across her cheek with the vehemence of her speech but she merely shook it aside. “But I will do you the Christian courtesy of giving you a lesson in etiquette here and now! Dairymaid, duchess or drab, how dare you speak to a woman so! Withdraw or I swear I shall strike you, you—you heartless buffoon!”
It was his turn to blink in surprise. “Withdraw? I think not.”
The blow with her closed fan across the bridge of his nose was so swift and so sharp, it was all he could do not to stagger back. Gasps all around ensured that the pain he was feeling was no understatement and he reached up only to realize that he was bleeding slightly.
“Oh!” Her look shifted to horror but she held her ground. “I’m…terribly sorry.”
“You hit me,” he said in shock.
“You deserved it,” she whispered forlornly, then held out her lace handkerchief. “But may I say that most people go through the bother of introductions and small talk before seeking to call others names and cause a row?”
“Do they?” He waved off the handkerchief, the wound to his pride outpacing the stinging cut across the bridge of his nose. “Are you hinting that if I’d asked you to dance and gone through some polite ritual before calling you out that you wouldn’t have hit me just then?”
“Oh, no, I’m afraid I always hit bullies,” she replied with a sweet smile, her fighting spirit returning in a single breath. “It is a firm position of mine not to suffer poor behavior, even when apparently spurred on by ignorance.”
“Nor am I in the habit of suffering a—”
“Maitland!” The Duke of Chesterton hailed him from the doorway, an interruption that made Ryder’s breath catch in his throat in frustration. “Nephew, I didn’t realize you were in London! What a delightful surprise!”
Ryder turned toward his uncle, bracing himself for explanations when he spotted the lovely woman on Chesterton’s arm.
No. It can’t be.
“Here, let me introduce you to my nephew and heir presumptive, Lord Hayle, Ryder Maitland,” Elgin said. “Ryder, this is Miss Scarlett Blackwell and I see that you have already made the… acquaintance of her sister, Starr.”
He stared back at the woman in blue that he’d accosted and then back at the mirrored vision of blonde beauty wearing a distinct shade of emerald green who was looking back at him.
Twins. I—dear God, I have put my foot squarely in it! Why in Heaven’s name didn’t anyone mention that they were twins?
“Yes. An evening full of surprises,” Ryder answered, his voice hollow in his ears.
“What happened to you? Did you suffer a mishap of some kind, dear boy?” Elgin held out his handkerchief and this time, Ryder took it, too defeated to refuse the gesture.
Ryder shook his head, aware that his crime was too overt not to be reported. “No, I—”
“It’s my fault.” Miss Blackwell of the blue dress shocked him by stepping forward. “I’m afraid I am so clumsy. I meant to flirt with Lord Hayle who was being so charming and instead I have maimed him. I do hope you’ll accept my apologies, sir.”
Chesterton sighed. “Fans are a mystery and such cumbersome old-fashioned ornaments! I wonder that more mishaps are not had with them flapping and whipping about in overcrowded rooms.”
“Indeed.” Ryder nodded, dabbing at the last of the blood and then putting the handkerchief away. “No harm done.”
Scarlett Blackwell gave her sister a long look and whatever silent communication passed between them, Ryder marveled at it.
“Where is Mrs. Martin?” Scarlett asked.
“She went to get a small glass of punch and now I fear the worst. I think she’s lost in the crowd,” Starr answered. “I should have gone after her but I…knew it was unacceptable for me to wander
about alone.”
“The rules are ridiculous,” Elgin said sympathetically. “To strand you here but all is well now.”
“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, my sister and I should see to our chaperone’s comfort and perhaps withdraw for the evening. Mrs. Martin was complaining of a headache when we left the house and I worry that we are too careless with her health.” Scarlett gracefully released Chesterton’s arm to collect her sister’s in an elegant retreat. “I do hope you’ll forgive us for making an early night of it.”
“Of course!” Elgin was quick to respond, bending over Scarlett’s hand in a chivalrous gesture of farewell. “You are sweet to think of Mrs. Martin’s well-being.”
Scarlett blushed. “It’s the least anyone can do to think of others, Your Grace.”
“So you say.” Chesterton shook his head. “What a treasure, eh, Nephew?”
“It was very nice to meet you, Lord Hayle,” Scarlett said.
“Yes,” Starr echoed softly. “It was an experience I doubt I shall ever forget.”
“Good evening, ladies.”
The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) Page 28
