Kel took a few steps forward and saw the Beauty and her companion halt for a moment before stepping up their pace. Because of the trees, there was nothing else for them to do but continue their approach or turn around and go in the opposite way. They continued toward him and Emmaline, he noted a moment later with satisfaction.
Hoping the Beauty’s good manners would prevent her from giving him the cut direct, he sent Emmaline a significant look.
The two women were almost upon him when Emmaline stepped forward and called a cheery greeting.
“Good afternoon! It is Lady Farren, is it not? I am so pleased to meet you again after our delightful conversation in the Pump Room some days ago.”
Well done, Emma, the duke thought with admiration. He could always count on his sister to be awake upon every suit.
He gazed down at the Beauty, who was looking at Lady Farren with startled eyes. It was disconcerting to find that her appearance exactly matched his memory. Her perfectly sculpted features, high cheekbones, and luminous gray eyes were surprisingly familiar considering the briefness of their only encounter. He became aware of his heart beating at a fast clip and chided himself for behaving like a schoolboy. But he had to own that it was not often that he found himself in the position of making an apology to anyone, nonetheless someone he had insulted.
“How do you do, Lady Fallbrook. I do not believe you have met my cousin, Miss Allard,” Lady Farren said in a hurried, breathless voice as she sketched a quick curtsy.
As Miss Allard curtsied, she did not turn her gaze from his sister’s. Were her cheeks not flushed, Kel might wonder if she remembered him at all.
“How do you do, Miss Allard. I would like to make known to you both, my brother, the Duke of Kelbourne.”
Both young women curtsied, and he noted with some amusement the shallowness of Miss Allard’s bob. Removing his hat, he bowed with spare, precise grace while she studiously avoided his gaze.
In a manner quite uncharacteristic of him, he hesitated in front of Miss Allard. For several months now, he had vaguely wished there were some way to apologize to this woman. Because he had not believed that he would ever see her again, the words had never fully formed in his mind. Now, with her sudden and unexpected appearance before him, he was finding it difficult to express himself.
“Lady Farren, I am wondering if you recognize the variety of rose I was just examining. It is an unusual shade of pink,” Emmaline said, drawing her arm through the baroness’s and gently guiding her away.
Kel saw the panicked expression on Lady Farren’s face before she sent a helpless look to Miss Allard. Miss Allard’s countenance was unreadable, except for her flushed cheeks.
Kel decided to plunge ahead. “Miss Allard, I believe it is my good fortune to meet you today. There is no use in pretending that I do not owe you my deepest apology.”
Drawing her wrap closer around her shoulders, Miss Allard made no comment to this blunt beginning. At least she was now looking at him, he noted with some satisfaction.
Gazing into her fathomless gray eyes, a warm smile came to his lips. This particular smile usually elicited a gratifying response from ladies of all ages.
“Though it has been nigh on a year, I daresay that you have not forgotten our encounter.”
One of her elegant brows arched up a fraction, but she said nothing.
“You do remember our…er…brief meeting on Bolton Street in London? I will confess that if you have put the ridiculous incident out of your mind, I would count myself fortunate.” He finished with a lopsided, self-deprecating smile.
The silence stretched between them for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“I remember, Your Grace.”
Standing before her on the expanse of grass, with the late afternoon sun highlighting her face, Kel was struck again by her beauty. With her statuesque figure and pale gold hair, she was an artist’s fantasy of a Greek goddess. He had a talent with the paints and wondered if he could possibly do justice to her magnificence if he attempted to capture her on canvas.
Catching hold of his wayward thoughts, he continued. “I will not make excuses, nor bore you with explanations—except to say that a lark got well out of hand and I am sorry.”
Her closed expression did not change. “A lark?”
Somehow, this was not working out as he had planned. Her unwavering gaze was beginning to disturb him. He tried again, spreading his hands wide. “Yes. You see, I made a vow to Dame Fortune—for reasons I won’t go into—to honor her by saluting with a kiss the most beautiful woman I encountered the next day.”
Gad, when said aloud it sounded dashed lame. He did not add the more damning information that he had also wagered a huge sum with his friends that he would keep his vow. At her continued stare, he felt the beginnings of a flush rising up his neck, and paused to marvel that he was still capable of such a thing.
“I’d like you to know that no insult was intended.”
Her brow lifted another fraction as her blush deepened.
“I mean…that is to say, of course it was insulting, but I did not intend for my actions to be an insult. It’s just that you were the most beautiful lady I had seen, and because of the vow…” His voice trailed to a stop when he saw how icy her gray gaze had become.
Now I have made a hash of it. He gritted his teeth and decided his best course of action was to retreat before he made a bigger sapskull of himself.
He bowed briefly. “No reason could excuse accosting you in such a manner, Miss Allard. I thank you for allowing me this moment to apologize.”
He was relieved to see Emma and Lady Farren approaching so he could put an end to this awkward encounter. Glancing back at Miss Allard, he caught a quick flash of something he could not identify in her enigmatic expression.
Lady Farren, with a bright artificial smile affixed to her lips, moved to her cousin’s side. “We must hurry, dear, if we are not to be late. How lovely to see you again, Lady Fallbrook. We bid you good day, Your Grace,” she said in a rush.
Both young women gave shallow curtsies and, without waiting for Kel to give them leave, departed with rapid steps.
Kel stayed where he was, watching Miss Allard’s straight back as she navigated the flower beds.
“Good Lord, Kel, what is going on? I felt like a ninny prattling on to Lady Farren when she clearly wanted to run back to Miss Allard’s side.”
“I had a need for a private word with Miss Allard. Thank you for keeping Lady Farren occupied for a few moments.”
His sister put one hand on her hip and looked up at him. “You are not going to fob me off with that fustian. Need for a private word—ha! Until Lady Farren introduced her, I would swear you had no idea who Miss Allard was.”
“I did not know her name, but I am definitely acquainted with Miss Allard.”
“How do you know her?”
“It is a story that will take a few moments to tell,” Kel began, taking his sister’s hand and placing it in the crook of his elbow. “Shall we take in the rest of the park as I reveal my shocking tale?” he said with a languid grin.
“It would not be the first time you would shock me,” was his sister’s acerbic reply.
After Kel had shared the entire, embarrassing story, they stopped near a pavilion at the highest point of the gardens. Emma turned to stare at him in surprise.
“Tell me you did not actually say those things to that poor girl! You cannot possibly expect her to accept such a ham-fisted apology. Has your much vaunted adroitness completely left you?”
“Yes, I did say those things. The situation was bound to be awkward by its very nature. But all things considered, I thought it went fairly well.”
Emmaline rolled her eyes. “She is obviously a properly brought-up young lady. Do you not see that suggesting she might have forgotten the kiss made it sound as if she goes around kissing so many men, your kiss could be forgotten?”
“Of course not,” he stated with growing annoyance.
&nbs
p; “And saying it was just a lark—well, that’s just impertinent. And saying you did not intend to insult her? What was it, then? Oh, I see—the dashing Duke of Kelbourne was kind enough to accost her on the street and kiss her in front of all and sundry. I am surprised she did not slap you again.”
Kel braced his booted foot against a low stone border of a flower bed and glowered at his sister.
“You astound me, Emma. You are twisting what occurred and placing it in the worst light. Miss Allard said very little, but I am sure she accepted my apology in the spirit in which it was given.”
“Truly? Did she say she accepted your apology, such as it was?”
Kel tried to recall Miss Allard’s exact words. “Well, not as such. But I put down her reaction to being caught off guard. I am sure it was a bit jarring to her sensibilities to have me suddenly appear, so to speak. I do not wonder at her somewhat cold reaction.”
“Humph. Well, I have no compunction in telling you that I think you handled the whole thing quite badly. Surprising, since you have always been accounted a silk-tongued devil.”
They resumed their walk, but Emmaline said nothing more after taking in the frowning, contemplative expression on her brother’s face.
“Oh, Julia! You look dreadful, shall I hail a sedan chair?”
Julia only shook her head in the negative as she rushed out of the park.
Upon leaving Sydney Gardens, she entered Great Pulteney Street, with Caro close behind. Julia cared not that it was indecorous to be seen hurrying up the street in this precipitous manner. She could not recall ever feeling so overset in the whole of her life, and only wanted to return to Caro’s house as quickly as possible.
“Julia, stop! I cannot keep up with you. And if you do not tell me what transpired between you and the duke, I shall go mad.” Caro did her best to catch up to Julia, but because of her cousin’s longer strides, Caro had to skip to stay within a few yards.
With her hands balled into fists at her side, Julia continued to hurry up the street.
“Slow down!” Caro wailed, growing breathless.
Finally, Julia slowed to a reasonable walk, half turning to toss a glance over her shoulder. “If you had not been there to witness it, I would not believe it myself.” Fury flashed in her icy gaze.
“Believe what?” Caro implored.
Julia turned full around and began to walk backward. “That…that hulking, insufferable, odious, foppish—he attempted to apologize to me!”
Caro’s mouth fell open. “Granted, his clothes are fashionable to the last stare, but there is nothing of the fop about him—sorry, please go on,” she added when Julia looked as if she might scream.
“He smiled and tried to charm me, and said it was a lark that got out of hand. He even wondered if I had forgotten the whole ridiculous scene. As if I could ever forget! He did not intend to insult me, he said so sincerely. As if I should take it as a compliment that he decided to kiss me without my consent?” Julia threw her hands up in frustration.
Caro was silent as she waited for a Bath chair carrying an elderly woman to pass by. Julia turned back around and quickened her steps again.
“But he did apologize,” Caro pointed out to her cousin’s back.
“For what!” Julia almost shouted over her shoulder. “He does not even know the damage he caused me. He only bothered to approach me to assuage his own underdeveloped conscience. I’ve seen better acts of contrition from someone who inadvertently jostled me at an assembly ball.”
Caro cringed a little at the contempt and anger in her cousin’s voice.
When they reached the steps of the townhouse, Julia stopped. With her eyes flashing silver fire and her breaths coming in rapid succession, she turned to Caro. “You have no idea how much I would dearly love to repay that arrogant brute for his lark.”
Chapter Eight
K el was seated in the sunny morning room gazing out of the window that overlooked the expansive, sloping lawn and the lower town beyond. After several moments of fruitless reverie, he turned to the newspaper he had tossed aside earlier.
He had less luck diverting himself with the news, and with a disgusted gesture, he tossed the paper to a side table.
As he ran his long fingers through his hair, a vision of Miss Allard came immediately to mind. Her beautiful face framed by the backdrop of greenery entered his thoughts more often than he cared to admit. It was the damnedest thing. He really ought to have felt better since he’d made his apology to her. He’d always heard that getting something one felt guilty about off one’s chest was a cleansing experience—or some such rot. But for some inexplicable reason, he felt worse.
He frowned as he relived the awkward scene in Sydney Gardens several days ago. Maybe it was because he had not been able to read her expression, or to gauge what she was thinking. Usually, the emotions of the female sex were transparent to him. But that was not the case with the enigmatic Miss Allard, and he found it quite disconcerting.
Mentally shrugging, he decided that as embarrassing as it had been to apologize to her, it had been the gentlemanly thing to do. With his frown deepening, he contemplated this last thought. Could that be the reason for his irritable mood? He could not recall embarrassing himself in front of any woman before—and it definitely had been embarrassing to confess his ridiculous reason for accosting her.
He found that he actually dreaded another encounter with those unflinching, unreadable gray eyes. Wouldn’t Emma get a laugh out of that? he thought in self-disgust.
His grandmother swept into the room, saving him from any further, uncomfortable rumination.
“Ah, Wenlock,” she said in her clear, well-modulated voice. “I am looking for my sunshade. Have you seen it in here?”
Rising to his feet, he glanced around the room. His grandmother was the only person who called him by the family name instead of his given name, title, or the shortened “Kel.”
“No, I do not believe so, Grandmère. You are going out?” he asked, noting her fashionable bonnet and reticule. “It is almost time for tea, is it not?” He pulled his watch fob from the pocket of his deep blue waistcoat.
“Ha! Yes, it is time for tea, and yes, I am going out.” She looked up at him with hazel eyes very like his own and gave her kid glove a good tug, then straightened the collar of her russet-and-cream pelisse.
Knowing that sharp tone was invariably connected to his mother, Kel did not ask any more questions, hoping to escape before she went into a full-blown diatribe. By the look of her compressed lips and pinched nostrils, she was not far from exploding.
“Your flibbertigibbet mother is having tea with her flibbertigibbet friends. I shall have tea elsewhere—if I can locate that annoying sunshade. I do not know how an object that size can be continually misplaced.”
Kel again made a show of looking around the room for the elusive sunshade. For as long as he could remember, this had been the constant theme between his mother and grandmother. His grandmother took offense if she was not always treated with the respect she believed was her due. Maman, on the other hand, saw no need to defer to her mother-in-law on any matter.
Still, he was a little surprised that Grandmère, with her surfeit of pride and sense of her own consequence, would leave the house instead of holding court here.
The old lady was still complaining about the missing sunshade when her flustered maid hurried into the room, holding the desired article aloft. “I found it, Your Grace!” she exclaimed before dropping a curtsy.
“So you have. Where on earth was it hiding?”
“In the breakfast room, ma’am.”
“Of course, logical place for it,” the dowager muttered sourly.
Kel smiled at her grousing, but remained silent. Tightening the bow of her stylish bonnet, Alice, the dowager Duchess of Kelbourne, eyed her grandson with keen interest.
“I must say, I never expected you to last this long. Thought you’d have raced off to London days ago.”
“I am fi
nding my stay restful.”
His pronounced urbanity caused her to guffaw. ”Looks like you’re suffering from the blue-devils if you ask me. Care to escort me on my little excursion? It’s a fine day for a walk.”
“My apologies, but no, thank you, Grandmère. I desire to lounge this afternoon.” No offense to his grandmother, but if he was bored now, he could not imagine what he would be feeling if he spent the afternoon with her and her cronies.
With a little shrug, the dowager crossed to the doorway. “You shall suit yourself as usual.” Once in the hall, he heard her call to her maid and footman. “Come, Philips, come, Henry—we cannot keep Lady Farren waiting.”
Long strides carried Kel to the hallway, where he caught up to his grandmother.
“Grandmère, I believe I will join you after all. I shall fetch my hat and be with you in a moment.”
Pausing, his grandmother looked up at him with surprise evident on her thin features. “Certainly, Wenlock, but do hurry.”
A lackey was dispatched to get his hat and silver-tipped walking stick. As they waited, Kel was keenly aware of his grandmother’s discerning gaze upon him.
The moment they left the house, with the maid and footman following behind, the dowager duchess launched into a list of grievances against Kel’s mother.
“Really, Wenlock, the people your mother allows into my house! Witless ninnies and mincing fops.” She tapped her sunshade on the cobbles for emphasis.
“There is a remedy, you know,” was his dry reply.
“Yes! Millicent can leave. Why should I bestir myself from that perfectly charming house? I invited her to stay as my guest—if she does not like how I run my household, she can just take herself off.”
Shrugging his shoulders in a noncommittal fashion, Kel thought again that this situation was the reason why he had kept a bachelor household for the last ten years. As much as he loved his mother and grandmother, holidays and the occasional visits were more than enough.
“I shall speak to Maman. It should take very little effort to convince her to take another house.”
The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Page 7
