The Devilish Duke: Book eight in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  “Just a silly incident on Milsom Street,” she said by way of explanation. “Anna – Mrs Clyde, I mean – is such fun to be around, I swear I am lucky to have found her as a friend.”

  The Duke placed a hand to his heart. “You wound me! I thought I was your dearest friend in Bath?”

  “You are my oldest friend in Bath,” she promised, struggling to keep her amusement at bay.

  He shook his head, even as he offered his arm to her for their turn about the room.

  “Evidently I must up my game if I am to regain my position as your favourite person in town. How should I bribe you? A visit to Mollands, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps another coffee shop,” she said quickly, risking a glance over her shoulder back at poor Anne. “I find that I am not as enamored of their marchpane cakes as I was yesterday.”

  He gave her a quizzical stare, but she refused to elaborate further, even as a fit of the giggles threatened to overtake her.

  “No to Mollands, then! Perhaps a ride out to the country? I have a mare in my stables that would suit your needs beautifully.”

  “But what would Ferdy or the Duchess do?” she asked. “I know they won’t admit it, but neither are well enough to ride.”

  “I’d rather thought we could escape just the two of us,” replied Devenish. His eyes were up on the band in the gallery, and he was watching the cellist with an unusual intensity.

  “And Lacey scolds me for being improper,” she said, shaking her head. “Stop trying to trick me into agreeing to something dashing just so you can tease me about it later!”

  He looked down at her with a smile that, for reasons she couldn’t explain, didn’t sit quite right on his features.

  “You are quickly coming up to the snuff, I see! Very well, let us arrange a picnic. Naturally Her Grace and Mr Scott will be a part of it, and can travel in the carriage. Dr Lacey must be included, as well as your lovely friend, Mrs Clyde. Not her stepdaughter, though! I’m sorry, my dear, but that girl will go nowhere without that pug of hers, and the inevitable battle between Spartacus and Governess will end in tears for us all.”

  “You will have to invite Lord Arthur, then,” replied Cassandra. “Miss Clyde will happily do anything to promote that match, even if it means she is not invited.”

  “I would, but it leaves our numbers uneven, which would never do,” said Devenish with an apologetic sigh.”

  “Not at all, you could invite Miss Lindon as well,” she replied as the brilliant thought occurred to her. “Between us, I think that she and Lacey enjoy each other’s company very much indeed.”

  “Do they?” said Devenish, turning to study the couple in question as they sat, deep in conversation, to the right of a bored-looking Lady Seraphinia.

  “You’re not against it, are you?” said Cassie quickly. “I know his father is a doctor, but he is very wealthy, and Lacey was raised as a gentleman. He was educated at Harrow, you know, and then studied at St Andrews before deciding to become a doctor.”

  He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her. “Why would my opinion matter?”

  “Because you’re a Duke,” she said slowly, in case he didn’t follow. “Whether it’s right or not, your opinion matters on such things, and if you opposed a match between Lacey and Miss Lindon, then their hopes would be dashed in a moment.”

  “And you are aware of an arrangement between them?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course not – as though Lacey would discuss such a thing with me! Good grief, he’s so starched up that he lectures me like an old maiden aunt – he’s hardly about to tell me he’s considering marriage to the companion of Lady Seraphinia!”

  “So why do you think he might do such a thing?” pressed Devenish.

  It was Cassandra’s turn to sigh. “I’ve had the opportunity to witness many people in love, Your Grace, and I have known Lacey very well for a number of years. It’s my experience that when people actively seek each other’s company and talk as though there was no one else in the room, in the world, but they two, then they are very likely to be in love.”

  When he didn’t answer, she risked a glance up at him, to see that he was staring at her with a very odd expression. For some unknown reason her cheeks began to burn. Her lips parted, but no sound, no words came out, and the memory of him kissing her back when they first met came unbidden to her mind.

  She forced herself to look away, instead concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other so that she did not trip and embarrass herself further.

  “Miss Lindon is of age, and needs no permissions to marry,” Devenish said eventually. “As to her marrying a doctor – if that’s what Jane wants then I do not foresee any barriers.”

  “That’s not quite what I meant,” she confessed.

  There was no smile on Devenish’s face as he answered. “You were attempting to obliquely reference the fact that Dr Lacey’s father was a Black page in the service of the Marchioness of Brundelmarsh, and that she spent a small fortune sending him to study at University, so that me may count himself a gentleman? It is well known amongst the Ton, my dear, for it caused a lot of gossip at the time.”

  “Did it really?”

  “Yes, for the money she spent on Lacey Senior was a fortune she’d once intended for her younger sons, all of whom turned out to be wastrels. I believe she may have settled money upon your friend as well when she died. As for how that would impact Jane, you should know that her parents are friends of William Wilberforce and would likely be pleased for her to marry a man of fortune and genteel profession. That does not mean they will be free of condemnation from more distant relations, but with Mr Lindon and Lady Seraphinia in their corner, I believe they could weather the storm. If you are right about their affection for each other.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, feeling a weight lifting.

  There were a few moments of silence between them before Devenish gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

  “You worry about the people you care about, don’t you?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” she replied.

  “Not to such an extent. In the brief time I’ve know you, you’ve expressed concern about your brother’s happiness and that of his doctor, but never any for yourself.”

  She frowned, not entirely understanding his question.

  “I have plenty of happiness – especially here in Bath! I have met so many people from all over the world, and learned so many new and interesting things. How could one not be happy in the circumstances?”

  “Do you not think of marriage for yourself?” he said, his tone rather sharp.

  She inhaled sharply, for the first time witnessing the harder side of his personality that she’d half-believed to be a myth.

  He softened almost immediately. “My apologies – I have no right to ask such a presumptuous question! Here, let me walk you back to your brother. If we are to arrange this picnic then we must make an effort to invite the interested parties and set a date. Do you think three days should suffice?”

  He kept up this idle flow of ideas for the proposed picnic, making it impossible for her to explain that she did not feel his question had been presumptuous, and that she’d never considered marriage to be something that would necessitate her happiness.

  It was hardly surprising that everyone agreed readily to the Duke’s suggestion; even Ferdy seemed to perk up at the idea of a jaunt to the country. It quickly swamped the conversation, and Cassandra could not help but feel that Devenish was avoiding a tete-a-tete with her.

  Which was ridiculous, of course, for the man was incurably forthright in his manner and there were no secrets between them.

  Still, planning the picnic took up the rest of the time at the Pump Room, until Her Grace made her apologies as it was time for her to return home. Devenish determined that he would accompany his mother, and although he bid Cassandra a good day, it was with none of the playfulness she had come to associate with him.

  The entire exchange was odd, and fo
r the life of her she could not understand what had altered the nature of the conversation so drastically. Worse still, she felt that there was no one she could share the matter with to help her work it all out, and for the first time in years, she felt rather alone.

  *

  “You have feelings for Miss Scott, don’t you?” said Emily the moment Carter left the drawing room, and she was alone with her son.

  “I find her a refreshing companion,” replied Devenish. He’d taken his usual spot beside the front window, where he leant against the frame and stared out at the street beyond. “Her enthusiasm for all she sees makes her something out of the common way, although no doubt it will fade rapidly once she learns that ennui is all the rage.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Emily, studying him closely as she spoke. “Her brother says she came into the cradle smiling, and her nature has not changed one whit since them. He’s deeply fond of her.”

  “I should hope so, considering she’s thrown her life away caring for him,” he replied.

  The words stung, and it was a moment before Emily trusted herself to speak again.

  “Do you suppose all people of marriageable age have thrown away their lives if they choose to care for their loved ones?” she eventually replied.

  Something in her tone must have alerted him, for he turned to look at her directly, regret already in his dark eyes.

  “Forgive me, mother. I did not mean it like that, and I have never regretted your need for my support, nor my need for you to keep me in line!”

  “So why do you think Miss Scott would regret her life with her brother?”

  Devenish sighed, and then ran a hand through his tousled locks, showing no care for the romantic mess his valet spent hours agonizing over.

  “She wishes to see the world, you know. She talks of all the interesting people that she’s met, and the wonderful places they are from. She believes Bath to be the greatest place in the world simply because there is so much for her to do here – as though she has not wistfully repeated descriptions of London, Vienna, Rome and Venice to me!”

  “And you feel like Ferdinand has prevented her from visiting all of these places,” said Emily, frowning at the idea.

  “No,” sighed her son as he flopped down into the chair beside her. “No, I fear that if I do something so idiotic as to propose to the girl, it will be me that prevents her from seeing the world.”

  “Because of your attachment to me,” said Emily quietly.

  He reached over to take her gnarled hand into his perfect ones.

  “No,” he said forcefully. “You have kept me from nothing in my life, Mother, and you need to remember that. However, I am a Duke, and unlike Lexborough I am not about to shirk my duties to our people to go gallivanting about on the Continent. How can I ask a girl whose dreams all revolve around foreign adventures to commit to a life almost exclusively ties to this island of ours?”

  “So you do love her, then?” said Emily.

  “If only it were that simple,” he muttered in response. “I am not sure! There, is that truth enough for you? The moment I laid eyes on her I decided she was the one for me, which is the most ridiculous claptrap I’ve ever heard in my life, no matter if it is the truth! And yet when I am away from her I start to think about how my feelings are not in the least like they were for Henrietta, or even Caroline Rothman.”

  Emily waited a moment, choosing her words carefully before answering.

  “I know that neither I nor your father ever experienced love, my darling, but that does not mean you will not.”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “You did just hear me state that I was in love with two women before this, did you not?”

  “You weren’t really in love with Caroline,” sighed Emily, leaning back into her chair. “You were in love with a pretty face and assumed there was a pretty character to go behind it. The moment you learned the truth of her nature – that she was a spiteful little cat who loved the idea of being a Duchess more than anything else – your feelings evaporated like the mist.”

  “Acknowledged,” he said, albeit grudgingly. “But you cannot deny that my feelings for Henrietta were real.”

  She studied him thoughtfully, wondering how he could still be laboring under the illusion that his feelings for the current Lady Cottingham had been anything but a passing fancy that would have burned themselves out over time.

  “You certainly had feelings for her, my dear, but that does not mean they would have grown with time. I am hardly the expert on such matters as the heart, but I am an expert on you. If the emotions you experience around Miss Scott are so different to those you had for Caroline or Henrietta, then I am inclined to believe they are far more real.”

  He snorted in response. “How can they be real if I fell in love the moment I laid eyes upon her?”

  She smiled softly. “It happens, my boy. Why would it not happen for you?”

  His response was enough to make her close her eyes and wish he did not have such words in his vocabulary, although she did appreciate the sentiment, no matter how vulgarly he expressed it.

  “But even if I do have feelings for her, how can I ask her to marry me when I cannot provide her with the life she so desperately wants?” he said, standing up so that he could start pacing the room in frustration. “And even if I could do that, I can hardly ask her to give up her care for her brother, for I doubt anything would cause her to leave his side.”

  “It’s a conundrum to be sure,” she agreed, watching him as he paced. “Have you considered talking to her about it?”

  The look he threw her conveyed perfectly what he thought of that suggestion, so she threw up her hands in disgust.

  “Men – you are all addle-brained when it comes to matters of love and family! Perhaps if you shared your feelings with Miss Scott a solution could be found?”

  “I doubt it,” he muttered, still pacing the room. “Damn me for planning this ridiculous picnic as well! It would all go better if I were able to keep out of her way, but my heart speaks before my head, and the next thing I know I’m engineering ways to be with here.

  Because you’re in love, you dolt! She wanted to scream at him.

  “Very inconvenient,” she settled for saying.

  He paused in his pacing, turning to look at her with a rueful grin.

  “I’m behaving like a mooncalf, aren’t I?”

  She nodded. “Just a little.”

  He gave a weary chuckle, coming back to sit in the chair beside her.

  “I suppose time will answer everything, for I can hardly avoid spending time with the Scotts now that we’ve introduced them to everyone in our circle.”

  “Not to mention that I am doing my best to encourage young Ferdinand to come to terms with his condition,” she reminded him. “Or that Dr Lacey will be coming to see me to discuss my own treatment. At your instigation, I believe.”

  He groaned again. “I’m a damned fool, mother!”

  She patted him affectionately on the head. “Indeed you are, my dearest, but it’s part of why I love you. Now go and ring the bell, if you please; I think we’ve both earned a brandy if we’re to survive the next few days.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

  “Because it’s the Upper Assembly Rooms ball tomorrow night,” she reminded him, “and you promised a dance to Miss Scott.”

  It seemed that Devenish’s knowledge of vulgar terms was wider than she had realized, but he got up and pulled the bell to summon the butler, so she decided to let it pass.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After asking Ferdy for the thousandth time whether he was definitely well enough to attend, Cassandra allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the excitement of attending her first proper ball.

  The Upper Assembly rooms, located on Bennett Street, hosted balls throughout the season, for which both they and Lacey had already paid the subscription. Secretly she’d been dying to attend one since they first arrived in t
own, but she was not about to test her brother’s health with her selfish desires, so it was only after he had mentioned wishing to attend himself that she was able to become excited at the prospect.

  Despite her comments to Anna, Cassandra had been wounded by Lady Seraphinia’s suggestion that her clothes were not quite up to snuff. A frantic shopping trip to a haberdasher’s coupled with hours of sewing and needlework in the privacy of her room meant that, while her dress was not about to set any new trends, she was confident that she would not put anyone to shame.

  It was a simple enough garment in the end. Her plain cream satin had been brought up to date with a gauze overdress embroidered with tiny gold stars, while a thick band of gold ribbon at the waist, neckline and hem gave her ensemble a more tonnish feel. Her hair remained lamentably straight, but with the aid of the leftover gold ribbon and a multitude of hairpins, her maid was able to tease it into a respectable style. Long white gloves, gold satin pumps and a frivolous reticule in the shape of a golden sun completed the outfit, and she practically skipped down to the parlour to await her escorts.

  Lacey, punctual to a fault, was already waiting for her, and gave an appreciative nod as she walked into the room.

  “Miss Scott! I confess I have never seen you look so radiant before, and I am grateful that Bath is agreeing with you so much.”

  “And you as well, Lacey,” she said, taking in his blue tailcoat with a velvet collar that matched his waistcoat, and white kerseymere pantaloons. He carried a bicorn hat under one arm, and his tight black curls would be the envy of half the people present that evening. “You look as fine as a fivepence!”

  He gave a little cough at her compliment, but she could see the smile behind his hand. Even is she did not say it out loud, she secretly thought that there would be more appreciative eyes on the young doctor than just Jane Lindon’s.

  It would be an interesting night, indeed.