Fascination -and- Charmed

by Stella Cameron

  “My father has always been quiet,” Pippa said, and thought “preoccupied” would be more factual. “Since my mother died, that is. When she was alive, Dowanhill was filled with laughter much of the time. Papa has told me so.”

  “Aye, I know,” Nelly said, sounding anything but mollified. “Me own mam told how Dowanhill used to be the liveliest estate in all Yorkshire. D’you suppose there’ll be more goin’ on at that high-and-mighty”— Nelly covered her mouth and ducked her head—”I mean, at the duke’s castle? I only wondered because he’s hardly at home here in London.”

  “I have no idea what the duke’s habits are at Franchot Castle,” Pippa said. She did know that she wished she never had to find out. “His lands are beautiful—as beautiful as our Cornish property, and much larger, of course. We are neighbors there, I suppose. When Mama was alive we went to Cloudsmoor every summer. After…Well, since then, we’ve rarely visited Cornwall and we have never kept social company with the Franchots.” How odd that statement sounded, when the two families had connections reaching back for centuries.

  “So you do know the countryside there, my lady,” Nelly said.

  “Quite well,” Pippa agreed. “I always enjoyed exploring the wild hills around Cloudsmoor. But I do wish we could return to Dowanhill,” she added, without having intended to say such a thing.

  “Oh, my lady,” Nelly said, and her eyes clouded with worry. “Come and sit by the fire. I’ll take off those slippers and rub your feet. You always like that.”

  The room was done in rose tones, which Pippa liked well enough. She did not like the soaring crown canopy on the bed that made her feel as if she were lying at the bottom of a tower, or the stiffly upholstered chairs and gilt tables that did not encourage one to relax at all. Nevertheless, she did as Nelly suggested and sat in a wing chair near the fire.

  “Lady Justine brought you a present,” Nelly said. She nodded at a table to one side of the chair. “Said to tell you she hopes you won’t think her forward in giving you something she made herself.”

  “Oh.” Pippa picked up a miniature fashion doll with a rosy china face and black hair gathered into ringlets above each ear.

  “Not the doll, of course,” Nelly said. “She didn’t make that, but she dressed it for you. Lady Justine said to explain as she saw the gown in Ackermann’s Repository and she thinks you’d look lovely in one just like it.”

  Nelly paused for breath, and Pippa exclaimed over the wonderful detail of the perfectly fashioned clothing. “This is the new poppy color,” she said of the India muslin gown. “The gold lace trim is exquisite. I should love such a gown.” And the dowager duchess would go into the vapors at the idea of Pippa’s wearing anything so daringly modish.

  “You’d look a treat in it, too,” Nelly said with the rush of loyalty Pippa had already come to love. “With your black hair and white skin, you’d be as pretty as a picture.”

  Pippa smiled shyly and touched the doll’s gold-and-poppy-colored crepe turban and examined the tiny pearls Justine’s nimble fingers had placed as earrings. “Lady Justine is clever,” she said and sighed. “And kind. I hope I can be a friend to her.”

  “You’ve a heart of gold, my lady,” Nelly said. “There’s not a body alive as wouldn’t be proud to have you as a friend.”

  Would Calum Innes be proud to have her as a friend? Pippa shook her head and cradled the doll in the crook of her arm.

  Nelly lifted her mistress’s feet and set them on a small stool. “I expect you’ve fair danced your feet off at that ball,” she said, removing the beige satin slippers the dowager had chosen to match the gown Pippa so disliked. “You’ll have been glad Her Grace arranged for that barley-brain of a dancing instructor to come and teach you the steps and such.”

  “Yes,” Pippa said distractedly. “Not that he’s made me less clumsy.”

  “Go on with you, my lady,” Nelly said. “If you occasionally knock a thing or two over, it’s because you’re nervous, naught else. I just know you enjoyed the ball.”

  Pippa could not begin to explain to practical, if romantic, Nelly that she was lonely and homesick and that her heart ached, not for London balls, but for the gardens of Dowanhill, where she’d learned to fill the solitary years of her young life and where she had created her own world.

  “Were the dresses ever so lovely, my lady?”

  “Ever so,” Pippa said.

  Nelly sighed hugely and ran a hand over thick blond hair that never seemed to want to remain where it was pinned. “And the gentlemen were lovely, too?”

  “You are altogether too concerned with gentlemen,” Pippa observed, but kindly.

  “I know.” Nelly smiled and her pretty face glowed. “I’m glad I’ve my dreams for company. As long as you’ve your dreams, you’re never lonely or disappointed, I always say. Of course, you don’t need dreams, because your life’s going to be a fairy tale, my lady.”

  How could a large, angry-looking man who clearly preferred the company of another female provide Pippa with a fairy-tale life, or even with a moderately pleasant one? “I think dreams are the best,” she said. “Dreams are your own, and if you dream when you’re awake, you’ve got some control over them.”

  Nelly, kneeling before Pippa, paused in her firm massage of her mistress’s feet. “D’you dream, too, then? You sound for all the world like you know how.”

  “I dream,” Pippa agreed, and remembered how Calum Innes’s big, firm hand had felt at her waist.

  “Did you dance every dance, then? Of course you did.”

  “I danced once,” Pippa replied before she could stop herself.

  “Only once?” Nelly dropped Pippa’s foot unceremoniously onto the stool. “Once? Whatever did you do the rest of the time? I’d have thought the duke would keep you floating around the floor all night, just so he could show you off.”

  Pippa smiled and impulsively leaned over to kiss Nelly’s cheek. The maid looked so taken aback, Pippa was embarrassed.

  “Perhaps the duke wasn’t feeling himself,” Nelly suggested, resuming her massage of Pippa’s feet. “Is he lovely to dance with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Again Pippa’s foot was dropped. “Y’don’t know?”

  “I’ve never danced with him.”

  “But you said you danced with him once.”

  Heat began building in Pippa’s cheeks. “I said I danced once. I didn’t say it was with the duke.”

  Nelly sat back on her heels and regarded Pippa with open fascination. “You danced with someone else?” she whispered. “Another man?”

  Pippa flipped a hand. “It was nothing.”

  “Did you know him before?”

  “No.”

  “No? You danced with a man you didn’t know? Who was he?”

  The warmth in Pippa’s face spread steadily over her entire body. “I told you, I don’t know. And it isn’t important. We won’t meet again.” She felt a slow, cheerless turning about her heart.

  “You must have found out his name.” Nelly drew up her shoulders. “Not that it’s any of my business. Not that I ought to ask at all, even.”

  “Calum Innes.” Pippa stared into the fire. “Of Scotland, I think.”

  “Of Scotland? Scottish gentlemen have such lovely voices, don’t they?”

  “Lovely,” Pippa agreed. “It suits him. It’s warm and low and serious. But he laughs so beautifully.” Her father had been the only man in her life, and he’d never been given to laughter.

  “What kind of dance did you dance?”

  “A waltz.”

  Nelly gasped and her hands flew to her cheeks. “Go on with you. You danced a waltz with a man you don’t know? My lady!”

  Pippa frowned. Was that so very shocking? “Yes,” she said. “He is a gentleman and the dance was delightful.” That explained that.

  “And you’d do it again,” Nelly said with awe. “I can see it in your eyes. Is it as fast and free as they say—the waltz?”

  “Very fas
t and completely free.”

  “But you’ll not be seeing the gentleman again.”

  “Never.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Pippa said, remembering the thunderous expression on the Duke of Franchot’s face. “Quite sure.”

  “Calum’s a lovely name.”

  “Lovely.”

  “I expect he was tall, my lady.”

  “Very tall.”

  “And dark?”

  “His hair is dark red. Or perhaps exceedingly dark brown, but a little red when the light touches it.”

  Nelly sighed. “You’re going to dream about him.”

  “Yes…No. Absolutely not!”

  “Of course not,” Nelly agreed quickly. “Why would you dream of a strange Scotsman when you’ve a dashing English duke about to make you his duchess?”

  Why indeed?

  “I fancy gentlemen with shoulders that don’t need any padding myself,” Nelly announced.

  Calum’s shoulders were broad and muscular. “Mmm. He wore a black evening coat. Very plain, but of perfect cut and fit. His shoulders are so…” She drifted for an instant. “Yes, his chest is also very nice.”

  “Lovely,” Nelly said. “I can almost see him. Does his hair curl?”

  “A little. Just enough. When he laughs, dimples show beneath his cheekbones. His face is lean and full of wit.”

  “Lovely,” Nelly sighed. “Did you happen to notice his mouth?”

  “Oh, yes. Wide. And very firm. The lower lip is fuller than the upper lip, and the very corners tip up the tiniest bit, as if he were in danger of smiling—even when he is so serious.” Pippa’s heart drummed; she heard the rhythm in her ears and felt it beneath her skin.

  Nelly rubbed the toes of Pippa’s left foot with steady concentration. “I don’t suppose there was an opportunity to look at Calum Innes’s legs.”

  “Oh, yes. Solid. I can imagine him on horseback. I’m sure he is an accomplished rider. His hair would be tossed and he’d laugh at the wind.” She caught her breath and let her eyes close. “I should like to ride beside him and watch him laugh at the wind.”

  “But you won’t see him again.”

  “Absolutely not. Never. I cannot, because I am to marry the duke. I am a very lucky girl.”

  “Very lucky. Did he say—Calum Innes, that is—did he say anything lovely?”

  Pippa breathed in deeply. “Only that I danced like a nymph and that I flew like an imp of music through the night.”

  “Oh, my lady.” Nelly sighed.

  “At least he said something like that.”

  “Lovely.” There was reverence in Nelly’s voice. “But you won’t ever see him again.”

  “Oh, no.” How could it be that for a few minutes one could be so perfectly happy, then know that such minutes would never be repeated? “He wanted me to make him a promise.”

  “What kind of promise?”

  “It was because I accused him of telling a lie—and for calling him a scoundrel.” She smiled. “For flattering me. Then I apologized, but he said my apology wasn’t enough.”

  “He wanted something more?”

  Pippa worried her bottom lip. “He wanted me to say I would see him again.”

  Nelly stopped rubbing entirely. “And did you?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” She hadn’t, had she? “At least I didn’t really. No…no, not exactly.”

  Charmed Three

  Pippa stood on her toes and jiggled. The morning sun teased the bobbing heads of daffodils that marched with annoying precision along the tidy pathways in the gardens behind Franchot House.

  “Bother,” Pippa said.

  Nelly was instantly at her side. “Come again, my lady?” She was all smiles and rosy-cheeked good humor.

  “I said, bother,” Pippa informed the girl. “It is all such a bother. London and ugly dresses and doing what’s done and saying what’s said and not appearing too intelligent and—and—and these dreadful gardens!”

  Nelly’s smooth brow ruckled. “Dreadful? Why, they’re as neat as a pin, they are. See how tidy they’ve planted the flowers. And how the trees match.”

  “Yes,” Pippa agreed, scowling. “They do match, don’t they? What, I wonder, would Mr. Capability Brown say about the way this garden matches? An elm to the right and an elm to the left. Not an inch more to the right than to the left. A lilac bush on that side of the path and a lilac bush on the opposite side of the path. Oh, how I miss my marvelous Dowanhill!”

  “Because it’s all so wild, you mean?” Nelly asked dubiously.

  “Because it is exactly as it should be. Land made as beautiful as it can be by working with nature. All that is required for the complete pleasure of the eye is the emulation of nature, Nelly. In nature, the flowers are not planted in silly rows like silly soldiers. They grow in free fields here and there and they mix, one with another. The land rises and falls—woods in one direction, open fields with grazing sheep in another, a lake in another. And always the trees…”

  Ignoring the fine India muslin of her boring pale pink dress, she dropped to her knees and pushed her fingers into the soil. “There is nowhere to be here. No one who needs me.”

  “Ah,” Nelly said sagely. “Now I understand, my lady. You’re missing your woods. That’s it, isn’t it? You want a place where no one can find you, like you had at Dowanhill.

  “And you did so love helping the little ones in the village. I don’t suppose a duchess would be likely to spend her time giving lessons to village children.”

  Pippa closed her mouth tightly. She would not speak of what she had been forced to leave behind, but she would think of it nevertheless. And she would pray every night that at Franchot Castle she might manage to escape into the woods and find again some of the places she’d relished in childhood visits to Cloudsmoor.

  But even if she could wander free in Cornwall and claim a special place for herself, how could she find a way to fill the empty places in her heart that had belonged to the children of Dowanhill?

  Grateful for the shielding brim of her chip bonnet, Pippa closed her eyes and willed away the sadness. She was to be Her Grace the Duchess of Franchot. That would become her life’s work…whatever that meant. It would certainly not mean dreaming about a man with intense dark eyes who seemed to have charmed his way into her undisciplined favor.

  After a long silence, Nelly said, “I do hate to see you so unhappy. You’ve not been yourself since last evening. I expect you’re unsettled by thinking about that fine Mr. Calum Innes.”

  “No such thing!” Pippa filled a fist with earth and squeezed. “I have more important matters to consider than a casual encounter with a man whose acquaintance I’m never likely to make again.” She should never have mentioned him.

  “Aye,” Nelly said faintly. “I only thought—”

  “Perhaps you should think less. Thinking in females is not considered particularly admirable. You’d do well to remember that. Why—” Pippa stopped and bowed her head. “Forgive my snappishness, Nelly. I’m not quite the thing today, I’m afraid.”

  “You’ve too much to deal with,” Nelly said. “A body needs people of her own around her when she’s t’be married. You’ve naught but strangers. The dowager’s—well, I’ve no doubt she’s a good heart, but it’s not the same as havin’ a mam of your own to tell you the way of things.”

  All true, but Pippa dared not allow any self-pity. If she once gave in to the panic she felt hovering just outside her composure, she would be lost.

  “That dress will be ruined, my lady.” The happiness had left Nelly’s voice, and Pippa regretted that.

  “You’re right,” she said brightly, springing to her feet. “Thank you for making me feel better. I’d best wash my hands and see if I can hide any damage to the dress. Come along, Nelly. I don’t suppose you’ve seen an apron anywhere in this bothersome house?”

  “Aprons aplenty,” Nelly responded. “But they all belong to maids.”


  Pippa looked toward the house and wrinkled her nose. “Here comes Finch.” She glanced from the approaching butler to her skirts and noted, with dismay, that muddy spots marked the place where she’d knelt. “Oh, this is all such a bother,” she mumbled.

  Finch arrived at a stately pace and bowed as he offered her a single card upon a silver tray.

  “Thank you, Finch,” Pippa said, and winced as dirt from her fingers smeared the card and dusted the shimmering tray.

  The corner of the card was turned down.

  Lord-a-mercy! At this moment, while Pippa stood in the gardens of Franchot House, her hands and dress filthy, Mr. Calum Innes, of Hanover Square, stood inside that house awaiting Pippa’s response.

  “My lady?” Finch inquired in his reverberating baritone.

  Here.

  Was the duke at home? She didn’t know. She knew almost nothing at all about him. Only yesterday—at precisely noon—she had encountered him on the stairway as he returned from a night’s revelry. He hadn’t as much as wished her a good day.

  “My lady?” Finch repeated.

  What if the duke were at home and he chanced to appear in the hallway and see Mr. Innes?

  What if the duke returned while Mr. Innes stood in the hallway?

  “Oh, bother,” Pippa said.

  “My lady?” Finch inquired.

  “Yes,” she said, completely befuddled. The duke had been so angry with Mr. Innes for dancing with her that he’d been about to call him out!

  Finch had already turned away and begun to retrace his steps to the house.

  “This is desperate,” Pippa said, looking wildly around. “Disastrous. Devastating. Calamitous. Catastrophic. Finch!”

  Finch, well on his way back to the house, didn’t even check his stride.

  “Oh, bother, bother, bother.” Pippa whirled about, and whirled again. She stood, her fingers twined tightly together, staring toward the terrace.

  “What is it?” Nelly asked. “What’s disastrous…and all those other horrible things?”