Miss Bannerman and The Duke

by Fenella J Miller

  Immediately Richard bowed. “Allow me, my lady. Wait there and I will call you over when I have found something suitable.”

  Millie took her hands and squeezed them. “Rose, don’t you dare tell me you are the plain sister ever again. There is something about Lord Bentley that brings out the sparkle in your eyes.” She turned to gaze adoringly at her own partner, who was directing a harassed footman. “Richard and I have been given permission to waltz—shall you and Lord Bentley be joining us after supper for a second turn about the floor?”

  “Absolutely not. I have made a sufficient exhibition of myself for one evening. When he returns, we are to stroll around the ballroom. I have already eaten my supper; I’m far too full to sit down with any degree of comfort.”

  “Come along, girls. Sir Richard is beckoning.”

  “Mama, Lord Bentley and I have already eaten. Am I permitted to walk around the ballroom until you have finished?”

  “Yes, my dear, that will be quite acceptable. Ensure you remain in full view at all times.”

  Rose was aware she was attracting an undue amount of attention, especially from the young unattached gentlemen. She had no wish to receive their fulsome compliments and was quite certain Lord Bentley…no, she must think of him as Perry from now on…would not take kindly to it either. She glanced about in desperation and espied her future niece, Charlotte. She would join her.

  “Miss Foster, forgive me. I am waiting for Lord Bentley but he seems to be delayed. Would you mind very much if I walked with you until he returns?”

  “Please do. My uncle wishes us to be friends. I cannot think how you have persuaded him to give up his freedom. Why, only the other day he was assuring my mama that he had no intention of marrying anyone.” The girl flushed scarlet and clapped her gloved hands to her mouth as if trying to push the words back in.

  Rose forced herself to smile and repeated the story they had concocted. “We have known each other more than five years. He saved me from a nasty accident and I have loved him ever since. However, I was surprised to discover he reciprocated my feelings.”

  Lady Laura Foster arrived at their side. “There you are. I have been looking for you this age, my dear. We must go into supper or we shall be still at the table when the dancing resumes.” She beamed at Rose. “My brother is in the card room, Miss Bannerman. He looks as if he will be occupied for some time. I think it would be unwise of you to wait here alone, my dear. Would you like to come with us? You could sit and drink lemonade whilst we eat.”

  “No, thank you, my lady. If Lord Bentley is playing cards then I shall retire to a small withdrawing-room I discovered earlier. No doubt he will find me when he is done.”

  Downstairs was pleasantly quiet and for cooler than the ballroom or the dining room. A helpful footman came over to offer his assistance. “Is it possible for me to sit in the library?”

  “Follow me, Miss Bannerman. I’m sure the master will have no objection to you waiting there for Lord Bentley.”

  How did this lowly minion know her identity and to whom she was betrothed? Quite alarming to think these things were already common knowledge below stairs. Once she was married to the Duke she would have no privacy at all for her every move would be scrutinised and reported on. She would not be allowed to gallivant around the countryside in her oldest clothes or spend happy hours in the stables with her beloved horses. Perry had high standards and she would be expected to conform.

  A shiver of apprehension trickled down her spine. She had not yet reached her eighteenth name day—she wasn’t ready to be curtailed in this way. The liveried servant bowed and politely pushed open one of a pair of imposing double doors.

  “Thank you. Could you please inform Lord Bentley of my whereabouts? He is playing cards upstairs somewhere.”

  The library was pleasantly warm. She would not be cold even in her diaphanous ball gown. She wandered across to the nearest book lined wall and selected a leather bound volume at random. Blowing the dust from its spine, she carried it to the nearest armchair. Earlier in the evening she had fallen asleep and her gown had not suffered. If she was careful she could curl up for an hour or so to read and still return to the ball with it relatively uncreased.

  Unfortunately the book she chose was a tiresome volume of sermons. With a sigh she scrambled up, quite forgetting she had spread her gown around her feet. There was an ominous ripping as her heeled slipper tore through the spangles. Horrified she dropped the book. The heavy tome landed on the flimsy material and compounded the damage.

  Her evening was ruined and so was her beautiful gown. She must return home at once. Her dress was hanging in tatters about her ankles. She recalled her earlier mention of not wishing to be like Cinderella. This catastrophe placed her in a similar situation. She looked around and saw the bell pull by the mantel and quickly pulled it.

  A parlourmaid appeared through a door hidden between the shelves, almost giving her an apoplexy.

  “I have, as you can see, quite spoiled my ball gown. It is beyond repair. I wish to have my carriage brought round immediately. There’s no need to send messages to my family right away. I would be grateful if you would inform them after I have left.”

  The girl curtsied. “I shall fetch your cloak immediately, Miss Bannerman. I shall send word for your carriage to be brought round and come and fetch you when it’s outside.”

  Scarcely twenty minutes later, the girl returned with the silver domino over her arm. Rose swirled it around her shoulders. The voluminous folds hid the damage perfectly. She followed the maid through the deserted passageways, across the vast vestibule, and out to the waiting vehicle. She scrambled in and a footman put away the steps. The coachman snapped his whip and the carriage trundled homewards.

  The interior was freezing after the warmth of the house. She huddled in the corner unable to prevent tears spilling down her cheeks. Why was she so clumsy? Millie would never have put her foot through her gown in this stupid fashion. Wearing this lovely garment had merely disguised her true nature. She was not meant to be a duchess. She was a simple country girl and could never be happy as anyone else.

  Only as the carriage rocked and bumped its way towards Grosvenor Square did she remember she had not asked the servant to take a message to Perry. He would discover she had gone when he went to the library to look for her. He must no longer be Perry in her thoughts…she would break off the engagement. She would come up with a scheme to persuade him that temporary public opprobrium was far better than a lifetime tied to a totally unsuitable wife. Oh, why had she fallen in love with him again? It would be so much easier to give him up if she still disliked him.

  Perry had reluctantly agreed to play a hand of cards. He did not wish to be away from Rose too long. She was the belle of the ball and a young buck might attempt to cut him out. He was nine years her senior and it was possible she could prefer someone nearer her own age.

  He frowned, and then relaxed. She would be safe enough with her mother and sister for the moment, so it would do no harm to butter up Sir John. He was more likely to agree to sell his chestnuts if he did so. His lips curved—she had said so herself—he was the most eligible bachelor in the country. No young lady—not even one as unconventional as Rose—would wish to pass up the chance of becoming a duchess.

  A hovering footman obviously had a message of some sort. Perry crooked a finger and the man slid over. Rose was safely in the library. Excellent! He could enjoy a hand or two before going down to retrieve her.

  Less than an hour later, he pushed open the door to find the room empty. Puzzled he called her name, but got no response. Where the devil was she? He seemed to have spent the majority of the evening searching for her. She must have become bored with waiting and returned to the ballroom. The second waltz was about to be performed and he had every intention of leading her out.

  He strode back upstairs. He scanned the crowds for her but she was nowhere to be seen. Then he saw Lady Bannerman; he would ask this redoubtable lady what h
ad happened to her daughter. He stopped in front of her, and bowed briefly. “My lady, I am in search of Miss Bannerman. We are supposed to perform the next dance and I cannot find her anywhere.”

  “My goodness! Where has the wretched girl got to? I was told she was waiting for you in the library. If she is not there I have no notion where she might be.” She surged to her feet, opening and shutting her fan noisily. “Perhaps Amelia will know where her sister is. Sir Richard has just this moment led her to the dance floor. Botheration! The music has started; now I must wait until the waltz has finished. It would not do to interrupt.”

  The garrulous lady paused to draw breath and he quickly filled the brief gap. “Lady Bannerman, I’m sure there is nothing untoward in Miss Bannerman’s temporary disappearance. I shall make further enquiries from the staff and get back to you as soon as I may.”

  After a further frustrating period of time he eventually discovered a member of Ponsonby’s staff who actually knew what had happened. By this time he was more than a little irritated. He was not accustomed to wasting his time. Why on earth had Rose not sent a message to him? Such thoughtlessness did not seem in character. He sent the footman to Lady Bannerman with the information that her daughter had returned to Grosvenor Square as her dress had been irreparably torn.

  It had been a decidedly odd evening. When he had seen Rose asleep in the chair he had felt a faint staring of something in the region of his heart. However, this flickering had subsided and been replaced by annoyance. Sir John was still refusing to relinquish his chestnuts which added to his exasperation. Tomorrow he would make it abundantly clear he did not take kindly to being treated with incivility by his future bride.

  He snapped his fingers and sent a minion running round to fetch his own carriage. The evening had not ended well for either of them. Rose must have been devastated at having to leave early in such an ignominious way. His ill-humour vanished. He was a selfish brute, thinking only of his own inconvenience when she must have been upset. This was why she had not sent a message. She had been too distressed to think straight.

  In the morning he would send round the modiste Laura had recommended and have all three ladies replenish their wardrobe at his expense. Smiling a little, he ducked into his carriage. He settled in the corner, stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. One thing was certain; life would never be dull being involved with the Bannerman family.

  Chapter Nine

  Rose woke to the sound of rattling curtains and a delicious aroma of chocolate. She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows. Millie was still curled on the far side of the huge bed fast asleep. Rose had no idea when her sister had eventually returned.

  She had intended to rise early and take Orion into the park for a gallop, but far too late to do that now. The smiling chambermaid bobbed and carefully set down a tray. “Thank you, Elsie, leave it there. I shall pour for myself in a while. Could you send Mary in to me?”

  Carefully pulling back the coverlet, she slipped out not wishing to wake her sister. The dressing room door swung open and her abigail appeared.

  “Whatever happened to your lovely gown, Miss Rose? I don’t reckon it can be repaired.”

  A sleepy voice called out from the bed. “Yes, dearest, tell me at once how you came to ruin your dress.”

  “I put my foot through the skirt and then dropped a book onto the tear. If I had remained in the ballroom, as Mama suggested, the disaster would have been averted.” She turned to Mary waiting politely in the background. “I shall not be riding this morning so I shall wear the new velvet gown—the one without the frills and furbelows.”

  “I’m quite ravenous, please pour me some chocolate and butter me two rolls, Rose. I’m feeling far too lazy to get out and do so myself.”

  Rose completed this task willingly then pulled over a footstool and leaned against the bed whilst she drank. She had no appetite this morning. She was torn by the necessity of breaking her engagement in order to save Lord Bentley from making a disastrous marriage and her wish to save the family’s finances. Also Millie’s happiness was paramount; her betrothal could not continue if hers was broken.

  She sighed heavily and a mop of golden curls appeared over the side of the bed. “What’s wrong, Rose? You sound so sad and you should be bursting with joy after becoming the talk of the ball last night.”

  “What happened made me understand I am not cut out to be a duchess. I am clumsy and outspoken; I do not care much for etiquette and the rules that govern Society. Lord Bentley would never have considered me if I had not forced him to make me an offer.”

  “But things are quite different now…I told you; everyone is talking about how Lord Bentley has finally fallen in love. You are the envy of every young lady in London.”

  Chocolate slopped in her lap at her sister’s unexpected words and she viewed the spreading stain with resignation. “Look what I have done.” She scrambled to her feet putting down the half empty bowl. “You are talking fustian, Millie. People see what they expect to see. Lord Bentley and I were playing our parts to perfection. He does not love me and I do not love him.”

  “Fiddlesticks to that! He is besotted with you, and I’m certain you reciprocate his feelings in full measure. Two people could not dance the way you did last night if they were not madly in love.”

  “I refuse to discuss it further. I have made up my mind…” her voice trailed away at the sound of running footsteps approaching the bed chamber. The door burst open and their mother rushed in, clutching a letter to her heaving bosom.

  “Disaster! Ruination! Where is your papa when he is wanted? We are undone, quite bankrupt! I have here a letter from the lawyers saying the mortgage has been called in. What shall I do? Rose, tell me how to proceed. We shall be evicted from our home. At any moment the bailiffs shall come and all our neighbours shall know what dire straits we’re in.”

  “Please let me read the letter, Mama; matters might not be as bad as you imagine.”

  Rose removed the paper from unresisting fingers and quickly scanned the contents. Indeed the news was quite as bad, if not worse, than Mama had intimated. Word had reached the bank that papa’s investments had turned to dust and the bank was intending to foreclose. She swallowed, her knuckles white. “It will not come to that. I shall ask Lord Bentley to deal with the matter. I’m certain he would not wish his future family to become the subject of unpleasant gossip.”

  Millie tumbled out of bed and rushed to offer comfort. “Hush, Mama, do not take on so. Rose is quite right; Lord Bentley will deal with this. Papa can make things right when he returns.”

  “But your dear father’s ships were lost. That’s why he went to India with David to try and discover where they went. They might well return no better off than when they left. I thank the good Lord for sending Lord Bentley to us, Rose. Although I consider it a mystery why he prefers you to your sister, this matters not. I shall send at once for him and beg him to intervene.”

  The thought of what this letter might contain made Rose shudder. “Mama, I think it might be better if I apply to him myself. I shall write at once and explain the situation.”

  Millie gently took their mother’s arm. “Come, I shall take you back to your apartment, Mama. You are distressed. Why don’t you lie down for a while and leave Rose to sort things out?”

  This changed everything. She must put aside her doubts and resign herself to marrying the Duke. As soon as her sister and mother departed she hurriedly dressed. She could not contemplate writing what was tantamount to a begging letter unless she was properly attired.

  Seated at her small bureau, she sharpened her pen, uncorked the ink pot, spread out a sheet of fresh paper and was ready to write. However she was at a loss to know what to say; she was not fond of writing letters at the best of times. Every time she picked up a pen an image of the Duke’s face filled her mind. She could see, as if he was standing beside her, how his eyes would narrow and his lips thin when he read her missive. He would be outr
aged at her presumption and disgusted she was already dipping into his pockets.

  Black blots marred the pristine page; she would have to start again. Hopefully she would not spoil the second piece as this was the last sheet she had. There was no point in procrastinating. She must state her case and leave him to decide whether he wished to offer financial assistance.

  Dear Lord Bentley

  My family is facing financial ruin. My mother expects the bailiffs to arrive at any moment otherwise I would not be writing to you in this way.

  You told me you were happy to spend your wealth on my family, and I am hoping you are prepared to help us out of this difficulty. When my father and brother return they will, of course, reimburse you.

  Yours very sincerely,

  Rose

  PS: I do apologise for abandoning you last night, but I put my

  foot through my gown and had to return home immediately.

  She sanded to paper and folded it before she could change her mind. A blob of sealing wax completed the task. She scribbled his name and direction on the front. She rang the bell. “Mary, please take this downstairs and ask for it to be delivered immediately.”

  Millie returned as Rose was preparing to go. “Mama is lying down, Cook has sent up a soothing tisane. She is most unwell. I do wish Papa and David were here. I don’t like the house in an uproar like this.

  “Don’t fret, dearest one, everything will work out. Now, let me help you dress. Is Sir Richard to call this morning?”

  “Yes, I shall wear the yellow silk with the gold flounces.” Her sister noticed the disarray on the bureau. “Have you written the letter to Lord Bentley already?”