A Damsel for the Daring Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Having heard him described by all as interesting and handsome, Charlotte could not help being pleased that he was away in Europe. Interesting and handsome were not welcome traits in a man as far as Charlotte Cunningham was concerned. They were very dangerous traits.

  “How do you feel about your first social engagement here, Miss?” Ruth said as she untied two small, twisted pieces of rag from Charlotte’s hair and let two perfectly formed ringlets drop free.

  “I must admit I am looking forward to it,” Charlotte said brightly. “And I really am very glad that I came. Although you were right all along; I was always going to come. I suppose I was just being a little pettish because my father had arranged it all without telling me.”

  “I know he did, Miss, but I am sure that he did so out of kindness. He has been worried about you for some time; I can see it in his face.”

  “And I wish he would not worry, Ruth, for there is nothing to worry about.” Charlotte could not bear the idea of her father worrying about her, but she had told him time and again that there was no cause for concern, and yet he would not have it.

  “He worries because he can see with his own eyes what I know for certain. What I know because you have told me,” Ruth said firmly. “That you have no intention to settle into a happy life of any kind.”

  “I do want a happy life, Ruth. Or at least I want a contented one; is that not the same thing?”

  “No, it is not the same thing.”

  “My dearest Ruth, I cannot count the number of times you and I have had the same conversation,” Charlotte said, and both women laughed. “And I really do appreciate your concern and your kindness more than I could say.”

  “It is not just concern, Miss. It is sadness.”

  “My goodness, I have made you sad?” Charlotte said and raised her hand to her chest. “But why?”

  “I suppose it is because I cannot bear the idea you will not let yourself be happy. I understand why, or at least I did. But it seems so long ago now, does it not? Could you not open your heart to let somebody else in, somebody who will not disappoint you?”

  “That is the problem, Ruth. How on earth am I to know in the beginning if the man I am speaking to will not disappoint me just the same? There is no way of telling, you see. There is no guarantee.”

  “There are never any guarantees in life, Miss. Except perhaps one.”

  “And that is?”

  “If you do not allow happiness in, it will not come. That is guaranteed.”

  “Yes, you are right,” Charlotte said and felt the full weight of her maid’s words. As always, Ruth had managed to alight upon some subject that Charlotte had already considered in secret. She had already mourned the loss of future happiness and had found it very hard.

  “But even now I still cannot risk it. I still cannot forget how I felt back then, how hurt I was. Not to mention how very foolish I felt.”

  “The time has come to let that go; otherwise, you really will end up marrying some dreadful man of sense whom you will never love. And when you have married him, whoever he is, it will be too late to change your mind.”

  “But that is the whole point,” Charlotte said simply.

  “I know you have thought about it back and forth, time and time again, but I wish you would consider it further. I wish you could imagine yourself, your future self, trapped forever with a man you cannot bear to be beside. Surely, in the end, you would come to despise one another, and that is no way to live. That is not the best use of the life you have been given, Miss.”

  Charlotte did think about it, and it made her feel suddenly very low. She had spent the last three years trying to avoid the sort of feelings that had crushed her and made her feel stupid, unattractive, and insignificant. And even though she had concentrated now and again on the sort of feelings which had come before, the excitement, the hope, love, Charlotte knew that she had dwelt predominantly in the negativity of it all.

  But it was that negativity that she could not shake, and she knew that it had changed her. She knew that she had lost the spark that had once been hers, the sharpness of wit and the confidence to deliver it in conversation, the zest for complicated and highly charged banter.

  Just as Charlotte had been about to respond, there came a light tapping on her chamber door, and her aunt’s face appeared around it, seeming to float in isolation.

  “Oh, I say, you do look beautiful,” Gwendolyn said and smiled brightly. “So beautiful, in fact, that I would say that you are ready.”

  “Oh dear, is the driver waiting for us?”

  “Fear not, Charlotte, he is a patient man.” Gwendolyn laughed, and Charlotte thought she liked her more and more.

  She had a nice sense of humour, always confidently given, and always, always, graceful and kind.

  Charlotte rose to her feet and looked to Ruth for confirmation that she was truly ready. When her maid nodded and smiled, Charlotte gripped her hands, kissed her cheek, and bid her farewell for the afternoon.

  As Charlotte and Gwendolyn set off in the little carriage, she heartily wished that she could have taken Ruth with her. How close she felt to her maid, how much she thought of her as the finest friend she had in all the world. And how hard it seemed, harder by the day, to always be leaving her behind.

  As the years had gone on, Charlotte had always felt it a little unfair that the larger part of Ruth’s time was spent in making sure that Charlotte was fit to go out and enjoy herself.

  If only things could be different in the world; if only they could go out arm in arm and enjoy an afternoon of bridge together or any other sort of delightful social engagement.

  “You are a little quiet, my dear,” Gwendolyn said as the carriage rumbled along. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, I am perfectly alright, Aunt Gwendolyn,” Charlotte said and turned to give her aunt a bright smile of confirmation.

  Charlotte hardly knew if Gwendolyn looked like her mother had done, but she rather suspected that she did. She had shining chestnut hair, just like Charlotte’s own, albeit a little faded and occasionally sprinkled with grey.

  Gwendolyn’s skin was still very fine, despite the little wrinkles here and there, and Charlotte thought that all in all, she made a very handsome widow.

  “Because if you are feeling at all nervous, you really need not. Lady Elton is a wonderful woman. She is advancing in years, but she has some very modern and interesting ideas. She is very sharp-eyed and intelligent, just like you, my dear. I think that the two of you will get along very well indeed.”

  “Then I am looking forward to meeting her very much,” Charlotte said brightly.

  “And she always has the most interesting people at her bridge afternoons. I have been attending myself for many years and have seen a wonderful array of people come and go.”

  “Are there many who accept the standing invitation as you do, Aunt Gwendolyn?”

  “Oh yes, there are a fair few. But it is true to say that there are always new faces to be seen, for news of her fine bridge afternoons travels far and wide. And I must say, she does put on a very good spread given that it is only an afternoon affair.” Gwendolyn’s eyes widened making Charlotte laugh. “Well, it is true to say that I rarely take a full dinner in the evening after I have visited Lady Elton.”

  “No wonder her events are so well attended.” Charlotte smiled broadly.

  When the carriage drew up, Charlotte looked out upon a very fine stone-built townhouse. It looked very smart indeed, more like something that a bright young person might live in rather than a widow of many years standing. Already she was finding Lady Elton something of a draw.

  And meeting the woman herself in the entrance hall of a modernly appointed interior, Charlotte knew already that she liked her very much.

  “I say, you are the image of your aunt,” Lady Elton said enthusiastically. “Such a pretty girl. And I believe you are a very smart young lady too, and smart is a thing to be clung onto. Smart does not fade as beauty does. It is one
of the few things which gets better with age.” Lady Elton smiled broadly, her pale blue eyes wide and intelligent.

  “I promise you already, Lady Elton, that I shall do my very best to cling onto my smartness,” Charlotte said and was pleased when the old lady threw her head back and laughed.

  “I must say, I like you already, young lady.” Lady Elton took hold of Charlotte’s arm and led her towards the drawing room.

  “What a very lovely room,” Charlotte said truthfully as she looked at the modern pale walls contrasting against bright, imaginative brocade-covered furniture. “In fact, it is a very lovely home altogether.”

  “Thank you kindly, my dear. I do hope that you will be a regular guest whilst you are staying with your aunt.” She turned to look at Gwendolyn. “You will see to that, my dear Gwendolyn, will you not? Perhaps the three of us could take afternoon tea this week?”

  Charlotte felt a warm glow and rather liked the idea of this bright and interesting lady taking an interest in her. She already knew that she would gladly sit down to afternoon tea and find herself most amused and diverted by such a woman.

  “Oh yes, I would like that very much indeed,” Charlotte said enthusiastically as she looked around the room.

  “Well, what a very fortuitous week I am having,” Lady Elton said as she led Charlotte and Gwendolyn further into the drawing room. “And such wonderful new faces for my bridge afternoon.”

  “So, my dear niece is not the only newcomer this week, Lady Elton?” Gwendolyn said inquisitively.

  “Oh no, I have another guest I was not expecting. But I must admit, it is all rather exciting.”

  “But who is your other guest, my dear?” Gwendolyn said, and Charlotte almost laughed at her aunt’s insistence.

  “You will not believe it, but the new Duke of Sandford.” Lady Elton’s tone had quietened to a whisper.

  “Goodness me, but his father never attended the bridge, did he?” Gwendolyn said in gossipy tones.

  “No, I am as surprised as anybody.”

  As her aunt and Lady Elton continued to whisper to one another, Charlotte felt her mouth go dry. The new Duke of Sandford? His father had never attended the bridge?

  But surely that could only mean that not only was James Harrington the new Duke of Sandford, but that he was somewhere in that large, modern drawing room.

  As Charlotte looked all around her, fearful that she would see him and equally fearful that she would not, a man in the corner of the room turned slowly. Before he was fully facing her, Charlotte knew it was him.

  He was, as always, the tallest man in the room, and his hair and clothing as immaculate as ever. When he had turned fully, Charlotte felt his eyes fix upon her own, and she held her breath.

  After three long years, she was finally looking into the bright green eyes of James Harrington.

  Chapter 25

  Charlotte did not realize she was holding her breath until she began to feel lightheaded. Beads of cold sweat had formed on her back and she felt uncomfortable in every possible way. She knew she had to turn away from him, to find someone to talk to so that she might escape the handsome face and mesmerizing eyes, but she was finding the effort to tear her gaze from him an arduously physical one.

  She was vaguely aware that her aunt and Lady Elton continued to chatter amiably, although she could not focus at all on what they were saying. Her mouth went dry and she knew she could not speak to James if he made his way to her.

  A sense of panic was beginning to rise in her chest and, more than anything, Charlotte wanted to run. She wanted to turn and flee, to tear through the house and out into the fresh air, never stopping once to look back. This was too much; she was too shocked and hardly knew how to continue.

  Charlotte needed a distraction. She needed somebody else to talk to so that she might keep away from James Harrington without it becoming obvious to anybody. She could turn her attention back to her aunt, but there was a very real possibility that Lady Elton would see fit to attempt to introduce her to the new Duke and Charlotte knew she could not possibly get through that without giving herself away. She needed time to think and time to gather the emotions that seemed to swirl in her chest and ricochet off the walls of her ribcage. She felt hot and cold, panicked and nauseous, and she knew she would have to act.

  The moment James, his eyes still on hers, took a single step in her direction, it was as if Charlotte had been freed from restraints suddenly and she sprang into action.

  She turned back to her aunt and Lady Elton and smiled brightly before looking all around the room. Charlotte immediately fixed on an older man of perhaps forty years who was beginning to rise from one of the bridge tables. She could see that he was thanking his bridge partner without much enthusiasm before casting a speculative eye about the room.

  Charlotte hoped with all her heart that the fair-haired man was looking for another game otherwise, she was about to make a fool of herself.

  “Lady Elton, who is that gentleman just rising from his game? I am certain I know him from somewhere but cannot place him.” She was talking quickly and knew she must calm down to avoid raising either the suspicions of her aunt or Lady Elton.

  “Oh, that is Marcus Hillington, my dear. He is awfully clever, especially when it comes to investments and what-have-you, but he is a rather quiet sort of a man. One of the few who attends my afternoons solely to play bridge rather than to chatter.” Lady Elton shrugged as if she could not fathom the man’s attitude at all.

  “Would you mind introducing me? I am still certain I have met him before. Perhaps if he is in want of a bridge partner, I could play a game with him and see if I can lay my burning curiosity to rest.” Charlotte went on brightly before turning to her aunt. “Would you mind at all, Aunt Gwendolyn? I should rather like to play.”

  “Not at all my dear.” Gwendolyn smiled but looked a little curious, as did Lady Elton who clearly could not imagine anybody finding anything of interest in Marcus Hillington.

  Charlotte looked over to where Marcus Hillington stood and took a step in his direction, hoping that the move would hurry Lady Elton along before James appeared on the edge of their group and she found herself trapped.

  “My dear Mr. Hillington.” Lady Elton began warmly as the three women approached. “Might I introduce you to a prospective bridge partner?”

  Marcus Hillington’s expression eased a little. Initially, he had looked a little perturbed as if he might be expected to conduct a lengthy and, to him, boring conversation. But the promise of a bridge partner instead seemed to mollify him, and he gave Charlotte a tight-lipped smile that seemed more disinterested than displeased.

  “Of course, Lady Elton.” He said and Charlotte almost winced at the flatness of his tone.

  “This is Miss Charlotte Cunningham, and she is very keen to play.” Lady Elton went on, clearly still a little wrong-footed by Charlotte’s unexpected interest in the dullest person in the room.

  “How nice to meet you, Miss Cunningham. I see there is another pair ready to play if you would follow me.” He said and set off before Charlotte had even a chance to return his greeting.

  She stood stock still for a moment before coming to her senses, smiling at her aunt and Lady Elton, and following along in his wake.

  It was a curious moment and she could not help but think that, were she not desperate, she would have left the disinterest man to wander across the drawing alone and find herself someone livelier to spend her time with.

  But she wasdesperate, and it left her with little choice. As she walked away, Charlotte could hear her aunt and Lady Elton immediately begin to strike up conversation. She could not hear exactly what they were saying, but the confused tones led her to suspect they were discussing her own curious behavior.

  She had undoubtedly sparked their interest, not to mention the suspicion she had been hoping to avoid, but she would simply have to worry about that later. For now, she would have to concentrate hard on a bridge game she did not want to play and
do something to recover from the shock of seeing James there before her.

  “Thank you.” Charlotte said quietly as Marcus Hillington mechanically pulled out her chair.

  As she sat and made herself comfortable, Charlotte could not help but look across the room to see what James was doing.

  And, sure enough, he was staring over at her.

  James could hardly believe how seeing Charlotte again would have affected him. He had been anticipating the sight of her for days now, ever since he had secured his invite from Lady Elton.

  But to see her in the flesh almost floored him.

  He had imagined Charlotte over and over in his mind, drawing her likeness to mind every day of the last three years. But his memory had surely played him false for he was taken aback by just how beautiful she was, even more than he had remembered.