by Darcy Burke
David winced. He hadn’t given Miss Stoke false hope—not directly, but wasn’t he responsible just the same? Perhaps, but he was far more responsible when it came to Fanny and her disappointment. Which was why he would make it right.
Hornsby’s lip curled. “Name your second.”
“This isn’t worth dueling over,” Royston said.
“Your continued abuse is why the challenge is necessary. To say my sister isn’t worth a defense of her character is beyond the pale.”
Hornsby exhaled loudly. “I am not abusing your sister. You’re the one causing humiliation with your public display.”
Hornsby lunged forward, and a feminine voice called, “Stop!”
Without thinking, David clapped his hand around Hornsby’s arm and kept him from launching into Royston. Hornsby whipped his head around, scowling at David.
“Careful, there,” David said quietly. “Save it for the dueling field.”
Hornsby shook him off, and two other gentlemen moved forward. They were Anthony and Ware. Anthony moved close to David while Ware inserted himself between Royston and Hornsby.
“This is not the place to have this…discussion. Step outside to make your arrangements.” Ware spoke pleasantly, with an affable smile, as if he were inviting them to one of his entertainments.
Hornsby seemed to relax slightly while Royston sniffed.
“Outside?” Ware prodded.
Hornsby abruptly turned and marched from the ballroom. Ware inclined his head toward Anthony and David. Anthony nodded and started out after him.
David took their unspoken communication to mean they intended to ensure the two men didn’t come to blows outside either. He planned to provide assistance, but before he could follow Ware, who gestured for Royston to precede him, he felt a hand on his arm.
Turning his head, he was surprised to see his mother’s concerned face. Before he could assure her that he was fine, she pulled him to the side of the ballroom as conversation erupted around them.
Her dark brows pitched into a V, and she spoke in a low, furious tone. “What are you doing?”
“I was trying to prevent a disaster,” he said, thinking it should have been obvious.
Confusion clouded her eyes briefly before she pursed her lips. “I’m speaking of Miss Stoke. You’re not going to honor your promise?”
Irritation at her meddling crested within him. “A promise she never should have known about. You broke a family confidence.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize it was a confidence. It was an agreement your father made with her father, and you committed to it.”
David gritted his teeth. “In private.”
“Does that make it less binding? Were you being disingenuous with your father before he died?” The question stung with the force of her derision.
“I’m not going to discuss this with you here,” he said quietly but firmly.
She inhaled, stretching her frame. “Then we’ll discuss it later.”
“No, we won’t. This is none of your affair, and I won’t tolerate you inserting yourself in my personal business.”
Her eyes widened, then settled into a glare. “You won’t tolerate me?”
“Not about this.”
“I’m not going to sit quietly by and watch you lower yourself to court Miss Snowden,” she hissed.
David gaped at her. “Lower myself? Her sister’s a bloody duchess.” He shook his head. “We’re not discussing this here. Or anywhere. If you can’t keep your opinions to yourself, I’ll ask you to leave.”
Anger blistered his insides as he spun from her and strode from the ballroom. By the time he got outside, Anthony and Ware were speaking with Royston in low tones.
Eager to focus on something other than his mother’s horrid behavior, he asked where Hornsby had gone. “We convinced him to take himself off,” Anthony said.
David looked between them, his gaze settling on Royston , who seemed a bit pale. “Did you also convince him that a duel is a terrible idea?”
“Not quite,” Ware said. “However, I think he’ll get there. I agreed to be Royston’s second and will speak with Hornsby’s second later. For now, we’re going to take Royston to the club for a much-needed drink. Are you coming?”
“Absolutely.” He was also in much need of a drink.
His mother’s onslaught about Miss Stoke was troubling, but nothing he wouldn’t overcome, even if he had to send the countess packing. He wasn’t going to let her—or anyone else—come between him and Fanny.
Conversation in the ballroom climbed as the gentlemen left. Fanny and Sarah had watched the entire spectacle, moving out of the shadows of the corner to achieve a better vantage point. Fanny wondered how David had managed to be in the thick of it but, of course, would never have the chance to ask him.
“I’ll get the full details of that from Anthony,” Sarah said.
They hadn’t been able to hear what had gone on, but it looked as if David, Anthony, and Ware had prevented the other two gentlemen from coming to blows.
Sarah looked at her with concern and picked up the discussion they’d been having when the excitement had started. “You’re certain you don’t wish to leave?”
“No, I refuse to be bothered by him dancing with Miss Stoke.” Fanny said it to convince herself as much as Sarah. Because it did bother her. So much.
“You’re far too kind,” Sarah said softly, touching Fanny’s arm briefly but with great warmth. “I wouldn’t care about some promise he’d made, not when there was clearly something between the two of you.”
“You say that now, but you’d do the same in my position. David’s father meant a great deal to him, and promises made to those who are dying shouldn’t be tossed aside.” No matter how badly she wanted them to be.
“People shouldn’t marry someone because someone else wants them to.” It was hard to tell if Sarah was still speaking about David or herself.
“Is your mother pushing you toward someone in particular?” So far she hadn’t, but Sarah’s parents wanted her married. They had no interest in supporting her into spinsterhood.
“Not yet, but I fear it’s coming.” Sarah glanced around the ballroom. “Speaking of my mother, I see her threading her way in our direction.” She exhaled in resignation.
Fanny clasped Sarah’s hand for a quick moment. “Never fear, we can be spinsters together. We shall have the workhouse to keep us busy.”
“Yes, about that,” Sarah said. “I wanted to speak with you about an idea I had. It will have to wait, however.” Her mother was upon them.
“My goodness, what an exciting evening!” Viscountess Colton said, smiling. “I am very much looking forward to Anthony’s account of what happened and whether this duel is actually happening.”
“Duel?” Fanny and Sarah said in unison.
“Oh, you probably couldn’t hear what was going on. Mr. Hornsby challenged Mr. Royston to a duel. He alleged that Royston had insulted his sister.”
“Is that true?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not entirely certain. It seems to be a simple issue of Royston not wanting to court Miss Hornsby and her feeling disappointed. That’s the gossip anyway.”
Fanny did not understand Society. “That hardly seems like something worth dueling over.”
“Indeed,” Sarah’s mother agreed, turning to her daughter. “I came to fetch you, Sarah. I’m ready to go.”
Sarah gave Fanny an apologetic wince. “I hate to leave you alone.”
Lavinia wasn’t at the ball, and Fanny hadn’t seen their other friend, Jane, since earlier in the evening. Fanny gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t concern yourself. I’ll find Ivy. I’m sure she’s ready to depart too.”
They said their good-nights, and as Fanny searched the ballroom for her sister, a woman in a rather plain white gown trimmed with lavender velvet approached her. There was something familiar about the set of her mouth and the shape of her eyes.
“Good e
vening, Miss Snowden. I am Lady St. Ives.”
Of course. Fanny instantly recognized that she was David’s mother and offered a curtsey. “Pleased to meet you, my lady.” And a bit nervous. The countess’s eyes carried a chill.
“I’d like to speak with you for a moment, if I may.” Lady St. Ives strolled closer to the wall.
Fanny followed despite the sinking sensation carving through her stomach.
The countess offered a brief smile that didn’t warm her demeanor in the slightest. “I think possessing appropriate expectations is incredibly important. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes,” Fanny said slowly, not bothering to mask her unease.
Lady St. Ives clasped her hands in front of her waist. “Good. I don’t wish to be indelicate, but I fear I must be straightforward. You must stay away from my son. He is promised to someone else, and his attention needs to be entirely devoted in that direction. Do you understand?”
Fanny’s heart pounded a heavy rhythm. “I think so. I am assured that your son’s…attention is not directed at me.”
“That is relieving to hear. I should hate for anyone to learn of your sister’s background.” She clucked her tongue and dashed a look toward the middle of the ballroom. “Not even becoming a duchess can erase some things.”
The woman’s threat was unmistakable. Fanny fought to take a breath. Rage pooled in her belly and was quickly joined with fear. “Are you threatening me and my sister?”
The countess pierced her with a devastatingly icy stare. “I’m explaining how the world works, my dear. You are not fit to marry my son. How your sister managed to land a duke is a mystery, and yet I suppose one must consider which duke she married. It’s not as if he had a good name to uphold. Not like my son.” Her lips stretched into a mild grimace. “I’m sure you think me heartless, but I assure you this is for your own good.”
Fanny clenched her hands into fists to still herself from shaking. “Why, because I would then be deprived of having you for a mother-in-law? On that score, I must agree. I pity whomever he takes for a wife.”
Lady St. Ives’s eyes widened as she sucked a breath through her flared nostrils. “You’re as common as your sister.”
A nasty smile curled Fanny’s lip. “Of course I am. We are sisters.”
“Then I shall also assume you have behaved in a loose fashion. I can only hope you haven’t done so with my son. Let me reiterate: you must stay away from him, or your sister’s indiscretions will be made public.”
The shaking in Fanny’s body was impossible to quell. She felt her shoulder twitch and fought to speak without her voice quavering too. “I will also repeat that there is nothing between your son and me.” Not anymore…
“Excellent.” Lady St. Ives unclasped her hands and inclined her head. “Have a pleasant evening.” Then she turned and left as if she hadn’t just said the most horrible things Fanny had ever had to listen to.
There was no telling how long Fanny stood there, her mind numb and her body slowly calming from the distress Lady St. Ives had wrought. She wished she’d asked the countess how she knew about Ivy, and what, specifically she knew. Was it that Ivy had been in a workhouse? That she’d borne a bastard? That she’d been ruined by Viscount Bosworth?
But she wouldn’t have asked, especially not here. She hurriedly glanced around to see if anyone had overheard what had been said.
And then she saw Ivy. Her sister had approached without Fanny realizing. She was instantly taken aback by the look of anxiety in Ivy’s gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Had Lady St. Ives said something despite Fanny’s assurances that there was nothing between her and David?
“Did you hear about the duel that was challenged earlier?” Ivy asked.
“Yes.” Fanny relaxed slightly. “Why does that upset you?”
“It doesn’t. But people are now talking about past duels, mostly the one fought by Lord Axbridge last year.”
Lady Axbridge was a close friend of Ivy’s. Her husband, the Marquess of Axbridge, had killed her former husband in a duel. That she’d married her husband’s killer was still a bit of a scandal. Fanny had met them both, however, and could see that they were very much in love. “The gossip about them will die down at some point. It has to.”
“One would think,” Ivy said wryly. “However, that’s not the only duel they’re talking about. I heard some people discussing the challenge West issued.”
Fanny’s stomach clenched. “But that was so long ago.”
“Some people never forget,” Ivy said derisively. “I’d like to go home now.”
“I would too.” Fanny felt queasy and horrible. Between Ivy’s consternation and the horrid threat from Lady St. Ives, she felt as though she could toss up her accounts. Or hit something.
Or both.
They left the ball and didn’t speak until they were in the coach, seated side by side on the velvet cushion. Ivy stroked a hand over her rounded belly, her brows gathered with concern. Fanny wanted to assuage her but had a hard time mustering any words of comfort.
“I want to go home,” Ivy said. “To Stour’s Edge. I’d planned to go next month as the pregnancy progressed, but I think I’ve lost my taste for Society. You’re welcome to stay, if you wish.”
There was no question. After what had happened with David yesterday and especially after tonight, Fanny was more than ready to abandon her first—and likely only—Season. “I’d rather come with you and Leah.”
Ivy smiled. “Thank you. I’m sorry to take you away.”
“I’m not,” Fanny said, taking her sister’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “I don’t think London Society is for me.”
“It isn’t for me either,” Ivy admitted. “But I endure it because of my dear friends, and for West.”
“He’d abandon it too.” Fanny was certain of it—he’d do anything for Ivy.
“If I asked, and I won’t. I don’t mind it in small doses—I prefer to just spend time with my friends. However, I did more this year because you’re here.” She winced, then waved her free hand. “Don’t listen to me. I’m tired and cranky from the babe.” She turned her head toward Fanny. “I’d do anything for you and that includes giving you as many Seasons as you’d like.”
The love Fanny felt for her sister welled in her chest and threatened to spill from her eyes. “I’d do anything for you too.” Including staying away from the man she’d fallen in love with—not that he wanted her anyway.
She also wouldn’t ever tell Ivy what Lady St. Ives had said. She just hoped the countess would maintain her end of the bargain and keep her mouth shut.
“Can we leave tomorrow?” Fanny asked.
Ivy’s eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Yes, let’s.”
Fanny nodded. She would miss her friends, but they would understand. She was ready to leave and find a future without judgment or pretense.
A future without David.
Chapter 9
It was after three in the afternoon before David was able to make his way to Berkeley Square. He’d been busy with other appointments and commitments and was finally free to do what had been at the forefront of his mind since last night: see Fanny and tell her he only wanted to court her.
He walked briskly up the steps to the front door of Clare House and was instantly greeted by the butler, who welcomed him inside.
“I’m afraid Miss Snowden is not present. Would you like to see His Grace?”
Disappointment pitched through David. Perhaps Clare could tell him when she would return. Or perhaps he could speak with Clare until she returned. “Yes, please.”
“Very good. If you’ll just wait in the sitting room.” The butler gestured for David to enter a bright room decorated in golds and blues that looked out to the square. Once David was inside, the butler closed the door, leaving him alone.
David’s gaze caught a pretty painting of a blue tit hanging on the wall. With its gold breast and blue wings and head, it perfectly complemented the room’s d
écor. It was a stunning piece of art as well as an accurate depiction of the species.
The door opened, and Clare strode inside. “Good afternoon, St. Ives. I understand you came to see Fanny.”
David turned, clicking his heels together. “I did, though I’m delighted to see you as well.”
The duke flashed a smile, but his gaze was serious. “Fanny and Ivy have returned to Stour’s Edge.”
They’d left town? The disappointment inside him spread, leaving a hollow expanse. Had he driven her away? “I came to tell her I wanted to court her.” He realized he should have asked Clare’s permission.
“You’re too late, I’m afraid.” Clare’s tone was unsympathetic.
“Am I?” Just because she’d left London didn’t mean she was lost to him—unless there was something he didn’t know. “Is there someone else?”
Clare lifted a shoulder. “Not that I’m aware of. I am, however, aware that your attentions are directed to another young lady. Or did I misunderstand?”
“You did not. It is a complicated explanation, and one I’d rather not bother with, particularly since it is now moot. My attention will only be directed at Fan—Miss Snowden. If she will permit it.” He winced. “Would it meet with your approval for me to court your sister-in-law?”
Narrowing his gaze at David, the duke scrutinized him for a moment. “I won’t allow you to break her heart. I’d have to thrash you.”
“Only after I thrashed myself,” David said.
Clare straightened, exhaling. “Good. I understand you got in the way of things last night with Royston and Hornsby. I’d hate for you to be involved in another duel.”
Was he threatening David? Yes, he rather thought he was. “That duel didn’t happen. Hornsby came to his senses.”
“Most men do.”
David wondered if the duke was speaking of his own experience. He’d heard last night that the duke had challenged a viscount named Bothwick, who had dared insult Ivy. The duel hadn’t occurred, however, and David was curious about what had happened. Despite that, he had no intention of asking.
