Foolish Bride

by A. S. Fenichel

  “Out with it, Mike,” Markus said.

  Michael turned to Thomas. “I met with your friend Hardwig yesterday.”

  “He didn’t dare to ask you to go on another mission. I’ll break his neck.” Thomas stood, downed his brandy, and slammed the glass down.

  Markus stood as well, pointed at Michael, and paced the dark red rug. “They wouldn’t dare ask you to go over to France again. That mission was to be the last. It was agreed. They can’t possibly go back on their word now. And Hardwig of all people, after all we did for his career.”

  Daniel watched Michael with one brow raised.

  It was good to have friends who cared so much. “Sit down, both of you. I am not going to France.”

  “What did you meet with James about, then?” Tugging on his jacket, Thomas returned to his seat.

  Heart pounding, he had to draw a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I want you all to be the first to meet the Fourth Duke of Kerburghe.”

  “W-what?” Markus stuttered.

  “It seems the third duke died without anyone to inherit. The title and that of Marques of Innis remitted to the crown. For my efforts, I was presented these titles.” He surprised himself with the calm tone of his voice, because his heart pounded out of his chest.

  “You’re a duke?” Wide-eyed, Thomas leaned forward.

  “I am afraid so,” Michael said.

  Thomas leaped up and grabbed him in a bear hug that staggered him. Then he laughed. “Daniel, get more brandy. We need a toast.”

  There was a great deal of laughter, back-slapping, and toasting. They each must have called him “your grace” a dozen times. When it was time for the rest of the guests to arrive, Michael was feeling much better and more comfortable with his new title.

  A knock brought all four heads around like boys caught stealing sweets.

  Finally, Daniel said, “Come in.”

  Smiling, Lady Marlton glided into the room. Crystals stitched into her bodice caught the light exquisitely. She looked at the brandy decanter and shook her head. “Will you all be competent this evening? If not, I certainly hope the reason for your indulgence is extraordinary.”

  Daniel strode to his wife and kissed her cheek. “You mean you will forgive us if we tell you what this is all about.”

  “Of course.” She slapped his shoulder.

  Daniel looked at Michael for permission. Once he had a nod, he said, “Michael is no longer a knight.”

  Wide-eyed, she transformed into a threatening viper. No one would want to get on the wrong side of the Countess of Marlton. “What?” Hands clenched into fists, she propped them on her hips. “How can this be?”

  Michael stepped forward. These were his closest friends. On the first day of school, Thomas Wheel had been fun and outgoing. He had been the one to bring them all together with his quick wit and easy manner. It was thanks to Markus and Daniel that he and Thomas had passed all their classes. They shared a rare friendship, each one willing to risk their life for the others. “Your husband is teasing you. I am not a knight because I have been elevated.”

  Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders. “Elevated to what, Michael?”

  Thomas and the countess were great friends. Before Daniel proposed, Thomas had offered for her. “You can no longer call him Michael. He is too grand now. You must call him your grace.”

  She gasped. “A duke.” She rushed forward and hugged him, then backed away a step. “They’ve made you a duke. Oh, Michael, that’s wonderful news.”

  Filled with joy, he kissed her hand. “Thank you, Sophia. It is comforting when one’s friends are happy with your good fortune. I suspect many will not be so generous.”

  “Why should anyone complain about this? You have served your country well. If you do not deserve a dukedom, then I do not know who does.” She huffed.

  Daniel kissed her forehead. “There are many in England who think when a title is not inherited, it should revert to the crown and that should be the end of it. Plus, if I remember correctly, there was a distant cousin who made a claim on the title of Duke of Kerburghe, but his claim was flimsy and he was a criminal of some kind. The Prince denied his claim. There will be those who will be difficult, but really, who cares? We are happy for you, Mike.”

  “That is all a man can hope for,” Michael said, with a short bow.

  * * * *

  “The Earl of Malmesbury, Lady Malmesbury, and Lady Elinor,” Fenton, the Marlton butler, intoned from the Parlor door.

  Sophia rushed over to greet Elinor and her parents.

  “Lord and Lady Malmesbury, it is so good of you to come.” Sophia was the perfect hostess. Everyone in their circle adored her and had gotten used to her American accent.

  “Happy to be here, Lady Marlton.” Father rubbed his bulging belly, keen that dinner party meant food would be the first indulgence.

  “There are some nice canopies near the pianoforte, my lord, and I am certain Marlton will fix you a drink should you require one.” Sophia knew what Malmesbury was after.

  Elinor rolled her eyes so only Sophia could see.

  “Capital idea.” Father bounded toward the refreshments.

  Mother drifted over to where Lady Daphne Collington sat. Sophia’s great aunt was on the gruff side, but she was a mainstay in London society, and even those who did not like her would never admit such a thing. Those who knew her, like the Burkenstocks, admired the dowager greatly.

  Lady Collington had recently started carrying a cane, which she often wielded like a sword. She pointed it at Mother. “You have not come to call in far too long, Virginia.”

  From across the room, Elinor couldn’t hear Mother’s response, but the two women sat close talking.

  Elinor smiled at Sophia. “They will be occupied for hours gossiping.”

  “Leaving you free of your mother’s matchmaking.” Sophia leaned in conspiratorially.

  Elinor nodded. She was in another daring gown of green. It curved around her body like a second skin, showing off more than it hid. “Mother is crazed over the interest the Duke of Middleton has taken in me. I do not know what to do with her. She is now convinced that I shall be a duchess, and she will hear nothing else.”

  “Do you like Middleton?” Sophia asked.

  The idea made her tired. “I do.”

  “And that is the end of the world?” Sophia said sympathetically.

  “He is kind and funny. He seems to like me a great deal, and he does not even seem to mind that I am in love with someone else.”

  Sophia looked up to see Michael across the room, watching them. She pulled Elinor into a corner. “You didn’t tell him that.”

  “I did, but he seemed to understand. He sent me a note today thanking me for the dance at Skivingtons’.”

  “Amazing.” Sophia shook her head.

  “What is amazing?” Dory asked as she joined the pair.

  Dory waited for the full explanation. “Perhaps this is not the place to discuss this.” She too glanced over to where Michael sat with her brother Markus. “Why don’t we meet at my house tomorrow for tea? Then we can have a frank discussion and see if Middleton is a possibility. Do you think you can come without your mother?”

  Elinor longed for time with her friends and time away from Mother. “I shall manage. I would like a talk. I feel alone these days.”

  Dory took one hand and Sophia took her other. Sophia said, “You are never alone, Elinor. You shall always have the two of us, and we will all three have each other no matter what life brings.”

  A tear slid down Elinor’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Dory said, “No tears tonight. Go and calm yourself in the sitting room upstairs. We shall make your excuses.”

  “Good idea.” She took a step toward the door.

  “Don’t take too long,” Dory called after her.

  They all three smiled, and Elinor left the room.

  She pulled herself together a
nd rejoined the party. Then she spent the rest of the evening avoiding Michael. It was easier than she would have thought. He seemed to be avoiding her as well. They were seated at opposite ends of the table during dinner. Afterwards he joined the men having brandy and smoking cigars while she sat with the ladies waiting for the cake to be served.

  “I think I shall go out on the terrace for some fresh air.” Elinor put down her lemonade and stood.

  She let herself out, closing the door behind her. August had come, and the weather was warm, but the evening afforded a nice breeze. She walked to the low stone wall, leaned forward, closed her eyes, and breathed in the scent of roses and other assorted greenery.

  With her eyes closed, she could pretend her life was as it had been four months earlier. She could imagine she was soon to be married to a man she loved and trusted, and all would be well.

  She opened her eyes.

  Michael stood a few feet away, watching her.

  “Your grace,” she said, “I did not realize I was being watched.”

  “I am sorry. I came out to get away from the cigar smoke. When I saw you, I didn’t know what to do. You looked so peaceful, I hated to disturb you, and yet I didn’t want to run away.” He shrugged and winced.

  “I am glad that I have a moment to congratulate you, your grace.”

  “Please don’t call me that, Elinor.” He closed the gap between them.

  She couldn’t bear his sorrowful tone, but she insisted on keeping her head. “Whatever would you have me call you?”

  “Michael, if you please.”

  “I cannot.” Her heart pounded. She wanted to feel nothing, but it was impossible.

  Frowning, he stepped closer still. “I heard that Preston Knowles is courting you.”

  “We danced at a ball.” London gossip was appalling.

  He put his hands behind his back. “Preston and I went to school together.”

  “Yes, he said as much.”

  “You talked to Preston about me?”

  “Briefly.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. She longed to run to him and hold him in her arms. Longed for the days when there was no awkwardness between them. They could talk or be silent for hours without feeling odd.

  Michael combed his fingers through his hair. “He is a good man. I wish you every felicity.”

  “It was only a dance. His grace has not proposed, nor do I expect him to.”

  “Then he is a fool.” He clenched his hand into a fist as his jaw twitched. “But he is no fool, so I am sure he will ask for your hand in no time.”

  “Is that what you want?” Her heart was near exploding. As hard as she tried not to care about Michael, she still loved him.

  He opened his eyes wide. “What I want?”

  It was all she could do to keep her temper from erupting. “Yes. It occurs to me that it would be much easier for you if I were married and no longer causing you guilt.”

  “Guilt?”

  “You are the sort to feel guilty for our situation. I am sure you would like it if I were off of your conscience.” Not the nicest thing she had ever said, but he brought it out of her.

  He watched her. “May I speak frankly, Lady Elinor?” Taking her silence as consent, he continued. “I do feel guilty for what became of us. I feel guilty for going to France and risking our life together. I feel guilty for the way we fought when you came to my house on our wedding date. What I do not feel guilty for is wishing you happy. I shall love you to the end of my days, and I feel no guilt over that, either. I want you to be happy. I ruined our life together, but I sincerely hope that you will find joy in your life, Elinor.”

  “Michael, I—”

  He held up a hand to silence her. “I hope my being here this evening was not too uncomfortable for you. Good night, Elinor.” He stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed it.

  She was so stunned that she couldn’t say anything. Having forgotten her gloves in the parlor, she watched him kiss her hand. His lips were warm and moist on her skin. She trembled at his touch, and still she couldn’t find her voice. Their eyes met and, in that moment, everything might have been fine between them. If only they could stay on this veranda, then all would be well.

  But the moment passed, and he straightened, turned, and left through the garden gate.

  She wanted to call out to him, to tell him she loved him still and would marry no other. But she couldn’t. He hadn’t renewed his wishes to marry her. He had merely released her of her own guilt. It was quite a noble thing he had done, but she kept it to herself.

  In a daze, she walked back into the parlor and rejoined the ladies.

  When the men arrived, Michael wasn’t with them.

  Chapter 6

  When Elinor entered the Flammel townhouse, music from heaven filled the front hall. Elinor’s heart warmed, and she told the butler she would show herself into the music room.

  In spite of the fact that Dorothea’s mother, the Countess Castlereagh, did not approve of her daughter’s over-exuberance toward music, she did set aside a parlor for all the instruments. Dory excelled at more than six instruments, but at the pianoforte she was a miracle.

  The strains drifting out of the music room filled Elinor with joy and sorrow. It touched her in ways music rarely had. When they were small and lived in the country, she would often listen without announcing herself. Often the games would have to wait until Dory was finished practicing. Many times the entire day would be spent on music. Elinor tried to accompany Dory on the harp, but by the time they were twelve years old, Dory had far exceeded Elinor in talent and was composing her own music.

  Eyes closed, Elinor let the final notes wash over her.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Dory asked.

  “Not long enough.” Sorry the music ended, Elinor walked inside.

  Dory smiled. “You always were my biggest admirer.”

  “What was that piece you were playing?”

  “I wrote it last week and have not named it yet. It’s a bit sad. I am not exactly sure why I was feeling so down last week, but the music is nice.” She shrugged and plucked one key before closing the pianoforte.

  “I love it. If you would allow more people to hear you play your own music, you would attract many more admirers.” Elinor strolled to the pianoforte and ran her hand along the golden oak inlaid. A darker wood formed a delicate vine along the edge.

  Dory shrugged again and gestured for Elinor to sit. “How are you?”

  “Frankly, I do not know.” She flopped into the Queen Ann chair set in a small conversation group around a low table.

  Sitting on the settee across from her, Dory smoothed her pale blue skirt.

  Sophia rushed into the music room. Her dark hair was coming loose from its chignon, the bottom of her dress was covered in mud, and her cheeks were bright red. “I am late!”

  “Sophia, whatever happened to your dress?” Concerned that Sophia had an accident, Elinor stood.

  “Is it raining?” Dory rose as well.

  Sophia gave them both a look that she might use on her son, Charles, were he being particularly willful. She tossed her reticule down on the settee “No, it is not raining. I was already late because Charles fell from the third step in the main hall.”

  “No!” Elinor’s heart leapt in her throat. “Is he hurt, poor dear?”

  “He’s fine. He received a small bump on his forehead for his trouble. The nanny, and I thank the lord for her daily, is taking care of him. I believe a cooled cup of chocolate was the medicine she prescribed, and little Charlie seemed quite pleased with the prospect. I believe he is, even now, looking for other ways of injuring himself in order to receive more of the same treatment.” Sophia flopped down on the settee and took a deep breath.

  “Though I am pleased to hear that little Charles is recovering, that does not explain your dress, Sophia.” Dory pointed to the mud.

  She muttered
something in Italian, her mother’s native language, as she looked down at the hem of her dress. “That happened as I rushed from the house. I was not three steps from the door when I found the only puddle in all of London today and promptly splashed into it. I suppose I should have gone back inside and changed like any good Englishwoman, but as an American, I thought it better to be somewhat on schedule than fashionable. Besides, it’s only the three of us.”

  The day Sophia Braighton came to London was a lucky day for them all. Elinor and Dory had been friends since childhood, but with Sophia their trio was complete. “Oh, Sophia. You really are a treat. I would have rushed back in and taken an additional hour in dressing all the while crying over my lost garment.”

  Sophia and Dory exchanged glances.

  Dory said, “I think you might have done that six months ago. Now I am not at all sure what you would do. Honestly, Elinor, I have known you since I was two months old, and I am surprised by you every day.”

  Would she have changed today? Elinor wasn’t sure. “I supposed that is true.”

  “I know we have not been friends as long as you and Dory. But Elinor, I must know, were you pretending all those years?” Sophia asked.

  In the essentials she was the same, at least in private she was. “Pretending? No. I behaved exactly the way that my mother wanted me to be. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. Mother always told me that smart girls don’t find a husband. She said that girls who appear too intelligent are left to be old maids. She said that I must hide my wit in favor of charm. A simple girl will make the best match, she would say all the time.”

  “So what happened?” Sophia leaned forward and plucked a biscuit from the tray.

  “I stopped caring.” It was good to let some of her thoughts out. She’d kept them to herself so long, it was as if a shroud lifted off her.

  Dory sat in the chair next to Elinor. “Stopped caring about what, dearest?”

  A tear welled up, and she looked from Sophia to Dory and dashed it away. “I stopped caring if I married, I stopped caring about being an old maid, and I definitely stopped caring about anything my mother or father said.”