“I must confess I’m a little bit anxious about making the dowager duchess’s acquaintance,” Juliette said when they entered the parlor. Crossing to the bellpull, she gave it a gentle tug before joining Amelia and Lady Everly, who’d seated themselves on a sofa upholstered in silver damask silk. Juliette claimed a matching armchair, leaving the adjacent sofa vacant for their guests.
“You need not be,” Lady Everly said. “The dowager duchess is extremely pleasant and kind. Much like her son, actually, and I know you have no qualms where he is concerned.”
“Of course,” Amelia murmured while trying to ignore the sudden swing of her stomach.
Just the thought of spending an increased amount of time in his company, of him bearing witness to all of her flaws when he himself was so utterly perfect, was making her feel rather queasy.
She’d hoped to continue her lessons in etiquette and proper comportment while keeping him at a distance, the plan being he would eventually marvel at her progress the next time they happened to meet. Instead, he’d stepped out onto the terrace last Monday and found her looking a fright. The experience had been mortifying—a definite blow to her self-esteem.
“Coventry has been extraordinarily good to us.” A tiny smile formed upon Juliette’s lips to convey her appreciation. “Frankly, I cannot imagine what we would ’ave done without him.”
“Have done,” Lady Everly corrected.
“Oh yes.” Juliette’s smile faded. Her brow knit with concentration. “Have done.”
After little more than a month of intense tutoring, the uncultured dialect Amelia and her siblings had grown accustomed to using during their life in the slums had been mostly replaced by precise pronunciation. Certainly, there were times when they forgot themselves. Amelia knew this was especially true of herself and her brother when they were feeling stressed or irritable. But as long as she set her mind to the task, proper diction could be managed much easier than correct posture.
Catching herself at that thought, she deliberately straightened her spine and pulled back her shoulders just as a maid arrived to take their order.
“I believe Coventry has benefited as much from you as you have from him,” Lady Everly said once the maid had gone to fetch the tea they’d requested. “There has been a distinct sense of quiet agitation about him for years—ever since his sister passed. If you ask me, helping your brother succeed was precisely the sort of challenge he needed. He has loosened up since he made Huntley’s acquaintance.”
“Forgive me, but how did his sister die?” Amelia couldn’t help but ask the question. Since the moment he’d invited her to dance at the ball her brother had hosted three weeks earlier, the Duke of Coventry had filled most of her thoughts with fascination. Devastatingly handsome, his sand-colored hair was tousled enough to deny him the look of a pampered lord, his eyes a warm shade of brown that crinkled at the corners whenever something amused him, while his mouth . . .
“As I understand it,” Lady Everly said, forcing Amelia out of her reverie, “the poor girl caught influenza while traveling Europe. She died shortly after returning home.”
Amelia shuddered. She understood all too well the pain the loss of a sibling could cause. Bethany’s death had torn her world apart at the seams. It was something she knew she would never get over, even if time did make it easier to live with. “It must have been terribly difficult for the family.”
Expelling a breath, Lady Everly nodded. “Well, Coventry’s father had already gone to meet his Maker a year before this happened, so he was at least spared from having to bury his daughter. As for the dowager duchess and the duke, nobody saw them for a long time after. You will see that Her Grace still wears black after all these years.”
“How long has it been?” Juliette inquired.
“Oh . . . at least four or five years, I should think,” Lady Everly replied.
The maid returned with a tray that she placed on the table in the center of the seating arrangement. She was just leaving when Pierson, the butler, entered. “The Dowager Duchess of Coventry and her son, the Duke of Coventry, have come to call,” he said. “May I show them in?”
Hesitating, Amelia glanced at Lady Everly, who stared back at her expectantly before finally whispering, “This is your home, Amelia, so it falls upon you to respond. I am merely a guest here.”
Appreciating her advice, Amelia told Pierson to show the guests in and then braced herself for the sight that would likely set her heart racing.
Coventry did not disappoint as he entered behind his mother, his height dwarfing the much smaller woman as he looked over her head with ease and offered a smile. Today he’d chosen to wear a navy blue jacket, the cut of which accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. Beneath it, Amelia glimpsed his waistcoat, which had been tastefully cut in a lighter shade. It drew attention to his chest while complementing the beige-colored breeches that hugged his thighs as though they’d been stitched into place.
Amelia’s stomach quivered with awareness. No man should be allowed to look so attractive, to possess a jawline so perfectly sculpted or a mouth so sinfully tempting it made her think of couples kissing with wild abandon. She’d seen plenty of that over the years and a great deal more, as well. The inhabitants of St. Giles had not been shy about their desires, happily sating their needs in any available space they could find. Which was probably not something she should be thinking about while enjoying tea with nobility.
So she stood—a bit faster than she had intended due to the tension that strained every muscle in her body—and went to greet Coventry’s mother.
“Welcome,” she said, curtseying for good measure even though she hated the gesture because of how awkward it made her feel. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, my dear.” The dowager duchess dipped her head toward Juliette and Lady Everly, acknowledging their presence, as well. “After everything my son has told me about you, I simply had to see you for myself.” The edge of her mouth curved to form an inviting smile before she turned to address Coventry. “Shame on you for not telling me how lovely the Duke of Huntley’s sisters really are.”
“My apologies, Mama,” Coventry said with a dry tone that would have been slightly severe if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eyes. “As you know, I try to avoid stating the obvious.”
“Touché!” Lady Everly applauded while the dowager duchess slapped her son playfully on the arm before moving toward the vacant sofa.
Aware that a disconcerting shade of pink was flushing her cheeks, Amelia quickly asked the duke if he’d have a seat as well before turning away to resume her own—thankfully, with an entire table and tea set wedged between them. Because although she knew that complimenting ladies was second nature to him, and he’d spoken not only of her but of her sister as well, her heart had responded with a wild beat that could be tamed only if she managed to keep her distance from him.
All she had to do now was pour the tea without spilling it.
Perfect!
Reaching for the pot, she curled her fingers firmly around the handle in an effort to stop them from trembling. She drew a fortifying breath and held it until she’d completed her task with success. Air whooshed from her lungs on a sigh of relief when she set the pot back on the table, only realizing then that she’d done what she’d tried to avoid by not spilling and drawn unwanted attention anyway.
“Do try to relax,” the dowager duchess said as she spooned some sugar into her cup and added a touch of milk. “We are all friends here, I hope, so you need not throw yourself into a tizzy on any account. My son and I are here to help you, Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette, as is Lady Everly. Is that not so?” Raising her cup to her lips, she glanced at the dowager countess and Coventry in turn before taking a long sip.
“Most assuredly,” Coventry agreed. He’d leaned back against the sofa on which he and his mother were sitting and had stretched out his legs in a relaxed pose that suggested satisfied comfort.
&n
bsp; Amelia couldn’t help but envy him. She considered her teacup, wondering if she might attempt a sip without rattling the china, but then dismissed the idea and folded her hands in her lap instead. Perhaps if she could remain still she’d be able to present herself as a lady with greater ease than if she moved.
“As it is, you have both made a lot of progress,” Lady Everly said. “To think you are the same young women I met in your brother’s study right after he’d claimed the title is nothing short of astounding.”
Amelia cringed as she recalled the incident—the manner in which they’d slouched and their horrendous use of the English language.
“That is not to say there is no room for improvement,” Lady Everly continued, “and since I would like nothing better than for both of you to make the sort of match that would make the most sought after debutantes green with envy, I recommend we strive for nothing less than excellence while we continue your lessons.”
“Oh . . . I . . .” Amelia glanced around at everyone’s expectant gazes. “Must we?” She already felt as though she’d been stretched and squeezed in an effort to fit a particular box that Society had designed for her. With Raphe and Gabriella away, she’d rather been looking forward to a reprieve and to focusing her time on a new venture—one she hoped would be a success, not just for her own satisfaction, but for the people of St. Giles, as well.
“Your brother specifically asked that we make your search for a husband a priority,” Coventry said. His dark eyes found hers, producing a flutter deep in her belly.
“Well, ye needn’t trouble yerselves on my account, since I’ve no desire to venture down that particular path.” Fidgeting with her gown, Amelia dropped her gaze to the carpet and wondered if she might be able to slide underneath it. Perhaps then those present would ignore the unflattering diction she’d used on account of the flustered state she was presently in.
“My dear,” the dowager duchess said with a sigh. It was the sort one might use with a very naive child, though Amelia felt it was kindly meant on account of the smile that accompanied it. “Might I inquire about your age?”
Hesitating, Amelia became acutely aware of a nearby clock ticking away the seconds. “Two and twenty,” she eventually said.
The dowager duchess tilted her head in a sympathetic gesture that filled Amelia with a sudden feeling of inadequacy. “There are many who will consider you unmarriageable by this time next year. Is that what you wish?”
Amelia stared back at the dowager duchess for a long moment while considering the life she would lead as a spinster. She couldn’t imagine not having a family of her own one day—of not having children. Especially since the thought of being alone terrified her.
Additionally, the idea of having to live off her brother forever disagreed with her immensely. She absolutely hated relying on others for help. In St. Giles, things had been different. Raphe had earned their keep while she had tended the house and ensured they had food to put in their hungry bellies. But now that his status had changed and he’d married, she had nothing to offer him in return except for additional expenses and worry.
“No,” she said. “Of course not.”
Lady Everly nodded with satisfaction. “Which is why I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list.”
“A list?” Juliette asked.
Without saying another word, the dowager countess went to collect a sheet of paper from a nearby side table. She offered it to the dowager duchess, who peered at it for an insufferable moment before narrowing her gaze on both Amelia and Juliette. “Indeed, I believe these gentlemen will do very nicely.”
“What gentlemen?” Coventry asked. He took the paper from his mother’s hand and scanned the text. His eyebrows rose. “This is quite an impressive collection of suitors.”
When Lady Everly nodded and the dowager duchess smiled with delight, Amelia knew her fate had been sealed with nine-inch nails. The next few weeks would obviously be a matchmaking expedition with her at the center of it. And in that moment, she missed Gabriella enormously, because whatever her sister-in-law had put her through in the name of improving her comport, it couldn’t possibly be worse than being presented to a long list of gentlemen while the only man who held her interest supported the effort.
Chapter 2
When the dowager duchess came to call the following day, she did so without Coventry, for which Amelia was extremely grateful. She’d spent the better part of the night convincing herself she’d said all the wrong things the previous day, and that accidentally spilling her tea in a nervous moment of despair had proven she lacked the sophistication required to even hope for a man as refined as Coventry to consider taking her as a wife.
So she’d scarcely slept, which had only added to her annoyance. Especially after taking a look at herself in the mirror. She’d washed her face with cold water, which had had a rejuvenating effect, though not enough for her to feel remotely attractive. Not that feeling so had been a typical occurrence lately. Not after overhearing the remarks made by a few young ladies at her brother’s ball.
It had been her debut, and she’d just danced with Coventry for the first and only time. It had promised to be such a magical evening, until she’d headed toward the ladies’ retiring room, which had taken her past a salon where the door had stood slightly ajar. Laughter had drifted toward her in such an enticing manner she had been tempted to enter the room and join in the fun. But the words that had followed had stayed her progress and stopped her from doing so.
“Can you believe those girls are actually going to try to snatch up a title?” a high-pitched voice had asked.
“It should be forbidden,” a gentler voice had said.
“On account of their background alone,” a third voice had added, “not to mention their ridiculous attempts at pretending they actually belong to our set. The gall of it!”
“I completely agree with you, Susanne,” the high-pitched voice had said. “It is obvious to anyone with eyes and ears that they lack any form of education.”
“Becaws thay speak loik this?”
The laughter that had followed had pushed Amelia’s heart into her belly, leaving plenty of room for a slow ache to fill up her chest. She’d spent a great deal of time since that evening wondering if she would ever belong to this world, if she and her sister would ever be good enough to demand respect.
Raphe could garner it with his power. He’d also had the good fortune to strike up a friendship with Coventry and marry Gabriella. Both had given him a foothold while Amelia often felt as though she was sliding away from an unpleasant past and straight toward an equally unpleasant future. Taking control had since become a necessity for her. She needed something she could command on her own without any interference from others—a project to lift her spirits and give her the sense of accomplishment that was otherwise denied her with every move she made.
“Will the duke not be joining us?” Lady Everly asked as the four women readied themselves to go out.
Placing her bonnet on her head, Amelia fiddled with the ribbon in an effort to make the sort of plump bow her sister had recently managed to master. Eyeing Juliette, she saw that hers was indeed perfectly tied at just the right angle. Exasperated by her own efforts, Amelia blew out a breath, undid the bow she’d just tied and made another attempt.
“My son had a busy schedule this morning,” the dowager duchess explained. Standing by the front door, she waited for her companions to ready themselves, her eyes catching Amelia’s before she added, “Being the responsible man that he is, he never misses a session in parliament.”
Her gaze lowered to somewhere in the vicinity of Amelia’s chin, which only caused Amelia to fumble even more with the silk ribbon she was trying to control. The dowager duchess came toward her, paused for a second and then raised her gloved hands to complete the bow Amelia had made a mess of once again.
“It is important to get it right the first time,” the dowager duchess told her gently. “The ribbon will be too crumpled
otherwise, though I do believe we have managed to salvage this one.” She turned to address Juliette and Lady Everly. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely,” Juliette said. She was already heading through the door.
They arrived at a dressmaker’s shop fifteen minutes later to the sound of a tinkling bell as they filed inside. Stepping further into the well-organized space, Amelia admired the rich display of color all rolled up into bolts of exquisite fabric. She’d never seen anything like it before. A dressmaker had been called to Huntley House when she and her siblings had first arrived so she’d had no need to visit a modiste shop. Standing here now, she couldn’t help but marvel at the vibrancy. It stood in stark contrast to the dull browns and grays that dressed the people of St. Giles.
“Mesdames!” The animated voice that sang through the air belonged to an older woman whose slender figure suggested she took great care with what she ate. “Vot a lovely surprise! It ’as been far too long since you’ve graced me viz your presence.”
Her accent reminded Amelia of a woman she’d rather forget, the French undertones pulling her back to a place filled with nothing but sorrow and neglect as her mother had cast her family aside in favor of seeking wealth and adventure. Shuddering in response to the unwanted memories that threatened, she made a stoic effort to push them all back by focusing her attention on a lovely display of lace laid out to her right.
“May I introduce the Duke of Huntley’s sisters?” Lady Everly said. “They will be requiring evening gowns for some upcoming balls and soirees. At least ten, I should think.”
Amelia spun toward the dowager countess. “Ten? But we have only received three invitations!”
“Yes, but a lady ought to have more than one gown to choose from, not to mention that more invitations may arrive, some possibly lacking the notice that would be required in order to request something new.” Lady Everly broke off her explanation for a moment so she could ask the dressmaker to fetch a selection of pattern plates for them. She then continued in a sensible tone. “You are the sisters of a duke, and as such, you must look the part, which means you must outshine all other young ladies. Especially if you are to make matches befitting your status. And since I know your brother can afford the expense and that his deepest wish is for both of you to excel, I believe we should think of this as an investment rather than some unnecessary exercise in excess for you to feel guilty about.”
The Duke of Her Desire: Diamonds in the Rough Page 2
