An Unlikely Duchess

by Nadine Millard

  “Well,” she said jovially, presumably trying to salvage some propriety from the situation, “I shall be on my way. Good afternoon Caro, gentlemen.” She curtsied once again and lifted her bonnet to replace it on her head.

  And, of course, upon tipping it over to replace it, proceeded to dump its contents all over herself.

  She gasped in shock as the icy cold water dripped down her head, and spluttered most becomingly as it hit her face.

  Lady Caroline groaned and dropped her face into her hands once more. Tom, once again lost control of himself and gave a shout of laughter.

  Edward found himself biting his tongue enough to taste blood to stop himself from laughing too.

  Lady Rebecca swiped the excess water from her eyes and shot them a rueful grin. Then, turning on her heel, she trudged her way back up the garden and towards the house.

  They heard the squelch of the water in her boots until she had disappeared over the slight hill.

  The silence she left behind with her departure was deafening.

  “Your grace,” Lady Caroline stuttered the words in the general direction of his chest, too mortified to look him in the eye, “perhaps you would like to return to the house.”

  It seemed they were not going to discuss the surreal incident they had just witnessed. If he was honest though, he could not think of a damned thing to say anyway.

  So, throwing a quick look of complete amazement towards Tom, who was looking thoroughly entertained, he offered his arm to Lady Caroline. “I would indeed, my lady,” he answered, all politeness.

  Edward had no idea what he had let himself in for by coming here. But suddenly, he could not wait to find out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rebecca refused, just refused to look back during the mortifying trek back to the house. She could hear the squelch of the pond water in her boots, so she could only imagine that the witnesses to that spectacle could hear it too.

  She could not believe that had happened. Her father would be furious. Her mother would probably cry. Again. And Caroline, well Caroline would likely never utter another word to Rebecca as long as they both lived.

  She heaved a sigh, slipping through the conservatory at the back of the property, thus avoiding any chance of her parents seeing her before she managed to clean up.

  She felt torn between utter mortification and total amusement at what had just happened. Mortification because she had just thrown herself into the pond, having climbed a statue and half drowned in front of a duke. Caroline’s intended. Dear God it could not be a bigger disaster. Amusement because, well, it was rather funny!

  What must he think of her? His cousin had seemed highly entertained by the incident, if his laughter and friendly smile were anything to judge by. Rebecca herself had found the entire thing hilarious. But she’d learned from bitter experience and constant remonstrations from both Mother and Caro that what she thought was good fun was actually the behaviour of a complete hoyden and not a lady of good ton.

  Frankly, she did not care about being ton, good or otherwise. But could never blaspheme thus in front of the paragons she lived with.

  But the duke…

  As her mind turned toward the duke and what he must think of her behaviour, she came to a complete stop, halfway up the servants’ staircase to her room.

  A myriad of emotions came over her and she found, to her surprise, that her cheeks began to heat profusely. As someone who had spent most of her life making rather a spectacle of herself in front of the entire village, thus becoming somewhat immune to blushes, this was quite a feat.

  Her eyes closed and she inwardly groaned when she remembered the look of undisguised shock on his face. His face. Never had she seen such a face! Her heart had actually begun to slam against her chest when she’d finally looked at him, so loud that surely he must have heard it. The breath had been quite stolen from her lungs!

  Why, he was beautiful! If a man could be described as such. Handsome just did not seem to do him justice. No it was beauty. Dark, brooding, sinful beauty. His hair, black as jet, was perfectly cut; his grey eyes, the colour of winter clouds, bore into hers. And although his face was hard, looked like he was carved from the purest of marble, his lips were perfectly formed and beautifully kissable…

  Her cheeks began to heat again, for a very different reason this time. Her thoughts were wanton and shocking! She had never had a reaction to anyone like she had had to the duke; never felt the sensations that had run rampant through her body.

  Rebecca felt a powerful yearning when he touched her. But, being an innocent, she did not know what for.

  All she knew was that the mighty Duke of Hartridge was finally, after months of preparation and excitement, here. And within thirty minutes of his arrival she had exposed her legs, fallen into a pond, shouted enough curse words to make a naval officer blush, and developed feelings that were as confusing as they were unwelcome.

  Rebecca felt sick when she thought of the clown she’d made of herself. Sicker yet that the man whose touch had sparked feelings in her that she never even knew existed, was the same man who had been brought here to marry her sister.

  Feeling defeated and guilty that she’d upset Caroline so much, she finished the trek to her room and rang for her long-suffering maid. Within minutes Maura, a girl whose sunny disposition was a great asset as the lady’s maid of the notorious Rebecca Carrington, had entered the room, taken in the image of her mistress dripping wet and miserable, and immediately set about preparing a bath and some sweet, comforting tea.

  “Should I ask what happened, my lady?” Her Irish brogue was quite prominent when she was both exasperated and amused. Which was very often.

  “Must you?”

  “Not at all. If you’d rather not say.”

  “I fell in the pond.”

  “That is not so bad. Would not be the first time.”

  “Caroline was there.”

  “Ah. Well, I am sure after a nice chat about avoiding the pond, she will be just grand.”

  “And the duke.”

  The silence lasted enough beats for Rebecca to know that even Maura understood this was no mere mishap.

  “Oh.”

  “Indeed.” answered Rebecca dryly.

  Maura remained silent while she ushered the downstairs maids, who had arrived with the hot water for the bath, from the room.

  “May I ask how you landed yourself in the pond this time, my lady?”

  “I climbed a statue to rescue Martin’s kite and lost my balance.”

  “In front of his grace, my lady?” Maura looked stricken.

  Rebecca squirmed. “Yes,” she mumbled, eyes cast downward. It was more than a little embarrassing to know that your own maid was ashamed of your behaviour.

  When Maura did not answer for several moments, Rebecca finally looked up. Maura stood before her, with her hands clasped around her mouth while she struggled to contain her obvious mirth.

  “It is not funny, Maura.” Rebecca scolded. “You know I am in a world of trouble when Papa hears what I have done.”

  “I am sorry, my lady,” replied Maura, though her wide grin suggested otherwise.

  Rebecca fought to keep a stern countenance but Maura’s laughter had her remembering just how ridiculous she must have looked, flailing about at the top of the statue before scaring the wits out of the fish in the pond.

  And, as much as she worried about her parent’s reaction to her little adventure, dreaded the set down that was no doubt coming from her starchy older sister, and as much as her reaction to the great duke intrigued and frightened her, Rebecca could not contain her own laughter and was soon laughing once again and feeling much more like herself as Maura left her to bathe and went to organise her tea.

  Her family had seen her do worse. And although she was quite sure the Duke of Hartridge would be utterly appalled by her, ultimately it was only her sister he was interested in. And if that thought caused a pang of sadness well, she would ignore it and carry on re
gardless.

  ****

  Edward stood against the enormous fireplace, nursing a pre-dinner brandy while he waited for the rest of the party to assemble in the drawing room. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon becoming acquainted with the earl, the house and avoiding his mother to the very best of his abilities.

  As soon as they had returned to the house, Lady Caroline had taken her leave and disappeared. By the stiffness in her spine, he could only imagine that Lady Rebecca was in for a lecture of some magnitude. He felt a twinge of pity for the girl. He may not be well acquainted with Lady Caroline but if her icy glare were anything to go by, he would not want to be on the receiving end of her cold anger.

  Icy, cold. They seemed apt indeed when describing that lady. She was beautiful, but coolly so. Her manner was impeccable, but lacked warmth. She was perfectly polite and amiable, but altogether too rigid and controlled.

  How she was the sister of the absolute hoyden they’d come across in the garden, he had no idea. As his mind turned to Lady Rebecca, he felt a stirring in his body that frustrated and, frankly, baffled him. He had never reacted so strongly, nor so quickly to a female before. Not even in his uncontrolled adolescence.

  What was the matter with him anyway? The unbending Duke of Hartridge, he so famous for his self-control, mooning about like a lovesick schoolboy? It was ridiculous.

  But he could not help it. She was exquisite. He had felt the impact from those eyes right down to his toes.

  When he took her hand in his, it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling her flush against him and kissing the breath from her lungs, and damned if he cared who saw!

  She was the complete opposite of her sister. Fire instead of ice. Fun and full of life. He could well imagine the types of scrapes she managed to get herself into. He would wager they were often too, considering Lady Caroline had seemed more resigned than surprised, by watching her sister climb statues and fall into ponds. As if the occurrence were regular. Very peculiar.

  Yet her manners were definitely those of a lady of breeding. Her curtsey, her eloquent speech spoke of training and good society. It made the fact that she’d been knee deep in pond water and laughing with abandon all the more strange.

  Yes, the total opposite of her proper older sister. And of you. The tiny voice spoke in the back of his mind and brought him up short.

  He was a fun-loving, free-spirited man was he not? He certainly had been in his younger days. But the mantle of responsibility that came with the dukedom weighed heavily on his shoulders. If he were to be brutally honest with himself, he knew he had become rather stiff and implacable himself.

  He gave a deep sigh. Yes, they were opposites. Not well matched at all. He supposed he should be thinking of ladies like Lady Caroline. Proper, polite, pretty. Filled with elegant poise and gentle mannerisms.

  And boring, the voice piped up, irritating thing that it was.

  Boring or not, a duchess needed to be of a certain ilk. And when did he start thinking of any lady as a potential duchess anyway? He wasn’t here to marry either girl. The brandy was addling his brain.

  He heard his mother enter the room and prepared himself to face her. She had a lot of explaining to do. He turned to address her and noticed that she was flanked by the countess and Lady Caroline. Biting back an irritated sigh, he bowed deeply to the three although he kept his eyes trained on his mother.

  He knew she had brought reinforcements so he could not confront her about this blasted arrangement.

  Well damned if he was going to make idle chit chat while they all made wedding plans behind his back!

  Excusing himself after a couple of well-placed compliments and enquiries after the ladies’ wellbeing, he went to stand with Tom and the earl and was about to address a question about the local agriculture when a movement at the door drew his attention and that of everyone else in the room.

  The lady who had been occupying his thoughts almost exclusively since their unorthodox meeting this afternoon had arrived, and Edward felt once again like he’d been punched in the gut.

  She was altogether too beautiful and intriguing for his peace of mind. And right now he knew he would never again see anyone as utterly breath-taking as she.

  He heard Tom clear his throat nervously beside him and felt a ridiculous urge to block his view, shield her from his appreciative eyes. He could not, of course, but he was oh so tempted. He could hit him. But that might raise some questions.

  He could not tear his eyes from her as she made her way towards her mother. She was a vision from her glorious chestnut hair, piled on top of her head with a few wisps framing her delicate face, to the tips of her satin clad toes. His eyes raked her greedily. That dress. Dear God, it could be used as a torture device! The greatest spies in the country would sell their secrets and their souls for a glimpse of what was hinted at with that blasted dress.

  Its low cut displayed her pale and smooth skin to perfection, managing to be perfectly decent while invoking completely indecent thoughts in a man’s mind. It outlined her curves to perfection. It hugged her tiny waist. The skirts, made of delicate palest pink satin swirled around her ankles and clung ever so slightly to her legs as she moved, outlining them for the briefest of seconds, ensuring that any red-blooded male would spend the rest of the evening imagining what having a real view would be like. He almost groaned aloud. How on earth was he to spend weeks here? This was fast turning into his own personal hell.

  Rebecca studiously avoided looking in the duke’s direction, though she could feel the weight of his stare. She desperately wanted to look at him, to see if he would be glowering in disapproval like she imagined a duke would. But having no idea if everyone knew or what had been said about the incident, she was afraid of giving anything away.

  She could not avoid it all night of course. But first, she must gauge the reaction of her parents. Her mama and Lady Catherine were all warmth towards her, and although Caroline did her best to ignore Rebecca’s presence in their circle, it appeared that she hadn’t yet told them of the incident. Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief and found herself relaxing. If Caroline had said nothing then it was perfectly safe to look in the duke’s direction, even speak to him.

  Rebecca made a great pretence of looking around the room, finally letting her gaze rest on him. As if she hadn’t wanted to seek him out the second she walked in the room. With a jolt, she realised that he’d been staring at her. And rather than glance away when she caught his eye, he continued to study her intently.

  Rebecca felt herself blush for the second time that day. As her eyes locked with his, her breathing hitched and her stomach flipped dramatically. She had thought him attractive this afternoon. Tonight he was indescribable! The black of his evening coat made him seem even more smouldering, more sinful than the bottle green of his coat this afternoon. The snowy cravat enhanced his sallow skin and was tied simply but elegantly against his strong throat. She could not take her eyes from his throat and the cravat nestled against it. She found herself rather jealous of that cravat. The way it got to be so close to his skin. Jealous. Of a piece of cloth! She’d be off to Bedlam in the morning if they got wind of her innermost thoughts.

  Her eyes widened in anticipation as he made his way across the room directly towards her.

  Oh heavens! Even the way he moved made her squirm. He walked with a panther-like grace, his long, strong legs perfectly outlined by the tight breeches that encased them.

  “Rebecca,” her mother’s sharp tone interrupted her rather too intimate thoughts.

  Unfortunately, her mind was still on his body and rather than the ‘yes, Mama’ Rebecca intended, she rather embarrassingly blurted out…

  “Legs.”

  Oh dear.

  “Excuse me?” her mother asked in confusion. She looked up, realising that while she was staring southwards of his eyes, the duke was gazing politely at her.

  Rather, his face was a mask of politeness but his eyes glinted with amusement and
something else she could not define but made her toes positively curl.

  “I mean, I – uh – I apologise Mama. I was wool gathering, I am afraid.” She smiled sweetly at Mama, Caroline who squinted menacingly, and Lady Catherine who smiled kindly if a little bemusedly.

  “I was trying to introduce you to his grace, dearest,” her mother explained through gritted teeth as if trying to keep the scolding she was clearly desperate to dole out, inside her mouth by sheer force of will.

  Rebecca turned toward the duke but refused to look into his eyes again. Instead she concentrated on that lucky cravat.

  “Your grace, may I introduce my youngest daughter, Lady Rebecca Carrington. Rebecca, His Grace, the Duke of Hartridge.”

  Rebecca curtsied and waited with trepidation for him to say they’d met already. A statement, which would lead to an explanation, which would lead to uproar no doubt.

  To her surprise, the duke merely executed a deep bow, lifting her hand to his mouth. His touch, his words, sent a jolt through her and her eyes flew up to meet his. They twinkled mischievously as he smiled up at her. His thumb once again rubbed over the palm of her gloved hands and Rebecca’s mouth dropped open in a little gasp. “A pleasure, my lady. And Lady Mary, I must congratulate you on the charms of both your daughters. They both look quite lovely this evening.”

  Both the mamas beamed at this, as did Caroline. Rebecca rolled her eyes. She’d grown up on the insincere compliments of the peerage. Seen with her own eyes when Sarah Woodchester had been called a radiant beauty. Sarah, bless her, resembled more closely a horse than any other living creature Rebecca had ever seen. Besides an actual horse, of course. She was a little disappointed that the Duke of Hartridge appeared to have as little imagination as the rest of them.

  Looking back at him, she realised that he’d caught her eye roll and wasn’t pleased about it. He lifted a haughty eyebrow in an expression he no doubt rolled out to put mere mortals back in their place. However, given that she never could resist a bit of mischief she raised one right back.