Bits and pieces of the conversation drifted to her. “A book to aid in dealing with grief.” “Something that might direct one’s emotions.” “Scientific as well as religious angles on the topic.”
“What do you think of this one?” Lillian quickly asked Julia, anything to stop his words from ringing in her ears.
“Don’t you think this would be better?” Julia asked, apparently oblivious to the other conversation. “It discusses both the helpful and harmful types of revenge.”
It took all of Lillian’s wherewithal not to hush her. She had no desire for the duke to learn why they were here. He’d become aware of her goal soon enough, but she intended that to be at a time and place of her choosing.
“I believe you’re right,” she agreed. “Let us purchase this one and be on our way.”
“I’ll advise Mr. Clarke to put it on our account.”
Lillian lingered in the rows of books while Julia made the arrangements, hoping Burbridge didn’t decide to come to the front until they’d left.
“You’re certain you don’t want to speak with your friend?” Julia asked after she’d spoken with Mr. Clarke.
“Another time.” Lillian led the way out of the shop, breathing a sigh of relief when they moved down the street without the duke seeing her.
She knew Burbridge’s father had passed away over a year ago. The party the duke had held at his country estate outside of London had been the first time he’d entertained since his father’s death. His mother had helped plan the party and served as hostess. If Burbridge was seeking a book now on the topic of grief, he must still be significantly bothered by the loss.
She bit her lip, telling herself it didn’t matter. Her sympathy remained with Helena. But as she and Julia walked along, her heart gave a tug at the idea of Burbridge missing his father so much that he searched for help within the pages of a book. He was far from the cold, heartless man she’d expected.
~*~
Elijah entered the ballroom at the Heaton’s mansion late that evening. Though he’d offered to accompany his mother to the ball, she’d declined, stating she was joining one of her friends.
If only that meant she’d refrain from overindulging, but he’d come to realize a few of her friends also drank more than would be considered normal on a regular basis, at least at parties such as this one. Did they hide it in their teacups during the day as well?
The moment he entered the room, he could hear the whispers and feel the stares despite the crush of people. He didn’t think he’d ever become accustomed to the looks debutantes and their matchmaking mamas tossed his way.
It had been uncomfortable before his father’s death, but since he’d inherited the title, the attention had grown. Some looked at him with desperation, others with longing, still others with calculation as though trying to determine the worth of his holdings.
Or worse, perhaps the ladies pondered ways to force him to the altar. The thought made him shudder.
In moments like this, he felt like a side of beef hanging in the butcher shop. He doubted any of those who stared cared to know him but only saw his title and wealth. That was why he rarely used to attend these events. If he smiled at a young lady or asked her to dance, the gossip started about his intentions.
Though it was uncomfortable to endure, attending had become a necessity so that he could watch over his mother. His priority this evening was to locate her and make certain all was well and prevent disaster from striking.
“Good evening, Burbridge,” Viscount Rutland said as Elijah started into the crowd.
“And to you.” Elijah smiled at him and the young lady at his side. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
The viscount looked warmly at his fiancée, Miss Dalia Fairchild, before returning his gaze to Elijah. “I’m a lucky man.”
Elijah didn’t think he’d ever seen Rutland so happy. Elijah had attended university with him and was assisting the viscount with a new charity the man had established to aid fallen women. Rutland worked with the Intelligence Office, though few knew of his position there. His work had revealed a problem he felt compelled to address, hence the charity.
Rutland had proposed to Miss Fairchild only a few days ago. From their beaming smiles, both were quite happy with the turn of events.
“Thank you for becoming involved in the charity,” Miss Fairchild said. “It will be of great help to the community.”
“I’m honored to be a part of it.” Before Elijah could say more, another lady who looked remarkably like Dalia joined them.
“Do you know Dalia’s sister, Miss Violet Fairchild?” Rutland asked.
“Of course,” Elijah said as he bowed. “I believe we met earlier this Season and again at my house party.”
Violet curtsied. “Yes, we did, your grace. How kind of you to remember me.”
Rutland cleared his throat, as though something was on his mind. “I have a book I’d like to send you that might clarify some of the reasons behind the charity.”
“I’d be interested in learning more.” While he’d already confirmed a significant contribution, he wanted to take a more active role. That meant learning more about the problem. His father had set a good example with his involvement in various charities, and Elijah wanted to do the same.
He glanced at Violet, realizing she had little interest in him or the conversation he and Rutland were having. It was rather refreshing to meet another lady who didn’t desperately wish to gain his notice.
He couldn’t help but search the crowd for the other one who did the same—Lillian Bartley.
As though his senses were somehow attuned to her, he quickly found her among those dancing. She moved gracefully with the music, appearing much more at ease than she had at his house party. The smile she gave her partner made him frown.
The sound of a feminine throat clearing brought his attention back to those with whom he was speaking. Mrs. Fairchild, Dalia and Violet’s mother, had joined them and greetings were exchanged. The excited gleam in her gaze as she stared at him told him she obviously had different thoughts than Violet.
That had Elijah shifting uncomfortably. He latched onto where the conversation had been prior to his distraction. “What is the book you’re sending me?”
“The Seven Curses of London by James Greenwood,” Rutland said. “The author covers some of the worst problems of the city in great depth. He’s gathered many statistics and firsthand accounts of those who’ve toured several of the rougher areas of London.”
“That sounds intriguing.” Though the occasional article in the newssheet caught his attention, he’d never taken much of an interest in social issues, having left such things up to his father.
“It is,” Dalia added enthusiastically.
The differences in the expressions of the three Fairchild women amused Elijah. The light in Dalia’s expression told of a passion for the topic that couldn’t be denied. Violet’s quiet sigh suggested she’d already heard it discussed too many times. Mrs. Fairchild appeared annoyed that Dalia was talking about a book. Few mothers wanted their daughter to discuss such things in front of a potential husband.
“I look forward to reading it,” Elijah said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my mother.”
“Of course,” Rutland said with a nod as the ladies curtsied.
Elijah continued through the crowd, not surprised when his mother wasn’t near the other widows and dowagers who tended to gather together. He followed his instincts, trying the card room next. Sure enough, she sat at one of the tables. Relief filled him at the sight of a friend, Viscount Beaumont, beside her.
Though Beaumont didn’t know of his mother’s issues, he took it upon himself to watch over her when he could, aware of how grief-stricken she was.
“Good evening,” Elijah greeted them both, searching his mother’s expression.
“Where have you been, Burbridge?” Beaumont asked. “Your mother is far too lucky at cards this evening. I hope you’ve come to rescue m
e.”
His mother smiled up at Elijah, her face revealing little other than amusement at Beaumont’s words. “You’re not paying attention,” she told the viscount. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have lost the past few hands.”
“Don’t allow her to fool you,” Beaumont said. “She’s ruthless.”
“My dear, innocent mother? I don’t believe it for a moment.” The tightness in Elijah’s chest eased at the clarity in his mother’s eyes. When she became overly sad or distant, he had to worry. Perhaps she was having a good evening.
“Beaumont is allowing me to win. He just refuses to admit it,” she said, a smile playing about her lips.
“May I lure you away from the cards to dance, Mother?” Elijah asked. He’d rather she remained in the ballroom where she might visit with her friends rather than in the card room where conversation was difficult, but drinking was easy.
“No, thank you, dear. I believe I’ll continue to best Beaumont while he’s of a mind to allow it.”
Beaumont groaned with exaggeration. “Are you certain? I’d be most pleased to dance with you as well.”
The pair continued their banter, easing Elijah’s worry. “I’ll return to check on you to make certain you haven’t driven poor Beaumont to a tragic end.” He didn’t want to stand over his mother’s shoulder the entire evening as if he didn’t trust her.
They waved him off, and he found himself near the edge of the dance floor, searching for Lady Lillian. He couldn’t risk dancing with her as he didn’t want her or anyone else to get any ideas. Yet still, he searched the crowd for her.
There.
She stood visiting with Rutland and the three Fairchild women. Her animated expression along with the occasional gestures she made as she spoke brought a smile to his lips. Something about her made her a joy to watch. Her exuberance caused him to want to draw closer with the hope that he might feel it too. Reminding himself that eyes were always watching, he forced himself to look away and allow his gaze to linger on others as well.
Despite a fierce argument with himself, within moments he stood before her, briefly acknowledging the others standing near.
Her green eyes met his, caution in their depths, before those long lashes swept down as she dropped into a graceful curtsy. “Your grace.”
He bowed. “Lady Lillian. Are you enjoying the evening?” He studied her, wondering at that wariness, unable to think of what might’ve put it there other than him.
“I am, thank you. And you?”
He didn’t care for her polite tone either. He felt as if they’d had a moment of connection while riding in Hyde Park. Had that only been on his part? “Of course.”
A movement caught his eye. It appeared as though Mrs. Fairchild was herding Violet not so subtly toward him.
The young lady frowned at her mother, obviously not understanding the hint. Though manners suggested he should ask Violet to dance, she didn’t seem to have any interest in doing so. He refused to ask her simply to please her mother. That would only encourage the woman.
The only form of escape that came to mind was to ask Lady Lillian. He latched onto it with eagerness. “Will you honor me with your hand for this dance?”
To his surprise, Lillian hesitated for a brief moment, as though reluctant to agree. “That would be lovely.”
He escorted her to the dance floor, aware of the heads turning their way. He ignored them as best he could, still focused on that hesitation. “Have I offended you in some manner?”
A delicate flush spread up her cheeks. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know.” He paused as they reached the dancers. “But if so, I’d be happy to return you to the others.” The last thing he wanted was for her to dance with him for some reason other than that she wanted to.
“Heavens no. I’m honored you asked me.” She smiled, lifting her chin as though daring him to call her a liar.
That smile was nothing but trouble as far as he was concerned. It made him want to promise the impossible if only she’d continue to light her face with it. With a sigh, he realized if he were smart, regardless of what she’d said, he’d escort her back to where he’d found her, walk away, and never look back.
But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t.
Instead, he gestured for her to precede him. They bowed and curtsied along with the other couples then began to dance. The music soon took over, smoothing away his concern with each turn. She fit him remarkably well. They danced together as though they’d done so for years.
Elijah told himself to act disinterested and allow his gaze to move about the room. He tried to, but her face captured his notice again and again. It took all his willpower not to take her hand and swing her into one of the alcoves that offered a small measure of privacy.
At least he managed to resist that temptation. Barely.
Before he was ready, the music drew to a halt. With a polite smile, he escorted her to her brother’s side at her request.
“Frost,” he greeted the viscount. “Good to see you.”
“Burbridge.” He bowed then glanced at his sister as though to make certain all was well.
Elijah shared a few pleasantries then left before he did something untoward, such as ask if he could call upon her. He found another lady to dance with as it would never do for him to be seen with only one. Doing one’s duty was not always pleasant, even if it involved pretty ladies. After four dances, he returned to the card room, but his mother wasn’t there. Neither was Beaumont.
He walked through the ballroom again but without success. Unable to decide if he should worry, he waited, worrying anyway and hoping his mother would appear and take his mind off Lady Lillian.
~*~
Lillian breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the retiring room, more than ready for a few moments to collect herself. Navigating the waters of the ton was exhausting. Thank goodness, she had Julia. Violet Fairchild had been quite nice as well. Lillian liked her no-nonsense attitude, though she didn’t care for her mother. She wished she could brush off her own mother’s comments as easily as Violet did.
A few ladies were in the room, some adjusting their gowns while others visited quietly. But one in particular caught her eye. Who else would she see but the mother of the man who had her so unsettled?
The older lady’s dark gaze caught on her.
Lillian hesitated, wondering if the duchess remembered her from their house party. When the duchess continued to study her, Lillian smiled and drew nearer to dip into a curtsy. “Your grace, it’s lovely to see you again. I’m not certain if you remember...”
Recognition lit her eyes. “Lady Lillian, is it not?”
“Yes,” she agreed, ridiculously pleased the duchess remembered her. After all, Lillian’s plan for revenge didn’t involve her, only her son. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
“Well enough. And you?”
“Quite.” A piece of lace sat askew on the shoulder of the duchess’s gown. “There’s something amiss with your gown. Will you permit me to adjust it?”
The older woman turned her head to glare at the offending lace. “I thought the maid had fixed it.”
At her nod, Lillian repaired it. “There you are. It shouldn’t give you any further trouble.”
“That’s kind of you. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Lillian stepped back, admiring her necklace of jet black inlaid in a pewter filigree setting. “That’s a lovely piece.”
The duchess pressed a finger against the largest stone. “Thank you. It was my mother’s. She wore it for years after my father passed.”
Lillian wasn’t certain how to respond. Did she mention the reason she wore the necklace or change the topic? She went with her heart. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
To her shock, the duchess blinked back tears. “He was a wonderful man. I miss him dearly. It was...such a surprise. So sudden.” She shook her head as though she’d said too much. “Pay no mind to me.”
“I�
�m sure it’s helpful to talk about him on occasion.”
“Most people seem uncomfortable if I bring him up.”
The vulnerability in her expression squeezed Lillian’s heart. “It’s difficult to know what to say that might help. We tend to avoid situations that make us uncomfortable.”
“I suppose so.” The duchess sighed as her gaze met Lillian’s. “And some say the most awkward things. We should be better at dealing with death since it affects us all.”
“True.”
To Lillian’s surprise, the duchess smiled then patted Lillian’s arm. “I shall try to be more understanding of the uncertainty others feel. I like you, my dear. Thank you for the delightful conversation.”
A warm sensation filled Lillian. How lovely it was to hear a compliment from a woman like her. Compliments from her own mother were few and far between. “Thank you, your grace.”
“I’ll see you in the ballroom.”
Lillian dipped a curtsy as the duchess took her leave then sat in one of the empty chairs, pretending to adjust her gown to ward off her sudden self-consciousness. Several of the other women looked at her as they whispered before leaving the room.
“Lady Lillian, did I see you dancing with the Duke of Burbridge?”
Lillian turned to see Mrs. Fairchild addressing her. Unfortunately, neither of her daughters were anywhere in sight. “Yes, I had the honor of dancing with him.”
“I realize you’re new to London, but I do hope you haven’t set your sights on him.”
Lillian could only blink at her, uncertain how to respond. “I don’t really know him.”
“It takes a special lady to fill the position of duchess.”
She caught her breath. It sounded much like something her mother might say and brought forth her insecurities in a rush. She couldn’t think of a proper response when doubt settled deep inside her. Who was she to think she could attract a duke, regardless of the reason she wanted to do so? That same question had plagued her during their dance as well.
She bit her lip, telling herself she should be insulted at the woman’s comment, but instead she felt conflicted, unable to shed her misgivings.
Daring the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 7) Page 3
