Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

by Julia Justiss

  She rose, and her hostess rose with her. ‘You will come to dinner on Friday?’

  ‘Yes. I shall be looking forward to it.’

  ‘Excellent. I think we should be friends. After all, we principled ladies must stick together.’

  Drinking in the warmth and encouragement like a wilted plant responds to water, Faith could almost feel her withered optimism and trampled hope begin to stir. ‘That would please me very much.’

  ‘Until Friday, then.’

  After an exchange of curtsies, the ladies parted, Faith returning to her carriage with more anticipation for the future than she’d felt in years

  Bless Davie! Not only had he given her a stimulating evening to look forward to, he might have steered her towards something she hadn’t had since she’d been distanced from her sisters.

  A close female friend.

  If only she could keep them both.

  Chapter Four

  On Friday night, Davie arrived early at Lord Witlow’s town house, already so energised at the idea of seeing Faith again, he’d been more or less worthless in committee that afternoon. Once or twice he’d seen Giles send an appraising look in his direction, from which he’d turned away without acknowledgement. But, arriving as far in advance of the appointed hour, he knew that sooner or later his hostess’s husband was going to take him to task.

  Lord Witlow’s butler showed him to the Blue Drawing Room, remarking with a touch of reproach as he directed him to the wine decanter on the sideboard, that, it being so far in advance of the hour for dinner, the host and hostess had not yet come down. Chuckling at that veiled set-down about his poor manners, Davie began pacing the handsome chamber, trying to dispel some of his nervous excitement and anticipation.

  As luck would have it, the first to join him in the drawing room was Giles. The look of enquiry on his friend’s face told him that he was about to be taken to task for his renewed interest in ‘the Unattainable’.

  Considering that he’d volunteered a few judicious words of caution to his mostly unappreciative friend when Giles was first pursuing Maggie, he figured it was only fair that he suffer Giles’s comments with good grace. Particularly as he knew whatever Giles might say would stem from a genuine concern for his welfare.

  ‘So, Maggie tells me that you asked her to invite the Duchess of Ashedon to our little gathering?’ Giles asked, confirming Davie’s expectations.

  ‘Yes. I ran into her unexpectedly a week or so ago. She still...hasn’t found her feet since the death of her husband, and seemed very low. Years ago, when we first met, she had a lively interest in politics. I thought attending this evening would help draw her out of grief, and let her focus on something other than her own cares for an evening.’

  ‘From what Maggie tells me about the character of the late Duke, I doubt the Duchess is experiencing very much grief.’

  ‘More like regret for what might have been, probably,’ Davie admitted, advancing to the wine decanter on the sideboard. ‘I understand the Duke...frequently availed himself of the company of other women, particularly after the Duchess had borne him several sons to secure the succession.’ Choosing two glasses, he poured them each some wine.

  ‘Now that I’ve reconciled with my father and been more or less forced to attend ton gatherings, I’ve had to listen to a lot of gossipy rubbish,’ Giles said, accepting the glass from Davie. ‘One bit, from that fribble Darrow, said the late Duke met his demise while attempting to...copulate with his current doxy while racing his high-perch phaeton. A drunken wager, apparently.’

  Shocked, Davie froze, the wine glass halfway to his lips. ‘The devil he did!’ he exclaimed a moment later. Faith told him she’d never enjoyed the attention paid to a duchess. Especially as Ashedon and his women provided so much scandal for society to watch my reaction to. How embarrassing and degrading it must have been to face down that bit of salacious gossip! ‘I hadn’t heard. Poor F—poor Duchess.’

  ‘Not much to lament about the passing of such a man,’ Giles said acerbically.

  ‘I don’t believe he ever truly cared for her,’ Davie said, trying to mask the anger that fact always aroused in him. To have been able to claim the beauty and innocence and joy that was Faith, and not appreciate it, was stupidity of such colossal proportions he could never forgive it.

  Why couldn’t that gift have been tendered to a man who would have treasured it? Not him, of course—it could never have been him—but surely there was some man of suitable birth and station who could have loved her and made her happy.

  At least now she was free of the husband who hadn’t. He squelched the little flare of excitement that resonated through him. Free, maybe, but not for you.

  Ah, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?

  He surfaced from that thought to find Giles frowning at him. ‘Maggie told me two days ago that you’d asked her to invite the Duchess tonight, so I made sure Ben and Christopher were occupied elsewhere. You ought to tell them, before they find out from some other source, that you’re...involving yourself in her life again. I’ll make sure they don’t harass you about it. But...be careful, Davie. Don’t let yourself hope too much from this.’

  ‘I’m not!’ he assured Giles—and maybe himself? ‘If I can help her break free from the unhappiness of her life with Ashedon that will be enough.’

  ‘Will it?’ Giles asked, giving him a penetrating glance. ‘I’m not sure how much she can “free” herself from that life. Don’t forget, Davie, she’s a rich widow, her oldest son now the Duke, her minor children protected by a trust. Her family may well have further plans for her.’

  A fierce protectiveness rose in him as the austere, disapproving face of the Dowager surfaced in his mind. ‘As long as she has a say in making those plans, rather than have them imposed on her.’

  ‘As long as you remember it’s not your place to determine that.’

  ‘I just want to stand her friend. She has few enough of them.’

  ‘Well, here comes one who should be.’

  Davie looked over as a tall, well-dressed gentleman entered the parlour. ‘Englemere,’ Giles said, walking over to shake the Marquess’s hand. ‘Good to see you. Perhaps tonight we can make some progress on hammering out that coalition.’

  ‘I hope so,’ the Marquess replied. ‘If your lovely wife has anything to do with it, there will certainly be a lively discussion. Good evening, Mr Smith. You’ll add your voice of reason to that debate, I’m sure.’

  ‘Always,’ Davie answered, reaching out to shake the hand the Marquess offered. He owed a great deal to Englemere, the best friend of his sponsor, Sir Edward Greaves, and one of his backers for his Parliamentary seat, and respected him even more. Did the Marquess know his sister-in-law was going to be present this evening? he wondered.

  Almost before he’d completed the thought, the lady in question appeared at the doorway as the butler intoned, ‘The Duchess of Ashedon.’

  For a moment, everything in Davie’s world halted while he took in the loveliness that was Faith. Her gown, a lavender confection of lace and silk, hugged her tiny waist and moulded itself over her rounded bosom in a way his hands itched to trace. Her golden hair, pinned up in an elaborate arrangement of curls, made him yearn to rake his fingers through it, freeing the heavy mass to cascade around her shoulders, as it had when she was a girl. She wore only simple diamond drops in her ears, the soft expanse of bared skin and shoulders rising above the bodice of her gown her only other adornment.

  She married the look of the angel she’d always been with the allure of a siren. Davie wasn’t sure which was more powerful—the ache of his love for her, or the burn of desire.

  While he simply watched her, spellbound, Englemere answered his question as he paced forward to take her hand. ‘Faith! What a delightful surprise! I didn’t know you would be here tonight. How are you
? It’s been far too long.’

  He took her hands, and Faith leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Lady Lyndlington was kind enough to invite me. I didn’t know you’d be here either, Nicky. How lovely to see you! How is Sarah?’

  ‘Still carefully nursing Elizabeth, our youngest, who was very ill with a congestion of the lungs last winter. Gave me quite a scare, I have to admit. With Lizzie so slow to regain her strength, I wanted her out of the noise and smoke of the city, so I’ve taken a house near Highgate Village, with a large garden for her to walk in and fresh country air to breathe. If you have time, I know Sarah would love to have you call.’

  ‘Fresh country air? How Sarah must love that, and...and I would, too. I will try to visit her, Nicky.’ She raised her chin, almost defiantly, Davie thought. ‘We’ve grown apart, and I’d like to rectify that.’

  ‘As would we,’ Englemere said, giving her hands a squeeze before releasing them. ‘But I mustn’t monopolise you. You know Lyndlington? And Mr Smith, of course.’

  ‘My lord,’ she said, making a curtsy first to Giles, then to him.

  ‘Duchess,’ he said, taking the hand she offered. Savouring the contact, he retained her fingers for as long as he could without exciting comment before forcing himself to release them. To his delight, she gave his hand a brief squeeze as he let hers go.

  ‘Who else can I expect to see tonight, my lord?’ she asked Giles.

  ‘Elder statesman and your host’s political sponsor, Lord Coopley, whom I’m sure you know. Lord Howlett, another member of Witlow’s Tory coalition in the Lords. Two of my Reform MP colleagues, Richard Rowleton and John Percy.’

  ‘I’m acquainted with all of them,’ she said, her apprehensive smile steadying. ‘Particularly Lord Coopley. He used to take Ashedon to task about his behaviour, which annoyed my husband exceedingly.’

  Bravo for the baron, Davie thought. Counting on his age, lineage and position to protect him from retribution for criticising a gentleman of higher rank? Or too principled and courageous to care?

  Laughing, Englemere said, ‘I’m sure it did, though I wager Ashedon didn’t choose to respond. Coopley has never shrunk from calling a spade a spade, and he’s too intelligent—and belligerent—for most men to willingly argue with him.’

  ‘As I’ve experienced on several occasions, when promoting ideas he does not favour,’ Giles inserted wryly. ‘But you mustn’t worry, Duchess. Lady Lyndlington has you seated beside her father, and near Mr Smith, so you’ll have a dinner partner you know well to chat with.’

  ‘And to assist me, I hope!’ Faith replied, darting a look at Davie, to which he returned an encouraging nod.

  ‘I doubt you’ll need any assistance, but Mr Smith will certainly provide it, if necessary,’ Giles said. Then his eyes lighting, he said, ‘Here’s my wife and her father! Excuse me, please.’

  Davie watched Faith, who was watching the alacrity with which Giles hurried to meet his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek and murmuring a few words that made her blush. Sadness washed over her face, and he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

  ‘They look very close,’ she said. ‘How wonderful for them.’

  ‘They’re all April and May, like two young lovers. Ben, Christopher and I heckle Giles all the time about it.’

  Just then, the butler announced the arrival of the other guests Giles had mentioned. Spotting her, Lord Coopley walked over to Faith.

  ‘How kind of you, Maggie, to invite another beauty for an old man to talk with!’ he exclaimed, making Faith a courtly bow.

  ‘You are very kind, my lord,’ Faith replied. ‘But I intend to do more listening than talking.’

  ‘Nonsense, say whatever you like—I know it will be clever!’ As Giles and Davie exchanged startled looks—both well aware how merciless the baron often was to inexperienced souls who dared venture opinions about the political topics that obsessed him—the old gentleman added, ‘Always enjoyed chatting with you, my girl. Talked about books and horses and hunting. Right fancied you for my eldest, before Ashedon swept you away. Would have made you happier.’

  As a blush of embarrassment tinted Faith’s cheeks at that too-frank assessment, Lady Lyndlington inserted smoothly, ‘Since we all know each other so well, we can dispense with formal introductions. Shall we proceed to table? Lord Coopley, will you escort me in, before I succumb to jealousy over your attentions to the Duchess?’

  Chuckling, the older man clasped the arm she extended. ‘Of course, Maggie! You know you’ll always be first in my heart. The daughter I never had, much as both your papa and I might have wished you’d been a son who could have carried on our work in the Lords.’

  ‘Oh, but I provided you a magnificent husband to take that place,’ she teased.

  Since as the leader of Reform, Giles was the man to whom the baron was most often opposed, her remark earned a laugh from the entire assembly.

  ‘Minx,’ Coopley reproved, wagging a finger at her. ‘If I thought he could be seduced into it, I’d send him off in a horse cart with a doxy.’

  ‘No chance of that,’ Lady Lyndlington flashed back. ‘If I thought he could be seduced into it, I’d murder him first.’

  Davie watched Faith anxiously, but rather than causing her additional distress, the light-hearted remarks touching on her late husband’s ignominious demise drew the group’s attention away from her, giving her a chance to recover her composure. Before he could add a quick word of encouragement, Lord Witlow walked over to claim her arm.

  ‘I’m so pleased you joined us this evening, Duchess,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘My daughter tells me you are quite interested in the work we’re now doing in Parliament, so I trust we won’t bore you this evening.’

  ‘Oh, no, my lord! I’m sure I will be informed and—’ she shot Davie a mischievous glance ‘—stimulated.’

  At her words, the arousal he’d been trying to ignore hardened further. Devil’s teeth, but he needed to master the always simmering, ever-increasing desire her nearness evoked! Concentrate on making sure she feels comfortable and included, he instructed himself.

  ‘I hope so,’ the Marquess said as he led Faith into the dining room. ‘My Maggie lives and breathes politics, but she’s never had a female friend who shared that passion. She’s thrilled to find that you have an interest. You must come visit us more often—even if, as I expect, your association with Mr Smith would have you favouring the Reform agenda. With my daughter now married to a reformer, I shall be beset on all sides!’

  ‘Mr Smith and I used to debate politics, but that was many years ago. As you know, the late Duke was not politically inclined, so I know much too little about the bill under consideration to “beset” anyone with my opinions,’ Faith said as her host seated her.

  ‘You’ve come to the right dinner party, then,’ Lord Coopley remarked from his end of the table. ‘With these rum customers present—’ he gestured to Giles and the Reform MPs ‘—you’ll hear every point of view, worthless as some may be.’

  ‘I trust, my lord,’ Giles said, taking a seat adjacent to Coopley, ‘we shall eventually hammer out a compromise even you can agree with.’

  ‘Are they always at loggerheads?’ Faith murmured over her shoulder to Davie, who had followed her in protectively and halted beside her chair.

  ‘Always, though now that Giles has married his friend Witlow’s daughter, Coopley isn’t quite so brutal,’ Davie replied softly. ‘Giles used to feel lucky to return to our rooms with his skin intact.’

  ‘I know so little about the discussion tonight,’ she said, once again sounding apprehensive. Impulsively, she reached out to touch his hand. ‘You will help me, so I don’t make a complete fool of myself?’

  Davie’s toes curled in his shoes as he resisted the to desire to link his fingers with hers. ‘You could never do that. But if you get confused, s
end me a look. I’ll insert some explanation. Don’t worry—you’ll be fine.’

  She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘Thank you, Davie. You’re always so kind.’

  Though, as the highest-ranking woman present, Faith was seated as was proper beside their host, Davie was surprised to find their hostess had indeed fudged protocol by placing a commoner adjacent to her, rather than further down the table. As he looked at Maggie with a lift of his brows, she smiled and said, ‘As a Member of Parliament, you should rank with the others. And besides, isn’t the ranking of men based on their talents, not their birth, a tenet of your beliefs?’

  ‘Humph.’ Coopley sniffed. ‘An excuse to give any upstart with a glib tongue the power to agitate the rabble! Though in fairness, I must grudgingly agree that Mr Smith possesses considerable talent.’

  ‘Far more than some men of exalted rank,’ Giles observed.

  Coopley gave a bark of laughter. ‘Far more than the one we mentioned earlier tonight, that’s for certain! No matter, we’ll tend you now, girl,’ he said, turning to Faith. ‘Only sorry I don’t have any unmarried sons to send courting.’

  Much as he’d wanted her to have a husband who appreciated her, Davie felt an immediate stab of protest at the idea of Faith marrying again. Please Heaven, not yet. Not until...what future could he possibly envision?

  ‘I don’t need that sort of “tending”,’ Faith was replying, the blush returning to her cheek. ‘I’m not even out of mourning yet.’

  ‘Not much to mourn for,’ the irrepressible baron declared. ‘Ah, here’s the first course. Always know there will be fine food on your table, my dear!’ he said to his hostess. ‘Need to fortify myself before the hard bargaining starts.’

  For a time, as the various courses came and went, conversation was general. Davie ate little and talked less, his attention focused on Faith. Urged on by their skilful host, she was induced to talk about her sons, a topic about which she soon became animated, describing them and asking the Marquess’s advice about their upbringing.