The Reluctant Duchess

by Sharon Cullen

  Montgomery looked at him for a moment, the smile turning into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m suffering from too much drink. What do you think is wrong?”

  Montgomery’s gaze went to the tipped-over bottle and glass, then centered on something else on the carpet. Ross looked down and wanted to groan. There were three hairpins hidden almost under the settee. Leave it to the investigator to find them. Ross swept them up and deposited them in his trouser pocket. “What did you learn?” he asked a bit more harshly than he intended.

  “Please tell me those weren’t Lady Sara’s.”

  Ross pressed his lips together, and Montgomery swore. “Ross.”

  “I don’t need your opinion, too. My mother was quite clear on what I should and shouldn’t be doing.”

  “Your mother doesn’t know that Lady Sara has come to you for protection. This isn’t wise.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Ross grimaced when his voice rose. “I’m well aware.”

  “Should I remove her from your protection and put her somewhere else?”

  “Try it,” Ross nearly growled.

  Montgomery’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t trifle with her feelings.”

  Everyone was worried about Sara’s feelings, but no one gave a damn that he might have feelings as well.

  “What did you learn?” Ross asked through clenched teeth.

  Montgomery stared at him for a few more moments before turning his attention to the matter at hand—which was not Ross’s love life or lack thereof. “Through some questioning of your servants and a talk with our little urchin friend Thomas, I discovered who delivered the letter to your home.”

  “And?” Ross perked up. Finally, a lead.

  “And I found him dead. Or rather a fisherman found him floating in the Thames.”

  Ross cursed, feeling sick from a combination of too much alcohol and the fact that every time they got a lead, it petered out to nothing. Now a person was dead. This was becoming more and more dangerous, and if Montgomery thought Ross would allow him to take Sara away, then he would have a fight on his hands. Sara belonged here, where he could watch out for her.

  “There has been no other letter?” Montgomery asked.

  “Not yet, but I have every faith there will be. He’s not done with us yet.”

  “I concur.”

  Ross related the events of yesterday morning and the trip to the nethersken. Montgomery had settled into the chair Ross usually sat in before he became enamored of the settee, and listened intently.

  “He goes by the name of Charlie,” Montgomery said thoughtfully.

  “At least when he’s at the nethersken he does.”

  It was true that you couldn’t trust any information in a nethersken. People used fake names there all the time and for various reasons, the most common being that they were hiding from someone.

  “Interesting that he disappeared for two years and has now returned,” Montgomery said.

  “I thought so, too. Mrs. Kettles said he claimed he was on a grand tour.”

  “A grand tour would indicate that he is from a well-off family. Why float in and out of a nethersken if that is the case? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “He was probably lying.”

  They fell silent, each lost in his thoughts, shifting around the pieces of the puzzle.

  “We’re no closer to an answer than we were two days ago,” Ross said in disgust. He stood and stretched. His stomach churned and he grimaced. “I’ll try to find Thomas and tell him not to take any jobs that require him to deliver a message to my house. It seems that is a deadly occupation.”

  Montgomery pushed himself up from the chair. “I have meetings for most of the day. I’ll see if I can discover whether there were similar murders on the continent. If this man truly was on his grand tour, he could have killed again in another country. It would be almost impossible to link him to the murders if one wasn’t looking for a link.”

  The two men separated, Montgomery to his duties and Ross to his, which was first to take a bath. Then he was off to the palace to see if he could meet with the queen. There was still the matter of India to discuss and his plea to return posthaste. Returning seemed less and less important now that Sara needed him. Nevertheless, he had to meet with Her Majesty.

  His mother cornered him just as he was leaving the house. He dearly wanted to slide out the door and ignore her, but she would find him some other time and he would have to pay for that slight as well as whatever else she wanted to say to him.

  “Will you return by this evening?” She looked far too innocent for his peace of mind.

  “Why?”

  Her gaze shifted and she refused to look at him, which caused his already protesting stomach to cramp. “Mother.”

  “I have accepted an invitation to the Plainfield ball. For all three of us. I thought it would be good for Sara to attend a few balls while she is in town.”

  It was one thing for Elizabeth to drag Sara around to balls and teas against her will—and he had no doubt it would be against her will—but to accept an invitation on his behalf was beyond the pale.

  “I don’t attend balls.” The thought of all those women circling him, wanting their daughters to be his duchess, or wanting him for themselves, made his skin crawl. He was entirely disgusted and finished with that life and had hoped to avoid it. However, he was pragmatic and knew that in order to find a wife, he would have to reenter society. Just not now. Now wasn’t a good time.

  The duchess raised her chin. “Well, it’s high time you did.”

  “That is not up to you, Mother.”

  “Nevetheless, Lord and Lady Plainfield are expecting you. You cannot let them down.”

  “I haven’t attended a ball in over two years.” She was well aware of that and knew precisely what she was doing. It seemed the Duke of Rossmoyne was back in circulation—much to his disgust. “What time do I need to be back?” he bit out. His only consolation was that Sara was going, against her wishes, too, most likely. He could spend time with her, and he could be there to protect her if need be.

  His mother’s smile was bright, not with victory but with excitement. “No later than ten o’clock.” She stood on her toes and bussed his cheek with a motherly kiss. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

  —

  Ross found Thomas loitering outside the Langham, sizing people up as they passed him. His blackened eye had taken on a yellowish cast and was no longer swollen.

  “Good day, guv.” He smiled impishly at Ross.

  “Good day, Thomas.”

  Thomas peered behind Ross. “Where’s the lady?”

  “I needed to speak to you alone.”

  Sara need not know that someone was dead at the hands of the letter writer. Of course, they didn’t know that for certain; whoever had delivered the missive had no doubt been involved in other nefarious duties, but Ross was taking no chances.

  “If someone approaches you and asks you to deliver a letter to Lady Sara at my home, I want you to refuse.”

  Thomas nodded solemnly.

  “No matter how much they say they will pay you.”

  Thomas frowned, clearly not liking the idea of giving up some blunt.

  “Promise me, Thomas.”

  “Why?”

  He should have known the lad would not blindly follow his commands. What was it with the people in his life suddenly not listening to him? “Because it’s dangerous. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “How much blunt he be offerin’?”

  “I don’t know, but I will double it if you don’t accept the job.”

  Thomas’s eyes went wide. “Yes, sir, guv.”

  “And keep your eyes open. We’re still looking for our man.”

  Thomas saluted him. “Yes, sir.” He scampered off and fell in step behind a finely dressed lady who was about to have her dangling reticule snipped from her arm.

  Ross knew he should stop Thomas, but he didn’t. Not that stealing wa
s right, but he knew that Thomas’s family lived on what he brought home.

  Much to his disgust, but not at all surprisingly, Queen Victoria was not willing to see him today. He was told this after cooling his heels for a few hours. Frustrated, he left the palace and spent the rest of the day at his club, reading the papers and talking to friends. He kept an ear to the ground for word of any young noble who had just returned from a grand tour. It was a long shot. Surely someone of the nobility had not murdered Meredith. And yet he found he couldn’t dismiss this Charlie’s claim too easily, so he listened and watched and asked discreet questions. At least he hoped they were discreet questions. It had been many years since his own grand tour, and it would be odd to take too much interest in someone else’s at this point, but he tried.

  He ate a light meal with Lord Hastings and another good friend, Lord Newsom. It had been a while since Ross had spent time in White’s. He’d been in India for most of the past year, and before that had been too soon after Meredith’s death. He discovered that he missed the gentlemanly atmosphere and told himself that he needed to come more often.

  He was heading out the door when, on a whim, he stopped and did something he hadn’t done in far too long. Something well overdue.

  Chapter 17

  To say that Sara didn’t want to attend Lord and Lady Plainfield’s ball would be a gross understatement.

  When Elizabeth told Sara that she had acquired an invitation for her, Sara’s heart immediately began to hammer and her palms to perspire, and that was just thinking about attending the ball. It had been years since she’d attended one. The last one being the night of Meredith’s death.

  “Oh, Your Grace, I wouldn’t dream of going.”

  “But of course you will. The countess was excited when I asked if I could bring you. She remembers your mother with fondness.”

  Lovely. She probably knew that Sara’s mother had abandoned her family, and she would look at Sara with pity. Just what she didn’t need.

  “I have nothing to wear,” she said, grasping at any excuse that came to mind.

  “Oh, but you do. The gowns we ordered will arrive this afternoon. I sent a note to the modiste, and she assured me that a suitable gown will be ready in time.” Elizabeth looked at her in sorrow. “Sara, dear, I know you’re committed to helping your father, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy yourself while you’re in London.”

  If only the duchess knew that attending a ball was far from enjoying herself. Sara hated balls. But Elizabeth would never understand nor accept such an excuse.

  So Sara allowed herself to be dressed in the gold gown that arrived that afternoon. It was an exquisite gown, and she could hardly believe that it was hers or that she would wear something so…elegant. She hadn’t had a new ball gown in years. Not that she wanted or needed one; she wondered why she’d agreed to order it. It was far too elegant for any of the festivities she attended in Hadley Springs.

  A stranger stared back at her in the mirror. This person looked sophisticated, even though her insides were trembling so hard that she had to put a hand over her stomach in an effort to quell it.

  The golden gown draped to the floor in soft folds, and the material shimmered as she moved. Her hair had been curled and was piled high on her head, a gold chain woven through it. Her shoulders were bare. Had she ever bared her shoulders before? She couldn’t remember ever doing so.

  “Oh, my dear, you are beautiful.”

  Sara spun around, away from the person in the mirror. Elizabeth was standing at the door, looking at her from head to toe.

  “I just knew the gold fabric would bring out the gold in your eyes.”

  Gold in her eyes? What gold in her eyes? She had very average, boring brown eyes.

  “Well,” Elizabeth said. “You will be the belle of the ball. Mark my words.”

  Oh, no. She wanted no such thing. She had planned to find an empty chair in a quiet corner to sit and observe and nothing else. If Elizabeth had ideas about dragging Sara around…But of course she had such ideas. To Elizabeth a ball was fun, entertaining, not torture.

  “I’m afraid we’re keeping Ross waiting, and he hates to wait. I was lucky to get him to agree to come tonight as it is.”

  Numbly, Sara followed Elizabeth out of the bedchamber and down the stairs to the entryway, where Ross was impatiently pacing.

  When he saw them, he froze. For long moments he didn’t say anything at all, and Sara had to quell the urge to touch her hair and fidget with her gown. Was it that bad?

  “Stunning,” he finally whispered. He held his hand out as if to caress her cheek, then let it drop to his side before he touched her. “You are beautiful,” he said softly.

  Sara stared up at him, hardly recognizing him. Without thought, she touched his shorn hair. Gone was the hair that nearly reached his shoulders. Now it was close-cropped with a lock of auburn that fell over his forehead. No longer was his face hidden; she could clearly see the angle of his cheekbones, the noble jut of his jaw, and the amber of his eyes.

  “You cut it,” she said.

  “I thought it long past time.”

  “I like it.”

  “Do you?” He appeared pleased.

  “I do.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “If we stand around admiring ourselves for too long, we will miss the ball.”

  Sara laughed, embarrassed to be caught, but as much as Ross could not stop looking at her, she could not stop looking at him. There were no words to describe him in his black trousers, black tails, and snow-white shirt. And that hair…She had grown to love the long hair, but now she equally loved the short hair.

  “Let us be off,” he said, pulling his gaze away.

  —

  Ross sat across from Sara and his mother in the carriage. His mother chatted, but Ross was barely listening, and Sara wasn’t listening at all.

  The closer they got to the ball, the smaller Sara became. It was as if she shrank before his very eyes. He’d never seen such a thing. She sank into the cushions, nearly hiding in the shadows. Her fingers were so tightly clenched in her lap that they were turning white. He desperately wanted to reach across the space and put his hand over hers to reassure her.

  She truly didn’t want to attend the ball, and he was angry at his mother for forcing her to come along. Because he had no doubt that his mother had pressured her to attend.

  When the carriage stopped in front of the Plainfield mansion, the tiger opened the door and lowered the step. Ross watched Sara take a deep breath, lift her chin, and square her shoulders. And in that moment, his admiration for her rose even more. If it changed to something more than admiration, he wasn’t ready to admit it.

  “Shall we?” he asked the women, but he kept his eyes on Sara.

  She nodded, her expression bleak even though she was attempting to smile.

  Ross hopped out and helped his mother down. And then there was Sara in her golden gown, with all her golden-brown hair and her scared golden eyes and pinched lips.

  “You can make your excuses if you wish. I’ll tell my mother you’re not feeling well,” he said quietly.

  Her smile was fleeting but grateful. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

  “You’re a bundle of nerves.”

  She stepped out of the carriage and fluffed her skirts. “I will survive.”

  “Sara—”

  “I’m fine, Ross.”

  He looked at her for a few long moments. She was pale, but she was determined.

  “Very well.” He held his arm out and she took it. His mother took his other arm and they made their way up the steps. They could hear the crowded ballroom before they reached it. Sara stiffened, clutching his arm tighter, but she was smiling and looking straight ahead. So what if only he could see that her smile was brittle and her eyes frightened.

  They were announced by the butler. A few people stopped to look, but most continued with their conversations. Beside him, he could feel Sara slightly relax.
/>   —

  Ross settled into the vacant chair beside Sara. He had been pulled away from her almost as soon as they had arrived. It was probably for the best, because if it were up to him, he would have followed her around like a lost puppy the entire night, and that surely would not have been good for her reputation or his. Not to mention that his mother would have been furious.

  However, he’d kept an eye on her, albeit discreetly. She’d stuck with his mother but had stood at the periphery of any group. Occasionally, she would smile and converse, but the conversation was always short and she immediately retreated back into herself. It bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Why didn’t she enjoy herself at these functions? He’d never met a woman who didn’t enjoy the festivities of a ball.

  About halfway through the night, he noticed that she’d found a chair in a quiet corner. It was obvious to him that she felt more comfortable there as an observer rather than in the midst of the fun as a participant.

  She was so different from Meredith. He knew he shouldn’t compare the two, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Meredith had been bundled energy and Sara was the calm amidst the storm.

  Ross discovered that he preferred the calm far more than the chaos.

  She raised an eyebrow at him as he sat beside her. “I’m quite certain that no one has seen a duke sit on the side of the room.”

  He shrugged and settled more comfortably into the chair. “What do you see from here?” He looked around, taking everything in from this vantage point. She was correct. He’d never sat off to the side before.

  “Welcome to my corner of the world.”

  She was smiling and her eyes were sparkling, and the tight ball in his stomach that he hadn’t been really aware of until now loosened a bit. He almost hated to admit how worried he’d been for her, because then he would have to admit how much he had come to care for her.

  Only as a friend. A friend of the family I almost married into. That is all.

  “You should never feel you have to sit in the corner, Sara.”