The Duke Dilemma

by Shirley Marks

  Freddie studied the women, narrowing his eyes and adjusting his cuffs. “They’re both unmarried, I take it?”

  “Well, of course they are. What would be the point in having them meet Papa if they were married?” Charlotte drew her two siblings back, farther away from the Duke and her two duchess candidates. “It is difficult to know whom he may fancy. Either would suit him, though.”

  “Do you really think it safe to talk about that here?” Freddie glanced across the room.

  “Papa seems occupied enough at the moment.” Augusta had watched him lean against the chimneypiece, his full attention currently on Lady Margaret.

  “We really should not be speaking of this. Moo specifically told us we were not to discuss this any further than our—”

  “Oh, bother Moo! She’s not here,” Augusta replied in a churlish and very childish manner.

  “Well, she can’t be, can she?” Charlotte retorted with the tilt of her head.

  “Ladies…” Freddie leaned toward his sisters and crooned softly to gain their attention and concluded, “The present location of our beloved Moo is not the point.” He straightened and plucked at his cravat as if he had crimped its intricate folds.

  Augusta and Charlotte ceased their hostilities at once.

  “He’s right,” Augusta admitted to her chagrin. Freddie’s expression was one of pure triumph. “What we truly wish to know is the progress you’ve made, if any.”

  “Of course I’ve made progress.” Freddie sounded insulted. “We’ve met two…no, three serious candidates.” He stopped short of identifying the ladies by name. “We’ve ridden in the Park, attended an assembly, paid morning calls, taken a few of them out driving, and we’ve been to the opera and the theater. Over these last few days His Grace has even been seen on the dance floor—and not with his own daughters.”

  “How have you managed that?” Charlotte’s voice softened and her expression brightened with her obvious astonishment. “And in such a short time.”

  Augusta glanced at their father, making sure he hadn’t become aware of their conversation.

  “What did you expect?” Freddie was certainly confident he had discovered the perfect wife for their father. “There’s no need for you two to get involved.”

  “Really?” This was brave talk for a man who, Augusta believed, had never been in love before. How could he recognize if their father’s heart had been pierced by Cupid’s arrow?

  “It might be best if you allow me to handle the whole thing. It’s just a matter of time before he comes up to scratch.”

  “You think Papa is that close to proposing?” Charlotte naively believed their brother. Augusta was far more realistic.

  “He might be. It’s difficult to say.” Freddie’s smugness was difficult for Augusta to tolerate.

  “I do not think we should leave the search entirely to you, Freddie. I think Lady Margaret would make Papa a splendid wife,” Charlotte said.

  Augusta glanced at the trio across the room. Their father certainly seemed to be deep in conversation with the guests. She would not believe he had made an attachment until the words came from his very lips. Only then would she cease all attempts of finding him a bride.

  Freddie had already begun his matrimonial mission, and tonight Charlotte had taken her first step. It was high time Augusta made plans to introduce some of her own acquaintances to her father.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Edward attended the morning session of Parliament then returned home to accompany his son for a drive in the Park. Concluding his business matters for the present, the Duke signed the last page of the document and returned the lot to Abernathy.

  “Have we finished for the afternoon?”

  “I do have the list of estates you requested for Lord Brent for your consideration.” The secretary placed the list upon the desk and gazed over the Duke’s shoulder, preparing to discuss the properties.

  “Excellent.” With every passing day, Edward felt more confident Frederick would prove to be a dab hand at it. The added responsibility would do him good.

  The Duke stared across his library, past the leather wing-back chairs to the leather-bound books filling the shelves across the opposite wall. He wondered if Frederick would aspire to a library such as this in his new house. Out of the corner of his eye, Edward noticed Augusta standing at the threshold.

  “Good afternoon,” she interrupted politely. Dressed in a green-sprigged gown, she entered the room. “It’s good to see you again, Abernathy.”

  “Good day to you, Lady Augusta.” The secretary bowed and stepped back from the Duke. With her present, there would no business discussion of any kind.

  Augusta neared the desk and strolled to the farthest end. “I wonder if I could further impose upon your hospitality, Papa?”

  “What is it you wish, dear?” Edward leaned back in his chair.

  “I’d like to host a card party.” She slowly stepped forward, dragging her index finger along the desk’s surface.

  “I do not see why you cannot. I’m afraid your brother has scheduled my every evening for the next fortnight.” Edward hadn’t meant it to sound as if he were making an excuse not to attend. He was trying only to caution her not to count upon his attendance. “If you need help, you may—”

  “I’m not planning anything grand. I’m thinking of only an informal gathering and just enough guests to occupy a few tables.”

  “Please feel free to do so, my dear.” He placed both hands, palms down, upon the desk. “Is there anything else? If not, Abernathy and I are just concluding our business.”

  “I beg your pardon,” she said to Abernathy and inclined her head before leaving. “Thank you, Papa.”

  Edward motioned for Abernathy to approach. “Where were we?”

  “Your Grace was about to look over the list for Lord Brent’s new estate.” He gestured to the surface of the desk, where he had placed it only minutes before. “As you see, next to each is the location, current income, and itemized details of holdings.”

  The Duke skimmed the details: the number of cottages, outbuildings, acreage of grasslands, farmlands, and mature woodlands included with each property, making transitory comparisons.

  “We can ask for further details on the estates that are of interest,” Abernathy told him.

  Having decided on the properties for which he’d like more information, Edward started to reply then raised his head at the sound of heavy footfalls reverberating down the corridor toward the library. Frederick soon stood in the doorway with his hat in hand. He’d donned breeches, top boots, and a dark frock coat for this afternoon’s drive in the Park.

  “Is it time to leave already?” Edward appeared surprised.

  Frederick strolled into the room and nodded to the secretary. “When you’re around Abernathy you always manage to lose all sense of time.”

  “An occupational hazard, I’m afraid.” His son was probably right, the minutes and hours always flew by when Edward mulled over business matters. Standing from his desk, Edward moved away, albeit not in any haste. He would have preferred a few more minutes to consider the listings.

  “You are forever saying that.” Frederick waved at his father to quicken his pace.

  Frederick did not yet comprehend how much time and effort it took to oversee the various houses and land holdings. In addition, he’d need to care for the tenants on his lands. But he would in due time.

  Edward glanced at his son’s attire. “Buckskins and top boots for a drive in the Park? Isn’t that a bit rustic?” Miss Dayton wouldn’t be nearly as impressed with Frederick showing up as the country gentleman than as the dapper beau to whom she was accustomed. The Duke stood and moved around the desk to accompany his son.

  “I’m off to meet with Fieldstone after we’re finished. He’s going to ride out on his new black.” Frederick turned and left as soon as it was clear his parent followed his direction. “His Grace will be needing his greatcoat, Ralston.”

  It didn’t see
m as if Frederick was nearly as anxious about making a good impression on Miss Dayton as he was to see the Viscount and his new horse.

  Edward approached the doorway and, at the last moment, grabbed hold of the molding, ceasing his progress. He turned back to his secretary to issue a final request: “Would you see that I receive additional information on the first and the last two items, please?”

  “I shall see to it immediately, sir.” Abernathy retrieved the list from the desk.

  “Your Grace!” Frederick called to him from the foyer, sounding rather impatient. “The ladies Dayton await!”

  Louise finished reading the fourth chapter of Emma out loud and eased the volume closed. She tilted her chin up, allowing her to see the group of ladies sitting around the tastefully decorated floral parlor. As always, between readings of each chapter, the ladies stood and moved about.

  Anne, Lady Ashton, and Mrs. Pamela Dumfries, who sat on a red-striped silk sofa across the way from Louise, took their time rising.

  Dressed in a lilac-colored turban that matched her day dress, Lady Kate Gelsthorpe rang a small silver bell sitting on the table beside her, informing her staff the ladies were ready for a tea tray to be brought in.

  “We desire a turn about the room before the reading of the next chapter.” Lady Gelsthorpe’s right hand went to her knee, sending the white egret plumes atop her turban swaying. She extended her left hand and implored. “Effie, if you please.”

  Miss Euphemia Dillingham, visiting her godmother, Lady Gelsthorpe, was a few years younger than Louise. She held her double-flounced muslin skirts and moved toward their hostess, immediately offering her aid to stand.

  “Our knee grows increasingly stiff.” Lady Gelsthorpe took her time standing. She walked arm in arm with Miss Dillingham, who lent support. “It usually plagues us in the winter months, but we fear its occurrence in the summer is of some concern. Oh, never mind the knee—tell us what did you think of our Miss Woodhouse?”

  Louise stood, straightening her own blue-striped skirts, and fell into step behind the pair. She had read the first three chapters only yesterday and could not wait to hear what the others thought about the headstrong heroine.

  “Poor Emma, I think she misses the company of her old governess, Miss Taylor,” Miss Dillingham commented. “Her father is no proper companion for her at all. I can’t help but feel sorry for her situation.”

  Although Louise thought of Miss Woodhouse as capable and stalwart, she could sympathize with Emma as well.

  “I still think Miss Taylor—ah, Mrs. Weston, she is, of course, now married, was all that was kind to Miss Woodhouse,” added Lady Ashton, who moved through the chairs in the center of the room. “Perhaps too kind. It should have been more than clear to young Emma she should not have encouraged such an unseemly friendship. One must maintain a comfortable distance between the classes.”

  “Are you speaking of Miss Smith?” Miss Dillingham apparently sympathized with lowly Harriet Smith, who had, with encouragement from Emma, set her cap for the esteemed vicar, Mr. Elton.

  “Thinking too well of oneself is never good. She does not even know who her parents are. No, it cannot be a suitable match.” Lady Gelsthorpe waved her hand about in a majestic manner. “And Mr. Woodhouse does nothing to counsel his daughter. Emma is far too young to think she may do as she likes. She is but a silly gel and does not behave with propriety!”

  The Countess’s assessment of Miss Woodhouse sounded a bit harsh to Louise. Had Emma thought herself better than she should be?

  “To associate with someone below one’s station never turns out well,” Lady Ashton said in an all-knowing tone. “That is the real problem. Mark my words, nothing good can come of this. Miss Woodhouse will soon regret her actions.”

  “Emma and Harriet are quite happy in one another’s company, is that not enough?” Mrs. Dumfries commented, moving through the same tangle of chairs as Lady Ashton in the center of the room. “There is no harm there.”

  All motion within the parlor came to a halt while Lady Gelsthorpe composed her opinion. “Miss Smith is not suitable company for Miss Woodhouse. What she should do is employ a proper companion. Miss Smith displays her lack of breeding in her common preferences in gentlemen.”

  “Too true, Kate.” Lady Ashton nodded her head. “Miss Smith is clearly smitten with Mr. Martin, and it’s quite apparent to Miss Woodhouse.”

  “It is equally apparent that Mr. Martin would be an inappropriate choice for someone of her class. Miss Woodhouse does not make the distinction that she and Miss Smith are not of the same social standing.” The Countess, once again, strolled alongside Miss Dillingham. “She may be far too young to fully understand such things.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t know what she is doing?” Miss Dillingham ventured.

  “That may be true,” Lady Gelsthorpe replied. “We can only see a true friendship between her and Miss Smith as disastrous.”

  Louise thought disastrous sounded a bit too harsh.

  “The tea tray, excellent!” After excusing the maid, Lady Gelsthorpe gestured toward the tea service. “Lady Ashton, do be a dear and pour out.”

  Lady Ashton arranged the cups, preparing to pour, and returned to the topic of Emma. “To imply that Miss Smith should look above her station cannot be condoned. Miss Woodhouse is not the arbitrator of one’s class.”

  Louise stood on the opposite side of Miss Dillingham, helping Lady Gelsthorpe into her seat.

  “If Emma does not believe Mr. Martin an eligible parti, then who do you think would be worthy of Miss Smith?” Miss Dillingham inquired, stepping away from Lady Gelsthorpe.

  The ladies glanced about at one another as if the answer lay among them.

  “Emma is in mind to find a suitable wife for Mr. Elton,” Mrs. Dumfries reminded them.

  “She believes Miss Smith would make him a splendid wife,” Lady Ashton said aloud for everyone’s benefit. She narrowed her eyes as if in thought.

  “That would certainly be beneficial for Miss Smith, but I cannot guess what Mr. Elton’s thoughts might be.” Mrs. Dumfries turned her attention to Lady Ashton.

  “Wanting the best for one’s friend is admirable.” Lady Ashton handed a cup of tea to Mrs. Dumfries, who in turn handed the first cup to their hostess.

  “If Emma has it in mind to match them, what then?” Miss Dillingham turned to Louise.

  “I should think Miss Woodhouse’s preferences do not signify in the matter.” Louise could not believe one person could convince another person, or two other people, of their affection. One could not know what lay in another’s heart. One only knows what lies in one’s own heart, and sometimes one was even quite uncertain about that.

  “Emma is so determined she might will it to happen,” Miss Dillingham maintained.

  “Indeed!” Lady Gelsthorpe laughed. “We shall just have to wait until we hear more.”

  “You do not know, do you, Lady Vernon?” Mrs. Dumfries handed Louise a cup of tea. “You did not read ahead?”

  “Of course not.” Louise did not take offense at the inquiry. “I do not wish to ruin the surprise of what happens next.”

  “Are we ready to continue on to chapter five?” Lady Gelsthorpe collected the book from the table and held it out, not to anyone in particular, then intoned, “Would you care to read for us, Miss Dillingham?”

  Edward alit from the carriage and alone headed for the front door of his house. He could not say he minded that only moments before, Frederick had leaped out and headed for the mews directly. His son had been in rare form, first displaying a burst of temper with Lady and Miss Dayton after their drive, and then without any explanation, expediting their departure from the Dayton residence.

  Edward opened his front door, entered Worth House, and glanced about.

  Where the deuce was Ralston? And where were the multitude of footmen Edward employed? There was not a trace of a one. This was most irregular.

  The Duke laid his silver-topped carved walking stick on the r
ound foyer table. He finished removing his gloves, dropped them into his hat, and paused just before setting the beaver aside.

  There was an ominous silence. No, it was not quiet that surrounded him. There were some low, soft sounds he could not discern. Truth be told, he did not wish to step farther into the house nor go beyond the boundaries of the marble foyer, and he could not precisely understand why.

  High-pitched female laughter suddenly filled the air, catching his attention. A sudden waft of perfume assaulted his nose. Women, loads of them, more than he cared to imagine, congregated within. He dared not step in or near the front parlor from where the sounds emanated.

  The absence of the butler should have told Edward of such an intrusion.

  Careful not to overturn his hat, the Duke stepped to the staircase as quietly and swiftly as he could manage. Reaching the bend in the staircase, Edward froze upon hearing footfalls from the marbled floor of the foyer. He could not keep from chancing a glance over the railing and caught the motion of green skirts below.

  “I was certain I heard someone out here.” That was Augusta’s voice. A few more staccato steps of a female’s dainty shoe brought her toward the front door.

  Edward leaned back, moving from the handrail and his daughter’s line of sight.

  “Is this is my father’s walking stick, Ralston?”

  With the brim of his hat, and the gloves it contained within, clutched in his right hand, it was only then the Duke realized he had forgotten to collect all his belongings before making his exit from the ground floor.

  “His Grace owns many such items, my lady. I cannot say with any certainty this particular article is a member of his collection,” Ralston replied. “This might belong to Lord Brent, or his lordship may have borrowed—”

  “Very well.” There was an almost audible humph of displeasure associated with Augusta’s acceptance of the inevitable. The Duke was nowhere near.

  He had to remember not to appear in Augusta’s presence with that walking stick. He would retire it—even give it away, perhaps.