“I think I have had just about enough of this.” Augusta shivered and pulled the collar of her pelisse tighter around her neck. “I’m tired of standing in the cold.”
“We could walk and warm ourselves,” Louise suggested.
“No, I want to sit indoors with a hot cup of tea. I cannot tolerate this any longer.” Stamping her feet, Augusta motioned for Louise to follow her. “I do believe my feet are numb. Let us remove to Worth House and sit by the fire.”
“What about your brother and your father? Did you not arrive with them?”
“I suspect Freddie’s run off in a miff after hearing of Lord Fieldstone’s match, and Papa…” The twinkle in Augusta’s eye could have been sparked by any number of causes. “I say let this be a lesson to him. I shall steal you from under his nose. How shabby of him to have abandoned you in the midst of your tour of the gardens.”
“He hardly abandoned me.” Stepping out with Miss Dillingham had not been the Duke’s idea.
“Oh, I think he has.” Augusta nodded, indicating the couple in the distance. “Look at them, see how far away they are. He is the one who leads them, not Miss Dillingham, I am sure.”
“Perhaps he admires her?” Louise did not wish to be caught staring, yet she had the oddest feeling. It really was none of her business what the Duke did or to whom he paid particular attention. And what was the harm of that? Shouldn’t that please Augusta, who wished to find a new wife for her father?
The Duke of Faraday was kind, agreeable, and handsome. If Miss Dillingham conversed with him for any length of time, she would learn that he was intelligent as well as thoughtful, and could be wounded. The man had feelings, and as Louise knew, he was just as vulnerable as the next person.
He was truly a man any woman could hold in great esteem, as she found herself admiring him. Goodness…perhaps she should not have admitted that, even only to herself.
An uncomfortable sensation stirred inside Louise. She should not dwell on her private insight upon the Duke. It was disgraceful the way she came about it, masquerading as a servant, no less. Louise needed to forget their improper interaction. Perhaps his supposed attraction to Miss Dillingham was not a bad thing. She could keep him company instead of Louise and there would be no further chance of the Duke learning of her masquerade.
Once Louise and Augusta arrived at Worth House, they moved directly to the fire for warmth. They stood before it for a good many minutes in silence, allowing their extremities to thaw. Despite the hot brick under their feet during their coach ride, the moist, cool air had quite chilled the two women to the bone. A tea tray, along with ginger biscuits and small orange-flavored sponge cakes, arrived in due course.
“I have sent all the servants away so we may be private.” Augusta spoke in a soft yet audible tone and settled onto the sofa next to Louise. “Papa would be appalled if any of the staff gossiped about him.”
Of course he would. Louise wasn’t certain how she could evade her friend’s questions now that they were alone in the parlor with none of the staff to overhear them.
“Do you really think Papa was truly interested in Miss Dillingham, as Lady Gelsthorpe suggested?” Augusta inquired quite unexpectedly, sounding a bit concerned. She set her cup and saucer upon the table and frowned. “No, I’m certain her ladyship was wrong.”
“Wrong?” If Lady Gelsthorpe heard someone accusing her of being incorrect…well, that would be unheard of. As long as Louise had known her, the Dowager Countess had never been wrong about anything. “If your father has formed an attachment, would that not please you?”
Augusta’s expression moved from bewilderment to acceptance then finally to relief. “If she is the one whom he chooses, I would…I suppose…” Had it not occurred to her that his choice of bride be someone of whom she might not approve? There was an irresolute sigh and she muttered in a despondent tone, “Oh, dear.”
No, apparently the unpleasant notion had not.
Augusta was clearly in distress and Louise needed to change the subject. “I still cannot think leaving the party was a good idea without speaking to your father first.” She shuddered with regrets. The main one being the Duke had specifically asked her to attend so he would not be subject to unwanted attentions. Louise would not confess that Miss Dillingham might be considered among those persons whom His Grace had wished to avoid.
“As I have told you, I left word. Papa will have the message from the footman.” Altogether unconcerned with her parent, Augusta proceeded to refill her teacup.
Louise could not remove the twinge of guilt. She should have done something more to aid him. Her current discomfort was no longer caused by the cold but from discussing her friend’s father. Another shiver moved through her despite the warm surroundings and recently consumed hot tea.
“Poor dear, you must be chilled to the bone. Allow me to send for a shawl.” Augusta stood and then remembered, “Fustian! I’ve sent the servants away. No matter. I shall fetch it at once myself.”
“Oh, pray, do not bother.” Louise turned toward the parlor doors and tried to dissuade her, but it was too late. With a resounding click of the latch, Augusta had gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Edward strode through the foyer of Worth House and sent the door to the small parlor flying open in his hurry to find his eldest daughter. “Gusta, I—” Then he came to an abrupt stop upon seeing Lady Vernon seated upon the settee and stayed her with his outstretched hand. “Please do not rise on my account.”
He took a moment to close the doors behind him. His heart’s rapid pace, not caused by his dash from the carriage to the foyer, came from seeing his beloved in his home. What a lovely sight. This was where she belonged, as mistress of Worth House. Yes, Edward admitted, if only to himself, he wished to marry her.
“Your Grace—” It was clear Lady Vernon was determined to stand upon seeing him but remained as he had asked. “Lady Augusta has stepped away to fetch me a shawl.”
“Why did she not send a…” Come to think of it, with the exception of Ralston, he had not seen a single servant since his arrival. “A footman…” He glanced around. “Where the deuce are they? I beg your pardon.” Oddly enough, Edward felt very self-conscious and ran his hand over his head, checking the condition of his hair, which had been under his hat for a good portion of the afternoon. He had to admit he probably did not look his best.
“She sent them all away so we may be private,” Lady Vernon explained. “Shall I pour you a cup of tea, Your Grace?”
They gazed at one another, she, waiting for his answer, and he, pondering how delightful it was that they should have this time alone. He studied her eyes, her lovely brown eyes. Yes, they were very well known to him. If it were not for her warm, enchanting smile distracting him, Edward would have recognized the similarities of the eyes straightaway. There was no doubt she was the lady gardener, and why, for heaven’s sake, had she not told him?
“No, that won’t be necessary, but do not allow me to keep you from your tea.” Edward wondered how long he’d kept her waiting for a reply. He had been much distracted by his thoughts of her. Observing the fire guttering in the grate, he knew at once why the room held a chill. He stepped to the hearth and took hold of the fire tongs and set to work encouraging the flame to grow.
It had been some time since Edward had taken on the menial task of tending to a fire. He had not considered himself above such things, just as Lady Vernon had taken on the mundane chore of tending to plants. She liked it, he supposed. Edward had heard of those who liked the feel of soil between their fingers. Did she not wish for him to know of her hobby? He wasn’t certain about her reasoning or if she, indeed, had intended to keep the secret. The Duke decided to keep the discovery to himself for the present.
A new task lay before Edward now. What he needed to learn was what she thought of him. Did she think him agreeable? Did she care for him perhaps more than that? He understood her feelings on marrying again all too well.
She had, o
ver many years, refused to remarry. How would Edward persuade her to take the matrimonial plunge with him? Could he convince her to become the next Duchess of Faraday?
His affection for her was not one-sided. It could not be. Edward would admit he did not fully understand females, but he could discern when one of their number held him in some fond regard. He did not know exactly what her feelings were for him, but this, he decided, he must learn.
Had she masked her budding affection for him well enough that he would not detect it? Perhaps she also hid the emotion from herself, as he had done until just recently. What if she had no idea she harbored such feelings for him?
He could not come right out and tell her how dear she was to him. That would not be the way to approach her. How would it be possible to ascertain her feelings for him?
Perhaps with a bit of persuasion, he could help both of them realize how much esteem she held for him. A little flirting, a little misdirection might be called for. This might actually be fun if he weren’t feeling so nervous about the uncertainty of her feelings for him. Edward smiled. He hadn’t felt this lighthearted, this type of joy, in quite some time.
What on Earth was he doing? Louise refilled her teacup and surreptitiously glanced at the Duke. There he was setting new wood onto the dog grate and poking at the fire, encouraging the flames as a common footman might. Had he attempted this on her behalf? That could not be. Louise’s hands shook ever so slightly, sending her cup rattling on its saucer. The more aware of it she became, the louder the rattling grew…she quickly placed the set upon the table and clasped her hands, rubbing her trembling fingers together.
“Goodness, you have taken a chill.” His Grace replaced the poker then collected a Hepplewhite chair stationed against the wall. “I believe I’ve managed some success. Do sit here, my lady.” He placed the chair near the hearth where she would, most certainly, warm herself.
“You are too kind, sir.” She moved from the sofa to the chair, where it was indeed warmer. He was being very kind. Louise caught herself dreaming, gazing at him, quite moonstruck. Oh, dear. Should he catch her staring at him so, how could she explain? She should be ashamed of herself.
The Duke carried a second chair, companion to the one in which she sat, and placed it mere inches from hers. Did he crave the warmth of the fire as well?
He cleared his throat as if he meant to speak. “It is fortunate we have a few moments alone.” His gaze darted to the doorway as if reassuring himself of their privacy. “I would like your opinion on a delicate matter.”
“Oh?” What fresh confidential concerns would he burden her with now? Had he regarded her view on ducal matters so highly? Louise rather doubted it.
“It is about what we had discussed earlier, our families interfering with our marital status.” The Duke leaned toward her and spoke in a confidential whisper, sounding every bit as serious as she had ever heard him.
Louise completely understood why he was upset: the matter with Miss Dillingham, knowing he’d meant to avoid that precise situation. Then there was the issue of his abandonment. She never should have listened to Augusta and left the party. It was very badly done of Louise.
Staring down at her clasped hands resting in her lap, she could not have felt worse for letting him down. The continual matchmaking he had to endure was a most disagreeable topic. Indeed, other people interfering where they had no business was dreadful. She had not faulted him for wishing to remain unmarried. There was peace in stability and solitude, though the other side of the coin she was starting to see was isolation and loneliness. Was it her reassurance he needed, or perhaps only her support?
“As you know, we are of like minds on this subject.” He gazed at her, speaking in a calm and solemn manner. “Were of like minds, I should say.”
“Were?” What could he mean by that? Had he changed his mind? His statement quite took her aback.
“I have had a change of heart, you might say.” He leaned away from her, straightening, and, if she had not been mistaken, smiling, albeit only slightly.
Louise’s breath caught. She would not think ill of him for having altered his opinion. It was the swiftness with which he’d made the change that quite surprised her.
“Perhaps my daughters are correct. The notion of marriage, my marriage, is not as horrifying to contemplate as I once thought. If I were to consider the right woman…”
“Really?” She was curious as to what had happened to bring this about. It must have been recent, indeed. Perhaps it had happened this very afternoon.
“If I were to meet the right woman, I would not find the idea unappealing in the least.” His smile grew, and from the look in his eyes he seemed very far away.
“Sir, you’ve met someone whom you believe—” That could be the only explanation. Love must have struck him instantly.
“I believe I have.” The change in his demeanor was complete. His eyes opened wide, sparkling, matching his smile. “She is thoughtful, kind, and has the most understanding soul.” He stood, almost on tiptoe, as if he were being lifted not only off the chair but off the floor, singing her praises. “And—quite the loveliest creature I have beheld, if I may say so myself.”
“Oh?” Louise’s breath caught again, and at his admission, she felt her eyes moisten with tears. This was all so unexpectedly emotional for her. She truly was very pleased for him, but for herself…he was in such high spirits she could not dare think of herself at this moment. “How wonderful that you have found such a person. Shall I wish you happy?”
He stepped around the chair, almost with a dance-like lightness, and declared, “It may be a bit premature. I have not had her acquaintance long, but once I realized my—” The Duke’s impassioned words broke off, and he turned to her. “Can it be too soon, do you think? As I said, our acquaintance has not been long.”
He gazed at Louise waiting for an answer. “Well, I…I cannot think that—” She longed to know who had such an effect on the Duke.
“The last thing I want is to frighten her by making my affection known, especially if she is not certain of her own feelings.” He adjusted his neckcloth, making it seem as if his cravat caused him discomfort, or perhaps it was the situation.
“I imagine she would feel honored by your attention.” What female would not be?
“Would she?”
How could His Grace think otherwise? Louise was surprised. Where was his self-confidence? “What woman would not find a duke’s interest flattering?”
“My position has nothing to do with it.” He sounded almost offended. “I wish to marry her because…I must. My heart has been captured and life as I know it now cannot continue without her by my side.” He gazed at Louise with depth and sincerity, as if he were speaking to her and not about someone else. “I cannot say if she returns my sentiments.”
“You do not know, then? How is that possible?” Could Louise be the woman with whom he had fallen in love? For a moment she thought it might be true, only a moment. Of course it was not. Was it foolish for her to wish such a thing? She was fairly certain she could not turn away a man such as this.
The Duke stood there mute. He appeared shy, almost embarrassed.
Who would dare turn him away? Such a female would be the most foolish creature alive. It surprised Louise just how quickly she had taken His Grace’s side, and equally as swiftly her joy for him had turned into dismay that she was not the one he chose.
Had she wished it?
“I—I take it she is not a young woman, or even if she were,” Louise continued, watching his expression carefully for hints that she might be correct, ready to fall quickly silent if she misspoke or if he were to indicate otherwise, “I cannot imagine your lady, if she is of any respectable age, could be easily alarmed by your…declaration.”
“Then I should tell her?” He sounded encouraged.
“Oh, yes. How can you not?” Louise hoped it was not bad advice. “If your intentions are honorable, I think you must.”
&nbs
p; The door swung open, revealing Augusta, with a heavy shawl in hand. She blurted out, “I’m sorry it took so long, Louise—oh, Papa! How nice it is that you’ve arrived. You can join us for tea.”
It felt as if minutes rather than seconds had passed until he tore his gaze from Louise to address his daughter. “I’m sorry, Gusta. Another time, perhaps, I must leave. I have personal matters which cannot wait.” He turned back to Louise and bowed. “Thank you for your time, Lady Vernon. I shall take your words to heart.”
“I wish you the best of luck,” Louise replied with a tentative smile.
His Grace walked out of the parlor, past his daughter, who proclaimed, “You are being absolutely horrid. You must stay and take tea!” which had no noticeable effect upon her parent.
He was attending to this matter at once, and it was clear he would not allow anyone, not even his eldest daughter, to get in the way. The Duke had steeled himself before Louise’s eyes; frightened or not, he would take the risk at her word.
Louise certainly hoped she was right.
Louise left Worth House soon after the Duke’s departure. Upon returning home, she changed into her work attire and headed directly to her garden, hoping to find some peace, comfort, and a much-needed diversion.
She took up the pruning shears, in her gloved hand, balanced the basket on the edge of a planter, and set to work clearing dried, wilting leaves and vines from her struggling climbing roses. As far as she could see there were still no hopes of a floral offering from any of her plants, which, for some odd reason, made her much more melancholy than she’d ever felt before.
The day was wretched, cold, and still gray. Louise had never been more aware of the stark quiet that surrounded her. The only small sound was a trickle of water, a collection of dew and fog, draining from large planters in the rear of the garden to the low spot toward the street. There were no birds chirping in celebration for the summer afternoon, no bees buzzing about looking for flowers to collect their nectar. They must have all heard that her garden was barren and unproductive. That thought caused her to sink into a case of the dismals. Louise set to work removing the unsightly material from the rose canes.
The Duke Dilemma Page 19
