Lady Saves the Duke

by Annabelle Anders

  She shook her head. “I am quite happy to remain unmarried.” But he sensed more behind her words. Her voice trembled as she asserted her contentment.

  She had a nice complexion, he thought absently. Even skin that looked soft to the touch. Her hair had loosened from the chignon tied at her neck. Tendrils had escaped to curl softly about her nape.

  Not the antidote he had originally decided her to be.

  But still quite rural and quite unrefined. Socially, she was not even as elevated as Elise. He pulled hard on the oars again. She was far beneath him. He had not even known of her existence the season he married Hyacinth. She would have been a wallflower, most likely.

  Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “Did your children resemble you or Lady Hyacinth more?”

  He was not certain he would answer her question. Damned impertinent of her to attempt to discuss his deceased family so openly with him. He had not invited any person of his acquaintance to discuss them since he’d laid them to rest three years ago. His sister, Margaret, had made attempts, but he emphatically gave her every indication that her efforts would be in vain. She’d eventually capitulated and did not mention their names anymore. Had he, inadvertently, invited Miss Wright to discuss them when he’d mentioned Hyacinth? Damn his eyes, he supposed he had.

  “Elijah had his mother’s eyes,” he found himself remembering. “But Marigold’s were gray, like mine.” Marigold’s eyes had been a relief. He’d never been quite certain where Elijah had been concerned. Nonetheless, the boy had been his. He’d made it so.

  “I’m sure they were both beautiful.” Her eyes misted wistfully, as though she could picture the children herself.

  “They had a beautiful mother,” he said.

  Miss Wright shrugged slightly. “And a beautiful father.” Then, seeming surprised at her own words, one hand let go of her shawl and flew upward to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide.

  The duke found himself chuckling. “If you say so, Miss Wright.” He’d never been called beautiful before. He regarded the woman in front of him. Had anybody ever called her beautiful? He thought, most probably, not. There was something innately attractive about her, however. Unbidden, his hand recalled the feel of her bottom when she’d nearly fallen into the boat. That had not been well done on his part at all. He was supposed to be a gentleman. He really must find a replacement for Elise.

  “You say you do not plan to marry,” he reminded her. “And yet you sound as though you would welcome motherhood.” How had no one in her village recognized her…considerable assets?

  She turned her head away and looked into the water. Just when he began to think she would not answer, she spoke quietly, “No.”

  “You do not wish to have any little boys to chase after? No little girls’ hair to braid?”

  Again she spoke softly. “No.”

  Hmm…apparently not a subject on which she wished to converse.

  “So you will live with your parents for the rest of their lives? And when they die? Is your father’s property unentailed? Will you be a woman of property then?” He was not sure what prodded him to torture her like this. She just seemed so…resigned to her life, and this irritated him for some reason. He must be bored.

  “No.” Again she spoke softly.

  She was keeping her head in the sand then, preferring to ignore the uncertainty of her future. What a dreadful life! What a stroke of bad luck it must be to be born a female. He would not probe any further. Obviously, she did not wish to discuss the topic.

  “So you will become a governess? Or a companion? Are you trained for anything at all?”

  This time she stared back at him and lifted her chin slightly. Glaring into his eyes, she spoke firmly this time. “Perhaps.” Regaining her composure, she made an attempt to turn the tables on him. “And you, Your Grace? Do you plan on begetting an heir anytime soon? I imagine you will have to marry again in order to accomplish such a feat. Will you be shopping on the marriage mart next spring? Or will you wait until you are a doddering old fool, take a wife a quarter of your age, and impose an old man’s body on her?”

  Well, then. She was a feisty little thing. He studied her intently. “Touché.”

  They sat in silence for several moments after that, the only sound the swishing of the water as he moved the oars back and forth. Miss Wright sat straight-backed and stiff on the bench seat. She was no longer enjoying the water and watching for fish. It was a shame such a small delight was now to elude her.

  “A seamstress.” She broke into the quiet. “Hopefully. I am not trained for any other sort of employment, really.” And then, “I try not to think about it.”

  She was a fool. A man would never leave his destiny up to the fates to decide. To a man who controlled nearly everything around him, this attitude toward the future appalled him. She deserved whatever fate awaited her.

  Ah, at last. They were moving closer to the jetty now. He steered the boat expertly and then tied it off on a post. She stood tentatively. He could tell she would have liked to climb out without assistance but could not do so while clutching tightly at her shawl.

  The duke took matters into his own hands.

  Standing firmly himself, with feet widespread, he took hold of her waist and turned her toward the dock. Giving himself only a moment to rest his hands along her hips, he lifted her effortlessly up and out. Once on deck, she turned back to face him, blushing profusely.

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” She looked as though she wanted to turn and flee but could not quite bring herself to do so. Lowering her voice, she bent toward him with tremendous uncertainty. “You will not tell anyone? About my…” She was even more flushed now than she had been before.

  “Attempt at seduction?” He simply could not help himself.

  She straightened abruptly with outrage on her face. “It was not! You know it was not!”

  He laughed for a minute before forcing himself to answer her soberly. “I am sorry, Miss Wright. You are absolutely correct.” He sobered. “And no. No one will ever know. I give you my word.”

  Apparently reassured, she simply nodded and then turned.

  But it did improve upon my day.

  Chapter 3

  After handing off the boat to other waiting guests, the duke stepped onto the grass and strode toward the vacated iron chairs now sitting empty in the shade. He lowered himself and then pondered the guests around him. Despite his repugnance at her countrified and obviously impoverished life, the events of the last forty minutes had proven to be somewhat diverting. He did regret, however, bringing up the subject of Hyacinth. Speaking of her was like pulling a scab off a wound that had never properly healed. And he had done it himself. Did she pity him? He glanced around to observe her once again, but Miss Wright had disappeared. Likely she’d gone to repair her dress.

  He almost chuckled to himself as he considered the reaction she would have when she looked into a glass and realized how much of herself she’d displayed to him.

  Any other young lady, upon suffering such a complete indignity as Miss Wright had, would have not had the courage to turn around and face him for the duration of their excursion. Another lady, he was certain, would have sat with her back to him and made no effort at further conversation.

  And that would have been a wise course of action.

  But Miss Wright had surprised him and truth be told, impressed him slightly by turning herself around and facing him, even if she had not been able to meet his eyes right away. Ah, it was this surprise that had caused him to make the comment referring to his marriage. After all, what did one say to a woman of gentle birth who had quite unintentionally exposed her bosoms to him for all of two entire minutes?

  She’d been enjoying herself immensely before he’d pointed out the catastrophe that had unknowingly befallen her. And in her smiles, she was somewhat pretty.

  And then he remembered the fear on her face when he had leaned over to retrieve her shawl. The look in her eyes, the startled demeanor o
f terror that had overcome her, revealed that she had thought for a fraction of a second that he was going to pounce upon her in some way. Had she really thought he would take advantage of the situation? If he’d been that sort of man, she ought to have realized he would not have brought the matter to her attention at all.

  Foolish chit.

  “Monfort…” A jovial voice interrupted his thoughts. “I have been hoping I would get a chance to converse with you sometime this week.”

  Ah, the solitude he craved would elude him after all.

  The uninvited interloper was Hector Crone, the Baron Riverton. He was in his fifties, portly, and his hair was diminished to just a smattering of gray tufts combed across the width of his scalp in hopes of hiding the shine of his head.

  “Riverton.” Alex barely acknowledged the baron. Resting his elbows on his knees, he studied the shine of his boots. They were well worn but also well cared for. Alex reached down and brushed some stray grass off one of them.

  The baron was not to be deterred. Instead he began congratulating Monfort for the awards and achievements he had accumulated with the horses bred and trained at Brooke’s Abbey. Alex allowed himself to become somewhat engaged in that his horses were as close to him as any person had been over the past few years. He accepted the baron’s praise stoically. As the conversation ensued, it became apparent the baron was fishing for an invitation to tour the duke’s horse arena and facility. The stables at Brooke’s Abbey were renowned.

  Alex owned more than one sizeable estate and thus allowed his housekeepers to grant tours to genteel visitors. He was not so willing, however, to give strangers access to Brooke’s Abbey, where he normally chose to reside. He would not invite the baron to tour his equestrian facilities.

  When the baron realized an invitation was not going to be forthcoming, he redirected the conversation in a direction for which Alex had even less enthusiasm. “Saw you took my niece for a nice trip around the lake, Your Grace,” he said, taking Alex slightly by surprise.

  “Your niece?”

  “My wife’s brother’s gel.” The baron grimaced. “She doesn’t get out much since her scandalous behavior in London. Years ago, mind you, but some slights can never be erased, you know? Heh heh…Hope she behaves herself. Family associations aren’t always the thing.”

  “Indeed” was all the duke said. He had no idea what the man was rambling on about.

  “I’d presume she cannot set so much as a toe in London ever again.” The man was flushed with the heat of the day as he feigned sympathy for the young lady’s plight.

  Based upon the forty minutes Alex had spent with the young lady, he’d be willing to wager that any scandal Miss Wright stepped in had been through ignorance rather than intent. Did her foolish relation not realize the worst possible thing he could do for his niece was revive it?

  But the baron continued, “Nearly ruined the entire family. Unfortunate for her…utterly dependent upon her parents now with no marital prospects whatsoever. No man wants to tie himself to damaged goods. My poor brother and sister-in-law. Never would have taken her for one of those types, though, if you get my meaning.”

  “Not at all.” The image of Miss Wright’s bosoms flashed through Alex’s mind. Was it possible that the exhibition in the rowboat had been contrived? Had it been an invitation of sorts?

  “My daughter, Penelope, is quite attached to her cousin, unfortunately. It is not a connection I have ever encouraged. But Penny’s quite independent. Never thought my own daughter would turn out to be such a bluestocking. Anyhow, embarrassing that my sister-in-law thought it fitting to send her to Raven’s Park. Luckily, the Spencers aren’t high in the instep. Otherwise, I’d have put my foot down. Bad enough to be related to the little doxie; I shouldn’t have to put up with her in polite company,” the baron rambled on. “Well, no harm in a little country party, eh? She didn’t bore you too much, did she? I imagine she would have been mute with fear, in awe of yourself, Duke.”

  “She was quite charming.” Alex found himself defending her. Had he really said that? Charming?

  The baron gave the duke a rather worldly look and leered. “Oh, I imagine she can be. But she is a lady, nonetheless, heh, heh.” And then he had the temerity to wink!

  Alex had had enough. He stood up abruptly and straightened his jacket. He did not wish to encourage a connection with Baron Riverton. Nodding haughtily, he turned on his heel and left. Damned unfortunate relation for the lady to have. Damned unfortunate indeed.

  ****

  Abigail did not wait for Penelope and the viscount’s boat to return. She left a message with one of the servants for her instead and hastily returned to the small chamber they shared on the third floor. Once inside, she removed her shawl and faced the only mirror in the room.

  Oh, God. He most certainly had gotten an eyeful. Abigail could hardly bear looking at herself. The dress had torn so thoroughly, she appeared to have no bodice at all. And those dreadful stays did nothing to preserve her modesty. In fact, they’d merely pushed her breasts up and out as though they would burst forth from her person. Abigail covered herself with her hands and groaned. She could only hope he would keep his promise and not tell another soul about it. He was a man, though, and they had a tendency to joke about this sort of thing. Hopefully the duke would be different. Hopefully he was not so cruel.

  Turning away, she struggled to remove the dress but could not untie her stays herself. Frustrated, humiliated, and tired, she wrapped herself in her dressing gown and lay down on the bed. Face down, she closed her eyes tightly.

  You do not wish to have any little boys to chase after? No little girls’ hair to braid? He could not know how those words would torment her. She decided she would give herself a moment, just a moment, to yield a few tears. It had been a few months since the last time. In spite of the self-control she could usually impose on her emotions, she was coming to realize the pain was not ever going to go away. She would carry it forever.

  After releasing some of her pent-up tears, she dabbed cold water on her face and then sought the attention of one of the maids walking in the corridor outside of her room. The housemaid obliged happily and untied the stays so Abigail could change back into the dress she had traveled in earlier that day. She then spent the rest of the afternoon altering a few of the dresses. Sewing was something she was both good at and enjoyed. Not only did she open up some seams, but she removed a few flounces and embellishments which had gone out of fashion. When she focused hard enough on her task, she could almost convince herself that nothing out of the ordinary had happened earlier in the day.

  Almost.

  Penelope returned much later.

  “You missed all of the excitement, Abby!” Penelope’s eyes sparkled, and her cheeks glowed an unusual pink. “This tiny dog jumped into the lake, and Natalie jumped off her boat after it and sank like a stone. Thank heavens for Lord Hawthorne. An honest to goodness hero. Saved Natalie and her little dog. Both are wet but none the worse for their dunking.”

  “She maneuvered the earl into being her partner.” Abigail hadn’t thought much of it at the time, she’d been too concerned with being thrown into the duke’s boat. She’d thought she’d heard something about Lord Hawthorne and a kidnapping but refused to judge people based upon such gossip. “Do you suppose she has a tendre for him?”

  Penelope had been examining some of Abigail’s handiwork but set the dress down to consider the notion. “I can’t imagine Ravensdale would allow such a match. Hawthorne’s considered something of a pariah in London.”

  “And yet he is welcome in their home,” Abigail pointed out.

  Penelope shrugged and then went back to examining Abigail’s perfect stitchwork. “Darlington cheats at horseshoes.”

  “I’m to assume he beat you, then?” Abigail laughed. Penelope and her blasted competitiveness. “Don’t tell me you accused the viscount outright?”

  “Of course I did!” Her cheeks flushed again. Abigail knew her cousin well
. Although Penelope would never admit to it, her cousin had been head over heels in love with Ravensdale’s heir for nearly a decade.

  And the viscount treated her like an annoying sister.

  This, Abigail suspected, was why Penelope eschewed marriage to such a degree.

  “What was it like being alone with the duke?” Penelope changed the subject. “That was not well done of Natalie.”

  Abigail focused all of her attention on threading her needle. “Fine. He was quite pleasant.”

  If she concentrated on the thread and the needle, rather than the events which had taken place on the boat, she might be able to keep Penelope from suspecting anything untoward had occurred.

  Penelope flopped onto one of the single beds and stared at the ceiling. “Darlington has the most annoying perspective on how Parliament ought to be run. He thinks the House of Lords…”

  Abigail tuned out her cousin’s monologue but thanked heaven for her distraction. She could not tell even her closest confidante about the humiliation she had suffered. It was far too painful and embarrassing to think about, let alone share. Penelope eventually took a short nap, but Abigail worked diligently on the gown she would wear this evening. She would not risk a repeat of this afternoon’s catastrophe.

  By the time the dinner gong echoed throughout the large manor, Abigail was quite pleased with her efforts. Her dress for the evening, a light yellow muslin, had short puffed sleeves and splashes of embroidery at the hem and below the bodice. She had let out the seams on the bodice to make it comfortable and modest. Overall, she deemed herself presentable enough. She did recheck her seams one last time, however. She would never allow that to happen again.

  She only wished she did not have to see him this evening. If she never came face to face with the Duke of Monfort again, she could almost pretend it had never happened. For all intents and purposes, he did not seem like a nice man.