Miss Amelia Lands a Duke (The Caversham Chronicles)

by Sandy Raven

  All during the day he’d kept an eye out for her, but had never come across her. That was likely the reason his desire for her continued to grow. He just needed to see her again and reassure himself that she wasn’t the image of perfection he’d built up in his head.

  His valet, Foster, arranged the fabric in his tie again after he placed the ruby stock pin in its folds. Cav made up his mind. He needed to know who she was, sporting or not. And Foster was far better at extracting that type of information from the maids than he would be with Lady Merivale.

  “Foster, I have a little task for you. I need the name of a young Miss occupying a room on the fourth floor,” Cav said.

  “To my knowledge there are no ladies upstairs, Your Grace. Only a few personal maids and companions.” The man helped Cav with his fitted jacket. For nearly twenty years Foster had impressed Cav with his skills of deftly extracting the information he’d asked of him. If Foster wasn’t born to be a man’s man, he could easily have worked for the gossip rags or even been a spy.

  “The young lady I am interested in says she’s a companion to her aunt, but I don’t know the name of either woman.”

  “Ah.” The man’s increasingly stiff fingers took him longer to perfect the knot than it used to. “And when I find her shall I bring her to you, Your Grace?”

  “No, I’d simply like to know her name and the name of her aunt.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Foster said. “I shall go to the housekeeper for this information, and I will be discreet.”

  “Please do.” Cav left the room for the saloon where the guests were to meet for an aperitif before dinner.

  His silver-haired valet was the only man Cav could trust with a mission of this nature. He needed to learn what the young woman’s situation was. That would determine whether he could offer for her. He smiled as he recalled her very appealing look, and their easy repartee. The was also a quick wit hidden behind her fear of being discovered.

  Initially, he hadn’t been in the market for another wife. He had an heir who was almost of age to marry himself if he could keep him in the country long enough, and a daughter who was the spitting image of her mother, his deceased wife Elizabeth. A daughter who needed a mother’s guidance.

  If Cav married again, he imagined a new wife would want to secure her position with a child or two. And while that was not necessarily an unpleasant thing to imagine creating with this Miss, Cav didn’t fool himself one minute to think he’d be around to see children of a possible second marriage settled into adulthood. This made marriage a serious consideration.

  “Your Grace!”

  Cav glanced at the woman who’d called to him from a few feet away, near the entrance of the saloon. Lady Katherine…Rawlins? Rawdon? Rawdon. That was it, Rawdon. A widow recently out of mourning, with a knack for losing at the card table. Not a completely unattractive woman, she was more forward than he liked.

  She raised her hand and beckoned him over to where she stood in a group of three women, all of middle-years, each one more audacious and gossipy than the next. He plastered on a smile, determined to discover the identity of the woman fixed on his mind. It was quite possible she was the niece of one of these three. He didn’t know any of them well enough to know to whom they were related.

  The only thing he knew of this group was that they all played the same card game as his hostess, and with the same keen eye and skill, or else none would be here. He’d witnessed their matches at virtually every gathering he’d been to the past few years, had even played with Lady Merivale a few times at some of the more intimate settings, such as this one.

  “We were just discussing tomorrow’s amusements, Your Grace,” Lady Katherine said as he approached them.

  Another woman, Mrs. Upton, whose husband was a mine owner, chimed in, “I believe the weather will be nice enough for a shopping trip into Swindon. We’re taking several open carriages for the short ride into the village.”

  The third woman, a gossipy, turban-headed matron named Lady Atherton, added, “We were hoping you’d choose to ride with us and you would be our fourth for the carriage. You could keep us entertained with the goings on in Parliament.”

  “Oh, yes.” Lady Rawdon leaned in closer to him. “Heaven knows Lord Rawdon never shared any juicy tidbits with me while he lived.”

  Cav truly didn’t want to go into town on a shopping trip. He wasn’t a young buck trying to win affections of a woman, nor did he especially enjoy shopping. His staff shopped for him. They knew his tastes and his tailor and cobbler knew his sizes. There was no need to amuse women on an excursion into the village.

  “I’m afraid I will be ensconced in Lord Merivale’s office going over some important issues coming up in the next term.” He smiled, determined to keep from letting the women wrangle a commitment from him. “It might surprise you ladies to learn that even though we are not currently in session, the business of the Crown still goes on. We are fighting two wars now, and neither threat should be taken lightly.”

  The women nodded. “Well,” said Lady Katherine, “if you change your mind, Your Grace, we will hold our empty seat for you.”

  The three ladies smiled, but Lady Katherine’s eyebrow cocked and she had this almost predatory gleam in her brown eyes. The tilt of her head, the upturned corner of her smile, and the way her eyes narrowed just a fraction told him this woman was ready for a lover, much like a mare in heat. But he had no use for someone like her, he wanted a wife he could cherish, not a woman on the prowl for another titled husband.

  Now was a good time to mention companions and see who reacted. “You could always invite your companions along. Surely one of them would love a chance to escape into town.”

  “Bah, they have something planned,” said Mrs. Upton

  “They’ve their own excursion tomorrow,” explained Lady Atherton. “My Ruth asked permission and I approved. They’re headed south to Stonehenge. Seems one of them has a travel guide.”

  “That sounds like the companion I just hired. She won’t last long, I can tell already. I cannot abide her impertinence.” This came from an exasperated Lady Rawdon. “And she always has her nose in a book. Said that Lord Merivale was going to loan them a coach, driver and two grooms for their excursion. There are five of them going.”

  That was fruitless. There was no way of knowing just from this conversation if his Miss was related to any of these three. He moved on to conversing with a few of the other guests, but couldn’t discern from them either who might be related to the young woman he saw. Of course not all the ladies had companions, just a few. Intelligent man that he was, one might think he could figure this out. Alas, no. Not unless he wanted to attract attention to himself.

  Soon dinner was over and the evening’s real entertainments began. While they dined, the staff had arranged card tables with chairs in the same saloon, and thus began another night of whist. Cav played two hands and watched as Mrs. Upton lost a large sum at the turn of one card.

  Lady Katherine, the winner, gave her friend a rather gloating smile. “That’s all right, Cecily. Tomorrow might be your night and you’ll win most of this back, so I’ll try not to spend too much of it shopping tomorrow.”

  One of the female guests began to play the pianoforte and another to butcher a wonderful Italian aria. Cav decided he’d had enough after two hands. He stood, thinking to make his getaway while the others began to listen to the two musicians. But as he excused himself from the three ladies he’d sat with, so did a few of the other guests in the room. He really didn’t wish to be the tired sport whose departure ended the evening for everyone. All he wanted was to find his bed.

  Lady Katherine approached him, and when she touched his sleeve Cav could almost feel the woman’s talons latch onto his arm. Or was it his imagination? “Perhaps you might like to come to my suite later for a glass of wine?” She gave him a seductive smile and batted her lashes at him. “It would be a perfect way to end the night, don’t you think?”

  “I am so
rry, Lady Katherine.” Never mind that she was a passable handsome woman, her audacity repelled him. “Merivale and I have a day filled with meetings tomorrow, and I would like to prepare for the discourse.”

  He made eye contact with Merivale and lifted his hand to keep the man from leaving the room. He politely excused himself from Lady Katherine’s company and went to his host seeking shelter from the clutches of yet another widow. “If anyone asks, you and I are in a meeting all day tomorrow.”

  “So they asked you to accompany them shopping, did they?” Merivale chortled.

  Cav nodded.

  Merivale began to walk with him as Cav made for the door. “I turned down my wife as well. I think I’d rather have teeth pulled.”

  “Business it is then.” Cav tossed back what was left of the wine in his glass. “I’m for bed. It’s been a long day.”

  No sooner had Cav mentioned seeking his rooms than several from his card table began to follow him out, Lady Katherine hot on his heels. When they reached the landing, she said, her voice the merest whisper, “My invitation still stands, Your Grace. I should love for you to visit. We can share another glass of wine. More if you’re interested?”

  “Thank you, no,” He moved closer to the doors of the library and a footman didn’t know whether to open the door for him or not. Cav nodded at the man. “If you will excuse me.”

  “I can think of something better to do than read,” the woman’s breath was laced with the scent of their host’s best brandy. Frankly, the woman was beginning to wear on his nerves.

  “As can I, Lady Katherine, except the person I wish to share that event with is not in this hallway.” Her expression changed from seductive to barely restrained anger. Cav wasn’t sorry he’d upset her. It was the only way to be rid of her.

  The thought of any sort of liaison with this woman caused a strange revulsion in him. Thirty years earlier and he would have taken her up on the invite. But today? Tangling with a clinging widow wasn’t high on his agenda. Besides, he was getting too old for this. That thought frightened him. Was he getting too old for this sort of thing? Funny, he didn’t feel this way the other day in the maze when he’d come across Miss. Either way, he needed to avoid this predator. He’d hate to leave Somerhill because of her when he’d yet to discover who his Miss was.

  Amelia’s dinner tray had come and gone, and when it was too dark outside for the guests to linger on one of the terraces or in the gardens, the entertainments moved indoors. Her room was near the top of the staircase and the sounds of merriment drifted upward from two floors below, a reminder that she was unwelcome among them. Not allowed. She tried to filter out the tittering voices of women as they carried up the open gallery area and stairwell. There was a horrendous rendition of a Mozart piece on the pianoforte and one woman attempted to sing Scarlatti only to quit part way through with giggles when she couldn’t reach the upper ranges.

  They were all well into their cups down there and Amelia wished there was a way to escape the noise. Remembering she still had a book to return to the library, she threw her gray silk wrap about her shoulders, lifted the book and went down the back stairs. The evening before, she’d found the grand library, encompassing two stories of this immense home. The books were all well bound and lovingly cared for, which soothed her book-binder’s soul.

  She made her way down to the second floor, the residence level, while the chatter continued below on the first floor. A footman in the hallway was kind enough to open the door and light a candelabra for her at the table near where she’d sat the night before.

  “I’ll be right outside the doors Miss if you need me to fetch you one from the top shelves,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  With the book from yesterday in hand she went directly to the shelf she’d taken it from and replaced it, then began to scan the contents of the bookcase, looking for another guidebook or book on the local history of Wessex, to find something explaining the stone circle near Somerhill. Once she spied one she took it to the table in the corner and began to inspect the stability of the aged binding. She carefully turned the pages and began to read the history of the area starting with the arrival of the Romans. An hour later, before she even reached the Norman invasion, she was already bored with the book. Normally she enjoyed history, but tonight found her mind wandering. Closing it, she debated whether to get another or just return to her room.

  Looking at the closed door, she heard people talking as they walked up the steps, and decided to stay put until the revelers had found their beds. She heard ribald conversation of the men and women strolling down the hallway to their various doors. The ladies giggled, tipsy from all the alcohol they’d consumed, while giving blatant invitations to the gentlemen. In the hallway, where anyone could hear them. Amelia heard that this sort of thing occurred at these aristocratic house parties, but she’d only half-believed it. To hear it going on so…so out in the open shocked her.

  Among the voices, she recognized her aunt’s. “Your Grace,” her aunt cooed, “are you certain you wouldn’t like to come to my room for a glass of wine?”

  Amelia stared at the door, horrified. Her aunt was inviting a man to her room! And not just any man either, but the very duke she’d set her cap on. It seemed she’d met and charmed her duke after all. Amelia felt a deep shame for the woman. For herself too, as she was related to her and living under the same roof.

  “Perhaps another night, Lady Katherine,” the man said. “I am tired and have a long day ahead….” His voice trailed down the hallway as they went toward their rooms.

  That voice too sounded familiar, though she couldn’t exactly place it. For a moment it sounded like Sir, the man she’d met in the maze. But surely not. He didn’t impress Amelia as having a title so lofty as a duke, and Aunt Katherine clearly called this man Your Grace. Too, dukes didn’t go around behaving in such a familiar manner with lowly companions either. Why, according to Aunt Katherine, her father’s family wanted nothing to do with her because of her low birth. And they shared the same ducal relative!

  Since she knew she would not be crossing paths with her aunt, Amelia decided it was time to leave her hiding place in the library and return to her tiny suite on the nursery level.

  The footsteps in the hallway faded, and when all was quiet she stood and made her way to the door. Before she could reach it, the handle turned and she dove into a darkened corner behind a tall suit of armor. She did not wish to be accosted by a drunken guest as happened at Lady Thetford’s musicale a few weeks earlier. On that particular evening, she’d just been able to evade the clumsy male guest who walked into the ladies retiring room as she was leaving. When he’d grabbed at her, she’d shoved at his shoulders hard, knocking the blundering oaf off balance and sending him to the floor. Amelia ran from the room and back to her seat along the wall of the ballroom where she watched the remainder of the program without incident. She had no idea what happened to the man, and didn’t care.

  Her heart raced as she stood with her back pressed against the wall behind the armor of some medieval relative of Lord Merivale’s. Footsteps entered, heavy, masculine-sounding, stopping nearby. She heard him take a seat near the table where she’d been reading. And here she was, trapped until he left! She wondered who it was. Though the armor was shorter that she, mounted on the pedestal base it was of an equal height to her and she couldn’t see over it or around it without calling attention to herself.

  It sounded as though only one person had come in, so it wasn’t lovers looking for a place to have a tryst. Lovers could be hours. She heard the man turn the pages of the book she’d just been reading. As silently as she could, she dared take a peek from behind her sheltering armor and noticed the back of the man’s head. He wasn’t facing her direction and inwardly she rejoiced that she might be able to escape without notice.

  Amelia decided it would hurt nothing for her to just leave. As close as she was to the door, she could be in the hallway in a trice. If she
remained silent, he might even believe she was a maid. But if the man made eye contact with her or greeted her, she would be obliged to return the greeting before continuing to the exit where hopefully a footman would escort her safely up to her room.

  She didn’t want any of the male guests stumbling their way into her rooms. She had to trust the lock would be enough to keep unwanted strangers from nefariously turning her doorknob. Stepping out from behind the case, she held her eyes cast downward to avoid eye contact and quickly made for the door.

  “Miss!” It was the voice of the man from the garden. “How long have you been hiding there?”

  Wearing a burgundy sateen jacket with black breeches and black boots polished to a mirror perfection, Sir’s gray eyes shone as silver as his waistcoat. He turned in his chair, facing her now that he’d recognized her. The relaxed manner in which he rested against the chair back told her he was at ease in this room, as though he’d been here many times.

  “I haven’t been hiding, Sir. I was reading a book and just put it away.” She looked at the hide-bound tome on the table and felt her cheeks burn as though she were under a microscope. Caught fibbing.

  “I hope it was more interesting than this history of the region I found.”

  “It was.” She tilted her head to the side, in a bob, preparing to leave. “If you will excuse me.” Amelia wanted to get out of there before they were caught, or worse. Though she knew she wasn’t of the same class as this guest, her reputation could be ruined if he accosted her, not his. It would behoove her to leave his company quickly.

  Before she could reach for the door handle, he rose and came to her side. “Don’t go,” he said. “I looked for you today. I thought we could continue our conversation. Before you disappeared you were going to tell me who your aunt is.”

  Muted footsteps sounded in the hallway but Amelia ignored them, presuming more guests were seeking their rooms. Then the door opened and with the swish of skirt and petticoat, they both heard the voice.