He laughed. “For being here such a short amount of time, you certainly know the countess.”
“Roland told me all about her.”
“Yes, I’m sure he did.”
This was an awkward subject matter to discuss. He’d heard rumors about his friend, ones that didn’t paint him in a favorable light. Until he had proof, he would say nothing. She fascinated him. Though he usually didn’t find himself drawn to outspoken women, he found this one to be a breath of fresh air. He’d thought that the moment he’d first met her.
“I enjoyed our ride, Your Grace.”
“Next time, we’ll ride across Sky View. It would be good for you to learn your way around the estate.”
She nodded. “I still want to look out from your tower, Your Grace.”
He barked out a laugh. “We’ll do that as well.”
Setting her teacup on the table, she smiled. “I’m sure you have more pressing matters than me. I should let you get back to them.”
“I’ve enjoyed your company, Mrs. Dawson.”
“As I have yours.”
He rose from his chair, setting his teacup down. “Let me see to the carriage.”
Gabriel left in search of the butler. He didn’t have to go far, as Simmons was speaking with a footman. The butler dismissed the footman and walked closer. “Your Grace?”
“See that the carriage is brought around. Mrs. Dawson is ready to leave.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’ll be all.”
He turned to walk back into the library. He normally wouldn’t have a young woman at the house, but Mrs. Dawson was a widow, thus making it possible for her to do things her unmarried counterparts couldn’t. Then again, she was American, and the rules of English aristocracy didn’t apply. Or so Mrs. Dawson thought.
Yes, indeed. She was quite interesting. He desired to get to know her better, but was unsure how he wanted to pursue their friendship. They were brought together by her son, and their lives would intermingle for many years to come. Did he simply want to be her son’s protector, or did he want to pursue more with the boy’s mother? He was torn, which was not like him.
He returned to the drawing room, where he found Savannah thumbing through a book of sonnets he’d left on a table. Gabriel found her to be quite lovely, even graceful. He inhaled as he tried to get his emotions under control.
Chapter Seven
The day of Lady Dorset’s soiree finally came. Though it was being held at Lady Margaret’s estate, Sky View was quite under siege, especially in the kitchen with the cooks frantically baking cakes and other sweets for the buffet. Savannah had managed to stay well out of the line of fire. Though she wanted to learn the British way of hosting such affairs, for once she was thankful she was American and that the countess had a distaste for them.
She hadn’t seen the duke except from afar when he personally brought Vincent back after his riding lessons. Her son adored the duke, but Savannah herself was unsure of how she felt about the man.
One moment, her heart melted. Emotions that made her feel as though she were betraying Roland. The next minute, she cursed herself for even carrying on a personal conversation with the duke. She was just a common American who would be ridiculous to set her sights on a duke and getting her hopes up would only result in getting her heart broken and Vincent’s relationship with the duke being jeopardized.
She made a vow to herself to stay away from him at all costs except for having to deal with him regarding Vincent. Then there were the other times, like riding with him. She couldn’t very well refuse him, at least not too many times, or it would seem rude. She simply couldn’t trust her feelings, and that unnerved her.
Sitting on a window seat in her rooms, Savannah glanced down into the gardens. They were one of the things she’d come to love about England. She thought back to Roland and how he tried to duplicate an English garden, but had miserably failed due to the fact he was not a gardener in any sense of the word. He was too proud to hire a man to do it, so what few gardens their house had were small, planted and maintained by Savannah.
Roland had always been busy. His shipping and railroad interests had taken off, and he even expanded to England, though he had a man to handle the affairs back on English soil. She’d often wondered why he’d gone to the Caribbean that fateful voyage. He seldom if ever traveled by ship, having experienced a couple of bad voyages, which was what made it so hard to accept his death.
Once this affair was over, she needed to go to London and meet with Roland’s man of business and see where matters stood. Which brought her to another conundrum. She needed someone who was well-versed in business to accompany her in order to make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of. Unfortunately, the only man who came to mind was the duke, but he would be the best choice, and she knew he wouldn’t refuse her. Vincent’s future interests were at stake, and even if the businesses were sold off, the duke would make sure she got a fair price, or he would make sure they were run correctly.
Savannah was pulled out of her thoughts by her lady’s maid. She could hear the young woman in the background as she got Savannah’s things in order.
“I have a bath drawn, madam,” Abbott said before disappearing from sight.
“Thank you, Norma,” Savannah called out after her. Though the countess had reprimanded her for using the woman’s Christian name, Savannah could not bear the thought of addressing her maid with such disregard.
Savannah walked to the dressing room, where she allowed Norma to help her undress. She noted the sapphire-blue gown she was to wear laid out neatly. Never had she worn anything quite so elaborate, but as the countess had reminded her, she was the mother of an earl. Meaning expectations had changed. The local modiste had sewn the dress, as there had been no time to go to London. London would wait until the next week. Lady Dorset had already written her modiste and made an appointment for Savannah to be fitted with an entire new wardrobe. It would be the first time she’d ever been fitted by someone trained in France.
She wanted to soak longer in the tub, but Norma fussed at her, saying they were running behind and that the countess did not like tardiness, so instead, she got out, dried herself off, and went to stand by the hearth while Norma assisted her.
Finally, she gazed at herself in the mirror. She had to admit the gown was breathtaking and would make an unforgettable impression. The bodice was cut in such a way that more cleavage than she was used to baring showed. With her jewelry collection being small and understated, Savannah chose a pearl choker to wear. It was the best she could do until she went to London. She was pleased and made sure to thank Norma for her efforts.
She made her way downstairs, where the countess was waiting for her in the drawing room. One look at her pinched lips, and Savannah knew she was tardy, at least in the countess’s eyes. She had meant to visit with Vincent before she left, but time had gotten away from her, and the countess would not tolerate waiting on Savannah while she went to the nursery.
Instead, when Savannah entered the drawing room, the countess rose from a dark blue damask chair and came toward her. She stopped momentarily to study Savannah up and down before breezing past her. “Come, we must leave now. Lady Margaret was expecting us to already be there.”
“My apologies for my tardiness.”
“Too late for apologies now. We need to be on our way.”
She followed the countess out of the drawing room and outside to where the carriage awaited them. Ascending after the countess, Savannah took the rear-facing seat in order to give the countess more room. She knew the countess wasn’t one for small talk, especially with her, so Savannah sat with her hands folded on her lap.
The pair rode in silence the short distance to Lady Margaret’s estate. Again Savannah was amazed at all the detail. A large fountain laid claim to the center of the entrance. Carriages had to stop in front of it at the front door.
Candles were lit in every window, making
the house seem almost magical. As they neared the tall, dark wood double doors, torches blazed from their holders.
They entered the house, where Lady Margaret and her husband stood in a reception line. They were announced by a very old, stodgy butler. Lady Dorset took her place beside her dear friend. As Savannah attempted to follow the countess’s lead, she was dismissed by Lady Dorset. The gesture caught Savannah off guard, as it was a deliberate swipe at her.
“Go on to the ballroom,” the dowager countess said. “I’m sure you can manage on your own.”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll be quite fine,” Savannah replied before turning to walk across the room along with fellow partygoers. She would be damned if she’d allow the woman to upset her.
Savannah saw no one else she really knew, but noted some of the faces were vaguely familiar. Then she noticed the Duke of Clevedon standing across the room, talking with a small group of ladies. If he’d seen her, he didn’t let on. No, she mused, he hadn’t seen her. He was too busy making idle conversation with the giggling young women to notice her.
She had no reason to expect anything from him. Though she understood he made a habit to watch Vincent ride during his lessons, the duke had not invited her riding again and was having no problem avoiding her. Why did she let him get under her skin? She needed to stay away from this man. She would never be elevated enough to move in his social circles. She would be polite this evening, but she wasn’t going to be fooled by his charm.
Another gentleman approached the small group. Savannah was unsure who the man was as she knew almost no one, and her mother-in-law had made no effort to try to introduce her to anyone. That was what this evening was supposed to be about, but Savannah felt as though the countess was doing her best to make her feel unwelcome. Perhaps with time, the older woman would mellow. She surely loved her grandson, Vincent, who made her eyes light up whenever he was around. It had to be because Vincent favored his late father in so many ways. He certainly looked more like his father than her, and some of his mannerisms were the same as Roland’s. It was almost as though a younger version of Roland were present, and that seemed to bring the countess great comfort. Even a woman with an acid tongue would melt.
She skirted the perimeter of the ballroom. It wasn’t a large crowd, but not knowing anyone made being on her own all the more painful.
“Good evening, Mrs. Dawson. I thought the countess would have you busy and not leave you alone acting like a scared doe.” The familiar voice of the duke caught her off guard, and she was afraid it showed. There were plenty of young ladies and their mothers vying for his attention, why must he seek her out.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” she replied. She studied the tile floor as she desperately tried not to peer into his eyes. She was unable to hide her feelings and any eye contact would immediately give away her most intimate thoughts. “The countess is busy with Lady Margaret, and I’m hardly anything like a scared doe.”
“Really, the way you gaze upon everyone with fear makes me wonder if you aren’t a terrified young deer.”
He was comparing her to a deer? Still? How annoying could he be? Obviously, this was solely her opinion, as all the other young women seemed in awe. Of course, they were attempting to catch his attention. Clevedon, however, appeared unfazed by any of his feminine followers.
His gaze shifted downward to the empty dance card on her wrist. “I can hardly believe your dance card isn’t full,” he said reaching toward it. “Here, allow me to take two dances.”
“It’s empty because I know no one. Besides, who wants to dance with a matron?”
“I do.”
She tried not to stare at him as he stood before her in a black suit, with a crisp white shirt and cravat. The jacket and trousers fit him perfectly, obviously he had one of London’s finest tailors at his disposal. His golden-brown hair hung just at the collar, and he was freshly shaved. It ought to be a sin for a man to be so handsome. “Your Grace, please don’t pity me.”
“Pity you? Hardly.”
She arched a brow. “Don’t you like to dance?”
“Not particularly, but I do make exceptions, and besides, I want to dance with you.”
“Because I have no mother hovering near me who has great expectations of marrying her daughter off to a duke?”
He cocked her a grin. “I always knew you were an intelligent woman, Mrs. Dawson.” He passed her dance card back to her. “We have the next waltz, and another one later, if that meets with your approval.”
“Pretty sure of yourself for a man who doesn’t dance.”
“I can assure you I dance decently, though I’m not as good at some of the livelier ones.”
“I find that hard to believe, Your Grace.” Savannah shook her head. “Aren’t you afraid what people might say? Besides, I’m sure you have more important things to do, like visit your friends in the cardroom.”
“I don’t care about what other people think, and I cannot abide you being by yourself. At least allow me to introduce you to some of guests.”
“Very well. If you’re sure, Your Grace.”
“Of course I’m sure. I cannot leave you alone. It isn’t proper.”
Savannah walked alongside the duke as he introduced her to people. They respected him, though she was sure part of that was because he was a duke. That alone commanded respect. She imagined most had known him since he was a boy.
The music started up for another set, and the duke led her onto the dance floor. “I believe this is my dance,” he said, gathering her in his arms. A rush of feelings came over her as she placed her hand in his and the other on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” He granted her a smile before leading her around the room.
Couples swirled by. Everything and everyone were a blur to her, all but the duke. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see young women and their mothers watching the two of them with interest. Then the outline of Lady Dorset came into her line of sight. Savannah could tell she was displeased by the way she pursed her lips in disdain.
“Oh dear, the countess doesn’t seem at all happy we’re dancing,” she moaned.
“She has no reason to be displeased. If she’d introduced you properly, you might be dancing with another man. I can’t imagine why she would be unhappy I’ve chosen to dance with you, being as I usually only dance one or two times at any given soiree.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t want you to feel obligated. I know I don’t. You’re doing enough overseeing Vincent and his education.”
He smiled. “He’s come a long way. Vincent’s a very likeable young man. I foresee him doing quite well for himself in the future. The earldom will thrive with him.”
“You are too kind, Your Grace,” she replied. She blushed at his comments. It had been a long time since anyone had said anything positive about her or her son. Not even the countess would crack her tough exterior for a compliment or kind word.
“My pleasure, and enough with the Your Graces. I get that enough from everyone else. So much so, I sometimes feel like I’ve turned into my father.”
She giggled. “You have, in a way.”
“What?”
“You have turned into your father. At least as far as being the duke. As the man, I wouldn’t know, since I never knew your father.”
The dance was unfortunately coming to an end, and Savannah didn’t want it to. She wanted, at this moment, for everything to continue as it was. Tonight, she felt like she was in a fairy tale, but what sort of ending would it have? Right now, this minute, he was caring and interested in what she had to say.
He reluctantly led her off the dance floor. She had just agreed to take refreshment with him when the countess approached.
She tsked quietly so as not to be heard. “My dear, you mustn’t monopolize all the duke’s time.”
“I can assure you, madam, that my time has not been monopolized by your daughter-in-law. I find her charming and delightful.”
His compliments made her blush onc
e again.
“You are too kind, Your Grace, but I know Lord Simpson was searching for you. Something about racehorses I’m sure,” the dowager countess said.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to find him as soon as I know Mrs. Dawson is comfortable.”
The dowager countess had no alternative but to remain silent and nod as he led Savannah toward the refreshment table.
“The woman has no boundaries,” he muttered.
“No, she doesn’t.”
He found a passing footman and took two glasses of lemonade. “If I didn’t know she would reprimand you later, I’d ask you to go for a walk in the gardens.”
“I’m not a child, Your Grace...Gabriel. If I want to take a turn in the garden with you, I will.” She addressed him with a cheeky smile.
“You will?” he asked, startled.
“Yes. I’m in no need of a chaperone. I can go where I want, with whom I want.”
She could tell by his grin that this not only pleased him, but it caught him off guard. She spoke her mind, always had. It was a trait she’d tried to keep under control while Roland was alive. Now, as a young widow with a child, if she didn’t speak up for herself, who would?
* * *
“Clevedon? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Viscount Long chuckled. He raised a glass of brandy to his lips. “Whoever she is, you’re obviously quite taken with her.”
Long was a portly man. His hair was thinning, and his face was a mottled red from too much drink. He and Gabriel had known each other since university, but time had done its damage to Long far too soon. No longer was he the spry, muscular young man Gabriel had once known. Instead, Long had gotten caught up in politics, waiting for the day he would take his place in Parliament. Until his father died, Long was stuck on the sidelines, which didn’t bode well for him.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Gabriel replied. “My thoughts were with another shipment from the Caribbean being lost at sea.”
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