Finally, somewhere in the bowels of the house, footsteps. They were so faint and yet, so unmistakably clear.
Someone was coming.
“It’s Andrew.” Louisa gasped.
“Quick. We mustn’t act as though we’ve been waiting.” Viv waved her hands at the seats.
“I should hardly think that’s necessary.” Johanna remained where she was, moving only to put her hands on her hips.
Viv frowned. “Why ever not?”
As soon as the question was asked, the door opened. It was as if a locomotive had careened into the drawing room, leaving a trail of grease all across the Aubusson rugs.
But it was only Mallard.
“Because we didn’t hear Andrew’s door open,” Johanna said with a polite smile for the butler.
Viv slowly closed her eyes, never one to show her frustration with her younger sisters. Eliza scratched at Henry’s head furiously, and he pushed at her hand with his nose. She looked down at him apologetically.
“I thought you might want for some fresh tea, Your Grace,” he said with a bow to Viv.
She smiled, folding her hands in her lap. “That would be quite wonderful. Thank you, Mallard.” She said nothing more but tilted her head ever so much to the right.
Mallard gave a nod and without further prompting said, “His Grace has granted an audience to the Duke of Ashbourne. He asked specifically for the duke upon his arrival.”
Viv’s smile broadened. “Very good, Mallard. Thank you.”
The butler withdrew, and as if his existence pulled the oxygen from the room with him, Louisa let out a magnificent sigh.
“This is entirely too much.” She turned to Eliza, her gaze penetrating. “Whatever did you speak of with the duke to cause such a swift reaction?”
“Hounds.” The word propelled itself from her lips. The only thing she could really say.
For how was she to tell her sisters the simple touch of his hand at her waist had made her…whimper? The memory of his scent haunted her? The warm browns of his eyes reminded her of…Henry’s.
She gave herself a mental shake.
He hardly reminded her of a dog. That wasn’t the case. But his eyes.
God, his eyes went on forever.
She didn’t know that was possible in a creature other than a dog.
She moved closer to the center of the room, skirting the chair where Johanna had resumed her roost.
“Why would it be so hard to believe I could not instill a sense of urgency in the duke?” She hadn’t meant to ask the question, and she should never have asked it so forcefully of her poor sister. Not Louisa anyway. Louisa had not a single mean bone in her entire body.
So why was Eliza suddenly so defensive?
Louisa’s smile tipped to one side. “Urgency?” She took an eager step toward Eliza. “Is that what you felt with the duke? Oh, you must explain.”
Viv leaned back in the sofa to peer up at her. “Urgency? What sort of urgency?”
This time Eliza shook her head for all to see, holding up her hands as if to physically stop the questions. “This is getting out of hand. I hadn’t meant any urgency at all.”
“Well, that’s good to hear as the duke is quite urgent in his request.”
All eyes flew to the door.
They had not heard the door open or Andrew enter as they had been too busy arguing, or rather not arguing, with one another.
The very air slipped from Eliza’s lungs like a scared pup, and she was left with a mouth hanging half open on a sentence she could no longer remember.
Viv came to her feet. “He’s asked for her hand then.”
Andrew slid her a glance, but his eyes returned to Eliza without pause. “If you would excuse us, I must speak with Eliza in private.”
Johanna stepped up behind her. “I think we should stay.” She put her hand on Eliza’s shoulder, drawing a small growl from Henry.
Eliza quickly patted his head to let him know it was all right, but it needn’t matter. Andrew was adamant.
“I think not. I wish to speak to Eliza privately. For her sake.”
Viv gestured to Louisa and Johanna. “Come then, ladies. We mustn’t keep the duke waiting.”
Louisa maintained eye contact with her brother as she dragged her feet in the direction of the door while Johanna was a little more obvious about it.
She stepped up to Andrew and poked him in the chest. “You better do what’s right by Eliza, dear brother.” She didn’t wait for a reply and followed Louisa out the door.
Viv never moved.
Henry whined next to her, and Eliza put her hand on his head, unsure herself.
Andrew tilted his head. “Viv?”
She blinked. “Surely you don’t mean to make me leave as well?”
Andrew returned his gaze to Eliza, his gaze steady, studying. “I do mean. This is Eliza’s future. Not yours.”
Viv squared her shoulders. “But I may offer some assistance—”
“Out.” The single word was a bark, and as Andrew had never been the barking sort, Viv left without another word.
The door clicked shut. Such a simple sound to mark Eliza’s fate.
She removed her hand from Henry’s head, not wanting to tear out the poor dog’s fur unknowingly as she heard what Andrew had to say.
“The Duke of Ashbourne has requested your hand in marriage.”
That was about what she expected him to say and still—her heart sped up a bit.
She’d known since Viv had returned to Ravenwood House that her fate was unerringly being pushed in the direction of marriage, but she never believed it would happen so quickly.
And with the Jilted Duke no less.
“I see,” she said because it appeared as though Andrew wished for a response.
“He offers a favorable agreement and has accepted the terms of your dowry.” The way he said it made her sound as though he’d negotiated with Ashbourne over how to divvy up the parts of a prized steer.
Eliza could have done worse.
“Well, then it’s all arranged, I should think.” While the words slipped from her lips with ease, her mind raced, poking at the dark recesses, searching, prodding, for…something.
They were determining her future right at that very moment, and her mind was an utter blank.
All she could remember was how the Duke of Ashbourne smelled.
How he had touched her.
How he had attempted to hide a smile from her.
She knew better than to hope that one day he may love her. Men did not fall in love with women like Eliza. But perhaps one day she may find contentment. And that was far greater than anything she could have hoped for only just yesterday.
Andrew drew closer to her. He was tall as their father had been but he had their mother’s coloring. Soft browns, deep eyes, and a wide smile.
In a startling flash, she realized Andrew just might be a catch for some other debutante that season. It made her smile at the thought.
But then Andrew spoke. “You know I would never agree to this without your consent, Eliza, and I must say—” He stopped as if he’d run out of words entirely.
“The Jilted Duke is an odd choice for a marriage partner?” she suggested.
Andrew frowned. “To put it plainly.”
This did make her smile as Andrew was singularly the most irritated family member when it came to her wit.
“I would agree it is rather unorthodox, but aside from the business with his previous attempt at a proposal, I should say the Duke of Ashbourne is respectable, well liked in his circles, and an exemplarily member of Parliament.”
Andrew cocked an eyebrow. “You know of his record in Parliament?”
She gave an aborted wave. “I’ve read of him in the papers, of course.”
Andrew did not like his sisters reading the papers either, and this drew a deeper frown from him. It wasn’t that Andrew did not think his sisters were entitled to be well informed and educated. Rather he feared h
is sisters being well informed and educated as any smart man would.
“So then you are inclined to accept his proposal?” The skepticism was not missed in his voice.
Something glided over her then, like a soft blanket tossed over a sleeping child, falling to cover its form in a silent shield of slumber. Inevitability. That was what it was. In that instance she could see her whole life spread out before her, neatly planned and determined by her simple acceptance of the Duke of Ashbourne’s suit.
If it were so simple, why was her stomach twisted about itself?
Sandalwood.
He smelled of sandalwood.
But there was something else there.
For a blinding moment, it occurred to her she could very well fall in love with the Duke of Ashbourne based only on his scent.
It was a ludicrous idea but once thought it was there.
She had no business falling in love with the man. He would never love her, and it would only cause her pain.
But was the pain of being unloved worse than the pain of being utterly alone?
She looked at Henry.
Never alone. Not when she had Henry.
She raised her eyes to Andrew. “Yes. Yes, I am inclined to accept his proposal.”
Andrew didn’t move right away. It was as if he cataloged his thoughts as he stood there before her. He must have reached a satisfactory conclusion for he stepped back, gave a neat bow.
“I shall send Ashbourne in then to speak with you directly as is our custom.”
She smiled, grateful that the Darby men considered the feelings of the women in their family when it came to matters directly affecting them.
Andrew stopped his retreat, turned back, and pulled her into an unexpected hug. While their family was close, they weren’t ones to engage in physical affection, and the gesture surprised her. It was a beat before she remembered to fold her arms around him. He backed up nearly as quickly as he’d come and left.
Henry whined beside her, the noise soft and questioning. She knelt to properly scratch at his ears and nuzzle her nose against his.
“It’s all right, lad,” she whispered. “I’m sure he’ll like you just as well as I do.”
She knew that couldn’t possibly be true. No one could love Henry more than she did. She straightened and brushed at her skirts, shedding the strands of dog hair that had become affixed to the muslin.
That was why she didn’t see Ashbourne enter. That was why Henry’s growl was unexpected.
That was why she didn’t catch the dog before he launched himself at the Jilted Duke.
* * *
The lady did indeed have a fondness for hounds.
This was the thought that zipped through his brain as the largest, hairiest beast he’d ever witnessed on four paws flew through the air, jaws wide, fangs glinting in the morning sun, his enormous bite ready to clench around Dax’s most vulnerable parts.
But the bite never came.
Instead a piercing whistle split the air, and the command, “Touch!” rang through the room.
As none of what Dax had been about that day made any particular sense to him, this course of events fit in perfectly.
When his senses righted and he was able to take in the room again, he saw the dog had retreated at the sound of the whistle, spun about in mid-lunge, and returned to press his nose into his mistress’s hand.
Dax blinked, one thought tumbling over another, but none clearer than this.
If she had the power to quell the natural instinct of a herding dog with the mere pursing of her lips, he had absolutely no hope of surviving this marriage.
That prickle of awareness surged along the back of his neck once more.
“A landrace collie, I presume?” He stood perfectly still, not wishing to incite the beast any further.
Eliza’s brow creased, a study in curious bemusement. “He’s never done that before.” The words were spoken so softly, so proudly, he felt guilty for having heard them. But then she straightened, meeting his gaze directly as he was finding she did with regular frequency. “This is Henry. He’s a Scottish collie of the rough haired variety.”
“Scottish?” He tried a smile, and the dog emitted a low growl. He dropped his face into a neutral position. “How wild.”
“Scottish collies are some of the hardest working dogs and excel at agility and herding.” Her words were solid, certain, and while she had not raised her voice in the slightest, he felt properly scolded.
“Henry, you say?” Another low growl.
Eliza put her hands to her hips and oddly enough, turned her attention to the dog. “Really, Henry, you’ve exhibited your prowess quite enough for one day. Do you have a bit of mutton or ham perhaps?”
It was a moment before he realized this last part was directed at him. He patted his pockets before he gathered the absurdity of her question.
“I seem to be completely out of either. How thoughtless of me.” He gestured to her. “Do you carry around bits of meat with you?”
He was coming to understand Lady Eliza was far different than most of the debutantes he encountered, and perhaps a question such as the one he’d just posed involving meats wasn’t so outlandish. A flicker of concern flared inside of him, but it was promptly extinguished when he recalled his goal. A wife who carried meat morsels in her pockets was not one with whom he would ever be in danger of falling in love.
A single eyebrow appeared above the frame of her gold spectacles. “I should hardly think that prudent, Your Grace.”
His expression fell. So she thought it outlandish too. Perhaps she jested with him.
He cleared his throat. This was going to be more difficult than he had first surmised.
“Lady Eliza, I do hope you are well, and I do beg your pardon for calling so unexpectedly after so soon making your acquaintance.”
“You’re not sorry at all.” She scratched absently at the head of her dog—what had she called him? Henry?—but her expression remained focused and attentive.
“I’m sorry?”
“Precisely.” She withdrew her hand, folding them both against her stomach. “You’re not at all sorry. My brother informs me that you have come here with intentions. I believe it is best if we speak of them now. There’s no need to carry this on any longer than necessary.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her quiet practicality. He recalled only too well her forthrightness at Lady Sudsbury’s ball, and that tickle of unease went through him. He dropped his gaze to the dog who lounged deceptively against her side, and her parting words rushed back to him.
What had happened to Lady Eliza that caused her to draw such comfort from a dog?
He moved his gaze to her face, unerringly finding those ever-changing eyes she hid behind those damned lenses. He shouldn’t be so interested. Even more, she shouldn’t stir such concern in him. Wasn’t the whole intent of his plan to seek a wife who stirred nothing within him?
He cleared his throat. “I can see the wisdom in that, Lady Eliza.”
She moved her chin up a notch. “Eliza.”
He studied her, and he was suddenly struck with the realization that her pronouncement had taken a great deal out of her. Any number of widows and lonely wives had invited him to call them by their given names, usually when he was between their thighs, and yet this was likely the most difficult thing Lady Eliza had ever attempted, asking him to call her by her given name. He couldn’t help it when his gaze dropped to the dog again.
“Eliza.” He said the word like it were a token, a magical incantation. His hands shook ever so slightly, and sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
This was to be a simple proposal of marriage. When he’d set out that morning, he had been exuberant with the idea he would soon have exactly what he needed—an unattractive wife with whom he could beget an heir without ever being in danger of falling in love with her. And now he shook from simply saying her name?
He swallowed. “Eliza—”
He took
a step forward and immediately realized his mistake. Henry bristled, his jowls flapping with a growl.
“Stop.” The word was clipped, and it took him a moment to realize it was directed at him. “Henry clearly perceives you as some kind of danger. Will you excuse me for one moment?”
He blinked. “You’re leaving?”
She had walked to the other side of the sofa that aligned the seating area in the room, and she paused as if his question startled her.
“Do you wish to have this conversation with your dignity intact?”
He squelched the smile that came to his lips at her words. “Yes, I believe I would.”
She nodded and left, the dog trailing after her.
He wasn’t alone for long. Surely not long enough for him to contemplate what his turmoil of emotions meant because soon she returned with Henry bounding after her.
“You brought him back?”
She eyed him sharply. “Of course, I did. If the two of you are to live peacefully together, he must learn you’re not a threat.”
Delicious tension coiled in the pit of his stomach at her words, and he realized with a jolt exactly what kind of threat he was thinking of and that would not do at all.
“Live together?”
She had been making odd hand gestures to the dog who’d responded by going flat on his belly on the floor, and she turned fearful eyes to him.
“You did speak with my brother about my hand in marriage, did you not?”
“Yes, I did but—”
“Well, if you should still desire my hand, then you should know Henry is coming with me. There is no question in regards to that.”
He considered the dog, now prone on the ground and staring adoringly up at his mistress.
“I can see that now, but—”
Her hands dropped, and she looked away so quickly he missed the expression on her face.
“I see then. You’ve changed your mind. Come, Henry. We shan’t take up any more of the duke’s time.”
He reached for her before he realized the error of it. He had thought the dog placid at his mistress’s feet but at his first reach, the dog lunged, surging to his feet and plunging toward Dax.
The Duke and the Wallflower Page 3
