Never Dare a Duke

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Absolutely, ma’am.’ Farrah bit her lip, choosing amusement in preference to taking offence. ‘How could I not when you have reminded me of my good fortune countless times during the course of this journey?’

  ‘Yes, well…just remember your place and do everything you can to promote Hazel’s cause.’

  Farrah assured the countess that she would comply with her wishes, but did not tell her which cause she intended to promote.

  ‘And you, Ellen, I am aware that you are only just sixteen, but it’s never too early to look for a husband. There will be several eligible gentlemen at this party, including one of the duke’s closest friends, Lord Nyle Gower. He is the Marquess of Bray’s younger brother. And the Earl Hardy is attending, too. Both are wealthy, popular and pleasant young aristocrats and it would be gratifying if you and your sister were married to gentlemen who get along with one another. Botheration! Can’t our driver take more care?’ she demanded crossly when their conveyance lurched into a hole that the team struggled to extricate it from. ‘We shall not be fit to be seen upon arrival if he will insist upon throwing us about. This situation would not have arisen if your father had still been alive, girls. Servants take the most shocking advantage when there isn’t a gentleman on hand to ensure that they carry out their duties efficiently. I do not know what the world is coming to, indeed I do not.’

  Farrah refrained from pointing out that the roads had been reduced to quagmires following the persistent heavy rains and that the poor driver had done a sterling job in travelling as far and as fast as he had without mishap.

  ‘Anyway, set your sights on Lord Hardy, my dear,’ the countess said, patting Ellen’s hand. ‘He is the better situated.’

  Farrah and Hazel shared a smile as the countess ran on about eligible parties. Farrah stared out the window at the passing scenery, feeling rather sorry for Robert when the rain began to fall harder. He wore a thick greatcoat with multiple caps and a hat with a wide brim, but even so he must have felt the conditions keenly. They had been on the road for several days, but Robert’s demeanour had remained indefatigably cheerful despite the appalling weather. Farrah, whose temperament could at best be described as mercurial, admired his tenacity.

  But that was all she admired about him, even though she had seen the devoted look in his eye whenever he made an excuse to converse with her, which was frequently. She didn’t want to encourage him when she didn’t return his feelings, but she didn’t have it in her to be deliberately unkind either. Besides, she enjoyed irritating Lady Beardsley by pretending an interest in her precious son that didn’t actually exist.

  ‘The duchess and I have high hopes of Robert and Lady Avril forming an alliance,’ the countess said in a low voice, even though there wasn’t the slightest chance of anyone overhearing her. Anyone other than Farrah, that is, for whose sake this confidence had probably been shared.

  ‘Is Robert aware of your plans for him, Mama?’ Hazel asked innocently.

  ‘Of course not, foolish child! I hope I possess more subtlety than that.’ Farrah turned a choking laugh into a cough. ‘Lady Avril and Robert have got along famously on the few occasions when they’ve met before.’ Farrah refrained from pointing out that Robert was so easy going that he got along with everyone. ‘It would be an ideal match for them both, and it would bring you great comfort, my dear,’ she added, addressing Hazel, ‘to have your brother married to your future husband’s sister.’

  ‘I do not have a future husband, Mama,’ Hazel said wearily. ‘From what I have heard about the duke, he will not be coerced into doing anything he would prefer not to, and I have no intention of fawning over him. If he likes me then he must make the running.’

  ‘Silly girl!’ The countess flapped a hand in dismissal of Hazel’s opinion. ‘Men need encouragement. They never know their own minds.’

  Farrah resumed her scrutiny of the passing scenery, pondering upon the countess’s ability to neatly pair people off to suit her own purposes with little or no regard for their own feelings. Hopefully, the gentlemen she wished to manipulate wouldn’t be quite as obliging as she appeared to think. If they were, then Farrah wouldn’t want to know them. She couldn’t abide men who allowed their female relatives to organise their lives for them.

  She sighed, wishing that she had not agreed to come on this journey. The countess would certainly have preferred it if she had not, despite the fact that she represented no competition to her aspirations whatsoever. She had agreed to stay with her close friend Hazel until Christmas, at which time her father, who was currently in France, would call to collect her.

  When an invitation to this hastily arranged shooting party had arrived, Farrah could have used it as an excuse to go home to Hampshire, where her father’s house was always fully staffed. But Hazel, aware of what her mother hoped to achieve by forcing her and the duke into the same room, had begged Farrah not to desert her. She found the courage to stand up to her mother and told her that she would only attend herself if the invitation was extended to include Farrah. Farrah knew how hard it was to make the countess do anything she would prefer not to, so when she gave in to Hazel’s demands—albeit with patent reluctance—Farrah had been trapped into attending.

  Now she was curious to meet the elusive duke. A man whom the entire world had been talking about, or so it sometimes seemed, since his return to England after ten years making his fortune in India. It was peculiar, Farrah thought, that the countess thoroughly disapproved of Farrah’s father for turning to trade to keep the wolf from the door. He was a marquess’s grandson, and although untitled his background was impeccable and he was accepted everywhere. Or had been until he tried his hand at commerce, at which point more than one nose was turned up in disdain, as though he had somehow let the side down.

  The duke had done exactly the same thing and yet no one criticised him. Farrah suspected that he would prove proud and aloof, and she had already taken him in dislike as a consequence. But it wouldn’t matter since he would scarcely notice her. She had no intention of putting herself forward since she was most definitely not on the prowl for a husband. Nor was she as pretty as Hazel, certainly not as accomplished or sweet-natured—and definitely incapable of keeping her opinions to herself.

  ‘Ah, we have almost arrived at last, I think,’ the countess said, peering through the rain dripping down the window as they entered a village and the carriage slowed to walking pace. ‘This is Bovey Tracey, the nearest town to our destination, and most of its inhabitants owe their livelihoods to the Wentworth Abbey estate. I recall the place from a previous visit. It’s quite pretty in the summer months and very close to the moors, although I would advise against venturing onto them without the duke’s company.’ She shuddered. ‘Wild, inhospitable places, full of bandits ready to cut one’s throat, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘And you wish me to live here, Mama?’ Hazel said, widening her eyes in innocent enquiry as she squeezed Farrah’s fingers.

  ‘Bah! No one would dare to attack a duchess. Besides, you will never venture out alone. That wouldn’t be the done thing at all.’

  ‘We will have spirited horses and charge across the moors in men’s clothing,’ Farrah said in a quiet aside to Hazel when the countess’s attention was distracted by a question from Ellen.

  ‘We shall not be anywhere near the place if I have any say in the matter,’ Hazel whispered back.

  A further ten minutes saw the carriage turn between ornate gateposts, where a smartly liveried porter gave them a salute and waved them towards a long gravel driveway. Both girls craned their necks to see the mansion as it slowly came into view through the rain and mist. Solid and rambling, it should have been impressive but looked rather gloomy to Farrah, a perfect match for her mood. She reasoned that most houses wouldn’t display to their best advantage at this time of year or in such weather. She saw a flock of soggy sheep, huddled together beneath the almost bare branches of a tree looking miserable, and shared that sentiment.

  ‘It u
sed to be an abbey,’ Hazel said. ‘I wonder if ghosts of monks from centuries past haunt the place at night.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Hazel,’ her mother snapped. ‘They would not dare to inconvenience a duke.’

  This time Farrah’s laughter refused to be suppressed, earning her a frown of disapproval from the countess when it burst forth.

  ‘It is vulgar to laugh aloud, Miss Dorset. I hope you will be better behaved in the duke’s presence.’

  ‘I shall be a paragon of virtue, I do assure your ladyship.’

  The carriage came to a halt at the entrance portico. Farrah felt a strong sense of foreboding as she alighted from it in Hazel’s wake. She glanced up at the grey stone walls, feeling as though she was being watched from behind one of the many windows, and that her presence was resented. That possibility gave Farrah heart. She was a contrary creature and never backed down from a challenge.

  ‘What do you think?’ Hazel asked, linking her arm through Farrah’s as the two of them continued to stare up at the building. The countess was busy giving directions about their luggage, even though Farrah was perfectly sure that the duke’s servants, an army of whom had descended upon the carriage, didn’t need to be reminded of their duty. A stately butler had appeared holding an umbrella over the countess and Ellen as they ascended the steps, to be greeted by an older lady with dignified civility. The dowager duchess, presumably.

  ‘I was just wondering what stories these walls would have to tell if they could talk. The things they must have seen over the centuries.’ She squeezed Hazel’s arm. ‘But I dare say your mind is more agreeably occupied, filled with thoughts of your Mr Anglesey. I expect he has arrived already and is watching you from behind one of those windows.’

  ‘Oh, Farrah, please don’t joke about such matters. I have absolutely no idea how to resolve the impasse I find myself in. But my heart will break if I cannot be with Daniel for the rest of my days.’

  ‘I would happily help you by making the duke fall in love with me instead of you if I had the first idea how to go about it, then your mother couldn’t lay the blame at your door if he doesn’t offer for you. But I’m sure he won’t notice me, especially if I am standing at your side.’

  ‘What nonsense!’ Hazel protested. ‘You are lovely, and well educated, and the best possible friend any person could wish for. My brother would marry you in a heartbeat. He is quite infatuated, you know.’

  Farrah grinned. ‘I am almost tempted to accept him, if only to annoy your mother.’

  ‘Farrah!’

  ‘Sorry. Anyway, fear not. We have a whole week here and there must be endless places where you and Daniel can steal a few minutes alone together. Things have a way of resolving themselves in such circumstances.’

  ‘Come along girls,’ the countess called impatiently. ‘You will be soaked to the skin and not fit to be seen if you will insist upon standing about in the rain.’

  ‘Let the sport commence,’ Farrah muttered beneath her breath as she and Hazel dutifully ascended the steps and made their curtsies to the duchess.

  Chapter Two

  Brin took the bath that had been prepared for him, then stood dripping at the window with just a towel wrapped around his waist, watching as a carriage arrived in the pouring rain. The trees that lined the drive swayed in the wind and dripped rainwater, as if in sympathy with Brin. Harlow, his valet and trusted friend who had been with him all through most of his years in India before returning to England to arrange the renovations, stood at his shoulder. Harlow knew all Brin’s secrets and could be depended upon to act with complete discretion in his service. He also didn’t hesitate to speak his mind and give Brin the benefit of his advice—whether Brin asked for it or not.

  His mother, sensing the deep bond between them, had suggested upon Brin’s return from India that Harlow be pensioned off to make way for a younger man. But Harlow was far from old and had years’ worth of service left in him yet. Besides, Brin did not reward loyalty by casting it aside. His mother resented the fact that Harlow enjoyed a closer relationship with her only son than she ever would. What else could she expect, Brin wondered? It was a little late now for the duchess to play the doting mother when all she really wanted to do was dominate Brin’s life in much the same way as she dominated the lives of her daughters.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Harlow asked.

  ‘Who’s that arriving?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the chit the duchess has in mind for you, accounting for the fact that she’s taken the trouble to greet them at the door in person, no doubt.’

  ‘Which one?’

  Brin’s attention remained focused on two females standing in the rain, staring up at the abbey with rapt fascination. The one on the left was slightly taller and held his interest for reasons he was unable to fathom. He couldn’t see their faces beneath the wide brims of their bonnets, despite the fact that they were both looking up. Then the taller girl tilted her head back a little more and it felt as though she had fastened her gaze directly upon him. Brin wanted to look away but something stronger than his own will prevented him from moving a muscle.

  ‘The one on the right. Pretty little piece, so she is. I’d say she’d do fine for you, but for the fact that she’s your mother’s choice.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Brin firmed his lips, his attention still focused on the other girl. ‘Who’s the one with her?’

  ‘She has a sister.’ Harlow, who made it his business to know everything and everyone connected to Brin’s affairs, shook his head. ‘But that ain’t her.’ Brin didn’t bother to ask how Harlow could be so sure. ‘It must be the friend.’

  ‘Friend? What friend?’

  ‘A Miss Dorset. She’s staying with Lady H until Christmas, which meant she also had to be included in this invitation.’

  ‘I assume she will lower the tone,’ Brin said nonchalantly, taking more interest in the young woman as a consequence. His mother was not given to issuing invitations to unknowns. It was a measure of her determination to force him and Lady Hazel together that she had capitulated on this occasion.

  ‘Without a doubt. I gather your lady mother was as reluctant to invite her as Lady Beardsley was to ask for her inclusion,’ Harlow replied, confirming Brin’s suspicions. ‘Seems Lady H put her foot down and insisted.’

  Brin flexed a brow, bored with the subject, and walked away from the window.

  ‘Miss Dorset’s father has been reduced to dabbling in commerce.’ Harlow adopted a horrified expression. ‘Just imagine the shame of it.’

  Brin chuckled. ‘What is the world coming to?’

  ‘That’s precisely what the duchess wants to know, or did before you furrowed your own path. Now she pretends not to know what pays for all this opulence.’

  Brin stepped into the clothing that Harlow had laid out for him.

  ‘What’s happening downstairs?’ he asked.

  ‘Your friends have taken refuge in the billiards room. The ladies will doubtless be gathered in the drawing room, but there’s no need for you to have anything to do with them until this evening. This is, after all, supposed to be a shooting party.’

  Brin rolled his eyes, glad of a legitimate excuse to hide himself away. Suitably attired, he made his way downstairs and found a dozen men already in the billiards room. He greeted them, exchanging the odd remark as he waited his turn at the table, but spent more time staring out the window at his gardens. The rain had stopped but the gusty wind was causing the branches to snap and sway, sending a torrent of wet leaves scattering to the ground. He’d missed English winters during his time in India, where the overwhelming heat had frequently sapped his energy.

  ‘Damned weather will play havoc with the shoot,’ one man said despondently. ‘If we’re not careful, Exeter, we’ll be reduced to passing the time playing parlour games with the ladies.’

  Brin nodded and moved away, having no desire to fall into conversation with a man he scarcely knew and felt no affinity with. Instead, he joined Daniel
Anglesey, who stood slightly apart from the others, staring morosely at nothing in particular.

  ‘Bored already?’ Brin asked.

  ‘Sorry.’ Anglesey made an obvious effort to pull himself together. ‘I was deep in thought. Bad form, and you caught me at it.’

  ‘Don’t let it concern you.’ Brin slapped the younger man’s shoulder. ‘I was at school with your older brother, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I did know. I am a fair bit younger than Stephen, and I think you had already left the country by the time I was out of the schoolroom. Stephen’s married now and busy creating a nursery of his own.’

  ‘And what of you? What are your plans for the future?’

  ‘I’m setting up my own establishment in Hertfordshire.’

  ‘A fair distance away.’ Brin accepted a glass of burgundy from the tray that Walker carried and took an appreciative sip. ‘What made you decide upon that location?’

  Anglesey looked away, his reaction bordering on the uncivil. Brin wondered what he could have done to offend a man with whom he was barely acquainted. It might simply be that he was a private person who disliked intrusive questions about his personal affairs, but Brin sensed a deeper-rooted cause for his antipathy.

  ‘A good opportunity arose,’ Anglesey said when he could no longer delay responding. ‘The house and size of the land is modest but suits my pocket. I take possession next quarter day.’

  ‘Then I admire your desire for independence and wish you good fortune with the venture. It would be easy enough to stay put in the family home, I dare say. A lot of men in your position would choose that option.’

  ‘It would certainly be a safer one.’ Anglesey cleared his throat, looking to Brin as though he was working up to asking a question of his own and was beset with nerves. ‘Tell me, your grace, do you intend to…'