Authors: Rhonda Woodward
As she finished dressing, her thoughts again went to Robert. There really was no way of avoiding the truth, she admitted to herself. She did not feel the same about him.
It was very odd that something as simple as a discussion about fashion could cause so material a change in her opinion that she could no longer consider a future with him. She also considered the duke’s words about a marriage needing more than respect and common interests to be a success.
Bella pulled a string of pearls that had belonged to her mother from a silk bag and fastened them around her neck. What was even stranger about this momentous decision was that she was not in the least upset about her change of plans where Robert was concerned.
Maybe she was a little disappointed, she thought. After all, she had spent a number of years planning a future with Robert Fortiscue. But no longer. At least nothing as formal as an engagement had been announced, Bella mused with relief.
Papa will certainly be happy
, she thought a little wryly.
After tying the ribbons to her black chamois slippers, Bella looked at her reflection one more time and was satisfied that she was presentable. She left the small dressing room after collecting her black satin cape, sure that her uncle’s coach was waiting to take them to Penninghurst Park.
Upon entering the sitting room, she found Papa and Tommy waiting. They were dressed in their best clothes; Tommy had even combed his hair, she noticed with approval.
“Where is the duke?” Bella asked after glancing around the room.
“He will be joining us momentarily,” Tommy answered. “He certainly is particular about his clothes,” he added.
Bella nodded. She was very curious to see what the duke would be wearing this evening.
It had caused quite a stir in her household when a coach had arrived that morning. Two footmen had brought in a trunk of clothes and other items the Dowager Duchess of Westlake had deemed necessary for her son’s comfort. Tommy had been charged to perform valet duties.
“He had me help him tie his neckcloth three times. I still don’t think he is satisfied,” Tommy informed them in a loud whisper.
“Humph. Even my brother does not spend that much time on his appearance,” Bella’s father commented.
Looking at her father now, Bella was glad to see that he was wearing his neckcloth. One never knew what he might forget, she thought with some chagrin.
“The duke says a gentleman is known by how he ties his cravat,” Tommy continued.
At a noise Bella turned, and the smile on her face froze at the sight of the duke as he entered the sitting room.
He looked magnificent. In spite of the weight he had lost and the sling on his left arm, his evening clothes fit him to
near perfection. His black tailcoat was made of some exquisite material, and his double-breasted waistcoat was snowy white. His neckcloth, she noted, was indeed a work of art, with its precise and intricate folds.
Her eyes traveled back up to his face. The slightly mocking amusement she was coming to know was evident in his eyes as he met her gaze.
He, in turn, swept her with his intense gaze from head to toe. Bella felt herself blushing at the boldness of his perusal. He suddenly seemed a complete stranger, she thought in confusion. She felt she hardly knew him, and avoided looking in his direction as they all went out to the carriage.
Papa and Tommy had already entered the vehicle when Bella looked back at the duke in the light of the coach lantern. Again she saw the intimate boldness of his gaze lingering upon her. Her blush intensified, and she did not know where to look or how to respond to the unfamiliar feelings his gaze aroused in her.
Now he was standing very close to her in the cool evening air, and her senses were assailed by the subtle smoky, woodsy fragrance she associated with him. She kept her eyes fixed on his cravat as she tried to calm the sudden quick beating of her heart, and yet she did not move away from him.
Then indignation came to her rescue as she recalled the two tryst notes she had found in his pocket.
“I wish you would not do that, your grace,” she blurted before she thought better.
“Do what, Miss Tichley?” His husky voice was almost a whisper above her ear.
“Flirt with me,” she said flatly. “I understand the practice is very fashionable, and in the circles you frequent such behavior is meaningless, but I am unused to it and it makes me uncomfortable.
“Meaningless flirtation?” he responded, giving her a look of amused indulgence. “And what would the correct Miss Tichley know of flirtation, meaningless or otherwise?”
“I have no personal experience, but I am aware of your penchant for meeting ladies in
atriums
,” she said archly, turning to walk the last few steps to the coach. “I know
you are bored, your grace, but surely you can find another way to amuse yourself?”
To her great ire, she heard his deep laugh behind her.
“Atriums?” he said with another chuckle.
Bella stopped and turned to look back at him with annoyance.
“I wondered if you had happened upon those notes,” he continued with amusement warming his cool eyes. “Oh, Arabella, you really are an innocent if you think assignations in atriums have any importance.”
Afraid that he thought her a naïve fool, Bella lifted her chin to a haughty angle. “I have no desire to discuss such things with you, your grace,” she said in what she hoped was a dismissive tone, and turned back to the carriage.
“Miss Tichley, I do believe I have never been less bored in my life,” he said just as she stepped into the coach.
Bella settled herself next to her father as the duke pulled himself into the conveyance and sat next to Tommy. Trying her best to avoid looking at the duke, she fussed with the drawstring of her reticule. She decided the best course she could take was to completely discard the exchange that had just taken place between them. After all, it was only meaningless flirting, she reminded herself harshly.
Yet as much as she tried to ignore him, she found his amused gaze directed upon her unaccountably disturbing.
Her uncle’s coach was relatively new and well sprung, but the ride to Penninghurst Park proved more arduous than anyone expected, due to the deep ruts in the road caused by the recent rains.
As they traveled the few miles to the Park, Bella was growing deeply concerned for the duke, and was having second thoughts about this outing. She now could not help noticing how he had begun to wince as the coach jolted side to side. At one point Tommy was thrown against the duke, and they all heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Not to worry.” He had dismissed the boy’s profuse apologies. “I am quite well.”
Bella knew they all released a collective sigh of relief when the coach pulled up to the large half-timbered Tudor mansion.
Goodson, the family’s ancient butler, opened the door
and led the little group across the immense foyer to the drawing room, where Lord and Lady Penninghurst, Lady Beatrice, and their other guests, Lord and Lady Crayton, were enjoying an aperitif before dinner. Lord and Lady Penninghurst immediately set out to make the new arrivals welcome.
Bella hid a smile when her father presented the duke to her aunt, for it was apparent by the lady’s somewhat flummoxed expression that she was quite bowled over by their imposing guest. He had much the same effect on plump Lady Crayton, who stared at the duke the way some people looked at museum exhibits.
The sight of Triss, standing behind Uncle David winking, and making head gestures to Bella as her father introduced Lord Crayton to the duke, caught her attention. When the gentlemen, including the duke, moved to stand before the fireplace, Triss came over, grabbed Bella’s arm, and practically dragged her to the other side of the room.
“What is wrong with you? Why have you suddenly developed this tic?” Bella questioned her cousin, who was looking particularly angelic in an evening gown of pink satin.
“I must speak to you in private before we go in to dinner,” Triss answered, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to listen. “What a day we have had here! Mother is about to have the vapors over the question of protocol. Here she is a countess and she has no notion of what to do with the duke,” Triss said disgustedly.
Bella laughed at this, not in the least surprised. Her aunt and uncle had entertained the same group of people for the last thirty years, with little attention given to formalities. Any deviation from her normal mode would always throw her aunt into a fit of the worries.
“But what I really want to speak to you about,” Triss continued, “is that Mother thinks that now that the duke is feeling a little better he should come here for the rest of his convalescence.”
“I have never considered the idea,” Bella replied in a surprised tone. “But would you not prefer him to be here? It would be much easier for you to practice your skills of flirtation on him this way.”
Triss did not catch the tease in Bella’s tone and shook
her golden curls vehemently. “I would much rather visit him at your home—Mother would constantly be shooing me from him if he were here,” she explained.
Bella smiled wryly at Triss’s logic and turned her head slightly to look at the duke across the room. Again it struck her how handsome he looked in his elegant evening attire.
At that moment the duke turned his head and met her gaze. Their eyes held for a moment, and Bella was not aware that she had been holding her breath until a slow, perceptive smile spread across his lips.
“I told Mother that it would be as if she were questioning your care of the duke if she invited him to stay here now. But she is afraid he will be insulted if she does not—so she doesn’t know what to do,” Triss continued.
Pulling her attention back to her cousin, Bella took a deep breath to stop her heart from beating so quickly. “Aunt Elizabeth will have to do what she deems best. I shall defer to her wishes in this matter.”
Triss looked at her cousin and then quickly turned to look at the duke. A speculative gleam entered her pretty blue eyes.
“And another thing, Bella: Mother was all set to invite Mr. Fortiscue to join us this evening. But Father and I put our foot down, or is that feet? Anyway, we refused to have the duke’s first outing ruined by having to endure Mr. Fortiscue.”
Bella smiled at her cousin. “I have some news that will make you happy, Triss, dear. I have decided this very day that Mr. Fortiscue and I will not suit after all.”
Triss gasped, looking at her cousin with undisguised pleasure. “Bella, you are not hoaxing, are you?”
“No, of course not,” she said with a little spurt of laughter. “I have recently discovered that Mr. Fortiscue has some odd notions that I cannot abide.”
“Heavens! You must tell me every detail of what has finally brought you to your senses where that sapskull is concerned.”
“No, no. I shall save it for another time. We are being terribly rude, standing here in the corner whispering. Let us join the others.”
Arm in arm, the two young ladies returned to the group,
where Triss proceeded to monopolize the conversation by regaling everyone with descriptions about her excitement over her impending come-out.
Bella caught the duke looking at her with an amused expression over his glass of champagne. She had the sudden feeling that they were sharing a private joke, and a warm feeling spread its way through her veins.
They were all saved from hearing a detailed description of Triss’s court gown when Goodson opened the wide double doors that led to the dining room and announced that dinner was served.
Aunt Elizabeth froze in front of them all, momentarily at a loss as to the correct way to proceed at this point.
Very smoothly, the duke stepped froward and offered Lady Penninghurst his arm, while keeping up a light discussion on the excellent vintages of Lord Penninghurst’s cellar.
Aunt Elizabeth smiled her relief as she and the duke led the little procession into the dining room, followed by Lord Penninghurst, Lord and Lady Crayton, Triss, Tommy, and, lastly, Bella on her papa’s arm.
It was agreed that Lady Penninghurst had outdone herself in her preparations for dinner. The long dining table held a profusion of delicacies displayed as artistically as the servants could turn out. A pig had been roasted. Two pheasants had been killed and prepared for this occasion, and a multitude of side dishes were constantly being presented at each remove.
Bella was a little concerned at how little the duke was eating, but he did seem to be enjoying the evening.
No matter how the duke tried to turn the conversation from himself, the rest of his dinner companions always returned it to him. Especially Triss, who was asking many questions about London.
“Do you often go to the theater when you are in town, your grace?” she questioned.
“I do enjoy the theater, Lady Triss, and you may make use of my box whenever you wish when you are in town,” he offered generously to the delighted young lady.
Bella smiled at his indulgence of her cousin. Though Bella was much farther down the table from the duke, she was becoming aware of how his eyes searched for hers over
the candles. Again it seemed to her that they communicated a shared amusement over the behavior of the others.
Halfway through the meal, while Lord Crayton was retelling a favorite old chestnut about a past foxhunting experience, Bella could not help noticing how the duke was losing what little color he had. By the fourth course his cheeks had grown positively ashen, and she saw to her growing alarm that his hand shook slightly as he set his crystal wineglass back in its place with a definite clink.
Bella did not know what to do. She looked over to Triss to see if she had taken notice of the duke’s distress. Their eyes met, and Triss briefly frowned her understanding of the situation.
The duke gave no other indication that he was not feeling well, and steadfastly tried to continue participating in the general conversation.
As soon as the meal was over, Bella gave her cousin a significant look. Triss, never one to be shy, jumped up before her mother could suggest that the ladies leave the gentlemen to their port.